by Piers Platt
Auresh and Cadellium looked over at the hole near the ship’s bow.
“It’ll take us back to Earth?” Auresh asked, taking his weight off the wire.
Falken nodded. “One of you.”
“Just one?” Cadellium asked, eyeing Auresh with sudden apprehension.
“Just one. But there’s another problem,” Falken said.
“What’s that?” Auresh asked.
“You gotta stop me from going, first,” Falken said. Lightning-quick, he reached up and grabbed the wire over his head in both hands, and hauled down on it. Auresh, holding the other end of the line, was yanked forward several feet, away from Weaver – he tumbled and fell, rolling in the dirt. Falken dashed forward, and felt another blow from Cadellium’s shovel glance off his back. He ignored it and sprinted toward the open hatch, and when he reached it, he leapt down into it with abandon, smashing into the ladder as he fell through into the airlock.
Fuck me! Virtual reality shouldn’t hurt this much.
Falken turned and spied the captain’s corpse, in the corridor on the far side of the airlock. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and scrambled forward, the cord still trailing from his neck.
Almost there.
Suddenly, the wire went taut, and he tipped backward.
Shit. Someone’s pulling on the other end!
Falken couldn’t breathe; he felt another hard tug on the wire, and he slid back several feet toward the ladder.
… and now both of them are pulling on it.
He grabbed the wire between his bound hands, pulled with all of his strength, and managed to gain enough slack to scramble back to the inner hatch. Falken let go of the wire and caught the lip of the hatch in his hands, then hauled himself through it with a guttural roar. He tried to gasp for air, but the noose had sunk in deep, and his vision was starting to blur. The captain’s rotting skull seemed to be watching him, his empty eye-sockets staring, teeth bared in a morbid grin.
Close … so close.
Falken put one foot against the bulkhead of the inner hatch and pushed, inching closer. He reached out with both hands, pushing the corpse aside. On the deck, next to the wall, he saw the pistol. His stretched his arm out, one finger brushing against the pistol’s grip. It moved, ever so slightly.
Not … enough … slack.
Falken strained against the cord, struggling to gain even an inch.
Come on! Help me!
Falken closed his eyes, and abruptly, he felt the pistol slide into his grasp. His hands closed around the grip, and Falken stopped fighting the pull of the rope. He fell backwards and slid across the floor, slamming into the ladder. As the cord loosened, he sucked in a deep, ragged breath. Then he felt the wire tighten again, and he was jerked upwards, back toward the top hatch. His feet left the deck a moment later – Cadellium and Auresh were pulling in concert now, hauling him head-first out of the ship. Falken’s chest banged against the outer hatch, and then he was free of the ship, rising up into the air over Lookout Hill, dangling from the tree branch.
He looked down and saw Cadellium and Auresh, their hands on the line, snarling and sweating as they held him aloft. Falken raised the pistol and saw their eyes go wide in surprise.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Falken fell to the ground in a heap next to the hatch. He tore at the noose around his neck, and after a moment, it loosened enough that he could slip it off. He gagged, inhaling deeply, and spent a moment just catching his breath. Then he stood up and walked unsteadily over to the two men, who lay, bleeding, on the ground next to Weaver’s tree.
Auresh sat clutching a bullet wound in his gut, wincing in pain. Cadellium lay on his face. Falken kicked at the older man’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. His face was sheet-white, and his jaw worked silently. Beside him, Auresh opened his mouth to say something, but Falken shot him in the head, twice, and then turned and finished Cadellium off.
Go back to your own version of the simulation, assholes.
He tucked the pistol into his pocket and picked Auresh’s knife up off the ground. Falken cut Weaver free first, then let Weaver cut the bindings on his wrists.
“Are you okay?” Weaver asked, frowning at the cut on Weaver’s chest.
“I’m okay,” Falken said, his throat hoarse. Nothing a good dose of reality won’t cure.
Falken crossed over to Ngobe and set to work untying his knots, while Weaver slashed at the cords around Saltari.
“Well done, Falken,” Ngobe said, eyeing the two dead men with distaste. “I was convinced our adventure with the ship was going to end before it had even started.”
“Yeah,” Falken growled.
“Mr. Weaver, it’s good to see you again,” Saltari said.
“Hi, Salty,” Weaver said. “It’s been a long time.”
Falken cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s get inside … before somebody else tries to pick a fight with me.”
“How many other sworn enemies do you have?” Ngobe asked.
“I have no idea,” Falken said, coughing. He patted the pistol in his pocket. “But I’m running out of bullets, so let’s hope there aren’t many.”
Chapter 28
Vina burst into the bookstore, the doorbell jingling violently.
“Mom? Mom!”
Her mother’s head poked around the edge of a bookshelf. “Vina? What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Grandpa?” Vina asked.
Elize stepped out from behind the bookshelf. “He went up to a flea market in Allenville, scouting for books. Why?”
“I need you to come with me,” Vina said, holding the door open.
“What?” Elize asked, confused. “But the store—”
“We’ll lock it up!” Vina said. “Just come on.”
Elize set down the book she was holding and hurried to the front of the store. “Is your grandfather okay?”
