After Many a Summer by Powers Tim

Author:Powers, Tim [Powers, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction - Fantasy
ISBN: 9781645241249
Publisher: Subterranean Press
Published: 2023-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

Con­rad had got off the free­way in Beau­mont and quickly buck­led the case and put it back in the trunk, and within min­utes he was back on his as­signed route, with the win­dows down to dis­pel the spicy smell of the head’s breath.

Its bat­tery’s surely dead by now, Con­rad thought.

Off the 10 Free­way in Ban­ning at last, he drove past widely sep­a­rated one-story houses on acres of shorn dead grass spot­tily punc­tu­ated by shaggy pine and palm trees. A few miles out past the east end of town he found the dirt road Folino had de­scribed. There was only one house to be seen along the dusty length of it, a weath­ered two-story clap­board struc­ture with sev­eral cars parked out front on the packed dirt shoul­der. A white van stood un­der an awning along­side the house.

The black Toy­ota Camry was last in the line of cars, and Con­rad pulled the white Ford in be­hind it. He climbed out of the car stiffly but as quickly as he could, since all that re­mained was for him to get into the Camry, start it with the key that would be in the ig­ni­tion, and drive back to his Fair­fax apart­ment—and then try to for­get the events of the day.

But the driver’s-side door of the Camry swung open, and a freck­led, red-haired man in a Hawai­ian shirt got out and walked to­ward Con­rad. The man was smil­ing, but Con­rad’s face was sud­denly cold—this wasn’t part of the de­scribed pro­ce­dure.

“I’m,” said Con­rad, “to take that car and leave.”

“Boss wants a word first,” said the man, nod­ding back to­ward the house. “You go ahead, I’ve got to get the box out of the trunk.”

Con­rad stared at him for a mo­ment, then nod­ded tightly and stepped past him. He didn’t look back, but in the windy si­lence he heard the thump of the Ford’s trunk open­ing. The bot­tle swung heav­ily in the pocket of his hoodie.

They know I opened the case, he thought as his shoes scuffed along in the road­side dirt; no, they’re just go­ing to take this op­por­tu­nity to thank me, of­fer me a drink be­fore I go on home; no, they mean to kill me, they al­ways meant to, there was never go­ing to be any pur­chase of my screen­play.

He could hear the red-haired man step­ping along be­hind him now, all the way to the steps lead­ing to the old house’s front porch. The door was pulled open as soon as Con­rad stepped up onto the porch, and he rec­og­nized Ethan Satkin him­self stand­ing just in­side. The room be­yond Satkin was dim in con­trast to the bright sun­light out­side.

Con­rad stum­bled then and glanced around in con­fu­sion, for with­out any sen­sa­tion of hav­ing moved, he was stand­ing back on the dirt path, a cou­ple of yards short of the steps. He could see that the shaded door was closed.

“Move along,” said the man be­hind him, who had clearly not no­ticed any in­stan­ta­neous change of Con­rad’s lo­ca­tion.

Con­rad re­called the stretch of free­way he had seemed

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