by Julie Hyzy
“You’re sure you don’t want at least a few days off?” Stewart asked, breaking into her reverie. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, thumbs rubbing together.
They’d argued this point several times already. She turned to face him. “Until the diagnostics are complete on AdventureSome’s system, I can’t get into the program to retrace my steps. Keeping busy, even if that means sitting in a train station, waiting to meet this new envoy, is about the only way I’m able to hold myself together.”
“I’m sorry,” Stewart said for at least the hundredth time.
“Not your fault.” Kenna turned her attention back to the ever-rearranging trains. Gliding along on single rails, their movements were shushed in the din of the cavernous station.
“Are you sure there isn’t anyone you can call?” Stewart asked. “To come stay with you?”
“Stay with me for how long, Stewart? Is there a proscribed timeline for grief?”
His cheeks colored.
“Sorry.” Kenna looked away. “No,” she said. “No one to call.”
“Adventure of a lifetime.” The old man with the cherry cheeks winked again. “As often as you want!”
Stewart stared at the floor, nodding. He took a deep breath. “Have you made your appointment with Dr. Baxter?”
Kenna gave a brief nod. “Tomorrow morning.” Yet another hurdle in her path to finding Charlie’s killers: safety protocols required a psych evaluation before Kenna would be allowed to return to envoy duties.
“Before Jason gets here…” Stewart began then stopped.
Kenna waited, tightening her mouth when Stewart faltered. He was the closest thing to family she had. She wanted to curl up and cry into his chest. She wanted him to rock her with strong arms and promise her that things would be okay.
But things would never be okay now that Charlie was dead.
Bright-backlit signs above the third set of tracks announced Jason’s train was due to pull in in two minutes. She moved to stand.
Stewart stopped her with a touch. “Wait,” he said.
The warm feelings she had for her mentor snapped the moment she saw the look on his face. “What?” she asked.
His blue eyes held the same concern they’d had right before she’d gone in to try to save Charlie. Kenna blinked the memory away.
“It’s about the Tribunal, isn’t it? What haven’t you told me?”
He scratched his head, looked away, then finally returned his gaze to meet her stare. “If this new envoy, Jason, doesn’t work out, I may be forced to shutter AdventureSome. At least temporarily.”
“Whoa,” she said, not even attempting to tamp down her anger. “You never said anything about the Tribunal ordering you to close your doors.”
“They didn’t order it. Not in so many words, at least. But the threat is real because, well, Jason was the only applicant for the job.” He winced. “And regulations state that we can’t be open unless we’re fully staffed.”
“What about registry-level temps?” she asked.
“You know what a hassle that can be,” he said. “And with the release of the new 6.0s in the coming months, the shortage of full-time envoys is going to get worse, not better.” He tried to work up a smile. “The good news for you is that—once you’re cleared to get back to work—your skills will be in high demand. Even if we shut down, there will be opportunities for you elsewhere.” Stewart’s eyes sought something in Kenna’s but apparently didn’t find it.
Kenna said nothing.
Stewart’s face tensed and his words came out jerky and flat. “I thought you ought to know,” he said. “I thought it was only fair to tell you.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking up at the train signs again. Jason’s train was due in forty-two seconds. Forty-one. “What’s causing this shortage anyway? Do you know?”
“Fewer people willing to give up VR as entertainment these days,” he said. “And of those who do enter the training program to become envoys, only a small percentage succeed.”
“I guess that’s true,” Kenna said. Charlie had complained about how inescapable VR had become and how envoys were among the last remaining participants who managed to remember that life existed outside the capsule.
She glanced up at the VR ad’s doctor who said, “Perfectly safe.”
A gleaming set of cars slid into its bay. The Plexiglas safety curtain slid up, and the doors opened. Among the disgorging passengers was a fellow with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. About Kenna’s age, he glanced around, his shaved head reflecting the overhead lights. It looked like he was eating something.
“There he is,” Stewart said, waving.
The bald guy cocked a dark eyebrow, then made his way over. He finished chewing, then swallowed. “Hey,” he said. “You must be Stewart. I’m Jason.” Stuffing his half-eaten Flaxibar into the pocket of his duffel bag, he reached out to shake hands. Turning to Kenna, he said, “And you must be my new partner. Nice to meet you.”
“Mm-hmm.” This was so wrong she struggled with pleasantries.
Jason studied her for a moment too long. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Tough times,” she said.
“Yeah, I heard.” His expression sobered. “I’m sorry about your friend Charlie. I know how it is with partners. I won’t try to replace him or anything…”
“Like you could.” Kenna’s tone was bitter.
Stewart laid a hand on her arm. “Charlie wasn’t just Kenna’s friend. He was her fiancé.”
“Geez, Stewart.” Kenna fought for control. “Why not share my whole life story?”
Stewart apologized as Jason’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t know,” Jason said. “I really am sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Kenna gave a brief nod. “Let’s just get going, okay?”
As they made their way to the car, Jason asked about apartments in the area and if Stewart or Kenna had any recommendations. Stewart gave some advice as he drove.
“You’re not taking me to AdventureSome first?” Jason asked when they pulled up to his hotel.
