Pulling The Dragon's Tail (27 page)

“You know,” she snapped, “it’s just not true
that CLUES does all the valuable psychotherapy work.”

“I’m sorry,” he acknowledged with some
conciliation in his voice. “I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe
you’re right. Sheesh- guess there’s more to all of you people than
meets the eye.”

She tossed a small pebble into the lake,
watching the ripples.
He never has to know that the RVT showed
me his suicidal thoughts.
“So do you think you could eventually
accept his denial?”

His eyebrows arched, expressing shock at hearing
the question. “Sure, Dr. Devereaux, I’m so in love with this
fucking universe that I can survive with no problem! Shit! Right
now I could really use a drink. But our Andromeda-minded folks here
at CHOFA don’t have any alcohol, the better to commune with Father
Abraham. And my leash ain’t long enough to reach into town!”

“I know you’re carrying a death chip.”

He eyed her carefully. “Come on, doc, be real.
Even if I do have a death chip, it’s no business of yours.”

“I’ve worked with plenty of addicts. The most
popular way to suicide, especially for those with data ports, is a
death chip, two tiny magnetic computer chips. Inert when separate
but when you plug them together, place them into your dataport;
it’s instant brain death. Es and Nate might have taken your
data-port offline but I’ll bet they couldn’t find the death
chip.”

“I’m admitting to nothing,” Thatcher replied
stonily. “I think our talk is over.” He folded his arms and gazed
defiantly out toward the lake.

“I wish you would just tell me what’s really on
your mind.”

“Why?” he snarled. “It won’t matter.”

“Before it’s… too late”, she pleaded.

“Get off my back Doc! I said you could
leave.”

“Talk to me,” she pleaded.

“Get the hell out of my life!” He stood up,
preparing to walk away.

Staying seated, she looked up at him. “I really
am on your side. I know you’re hurting.”

“What do you know about pain?” he growled.

Campbell stood up, and looked him in the eye.
“Pain? My own son, just a few years younger than you, endured his
father’s and my bitter divorce. His father joined The Last Days
cult. I’m still estranged from my son— and I’m totally to blame for
it.” She gulped and swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

“Hey! Don’t make me into your little pet psych
project. ‘I can’t rescue my son, so let me work on Thatcher.’” Then
he added cruelly, “Everyone knows doctors don’t make good parents
because they’re too busy climbing the fucking ladder of
success.”

Campbell’s mouth quivered. She sensed her arms
tense up. She struggled to breathe. Blinking her eyes, she
momentarily regained her professional composure. “I’m here—” She
stopped to clear her throat. “I’m here fighting for you because I
care!”

“Nice try! But the world’s just full of selfish
bastards just thinking of themselves.”

She repeated, “But I do care about you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

If Campbell had been connected to CLUES at that
moment, the AI program would have said that she was really talking
to her son and Thatcher was really talking to his mother. But
Campbell knew that anyway.

Then she did something that no robotic
intelligence program could ever do. She gently but firmly gripped
his shoulders with her hands and gazed into his eyes.

He tried to pull away, but she held onto him
tighter.

Thatcher buried his head in her chest and
sobbed.

A moment later, Nate approached with Dugan at
his side. “Campbell, Dugan insists that you want to talk to me.” He
eyed Thatcher warily.

“Oh, so the results are in?” she asked
matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” said Dugan, “the DNA test results have
arrived.”

“What?” exclaimed a confused Thatcher.

Nate looked from red-eyed Thatcher Grady, to a
sheepishly grinning Campbell, and finally to his CCR. “You didn’t
test our DNA samples, did you Dugan?”

“Dr. Devereaux convinced me it was the best
solution to the dilemma.”

“Do you know about this, Thatcher?”

“No! You tested our DNA?” Suddenly he felt
profusely warm even in the cool English air. The truth was within
his grasp.

Nate was still in shock. “How did you—”

“It was easy,” answered Campbell.

“I can excuse Dugan,” said Nate. “I’ll modify
his programming later. But you Campbell! I never authorized any
testing, and apparently neither did Thatcher. How dare you—”

“Call me a meddling bitch, but the deed’s done.
Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“If ya got nothin’ to hide, why are ya so
upset?” asked Thatcher. Turning to Campbell, he said, “I guess you
found one way to either confirm or shoot my reunification fantasy
to hell.”

