Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology (10 page)

BOOK: Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology
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“I'm sorry.”

Mr. Torrey laughed. “Not your fault, is it? Sure, we could borrow money from Danton, but I'm from the Bible Belt. Don't suppose you'd know what that is, but the thing is, I grew up paying for what I got. No debt. So far we've made it, but I don't know how much longer we can last.” He sighed. “Sorry, I'm unloading on you.”

“No, it's okay.” It came out of Will's mouth before he realized it. “I don't mind.”

Mr. Torrey stared out the window. “Thing is,” he said, “it's still hard. We've got all these great American testimonies on the news of people saved from a virtual apocalypse, but the news doesn't show the other side of it. The people we left behind. It hurts, Will.” Mr. Torrey's Adam's apple bobbed. “I've got friends that died—forty years ago. Mary's parents, too.”

He laughed a little, but the laugh caught thickly in his throat. “I had the best in-laws you ever saw, Will. When the government called for volunteers to stay out of stasis to keep the country running, they were one of the few. A lot of people had to be chosen by lot—but no, they volunteered. Mary's got the same fire, but she doesn't show it too often. But believe me, she'd do anything to keep May safe.” His voice hardened. “And so would I.” Mr. Torrey looked over at the phone and then took in a deep breath.

“I understand,” Will said softly. And he did.

“So that's why, Will.” Mr. Torrey stared down at his touchpad. “That's what drives me to pray. I've got nowhere else I can go.”

He stood up abruptly and tucked his touchpad under his arm. “I should be going to bed. Good night, Mr. Vullerman.”

“Good night, Mr. Torrey.” Will stared up at the ceiling for a few moments before getting up and turning off the living room light.

Will walked back down the hallway, but he didn't go back to sleep, not for a long while. He roamed the house, sticking to the windows and making sure there was no one out there. His sense of danger quieted through the night, but his sense of unease continued.

When it was well after five, Will retired to his bedroom, satisfied that he had kept the Torreys safe for the night.

************

"Mr. Will Vullerman is doing well, but he still hasn't figured out who's calling."

Brownbarr frowned, drumming his fingers on the office desk. "He's the best of the best, Mary. He doesn't have our tech support, but he should be able to help you."

He heard his sister sigh through the comm. "I know. May likes him, anyway. She's sure that he's going to solve the mystery and catch the criminal."

Brownbarr chuckled. "I told you that you shouldn't be reading Sherlock Holmes aloud to her. At her age, Mary?"

"She's the one who picked it out."

Brownbarr could hear the humor returning to her voice, and he cracked a smile. At least he had brought a little light to his sister's day. "I know. She's a bright girl. I didn't read Doyle's stuff until I was in high school."

There was a pause over the connection. "Well, I'll let you go. It was good hearing from you, Danton."

"The same."

They exchanged goodbyes, and then Brownbarr hung up.

He sat back in his leather swivel chair. "You fail this, Vullerman," Brownbarr muttered, "and you'll no longer be an ASP agent."

Still, he ought to cut the guy some slack. Brownbarr had seen Will's ASP entry records for technology. Will had long since improved, but he was far from the best when it came to tech. But Brownbarr couldn't assign anyone to help Vullerman out, since Vullerman wasn't on official business.

He sighed. Sometimes being director was more trouble than it was worth.

"Director Brownbarr, sir?" Jeremy Mothinghotch, Brownbarr's lanky aide, poked his head in Brownbarr's office. No knocking...again. "We've got a situation."

"There's always a situation, Mothinghotch," Brownbarr said wryly. "Be descriptive. What
kind of
situation?"

"Um," Mothinghotch said, stepping into the office. He fidgeted for a moment, which Brownbarr interpreted as a sure sign of bad news.

"Now, of all times, you choose to clam up?"

"Uh, sir, it's kind of...bad."

"I gathered that much. Speak any slower and I'll die of old age."

"Well..." Mothinghotch shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "You remember that you sent Mr. Dolo Tarent to investigate the American murders in the East?"

"Yes, I remember. Any other useless information you need to tell me?"

"Uh...Mr. Tarent was discovered dead in his hotel this morning."

Brownbarr shot upright. "What?"

"Mr. Rolvo begs your presence in the intelligence department. He can explain it further."

Brownbarr glared at Mothinghotch. "You should have told me that as soon as you walked in the door, you nitwit! Withholding news of an ASP murder is worth more than your job. There have been three murders of ASP agents in our entire history. You get that, Mothinghotch?
Three
." Brownbarr slammed his comm on the table and stalked out of the room. "Get me Vullerman, Mothinghotch, and you might save your job."

Mothinghotch followed Brownbarr out. "Mr. Vullerman is on vacation, sir, and you informed me that he was visiting your sister."

Brownbarr swore. "I knew that, you dunce." Blazes, of all of the times for Vullerman to be gone!

"Then why—"

"Forget about it, Mothinghotch. Follow me to intelligence."

************

"So what did you need?" Mr. Torrey sat down and put his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaning forward. “Did you find something that worries you?”

“Yes and no.” Will looked up at the living room clock again, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch. Nearly four PM. Still a couple hours to go. "You see, I think the man calling you could be watching your house. In fact...” Will paused. Should he tell them or not? He shouldn't cause them more worry than was necessary, but... “I'm fairly sure that he already is. I thought I saw something last night."


What?
What did you see?” Mr. Torrey peered out the living room window, past Will's head. He visibly swallowed. “And—why hasn't he tried to break in yet?”

