Fix (21 page)

Aliyah clapped her hands over her mouth. Was she crazy?
Wanting
her dad to be caught?

Ruth's shock was for different reasons.

“You,” Ruth said slowly, “do
not
want your father in here with you.”

Aliyah surrendered. Ruth pressed forward, relentless.

“Do you want to remember how good it felt when he fucked your mother? Do you want to feel how often he bites back disappointment in you? There's a lot of good reasons you don't want to be hooked into your parents' memories, Aliyah,
and I know all of them
.”

“All right. All right.”

“And you can't stay.” Ruth shook Aliyah as if waking her up from a dream. “Once he comes here, he'll
never
let you go. He's destroyed cities to find you, Aliyah – you're right, he's coming here, and the general has a plan to catch him. But after he's ours…

“
He
won't let you go. The general won't let you go, because he knows your dad freaks out when you're gone. The President won't let you go. The United Nations won't let you go. They'll keep you shoulder-to-shoulder with 'mancy until you die. You have to escape before we know what happened – it's your only chance at an ordinary life.”

“What if I don't
want
ordinary?”

Ruth dropped her hands, sagging.

“We're not gonna…” Ruth's chest hitched. “We're not gonna talk about this. You learn your bow, and you leave your magic behind, and you leave me behind. You pay me back by living the life I couldn't have.”

Ruth cracked her neck, looked over towards Bastogne, stepped back towards the collective.

“Leave ‘you' behind'?” Aliyah asked. “Not leave ‘us' behind?”

Ruth halted.

“I know you've got friends in there,” Aliyah said. “You snicker at their jokes. They love you like family.”

“Don't.”

“But you and I are the only people in the world who did magic before we learned long division. When I joke with you, your eyeballs are still. You don't want to share me with them.”

“I said
don't
.”

“You think I can swap friends out like a Nintendo cartridge? Like some kid in China would step in and take your place? Shit, you've got thousands of friends in the collective, and yet…”

Aliyah traced the callouses on Ruth's fingers, held up their hands as if to demonstrate how strong they were when they were intertwined.

“This is special, isn't it?” Aliyah asked.

Ruth blinked away tears, holding Aliyah's gaze long enough to confirm Aliyah was serious – and Aliyah realized that Ruth's cold test-personality was how she hid her affection; she'd been dying to kiss Aliyah but
terrified
Aliyah would laugh.

“It
is
,” Ruth said. “But what we do – there's so much sacrifice–”

“I don't get a life without sacrifice,” Aliyah said. “I'm a 'mancer. And I…”

She swallowed.

“I choose you, Ruth. I choose Bastogne.”

Something shifted in the sky overhead.

Something slick and dark peeled off her – that mysterious flux, lifting away, having found a target at last.

Black flux spiralled high into the sky, bursting like ichorous fireworks, ripping open as something gigantic forced its way through the gap–

“A rift.” Aliyah had never heard Ruth so clinical before – which was terrifying.

The worse things got, the more clinical Ruth became.

“Run.”

I
t took
Grady Steeplechase two weeks to find Aliyah's trail. Finding where Aliyah's Snow White Special rocket had landed had pushed Grady to his limit.

“I'm sorry it took me so long, sir,” he said.

Paul needed no apologies; he'd seen how hard it was for him to track in a wheelchair. Robert had strained his back pushing Grady through rocky soil.

“She's in Europe,” Grady said. “I'm sure of it.”

Imani bit back curses. Getting to Europe was all but impossible via plane these days, at least for 'mancers. Some major cities still had air routes – mostly the countries firewalled from the broach by the sea.

But every flight was staffed with Unimancers to prevent unauthorized 'mancers. Paul's limp, visible through any disguise, would be a dead giveaway.

And despite Robert's assurances that Project Mayhem could deliver, all their other leads had come in dead. Though, Robert argued, some leads had
gone
dead because Paul had blown up a goddamned nursing home.

“Boat it is, then.” Paul cursed the time – four weeks, smuggled in a shipping crate on a cargo ship. Each passing day brought Aliyah closer to being brainwashed.

But Imani had a plan to shut the Unimancers down.

“I'll find her for you,” Grady said. He seemed stronger since his brother had died – rescuing Paul's daughter had given him a sense of purpose. “I'll make your wife's phone call. But… when the time comes, sir… You know what I ask. Please don't refuse me.”

Paul knelt. Their histories were dark reflections.

“Never,” he promised.

T
he day they left America
, Paul thanked Robert.

