Zelazny, Roger - Novel 05 (18 page)

 
          
 
About four weeks later, he hanged himself in
his quarters in the Dispensary. Glenda must have been about five or six at the
time.

 
          
 
While we deplored violence, we did not feel
especially guilty about it. We tended to look upon what had occurred as one of
those unfortunate, unforeseen things that sometimes happen when you are just
doing your job. Also, it was then impossible for us to entertain the
possibility of any sort of connection between Kendall and Mr. Black. Black had
been deemed dead in my day, and memories of the man were duly erased when Old
Lange sacrificed me. Now that I was back, however, the entire Kendall Glynn
incident took on a different, more sinister appearance. Unlike my successors,
though, I felt rotten about the way things had been handled. I realized that a
debt of honor existed toward Glenda.

 
          
 
I thought about this as the clock ticked its
way toward opening and Lange's remains were stashed in the cooler. This, and a
lot of other things. Of course, I was going to go after Glenda. She knew
something—possibly quite important—that she wanted to tell me. Even if she did
not, however, I would have gone because she had asked me to, and because of the
very strong possibility that she was in danger.

 
          
 
When the vault finally opened, I entered and
removed a variety of things I might be needing. I hauled them all off to the
little lounge, leaving this vault open behind me, also.

 
          
 
"Library! Cubicle 18237!" Glenda had
kept repeating. Since she had not added a Wing designation, this indicated that
she meant Library, Cubicle 18237 of the Wing we then occupied.

 
          
 
... Wing 5, of which the Bandit had verified
Jenkins' bit of news. As of but a brief while ago, the subways had stopped
running and all communications had terminated. It was as if Wing 5 had suddenly
ceased to exist.

 
          
 
After I had deposited my gear, I returned to
Comp, where I ran another check with the Bandit. It reconfirmed the initial
report I had received, with no new developments. A survey of my private subway
system to Wing 5 showed all lines to be operational, however. This was as I had
expected. Their power source for my uses was located here, not there. Even if
it had not been, I had a funny feeling that they might still be working. There
seemed to be a pattern emerging, and I had a part in it.

 
          
 
It was not very long before Winkel and Jenkins
reentered.

 
          
 
"All set?" I asked.

 
          
 
"Yes," Winkel replied. "Listen,
we have a right to know what's going on—"

 
          
 
"Of course," I said. "You
will."

 
          
 
"When?"

 
          
 
"We will wait awhile longer to see
whether Gene is coming."

 
          
 
"Why not just mesh with him and find
out?"

 
          
 
"I'll be talking about that, too."

 
          
 
I turned and walked toward the door.

 
          
 
"What should we do now?" Jenkins
asked me.

 
          
 
"I think it would be a good idea for you
to wait here for Gene, to turn off the klaxon when he arrives."

 
          
 
"Why not just turn it off now?"

 
          
 
I returned to the control panel and switched
our defense system from manual back to automatic. I also removed the pistol
from my pocket and set it on the countertop.

 
          
 
"Because it just may be that someone else
will come through," I said, turning on the screen and the speaker.

 
          
 
"Who?" said Jenkins.

 
          
 
"I’ll tell you about that later,
too."

 
          
 
"What should we do if it is someone
else?"

 
          
 
"If the equipment doesn't get him, you'd
better."

 
          
 
"Even if it means using that gun?"

 
          
 
"Even if it means using your teeth and
fingernails. I'm going up to the lounge now. I have some things to do."

 
          
 
I could hear them talking as I headed on up
the hall, but I could not make out what they were saying. Just as well, I
suppose.

 
          
 
I entered the lounge, crossed it and activated
the window. The temperature had dropped slightly and the moon had traveled a
considerable distance, shifting the shadow patterns about. The light from the
ruin was no longer visible. I stared for perhaps a minute, still puzzling over
its earlier occurrence, then turned my attention to the equipment I had
fetched.

 
          
 
Stripping to my undergarments, I donned
lightweight body armor that protected me from groin to neckline. I put on
full-length black trousers then, because I wanted to wear some explosives taped
along the inside of my left calf. A heavy-caliber revolver went into a belt
holster to be covered by a white, short-sleeved shirt. Something from outside
disturbed me as I was taping the stiletto to my left forearm. A movement?

