Chapter Five
by Andre Infante
They materialize on a dune. The traveler and the rock he is sitting on tip on a rakish angle and begin to slide down the hill. He has fallen off cliffs many times before, and responds by grabbing the nearest available object, which happens to be the French girl. One hand lands on her chest, and she pulls her hand back to slap him, and then loses her balance as well. The dog scampers off in a controlled descent as the two of them tumble helplessly down the hill. He lands badly on his foot at the bottom and his toes roar like lions in his ears. He lands on the ground under the hot sun, feeling cold, breath catching in his throat. The French girl turns to yell at him, shaking hot sand out of her blouse, and then sees his condition. His eyes lose focus, and he begins to drift. The dog comes and curls up next to him. He dips beneath the surface, and then there isn’t anything anymore, not even him. “You asked to see me, sir?” “Yes, that’s right. What’s your code again? Umber?” “Yes, sir. Private Umber.” “Yes, of course. I suppose you know who I am?” “Yes, sir. You’re the new Black. You’re the general they’ve put in charge of Project Rainbow, after-.” “Yes. Well, my predecessor left me with quite a mess, god rest his soul. I am given to understand that, until now, this division has mostly been focused on research, is that correct?” “I suppose so, sir.” “Well, that is going to change. I’ve received word from a contact in the intelligence business regarding this business in Germany, and, well, it doesn’t look good. I’m afraid we’re going to have to pursue this thing lot more aggressively than we have been up until now. Would you mind letting me know where we stand on vehicle transit?” “Sir – I’m not a scientist. I’m sure White or Gray could-“ “Please, private, in your own words. White and Gray won’t give me a straight answer until the Nazi’s are marching down Pennsylvania Avenue. Let me tell you, Umber, we might need the Krauts, but we can never let them make the decisions. Goddamn intellectuals, let me tell you. They’ve done their part, and now I’m doing mine. Please continue.” “Well, sir, so far as I know, we’ve never tried anything larger than four meters. Even that was highly unstable. Tore the pilot to pieces. We lost Orange and Magenta in the explosion.” “That’s unfortunate. So vehicles are out for the moment. What about animal testing?” “Well, we got a chimp to pass through a sheet of purified aluminum the other day. Unfortunately, the targeting is very eratic. He ended up two floors down.” “That’s too bad.” “Yes sir.” “Still, he made it?” “Well, sort of. He broke every bone in his body, and his guts were a mess. The lamps are still highly unstable. We’ve never had anything bigger than a hamster survive.“ “-Listen, private, is it all right if I get right to the point? I’ve got a folder on my desk that says that you could use liquid aether injections and a wearable tesium lamp to turn a human pilot into a stable jump platform. Is this true?” “Yes, sir, but it’s untested. Gray forbid us to run any further experiments after the mouse. He thinks it’s dangerous-“ “Private, I don’t give a damn what Gray thinks. Or White, or goddamn Colonel Pink. I want you to tell me if it can be done.” “In that case, yes, sir, I believe it can.” “Excellent. In that case, Private, you are now officially reassigned to a special task force of project rainbow, under my direct authority and supervision. You will report tomorrow for your first biweekly injection. You are expressly forbidden to mention a word of this to anyone, especially Gray and White. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “Yes?” “Yes, sir.” “Good. With any luck, we’ll have ten thousand like you in a year’s time. Dismissed.” The traveler awakes with a start in the shade of a dune. The French girl looks at him. She’s sunburned already, face red, hair hanging down her face like damp yarn. She looks tired. He tries to stand up, gets dizzy, sits back down. “Je suis désolé. Il m'a fallu du temps pour trouver un peu d'ombre.” He smiles at her. Between heat stroke and sepsis, he feels like shit. “Ne vous inquiétez pas. Thank you.” He struggles upright. The dog walks up to him, and he rubs it behind the ears. “Ce pied va te tuer,” “Yeah. Yeah, probably.” She nods. “Never mind. You should get off at the next civilized place we find. I don’t want you to get stuck in a place like this.” “You think… I would leave you to die?” “Yes.” She looked away. “Good.” The boot comes off with a hard tug, and he inspects the foot. She reset the toes again while he was unconscious. Thank god. The pain isn’t too bad, but it’s still red and abscessed, and it looks like it’s getting worse. He has a thought, and pulls the glove off to inspect his injured hand. The cuts are scabbing well. It’s turned an ugly yellow green color in places, but that’s just bruising. He flexes it. The numb patches are shrinking. Well, small favors. He brushes damp hair out of his face and checks his watch. Not much time left. He limps out into the sun, feeling the bubble