by Gary Gibson
I made my way up the steps to the hotel entrance and found that the square of coloured card that had been stuck to the door since before my first arrival on the island had finally been replaced. Before, it had advertised The Day the Earth Caught Fire. Now somebody had stuck up a new card, which read:
!SHOWING ALL WEEK!
DESTROY ALL MONSTERS, 1968.
starring
AKIRA KUBO, JUN TAZAKI
Underneath was a crude sketch of a fire-breathing lizard surrounded by collapsing skyscrapers, while little stick figures fled in terror. I still hadn’t found out who among the Pathfinders felt driven to share their deep and, to my mind, inexplicable love for disaster movies.
I stepped past the deserted front desk and made for the glass door to the left, beyond which I could hear the sound of tinny animal roars and overdubbed screaming. Near the glass door, pinned to the wall, were about two dozen photographs, all of the Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t until you looked more closely that you realized they were not, in fact, pictures of the same Statue of Liberty. Some were half-drowned in ice, while others rose out of baking deserts. One lay on its side, its head separated from its body, while another was wreathed in jungle vines. Another Pathfinder’s idea of a joke.
I could also smell the beans and grits Yuichi had mentioned, and I suddenly felt ravenous. I hadn’t eaten since grabbing a snack in the EV a whole universe away.
I found the bar deserted. The monster movie was playing on a ceiling-mounted projector that threw the images onto a bare, cream-coloured wall. I paused for just long enough to see a man wearing a rubber monster costume manoeuvre his way past shoulder-high balsa wood skyscrapers. The scene cut away to Japanese and American actors in a room filled with fake computers, pretending to be thrown about as if by an earthquake.
The components of a still took up much of the top of the bar counter. Most of the liquor behind the bar had been brewed by Yuichi, who had set it up with the help of the Nuyakpuk cousins. A door to one side of the bar led into a room that had formerly been an office, and was now filled with vats of fermenting beer and wine. As well as all this, a couple of times a day either Tony or Jim Nuyakpuk dutifully fired up a portable gas stove to cook whatever was on the menu that day. I couldn’t see either of the two cousins around, so I ladled some of the beans and grits into a cheap plastic bowl before grabbing some lukewarm coffee to go with it. It was there for the taking; it wasn’t as if we had any use for money in a place like this, after all, nor a bank to keep it in. I’m pretty sure the Authority used cash wherever they came from, but for us at least, everything we needed was there for the taking.
I found Nadia sitting outside next to the pool, accessible through a sliding glass door. Another Pathfinder by the name of Selwyn Rudd was with her, his sailor’s cap pulled tight over his fleshy, balding scalp. They nodded wordlessly as I sat with them, bowl in hand.
‘My fellow jailbird,’ said Nadia, raising a bottle of Yuichi’s home brew as I pulled up a seat. Selwyn grunted something at me. ‘Now you can tell us all about what life was like on the inside.’
‘I heard what happened,’ said Selwyn, his accent a deep Welsh rumble. ‘Bit nasty, that.’
‘Bramnik said he let you out,’ I said to Nadia, and she nodded. I looked around. ‘Where’s Rozalia?’
‘Went home to get some sleep,’ Nadia replied. ‘I’ve still got too much adrenalin in me.’
‘That’s the first time I’ve met Bramnik,’ I said. ‘You should know he had a huge argument with that guy Agent Greenbrooke right in front of me.’
‘Really?’ Nadia sat up a little more. ‘That must have been a hell of a thing to see.’
I gave a quick rundown of what I’d heard and seen in between shovelling spoonfuls of beans and grits into my mouth, then nodded to the beer bottle clutched in her hand. ‘Isn’t it maybe just a little early for that?’ I said, trying to make it sound like a joke.
‘In your ass,’ she said, draining the last dregs. ‘I’ve been in three different alternates since breakfast yesterday, and my body clock insists it’s Happy Hour.’ She dropped the empty bottle back down with a thud. ‘I make it beer o’clock, and screw you if you disagree.’
I put my hands up in surrender, then picked up my coffee. ‘Now maybe someone can tell me what the hell a “Patriot agent” is, and why I never heard of them before.’
