Paycheck (2003) (15 page)

‘Kastner, for God’s sake—’

The little businessman’s fingers tightened around the trigger. Abrupt fear chilled Ryan. He scrambled to his feet. The blaster roared, flame crackling across the time ship. Ryan leaped out of the way, singed by the trail of fire.

Schonerman’s papers flared up, glowing where they lay scattered over the floor. For a brief second they burned. Then the glow died out, flickering into charred ash. The thin acrid smell of the blast drifted to Ryan, tickling his nose and making his eyes water.

‘Sorry,’ Kastner murmured. He laid the blaster down on the control board. ‘Don’t you think you better get us down? We’re quite close to the surface.’

Ryan moved mechanically to the control board. After a moment he took his seat and began to adjust the controls, decreasing the velocity of the ship. He said nothing.

‘I’m beginning to understand about Jon,’ Kastner murmured. ‘He must have had some kind of parallel time sense. Awareness of other possible futures. As work progressed on the time ship his visions increased, didn’t they? Every day his visions become more real. Every day the time ship became more actual.’

Ryan nodded.

‘This opens up whole new lines of speculation. The mystical visions of medieval saints. Perhaps they were of other futures, other time flows. Visions of hell would be worse time flows. Visions of heaven would be better time flows. Ours must stand some place in the middle. And the vision of the eternal unchanging world. Perhaps that’s an awareness of non-time. Not another world but this world, seen outside of time. We’ll have to think more about that, too.’

The ship landed, coming to rest at the edge of one of the parks. Kastner crossed to the port and gazed out at the trees beyond the ship.

‘In the books my family saved there were some pictures of trees,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘These trees here, by us. They’re pepper trees. Those over there are what they call evergreen trees. They stay that way all year around. That’s why the name.’

Kastner picked up his briefcase, gripping it tightly. He moved toward the hatch.

‘Let’s go find some of the people. So we can begin discussing things. Metaphysical things.’ He grinned at Ryan. ‘I always did like metaphysical things.’

‘Dad?’ Earl asked, hurrying out of the bathroom, ‘you going to drive us to school today?’

Tim McLean poured himself a second cup of coffee. ‘You kids can walk for a change. The car’s in the garage.’

Judy pouted. ‘It’s raining.’

‘No it isn’t,’ Virginia corrected her sister. She drew the shade back. ‘It’s all foggy, but it isn’t raining.’

‘Let me look.’ Mary McLean dried her hands and came over from the sink. ‘What an odd day. Is that fog? It looks more like smoke. I can’t make out a thing. What did the weatherman say?’

‘I couldn’t get anything on the radio,’ Earl said. ‘Nothing but static.’

Tim stirred angrily. ‘That darn thing on the blink again? Seems like I just had it fixed.’ He got up and moved sleepily over to the radio. He fiddled idly with the dials. The three children hurried back and forth, getting ready for school. ‘Strange,’ Tim said.

‘I’m going.’ Earl opened the front door.

‘Wait for your sisters,’ Mary ordered absently.

‘I’m ready,’ Virginia said. ‘Do I look all right?’

‘You look fine,’ Mary said, kissing her.

‘I’ll call the radio repair place from the office,’ Tim said.

He broke off. Earl stood at the kitchen door, pale and silent, his eyes wide with terror.

‘What is it?’

‘I - I came back.’

‘What is it? Are you sick?’

‘I can’t go to school.’

They stared at him. ‘What is wrong?’ Tim grabbed his son’s arm. ‘Why can’t you go to school?’

‘They - they won’t let me.’

‘Who?’

‘The soldiers.’ It came tumbling out with a rush. ‘They’re all over. Soldiers and guns. And they’re coming here.’

‘Coming? Coming here?’ Tim echoed, dazed.

‘They’re coming here and they’re going to—’ Earl broke off, terrified. From the front porch came the sound of heavy boots. A crash. Splintering wood. Voices.

‘Good Lord,’ Mary gasped. ‘What is it, Tim?’

