The road swerved back and forth, pushing him from side to side in the seat. He didn’t resist. Outside, heavily populated mountains rolled past. Then the road straightened, dropping down into familiar territory. Dodd didn’t quite lose consciousness; he phased out, staring but not seeing. He snapped out of it when he realized he was only a few miles from his apartment building; he reached out and jabbed a button, stopping the cab. The police, by now, had analyzed his fingerprints. Even if they didn’t know who he was, they would know soon. It wouldn’t be safe at his apartment. There was no way around that.
Dodd took slow, shallow breaths while the cab sat humming, waiting on standby. A flashing light reminded him he was being charged for this time. He sat there, ignoring it, wondering where he should go. What now? What in the hell am I going to do? He sat for long minutes, trying to think. Then his breath caught in his throat.
Putting his hands up to his face, he started to cry.
He knew what to do.
Dodd reached over with a heavy arm and punched in the new destination, doing it from vivid memory. Once done, he curled up into a ball on the seat and resumed his crying. The taxi drove on, turning and heading away from his apartment. It turned onto a major street that took it south, accelerating, and then veered southwest.
There was a lost period of time, time wrapped in haze, passing quietly, and then Dodd felt the autocab slow, the humming of the engines winding down. The taxi came to a full stop and buzzed. Sitting up, Dodd wiped at his red and swollen eyes then with the same listless hand removed his moneycard from the slot.
The taxi politely spit out a receipt for a large sum of money, then opened its doors. Dodd stepped out in front of a tall white building that seemed to go up into infinity; his eyes followed it into the sky until it vanished, and he stood staring, wavering on his feet, a headache pounding in his head. The sight, somehow, made him feel better – it appeared to be full of hope, full of grand promise, like he could go inside and take an elevator up to heaven. He managed a weak grin as he trudged up the stairs, thinking of how ironic it was for him to end up here. But it seemed, now, that he’d known it all along. He quickened his pace, doggedly determined to get this over with. The effort made his head swim, made him hear voices … it seemed like somebody was calling his name, shouting it out loud from a distance. He felt woozy, sick; the voice was too real. It sounded familiar. As he reached the entrance he could make out sounds of rapid footfalls behind him, but once past the entrance the illusion was gone.
Inside it was silent.
There was an attendant in a booth, a man Dodd felt he instantly liked because he seemed kind and serene. He had a handsome face and short, distinguished grey hair; he was dressed in a formal white uniform with white gloves. On his breast pocket was a tiny gold infinity symbol, like an “8” on its side. The man smiled and stepped out of the booth, and in a rich, deep voice said, “This way.” As he led Dodd down a short hallway to a private bedroom, it struck Dodd how noble this man was, how strong.
“Here you go,” he told Dodd solemnly. “Step right in here.”
Dodd walked in and sat down on the bed, tears welling in his eyes. I’ve really given up, he thought.
“Thank you,” he said to the attendant.
The grey-haired man nodded. “Someone will be with you in a moment.” He silently closed the door as he left. A half-minute later another man, shorter and thinner but identically attired, let himself into the room. He was younger, but just as dignified.
In his hand was a small clip board.
“Are you absolutely certain that you want to go through with this?” he asked Dodd.
Dodd nodded. “Yes.”
The attendant watched Dodd for a few seconds, then crossed the room and picked up a pen from a table. He handed both the pen and the small clip board to Dodd, saying, “You’ll have to sign this, then. After that I’ll give you your injection.”
Dodd signed his name with an unsteady hand, then frowned briefly at the sloppy signature. The attendant turned away, and Dodd laid back into the soft, soft bed, his very last one, with the sweet scent of flowers in the air and a quiet, reassuring hum from an air duct above his head. The room was comfortably warm, the bed relaxing. Dodd found himself thinking of how cozy he felt, how much it felt like being safe and secure in a baby crib, with mommy and daddy out there to protect him from whatever horrible thing that lurked.
Dodd closed his eyes and listened as the attendant shuffled around the room, preparing the needle. He let his eyes remain closed; he didn’t want to see it coming. A small prick, a last tiny pain, then surrender.
From somewhere there was the sound of a heartbeat, growing stronger; Dodd wondered sleepily if it were his own. It was deep, an uneven thudding, the tones growing sharper. The sound, he realized, was not a heartbeat at all, but some other sound: distant, dreamlike, echoing. Footfalls, it sounded like footfalls.
People running, pounding. Then, Dodd realized, someone was calling his name, screaming it out frantically. It was not his imagination. He opened his eyes just in time to see the attendant, his eyes agleam, lowering a long needle toward his throat. The hand that held it was sure and strong, bringing it down in a quick jabbing thrust. Dodd yelled out in fear, grabbing at the wrist; he caught it and held it back, his arm trembling with the strain.
“Get the hell away from me!”
“No,” the attendant said. “You’re mine.”
The needle quivered centimeters from Dodd’s jugular vein.
“I’ve changed my mind!” Dodd yelled at him. “Stop!”
“You signed the papers, you’re already dead.” The attendant grinned in a weird, evil way, and put his whole weight down on the needle. Dodd strained, grunting, holding the needle back. He jerked his head to one side and let the needle drop. It sank into the pillow beside his head, and the poison was injected into the mattress. Dodd shoved him away, rolling off the bed and scrambling to his feet. He kept a wary eye on the attendant as he made his way to the closed door.
“You can’t leave,” the attendant told him. “You’re already in the computer as dead.” There was a mad gleam in the man’s eyes. He picked up a small vial and began refilling the needle.
Dodd felt for the door handle with his left hand, grasped it, and twisted. He pushed it open and backed out into the hallway. He ran right into somebody who jumped on him and wrapped arms and legs around him, squeezing tightly and kissing him. He was startled to see it was Savina.
The attendant appeared in the doorway with the needle and found himself facing Evelyn Sunrunner. “I command the devil out of you,” she said. The attendant gave off a shriek and fell over backwards, writhing for a moment, and then went limp.
Savina was still hugging Dodd. “What are you doing in here?”
she said.
Dodd pointed at the limp attendant. “H-how–-?”
“We saw you outside,” Savina was saying. “Why didn’t you stop when I called you? What happened? We went to your apartment and your TV was all smashed and you didn’t show up all night!”
“I …”
Evelyn tugged at his shoulder, gazing at him with her powerful eyes. “I think we should leave this place.”
Dodd nodded mutely and the three of them made their way out of the building.
39. THE END
Vicky stepped out of the autocab and turned and looked at the Kalman villa. She took a deep breath, then started down the walkway to the front door. I’m a rat, she thought. I’m happy.
She walked with slow steps, hearing the wheels of the autocab rolling away behind her; she didn’t even think to have the cab wait for her. She would be staying here, now.
The front door was unlocked. Vicky walked in, cringing at the shrieks; the baby-thing was making a terrible racket. It filled the entire house, reverberating off the walls. “Mirro?” Vicky called, somewhat timidly. The baby shouted. She walked through the entrance hall and stopped, feeling unsure. She had no idea whether Mirro knew yet or not. Vicky’s friends at Telcron said they had tried to get a hold of Mirro but couldn’t get through. Vicky figured that the police must have broken the news to Mirro, and Mirro was just too upset to answer the phone.