In Constant Fear (22 page)

“But if something happens to me—would you?”

“If it's possible. If I get the chance.”

“She's gonna need to be able to see. Tell her.”

“Doesn't she want the operation?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I've got to have her consent, Clancy.”

“I know, but . . . try and persuade her, will you?”

I stayed there for a few more minutes, neither of us speaking, and then, slightly embarrassed by the conversation, I left him to it.

The thing was, Jimmy was right,
everyone
was right: I still didn't know if I could trust the guy. I was grateful he couldn't communicate with anyone, that without aerials or satellites he couldn't get a signal over the mountains, but that didn't mean there wasn't something else organized. I guess the truth was, as it always had been, that I
had
to trust him, at least to some degree. I was leaving him with the two most valued treasures of my life, and even though I knew the others would be watching every move he made, I was still a long way from comfortable about it.

That night was torture from the moment Lena and me went to bed 'til the moment we got up, mainly 'cuz we were trying so hard to play the whole thing down, to pretend it was just a precaution, that I'd soon be back with her, when really we didn't have a clue. Was I gonna turn into a monster, like in another of those books I read out on the Island:
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
.
Did the implant change your whole character so that you became nothing but a killing machine searching out non-imps, or was it more of a programmed response to some kind of stimulus? Not that it mattered much; whether of its own accord or after being keyed, sometime in the next few days that thing inside me was gonna turn me into a killer again, just like in the bad old days with Mr. Meltoni, only this time I'd be taking my orders from the Bitch, and my victim wouldn't be someone who'd got a bit too big for their boots, but maybe my lover, our child, all our friends.

We tried to make love, more, I reckon, 'cuz we thought we should, that it would help, but we were both so sick with worry we couldn't manage it. I mean, no matter how positive we were trying to be, how much we reminded ourselves about the insurmountable odds we'd conquered in the past, this was different.

This time, though I'd never have admitted it to her, or anyone else, it felt a bit like the end.

I can't tell you how odd the atmosphere was the following morning, what with me packing up what I thought I'd need as if I was going away on a trip. No one quite knew what to say, how to approach it. Hanna put her arms around me, as if she feared it might be the last time, as if she wanted me to know that she'd forgive me no matter what I did, which damn near broke me up. Jimmy and Delilah tried to act as normally as they could but still had that look about them, like they were about to let a wild animal go free that they'd only just tamed.

At one point Nick gestured for me to join him out in the yard so he could have a quiet word, those circles around his eyes now so dark they were like smeared ashes.

“Clancy, if this thing
does
take a hold of you, if it brings you back here and you end up . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “Kill her too, won't you?”

“Nick!”

“She won't be able to exist without me.”

“I'm not killing anyone,” I told him. “I'd rather kill myself. Anyway, she's an imp.”

“That's why you have to kill her.”

“No one's gonna die, not if I can help it.”

“But—”

“
No one's gonna die!
” I repeated.

I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then led him back inside, feeling a little guilty that I was making promise after promise that I wasn't sure I could keep. I glanced at Miriam as I passed her bed, for some reason imagining that implant inside her gradually subverting what was left of her mind.

Taking Lena and Thomas into the bedroom to say goodbye was one of the hardest things I've done in my life. No matter how much we tried to pretend it was merely a precaution, that everything would soon be back to normal, we knew it wasn't true, that we were drowning in uncertainty. My conversation with Nick had upset me more than I'd let on; the realization that like it or not, we'd all have to consider extraordinary measures.

I'd collected one of the lasers Jimmy had mended and now placed it in Lena's hand, hoping that would be explanation enough, but she just stood there staring into deepest nothingness.

“If you have to,” I said eventually. I mean, she might be blind, but she'd still have a good idea what to shoot.

“What?”

“If it's a choice between me, or you and Thomas . . .”

She caught this sudden shallow breath. “I can't believe you'd even say that.”

“I got no choice,” I told her, I swear that thing inside me was suddenly fluttering and triumphant, like it knew it had scored its first major victory.

“I can't kill
you
!” she told me.

“
You're
not the problem,” I told her, pulling her toward me. “Listen, something you should know: if I harmed either of you in any way, I wouldn't want to live anyway.”

For a moment she went quiet, lost in her head somewhere, and I got the distinct impression she felt betrayed. “What's the matter?” I asked.

“I've told you a thousand times.”

I waited, still not getting what she was trying to say. “What?”

“It's me and you, Clancy, no matter what happens. It always will be.”

