A Rage for Revenge

63 Fadeout

"Remember this place?" Lizard asked as we came down the ramp ofl'the freeway.

"The Marriott-Regency? How can I forget? Only the last time I was here, there were fireworks and lasers."

"Sorry, we don't do that any more. There's a war on."

"I can see that."

The place looked like a tomb. The huge pyramid looked somehow shrouded. Then I figured it out. There were no exterior lights. No fountains. No celebrations. This building used to be a pcm. Now it was a hulking dark monolith. There were individual room lights on, but somehow they served to make the building seem even more deserted, more lonely.

We coasted up the service ramp and into the interior lobby. At least there was still a valet to park the car. As I got out, I noticed now stark the interior looked.

"We took the plants out," Lizard said before I could ask. "They got infected. Plant diseases. Viruses. They turned purple. Or red. They turned into Chtorran things. They were pushed out of their pots. " She took my arm and guided me toward the escalator. Last time I'd ridden this escalator, it had been with Ted and Marcie and a Colonel who looked like a buffoon. Marcie was dead. Colonel Buffoon was dead, and I didn't know where Ted was. He was probably dead too. Lizard was saying, "It was too disheartening. This was supposed to be the nerve center of resistance and we wouldn't even protect our own green plants. We're losing Denver, Jim. It's just a matter of time."

One thing was still the same, the buffet where I'd met Foreman. I noticed that the selection wasn't quite as lavish as I'd remembered. The salmon was canned, not fresh. And instead of human waiters there were robots trundling back and forth.

"We kept the chef when we took over the facility," Lizard said. "It's good for morale to have good food available. It's comforting. Or as Foreman says, 'It's like getting back to Mama's tit."' She handed me a plate. "Here, Chtorr into it."

"Chtorr into it?"

She shrugged. "Chtorran jokes. What can I say?"

"Don't say anything." I was staring at the canned peaches, the fresh cottage cheese, the warm bread, the cold sliced roast beef, the pickles, the sausages, the scrambled eggs, the . . .

I lowered my plate.

"What's the matter?" Lizard asked.

"This is unreal. Last night, I was a thousand klicks away from here, trying to make a meal out of hard salami and stale sourdough. I got my brains fucked out by a hallucination. This morning I had my van blown up. Then I helped strafe a worm camp. I came back and was debriefed by the president of the United States. Suddenly, I'm back in civilization staring at a hotel buffet. And I'm told that it's good for morale."

I turned to face her. There was no one else around us. It didn't matter, I would have said it anyway. "Colonel, I must be in some kind of culture shock. Three weeks ago I did something that should have put me in front of a firing squad. I've been running from it ever since. Suddenly I'm here-and it doesn't make sense. It isn't real."

She put her hand on my arm. "Jim . . ."

I shook it off. "No, let me finish. It wasn't real out there. It wasn't. Every time I took a breath and smelled Chtorr in the atmosphere, it wasn't real. Every time I looked at the hills and saw purple or pink or blue or red, it wasn't real. I've been crazy. I still am. I've been walking around saying, 'This can't be happening. This isn't happening. Please let me wake up.' Only, it is happening. And now I'm here, looking at this buffet, and you take it for granted that there's all this food. I've been out there, Lizard. This isn't real. This is artificial. I don't know how long you can keep pretending here, but I know that this is not real. This is the pretense. It is happening. And . . . I don't feel right anywhere."

"I know the condition, Jim." She looked straight into my eyes. "I do. We all do. It's called . . . well, never mind. We're all a little fuzzy around the edges. That's why we keep this buffet t~wing. To remind us of the way it used to be. It's the one bearing wa still have in a world gone mad." She took my plate and handed n to me again. "Will you eat?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't win. And there was no escape. So I let go. I let my body go through the motions and drifted along helplessly behind it. It was easier that way.

The body turned to the table. It put food on the plate. It did it mechanically. I wasn't there. This was easier. I didn't have to be involved in any more decisions.

Lizard said to do something and my body did it, but I was uanewhere else, I don't know where. Hiding. Thinking. Trying to figure it out. Being crazy. Being numb. Being nothing.

Jim's body followed her back to a table. I watched from a distance while she ordered wine from a waiter. She tasted it and wrinkled her nose. A second bottle was produced. It was acceptable.

He drank wine. He ate food. He tasted nothing. Everything was nice and numb. Lizard talked to him. Sometimes she asked questions. Mostly he grunted. If she pressed, he answered mechanically.

Abruptly, she pushed her plate away. She put her hands on the table. "Jim?" she said. "Are you even here?"

"I'm here," he replied.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "You're showing all the Symptoms,"

"I am?"

"Yes, you are."

"Symptoms of what?"

"Fadeout. It's a kind of walking catatonia."

"Oh," he said. "That's interesting. How does it happen?"

"It happens to everyone. When things become too confronting or too intense . . ." She stopped herself. "Shit. Why am I trying to explain this to you? Wait here." She got up and went to the service bay. She came back a moment later with two live waiters. "Him," she said, and pointed to Jim in the chair. I watched with Interest.

The two waiters grinned and grabbed him, picked up the chair with him in it and carried him and it across the dining terrace, out to the main concourse, across the interior patio, toward the pool at a run, and tossed him into it, ass over teakettle.

I came up spluttering and swearing and shaking clouds out of my head. "What the goddamn bloody fuck do you think you're doing, you crazy pink bimbo?" I started swimming toward the shallow end. "This is a stupid, flaming, asshole, mother-fucking, sadistic stunt!"

Lizard was standing there laughing, so were the waiters. I squished and squelched out of the pool toward them. "Shit! I don't care if you are a colonel, Lizard! There are some things that you just don't do!"

"Oh, are you pissed?" she asked.

"You bet your rosy-cheeked freckled ass I am!" I bellowed at her. "I'm so fucking angry I could-"

"How angry are you?" she demanded. "Show me."

Something snapped then. Something happened. I exploded. My rage filled my entire body. I began to scream. I began to bring up great howling gasps of breath. I took in great gulps of air and turned them into gutteral roars. I could feel the muscles of my face stretched into a rictus of terror. I could feel the muscles of my arms and legs tensing as if I were pushing against the weight of the entire universe. I pushed against my own rage and pushed it out of my body and out against Lizard and beyond her, out against the walls of the hotel. I could see them shattering before my screams. I pushed my rage out into the entire universe. I was hoarse with roaring.

And then I collapsed wetly to my knees in a sodden heap, gasping, sobbing out of breath.

I looked up to applause. "Huh?"

I was surrounded by a crowd of grinning appreciative people, some in uniform, some not. They were applauding and cheering. "Good job! Congratulations! Go for it!"

Lizard was offering me a hand to help me up. I took it and pulled myself up weakly. I looked at Lizard-she was beaming-then I pulled her into my arms. If I was going to be wet, so was she. I grabbed her and kissed her hard.

I wasn't surprised when she kissed me back, only by the intensity.

"That isn't the usual response," she said. "But it'll do."