The Chromosomal Code, page 17
He heard footsteps outside, and pried harder.
There were more footsteps, and voices, but no one entered before he had worked the grille loose. The opening he had uncovered was big enough for him to crawl through, and he could see that the shaft beyond was not completely dark. He hauled himself up and into it.
The shaft was vertical; he found himself hanging in midair, his hands on the sides of the shaft, his feet still on the lower edge of the opening. He was facing another ventilation grille on the other side of the shaft, identical to the one he had removed.
He rearranged himself carefully, first moving his feet forward into the shaft and lowering himself back so that he was sitting in the opening he had entered through. That blocked off most of his light, and left his backside a perfect target should anyone enter the restroom, but it seemed necessary. Then he worked his feet up the opposite side until they were resting against the other grille, forcing his back up against the upper edge of the opening. With his hands braced firmly to either side, he kicked out as hard as he could.
The spring clips holding the other grille gave, and it fell rattling onto the floor beyond. He fell after it, and landed sprawling on top of it, staring at a tiled floor.
There were loud female voices shouting at him. He scrambled to his feet and realized that he was in another women's restroom.
“Sorry, folks,” he said, and dashed for the door.
He emerged into a small restaurant; a few patrons glanced up at the clamor the two women who had been in the restroom with him were making.
“My mistake,” he said, and walked as calmly as he could out the door onto the street.
Off to his left a pair of blue-clad clones were guarding a fire exit; he turned away quickly, before they could spot the mirrored sunglasses that had somehow stayed in place throughout his escape, and walked off up the street adjusting his shoulder bag.
Chapter Eleven
There were guards at every exit from the dome. The building he had escaped from was being searched repeatedly, room by room, though of course the two opened grilles had been discovered almost immediately; apparently the government thought he might have doubled back. The public-address system was making announcements concerning him one after another. Checkpoints were being set up all over the city; hundreds of clones had been flown in, and robots as well.
He had covered himself by browsing in bookstores and video shops, looking through department stores, blending with crowds wherever possible. He wished that he had some way of finding out what was really happening; the government bulletins were not very informative, and there was nowhere he could sit down and watch a regular news program. The news might be censored, but it was still independently run, not another branch of the government.
He knew he couldn't hide forever; in fact, he doubted he could last out the night without someplace safe to sleep. For the moment he wanted time to think, but he was too busy running and hiding to find any.
There was a small park at the edge of the dome, looking out over the surrounding mountains; it was not a particularly safe place, since clone patrols were steadily circling the dome in case he tried to cut his way out, but it was quiet and peaceful, and he paused there for a moment.
It was obvious that he needed a miracle. Unless the aliens gave up or toned down their search, they were going to find him; there was very little doubt of that. They were not going to give up; he had what they had come to Earth for. If they did give up, it could only be because they had found the data somewhere else, which would be even worse news than his own capture – after all, he still had the flashbomb in his pack, and could suicide for the greater good.
Of course, it wasn't likely that after a dozen years of searching, two people with yellow eyes would turn up in such quick succession. Starkman certainly hoped that there were no others.
If the aliens captured him, then either they would get the information they wanted or he would die – probably at his own hands, with the flashbomb. Neither prospect appealed to him at all.
If they got the information, then they would almost certainly destroy him and the rest of the world to keep it secret. Then they would go home and fight and probably win their civil war.
If it weren't secret, there'd be no need to destroy him, and the war would probably go on without a winner, but with a lot of losers.
It wouldn't go on very long, though; there were only so many stars to blow up in the Galactic Empire. And there would be no reason to kill him or destroy Earth.
That possibility began to run around in his thoughts.
Then, abruptly, all thought of interstellar warfare vanished; a young girl was running along beside the railing that separated the park from the service area that ran along the inside of the dome. There was something very familiar about her; for a moment he thought that his sister must have had a daughter, but then he recognized her.
“Kathy!” he called. “Kathy Saslov!”
The girl turned around and stared at him in astonishment. After a moment recognition dawned. “Mr. Starkman!” she said, “Everybody's looking for you!”
“I know. Is your mother around?”
“She's over there, with Charlie,” Kathy answered, pointing back the way she had come. “You look different with your hair cut. Are you really sick, like the government says?”
“No, I'm not. I've got something the government wants, and they think that people will help them more if they say I've got some sort of horrible disease.”
“Oh.” She considered. “I figured it might be something like that, because if you were sick, how come we didn't catch it? They asked us a lot of questions about you at the big government building in Capital this morning, but I didn't tell them anything.”
“Thanks. I don't guess there was much you could have told them, anyway; you didn't know where I was any more than they did.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn't tell them anything anyway.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Where did you say your mother was?”
“Back there.” She pointed again, and Starkman followed the direction indicated, strolling along casually in case anyone was watching. He waved farewell to Kathy, and she waved in return.
