She sighed in relief. “Good. That’s great news. What happens to the thieves now?”
Varya bit her lower lip hard and replied bitterly, “Death. Sebastian just called with the news. He says the evidence is clear and an example will be made of them. If they plead guilty, they’ll be allowed an early Rest Time. Painless. If they don’t, and they’re found guilty at trial…”
“Hanging,” said Marisa.
“Or firing squad.”
“Any of those would be too good for them. Hanged, drawn and quartered would be what I’d go for.” Marisa surprised herself at the venom in her voice. “And Reg? What will happen to him?”
Varya grimaced. “Sebastian’s working on having the charges reduced. The powers-that-be are keen to charge him as an accessory. He thinks they’ll be satisfied if the real culprits plead guilty, though. Reg should be able to fly under the radar and slip away fairly quietly. Especially as Sebastian intends to point out to them today that if they charge Reg and it goes to trial there’ll be mud that sticks to Rest Time Corps. They’ll be even more keen to avoid that, I imagine.”
“That sounds like everyone else taken care of, then. Now you need to get yourself and Kir out of reach as soon as possible.”
Varya frowned at her. “I know. But not without Sebastian. I’m thinking Canada. Maybe New Zealand. We’ve travelled to both before, he liked them.”
Marisa’s voice was strained. “For a holiday, he liked them, not to live. And what if he doesn’t want to leave?”
“I can’t separate him from his son again,” said Varya lightly. “I was wrong to do it the first time. I should have known I could trust him.”
“You did what you had to do to keep Kir alive,” said Marisa firmly.
Varya looked at her blankly then, as though she didn’t see her. Marisa sighed softly, recognising quickly—from long experience—that she wasn’t going to be able to get through to her today. Varya had made up her mind and there would be no budging her.
“If he won’t go, and if you change your mind about leaving without him, look inside Kir’s closet, up the top, a blue shoebox towards the back. Everything you need is there.” When Varya didn’t respond, Marisa stood and rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension. “I’ll get dinner started and then leave you to it. You must be exhausted.”
Varya reached up and took Marisa’s hand in hers. “Thank you,” she said, staring into her eyes intently. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”
Marisa looked down at her hand in Varya’s. She squeezed it gently, then let go. “Just doing my job, boss.”
Chapter fifty-three
Varya
That evening, Varya sat with Kir until he fell asleep in his old bed back in their apartment. With each stroke of her knuckle down Kir’s soft cheek his questions became slower and shorter.
“Can I download nine-years-plus games now or still only ones for four-year-olds? ‘Cause that’s not fair if I can’t ‘cause really I’m sort of nine even though I look four.”
“Can I watch television again tomorrow?”
“Is YouTube still a thing?”
She answered a few of the questions—no, yes and yes—and hushed others. In her own mind she picked off the issues underlying each query that she would now need to deal with. Her brain started to ask itself questions that she couldn’t even find the answers for. “How will you explain Kir’s sudden reappearance? Which year will he start in school? Will you need to move to another city? Or another country?”
Kir’s eyelids were almost completely closed and he’d started to snore softly now. He shuddered in the throes of falling asleep and opened his eyes halfway again.
“Mum?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“You’ll be here when I wake up?”
“Right next door, in the next room.”
“And Dad? Is he going to stay too?”
Varya hesitated mid-stroke. Just a small glitch before she smoothed it over and kept moving. She felt, rather than heard, a presence behind her left shoulder.
“I’ll be here, little man,” said Sebastian.
Kir’s eyes flew wide open for a moment as he smiled and shifted his eyes from one parent to the other and back again.
“Okay, good.” He gathered up Yappy Dog in his arms and rolled over to face the wall. Varya laid her hand on his back and waited for his breathing to deepen. She tensed as she felt the warm pressure of Sebastian’s hand on her shoulder. The smell of his cologne brought back so many memories. And so much guilt. Sebastian patted her gently and left the room, closing the door halfway behind him to block out the hallway light. Varya continued to watch over her son. Tomorrow he would be a day older. In three months, it would be his birthday. But which year would they celebrate?
Now the Minor Miracles Foundation’s questionable—okay, illegal—method of funding was exposed. She was sure Sebastian wouldn’t turn her in, but now that her own background was common knowledge, there would be higher scrutiny on the Foundation. Returning to selling time tabs was far too risky. She could put pressure on previous donors to continue the stream of cash in return for her silence, but that would put herself and those close to her in great danger. Safety and peace were what she craved now. A small house in a small neighbourhood with a small job. Maybe moving cities wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Varya shifted and realised her left leg had fallen asleep around the same time as her son. Listening for Kir’s breath one last time, she stood and wriggled out her pins and needles.
In the living room, Sebastian sat with his legs wide and his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looked up as she came in and flicked his head in an invitation to sit beside him. Varya deadpanned him, annoyed at his attempt to guide her even in her own home. She sat in the matching armchair, legs and hands folded.
