Paul Theroux - O-Zone

"It's Fizzy," Moura said. "I'm so worried about him."

Hooper stood up. He wanted to speak, yet he could not summon any deception. The long day and the heat and Bligh saying I'll do anything you want had made Hooper passionate and truthful. It struck him just a moment too late what they were talking about: the kidnapping about which they knew nothing. He forgot the boy easily, and the crime, because it was such a serious matter.

But he was also startled by their abrupt concern. They were talking about Murdick, telling Hooper things he knew. Leaping with aliens! Hardy said angrily. And Moura was crying — but when had she ever cared so deeply about her son? They had come striding out of the darkness and the bat-screeches demanding the truth as Hooper stood up and tried to begin.

"They won't hurt him," Bligh said, and sat up straight. "They'll keep him safe."

Then Hooper remembered everything.

Hardy and Moura were silenced. They seemed bewildered by Bligh as by a bright light that had just clicked on — by her sudden intelligence and what seemed like inspiration in this unexpected protest of assurance.

But it was a puzzled silence and full of piercing questions: How do you know that? Who are you? Where are you from? How old are you? Who the hell—

To distract them, Hooper said, "Yeah, it's full of aliens— illegals. We were getting data on them."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hardy said. It was much more than a question — it was an accusation and a protest. He felt like a fool with his O-Zpne project now, imagining that the zone was empty, imagining that he could reactivate it. It was full of aliens — even this little girl knew that!

"They stole him," Hooper said, talking fast. "They wanted him — probably wanted some technology or food. They were stalking us. I blinked my eyes and they took him away."

Hooper kept talking. He was relieved to be telling them the truth. He smiled and he realized how he hated these needless secrets. And as he talked he had a proud giddy fear, a kind of vertigo from the heights of his determined honesty, that he would go on chattering and say too much — that he would be so possessed by the truth that he would tell them everything. But they saved him from that by shouting at him and rushing away.

They left Africa for New York so abruptly they had to carry their argument onto the plane. Hardy was still thrashing. Hooper listened and tried to calm his brother— but how? Murdick winced, marveling at the fury he had produced in Hardy by telling him there were aliens in O-Zone. Murdick was proud of possessing the news — it was like knowing there was life in outer space. There was no letup in Hardy's anger and he filled the compartment with the repetitious abuse of his questions. When! Why! Where!

"Take him out of here!" Holly finally said, snatching the door open. "Delete him!"

But Hardy was still talking as the two men helped him into the gangway.

"Why did you lie to me?" Hardy said. "Why didn't you tell me he'd been kidnapped?"

Hardy then turned on Murdick, saying, "And you swore to me that you'd burned them all down!"

Murdick had not stopped smiling.

"They breed like flies," he said. The drama of the moment made him stupid with self-importance. "Hey, we were lucky we weren't taken hostage. They swap hostages, they enslave them, they sell them. People are snatched in California and end up in Japan. Remember when they found that Jewish kid in Australia? It's a business! Ever since the value went out of money, aliens have been making fortunes from kidnapping. I've seen the studies. Hey, this could cost you plenty."

Hooper said, "I honestly don't think he's been kidnapped."

"Know what I'd like to see?" Murdick said. "I'd like to see some Owners, some troopers, sweep in there and kidnap a few aliens. What do you think, Hoop?"

"We have no proof it's a kidnap," Hooper said.

"'Stolen'—that's what you said!" Hardy had taken hold of Hooper's flying suit, and looked violent.

But Hooper was gentle with his brother, and at least Hardy was not listening to Murdick. How could he tell them that Fizzy had almost certainly been grabbed in revenge for his taking Bligh? If he said that, he would lose her — they'd hand her back. He did not want to be separated from her. It was bad enough standing here in the gangway while Bligh sat in the compartment, frightened into silence by Hardy's outburst.

"I think he might have gone willingly," Hooper said.

"Fizzy wouldn't have done that," Hardy said. "He's afraid of strangers and he's a physical coward. He never left the house alone — and you think he'd walk unprotected into a Prohibited Area!"

"He was armed," Hooper said. He still believed what Bligh had told him, about Fizzy being safe with those people. "He had his suit and helmet. He was wearing boots. He had food and water."

"They would have swiped his irons first thing," Murdick said. "That'll make it tough for anyone who goes after him."

"They kidnapped him and they're holding him," Hardy said. "Why didn't you tell me there were aliens in that fucking cacotopia!"

Hooper said, "Have you gotten a call? Any ransom demand — anything that sounded like contact?"

"No," Hardy said. "That's why I didn't suspect you of lying. It's been a month! Who are these Roaches!"

"I don't want to be gross, but sometimes they eat their prisoners," Murdick said. "I've seen documentation. They shrink them. They stuff them. They sew them up and hammer them into boxes."

"Shut up," Hooper said.

His sudden shout stiffened them, and in silence they reentered the compartment. Holly was wearing a video mask; Moura and Bligh sat side by side, not speaking — but how similar they looked, Hooper thought, like mother and daughter, the alien and the Owner.

The huge multilevel plane flew westward into the unchanging light. The travelers did not eat — you had to be calm to sit and eat. Instead, they paced; they used the phone link to collect the messages from Coldharbor. There was no word of Fizzy — nothing from him or his captors.

Hooper saw that the news was not merely upsetting to them — it was frightening. An unexplained disappearance was much worse than a certain death. They worried about Fizzy, but they also felt insecure themselves now — as if they too might be snatched at any moment.

Near the end of the five-hour flight from Africa, Hooper saw this fearful self-pity on their faces and said, "You used to hate him — all of you. Isn't that right?"

No one replied until Hooper's stare hardened. In his stare the question was repeated, demanding an answer.

"I need him," Hardy said, and thought of his project — how crucial Fizzy was to it. I need him to make it rain in O-Zone.

Hooper challenged his brother with a smile. Then he relented and said, "I'll help look for him. I'm sure he can be found."

"You've had your chance, Hoop," Hardy said, dismissing the offer. It was as if he had been waiting for Hooper to extend a helping hand, so that he could slap it away. Hardy had regained his vindictive spirit now that Hooper was being conciliatory; it was the way their old brotherly games always went. "You didn't find him before — you didn't even tell us he'd been snatched. I don't trust you."

"We'll get up a mission," Hooper said. "We'll plot one of Fizzy's own grid programs and search every square."

He seemed hopeful. His explanation made it sound possible, even somewhat simple, as if they were looking for the boy in a section of New York and not in the wilderness and ruined towns in the thousands of square clicks of O-Zone, which was itself a byword for everything unknown and unfathomable and empty and strange.

O-Zone was associated in the American mind with such strange imagery — nothing was more frightening than the land that was never visited; and saying the word was less like mentioning a part of the United States than a distant island or another planet. And because it was never visited, people believed it to be much bigger than it actually was. They thought about it all the time. It was an area of darkness in most people's consciousness, and Fizzy was lost in it.