The Leaf May Tremble

1. 1

Lisa Hayes awoke with a start and sprang out of bed. She found that it was better this way--reacting to waking rather than thinking about it. With surprising agility for one who had been asleep ten seconds earlier, Lisa turned her light on, made her bed, and hurried into the bathroom. She was undressed and in the shower before she realized that her alarm clock had not gone off, and she had shampooed her hair before she realized what this meant. Wiping soap out of her eyes, Lisa grabbed a towel and rushed out of the bathroom to check the time. If she had overslept and it was past seven, Lisa knew she wouldn’t have time to finish her shower, or read the paper, or eat breakfast, for that matter. She would need to leave right away. She didn’t think she could stand the shame of being late to work twice in one week. Dripping water all over, she pushed aside a stack of books blocking her view and let out a strangled cry.2

The glowing clock face read 10:24, but there was no way she could have overslept four and a half hours. It simply couldn’t be. Lisa had been tired, yes. Actually, she was still tired. Four and a half extra hours of sleep probably would have been good for her. But she couldn’t possibly have overslept that much. Lisa stood shivering in her towel before the clock, trying to make sense of the number. 10:25 now. Perhaps she should call in sick? But that wouldn’t work; she would have called earlier if she were sick. Lisa shivered as she thought about her boss, Norma, who was probably pacing back and forth, cursing her. Lisa would be fired. She was going to get fired, she deserved it. Norma had told her to pack up her desk if she was as incompetent as she seemed. Now the words seemed like a sound suggestion. Lisa was completely incompetent if she couldn't even get up at the right time.3

It was 10:26 before Lisa stopped berating herself and finally looked out her window. The street below was dark, marked with streetlights every few hundred feet. It was still night. She had only been asleep for an hour. Lisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Unbidden, the thought "I need to find a new job" floated through her mind. Then she tried to forget that she had made such an admission.4

Lisa went back to the shower. She finished washing the shampoo out of her hair, dried off, and put her pajamas back on. At least she could go back to sleep. For seven and a half hours, too. That would be nice. Lisa walked across the hallway towards her room again. 5

Right at the side of her bed was a large patch of soaked carpet from her incident with the alarm clock. Sighing, Lisa decided she might as well clean it up. She went back to the bathroom to get her towel, but it was as wet as the carpet. Lisa decided then that she would just leave the whole thing alone, but when she stepped onto the carpet and heard it squish, she changed her mind. But that meant she would have to go to the linen closet, which was with the dryer, which was downstairs. Lisa hesitated once more. Throwing her hands up, she decided this whole thing was ridiculous. She might as well clean the water up. It was only ten minutes of sleep, anyway. Lisa trudged down the stairs and rounded the corner into her living room. Then she stopped cold.6

Sitting on her couch, with her throw pillow behind his head, reading her copy of Isaac Asimov’s Foundations, was a man Lisa had never seen in her life. He was middle-aged, with gray hair, a pointed beard, and heavy black glasses that were held together with masking tape. Smiling, he stood up, smoothed the jacket of his black three-piece suit, and extended his hand.7

“Get out,” said Lisa. The whole scene was so surreal that she could hardly bring herself to feel any fear or anger towards the intruder.8

“Ms. Hayes,” said the man, still holding out his hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”9

Lisa just stared at him. “Get out,” she said again.10

“I am here on behalf of an agency that would like your help, Ms. Hayes,” the man said. “I didn’t intend to visit you at such a late hour, but you were asleep when I called at nine and your front door was unlocked. I was going to speak with you in the morning.”11

Lisa was at a loss, now. The man clearly wasn’t intimidated by her, and she had no way around him. Ideas flicked in and out of her mind as she ran over her options. She could run back up the stairs to her room and call the police there, but she didn’t have a lock on her bedroom door. She could lock herself in the bathroom, but there was no phone. She could make a dash for the kitchen phone, but the man could certainly overpower her. She could run out of the house, but the man was between her and the door. 12

“I’m going to call the police now,” Lisa said lamely. She could feel her detachment from the scene fading quickly, and the accompanying fear was making her lightheaded.13

