Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology (13 page)

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

May handed Alexander Torrey a stack of brightly colored papers. She gazed up at him with her big eyes. "Can we buy this, Daddy? Pleeeeeease?"

Alexander glanced down at her with a smile. "What are these for, May?"

"I'm gonna write Mister Vullerman a thank-you letter."

Alexander smiled. "Okay. Just this once. Here, put it in the bag." Alexander extended the bag, already half-full of other products, and May plopped the paper inside.

As soon as May was looking the other way, Alexander sneaked a glance behind him. There. It was that man again. The dark-haired man was looking away, but Alexander was sure that the man had been following them for a good half-hour.

He walked a bit faster to catch up with his wife. He murmured in her ear, "You about ready to leave? Maybe it's just the aftershock of this phone-call business, but I feel a bit uneasy. I'd like to get home."

"I've got enough to last the week.” Mary tossed a bag of chips in the cart. "Let's go."

Alexander took May's hand and they started walking to the check-out. They paid for the groceries and then walked through the superstore until they reached the automatic doors and stepped outside into the warm day.

Once they were outside, Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. The warm sunlight made the world seem friendlier.

His temporary relief faded, however, once Alexander glanced behind him.

The dark-haired man was following.

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

Will clenched the seat until his knuckles bleached white. He ground his teeth together and said, "Can we go any faster?"

"Goin' a'fast as I kin, Will." Immanuel's gaze was focused on the controls in front of him. "Askin' all th' time won't make it better."

Will stared at the floor. His initial rush of adrenaline and stark terror had faded, leaving him feeling tired and helpless. He had heard the phrase "hit rock bottom", but he had never understood it until now. Will had hit rock bottom, and it hurt.

How could he have been so stupid? It all made sense now. The taxi driver had either been a random burglar or a distraction to Will, but either way it had served to get Will away from the Torreys. Now they were unprotected and facing a ruthless and powerful killer. If the man had already managed to murder an ASP agent, how would a simple American family save themselves? If the man had fooled Will, then how could the Torreys escape?

Will put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

He had failed. Again. The last time he had failed, innocent people had ended up dead. Officially, their deaths hadn't been his fault. But Will knew better.

And now he had made the same stupid mistake. Will had told May that he had changed, that he would protect them, but this new mistake proved him wrong.

He hadn't changed. He was just as eager to get this “civilian assignment” off his hands, despite his claims to the contrary. And if the passing of time hadn't changed him for the better, what could? If time couldn't heal wounds, would they ever be healed?

Will lowered his head and stared at the floor again. He hadn't prayed in a long time.

But if there was ever a time to pray, it would be in that moment. Maybe Will couldn't redeem his failures. But maybe God could.

“That's what drives us to pray,” he said, quietly, to himself. “When we've got nowhere else to go.”

He bowed his head.

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

Brownbarr glanced out the window. Another town was rolling on past. A couple of fast-food restaurants peeked up at the broad highway, but other than that it wasn't much. Brownbarr turned to Mothinghotch, who was in the driver's seat. "Where are we now?"

Mothinghotch kept his gaze forward. He might be a pretty sorry aide, but Brownbarr had to admit that Mothinghotch was a good driver. "We're at Salira, sir."

As if Brownbarr knew where that was. "Hold on, I'll check in with Rolvo and see where the last sighting was. Pull over and grab us something to eat."

Brownbarr called Rolvo's comm number as Mothinghotch coasted to the exit. "Rolvo, any more sightings?"

"Nothing. Where ah you now?"

"Salira, wherever that is. Somewhere in western EC."

Mothinghotch pulled into a junk food joint and drove to the drive-thru.

"The sighting was about a half hour behind you. If he's heading west, though, this is the best road he could take."

"All right, we'll keep driving. Keep me updated."

"Yes, sah." Rolvo hung up.

Mothinghotch pulled forward and grabbed two bags of food from the drive-thru window. The greasy smell of french fries and burgers steamed from the recycled bags.

"You're a lifesaver, Mothinghotch." Brownbarr tore into his bag. He took out a burger and breathed in the heavenly smell. "America might be gone, but American food lives on."

Mothinghotch chewed on a deep-fried french fry, keeping one hand on the wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. "It's rather unhealthy, though."

"I'll be lucky if I don't have a heart attack after I'm done." Brownbarr bit into his burger and let the taste sit for a moment before swallowing. "My sister's house is two hours away, but if we want to be alive by the time we catch our man, we might have to stop there for supper."

Mothinghotch shrugged. "I guess so, sir."

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

Will opened his eyes and stared out the porthole at the sky. "Immanuel, bring up a computer-to-comm connection, please." He stood up.

Immanuel glanced back at Will. "Sure," he said, after a moment. "Why you need it? You got a plan, my man?"

"You bet." Will strode over to Immanuel's chair. "If my plan works, we might have enough time to undo my mistakes and save lives."

Immanuel nodded. "What you need me ta do?"

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

Brownbarr's comm dinged in his ear. "Call incoming. Private jet no. 2394 is dialing with an ASP urgency code."

Brownbarr frowned. A private jet? Why would a private jet be calling him? And why was the call urgent? "Answer," Brownbarr said.

In a rush of static, Will Vullerman's voice shouted into Brownbarr's ear. "Director, sir! This call could be cut off at any time. Get to your sister's house if you want to save her life. The AAA murderer is on his way to her hou—"

With a beep, the comm said, "Call disconnected. Please reprogram."

