IENDE Page 9

  Remmie’s pulse calmed at his response. It was confirmation that calling home at some point was okay. But later was better. She wasn’t ready to talk to her dad—was dreading the conversation.

  Kyle handed Remmie a bottle of water and they exchanged courtesies.

  “You know,” Victor said, “you guys aren’t so bad. I really wasn’t sure how this’d work out. It could’ve been worse for sure.”

  “Thanks, Vick. I appreciate that,” Anthony said. “Does that mean—”

  “Be quiet,” Victor said. “I’ve agreed not to get physical again . . . please don’t make me break that agreement.”

  Anthony became silent.

  “I was an assistant research professor of biomedical engineering at Wilma Tech,” Victor said, “in California. Five years. Hell, I would’a made tenure by now if I’d stayed. When I think about what my life was . . . Sometimes, I wish I’d never stumbled on this.”

  “How old are you?” Remmie said.

  “I’m thirty-seven. My area of research was medical devices, the bridge between body and machine. Specifically, devices that connect—integrate—with the brain. I started college at seventeen. I finished undergrad in four years, double majored in biology and electrical engineering. Then I spent a year on my master’s and another three on my PhD. I did postdoc research. That was several years, screwing around”—Victor chuckled—“then my five years as an assistant professor at Wilma.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of college,” Kyle said. “I thought about taking some classes at the community college. I like cooking and all. I cook hot dogs at—”

  “Kyle, let him finish,” Remmie said. Flipping dogs was the last thing she wanted to hear about.

  Suddenly Victor’s demeanor stiffened and he gripped the steering wheel like he was hanging onto it over a mountain dropoff. “A patient at the university hospital had a tumor,” he said, “that encroached on the area of the brain where Malclenersy strikes . . . the thalamus, other parts of the limbic system, and the corpus callosum. I wanted to understand the disease better. I always have. I guess my illness is much of what drove my ambition in life. I wanted to create an interface with the brain that could help conditions ranging from autism to PTSD, but my real motivation has always been Malclenersy.”

  “What happened with the tumor?” Remmie thought about how she once feared that a tumor had caused her illness.

  “It started with the tumor,” he said. “I’d looked at a thousand tissue samples in my life, but this one was different. I looked at a thin section under an electron microscope, and that’s when I found one.” Victor looked at the rearview mirror and paused to change lanes. “The Dames normally wouldn’t hang around, but these were stuck. Being in a tumor threw them off somehow. That’s why I had never encountered them before. And this person didn’t have Malclenersy. The Dame was spherical with structures on its surface. There were others. I was able to measure the signals they gave off. I believe they interfere with the functioning of the brain, interfacing, interrupting, influencing, injecting their own signals. And they exist in all living humans.”

  “How’d you figure out they were in everybody?” Remmie said. “Did you cut a bunch of people open?” She wondered if he had experimented on people while they were still alive, if maybe he would experiment with them.

  “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no.” Victor could barely look Remmie in the eye as he glanced over. “I haven’t cut into anybody. I figured it out with living tumor tissue and . . . myself.” Victor took another sip of water. “Look, I’ve found the devices. They seek out living human tissue. And they emit signals into our neural pathways. They all function together as a complex system when they congregate in a single brain, each playing a unique role. And I believe their large numbers provide a degree of redundancy.”

  “What do you mean, redundancy?” Kyle said.

  “If some of them break or malfunction, there are others to keep the system functioning. Reduce the odds of failing.” Victor rotated his eyes back, probably expecting Kyle to say something about odds again. “The signals they emit that interfere . . . our brain signals are complex, more so than anything current technology could reproduce, and on such a small scale. I know the devices are extraterrestrial in nature because they’ve been in humans for countless generations. Maybe millennia. They’re subtly nudging the human race in some predetermined direction. Perhaps they’re even the basis for our growing body of scientific knowledge and the integration of technology into our lives. But I don’t know for sure what they’re doing with us. It’s like you said, back at the park—we exist as you would expect us to without their presence.”

