Savior (24 page)

Hammond?

I don't know what happened to him.

She shuddered and I realized who it was. Her face was wrinkled, like an old woman's, and her hair was thin and clumpy. She was wearing clothes that were barely distinguishable from her greasy skin. But her shudder was a young woman's. It was Sabine.

How is your head? You fell on the stone over there.

How did I get here?

I don't know. You've been here a few days. I assume the guards brought you. So at least we can die together. How nice.

I don't think the guards brought me.

It doesn't really matter, Al.

It does matter. There’s a way out. I saw the island.

Shhh. Relax. Just relax. You've been out of your head. Raving for a while now.

She nursed me back to
semi-health, talking to me, keeping me alive, feeding me with the scraps of food Lucas brought to her out of pity, even though it went against the orders of Chagnon. I once had thought Chagnon almost capable of seeing the value of tolerance, but now I considered him a monster again.

Sabine had heard from Lucas that it had been Hammond
who had informed the guards of our tunneling, blaming Talbert for being the leader of our escape efforts. They had sent us all off to solitary with the idea of seeing who among us could survive. She was amazed that she hadn't yet died. I convinced Sabine that I had found my way to this place, the
Cenote
, on my own, or maybe helped by the rats, but I wasn't even sure myself that I had not, in fact, been dreaming. She didn't want to hear much about the rats.

A
sk Lucas where I am, I said. And she did, and Lucas told her he didn't know. I kept hidden, lying flat behind the fire pit that continually belched its gassy flame, whenever he came with food, not every day, but every so often. She fed me until I was better, keeping only occasional crusts for herself. I told her she was an angel, but she waved the thought away with her bony hand. She did not believe, she said, in all the infrastructure of the superstitious. There was only a common humanity, a fragile bond that was easily broken over and over for the sake of these old dreams. She was trying to teach me how to live without angels, but I didn't think I could.

What I meant
to her was the difference between dying alone and having someone she could talk to. The fact of my breathing kept her alive. Somehow, between the two of us, we could measure time more effectively and had a better sense of a day as opposed to an eternity. We talked about nothing in particular and were often silent, mostly silent, I would say. But the words were a balm, easing our minds.

Eighteen
—Muscowequan

Tony drove the Honda CRV relentlessly northward into a winter already underway with sub-zero temperatures in International Falls. The Mounty at the border crossing hurried back inside his post as the blizzard howled and blew. The landscape was bleak, but the road was crowded with tanker trucks carrying crude oil from the southern fracking fields to refineries around the Great Lakes in Canada and construction crews working on a pipeline to carry oil from the tar sands across Alberta to New England.

After a day and a half with no stops except at gasoline stations and fast food outlets, it was a relief to be able to carry their bags into the
hotel in downtown Fort McMurray. The newspapers at the stands around the front desk and the television in the room at the Best Western were full of stories heralding the breakup of the American government. Senators were trying to impeach the President, who was issuing executive orders releasing all federal prisoners held on terrorism charges. There were National Guard troops being called out to quell disturbances along the Mexican border and reports in several Western states of strange aircraft spotted in broad daylight over urban centers and military bases, hovering and then disappearing. In Fort McMurray local action, the Barons were getting road tested that night against the Draytonville Thunder, the youth hockey team was joining up with the Fort McKay franchise and a woman bodybuilder was turning pro. And then the Nickelodeon channel had Spongebob Squarepants, and there was some beach bikini epic on a movie channel and monsters consuming the human race in black and white on another.

Tony was waking up from a nap. They wanted to order a pizza, but
didn’t know where to find a decent restaurant. The phone book in the bedside desk listed pizza places with dubious sounding names. They had no idea which ones were any good; they had no idea what to do next. They were too tired to even figure out how to get a pizza. Snow was coming down, and it was dark, despite being the middle of the afternoon. It was too cold, and the water of rushing Arctic rivers surrounded them.

Ricky decided to check with the hotel office.
There seemed to be no one around in the hotel. He walked down the halls and down to the front desk where the desk clerk, Richard Briscoe, as it said on his laminated lapel badge, said he was a Cree and spoke some French, said his training was actually in musical instrument repair, but he was working in the hotel industry at the moment as a way to earn some money. Said he was living at home. Ricky asked about a pizza place and Briscoe recommended Cosmos Pizza just down the road. Ricky thought he would venture further and asked about the oil refinery.

