Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [118]
“Yes.”
“I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
CHAPTER 35
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, MEASURE FOR MEASURE
DURING the funeral, Dave kept thinking how Shel would appear at any time, walk up and say hello, ask whether he and Katie would like to join him and Helen for dinner. One of the curious phenomena associated with sudden and unexpected death is the inability to accept it when it strikes those close to us. People always imagine that the person they’ve lost is in the kitchen, or in the next room, and that it requires only that we call his name to have him reappear in the customary place. Dave felt that way about Shel. They’d spent a lot of time together, and, with the advent of the converters, had shared a unique experience. When the dangers and celebrations were over, they normally came back through the wardrobe.
Shel stood up there now, just outside the bedroom door, his face emotionless.
Dave froze.
Shel advanced to the top of the stairs and looked down. “Hi, Dave.”
“Shel.” Dave could barely get the word out. He hung on to the banister, and the stairs reeled. “Shel, is that you?”
Shel smiled. The old, crooked grin that Dave had thought not to see again. Some part of him that was too slow-witted to get sufficiently flustered started flicking through explanations. Someone else had died in the fire. It was a dream. Shel had a twin.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s me. Nice funeral.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I didn’t exactly stand up front.” They stared at each other. “You should try it sometime, watching people throw flowers on your coffin.”
Somewhere, far away, he heard the sound of a train.
“I’m sorry,” said Shel. “I know this must be a shock.”
An understatement of sorts. Shel walked across the landing. Dave’s heartbeat picked up. Shel came to the top of the stairs and started down. Dave started to back up, to make room. Shel grabbed his arm so he didn’t fall. His hands were solid, the smile very real.
“What the hell’s going on?” Dave said.
Shel’s eyes were bright and sad. He slid down into a sitting position and dragged Dave with him. “It’s been a strange morning,” he said.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
He took a deep breath. “I know. I am dead, Dave. The reports of my death seem to be accurate.”
Suddenly it was clear. “You’ve come back from downstream. Or upstream. Who the hell cares? You’re alive.”
Shel nodded. “Yes.” He drew his legs up in a gesture that looked defensive. “You sure you’re okay, Dave?”
“I’ve been trying to get used to this. To the idea that you’re gone. Or were gone. Whatever.”
Shel took a deep breath but said nothing.
“You’re using the converter now.”
“That’s right.”
“So when you go back—”
“—The house will burn, and I’ll be in it.”
For a long time neither spoke. “Don’t go back,” Dave said at last.
“I don’t see how I can avoid it.”
Ridiculous. Dave’s mind filled with images of lightning strikes and burglars in the night and the charred remains of Shel’s desk. “Stay the hell away from it. What have you got to lose?”
“It’s not that.” His voice sounded tight. And there was a hunted look in his eyes. “I have no intention of going back there. But I’m not sure it’s my call.”
“That makes no sense, Shel.”
“It happened, Dave. You know that, and I do. Somehow, I’m going to wind up in that fire.” For a long moment, he simply sat on the staircase, breathing. “They found me in the bed.”
“Yes. I know.”
“I don’t believe it.” Shel was pale and his eyes were red.
“They think you were murdered.”
He nodded. Said nothing. They made their way back down into the living room and dropped into armchairs.
“What happened, Shel? Do you have any idea who it could have been?”
“None.” His head sank back and he stared at the ceiling. “I was downstream, looking at stuff. And I did what we always said we wouldn’t do. No matter what.”
“You looked at your bio.”
“Yes.” He shook his head. The heating system came on with a thump. Dave