Gideon's Corpse

“Yes.”

“You lie! All of you! End the charade!”

Gideon felt a chill. It almost didn’t seem possible this was the Chalker he knew. And yet it was his voice, distorted by fear and madness.

“We would like to help you,” the megaphone said. “Tell us what you want—”

“You know what I want! Stop the kidnapping! Stop the experiments!”

“I’m going to be feeding you questions,” said Hammersmith’s calm voice in Gideon’s ear. “We’ve got to move fast now; things aren’t going well.”

“I can see that.”

“I swear to God I’m going to blow his brains out unless you stop messing with me! ”

There was an inarticulate scream from the house, a woman’s pleading. And below that, Gideon could hear the high-pitched wailing of a child. It chilled him to the bone. His own childhood memories—his father standing in a stone doorway, Gideon himself running across a green lawn toward him—came back stronger than ever. He tried desperately to tune them out, but every blast of the megaphone just served to bring them back.

“You’re in on it, you bitch!” Chalker screamed to someone at one side of him, “you’re not even his wife, you’re just another agent. This is all bullshit, all of it. But I’m not playing along! I won’t take this anymore!”

The megaphone voice responded, preternaturally calm, as if talking to a child. “Your friend Gideon Crew wants to talk to you. He’s coming out now.”

Fordyce pushed a mike into his hand. “It’s wireless, set up to loudspeakers on the van. Go.”

He pointed toward a bulletproof Plexiglas shelter, narrow and enclosed on three sides and the top, leaving the back open. After a moment’s hesitation, Gideon stepped from behind the ARV into the glass box. It reminded him of a shark cage.

He spoke into the mike. “Reed?”

A sudden silence.

“Reed? It’s me, Gideon.”

More silence. And then, “Oh my God, Gideon, have they gotten to you, too?”

Hammersmith’s voice sounded in his earpiece, and Gideon repeated his words. “Nobody’s gotten to me. I was in town, heard the news, came down here to help. I’m not with anybody.”

“Liar!” Chalker shrieked back, high and quavering. “They’ve gotten you, too! Has the pain started yet? Is it in your mind? In your guts? It will be! Oh yes, it will—!” The voice suddenly stopped, replaced by a violent retching.

“Exploit the pause,” came Hammersmith’s voice. “You need to gain control of the conversation. Ask him, How can I help?”

“Reed,” said Gideon. “How can I help?”

More retching—then silence.

“Let me help, please. How can I help you?”

“There’s nothing you can do! Save your own ass, get away from them. These bastards will do anything—look what they did to me! I’m burning up! Oh Christ, my gut—!”

“Ask him to step out where you can see him,” said Hammersmith in Gideon’s ear.

Gideon paused, recalling the snipers. He felt himself go cold; he knew if any of the snipers had a clear shot, they’d take it. Just like they did with my father…He also reminded himself that Chalker had a family in there, at gunpoint. He could see some men on the roof of the row house. They were getting ready to lower something through the chimney, a device that looked like a video camera. He hoped to hell they knew what they were doing.

“Tell them to turn off the rays!”

“Tell him you really want to help him, but he needs to tell you how.”

“Reed, I really want to help you. Just tell me how.”

“Stop the experiments!” Suddenly Gideon saw movement in the doorway. “They’re killing me! Turn off the rays or I blow his head off!”

“Tell him we will do all that he asks,” came the disembodied voice of Hammersmith. “But he has to step out where you can talk to him face-to-face.”

Gideon said nothing. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of his father out of his head: his father, hands in the air, shot in the face…No, he decided, he wasn’t going to ask that. At least, not yet.

“Gideon,” said Hammersmith, after a long pause, “I know you can hear me—”

“Reed,” Gideon said, cutting off Hammersmith, “I’m not with these people. I’m not with anyone. I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Don’t believe me, then. But hear me out.”

No response.

“You say your landlord and landlady are in on it?”

“Don’t go off script,” warned the voice of Hammersmith.

“They aren’t my landlady and landlord,” came Chalker’s response, ramping up, hysterical. “I never saw them before! The whole thing’s a setup. I’ve never been here before in my life, they’re government agents! I was kidnapped, held for experiments—”

Gideon held up a hand. “Reed, hold on. You say they’re in on it and it’s a setup. What about the kids? Are they part of it?”

“It’s all a setup! Aaaahhh, the heat! The heat!”

“Eight and ten years old?”

A long silence.

“Reed, answer my question. Are the kids acting? Are they conspirators, too?”

“Don’t confuse me!”

More silence. He heard Hammersmith’s voice. “Okay, this is good. Follow up.”

“No confusion here, Reed. They’re children. Innocent children.”

More silence.

“Let them go. Send them out here to me. You’ll still have two hostages.”

The long silence stretched on, and then there was a sudden movement, a high-pitched scream, and one of the kids appeared in the doorway—the boy. He was a little kid with a mop of brown hair, wearing an I ¦ My Grandma T-shirt, and he came out into the light, keening in fear.

For a moment Gideon thought Chalker was releasing the kids. But when he saw the nickel-plated .45 shoved into the boy’s neck, he realized he was wrong.

“You see this? I’m not kidding! Stop the rays or I kill the kid! I’m counting to ten! One, two— ”

The mother was screaming hysterically in the background. “Don’t, please don’t!”

“Shut up, you lying bitch, they’re not your kids!” Chalker turned and fired the gun once into the darkness of the house behind him. The woman’s screaming stopped abruptly.

With one brusque movement, Gideon stepped out from behind the Plexiglas cubicle and walked into the open area before the house. There were shouts, cops yelling at him—get back, get down, the man’s armed—but he kept walking until he was less than fifty yards from the front door.

“What the hell are you doing? Get back behind the barrier, he’ll kill you!” Hammersmith shouted into his earpiece.

Gideon plucked the earpiece out, held it up. “Reed? You see this? You’re right. They were telling me what to say.” He tossed the earpiece on the asphalt. “But not anymore. From now on we talk straight.”

“Three, four, five—”

“Wait, for God’s sake, please.” Gideon spoke loudly. “He’s just a child. Listen to him screaming. You think he’s faking that?”

“Shut up!” Chalker screamed at the boy, and, remarkably, the boy stopped. He stood, trembling and pale, his lips fluttering. “My head!” Chalker shrieked.