Pressure (32 page)

“Yes. I'm Carrie Anderson.”

The guard shoved a clipboard through a slot in the window. “Sign and print there, please, next to your name. And I need to see your I.D.”

The pen felt greasy between Carrie's fingertips. She scrawled her name where indicated, and slid the clipboard back through the slot, along with her passport. The guard gave it a perfunctory glance and slid it back to Carrie. Then, without looking up, the guard pressed a button, and a buzzer rang loudly.

“Step over to the door, please.”

Carrie did as instructed, and was met by another prison guard, who had her stick her arms out to her sides. His face had the same bored expression as that of his co-worker. Wordlessly, he then ran a wand from Carrie's head to her feet, front and back. When that was finished, he quickly and perfunctorily frisked her, checking for weapons and contraband. His hands felt rough. Carrie was reminded of their initial entrance at the embassy, the night they had escaped Ochse and his men. Something sour rose in her throat, and she grimaced. Satisfied with his search, the guard stepped back.

“Is this your first visit to this facility, Miss Anderson?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. You are required to be in the company of a prison guard at all times. Don't stray off anywhere by yourself. If you need to use the restroom during your visit, one of us will accompany you. The inmate will sit across from you. You may communicate by phone. Please be aware that these conversations are monitored and recorded. Is that clear?”

Carrie nodded again. “Absolutely.”

“This way, please.” The guard indicated another doorway.

“Okay.”

She followed him through the door, and down a short corridor lined with drab, gray tiles, and then a third door. On the other side of that door were a series of cubicles with seats in front of them and a large partition of glass. Some of the cubicles were occupied by other visitors, talking to inmates on the other side of the glass through phones wired into the wall.

“Wait here,” the guard told her.

After what felt like an hour, but was in reality only a few minutes, Paolo was brought out on the other side of the glass, and directed to a seat. He wore an orange jumpsuit. Either it was too big for him or he had lost weight. She couldn't be sure of which. Then she got a good look at his face and decided it was the latter. His hair was much shorter than it had been when she'd last seen him. She also noticed that he no longer limped.

Time does heal some wounds, she supposed.

But while time could heal injuries, it could never take away the scars.

Scars were timeless.

“Okay, go ahead.” The guard nodded toward the cubicles.

Carrie crossed the floor slowly. Her feet felt like lead. She focused on her breathing. In and out. Paolo smiled when he saw her. She did not return the gesture. She sat down in the chair and took off her sunglasses and her scarf. She shook her hair out. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she picked up the phone.

“You came.” Paolo sounded genuinely pleased and surprised. “I wasn't sure you would.”

“I wasn't sure I would either,” Carrie admitted. “But your lawyer convinced me.”

“It is good to see you, Carrie.”

At least he didn't call me Gatito,
she thought.
At least there's enough decency left in him for that
.

“You look good,” he said. “God, you look amazing!”

Carrie nodded. “Thank you.”

“You are well, I hope?”

Carrie shrugged in a noncommittal way. “I'm doing great, Paolo. How's prison treating you?”

Paolo chuckled. “It is not like the movies. There are no gangs or riots, and no one has molested me in the shower.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Paolo's smile didn't falter. He shrugged.

“I read a lot,” he said. “And play chess.”

“Chess? That's good. You really needed to work on improving your game anyway. I'm glad you've got the time to do it now.”

“Ah, very good. I have missed your sense of humor.” Paolo's smile slowly faded, but he kept his tone cordial and warm. “And Abhi? How is he these days?”

“He's married.”

“Married? You don't say!”

“Yep. Happily married now. They tied the knot a few months ago. They're living together in Italy.”

Paolo shook his head in apparent wonder, and was then quiet for a moment.

“So…” Carrie stared at him, waiting.

“Yes, I'm sorry. The thought of marriage … I had hoped that one day…”

“How about we get down to business, Paolo?”

“Very well.” He sounded sad. “My lawyer explained why I asked you to come?”

“Yes.” Carrie nodded. “Your conspiracy trial starts later this month. He wants me to testify that I knew about the hard drives and your secret cell phone all along, and that my turning you over to the authorities was part of the setup plan, because we suspected that various individuals on the embassy staff might be compromised by Alpinus Biofutures.”

“Exactly,” Paolo said. “And did he mention anything else?”

Paolo's eyes darted to the guards and back to her. He tapped the phone receiver with his index finger, reminding her that the conversation was most likely being recorded.

Now, for the first time, Carrie smiled. It felt good, after not having smiled for so long.

“Yes, he did, in fact. He mentioned you have a bank account that the authorities don't yet know about. He also mentioned that Alpinus Biofutures was making untraceable direct deposits into that bank account. And he told me that you would split the money with me if I agreed to lie under oath with that bullshit story you concocted.”

Paolo gaped at her through the glass, almost dropping the phone. Sweat stood out on his forehead as he fumbled with the receiver. When he'd recovered, he shook his head.

“Carrie! Always such a joker! Though, I have to say, this one is not very funny.”

“No, Paolo. It's not a joke. But you are.”

“Carrie, please. I … I know what I did was wrong…”

“Oh, really? Well, that's a big step for you, isn't it, Paolo? Knowing what you did was wrong? That's a first. Did you find Jesus while you were in here, too?”

“Please,” he begged. “Please now, just hear me out. These things you are saying—they aren't true. My lawyer would have never said those things. I know that you are angry, and you have every right to be. I know that I can't begin to make things up to you. I'll never be able to do that. And I know you probably won't understand, but I was … what is the expression? Between a rock and a hard place? I was trapped, Carrie. Trapped between Alpinus and my loyalty to you. I didn't know what they would do if I betrayed them. All along, I thought the best way to keep you safe—to keep you from harm—was to do as they asked.”

