Dead Time Read online

  “And would a goddamn bowl of oatmeal be too much to ask?”

  “Unfortunately, this is a hospital—not a resort—so I strongly suggest you eat what you’re served.” She glances at the breakfast tray on my bed, and then turns the wheelchair around. “Things would go better for you if you kept that in mind.”

  4

  False Pretense

  Shannon

  The Giver of the Law, who has ink drawings all over her face and hands, is wearing black robes with an elaborate velvet hat.

  She pins me with her gaze. “I said, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

  I’ve been kneeling on a hard wooden step for more than an hour, and my legs and back are cramping. Mikey has been standing behind me with his hand resting heavily on my shoulder while the woman drones on about connubial fidelity, marital subjugation, and arrant submission. I don’t know what half of those words mean, but I can guess.

  “Answer her.” Heavy footsteps approach from behind.

  I twist around and stare up into the pock-marked face of an older and meaner-looking white man—with Peter’s reddish hair.

  “Speak up, blondie,” Peter’s father says, his eyes narrowed and his hands twitching at his sides.

  “I don’t want to get married,” I say, fighting back tears. “Not to Peter or anyone.”

  The man slaps me with the back of his hand, and I fall sideways against Mikey, my eyes watering.

  No one moves to help me.

  Peter’s father steps closer. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  Mikey drags me back onto my knees.

  “Say yes,” Peter whispers, not looking at me. “Please.”

  “Beggin’ don’t become you, boy,” Mikey says. He increases his grip on my shoulder. “But Petey’s right, girly. Won’t do no good to fight. Just get you killed—and that’d be a damn waste.”

  “Ask her again,” Peter’s father says, and the woman in the robes repeats her question.

  I tuck my hand into a fold of the dress and cross my fingers. “Yes,” I whisper, and Mikey releases me.

  “Don’t think the folks in back heard you,” Peter’s father says.

  “Yes,” I repeat louder, tears streaming down my face.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Giver says. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Peter leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek.

  His father lets out a derisive snort. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, boy, or I’ll be taking her for myself.”

  I swallow and turn toward Peter. He shifts his weight, his face ashen. I meet his gaze and give a slight nod—and then shut my eyes.

  He kisses me on the lips.

  I open my eyes in time to see the Giver make a sour face. She turns and disappears through a hidden door in the wall.

  Mikey snorts and drags me up off my knees, “Let’s go, girly. The sooner his pecker fails, the sooner I’ll be poking you with mine.”

  I burst into tears.

  Peter’s father grabs my arm and jerks me around to face him, making me drop the fake flowers I’ve been clutching. “You stop that blubbering, woman, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  I look up at him, my lips pressed together to keep from sobbing, and then the words tumble out. “Is that also by the Book? Forcing young girls to get married and beating them up if they refuse?”

  I hear gasps from around us.

  He lifts his hand to strike me again, but Peter steps between us. “She’s my wife now,” he says. “If she needs to be taught a lesson, I’m the one to do it.”

  His father laughs. “That’s the spirit, boy. ’Bout time you started acting like a man. Bedding an unbroken woman will do you good, long as you don’t spare the rod.”

  I gasp. “Are you going to hurt me, Peter?”

  “Well?” his father says. “You gonna discipline her or not?”

  Peter turns to me, his eyes cold. “You open your mouth again without permission, wife, and I’ll beat that lily-white ass of yours to a bloody pulp. You hear me?” He leans over, his forehead almost touching mine. “I said, did you hear me?”

  He’s just like all the others.

  “Yes,” I whisper and drop my gaze to my socks.

  “Yes, sire,” Peter’s father says.

  “Yes, sire.”

  “And pick up those damn flowers,” he says. “You a retard or somethin’?”

  “Yes, sire,” I repeat, glancing up at Peter. I scoop up the ugly bouquet, my hands trembling so hard I almost drop it again.

  “You best put a son in her before the next Culling,” the man says to Peter, “or she joins the others, just like it says in the Commandments.” He runs his hand roughly across my cheek. “Although I’m inclined to give her a lesson or two myself—no point in having the blind lead the blind, if you get my meaning.”

  “That’s against the l-law,” Peter says, his voice breaking.

  “Might be necessary to invoke Primae Noctis.” His father squeezes my breast like it’s a loaf of bread. “Show you how to handle a woman who don’t know her place.”

  “You promised she’d be mine,” Peter says, his voice pleading, “I helped bring her in.”

  “I ain’t gonna keep her,” he says, laughing. “Just break her in for you.” He drags his hand down to my crotch. “Grab me a little pussy.”

  “No!” Peter says and pushes his father away.

  The man wheels around and seizes his son by the throat. “You lay a hand on me again, boy, and I’ll cut it off—same as I did to that mouthy, insolent mother of yours.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hatred flares in Peter’s eyes—and disappears just as quickly.

  “That mouthy bitch may be yours,” his father says, “but that don’t mean you can forget your place.”

  Peter lowers his gaze. “Forgive me, father.”

  The man grunts. “Still, I’m a merciful man. Since she’s your first, I’ll give you a chance to take her. Woman like that’s gonna fight, and it’ll do you good to break her in.”

