Robyn's Egg

by Mark Souza

  As Robyn loaded her suitcase with three of her work uniforms, Moyer took her hand. “I understand why you must do this,” he said. “You can’t give up on your daughter. You hope Viktor Perko will honor his agreement. I know Viktor Perko, and I know he is not an honorable man. Jessica is proof of a conspiracy, payment for planting the bomb. He’s not the type to leave evidence behind. Robyn, I…”

  Robyn waited wondering what it was he couldn’t say. “What, Moyer? Just spit it out.”

  “I felt Perko give the order to flush Jessica. It happened right after reports of the explosion showed up on the net.”

  Chapter 30

  Robyn left for Hogan-Perko early the next morning while Moyer slept. The Judge stirred restlessly on the sofa when she opened the door to leave, but didn’t wake. Her car on the tube was crowded with laborers heading in for early shifts despite it being Independence Day. They were tuned into the net and let the kilometers slip away unseen. She knew most would focus on the aftermath of the explosion. Heads would turn east as they entered the Circle, wanting to see with their own eyes what they’d seen earlier on the net.

  New moving pictographs had been painted on the walls of the tube. The ad was for American Surety Insurance. As the car accelerated up to speed, images of a family watching their apartment burn played outside on the tunnel surface. The perspective shifted to the interior of their abode. Family holograms melted. Furniture burst into flame. Children’s toys disintegrated. The words Don’t Think This Can’t Happen to You appeared. The ASI logo flashed and the flames receded. Time seemed to reverse itself. Furniture was restored as if by magic, as were the toys and holograms. Outside, the family smiled. The placement of the new ad on the heels of the previous night’s fire was no coincidence. Advertisers never missed a trick or an opportunity.

  Reports on the net claimed there was a water shortage the night before and that’s why crews were helpless to do anything but evacuate the area and watch the building burn. Black smoke still billowed from the Capital Arms as Robyn exited the station and crossed the Circle.

  Crews working from hover platforms sprayed foam into the gaping cavern that had once been the top floor. Robyn knew she didn’t have much time before they discovered Hawthorne’s body wasn’t inside. She quickened her pace toward the Hogan-Perko tower.

  Robyn tried the glass door into the lobby. It was locked. Clock pictograms projected on the window indicated open hours. She was half an hour early. She cupped her hands to the glass and peered inside. A woman behind a counter was setting out brochures. Robyn rapped lightly on the glass and the woman’s head lurched up. Robyn waved and affected a timid smile, then pointed at the lock. The woman set the brochures down and walked toward her. She opened the door a crack and said, “I’m sorry, were closed. But it won’t be long now.”

  “I understand,” Robyn said, “I’m here to pick up my daughter. I couldn’t wait.”

  The receptionist scanned the Circle and then turned back to Robyn and smiled. She pushed the door open and said, “I don’t think it will hurt anything. Come on in.” Robyn followed the woman across the lobby to the reception desk. The woman pressed a button and a view screen blinked to life. “Your name please?”

  “Winfield,” Robyn said and then spelled it.

  “Jennifer or Kathleen,” the receptionist asked.

  “Robyn, with a ‘y’.”

  The receptionist typed in the letters. Her eyes shifted from the screen to Robyn. Her expression was one of confusion and concern.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You don’t seem to be in our records.”

  “Try my husband’s name – Moyer.”

  The receptionist pecked out the letters. Her lips pursed and she shook her head. “It must be a computer glitch. Who was your sales representative?”

  Robyn closed her eyes and tried to remember. Events from the night before still occupied her mind. She drew a blank. “Short, silver haired, balding… Fredrick something I think.”

  “Fredrick Duncan?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  The receptionist picked up a phone and in a low voice repeated Fredrick Duncan’s name. “Hi, Fredrick, this is Jordan. I have a woman here ready to pick up her baby. She’s not showing in the system. She says you were her rep.” She blinked as she processed the information, eyes focused in mid-air, and nodded as if Fredrick Duncan were standing in front of her. “Last name, Winfield. First name either Moyer, or Robyn.” Jordan’s forehead furrowed with worry. “No problem, thank you.”

