For the First Time, Again, page 16
—Nein.
—You never seen it?
—Ich war ein Baby.
—I don’t understand. I thought you said you were a soldier.
—I am born soldier. Long mission. Long trip. They send children. Unser Kommandant, she take care of us, not want us to die.
—That’s why she took you here?
—Ja. Hiding. Kommandant be back soon. Looking for you!
Oh crud. She doesn’t know. Sam said there were three of them. Saa, her brother, and that Gigantor woman dropping FBI agents in the rain. I don’t know what to tell her. I could tell her the cops shot her, or the Army. They would have; they just never got the chance. This is so messed up. Samael killed her brother, her commander. Might as well have been her mom the way she tells it. I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t exactly tell her the truth either.
—Saa, there’s something I need to tell you.
—…
She knows whatever comes next ain’t good news.
—Your commander. I think she found me.
—…
Oh God. Her shoulders dropped. She’s tearing up like a four-year-old who got lost at the fair.
—I’m so sorry, Saa. She found me but the Army was there, the ones who locked me up in a basement. They found me at the same time. She tried to help, but … There were just too many of them. There’s nothing she could have done.
—Sie ist tot?
—Mm-hmm.
Totally tot. Everyone she knows is tot. She said she was a baby when she left; that means she ain’t never met anyone else her own kind. I’m the closest thing she has to her race, to family. I’m the only red dot besides her, and Sam if he were here, but he wants to kill her, so … I’m the only good red dot. Whoa. I’m having a hard time breathing right now. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for any of the things that are happening to me, but I can’t be responsible for another person, a gigantic, impossible-to-hide, fifteen-year-old person who eats like a college football team at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
—Aster?
—What?
—Ich werde okay sein?
—… Of course you’re gonna be okay. We’ll take care of you; I swear.
—Vielen Dank.
—You’re welcome, Saa.
Poor thing. She’s in big trouble if I’m all she’s got. I can’t even take care of myself. I’d be long dead if it weren’t for Sam. Maybe he’ll warm up to her. I hope he does, or she has no chance in hell.
42
A Perfect Day Elise
—Please, have a seat, Mr. Anderson. I trust you’re having a pleasant day.
—As always. I very much enjoyed the tour. Your facilities are quite impressive.
I imagined all of it burning with everyone inside, especially my guide, who spent every excruciating moment filling my brain with technical minutiae. Part of it is my fault. I woke up with another migraine and a stomachache—but the guide truly deserves some torment for putting me through this. Ironically, she kept talking about tolerance. Only two microns, she said. I dared not ask what a micron of tolerance is, but I know I do not have that much left in me.
—It was the least we could do, Mr. Anderson. It’s not every day a private citizen sponsors a research program to the tune of thirty million dollars. Speaking of, I do have some questions regarding the object you wish us to take on our journey to Pluto. You said it was a spherical container.
—It is indeed.
Please do not make me talk about it. I beg of you.
—And it is made entirely of titanium.
—If that’s what it says in the proposal—
—It is. It’s just unusual for something to be one hundred percent titanium. There could be hinges, closures made of another mater—
—My father was an unusual man.
—Yes. Speaking of, you said his ashes will be inside the container.
—In a small plastic bag, yes.
It sounded absurd coming out of Aster’s mouth but not nearly as much as it does when I hear myself say it.
—Is it sealed?
—The metal container or the bag?
—Both.
Dear Lord …
—… Yes?
—I’m afraid this might be a problem. You see, if any air remains inside the—
—Oh! You meant hermetically sealed? Then the answer is no. Nothing is sealed.
—Great. I’m terribly sorry. Even with private donations such as yours, we’ll still have to meet NASA’s requirements if we want our probe to sit on their rocket.
—I completely understand. Will that be all?
—I only have a few more questions. How much does the container weigh?
—I thought I included that information in my proposal.
—You did. You said the container weighed nearly four kilos, but there was no mention of the ashes. Now, forgive me—I have limited knowledge on the matter—but I assume the weight of one person’s ashes is not negligible.
—How much?
—I’m sorry?
—How much can the entire thing weigh? You said four kilos before. Can we agree on four kilos?
—That would only leave room for a few ounces for your father’s ashes.
—It’s fine. He wished for his ashes to be sent into space. He never specified how much of them.
—Are you certain? It seems a little—
—We weren’t that close. Now, if we are in agreement, I can have the funds transferred over to you today. Would that be acceptable?
Thirty million dollars is a small price to pay to put an end to this charade. I admire Aster’s enthusiasm, but it’s not as if this has even the slightest chance of working. I only agreed to help out of guilt, and a misplaced sense of responsibility.
—Yes, sir! Very much so. Let me … just get the paperw— Oh my. This isn’t something you see every day.
—I’m sorry, what is?
—In the parking lot. There must be five hundred troops. The police are there too. Have a look.
As Aster would say: crud.
—I will take your word for it.
—I hope it’s some kind of military exercise, but you never know these days. Perhaps you should wait before leaving. I will get us some coffee.
—That’s very kind of you, but I have had too much already. Do you mind if I use the bathroom?
Breathe. Where is the staircase? Breathe. I can almost feel it.