“You can sleep in the spare room. There’s a bed made up,” she said into the silence. “Extra blankets in the cupboard.”
Say something, she silently pleaded. She felt the pull of the empty, cushioned seat next to him, could almost feel the warmth of his thigh next to hers. They’d been so happy, so right for each other. They’d fought, of course they had. People like Sebastian and her were never meant to be dependent on somebody else. They didn’t need each other in the way that some couples seemed to. She could survive perfectly well without him; in fact, she had. For five years now. She told herself she could survive for the rest of her life alone, as long as Kir was close. But right now, the primal scent of him was wafting over the short distance between them.
She nodded and leaned forward, as though to stand.
“The other kids, their life spans have been restored,” he said to the rug, not looking at her. “But it could have been so much worse.”
Varya swung forward again and this time stood up fully, placing her hands on her hips and facing Sebastian. Suddenly the smell of him aroused only anger in her.
“It could always be worse. That’s life, Sebastian.” She waited, spoiling for a fight. This was familiar territory; it was why their working relationship was so powerful but their personal one fraught with runaway fireworks. She would come up with a radical idea to trial; he would pick it apart and tell her why it was a terrible idea and could never be made to work. She would defend the idea; he would modify it. The final result was always better than the sum of its parts.
“None of this would have happened at all if you’d just let go to start with.”
“Let go of our son’s life, you mean?” said Varya, simultaneously fighting back tears and the urge to slap him.
He looked up at her then, pain evident in his grey-blue eyes. Varya noticed lines on his face where there hadn’t been any before. She had been looking at him for days since his surprise appearance but hadn’t really seen him until now.
“Yes.” His response was barely audible. He looked away then and mumbled something to the side table.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear…” she starte
d.
He met her eyes then. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly and firmly this time. “I’m so sorry for not believing in you.”
She stood, too stunned to say anything. Her whole body started to shake. The tremble started in her elbows and crept up her arms and into her shoulders. Her chest concaved once, then twice. Then the tears began again. She felt warm, strong arms fold her into a solid wall of comfort, but she couldn’t allow herself the relief.
“I killed a child,” she hiccupped between sobs. “More than one.”
He didn’t let her go, instead he put his hand over the side of her head and gently pulled her close to his chest, where he rested his cheek on her crown.
“You didn’t kill those kids.”
She pulled away from him and turned away, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “No.” Her chest tightened with anger, though to whom it was directed she had no idea. “I killed them. If I had destroyed the tech like I was supposed to, if I had let go of Kir like you told me to.” She placed her hands on Sebastian’s chest and pushed him away. “Don’t you understand? Other people’s sons and daughters have died because our son lived.”
Sebastian clenched his fists, his body defaulting to a fighting stance. He inhaled and exhaled heavily, forcing his muscles to relax.
“How am I supposed to live with that?” Varya sat down suddenly, her head in her hands. She rocked and keened quietly, wary of waking Kir. Sebastian sat beside her.
After a while he said, “I could tell you that it doesn’t work like that. I could tell you that we make the best decisions we can with the information we have at the time. And, I think, you did exactly that. You couldn’t have foreseen what your mother did. She and Reg couldn’t have known that he was being followed. I could tell you that you should stop feeling guilty about it.” He put his hand on her arm, but she pulled away. His grip tightened, refusing to yield. “But I’m not, Varya, because I know it won’t help you.”
She stilled.
“I think,” he started, stroking her forearm with this thumb. “No, I know that Kir will now have one of the most overprotective, anxious mothers that ever walked this planet. I know that you will spend the rest of your life trying to repay your perceived debt to those kids’ parents.” He laughed wryly. “And, if you continue trying to repay that debt with your work at the Foundation, you’ll also save the lives of countless kids.”
Varya had stopped sobbing. Sebastian took both of her hands and tried to put his face in her line of vision.
“Varya.”
“Mmm?” she sniffed. She let him take her hands, but she couldn’t meet his eyes just yet.
“Thank you. Thank you for completely ignoring everything I said. Thank you for not letting go of our boy.”
Varya let out another sob and leant into him. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “And I really need some tissues.”
He laughed, a slightly strangled sound, and she looked up and smiled. She saw he was crying now too.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve again. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She brought him soft, aloe vera-infused tissues from the bathroom, sneaking a peek in at the still-sleeping Kir on her way past. Clutching the box of tissues to her chest, she watched Sebastian from the doorway. He was tapping things into his screen, frowning. It felt like such a relief to forgive and to be forgiven. To put herself in his hands again and feel her stomach bottom out and her mind start to freefall. Everything was so black and white for him, so certain. She envied his ability to make his own peace and walk away from his son; then to return five years later and walk back into his life with no sense of guilt. Varya bit her lip. He had walked away, from their dying son. And from her. And yet, she was the one who seemed to hold all the guilt, all of the pain.
“Here you go.” She held the box out to him as she sank down on the couch next to him.
