Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [16]
Paul’s smile congealed on his face. “What did it say?”
“I’ve got a best-before date. Between twenty-three and twenty-seven years old.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No.”
“Mom and Dad never said anything!”
“They got a letter,” Sam said. “A copy of it was in the file, too. Obviously they didn’t want me to know.”
“Maybe it’s a mistake,” said Paul. “Some of your other tests were wrong. They can’t know stuff like that!”
He wanted to hug his brother—but something held him back. They didn’t ever really hug, but it was more than that. He felt a vague sense of revulsion, of anger. Sam was letting this happen to him! He could fight back if he wanted!
His gaze suddenly dropped down to Sam’s open notebook. On the front page was a sketch of da Vinci’s perfect man, but half the body was mechanical metal limbs, rubber arteries, a chrome rib cage, and a stainless-steel heart.
“So my wish,” said Sam, “is to heal myself.”
* * *
“Sam!”
He woke with a shudder, still half convinced that his brother had been standing over him, watching as he slept. Wimp, he told himself. But an electric buzz seemed to linger in the air.
He stood and looked out over the pier. At first he thought it was Monica again, standing in shadow at the water’s edge. But when the figure shifted slightly, Paul knew it wasn’t her. He whispered his brother’s name through his dry mouth, but the figure darted across the pier so quickly he lost sight of it. He rushed out and onto the outer steps. Shivering in the cool of the night, he scanned the pier, and when he saw nothing, he dashed up to the roof for a better view.
“Shhhh!” A cold hand closed around his forearm. Monica moved up beside him. “I saw it, too,” she whispered. “There.” She pointed down to the end of the pier, near the high iron gate. “See?”
“No,” Paul told her. “You must have damn good eyesight. Who is it?”
“Can’t tell.”
The figure leaped and cleared the gate, disappearing into the maze of alleyways on the other side. Gooseflesh broke out over Paul’s arms and legs.
“That gate must be over ten feet high!”
“Twelve and a half.”
“Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
She seemed to hesitate, then shook her head. “You think it’s your brother, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he replied guardedly.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes. She’d dressed quickly, in only a single sweatshirt and trousers. She was very tiny. Paul was suddenly aware that he wore nothing but his underpants. He half turned away from her, his arms automatically folding across his chest, as if trying to conceal as much of his body as possible. But when he realized she wasn’t taking the slightest notice of him, he felt slightly put out, then ridiculous.
“We could ask Decks tomorrow,” she said. “He used to work on a tug in the harbor. He’s been around Watertown for ages. He might have seen your brother.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully, trying to stand up straight.
“Get some sleep, Muscles.”
6
“YOU AREN’T THE first person to ask me about this boy.” Decks handed the photograph back to Paul. “Two men came around over a week ago with a picture and asked if I’d seen him. I told them no, which is what I would have told any stranger spooking for somebody. In this case, it’s also the truth. I haven’t seen him.”
Paul’s heart raced. He glanced at Monica, sitting across from him in the narrow galley of Decks’s houseboat.
“Cops,” she said tersely. “I knew it. Those damn helicopters. Why would the police be looking for your brother, Paul? Who sent them? Your parents?”
“They don’t know he’s down here.” Unless they had somehow found out. Had the university gotten in touch with them? But Sam said he’d quit his research job, so the university wouldn’t have known where he was either.
“I don’t think it was the police,” said Decks, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He had broad, heavily callused hands and a gruff voice that made Paul feel small and uncertain.
“The police don’t come down here for runaways or missing persons. Watertown’s like a maze to them. These two weren’t wearing uniforms,