43
Let Forever Be
They don’t serve poutine for breakfast. I don’t see why not. It’s got potatoes and cheese. They can just throw an egg on top and call it breakfast. Saa likes burgers. “HAM-booh-gah,” she says, always smiling. When they ask what she wants in it, she just smiles more, like they gave her a compliment. “Give me everything!” she says. Me, I’m all about poutine. They have different fries up here. Their fries are really thick, and brown, and soft. They speak French, so they must know. I’m not addicted at all. I can stop eating poutine anytime I want. I’ll probably have to when Samael comes back.
Saa ain’t here either. She’s probably at the bar if it’s open. She’s not allowed to go out on her own, but I let her go to the bar. It ain’t right keeping her in like that. I just hope I didn’t lose her. I suppose I could check on her, but I like this quiet. There’s French Working Girl on TV. I seen it often enough I don’t need the words, and French Sigourney Weaver is funny. They’re in the elevator now. It’s coming. Say it! Get le bony ass out of le sight! Yay! Go, Tess! I used to watch this with Pa. He really liked that movie. He liked pretty much anything with Joan Cusack. I think she reminded him of his wife. I seen pictures from way back when they got married and she kind of looked like Joan Cusack. Plus he’d get teary-eyed every time she had a line and Working Girl ain’t exactly a Greek tragedy. I get emotional when she gets her own office, though. Oh, there it is. “I expect you to call me Tess. I don’t expect you to fetch me coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself … and the rest we’ll just make up as we go along, okay?” Oui! Oui!
I feel superselfish sometimes. I am selfish. I just don’t know if it’s normal. I made this plan to maybe save the Earth. That’s what I said, but, really, that’s not why I did it. Saving the planet, I mean, that’s just too big. That’s … way bigger than me, and I know there’s a part of me that thinks I can’t do it. But I’m still doing it, because what that part of me really wants is to lie down and watch TV. This, right now. That’s what I really want. Watching an old movie without being afraid someone will kick the door in and lock me in a pink basement. I’m exhausted. I need quiet, and old movies. And poutine. I mean, I have more money than I can count. I’m like Batman or something. I should be able to eat fries smothered in gravy and watch Working Girl whenever I want.
Seriously, I’m fourteen years old. I shouldn’t have to worry about Bruce Willis, and the Army, and what happened to Samael, ’cause he really should be back by now. And where’s Saa? She been gone for the whole movie. I shouldn’t have to worry about Saa.…
Okay, fine, I’ll go look for her.
44
2 Rights Make 1 Wrong
I found Saa. She nearly froze to death, hiding underneath the gallery. She was crying, rocking herself back and forth like those polar bears at the zoo. I asked what was wrong, but she pushed me away. Then I asked louder and she pushed harder. I hit my head pretty hard on concrete. It wasn’t her fault; I just wasn’t ready for it. It hurt pretty bad, though. I felt the back of my head. She calmed down for a minute when she saw the blood on my fingers, long enough for me to take her inside.
I put her under a hot shower, clothes on and all. She wouldn’t let go of me—I still have the marks on my arm. I sat on the floor next to her and let her squeeze me. She’s twice my size, but for those twenty minutes she was smaller than me, a scared little kid trying to hide from the world in a neck too small. I told her what she wanted to hear. It’s going to be okay. I told her over and over. It could have been true. It didn’t matter; I knew she needed to hear it.
We ran out of hot water pretty quick. I helped her take her wet clothes off and wrapped her in thick hotel towels like a fluffy mummy. I picked her favorite clothes from the drawer. She has like four shirts, but she goes for AC/DC every time if it’s clean. The kitchen was open, so I got ham-booh-gahs from room service. That helped. Food always helps, but I think us sharing it was a big part of it. The two of us eating the same thing without talking. I even ate faster than usual so we’d finish at the same time. We wiped the ketchup off our hands, like a ritual. Then—I don’t know—it was like someone flipped a switch inside her head. One second she was a sobbing mess; the next she was sitting straight with the usual half a grin on her face.
I asked: “Was ist passiert?” “I’m sorry,” she said. She took my hand and walked me to the owner’s office downstairs. She told me she got into an argument with Jean-Pierre; I forget what about. Whatever it was, she wrung his neck like a washcloth. He was lying facedown—well, faceup, really—but his chest was against the floor. I never seen anything like it. I never seen anyone with their head backwards, obviously, but he looked … terrified, like he been given a glimpse of hell. Whatever Saa turned into, I know it wasn’t human.
I was scared of her right then, real scared. I stood on my toes, fists clenched, ready to pounce if she came after me. No Kibsu Spider-Sense, more like I’m stuck in a cage with a tiger. It didn’t last. She looked at me all puppy-eyed, like she’d knocked over a vase. That gets me every time. Plus she was standing like ten feet away, and when there’s nothing near her for size comparison she really looks like a little girl. “Shyesecht het?” she said. Will you help me? She said it softly, half whisper, half sigh. I did. I helped her. I didn’t have much of a choice—it was either that or run away before Samael comes back, but I wanted to help. Maybe that’s not the right word. She didn’t want help. She wanted me to erase this, to have a … mulligan—is that what it’s called?—a do-over. She wanted to pretend it never happened. I wanted it even more than she did.