  She lowered the phone back onto its cradle and gave Robyn a forced smile. “I’m sorry; we have no record of a baby. I don’t know what to say.”

  “No, I was here last week for a viewing. I talked to my daughter — patterning, that’s what they called it. Mr. Duncan was there.”

  “Please calm down, Mrs. Winfield. Hogan-Perko has never lost a baby, not in over one hundred and twenty years.”

  “I want to speak to Viktor Perko. He and my husband had an arrangement.”

  “I’m sorry Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I’ll –” The phone rang cutting her off. The receptionist held up a finger as she picked up. Her eyes went wide and her posture straightened. She nodded as she listened. “Yes sir.” Jordan swallowed hard and hung up. “Mr. Perko will see you.”

  Robyn pressed against the outrush of air when the automated doors to Perko’s office swung open. After the doors closed, the breeze calmed. A small bald man seated under a bright spot of light called to her. “Mrs. Winfield, please take a seat. I couldn’t help but notice the misunderstanding downstairs.”

  Behind Perko, almost invisible in the shadows, a pair of security agents in black armor stood guard. Perko smiled, baring two rows of discolored teeth. There was something inherently frightening in his smile. Robyn tried not to react. She tried to smile in return, though hers was tense and probably didn’t convey the trust or confidence she’d hoped. Perko either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  “I have a baby here,” she said, “a daughter. Last week, Mr. Duncan invited us in so she could pattern on our voices. Now I’m being told she can’t be found.”

  Perko smiled again, head tilted slightly as if he empathized. “I understand and apologize. While you were on your way up, I checked our inventory. We truly don’t have your child. Every baby we have is accounted for and is genetically mapped to their parents. I’m sorry. This has never happened before.”

  “But –”

  Perko held up a finger to quiet her. “This reflects poorly on us,” he said. “We care about our reputation and will do everything in our power to make this right. Would it be acceptable if I made you another child at our cost?”

  “Another nine months?”

  “I’m afraid so. There is only one way to make a baby and there are no short cuts.”

  Robyn remembered the neon light in the viewing room, gazing down on her baby’s tiny features in shades of red and black. Jessica was a reflection of herself and Moyer — Moyer’s dark coloring, Robyn’s chin and nose, and she was gone. “Are you sure she’s not here.”

  Perko grimaced and nodded.

  Robyn sensed a malevolent arrogance emanating from the man, and she knew then that Moyer was right. Perko had disposed of her baby the moment the explosion echoed across the Circle. Jessica was evidence. Moyer knew Perko had ordered the bombing, and Jessica was proof of a link between Moyer and Perko. Any remorse Perko showed now was a presentation aimed to mollify her, an act.

  Perko pushed a slip of paper toward Robyn. “This is a coupon for another child. It will be honored at any of our locations. If you wish, you can schedule an appointment for a routine donor cell collection downstairs on your way out.”

  The two agents stepped forward and Robyn knew the meeting was done.

  “Again, my deepest condolences,” Perko said.

  Robyn regarded the coupon. Her legs felt weak and she was unsure she could get up from the chair. Robyn was positive if Perko
knew the Judge was still alive or that she wouldn’t ever come back to cash in the coupon, she’d be killed before she reached the door. She took the coupon and walked away feeling numb. She stared at the coupon again in disbelief. One baby dead and another offered up like a discount item at the grocer. Surely this was a nightmare and when she awoke, everything would be all right.

  After the door closed behind Robyn Winfield, one of the guards spoke. “I don’t think we should let her leave the building, sir.”

  Perko watched Robyn inside the elevator on a video screen. She was slumped into a corner still gazing down at the coupon. “No, let her go. We have to take them together. One without the other could be a problem. We don’t want one of them flushed into hiding.”

  Perko leaned into his chair and grinned. “No need to worry, though,” he chuckled, “I know mothers, and the maternal instincts in that one are very strong. She’ll go straight to hubby and they’ll soon be back to cash in their coupon. I guarantee it.”