 
          
 
I lit a cigarette and spent a few minutes
staring out the window.

 
          
 
The flicker. Yes. It came again. Once, twice .
..

 
          
 
My observations were interrupted by the sound
of the klaxon. I departed the lounge immediately and headed down the hall. The
alarm ceased before I had gone twenty feet, so I slowed to a walk. I continued
on far enough to see that it was Gene, our youngest member, then waved to him
and turned back.

 
          
 
'Wait!" I heard him call out, followed by
the sounds of rapid footfalls.

 
          
 
"I'll be with you in a few minutes,"
I called back. "Go on into the Comp room. Jenkins and Winkel are
there."

 
          
 
The running continued and I decided the hell
with him. I had already told him where I was going, and I was not about to stand
there and justify myself.

 
          
 
He caught up with me just as I was about to
reenter the lounge. Whatever he was about to say was forgotten, however, as we
made the turn together and the burst of light hit us. He gripped my arm and we
stood there for a moment, unmoving.

 
          
 
Then I stepped into the room and he released
his hold and followed me across it. We moved to the window and stood there
squinting into the light. Yes, it was coming from the ruin all right.

 
          
 
From behind us, I heard Winkel make a brief
noise, like, "Wha—?"

 
          
 
Then the light was gone, and everything out
there was as it had been before.

 
          
 
I reached out and opaqued the thing again. I
moved toward the nearer chair, where I had been standing earlier, and arrived
there just as Jenkins burst into the room.

 
          
 
"What is going on?" he inquired,
searching our faces.

 
          
 
"Nothing," I said, picking up a
light-gray jacket and pulling it on, "now."

 
          
 
I dropped a handful of extra ammo and two gas
grenades into my left side pocket. Three small fragmentation bombs went into my
right.

 
          
 
"We are going back to Comp, right
now," I announced "Someone must be on duty there at all times, until
this thing is over. There must be no unauthorized visitors."

 
          
 
"Have there ever been?" Jenkins
asked.

 
          
 
"Yes."

 
          
 
"Who?"

 
          
 
"I’ll tell you about it in Comp. Come on.”

 
          
 
They followed me into the hall. As we headed
down it, Gene said, "What was that light?"

 
          
 
"I don't know."

 
          
 
"It could be something important"

 
          
 
"I am certain that it is."

 
          
 
We entered Comp and I moved to adjust the
subway equipment to take me to Wing 5. Before I could set the circuits,
however, Winkel stepped in front of me and stood there, hands on his hips.

 
          
 
"All right," he said. "What's
the story? Why didn't you mesh?"

 
          
 
"Because," I said, “you would have
been radically changed by the process, and I want you just the way you are
until I have decided what I am going to do about my condition."

 
          
 
"What condition? What is the
matter?"

 
          
 
I sighed, lit a cigarette, moved to his right
and seated myself on the countertop, facing the three of them.

 
          
 
"I pulled pins seven and six," I
said.

 
          
 
"You what?”

 
          
 
"You heard me."

           
 
There was silence. I had expected a blizzard
of questions, but they just stared.

 
          
 
"It had to be done," I said.
"We were being killed left and right, and there was no apparent reason, no
way of stopping it By unlocking generations of experience, I hoped to find
something—information, a weapon. I was scared, too."

 
          
 
Winkel dropped his eyes and nodded.

 
          
 
"I would have done the same thing,"
he said

 
          
 
"So would I," said Gene.

 
          
 
"I guess I would have, too," Jenkins
said, joining in the effort to make me feel better. "Did you find
something?"

 
          
 
"Yes, I believe I did. But it is rather
complicated, and I only have time to hit some of the highlights now."

 
          
 
"Before you do," Winkel said,
"tell us one thing: Who are you now, really?"

 
          
 
"I am the same person I was before,"
I said, feeling that I was lying and feeling, too, their need for reassurance
that everything was not coming apart at the same moment. "The only
difference is that now I have access to all the memories of old Lange and
Winton, as well as those of
Jordan
which Winton did not choose to
sacrifice."

 
          
 
But he saw, I think, and persisted.