Reflex (Jumper) by Steven Gould

Author:Steven Gould [Gould, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: digitalNoir publishing
Published: 2010-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

There were heavy winds and thunder that night. The rain had stopped by dawn, but the waves thundered still onto the beach the next morning and Davy spent a good hour watching them pound the sand. It was therapeutic. He didn’t know which he identified with more—the surf, raging against the immovable stone outcroppings, or the rocks, taking enormous punishment without being able to strike back.

Without thinking about it, he realized the beach faced south. It was the sun’s movement across the sky and his memory of its position other times he’d been there. That fits Martha’s Vineyard.

Conley hadn’t bothered him after the test in the hangar. Nor had he shown up that morning. Davy was torn—curious about the results, yet happy to be left alone.

They kept a watch on him, when he was on the beach. Not to prevent him from fleeing or wandering out of bounds—obviously the governor did that—but to keep him from communicating with anyone.

Before they gave him clearance to go to the beach, they would send someone out to sit on a tall rock outside the safe zone with a view up and down the shore. If the beach was empty of people, they switched on the key transmitters and told him Davy was clear to jump.

The beach was private, without public access, but there were people in some of the neighboring houses, caretakers and stubborn winter residents surf casting in hip waders, but he’d only see them in the distance. If they looked like they were coming down the beach toward Davy, his watcher would speak on his radio and blow a whistle to let Davy know they were turning off the keys in the next two seconds.

Davy disliked the whistle almost as much as he did the earlier waves of warning nausea. In fact, at the whistle’s shrill call, he’d feel nauseated but without the telltale tingle in his throat.

Only when he was back in the box did the sensation leave off.

This morning they blew the whistle before lunch when there wasn’t anybody visible on the beach, near or far.

He stood in the box, breathing deeply. The door opened.

It was Hyacinth “Miss Minchin” Pope.

He almost didn’t recognize her. She was dressed in a black tailored suit that conformed tightly to her figure. The skirt was short, mid-thigh, and the stockings were patterned lace ending in high-heeled pumps.

And her hair was down, falling past her shoulders in shining waves.

I guess her brains don’t fall out. He felt that familiar tug of desire mixed with fear, but he managed to keep his face impassive.

“Miss Pope.”

“Mr. Rice.” She sauntered into the room, the heels making her hips roll even more than usual, and perched on the arm of the recliner. “You’ve come up in the world, I see.”

Davy couldn’t help himself. “It’s my reward for throwing you around. I wonder if I could work up to my own bungalow?”

She laughed at him and crossed her legs. The skirt inched up and Davy saw the tabs of a garter belt suspender hooked to the top of the stocking.

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