form around him. Walking is hard. He feels weak, and there’s something wrong with his skin. His whole leg feels dead. There’s fever bile in his throat and the air feels too cold. Black spots swarm his vision, and he wretches, bent over, but there’s nothing to come up. The French girl comes up behind him and places her hands on his back, pushing the cold canvas against his skin. He shivers uncontrollably. The dog whimpers at his feet. The watch dings, and suddenly the two of them and the dog are gone. They land in the water, and the cold digs into his guts like teeth. He can’t even breathe. The intensity of the pain is indescribably, like he’s being chewed in half, like ever raw nerve has been stripped and dipped in liquid nitrogen. This has to be a polar ocean, kept liquid only by salinity. He can see floating chunks of ice not too far off. He dips below the surface almost immediately. On a good day he’d have the bedroll half inflated already. Now he can barely swim. As he fights for air, he suddenly feels a slight lightening. The French girl has the bedroll off his back. He sees her lift the shivering dog onto the half-inflated bed roll, then he dips beneath the still surface. He fights, tries to swim, but the cold is like a vice around his head. Then, as he sinks, a kind of tired peace sets in. It’s no longer freezing. In fact, it’s rather warm, like being wrapped in a big woolen blanket. He feebly twitches for the surface, but somehow it doesn’t really seem to matter anymore. Even the realization that he’s going to die of hypothermic shock doesn’t seem to compare to the seduction of just a minute of warm sleep. He settles back into the warm darkness, floating weightless in a vast, warm, dark void. He opens his mouth, and breathes easily. Burning warmth surges into his lungs. He can’t exactly move, but he doesn’t really want to. Finally, here is rest, here is peace. Just as the light filtering through the water above him begins to fade to black, he feels an insistent tug, pulling him out of his reverie. He’s rather annoyed at the intrusion. The tugging becomes stronger, and he sees a vague shape, hanging half into the water, dragging him towards the surface. With a monumental effort of will, he kicks, weakly, and sways his arms. He fights for the surface, fights for the light. Then, exhausted, he allows the dark figure above the surface to pull him the last few inches. Up he comes, gagging. His face feels like a fresh scrape under the cold air. The French girl, thoroughly drenched, with frost forming in her hair and around her lips, drags him, limp, into the boat. He rolls over and chokes more water into the ocean. He tries to breathe. He’s begun to shiver now, which is strange, as he didn’t shiver in the water. A horrible pain is knotting in his gut, and feeling is coming back to his injured foot and hand. He bends double with cramps, shaking. He can barely see, can’t think. He rocks slowly in the bottom of the boat. The French girl ignores him, and paddles towards a nearby outcropping of ice, using her hands, in his gloves, to push them along. When they get to the ice, she and the dog get out onto the ice. Then she drags him onto the surface, then the boat. She deflates it, and rolls it up. The traveler lies unresisting on the ice. He has a fever now, and sweat is standing out on his forehead. Images float, dreamlike across his vision. He’s vaguely aware of the French girl taking things off his pack, and then of a faint warmth. He opens one eye (the other is still frozen shut), and looks out at her. She’s got the cook stove out, and she’s lit it. He’s been curled around it, and the small application of heat is melting some of the ice on his body. The dog is lying next to him on the bed roll, curled up against the heat. The French girl is sitting cross legged across from him, one half of her dress warm and the other half frozen stiff. The image fades away. “Private, please sit down. And you, Mr. –“ “Doctor, if you please.” “Yes, of course. And, of course-“ “Could we get on with this? I have many things to do.” “Hah. You think you are busy, inventor? Do you understand what this will do to physics?” “After what we just did, you are concerned with physics? I suppose when you fuck a pretty woman, you think only of biology? Hmmmm?” “Gentlemen! Private, perhaps it would be best if you explained.” “I hardly think the boy is qualified.” “Let the boy speak, herr Doctor. At this rate, we’ll be here all night.” “Yes, please. In your own words, Private.” “Well, you see, we were trying the lamp for the first time, and we made a scale model and put it on a toy boat in a tank, and we powered it up, and the boat vanished.” “Well, that’s quite excellent. That is, after all, why we’re here.” “No, no, see, that’s what we thought too, but it wasn’t invisible. The boat was just gone.” “I don’t understand.” “Huh. Join the club. Anyway, we found the boat after a while. It was sitting in a big puddle of water in one of the basements. The doctor and the Austrian have some ideas on why, but I said we’d better come to