"Fine," she snapped in what she hoped was an encouraging voice but sounded more like a whip cracking. She pulled her hands back and clasped them on her lap to help fight the urge to reach across the table and strangle her mentor.
"I think," he said slowly, "...that Dutch knew, or at least strongly suspected, that Sarah would find out about what happened to her parents. He overheard Agnes and Pruitt talking and figured out that they were somehow involved."
"And he figured she'd come back and kill Pruitt? Or Agnes?"
"Or both," he agreed. "This killer though, from the past, if Dutch somehow got him here..." He shook his head without finishing the thought. "Well you see, I think having people from the past, people who, in some sense, don't exist, well, I think he'll want them to disappear. That will make whatever he's doing better. More elegant. Pruitt will tell Dutch to get rid of them. If no one ever finds out who kills them, it's as if it weren't explained to them. Do you see what I mean? I'm not sure I'm getting this across."
Monica fell back in her chair. "You mean," she drew the words out slowly. "What you're telling me, is that Dutch thinks this is all a joke?"
"That's exactly it," he said. He leaned forward and slapped his knee. "And the interesting thing is I don't have any idea how it happened. There's nothing in his programming that calls for that. It's the spontaneous result of the combination of the other things that've been programmed into him. It must be somewhat as a parent feels when she raises a child and he suddenly does something completely unexpected..."
"Like setting off a bomb under an orphanage."
"...or what God feels when he looks at mankind."
"A nuclear bomb."
"I mean," his voice became animated for the first time since she'd arrived, "...the way things've turned out, with mankind, it can't be what God intended can it? He must look down at all of it and say, 'how the hell did this happen?' It's like that with Dutch thinking all this is a joke. Do you understand Monica?"
Do I understand? What, that Dutch thinks life's a joke or mankind turned out to be a bad joke? I'm not sure I want to.
"You know," Ted went on excitedly. "There's something else interesting about this?"
You mean besides the killer from the past, the killer in the present and the cyborg who controls all the technology abetting them. I'm dying to hear how it can get more interesting, wait, let me pick another verb.
"Well you have to wonder, don't you, whether the idea came from the person who told Dutch that explaining a joke isn't funny, or whether he got the idea to bring you back before you leave because he saw you come back before you left."
"You're making my head hurt Ted."
"But don't you see Monica?" He jumped up and started pacing again. "What if Dutch doesn't know why you're back before you left? Or at least he didn't know when you got back, what if," he stopped and looked down at her, his hands clasped together. "What if he got the idea from you?"
"From me?"
"What if he brought you back before you left because you're back before you left? Just think about it Monica. It's a riddle of monumental proportions." He looked up at the ceiling. Shook his head. "I have to talk to Pruitt."
"I'll think about it Ted. I promise. But I feel a little pressure to focus on what to do about it first."
The excitement dropped off his face and he fell back into his chair and shrugged. "There really isn't much I can do. Dutch controls the electronic life of the compound. Now that I'm not director he won't let me change his programming."
"Can Pruitt change his programming?"
"Pruitt," Ted said smugly, "...isn't a very good programmer. No. I doubt Pruitt really understands what's going on. Why Dutch doesn't obey him all the time now that I'm gone. I would imagine Pruitt's quite worried at this point."
She nodded. "So there's no way to control him? Nothing we can do?" Great. Fantastic. Two brilliant minds to work with. One trying to stop herself from being born and one who created a box he can't get out of. Find me someone stupid please.
"Nothing we can do," he said. For some reason he couldn't meet her eyes. "There is something though." He coughed. "Dutch, well, you see, Dutch, um, Dutch has an override."
"An override. Like a shutoff switch?"
"Nooot exactly," he said. "There is a way for someone to remove the ambiguity." Ted squirmed in his seat and stared everywhere but at Monica. "Yes," he said, nodding to the ceiling. "The person exercising the override would establish complete control. I'm certain of that."
"Sooo," Monica said. "Can you exercise the override? Because I'm not sure how much time we have to stop him." No time pressure Ted. Just facing the end of the world for some of us. Don't hurry.
"Well," he stood up and started pacing again, waving his hands in the air. "You see that's the problem. I can't exercise it."
"You created an override you can't use?" Sure. Of course. What else would you do?
"I didn't think I'd ever need it."
"OK. Fine. You can't use it. Can someone else?"
"Well. It's complicated."
"TED."
"You can," he blurted out. He stopped and looked down at her. His face was beet red.
"I can? Why..." her words trailed off as it came to her. She wouldn't've thought he could turn more red but he managed it. "Oh Ted," she sighed. "Please tell me it doesn't involve hydraulics."
He nodded sheepishly.
"Oh Ted. How could you make that the override? Of all things?"
"Well. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
She felt numb. Ten thousand years of men running the world. How could she be surprised? It couldn't've been anything else.
"Does anyone else know this?"
He shook his head. "Not even Dutch is sure about it, although I think he might suspect." He thought for a second. "I think Sarah might suspect as well."
Their heads snapped around at the soft tap on the door.
"That's you at the door. You better hide," Ted said standing. "I can give you the details later. After you leave."