  Peter nods, not even attempting to escape his father’s grip.

  “But the next time she disrespects me, I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget. You hear me?”

  Peter nods, and his father releases him, leaving a ring of red flesh around his son’s neck. “Speak up, boy.”

  Peter flexes his shoulders, but doesn’t look away. “I heard you.”

  His father sneers. “You’re just like your mother, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up hanging from the same rafter.”

  The man raises his hand, and Peter shuts his eyes.

  “Coward.”

  The men around us laugh.

  Peter’s father spits, and a fleck of saliva lands on Peter’s face. “My only son is a spineless pantywaist, God help me.” He whirls around and jabs his finger at me. “Take off that damn dress, blondie. You look like a tramp in a second-hand store.”

  I glance around at the gawking stares of the men. “In front of everyone?”

  Peter’s father reaches for me, the veins in his neck bulging.

  “Do it, wife,” Peter says, his eyes averted. “And be quick about it.”

  I step backward, unzip the dress with trembling hands, and step out of it.

  “Whew-wee,” Mikey says under his breath and yanks the dress out of my hands. “My pecker’s ready.”

  Someone wolf whistles, and the crowd laughs.

  I stand there in my torn T-shirt and shorts, my arms folded across my chest.

  “You got forty days.” Peter’s father turns on his heel and strides out of the chapel, the rest of the men trailing like hungry dogs.

  Peter wipes the spit off his face. “Follow me,” he says, his voice wavering. “They’ll leave us alone once we get to the Chamber of Release.”

  Chamber of Release?

  I hesitate, afraid of what he intends to do to me.

  “I won’t touch you,” he says, reading the look on my face
, “long as you do what I say.”

  I nod once, wishing with all my heart that I had listened to Mom.

  “And try to act dutiful,” he adds, dropping his gaze.

  I stare at him, fear paralyzing me.

  He swallows and looks up. “I’m sorry about those things I said, but I didn’t want them to…”

  I nod again.

  He exhales and then turns and strides down the aisle, his steps silent on the threadbare carpeting. “Follow me, wife,” he calls out, his voice sounding hollow in the empty chapel. “And keep your head bowed or it will go the worse for you!”

  I let out a soft whimper and obey, too overwhelmed to do otherwise.

  Peter leads me down another long hallway and out into a deserted open area. It must have been a park once, but all that’s left are tree stumps, dirt, and what I realize are hand-carved grave markers.

  I hurry across the cemetery, rocks and twigs cutting into my feet through the thin socks. I steal a look at the roof of the biodome but can’t see any signs of damage, only the dim glow of the crescent moon. Peter catches me staring up but doesn’t comment. Instead, he quickens his pace, and I stumble after him, my head bowed and my heart pounding.

  He strides down more hallways, opening doors with some sort of metal key and locking them again after we pass through. Finally, he stops in front of an ornate wooden door, a huge brass knocker hanging in the middle of it. He pulls the door open and waits for me to enter, his eyes downcast.

  “It’s Shannon,” he says as he shuts the door and turns the deadbolt. “Right?”

  5

  The Good Guys

  Diego

  Ten minutes after Nurse Ratched leaves with the Soylent Green, the man who haunts my nightmares walks in and offers me his hand.

  “I’m David Kirk, head of C-Bay,” he says. “I hear you wanted to see me.”

  I stare at him for a moment, unnerved by how much he looks like his doppelganger in my world—except this Dave Kirkland has less hair and more flab.

  “Have we met before?” he asks. “Something about you seems familiar.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say and shake his outstretched hand. “Diego Crusoe. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Crusoe. We’re awful glad you made it here safe and sound.”

  “Thank you for your help.” I say, shifting my bum leg and sitting up straighter. “And please call me Diego.”

  “Certainly, Diego. I would have gotten here sooner, but I’ve been tied up looking through blueprints for Catersville. I know you must be worried about Shannon, but believe me, I want to get her out of there as much as you do.”

  “You know her?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

  Maybe the Dave in this world isn’t such a dick?

  He laughs. “Of course I do! Lani and I go way back, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them.”

  Dave and Lani? Dave and Isabel?

  Can’t this guy find his own women?

  He pulls up the chair and sits down. “I wish Lani had consulted me before sending Shannon out here with you and Hudson—I could have had my private jet stop by next month—but that’s water under the bridge.” He gives me a warm smile. “So what can I do for you, Diego?”

  Mierda, he seems like a decent guy.

  “I want to help,” I say, feeling off-balance talking to him without wanting to throw something. “I mean help get Shannon back. I was hoping you were putting together an expedition to pull her out of there.”

  “I’m considering all options.”

  “Christ, Dave, they’re a bunch of religious zealots, and they’re probably planning to use her as a sex slave or—”

  “Whoa there, Hoss.” He holds up his hands. “You’re right about the place being a bit unusual—and maybe you ran into a bad hombre or two—but they’re still people. Some of them are old friends of mine.”

  “You know those guys?”

  “Of course I do. I know pretty much everyone who survived.”

  “Right.”

