F Wilson - The Dark at the End

Sir! the cabbie said in heavily accented English as Jack slammed the taxi door shut behind him. Those people were-

Drive!

They were there first and-

Jack slammed the plastic partition between them and shot him his best glare. Drive, goddammit!

The guy hesitated, then his dark features registered the truth that he wasnt going to win this one.

Where?

There! Jack pointed uptown, where the cab was facing. Anywhere, just move!

As the cab pulled into the bustling morning traffic on Central Park West, Jack twisted to peer through the rear window. The couple hed shoved out of the way to commandeer the taxi stood at the curb, huddling against the March wind as they stared after him in openmouthed shock, but they seemed to be the only ones.

Good as if anything about this could be called good.

He faced front again and checked his arm. His left deltoid hurt like hell. He noticed a bullet hole in the sleeve of his beloved beat-up bomber jacket. He reached inside, touched a reeeally tender spot. His fingers came out bloody.

Swell. Just swell. This was not how the day was supposed to go.

It had begun serenely enough: shower, coffee and kaisers with Gia, then a trip to Central Park West to drop in on the Lady. He knew certain forces wanted to rid the world of her, and had almost succeeded a couple of weeks ago. But hed never expected an armed ambush.

After finding the Ladys apartment empty, hed taken the stairs one floor up to Veilleurs floor.

Even though he could call him Glaeken now, hed trained himself to think of him as Veilleur and Veilleur only for over a year, so shifting to his real name was going to take a little time.

He knocked on the steel door at the top step. Hello?

Come in, Jack, said a voice from somewhere on the other side. Its open.

Inside he found Glaeken slumped in an easy chair in the apartments great room, sipping coffee as he stared out at the morning sky through the panoramic windows.

Jack slowed as he approached, struck by his appearance. He was as big as ever; his shoulders just as broad, his hair as gray, his eyes as blue. But he looked older today. Okay, the guy was old-he measured his age in millennia-but this morning, in this unguarded moment, he looked it. Jack hadnt been by since the Internet mess. Could Glaeken have aged so much since then?

You okay?

He straightened and smiled, and some-but not all-of the extra years dropped away. Fine, fine. Just tired. Magda had a bad night.

His aged wifes memory had been slipping away for years and was little more than vapor now. Glaeken radiated devotion to her, and Jack knew hed hoped theyd grow old together. The old part had worked out, but not the together. Glaeken was alone. Someone named Magda might be in a bedroom down the hall, but the mind of the woman hed fallen in love with had left the building.

Didnt the nurse-?

Yes, she did what she could, but sometimes Im the only one who can calm her.

Jack shook his head. Like the old guy needed more stress in his life.

Have you seen the Lady? I stopped in to check on how shes doing but her place is empty.

She occupied the apartment just below. Couldnt say she lived here, because the Lady wasnt alive in the conventional sense.

You just missed her. Glaeken gestured to the window. She went for her morning walk in the park.

Really? When did she start that?

Almost a week now.

Jack stepped to the glass and stared down at Central Park, far below. A little to the left, ringed by winter-bare trees, the grass of the Sheep Meadow showed brown through patches of leftover snow.

I take it shes recovering then?

Still weak but feeling a little stronger every day.

Well, I guess after being wheelchair-bound and damn near dead a couple of weeks ago, thats not bad.

Would that I had a fraction of her resilience.

Jack scanned the park but couldnt pick her out. Even though the park was relatively empty due to the cold, the strollers looked too small from up here. All his uncles looked like ants, as the joke went.

Can you spot her?

Glaeken rose and stood beside him, leaning into the sunlight as he squinted below. My eyes arent what they used to be.

Whats she wearing?

One of those house dresses she favors lately. Its yellow today.

Thats all? Its freezing- He caught himself. Never mind.

Glaeken shot him a quick glance but said nothing.

Right. He knew. The Lady didnt feel cold. Or heat. Or pain. And her clothes werent really clothes, simply part of whatever look she was presenting to the world. Shed worn the form of Mrs. Clevenger before her near-death experience and seemed to be stuck in that form ever since.

Glaeken said, You know how she likes to be out among her children.

Jack spotted a bright yellow someone strolling in the near half of the meadow.

Got her. He turned away from the window. Ill catch up to her.

Shell be back soon.

Jack shook his head. Got things to do. Todays the day I start looking for the R-Man.

You can say his name now.

I know. But its geekier to have code names for him.

Glaeken looked at him. Geekier?

Dont worry about it. Just me running at the mouth.

I hope it doesnt indicate that you are in any way taking him lightly.

Believe me, Im not. Ive seen what he can do.

Just my way of coping, he thought as he headed for the elevator.

Glaekens elevator had two buttons-one for the top floor and one for the lobby. One of the perks of owning the building.

At street level, Jack waved to the doorman and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Central Park loomed just across the street. He strode to the corner of Sixty-fourth and waited for the light.

Hed developed enormous respect, maybe even a sort of love for the citys traffic signals after theyd gone down during the Internet crash. Days of pure hell followed. They were back in working order now, though not all in sync yet. The Internet, however, still had a ways to go before it could call itself cured. The virus that had brought it down-and the citys traffic and transit systems along with it-was still replicating itself in unvaccinated regions of the Web. Cell phones were back up and running, much to everyones relief, though local outages were still a problem.

He adjusted the curved bill of his Mets cap lower over his face. Working lights meant working traffic cams. Designed to catch red-light runners, they recorded tons of pedestrians every minute. Couldnt go anywhere these days without some goddamn camera sucking off a bit of your soul.

He crossed with the green and trotted a block uptown to one of the park entrances. He stopped at the edge of the fifteen-acre field known as the Sheep Meadow. In the old days it had lived up to its name, with a real shepherd and his flock housed in what was now Tavern on the Green. Nowadays, in warmer weather, hordes of sun worshippers littered the grass. None of those on this blustery March day, making the Ladys yellow dress easy to pick out.

He spotted her ambling along the tree line at the northern end. Gray-haired Mrs. Clevenger had been a fixture in his hometown when he was a kid, but shed always worn black. To see her in any other color, especially yellow, was jarring.

As he started toward her, he noticed the stares she was attracting. People had to think she was a little off in the head, strolling around in this temperature wearing only a thin, sleeveless housedress.

He was about fifty yards away, and readying to call out, when four men stepped out of the trees, raised semiautomatic pistols, and began firing at her.

Jack froze for a shocked instant, thinking he had to be hallucinating, but no mistaking the loud cracks and muzzle flashes. He yanked the Glock 19 from the holster at the small of his back and broke into a run.