Page 18 of Geist Fleisch
“Stay?” he asked.
“You’re among friends. I’m sure Karl would be happy to let you explore the library. I’d join you, but it’s all a bit overwhelming for me. They are scientists, after all. Frightfully intelligent but… Well, we all play our part.”
Callum felt sleepy. Nauseous, even. Whatever struggles the Institute might face, lack of heat wasn’t on the list. He opened his top button and tugged at his undershirt.
“Callum?” Frank asked, rejoining them. Are you all right?”
He put down his coffee. It was definitely too warm in here. Callum wanted to shed his shirtsleeves entirely. “Sorry.”
“Do you need to lie down?”
He turned to where he thought Anne had been sitting and saw an empty chair. He tried to get up, and stumbled toward it. Strong hands caught him around the waist as he lost the battle to stay conscious.
***
“Awake…? …awake? Can you hear me? Callum?”
He could hear the voice, all right. Whether it was Frank, Karl, or some new stranger he couldn’t tell. He felt worse than he had when he’d awoken with the bandage. Maybe it was the light that bore into him from a lamp just a couple of feet from his face. He made out two silhouettes that resembled Frank… and Jacqueline. He lurched in his seat only to feel Robert’s hands grab his shoulders and force him back down.
“Patience,” Frank said, his voice soft and honeylike. He moved the light out of Callum’s eyes, so at last they could see one another. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Callum stared at Jacqueline, his skin crawling under Robert’s hands. This was it, then? He had seen them kill those men and now, there would be no witnesses. Had that been what today was really about? A ploy to get him back where they could finish him off? They could bloody well… He roared as Robert held him down.
“Strong boy,” the man mocked him.
“Callum, stop,” Frank continued. “I mean it. You’ll hurt yourself before you get any answers, and you will get them, I promise. Unfortunately, we need some first.”
“Oh, you do, at that?” he barked. “Piss off with you!”
Jacqueline smiled at him. “We mean it, my dear. No harm need come of this.”
“Unless you do something very silly,” added Robert.
“Which I’m sure you won’t.”
“Murdering fuc—” He snarled again before Robert cupped a hand over his mouth and held it so firm, he couldn’t even shake his head. The man’s fingers gripped like the bars of an iron gate in a March wind, and they were just as cold.
Frank lifted a photograph and shone the light on it. “Your portrait, taken just this afternoon. Notice anything unusual?”
As Robert released him, Callum squinted at the figures of Anne and himself that stared back at him. Head still foggy, he struggled to make out detail. “Wrong photo.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Frank answered. “But the clothes? Those are your clothes, are they not? And that is Anne, standing beside them?”
“Obviously,” he muttered, admittedly confused. “So what?”
“Look harder, Callum. Look really hard at what we’re seeing here. Where’s your face? Yourface, Callum? Clothes? Bandage? Hat? All accounted for, but no face.”
“Maybe your fellow’s not as good with photographs as he thinks,” he scoffed. “It’s not my fault he fouled up your—”
“Ah yes, we’ve seen our share of ‘errors in the print.’ So, just to be sure, Karl made us another.” Frank took out a second photo and plopped it in front of him.
Callum’s eyes went wide. Again, Anne stood beside his empty suit of clothes. And to the other side of them, a handsome soldier in an old-fashioned German uniform. His face was clean, unscarred, even proud, but Callum recognised it immediately.
Max.
“How did you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “No, no, I’m not having this. It’s a good trick though, I’ll give you that.”
“Would that it was. You described your ‘dream’ in such detail, Callum. And now, this man? Or is he an error in the print as well?”
