Fourteen
Nick visited at dawn on the third day of Wallace's
stay at the field hospital set up outside Dale City. Wallace had his own
small tent to facilitate the several hours of interrogation he was
subjected to each day from a broad assortment of military personnel,
doctors, both medical and psychiatric, and scientists of every
persuasion.
Nick selected one of three chairs already facing
Wallace's bed and sat down. "Don't feel picked on," he said. "We've all
been getting the third degree. The more questions they ask, the more
confused they get."
Wallace sat up, feeling more clear-headed and alert
than he had in days. "Thanks for the help."
"Without you, kid, I'd be with Calloway. How you
doing?"
"I feel funny," he confessed. "Like nothing's real."
"Tell me about it. I just want to get the hell out
of here and do some fishing. How about you? What do you have planned?"
Wallace had been thinking about his options.
"School," he said. "I've got a trust fund waiting. At least I think I
still got one waiting somewhere. I hope Mr. Shuster is okay."
Nick grinned. "He your attorney?"
Wallace nodded. "He's got
my money."
"I'd joke about an attorney
taking advantage of what we went through, but it wouldn't be a damned bit funny. I may have
lost a sister and a nephew, and a lot of survivors aren't coping too
well. I'm glad to hear you're planning ahead. Sounds healthy. I
especially want to see you up and out of here as soon as possible. You
saved my ass, kid. I've never had that done to me before."
Nick climbed to his feet and paced nervously.
Wallace felt himself warming to the only older male he had known since his
father's death. Nick was old enough to have lines weathered into his
face, but young enough to have dragged him through the woods to safety
during the height of the crisis.
"You're not talking, are you?"
Nick said.
Wallace gave him a wry grin and shook his head.
"Most of them only hear what they want to hear. They all seem to have
their own theories. I guess I'm holding back on the stuff that would get
me into real trouble."
"Official word is that Willington suffered a mass
transient psychotic episode brought on by the consumption of a mutant
strain of toxic mushroom." Nick pronounced each word with care, so as not
to trip over the unfamiliar terminology. "That's the story the media is
hearing. We're making national headlines. Hell, we're making
international headlines."
"They don't know what really happened," Wallace said.
"They're not stupid, kid. I've heard on the side
that the mushroom contained a virus with human-like DNA sequences, which
means it was a manufactured item. If that ever gets out to the media, it
would mean panic city. Just mark my word. If they think you know more
than you're letting on, they'll put you on ice, or pester you for the rest
of your life."
"I guessed as much myself," Wallace said, wishing he
could fully confide in the street cop. Even if he asked for help with the
ghosts he was seeing, he couldn't imagine what Nick or anyone else could
do to help.
"Do you know more than you should?" Nick said
abruptly.
Wallace stared at him, wondering if he had been
betrayed somehow.
"I'm only asking for myself. I'm wondering if I can
pick up the pieces and get on with my life and forget that this ever
happened. Is it over, or should I keep my back covered, do you think?"
Seven vaporous beings with eyes like blue-white stars
loomed about the Dale City police officer in the shadows of the tent.
"Keep your back covered," Wallace said softly.
Nick stared at him with equal intensity. "Can you
tell me why?"
Wallace didn't want to. He shook his head.
"Can't or won't?"
"Won't."
Nick looked anguished. He nodded at Wallace's
bandaged arm. "It's that fucking snake, isn't it? It's the only part of
this whole mess they blew off. Nobody's asked you about the snake."
"They didn't believe me." Wallace climbed out of bed
and nervously started dressing. "Why is it so important to you?"
"Just something a science-fiction writer once said.
Science too far ahead of ours would be like magic to us. We'd see things
we wouldn't understand. They offered me a job, you know. They want me to
stick around and help keep an eye on things. I think I'll take it after
all. The fish can wait."
Wallace pulled on his boots and laced them in
silence.
"They'll let you go, kid, but they want you watched.
From a discrete distance, of course. I thought I ought to warn you. It
doesn't have to be me, but it'll be someone."
Wallace grinned. "I wasn't supposed to know that,
right?"
"You don't know jack."
"They're gonna pay you?"
"Enough to buy my own fishing hole."
Wallace laughed.
Nick slapped him on the shoulder. "I gotta run.
I'll see you around, kid."
