by Ed Miracle
“Momma,” she whispered.
“Tiffany!” The mother’s screech of joy twisted into terror. Ms. Lavery reached for her daughter. “I’m here, baby.”
Tanner plodded past Everett and laid the girl beside her mother. He towered over them, casting another shadow. Then he knelt to Philip, probed his friend’s neck, and rocked back. He sucked a great, wheezing breath and huffed it away. He gathered himself slowly, then shut the lids over Philip’s ghost-gray eyes.
A gesture that jolted Everett alert. What did we do? He searched for Marcy.
There she is. She laid down her camera and helped Ms. Lavery free herself from Philip’s body. The mother’s elegant fingers fretted the air an inch from her daughter’s ruined skin. Shaking her head and trembling, she looked to the sky and quelled a desperate urge to touch. She folded her useless hands and sobbed.
“Tiffany.”
Marcy tugged at the bodyguard’s pant cuff.
“Put them on the helicopter,” she said. “Get them out of here.”
Tanner knelt and hugged his knees, rocking and rocking until a gush of embers swept over the group. He sniffed his feelings back into his head and wiped his eyes. He squeezed Philip’s shoulder and rose on shaky legs.
“We always knew it would be something,” he said to his friend. “Turns out it’s this.”
He stepped across the body. Gently, paternally, he collected Tiffany and carried her to the helicopter. Ms. Lavery followed, flapping her useless hands, still sobbing. Marcy recorded their trek while Everett stared bleary-eyed at his father.
Dad.
Bobby’s hair reversed from another scorching gust as the helicopter spooled up for takeoff. It could only carry three.
Tanner returned and stood over Philip. Nearby, the computer bleated. Tanner scraped it into his hands, checked the screen, and told Marcy, “They are attacking again. You have to go.”
“Everett.” Her touch drained him. “We have to leave.”
“No.” I can’t.
In a crescendo of stinging grit, the helicopter departed slowly to the west.
Again the computer bleated, and Tanner threw it into the oleanders.
“Everett,” Marcy shouted. “We have to go.”
Not without Dad. He touched Bobby’s face, closed the vacant eyes.
Tanner loomed. “Get up.” He jerked Everett to his feet and counter-drilled the rage in his eyes. “Please,” he said.
Everett shrugged free, ready to fight.
“Mr. Aboud, you have to tell the people. You have to be our witness. Don’t let them lie about what happened here.” From the bushes, the computer bleated. “There aren’t enough Furies left to protect us. You have to go.”
Marcy grabbed Everett’s arm but commanded Tanner. “Carry him, dammit.”
As the bodyguard reached for him, Everett stepped aside. “I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll go, but you have to promise.” He could barely see. “To take care of my father.”
“He’s your dad?” Tanner glanced at Marcy, who nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I promise.”
The computer bleated louder and faster.
Marcy towed Everett to the plane, where he broke her grip and got in. He lit the fires, and they plunged at full throttle, humpty-bumpty across the asphalt and into a wicked, roiling sky. A westerly gust buoyed them, swept them clear of the rocks, but the thrill of escape shriveled instantly.
“Circle,” Marcy demanded. “We have to stay close. I put a mike on his collar.”
Everett banked sharply, pulled some respectable gees, but he couldn’t see. Just his hands on the controls, fumbling. Beneath a vast, gray dome of crud, the summit gyrated, sloppy and off-center. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him.
Dad.
Up front, Marcy recorded and narrated. Below them, Tanner hustled.
Everett blinked, smeared snot, and blinked again. There, his father, carried by Tanner to the Maker. Up the ladder to the open hatch and . . . slipped into the top cone. The slosh of water came to his earphones, along with a persistent, demented bleat. Tanner huffed back to the tower steps, hauled Philip to the Maker, and slid him into the top cone too.
“We need to go higher,” Everett warned. He widened their turn and climbed, orbiting the Maker below.
The bleating stopped as water thrummed. Tanner grunted up to the raw-material hatch and lowered himself through it, into the cavernous pool within. He peered to the sky, found them circling, and waved.
“We can go their way,” he said, “or we can go our way.”
He descended into the chamber with the bodies and shut the hatch over his head. For one extended moment, the mountain lay still and silent. Until a gout of bright, clean water burst from a side cone and spread shimmering across the earth.
Discussion Questions for Book Groups
1) After reading Maker Messiah, are you more optimistic or less optimistic about the future?
2) Do you wish Philip's Makers were real, or are you glad they're not?
3) What would you do if someone gave you a Maker?
4) Share a favorite quote or scene from the book. Why do these stand out for you?
5) Which character would you most like to meet, and what would you talk about?
6) If you were making a movie of this book, who would you cast in the principle roles?
If you enjoyed Maker Messiah, please review it on Amazon.com. because word of mouth is the best advertising. Your review will help others discover Philip Machen, Everett Aboud, and their searches for meaning in Maker Messiah.
About the Author
Ed Miracle lives with his wife in an adobe house they built together in Northern California. He is a university graduate who served six years in the U.S. Navy Submarine Service. Now retired from his computer systems career at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, Ed continues to support his community as a volunteer firefighter and emergency medical responder.
Ed’s award-winning personal narrative, “Submarine Dreams” is available as a free download at www.edmiracle.com.
If you enjoyed Maker Messiah, please review it on Amazon.com. Because word of mouth is the best advertising, your review will help others discover Philip Machen, Everett Aboud, and their searches for meaning in Maker Messiah.
