Past and Future
Tom and I met with Ramirez in the Infirmary, where Amy was busily collecting the medical supplies that we’d bring to wherever it was the chief had decided to open the Rift.
The FBI Guy was on his cell phone when we came in, apparently arguing with somebody. Finally, he ended the call and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking as if he’d just tasted something sour. “That was the on-site SAIC,” he said.
“SAIC?” I asked.
“Special Agent in Charge. She’s the one the Bureau picked to head the investigation into all the sudden ‘deaths’ around the city.”
The deaths he referred to were actually the abandoned bodies of Corpses—thousands of them—that all just suddenly collapsed when the monsters inhabiting them were destroyed. To the grown-up world, those without the Sight, these “living and breathing people” had just all dropped dead at once. More than that: They’d all dropped dead and decomposed at once, turning into week or even month-old cadavers.
To say the event had freaked everyone out was the understatement of the year.
I had to keep reminding myself that, so far, the world didn’t know anything about what the Future Undertakers called the First Corpse War. They didn’t know it had happened, or that it had been won. All they knew was that they suddenly had tons of inexplicable, “instant” dead bodies on their hands, with the biggest number of them being right here—piled up outside all three of Haven’s main entrances.
Eventually, the truth would come out. But, for now, the whole thing was a scary mystery. And most adults had only one way of dealing with a scary mystery. They’d surround it, analyze it, and try to squeeze it into their narrow, grown-up view of the world.
“What’s the deal?” Tom asked the man. “What do the authorities think happened?”
Ramirez replied, “The working theory right now is that some kind of biological contagion was, or maybe is at work. Some terrorist thing that turns people into rotting dead bodies in a single second.”
“They’re gropin’ for a ‘rational explanation,’” Tom said. “And I can’t blame ‘em. They ain’t got Eyes.”
“True enough. Right now they’ve managed to determine that the epicenter … the source of the ‘event’ … was down at Fort Mifflin.”
And this was completely right. That was where the Burgermeister had pulled the plug on the Anchor Shard. Apparently, the effects of the Rift closing spread out from there, until every single Corpse on Earth was destroyed.
The FBI Guy went on. “Thing is, the largest concentration of the ‘infected dead,’ as the SAIC calls them, is right here … in and around City Hall. The remains of Cavanaugh’s attack.”
“Why ain’t the SAIC sent her people in here yet?” Tom asked.
Ramirez replied, “I’ve managed to convince her to delay sending agents down into the sub-basement to investigate. For obvious reasons, I don’t call it ‘Haven.’ I told her it’s a confined space and that the ‘contagion’ might still be active. So she’s agreed to hold off until a Hazardous Materials team can be brought in from the Center for Disease Control down in Atlanta. I sold the idea to her by pointing out that there’s no real hurry, since there’s no reason to think there are any survivors down here. Just dead bodies. They don’t even know I’m on site. As far as the outside world is concerned, this place is empty of life.”
“Smart,” Tom told him.
“One thing working with the Undertakers teaches you is how to think on your feet,” Ramirez replied. “City Hall above us, and everything for two blocks around, has been declared a quarantine zone. It’s already being evacuated and, within the hour, barriers will have been set up to prevent anyone and anything from entering or exiting the area. But there are still a few holes in the net. I mean, I could get the rest of you out of here, if we do it quickly. But pretty soon, those holes will close. I’m just glad we were able to evacuate most of the Undertakers a couple of hours ago, before the Bureau arrived in force.”
True enough. The first thing Tom and Sharyn had done after our Infirmary meeting was get ninety percent of the Undertakers out of their beds and into a bunch of buses that Ramirez had chartered. Then they were all carted to a series of hotels and put up for the night on the Undertakers’ dime.
In a few hours, when the grown-up workday started, Ramirez said he would call Philly’s Department of Human Services and start the process of contacting everyone’s parents. Katie. Nick. Ethan. Maria. Harleen, Sammy, Elisha, and most of the other three-hundred-plus Undertakers would be going home.
I had no idea what kind of story the FBI Guy had concocted to explain where these kids had been and what they’d been doing in the months, sometimes years, since they’d disappeared from their families.
But I guessed it would have something to do with Senator Mitchum’s big announcement later today.
So much of it’s over now. Out of our hands.
Just this one thing left.
The only ones who’d stayed behind in Haven were what Tom called the “Core,” though I suspected this was only because those particular kids happened to have been in the Infirmary when I told my story. Eight Undertakers—nine, if you counted my mom. And ten, if you added in Emily, my six-year-old little sister.
Ramirez said, “The bottom line is that the authorities will take it slow. They’ll stay out for a while, Tom. But no more than half a day. If you’re really going to do this thing, you need to leave soon.”
“I know,” the chief replied. Then he turned to me. “We split in a half-hour. Is there anything you gotta do before that?”
“My mom,” I said.