Tim entered the living room, his heart laboring painfully. Three men stood inside the door. Men in gray-green uniforms, weighted with guns and complex tangles of equipment. Tubes and hoses. Meters on thick cords. Boxes and leather straps and antennas. Elaborate masks locked over their heads. Behind the masks Tim saw tired, whiskerstubbled faces, red-rimmed eyes that gazed at him in brutal displeasure.

One of the soldiers jerked up his gun, aiming at McLean’s middle. Tim peered at it dumbly.
The gun
. Long and thin. Like a needle. Attached to a coil of tubes.

‘What in the name of—’ he began, but the soldier cut him off savagely.

‘Who are you?’ His voice was harsh, guttural. ‘What are you doing here?’ He pushed his mask aside. His skin was dirty. Cuts and pocks lined his sallow flesh. His teeth were broken and missing.

‘Answer!’ a second soldier demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Show your blue card,’ the third said. ‘Let’s see your Sector number.’ His eyes strayed to the children and Mary standing mutely at the dining room door. His mouth fell open.

‘A woman!’

The three soldiers gazed in disbelief.

‘What the hell is this?’ the first demanded. ‘How long has this woman been here?’

Tim found his voice. ‘She’s my wife. What is this? What—’

‘Your
wife
?’ They were incredulous.

‘My wife and children. For God’s sake—’

‘Your wife? And you’d bring her here? You must be out of your head!’

‘He’s got ash sickness,’ one said. He lowered his gun and strode across the living room to Mary. ‘Come on, sister. You’re coming with us.’

Tim lunged.

A wall of force hit him. He sprawled, clouds of darkness rolling around him. His ears sang. His head throbbed. Everything receded. Dimly, he was aware of shapes moving. Voices. The room. He concentrated.

The soldiers were herding the children back. One of them grabbed Mary by the arm. He tore her dress away, ripping it from her shoulders. ‘Gee,’ he snarled. ‘He’d bring her here, and she’s not even strung!’

‘Take her along.’

‘OK, Captain.’ The soldier dragged Mary toward the front door. ‘We’ll do what we can with her.’

‘The kids.’ The captain waved the other soldier over with the children. ‘Take them along. I don’t get it. No masks. No cards. How’d this house miss getting hit? Last night was the worst in months!’

Tim struggled painfully to his feet. His mouth was bleeding. His vision blurred. He hung on tight to the wall. ‘Look,’ he muttered. ‘For God’s sake—’

The captain was staring into the kitchen. ‘Is that - is that
food
?’ He advanced slowly through the dining room. ‘Look!’

The other soldiers came after him, Mary and the children forgotten. They stood around the table, amazed.

‘Look at it!’

‘Coffee.’ One grabbed up the pot and drank it greedily down. He choked, black coffee dripping down his tunic. ‘Hot. Jeeze. Hot coffee.’

‘Cream!’ Another soldier tore open the refrigerator. ‘Look. Milk. Eggs. Butter. Meat.’ His voice broke. ‘It’s full of food.’

The captain disappeared into the pantry. He came out, lugging a case of canned peas. ‘Get the rest. Get it all. We’ll load it in the snake.’

He dropped the case on the table with a crash. Watching Tim intently, he fumbled in his dirty tunic until he found a cigarette. He lit it slowly, not taking his eyes from Tim. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear what you have to say.’

Tim’s mouth opened and closed. No words came. His mind was blank. Dead. He couldn’t think.

‘This food. Where’d you get it? And these things.’ The captain waved around the kitchen. ‘Dishes. Furniture. How come this house hasn’t been hit? How did you survive last night’s attack?’

‘I—’ Tim gasped.

The captain came toward him ominously. ‘The woman. And the kids. All of you. What are you doing here?’ His voice was hard. ‘You better be able to explain, mister. You better be able to explain what you’re doing here - or we’ll have to burn the whole damn lot of you.’

Tim sat down at the table. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to focus his mind. His body ached. He rubbed blood from his mouth, conscious of a broken molar and bits of loose tooth. He got out a handkerchief and spat the bits into it. His hands were shaking.

‘Come on,’ the captain said.

Mary and the children slipped into the room. Judy was crying. Virginia’s face was blank with shock. Earl stared wide-eyed at the soldiers, his face white.

