COSMOS magazine

Sunday, June 22

Unbelievably, Wayne's battered old suitcase was open on the bed when Fern followed him in after a long stewing silence. She stood watching wordlessly as Wayne pulled newly washed shirts from hangers in the closet and folded them carefully. At last, beside herself, she forced calm into her voice. "Honey, will you please tell me what's going on with you? A police officer called here yesterday and told me—" She swallowed hard. "Told me Nathan Pritchett is dead. He's been murdered."

"Tough shit," Wayne said. "Guess you've blown the money you gave him. Why'd the cops call here?"

"They think he died sometime after your appointment. Some criminal. They wanted to talk to you, find out if you'd seen anything suspicious. It's a rough part of the city, they say."

Wayne grunted.

"I told them I had no idea where you were," she said. "I've just about had it with you, Wayne. I don't hear a word out of you for two days and then here you are, looking like something the cat drug in. Lucky I didn't have to work this weekend, or I'd have lost my job not showing up again."

"I have to go take care of some things." He did not look up at her.

"Wayne, this is serious. I talked to poor Dr. Pritchett, it must have been just before—" Her voice trailed away.

"I'm trying to get better, Fern. Can you just trust me this one time? I promise, this will be the last time I'll ask to use your car."

Regaining her resolve, she said, "You've told me this before, Wayne. But it never gets better. It just keeps getting worse. Do you have any idea what you look like? You're right, Wayne. You need to take care of some things."

"Don't you raise your voice to me!" For the first time since she had come in, he met her eyes.

"Wayne Elliot, as your wife, I'm entitled to know what's going on with you. I'm afraid of you, do you realize that? Half the time you don't even seem like you're in your right mind. Do you want to know what I talked to Dr. Pritchett about?" Fern stepped closer, too angry herself to be afraid of him.

Wearily, he sat down on the edge of the bed and held out his arms. "Listen, Babe. I promise you on my honour, I'm going to get better."

Not quite ready yet to relax, Fern stepped into the circle of his arms and leaned her head down against his. "Wayne, honey, I want to believe you."

"You know what I dream of? Growing old here with you, sitting and rocking on the front porch. But I have to work out some things first."

"What things, Wayne?" A current of fear passed through her body.

"I can't— Some day you'll understand." Not unkindly he pushed her away, got up, continued packing his suitcase.

"I don't know what to make of you." She regarded him with fright and weary concern. "Take the car. Do what you have to do. But you should know that Dr. Pritchett thought you need to be in a hospital, to keep you from hurting yourself." The good Lord preserve us, it couldn't have been Wayne who killed Nathan? Could she be sure? She added, trembling: "Or somebody else."

"First I gotta get some sleep," he said.

Monday, June 23

Jill opened her eyes, stretched, smiled at the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window. For a few seconds she was sure this was going to be a good day, until she remembered that Alex was dying. Moaning, she buried her head under a pillow, wishing she could fall back into sleep, forget about getting up and going to work.

Even with Alex's friend Daria along, Saturday's trip to the lake had been a dismal failure. The two kids had quarrelled on and off throughout the day. Jill had found herself fighting to keep from crying.

She and the boy had both moped around the house Sunday. When Jill went into the office in the afternoon Alex tired himself out by whining some more, slept for a couple of hours, and woke up in an even worse mood, threatening to run away from home. But he had eaten a good dinner and laughed at all the right places when Jill told him a bedtime story.

She dragged herself out of bed, made a strawberry smoothie, Alex's favourite breakfast, and somehow found the strength to smile cheerfully when she went in to wake him.

"Morning, Mom." He smiled up at her. "I dreamed I was a ten foot tall plastic fork."

"What was it like being a ten foot tall plastic fork?"

"A hundred foot tall boy tried to put me next to a spoon." Squeaky with laughter, he rolled out of bed, and Jill decided with relief that the worst must be over.

But when she let him off at summer day camp, the last thing he said before he walked away was, "Can we go feed Paul's mice this afternoon?"

"We'll see."

Monday, June 23

If there hadn't been so damned many people around, and if Payback hadn't been so nervous, the University of Texas campus would be almost pleasant, what with all the trees and even a creek. Months ago, Fern had given Wayne her credit card "for emergency use only". Payback bought himself a light weight jacket and backpack at the University Co-op Store. With this get up on, he'd look enough like a grad student. Wasn't much of a plan, but better than nothing. Find Gibson, maybe talk to him, maybe use force; play things by ear.

He called campus directory assistance. They told him Dr. Gibson's building and office number. A campus map and an hour or so wandering around took him to the Experimental Science Building. A guard was posted on duty at the door, but Payback walked around to the side of the building, found an exit door that hadn't closed properly. Absolutely no sense of security. That was okay, made his life a whole lot easier, even if he was nervous as a dog with three tails. He stepped inside, snicked the door shut behind him. The small sound echoed in the stairwell. Payback leaned against the nearest wall, eyes closed, counted to a hundred. As his pulse slowed, his fright receded. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, climbed one floor, opened another heavy fireproof door into an antiseptic hallway. No one in sight.

He turned right, walked the length of the hallway, looking at the names on the doors. Like the ones at MTJ, these doors had big labels: DANGER! RADIOACTIVE, BIOHAZARD. WARM ROOM. Footsteps behind him. He turned, seeking for something to say if the person asked him what he was doing here. Unnecessary. Payback could have been invisible or something; the young man opened a cabinet door and rummaged around. Either he was deliberately ignoring Payback (smartass scientists, even when they were students, too good to pay attention to lesser mortals), or perhaps the guy was so preoccupied he wasn't paying attention to anything around him. Shit, Payback could have snuck up behind him and cracked him over the head, and he'd never know what hit him.