“Everything set up to the letter,” Paul said proudly – from the outside, the corrugated shipping container looked like a thousand other battered containers.

The inside, however, had been transformed – a living space with enough food supplies for four people, ventilation to ensure an air supply, oil lamps and a library Paul needed to study on the trip over.

“The guys at the docks still love me,” Robert demurred. He'd thrown himself into work, now that Valentine had refused to talk to him – strengthening Project Mayhem as best he could. His safehouses, he assured Paul, were safer than ever.

Paul leaned heavily on a cane – his ribs had gotten worse. Something resistant to antibiotics had settled in. Robert had stockpiled enough medical supplies to ensure the infection probably wouldn't become fatal, but breathing felt like his lungs were trapped in a vise.

Which was a shame, as he had a lot to say to Robert.

“Here.”

He handed Robert his smartphone. Robert stared at it, confused.

“A reward for your hard work,” Paul encouraged him. “Hit play.”

A video started up. Paul sat in front of a white bedsheet hung from the ceiling – providing no details for SMASH analysts to track him. “I'm proud of the work Project Mayhem has done. Individual 'mancers may commit crimes, yes – but so do individual humans, and we don't outlaw them for
being
human. I stand fast by my assertion that SMASH is an unconstitutional travesty.”

Robert thumbed the pause button. “Did this…?”

“It's out to the major news outlets.”

“You built up flux to cover your tracks?
This
close to launch?”

Paul waggled his fingers in the air, a magician demonstrating nothing was up his sleeve. “I used an IP address from a hacked server in Abu Dhabi, my packets rerouted through an anonymous TOR network. No 'mancy. Just a good old-fashioned understanding of Internet protocols.”

Robert frowned, but hit the “play” button again.

“…But a 'mancer heading up Project Mayhem distracts from our objective: gathering good, honest, nonmagical citizens to create change. My being in charge makes it easy for politicians to demonize Project Mayhem as a 'mancer conspiracy.

“So today, I'm putting Project Mayhem back into the hands of the nonmagical.”

Robert gripped the cell phone tight, as though he could strangle Paul's speech. “Oh fuck, Paul. You didn't.”

Paul nodded wearily:
Yes
.

“…don't get me wrong,” Paul-on-video continued. “Project Mayhem will continue to protect 'mancers. But that change will be driven by people who police cannot arrest for their very existence…”

Robert shut it off. “Don't pretend this is a gift, Paul.”

“It
is
a gift. Project Mayhem's yours.” He spread his fingers. “I'll be gone. And you've basically been in charge all along, Robert – SMASH forced me into a consultant's role.”

“This…” He shook the phone at Paul. “You don't give a
shit
about Project Mayhem's future. You're gonna unleash some super saiyan hell in Europe, and you're cutting ties before we become associated with your war crimes.”

“I think that's
proof
I'm concerned with your future.”

“Paul.” Robert hunched down, bringing his massive frame down to Paul's eye level. “You know me. I love violence. But I never punched people to take 'em down – I did it because I wanted to show weak men they could take a fist to the face. I gave them confidence. The difference between surgery and savagery is
intent
.

“And I get your need for savagery. All the 'mancers I've brought in from the cold – Jesus, you think I haven't made friends with some of the guys SMASH abducted? I've seen what they look like when they come back Unimanced. Sure, I get mad – but that's a trap. You can't fight a war without breaking a few eggs, but you can't take the broken eggs
personally
. Or you lose yourself even if you win the war.

“I know Aliyah means a lot to you.” Robert rested his beefy hands on Paul's shoulders. “But some things, she wouldn't want you to sacrifice.”

Paul stood still as a statue.

“Besides,” Robert continued encouragingly. “There's other ways to get her back! We can go to the press. They don't know Aliyah's been abducted. We'll tell 'em the army's torturing a thirteen year-old girl–”

Paul swatted away Robert's objections. “They'll show footage of the Morehead broach to justify it. The government's out of control, Robert. And that's your job – to be the rational man after I've swung the Overton window over towards what 'mancers
could
do. Spin it like they
pushed
me into destroying a nursing home. And after I've done my job… they'll
listen
to you.”

“That won't help, Paul, it–”

“
It'll get back my daughter
.”

Paul's flat gaze left Robert no room for argument.

“Look, I… I know I let my temper get the best of me,” Paul apologized. “I- I shouldn't have done what I did at Sunset Gardens. If I had the bureaucratic power left to rehome those people, I would. It's not their fault.”