Brownbarr stared down at his comm's keypad, which still read "private jet no. 2394". His mind grasped what Will had said, and he looked up at the road in front of the car. "Step on it, Mothinghotch," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Drive like I'm about to kill you, because I will if you don't go faster. Drive!"

Mothinghotch glanced at Brownbarr. "Sir?"

"My sister's in danger, you idiot!" Brownbarr roared. "Step on it!"

Mothinghotch floored the gas and hit the ASP blinkers.

Brownbarr watched the speedometer rise and prayed that they could go faster. His sister's life depended on it.

“Call the local police,” he said to his comm.

“Error. Please reprogram.”

Brownbarr ripped the comm out of his ear and threw it on the dashboard. “Mothinghotch, does your comm work?”

Mothinghotch frowned. “Call the police,” he said. Then his frown deepened. “Some jargon about the police lines being down, sir. What does that mean?”

“That means that there's not going to be any backup.” Brownbarr gritted his teeth. “Drive faster.”

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

Alexander sat on the couch and sighed. At last, his feet could have a rest. "Have I mentioned that I hate shopping?"

May sat on the floor and dressed up a doll. "Daddy, that was
hours
ago. You can't
still
be tired."

"Food only makes me more tired, May." Alexander grinned.

She huffed. "That's silly. Food makes
me
more interjetic."

"
Energetic
, May."

"That's what I said. Interjetic."

Alexander chuckled and leaned back. Almost involuntarily, he glanced out the window. The street was empty, as it had been for the last two hours. One way or another, though, the man at the superstore had put Alexander on edge. He felt like someone would jump out at any corner.

The police last night were nice, but the officer had informed him that they would be heading out once dawn came to make their rounds. They'd swing by the house periodically late in the night to make sure everything looked all right.

Alexander shook the thoughts out of his head. He grabbed his touchpad off of the table and turned it on.

"Why do people walk instead of taking cars, Daddy?" May brushed her doll's hair and looked out the window.

Alexander shrugged. "Some people like exercise and fresh air. Why do you ask?"

May pointed out the window. "Because there's a man walking out there."

A chill went down Alexander's spine. Setting the touchpad beside him, he turned and looked out the window again.

Across the street stood a dark-haired man, staring straight at Alexander.

"May," Alexander murmured, turning back to May, "go get your mother."

"Why?"

"Just do it, please."

May stood up with her doll in hand and ran down the hallway.

When Alexander turned back to the window, the man was starting across the street...and heading straight for the house.

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

"There! Look at the sign!" Brownbarr pointed out the window at a highway sign. "Take that exit. My sister's house is two blocks past the main road.”

Mothinghotch bent down the exit road that was just past the sign and merged onto a smaller road that led into the town where Brownbarr's sister lived. As he did so, however, the car sputtered.

"What was that?" Brownbarr said. "What's wrong with the car?"

"Well, sir, you said not to stop for anything..."

Brownbarr growled, "Tell me, Mothinghotch!"

Mothinghotch shifted in his seat, steadying the car with one hand. "We're sort of out of gas, sir."

"
What?
"

"You said not to stop!"

"We can't very well get there if we're out of gas, you dimwit!"

"I just follow orders, sir."

"And you leave your common sense at the front door!"

At that last word, the car sputtered again and then died. Mothinghotch used the momentum to pull the car over on the side of the road while Brownbarr raged.

Brownbarr threw open the door and got out.

"What are you doing, sir?"

"Getting a blasted taxi!" Brownbarr stalked down the road with his hands thrust in his pockets. "And if that fails, I'm walking. My sister's
life
is on the line, Mothinghotch, and I'm not risking it because of your stupidity!”

Mothinghotch opened the driver's door and stumbled out. "I'm coming, sir, wait up."

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

Alexander followed May down the hall. Mary met him halfway, a look of concern in her eyes. "What is it, Alex? What's wrong?"

"Someone's watching the house."

"Alex, I'm sure it's just—"

Three rapid knocks sounded at the front door. "Open up," a male voice said.

Mary's face paled. "I know that voice,” she whispered.

The man's words drifted down the hallway in a sickening singsong tone. "Oh yes, Torreys. I'm the man who's been calling you. Open up, little Torreys. Will Vullerman is gone and I need to make my thirteenth call."

Alexander swallowed. "Lock yourselves in the bedroom," he said, his voice low. "I'll hold him off and try to call the police."

"But—"

"Do it, Mary."

She turned and fled down the hallway.

"Tooooorrreeeeys...I'm coming. I'm coming for you, Torreys." The man laughed.

Alexander ran to the living room and crawled along the floor so the man couldn't see him through the window. He reached the phone and grabbed it.

"No signal" filled the screen.

"Are you trying to call the police, Alexander? Hm?" The man's voice sounded closer. Alexander looked up—and jerked back.

The dark-haired man was peering in through the living room window. His gaze locked on Alexander, and a slow grin touched the man's lips. Alexander stood up and backed away, but the man's voice followed him. "I've corrupted the signal, Alexander. There's no communication coming in...or going out. You can't call for help now.”

Alexander ran back down the hallway to his bedroom, the insistent knocking on the door following him. Then the knocks turned into bangs. Alexander glanced behind him—the door was shuddering with each bang. Alexander bit his lip. The man was kicking the door in!

A gunshot sounded, and the door handle clattered to the floor. Alexander turned and swallowed hard. A weapon! He needed a weapon! The man had a gun—what could Alexander do?

His gaze roved the hallway, but there was nothing but pictures on the wall. Alexander grabbed a framed picture of his family and hurled it at the door. The glass shattered all over the floor.