Orson Card - Maps in a Mirror - The Short Fiction of Orson Scott Card

“Here,” he said. “Put them in your purse. We’ll go to the federal building. There’s an FBI office there.”

“All right,” she said, putting the film in her purse.

“You saw,” he said. “You saw the woman leave the box. You saw how it happened.”

“Of course,” she said. “I saw it all. And with this, whatever it is, I’m sure there’ll be somebody down in Enterprise on the fourteenth.”

“There better be,” Reuben said. “This is a serious business.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. But when Reuben got of the overhead to walk to the federal building, it seemed perfectly natural to be holding his mother’s hand.

The FBI believed Reuben and his mother. Or rather, they believed the microfilm. Reuben and his mother were in the federal building for several hours, explaining how and when and what and where, and the FBI agent listened respectfully to Reuben’s reasoning about the envelope.

“Thanks, kid,” the man said when it was over. “We’ll handle it from here.”

So Reuben and his mother left. Reuben went to the door of the house in the canyon with her, and she asked him to come in.

“I would only leave again,” Reuben said.

He turned to go, but then, as an afterthought, he said, “Mother.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Uh, Father shouldn’t…”

“I won’t tell him.” She closed the door.

Reuben and Maynard went back to the apartment. Reuben slept badly that night. He kept dreaming of his father hitting his mother, though he had never seen him do such a thing. And then he dreamed of the lady in the park with the dog named Gertrude. He watched her and watched her in his dream, but he could never see her pick up the package from Auerbach’s. It always just disappeared during the first split second he glanced away.

He woke up feeling foul. Even brushing his teeth didn’t take the taste out of his mouth. He went to where he usually found the short dumpy man and waited. Now that the FBI was taking care of things, there was no real point in following him. Except that there was nothing else to do.

But the man did not come. Reuben waited all day. Finally he went to the theater at the time the man usually came out. The dirty movie ended, but the short dumpy man was not among the crowd that came out.

Why did the routine change today?

But it was the weekend, and Reuben followed someone else on Saturday and Sunday.

On Saturday he followed a prostitute to the Nevada border. He didn’t have a passport, so he took the overhead back to Salt Lake.

On Sunday he followed a wino along Second South and finally used his purple card to buy a bottle of something. The wino said thank you and offered to share. Reuben said no but Maynard drank a little.

Reuben and Maynard went home and watched murders and happy families on television.

Sunday was October 22nd, and as he went to bed Reuben realized that northwest of Enterprise whatever the enemy was doing was being stopped tonight.

The next day the short dumpy man was right on schedule: the package from Auerbach’s, the bench in the park, and the lady with the dog. Since it was all over by now Reuben let Maynard chase Gertrude again.

The lady was more irritated than ever, and Reuben laughed. The two dogs raced barking along by the pond, and the geese swam away in a hurry.

“Stop your dog,” the lady said. “Please. Gertrude gets an upset stomach.” She spoke carefully, remembering Reuben’s purple card.

Reuben looked at the bench, ignoring her. Once again the Auerbach’s package had disappeared. But he was sure the woman hadn’t gone anywhere near it.

Gertrude ran back to the woman, who was trying to control her fury. She scooped up the female dog. Maynard bounded up and tried to jump on Gertrude. He missed, leaving muddy pawprints all over the lady’s skirt. Reuben laughed.

The lady kicked Maynard. Reuben stopped laughing. That was dangerous—Maynard had a mean streak a mile wide, and he always bit the legs that kicked him.

Maynard snapped at the lady. She kicked again, and this time Maynard bit, sinking his teeth into the loose flesh of her calf.

But the woman didn’t shriek as Reuben had expected. She just shook her leg, and Maynard loosed his grip and dropped away. She glared at Reuben and walked off, carrying Gertrude. She didn’t limp.

Maynard lay on the ground, not moving. Reuben walked up to him. “Hey, Maynard, getting weak in your old age?”

But Maynard didn’t even resent the gibe. He was dead.

When Reuben was sure of it, he picked up his dog’s corpse and walked home. He laid Maynard’s body on the carpet. There was no blood. There was no sign of any damage. There was no sign there was any’ disease. Maynard had bit the lady and died.

Reuben called the FBI. The man told him to come down and bring the dog. He sounded worried, Reuben decided.

“What happened?” Reuben said to the FBI man as soon as he arrived. At the same moment the FBI man looked at Maynard’s corpse and said, “What happened?”

Reuben answered, “The lady in the park. He bit her.”

“And?”

“And nothing. And he died.”

“What did she do?”

“She got bit,” Reuben said, a little angrily, though he knew it would be dangerous to let any emotion happen right now.

“And the dog died.”

“The man in the pinstripe suit wins the prize,” Reuben said, absentmindedly stroking the dog’s fur.

“Look, kid, I know you’ve told us straight so far, but you’re a DP, right? Do you hallucinate?”

Reuben glared at him. “Never.”

“Hey, okay,” the man said, “I just had to ask.”

“What happened? Down in the south?” Reuben asked.

“Well,” the FBI man said, “I don’t know if I can tell you, and unless the boss says I can tell you and signs it in triplicate in his own blood, I’m sure as hell not going to breathe a word.”

“They weren’t there, were they,” Reuben said.

The FBI man looked at him. “What makes you think they weren’t?”

“Because,” Reuben said, “the day after I told you they broke their routine, and the lady in the park knew enough to kill Maynard.”

“Who the hell is Maynard?” the FBI man asked.

“My dog,” said Reuben.

“Oh, he’s got a name,” the FBI man commented. “Hey, look, can I do an autopsy? Cause of death?”

“You?” Reuben asked.

“I mean one of our staff.”

“Sure,” Reuben said. “Maynard won’t give a damn.”

The FBI man laughed. “Right,” he said, and then stopped laughing when he saw the expression on Reuben’s face. “Hey, kid, I’ll have the dog right back, okay?”

Reuben nodded and sat down to wait. While he waited he wondered what they’d say if he told them about the way the lady in the park always snatched the packages when nobody could see, and how she never even seemed to get close to the bench. They’d be sure to think he was hallucinating after all.

It was a circle. No way out. He looked at the drab walls and his mind wandered.

What did the enemy look like, anyway? Nobody could say. On the few planets they had come to and had not yet conquered no one had ever seen them. On the planets they had conquered, no one would say. All that anyone knew—or at least all the government would let on—was that without active help from the people on the planet they were attacking, the enemy couldn’t do a thing. But with such help, they were irresistible.

What if thev were already on the Earth? Reuben looked at his hands, how the fingers were all the same and yet different. What if they could look just like us, and they were already going to the store, and holding down influential jobs, and—why not?—walking dogs in the park and picking up Auerbach’s packages without going near them? Possible, Reuben thought.