Acting almost without volition, Lisa moved towards the kitchen. In a twinkling the man was up and blocking her way. He was very tall, Lisa could see now. And almost certainly strong. Lisa took a panicked glance at her front door. She might make it. Assuming the door was unlocked and the man wasn't fast, maybe she could get away. Maybe.14

“Just listen to me,” the man said quietly. His gaze was intense, but not threatening. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just listen to me, and if you don’t accept my proposition, I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”15

Lisa moved towards the door; the man moved to follow her.16

“Please, Lisa,” he begged. His sincerity was startling.17

He’s crazy, Lisa thought. Absolutely cracked. Bonkers. Off the deep end. Nuts.18

And less dangerous talking, a second voice in Lisa's head whispered.19

“All right,” Lisa said cautiously, walking backwards towards the stairs, away from him. “Say whatever you want.”20

The man nodded gratefully. “Will you sit down?” the man asked, himself sitting back down on the couch. Lisa simply shook her head.21

"Suit yourself," the man said. Then he sighed. "Just so you know, this isn't usual protocol. We don't actually just walk into people's houses, but it didn't seem wise for me to stay out tonight, and I needed to stay in the area..."22

"And why wouldn't it have been wise for you to stay out?" Lisa asked, trying to sound angry but only sounding scared.23

The man smiled wryly. "We'll see if we get that far." He cleared his throat then. "My name is Milton Graves. I am here on behalf of a...well, let me call it a society. A loosely knit society. I admit that sometimes the left hand doesn't know what the right is doing..." Milton Graves laughed.24

Bonkers, thought Lisa again, but she just nodded. While he was talking, Lisa was safe. As long as he thought he could talk her into...whatever, she was safe.25

"But we are a society," Graves said, pressing on, "and we must be loosely knit. After all, we're what keeps the world running."26

Lisa waited for Graves to continue, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. "...Excuse me?" Lisa finally said, eyebrow arched and spine tingling.27

"Yes," Graves said. "We keep the world running. We synchronize the thing. We make it work. We catalog and comb through the populace; we tie city to city and state to state. We've charted out the dark corners of the map and mind; we find whatever's missing. When governments fail, we succeed--and there isn't one that doesn't respect us. It's our world, Miss Hayes. You've simply lived in it."28

Lisa stood silently for several moments, and then she started to laugh. This was crazy. This was nonsense. It was the most dangerous nonsense she had ever heard, but all the same, it was nonsense. Fit for mocking. Absolutely hilarious. Lisa could hear that her laughter was bordering on hysterical, so she tried to rein it in, but she just kept laughing. What was he, some kind of spy? A secret agent? Those glasses made for an excellent disguise, didn't they? Lisa was nearly crying with the hilarity of it.29

"I'm glad you're laughing," Graves said. Lisa stopped laughing so quickly that she nearly choked. "It means you don't take things unsubstantiated. That's good. We've never taken anyone who immediately accepted the whole ordeal."30

"I'm not going anywhere," said Lisa firmly, or what she hoped was firmly.31

"You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to go," Graves said. "I'm here to convince you, not to kidnap you."32

"I won't go."33

"You don't have to," Graves repeated patiently. "Just listen. Sit down."34

Lisa began to shake her head again, but then realized that if she sat down, she would actually be closer to the front door than if she remained standing in front of the staircase. She took a seat. From her chair, she could see that the door was dead bolted. That would be a delay, but if she could just manage to get him talking freely, she could make a break for it. After all, she probably knew the area better than he did. If she could just lose him well enough to make a two minute phone call, that would be enough.35

"Would you be more comfortable if we discussed this in public?" Graves asked.36

"What?" Lisa replied, her eyes racing from the door back to the man.37

"I told you I'm not going to hurt you, but you obviously don't believe me," Graves said. His voice was level, but Lisa thought she could detect an annoyed undercurrent. "Ultimately, it isn't me you need to accept, but my proposition, so if there is anything I can do to make you more likely to listen receptively--"38

"I am listening," Lisa said. For a moment, "public" had sounded good, but it was nearly eleven. No way was she going to walk somewhere with him in the dark. "You haven't told me anything that makes sense yet. I've asked you to leave, and you won't. I've let you explain, and you haven't, so..." Suddenly, she feeling that she might cry came back. Don’t be stupid, she thought, grasping for emotional control as her throat constricted. Don’t you dare cry. Not right now. You cannot cry right now. “Please just leave,” she finished.39

