Lippe Simone - Blank

“It was hardly worth it.” said Tom, carefully handing the eclectic haul of puffed rice and powdered chocolate and nacho chips and sun-dried tomatoes and what was now barely a handful of citrus fruits up to Honor on the bow of the yacht.

“You want to go back?” she asked, “I had my eye on an espresso machine.”

The engines started with a burst that drowned out Tom’s considered response and he swung himself up the ladder with a leaking summer camp sized bag of cereal over his shoulder like an emaciated Santa who’d fallen on hard times.

Clint’s nautical expertise had improved to the point that he was able to dislodge the yacht and back it directly into the dock on the other side of the marina. He cut the engines again and relied on what he hoped was a newly acquired power of telekinesis to maneuver the boat into a position from which he could steer more or less directly through the access channel and back to the ocean. Honor and Tom joined him on the bridge.

“Nice work.” said Honor, “You want me to drive for a while?”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it.” said Clint. “Anyhow I’m working on something. Look, we’re turning toward the channel. A little slowly but that’s how I like my yachts to turn.”

“Shouldn’t we refuel?” asked Tom, pointing out that the yacht had just bounced off a fueling station.

“Not an option, I’m afraid.” said Honor, “There’s no power. The pumps won’t work. Anyway there’s an auxiliary fuel tank and enough juice to get us well up the coast before sunrise.”

“In that instance.” said Tom, “I’m going to get some sleep. I’ve had the longest day in memory.”

“Do that.” said Honor, “We’ll wake you well before sun up for our dip in the ocean, if it comes to that. I’m just going to see Captain Columbus into open waters and turn in myself.”

The yacht moved smoothly out of the marina and onto the eerily placid waters of the Pacific Ocean before pursuing a wide arc to the north and an easy course described by the entirely unlit silhouette of the California coast. In a few hours they were clear of Los Angeles and Clint reduced speed to almost nothing before turning soft to starboard and tying off the wheel. He descended to the main deck and stopped briefly at the stern to pull a length of mooring rope from the storage chest by the diving platform. Then he padded softly through the salon and into the corridor where he tightly tied the handle of Tom’s stateroom to his own before continuing to the below-decks hatchway.

Honor had been right, it was far too dark to get through the engine room door, even with a key. So Clint tightened the bulb in the wall lamp and light filled the tiny corridor and he produced the key from his back pocket. Descending the short narrow ladder he pulled the little chain and brought a gently swaying light to the engine room. He sat on the ladder and bent forward almost upside down so he could reach beneath his perch and pull out a white, square plastic box, like a very large lunch pail with a luggage tag on which was written “Dr. Thomas Spivic.”

Clint closed the door to the engine room and turned out the lights and waited in the dark, listening to the churn of the propellers and nothing more. Satisfied, he returned to the corridor of state rooms and knocked lightly on Honor’s door.

“Are you awake Gale?” he said, “It’s me, Ray.”

The pre-sunrise glow had turned the sky a cobalt blue and the tips of the San Gabriel mountains were already burning with the first layer of bright orange when Clint cut the engines and hopped down the ladder to the stern and poked his head into the salon.

“Up already?” he asked Honor, who had installed herself at the banquette table with a bowl of dry cereal. She was dressed in a fuchsia bikini and a sarong and had one naked leg up on the other bench.

“It’s almost showtime.” she said, “I didn’t want to miss it. I also didn’t want to have my memory wiped clean. In fact, on balance, I especially don’t want my memory wiped clean.”

“You won’t miss anything. Nice outfit by the way.”

“I found it in my cabin. I didn’t think you’d mind much.” Honor stood and modeled her bikini in 360°.

“Not much. I’ve seen it all. I’m sorry that you don’t remember what an item we were in the psycho ward. They tried keeping us apart but you seemed to enjoy the challenge.”

“That sounds like me.” said Honor, “Shouldn’t we be getting started?”

“There’s time. The instructions say the closer to the event, the better. Don’t worry Gale, I’ll take care of you.”

“Call me Honor. I’m relaunching my career. Speaking of which I’m curious, how long have you known that you were Ray?”

“I thought that was clear.” he said, “I never stopped knowing I was Ray. When I woke up on the yacht I really had no idea what I was doing there but that was down to drinking a crate of whiskey washed down with a vat of champagne. Initially I made up the name Clint because I couldn’t remember Marmalade and Apricot and I didn’t know that they didn’t know that Ray was a wanted man. When I saw LA in chaos and then that you and Spivic didn’t recognize me I just continued being Clint Hardcastle.”

“Hardcliff.”

“Right. Hardcliff. Well now we can be whoever we want. We can do whatever we want. We can be one-eyed royalty in the land of the blind and we can race Ferraris and hunt mimes and no one will try to cure us with radiated neurotoxins.”

“You’re sure this is going to work, by the way. I’m still more than happy to go for an early morning swim.”

“It’ll work. We’re living proof. We were at least partially immunized by Spivic’s ‘memorectomies’ that were supposed to cure me of wanting to kill everyone who looked even a little bit like my step-father and you, presumably, of wanting to have fun.”

“Which raises the question — why did I forget everything prior to the event and you didn’t?” asked Honor.

“Because I had more treatment?” Clint guessed. “I certainly had more recent treatment. You escaped weeks ago. Or, more precisely, you walked out weeks ago, dressed as a nurse. You stole an ambulance and apparently led a very merry chase across downtown Los Angeles. The last I heard they’d found the ambulance abandoned at the zoo.”

“That explains a lot.”

“It does? Well, anyway it works. By accident maybe, but I’m immune to the sun’s radiation and now we’ve got the final vaccine you will be too.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I’d enjoy life as a mindless galley slave. Too outdoorsy.”

“I’m sure.” said Clint. “Spivic told me himself that he was working on a vaccine and that he’d finally made it. He was a mess by that point. Not as bad as now, obviously, but he’d been injecting himself everywhere and comparing our test results like a man driven. And anyway by then he trusted me completely. You see, I’d been giving a very convincing impression of a man cured which, I think it’s safe to say, I’m not. I still remember my step-father and everything he did to me and everything I’ve done since.” Clint looked wistfully out the window, as though remembering a bright Christmas morn.

“But why didn’t Tom just take the vaccine himself?” asked Honor.

“He didn’t know that he needed to. Anyway I didn’t give him the chance. When he realized that he’d isolated the vaccine he told me that it was in the nick of time, because he wouldn’t have me for comparison purposes after today in light of the inconvenience of me going back to prison to complete a mandatory life sentence.”

“So you escaped too. What made you think to take the vaccine with you?”