Robert arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, Robert. SMASH flooded those poor people with anti-'mancer propaganda – they dehumanized Grayson. SMASH left the Steeplechase brothers with no place to learn how to master their ‘mancy, condemned them to choking on flux. SMASH got those cops killed, got poor Hamir killed, got Grayson killed – and Aliyah will never be safe until I–”

Paul froze. Robert looked like he was wondering if he could change Paul's mind by punching him until all the stupid fell out of his face.

But Robert wasn't a
Fight Club
-mancer anymore. So he settled for dropping Paul's phone to the pavement.

“…I'm going to talk to Valentine.”

Robert stormed away, leaving Paul to pick up his phone.

It had broken.

Somehow, that seemed appropriate.

“
W
e have to talk
.”

Valentine had communicated with Robert in tiny spurts since their aborted engagement; small talk to ensure the mission was going well, check-ins to ensure her burns healed cleanly, even two bouts of lovemaking.

The lovemaking had been intense. Each time had that never-let-you-go-clutch of the last dance at the prom. But the spaces afterwards were filled with a cold, awkward silence instead of warm cuddles.

Valentine tensed.

“Paul and Imani have gone crazy,” Robert said. “You know what they're up to, don't you?”

“I do.”

“And you think whatever they've got planned is
OK
?”

She ran her fingers through the hair she'd grown back. “I felt low after I blew up that nursing home – but the more I thought about it,
fuck
those old people for watching
Matlock
while the mob cut off Grady's legs. Those dumb assholes are like the dumb assholes in Kentucky who'd rather shoot Paul than let him fix the broach. The time for being nice is over.”

“And how many people will die in the transition?”

Her cheeks blushed dark red. “I don't wanna kill anyone. But if SMASH can take
me
down, then no one's safe–”

“You can't just murder everyone who gets in your way. Paul should know that.
You
should know that.”

“When the hell did you become Safety Warden? You never would have worried back when you were Tyler Durden!”

“Well, I grew
up
, Valentine.”

If their post-lovemaking silences had been chilly, this was the life-killing cold of space.

“That's it, isn't it?” she whispered. “You think this–” She clicked an imaginary “start” button, and a halo of green gamefire limned her body. “You think this is just a
phase
.”

Robert's hands did a defensive dance before his belly, his face melting back into the lonely man he'd been before they met. “No. No, that's not what I meant–”

“Now you're psychologically balanced, you think you're too good for me. Well, congratulations, friend!” She shook his hand in a venomously exaggerated double-fist pump. “You got yourself a bona-fide diploma to adulthood! And guess what? You don't fucking need me, so why should I stick around?”

“…Because you deserve someone to take care of you?”

“That's not my job. I'm just the wrecking ball.”

“You're…” He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. “Stop
saying
that, Valentine. I don't love you for
any
of that! Christ, even if you lost your powers, I would still think you were the most amazing woman ever.”

She examined his face, hoping for sarcasm. He spread open his palms, demonstrating earnest affection.

“Yeah,” she snapped. “But
I
wouldn't.”

“Come on, this isn't–”

“No, Robert. I am the goddamned phoenix queen – great and powerful and untouchable in my game. And maybe – maybe, yeah, life
would
be easier in some ways if I was quote-unquote normal, and we could cuddle and watch
Let's Play
videos and not worry if our crazy'll punch a hole in the universe today, but… that's not who I am. And your fucking ring – you tried to make me weak.”

“You're not weak. You're strong, so strong–”

“
How can I be strong if I need protection?
”

Robert stepped in to hug her.

She catapulted him away in a burst of gamefire.

He slammed into the shipping container – and Valentine stepped towards him, fingers extended, ready to catch him–

He shook off the impact.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.” She bobbed her head once, twice, as if finding her own internal rhythm. “Yeah, Paul and Imani are out of control. But I'll be there to catch them when they fall.
Me
. Because protecting is what
I do
. And I'm gonna whip SMASH's ass and save the fucking world, because that's
also
what I do. And if you think I needed you for one hot minute, then you were wrong.”

“I needed you in the beginning, Valentine,” Robert said mournfully. “Like a fire needed fuel. But now I just want you.”

“Yeah.” She watched a final spark of gamefire dim to nothingness on her big toe. “Well… Paul
needs
me.”

“Even if he's wrong?”

She gave him a calm, cool stare. “Especially if he's wrong. But he's
not
.”

Robert brushed the dirt off his shirt. She longed for him to contradict her, to start a good fight to raze this relationship to the ground.

But his resigned look was that of a man logging off an unfair game.

Valentine flopped down on the train tracks, watching him walk away, practicing zingers she never got a chance to use.