Paul Theroux - O-Zone

"Holly's out," Murdick said. It was a meaningless remark; he was changing the subject. He kept talking.

O-Zone, he said, had made her feel claustrophobic: now she had the nutty idea of roaming New York. There had been more restrictions in O-Zone, and they had stayed indoors most of the time! But Holly was restless, he said helplessly, like a man running out of euphemisms. He swung around and faced Hooper in a pleading way, as if imploring him to understand.

Hooper said, "I was a little worried about you in O-Zone."

Murdick pushed his face back against the window and leaned and looked across at some low-flying gunships.

"It all seems so strange," Murdick said. Was he speaking about those gunships rocking in the long columns of light? "Seeing those abandoned condos. The mutation — that squirrel. The creepy noises. The darkness. The poison dust. All the rules and regulations — rules can scare the hell out of me, and the simplest ones are sometimes the worst. 'Wear protective clothing at all times' did it for me."

He moved his lips, showing his teeth — the shape of a smile, but only the shape: it was the memory of fear.

"Those savages, that mission, that so-called shoot," he said. "O-Zone was a kind of nightmare."

He tucked his hands into his metal belt and flapped his elbows in a time-killing way. His fear was fading but his voice was still hesitant.

"Who knows what really happened?" he said.

Hooper smiled at him in a wild disbelieving way, his big eyebrows rising, and with frost in his voice he said, "I know."

"All the confusion," Murdick said. He didn't want to hear Hooper. "It's better forgotten."

Hooper said, "I'll never forget."

Murdick went perfectly still — so still he seemed to twist time around — and after what seemed to Hooper twenty minutes or more, the little man said, "What are you saying to people?"

"I don't have to say anything. I've got a videotape. I can just put my feet up and watch it — or show it, as the case may be." He waited until Murdick's eyes were on his, then added, "It all depends on you."

Murdick made a tentative sound, saying maybe by using the air in his nose. He then said, "I'm glad you came. I only discovered after we got back that you took the cartridge out of that weapon."

Murdick was facing him, but Hooper had not blinked.

"I want to buy it from you, Hoop."

He said "buy" with emphasis. He was worried, he wanted it; this was like ransom.

"Do I look like I need money?"

But Murdick was still talking. "I didn't behave very well out there. I'm not used to that — being alone, facing aliens on the ground. I was unarmed. I've never been so scared. That's why I ran."

"You thought they were going to eat you."

Murdick began protesting in an excited stutter. "They do eat people, some of them. Not for nourishment, but as a ritual. It's a proven fact. We have full documentation. Teeth-marks. Bite patterns. Denture templates. We matched aliens' teeth to victims' wounds. We've done autopsies — stomach contents." Then he faltered, working his mouth. He said greedily, "I've got to have that cartridge."

"How do you know I haven't developed it?"

Murdick's smile was genuine and relaxed. He trusted the strength of technology — it was another trait he shared with Fizzy. But human weakness worried him. He was uneasy with Hooper, but certain about the film.

"Impossible," he said.

"Still, I've got it," Hooper said. "You want it because you're afraid Godseye will find out that you ran."

Hooper said it in order to hear Murdick's insincere denial — a No like a groan. Murdick's face bore the faintness of the real smile that was fading into worry once again.

"They'd string you up, I guess."

Hooper went on mocking him about Godseye. Each time Hooper spoke, Murdick clenched and unclenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he listened. It gave his face a peculiar look of concentration, as though he was unable to swallow a stubborn mouthful. The biting made his eye twitch.

He said, when Hooper finished, "They'd understand. They're much more compassionate than you think."

"Oh, sure. I've heard some of these death squads are greatly misunderstood."

Murdick screwed his lips together and said, "Don't use that expression."

"What did you tell them about O-Zone?"

"Not much," he said. But he was using his teeth again, and his biting gave him away.

"That means you told them something."

"I didn't tell them our route, or any landmarks. I deleted the flight plan. They wanted to access it, too — they wanted to know. I didn't mention the mutant, the condos, or anything."

"You blabbed about the aliens."

Murdick started to deny it, and then he said abjectly, "I told them there were only two of them."

"Did you say who burned them?"

Murdick became watchful. He said nothing. He was biting again.

Hooper said, "I see."

"I want the cartridge," Murdick said.

"Armed men never say 'please.'"

"I need it," Murdick said, and the "please" was a whimper in those words.

Hooper said, "You don't need it. All you need is for me to keep it quiet. You need to trust me with it."

Murdick's face was small, but he was thin and had two distinct sides to his flat head. He turned his skinny face on Hooper and said, "Can I trust you?"

"Sure," Hooper said — so promptly that Murdick smiled unexpectedly again. "And just to prove you trust me, I want you to take me to one of your meetings."

"We don't have meetings," Murdick said, staring hard. He was almost certain that Hooper was trying to slip something past him. Wasn't there a loose connection in what Hooper had just said?

Hooper had taken the cartridge from his pocket. "It's coded," Murdick said. "It's regulation."

"You'll have to explain that to a simple mail-order man."

"It's secure. Chemical code." He was biting between each thought. "It has an obliterating mechanism. Can't be developed commercially. Used in intelligence work. Can't be copied either."

Hooper was smiling at Murdick in a lazy challenging way. "It's no use to you now," Murdick said. "And we're the only people who can develop it."

"We'll see about that," Hooper said. "I just want you to know that I have it."

Murdick began to protest, making fishmouths. "Let's not threaten each other," Hooper said. "We faced danger together. I saved your life. That should make us friends." And he smiled as he pocketed the cartridge. "I want to see this movie, Willis!"

Murdick said, "You swear you won't say anything about that mess?"

"I'll go you one better," Hooper said. He was cheerful. Perhaps it didn't matter what was on the film, as long as he kept it in his possession. "I'll go to one of those Godseye meetings and tell them what a hero you were. That it was your idea. That you planned it all. That you burned them," Murdick said, "I would have, too." He was nibbling with anger. "You want me to develop the film for you?"

"Not yet," Hooper said. "Let me stick up for you first. Godseye will be proud of you."

"We don't have meetings," Murdick said. He was biting again. "We have hunts."

For Moura, the aftermath had all been secrets and sudden silences. She had stood aside at the Firehills tower in O-Zone when Murdick's Welly had returned and buzzed straight down, spinning grit and green leaves at the watchers. She had seen Murdick stagger out, still bowlegged from the flight, and he leaned into his faceplate and crowed, "We burned them all down!"

She had watched Hardy stride forward and say rather stiffly and formally to Hooper, "I'm not going to ask you how it happened, so don't tell me."

"You don't want to know?" Hooper seemed relieved.

Hardy was still standing to attention in front of his brother, a little ceremony to make him remember. "It could be terrible for you if I knew."