Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4 Page 3

  “I could leave him at home if you prefer—or in the car for now. But I find that he can be helpful in reaching clients who are otherwise lost in their own worlds.” Her hand was on Happy’s head, and the animal was looking up at her with adoration. It was . . . ah, for fuck’s sake.

  Rafe shrugged. “Let’s just see how the Old Man, uh, my father, reacts to him. It might be a good thing.” Did Del have a dog when he was a boy? Rafe had a hard time imagining his irascible father as a boy, but he was beginning to get just a glimpse of what that must have been like.

  “Can I meet him?” Charlie was waiting, that smile on her face. Happy wagged his tail.

  “This way.”

  Rafe led the way up the stairs to the porch, and whatever lightness of heart he’d been feeling scattered. This was the part where the pretty girl and the fluffy dog-thing decided the crazy old man was too much for them and ran screaming back to their normal lives.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tarima VII, Frenoid Cluster, approximately 50 GS circuits earlier

  Well, as usual, Shef had been right. A transport had arrived and taken them off that piece of dirt, blasting them into space again. Then they’d transferred from one ship to another in deep space before they finally ended up here, wherever the fuck here was. Just another friggin’ place where the sun wasn’t right and the air smelled wrong and it was hot as hell 24/7, or however many hours made a day, days made a week here. Something Del would have to make note of as they settled in.

  That attention to detail was the only thing that grounded him in this reality, the nightmare his life had become in the years since he’d been Taken. Everywhere they sent him, he made note of the layout of the facility, the number of guards and their schedule, the timing of meals and work and sleep, those who were immune to the mindwipe like him and those who were not, even the quality of the air and water and sunlight. It kept him from thinking too much of home and what he had lost, and, even more, how he had come to lose it. If he thought of those things, he began to walk too close to the edge of a deep, dark chasm. There was no coming back from that fall.

  So Del kept his mind strictly on the business at hand. As he and the others assembled in the camp yard at dawn, he made his observations: This was a small camp and a new one, the pre-fab thermocrete modules just recently placed on the dusty ground. There were no prisoners except for those who’d arrived in the ship with him. They were a group of about 100, all males. Guards? More than enough; he could count 20 on the yard. He caught Shef’s eye, and the ever so slight lowering of Shef’s eyebrows showed the same puzzlement he was feeling. What the hell was going on here?

  There would be no explanation, of course. No speech from the warden exhorting them to good behavior and hard work. Their jailors, the tall, lantern-jawed aliens he’d heard others refer to as Ninoctins, believed them all to be without higher reasoning ability or will, thanks to the mindwipe. The Grays needed docile slaves, unlikely to revolt and cause problems for them, and for the most part the mindwipe ensured that’s what they got. Except for the few—maybe five percent, maybe more—that were naturally resistant to the technique, like Del and Shef.

  Once assembled, the workers shuffled toward the cookshack and the gruel that waited there. They ate crouched in the open yard or sitting with their backs against the buildings that formed a square around it. This was nothing new. Del had only worked in one factory where they’d had a mess hall for the workers.

  Shef found a seat beside him in the lee of one building and pushed the blond hair out of one eye. “Gonna be hot.”

  Del glanced up at the white sun peeking over the horizon. “Fucking hot. Young sun. And have you noticed the air?”

  “I noticed there’s not a helluva lot of it. I’m wheezing like an old geezer.”

  Del laughed at that. Shef wasn’t too tall, but he was built like—what did they used to say back home?—a brick shithouse. Though he’d forgotten what that really meant.

  “There’s some small earth-moving equipment.” Shef nodded toward one end of the compound. “Ten bucks says we’re here to dig.”

  The bets were a joke between them, something to help them remember, though they hadn’t seen anything resembling cash money since they’d been Taken. “I wouldn’t bet it even if I had it.” Del shifted his gaze to a row of squat shipping cases stacked beside a building to his right. “Those containers hold blasting gel.”

