The question is, did Reg leave my fingerprint on the approved list? The last time I was here was five years ago. New Year’s Eve. A small gathering in a robotics lab. We were served hors d’oeuvres and champagne by a small fleet of primitive robots I later discovered weren’t autonomous, but were controlled by a bevy of hidden interns with remote controls. Still, it was close to magical, and Morgan…she was actually magical. I can remember her laugh that night. Her animated conversations with Reggie’s M.I.T. buddies, holding her ground with the smartest people in the world, while I sent robots scurrying for more snacks. I was so impressed by the security system that Reg gave me a demonstration, and added my fingerprint so I could try it out for myself.
I haven’t been back since. Reggie’s party got…rowdy by M.I.T. standards. People didn’t take kindly to a naked man riding a Personal Defense Tank being developed for the military rolling down Massachusetts Ave. It was funny as hell. Morgan did a wicked impression of the man, one arm raised, whooping like a wounded bird, cackling as police ran in circles around him, trying to pull him down while suppressing their own laughter.
“Hey,” Rain says, holding open the building’s door. I didn’t hear it unlock. Didn’t notice her open it. “You okay?”
I shake the cobwebs of my past away and step toward the door. “Yeah. Sure.”
There is another security keypad inside the doorway, but it’s fried. Unlike Reggie’s personal security measures, the regular security is most likely not hardened against EMPs. So I continue past it, move into the stairwell, and descend two flights to a dark and windowless lab that Reg calls home. The candle guides us the rest of the way. We pause at a second door, windowless and hardwood. It would take a battering ram to get through it. Or the right fingerprint. The door opens for us a moment later, and we step inside the lab…still glowing with the life of modern electronics. I don’t know if all of Reggie’s gadgets are hardened, but the lab appears to be fully functional.
I sit down at a computer terminal and open Chrome. No connection. A few more attempts on different machines net the same result. The lab is operational, but the systems, lines, wireless networks, and cell towers it might use to connect to the outside world are all down.
When I turn away from the computer, I find Rain standing by a workbench, looking over what appears to be a robot dog…or something. I’m not sure. It has four rigid legs with black, padded feet…and no head. It’s a robot. It might not need a head, but it’s still creepy. And probably worth a small fortune.
“I wouldn’t touch that,” I say, and then I remember the first rule in breaking and entering 101. No fingerprints. I’ve already left two.
Doesn’t matter, I decide. There’s no reason to look for us here. No one will know.
But that’s not true.
Reg will know. The system will record that someone entered, and will have the fingerprint log of whom.
I’ll leave a note, I decide. I trust Reg.
Rain puts the robot down. “Your friend made all of this?”
“Some of it. The students do a lot of the work, but the designs are Reggie’s. The patents.”
“Huh,” she says, giving herself a tour of the lab, which is an odd mix of old and new. The future is being designed and tested in a lab that looks like a cross between the Enterprise and a Gold’s Gym, all of it lit by fluorescent rectangles embedded in a water-stained, drop ceiling.
I watch her for a moment. She seems almost innocent as she scours the lab. The world is new to her. She might know what things are, but she has no memory of them. Then again, there are several contraptions here that no one, myself included, in the world outside has seen or even dreamt of yet.
As interesting as all that might be, my thoughts drift.
I settle into the office chair, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
I replay the night in snippets. The explosion. My phone. The kid being shot. Rain collapsing. Rain glowing. Rain…
I think the Ambien is still working…
A rainbow. It’s huge in the sky. I’m home. With a crush from college. She’s holding my arm. The affection feels good.
Then she squeezes my arm, turns to me, and says, “Someone’s here.”
I blink out of the dream. Rain’s face is inches from mine. “W-what?”
“Someone. Is. Here.” She motions her head to the lab door, which is somehow now on the far side of the room. I look down at my chair. It’s on wheels. Rain pushed me here.
