Hang Wire (16 page)

“There’s no access down here,” said the ranger as Joel leaned out the window. “The road’s gone out with the bridge, but even if it was still there you wouldn’t be able to get this across. Too wide by far.”

Joel nodded, his eyes scanning the way ahead, like he really was just an ordinary driver, like he really was just trying to find his way across the valley. There were more rangers gathered around the bridge. He’d passed their vehicles farther up the road. The light had shown him the way.

“Quite a storm last night, friend,” said Joel. He looked up at the sky, and the ranger nodded.

“Record breaker, I reckon. Haven’t seen the like in two generations, maybe three.”

Joel whistled. “That a fact?”

The ranger nodded again, hands on his hips. “Maybe three,” he said again. Then he looked down at the road.

Joel smiled, and looked ahead as he felt the push on his shoulder, the tug on his waistcoat, the coin vibrating in the pocket. He pushed himself up in the driver’s seat to see over the hood of the car.

And there it was.

“Say,” said Joel. “Do you need help here? See, I have my car, and it’s not much but it sure can pull its weight, and more besides. I see you have something of a problematic situation here.”

The ranger huffed and with some delicacy plucked the wide-brimmed hat from his head. He turned to face the rail bridge, and the river, and the rail carriages that had fallen into it.

There were two blue boxcars, half-submerged, the river surging around them. They both looked intact, and were still connected, but twisted around their coupling. They were wedged into the river between the far bank and an outcrop of solid rock.

There.

The boxcar. The one nearest.

Inside
the boxcar nearest.

Joel blinked and shook his head. The ranger was looking at him, rolling his lips, thinking things over. Finally he said, “You know, I think we could use you. If you have the time. Could have been worse, of course.”

Joel nodded like he knew what the ranger was talking about, confident that the ranger would continue.

“Last two cars of freight,” the ranger said. “Oh, the train got over the bridge, but maybe that was the last straw. The bridge was weakened by the river surge, and just couldn’t take the weight. Could have been worse.”

Joel nodded. “Could have been.”

The ranger pointed. “It could have pulled the locomotive down with it, into the river. It was all freight of course, but still.”

“But still.”

“Wait here, Mr…”

“Duvall. Joel Duvall.”

The ranger tipped his hat. “Wait here, Mr Duvall. I’ll just let the others know we have an extra pair of hands.”

“I await your command, ranger,” said Joel with a laugh. “Say, how many folk you have down here?”

The ranger shook his head. “Only five of us could get across from Virginia. There’s more coming, but the telegraph line came down with the bridge too. Wait here.”

The ranger trotted away, to his colleagues crouched near the river bank, peering at the immobile boxcars in the river.

Joel glanced down at the gun on the bench seat beside him. Then he picked it up, flipped the cylinder open. Five rangers. Two bullets spare.

He closed the cylinder, spun it, and, holding the gun aloft, opened the car door and stepped onto the running board.

— XIII —

When Ted opened his eyes the day was already bright and old, again. The blinds were open, light pouring in.

Ted rolled onto his front, stuffed his face into his pillow, and screamed. Fuck this. He felt fucking terrible. His sleep was so monumentally fucked up it wasn’t funny. He held his breath, smothering himself with the pillow until he could stand it no longer and had to come up for air. He was angry and confused and fucking fed up to the eyeballs. Fuck this.

He looked at the bedside clock, found it facing away from him. He spun it around.

7.22am.

He’d gotten back at, what, seven? Despite twelve hours of sleep, he felt tired. Wrecked. He slumped back into the bed and stared at the ceiling awhile, thinking. Ignoring the whisper in his ear.

There was a note under the door. It was a white rectangle of paper, folded in half. Ted hadn’t heard anyone knock, but then again he didn’t even remember getting into bed.

He picked up the note. The paper was cold. Somehow he expected it to be hot, like when a sheet came fresh out of a copier. He unfolded it.

The note was a single symbol, a complex Chinese character of interweaving lines, the strokes bold and tapered, like it had been drawn with the traditional brush. Ted turned the paper around, not sure which way was up. He had no idea what the symbol meant, although it looked vaguely familiar. He’d probably seen something similar in Chinatown. There were Asian tenants in his building, so most likely the note had been put under the wrong door.