"Oh don't worry," she said as she rose and headed for the back of the house. "I think I can figure out the details."
1
This is very weird.
The killer walked down the empty hallways. What kind of building is this? He hadn't seen anyone since that hole in the grass'd opened in front of him. Just slid open and left a rectangle in the ground. One second he was ready to drag that crazy bitch into the woods by the hair, the next she'd disappeared. Just...disappeared. He'd run over but there was nothing but grass and a glass wall behind it. Glass. He'd peered inside but the glass was too dark to see through. He'd looked around. No one. Had just decided to walk around the building when the grass opened up in front of him. Just opened up into a square hole. That must be where she went. He stared down the escalator, escalator? leading down. Something, the whole thing was starting to give him the creeps, told him going down was a bad idea. But what other option did he have? Wander around in the woods waiting for a cop to show up? Besides, he'd get his hands on her if it was the last thing he did. So he went in.
This is very weird.
How long'd he been wandering around? The door at the bottom of the escalator'd led to another door that opened on a narrow hall with one wall leaning in at the top. Not collapsing. Made that way for some reason. He'd followed the hallway. The lights came on in front of him and went off behind him, how'd they do that? He walked in a little island of light. He passed doors. Some stayed closed. He'd tried one but how the hell did you open them? No knobs or handles. No hinges. Nowhere to put your hand. Then occasionally one slid open in front of him. He'd stood and stared the first time it'd happened. Stared for a long time. A tiny room. Like an elevator. Walked past it. Had eventually reached the end of the hall. Come back and it was still open. The hell with this. He'd gone back the way he came. Go back outside. Think about what to do next. But the door he'd come in stayed closed like a big, blind, r
ectangular eye staring him down. He'd finally come back and this time walked into the little room. It was an elevator. He could feel the ground drop away as he descended. He got out in a hall that was identical to the other one except a little wider. How many had he ridden down since then? He hadn't bothered to count. But they all went down. Taking him farther from the way out. Open. Go through. Close. Down. Open.
This is very weird.
He gripped his weapon tight to his chest. Had to keep wiping the sweat from his hands and forehead as his steps echoed off the walls of the empty hallway. Where was it taking him? The building? That's what it seemed like. The building taking him somewhere. Somewhere deeper and deeper. Like he was being led into the bowels of the earth. But by who? And what would happen when he got there? He gripped his weapon tight to his chest.
This is very weird.
*
"Dutch." Monica stopped at the back door of Ted's house as the thought occurred to her. "Where's Sarah?"
"Sarah? Sarah's in the prep room."
"Not that one. The other one."
"I'm sorry Monica." He took her hand and stared at her rapturously. "I think I'm in love with you Monica." She shook his hand off. That's what that weird blue eye color means. God help me.
"Don't be a creep Dutch. I asked you a question."
"Of course," he stared contritely at his shoes. "It's just that I feel..."
"Dutch," she cut him off. "Get a grip." Jeez. If the override meant he was going to ooze over her like this she preferred it when he was trying to kill her. "Where's Sarah? The other one. The one who went to the past with me?"
"There's only one Sarah here at this time."
"Only one Sarah? You mean..."
"Oh yes," he answered. Treating him like crap only seemed to make him edge closer and smile more broadly. She took a step back involuntarily.
"But you can't...you couldn't...the override..."
"Pruitt ordered me to take care of Sarah before you exercised the override." When he mentioned the override he tried to take her hand again but she slapped him back. His smile broadened. Visions of her Joey Lundeen flitted through her mind, trailing in her wake through the middle school hallways, mooning more every time she kicked him away.
"Pruitt...But then why'd he send me back?"
"He hasn't yet," Dutch giggled.
"Oh yeah."
"And when I take you up there, the other you I mean, he won't realize he's sending you back. He'll think we're sending you away the way we sent Sarah away."
"You mean he..."
The door swishing open cut her off. Ted rushed into the room. "You're here Monica. I mean...you know what I mean. Dutch, you've got to come and take her to the launch room. There isn't much time."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Dutch asked bitterly. "Because if it is you'll have to explain it to me."
"He needs to go Monica," Ted hissed with a look over his shoulder. He disappeared.
"You heard him Dutch." Monica said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Sarah. Gone.
"He didn't explain..."
"Dutch," she snapped. Dutch jolted to attention. "Go. Get. Me. Got it?"
His head bobbed up and down. "I love it when you're authoritative Monica."
"DUTCH."
He nodded again. The door slid open and he ran out and disappeared. She stared out into the heat of the day. Slowly shook her head. What now? Sarah gone. Really gone this time. Another crime Pruitt'd get away with. Her head wagged faster. No. He wouldn't get away with it. It might be too late to do anything about Justin and Sarah but it wasn't too late to make him pay. Pruitt didn't know about the override and Monica knew right where he was. But there was something she had to do first and she didn't have much time to do it.
She hurried out the door.
*
"What are you talking about Dutch?" Griff stared at the screen he'd projected on his wrist. Less than ten minutes to launch and he was dealing with this?
"I'm afraid I can't explain," Dutch's face stared at him from his wrist. "But you need to come here right away."