“They’re not letting anybody in,” Kenna said as she turned to face him. “System is completely down.”
Stewart forced a smile. “Only until I get the all clear. My techs assure me they’ll be out of our hair soon. I’ll text you as soon as I know more. Could be as early as tomorrow afternoon.”
“Should have been today,” Kenna said. “I have work to do.”
Jason alighted from the back seat. “Looking forward to getting in there,” he said. “Whenever we can.”
◊
When it was just the two of them in the car again, Stewart turned to her. “Go easy on yourself, Kenna. Please.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
TWELVE
Later that night, when Adrian Tate rolled off of her to fall almost immediately asleep, Vanessa let out a sigh of confusion. The man had kept up an incessant chatter during sex that could have been erotic if he’d only kept his attention focused on her. When she’d asked about his injured arm—no longer bandaged—he’d claimed he was completely healed. “Mind over matter,” he’d assured her. Whatever that meant.
He’d started out well enough. When she’d taken off her clothes and he told her how beautiful she was, Vanessa had almost been convinced that she’d landed one of the good guys this time.
As his hands roamed, however, so had his attention.
It still wouldn’t have been so bad, except all he wanted to talk about was Vanessa’s experience before the Tribunal. After she’d told him the circumstances that had landed her there, he’d become fixated on all the details regarding Charlie’s death.
If, after these past few grueling days, Vanessa hadn’t been looking forward to an evening of vigorous, casual sex, she might have pushed back. Instead, in an eff
ort to maintain his interest, she indulged him. She shared more about the tragedy at AdventureSome than she normally would have with a new acquaintance, but she was careful to avoid mentioning any of her colleagues by name.
He seemed fascinated by her job. What harm could there be?
By the time his eyelids fluttered an hour later, Vanessa’s mood had begun to improve. Adrian wasn’t a bad-looking man. And when his face broke out into a lazy, just-awake smile of pleasure as he gathered her in his hairy blond arms, she talked herself into giving him another chance.
He turned her so that her back was to him. Pulling her close, he nuzzled her neck. “Have a nice nap, gorgeous?”
Definitely worth another chance. “I stayed awake watching you.”
“Oh?” He gave a rumble of pleasure. “What time is it?”
She propped herself up on one arm to see the alarm clock over his shoulder. She squinted to read the digital numbers in the dark. “Eleven.”
Closing his eyes, he made an indistinguishable noise as he pressed his face into the pillow. “Morning or night?”
Vanessa laughed and was heartened to see the corners of his mouth pull up. “Nighttime, silly.”
“Thank God.”
“Why?”
Reaching over, he grabbed one of her nipples and tweaked it. Extricating himself from her as he sat up, he rubbed his face. “I have to get going.”
Vanessa looked at the clock again, as though it might have lied to her the first time. “Now?” she asked, her voice taking on a tone of petulance she didn’t try to disguise. “So late?”
Adrian swung his long, wooly legs over the side of the bed. Though there was little ambient light, Vanessa noticed that his feet were hairy, too. Long and lean, like the rest of him. “This isn’t the middle of the night, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s still early.”
“Where are you going?”
“Duty calls.”
“Duty,” she repeated with heavy skepticism. “I thought you said you were in sales.” She couldn’t remember what industry he’d said he was in. “You can’t possibly be seeing customers at this hour.” Maybe he was married and not one of the good guys after all. Drawing the sateen sheets up to cover her exposed breasts, Vanessa tried again. “What’s so important?”
By now Adrian had pulled on his khaki pants and dark polo shirt. He slid his sockless feet into brown loafers and brushed a hand over his short hair. “Couple of things I have to take care of.”
In the dark she couldn’t see his expression. Was he teasing her? “That’s pretty vague.”
He leaned across the bed to kiss her.
Vanessa touched her lips to his. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Hope so,” he said. “But I may be out of town on business for a few days.”
“Where are you going?”
Still almost nose to nose with her, he waggled his blond brows. “Big project I’m working on.” Standing straight again, he worked at his fly, making sure the zipper was shut. “Real big. Can’t put this one off. But I’ll call you just as soon as I get back. Okay, babe?”
Long after Adrian clicked her front door shut, Vanessa stared after him, realizing that he’d never once called her by name.
THIRTEEN
Dr. Sadie Baxter tilted her head. “Would you like something to drink, Kenna? Tea, perhaps?” She gestured across her office, toward a small countertop along the wall. Outfitted like a miniature kitchen, the space held all the comforts of home. There was even a plate of cookies, no doubt standing ready to soothe anxious patients.
From the engraved brass nameplate centered on her desk, to framed letters of commendation, to a dozen different diplomas both earned and honorary, the psychiatrist’s name was everywhere in this walnut-paneled room. The ostentatious display of intelligence and postgraduate education did nothing to improve Kenna’s mood.
“No,” Kenna said, “I’m fine,” hoping the good doctor would pick up the hint.
The wide wall of windows behind Dr. Baxter’s desk overlooked Lake Michigan, sparkling blue green in the morning sun. Kenna squinted. She couldn’t wait to get this over with. The sooner her psych evaluation was behind her, the quicker she’d be able to dive back into VR and find out what went wrong.