“You could say that,” she replied with a
smile.

Wind rustled through the trees as ducks took off
in flight over the lake. A nervous silence followed as they eyed
each other. Dugan sat on his haunches and began to wag his tail. “I
do not understand why you are not asking me for the test
results.”

“Another human trait: dramatic pause,” cooed
Campbell, kneeling down and patting him on the head. Looking
expectantly at the others, she said, “Go ahead, Dugan. Is Nate a
father or not?”

“I could stop Dugan,” said Nate defensively,
“but I won’t. But it’s a bad idea to go through with this.” He
sighed, resigned to his fate.

“The Royal Data Match Company from London, case
number two-three-seven-eight-six-three-eight. Results indicate a
negative match. Conclusion is zero percent chance that subject,
Thatcher Grady is the biological son of subject, Nate
Kristopher.”

Nate and Campbell stared at a dumbfounded
Thatcher who was groping for words.

“What a crock of shit!” Thatcher turned and
walked down to the lake. Finding a large rock, he hurled it over
the water, resulting in a large splash. “DOES ANYONE UP THERE LIKE
ME?” he yelled to the soft, fluffy clouds floating overhead. He
came back and checked the results on Dugan’s monitor. Finally, he
sat listlessly against a tree.

“How can this be? I am—you are—you’re him! All
the clues point to you. Help me out, man! Is it true you’re
not?”

“It’s like I said all along, Thatcher,” said
Nate, “I just don’t have a flair for the dramatic like our good
doctor here does.”

“Ya know what hurts even more,” Thatcher said,
mindlessly drawing with a stick on the ground, “is that you’re a
great guy. Yeah, it sounds corny. And I don’t think I buy all that
CHOFA stuff, but I’d have been proud to have you as a dad.” With
his head thrown back against the tree trunk, his face contorted.
Tears dribbled down his cheeks.

Encouraged by Campbell, he knelt next to
Thatcher. He placed his hand on Thatcher’s shoulder. “You know, I
guess I’m kind of sorry too.”

Thatcher wiped his eyes. “Reality’s a bitch.
You’ll never know how hard I worked—for nothing.” He paused.
“Answer me a question, though. How could you have been so sure? You
had sex with her, right?” He eyed Nate curiously. “Or is the price
you pay for semi-immortality impotence?”

“Could be, but I don’t think so,” Nate answered,
grinning. “When we swam out of Poseidon city, I just knew.”

“Wait a sec!” Campbell wrinkled her brow. “I
smell a secret.”

“No,” Nate said, casting an irritated look he
way.

“You need to just come clean; you just
‘knew’
?”

“I hate it when you get in that damn therapist
mode!” Nate answered angrily.

She turned to Thatcher, “Classic case of denial.
Nate gets angry when confronted, blames the interviewer.”

“Conniving bitch! I don’t have to put up with
this! The truth is just that— I’m not his father.” Nate stood up
and began to stomp away.

Campbell jumped up and grabbed Nate’s arm.
“That’s all you’ve been doing this whole time is running away. All
this Alpha Group visitation crap is just one more way to avoid what
you really need to do, whatever the hell it is that Father Abraham
wants from you! And if you move one muscle to pray right now, I’m
tempted to strangle you. Sorry, Dugan. I’m not going to hit him.
But I feel like it.”

He glared at her, angrily pushing her hand off
his arm. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Thatcher arose and placed his hand on Nate’s
shoulder. “Hey, no problem, man. I gotta realize that I’m not the
only one here with buried stuff. Ball’s in your court.” He called
Dugan, and he sauntered down to the lake, CCR by his side.

“You can be a real pain sometimes,” Nate hissed
at Campbell.

She smiled. “Yeah, especially when I’m
right.”

“Come along.” He motioned to Campbell. “You may
as well hear this too.”

Nate sat down next to Thatcher, while Campbell
scratched Dugan’s ears. “I do know who your father is.”

“Then why haven’t you leveled with me
before?”

“First of all, you were convinced it was me.
Secondly, your father’s a…a…”

“Oh, I get it.” Thatcher rolled his eyes.
“He’s…an ax murderer, right? My mom slept with an ax murderer and
nine months later I popped out.”

“It’s not quite that simple.”

Good guy, bad guy, I still want to know.”

