Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [44]
Sam smiled. “Like you, Paul.”
“What?”
“Strip!”
Paul could only stare in bewilderment.
Sam violently tore open Paul’s shirt. “Show me your muscles!”
How often Sam used to ask that. Show me your muscles. But there was a savageness in his request now—a hatred.
“Come on, flex!” Sam shouted. “You know the position, Paul! You did it every night in front of the mirror. Arms up and out, legs spread, chest swelled. Do it for me now! Da Vinci’s perfect man! You loved that power. You loved the power it gave you over others, over me! You worshipped that machine power of your body, labored over it, honed it!”
Paul felt his whole body shaking; he couldn’t breathe. Something was tangled in his guts, wedged in his throat, as if Sked were choking him again. Then all at once it broke through, and he was sobbing.
Sam was right. The truth had been staring back into his eyes—his reflection in the mirror, his own image of perfection. He’d been so vain, so stupid. Why hadn’t he seen it in Watertown, where he was weak; he broke things, fell behind, needed babysitting.
All the time he’d searched for Sam, he’d been telling himself to stay strong, as if for some epic track event, as if finding Sam were a physical feat. He thought of his fight with Sked; it had left him sick and frightened of what he could make his body do.
But beneath the muscle, he was eggshell frail. He thought of Monica and her big iron gate, trying to stay in perfect control so nothing could get close enough to hurt her. And Armitage, hoping to build his own perfect empire on revenge. All their pathetic ideas of perfection.
“I still need you, Paul.”
Paul almost laughed through his tears; the idea was so ludicrous and so cruel.
“Do you know why I called you?” Sam’s voice was gentler now, almost apologetic. “It wasn’t to set you up. I phoned you before Cityweb found me. I called you because I wanted you down here, to show you what I’d found. I had a plan.”
“Yeah, what was that?”
“You’ve got one wish.”
The familiar words, the start of the game.
“Only this time,” said Sam, “we share a wish, because it’s for both of us. I know what your wish is. It’s mine, too. Shall I say it?”
Paul swallowed hard and nodded.
“I want us to be equals again.” He paused, then said, “Take the water with me, Paul.”
His words hung in the air, still whispering.
“Put us together, and we really could have been something, huh?” Sam said.
Paul smiled weakly. But he was remembering when he’d looked into the mirror, past his brother, and seen their bodies welded together. Even then he had known they were complementary, inseparable.
“I’ll teach you how to use the water, Paul. Sturm’s killing himself. He thinks a transfusion of the refined water will make him even stronger, but it’s burning his body away. A month, that’s the most he has. It’ll be just you and me, Paul—our rules, our place.”
Our fort—it was being held out to him. Here, take it. He would never have to worry about Sam leaving him again. He could have everything back the way it was. Was this the perfection he’d wanted all along? But there was a persistent shimmering at the back of his mind.
“Monica,” he said, as if talking in his sleep.
“She’s a problem, Paul. They were planning on killing both of you after the tests. I can bargain for you, Paul, but—”
“I want her safe, too.”
Sam sighed impatiently. “Paul, she’s got the water in her. She doesn’t have more than five years before it starts burning her down.”
“No—” He’d told her she’d be all right, that she wouldn’t end up like her mother.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam, “but it’s the truth. I’ve got all the data.”
“But you can help her! Can’t you?”
“Paul. Forget about her. Remember what’s important. You and me!”
He’d forget about her, wouldn’t he? How long had he known her? A few days, no more. He’d known Sam almost a lifetime. So just one more betrayal, that’s all it would take. A quick nod of his head.