‘They’re not really called Patriots,’ said Selwyn. He tapped a cigarette out of a crumpled pack and lit it, sucking hard until the tip glowed orange. ‘That’s just what I hear the soldier-boys at the base call them, and not necessarily in a complimentary way. They’re like the equivalent of the FBI or CIA or something, back where the Authority all come from.’
‘Yeah,’ said Nadia. ‘I think they’re called something like the Department of Political Investigation. We’ve been seeing more of them around here lately.’
‘Really?’ I asked.
‘Indeed.’ Selwyn nodded. ‘Greenbrooke – or the people he works for, at any rate – appear to have developed a special interest in how things are being run here.’ He gave me a crooked smile. ‘Whatever he said or did, don’t take it personally. There isn’t one of us hasn’t had some kind of run-in with Greenbrooke or those other bastards.’
‘The point is,’ said Nadia, ‘not only is Greenbrooke an asshole, he is the asshole by whom all other assholes are measured. Because, if there’s one thing the Authority seems to excel at, it’s grinding out officious little pricks like Langward Greenbrooke.’ She shook her head. ‘Jesus. Even that name. Some people, I swear, are screwed from birth.’
‘I was stuck in that cell long enough that I really did start to wonder if they were ever going to let me out.’
Nadia shook her head. ‘They can’t touch you. However much we hate them, Mort Bramnik seems to hate them more.’
‘Greenbrooke sounded as if he was threatening Bramnik,’ I said. ‘He said he’d been watching him, that he knew all about his high-flying friends. He also mentioned something about a senator. I don’t know what he was talking about, but by the look on Bramnik’s face, he was a long way from happy.’
The other two looked at me in surprise. ‘I have no idea what that could’ve been about,’ said Selwyn.
‘Maybe Greenbrooke let slip something he shouldn’t have,’ suggested Nadia. ‘All he did with me was bawl me out good and proper. He didn’t even bother with Rozalia.’ She shrugged. ‘I just sat and waited for him to get a sore throat.’
‘When I was on my way out,’ I continued, ‘I heard Greenbrooke and Bramnik arguing. Greenbrooke was yelling something about a Pathfinder named Casey Vishnevsky.’
‘What exactly did he say?’ asked Selwyn, leaning forward with keen interest.
‘That they needed more men like Vishnevsky, because he’s a “real American”.’
They both laughed.
‘He’s Australian,’ Nadia managed to gasp. ‘Oh, Jesus. He really said that?’
‘Bramnik made the exact same point,’ I nodded. ‘So what’s the deal with this guy Vishnevsky?’
‘Well, he’s good,’ said Nadia, a touch grudgingly. ‘Probably the best Pathfinder out of all of us. Charming when he wants to be, but an opinionated right-wing asshole. Under different circumstances, he and Greenbrooke’d be bosom fucking buddies.’
‘Really?’
‘You can have a perfectly normal conversation with him,’ said Selwyn, ‘right up until the point where he starts to tell you why the abolition of slavery was the biggest mistake the US ever made, or why only people who fight in wars should be allowed to vote.’
‘I would like,’ said Nadia, ‘to declare this an officially shitty day.’ She leaned towards me, and patted me on the head. ‘Jerry,’ she said, ‘I gotta write up my report on your training mission. Keep doing like you did back there, you’re going to be the best of us before long.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘But right now all I can think of doing is going back home and getting some sleep.’
&
nbsp; ‘Good idea,’ said Selwyn. ‘Better that than waste your time watching Casey make a fool of himself here tonight.’
I looked at him, confused. ‘What do you mean?’
Nadia pressed a hand against her forehead. ‘Fuck. I was going to tell you, but then that whole thing with Rozalia . . .’
‘Ah.’ Selwyn nodded. ‘Perfectly understandable. The rest of the Pathfinders got back here while you were still in the clink, Jerry.’
‘I think I met one of them already,’ I said. ‘A woman called Chloe?’
Nadia’s expression froze in place. Selwyn folded one arm across his chest, and used his other hand to cover his mouth.
‘What?’ I demanded.
‘Nothing,’ said Nadia, suddenly smiling broadly. A look clearly passed between her and Selwyn. ‘Of course. I remember now. Chloe was leaving just when you got here. Did she say anything to you?’