When the lab door opens, we duck down together, watching through a shelf covered in metal limbs and body parts, a robotic catacomb. We duck down deeper when someone steps inside, dressed in all black, like some kind of assassin. Or an actual assassin.
How did they find us so fast?
I turn to whisper to Rain, but she’s no longer beside me.
10
Rain stalks through the lab, low and predatory, moving on all fours. She’s silent, closing in on her oblivious prey.
And me? I’m locked in place. A real chickenshit. My plan was to hide. To hope we were overlooked. Rain’s aggressive push has me off balance. Or is that the Ambien? Or the knock to the head?
I should help, but how? I don’t know what Rain is doing. She clearly has some kind of plan, and she’s executing it. Anything I do could throw a monkey wrench in whatever it is she’s up to.
Let her do her thing, I think.
I don’t know her. Her past. Her beliefs. Her moral compass. I don’t even know her real name. But I have a feeling about her. About what she can do. But it’s an ignorant feeling. Will she subdue the maybe-assassin? Will she kill? If so, how? I don’t want Reg to find the lab covered in blood.
Stop her, my conscience tells me.
But all I do is crouch and squeeze the shelf supports.
The assassin scans the lab, face concealed by a black mask and shimmering goggles. Intimidation flicks my heart, setting off a palpitation and a surge of adrenaline that focuses my senses.
I notice things I’d missed before. Body language. Body type. Circumstances.
The assassin’s stance is casual. Relaxed.
And she’s a she…not to say women can’t be assassins. Rain’s predatory advance leaves little doubt that she’s capable of violence to some degree. Or maybe her lack of memory makes her immune to the fear of loss.
My stomach sours.
Don’t think about it.
I focus on the assassin again—the assassin who entered this secure lab without kicking down the door.
Her fingerprint is in the system.
And then I understand.
I stand and step out of my hiding spot, as Rain scurries closer. She’s hidden behind a crate, easily within striking distance.
Please be right, I think. Please don’t be an assassin.
“Reg?”
The person I took for a fearless killer yelps at the sound of my voice, throwing up her hands. My would-be assassin is Dr. Regina Adisa. ‘Reggie’ or ‘Reg,’ if you’re pals. Call her ‘Gina,’ though, and you’ll be on the bad side of someone with an IQ to match Einstein’s.
Then she sees me. “Saul?”
Rain stands up from her hiding place just a few feet away from Reg. She’s no longer on the prowl, but her sudden appearance draws a scream from Reg, who stumbles back and falls into the arms of a handless robot strapped to the wall.
“It’s okay,” I say, hurrying over to her. “You’re okay.”
Reg lifts her future-goggles from her eyes, does a double-take at Rain, and then turns to me, reeling in her confusion. “Saul, what the hell?”
“I can explain,” I say.
Her fear morphs into suspicion. She gives Rain a once-over. “Why is she wearing Morgan’s shirt?”
The Nemesis shirt. I’d shown it to Reg, who also happens to be a fan of the Goddess of Vengeance.
Reg peels her facemask off, revealing dark skin and pulled-back black hair. And suddenly she looks like she could be an assassin. She grips my shirt and force
fully directs me a few feet away from Rain, who’s watching us with curiosity.
“Please tell me you are not using my lab as a secret fuck-shack,” Reg growls.
“What? No. I—”
“You know that’s not what he’s doing. Quiet. He’s here for a reason. Find out. Fine. Fine.”
Reg has an odd habit of having conversations with herself. Swears she doesn’t have a split personality, but even if she did, I don’t think anyone would care. Genius comes with quirks. And Reg often finds solutions to problems by verbally sparring with herself. Her head twists back the other way, and her eyes gaze into mine. “What are you doing here?”
“Reg…”
“Do you even know what’s happening out there? Or have you been—”
“Reg!” I shout.
