Planet Purgatory (14 page)

“Sandwich, Mr. Eno?”

Mr. Winter must have heard the siren call of my mother’s genes as well, because he broke into a smile.

“Now, now, Mr. Eno. I was only having fun. Of course we don’t keep versions of you. That would be unethical. Now why don’t you sit down and tell me why you’re really here?”

There was something likable about the old man, something sincere. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being played, and I slowly lowered myself into my chair, wondering if I’d stumbled upon something that was best left alone.

“My settlement has a visitor,” I said, reaching for a ham and cheese sandwich.

“A visitor, you say?”

“His name is Bill.”

The smile on Mr. Winter’s face disappeared. “Oh, yes. We’d heard about Bill’s return.”

“So you know of him?”

“Oh, I’m all too familiar with Bill and his hairy friend,” said Mr. Winter, picking up his cup of tea. “So what does he want?”

“He’s demanding settlers as payment for keeping our settlement safe from the aliens.”

“Aliens? What do you mean by aliens?”

“You know, the iron giants that shoot energy orbs and steal people’s souls.”

“Ah, yes. Now I understand.” The old man leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea. “Interesting. So did it work?”

“Did it work? Bill’s friend, or whatever it is he keeps in that wagon of his, ripped those aliens to shreds. And now he’s demanding human sacrifices as payment. That’s why I’m here, Mr. Winter. We need your help.”

Mr. Winter drank the remainder of his tea, placing the cup onto its saucer with a porcelain
clink
. “And when you say ‘help,’ what do you mean?”

“I mean, I want him gone.”

“Were it so simple,” said Mr. Winter, rising from his chair. He strolled to the wall of windows, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “Bill is an interloper. Do you know what that means, Mr. Eno?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It means Bill and his friend are not from this world. In fact, there are rules in place barring him and his kind from coming here. Unfortunately, he keeps finding ways to return.”

Now I understood what he meant by
interloper
. “They’re demons, aren’t they?”

Mr. Winter sighed and returned to his chair. “Baal has been a thorn in our side for a very long time,” he said, pouring himself another cup of tea. “I don’t know how many times we’ve sent him back only for him to reappear in some form or another.”

My heart raced. “So you can send him back!”

“But at what cost? Harkness and all of its inhabitants would be obliterated. I’m afraid the best thing you can do is keep your head down and wait for him to grow bored and move to another settlement. He always does.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Eno. As much as I’d like to help you, the risks are too great. Anyway, I suspect your role as Brew-Master will keep you safe. If there’s one thing Bill is known for, it’s his fondness for chikka. That, and his damn cigarillos.”

“Well, that solves it, then!” I said, rising to my feet. “I won’t let him have any more of my chikka. He’ll die from the withdrawal.”

Mr. Winter shook his head. “That rule doesn’t apply to him, I’m afraid.”

“So that’s it, then? I’m supposed to return to Harkness and hope he moves on?”

I couldn’t accept that as an answer. I wouldn’t, and I slammed the desk with my fist, once again rising from my chair. “I want to speak to your manager!” I said, leaning over his desk.

I was trying to appear menacing. I don’t think it worked, though, because Mr. Winter snorted into his teacup. “Manager?” he said, dabbing his lip with a napkin. “Do you really not know who I am, David?”

“No, I don’t.”

Mr. Winter angled his head slightly, regarding me with a most amused smile. “I am the
SYS
director. All decisions begin and end with me.”

I slumped back into my chair to hold my head in my hands. “It’s not supposed to happen this way. He told me you’d give me what I need. He told me you’d help me.”

“Who told you I’d help you?”

I raised my head to look Mr. Winter in the eye. “An angel.”

Suddenly, Mr. Winter didn’t look so amused. “And what exactly do you mean when you say an
angel
?”

I knew I was taking a risk by going this route. In fact, I was very close to telling him the very same lie I told Flea. Instead, I told the
SYS
director the truth. “It was a whale,” I said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it was the one who killed me, and he told me to find the
SYS
building. He told me I would find everything I needed to save Harkness right here.”

Mr. Winter looked at me, the telltale bouncing of his knee barely visible behind the wooden veil of the desk.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Well, I am seeing a definite trend. First you ask me if this is Purgatory. Then you accuse me of being a demon. Now this. Are you getting enough sleep, Mr. Eno?”

I launched myself from my chair to pace around the room. “What about guns?” I asked.

“What about them?” responded Mr. Winter.

“Say Bill does eventually leave, we’d still have those damn aliens to deal with. If we all had
SYS
guns —”

The old man didn’t even let me finish my sentence. “No.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too powerful. I know you mean well, but giving everyone a gun? I shudder to think what might happen.”

“What about giving me something more powerful? Like maybe one of those guns your guards carry. I bet one of those could do some damage.”

“Mr. Eno. David. Listen to me. Your gun is extremely powerful. I’m not just saying that. Your position as Brew-Master requires that you be well-armed.”

I picked up my gun, studying it, feeling its weight in my hands. “So you’re telling me this is as powerful as the guns your guards have?”

