The Two Worlds of Billy Callahan

by Richard Friedman

  “Teacher!” thought Billy, “this isn’t Earth, where’s North America? Where’s South America?”

  “This is your earth before the continents divided. This is the earth millions of years ago. You learned this in school. Let’s go visit a city. You will be more comfortable there,” said the teacher.

  Fast moving vehicles zoomed in and out of the city. A period of time passed. Hargudus, now older, his hair thinner, and his height had fallen three or four inches since Billy first saw him. The command center had transformed from a simple landing site to a booming city with thousands of inhabitants.

  The teacher showed him parks, schools, buildings, and factories. He saw a long line of trucks returning from the far outposts of the land mass to huge factories. Airplanes emerged from the factory around the clock and flew back to the giant ship orbiting the earth.

  There was Hargudus, sitting on the ground, playing with three toddlers. Billy assumed they were his children. A woman, the first Billy had seen, reached for the tallest of the youth, and spoke to Hargudus.

  Billy asked the teacher about Hardugus.

  “What happened to him? He’s shorter and lost most of his hair.”

  “Time is moving quickly. You can’t sense it, but many years have gone by. Hargudus is much older than when you first saw him. Our people get appreciably shorter in their middle years, plateau for dozens of years, and shorter still as they age.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Billy! You there?” Billy Callahan…can you hear me?”

  The voice echoed in the hole. Billy couldn’t speak. A small spot deep in his brain understood the question, but he couldn’t respond to the voice. The teacher’s stranglehold on his life was complete. He was a hostage within his own head. There were no bars or restraints to stop him, but the orb and the teacher were in control of his ability to move or speak. Eighteen minutes passed and Billy’s head remained in his new, other world, observing the visual record of the first people to live on Earth, or Tenegraw, as they called it.

  He overheard the voice again. “Captain Itzal, we’ve searched the region five times, we can’t find him.”

  The lanky Israeli captain was determined to find the boy.

  “We found his father, and I’m not going to be the one to call my superiors and tell him we couldn’t fine the boy. He’s out here somewhere. Look again. Lift each rock in the desert if you must... find him. Do you understand? That’s an order,” snapped the captain.

  “Yes sir, I understand,” said private Weingarten. As the trooper turned away, Itzal overheard the soldier mumble under his breath, but decided to let the comment go. He had pushed the young soldier to the brink. The pressure mounted on the entire rescue party to retrieve the boy. The word “rescue” would flip to “recovery” if they failed.

  Marrick assumed correctly that Jack and the boy were smack dab in the middle of where the quake hit and didn’t bother waiting to confirm if the two were safe. Minutes after the earthquake, he called his buddy in the Knesset to mobilize a search party for the Americans.

  “Mr. Schlessel, this is Marrick. God has decided I should live a little bit longer. I was hoping you could send troops to my house. I have an agreement with that “Mud Man” gentleman from the States, Callahan. He and his boy are in the desert. I’m afraid they are in danger. They’re close to the epicenter. It couldn’t hurt if the world saw a group of Israeli soldiers scouring the remote parts of the Negev to save an American television star and his young boy. We could use all the positive media publicity we can get.”

  There was a long pause while Marrick waited for the answer. He turned to his dog and buried the phone with his thick hand, “Now we stop talking and wait for an answer. You must learn this lesson. Ask for the sale and shut up.” His patience soon rewarded.

  “Splendid! We haven’t a moment to waste. I’ll meet the troops at my house and fill them in on our visitors. I pray to God that the two of them are in good health. Thanks, and I’ll send the shekels in the morning.”

  Marrick placed the phone on the cradle and eyed Stevie.

  “My little poochie. With money, comes great responsibility. Or was that ‘power’? Either way, we’re getting what we want.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Weingarten and his two assistants, Gadi and Umash, reviewed their charts.

  Gadi stared at the map. “There’s no reason for the child to stray that far from the father.”

  “I have two children, and they wouldn’t leave me in the desert. They’d stay, wait for help to arrive, or search for me,” said Umash. He peered into the desert, looking for any sign of the boy. “If the boy left his father and searched for help, we’d already have found him. That means he walked in the wrong direction. Perhaps whatever electronic devices he had with him malfunctioned? Or he’s unable to respond because he’s injured or dead.”

  Weingarten guzzled a long sip from his canteen. He wiped a mix of sweat, dirt, and water from his lips.

  “Let’s examine that hole one more time, if he’s not there, we’ll head east and pray we find the boy, alive or otherwise.”

  They strode back to the giant hole that the earthquake had created and yelled from atop the ridge. “Billy!” No response.

  “I’m telling you, the poor kid is not in the damn hole. We’re wasting our time,” said Umash.

  Weingarten crawled to the edge of the cavity. He flicked on his flashlight and scanned the sides of the walls. Shadows obscured much of view.

  “He must have headed in the other direction. We’re wasting daylight,” said Gadi.