The anger in my voice is like a slap in the face for her. She’s never even seen me angry, let alone been on the receiving end of it. For a moment, she glares, defiant. Then she sees the pain in my eyes and falters. “What… Why are you here?”
“Hiding,” I say, and I quickly follow that up with, “There are people chasing us—”
“Hunting us,” Rain adds.
Reggie’s eyes flick to my mysterious counterpart, but then home back in on me. “Hunting you?”
“They already killed someone,” I say. “A kid.”
Her expression darkens. She takes a seat, the heaviness of what I’m about to tell her weighing her down in advance. “Who?”
“I don’t know his name, but he helped me—”
“I mean, who is hunting you?” Reg says.
“The people who… You saw it. The sky. The power outage.”
Reggie’s head hangs heavy for a moment, like she’s reliving the moment she saw Cambridge enveloped in blue light. “Yeah, I saw it. People in New Hampshire probably saw it. I was in Salem when…but you were here...” Curiosity power-lifts some of the weight away from Reg. “You were at ground zero. What happened? What did you see?”
“What you did, but closer.” I’m trying to get around saying it. Knowing I can’t, I look for something to hold onto. I grip a desktop cluttered with metal parts.
“He looks pale,” Reggie whispers to herself. “Not as pale as his friend. I don’t trust her. I know. But I trust him.” She nods. When she looks back to me, I wonder if she even knows that little debate was said aloud. “Tell me.”
“Ground zero was at SpecTek,” I say.
Reg shrinks in on herself. “Morgan…” She doesn’t need to ask. If Morgan wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be here without her. “Have you been to the site?”
“First thing I did,” I tell her. “It’s gone.” Emotion roils up from some dark abyss. I attempt to contain the rising leviathan. My lips tremble. Then my arms. Tears pool. And then, it comes in a moment of monstrous rage. I scream so hard that my voice cracks and fizzles down to a hiss. And then I scream again, the sound of anguish transporting me to another place, where nothing exists.
Human touch snaps me back.
I open my eyes to find the desk overturned, its contents spilled across the floor. “Sorry,” I say, embarrassed by what I’ve done.
“Oh, honey,” Reg says. She’s kneeling across from me. Tears in her eyes, afraid to ask.
I spare her the discomfort. “She’s gone.”
“It’s a big building, Saul,” she says. “Maybe Morgan—”
“The whole building is gone,” I say, wiping arm across nose. Blinking away tears. Making room for anger. “There wasn’t any debris. It’s just gone. Everything above ground, six stories below, and every single person. The only thing left in the whole place…” I turn to Rain, who’s looking on with sympathetic eyes. “…was her.”
“And she is?” Reggie asks.
“We don’t know,” Rain says. “But you can call me Rain.”
“It’s not really her name,” I say. “It was on the back of her clothing. Subject 005-RAIN. All caps.”
“Subject?” Reg says, eyebrows rising. She’s been a scientist all her life. Knows that Morgan was a scientist as well. Might even know more about her work than me. She understands the significance of that word.
What it implies.
“Do you know anything about what she was working on?” she asks.
I shake my head. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
“You gotta love NDAs,” Reg grumbles. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Few days ago,” I say, and then I correct myself. “She called. FaceTimed. Right when it happened.”
“Did you see her…”
“The connection was cut before the final blast.”
“What did she say?”
“I…I can’t. That—that was for me.”
She dips her head, understanding. “What did you see?”
I smile a little bit. Reg is the consummate problem solver. Emotions make her uncomfortable. She did a great job responding to my distress, but I’m sensing her discomfort and her eagerness to move the conversation toward solvable problems, which is fine with me. If I dwell on Morgan, I’ll be useless. There will be time for that later. Right now, I need to help Rain and…
Damnit…
…I need to protect Reg. Now that she’s seen us. Now that she knows what I do, she’s part of this. If they track us here…
Damnit!
“Saul, I can’t help you if I don’t know everything,” Reg says.