I stared at her for a moment. It was rare, but occasionally she'd get this hard look that would remind me she'd once been an Island kid: tough, determined, maybe even that little bit crazy.

“I'd choose you over everything,” she told me.

To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but I still hugged her as tightly as I dared. The time was soon coming when we had no choice but to release and retreat, and with one last kiss on her lips and Thomas' forehead, I turned to go.

I knew she wasn't gonna follow me out, that the closing of that bedroom door would be the last sound between us, and I didn't look back, not even a glance, just closed the old world off from the new and headed toward the front door.

Out in the living room, Gordie and Gigi were so determined to act all hard and nonchalant, to prove that the thought of me running amok didn't worry them one little bit, that they didn't notice the tears in the eyes of the assassin. Hanna hugged me almost as long as Lena had, while the older ones—Nick, Jimmy and Lile—were more solemn and respectful; at their age they knew there were no certainties, and for sure not in this situation.

I didn't encourage anyone to follow me out, diffusing the situation by telling them I was going over to see the Doc, everyone agreeing there was no need for extravagant farewells, that I'd be back soon enough.

I found Doctor Simon still crouched over his computer, his messed-up hair and unshaven face making him look more disheveled than I ever imagined he could be.

“Nothing?”

“I'm still working on the idea of freezing,” he told me. “Unfortunately someone appears to have blocked me off.”

For a while I just stood watching his fingers moving around that keyboard almost as quickly as Jimmy's. “I gotta go,” I told him.

He turned to me, thoughts and feelings darting all over his face, suddenly looking that bit shifty—not that that was what prompted me to say what I did. I'd been rehearsing that since the moment I knew I had to leave.

“I warn you now, you harm Lena or Thomas in any way, it'll be the last thing you ever do . . . I've told the others; they've got lasers. But if they don't get you, I promise you, I'll override this implant—rip it outta my damn body if I have to—and come for you, no matter where you are.”

“It's okay, Clancy,” he reassured me, looking noticeably shaken.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

I stood there for a moment, wanting to reinforce my position by giving him a long hard blast of the look, but he wouldn't meet my gaze, instead returning his eyes to the screen.

“Don't ever forget,” were the last words I said before I stepped back outside.

I glanced over at the porch, I guess hoping Lena would be there, but it was just Hanna and Lile. I retrieved the tandem, gave them a bit of a wave and headed off down the track, already feeling like some kind of outcast: a leper or pariah, so crazy with sickness nobody wanted him around. And d'you know, the moment that thought entered my head, I swear I felt that thing move inside me, melting to jelly, all purple and shiny, wrapping itself around my guts like some life-sucking parasite.

When I got to the road I stopped for a few moments, looking left and right, having no idea which way to go, nor really caring. All I knew was I had to remove myself not only from the gang, but from the chance of trying to kill any non-imp. Finally I turned toward the Interior, feeling safer that way, that I'd find myself a wilderness where I'd be no danger to anyone.

I got no idea how long I pedaled for. A couple of vehicles went by and some kids actually waved outta the window, but I didn't wave back. It felt wrong, that I had no right, bearing in mind what I was probably about to turn into some time in the next twenty-four hours.

It started to rain a little. No weight to it—wasn't much more than a depressed mist, but it added to this growing sense of unease I had that I'd made the wrong decision; I should've gone the other way, over the mountain. Maybe I could've retrieved the limo—that would've given me any number of options, providing it was still there, of course.

I undermined myself so deeply that in the end I turned around, heading back a damn sight quicker than I'd headed out, like some wily old horse hired out by the hour, and soon I was approaching the track back up to the house, a growing frustration inside me making me ride by faster than I'd ridden all day—what the hell was I doing back there?

I kept up that speed until I turned off the road and headed up toward the mountain, but ya know what? I hadn't gone that far at all before I began to wonder if maybe
that
wasn't the right decision either: once I got over the mountain I was bound to come across people and who knew how I'd react. I might be able to make it to the limo and get away before anything happened, but I couldn't be sure. Not to mention the fact that it was outta gas, which would complicate matters no end.

Again I stopped, just standing there straddling the tandem, gazing in every direction, at all my options, but none of them seemed right.

In the end, I had to admit to myself what'd probably been obvious right from the moment I'd set out: I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave. Lena was everything to me, and Thomas and her together that bit more. I couldn't leave them alone and unprotected, no way—but on the other hand, I couldn't endanger them either.