“I see? So you did all this for me, Paolo? Is that what you're saying?”

“I won't deny there was a financial gain, at first. But when I learned what they were truly capable of—when I saw that you were in danger—yes, I did it for you, Carrie. I still care about you. I always have. The truth is … I love you. I've changed. I know how much I hurt you. I know I don't deserve your trust, but all I have in here is time, and all I do with it is think about you. I want to make things right. I know I can make things right. I just need the time to do it. If you are willing to testify on my behalf, my lawyer is confident I can get a reduced sentence. Perhaps even an acquittal. I know I have a lot to make up for, but this gives me the opportunity to do just that.”

Carrie stared at him, long and hard, until finally, Paolo looked away.

“You need time?” she asked. “You're asking me to give you time?”

“Yes. That's what it will take between us. Time.”

“I need time, too, Paolo.”

His expression brightened again. “Does that mean you'll do it?”

“No. That means I think we should both get all the time we deserve. You, especially. I think a conviction on three charges of conspiracy, and the nice, lengthy jail term that follows should give you all the time you need.”

“Carrie … please don't do this.”

“I already have.”

“Goddamn it, Carrie…”

“You know, after we recovered that poison gland, Dr. Barbet told us your brain was mutating. After we found out about your betrayal—and the despicable fucking lengths you went through—I told myself maybe it was because of that. Maybe it was what the venom had done to your brain. But it wasn't, because you were doing those things long before you got attacked. This is who you are, Paolo. This is who you've always been.”

“Not anymore,” he insisted. “Carrie, I've changed. I can prove it.”

“No, Paolo. You really can't.”

“I love you, goddamn it. Don't you see? Did you hear me? I love you, Carrie. And I know that you still love me, too. Maybe you can't admit it right now, but I know that deep down inside, you still love me.”

“I…”

“Please,” he begged again. “I know you want to help me. I know you'll do it.”

“Don't hold your breath.”

“Carrie…”

She stood up, still clutching the phone.

“No, seriously, Paolo. Don't hold your breath. We both know I could always hold my breath longer than you.”

He stared up at her from behind the glass, tears running down his cheeks. His eyes were wide, wounded circles of pain.

“Goodbye, Paolo.”

Carrie hung up the phone and turned her back on him. She nodded at the guard, indicating that she was finished with her visit. Then she took a deep breath and held it.

She didn't breathe again until she was outside the prison walls, and the sun shone down upon her.

 

EPILOGUE

Off the coast of Mauritius, life on the seafloor had finally come to an end. The once warm waters were now frigid and dark, even in the places where the feeble sunlight was able to penetrate. Still, even in death, there was movement amidst the gloom.

But that didn't mean the ocean was alive.

Shrimp and crabs were dragged along the bottom by the undertow, their carcasses saved from decomposition only by the cold temperatures. Armies of deflated jellyfish floated on the currents, lifeless and drifting. A school of dead tuna bobbed in their way, tossed and spun like driftwood by the undercurrents. Below them, the corpses of sea anemones still perched precariously to the seafloor with their adhesive feet—sticky even in death—but their once vibrant, multi-colored tentacles were now gray and brittle, and no longer waved. A female octopus lay frozen in her nest, her arms contorted in a reflection of the agony of her final moments. A string of frozen eggs hung above her lair, swaying in the current. Their once soft outer shells were now hardened, as were the embryos inside of them. A deceased green sea turtle lay wedged in between two large rocks. The turtle was the last of its kind in these waters, and had died alone, without ever finding a mate. Two dugongs floated slowly to the surface, their bodies swollen with gas and putrescence. Orange-and-white striped clownfish lay scattered amidst the banks of now colorless, broken coral, and massive schools of sapphire devils littered holes and crevices, their color now a permanent black. The bottlenose dolphins were gone, having moved on when they sensed the change around them. So, too, had the Great White shark, when it was faced with the knowledge that it was no longer a predator, but mere prey.

In the silence, a blue whale sang out from somewhere farther out to sea, beyond the dark depths. The tune was a haunting, phantom melody that still echoed of the past—but its mournful song would never be answered again. Not in these waters.

There was no life here, off the coast of Mauritius. It was a cold, silent, darkened wasteland. Nothing lived. Nothing moved, except for dead things, caught in the currents.

Then, something squirmed amid the devastation, something small and new, and very much alive. Something that, even in birth, was already dark and predatory.

One by one, the eggs began to hatch. Dozens of spindly, pointed arms pierced the hardened shells, and waving tentacles pushed their way through, flexing and stretching.

Slowly, the already frigid waters began to grow colder.

The darkness deepened, spreading in concentric circles.

And the newly hatched creatures began to hunt, searching for new areas still full of life. Soon they would feed.

Then, when the feast was over, they would breed and make more of their kind.

 

ALSO BY
BRIAN KEENE

THE LOST LEVEL SERIES

Hole in the World

The Lost Level

Return to the Lost Level

THE LEVI STOLTZFUS SERIES

Dark Hollow

Ghost Walk

A Gathering of Crows

Last of the Albatwitches

THE RISING SERIES

The Rising

City of the Dead

The Rising: Selected Scenes from the End of the World

The Rising: Deliverance

THE EARTHWORM GODS SERIES

Earthworm Gods

Earthworm Gods II: Deluge

Earthworm Gods: Selected Scenes from the End of the World

NON-SERIES

Alone

The Cage

Castaways

The Complex

Darkness on the Edge of Town

Dead Sea

Entombed

Ghoul

The Girl on the Glider

Jack's Magic Beans

Kill Whitey

An Occurrence in Crazy Bear Valley