He took a proffered tissue and placed it on his lap. “Thanks. I just have to…” He trailed off and continued to tap on his screen. Varya checked his face. The tears had dried.
“Kir and I, we can’t stay here.”
“Mm-hmm, I’m nearly finished, they just need to know…”
“I think we should move to Canada.”
He looked up then, mid-tap. “What?”
“Or New Zealand.” She looked at him, expressionless. “You could come with us.”
“What? Why?”
Varya pursed her lips and shook her head slightly.
“Seb, we can’t stay here. How will we explain Kir just suddenly reawakening from the dead?”
“We’ll just tell them the truth.” Sebastian swiped at his screen a little and held it up to her, the lines a blur to her tired eyes. “I’ve already started trying to explain it. I’ll file a report, we’ll answer some questions, that’ll be it. Var’, they won’t arrest him for being alive.”
Varya laughed softly. “Well, that’s something.”
Sebastian swiped again and went back to his tapping. “And you’ll be able to stop work and look after Kir properly. You can both come live with me.”
Varya bit her tongue and dug her thumbnails into her fingers. She kept her voice even.
“Hmm. And what about the Minor Miracles Foundation?”
“Connor can run that, can’t he? Surely Kir’s more important.”
“Maybe you could look after Kir while I go back to work.”
He stopped swiping and looked at her as though she’d suggested he take up pig farming and pipe smoking.
“Varya, I can’t just leave my job. I’m part of a small team of specialists that keeps our country safe, that maintains civil order and ensures we don’t exceed our resources. That’s…”
“More important than Kir?” she offered.
“That’s not what I meant.” There was anger in his tone, but also pain.
“You could do important things to keep Canada safe.”
“Canada isn’t my country.”
“No. It’s not, but your country murders its own citizens when they reach their expiry date. Canada does not.”
“My country’s citizens sacrifice their place on this earth when their time comes so that others may flourish.” He looked hard at her and stood, towering above her.
She smiled and pushed herself up from the couch. She lightly gripped his hands, rigid by his sides, and stroked his palms lightly with her fingers until they relaxed a little.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. We’ll stay and work things out. I’m just tired and… overwrought.” She smiled, head bowed, then peered up at him sideways. “You’re staying, right?” she asked. “I-I mean just for tonight, in the spare room. I didn’t mean…” She held her breath as he leaned towards her and gently kissed her forehead. “It’s just that I’m… really tired. I’m so very tired.”
“Yes, I’m staying. I thought I could make us pancakes in the morning.” He smiled.
She shrugged. “Well, actually, I’ve taught myself how to make pancakes. I’m pretty sure they’re better than yours. But you can give it a shot, I suppose.” She raised her eyebrows and looked directly into his eyes, trying not to think about how her face was probably red and blotchy with dark semi-circles on her cheeks where her make-up would have run.
“I’ve missed you too,” he said, giving her a half-smile. “Damn, I’m tired too.”
“How about we have a drink, a toast to our new future, and then get some sleep.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She kissed him this time, on the lips. They were warm and dry and the smell of him made her hungry.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Varya padded out to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. Sebastian went back to replying to urgent messages of national importance.
They sipped imported vodka and talked about old times—when Kir was a baby, when Kir was a toddler, when they first met. Never about the time thefts; never about his illness.
When both their glasses were empty, Varya left him t
o finish up a couple of things on his screen. Then she checked on their boy one more time. There he was, back in his bed as though he’d never left. She pulled the cover up to his chin and stroked his soft hair with her open palm. He sighed deeply and rolled over.
In her own bedroom, alone, she changed into pyjamas and fell into bed. Varya slept deeply for the first time in five years.
Chapter fifty-four
Marisa
If you’d asked me, I could have told you what Varya would do before it even happened. I knew she wouldn’t stay. I don’t know Sebastian well, but I know his type and they’re infuriatingly predictable. He thinks everyone should accept their fate, and sacrifice whatever they can for our great and glorious country. Varya, on the other hand, doesn’t have a single belief that she won’t happily beat to death in favour of her one obsession—protecting her little boy. Ain’t no way she was going to let them use Kir as a guinea pig for the next sixty years.
Here’s what I think happened that night. I think Varya dosed both Sebastian and Kir with Entiac, the night she slipped away with their little boy. Sebastian would have been sleeping like the proverbial baby when she woke up and packed her bags. She would have taken the bags down to the car first, then come back up for Kir and carried him down in the elevator.
Then she took the documents from the shoebox at the top of the wardrobe and drove east, deep into the back roads of Gippsland, and off the grid. Nobody would look for them there. And besides, the government doesn’t much care if they occasionally lose a few people. The new economy means that less really is more, so long as we can keep our population decline fairly steady. And I mean, really, why would you want to go anywhere else? Most of the rest of the world has at least the same problems as we do, usually worse. It’s not like you can escape your Rest Time Chip anyway. Once that sucker’s inserted at birth it’s not coming out again while you’re alive. No, it’s going back the other way, back into the system, that people have trouble with.
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