Semblance of Eden 9 ~ Prophecy

 

 

Three days; that's how long it takes to cross the dunes to Babylon. You can't travel when the suns are high unless you want to cook the engine like a bug under a magnifying glass, and so most of that time - too much of that time - is waiting. I could almost envy Marlowe; he crawls into the backseat of the car, slips on a pair of wraparound sunglasses and sleeps those five hours.

Jesus, I couldn't sleep if I wanted to.

I think... I should be edgy, my nerves should be so fried they're black as burnt toast. But I'm calm. And still, I don't try to sleep. I chain smoke instead, slowly and steadily, and watch the twin suns slide across the sky.

On the third day, we find a little shade beneath an outcropping of rocks and rest there out of the heat like lizards. In the distance, I can make out, just barely, a spike of polished metal like a pillar of light on the horizon.

It's not just a trick of the heat.

It's the Babylon City Plant, largest one still operational, they say. Beneath the town's streets, hundreds of miles of piping and wires, a stainless steel network spreading out and out like a web to thousands of buildings. The foundations were laid decades ago by men and women who never lived to see their city flourish.

And because it did flourish, we applaud their act of faith. A leap from the temple's highest tower, or maybe just a long walk off a short pier.

There's a rustling from the back seat abruptly, and a yawn. "Go back to sleep," I say, flicking my cigarette out the open car door and into the sand. I've been savoring the smooth progression of one smoke to another since we stopped here, like moments until death. "We can't leave for at least another hour."

Marlowe sits up, scratching his nose idly as he stifles another yawn against his palm. "Too hot."

"Never stopped you before."

He takes off his sunglasses - I see all this in reverse in the rearview mirror - wipes them carefully on the frayed hem of his shirt before putting them back on. And he shrugs, limp and lopsidedly, like a marionette. "Besides, I don't feel like it."

"Well, don't expect me to entertain you."

Another lazy shrug, and Marlowe leans forward a little. I've left my pistol sitting on the dashboard, shimmering from the heat, and even with the dark glasses I can tell that's what has got his attention. I pick it up by the barrel, and even through my gloves I can feel how hot it's gotten over the last few hours. "Let me see what you can do, kid."

I offer him the gun, and he jumps a little, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He's blushing as he pushes them back up. "What? Like, shooting?"

I roll my eyes. "No, I wanted you to find three more just like it and show my how you juggle."

"Ahh, Miss Dominique..." He takes the gun from me, holding it up before his face like he expects it to grow legs at any moment and make a break for freedom. "I don't know how to use this thing."

"Don't be cute, kid." My patience is running thin as my stash of smokes right about now.

"I'm not cute. I've never even held one of these before."

He's not kidding, I realize suddenly. I can see by the way he curls his fingers around the pistol; carefully, like he expects it to go off all on its own. So, let me get this straight... "You're a hired gun without a gun?"

His lips curl a little, into a pout. "Hey, I just haven't gotten around to that part yet, okay? I can do other stuff..."

"Really?" It's not that I don't believe him. Even Midvalley has a few things going for him, and thoroughness is one of them; he wouldn't have recruited this kid based on good intentions. "Like what?"

"Well, I..." The leather upholstery creaks as he leans closer, bracing his elbows on the backs of the seats. "I know things before they happen. I can just tell..."

"You mean... you can see the future?"

"Sometimes." I can't blame Marlowe for taking my expression just then the wrong way. "Forget it," he mutters. "I don't expect you to believe me."

I sigh; catching him by the jaw and turning him back to face me before he can escape into the backseat. "Kid, look, I've watched my boss take down a room full of armed men without lifting a finger. Why the hell would I have trouble swallowing your story?"

"Yeah." He squirms a little. "Yeah, I guess."

He's not used to talking about his talents. Fine then, that makes two of us. And I hear myself say, "Show me."

He blinks. "I... don't know, Ms. Dominique. It doesn't always work the way I want it to, you know? I can't always tell what I'm going to see."

"Show me," I say again, "and I'll teach you how to use that." I nod to the gun; he's forgotten about it by now, but it's still clenched tightly in his hand.

"Oh?" He glances down at the pistol, turning it slightly so the sun catches on the barrel, splashing the ceiling with light. His lower lip catches thoughtfully between his teeth. "Okay. It's a deal."

When he looks back, his eyes are a little bluer than they were before, or maybe that's just my imagination. He reaches for me with one hand. "Umm, I'm not a pervert or anything, Ms. Dominique. Really. Sometimes it just helps me focus a little better, okay?"

I nod once, suddenly feeling a little foolish, though I can't quite pinpoint the reason. Maybe it's that I suddenly can't imagine what I was ever hoping to learn from this. Even the manner of my death won't be news to me now.

But his fingertips are already dusting the hair from my temple, and he grins nervously. His eyes meet mine. Yes, definitely bluer now, and his pupils have receded to pinpoints at their centers, almost nonexistent. "Okay, here I go."

He falls silent, and I wait. I can't help but be a little disappointed; I had expected it to feel like something, expected there to be a bit of a show. But he just stares at me in silence, and after a minute his eyes glaze over and he's not watching me anymore, he's watching some spot a thousand miles beyond me.

"Hey, Kid." He doesn't move. Great. This is why I hate working with partners... "Kid, are you awake" Hey! Mar-"

"Legato."

He speaks to suddenly, that I almost jump. I look at him again, just to be sure, but his gaze is still unfocused. He's still as out of it as a kid coming down off Novocain. "What the hell are you talking about?" But I really don't really think he can hear me.

"You're standing on a ridge, sort of a stone shelf cut into the face of a cliff. You know it well; you used to come here a lot, but that was many years ago..." He pauses, the corner of his mouth twisting upward. "You're thinking, you've been running full speed and now you've finally hit a wall. You're thinking... the only thing you can do is jump, but you're not sure if the fall will be enough to kill you..."

"Kid?" My voice sounds hollow, brittle as a skeleton. It's not until then that I realize I've forgotten to breathe. "What about Legato?"

"He's there too. He's been there... longer than even you know. And you don't turn around, because you know he's waiting for you to turn so you can see his eyes when he..."

"Marlowe!" And suddenly I'm wheeling back, out of his reach. My ribs hit the steering wheel and the horn coughs a long, steady note across the desert. Overhead, a vulture croaks out a strangled response, and across from me, Marlowe blinks twice and shakes his head.

"Oh, Ms. Dominique. Did I say something wrong?" He smiles, embarrassed and apologetic like he just saw up my skirt or something. "I told you, I can't really control what I'm gonna see all the time?"

The back of my neck, the space between my shoulder blades are cold, damp with sweat? "No. No, I'm fine." Those last few words - whatever he saw at the end there - I just couldn't make myself listen, as though hearing it out would have been the same thing as resigning myself to it. "Ha, that's bullshit anyway, right?"

He looks at me seriously; I think it's the first time I've ever seen him serious. "You think you can change the future, Ms. Dominique..."

And I hesitate. I can feel heat just beneath my left breast, a bruise already beginning to form where I struck the steering wheel. It's a small pain compared to the clawing at the back of my skull whenever I replay Marlowe's words. "Kid, I think there are a lot of choices to be made before the future catches up with us."

He laughs softly, hiding it behind his hand. "Okay, Ms. Dominique. That sounds fair to me."

I need a cigarette, something to do with my hands to keep them from shaking. I grip the steering wheel tight, and that seems to help a little. I can't keep still any longer, but it takes a few stabs to get the car key into the ignition.

In the rearview mirror, Marlowe is looking at me over the top of his sunglasses like I've just grown another arm. "When we get into town, Kid," I hear myself say, "just stay alert.”