“Every bit. In fact, I would go as far as to say it is even more powerful.”

“More powerful?”

“The damage from a
SYS
gun is directly tied to the potential of its owner, and you have considerably more potential than most. We’ve seen to that.”

Perhaps it was the glint in his eye, but there was something about his delivery that made me very uncomfortable.

“So there’s nothing you can do?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s it, then,” I said, starting for the door.

“Mr. Eno. Before you leave, I would like very much if you would allow us to examine you. I’m concerned about the amount of chikka you consume.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Mr. Eno —”

“Forget it. You guys have done enough damage as it is.” Without thinking, I slapped my thigh. “Come on, Rosie,” I said. “We’re out of here.”

I was devastated. I’d fought tooth and nail to find my way to the
SYS
building, and for what? To discover I’m the biggest alcoholic Mr. Winter had ever seen? There was a moment I actually considered taking the
SYS
director hostage. But that wasn’t me; it was my job to help people, not put them in danger. And something told me Mr. Winter was more than capable of taking care of himself should the need arise.

At least I had Rosie back. But even that felt tainted. I’d seen her with her throat slit, hanging from the Eggman’s ceiling, dead. Yet there she was, accompanying me down the front steps like nothing had happened. Mr. Winter was adamant that they don’t make clones. They made “versions.” But what did that even mean? And why did I feel sick every time I started to think about it?

I couldn’t leave that place fast enough, and we were approaching the gate when I heard a familiar little voice call my name.

“David!”

“Oh, no …”

“David! Wait! I’m coming with you!”

I was a balloon with a slow leak. Honestly, my shoulders must have sagged a good six inches. “Go away!”

But Flea scampered up to Rosie, pushing her face to within only a few inches of the animal’s nose. They were practically the same height. “Is this your doggy?”

“Yes, she is. Now go away!”

“She’s big!” she said, and in a move that caught me completely off guard, she grabbed Rosie by the ears and pressed their noses together, causing Rosie to jerk away with an angry bark.

“Eww! It’s all wet!”

“Of course it’s wet! She’s a dog! Now go on! Get out of here! You’ve caused enough trouble!”

“But you’re my friend.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re not my friend!”

“Yes, I am.”

“You lied to me! You told me to go left when I should have gone right!”

“And you saw right through it. Only a friend could do that!”

I felt like kicking her. “You’re not my friend!”

“David, David, David. Don’t you remember what I told you when I helped you escape from the bad scavenger man?”

My shoulders somehow managed to sag even more. “You said I owed you …”

“Now you understand.”

Before I could respond, the imp buried her face into my stomach, hugging me tight while I stared helplessly into the sky.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, peeling her off me.

Flea looked thoroughly pleased, presenting me with a grin before running to give Rosie a hug as well. Only, Rosie didn’t want one, irritably trotting out of the way while Flea ran after her.

“She’s going to bite you,” I warned.

But Flea wouldn’t listen, doggedly chasing Rosie around the asphalt while I trudged toward the gate.

It didn’t make sense. Why would the angel have sent me here only to fail? Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Or was it all part of the plan? And then I remembered.

“Dammit!” I said, slamming my heel into the ground.

Flea paused her chasing of Rosie to raise a quizzical eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“I left my chikka in the
SYS
building!”

“Why don’t you go and get it?”

I turned and faced the Victorian-era mansion; the sight of it, piston thumping relentlessly in the background, filling me with dread.

“I’m not going back there,” I said, shaking my head. But then I had an idea. “Why don’t you go and bring it back for me?”

“Me?” Flea wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I could, but …”

“But what?”

The imp glanced furtively around before motioning me closer. “I don’t think Julius likes me.”

“Really.”

“I make him angry. I don’t know why. I like him.”

“So you can’t sneak in there and grab my bottles? They’re just in the front room.”

Flea sank onto her haunches, rocking back and forth in time with the piston.

“Is it the guards? Are they too scary?”

Flea rolled her alien eyes. “Pfft. The guards? Don’t be silly. It’s Julius I’m worried about.”

“What? That old man?”

“Is that what you see? An old man?”

“That’s what he is, isn’t he?”

Flea burst out giggling, rocking so far backward she fell on her bum. “Oh, David. You’re so cute. There are few in this world as powerful as Julius. And when he loses his temper, watch out.”

“Mr. Winter? Really?” I pictured him tossing water at the imp from his office window, and missing, no less.

Meanwhile a mischievous glint appeared in Flea’s eyes. “It would be exciting, though …”

“No. Don’t do that. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you on my account. Is he really dangerous?”

“You have no idea.”

Something happened right then. Further off in the compound, behind the factories and warehouses, a ship roughly the size of a sports arena slowly rose into the sky. It looked like a fat, brown shoebox with stubby wings, and once it hit two hundred feet or so, it drifted toward us, a sprinkling of lights blinking along the bottom of the hull. It was surreal, and the three of us, Rosie included, watched as it glided silently overhead before disappearing behind the trees.

If ever there was a sign to leave, that was it, and without another word we exited the gate and started down the road.