Sleepwalker by Michael Cadnum Page A

Peter was the one responsible, actually. He always seems to know what to do in an emergency.”
    â€œHave there been an unusual number of accidents at the site?”
    â€œThere’s no question about that at all. I’ve never seen so many accidents, most of them, I hasten to add, entirely unexciting.”
    â€œIs there—I want to put this correctly. Is there talk about the site?”
    â€œTalk?”
    â€œI don’t even know how to ask this. Is there a certain amount of superstition regarding the site?”
    â€œI’m the last person to know about such things. There may be, among the wage earners, the laboring men, and such. I certainly haven’t heard anything.”
    â€œTell me what you know about Irene.”
    Jane tilted her head and studied him for a moment. “I just spoke to Irene.”
    â€œYes?” Davis prompted.
    â€œI had already told her everything I knew about you. Which is not, I must say, very much. But she asked me for more information, and I really didn’t know quite what to tell her. She said you were a very interesting man.”
    Davis was surprised how happy this bit of news made him. He felt—and this bewildered him—as though he were blushing.
    â€œBecause you are, I have to agree, an interesting man.”
    â€œI’m beginning to feel embarrassed.”
    â€œI would have thought you accustomed to all sorts of flattery.”
    But this was more than flattery. Jane was, in her somewhat suave, even formal way, making a play for Davis. It was unmistakable. The sideways looks, the accidental, not accidental touching of his wrist with her hand.
    Peter knew as soon as he saw the two of them what was happening. Davis had the stupid look on his face, pleasured and self-conscious. And Jane had as close to a come-hither look as she could have managed anywhere outside an actual bedroom.
    But before he could absorb any of this, the rest of the crew arrived, even Langton.
    Langton was notoriously stingy. He ordered the pints of bitter, and had Skip bring them over to the round tables. Everyone was buzzing with the story of Oliver, who had just been released from York District Hospital. Oliver beamed, delighted to be the dead man who woke up. As Skip told it, the accident had been the funniest event in years. “The place chews people up and spits them out, doesn’t it, Oliver?”
    â€œIt chewed us up, all right.”
    So that’s the way it’s going to be, thought Peter.
    â€œHere’s to all of you hard workers for all the work you have been doing, and, I’m sure, will continue to do.” Langton raised his pint.
    The dozen or so laborers and scientists lifted their glasses, and drank. The bitter tasted like dirty dishwater to Peter.
    â€œYou’re all right, aren’t you, Peter?” asked Mandy.
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I be?”
    â€œOf course he’s fine,” said Skip. “Enjoying the great hospitality of Mr. Langton. We’re all together, and Mr. Langton wants us to drink our fill tonight, I can tell that.”
    Langton beamed nervously. “I thought a pint after work—”
    â€œA pint or two or three after work, said Mr. Langton to himself, and here we all are, thirsty as the Gobi, every last one of us.” Skip gave Peter and Mandy a wink. “So drink up, all, and here’s our gratitude to the bounty of Mr. Langton.”
    â€œWhatever is the matter now, Peter?” asked Mandy softly.
    â€œNothing,” snapped Peter. “Everything is fine.”
    First Margaret. Now Jane.
    Langton was smiling very unhappily. Skip had drained his pint, and held up his empty glass like a trophy. Davis and Jane drained theirs. Then there were empty glasses all around. Skip continued his toast, praising Mr. Langton, the most generous employer, the drinking man’s friend. Alf joined in, raising an empty glass with an arm that was blue with tattoos.
    Langton dug out his