Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

These became the focus of their search.

They swept for a half mile, moving in a compass arc with Sally and Walter’s dormitory as the center point. Shaw stayed true to the course; he hadn’t gotten lost in the woods since he was a young boy.

Ten minutes later Shaw heard a faint sound and stopped. Walter too, frowning and looking about.

Snap. Snap.

They turned toward the source. Shaw picked up another rock and together the men moved slowly toward the sound, navigating around a thick growth of blackberry.

Twenty feet away Sally stood on the bank of a shallow stream. She was frowning and, curiously, snapping her fingers.

“Honey!”

She glanced at her husband as if not the least surprised to see him; Shaw, though, was a stranger. He introduced himself and she nodded formally. Then her face darkened into a frown. She snapped her fingers again, in the air. “Bobo’s gone. Ran off.”

Walter said patiently, “We boarded him, remember? He’s at the vet’s. So we could come on the trip here.”

“Oh, that’s right. Silly of me. What was I thinking?”

Undoubtedly a pet they’d owned years ago.

“You’re looking tired, love. How about you go for a nap.”

“Think I wouldn’t mind that.”

The three of them walked back to their dorm. Walter took his wife inside and returned to the porch.

“Thank you, sir.” He warmly shook Shaw’s hand.

The men sat in teak rockers. Shaw eased back; the furniture was more comfortable than it appeared. He gazed out over the camp as several AUs hurried past. Their faces were grim. Also making a speedy transit was Journeyman Adelle, the beautiful Intake specialist.

I lost my baby...

“Bad move, this was,” Walter said, when she was safely past them.

“Signing on?”

“We just came because there wasn’t anything medicine could do for her, not really. Last resort. If this Foundation advertised on Alzheimer’s websites, maybe there was something to it. I thought experimental drugs, maybe new techniques, surgery. Imagine when we got into the training and found out it was about getting a second chance the next time around — in a future life.” He gave a cynical laugh. “Sally and I’d meet again. Her brain cells wouldn’t be so jittery. Maybe I’d look like Brad Pitt and could shoot five under par at St. Andrews.”

Lifting his arms, he muttered, “Then I realized it’s a crock of horse manure I should’ve spotted right up front. Pluses, Minuses, past lives, future lives.” He looked Shaw over. “You could report me for this.”

“We’re all good, don’t worry.”

“I figured.” They gazed at more AUs, clutching their tablets and moving from Administration to a building across the Square. Walter continued, “We show up on this lumpy planet, blessed with some talents, and saddled with some busted mainsprings. It’s what we do with it that’s the trick. Sally and I, we got nice kids, two of ’em better than the third but he’s not bad . My bride and me, we’ve had a good run. This” — he waved his arm — “is an insult to that. It’s saying we didn’t do it right.”

He fished a flask from his waistband. He took a sip and handed it to Shaw, who downed some whisky and passed it back. It was plastic, impervious to the metal detector.

“You’ve got to get out of here, Walter.”

“Naw, we’ll sit it out. Only ten days left.”

“You can’t wait. There’s going to be trouble.”

The old man was looking at Shaw carefully. “You say that like a man who knows.”

He explained about the murder of one reporter and the beating of another and the murder-suicide: the Select who burned himself and John to death.

Walter was speechless for a moment. “Jesus. That nice fellow at our table? And the police didn’t do a thing?”

“Eli’s lining the sheriff’s pocket. I’m working on getting proof of what he’s up to. The chopper? It was San Francisco police looking into the murder. I’m worried about what’s going to happen next. You know Jonestown?”

“Sure, that psycho Jim Jones. Was another cult, right? Everybody killed themselves.”

“Some journalists and government officials flew down to see what was going on. That set off the suicides and the murders.”

“You think Eli’s got something like that in mind?”

“I don’t know, but look at the AUs, all of them in meetings now. And Eli’s called for another Discourse. Just feels like something’s going to happen soon, and it’s not going to be good. Would you and Sally be able to hike out? Two miles?”

Walter was considering. “That was some thick forest we were just in. Steep.”

“Where I’d take you, it’s mostly field and light pine woods. Some rock but nothing to climb, not more than a few feet. I’ll get you out safe.”

“Where to?”

“A highway. I’m sure there’ll be cars or you can get to a gas station another mile north. Maybe a little more.”

“You checked that out first, before you came?”

“Did some homework, yes.”

Never lose your orientation.

Walter turned and looked Shaw over. “I knew you weren’t one of the believers the minute you sat down and looked around for the wine at the dinner table.”

“Beer.”

“What’s your story? You’re not law?”

“Like a private eye.”

“Getting out? I’m game. But our money, credit cards, phones?”

“Those I think I can get. The luggage building isn’t that secure. I’ve checked it out. But what we need is a couple of hours where you won’t be missed. I was thinking: you said Sally liked to garden. What if you told your trainer that you both wanted to spend a couple of hours working there.”

“Where?”

“The garden.”

“They don’t have one. First thing I asked about, for Sally. But we have a light day today. We could be meditating on our Minuses.” He scoffed. “Nobody’ll miss us from eleven to two or three.”

“That’ll work.” Shaw opened his notebook and showed Walter his map. He pointed east, to the grassy bluff above the cliff, where he’d met with Victoria yesterday. “There’re some benches.”

“I know. We sit there some.”

“Meet me at eleven. Don’t bring anything else. They can’t guess what you’re up to.”

“Sure.”

“But there is one thing I need you to do.”

“What?”

“Take somebody with you.”

Colter Shaw wasn’t surprised to see a stony-faced Select sitting in a rocker in front of the dormitory he sought. But he didn’t think it was a problem. In Shaw’s world, windows were made for admitting humans as well as light and air. Dexterous humans, at least.

He made his way through the bushes and peeked carefully into each room before he found the one he sought. He kept searching until he located an empty room, then removed from his pocket the dinner knife and jimmied open the window. Shaw boosted himself up and inside, rolling onto the floor. Not as silently as he would have liked; his heels thunked. He paused, listening for any indication he’d been heard.

Apparently not. Shaw then looked into the hallway and walked to the door he sought. He knocked gently. “It’s a friend. Can you open up?”

Silence.

“It’s important.”

A shuffling sound. The door opened.

Shaw looked down at the diminutive form of sixteen-year-old Abby, who blinked and said, “Oh, you.”

She sat on the bed and he on the desk chair. He’d moved it near the door so he could hear anyone approaching.

Her eyes were red, and she kept up the fidgeting he remembered from the dining hall. Her nails were bitten to the quick.

He whispered, “What’s wrong, Abby?”