Except the symbol was familiar, and the more Ted looked at it, the more he thought he knew what it said, but not quite. He blinked. It felt like the symbol was changing in front of his eyes, the strokes in not quite the same place as they were a moment ago.

He shook his head and folded the paper again. He needed coffee. He also needed to go in to work.

The tapping of keyboards, the drone of the air conditioner, the rhythmic drone of the copier. The office was as Ted had left it, though it felt like he’d been away for a lifetime.

“Hey, Ted,” said Zane. He was walking from his desk toward the kitchenette, carrying a serving tray festooned with dirty cups, mugs, and coffee holders. He paused and held it up a little. “How you feeling? Coffee?”

Ted nodded. “Hey, ah…” He rubbed his forehead. “Coffee. Yes, thanks. And I’m better, thanks.”

Zane nodded and disappeared into the kitchenette. Ted followed and stood in the doorway. Zane was the only one in, and suddenly Ted craved company, conversation.

“You know what I think?”

Ted frowned. “About what?”

Zane half-turned from the coffee machine. “Summer flu. It’s going around. Really knocks you down, you know?” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

Ted nodded. Actually, that made sense.

“Benny’s come down with it too,” said Zane.

“Benny’s sick?”

Zane made an
uh-huh
sound, his back still to Ted. “Hasn’t been in since Monday. Which I guess makes you patient zero.”

Zane laughed and turned around, holding out a coffee cup. Ted said thanks, and wandered to his desk.

Benny taking time off sick was unusual. Not that she’d been at the office that long, but she seemed to have a titanium constitution – full of energy and life. Ted had never seen her with even a single hangover after the not infrequent office drinks. He’d last seen her at the bar, where Benny had been fine and Ted had felt like crap. Maybe he had given her the bug after all.

“Alison in today?”

Zane appeared from behind his monitor. “She’ll be in later. Another meeting down at the museum, working out some more coverage for their art show next month. Should be a big feature for us. Lots of hits.”

Ted nodded. Page views meant advertising revenue meant the blog could keep going. The whole enterprise was risk, but they had a good team and a good editor. Even now, Mazzy was on a trip somewhere, gathering more advertising and sponsorship.

And back home, her employees were getting sick, and the city was cowering from a serial killer.

Ted turned his computer on and slipped off his jacket. As he did, he felt something stiff in the inside pocket. The note from this morning, folded in two. He pulled it out and unfolded it on his desk.

“What’ve you got there?” asked Zane. He had a habit of sticking his nose in everywhere. It was one of his many characteristics Ted found annoying.

“Oh, just something I picked up. A Chinese character. I like it.” It was a bad lie, but Zane didn’t notice. He stood and walked over to Ted’s desk, and gestured at the paper with his coffee mug.

“That’s not Chinese,” he said.

Ted looked up at him. “No?”

Zane nodded. “Korean. Honestly, Ted, do you live in the same city as the rest of us? The alphabet is completely different.”

Ted turned back to the paper. Zane was right. The symbol was squareish, more ordered than a Chinese logograph.

“Benny will be able to tell you what it means.”

Ted looked up again. “Oh, yeah,” he said. Of course.

The door to the office banged open. Ted and Zane turned at the sound.

Bob walked toward them, barefoot and bare-chested, clad only in his trademark faded blue jeans. His face cracked into a wide grin, and he did a salute that looked a little self-conscious. He coughed.

“Hey, Bob,” said Ted. “How’s it going? You looking for Alison? She’s not in until later.”

Alison had done a feature post on Bob just the previous week. She’d interviewed him down at Aquatic Park. Benny had taken some photos. Seeing Bob at the office was a surprise; he looked lost, out of place, and not just because of the way he was dressed.

“Oh, hey, yeah. Ted, right? Cool, cool,” said Bob, hooking his thumbs into the beltless loops of his jeans. He was clearly as uncomfortable in the office as Ted suspected. Bob glanced around the office, running a hand through his sea-salted hair and blowing out his cheeks. “Hey, no problem. Don’t worry about it, brah.” Then he waved and turned to leave.

