Division Zero (47 page)

“Yeah, I know, besides she has family. Thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It’s nice to get to use my tactical training once in a while.”

Kirsten leaned her head back and closed her eyes, tuning out the army of flashing lights that inundated the area from more arriving patrol units. She settled into the soft embrace of the plush chair and allowed herself to relax for the first time in a week.

“Now comes your favorite part.” Dorian grinned. “You have hours of reports and meetings explaining everything in detail to Eze and then on up the food chain.”

Marisa’s survival filled her with such peace she did not care one whit about the red tape. It would have been better to save Lucian, but she found it difficult to pity him too much. The close call made her want to go squeeze the breath out of Evan.

“I don’t think I’ll hate it as much this time. In fact I could really go for a few days full of paperwork and interviews, and
not
chasing ghosts.”

“What about a hot bath?”

She laughed. “Now you’re talking dirty.”

reaks echoed through the old house as it protested the strong wind outside. With the passing of her fingertips, various holographic photos sprouted up from the small devices arranged on the shelf. Kirsten stared through the shimmering collage of Albert Motte’s childhood, wondering how such an innocent boy could have become the monster she had just faced. The sight of him at various ages made her ponder Evan’s potential future had she not stumbled across him by chance.

The smiling faces of Albert’s parents filled her with even more dread; even the best of circumstances offered no guarantee. No doubt dwelled in her mind he deserved his fate, though she had not expected the Harbinger to delay its task on her request.

What does that mean?

She lifted the amulet over her head and glanced at the distorted reflection staring back at her, squished narrow and vertical by the rounded surface. Kirsten carried it to the cherub-encrusted urn and reunited the ashes. Three taps of the canister upon the lip of the porcelain knocked loose some straggling particles, and she sealed it. After sighing an apology at the ash, she turned to leave, but stopped at the sight of Henry a few feet behind her.

His voice broke the stillness at the same time the faint scent of his presence surrounded her. “Thank you for returning him.”

Kirsten forced a weak smile, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

Henry turned away, gliding to where the picture holograms sat dark upon the shelf. “He was a good boy, quiet, never made any trouble for anyone.”

Kirsten just watched him, unsure of what to say.

“I suppose if my transition was as traumatic as his, I might have changed, too.”

“He accepted his―”

“Sins?” Henry suggested.

“I wasn’t going to say
that
, but I suppose it’s a good enough word. I’ve never seen a tainted spirit go with a Harbinger willingly before. I can’t honestly say what will happen, but I suppose there is a chance he may find redemption.”

“Well, I guess it’s better than oblivion.” Henry offered a doubting smile. “I should be thankful at least you didn’t destroy him.”

Kirsten raised her eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is keeping you here now that Albert has left this world?”

Henry smiled, easing himself into his old tattered chair as he drew a breath like a grandfather about to go into a long story. “I woke up in the middle of the night, only I didn’t really wake up. I’d died in my sleep, still don’t know from what. My first clue that something wasn’t as it should be was when I heard Bridget’s voice.”

“Your wife?”

Henry nodded. “Yes. At first, I thought I was just having an awful dream, you see. I had managed to enjoy several years of peace and quiet; now she was back.”

Kirsten laughed despite a shocked face. “That’s awful!”

He flashed an imp’s grin. “Bah, it’s how we were. People who didn’t know us thought we hated each other, but we both got a kick out of it. I stayed here because I heard the in-laws behind her. The whole damn family was standing on the other side of this silver door. To hell with that, I’d rather keep an eye on Albert.”

“Albert is…”

He waved a dismissive swipe. “I know. Ya don’t spend fifty years avoiding family gatherings to up and change your mind on account of a little old thing like death.”

“You have to at least miss your wife?”

He hemmed and hawed like a stubborn old codger. Kirsten wondered if her dad would have been this cute as an old man had he lived to that age. She spent a few hours chatting idly with him until his face fell serious once more.

“Young lady, will you do me one last favor?”

Her eyes darted around as she filled her cheeks with air and then let it out. “If it’s within my power to do, I suppose it would be the least I could do.”

“That annoying hyperactive man in the fancy car is coming here again tomorrow. He has some suckers with more money than sense who want to buy this place. He keeps weird hours; I think real estate is just his side job or something. Anyway, he gets on my nerves and I got half a mind to fill his pants with phantom fleas,” he grumbled. “Look, I’m not going to delude myself and think this house will be mine for eternity. The dead can’t own property, so it seems. Before they invade, would you please take Albert’s ashes and spread them out over the beach in San Diego? It’s just a little bit southwest from here.”