‘Not really. Look, what am I missing here?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Nadia. She turned to Selwyn. ‘Casey’s putting on some kind of show tonight, isn’t he? You’ll be along?’
Selwyn looked pained. ‘You know I find the man morally repugnant at the best of times. Why on Earth give him yet another opportunity to be the centre of attention?’
‘Fi-i-ine,’ said Nadia, giving me a look. ‘Just asking.’
‘What kind of show?’ I asked.
‘I have no idea,’ said Selwyn, airily, ‘but given my previous experience of such affairs, I expect it to be of highly dubious morals.’ He stood and bowed in the manner of a Renaissance gentleman. ‘And with that, sir and good lady, I bid you a bloody good morning.’
I turned to Nadia once he was gone. ‘I’ve been here a month, Nadia. But I still keep feeling like people are keeping something from me. Including you.’
‘You’re the new kid on the block,’ she said, picking up her empty beer bottle and pretending to be engrossed in it. ‘The rest of them are still just sounding you out, is all.’ Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. ‘You’ll be here tonight, of course.’
‘I don’t know. It’s been a hell of a day.’
She gave me a hard stare. ‘You know I’m not going to let you get out of this, don’t you?’ She put the bottle back down. ‘C’mon. You can walk me home. We’re practically neighbours as it is.’
SEVEN
I woke later that evening with the smell of Alice’s shampoo lingering in my memory, so familiar and evocative in that first moment of consciousness that I reached out to touch her hair. She wasn’t there, of course. I had dug her grave myself, many years before. I touched the half-coin around my neck, then got the hell up before I had a chance to become any more morose.
I checked the time and saw it was about half six. I’d slept the entire afternoon away.
I’d just finished showering when I heard someone hammering at my front door. I went down and found Nadia standing there.
‘Get some clothes on, will you?’ she said, when I let her in. I still had a towel wrapped around my waist.
I gave her a disparaging look. ‘I wasn’t exactly expecting company at home.’
‘Thought I’d come check on you in case you forgot about tonight,’ she replied, squeezing past me and surveying the oriental wallpaper and gold-and-red striped furnishings of my living room. ‘Nice,’ she said drily. ‘Doesn’t it hurt your eyes, seeing this every day?’
‘Surprisingly, you get used to it.’
Nadia shuddered. ‘Well, I’m here to rescue you. Time to meet the rest of your neighbours, Jerry-boy.’
I wandered back through to the bedroom, pulling on a fresh T-shirt and a pair of cargo trousers left behind by the previous owner. When I came back through, I found Nadia standing by the bookshelf, flicking through one of my diaries.
‘Hey. That’s private.’
She looked at me in surprise as I swiped the notebook out of her hand and pushed it back into its place.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realize it was yours.’
I studied her. ‘Did you read any of it?’
‘Maybe a little.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘Sorry. Was I being intrusive?’
‘It’s . . .’ I swallowed my anger. There was no real reason for me to be upset, after all. ‘It’s personal. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I get it. No touchey. Now let’s go meet the rest of the crew.’
Someone had strung fairy lights around the entrance to the Hotel du Mauna Loa, and I could hear music mingling with the murmur of voices from the direction of the pool. The scent of barbecuing meat triggered a sudden, ravenous hunger in me.
I followed Nadia inside and saw Kip Mayer chatting with Yuichi and Randall Pimms, another Pathfinder, although I noted Mort Bramnik himself was not present. But then, I’d gained the distinct impression that he preferred to rule from a distance, so perhaps his presence was unlikely.
I saw more Pathfinders inside. Oskar Boche was propping up the bar, his enormous bull mastiff Lucky curled at his feet like Satan’s own lapdog. To my surprise Selwyn Rudd was there, despite his earlier words. He was seated in a corner, deep in conversation with Winifred Quaker and Haden Brooks, who glanced my way with his strange, silver-flecked eyes. Lastly I saw Rozalia and Nadia by the bar, their hands touching and their heads close together as they talked quietly.
All of the Pathfinders, like me, were stationed here on the island between missions. While they waited to find out where the Authority would next send them, they spent their time at the Hotel du Mauna Loa. It wasn’t, after all, as if there was anywhere else to go.
