Molly Fyde and the Land of Light
Page 29“It wasn’t. I remember being terrified and powerless to do anything. You were bundled up next to me; I thought they might take you, or do something awful. It must’ve been the fever. And every last one of them wore armor and carried foul weapons of all sorts. Probably a metaphor for my body trying to fight off whatever took me. Or nearly took me. It was one of the last things I remember before we came here. That, and the fight in the commons.”
“What was that about? The fight in the—”
Parsona stopped the swing, cutting off Molly’s question. She rose, gazing out at the grassy square.
“Look, Molly. We have a visitor.”
Molly turned to follow her mother’s gaze. Over the sea of children, she could see a tall, pale man strolling their way like a mast pushing through the mist. His white linen shirt and matching pants sagged on his skeletal frame like becalmed sails. He seemed familiar to Molly, in the ephemeral way this setting did. He was a walking déjà vu and heading right for her, a wide smile on his face.
And something altogether different in his eyes . . .
26
Walter strolled through the lobby and ignored Cole, who was trailing along behind him. The human kept hissing at him, trying to convince him to go back to the room without being overheard. It sounded like he was making fun of how Walter talked.
“We don’t even know that she needs saving,” Cole whispered.
The lobby buzzed with activity. Several Stanleys turned to watch the two boys as they weaved through the organized chaos. Walter felt exposed—conspicuously unattended, as all the other guests had escorts—he hurried toward the elevators. The situation reminded him of many a clumsy heist he’d attempted in the past, and shouldn’t have. Well, he should’ve planned them better, at least.
“I know sshe iss in trouble,” he hissed over his shoulder. “You can sstay here if you like.”
A tour group popped out of one of the elevators—Walter veered toward it, dodging around a Stanley that seemed to be heading for the same elevator. He beat the robot to the lift and pressed the button to close the door. The Stanley stopped and stared at him, confused. Cole, unfortunately, managed to shoulder the android aside and squeeze through the shutting doors.
The human seemed angry.
“Listen, Walter—hey, where’d you get that card?”
Walter looked at the pass he’d swiped through the elevator reader; it differed in color from the ones around their necks. The human might not be quite as dumb as he looked.
“I borrowed it,” he said. He typed away at the keyboard by the elevator, then turned to look at the back wall. The tour schematic of the complex came up. It showed their elevator descending the shaft.
“How do you know how to do that?” Cole asked.
Walter sneered. “Englissh makess me ssound sstupid becausse of Englissh, not becausse of me.” He looked to his handheld computer. “They usse the ssame passsword for everything here,” he said, shaking his silvery head.
••••
Mr. Byrne stomped up the porch, the steps creaking with a heft his frame kept hidden. Parsona rose to give him a hug—Molly remained seated. As the two adults embraced, Byrne peered down at Molly over Parsona’s shoulder.
“Mollie Fyde?”
“Isn’t she lovely?” Parsona asked, breaking off the hug and gazing adoringly at Molly.
“Mr. Byrne,” the man said, holding out a thin hand, pale as a corpse’s.
Molly warily accepted the outstretched hand, then shivered as her small grasp wrapped all the way around his fingers.
Parsona clapped her hands together. “Let’s go inside where there’s plenty of seating, shall we?”
A roaring fire greeted them inside, despite the pleasant weather. Three comfortable chairs faced the hearth, a low table before them.Quaint pictures of frontier life adorned the clapboard walls, and folded quilts were draped over anything that would hold them. An especially ornate one stretched out across one wall like the skin of a cottage drying for the tanner. Random pops sounded from the fire, and worn wood creaked under their feet.
Even the imperfections are perfect, Molly noted.
“I’ll sit in the middle, if you two don’t mind,” Parsona said. “I just can’t believe my luck to have you both visiting.” She lowered herself gracefully to the center chair and turned to Mr. Byrne. He eased himself down into the floral upholstery as well. “This is Mollie’s first visit with me, and I haven’t seen you in almost, what, ten years? Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Quite,” agreed Mr. Byrne. He smiled warmly, looking past Parsona and eying Molly.
“After we catch up, perhaps we could go for a horseback ride, or head into town for a play. They always have the best shows at the opera house.”
“That would be lovely,” said Mr. Byrne. Molly saw him glance to the coffee table and then back to Parsona. “Perhaps the girls could make us some cake or tea?” he asked.
Parsona slapped her thighs. “Why, of course! I say, what manners!” She looked at Molly apologetically. “You can tell I’m out of practice. You two get to know one another while I go see how the girls are coming along.”
The floor squeaked with her passage. As the door flew open, the sounds of laughter and play flooded through like a joyous outburst, then fell silent as it closed.
Molly narrowed her eyes at the man. “Who are you?” she asked.
Byrne folded his fingers together and rested his elbows on the cushioned armrest, leaning toward Molly. “Why, I’m your godfather, Mollie.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, but I am. Your father and I were the closest of friends.”
“Then how come I’ve never heard of you before?” Molly asked.
Byrne looked to the fire; embers spat out on a rug that seemed incapable of burning. “There are many things your father never told you.”
“Yeah? Maybe that’s because I was six years old and I didn’t need to know them yet.”
Byrne shook his head and clucked his tongue. “No, no, no, Mollie. Things he couldn’t tell you.”
Molly thought about the elusiveness of her mom—the one trapped in Parsona’s nav computer—but she refused to let this creep trip her up or cast doubts. This had to be the man her mother wanted her memories kept from.
“You don’t scare me, and I don’t believe your lies,” she said.
He spread his arms; the skin above his eyes rose in surprise, or amusement—it was difficult to tell without hair on his brow.