"I don't know yet. But I kept watch." Will considered the situation for a moment. "Then again, the message always says that he's 'coming', so either the message is a fabrication to scare you, or I'm imagining things. But my intuition hasn't served me wrong before. I'd call the police to set up a watch, but I don't have any concrete evidence yet. Since I'm not on official ASP business, I can't use that as leverage, either.”

“I understand.” Mr. Torrey gestured to the comm and the phone on the lamp-table. "What about your work?”

"I've almost got it. I'll probably have it set up tomorrow."

"Good." Mr. Torrey leaned back in his chair and pushed his cropped hair back from his forehead. "I'm ready to be done with this business."

Will was about to say something more, but then something happened that twisted his stomach.

The phone rang.

Beeeeeeeeeeeep.

Mr. Torrey's gaze darted toward the phone. Will glanced at the clock. Four PM on the dot. Why would the timing of the call change again?

The phone stopped ringing, and Will grabbed it, pushing the call button to play the message. It played, but this time there was something different. The man's voice fell into silence, and for a brief moment, Will thought that the message had ended. And then, in a hoarse whisper, the man added, "I'm so close."

Beep.
The message ended.

Will stared at the blank screen for a moment. "It's almost like it's counting down. But to what?”

Knock knock.

Will started at the sound, and Mr. Torrey jerked. Then he relaxed. “Just the mail. It always comes at four.” He stood up with a grunt and went around the corner to the front door. He came back with a handful of letters, flipping through them one by one. “Looks like a bunch of bills, as usual. No, hold on. What's this?” He pulled out a long white envelope. “Huh. It's got the right address, but the automated postal stamp is all weird.”

“Can I see?”

Mr. Torrey handed Will the envelope, and Will inspected it. “It's almost like the postal computers were corrupted or had some sort of glitch.” Will gestured to the top left corner, where the computer had printed a string of meaningless numbers. “See, there's not a proper return address. May I open it?”

“Sure.”

Will tore the corner and used his thumb to gently rip open the rest of the envelope. He pulled out a piece of neatly folded notebook paper and unfolded it.

The ink was a thick scarlet, and had bled a little through the paper and run on the page, like tears. There were only two lines, and Will read them silently.

Row your boat, row your boat, life is full of dreams

There's blood in the water and I hear the future screams.

“What does it say?” Mr. Torrey peered over Will's shoulder, but Will folded the letter again before he could read it.

“Nothing important.” Will shoved it in his pocket. “And nothing you need to know.”

Mr. Torrey pressed his lips together. “Is it from...him?”

“It's nothing,” Will repeated. “One thing is for sure, Mr. Torrey. I'm going to need to work faster.”

************

That night, Will woke up again to the smell of a struck match. He rolled out of bed and peered out the window. There, the glow. The same glow, in the same place. Now that Will could see it better, he knew it wasn't the flame of a match. It wasn't bright enough. But what was it, and why could Will still smell matches?

Will stood, and the glow winked out. And then he thought he heard footsteps on the grass, but they were so light that he wasn't sure.

Will pulled on a shirt and padded into the hallway.

"Mister Vullerman?"

Will jumped, turning around and nearly smacking the shadowy figure. He recognized May, hair wild and in her pajamas. Will calmed down and whispered, "May, what are you doing up at this time of night?"

"Why are
you
up, Mister Vullerman?"

"I'm making sure everything's all right. I thought I heard noises outside."

May was quiet for a moment. "Well, I smelled smoke, so I got up."

"So it wasn't my imagination," Will mused aloud. May had smelled it too, and since May's bedroom and Will's were on the same side of the house, that meant that the match had been lit in that area. That explained why Mr. and Mrs. Torrey hadn't smelled anything the night before.

"You smelled it too?" May asked.

"Yes." Will gestured down the hallway. "Now go back to bed, May, or I'll have to wake your parents."

"Aren't you going back to sleep, Mister Vullerman?"

Will shook his head. "I'll stay up for a little bit and make sure everything's safe.”

"But why?"

Will thought for a moment. "If I tell you a quick story explaining my reasons, do you promise to go to bed?"

Silence. Finally, May said, "Yes, I promise."

"All right. Stay quiet and listen." Will crouched, his face level with May's. "Once upon a time, there was a secret agent. He had been assigned to protect a family with a mom and dad and a little girl."

May listened intently.

"He didn't care much about the mission, though," Will continued, "and just wanted to get back home. His grandparents were old and he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. But there came a day that..."

Will broke off for a moment and swallowed hard. "There came a day where the secret agent failed to do his job, and the family got...hurt. And it was just because the secret agent didn't do the best job he could. He was very sad and said that he'd never let it happen again. Ever. That's why I have to stay up. Because then it won't happen again."

May's gaze stayed on Will's face. "Mister Vullerman?"

"Yes?"

"Was that man you?"

"He's...who I was. But he's not who I am now. That's why I need to stay up and make sure everything is safe.”

"Good.” She turned and waved over her shoulder, saying, “I don't think you'll do that mistake again, Mister Vullerman. Night."

"Good night, Miss May." Will watched as she walked back down the hallway and slipped into her room. He heard her bed creak a moment later, and then settled himself down for a long night.

Will wasn't going to leave the house unguarded if his life depended on it. Because other lives depended on him.

And he wouldn't fail. Not this time.

************

Brownbarr strode into the intelligence center. "Rolvo!" he barked. "Any news?"

"No, sah." Rolvo sidled up to Brownbarr. "We simply don't have enough evidence."

Brownbarr glared at the map of the world covering the far wall. How could an ASP agent just die? Tarent hadn't even used his comm to try and contact anyone in the brief moments after he had been shot. He had dragged himself across the room and then collapsed, not a single call.

BOOK: Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology
9.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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