He nodded. “Go do it. I’m gonna gather the rest. Meet back here in twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” I told him.
Right.
Like anything was “okay.”
I headed over to my family’s room like a guy walking to the gas chamber. Inside, I found Emily asleep on her cot, looking small and helpless. Weirdly, a part of me had expected to see the other Emily, the older one, the one I’d gotten to know in a world that—if we did our job—would never happen. Seeing my little sister still little was stranger than you might imagine.
My mom was there as well. She was lying on her own cot. Even in the dim light cast by a single stubby candle, I could tell she’d been crying. When she saw me standing there in the open doorway, the ache in her eyes almost broke my heart.
For a long minute, the two of us just looked at each other.
Then, feeling less awkward about it than I thought I would, I opened my arms.
Sobbing, she stood up and came into them.
All my life, my mother had hugged me. She’d hugged me plenty. She hugged me when, as a five-year-old, I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. She hugged me when, at ten, I scored four goals in a single soccer game. When I was a little kid I’d loved those hugs, lived for them. When I’d gotten older, they’d started to annoy me, even embarrass me, something to tolerate, not enjoy.
But this was the first time—the very first time—I’d ever hugged her.
Don’t know what I mean?
Trust me. Someday, you will.
“I don’t want you to do this,” she whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back. “But I have to.”
“I can’t lose you. Not again.”
“You won’t,” I promised. It was a lie I’d told before. Well, not a lie, since she hadn’t lost me, though I didn’t dare tell her how many close calls there’d been. Maybe it was more like an uncertain, but hopeful truth.
After all, I didn’t want her to lose me again either.
She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I feel like I’ve failed you.”
“Failed me?” I echoed, honestly surprised. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, I’m your mother! You’re a thirteen-year-old boy. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“I’m fourteen,” I reminded her with a small smile. “And you have protected me. I’d never have gotten through Dad’s death without you. But now it’s my turn to protect you … you and Em. And, speaking of that, you two should go home. It’s safe there now, and Emily’s spent enough time sleeping down in this dungeon.”
She shook her head. “Don’t we have to stay, at least for a little while longer, for the investigators?”
“Agent Ramirez says the best thing to do is for everyone to split Haven. You’ll get questioned, no doubt about it. But, it’ll come later, after whatever Mitchum says at his press conference. After more of the truth has come out.”
She nodded. “How should we leave?”
“Ask Ramirez. I bet he’ll trip over himself getting you both back to Manayunk.”
Mom almost smiled at that. “He’s a good man,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“A very good man.”
“I know.”
“After all this is over, he and I might … see each other,” she said. The whole Step-Dad Hugo Thing was one of the details I’d left out of my debriefing.
“I figured,” I said.
“He’ll never replace your father,” she told me, a plea in her voice. “I hope you understand that.”
I nodded, because I did understand it. “All he can do is come after him.”
“Do you mind, Will?”
I looked at her. My father had been gone for almost three years. For the first time, it occurred to me how lonely those years must have been for her. “I guess not,” I replied.
“Thank you. I wish you’d come home with us.”
“I’ll meet you there when it’s over.”
As she nodded again, resignedly this time, I looked past her, at the small figure sleeping so soundly on the cot. “She turns out amazing, Mom,” I said wistfully. “Emily, I mean. You have no idea.”
My mother’s face crumpled. “If she’s even half as amazing as you, I’ll be truly blessed.”
And that, I knew, was as close to “parental permission” to save the world as I was likely to get.
I got back to the Infirmary a few minutes early. No one was there except Amy. She’d packed everything we’d need, or at least thought we’d need, into a beaten up leather pouch that I knew had belonged to Ian McDonald, her mentor and Haven’s first medic. Now she sat on one of the Infirmary’s rusty old chairs, staring at nothing, lost in thought.
But when she saw me, her small round face lit up in a gentle, welcoming smile.
“There’s my angel,” I said with a grin that I only had to force a little bit.
She immediately blushed. “I swear … I didn’t know it was me.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You hadn’t done it yet!”
She considered this. “I don’t really understand all that time stuff.”
“Who does?” I replied. “Um … you know, Amy … you could skip this. You could still go to the hotels with the others. With luck, you might be home by this time tomorrow night.”
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I asked.
“You might need me,” she replied.
And I supposed that we might. Even so—
“What about your folks?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I knew nothing about Amy’s home life.
“My dad’s in the army. My mom’s in Heaven.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “I don’t really remember her, and I’m pretty sure my dad’s shipped out somewhere.”
I blinked. “I doubt it. You disappeared, the way all Undertakers disappeared, what? Nine months ago? Around the same time I did. I’m sure he went nuts looking for you. Probably still is going nuts.”
Another shrug, but no reply. Then, after a long, very Amy-esque pause, she asked, “What was she like?”
“Who?”
“Me … in the future.”