  “How do you know they’ve been around for so long?” Kyle said.

  “Now that’s a good question.”

  Remmie wondered how Kyle’s question was so good. Victor had never said that about her questions.

  “I have evidence,” Victor said. “I’ve explored ancient sites. Every so often Dames are left behind, maybe because of tumors or simple failure of individual Dames. I also believe those Dames that exist in people with Malclenersy stay with the body after death. Malclenersy crosses cultural, racial boundaries. I’ve detected Dames that exhibit the signature pattern of someone with Malclenersy—I’ve detected mostly those kind, in ancient remains, same way I can detect them in you.”

  “Ancient remains? Like mummies?” Kyle said.

  Remmie curled her toes. Kyle seemed more focused on the unimportant details around what Victor was saying.

  “Mummies, yeah, something like that. During my time at Wilma, I built a helmet that could measure neural activity to a more precise degree than other existing technology. This was the first step in identifying that those people with Malclenersy differ from other people, and that the Dames are in everyone. Those with Malclenersy exhibit a different pattern of neural activity from those without.” Victor took another gulp of water. “It wasn’t long before I became aware of the subtle physical reaction I get in the presence of people with Malclenersy, and the equally subtle but different reaction I get in the presence of those without Malclenersy. I became aware of my physical reactions because of the helmet. But I get the feeling with or without the helmet. The helmet just called it out. You feel it too; you just don’t realize it. It’s like the pattern we repeat. You didn’t know it was there until I called it out.”

  Victor’s gaze landed on Remmie’s hand, which she realized was tapping the pattern on her knee.

  “When my head gets close to another person’s,” Victor said, “within feet. It’s no different from other sensations in our body we’re not consciously aware of unless we focus on them. The Dames can detect each other, and it’s their proximity, contained within our skull, that takes a group of them and unites them as one. They’re programmed to react to each other in different ways and we can feel it.”

  “Does that mean that when your head is close to somebody else’s, the Dames in your head combine with theirs?” Kyle said.

  “Another great question.”

  Remmie bit her lip.

  “No,” Victor said. “Once they unite within a single brain they become a unique system, at least I think. I guess my point is that I can distinguish between active and inactive Dames. It’s subtle, like a dull pulling inward inside your head . . . a suction. So I traveled into the open spaces of Colorado, Utah, Nevada, Mexico. I found burial grounds.”

  “You better not have dug up any—” Remmie said, coiled to strike if Victor claimed to have disturbed some remains.

  “No, of course not. I didn’t touch or defile them in any way. I simply got close to them. I could feel the Dames. I know there are remnants, and I believe these are remnants associated with individuals who had Malclenersy. Malclenersy throws them off, so the Dames don’t leave after death.”

  Victor’s face exuded an almost mystical glow. Remmie’s gut began to side with Victor, like he was some sort of prophet, an enchanting religious figure. If he was crazy,
he had a genius imagination. If not, then there was no other person on Earth she’d rather have looking out for them. She wondered if Victor was the sort of guy who could lead masses of individuals to form a cult. At that thought, she began to question again.

  “Who are the people looking for us?” Kyle said.

  “I don’t know. Maybe anybody can be called upon to do a job, activated via their Dames to seek out threats. Or maybe they’re aliens disguised as humans . . . your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Remmie said.

  “I have a house in Nevada, with a lab. It’s safe. I needed help. You’re my help, safe help because you have Malclenersy. We’re going to figure out how to fix the world, shut them down. Or at least figure out how to survive.”

  “May I ask a question?” Anthony said.

  “I suppose,” Victor said.

  “If you shut these aliens down, what’ll happen? How will people function without—”

  “I wonder if you already know the answer to that one. But I can tell you that people won’t know the difference. They’ll truck along with their own uninhibited brain. Whatever the Dames are doing will cease, and then humanity will continue along naturally. Actually, I think I may have deactivated the Dames in someone . . . before I knew . . .”