“I’ll tell her you came by,” said Ted. At this Bob stopped and turned around again.

“Actually, you seen Benny? Me and her need to have a little catch-up, is all.”

Zane shook his head. “She’s sick as a dog,
dog
,” he said with a laugh. Bob grinned and cocked a finger at him like a gun.

Ted reached for his cell. “I can give you her number, if you want to call.” As he began thumbing through his contacts, Bob padded over to his desk. Ted looked up at him. “Um, do you have a phone?”

Bob nodded and sat on the edge of Ted’s desk. “Oh yeah, yeah, no worries.” Then he turned his head sideways to look at the paper on Ted’s desk. “Where’d you find that?”

Ted looked up from his phone. “Oh, that?” He glanced at Zane. “Ah… I just picked it up, you know.”

“Korean,” said Bob. “You read it?”

“Actually,” said Zane, “Benny speaks Korean. We were going to wait for her to get back.”

Bob nodded, lips pursed. “Cool, cool. Hey, look, I gotta run, man,” he said, pointing to the door.

“Pretty ladies to give dance lessons too, huh?” said Zane.

Bob grinned. “Yeah, man, something like that.”

Ted jotted Benny’s cell number on a Post-it note and passed it to Bob.

“Sweet, brah, thanks.” Bob lifted himself from the desk and slouched out. “Laters, gentlemen,” he said, and sauntered back to the elevator lobby.

Ted watched him walk away. Zane slurped his coffee.

“Strange guy,” said Zane.

“Yeah,” said Ted, shaking his head but smiling all the same. “Isn’t he just?”

Zane returned to his desk. Ted’s computer had booted up, so he logged in and dared to check his inbox, not noticing the note with the Korean symbol on it was missing from his desk.

— XIV —

“I made it!”

Ted laughed and closed the door behind him, softly, listening as the tumblers in the lock clicked just
so
. He had a headache coming on, in that all-too-familiar heartbeat rhythm, but that was to be expected. He’d lasted a full day at work, after all. The whisper in his ear had left him alone for the day, along with the weird sensation that there was someone standing behind him.

That, or he’d got used to it. He leaned back against the door, paused. Nope, gone.

Alison placed her bag on the dining table, and looped her arms around Ted’s neck. She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Thank you very much. It’s great to be here,” said Ted in his best Elvis voice. He smiled and hugged Alison back. Over her shoulder he saw his laptop on. “I need a new computer.”

Alison let go and turned to the table. “Practicing your Chinese, eh? You’re back at work and already you want Benny’s job covering the Chinatown beat?” She laughed.

Ted frowned. He leaned over the computer, tapping the down cursor with one finger, the page scrolled on the screen.

The repeated text was back, in a neat column down the page, but instead of the fortune from the restaurant, it was a string of Chinese characters. They really were Chinese, he could see that now, not Korean like the mysterious note.

“Hmm,” said Ted, and he quickly closed the lid of the laptop.

“Are you OK?”

Ted turned around, smiled, but Alison’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Look, I’ll stay tonight, OK?”

“I’d like that, thanks.” Ted stepped forward and put his arms around Alison’s waist. He kissed her nose.

“And tomorrow we’ll go back to the ER, OK? Get you checked out again.”

Ted sighed. “OK, fine.” She was right. He was feeling better, seemed to have got his sleep pattern back to normal, but he knew the dangers of head injuries, even ones that seemed mild and benign.
Especially
the ones that seemed mild and benign.

Ted smiled and studied his own reflection in Alison’s eyes. Here was a woman who loved him, cared about him. He needed that right now.

“So,” said Alison, “we going to stand here all night?”

Ted shook his head. “Standing wasn’t what I had in mind.” He grinned.

“You, my love, need to get some
sleep.
”

“Aw,” said Ted, mock hurt in his voice. Alison laughed.

“Come on,” she said, leading him to the bedroom.

— XV —

AQUATIC PARK, SAN FRANCISCO