There was only one answer—or only one a lovesick old big guy who really should've know better could come up with: I'd hide in the woods near the farm. That way, if anything happened, I could be across there in moments. And in case I was keyed and my implant became traceable, I'd keep on the move all the time, taking the tandem on random journeys so I'd never be tracked in the same place twice.

And so it was that almost four hours after setting out I found myself no more than a few hundred yards away, feeling a little rash and guilty, concerned I was taking a chance with something I didn't understand, but also that bit happier. I just had to be careful no one saw me; for sure it would do nothing for their peace of mind to know a big old killer bear was lurking in the woods, that at any moment he might come over and pay them a visit.

I found a spot in the thickest part of the woods and set up camp, eating a little of the food I'd brought, keeping it to a minimum, not sure when and where I'd find more. I'd brought a single blanket with me; hopefully that was gonna be enough to keep me warm at night. My main concern was what would happen the following day: was there some kinda automatic trigger? Would I be keyed straightaway? The thought of someone else controlling me frightened me to death, particularly when that someone else was the Bitch, Nora Jagger. If only I could get to her somehow, get rid of her—then again, that's a mistake that's been made right throughout history. It wasn't just her; she wasn't the only one taking the country hostage. For a start, there was the small matter of her Bodyguard. And anyways, I didn't need to get to her . . . She was coming for me.

I was dwelling on it so much, forever thinking I could feel the implant moving around in me, that I decided to take my mind off things by checking the woods. I set off in a circle, exploring areas I'd never been before, deliberately getting lost so I had to find my way back to the camp in the dark and it was well into the night before I finally settled down. To my surprise, I fell asleep almost immediately, though it was no surprise at all who took the opportunity to enter my dreams; Lena came to me just as I knew she would, leaving the house, stealing across the open ground, slipping through the trees and down into my head.

She was in my arms before I knew it, for some reason in the total blackness of the crypt, the derelict old church where we'd lived in the City. There was a slight stirring somewhere, someone moving, and I realized the others were there with us: all five of them: Jimmy and Delilah, Gordie and Hanna, but for some reason not Gigi but little
Arturo. Not that I could actually see them—I was as blind as Lena in that darkness—but I knew they were there all right.

It took me a while to realize that Lena and me were making love, the way we used to down there: as quietly as possible, doing everything we could to make sure no one could hear, increasing the pleasure almost to the point of pain.

“I'll never leave you,” I told her. “No matter what.”

Jeez, that hurt, more than the total accumulation of every fist, foot, club or bullet that'd ever ripped into me. But I said it again and again, becoming concerned that she wasn't listening.

When we finished making love, when I held her to me, I realized she'd stopped breathing. I squeezed so hard I actually heard one of her ribs crack—but it was too late, she was already as cold as ice on a grave.

I awoke with a real jolt, momentarily thinking there was someone or something standing over me, that this was how you were keyed. I looked this way and that, squinting into the darkness, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was vibrating down into the earth.

Finally I struggled to my feet, knowing I had to see the farmhouse, that I needed to know Lena was okay. I stumbled awkwardly across the forest floor, the dense trees reinforcing the night's darkness to a point where I kept almost colliding with them.

When I got to the edge of the woods and gazed over, there wasn't a lot to see, not in the middle of the night and with everyone in bed. There wasn't even a light in the barn, which I took to mean the Doc had given up for the day. I hoped to God he'd made some progress, that there was some cause for hope.

Lena was over there—no more than a few hundred yards away. Probably sleeping with Thomas for a little comfort, the thought of those two together so warm and welcoming, I'll tell ya, I could almost feel myself crawling in beside them. But I wasn't allowed—not me. I was too much of a threat.

And it was only then, with all that aching loneliness welling up inside me, that I finally saw what I should've seen long ago. I wasn't the first one in those woods to feel that way: banished from those they loved for their own protection, sickened by the thought of what
they might do to them—all that howling and screaming into the night? I'd be willing to bet that'd been the reason. Just like me, they hadn't been able to bear the thought of killing their own, their family, those they loved. They hadn't been wounded or caught in traps; their pain had come from inside, and no wonder it had caused such suffering.

I turned and slowly made my way through the darkness back to my camp, aware of suddenly feeling weak, almost sick, like the first signs of a virus. Was that it then? Was that how it happened? Was I primed and ready? Would that plane or whatever it was swoop down and take away everything that was me? Was I about to lose my life and everything in it? God help me—would I never know Lena and Thomas again?