Grey (15 page)

"We're off the map," said Father. "
Way
off the map. So don't make a wrong turn 'cause there's no security, or satins, or anything. There's nothing here but bad, bad shit."

"The odor is unbearable," said Xavid.

"I've smelled worse!" said Father, as though it were a joke.

We stepped out onto gravel. The humid air reeked of manure and rotting flesh.

"Sir," said Joelene, covering her mouth as if she were about to gag, "this is already a stern and frightening warning. I'll take Michael back to the compound, and we'll work on an apology press release."

"Shut your holes!" he barked. "Come on." In the distance I heard screams like someone was being torn in two. His film crew wheeled around to try and find its source. I didn't want to see, and pulled the lapels of my jacket up over my neck. Farther away glass broke, and I heard a crazy laugh.

Father stopped before a black door and knocked. While we waited, he said, "Creepy, huh?"

Three knocks came from the other side. Father adjusted his jacket on his neck, then his sleeve, like a hack magician about to perform, then knocked seven times.

The door opened an inch.

"I am Melina Gwendalarra," said Father.

"You mean Kristina Suggs?" asked a groaning voice from inside.

Father winked at his camera. "No, I'm Osmond Miditulip."

The door opened and we entered a pitch-black space.

"Follow me," said a dark shape.

Father started forward. I held onto Joelene's shoulder as we shuffled into oblivion with the film crew lagging behind. It was so dark inside, my eyes began producing spirals and checkerboards as if I were asleep or had been plunged into an ocean of ink. The floor turned sandy and wet. Then, we were walking through several inches of water and the sound of the splashes reverberated as though we were in a stadium-sized space. We made a turn to the right, the floor became firm and dry, and we began up an incline.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Shh!" hissed Father.

"The humidity," complained his hairdresser, "it's too much."

Father shushed him, too.

Finally, we turned a corner and entered a small room. A single fluttering candle illuminated the space. The walls glistened with condensation. The air smelled of wet dirt and algae. Across the floor were curled wood shavings and what looked like the bones of small birds. I saw a waterbug three inches long dart away. And in the middle of the room on a wooden stool sat a man in a white loincloth.

He appeared to be a burn victim. His skin looked like poorly cast rubber cement and had the flat tone of flesh-colored paint. His mouth was little more than a lipless hole, and instead of a nose, he had only one oblong black nostril. His eyes were green, bloodshot, and angry. I glanced away in disgust.

This is what he wanted me to see—a victim of torture. I heard stories about employees who had been punished with needles, fire, and poisonous fruit. Is that what he was going to do to me? I hated to think so.

"He's got no name," said Father. "No house. No family. No job, no numbers, no papers. He doesn't even have a bellybutton. Nothing!" To his crew he said, "Get a shot of his belly. It's as smooth as his back."

As they did, Xavid leaned in and said, "I feel sorry for him."

"Don't!" said Father, sharply. "He's a freeboot. As free and as boot as they come. And he's pure evil." Father folded his arms and gazed at the man proudly. "Didn't think I knew any freeboots, did you? Officially, these things are the enemy. And they
really
are. We work against them every day. But, if you're selling a solution," he puffed out his chest and smiled at his camera, "you gotta make sure there's plenty of problems to go with it."

Although the freeboot scared me, this was about RiverGroup. It was about how Father made sure the families needed the security we sold. I asked, "Can we go now?"

"Go?" asked Father, unfolding his arms. "Fuck pudding! We just got here. Why don't you ask him a question?"

After glancing at the man's sorry, distorted face, I said, "I don't want to."

"You should." He grinned. "He's real important to you. He's your motivation."

I probably should have understood, but didn't. My advisor held her head down as if frightened. "Meaning what?"

"Look at him," said Father, all smiles. "He's just waiting for my order."

"To shoot me?"

"No!" said Father, rolling his eyes. "From now on, if you see Nora, if you talk to her, or even think about her, then I give the order, and he finds her, and he kills her!"

In the next instant, two things happened. I felt a cold, black hate pour over me like subzero tar, and then I lunged at Father with the idea of shoving his Adam's apple through the back of his neck. After I had started forward just a foot or two, the freeboot leapt in front of me and grabbed my throat with his moist, iron-strong hands.