  “Doomsday forced incredible hardships on all of mankind, and it’s only natural that some people…” He rubs his chin with his hand. “Well, that some people took different paths. Folks are naturally afraid of outsiders—and these days, it makes good sense. The disease vector in an isolated population is enough to make anyone piss their pants. Fear of dying makes you do some crazy shit.”

  “You mean like kidnapping teenage girls?”

  “Easy there, cowboy.”

  All of a sudden, I remember why I don’t like this guy.

  “I haven’t spoken with the head honcho yet,” he says, “but word is, he took her for her own safety.”

  “What!?” It comes out as more of a croak than a word. “You think they dragged her out of the plane at gunpoint for her own protection?”

  “Just because they’re religious doesn’t mean they’re evil. They know right from wrong. Let’s give them a chance to explain things before we charge in there with guns a’ blazing.”

  “I can’t believe you are taking them seriously. They kidnapped Shannon, and you’re going to let them get away with it?”

  “Of course not. PC estimates that Catersville is down to fewer than a hundred bodies, the majority of them men over fifty.”

  “Who the hell is PC?”

  “Population Control. Where have you been for the last twenty years? I’m not saying it’s a good thing they took her, I’m saying we should get all the facts. Despite what you may have heard, they’re not a bunch of teenage hooligans thinking with their dicks.”

  “They damn well are. They took her against her will and beat the crap out of me when I tried to stop them.”

  “Pro tip, amigo: Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

  I stare at his thinning blond hair and ruggedly handsome face, trying to fit my Dave Kirkland into the savior of mankind—and failing. “So how are you planning to get her back?”

  “Like I said, I’ll find a way to persuade them to let her go.”

  “What the hell do you mean ‘find a way’?” I say, knowing I’m starting to sound like a petulant child, but unable to stop. “I thought you already sent a rescue party.”

  “I built their fucking biodome, Domingo.”

  Ah, there’s the Dave I know and love.

  I resist the urge to correct him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He looks annoyed. “I can hack their computers—and I have access to their O2 and water filtration systems. In a week, they’ll be begging me to come get her. But if it makes you feel any better, the moment negotiations fall through, I’m prepared to send in a few dozen badasses. I can get her out of there faster than a babysitter’s boyfriend hightailing it when the car pulls up.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  He laughs again. “You got dog tags hiding underneath all that hair?” He reads the look on my face. “Didn’t think so. The last thing we need is for you to go stumbling ass-backward into machine gun fire. Your job is here, where we can science the shit out of that magic in your blood.”

  I turn and stare at Shannon’s jaguarundi, frustrated by my inability to do anything useful. “Shannon’s like a daughter to me. I can’t just stand around waiting for you to bring her back. She’s my responsibility. I’m the reason she’s in danger. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Believe me, I do. You have my word that I won’t rest until we bring her home.”

  I don’t respond.

  “Look, the best thing you can do is stay here and help us with the biotech research.”

  I shake my head. “Not while Shannon is stuck out there with a bunch of weirdos. I can’t live with myself, knowing what might happen to her.”

  “Hell, James, I admire your balls—but I can’t have some amateur putting my men in danger.”

  “James?”

  He laughs and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his face getting red. “Like I said, you look like a guy
I used to know—was my best buddy, actually. You wouldn’t happen to have a sickle-shaped scar on your wrist, now would you? Something you got climbing on the Great Pyramid?”

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s serious. “Nope,” I say and hold out my wrists. “I’ve never been to Egypt.”

  If my parallel self was gallivanting around the world with Dave, things went down a lot differently in this universe .

  He looks doubtful. “To tell you the truth, you’re the spitting image of him—James, I mean—except he would be twenty years older than you. I keep telling myself that it’s impossible, but the likeness is uncanny.”

  “What happened to him?” I ask.

  “He died in a car accident thirty years ago. Lost control on an icy bridge and drove into a river. His five-year-old son was in the backseat. Both of them drowned.”

  I’m dead, and I killed my own son?

  I swallow. “Christ, that must have been horrible for his wife.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he says, “but you’re clearly not James.” He laughs—which feels odd considering he just told me his best friend died in a gruesome wreck.

  “So what happened to her—James’s wife, I mean? Did she make it inside a biodome?”

  “She did—thanks to yours truly. After their funeral, she moved back to California—tried to start a new life. A decade later, the Feds dumped that rogue nuke in the Pacific, and the biodome she was scheduled to move into ended up in the drink. When Doomsday mutated, I managed to get her into the Bub—and believe me, with over 250 pre-paid customers displaced by that damn tsunami, it wasn’t a picnic.”

  So some of the events played out the same here—except they had Dave’s biodomes to protect them.

  I shake my head, remembering the night the nuke was launched. The roads were a mess, and when I finally managed to get to Isabel, I was forced to wait outside her building, hoping we’d all survive until morning. “I imagine it wasn’t.”

  “But back to Shannon,” Dave says. “Use your head, Diego. I got the largest, best-trained, best-armed army this side of the Urals, and I have the inside track on the life-support at Catersville. You got a guilty conscience and a death wish. Who do you think is going to have more success getting Shannon back?”