Oh
, yeah. They're hiring. Looking for people with computer knowledge. I know that. How about you? You looking for work?

Uh, maybe. I don't know.

Well, it used to be Syncor. Now it's called Harkem or something. Owned by some Mexican millionaire types, I know that. Look at that outfit on Heather Mills, eh? Do you think she's had some work done on her boobs? I would guess that's a yes. The television was above the front desk and Briscoe had turned around to watch it.

You mind if I take this? Ricky lifted the local newspaper off the desk.

Oh, go ahead. It's yesterday's edition. Nothing in it. You might like the movies at the college, though. They get some good movies there on weekends. You need a student ID to get cheaper rates. You a student?

No.

Well, you can get in if you come with me. I still have my student ID from last year.

Hey, thanks, said Ricky. He took the newspaper and walked down the hall towards the elevator. Back in the room,
he looked through the classifieds while Tony paced in front of the window. He seemed out of sorts, and Ricky was hoping that a phone call with Ginny on his Blackberry would help him, but he still seemed oddly quiet. Ricky wondered how Gabe and Aunt Ginny were getting along. It was strange, he thought, how he felt oddly responsible for Gabe.

The classifieds
held an advertisement for a position in Harken Research Geological Unit as a computer modeler specializing in strategic planning. Ricky read the description out loud.

That sounds interesting, said Tony.

Why don't you apply, Uncle Tony? You could probably legitimately be applying for it.

Maybe I will. That's not a bad idea. You know, Ricky. I've been thinking this whole time driving how unsatisfactory the whole academic trip has been for me. Maybe this is a golden opportunity, coming up here.

Tony took the newspaper from Ricky and read to himself. Then he went into the bathroom and took a shower. Ricky could hear him on his cell phone, but not clearly. When he came out, Tony announced they were going for a ride, as he dried himself and dressed.

Where?

The Harken headquarters. I called them just now. They want me to come in and talk to the head engineer.

That's awesome, Uncle Tony.

Yes. I would say so. Pretty good.

Remember, though. Y
ou're not really going for a job.

Why not?

We're trying to infiltrate the plant.

Of course. I'll get a job and then we'll be working from the inside. Perfect, right?

Right.

Tony fiddled around on the laptop and found an old resume that had survived somehow in some file. He printed it out to the front desk and asked Ricky to go get it.

Briscoe was still watching the television, looking more bored than ever.

Not much going on still? asked Ricky.

No, not much, eh.

The printer is where?

Oh, did you just print out a CV?

What's that?
Oh, yeah. That was probably it.

Briscoe went and got the piece of printed paper.

Professor at the University of Pittsburgh?

That's my uncle.
Ricky laughed to be polite.

Back in the room, Ricky watched the snow drifting in across the highway and at the long line of slow-moving tractor-trailers. Somehow he felt Al was very near and that there was movement beyond the visible river and highway, beyond the stillness and boredom everywhere. It spoke to him, whispering his father's name.

Tony had shaved his chin and trimmed the moustache and dressed in a white button down shirt and tie and jeans.

Who do we say I am?

You're my son. We've moved up here together. You're way into hockey, okay?

You're really getting into this. Do I have to be?

What are you, a slacker? Come on, just for today. Your
dad would love it.

He would.

Uncle Tony laughed.

Ricky picked up the pack and started moving to the door.

Leave your stuff here, Ricky.

No, I want to take the tablet.

Why?

I've just always done that.

No need. It'll be fine.

Uncle Tony seemed firm on the point of leaving the tablet. But Ricky felt unsure, nervous, letting it out of his sight. It was going against his better instincts, but he did anyway, not knowing why.

Sometimes you have to let go, Ricky, said Uncle Tony, as if reading his mind.

They stopped at Cosmos Pizza. It was on the left side of the road, and Tony slid around a little in the intersection.

Damn, we're going to have to get snow tires if we're here for any length of time.

We're not settling here, Uncle Tony. We’re just finding my
dad and getting out again.

I know.