"Careful," he whispered, in an oddly high-pitched voice. "Please do not do that."

Up close, I could see just how gnarled and distorted was his face. It was like he had been sliced into a hundred pieces, sewn back together, and then covered with a clear salve. I got a whiff of sweat and feces. And when he smiled, he exposed his tiny sharp teeth and the bloody bits of flesh and veins stuck between them.

"Get away from me!" I said. Recoiling, I fell backward and knocked into Joelene. We both toppled to the floor.

Father laughed and pointed at us like we were two silly children who had fallen from a seesaw. "Sorry," he said, dabbing the corner of his eyes, "but that was funny. You should have seen your look!"

Xavid smiled sadly and said, "Comedic!"

Joelene stood and gave me a hand.

"Did you see those reflexes?" Father asked Xavid. "Did you get that?" he asked the film crew. They confirmed that they had. "He's boiled," said Father. "He's boiled down to the real shit."

"You can't," I told him.

"Oh, yes I can." Father snapped his fingers. "Like that he could have her tied up and ready for torture." The candle flame danced in his pupils. "So, now do you get it? You marry Elle and everything's lard. If you don't, he goes after your little puss ball. And believe me, he gets her. No question about it."

"That would be awful!" exclaimed Xavid.

"Right!" said Father. "Because he's good. He's so good, he's like the black plague injected in your eye. This guy can crack systems. He can scale walls. And no medicated bullets. No medicated anything." Turning to the freeboot, Father said, "Right? No medicated shit."

The freeboot, who like a trained but diseased hawk was perched back on his stool, said, "You are correct." His voice was soft and quiet, as if counterpoint to the grisly fury of his being. "The lovely Miss Nora Gonzalez-Matsu will feel every terrible, painful thing I do to her."

A hateful raging fire. That's what I felt as I sat in the car while we headed back to civilization. Joelene sat beside me, patting me, and whispered soothing words, but I felt alone and broken. Somehow, I was going to kill Father.

Back in Kobehaba, before we parted, Father said, "Listen, I don't want that hunk of gristle to tear Nora in half. The truth is, the guy scares me! Freeboots are usually pretty disgusting, but that one's completely evil. I'm telling you, you should see the fucker eat a jar of mayonnaise. It'll make you sick!" He snorted a laugh. Meanwhile, Xavid got out his chopsticks and began fluffing Father's hair again. "Nora's really nothing in the whole scheme of things. I know you like her and everything, but let's just do what we have to do and nothing bad will happen."

"You leave us little choice," said Joelene.

"That's the idea!" Father forced a laugh. Then to Xavid, he said, "Don't make it too perfect. I'd like to look like we went at it a little, you know?" Xavid pulled a corkscrew-looking thing and a spray bottle from a pocket and kept working.

"Look," continued Father, "the numbers from his date with Elle are just what we needed. We'll have the audience. We'll introduce our new partner, we'll demo their crap, and hopefully we'll be lard." He smiled and asked, "okay?"

I didn't answer.

"I know you don't like this, but every day, every hour, every minute, I do things I don't want to do. But I do them. I do them for the company."

Patting my shoulder, Joelene said, "He's very tired and upset, sir."

Father let out a big sigh. "Fine! Take him home. Wipe his ass with a silk doily, or whatever it is you do. Just get him ready for the show."

My sleep was distressed and filled with nightmare. At one point, I was on a rooftop in an unrecognizable city. In the distance, I saw a green and gold mkg train that I knew had only one passenger—her. I watched it slowly pull out of a station. When it came to a curve, it was like some strange momentum took over, and the train barreled forward, derailed, and crashed.

Frantic to get to her, I was climbing down an endless set of polished wooden stairs. At first, the stairs were normal and I could move fast, but as I continued, they got steeper, until I could no longer step up, but had to climb. Soon I was scaling a sheer wooden cliff. Then I was clinging with my fingernails onto tiny cracks.

I lost my grip and plunged down.

With a start, I woke sweaty and anxious, but determined to get a message to Nora about the freeboot.

"This isn't yours!" I heard Joelene say on the other side of the room. "I don't give a fuck about you. I repeat, just leave him the fuck alone!"