you first.” “Thank you, Private. That was exactly right, of course. I must confess, gentlemen, I feel you are pulling a prank on me. Do you mean to tell me that you have invented t- ” “Hah! Hardly. Whatever these two might tell you, this is most decidedly not teleportation. This is simply an as-yet undiscovered stage of matter. I might also add that it appears to be restricted to propagating through metal.” “Herr Doctor, this whole world is made of metal. What is that saying with the ducks and the quacking?” “Listen, sir, all I know about this is that, whatever it is, it’s a hell of a lot more useful than invisibility. So, what we do now is up to you.” “I’m inclined to agree. However, I need to report this my superiors. Also, gentlemen, I think it would be for the best if we stopped using names. I’ll circulate a memo. Dismissed.” In his reverie, he hears a dinging noise. When he awakes again, they’re in the woods. The French girl has piled some wood up in a small bonfire. He’s mostly thawed, though still very cold. The dog is lying behind me. The French girl is sitting with her back to the fire, staring off into the woods. The traveler tries to stand up, then settles back down. Not an option. His stomach hurts, his joints ache, his lungs still feel like he breathed ground glass, and he’s running a fever so high he’s barely conscious. He settles for a crawl. He drags himself towards the French girl, and then rocks himself up in a sitting position. She turns to look at him. She looks scared, but none the worse for the wear for her brush with hypothermia. “Hey.” She brushes the hair out of her face. “Oui?” “Um. So, I’m basically pretty fucked up.” “Oui.” “Listen, I guess you don’t really owe me anything, but, um, could you please take care of my dog? He deserves a bit of rest.” She nods, slowly. “Bien sur. Rendormir.” “Thank you.” The traveler crawls back towards the fire and lays down next to it. He slips into unconsciousness again. “I’m proud of you.” “I know you are, mom.” “You really can’t tell me where you’re going?” “I really can’t.” “Well, you threw away your wool socks, so it must be somewhere warm.” “Mom…” “I know dear.” “I love you, mom.” “I know, dear. I love you too.” “I’ll write you as soon as I get there. Goodbye.” “Bye, son.” The French girl is shaking him awake. She’s stomped the fire out, and packaged up everything. He glances at his watch. Five minutes left. He doesn’t even try to sit up. Lying on his back, he calls for the dog, who abandons a damp fern, the previous object of his attention. The dog walks up and licks his nose, then settles down. The French girl sits down in front of the traveler. “Quand j'étais une jeune fille, j'ai vu une fois un oiseau blessé sur le terrain.” He nods, and licks his lips. She pulls the canteen out of his coat, drinks some, pours a little for the dog, offers him a drink. She continues, almost off-handedly. “Nous avons été les agriculteurs. J'avais vu la mort avant. Elle était un étourneau, though. Elle était belle, juste un bébé. Je voulais l'aider. Ses jambes étaient cassées. Elle saignait. Elle était dans la douleur. Je ne pouvais pas penser à rien d'autre à faire. J'ai écrasé la tête avec une pierre.” She isn’t even looking at him. He laughs weakly, and spits up some blood. Dark spots are bobbing on his field of vision. “French Girl. Planifier pour moi euthanasier déjà? Nous venons tout juste atteint. Tu ne te souviens la règle? Ne jamais commettre un meurtre sur une première date!” She gives him an ugly look. “Vous n'êtes pas drôle. Asshole. Je vous regarde, comme ça. Lorsque je vous regarde, je vois cet oiseau. Je ne veux pas vous laisser derrière. Je vais, si je le dois, mais je ne l'aime pas.” His smile fades a little. He reaches up, and touches her shoulder. “No, French Girl. Ne vous inquiétez pas pour moi. Je te tiens dans tout cela. Essayez d'obtenir la maison. Que Sera Sera.” She nods curtly. The bubble has settled around them. The traveler takes a breath, and waits. The bell rings. A moment later, they are gone. A half hour later, a smoldering stick from the fire crumbles. A few cinders fall into the dry grass. Within an hour, ten miles of forest are on fire. They crash into the ocean again this time, but it’s warm and shines like half-melted glass. He can see a beach with buildings on it some ways off. He crashes into the water, watching twenty pounds of earth dip dissolve in a gray cloud beneath the surface. He laughs, as the sparkles of water rush up to meet his face, and his head sinks underneath. The French girl grabs him and drags him above the surface. “DON’T DIE, moron!” He drifts, eyes mostly closed, little sparkles of light running along the horizon of his closed eyelids. Warm sea air washes over his face. He hardly feels feverish anymore, just tired. So tired. “Sometimes in a man’s life, he must make a distinction…” There’s a hard blow to his legs. He jerks his head restlessly. He’s being dragged across wooden planks. “..a distinction…” There’s a harsh light in his face, and men running around. The French girl is yelling things. The