Graves exhaled a long breath. "I really am sorry I haven't made sense. I'm not a recruiter, you see, but we thought someone ought to talk to you. It's been so long since I've been on the civilian side that I have a hard time remembering what it's like to believe in all this." Graves made a vague gesture with his hand as though to encompass the entire room. "Have you noticed how hollow it is yet?"40

"...hollow?" Lisa croaked through her scrunched throat.41

"Yes," said Graves. "Like you're working towards something that you don't really want for reasons you don't really know. We--my agency, that is--don't actually have anything to do with that, but the hollowness of all this real stuff is what made me accept, back when I was about your age. That, and I thought my new job would be kind of like being a superhero. The stupid things you believe as a kid, eh?"42

Lisa eyes burned and her head felt like it was under several tons of pressure. She took a deep breath. "Stupid things, indeed," said Lisa, rubbing her eyes.43

“Now, try not to get upset,” Graves said. “I need you to think, okay? I can’t tell you what we do because we do so many different things, but I’ll try to explain in terms of my job. My entire duty is to find out what people think of secrecy.”44

He’s nuts, Lisa thought hopelessly. He starts to talk sense and then it’s just not. She nodded anyway.45

“I know the workings of the CIA, FBI, NSA, and any number of non-governmental secret societies, but the value in it all comes in the general populace’s perception of such things,” Grave said. His tone was similar to that of a lecturer, but his eyes positively sparkled. “Do you have any idea what you can do when the masses believe in something that doesn’t really exist? Believe in a function that doesn’t exist?”46

Lisa wasn’t sure, actually, but it was probably considerable. So she nodded.47

“It’s an incredible station. It's the power to calm or upset with no loss of resources." Graves emphasized his final words by striking the palm of his left hand with the back of his right. "Just think about it. A single cryptic news brief, run at the right time when the right people are watching, and your enemies think you are twice your true strength."48

Nothing could surprise Lisa at this point, so she didn't bat an eye at the sudden addition of "enemies" to this mess. After all, if there were societies and mysteries and what-have-you, why not enemies as well? Graves, however, anticipated her difficulties.49

"You don't like the sound of 'enemies,' do you?" he asked.50

Lisa didn't respond at first, but when she saw that the question was not rhetorical, she said, "No."51

"Why?"52

There could be no good answer to this question. To say what she really thought--that she would much prefer the presence of any he considered "enemies," that his agency sounded like an oligarchy--wasn't an option. So she said the next thing that came to mind. "It sounds dangerous."53

"Do you think so?" Graves asked. "Because I would expect you to think it is crazy." He stood up and walked towards Lisa. She sprang out of the chair and away from him, but Graves continued forward. He brushed the curtain back from the window and looked outside. Satisfied, he sat back down. "Nonetheless, Ms. Hayes, I must insist most emphatically that there are enemies. There is evil, and if you met it, I do not believe that you could give it any other name. There are rapists and murderers--"54

"There are rapists and murderers in the world as I know it," snapped Lisa.55

Graves smiled at her. "There are rapists and murderers, and then there are sociopaths who possess so much ambition and so little empathy that it defies thought. The last are the dangerous ones, Ms. Hayes, and you've never seen anything like them. Because we keep track of them."56

It was now 11:20. Lisa looked up and watched the pendulum swing. How long could this last? Lisa watched Graves, his blue eyes glistening behind those ridiculous tapped glasses. How could this end?57

Graves sighed. "Perhaps an anecdote would make you understand." He cleared his thoat. "When you were seventeen, someone crept into your best friend's house, cut her throat while she was sleeping, and wrote the words 'it goes on' on her bedroom door. The murderer left the house without another act. Your best friend, Danae Wilks, would have been the valedictorian at your high school, without a question. She was intelligent beyond anything a high school was supposed to handle. And her murderer was never found."58

Lisa just stared. She knew this should terrify her all the more, but instead, it left her with a sort of vacant feeling. Was that an attempt at pathos? Was that a threat? Lisa slowly closed her eyes and then opened them again. "What is your point?"59

