Authors: Derryl Murphy
Jenna turned her
attention back to the money in her hand. At first the numbers kept slipping
away from her, a very strange reaction, but after a few tries they were
watching them float up through the ceiling as well. She smiled and looked over
at Dom, who grinned and patted her on the back. “Good job.”
Dom’s palm
slapped on the table. “Let’s go climb a dinosaur, shall we?” said Billy. They
got up, waved good-bye to the proprietor, and crossed the road to the giant
T-rex.
Dom paid the
entrance fee with coins from his pocket, which required less work to remove
their traces. Then they climbed the metal stairs, the insides of the dinosaur
lit with red lights and showing traceries of fake fossils along the walls on
the way up. Adults on their own or in pairs and groups, families with noisy
children, some being carried by sweating, overweight parents wearing
knee-length shorts and canopy-sized t-shirts with various touristy slogans
about Canada blazoned on the front; all were struggling up or down the stairs,
sandals and shoes slapping and echoing on the steps, the sounds intermingling
with the shrieks of excited and tired children.
“Remind me again
why we’re here?” asked Billy. Dom was breathing hard, which made it difficult
for the shadow to get the words out.
“Something to
do,” answered Jenna, having trouble right now with her own breathing. “A chance
to relax,” Dom barked a short laugh, “not have to be on the road all the time,
or running from those numbers.”
“Plus,” said
Dom, still panting, “sometimes you just gotta do the weird shit. And what’s
weirder than climbing a giant dinosaur in the middle of a small town in the
desert?”
Billy grinned in
response, and Dom could feel by the stretch of his cheeks that the adjunct was
feeling as relaxed as he was. It was a nice feeling, finally being able to take
a little bit of time and just enjoy it for what it was, rather than worrying
about what was around the next corner.
They came to the
last flight of stairs, and once again squeezed up against the railing to let a
large family tumble by, parents feebly calling for their kids to slow down and
watch for the other people. By the time they got to the top, though, they had
it to themselves.
The viewing
platform was in the bottom of the dinosaur’s mouth, small steps leading down to
stand in its jaws, Plexiglas set up to keep people from tumbling or jumping
over the edge, enormous fibreglass teeth sticking out as a jagged counterpoint
to the lumpy but rounded landscape of the countryside around the town. Down
below was a splash park, children running and screaming and getting blessedly
soaked in the heat of the day. Not as hot here as it had been in Utah, but it
was still warm.
Dom was enjoying
watching the road that passed through town, noting the different numbers
floating up from license plates, an intermingling of localities, numbers that
were foreign to this place, but that were able to blend easily enough with the
local numerical ecology. That didn’t always happen with human-created numbers,
although he supposed that plates from other states and provinces had been
around long enough to negotiate their way in with the local ones.
In the middle of
his reverie, Jenna said, “Oh my God.” Dom looked over and saw her pointing
down. Below them, in the splash park, water pouring from the fountains was
being accompanied by a slow dribble of black sludge, foul-looking numbers,
which were gradually fanning out across the concrete surface, emphatically not
going down the drain with the water, a tide of tumbling dark figures,
insect-like and scrambling to crawl over each other and strain against gravity.
Search numbers.
They were off
and down the stairs, shoving by the family that was on the last flight, Dom
grabbing the rail and pushing off the wall to avoid one kid who wobbled after
taking each step. “Take random numbers of steps and then jump two or three,”
said Dom, demonstrating. Jenna followed suit. “Don’t always start a set of
stairs with just one foot, or the same foot.” He was panting again, but kept up
a steady flow of advice, so much that there was no way she’d be able to follow
all of it. The look on Jenna’s face told him she was almost ready to give up,
and if he could keep her attention focused with more instructions to follow, he
knew he could keep her with him, both mentally and physically.
There were more
people to avoid, but it was easier on the way down, everyone hugging the
railing and hanging on for dear life as they realized just how many steps they
had to climb to get to their goal. They hit bottom and dashed through the gift
shop, pounded the door open, ignoring the looks and comments from behind, and
dashed across the parking lot, trying to get to the car while swinging wide
around the splash park.