floor shifts. If it’s not just the fever, he’s on a boat. “…between what could be, and what will be.” Unconsciousness descends on his head like rushing black water, and this time he does not dream. When he awakes, he finds that he is no longer in pain. Or any discomfort at all, really. Ah. This must be morphine. He sits up slowly in bed. The fever is breaking. Cool air blows in through the open door, blowing his hair around, cooling his face and smelling like the ocean. A young, clean-shaven medic with brown hair and a naval cap sits near the foot of the bed. He smiles at the traveler. “Good, you’re awake. Welcome aboard the California.” The traveler nods absently, and leans forward to inspect his food. They’d removed the boot. It’s all bandaged up, but the outline looks distinctly wrong. “We, ah, had to amputate three of your toes, to prevent you from losing the leg. We drained the pus, and sterilized the wound. We’ve also given you injectable penicillin, and some morphine. You’re responding amazingly well, I have to say.” The traveler inspects the foot. Three toes. Well, considering he was close to death a half an hour before, three toes is small potatoes. Still, it’s more than a little unsettling. “Where’s the French girl? Where’s my dog?” “Ah. We tried to ask her about you, but she wouldn’t tell us anything. She’s under watch in the brig for the moment. She has the dog, he’s fine.” “Oh.” “Listen, do you mind if I ask you a question?” “Shoot.” “Well, now, I’ve been a doctor for five years, now. Enlisted in the army when my practice burned down. But, in all that time, I’ve never seen anything like this. When you came in, you had sunburns, heat stroke, minor frostbite, hypothermia, and a septic leg. And that’s not even mentioning that hand of your. I don’t suppose you could satisfy my curiousity and tell me how the hell that could happen to a person in Hawaii?” The traveler sits up a little straighter. The old habits switch smoothly back into motion. He smiles pleasantly at the medic. “What’s your security clearance, soldier?” The medic’s smile becomes slightly stiff. “Confidential.” “Well, the answer to that question is classified top secret. So, unfortunately, I can’t tell you much. Let me just say that I have had an extraordinarily bad day.” The medic stares at him. “You have identification?” The traveler reaches into his pocket, finds a secret pocket, and removes a rotted leather wallet. He pulls out a laminated card, and hands it to the medic. The medic looks at it, becomes slightly paler, and hands it back. “I apologize, sir. May I ask what happened to your uniform, sir?” “Fabric doesn’t last long where I’ve been. Listen, soldier, I have something I need done. Do you think you can help me?” “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” “Good. First, I’m going to need a pencil and paper. Do you think you can get me that? Also, I’d like my gun and my sword back. ” “Yes sir. I’ll do that now, sir. I have writing materials just over here.” “Good. Thank you.” The medic wheels a table over to the bed. The traveler unfolds a sheet of paper, and pens a brief letter to an old colleague. He signs his name at the bottom. From inside a rubber pouch in his coat, he produces two water-stained envelopes. He puts this letter into one, puts a stamp on it from the writing materials, and addresses it to “Dr. Gray” Old Grove Rd. Nassau Point Laconic, Long Island He then removes another letter from the bag, makes a brief addendum in the scant half-inch space at the bottom not filled with text, and then seals, stamps, and addresses this one as well, to his mother in Oregon. He then replaces both letters into the rubber bag, which he seals carefully. The medic returns a moment later, with the gun and the sword. “I apologize for cutting the bolts on the locks, sir. We didn’t know the combination. I brought replacements.” The traveler nods, and locks the sword back into place. He checks the number of rounds on the gun, engages the safety, and pockets it. He checks his watch. Still some time left. The medic must be a good doctor. Fast, anyway. He passes the rubber bag to the medic. “There are two letters in here. Both of them are classified above – both of them are classified top secret. Do not read them. When you get the opportunity, I need them mailed to their respective addresses, as quickly as humanly possible. I am not exaggerating when I say that several million lives most likely depend on these letters reaching their destinations within the day. Do you understand, soldier?” “Yes, sir. I understand.” “Good. Keep them on your person at all times. That is a direct order.” “Yes, sir.” “Now, can I walk?” “Yes. Probably. I’d advice against it, though, you could easily re-injure your toes.” “Duly noted. Do you keep medical supplies close at hand?” “Yes, sir.” “In that case, I want several syringes of penicillin and morphine. I’d also like a first aid kit, mine is nearly empty.” “Yes sir. How many syringes, sir?” “How many you got?” “Sir.” The medic gathers the equipment, and hands it to the traveler, who