The two workers in the pizza shop were pasty faced and silent, just the drone of the radio in the back room keeping them company while they swung the pizzas in and out of the oven. A steady traffic of customers came in and went out again, a random sampling of people that gave no clue as to the nature of the town. Ricky and Tony ate at a far table, and again Ricky had the sense of his father being nearby by the weirdness of being in this place of uncertain light. He had the sense of being at the top of the world, in a far, cut-off land, and all these routines of seemingly ordinary life were covering up some barbaric loneliness.

The company headquarters were in a modern office building in the downtown. The secretary came out of her cubicle and asked Tony to come back with her. Ricky waited in the reception area and read a magazine,
Canada Today
, with an article about Scientology and recipes in the back for venison. Three men in suits came out of the elevator speaking Spanish. They looked Argentinean to Ricky. The secretary did not look up at them, and they walked into her cubicle and out the back as if they were familiar with the routines of the office and used to working around them for the most part. The sight of them sent a chill up Ricky’s back.

Tony came out.

Let's go, he said under his breath.

Did you get the job?

They want me to come back for another interview. They need to do a background check.

They were in the elevator and Tony hit the button for the second floor.

What are we doing?

I've got an idea. Let's check this out.

They walked down the hall. Tony doubled back and tried the door to a supply closet. He flicked on the light and looked around.

There it is.

It was a black plastic box and inside it were multiple colored wires and jacks. Tony took his laptop out of the carrying case and plugged it into one of the jacks with an Ethernet cable.

Pull the door closed behind you.

What are you doing?

Let me see. Here it is. The backup template. Good, they're using Middleware for the FTP servers. I'm basically going to log on as an administrator and use a temporary file to access the daily log.

Ricky watched as his uncle worked silently tapping on the keyboard. At some point, Tony whipped the laptop closed, pushed it in the document case, and ran out of the room. Ricky followed close behind. They took the fire escape and ran out into the lobby joining a crowd of office workers getting off work, wrapping themselves in coats and scarves for the weather.

In the car, Ricky was jumping he was so excited.

That was awesome, Uncle Tony. I don't know what you did, but you looked good.

Just tapped into the office network, Ricky. I'm good for something. They almost got us. An alert went out on the internal bulletin that a firewall had been breached. That's when I decided we needed to get out of there.

Good timing.

Yes, and now I've got a few files to look at. Keep me busy for a while.

They drove the few blocks back to the hotel, and Tony got into bed.

Are you going to sleep?

No. I like to read in bed. And it's too cold, Ricky. Why don't you go walk around, find a place to hang out?

Like where?

I don't know. There's a bar downstairs.

I can't go in there.

Of course you can. Just sit down and order a Coke or something. Tell them what room you're in. Run up a tab. I just need some quiet time to look through this stuff and make some sense of it.

All right.

Here, take some money, in case.

Tony handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

There was already a couple in the elevator. They seemed Spanish or French, the woman dressed in furs and the man in an evening suit and double-breasted coat. They looked at Ricky, and the man cleared his throat in an obvious way. Ricky didn't quite get it, but it seemed to him like some class-conscious bit of snobbery—the throat clearing—that mostly went over his head. It was late in the day for that sort of thing. Didn't they realize the importance of saving his father? Obviously not. Then, on the ground floor, they asked the deskman something Ricky could not hear. He waited behind them for his turn.

Hi there, still looking for a job, eh?

No, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to go in the bar and get something to drink.

Sure. I'll join you in a bit.

Oh.

Yeah, I get off in a half hour.

Ricky sat at a small round table and faced the television. A group of people at the next table was celebrating a birthday or some important family event. It was two women in their twenties and their older parents. Ricky watched the television and tried to keep the nerves at arms length, the feeling that he didn't belong there. A waitress approached, and he asked her for a beer.

Uh, how old are you, sugar?

Eighteen. But that's legal in Canada, right?

It is. Do you have your driver's license?

Back in my room. I'll go get it.

No, that's all right. What can we get you?

A Molson.

She went off to get his beer but came back around after whispering with the bartender
, who had lifted his head and looked at Ricky.

When did you turn eighteen, sugar?

Yesterday. It's my birthday, really.

Isn't that special.