"Right away? Now? Are you out of..."
"It's Monica," Dutch's small voice rose from Griff's wrist. "She's in danger. Terrible danger."
"Monica? What danger?" He glanced at Sheila, who frowned up at him from her wheel chair. "What danger?" he repeated in a lower voice.
"I'm afraid I can't explain," Dutch lowered his own voice and his eyes darted to the side, as if he were looking for someone. "Do you know where Dr. Ted's secret launch room is?"
"Secret launch room? No. I've never heard of a secret launch room."
"That's because it's a secret," Dutch giggled.
"Dutch," Griff closed his eyes and swore to himself. "Tell me what you're talking about." He forced the words through his clenched jaw. "Where is Monica? What danger is she in?"
"Just follow the bouncing ball."
"Follow the..." but Dutch's face'd disappear, replaced by a map of the building. A blue ball bounced in place in the launch room. Griff lifted his eyes from the screen and met Sheila's.
"What is it?"
"I don't know," he answered frowning at the map on his wrist. "It's Dutch. He says Monica's in some kind of danger."
"She just went through here in a hurry."
He nodded. She had. And he'd turned his head away from her. She'd been limping. Did that have something to do with whatever danger she was in? He'd noticed the limp and told himself he wasn't curious. Didn't care. Wasn't being a jerk.
"You better go."
"Go?" Griff looked around at the activity around them. A mission to the deep past on the heels of the fiasco this morning. The lives of Sarah and that dweeb in his hands and he'd what? Just walk away?
"I'll handle things here until you get back."
"You? You're..."
"A cripple. I know. But only temporarily. And it hasn't affected my brain. I've been next to you since the sequence started. I know the status. Just share your status screen with me."
He stared at her and she stared back. Nothing out of place about the hum of activity around them. He nodded, flipped her his screen.
"I'll be right back." Curious glances followed him as he made for the door but he barely noticed. Kept his focus on the ball bouncing down the hallway of the map on his wrist and wondered what the hell's going on.
*
Dutch shut off his screen, smiled to himself. The door to the launch room swished open and he walked through.
"Where have you been Dutch. It's almost launch time. Where is she?"
"She's outside. She thinks we're sending her to the past to stop herself. She'll go voluntarily."
"I see." Pruitt nodded.
"Agnes is also sending someone else."
"Someone else? Who?"
"Justin Case."
"Just in case? Just in case of what?"
Dutch's finger shot out.
"What are you talking about Dutch? Who's she sending?"
"Can't explain," Dutch giggled. "But you don't have to worry about him. He doesn't come back. You do still want to take care of Monica, don't you? You're not having second thoughts?"
"Just bring her in Dutch," Pruitt snapped. "And let's get this over with."
"Oh don't worry about that Pruitt," Dutch said as he passed through the door. "Everything's right on schedule."
*
It'd become routine. Doors sliding open in front of him and closing after he walked through. If he stopped they stayed open, like a big, square eyeball looking at him. The killer had the feeling that he'd been going in circles. Or squares. How would he know? All these halls looked the same except each time he rode the elevator down it was a little wider when he got out. The one he's in now must be more than ten feet from wall to wall. It'd almost become a game, but he was getting tired of it. Irritated. Whatever was going to happen he wanted to get it over with. He gripped his weapon to h
is chest, slippery in his hands. He could feel the blood rising to his face as he reached the end of the hall and faced a door. It stayed closed. He stared at it. It still stayed closed. So what was the game now? Go back? Look for another one? Well he wasn't playing the game anymore. He lifted his weapon and pointed it at the center of the door, just as it slid open.
*
Monica hurried down the empty halls toward the secret launch room. A rushed few seconds in the prep room saying goodbye forever to your best friend when she didn't know that's what you were doing wasn't enough, but it was all she was getting. Running through the launch room. Glancing at the wall. This was when she'd seen herself from the secret launch room. Meeting Griff's eye as she hurried past and feeling a cold wind blow through her as he turned away. Could things get any worse?
Stop. Plenty of time to wallow in depression and pity later. Right now she had something to do, but what exactly was it? And whatever it was could she go through with it? The thought of Sarah smoldered inside her like a banked fire and told her she could.
She raced down the halls as fast as her throbbing ankle let her. She didn't have a screen but she knew it was close to launch time. She had to get to Pruitt before he slunk away from sending her to the past, thinking he was sending her to whatever fate he'd sent Sarah to. The thought spurred her on.
A door swished open in front of her. Dutch was opening the doors in front of her. Had to be. She ran through the door and stopped to get her bearings. The same little area with four doors she'd been in before. The door to her right led to Ted's launch room. The one to the left must go outside. She turned toward the door to the launch room but it stayed closed. She frowned at it but that didn't help. What now? She didn't have a screen projector and didn't know whether it'd open the door if she did. The door to her left, it must come from the opposite direction in the hallway, slid open. She looked up. Oh God. How many times was she going to find herself staring down the barrel of that rifle with that ugly face rapidly going from surprise to evil pleasure? She looked around the narrow area around her. Maybe this was the last time. Somehow the thought didn't help.
Soul Source: Back and There Again Page 34