Richard Kadrey: Dead Set

Zoe blinked at the girl a couple of times. “Oh. Yeah. I think I do.”

Absynthe smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. For now.”

“Uh. Okay,” Zoe said, trying not to look as surprised and confused as she felt.

“Go see your sugar daddy,” said Absynthe, waving her hand toward the street.

Zoe started back along the cul-de-sac. Halfway down she spun on her heels. Absynthe was puffing away on her cigarette and looking at her. “Wait a minute,” Zoe said. “Older guys turn weird? And now you want to kiss me? I think you owe me a story, too.”

Absynthe laughed. “Deal.”

The day was hot and bright. Zoe walked to Emmett’s on autopilot, not paying attention to where she was going, knowing her feet would find the way. Her mouth was dry and her pulse pounded in her temples.

Then, as always-as if the store found her instead of her finding the store-she was there. She pushed her way inside, welcoming the sensation of being swallowed by the cool darkness.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted Emmett near the back of the store. He had piles of LPs stacked on top of the record bins and was sorting them into their proper slots.

“You came back,” he said conversationally, not looking up from his work.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emmett pulled one of the white record dividers toward him, then hefted a pile of battered old Johnny Cash albums into the empty space behind it in the bin. “You’d be surprised at how many people, once they’ve had a taste of a loved one’s real, undiluted life, never set foot in here again.”

“Not me,” said Zoe, shaking her head. “I want to see my dad.”

“Did you bring what I asked for?”

Zoe reached into her pocket, removed the chimp tooth, and held it out. She seemed to finally have caught the man’s full attention because he put down the records and came to her. Zoe made sure to stand in the darkest part of the store. She didn’t want Emmett to get too good a look at the tooth until she was already under the Animagraph’s spell. She didn’t have any real idea about how the machine worked, but she was fairly certain that it wasn’t something you could just turn off with the flick of a switch, even if you realized that you’d been slipped a counterfeit molar.

Emmett plucked the tooth from Zoe’s open palm. He held it up before his eyes, like a jeweler appraising a diamond. “Ohhh. A grown-up one,” he said. “How lovely. Thank you, Zoe.”

She nodded, her throat tight, her heart hammering, waiting for him to figure out her trick. But he didn’t. Emmett beamed at her like her parents would do when she’d brought home straight A’s.

“Can we do it now?” Zoe asked.

“Of course.” Emmett led the way to the back of the store and held the beaded curtain open for Zoe like a doorman. He seemed much happier than usual. Like the tooth had made him feel a little giddy, Zoe thought.

Then his face turned serious and Zoe’s heart sank. But relief rushed over her when he began to speak.

“I need to get formal for a minute and tell you that you can change your mind and leave now,” said Emmett. “What if what you see is more than you can bear? You’re going to the land of the dead. It’s not an easy journey.”

Zoe shook her head. “I don’t care.”

“This is your last chance,” said Emmett. “What if you get stuck? What if you’re so overcome with grief and longing that you can’t let your father’s spirit go? What if the Animagraph breaks down? It’s an ancient machine. Things can go wrong. You’ll be stuck with your body in the world of the living, while the thinking, feeling part of you will be lost in a world of ghosts.”

Zoe clenched her jaw. Emmett’s infuriating, exasperating questions had knocked her off balance and were bringing back some of the darkness and doubt.

“I don’t fucking care.”

“Okeydoke,” said Emmett lightly. He tossed the tooth in the air once, caught it, and dropped it into the breast pocket of his work shirt. “I have to ask. Make sure you’re going of your own free will. Standard disclaimer stuff.”

“Please, just hook me up.”

“At your service, ma’am.”

He put his hands on Zoe’s shoulders, steered her to the Animagraph, and began fastening the claustrophobic crisscross of straps and buckles around her head. Before he pulled the blinders over her eyes, he said, “Hold out your hand.” Zoe obliged and he dropped three objects into her palm. All were white. Two were circular and one was shaped like a little plastic tube.

“What are these?”

Emmett went back to the straps. “The two round ones are aspirins. The plastic tube is a kind of herbal smelling salts. Believe me, you’re going to need them all when you get back.” He stopped talking while he tightened a couple of extra-small buckles. “When you return, just swallow the aspirin and break the tube under your nose. Or, if you prefer, I could do it for you.”

“That’s okay,” said Zoe. She didn’t like the idea of someone else doing something that sounded so strange and oddly intimate, much less him. She wished he’d shut up about sending her away and just do it.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Emmett pulled the last few straps into place. “Blast off in three. Two. One.”

Zoe heard the familiar sound of a needle hitting a record groove. Then the ground opened up and she began to fall.

Soon the feeling of falling became a feeling of rushing, as if she were being swept down a river in powerful rapids. Only there was no water and no sound, just the ceaseless push and pull of her body as she tumbled through the dark. The air smelled wet and rank and she might have brushed against stone a few times. Zoe felt as if she could let herself be swept along forever. There was something comforting about the idea of just letting go.

She was sitting in the window seat of a crowded bus. Next to her was an old woman in a yellow floral housecoat and an elaborate hat covered with fake flowers. Like a crazy Easter bonnet, she thought. Other passengers filled the aisle, holding on to overhead straps. There were old men and women, their faces liver-spotted and lined with age. There were people her parents’ age and some hers. There were even some children packed together in the back.

This wasn’t like a normal San Francisco city bus. It looked very old. The interior angles were rounded and there were small patches on the ceiling where the paint had peeled off. The seat sagged and the fabric had been repaired with thick, coarse thread. The big diesel engine under her feet groaned and strained at every turn.

Long shadows lay along the road but the bright lights inside the bus made it impossible to see much outside. Zoe cupped her hands around her eyes and stared out the window. Specks of rain jeweled the glass, and when she looked down, she could just make out the road sliding by.

No one on the bus spoke. No one looked around.

So, these are souls, thought Zoe. Are they new souls or old? She wondered if there was some way to tell. She leaned to the old woman next to her and whispered, “Do you know where this bus goes?”

The old woman looked at Zoe and smiled kindly. “There’s only one route, dear. The buses go to and from and back again.”

“But where do they go to and from?”

She patted Zoe’s arm. “It’ll be all right dear. You’ll see.” A moment later, the bus slowed and pulled to the curb. The doors hissed opened and the passengers started filing off.

When the old lady stood, Zoe followed her off the bus. They were parked near the corner of a very ordinary-looking street.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for my father,” Zoe said.