‘Tim,’ Mary said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Are you all right?’

Tim nodded. ‘I’m all right.’

Mary pulled her dress around her. ‘Tim, they can’t get away with it. Somebody’ll come. The mailman. The neighbors. They can’t just—’

‘Shut up,’ the captain snapped. His eyes flickered oddly. ‘The mailman? What are you talking about?’ He held out his hand. ‘Let’s see your yellow slip, sister.’

‘Yellow slip?’ Mary faltered.

The captain rubbed his jaw. ‘No yellow slip. No masks. No cards.’

‘They’re geeps,’ a soldier said.

‘Maybe. And maybe not.’

‘They’re geeps, Captain. We better burn ‘em. We can’t take any chances.’

‘There’s something funny going on here,’ the captain said. He plucked at his neck, lifting up a small box on a cord. ‘I’m getting a polic here.’

‘A polic?’ A shiver moved through the soldiers. ‘Wait, Captain. We can handle this. Don’t get a polic. He’ll put us on 4 and then we’ll never—’

The captain spoke into the box. ‘Give me Web B.’

Tim looked up at Mary. ‘Listen, honey. I—’

‘Shut up.’ A soldier prodded him. Tim lapsed into silence.

The box squawked. ‘Web B.’

‘Can you spare a polic? We’ve run into something strange. Group of five. Man, woman, three kids. No masks, no cards, the woman not strung, dwelling completely intact. Furniture, fixtures, about two hundred pounds of food.’

The box hesitated. ‘All right. Polic on the way. Stay there. Don’t let them escape.’

‘I won’t.’ The captain dropped the box back in his shirt. ‘A polic will be here any minute. Meanwhile, let’s get the food loaded.’

From outside came a deep thundering roar. It shook the house, rattling the dishes in the cupboard.

‘Jeez,’ a soldier said. ‘That was close.’

‘I hope the screens hold until nightfall.’ The captain grabbed up the case of canned peas. ‘Get the rest. We want it loaded before the polic comes.’

The two soldiers filled their arms and followed him through the house, out the front door. Their voices diminished as they strode down the path.

Tim got to his feet. ‘Stay here,’ he said thickly.

‘What are you doing?’ Mary asked nervously.

‘Maybe I can get out.’ He ran to the back door and unlatched it, hands shaking. He pulled the door wide and stepped out on the back porch. ‘I don’t see any of them. If we can only …’

He stopped.

Around him gray clouds blew. Gray ash, billowing as far as he could see. Dim shapes were visible. Broken shapes, silent and unmoving in the grayness.

Ruins.

Ruined buildings. Heaps of rubble. Debris everywhere. He walked slowly down the back steps. The concrete walk ended abruptly. Beyond it, slag and heaps of rubble were strewn. Nothing else. Nothing as far as the eye could see.

Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. In the gray silence there was no life. No motion. Only the clouds of drifting ash. The slag and the endless heaps.

The city was gone. The buildings were destroyed. Nothing remained. No people. No life. Jagged walls, empty and gaping. A few dark weeds growing among the debris. Tim bent down, touching a weed. Rough, thick stalk. And the slag. It was a metal slag. Melted metal. He straightened up—

‘Come back inside,’ a crisp voice said.

He turned numbly. A man stood on the porch, behind him, hands on his hips. A small man, hollow-cheeked. Eyes small and bright, like two black coals. He wore a uniform different from the soldiers’. His mask was pushed back, away from his face. His skin was yellow, faintly luminous, clinging to his cheekbones. A sick face, ravaged by fever and fatigue.

‘Who are you?’ Tim said.

‘Douglas. Political Commissioner Douglas.’

‘You’re - you’re the police,’ Tim said.

‘That’s right. Now come inside. I expect to hear some answers from you. I have quite a few questions.

‘The first thing I want to know,’ Commissioner Douglas said, ‘is how this house escaped destruction.’

Tim and Mary and the children sat together on the couch, silent and unmoving, faces blank with shock.

‘Well?’ Douglas demanded.

Tim found his voice. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. We woke up this morning like every other morning. We dressed and ate breakfast—’