collects it in his pack. Then he turns to the medic. “I’d like to see the French girl, now.” The medic looks conflicted. “I have a direct order from the captain not to allow her out.” “I outrank the captain.” “I’m sure you do, sir. I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to speak to the captain.” “I have naval authority- oh, never mind. Send someone to go get the captain. You don’t need to release her, I just want to speak to her.” “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The traveler lifts himself out of the bed, and settles gently, flat-footed onto the ground. There’s no pain, but that hardly means anything. He’s probably on enough morphine to drop a bull elephant. He straightens his clothing, picks up his boot and stuffs it into a pocket, and limps after the medic. They go out the door and onto the deck of the ship. A marching band is playing some distance away. The medic flags down a nearby enlisted man, and sends him off after the captain. He then leads the traveler through a hatch and down a flight of stairs (which the traveler takes very slowly), and into the bowels of the ships. Despite the morphine and the medical care, the traveler does not feel well. He’s got the cool sweats of a breaking fever, a trembling in the limbs, and general weakness. Still, he’s not dying anymore, and that’s the start. He follows the medic down several more corridors into the brig. The French girl is sitting sullenly in a cell glaring at the guards outside. She turns to look at the traveler. “Bon, vous avez vécu.” “Yes, yes I did. Soldier, please let me in.” “Yes sir. The captain should be along directly, sir.” The medic unlocks the cell, and the traveler steps inside. “You alright?” “Oui. How do we get out?” “I’ve got it handled. Listen, do you want to stay here? Neutral country, you’ll probably be safe here.” She frowns. He rushes. The bubble is forming already, and everyone else in the room looks confused. “I have money. There’s a safe deposit box with a few hundred thousand US dollars. I can give you the key and-“ He stops, freezes, listening to a distant drone. The medic and the guards look up with faces wide and staring. There is the briefest moment of silence, and then a sound like all the demons of hell taking a shit on the deck. The whole ship moves, like a car in an accident. One of the walls splits open. A second later, water comes rushing in, droplets hammering on the walls like falling nails. It begins to rush down the stairs, heading right into the cells. The traveler turns and grabs the medic. “You. Do you want too live?” “Yes, sir.” “Then get the fuck over here.” He drags the medic to his side, and points him at the wall. The ship tilts dangerously. The two guards have their guns out, and are trying to fight the rush of water up the stairs. “When I say run, run. Head right for the wall, you understand? Don’t slow down. That’s an order.” “Sir.” He turns to the French girl. “Do you trust me?” “No.” “Too bad. Come here. Suivez le soldat. Ne vous inquiétez pas. Je sais ce que je fais.” She comes and stands behind the medic. The traveler stands behind them. He waits until the last possible moment, when the bubble is a few moments away from being fully formed, and then shouts. The medic runs full tilt at the wall, followed closely by the traveler and the French girl. They hit the wall as a single unit of flesh. The traveler feels the wall coming up into his face, like a serene pool of freezing gunmetal-grey fluid. He hits it, and feels a force go through him that is simply indescribable. There’s pain, but he’s too far gone to feel it. His brain is scrambled. And then he’s out, on the other side, falling into the water. He lands near the French girl and the dog, but a distance away from the medic, who he waves away. Overhead, Japanese zeroes are screaming past, dropping dark parcels that erupt in pounding light and noise. Far too their right, another ship marked ‘UTAH’ explodes in a fireball. The traveler turns to the medic, and shouts. “Deliver the letters!” The medic nods, and begins to swim doggedly for another ship, the traveler can’t read the name. A shell explodes in the water not far off, and a piece of shrapnel flies past his head. He turns to the French girl, grabs her, and dives. He swims down as far and as hard as he can, until he can see no light except for the sparks thrown off by the water boiling around the bubble. And then, distantly, he here’s the dulled, deepened ding of his watch, and they vanish. The bubble of vacuum sustains for a split second, and then implodes. Then there is nothing in the deep, quiet dark but a few fish annoyed by the loud noises from above. BACK *** NEXT  |
Author's Note:
According to my loose outline, we have now reached the halfway mark. And, yes, I changed the title again. Yes, I am weak. We've covered this. Happy New Years, everyone! ___________________ Buy me a cup of tea! |
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Sorry to anyone who actually read this. Getting the adds to target on a site like this is... challenging.