“As far as I know,” Vina said, stepping out into the street. She looked hurriedly both ways down the sidewalk, as her mother locked the front door.
“Oh!” Elize exclaimed. “I forgot to set the sign to Closed.”
“Leave it,” Vina said, tugging on her mother’s arm. “They’ll figure it out when they find the door locked.”
“You’re going to be the one that explains to your grandfather why his store was closed for no reason,” Elize warned her.
Yeah … I’m not going to be the one doing the explaining, Vina thought.
The two women climbed into Elize’s car. “Sheriff’s office,” Vina said, and the car backed out of its spot, joining the traffic on the street.
“Okay, now you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” Elize said. “Why are we going to the police?”
“I found something,” Vina said, staring through the windshield. “Or … I have a hunch. A strong one.”
“A hunch about what?”
“About Dad, and what really happened,” Vina said. “But every time I think I have something, it turns out to be nothing, so … that’s all I’m going to tell you right now. This time I’m going to get some proof before I cry wolf.”
“Then why are we going to the police?” Elize asked.
“I’m dropping you off, and this way, I’ll know you’re safe,” Vina said. The car made a turn, and she saw the sheriff’s office farther down the street.
“Why wouldn’t I be safe? Where are you going?” Elize asked.
The car slowed to a stop, and the passenger door swung open next to Elize.
“I’m going to get that proof,” Vina said. “Tell Sheriff Buckniel I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Vina, you’re making me worried,” Elize said, pausing with one foot out the door.
“I got this, Mom,” Vina said. “Just stay here, okay?”
Elize shook her head reluctantly, and then climbed out of the car. The door closed, and Vina stepped on the accelerator, pulling away. In the rear view mirror, she saw her mother watch her for a moment, and then turn and walk into the sheriff�
��s building.
She drove fast at first – the car beeped at her in protest, and even corrected her steering in one instance, when she threatened to bump into another car. Vina slowed down after that, forcing herself to stay calm.
No sense getting into an accident on the way there.
She punched a button on the car’s dashboard. “Call Grandpa.”
A dial tone came to her over the speakers, and then it rang. The call connected after the second ring.
“Elize?”
“No, it’s Vina, Grandpa,” Vina said, struggling to keep her voice normal while her heart raced. “But I was looking for Mom. I tried calling but she’s not answering. Do you know where she is?”
“She’s at the store,” he replied. “She should be, at least.”
“Okay, I’ll check there. Where are you?” Vina asked.
“Allenville,” he said.
“When are you getting back?” Vina asked.
“I don’t know,” Rauno said. “Depends.”
“Okay, see you at the store. ‘Bye,” Vina said, and hung up. She realized her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, and relaxed them.
Outside of town, she risked a bit more speed, the little car powering down the straight, wide country lanes. Ahead, she saw the entrance to McMurtry State Park, but she kept going past it, and eventually pulled into a suburban development – a cluster of small houses with manicured green lawns and swing sets in their backyards. Vina drove around a wide looping curve in the road, and then parked the car in front of a house with gray siding and white shutters. She got out, closing the door behind her, and then jogged through the house’s yard, crossing over the lawn until she came out onto the street one block over.
Her grandfather’s house stood facing her, its driveway empty. Vina took a deep breath, and then strode up the paving stones of the front walk. At the door, she keyed in the access code, and it unlocked. Vina stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.
Okay: proof. And quickly … you don’t know how long he’s gonna be at the flea market, although he’ll probably go back to the store first.
It had been years since she had visited her grandfather’s house, she realized, but little had changed from her memory of it. To her left, the dining room table held several old books in various stages of restoration – Rauno had attached a desk lamp to the edge of the table, for better light while he worked. Beyond, she could see the kitchen.
She turned to her right, and walked into the sitting room. The walls were lined with books – her grandfather’s personal collection, she knew. A matching set of easy chairs and a couch stood around the room, and one section of the shelves held a number of framed photographs. Vina crossed over to pictures.
The first picture on the left was of her grandmother, who she had never met. She stood smiling at the camera, wearing a cap and gown. The next was a picture of Vina’s mother as a child. Her grandmother knelt beside her, hugging her, while Rauno stood behind the two of them, arms at his sides. Beside it, Vina recognized a picture of her own family, posing for the holidays in matching sweaters. But an extra wallet-sized picture of her brother, Enzo, had been tucked into the frame – it covered her father’s face in the photo almost exactly. The next photo was from her parents’ wedding, but instead of a picture of the bride and groom, it was a picture of just Elize, with her bridesmaids and her mother.
Vina frowned, and scanned the remaining photos – the rest were of her and her brother, mostly official school photos from different years.
Only one picture of Dad, and he’s covered up in it. And Grandpa told me: “I always found it tough to get to know him, even after he married your mother.”
On the shelf above the pictures sat several plaques from the local Chamber of Commerce, recognizing Rauno’s membership at several milestones – five years, ten years, twenty years. There was an ancient book on display, as well – an early edition of a novel, wrapped in leather. But instead of being set in the special brackets they used at the store, it was propped against something. Vina frowned. She reached out for the book and then hesitated.