“They’re . . .
tired,” gasped Billy.
“So’re we,”
responded Dom.
“The numbers.
They’re not rising above the ground.” Billy made Dom stop, and for a few
seconds he just stood there, hands on his knees and trying to keep his head up
to look. Beside Dom, Jenna was hunched over, coughing and crying at the same
time.
Finally, enough
of his breath back, Dom stood and peered over the rows of cars. “Sonofabitch,
you’re right. Fuckers can’t even get up over the curb.”
Billy nodded his
head. “It’s taking all their energy to keep from going down the drains.”
“So how did they
end up in the water, anyway?” asked Jenna.
Dom shrugged.
“Dunno. Probably not worth sticking around to figure out right now, either. We
could go and flush them down and they wouldn’t be able to get word out to their
boss, but other numbers might be coming over the horizon or bubbling up from
underground, so I think we’re better off just running again. Get some more mojo
so I can take care of these bastards.”
Jenna grabbed
his arm. He looked down in surprise, and then she tugged. “So let’s go, then.”
They were back
on the road, leaving Drumheller behind as they drove north. Jenna kept checking
over her shoulder, but each look elicited a report that nothing had changed,
and pretty soon all three of them began to relax again. “But not enough to take
our guard down,” said Billy, after Dom had commented on this.
It took a few
more hours to get to Edmonton. They stopped once for gas, once more to use the
restroom. During that second stop Dom bought some snacks and drinks, but the
burgers had filled the gaps pretty nicely, and they only dipped in for the odd
bite or sip.
It was almost
time for supper by the time Edmonton’s downtown came into view, a small cluster
of steel and glass and concrete rising from never-ending farmland and, as they neared
the city, out of and above endless swaths of near-identical housing and big box
retailers. Dom looked over and noticed the face Jenna was making. “What?”
“Kind of ugly,
don’t you think?”
“The city?” She
nodded, and he shrugged. “Actually, I’m kinda fond of the place,” he answered.
“You sure as hell don’t see its best face, driving in like this. But the city
has a lot going for it: great parks, which I like, and from what some friends
have told me, some pretty liveable neighbourhoods.” He changed lanes, took an
exit off the road and found his way over to the far lane, turned once more onto
another road, this one a strip of hotels, bars, and shops; there were hundreds
of people walking and shopping, window or real, buskers playing guitars,
beggars trying to put the tap on everyone who walked by. “Great pace here, too,
considering the size, although even it is getting too big for its britches.” He
pulled into a parking spot and got out, stood with Jenna on the sidewalk. “It’s
too late to get to the bank today, so this is the best place to be. There are a
lot of numbers happening in a place like this, and as long as we’re careful
about covering our tracks, we’ll be safe.”
“How can you be
sure? You thought we were okay down in Drumheller, too.”
Dom shrugged again.
“Guess I can’t be sure. But this is the best answer I’ve got right now, unless
you or Billy have anything.”
Jenna made a
face. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I certainly
don’t,” replied Billy. “I’ve never been here before, so I don’t know what the
city has that might be of help to us. We’re in your hands, Dom.”
“Right. Let’s
find us a couple of rooms for the night and then go get supper.” He fished
their packs out of the back of the car and they went into a hotel one block
east. This time he gave Jenna some cash and had her pay for her own room,
watching to make sure that she rubbed away the numbers, which she managed with
only a little difficulty. When they got to their floor he told her to meet down
in the lobby in a half hour, which Jenna negotiated up to forty-five minutes so
that she could have a shower.
Once in the room
Dom threw his bag on the floor and collapsed on the couch, immediately seeking
out the remote control, scanning channels for sports. “You like athletic
competition,” commented Billy.
Dom nodded,
settled on a Mariners-Blue Jays game. “The numbers appeal to me, and I’ve done
well by the mojo that gets dug up. Especially in baseball.” The two of them
watched in silence for a few minutes, letting the easy rhythm of the play and
the numbers drift over them. Dom was getting sick of long and difficult days,
and he imagined that Billy and Jenna were as well. What he’d give to be able to
attend a ball game in real life, and not have to worry about anything except
not getting a sunburn or spilling beer on his legs when he jumped to catch a
foul.