“His name was Damien Rylee.”

“Damien Rylee. Don’t know anyone by that name,”
said a bewildered Thatcher.

“
Was
his name?” pondered Campbell. “Is he
dead? Or is it different now?”

Thatcher’s mind whirred. “He’s a member of the
Alpha Group?” He tried to read Nate’s body language. “Is it that
Chad Delavan guy that you want to visit next?”

“Slow down, Thatcher! Give the man some time to
get his story together,” teased Campbell.

Nate eyed her, annoyance showing in his gritted
teeth. “You want to know as badly as he does.”

He cleared his throat. “I was so angry when you
found us at Poseidon City. Having someone discover the experiment
was just compounded by your insistence I was your father. Like I
said earlier, leaving McKinley was very painful. She’s a wonderful
woman, but… she had to make a choice between Damien and me. God
knows I was upset. You showing up forced her back into my life. I’d
asked if she was pregnant but she denied it. But I knew she was
lying. I was convinced she rejected me because Damien had gotten
her pregnant.”

“I had no idea,” said a sympathetic
Thatcher.

“So my gut told me that you must be Damien’s
son, and yes he now goes by another name because he’s a member of
the longevity group.”

“That’s your credible evidence?” protested
Campbell. “Gut instinct?”

“Yeah, how can you be so sure after all those
years?” wondered Thatcher. “Maybe I’m a fool for wanting to know
more, but after a lifetime of searching, just spit it out. Who is
he?”

“Your father, Damien Rylee…now goes by the name
of…Sheridan North.”

“Ho-o-o-ly shiiiit! You’ve got to be kidding!”
Seeing the serious look in Nate’s eyes, he added, “You’re not
kidding.”

“No.”

“
The
Sheridan North? The Eco terrorist?
This Damien is now Sheridan North?”

“Yes,” replied Nate stoically, head slowly
bobbing up and down. “The one who’s eluded capture for years, my
former friend and business partner, and an Alpha Group member.”

“Come on, Nate. Before leveling such an
extraordinary claim like that, you damn well better have more than
a gut level instinct,” said an exasperated Campbell.

“Yeah,” agreed Thatcher. “Before I get all
worked up about it, how can you be so sure?”

With an unblinking faraway look, he replied,
“Because I realized at Poseidon City that you’re his spitting
image.”

Nate, Campbell, Thatcher and Dugan were jostled
by the crowd as they walked down the main street, called The King’s
Highway, at the Heaven on Earth complex in Dixie in the
southeastern part of the North American Union, the former USA. The
geodesic dome, nestled in the southern Appalachian Mountains eighty
kilometers north northwest of Atlanta, rose spectacularly high
above them as the midday sun shone through it.

“You don’t believe in God?” yelled a young woman
who had been talking with Thatcher. The tattoo on her arm loudly
proclaimed WWJD.

“Well,” said Thatcher, “to be perfectly honest,
I don’t. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Then why would you want to visit Heaven on
Earth? Only true believers come to worship here” she said sharply.
“So therefore, you—”

“Yes, I understand, I must be here for another
reason. Well—I’m with him,” and he pointed to Nate.

“Thatcher, I told you not to talk,” said an
annoyed Nate.

“It’s what I do.”

“And you do it too well.”

“Do you believe in God?” asked the woman,
turning toward Nate.

“Why… yes I do. My faith in the Church of—”

“Nate!” warned Campbell. “You’re the one that
needs to watch your words. Let’s keep moving!”

The word spread fast.
Strangers are
here
.

Up to that point, Nate had felt quite secure
since leaving England. Maybe it was Es’s protection on their
journey back across the Atlantic. And as pesky as Thatcher was
proving to be, he liked the reporter’s frankness. But perhaps
Nate’s renewed sense of purpose produced the biggest boost to his
morale. Additionally, after Thatcher had accepted that Nate was
indeed not his father, he promised that he wouldn’t reveal to
Campbell anything about Nate’s past identity.

Before entering Heaven on Earth, Nate had heeded
Campbell’s advice to hide his CHOFA medallion inside his clothing,
and he thanked Father Abraham that Es had arranged another of her
strange disappearing acts. Now he wished he could slip through the
crowd and go right to Keith/Chad. Fortunately, Nate and his
companions had seemed to meld back into the hubbub.