I didn’t come here for your help, I think, but I keep that to myself. She’s part of this shitshow now. Might as well see if her brilliant mind can make sense of what happened tonight.
So I lay it all out for her. Waking up. The shaking. The lights. I tell her what I saw in the FaceTime. The stretching-out man. Rain in the cell. Her body glowing. I tell Reg about the hollowed-out SpecTek facility. The helicopters. The shot kid. Running back to the house. Narrowly escaping the G-men—explaining that it’s a loose term for the men-in-black chasing us. And I top it all off with our subway flight, and the circumstances surrounding the two times Rain’s body has glowed since all this began—once in the subway, and once outside the library.
“And you were in the subway tunnel during the initial experience?”
“That mean something to you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Aside from the glowing, did anything about that event stand out?”
“We weren’t alone,” Rain says. She’s perched on a chair the way Spider-Man crouches on a rooftop, ready to spring into action.
“You saw people?” Reg asks.
“Felt them,” I say.
“Two of them,” Rain says. “They didn’t want us there.”
“You both felt them?”
I remember the chill. My hair standing on end. “Not really.”
“To a scientist,” Reg says, “‘Not really’ is essentially ‘Yes.’”
“I didn’t feel it like she did.” I motion to Rain. “But that was nothing compared to what happened in front of the library.”
“Where the student was murdered,” she says. It shouldn’t surprise me that in Reg’s vast treasure trove of knowledge she has information about the one and only M.I.T. student to be murdered at the college. It happened long before her time. She would have been in middle school in San Diego when that went down, but if she reads something, she retains it.
“Murdered?” Rain says, reeling back a little.
“Mugged and murdered,” I say.
“You knew?” Rain asks, offended that I kept the information from her.
In my defense, she’s a complete stranger who was present at the moment of my wife’s…disappearance. And Rain freaking glows. I don’t really have a solid reason to trust her, and I didn’t see how telling her about a murder that happened more than three decades ago would help keep her, or me, calm.
I don’t say any of that, though. Instead, I offer, “Hjelp! Jeg trenger hjelp!”
Reggie’s curious gaze flinches. “What?”
“I said that,” Rain say
s. “When it happened.”
“You speak Norwegian?”
Rain shakes her head.
“Help,” Reg says. “I need help. That’s what you said.”
Rain gives me a worried look. Spontaneously speaking another language would be enough to freak out anyone. It’s the kind of thing that happens in the Bible, not the twenty-first century. But we need all the information we can get, and I have no doubt that Rain’s…condition is directly related to what SpecTek was working on.
“What about…” I try to recall the words. “…Jeg blør. Ikke…la meg dø! Han stakk...meg i magen...med...en kniv!”
I feel like I’ve done a bad job enunciating the phrase, but the look on Reg’s face says I got close enough. “I’m bleeding,” she says, her dark brown eyes burrowing into me. “Don’t let me die! He stabbed me in the stomach.” She turns to Rain. “And when you spoke that, you felt another presence?”
Rain nods. “He was…angry.”
“That’s because he was murdered, in 1992. What you felt in the tunnel could have been homeless people. I can only guess how many have sheltered and died down there over time.”
“Wait,” I say. “Hold on. Are you saying—”
“That they’re ghosts?” Reg leans forward, not a trace of humor in her eyes. “Yes.”
11
Cambridge is in chaos. Killers are chasing me. I’m partnered with a mystery woman who glows. And my wife is missing, maybe…probably dead. I’m having a shitty night. But when Reg says, ‘Ghosts,’ I can’t help but laugh.
Not just because the notion of ghosts is ridiculous, or that Rain is some kind of living soul detector, but because the suggestion is coming from Dr. Regina Adisa, whose belief system includes only that which can be proven via the scientific method. Cold hard facts. Even scientific theories largely regarded as true—like the Big Bang theory—she doesn’t consider as fact until they can be proven beyond a reasonable doubt…until they are no longer just theories.
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