Part 28 (1/2)

As we watched, the digits changed: 299,792,457.99999908 became 299,792,457.99999907.

”Those are meters per second,” Charlie explained. ”It's getting slower. The speed of light ... it's changing.”

”Your parents had a hypothesis,” Devon said. ”They believed that the universe was slowing down. Maybe it's just stopped expanding, or maybe it's actively shrinking, but either way, physics has changed-time has changed-and it's still changing.”

”We wouldn't be able to survive that,” Charlie said. ”Even the slightest s.h.i.+ft. The movement of atoms, neurons in the brain-it would all fail. If something like that happened, it'd be the end of everything! No life, no substance.”

”Yeah,” Devon replied, smiling grimly. ”That's what they tell me.”

”What are they doing now? My parents-are they here, are they trying to explain this?”

”No,” Devon said. ”They aren't here. Not anymore.”

”Then where? Where did they go?”

Devon paused for a long moment, casting careful glances at each of us in turn. ”They're dead, Charlie,” he finally replied. ”They're dead, and you know it.”

”No,” Charlie said, his brow furrowing in confusion. ”They aren't dead. They sent me emails. I have pictures of them, in the city. I heard you talking to my father!”

”No, Charlie. They're dead,” Devon repeated. After a handful of seconds, he continued reluctantly: ”h.e.l.l, you were there, at the funeral. September 15, just outside of Portland. I saw the pictures.”

”No,” Charlie said, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his face crinkled up in a sudden moment of doubt-What is he thinking? I wondered. Right now, what does he remember?-and he took a tentative step back. The way he was moving, I was afraid his legs were going to collapse beneath him. ”It's not true. You're lying.” But now there was a note of desperation in his voice.

”Your parents ran tests. They confirmed-” He gestured toward the apparatus. ”-they checked interference patterns or something. And then they took a car ... I don't think they could handle it anymore, watching the world fall apart-this was just after the mayor disappeared, when everyone in the building was starting to see things, starting to freak out. Your mother told me it was going to spread, it was going to infect the entire world. It was just a matter of time.” Devon paused. His voice turned soft, sympathetic. ”The official reports-the police told you it was an accident, they told you that your father lost control of the car, but I think your parents just didn't want to see what was coming. I don't think they could handle it.”

”No. It's a lie. It's impossible. I don't remember ... why wouldn't I remember?” Charlie turned abruptly and kicked out at the laser apparatus, slamming his foot into the nearest mirror. The laser tipped off its axis, and the next time it fired, it bounced high off the far mirror and shot up into the ceiling. I glanced at the tracking monitor and saw the word ERROR repeated a half dozen times on the topmost line. ”This whole thing is bulls.h.i.+t. Complete and utter bulls.h.i.+t. The universe doesn't work that way ... my parents, they don't work that way!”

He started toward Devon, taking hard, violent strides, and then his legs did collapse, sending him sprawling to the floor. At first he braced himself on the heels of his hands, then he moved his palms up to his face, hiding his emotions in a hunched-up little ball.

”But we were listening on the radio,” I explained. ”You were talking to somebody about plugging up leaks, about the information we were sending out. And what he said ... whoever it was, it sounded like Charlie's father.”

”I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't Charlie's father.” Devon shook his head, a single shallow shake. If he was lying, he was doing a good job of it; he wasn't overselling anything, merely stating facts. ”At first, we were trying to keep the more troublesome aspects of the situation contained-my bosses had no idea what would happen to their business interests if some of this stuff leaked out-but that was a while ago. Now it's just the military, with their communications freeze and their quarantine. When Charlie appeared, I was a.s.signed to watch him, to make sure he didn't get too close to his parents' research. I still send out my reports, through the radio, but I don't get anything back, not anymore. It's just silence now. Just me-my voice-and nothing else.”

”You lie.” Suddenly Charlie's hands fell away from his face, and the grief written there-in gleaming eyes and on tear-streaked cheeks-was gone. There was nothing but anger now, cold, hard anger. He stood up, slowly, and the way he was holding himself-fairly quivering with mute energy-I was afraid he was going to attack Devon. ”This is all an elaborate lie,” he continued, his voice level, barely restrained. ”You're trying to keep me away from my parents. You're trying to shake me off their trail. That was my father on the radio, I'm sure of it, and that was my mother in that picture. They're here, in the city, and for some reason you don't want me to find them.”

”Why? Why would I do that?”

Charlie stood silent for a moment, his face screwed up in thought. Then he had his answer: ”Because they know what you did-you and your dirty little organization! You did this. All of this. And you're afraid ... you're afraid because they can fix it!” He swept his hand across the room, indicating the monitors, the laser apparatus, the city itself. ”They can fix it all ... if I can just find them. If I can save them.”

Devon laughed. ”I wish that were true, Charlie, I really do. But we're beyond that now. There's no fixing the universe.” He shook his head. ”Get out of the city. Go home. Go see your grandparents before it's too late.”

At that, Charlie's restraint disappeared, and he bolted forward-a scrawny seventeen-year-old computer geek, itching to stop Devon, itching to find answers ... with his fists and blood and Devon's broken bones.

Floyd barked a loud ”Stop!” and stepped between the two combatants. He grabbed Charlie's collar and pushed him back, holding on until the teen stopped squirming.

”Get the f.u.c.k out, Devon!” Floyd growled, whipping around to face the man in the doorway. ”And stay away from us. Stay away from the house. You've done enough harm, you manipulative, spying piece of s.h.i.+t! So just go back to your tunnels and stay ... the f.u.c.k ... away!”

Devon nodded and made to leave; he started to turn, but then stopped suddenly. ”Those aren't our tunnels, by the way,” he said. ”We used them, yeah, but we didn't dig them, and they most certainly aren't ours. But you know that, don't you, Floyd? You know what types of things are down there, lurking, waiting in the dark. For you. For me. For all of us.”

He paused thoughtfully, and a bitter, melancholy smile formed on his lips. ”I hate to say it, boys-and girl-but our time has come. As a species, we're finished. Maybe Charlie's parents had the right idea.”

Then he turned and left.

Video clip. October 24, 02:35 P.M. Sabine's graffiti:

The camera sits a couple of feet off the ground, staring across a city street at the side of a brick building. The view is skewed slightly, tilted a few degrees to the left. It is day out-midmorning or noon or early afternoon-but the street is deserted, and the scene is not very bright; the color is all washed away, lost beneath a ceiling of clouds. In this light, the red brick wall has faded to a pinkish gray.