Peering toward my desk, I saw her profile in the blue light of her screens.

"Listen to me," she repeated, "stay away or I'll kill you!"

In all the years she had been with me, I think I had heard her swear once when she'd badly stubbed a toe. And she had never used this harsh tone, nor threatened anyone. Shutting my eyes, I put my head back onto my pillow, and pretended to be asleep. She spoke again, but not loud enough for me to hear.

Then the room was silent. I wanted to peek, as if to confirm that she was there—that I hadn't dreamed it, when I heard footsteps.

"Michael," she said, softly, "your father is coming."

Turning over, I saw that Joelene's eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were white. She had been up all night—talking to whom I didn't know. I asked, "What's going on?"

"I suspect he wants us to help plan the wedding."

It took me a moment to remember the product show and Elle. Pulling the chenille up over my face, I said, "Tell Father I died of head lice."

She sighed deeply and with obvious irritation. "They're here already!"

Sitting up, I saw the estimator clock count down . . . three . . . two . . . The front door was unlocked from the outside and Father and Xavid came in. Father wore a blue feather boa over a jacket so yellow it made my mouth pucker.

"We solved your shooting!" he announced. "Last night, our engineers found a worm in the code. I don't have to tell you how super-hideous and awful that is. Anyway that worm was responsible for the freeboot breach where you got shot."

The gold-visor-wearing orange satin stepped in carrying a naked man. Stooping, the satin then plopped him onto the middle of the floor. Dark purple and green bruises colored the man's arms, legs, and chest. A line of blood ran from one of his ears. In his mouth was a wad of blue cloth. I covered my chest with my blanket.

Pointing a finger at the man, Father declared, "This is the bastard who put the worm in our code and wanted you dead."

He writhed against the wires that tied his hands and feet. Scooting farther back in bed, I asked, "Who is he?"

"Ken Goh!"

I hadn't even recognized him without his blue and orange face paint. At once I felt furious at him, sympathetic for his present suffering, and confused. "Why would he do that?"

"We don't know!" said Father, as if I wasn't even supposed to ask. "But he did it. We caught him. End of story. And it was my hairdresser who figured out the evil plot."

"Simple deduction!" said Xavid, as he pushed up his glasses.

Father then snapped his fingers. "Take the prisoner to the dungeon beneath the PartyHaus." The gold visor satin picked up Ken and headed out. "You," he said to me, "get dressed. Chesterfield Kez is here, and he's brought Elle's brother to be your friend."

"Wait," I said, "if Ken was behind the shooting, that means it wasn't mkg!"

"Forget those puds! They're rancid lard! Besides, Elle's ratings killed Nora's. We need that hype to cover our asses."

I asked, "Why do we have to cover anything? I don't even understand why we have to merge with anyone in the first place."

That stopped Father. He stood staring at me for a long time.

"What?"

"All right!" he said, pretending to be happy. "So, what new product do you have? And what technology are you using? Frequencies? Anomaly theory? Or are you just hiding more shit in Brane-7, like your good ol' granddad?" He laughed because he knew I had no idea what he had just said. "Yeah!" he continued, "That's what I thought. And that's why it's your job to get out there and smile and wiggle your nut sack to the rhythm!" Before he stormed out, he added, "Get dressed! We'll be back in two minutes!" The door slammed shut.

I had heard of Brane-7 before. It was another dimension and had something to do with the RiverGroup system, but that was all I knew. As the sound of the door slamming repeated in my head, I felt contrite, even useless. And for the first time, I understood how much my ignorance trapped me.

On the tiles I saw several drops of blood. "Why would Ken want to kill me?" I asked Joelene.

She let out a breath. "It does seem odd."

"What's a code worm? And what's Brain-7 and those other things?"

"A code worm . . . " she began, "is a very complicated type of leech that attaches itself to the host and can create a new entity that is formed . . . " Her voice faded, as she seemed to sink into thought.

I waited for her to continue, but she turned, headed to her screens, and began working as if she had forgotten about me. Annoyed, I asked, "Were you talking to someone earlier?"

Her amethyst eyes darted toward me. "No." She smiled stiffly, and then said, "I need several minutes here. Why don't you get dressed."