  “If the aliens were controlling us for however long,” Remmie said, “life isn’t so bad you know?” She began to think that if Victor believed what he was saying, he wasn’t so bright. “We have cell phones, video games, great food. And you yourself said you wished you didn’t know because life was better for you before all this?”

  “Look, it’s too late for me,” Victor became pensive. “I had my reasons for starting all of this.”

  “What reasons are those?” Remmie said. “Are you telling us everything?”

  “Doesn’t matter what the reasons are anymore. I know the truth, and they know I know, so I can’t go back. But the world, humanity? The Dames can make people do things outside their will. There is no free will with the Dames. And what do they make people do? Either way, they have something in store for us. And when it happens it won’t be a nice place anymore. Do we as a species want to be the puppets of another species? I’m sure this control kicks in a lot when it’s necessary. Hell, our entire society could be a by-product of their influence. Maybe the world would be a better place without them. Maybe corporations wouldn’t exist, or terrorists, or fast food.”

  “I’m fine being a puppet,” Anthony said. “I get laid, drink beer, watch TV . . . play video games. I love my life.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Victor said, “but for us? We’re targets now. We have no choice but to stop it”—Victor looked at Remmie—“otherwise our lives are over.”

  Victor should have left them alone to live in ignorant bliss. Either way, the more he spoke the more she was convinced that something shady was really going on with humanity, aliens or not.

  “Well, Victor,” she said. “I’m kind of pissed you brought us into this. But since we are where we are, you tell us what we need to do and we’ll do it.”

  “We’ve got about eleven hours of travel time left. I’m gonna focus on the road. If you need to pee, let me know and we’ll pull over. I may ask one of you to take over driving at some point. If you can manage some sleep in these seats, do it.”

  “Drive through to Nevada?” Anthony said. “I guess since I’m all tied up you’ll be buying the snacks?”

  “Kyle, I’ve got his wallet,” Victor said. “Can you hold on to it for me?”

  Anthony grunted and demanded his wallet back. Kyle grabbed and opened it instead. His eyes plumped at the site of a couple of crisp twenties.

  “Really?” Remmie said. “Cheap bastard.”

  “Looks like it’s your treat,” Victor said.

  “That’s my . . . tip money,” Anthony said.

  There was laughter and Remmie felt the atmosphere in the car become more relaxed. She agreed to take the next driving shift. She’d never traveled or done anything with her life. Maybe the façade of a life she had been living wasn’t any better than being under control. In a sense, she had been under control all along, pulled to-and-fro by her parents, her illness, and the habit loops within her own brain. Maybe she would end up dead at the hands of aliens, or maybe at the hands of Victor, but it didn’t matter. She was happy all of a sudden. The unknown that stood before her was a sort of rebirth, into the realm of the living—what it was to be alive. It appeared that Kyle was happy too. He didn’t seem uptight anymore. Either way, for the moment, she was along for the ride.

  NINETEEN

  REMMIE’S HEAVY EYES crawled from the road to the clock. It was 5 a.m. Beside her, Victor was curled against the door panel, breathing slowly, a flutelike whistle singing with each nasally breath. Kyle was asleep in the back, along with Anthony. Their heads were touching. How sweet.

  Remmie suspected she had already dozed off a couple of times while driving. It had been two hours since she had taken over. Victor had told her to watch for Hidden Path Road, an unpaved county trail that would be hard to spot but for an old ruined shack that sat at the intersection. She wondered if she had passed it already.

  The yellow dividing strip was mesmerizing, an endless reel of tape rapidly passing like her dull, rambling life. Her thoughts turned to her dad, whom Victor had allowed her to call before she took the wheel. The sound of her father’s voice had been cool liquid to her dry, cracking core. She had told him about the car, and that she needed to take a brief hiatus from life, to figure out where she was going. She assured him that she would be all right and that she’d return soon. He didn’t say a word about the car, only that he was worried about her, which made her feel instantly homesick. Surely he wasn’t under control, if there was such a thing as control.