  “You can read Minertsan now?”

  “See the marking on the lower left side? Looks like an inverted chevron with a check through it? We saw that before in the Depara mine.”

  Shef cursed. “I was too busy trying to keep my ass in one piece. If I saw it at all I figured it meant, ‘Watch your ass.’”

  They would have shared the laugh, but the guards were circling now. They put on their blank faces and made like zombies. Then they got up and got in line with the others.

  The guards marched them out through the only gate in the 18-foot-tall fence surrounding the camp and over a dusty trail through rocky scrub. They hadn’t been walking long—just long enough to build up a good sweat in the already-sweltering day—when they topped a low rise and looked down into a bowl full of jagged rocks and scraggly brush.

  Del lifted his gaze up to the relentless white sun and dropped it back into the cruel landscape of their workplace. He was careful not to look at his friend. He knew if he saw Shef’s face he would not be able to hide his own despair.

  “Perai, Del, you’re burning up!” Rafe put a hand to his father’s forehead and pulled it away, clammy with sweat. The Old Man’s clothes were soaked, too, under the comforter, though the cold breeze was bracing.

  “Does he seem to have a fever?” Charlotte stayed at a distance.

  How could he? He’d been fine a few minutes ago. And he was still not in this world. Rafe shook his head and, silent, started to wheel him into the house.

  “Would you like me to get him some fresh clothes?”

  Charlie’s presence finally registered with Rafe. “Uh, no, thanks. I can take care of it. You wait inside, and I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Then the dog made some kind of weird sound, like a drawn-out squeak with a question-mark on the end of it. Rafe turned to see the thing was standing at his owner’s side with his ears pricked up.

  “What’s wrong with the dog?”

  “Oh, he’s just concerned about your father.” Charlie smiled down on her companion. “It’s all right, Hap. He’ll be okay.”

  Rafe left them to find their own way inside and took the Old Man into his room to get him out of the clothes he’d sweated through. By the time he’d gotten him out of the sodden things, Del was starting to rouse.

  “It’s gonna be so damn hot out here,” he mumbled.

  “It’s winter, Del. Still, it’s a beautiful day. Sunshine, not too cold. I can see why you wanted to come back here.” He glanced at the clock. Close enough, thank God. He got Del’s pills from the bathroom and shook one out into his hand.

  “Come here? Why the fuck would I want to come here?” The Old Man was agitated now. “And dig some fucking hole for you? In this goddamn heat? Fucking Grays!”

  “Del. We won’t be digging any holes. It’s nice and cool here in North Carolina. Your days of doing anything for the shalssiti Grays are over. The Grays are gone.” He slipped the tab under Del’s tongue.

  That seemed to bring him back. “The Grays are gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean we’re on Earth now. You’re retired. No more working in camps. No more fighting. Okay?”

  “Retired.” He thought about that for a moment. “Retired. Okay.”

  “Okay. Give me your arm so I can get your sweatshirt on.”

  The Old Man protested, struggling in the chair. “Christ Almighty! Give me the thing! I’ll do it.”

  Rafe knew Del would take twice as long to pull the sweatshirt over his head, but he let the Old Man have at it. By the time they were done, Del had cooled down to his normal body tem
perature. Rafe guessed he had simply gotten overheated under the comforter.

  Just before he rolled Del back out to join the others, Rafe took a deep breath. “We have visitors today, Old Man. A young lady who’s going to be here helping out. Her name’s Charlie. Oh, and she has a . . . dog.”

  Del scowled. “I don’t need any freakin’ female around—did you say a dog?”

  Shit, here it comes. “Yeah. I can tell her to leave it at home. It’s kinda big and obnoxious and—”

  A huge grin spread across Del’s face. “Man, I haven’t seen a real dog since . . .” He looked up at Rafe. “C’mon, boy, take me out there. Let’s see him!”

  It was as if the effect of ten circuits had dropped off the Old Man in a second. In fact, Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father smile. This kind of enthusiasm for anything had been beyond his capabilities for at least as long as Rafe had been taking care of him.

