F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (55 page)

           
Poor
Lazlo!

           
"Never mind him. He's gone. And
my body needs tending. First a quick change of diaper—I prefer the Huggies to
Pampers—and then we'll feed me. It's been two days since I've eaten and I'm
starving. That's what the junior foods are for. I use them when I haven't got
time to puree something more appetizing. After dinner, a sponge bath. As you'll
soon learn, I take good care of my body. I bathe it every day."

           
Kara wanted to cry at her
helplessness, but she had no tears.

           
Let
me go! Please let me go!

           
"Lazlo used to plead for
release in the early days, but he stopped after a while when he came to realize
that it would do him no good. You might as well do the same. We're going to be
together for a long, long time, Kara."

           
With Kara's hand you spoon the food
into your mouth—your other mouth, the mouth you were born with. You're glad you
were finally able to escape from that body this afternoon. The hunger was
becoming unbearable.

           
But that's over now. You're in
control again, just as you planned. Everything has gone according to your
contingency plans. You've foreseen everything. You always knew there was a
possibility that Lazlo would meet with an untimely end, so you prepared for
that. You knew that, by law, his immediate heir would be his brother, yourself,
Gabor. But since your body is itself incapable of meaningful communication, you
knew Gabor would be declared incompetent and all your inherited assets placed
in trust under some sort of guardianship—out of your control.

           
That would never do. So you arranged
for Gabor to 'die.' Then, as Lazlo, you made a will and left all of your assets
to the woman in whose body you were most comfortable at the time. There has
been a string of heirs. For the past year it was Kelly Wade. Just a week ago
you changed the chief beneficiary to Kara. Fortuitous timing. And brilliant
anticipation. You should be proud.

           
Why then do you feel so empty?

           
It's not the hunger. It's not the
trauma of two nights ago. It's Lazlo. He's gone. He's dead. He gladly killed
himself to escape you. That has hurt you deeper than you ever thought possible.

           
You miss Lazlo. Miss the familiar
workings of his body, miss his companionship. And after all, he was your twin
brother.

           
Now he's dead. You can trace his
death back to Kelly Wade. It began with her. If she hadn't managed to jump out
that window at the Plaza, you would still be occupying Lazlo's body and going
about your usual business. But Kelly's death brought Kara to town, and Kara was
a temptation you couldn't resist. But Kara's boyfriend is a cop, a tenacious
one. And if he hadn't harassed you so, you would not be in your present
position—the sole surviving member of the Gati family.

           
It's Harris' fault. If he hadn't
hounded you, you would not have fled onto 42nd Street and been hit by the car.
The impact temporarily severed your contact with Lazlo, giving him a chance to
try to steal Harris' pistol. When you returned to Lazlo, you discovered
yourself in mid-grapple with Harris. You tried to let go of the pistol but your
finger was stuck. When you tried to yank it free, the gun went off.

           
And that is all you remember. The
impact of a bullet tearing through the brain you were occupying traumatized
your consciousness. You lay in a coma for almost a full day. You're still weak.
You could barely occupy Kara when she arrived here.

           
But you're getting stronger. And
when you are this close to your real body, it is easy to stimulate and control
the almost reflexive actions of chewing and swallowing while maintaining
control over Kara. You spoon the junior meal into your toothless mouth.
Although you can't taste it (thank goodness) you know the nutrients, flowing
into your body from this lumpy gruel will make you stronger.

           
But although everything has gone
according to plan, all is far from perfect. Difficult days lie ahead. Kara has
a daughter, plus she's been having an affair with Detective Harris. The
detective will be easy to be rid of. All you need do is find another lover and
let Harris know that he has been replaced in your heart. It may prove messy for
a while, but eventually that should serve to sever all ties with him. Although
you would love to see him as dead as Lazlo, you will have to be satisfied with
merely breaking his heart instead of shoving a knife blade through it.

           
The child, though, presents a major
problem. You will not be able to fool her for long. She will never guess exactly
what is wrong with her mother, but she will know she is not the same. She will
sniff you out and raise a cry.

           
Something must be done about the
child.

           
An accident. That is the best way. A
terrible accident. A fall, perhaps. Like her Aunt Kelly. These Wades— such an
accident-prone family.

           
Suddenly Kara's mind is shouting,
startling you.

           
You
can't do this! It's unconscionable! Your own brother, and now me! How can you
live with yourself?

           
You've wondered that yourself at
times. And whenever you do, you look down at your misshapen body and consider
the alternative. And you know you do not want to live there.

