The Rising(88)
“And you believed him?”
“I believed he believed what he was saying.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserved it. And that counts as a question. Leaves you one left.”
Marsh fished through his pocket, like a man unused to carrying cash, and managed to emerge with a twenty-dollar bill this time, placing it atop the five. “You could have told me that on the phone.”
“The boy’s not your problem.”
Marsh glanced toward Rathman, who was hovering like a statue at the edge of the blanket, so big he blocked a measure of the sunlight from this angle. “I’ll be the judge of that, Professor.”
“What’s coming is your problem.”
“And what’s coming?”
“They are. Or, should I say, they’re coming back.”
“And you know this how?” Then, when Wilder failed to respond, “I still have nineteen answers left.”
“This boy’s the key. I don’t know how but I know that much. See, I saved you a question.”
“He’s an alien, like all the others,” Marsh said, stiffening.
“He’s an alien, but nothing like the others, the ones you’ve exterminated.” Wilder’s expression changed, almost pleading now. “I came to you because I believed in your cause, believed my experiments had contributed to the problem you were determined to solve.”
“They killed my father, Professor. There’s no place for them in our world.”
“You’re missing the point, Marsh.”
“And what’s that?”
“Eighteen left now. And the point you’re missing is that maybe we had things wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Seventeen. Since you asked, I think this kid is some kind of refugee, or was brought here by refugees.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
“Then this answer is for free. I’m afraid the aliens your teams have been tracking are refugees too and that our real problem is not them so much as who they came here to flee.”
“Really?”
“I’ll give you that one for free too. And, yes, because after meeting this boy it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Wilder stopped and gave his money pot a shove to start it swaying again. “You said you investigated what happened at his house. What did you conclude?”
“That he killed his parents after they learned the truth about him. Same thing with his doctor at the hospital. He couldn’t risk exposure. And you owe me a dollar now.”
“The boy said it was these cyborgs who killed his parents, them and some kind of holographic figure.”
“You’ve been out in the sun for too long, Professor. I believe your brain may be roasting.”
“How many men have you got?”
“With me?”
“In total.”
“Plenty,” Marsh said, thinking of the special-ops veterans Rathman was bringing in to rendezvous here in the San Francisco area.
“You better hope so, because if I’m right you’re going to need every one of them.”
“What I need is to find this boy.”
With that, Marsh flashed a nod to Rathman, who moved closer to the seated Wilder, swallowing the old, bearded man in his shadow.
“Tell me how I can find the boy, Professor.”
“That’s not a question.”
“No, it’s an order.”
“You aren’t listening to what I’ve been saying.”
“Because you haven’t been saying what I need to hear.”
“Which is?”
“How I can catch him once and for all.”
“You might start with the girl who was with him,” Wilder said, after stealing a glance up at the looming Rathman.
“Tell me more about her,” Rathman said.
89
SKETCHBOOK
NIGHT HAD JUST FALLEN when Alex made his way across the adjoining properties into the backyard of his family’s bungalow, his home. He tried not to think of it that way, since this wasn’t really his home anymore and never would be again; all the crime scene tape and the police cruiser parked outside to keep the curious away was more than enough evidence of that. Raiff had parked down the block, out of sight of the house on the chance either the men he called Trackers or more of the ash man’s androids were waiting and watching, his last words weighing heavy on Alex’s mind.
*
“There’s something else you need to know, Alex,” Raiff told him, before he climbed out of the car. “They think it was you.”
“Think what was me?”
“They think you killed your parents and probably your doctor too. That’s the theory they’re proceeding on.”
“Nice of you to mention that,” Alex said, rolling his eyes.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friend.”
“Sam. And she’s more than a friend.”
“You mean…”
“No, not like that. I mean in spite of everything, she stayed with me. She didn’t run. Truth is, Raiff, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her, especially last night.”