  Chapter 31

  Robyn showed the coupon to Moyer. “You were right. They flushed Jessica. He gave me this to try to make it right.”

  Moyer slid his fingers across the smooth polymer as he read. “It’s a trick, an excuse to get us to come in together.”

  Hawthorne moved to Moyer’s side for a look. “Now I’ve seen everything. It reminds me of cutout coupons in the newspaper when I was a boy. Two credits off soap with coupon.”

  “What did he say when he gave this to you?” Moyer asked.

  “He said we could schedule an appointment for donor cell collection at any Hogan-Perko, and our child would be free. I scheduled us for tomorrow evening.”

  Moyer nodded. “We can’t go. It’s a trap. They should already have donor cells from when we went in for Jessica. If we go in, we’ll never come out again.” Moyer felt Robyn starting to crumble emotionally. Everything Robyn had been through; years of trying to save, parenting classes, psych evals, to get her baby, to be as close as a layer of polymer only to have it jerked away at the last moment.

  “I know,” she said.

  Moyer rubbed his forehead mussing his hair as he tried to formulate a plan. He went into the bedroom and carried out their bags. “On your way back, did you get on the net?”

  Robyn nodded.

  “Have they discovered yet that the Judge isn’t in the rubble?”

  She shook her head. “They were just starting to search.”

  “We don’t have much time then,” Moyer said. “Once they know, Perko will send a squad of security agents after us. We’ve got to go.”

  Moyer pulled a mesh cap from his pocket and put it on Robyn’s head, tucking the wire down her collar. He stood back inspecting her appearance and shook his head. It was too conspicuous. “What do you think, Judge, will she blend in?”

  “Are you sure those are necessary?” Hawthorne asked.

  “Once they realize we’ve run, they’ll track us through the net,” Moyer said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about you. I only have two caps. Perhaps we can get another on the black market.”

  “I don’t need one,” Hawthorne said, “I don’t have a net-chip. They were optional when I was born and you had to pay for them. My parents had very little money, so they didn’t.”

  Moyer walked into the bedroom and returned a moment later with a broad-brimmed sunhat. He propped it on Robyn’s head and shifted its position till it covered as much of the mesh cap as possible. “That’s better. What do you think, Judge?”

  Hawthorne grinned, “Every woman will want one.”

  Robyn’s animosity toward the Judge eased. Moyer put his cap on and donned a light hooded sweatshirt. It promised to be a hot day. Robyn’s hat wouldn’t draw attention, but his hoodie wasn’t exactly summer wear. He had no better options and time was running short.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Where?” Robyn asked.

  Moyer pushed the bags outside into the hallway and armed the security system. “Mannington,” he said.

  “Where is that?” Robyn asked.

  “It’s in the hinterlands west of the city.”

  Robyn’s jaw went slack. “For how long?”

  “I don’t know, honey.” Moyer sensed the beginnings of an argument coming on.

  “I don’t want to die in the wilderness. Can’t we stay with my parents? They have room.”

  Moyer grabbed Robyn by the shoulders and squared her to face him. “It’s already gone out over the net that the Judge is dead. That’s Viktor Perko’s doing. Soon he’s going to find out the Judge is still alive. He can’t afford for that to become public knowledge or for evidence of his involvement to surface. Honey, we are that evidence. Viktor Perko is going to hunt us down to kill us. What do you think he will do to your parents if they harbor us?”

  Robyn bent down and lifted her bag without a fuss.

  “The people in Mannington will help us, and we’ll be free of the net there.”

  “I visited Mannington when I was a boy,” Hawthorne said. “It’s a nice place.”

  Moyer pursed his lips and kept silent. There was no point telling them what had become of the nice town the Judge remembered. They needed to get moving and there was no time to argue.

  At the end of the hallway, Moyer hesitated at the elevator with his finger hovering over the call button. “Let’s take the stairs,” he said. “Are you up to it, Judge?”

  “I can manage.”