           
You do not answer her. You are
concerned with the strength she is showing. You could feel her fighting for
control of her hands as they changed your diaper. One or two times she almost
drew them away. This concerns you. Not that she'd ever be able to wrest control
back from you, but it takes more effort to control her than it did Lazlo. She's
much stronger willed than he ever was. Luckily, she doesn't know her own
strength. And to assure that she doesn't get an opportunity to find out, she
will have to be housebroken quickly.

           
You have an idea. When the feeding
is finished and your bath is done, you'll start her first lesson.

           
Rob sat on the floor of the padded
cell, numb and drained by what he had read in the scraps of paper scattered
across his legs.

           
Madness. Pure madness.

           
But strangely coherent madness.

           
Maybe that was because the author
was so convinced that he was Lazlo Gati, whose body had been usurped by his
twin brother Gabor during their teenage years and never returned to him except,
for brief periods during which he managed to write this diary of sorts.
According to this diary, Lazlo was locked in this padded cell during those
periods of freedom while Gabor frolicked in other bodies, mostly female.

           
Utterly crazy. But who
was
this crazy man? Where was he now?
That was the scary part. His last entry was three nights ago… when Lazlo was
still alive. That was the disturbing part: there had been no entries since
Lazlo's death.

           
Rob stood and tried to shake off the
crazy story. He smiled. Here he was, sitting in a padded cell, trying to make
sense of the ravings of a certifiable nut case. There was a major flaw in the
story: Gabor Gati had been dead for years. His death certificate was on file
downtown…

           
… signed by Lazlo.

           
He shook himself. It all seemed
weirdly logical—
if
you could accept
the premise that Gabor was still alive and.could actually control another
person's body.

           
But if he was alive, where would he
be?

           
In the Chelsea house, of course.

           
Rob felt spicules of ice forming in
his blood.

           
Lazlo Gati—or Dr. Gates, or whoever
the hell he was—had left everything to Kara. And one of the terms of the will
had been that she be given the keys to the Chelsea house immediately.

           
Christ!

           
And Rob had left her there alone. He
wondered if her sudden illness had anything to do with Gabor? Or if—?

           
What
am I saying? Get a grip, Harris!

           
He stood in the center of the padded
cell and took a few deep breaths. It was late, he was tired, and his
imagination was having a field day. Kara was at Ellen's. He'd go home himself,
get some sleep, and see Kara first thing in the morning to make sure she was
all right.

           
To make sure she was still Kara.

           
She was in a cab going east on 42nd
Street. Kara huddled sick and miserable, limbless and voiceless within her own
body, searching for a way out.

           
"Lazlo died right over
there," Gabor told her, pointing out the window with her finger.

           
Is
that why you brought me here?

           
"Of course not."

           
Then
why am I naked under this coat? It's too cold for this sort of thing.

           
"I've already told you twice:
Your taste in clothes is terrible. I'm going to have to buy us a whole new
wardrobe. Something with style."

           
Kara prayed that was the truth, but
she feared he had something else in mind. Something awful.

           
You
won't find anything open at this hour.

           
"We're not looking for clothes
now."

           
Then
what
—?

           
"Patience, my dear."

           
He told the cabbie to pull to the
curb and wait, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. She felt the wind run icy
fingers up the insides of her thighs...
Where
are we going
?

           
"Straight ahead."

           
They were walking toward a brightly
lit store. Yellow and white incandescent bulbs strobed deliriously in its
smudged and smeared show window, their light racing madly around its border. A
neon sign blinked "ADULT BOOKS" in turquoise while another blared
"PEEP SHOW" in red.

           
You're
taking me
there?

           
"Yes. Have you ever been in
one?"

           
Never!

           
"Then this will be a new
experience for you."

           
Inside the door was a square room,
its walls lined floor to ceiling with porno magazines—men with women, women
with women, men with men. To the rear was a curtained arch, keystoned with a
sign that said, "PEEPS." A narrow platform ran across the front of
the store, supporting a glass display case and a cash register. Behind the case
stood a portly, short, balding, middle-aged man wearing a greasy Guns n'Roses
T-shirt and a two-day stubble. There were two male customers in the store who
quickly headed for the back when they saw her.

           
The man on the platform leaned over
the display case and looked down at her.

           
"Can I help yiz, lady?" he
said in a voice like a chain saw.

           
"I'm looking for a tool,"
Kara's voice said as she stared into the dusty display case.

           
Lined up on the shelves behind the
glass were a good two dozen different models of vibrators and dildos.

           
You're
not serious!

           
"Hush. I'm choosing."

           
"Why fool with a tool when you
can have the real thing?" the counterman said, leering through his
stubble.

           
"How about yours? Is your tool
available?"

