Мэтт Рихтел - Dead on Arrival

She dialed Becky’s phone number.

The Miata zoomed east on the highway, in the direction away from town and the weigh station, farther into Nevada. A ringing sound exploded. It came from the new iPhone Lyle had plucked from Becky the motel clerk. Lyle wasn’t sure the phone would even work but he suspected it might because Jackie had done something to allow it. It rang and rang. Lyle sent the call to voice mail. Better to let Jackie stew. He needed her riled up, not thinking clearly. The phone rang again. He sent it to voice mail again.

The fifth time the phone rang, Lyle put it on speaker.

“Hello, Dr. Martin,” Jackie said.

Lyle grimaced. He tried to measure her voice, figure out the best way to play her.

“This is not what Eden looks like, Jackie.”

“Not yet, Dr. Martin. Lyle. I’m so delighted you got the reference. Where are you?”

“I’m sure you know that. Jackie, this needs to stop.”

She just laughed, casually, like he was a husband being inadvertently annoying or naggy. “How does it feel?” she asked. “To be alive, truly awake.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, Lyle.” She chuckled.

“What do you want, Jackie?”

“What do you want, Lyle?” It was weirdly flirty.

“I want you to stop this, and I want you to revive Eleanor.”

Silence.

“You don’t give a shit about her.”

“Jackie, do you remember how you stood out in my lecture class.”

“Do you remember?”

“Let’s not play games, Jackie.”

“Okay, so why taunt me with this hapless pilot?”

“She’s my friend, Jackie. It’s beside the point, you’ve got to make this sto—”

“I see how you look at her and how she looks at you. Of course, she’s not looking at you at all now. She’s hanging in space like a macabre puppet.”

“Stop this, Jackie. You have to stop this.”

“I don’t want to fight!” A veritable explosion. Lyle withdrew from the phone. “Sorry, Lyle. We’re better than that. I think it’s hard right now with all the stress. But it’ll be easier when things slow down.”

“Okay, Jackie, how do we make this stop?”

“Well, first, and thank you, the seduction has to be mutual.”

“What seduction?”

“I’m not going to do all the work. Try harder. I’m trying to tell you what I need here.” She hung up.

Lyle took a right onto a dirt road. He turned off the lights. But what did it matter; she’d know he was approaching. Hell, she probably was tracking the phone. He tried to let his mind go blank. He wanted to tap into instinct. But for a moment, he could see the strange beauty that Jackie must be seeking. In the silence of a dead world, you could listen and be heard. Here she would be seen. He appreciated its seduction. And here, there was no risk of death or terrible plague because there was no life. There was no infidelity. He understood this virus called Jackie. He understood the countdown clock. She would do this to the entire world, hang it in space, free of humanity, free of menace.

The seduction has to be mutual.

Try harder.

What did she mean by that?

He let his mind go blank, trying not to overthink it.

Five minutes later, a dark shape appeared on the landscape. It was a building or huddle of them. A light hung over one of the buildings, just enough to betray the clutch. Lyle pulled into a lot beside a Tesla and he looked at the corrugated metal structure. The door was propped open, inviting him inside. He noticed a video camera—these things were everywhere—this one atop the building, scanning. Lyle pulled himself to the right to try to be as shaded as possible from the camera’s view.

He fished in his pocket for a pen and paper he’d taken from the motel and scribbled a note. Then he reached below Eleanor’s feet for the medical supplies he’d taken from the clinic. The defibrillator was still in the trunk. He left it there. He readied everything else. He picked up the pistol. He’d been to a shooting range once. He wasn’t sure he’d be any good with this thing or if he could make himself use it. Even if he did, and he shot and killed Jackie, then what? How would he stop this thing, or reverse it?

He looked at Eleanor and Jerry.

It was time.

Aminute later, he walked to the door of Lantern. A light wind blew, chilling further a desert night. The last time he’d approached a mysterious setting, in Africa, he’d failed miserably. He’d failed the villagers, himself, Melanie. Yes, she’d failed him first, but he’d long before laid the foundation. As he walked, Lyle’s mind and eyes played tricks on him. He thought for a second that he saw bodies, piles of them, then they disappeared, then scattered sufferers, and then darkness again, and then a plain full of frozen humanity, people stalled in stasis by this electrical weapon that Jackie purveyed.

He walked inside and surveyed the warehouse-size room. It was largely empty. Cubicles, a bunch of litter on the floor around one particular cubicle near the middle-center. A nondescript conference table took up the room. No sign of an operation Lyle supposed he expected to see here. What was this place? He walked in tight circles, looking, gun outstretched, sidestepping discarded candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles, a soda can. He saw dirt scuffs on the floor and followed the scuffs. They went toward the back, in the direction of a stairwell. Jackie appeared at the top of it, resplendent with formal wear and evil.

“You’re not going to shoot me, are you, Lyle?” It sounded flirty. “C’mon.” She gestured with her hand for him to follow. She disappeared down the stairs.

He led with the gun. Cautious steps. Down the stairs he went until he came to a bend in the well. He started to turn the corner and he saw the device in her hand. The last thing he said to himself was “Taser.”

Everything went black.

“Imade us dinner,” Jackie said. The words reached Lyle through a miasma as he was coming to.

“Have some water.” Jackie held a glass to his lips and, in spite of himself, he sipped. “There you go,” she said gently. “Relax, Lyle. It’s over.”

Jackie backed up and she sat down across from him at a square worktable. In front of each of them sat a plate with a burrito on it. Next to her plate sat a wireless keyboard. A little farther left on the table loomed two large computer monitors. One showed a live video stream, people milling about, police, a crowd of sorts. At the bottom, a caption explained the event taking place on the live stream but Lyle couldn’t focus on it sufficient to read it. On the other monitor was a clock counting backward and several boxes that looked like command lines.

“I’m just kidding about making dinner,” Jackie said. “Cheap microwave burritos. Not the kind of circumstances that lend themselves to cooking.” She looked at him and smiled. His head still hung to his chest. He lifted it as things came into focus. She had an oddly radiant look about her, triumphant and somehow nurturing. He gently lifted his arms from the armrests and moved his legs. It surprised him that he was unfettered, not chained. Then again, the door was behind her. He realized she had a Taser and the gun tucked on her side of the table.

She followed his gaze to the computer monitor.

47:21

47:20

47:19

“You’ll be out of your haze soon enough. You want more water?”

He shook his head and blinked. Could he overpower this woman?

“No, Lyle. No, you’re not going to overpower me. You don’t even want to, do you? Y’know what I actually think you’re feeling? I think you’re feeling gratitude. Certainly on some level.”