"That murder was a premeditated strike against the society by our enemies," Graves continued. "Ms. Wilks was already in communication with us. She was going to be a strategist." He looked down at the floor. "It was a tremendous failure on our part that her identity leaked. Her murderer was caught, by the way. Robert Concepción. He will be executed in April for the murder of two Pennsylvanian men, but he confessed to Ms. Wilks's murder when our people questioned."60

Graves looked up from the floor and straight at Lisa. "Oddly enough, Ms. Wilks's murder was what led us to you. After we discovered that you had found Ms. Wilks, we started looking into your background."61

The vacant feeling was replaced by such a rush of emotions that Lisa nearly fainted. Everything the man had said was researchable--an assurance that he was a stalker.62

Everything except that she had found Danae. That had been reported nowhere.63

"Oh yes, Ms. Hayes, we know," Graves assured. "You went over to her house that morning, and Ms. Wilks's mother sent you upstairs to wake her."64

Remembering what it had felt like to shake Danae's stiff shoulder, Lisa unconsciously rubbed her fingers. When she had seen the blood, and Danae's neck, and face, she had turned and run. She never even saw the message on the door...65

"We looked into you," Graves said gently, "because people who see things like that don't often find themselves at home in society afterwards. And you are plenty bright for the work you will do."66

"What work is that?" Lisa asked. She shook off the memories like water--the most condensed flew off, but the damp horror of the whole matter remained. The damp horror that suddenly reeked of realness.67

"I don't know," said Graves. "You're competent to do just about anything."68

"I'm an actuary."69

“With a double major in English literature," he parried. "You’ve published sonnets, Ms. Hayes."70

“So?”71

“So? Was that part of your actuarial training?”72

“No. But I don’t see any reason that the two are mutually exclusive.”73

“Of course you don’t. But surly you’ve realized that your coworkers don’t have that sort of interest.”74

“Not many people do,” said Lisa defensively. “It's an acquired taste.” One she had acquired after several readings of Tennyson's "In Memoriam."75

“But you like it,” Graves said intently. “You are an actuary who would rather be a poet. You chose your path based on what was logical. You went in a highly skilled, high paying field because you could do it, but you could have done anything. I’ve seen your records, your test scores, your writing. You could have gone to any college and landed any job.” Grave paused and smiled. “And you just happened to take the one that you would hate.”76

"I don't hate it."77

"You do."78

"I don't." Lisa looked away.79

Graves just looked at her knowingly, and then said, very softly, "Come with me, Ms. Hayes. I'll take you to Mason, my superior, and he'll get you where you need to be. There's a lot I don't know how to tell you because there is a lot I don't know, but trust me, I have never regretted this life."80

"No."81

"How well has the rational worked out for you so far? You cannot live your life according to the numbers, Ms. Hayes--you know this, but you won't break out of it. Come with me."82

Lisa swallowed and shook her head. Fight the madness, she told herself. But her lips said, "Where would we go?"83

"Kansas City, first. After that, I don't know."84

"Can I tell my family?"85

Graves gave her a look that matched the softness of his voice. "I will not say this life is without sacrifices."86

"I--" An utter longing to run away, not just from Graves, but from everything and everyone, seized Lisa. "I can't."87

"You could."88

"I can't."89

Graves gave her a long, penetrating look. "Very well then, Ms. Hayes," he said. "I see that I cannot convince you." Graves stood up. "I am sorry that I disturbed your sleep, and wish you the best." Milton Graves offered his hand. Lisa, hardly knowing what she was doing, shook it. Graves withdrew his car keys, unbolted the door, and left with another glance.90

Lisa watched through her front door’s peephole as Graves started his truck. He sat with the engine running for a full minute. Lisa hardly breathed. She put her hand on the doorknob, and she was about to fling the door open and run out and say that yes, she wanted to go. But just as she made up her mind, Graves pulled out of his parking place and drove down the street. He turned left at the first stop sign and vanished from Lisa’s sight.91

Slowly, Lisa relaxed her grasp on the doorknob and rested her forehead on the door. She turned the deadbolt back into place, turned the doorknob’s lock, and then tried the door. It didn’t budge. Satisfied, Lisa made her way upstairs to the bathroom, where she immediately threw up and cried until morning.92