“You mean Sector 5? You’re not
that
old.” Kirsten flashed a playful smile. “It wasn’t called that during any time you drew breath.”

His dry laugh filled the entire house. “We used to take Albert there as a boy. He loved running around in the wet sand as the waves lapped in. Please, before they destroy the last of my memories, do this for me?”

“Of course. Is there any family you want to claim the other stuff?”

“No.” He tapped his hand on the arm of the chair. “It was up to Albert to keep us going, but he was more interested in robots than girls.”

Kirsten took the urn in hand and walked over to the row of picture bars, staring at the little three inch strips of technology. No one alive cared anymore about the memories they contained. A lump rose in Kirsten’s throat as she realized she found herself in the same position―the last of her family.

Henry’s voice washed over her shoulder from behind. “There is a brown house there now, that’s where Albert used to play.”

With a nod, Kirsten turned to reply, but he had gone. She carried the urn to her car and sat with it in her lap for several minutes, lost in a grey melancholy.

Somewhere in the distance, Henry’s voice called out, getting quieter with each word. “Alright, alright you old bat, I’m a comin… I’m a comin…”

A flash of silvery white light shimmered out of every window of the old house, making her smile in spite of her tears.

She found the spot Henry had mentioned without much difficulty. The beach stretched out in the shadow of the mile-square plates that hung high in the air over the sand. Fifty or more meters of space between it and the true ground kept the sand in the cool absence of direct sunlight for most of the day. A number of houses faced the ocean, resting under uncountable tons of plastisteel.

Why would anyone pay so much for those tiny old houses?

Kirsten set the patrol craft down on the beach a few feet away from where the water darkened the sand. With urn in hand, she walked until a foam-crested ripple kissed her boots.

The wind picked up and she squinted to keep her eyes open. The scent of the sea swept over her face, salty and cold. In defiance of the encroaching wall of technology, this beach still had an air of placidity. Kirsten closed her eyes, losing her sense of time and space in the rolling sound of the waves and the gentle caress of the breeze.

“I expected you to have taken your boots off.” Dorian’s voice jarred her out of her zen.

She flashed a wistful smile. “Tempting… but I’m still on duty, and it
is
a little cold.”

“You know you did what you had to do, and there’s no reason to feel sorry for Albert. He made his own decisions.”

“It’s his dad. All those memories… that whole family just vanishing into the black like they never existed.”

Dorian patted her shoulder. “So do most people who aren’t famous. It happens. It is the way of things.”

She hugged the urn to her chest and looked down at the lapping water. Her belt caught the fading sunlight in gleaming smears of orange.

He offered a meaningful look, speaking after she made eye contact. “I don’t think it’s really about Henry. Everyone needs a connection to other people.”

The faucet opened, sending tears down into the tide. Dorian knew her well enough to read her. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she dwelled upon having no one to miss her if she died. Dorian had died without children, but he accepted it; he even enjoyed his new existence.

“You’re only twenty-two, numbnuts. You have plenty of time. Stop thinking like you’re about to go into menopause without having ever been kissed.”

A laugh burst out at the unexpected joke. “Yeah, I guess.”

The somber thoughts ebbed as she twisted the urn open and let the wind take Albert out over the beach. She watched the expanding grey mist of ash as it settled into the brine until it became indiscernible from the sand.

“Well Albert, if any trace of you remains here I hope you find peace.”

“Oh, by the way.” Dorian turned to face her. “The captain is looking for you. He said another case crept up and you’d be perfect for it.”

She laughed. “Never a dull moment.” After a long silent stare at the receding water, she looked at him. “Do you think Albert was evil?”

Dorian tapped at his chin. “The Harbingers thought so. I suppose it can be argued that an evil nature and an evil act are different things.”

She nodded. “If he was evil, truly evil, he wouldn’t have let it take him. I’m starting to wonder if the white light is something more than just energy.”

He grinned. “What, like God?”

She tapped her boot. “I dunno. To an ant, I’m not a person with thoughts and personality. My boot is an all-powerful wall of black. I still think no human has the right to claim to know the nature of what lies beyond the veil; but I’m not so sure about my own opinion anymore.”