Read Online Dead Space: Catalyst by Brian Evenson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian Evenson
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swerving away, going sideways again.
Oh my God, he thought. They think I’m a threat.
The man behind was slowly gaining on him. The one to the side was in a thicker part of the crowd, and was having a little more difficulty. If he started pushing and running, Jensi knew, they’d be on him all the more quickly, and people in the crowd would probably start trying to catch hold of him as well. As long as he didn’t panic, didn’t give the game away, he hoped the two security guards would stay at the same pace, trying to slowly gain on him, but not wanting to panic the crowd.
He kept moving roughly sideways, doing his best to follow the quickest, most open path.
And then, suddenly, he saw his chance: a path opening up in two directions and a large, tall man there in front of him. He ducked and scooted around him, striking the man’s left leg as he did so, following the tightest of the path but moving as quickly as he could and as far as he could while still trying not to jar or knock the people in front of them and give his location away. He risked a glance backward and saw that the man he had struck in the knee on the way past had turned and bent to feel his leg, and in so doing effectively blocked the path.
He could only go maybe three meters before the crowd thickened up again, but he hoped that would be enough.
He stayed crouched and hunched over and out of sight for a moment, and then carefully raised his head, peering over the shoulder of the man behind him. He could only see one security guard, but the one he could see was stationary, staring all around him, trying and failing to catch sight of him. Jensi moved just a little and caught sight of the other one. The man had crossed over Jensi’s path without seeing it, was pushing toward the back of the crowd, scanning the people around him carefully but never looking back over his shoulder.
Keeping his head down, Jensi began pushing forward again, more gently this time, trying not to attract the attention of the two security guards. In a few moments he was in a less populated section of the crowd. A few minutes more and he had darted down an alley and was away.
* * *
The press conference was only three or four minutes away—the rally must have been set up where it was partly to disrupt it and negate the colonial government’s attempts to smooth things over—but that was enough time for Jensi to realize that there was something he had overlooked, that maybe there had been a reason to favor the press conference over the other options after all. He remembered the strange moment when his brother and he had come across the children playing near the crack in the dome, daring one another to get close, remembered, too, Istvan’s obsession with the crack and when Istvan had rushed at the crack and struck the dome hard enough with his forehead to bloody it. The press conference was about a crack in a dome. That wasn’t much of a connection, but it was the only connection he’d been able to come up with so far.
His heart was beating fast by this time, and he was short of breath. He ran along the street until he figured he’d passed the last of the rally, then cut back toward Luna Avenue.
There, just a few hundred feet away, was the municipal hall. It was a much smaller crowd than the rally, the merest fraction of the number of people. Still, the steps were crowded, perhaps close to a hundred people, though as many people seemed to be looking back toward the rally as toward the man fielding questions up on the steps.
Not wanting to be conspicuous, he slowed his run to a quick walk, then slowed further still. He drifted into the edge of the crowd and stopped, waited.
“No,” said Councilman Tim Fischer, frowning. He stood flanked by two security guards, their faces expressionless. “The government can hardly have teams of wandering assessors moving from dome to dome, reporting on the integrity of each structure. We simply can’t afford it.”
Jensi
Oh my God, he thought. They think I’m a threat.
The man behind was slowly gaining on him. The one to the side was in a thicker part of the crowd, and was having a little more difficulty. If he started pushing and running, Jensi knew, they’d be on him all the more quickly, and people in the crowd would probably start trying to catch hold of him as well. As long as he didn’t panic, didn’t give the game away, he hoped the two security guards would stay at the same pace, trying to slowly gain on him, but not wanting to panic the crowd.
He kept moving roughly sideways, doing his best to follow the quickest, most open path.
And then, suddenly, he saw his chance: a path opening up in two directions and a large, tall man there in front of him. He ducked and scooted around him, striking the man’s left leg as he did so, following the tightest of the path but moving as quickly as he could and as far as he could while still trying not to jar or knock the people in front of them and give his location away. He risked a glance backward and saw that the man he had struck in the knee on the way past had turned and bent to feel his leg, and in so doing effectively blocked the path.
He could only go maybe three meters before the crowd thickened up again, but he hoped that would be enough.
He stayed crouched and hunched over and out of sight for a moment, and then carefully raised his head, peering over the shoulder of the man behind him. He could only see one security guard, but the one he could see was stationary, staring all around him, trying and failing to catch sight of him. Jensi moved just a little and caught sight of the other one. The man had crossed over Jensi’s path without seeing it, was pushing toward the back of the crowd, scanning the people around him carefully but never looking back over his shoulder.
Keeping his head down, Jensi began pushing forward again, more gently this time, trying not to attract the attention of the two security guards. In a few moments he was in a less populated section of the crowd. A few minutes more and he had darted down an alley and was away.
* * *
The press conference was only three or four minutes away—the rally must have been set up where it was partly to disrupt it and negate the colonial government’s attempts to smooth things over—but that was enough time for Jensi to realize that there was something he had overlooked, that maybe there had been a reason to favor the press conference over the other options after all. He remembered the strange moment when his brother and he had come across the children playing near the crack in the dome, daring one another to get close, remembered, too, Istvan’s obsession with the crack and when Istvan had rushed at the crack and struck the dome hard enough with his forehead to bloody it. The press conference was about a crack in a dome. That wasn’t much of a connection, but it was the only connection he’d been able to come up with so far.
His heart was beating fast by this time, and he was short of breath. He ran along the street until he figured he’d passed the last of the rally, then cut back toward Luna Avenue.
There, just a few hundred feet away, was the municipal hall. It was a much smaller crowd than the rally, the merest fraction of the number of people. Still, the steps were crowded, perhaps close to a hundred people, though as many people seemed to be looking back toward the rally as toward the man fielding questions up on the steps.
Not wanting to be conspicuous, he slowed his run to a quick walk, then slowed further still. He drifted into the edge of the crowd and stopped, waited.
“No,” said Councilman Tim Fischer, frowning. He stood flanked by two security guards, their faces expressionless. “The government can hardly have teams of wandering assessors moving from dome to dome, reporting on the integrity of each structure. We simply can’t afford it.”
Jensi
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