  What was she doing? The conversation with her dad had felt final, but why? She shook it off, blaming exhaustion, believing that she could go home whenever it felt right, and at that moment, what felt right was to carry this adventure to wherever it went. Her curiosity, her desire to feel alive, was driving her. She willed her weariness away. It was time to show her strength, prove it to herself as much as to those around her.

  Victor’s voice slapped her from her contemplation. “You awake, girl?” He snapped his fingers in her ear.

  “I am now. That’s really annoying, you know.”

  “Not as annoying as ending up in a ditch.”

  “You needed a break.” Remmie said. “I’m doing you a favor here. I mean, with all your crazy mini-robot shit—”

  “You volunteered and said you were fully rested. So don’t blame me—that’s the turn!”

  Remmie stomped the breaks and flung the steering wheel to the right. She barely managed the turn, almost launching them into a field, fishtailing over rocks and gravel, then accelerating along Hidden Path Road. Victor gripped the handle above the door. Kyle and Anthony, who weren’t strapped in, tumbled into the footwell of the back seat.

  “Shit,” Anthony said.

  “Hey, get off of me,” Kyle said. “Your hand’s touching my dick.”

  Remmie watched in the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Anthony said. “It didn’t feel like my hand was on anything.”

  “I have plenty down there!”

  “Oh my God,” Remmie said. “When we get there, I’ll get out a ruler and we can settle this. Right now, I’m trying to drive here.”

  The Caddy drooped into a hole, bouncing everyone in their seats.

  “Take it easy,” Victor said. “You might want to keep it around fifteen. It’s a rough road.”

  “No shit,” Remmie said.

  “But—” Kyle said.

  “Don’t. No. Enough.” Remmie felt light-headed from shouting, tingles skidding along her forearms. “Victor, how far?”

  Victor’s hand was still fused to the handle above the passenger door. He cleared his throat. “It’s not far, but it’ll be slow going, maybe another forty
-five minutes. We have another left-hand turn about six miles out. Then we’ll curve into a forest for a few miles.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Anthony said. “I hope it’s nice.”

  “It’s nice and well provisioned,” Victor said. “You’ll all be able to get some rest. Then I have a lot to show you—Remmie and Kyle, that is.”

  Kyle wrenched himself back into the seat and clicked his seat belt. “Thanks for driving, Remmie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Anthony remained scrunched in the footwell. “I gotta pee. And is there beer at this place we’re going? And maybe some painkillers? I think that stunner of yours burned my chest hair off.”

  The torrent of his words hammered at Remmie’s tired ears. She caught Victor’s eye and nudged her head at Anthony.

  Victor pushed a flood of air from his nose. “Shut up, Anthony. I’m not driving. That means my hands are free.”

  Kyle helped a now silent Anthony back onto the seat.

  The Caddy crackled over gravel for another six miles, and they reached the turn. They curved into the forest and the road became two weed-infested tire tracks. They were climbing into the mountains. Victor told Remmie to keep in the tracks. Soon a broad, paved driveway appeared on the right. At the top was a large house, made to look like a cabin. It resembled places Remmie had seen in the Colorado mountains in upscale magazines. This place looked like a cloaked head with broad shoulders and probably had a nice view from the other side. She parked in the driveway.

  “I can’t wait to stretch my legs,” Kyle said.

  The three stumbled out of the car, forgetting Anthony for the moment. It was cool but not cold. There was a mist that spread into the fragrant trees. Remmie crossed her arms in the moist air and looked around. They were on the edge of a hill overlooking a valley in the distance, barely illuminated by the sun, which was now peeking from the east. The view was beautiful—not a Colorado view, but nice just the same.

  “This is a gorgeous place,” she said. “I didn’t think college faculty made that much money.”

  “Still gotta pee,” Anthony said.