Finally, Billy
interrupted the moment. “How are we going to avoid the search numbers this
time?”
“Meaning what?”
“I suppose I
mean that no matter where we’ve been or the steps we’ve taken, this person has
managed to find us. And next time there is no guarantee that the numbers will
be slow and weak, or that we’ll be able to dash out of harm’s way at the last
possible second.”
“Ah.”
Dom thumbed the remote and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. “Hang on a
minute.” He went into the bathroom and unzipped, pissed with his eyes
closed—bodily functions with Bill inhabiting his body still kind of freaked him
out—then splashed cold water over his face and let it air dry.
“Well?” The
shadow sounded impatient.
“This is a
different sort of city,” said Dom, after a few seconds more. “Most places, all
their streets have names. Main Street, Central Avenue, that sort of thing. They
have a few named streets here, but most of the city is on a kind of grid, with
the streets all numbered instead.”
Billy grunted.
“I see.”
“Yeah. Hundreds
of numbers, crossing each other all over the map. Every one of them sending out
their own little waves of interference.” Dom walked over to the window and
opened the curtain. “Look closer at the sky.”
Billy peered
with Dom’s eyes. “My goodness. If you don’t look too close, that looks like
smog.”
Dom nodded.
“Most people can’t see it, of course. But those are numbers, constantly
drifting up into the air from the interaction with each other, but not floating
off too far because there’s still the attraction from below. It’s an amazing
thing, and yet you don’t find too many numerates coming to Edmonton.”
“I wonder why?”
“Too damn cold
in the winter.” He opened the door and walked out to meet Jenna.
She’d gotten up
early and come down to the lobby about a half hour before and just stood there
for the whole time, looking out the door at the people passing by, but Jenna
heard Dom coming and turned to greet him, smiling. “This place feels safe,” she
said as they walked out onto the sidewalk. Dom pointed up at the sky and told
her about the numbered streets and about how that affected the place in ways
that rarely happened in other large cities, and she nodded a bit, trying to
understand. Then they wandered off to find a pizza place that Dom said he
remembered from the last time he’d been there.
“Tell me about
yourself,” said Jenna, after they’d been served their pizzas and drinks. She’d
realized while walking here that they had not had the time to get to know each
other, and for the first time since this had all started she felt like things
were calm enough to spend some time getting to know Dom, instead of just
learning about the numbers.
Dom looked up in
surprise, but before he could say anything Billy chimed in: “Yes, I’m also
curious. You’re unlike any other numerate I’ve known, and I’ve known a few of
them.”
He took a big
mouthful of pizza, chewing slowly as if to give him time to organize his
thoughts. When he swallowed and washed it down with some beer, he asked, “Where
do you want me to start?”
Jenna took a sip
of her soda. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Younger than she’d thought.
“Where were you
born?” asked Billy.
“Nova Scotia.
But I was raised a few hours north of here, in a little town called Peace
River.”
“When did you
discover you were a numerate?” This was Billy again.
Dom leaned back
in his chair, looked around the restaurant. There were two other tables in use
right now, a couple sharing quiet and intimate talk, and a family of five
making a lot more noise, but all of it happy, the youngest shrieking with joy
from his high chair as an older sibling made open mouth faces while chewing on
pizza. “These people all have it pretty good,” he finally said. There was a
slight choke in his voice, but Jenna chose to ignore it for the moment.
“What do you
mean?” asked Billy.
Jenna held up
her hand. “I think I know,” she said. “You had what I didn’t, right? A good
family life.”
His lips pursed,
Dom paused for a moment before finally nodding his head. “Yeah. Loving parents,
a little sister who looked up to me.” He fiddled with his beer mug for a
second, then took another drink. “But the numbers, they fuck you over something
serious. I did the same thing your mother did, Jenna, except I did it a lot
earlier. She waited until after she’d had you, but the numbers, they first
spoke to me when I was twelve. I mean, I’d been seeing them all my life, I’m
pretty sure, but I didn’t know what they were until then, much less what I
could do with them. And when they did crash down on me, I managed to hold them
back for almost four whole years.”