The railing ran along a gentle, almost imperceptible curve in the direction Kathy had pointed, with a broad walkway alongside, and Starkman could see that there was nobody on it for quite some distance. A smaller walk branched off a few meters away, however, and curved off around a clump of trees, out of sight. He headed for that, and as he rounded the trees he saw Jenny and Charlie, walking hand in hand toward him, arguing about something. Like Kathy, they wore new, modern clothing, but were very definitely recognizable; both still wore their hair long, not in the shorter style prevalent in Capital and New Denver. Jenny's hair flowed down her back and around her shoulders in a thick black wave; aboard the ship it had been largely hidden by her old coat. He found it wonderfully attractive.
“Ms. Saslov!” he called.
She looked up, and made a wordless noise of surprise.
He continued to walk toward them; as he drew near she asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Capital!”
“I got out before they set up the blockade,” he answered. “Except now I'm stuck in New Denver, and they've got this place blockaded, too.”
“Oh.” She looked flustered. “That must be what all those men were for when we arrived.”
“Look, if you want, I'll go away and leave you alone.”
“No, that's all right.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that. It's good to see a familiar face.”
She smiled. “I'm hardly that familiar; we only met on the ship.”
“You're a lot more familiar than anyone else I've seen lately.”
“I suppose I am, at that.” She smiled again.
There was an awkward moment of silence, and the smile faded away.
“Why are they after you?” she asked at last. “I know you're not sick; I was with you on the ship for three days, and you didn't have any five-day flu, or you'd be dead by now.”
“It's complicated. They need someone with yellow eyes.”
“Why?”
“It's very complicated; I don't want to take the time to explain here.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Nowhere. Would I be out in the open if I had somewhere safe to go? I rented an apartment, but they found it.”
“We have an apartment. I guess you could stay with us for a while.”
“I was hoping you'd say that, I'll admit. It might be dangerous, though; they'll stop at nothing to get hold of me.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “I'm not worried about that.”
“I hoped you'd say that, too. Are you doing anything in particular right now?”
“I was just taking the kids for a walk; we wanted to see more of the city.”
“Would you mind very much if the walk were cut short? There'll be a perimeter patrol along any minute, looking for me, and I'd like to get inside somewhere as soon as possible.”
“A perimeter patrol?”
“Yes. They've got squads of zombies checking around the edge of the dome to make sure I haven't slipped out somewhere.”
“My Lord, they are looking for you, aren't they? We're on top of a mountain! Or are there always patrols, just on general principles?”
“I don't know for sure,” Starkman admitted. “It doesn't really matter; the results will be the same if they find me.”
“That's true.” She looked about, then called, “Kathy! Kathy, come on! We're going back to the apartment now!”
Kathy appeared, strolling around a bush, and asked, “Is Mr. Starkman coming with us?”
“Yes, he is; he hasn't got anywhere to stay, so we'll be putting him up tonight. Now, come on.”
The girl came, as did her brother, who had yet to say a word in Starkman's presence. Jenny led the way, with Starkman at her side and the children a pace or two behind, out of the park and into the city.
The sun was reddening in the west and the streets were awash in the shadows of the buildings, and swarming with ground cars as the working population headed for home. The sidewalks were full, and Starkman had little trouble in going unnoticed in the crowds. It helped that he had a woman and children with him, and even more that he wore modern clothing. He knew he would never have avoided capture even this long without the aid of others.
There were no aircars in sight; he wondered whether they were legal under the dome. They certainly weren't necessary; New Denver was nowhere near as big as its namesake. Jenny had just pointed out a tower ahead as her new home when the public address speakers crackled to life.
“Attention, please. This is an official announcement. To aid in the ongoing search for the missing plague-carrier, John Starkman, the government has decided to place a temporary ban on the wearing of sunglasses. Until further notice, wearing sunglasses will be grounds for detention and a fine of up to ten thousand units, effective immediately. This directive includes all devices that serve to conceal the eyes, or to modify their color. All citizens are asked to cooperate.”
Starkman glanced around. People were stopping and staring at the speakers; the announcement must seem utterly senseless to the average citizen, he was sure. Still, people had a tendency to obey authority automatically, at least until it became actively inconvenient or uncomfortable.
“Come on,” he said, “Let's get inside.” He picked up his pace, hoping that the children would be able to keep up.
After a brief hesitation, the announcer was continuing. “The missing man, John Starkman, is described as being approximately 180 centimeters in height, weighing around seventy-five or eighty kilos, and when last seen was wearing a full beard and shoulder-length hair, all brown. His outstanding peculiarity is a hereditary discoloration of the eyes, which are yellow. Any citizen seeing any person with yellow eyes is asked to report the sighting immediately to the nearest government office. A priority code has been established in the comnet; if you see this man, and no government official is convenient, tell Max. Max has been programmed to react appropriately to the name Starkman; we regret any inconvenience this may cause to other persons with similar names. John Starkman, recently brought in from Pennsylvania, is believed to be carrying a mutated disease virus. He was last seen, confirmed, near the Capital spaceport, but reliable unconfirmed sightings have been made in the cities of Capital, New Denver, and Rio de Janeiro. Citizens of these cities are asked to be vigilant.”