“Oh, let me get that.” The doctor stood up, closed the draperies, and flicked on a small lamp. Slim, midfifties, with dark skin and shoulder-length graying hair, Dr. Baxter looked exactly as Kenna had expected. Her eyes were bright, alert, and framed by wrinkles probably worn in from years of narrowing her gaze at patients. She wore blue jeans and a long-sleeve top. The deep V of her neckline showcased the sagging skin of her neck and décolletage.
Returning to her seat, she leaned both elbows on the desk. “There,” she said, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “That better?”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Kenna said.
“Call me Sadie,” she said. “I like to keep things informal.”
“Informal,” Kenna repeated. She resisted a crack that if the woman wanted informal, she ought to have mentioned that to her decorator. This room epitomized stiff-brow snobbery. Now, with the light suppressed, it was unbearably dull as well. Kenna shifted in her seat, desperate to be away.
“Yes,” Dr. Baxter said smoothly. “And while we’re on the subject, is there any way I can make you more comfortable? Would you prefer to sit together on the couch?”
Kenna rolled her eyes. This woman could play a psychiatrist in a movie; she was such a stereotype. “Uh, no,” she said. She enunciated again: “I’m fine.”
Dr. Baxter stared downward at the neat-as-a-pin blotter on her desk. Her slim fingers framed its edge as she adjusted it slightly. Her lips twitched before she raised her eyes to meet Kenna’s. “Not quite.” Cool smile. “You’re not fine until I say you are.”
Kenna stared back, breaking away only when the clock in the corner clicked a new minute.
“Now that we have that settled,” Dr. Baxter said with a tone free from gloat, “let’s get started, shall we?”
Keeping her narrative sterile and precise, Kenna recounted every step of the tragic VR scenario. Instead of making eye contact with Dr. Baxter, she stared at one of the wooden panels across the room. She appreciated its subtle grain marking.
From the psychiatrist’s probing questions, Kenna realized that the woman must have scrutinized her dossier before this interview and that someone—probably Stewart—had divulged that she and Charlie had been engaged. And, of course, that became exactly the raw spot the shrink wanted to pick at most.
Kenna faced Dr. Baxter. Let her chew on this: “What somebody needs to explain to me,” she said, “is who that other guy was. The one who ran away from me. Where did he come from? Why was he in there?”
“Aren’t there usually others in these scenarios?” Dr. Baxter asked.
“You don’t understand. This guy was different. Sentient. I could tell. There was something about him…” Kenna’s hands tightened in her lap. She stared at the wall again; these were the questions that kept her up at night. “It doesn’t make sense. And what about that werewolf thing? A creature like that doesn’t belong in a jungle.”
Dr. Baxter said, “Why do you think it was there?”
“I don’t know.” Kenna’s face warmed. “That’s my point.”
Dr. Baxter said nothing.
“Look, I don’t know how much you know about VR scenarios, but they have a natural progression.” Kenna gestured as she spoke. “They follow—for lack of a better term—a storyline. That’s why ninety-nine percent of the time, participants get out safely. The story ends. The VR is over. People gradually resume consciousness and walk away. But there were inconsistencies in this one. Like the Land Rover and the gun. In a scenario with Huns, neither should have existed.”
“I thought the gun didn’t work.”
“It did work.” K
enna tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “But only because I remembered to change the arming override. There’s a specific fail-safe built into any scenario that involves firearms.”
Dr. Baxter didn’t seem to be bothered by that.
Kenna continued. “And the werewolf. There shouldn’t be werewolves—even in a fictional Hun attack. It doesn’t fit the scenario’s parameters.”
“Can’t those parameters be overridden?”
“Of course,” Kenna said, “but the system wouldn’t allow me to program anything anachronistic. That means that certain parameters were in place. My ability to change the scene was limited. But not, apparently, for whoever set this one up.”
“Charlie?”
“Not a chance.” Kenna fingered her silver locket. “This one didn’t have Charlie’s style.”
“So you’re telling me this was different?”
Didn’t I just say that? Frustrated, Kenna tried to keep her voice even. “It was personal.” As she gave voice to the notion, she realized its truth. “The werewolf came out to stop me.”
Dr. Baxter nodded. “Have you ever experienced mortal absorption?”
Kenna slammed her hand on the desk. The doctor flinched. “No, dammit. Listen. The werewolf didn’t belong. It appeared because I was getting close to Charlie. It came to get me.” Kenna bolted from her chair. She paced away from the desk, running her hands through her hair. She hadn’t intended to get into this, but now that she’d started, she couldn’t make herself stop. “I know how paranoid it sounds, but the werewolf looked at me. He had sentience. I saw it in his eyes. He was out to get me.”
“Okay,” Dr. Baxter said slowly, clearly unconvinced. “But why—”
“And I’ll tell you another thing.” Kenna pointed her finger at the doctor. “That guy I saw running…” She stopped herself from saying that the blond man had the same eyes as the werewolf creature. “He didn’t belong there, either.” She sat.
Dr. Baxter lifted one eyebrow. “You suffered an injury in the scenario, didn’t you?”