Payback took the stairs. Offices on the next floor showed names on the doors. Two older men walked out of one into the corridor. Absorbed in their conversation, they gave Payback only the briefest glance. He began to relax. Easy. Going to be easy.

Finally he located Paul Gibson's insignificant office on the third floor, next to the stairwell. The door stood open, but no one was there, just two empty desks. Payback found a straight backed wooden chair and sat down to wait, running possible scenarios through his mind, planning what to say if Paul was friendly, what he would do if Paul tried to run out on him or call the cops. He was desperately sleepy and wished he could go outside into the open air and sun and walk around for a while. No, if he did that he might miss his chance, and he couldn't afford to spend another day in Austin. Twice he slumped forward, caught himself, jerked back upright.

Someone was hovering over him. Fern? He lifted his head, tried to remember where he was.

"Hey! Did you want to see me?" A brown haired woman was standing next to him, looking exasperated.

"Paul Gibson. I'm looking for Paul Gibson." Payback's throat was dry, his voice hoarse.

"I'm his office mate. He's probably up in the lab."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." His mouth felt gummy. "Um, could you tell me how to get to the lab?" What the hell. This person had already seen him here. She might as well tell him what he needed to know.

"Stairs up one flight, turn right almost to the end of the hall. I'm not sure what the room number is, but you should be able to find Paul once you get there."

"Thanks." Payback cursed himself for nodding off. Hey, once he'd taken the drug he'd be smart enough to avoid the police even if this bitch gave a good description of him. He was just lucky as hell Wayne hadn't taken over while he was asleep. As he turned to leave, she asked if he was working for Paul. Still groggy, Payback mumbled, "A friend, y'know?"

"Well, cool, but no one's supposed to come up here without an ID badge. Visitors are supposed to sign in and get a name tag." Her own tag, he noticed, said she was RACHEL GROSSMAN (BIO).

"No one told me. Maybe I should go back down and get one."

Grossman shrugged. "Whatever."

A clock in the hallway showed the time as 5:06. Shit! He must have been half-dozing for hours. Gibson might already have gone home for the day. Well, what the fuck, Payback told himself. I can spend the night in the lab if I have to.

Monday, June 23

Alex was all smiles when Jill picked him up from camp in the afternoon. "We're going to the lab, right?"

"Okay, Sweetie. I'll take you to the lab." She felt her own mood lift at the thought of seeing Paul. "C'mon. Let's go." She took his hand, but he shook it off, too old for that. They walked across the parking lot, Alex running ahead like any ten year old kid eager to get somewhere. She signed her name and they accepted tags from the bored guard at the front desk.

Monday, June 23

The third floor seemed to consist entirely of laboratories. Four doors opened off the end of the hall, but none bore a sign or a name. Payback considered walking boldly into one of them and asking for Paul Gibson but decided against it. Even if he'd soon be a genius, no reason to go out of his way to make things harder for himself. Made a lot more sense to look around without drawing attention. He put his hand into his pocket to feel the comforting hardness of his 9 mm Luger pistol.

At the first door on his left, he bent down, hidden by the work bench nearest the door, and slowly moved into the room, concentrating on keeping each footfall silent. He reached a tall cabinet he could hide behind, peered around the edge without standing up. Nobody else was in the room.

I'll just stay here where it's safe for a little while, he thought. This could be my last day to live. Something could go wrong. What if this guy Paul has a gun too? What if he gives me poison instead of the drug? What if he gives me the drug but it kills me instead of making me smarter? Those people said they'd only used it on mice. This is like when Melody went to the hospital. They were supposed to cure her, then she died. She died, the careless, heartless bastards killed her. Now I could die. What if he tries to run and I have to shoot him?

He heard footsteps and laughter; people coming down the hallway. As they passed the door to the room where he was hiding, one of them—sounded like a kid—broke into a run.

"Paul! I've come to take care of the Mus musculus!" a boy's voice called. The odds were not high that more than one Paul would be up here; Payback had found his man. But damn it, this was not the way he had planned things.

"Alex!" A man, presumably Gibson, came to the door of the lab next door. "Hello there, buddy! Come in, both of you." Yes! It was the same voice Payback had heard at MTJ, the same accent.

"Couldn't let the mice go hungry." A woman. She sounded nervous. Payback could surely relate to that.

They moved away from the door, and he could no longer hear what they were saying. Now what? He had counted on finding Paul alone. Wait until these newcomers left? But what if they all left together? Of course they would. It must be Gibson's wife and kid. Payback cursed his bad luck.

He should do it now, even if it meant killing a kid. It was a trade-off. Two adults and a kid in exchange for the world. But what if he wasn't able to handle three people, if they overpowered or tricked him? A kid was no threat to him physically, but still, that made it three to one. One of them could get away and go for help. Christ, maybe there was a fourth person in the lab, just not saying anything yet. He'd heard of lone gunmen terrorizing large groups of people, sure, but those guys had automatic weapons, high powered rifles. That psycho in Virginia. He nervously touched his one handgun.

His mouth tightened. He knew what Wayne's father would think of him, standing here scared shitless about facing one man, a woman, and a kid. No question. The bastard would say that Payback was a cowardly loser.

This time he couldn't afford to screw up. Too much was riding on it. Just go for it, play it by ear, figure out what to do as he went along. He looked at his watch: 6:36. His heart was thundering. He'd give the visitors until 6:45 to leave. If they weren't gone by then, they'd pay the price. Again he gripped the pistol in his pocket and waited.