“Scared? I’m not trying to scare you—”
“Whatever. Just so you know, my last godfather tried to mess with me and I killed him.”
“Ah, yes. Lucin. I heard about that.” He shook his head again. “Shame, really. I should have gotten to the old bastard first.”“Yeah?” Molly challenged. “Why? What did you want with him? What do you want from my mother? Why are you even here?”
He leaned closer, his voice lowered to the level of the crackling flames. “Why, Mollie, I’m simply here to collect what’s mine.”
He lifted a hand, unraveled a long bony finger and stretched it out in Molly’s direction. He didn’t say it, just mouthed the single word with thin lips that gaped open, then formed a small circle.
“You,” he mouthed.
••••
Cole still didn’t believe Molly was in any danger, and he was normally the paranoid one. Recently, he’d been right more often than not, so he decided to trust his gut and assume Molly was fine. He just needed to concentrate on keeping Walter from causing any trouble.
“Are you sure Molly was moved?” he asked.
“Possitive,” Walter said. “Computerss don’t lie.”
“Maybe they do,” Cole said. “Maybe you just can’t smell it on them the way you can on people.”
The boy glanced up from his computer. “They’re programss. They can only do what they’re told.” The elevator dinged, and the doors cracked open. Walter scrunched up his metallic face. “Unlesss they’re told to lie,” he mused aloud.
The elevator opened up on the lobby with the glass partitions. Cold strode out and saw another group standing nearby, waiting to enter a neighboring lift. It dinged open just as Walter strolled out. The Stanley with the group turned to survey the two boys.
Cole froze, speechless. He could see that they were about to get busted for walking around without an escort.
Walter didn’t miss a beat. He turned and looked back into the empty elevator they’d just exited. “After we tour thiss level, can we get ssomething to eat?” he asked, as if there was someone in there.
Cole glanced from Walter, to the empty lift, then over at the Stanley. The android gave him a fake smile and joined his potential clients in the neighboring elevator. The doors closed, meeting with a soft thud.
“We musst hurry,” Walter said. Cole nodded. He watched the boy hold his computer level and stare down at it, swiveling in place as if he needed to line up the virtual with the real in order to get his bearings. He pointed to one of the glass partitions, then started walking in that direction; Cole followed.
The stolen passcard opened the glass door without a problem, and they hurried inside as an elevator dinged behind them. “Down here,” Cole snapped, grabbing Walter and pulling him into the first hallway.
“No,” Walter complained. “Third on the left!”
Cole put his hand on the Palan’s mouth and tried not to recoil at the odd coolness of the boy’s flesh. “In a second,” he whispered. “We have to wait for the lobby to be empty.”
Walter nodded and shoved himself away from Cole, shooting him a nasty look. They remained in the side hall, staring at each other, waiting for the muffled voices to leave. Cole finally looked away from Walter’s sneer and up and down the hallway. The doors looked identical to the ones they’d been shown earlier. A meter square. Stacked four high.
The only difference: these had names on them.
••••
“I’m so happy to see the two of you getting along,” Parsona chirped as she arranged a tray of snacks and tea on the coffee table. It suddenly struck Molly how different this Parsona seemed from the other one she’d been getting to know.
Could they really be the same person? she wondered. Could years of different experiences alter someone this much, or does perpetual happiness do something weird to a person?
“Oh, yes, we’re getting along famously,” Mr. Byrne answered. “And I think we’re going to have a lot of time for catching up.” He smiled at Molly. “More than enough time.”
“I just wish Mortimor could be here. I can’t tell you how lovely that would be.”
“I would love that as well,” Mr. Byrne said through a tight smile.
“Why am I doing this?” she asked out loud.
“Doing what, dear?” Parsona blew across her tea, poised for her first sip.
Molly stood up from her chair. “This.” She spread her arms out. “Pretending that any of this is real. Listening to this creep tell me—”
The room shivered. Molly looked at her feet as the floor waved. Her dress became a brighter shade of yellow, spotted with cheery flowers.
“Now, now,” her mother chided her teasingly. “Let’s not spoil the mood.”
Molly leaned down close to her mom and pointed at Mr. Byrne. “Who in hyperspace is he?”
“Mollie! Language, please.”
But Molly was in no mood for pleasantries. She had no idea how much time she had left, and she couldn’t afford to leave these two together.
“It isn’t a coincidence that we’re here at the same time, Mom. I think this guy followed me here. I think he wants something from you. I—”
“Please,” Parsona said, “let’s settle down, dear.”
Molly opened her mouth to continue, but Mr. Byrne interrupted. “She’s right, Parsona,” he said. “I did come here because of her.”
“What?” Parsona asked.
“I told you,” said Molly.
Mr. Byrne leaned over and put one hand on Parsona’s arm. “I came as soon as the gentlemen here at LIFE called. They said your daughter had arrived to visit with you after sixteen years of neglect.”
He looked up at Molly, an evil grin on his face.
“And I think she came here to kill you.”
••••
Cole peeked around the corner and watched the elevator doors snap shut. They were alone again. He turned to tell Walter, but the boy had already rushed down the hall. Cole set off after him, voicing his doubts: “How could they have gotten her down here this fast? We were with her just half an hour ago.”
“How long did it take uss to get down here?” Walter hissed over his shoulder.
“Maybe she talked them into showing her the body. That was always the prime objective here, anyway.”
“Here sshe iss,” Walter announced. He stopped in front of a column of square doors about thirty meters into the corridor. He glanced at his computer as if to confirm it, but he shouldn’t have needed to. Her drawer was the third from the bottom, the handle a little over two meters off the ground. Beside it, the LCD readout showed, plain as day: “Mollie Fyde.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">