  Rafe wheeled him out of the room and down the hall to the big open space Rayna had told him was called a “great room.” Charlie was in the kitchen, the dog at her heels, her tall, slender form moving like the young branches in the breeze outside. She smiled and came out from behind the counter to greet them as they rolled in.

  Del looked around. “Where’s the dog?” He frowned up at Rafe. “You said there was a dog!”

  Rafe stared at him in exasperation and opened his mouth to apologize to Charlie, but she shook her head. She knelt at Del’s side and placed her hand on the arm of the wheel chair. Rafe thought the placement of that hand was deliberate, as though she was being careful not to touch him, but was testing the Old Man’s boundaries. Del reacted with a wary stare.

  “Hello, Mr. Laurence. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Name’s Del. Where’s the dog?”

  Charlie grinned. “Oh, you’ve heard about Happy, huh? Want to meet him?”

  “Haven’t had a dog since they took me. I like dogs.”

  Charlie glanced at Rafe.

  “They wouldn’t let him have a pet at the rehab facility.” Rafe saw the confusion clear from Charlie’s expression and exhaled.

  She stood. “Here, Hap. Come meet Del.”

  The dog, who’d been waiting with barely-contained excitement in a “sit” next to the refrigerator, came with a bound and sat again at her feet. His gaze bounced between her and Del like a spectator’s at a telot match.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Del was holding out shaky arms in a reach for the animal. “Come here, big fella, give us a hug!”

  Rafe took a step forward, but restrained himself. Surely Charlie wouldn’t let anything spin off into deep space here. She looked up at him and the reassurance in her sky-blue eyes eased his thumping heart. She spoke a quiet word to Happy, who stepped slowly into Del’s embrace, tail wagging. Then the toothy monster capable of ripping his father’s throat out stood calm and motionless (except for the tail) and allowed the Old Man to nearly choke him to death with affection.

  The Old Man was sobbing, tears dripping into the animal’s fur, and still the dog refused to move. Charlie stayed right by his side.

  Rafe turned away, unable to watch. Until this moment his father’s abduction—all the abductions Rafe had been witness to over the many circuits of his work with Rescue—had just been an abstraction. He’d known, intellectually, that these people had been stolen away from a place, from family and friends, from everything they’d known and loved. But until this moment he hadn’t known it in his heart. He hadn’t felt what it might have been like to lose—and have to live without for 65 years—something so sweet and wonderful as a sunny day on their home planet. Or the warm greeting of a friendly animal. He’d never had these things himself. How could he know what it might be like to lose them?

  “Rafe.” Charlie was standing not far from his elbow, a mug of steaming liquid in her hand. “I found some tea in the kitchen and made a pot. Would you like some?”

  “Tea.” There was tea in the kitchen? It hadn’t occurred to Rafe to look for any such thing—or to drink it, for that matter.

  He looked at her, embarrassed, but she simply smiled, not calling any attention to his emotional state. He cleared his throat and took the mug, even though he didn’t want what was in it.

  “Thanks.” He took a sip to be polite. He’d expected it to be too sweet, but it was aromatic and slightly astringent. He liked it.

  She smiled again and inclined her head at the Old Man and the dog. “Happy has that effect on a lot of my clients.”

  “The Old Man seems to love him.” They were all the way across the room, though. “You’re sure he’s safe?”

  Charlie laughed. “One hundred percent sure. On my life.”

  Startled, Rafe stared at her. Was there anyone he was so sure of that he would swear such an oath? Would anyone, even among his Rescue comrades, swear on his life to vouch for him? The intensity of his thoughts must have shown on his face. Charlie broke away from him and turned back to Del and Happy.

  Del looked up at her. “I wanna watch TV. With the dog.”

  “Happy’s not going anywhere for a while, Del,” Charlie said. “How about I turn on the TV, and Happy lies here on the rug?”