“Rio?” Jenny glanced at him. “Were you in Rio?”
“No; that one's a mistake, I guess.” It occurred to him that the Watch or the Underground might be faking sightings to confuse the government.
They reached the door of the building and hurried in; Jenny led the way to the elevators.
They managed to get a car to themselves; when the door had closed, Jenny said, “We're on the top floor. The kids wanted the view.” She punched the appropriate button, and the elevator rushed upward.
Starkman was less unready this time, but the sudden vertical acceleration still bothered his stomach slightly.
The Saslov apartment had a large living-room/dining-room/kitchen, three small bedrooms, and a single bathroom. One end of the living room was mostly glass, providing a splendid view of the city from forty stories up – though there were several taller buildings blocking out portions of the landscape.
There was a computer console similar to that Starkman had seen in the Watchman's apartment; Jenny noticed him studying it, and remarked, “I can't use it very much myself, but I thought it would be good for the kids to have; it's got as much service as I thought I could afford. I haven't really gotten used to this new money, though, and I haven't gotten work; the government made me a loan.”
“I have some money; I can pay for my stay here.”
“It would be welcome, I admit it. Umm. . .Where did you get any money? The government wouldn't have loaned you anything.”
“No, they didn't, but a friend in Capital did.”
“Oh.” She thought that over for a moment. “If you have friends in Capital, what are you doing here?”
“Hiding. They were already searching Capital. Now that they're searching here, too, it doesn't matter very much, but at the time coming here seemed like a good idea.”
“You still haven't told me why they're looking for you. Why are you so important? Are you a carrier of some sort?”
“Not exactly.” He settled onto a convenient couch. “Have a seat, and I'll explain.”
She sat, and he explained. She asked questions along the way, and the sun was down well before he had finished. Kathy and Charlie listened along with their mother.
After he had described his escape from his own apartment and a little of his subsequent wanderings, he wound up with, “And then I saw Kathy in the park.”
Jenny sat silently for a moment, they said, “Do you know how paranoid all that sounds?”
“I guess so.”
“Are you sure that's the truth?”
“No. I can't be sure. But if it's not, then why are they looking for me? Maybe I am a little paranoid, but they really are out to get me, and you know it.”
“It's all so bizarre. The world conquered by aliens looking for some secret formula planted in your chromosomes.”
“I know. If the Watcher told the truth, though, that is what happened – and I can't think of any better reason for the aliens to have come here. It explains everything, doesn't it? The sudden ice age, the convenient arrival of the fleet, the blood samples, everything.”
“And if they find you, and get what they're after, you think they'll destroy the entire world.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what I should do? I should kill you myself. I don't want my kids or myself to wind up flash-fried by an exploding sun, and you say that's what will happen if they find you alive.”
“Look, if they capture me, I promise I'll kill myself.” He fished out the flashbomb. “I do have this.”
“That's fine if you get a chance to use it.”
“If that's the way you feel, maybe I had better just go, before you work up the nerve to commit murder.”
“No, stay. It's all right, really. I'll hide you as long as I can.”
“Thank you.”
“I don't know how long it will be, though.”
“I realize that. I'll be grateful for whatever you can manage. Maybe I can think of some way out of this mess.”
“I hope so.” She glanced uneasily at the flashbomb. “I have to get the kids some dinner; you just make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
She rose and headed for the kitchenette; Starkman leaned back and rested.
He had intended to just rest his eyes for a few seconds, but the next thing he knew he was being awakened by Charlie tugging at his hand.
“Dinner's ready,” the boy said.
Jenny was silent throughout the meal, but Kathy and Charlie kept him busy answering questions. He told them of his escape from his apartment in dramatic and sometimes exaggerated detail, and elaborately described the alien he had seen.
He found himself enjoying it. It had been a long, long time since he had been able to hold a friendly, relaxed conversation with anybody, and never in his adult life had he had a chance to speak at any length with children. The few children he had encountered during the years of collapse were not permitted near him; the later ones had learned to be wary of any other human in the wilderness, and the earlier ones were kept away by their parents, who seemed to fear that Starkman's peculiarity might be contagious.
He wished it were contagious; then he wouldn't have been the only one.
After dinner, the children played with the video, calling up miscellaneous data, flicking from channel to channel and giggling at the more absurd images that appeared. Jenny explained that it was only the second time they had ever been able to use one; the first had been a half hour she allowed while she was out buying groceries immediately after they had rented the apartment.