I recalled what I had learned about those Pathfinders I had met so far: Selwyn Rudd had been a military engineer on his alternate, until orbital nukes that weren’t supposed to exist wiped out the rest of humanity. Winifred Quaker’s parallel had, like my own, ended at the hands of a genocidal cult. I had heard rumours that Winifred had actually been a member of the cult responsible, and had tried and failed to stop them once she realized what they were intending. Yuichi’s world had supposedly been razed clean by runaway nanotechnology.
Despite his appearance and the drawling, slightly stoned way he spoke, Yuichi had been a figure of some note in the field of molecular physics. He had confided in me that he feared his own work had contributed significantly to the demise of his alternate. Randall Pimms I had barely spoken to yet, but he’d apparently survived a mass epidemic that compelled the infected to attack and kill the uninfected. Oskar Boche’s home alternate suffered total environmental breakdown and mass starvation. Nadia and Rozalia had together survived a gamma-ray burst, a stellar detonation of a type that might also have been responsible for wiping out the dinosaurs, tens of millions of years before.
Haden’s origin was by far the most inexplicable of our motley crew. He had been found on an alternate much like the one on which we made our home, in that there was no apparent or reasonable explanation for why everyone might have vanished almost overnight. He could offer no explanation for his having been left unharmed, nor for the strange silver flecks in his eyes that made his gaze subtly eerie.
As for me? I only survived the end of my world by doing a favour for an old college friend investigating an obscure cult.
Nadia waved me over. ‘Look,’ she said, nodding over at Selwyn, still chatting with Winifred. ‘What a hypocrite. Now come on,’ she added, standing and leading me away from Rozalia. ‘I’ll introduce you to Casey and Wallace.’
We approached two men just as they were in the act of dumping a cardboard box full of assorted equipment directly beneath the movie projector. As they stood back up, their faces were momentarily overlaid with images of B-movie actors in rubber costumes. The taller of the two wore a multi-pocketed vest over an open-necked shirt stretched tight over a muscular chest, grey hairs curling out from beneath the stretched buttons. His chin and cheeks were lightly bearded, and he wore a battered cowboy hat perched on top of a thick mane of greying hair. He also, I couldn’t help but notice, had
a gun somewhat conspicuously holstered to his right thigh.
His companion – shorter by a foot – had, by contrast, a round babyish face partly hidden behind a thick scraggly beard, and a black T-shirt displaying some obscure hacker in-joke. He said something briefly to his taller companion, then leaned down and began sorting through the box’s contents, pulling out pieces of rods and things that looked like coloured lenses.
The hacker-type dude turned towards us as we approached, and quietly said something to his friend. The latter’s shoulders tensed in the moment before he turned to greet us.
‘Casey,’ Nadia addressed the taller of the two. ‘I want you to meet Jerry, our new recruit.’
‘Mr Beche,’ said Vishnevsky, extending his hand. ‘I’ve been hearing about you.’
‘And this is Wallace Deans,’ Nadia continued, nodding to the shorter man, who wiped his hands on his trousers before taking his turn to shake my hand.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Wallace. I had the sense he was reluctant to speak to me, and he was clearly avoiding eye contact. His fleshy palm felt damp to the touch.
Wallace cleared his throat and turned to Nadia, at the same time reaching into one pocket and extracting an inhaler. He pressed it to his mouth and took a quick hit, then put it away again. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said, ‘we’re just a little busy at the moment.’
‘I hear you boys are putting on some kind of show,’ said Nadia, with forced levity.
‘You could say that,’ said Casey. He bent to lift out of the box some kind of spherical device, studded with numerous lenses of different sizes and colours, then he let go of it, gritting his teeth in pain.
‘You okay?’ I asked, as Casey reached around to clamp one hand against his lower spine.
‘Sometimes I get a bad back,’ he muttered. ‘Wallace, hand me that thing, would you?’
Wallace picked the device back up and passed it to Casey. ‘Back in a minute,’ Wallace muttered, then disappeared in the direction of the bar.
‘What is that?’ I asked, nodding at the device in Casey’s hand.