William Rabkin - The Call of the Mild

“I believe they’re called Sweethearts,” Shawn said, bending down and scooping them into his hand. “Sort of like a nineteenth-century version of the Kindle, only they never really caught on as a reading device because each piece of candy can fit only one word, so if you wanted to take Moby Dick on the train, you’d need something like ten thousand pounds of the things. But they’re very good for delivering shorter messages, like I LOVE YOU or BE MINE.”

Gus stared down at the three candy hearts in Shawn’s hand. He read the words over and over again, arranging them in every possible combination, hoping against hope that there was a second way to read the message that Rushton had sent to his employees. There wasn’t. There was only one way to order the hearts so that they made any sense at all.

“Or,” Gus said finally, “YOU’RE FIRED, LOSER.”

It took only seconds for the other lawyers to tear open the rest of the “beacons” and discover that each one contained nothing but the same three candy hearts.

“There were no beacons,” Balowsky said.

“No wonder you were first in your class at Moron State Law School,” Gwendolyn said. “Thank you for pointing out what is agonizingly obvious to everyone.”

“What’s happening?” Jade wailed. “Did Rushton send us out here to die?”

“Almost everyone,” Gwendolyn said. “I almost forgot our remedial student.”

“Nobody’s going to die,” Mathis barked, his hand flicking out of habit to pull out the gun that hadn’t been there in close to twenty-four hours. He moved towards Helstrom with the kind of menace only an FBI lifer can muster. “What was the plan?”

“The plan?” Helstrom said, taking a step back. “We weren’t exactly going to take this show to Broadway, if that’s what you mean.”

“How were you getting out of here?” Mathis barked. “How were you supposed to signal Rushton when your little skit was over so he could have you picked up?”

Helstrom dug in his pocket and pulled out a yellow plastic cylinder. He twisted open the bottom and let three candy hearts fall into his open palm.

“Mine say, HAVE FUN WALKING,” Helstrom said.

Mathis looked like he was wanted to throttle someone. “This is not acceptable,” he said. “I am going to get us out of here.”

“What are you going to do, flap your arms really hard and fly us all down the mountain?” Gwendolyn said.

“I’m an FBI agent,” Mathis said. He pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge at them.

The lawyers looked at him, stunned.

“Did Rushton know?” Savage said.

“He was cooperating in an ongoing investigation,” Mathis said.

“Apparently we’ve found the limits to his cooperation,” Balowsky said.

“So what’s the FBI going to do for us?” Gwendolyn said. “Can you contact your field office and have them send a chopper?”

“I could-if I had a cell phone,” Mathis said.

“That’s great,” Balowsky said. “An FBI agent with no gun, no cell phone, and no backup. That’s almost as useless as a psychic.”

“Excuse me?” Shawn said. “Are you talking about me?”

“I do believe he is talking about you,” Gus said.

“And he’s calling me useless?”

“He is calling you useless. And not for the first time, I believe.”

“I have thousands of uses,” Shawn said. “I slice, I dice, I chop. I can cut a tomato so thin it has only one side. And I get rid of the slimy egg whites in your scrambled egg.”

“But wait, there’s more,” Gus said. Then he whispered to Shawn, “There is more, isn’t there?”

“There’s always more,” Shawn said. “I can speak to the spirits of the mountain.”

“As long as we don’t have to listen,” Mathis said. “We’ve got grown-up work to do.”

“You go ahead and do what you need to,” Shawn said. “We’ll be quiet.”

“Fine,” Mathis said. “First thing we need is-”

Shawn let out a low moan that quickly ascended to a piercing shriek. “What’s that, spirit of the mountains?” he howled. “You can show us the way out of here? You can send me a vision?”

“Now our lives are supposed to depend on his visions?” Balowsky said. “Can anyone picture a scenario in which we’re not all dead?”

“What’s that?” Shawn said loudly, cupping a hand to his ear. “You say you already sent me a vision of the way out of here? And all I need to do is reach out and touch it?”

Shawn stretched his hands out in front of him and took one staggering step forward.

“You might want to step out of his way,” Gus said. “When he’s possessed by a vision, he might as well be a zombie.”

But the lawyers were in a huddle and barely glanced up from their conversation. Only Gwendolyn could be bothered to expend the necessary energy to express her contempt with a sneer. Until Shawn lurched forward and started to run towards them, his eyes still squeezed shut, arms waving furiously in front of him.

Gus cleared his throat loudly. “A zombie in an old George Romero movie,” he said. “The ones that stagger along slowly. Because the zombies in newer movies go so fast they might run right off a cliff.”

Shawn slowed down immediately, sneaking a quick peek through squinted eyelids to make sure he wasn’t about to plummet to his doom. He wasn’t, although he was close to a fatal impaling on the daggers Gwendolyn was shooting out of her eyes.

Shawn corrected his course and staggered towards the packs. His body jerked left and right, then fell forwards onto the one bright green pack in the line. He shoved his hand under the top flap, dug around in the freeze-dried food and the clothes, and came out clutching a fan-folded piece of paper.

“Thank you, spirit of the mountains,” Shawn said to the sky, then looked at the topographical map he was holding. “As I said, I have a vision of the way to get out of here.”

“That’s mine!” Jade squealed. “Oliver Rushton entrusted it to me. No one else is supposed to look at it, or even know I have it.”

“I stopped caring about what Rushton wants a while back,” Balowsky said. “Something about seeing my life about to end gave me a new perspective on things.”

“Give me the map,” Mathis commanded.

“So you can destroy it?” Gwendolyn said. “We haven’t forgotten you were the one who didn’t want us to use the beacons.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Mathis said. “You can use them all you want. But I need that map.”

“We all need the map,” Savage said. “Don’t you understand? We’re all in this together. There’s no reason to bicker here. We are stronger together than we are divided. We’ll all go down the mountain together, and we’ll live as a group. If we bicker, we’ll all die.”

“That sounds familiar,” Gwendolyn said. “Oh, wait, it’s the same crap Rushton was spewing when he sent us up here. Makes me wonder whose side you’re on.”

“I’m on my side,” Savage said. “Which means I’m on all our sides. Because we have only one side. What other agenda could there possibly be?”

The lawyers all cast furtive looks at one another, as if trying to ascertain their colleagues’ motives. Until Shawn let out another moan.

“O, spirit of the mountain,” he cried, waving the map up at the sky. “Do not tell me about these other agendas. Don’t say that one of us refused to use the safe word to free us from the terrorizing acting troupe, proving that his or her loyalty remains with Rushton. Don’t insist another one of us wants us to stay here until he’s caught his suspect. And please, please don’t whisper in my ear that there are people among us who would be happy to let the majority get lost in the mountains if they thought it would advance their own position to arrive far in advance of the others.”