           
His smile broadened.
"Anytime!"

           
"Interesting. However, I
believe I'll take that one there."

           
Kara watched in horror as her finger
pointed to a twelve inch pink vibrator formed in the shape of an erect penis.
Gabor could only be buying it for one reason. It made her sick to think about it.

           
No!

           
The counterman took it out, wrapped
it up after it was paid for, and handed her the package with a lascivious
smile.

           
"Batteries not included."

           
"Quite all right. I have plenty
at home."

           
"Okay. But if dis don't work,
come back an' I'll show you da real ting."

           
"I just might take you up on
that."

           
You
wouldn't
! Kara said as they exited the store.

           
"I might. Just to teach you a
lesson if you prove bad company for me."

           
But
he's dirty and ugly and probably crawling with diseases!

           
"Probably. But I can always
replace you should you become debilitated by disease."

           
The sick helplessness of her
position began to weigh more heavily than ever on Kara. But she refused to be
cowed.

           
What
kind of monster are you
? she said as her body settled again in the back
seat of the cab.
And what kind of a man
wants to be in a woman's body
?

           
" 'Man?' What makes you think
I'm a man? You saw my body. Genetically it may possess a 'Y' chromosome, but
that's it. During my formative years my perceptions were drastically limited
and I was never treated as a male—or a female, for that matter. I was treated
as a sexless, mindless sibling. A doll. A pet. My own body had no experiences
to influence my sexual orientation. But when I began getting out of my body and
into others, I found the female sexual response more intense, more fulfilling.
And speaking of sexual response…"

           
Kara watched her hands slip the
vibrator from the brown paper bag. Her body leaned back in the seat and spread
her legs. The hands slipped the vibrator under her coat.

           
Was this why he'd left her clothes
at home? He wasn't—! Not here in the cab!

           
No.
Don't!

           
"A shame we don't have any
batteries."

           
God,
please don't!

           
She felt the cold plastic begin to
work its way inside her. Even without a voice, she managed to scream.

           
Kara watched her hand carve a thick
slice off the loaf of seedless rye.

           
"You know the plan now? And
when we get to your Aunt Ellen's you will coach me so I don't make any
mistakes."

           
Kara still burned from the
humiliation in the cab a few hours before. She refused to answer.

           
"Don't be rude, Kara. We are
going to be living together in this body for quite some time to come. You have
to accept that. We can be bickering enemies or civil companions. But I warn
you, if you give me trouble, there will be more incidents like the one in the
cab. And they will escalate until you behave like the good little girl I know
you can be. The choice is yours."

           
I
choose to be set free, damn you
!

           
"That is not an option."

           
Kara fought the black depression
thickening around her. She was utterly helpless, completely at Gabor's mercy—and
he didn't have any.

           
Even
without any mistakes, Ellen's going to think my moving in here is pretty
strange.

           
"What she thinks doesn't
matter. She merely has to hold the door as you and your daughter move
out."

           
Mention of Jill drew her up from the
depths.

           
Why
Jill? You didn't say anything about her before!

           
"You can't very well abandon
her. Not a devoted mother like you."

           
Were Kara's skin responsive to her
emotions, it would have crawled at the thought of this thing in her body
pretending to be Jill's mother.

           
No!
Let her stay with Ellen!"

           
"Not a chance."

           
Kara's rage exploded. She wished she
could take that knife and—

           
Suddenly her right hand pulled the
knife from the bread and slashed toward her left. The blade never reached her
flesh. But it came close, stopping within an inch or two of her arm.

           
"Well, well! Spirited, aren't
we? You caught me by surprise there. But it won't happen again."

           
I
hate you! I'd rather die than live like this
!

           
"You think being a passenger in
your own body or a little autoeroticism in the back of a cab is the worst that
could happen to you? You're wrong, my dear. I've been kind to you. I've allowed
you to keep in touch with the world through your senses. But I don't have to do
that. I can cut them off."

           
Go
ahead. I don't care.

           
"Really? We'll see. Say
good-bye to smell and taste."

           
The odor of the bread was gone but
other than that, Kara didn't notice much difference.

           
"Now… sound."

           
Silence such as Kara had never
imagined possible— even the subliminal rush of blood through her arteries was
gone. Only the voice remained.

           
"Now sight."

           
Darkness engulfed her. Darkness so
profound its impact was almost a physical blow. More than an absence of light.
A darkness that had never
known
light.

           
"Frightening, isn't it? But
tolerable because you still have your senses of touch and proprioception. You
can still feel the air against your skin, your feet on the floor; you still
know up from down. But not for long."