The City of Mirrors (The Passage 3)

A single eyebrow lasciviously lifted. “Care to tell us her name?”

My mind was racing. Could they connect us? I’d paid for the tickets in cash and bought them separately to cover our tracks. Our seats weren’t even next to each other’s; I’d planned to sort it out before we boarded.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. It’s not my place.”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Detective Reynaldo smiled imperiously, enjoying herself. “A gentleman who runs off with another man’s wife. Doubt you’ll win any prizes for that.”

“I don’t claim to, Detective.”

“So why didn’t you go?”

I gave my most innocent shrug. “She changed her mind. Her husband is a colleague of mine. It was a stupid idea to begin with. That’s really all there is to it.”

For ten full seconds neither of us spoke—a gap I was obviously meant to fill, incriminating myself.

“Well, that’s all for now, Dr. Fanning. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day.” She gave me her card. “You think of anything else, you call me, all right?”

“I’ll do that, Detective.”

“And I do mean anything.”

I waited thirty minutes to make sure they were well clear of the building, then took the subway home. How long did I have? Days? Hours? How much paperwork did they need to get me into a lineup?

I could think of only one option. I called Jonas’s office, then his cell, but got no answer. I would have to risk an email.

Jonas—I’ve given some thought to your proposal. Sorry it took me so long. Not sure how much I can offer at this late date, but I’d like to sign on. When do you leave?—TF

I waited at my computer, hitting the Refresh button over and over. Thirty minutes later his reply came.

Delighted. We leave in three days. Have already cleared your visa with State. Don’t ever say I’m not a man with connections. How many more do you need for your team? Knowing you, you’ll bring a flotilla of attractive female grad assistants, which we could sure use to brighten up the place.

Move your ass, buddy. We’re going to change the world.—JL

* * *

23

There is not much more to say. I went. I was infected. Of those infected, I alone survived. And thus was built a race to establish dominion over the earth.

There was a night when Jonas came to see me in my chamber. This was long after my transformation, by which time I had adjusted to my circumstances. I could not know what the hour was, such things having lost all meaning in my captive state. My plans were well under way. I and my co-conspirators had identified the avenue of our escape. The weak-minded men who watched over us: day by day we had infiltrated their thoughts, filling their minds with our black dreams, bringing them into the fold. Their flabby souls were collapsing; soon they would be ours.

His voice came over the speaker: “Tim, it’s Jonas.”

This was not his first visit. Many was the time I had seen his face behind the glass. Yet he had not addressed me directly since the day of my awakening. The last years had wrought startling changes to his appearance. Long-haired, wild-bearded, crazed-eyed, he had become the very image of the mad scientist I had always thought him to be.

“I know you can’t talk. Hell, I’m not even sure you can understand me.”

I felt a confession coming. I was, I admit, only vaguely interested in what he had to say. His disturbed conscience—what did I care? His visit had also interrupted my feeding schedule. Though in life I had not much cared for the taste of wild game, I had come to enjoy raw rabbit very much.

“Something bad is happening. I’m really losing control of this thing.”

Indeed, I thought.

“God, I miss her, Tim. I should have listened to her. I should have listened to you. If only you could talk to me.”

You will hear from me soon enough, I thought.

“I’ve got one more chance, Jonas. I still believe this can work. Maybe if I pull it off, I can get the military to back away. I can still turn everything around.”

Hope springs eternal, does it not?

“The thing is, it has to be a child.” He was silent for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. They just brought her in. I don’t even want to know what they did to get her here. Jesus, Tim, she’s just a little kid.”

A child, I thought. Here was an intriguing wrinkle; no wonder Jonas despised himself. I delighted in his misery. I had learned how low a man could sink; why shouldn’t he?