How many times did Grandpa yell at me for touching books without gloves? She shook her head, and tugged the end of her sleeve over her fingers, then nudged the book aside. It was leaning against a crystal trophy, fashioned in the semblance of a burst of flame. The crystal flame was mounted into a wooden base, which held a single silver plaque, tarnished with age. Vina stood on her tiptoes to read it.
Independent Bookseller of the Year
Sef Weaver, Proprietor
Rauno Korhonen’s Antique Books
Vina bit her lip, thinking. That’s the award Dad won; he won it the year before we were kidnapped, while Grandpa was in the hospital. Then he must have given it to Grandpa when he got home. What did Mom say? “A lot of booksellers would kill for that award – they spend their lives working toward it.” And Grandpa put it here … gathering dust behind an old book.
Vina pushed the book back into place, and then stepped through the door at the back of the room and into her grandfather’s study. The room had two entrances – one led to the hallway and the kitchen beyond, the other was the door she had just come through, which led back into the sitting room. Like the sitting room, the study was cluttered with books – several stacks sat on her grandfather’s desk, and more were piled on a rocking chair in one corner. Vina crossed to the desk and tapped on the computer screen to wake it up. A password prompt appeared. She tried several combinations of his birthday and obvious words like books, and then gave up.
Next, Vina squatted down and pulled open each of the drawers in the desk. The top drawer held office supplies – envelopes, pens, some binder clips, and tape. The next drawer down was full of spiral-bound notebooks, but when Vina thumbed through them, they were all empty. The bottom drawer held more blank notebooks. Vina was about to close the drawer when she spotted a datapad under the stack of books.
That’s not the one he usually uses, Vina thought.
She slid it out. It was an old model – it reminded Vina of the one she had had back in middle school – bulky, with a plastic back and glass screen. Vina touched the Power button, and to her surprise, it turned on, with no password screen. There were almost no apps installed on the device, just the ones it had shipped with, plus an encrypted messaging app. Vina tapped on it, but the app was empty, with no messages in the inbox. She opened the app’s Sent Messages folder, but that was empty, too.
Why would Grandpa have an old datapad like this lying around? And why is the only thing he installed on it an encrypted chat program?
“Vina,” a deep voice rumbled.
She shrieked, startled. Vina stood up and spun around, and found her grandfather standing in the entrance to the hall, watching her.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Chapter 29
Falken climbed down the ladder into the Khonsu, wincing with each shift of his weight, each movement of his arms from rung to rung.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Weaver asked, noticing his discomfort.
“Just a little sore,” Falken said.
Weaver moved out of the way, letting Saltari descend next, and then Ngobe. The astrophysicist stepped off the ladder and looked around in mute amazement at the spacesuits hanging along the walls. Then he caught sight of the captain’s body.
“Oh, my,” Ngobe said. “We’ve entered a tomb.”
Saltari made the sign of the cross.
“I took the pistol off of him,” Falken said. “And it’s his keycard, too. He is – was – the captain of the ship.”
Saltari bent over the corpse, examining it. “His legs are missing. I wonder what happened?”
“Sea monsters,” Falken said.
Saltari snorted. “Don’t be foolish. Perhaps it was some industrial accident on board the ship, a malfunctioning machine?”
Nope, Falken thought. It was sea monsters. “Come on. Bridge is this way.”
He led them down the corridor and through the lounge, and then stopped in the antechamber before the bridge. He had been looking forward to this moment since arriving back on Oz – the grand reveal, showing his friends that hope remained for their future. But now that the moment had come, it felt anticlimactic.
I’m tired. And none of this is going the way I planned.
Without fanfare, Falken pulled the keycard out of his pocket and slid it into the scanner mounted in the wall. On cue, the wall panels folded into the floor, revealing the escape pod.
“Express trip to Earth,” Falken said. “One way only, one passenger only.”
Ngobe leaned over to peer inside the pod, touching the seat and harness, and inspecting the vehicle’s control panel.
“Amazing,” he said. “It all appears to be in working order, but we’d be wise to run some diagnostic checks before attempting a launch.”
“Mm,” Saltari grunted. “Will it fly, after all these years? And if so, we have to decide who to send.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Whoever goes back must tell people about Oz, and the reality of the criminal justice system. They need to expose this whole scheme, and put an end to it. Deciding who to send will be no easy task.”
“No,” Falken said. “I found it, I should decide.”
“That’s hardly fair, Falken,” Saltari said. “I’ll give you a lot of credit for this discovery, but we need to consider other factors. And I’m not sure you’re the right man for the job.”
“I’m not trying to go back,” Falken said. “Weaver is.”
The two older men turned to look at Weaver, who shrugged. “It was Falken’s idea. And as much as I want to get out of here, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it, honestly.”
“Why should it be Weaver?” Ngobe asked Falken.
“Because he’s the right man for the job, like Salty said,” Falken said. “He’s got a family, so people can relate to him. He’s well-spoken. And his crime is one that I think people can understand, if not forgive. He murdered a man who kidnapped his family.”