  Moyer was mildly surprised Hawthorne didn’t protest. Inside the stairwell, Moyer trailed Hawthorne down the stairs, watching in case he faltered, ready to shoot out a supporting hand. The old man huffed, but was steady on his feet, taking each flight at a slow, steady pace. Three floors from the street an alarm sounded. “They’re in our apartment,” Moyer said. “I thought we’d have more time.”

  Robyn’s face went pale and she raced ahead. Moyer implored her to slow down. “We can’t afford a fall.”

  The emergency exit at the bottom of the stairs opened onto an alley. The streets were empty as they usually were on a weekday. They headed down the block toward the nearest tube terminal. “Walk naturally,” Moyer warned, “we don’t want to draw attention.”

  As they neared the Washington St. Station, Moyer took Robyn’s hand and slowed. “They’re waiting for us down there. I can feel it. Where is the next station west?”

  “Um, IrsayPlaza I think, across the river,” Robyn said. She glanced at Hawthorne. Moyer noticed too. Hawthorne’s mouth hung open and he was panting like a hound. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Concern painted Robyn’s face. “It’s over two kilometers, Moyer. Are you sure?”

  Moyer took Hawthorne’s bag from him and trudged toward the MichiganStreetBridge. As they walked, Moyer tried to anticipate the next move of Security Services. Would they set roadblocks to seal them off from the tube? It seemed likely. He struggled to stay calm. He had to in order to keep his perception open. Fear and mental clutter were the enemies now.

  Moyer detected nothing remarkable ahead, but he’d been wrong before. He remained alert. They looked out of place on the barren streets and were easy targets. They needed luck and a lot of it if they were to live to see another day. And the engineer in Moyer hated relying on luck for anything.

  By the time they reached the bridge, Hawthorne was a wreck. He wheezed for air so desperately he couldn’t speak. Perspiration soaked his shirt dark. Before they crossed the river, Hawthorne had removed his hat to cool down. By the time they arrived on the other side, the Judge’s pale skin was pink and tender.

  Moyer’s shoulders ached and only willpower and Hawthorne’s refusal to stop prevented him from abandoning the bags along the way. At the station entrance, he lowered his load to the sidewalk and let the tension and pain ooze from his arms and back.

  After catching his breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to envision the underground space
s within the station beyond the shadows of the stairway. He sensed only the hum of machines.

  “I think it’s clear,” Moyer said. “A train should be arriving in another few minutes.”

  Robyn started down for the landing.

  “How are you holding up, Judge?” Moyer asked.

  Hawthorne tipped his head, “I’ll be okay.” Moyer lifted the bags and followed Hawthorne down the stairs.

  Ahead, Robyn approached the turnstiles. “Stop, honey,” he shouted. She turned toward him, a tense frown conveying her impatience. “We can’t swipe our transit cards or holograms. They’ll know we’re here.”

  “Yeah, but they can’t stop the tube.”

  “I’m pretty sure they can,” Hawthorne said.

  “Then how do we get through?”

  Moyer surveyed the entrance. Gleaming bars blocked the way with four, two meter high rotating turnstiles providing the only portals through. “Does anyone have a battery?”

  Robyn shook her head.

  “I do,” Hawthorne said. “I have a computer so I can access the net.” The Judge took his bag from Moyer and rummaged out a small handheld.

  “I didn’t know you brought a computer,” Moyer said. “I wonder if they can track us through it.”

  “It’s been off the whole time,” Hawthorne said.

  “Yes, but it still might be connected to the net.”

  “If it were,” Hawthorne assured, “we’d already be dead.”

  Moyer realized the Judge was right. He popped the cover off the side port and tipped the coin-like battery into his hand. “Get ready Robyn.” She picked up her bag and moved inside the turnstile. Moyer licked the bottom of the battery, set it on the reader plate, then licked his finger and touched the top of the disc. The turnstile hummed to life and rotated. Robyn was through.

  “Where did you learn that?” Robyn asked.

  Moyer combed the hair away from his eyes and couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “From the bad boys in the underground. It was a trick I used to get around when my father grounded me and took away my transit card. Get ready, Judge. I’m going to need you to take your bag.”