I closed the door. We wrapped Jean-Pierre in the bloodstained carpet and Saa carried him upstairs to our room. I told her to stay there. Stay. Stayyy.… She put him in the tub, closed the door, and turned on the TV. JAG was on. Whatever, she seemed fine with it, so I left.
There are many steps to pretending a murder never happened. I figured I’d start with the ones I knew how to do. There’s a closet full of supplies across from the office. I keep getting toilet paper from there. I grabbed every cleaning product I could fit in my arms and went back in. I scrubbed everything. I scrubbed the floor, the walls, under the desk. Pencils, magazines, things I found in the trash. You’d never tell someone had their neck twisted backwards in there. There ain’t a print left either, ours or anyone else’s. You could have open-heart surgery in that office.
I’m going back to our room now. I wish I didn’t have to. I really wish Samael were here. There are many steps to pretending a murder never happened and I really dread the next one. I seen people get rid of bodies in movies, but they’re usually professional, with all sorts of body-ridding equipment. We don’t have flesh-eating chemicals in our room. We have tiny shampoo bottles, and some hand lotion that smells bad. The hotel has electrical heating, that means no furnace, and it’s minus infinity outside, so I don’t think digging’s an option. There’s always Fargo.… I doubt they have a wood chipper waiting in the yard, but I can probably rent one, spray Jean-Pierre all over the snowshoe trail …
Even if I manage to grind him into pulp, someone’ll look for Jean-Pierre at some point. I’m not sure he’s married, but I bet he has friends, an overprotective sister who keeps checking on him. Today’s Thursday; the staff’ll probably want to get paid. Like, I really need Samael to come back soon so we can leave. He’s gonna be mad, though. There’ll be all kinds of “I told you sos.”
I’ll tell him it’s my fault, what happened. It is. I shouldn’t have let her go alone. When kids drown in a pool, you don’t blame the kids; you blame the parents who left them unsupervised. That’s me. I left Saa unsupervised.
“You did this, Aster.”
I know, Freddie. I know.
45
There Goes the Fear
—You can forget about sending the sphere on that probe, Aster.
Samael’s back with more good news. I’m going to ask, because that’s what people do, they ask, but there’s really no point. Everything I need to know was in that sentence already. I can forget about sending the sphere on that probe. It’s short. To the point. What comes after “Why?” could be the most interesting story ever, or it might be something boring like: “They canceled the project.” It could be a million different things, but none of them will change the meaning of that first sentence. I ain’t sending the sphere on that probe. Asking why is just morbid curiosity at this point. Still …
—Why? What happened?
—I had a rather unfortunate encounter with a military acquaintance of yours.
—The colonel? For real? How’d he find you?
Samael came for me at the hospital and now he’s paying for it. They know his face. Now they know more … they know he’s interested in that probe.
—I don’t know how he found me, but he brought a small army with him this time. I was fortunate enough to evade capture, less fortunate in that I cannot show my face in public again.
—I’m sorry you had to run. Did you have to kill anyone?
—I did indeed. It appears my physical woes are worsening. I was in the stairwell, about three floors ahead of the soldiers chasing me, when my left leg suddenly stopped moving.
—For real?
—It went lifeless in an instant, as if someone cut the wire connecting it to the rest of me. Two men caught up to me after I fell. Their death was … unavoidable.
—You didn’t tell me you were sick.
—I have had frequent migraines for months now, some chest pains, but nothing like this until now.
—What do you think it is?
—I don’t know. I’ve never been ill. No one in my family ever has, as far as I know.
—Maybe you should see a doctor.
He can’t, I know, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
—We do not see doctors, Aster. You of all people should know that. Enough about me. I trust you and Saa managed to stay out of trouble.
I don’t want to say it. He’ll be mad, sure, but also if I say it I’ll remember and I don’t want to remember. Not finding him like that, not … ewwww. I’ll just put my head down and point to the bathroom.
—Over there.
—What’s over there?
—Just …
—… Aster, why is there a dead man in our bathtub?
—Saa got into an argument with Jean-Pierre.
—… I see. Why is he cut in half?
—Please don’t be mad! We …
—Yes?
—We tried to cut him into smaller pieces, you know, to take him out without looking like we’re taking him out, but I couldn’t find tools. I checked everywhere! There’s a shed even, but there’s nothing in it. The only thing we had was the steak knife that came with room service. It doesn’t cut very well, but Saa felt bad about what she did, so she tried anyway and … that’s what we ended up with. And he’s not really in half. If you pull on the legs, the rest of him kind of follows.… Anyway, I told her to stop before she made even more of a mess.
—What about the crime scene?
—His office. But that one’s okay. I cleaned it all up. There’s no blood, no prints, no nothing. We just …
—I will take care of it.
—You’re not mad?
—I’m not mad at you. You did reasonably well under the circumstances. I realize I should have taught you how to dispose of a human body before. I will teach you now.
—Oh, it’s fine; I—
—That was not a suggestion. I am not doing this alone.
—…