  She looked to Rafe for confirmation, and since there didn’t seem to be any real reason to say no, Rafe nodded. Charlie ordered the dog to his station and turned the TV to a game show for Del, who was immediately distracted.

  Then she gathered up a satchel from a chair near the room and laid it on the dining table. “If you don’t mind, Rafe, I have some questions for you.”

  A wave of apprehension rolled through him as they sat across from each other and Charlie positioned her pad on her lap. He’d prepared for this, of course, to the exclusion of the general cultural knowledge that he now recognized he needed. But he’d never been a scholar. In fact, he’d dropped out of school as soon as he could and joined his mother and father in the field with Rescue. What he’d learned since then he’d picked up reading in ship’s bunks and safe houses in the days or hours between missions. This was a test of skills he’d never developed. He started to sweat.

  Charlie looked up at him with a tiny frown creasing her forehead. “I was going over your father’s medical file earlier. Most of it is pretty straightforward. But the medications . . .” She hesitated.

  He took the offensive. “You’re wondering why he’s not on any psychotropics to control the hallucinations.” Of course he was, but they weren’t anything you could find in your local pharmacy.

  She nodded. “It is standard protocol.”

  “We’ve tried all of the usual recommended drugs”—he rattled off the list he’d memorized—“and he either has a bad reaction to them or they’re ineffective. In the end, I told his doctors I’d rather just deal with the episodes than put him through any more experimentation.”

  Charlie’s frown grew. “You felt like trying to help your father was ‘experimentation’?”

  “Like he was a lab monkey, yes.” He’d started this line of response as a means of diverting her from the truth, but his detour had led him to a source of real pain. His voice took on an edge as he continued. “The docs may have a diagnosis for my father, but they have no idea how to help him. Not really. So we’ve made our own choices.”

  “Choices like moving here.”

  He pulled up short. Was that disapproval he was hearing?

  It was a moment before he answered, “Yes.”

  She considered him, blue eyes probing. “Consistency is important to dementia patients, as I’m sure you know, Rafe. Familiar surroundings. Familiar people. Routine. And Canada has an excellent public health system. So I have to ask, why would you take him away from all of that to bring him here?”

  Perai, had Rayna actually talked to this woman? Charlie hadn’t spent more than 30 minutes with them and she was already asking dangerous questions. And she did disapprove. What the hell?

  “Only one thing you have to understand here, Ms. McIntyre.” He had to force himsel
f to stay in his seat. “It’s my responsibility to keep Del well and happy, as much as it is possible to do given his circumstances. He asked me for one thing—to come home. Doesn’t matter that he hadn’t been here for years, or that all his relatives were dead and gone. He was fixated on it, and the idea wouldn’t leave him alone. So here we are, poor health care, new surroundings and all. Why? Hell if I know. You’ll have to ask Del. Good luck getting an answer.”

  Rafe supposed his voice must have risen during this little speech, because the dog was looking in their direction, ears up, tail down. Even Del was frowning at him. He held up his hands in surrender and sat back in his chair. Dog and Old Man went back to what they’d been doing.

  “Okay.” She kept her voice low, but something in her eyes told him she hadn’t backed off. “But you do realize if I take this job, we have the same goal, right? Your father’s health and happiness? I can’t help him if I don’t have all the relevant information.”

  If she takes the job? Rafe suddenly realized he may have stepped over some kind of invisible line—a line that was as delicate as any tripwire. Behind that calm, soothing exterior, Charlotte McIntyre hid a backbone of durasteel.

  He toned it down a little. “Of course. What else do you need?”

  “All right,” she said. “Then what about these pain meds? I’ve never encountered them before. Was your father part of a medical trial?”

  Shalssit. “No, the doctor just said these were new to the market. He gave me a six-month’s supply before we left.” For real? He had more than that stashed away, and a steady supply line through Rescue from Terrene for both the pain meds and the anti-hallucinogens.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “You brought them across the border? Are they FDA approved?”