Filaria - Brent Hayward [7]
“I beg your pardon?”
“There ain’t no good, just like that. Clear cut. Or no bad. Life ain’t that simple.”
“Oh, you’re a philosopher now?” The look on Philip’s face was as if he had just sniffed a turd. “All right. Look. One who opposes the engineer in his grand plan shall henceforth be considered a bad guy. How’s that?”
“Ask this so-called bad guy what he thinks of the good guy, or why he don’t like him. You ask him which one is which. Everyone got their reasons to do what they do. You go and ask the lady who gave birth to the bad guy, see what she thinks of her son.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t challenge every man you meet. I’ve greeted you as a friend. I’m trying to educate you. Perhaps you should write an act in our play, since you’re so profound.”
“Writing is for sissies.”
Silence descended again, awkward and prickly, but then Philip — who clearly did not want any trouble, or any form of quietude — tried a new tack of communication: “I must admit, that’s quite a fine-looking vehicle you two have there. Department of Resources, if I’m not mistaken?”
Phister said, “It talks. Crazy stuff. Rambles sometimes, when you plug it in.”
“That car can talk? Really? When it’s connected?” Philip looked duly impressed. “What sort of things does it say?”
“Never mind,” said McCreedy.
“I’ve certainly never seen anything like it. Not this far down. I’m surprised you can get power here.”
“Well you can.”
Phister, who had been quite baffled by the conversation, was still contemplating what McCreedy had said. No good or evil in the world? For him, the division between the light and the dark was not only real, but also crucial. He looked up at Philip’s odd face. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his life back, no matter how flawed. “Hey, listen,” he said, “you say you’re looking for two people? Or one person? Joined? You say you’ve lost friends?”
“That’s right.” Philip nodded, standoffish. “Seth and Kim Dean. Attached at the shoulder. You would have noticed them if you’d seen them.”
“Well we lost somebody too! A girl. Not joined to anyone. One girl. And we’re also lost.”
McCreedy turned slowly toward Phister; Phister dared not meet the older man’s eyes. He felt their anger boring into him like heat. But he would not sit quietly, no matter what McCreedy thought or did. He would not shut up. He felt tears sting his eyes. “Please, we’re really lost . . .”
Philip brushed at his lapels with both hands. “You’re headed west. In the basement. If that helps. About forty klicks from the westernmost extremity and about seven from the base of the lift shaft I used to get down here.” He took off his hat. The long hair that was not tied together in the back and tucked inside the coat stood almost straight out from his head now. “Interesting that you search for the missing also. When did your friend vanish?”
“Never mind,” McCreedy hissed. “Get out of the way. We have to keep moving.”
But desperate not be to left alone again with McCreedy, to reflect upon his own ruptured worldview and lost loves, and to meet his certain death, Phister blurted, “We’ll give you a lift! We’ll help you find those twins and you can give us directions back home!”
“Wait a second,” McCreedy snarled. “We need to talk, me and you, kid.” To Philip: “I said don’t come any closer. I’m in fuckin charge here, in this car.”
Yet Philip approached. “Brother, you are filled with distrust. We are all people. We have to stick together. And there is no need for profanity. Certainly not before such an impressionable young man as Young Phister here. For you see, I could use a lift. My feet are getting weary.”
“This impressionable young man,” McCreedy said, “is soon gonna be a fucking killed young man.”
Much nearer now, Philip stared hard at Phister. He frowned. “Up close you look familiar, boy. The more I engage your ravaged features. The texture of your skin, your toothless smile, your