“She was brave and smart,” I said. “And beautiful.”
She blushed again, her face turning almost scarlet. “How did she die?”
Sometimes the truth does nobody any good. “I don’t know,” I replied. “She was defending the new Haven against the Corpses, fighting alongside Emily and my older self. Beyond that …” I shrugged helplessly.
Amy seemed pleased by my answer. When I heard footsteps entering the Infirmary and turned to see who it was, I noticed that the girl seemed to be sitting up a little straighter.
Good.
Alex Bobson strolled in.
Not so good.
He didn’t so much say hello as grunt at me.
“You got everything you need?” I asked him.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he said. Then, eyeing me up, he added, “You sure about this?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Can I ask you something?” I said carefully.
He paused and eyed me. “What?”
“What’re you gonna do? When all this is over, I mean?”
“Do?” he asked warily. “Whadya mean?”
“Where you gonna live?”
“Oh.” And, just like that, his whole demeanor changed. He suddenly looked less angry and more tired. “I got grandparents,” he said. “And an uncle in Baltimore. Guess I’ll land with one of them.”
“That sucks, Alex,” I told him.
“Yeah.” he said.
“Any chance you and me might … I dunno … keep in touch?”
He scowled at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “What? You wanna be my Facebook friend or something?”
I didn’t reply. I did my best not to fidget.
Finally, he said with a half-hearted shrug, “Sure. Why not?”
And, just for an instant, I saw in his face another Alex Bobson, one who was older but not burned. One who wasn’t a jerk.
“Okay,” I said.
And that’s when Tom, Sharyn, Helene and Jillian showed up.
Immediately, the chief came over to me and asked, “You said your goodbyes to your mom and sister?”
I nodded.
“Cool,” he said. “‘Cause Hugo just split with ‘em. He’s taking them both home. Got ‘em out just before the net completely closed around City Hall. Said to tell you that he’ll stay with them until you get back. Said for you not to worry.”
Despite myself, I smiled a little at that.
A good guy.
“Got it!” Steve exclaimed as he marched into the Infirmary with Burt in tow. His brother was carrying some sort of gadget. It looked kind of like a Super Soaker, except that it was made of brown metal. Copper, perhaps. It had a reservoir on the back that held maybe two quarts of liquid, and which was plugged into a long tapered gun barrel. Beneath this barrel was a trigger assembly, and a grip that had been carefully wrapped in black electrical tape.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s an ice beam,” Burt announced proudly.
“No, it’s not!” his older sibling exclaimed. “I call it a Binelli.”
This was after Chuck Binelli, Burt’s best friend and one of the Undertakers who died last night during the Corpses’ final invasion of Haven. A really great kid, but one I somehow hadn’t managed to properly mourn yet.
My own best friend’s death was still too painful.
Steve continued, “It fires a stream of liquid nitrogen up to thirty feet … which, from what my future self told Will, should be more than enough to reach the Eternity Stone.”
Tom asked, “You keep liquid nitrogen in Haven?”
“Oh, sure,” Steve replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve had it on hand for quite a while. It has many scientific applications.”
“Jeez,” Helene muttered.
Tom asked, “But where was this … Binelli last night? We could have used it.”
“It didn’t exist then,” Burt said.
Then Alex Bobson chimed in. “I helped make it. Wasn’t hard. Steve gave me the specs, and I put it together from spare parts. Most of it’s just repurposed copper piping welded to an old Coleman propane tank.”
“Cool!” said Sharyn with a grin.
“I’m impressed,” Tom remarked. “And you figure this … Binelli … can ice the Anchor Shard?”
“It’s an educated guess,” Steve admitted. “But since we don’t have anything like an ‘electric javelin,’ it’s the most promising approach. Liquid nitrogen is extremely, dangerously cold … and it’ll freeze pretty much anything it comes in contact with. Once frozen, the crystal should become brittle enough to shatter under its own weight. No way to test it, of course. So I guess we’ll just have to hope for the best.”
“That’s a small gun,” Tom pointed out. “The Eternity Stone’s supposed to be pretty big, ain’t it?”
“Presumably. Which is why we’ve brought four more tanks of liquid nitrogen just like this one. Each is good for about a sixty-second blast and they’re very easy to swap out. But if it turns out that’s not enough, then I’m at a loss.”
Four tanks of liquid nitrogen.
Would it be enough? I wondered. How awful to make it all the way to that other world only to find out we couldn’t do what we’d gone over there to do.
If only we had that stupid javelin!
Two plus two equals Fore.
“So,” the chief said. “We’ve got a cracked anchor shard, a grounding system that might blow us up, and an anti-crystal gun that ain’t been tested. Sounds to me like we’re ready! Let’s split. Right now. All of us.”
“And go where?” Helene asked. “We’re gonna want plenty of space and privacy.”
The chief smiled. “I know just the crib. The only problem is how we’re gonna get there!”