  “Get my rope from the truck,” said Weingarten.

  “Are you nuts? You can’t go in there. If the ground shifts, you’ll be killed,” said Gadi.

  “I said get my rope or I’ll report you to Itzal.”

  Gadi left in a huff and returned in short order with the rope. Gadi and Umash assisted Weingarten in securing the harness and within minutes he was descending the wall.

  “Easy does it,” said Umash.

  “No shit. Half this place is pitch dark, there’s an opening on this side of the wall. I’m going in there when I land.”

  “He’s an idiot,” said Gadi, “Itzal must have scared the crap out of him.”

  “Okay I’ve reached the bottom,” said Weingarten.

  Gadi and Umash waited. Weingarten poked and prodded the lumps of soil that lay at the bottom of the hole. A minute passed and he had searched without finding Billy.

  “Anything?” Gadi yelled.

  “Quiet! I’m listening, and your shouting doesn’t help.”

  Weingarten continued moving to the spot where Billy lay wedged. Weingarten shined his flashlight at the opening. He was ready to quit when his flashlight caught a reflection. The soldier’s pulse quickened. Billy was right there in front of him.

  “Billy?… Billy Callahan? Can you hear me, boy?” Weingarten’s voice raised half an octave in anticipation.

  “Gadi! Umash! Get help! I’ve found him! Call the Captain right away.”

  “Is he alive?” yelled Umash.

  “Not sure yet. Get ropes. Hurry!”

  Weingarten drew closer to the boy. Billy didn’t respond.

  The Army trained Weingarten for various types of emergency trauma rescues and this was presenting itself as the trickiest one in his short stint. He cautiously dug away any loose stones and rocks that encased the boy. Weingarten couldn’t see the metal object that Billy held because several inches of dirt covered it.

  When fragments of the rock fell away, it gave the soldier a chance to reach his arms around the boy’s mid-section and pull him back into the open area of the pit. Weingarten couldn’t tell if the child was alive. When he freed more dirt from the child, he pulled gently and the boy crashed backward on top of Weingarten. They both fell to the ground and landed with a thump. The object slipped from Billy’s hands and fell to the ground and out of view of the soldier. The clang of the metal was unheard as it meshed with the debris that fell along with it. As We
ingarten tried to rise, he nudged the boy off his right hip. More dirt filled the cavern that once housed half of Billy’s body. The orb was out of sight, but not out of mind. It was as if the orb had downloaded its’ entire memory to Billy’s head, and locked the “play” button.

  “Billy! Can you hear me! My name is Yoav Weingarten from the Israeli Army. Thank God I found you. Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”

  Silence.

  Weingarten examined the boy for injuries, “You must be in shock, not a surprise considering what happened to you. Help is on the way, hang in there, boy.”

  Weingarten’s team entered the pit and gently maneuvered Billy into the lift. The pulley system lifted him up. Minor tremors loosened more dirt in the hole as Captain Itzal carried Billy into a waiting ambulance. One body filled the first bed. It was the corpse of Jack Callahan. His son with his undetermined injuries lay beside him. The vehicle sped away as Itzal welcomed the soldiers.

  “Fine job, Weingarten. I’ll be sure you receive a special commendation for your efforts today. How’s the boy?”

  “Thank you, sir. He’s not talking. I think he’s in shock. His leg is injured, but it’s not life-threatening. Can you imagine falling into that pit? I found him half buried, stuck in the dirt. I’d be scared shitless if that happened to me...sorry, Sir.”

  “Carry on Weingarten. I understand what you’re saying. Did you find any of his belongings?”

  Weingarten pondered lying as soon as he understood the question. He hadn’t seen anything there, but his efforts were less than stellar. If another aftershock rattled the ground while he was at the bottom of that hole in the ground, Weingarten could kiss his life goodbye. In the exhilaration of finding Billy, he’d neglected to sweep the zone for any personal items.

  He spit out a lie without reservation. “No sir, we canvassed the area completely. We’ll run another check at their base station and collect what we find.”

  “That’s first-rate work soldier. I have three hours of reports to write and I’ll be expecting your report back at the barracks.”

  Weingarten saluted his superior and the knot in the middle of stomach uncurled and relaxed.

  As if on cue, the ground did rumble on and off for two days. The series of aftershocks caved in the walls of Billy’s tomb-like setting, sealing the opening under tons of soil and rocks. The orb remained buried in the earth. How many more millennium would pass before a series of extraordinary events might occur for it to be exposed again?

  CHAPTER 6

  August 12, 2102

  Be’er Sheba, Israel

  Soroka Medical Center bustled with action. A myriad of tubes and electronics connected Billy Callahan to his life support systems.

  A nurse in a pink outfit, the normal attire for Soroka nurses, eyed the thermometer, waiting for Billy’s temperature to register on her probe.

  “How’s he doing?” asked Dr. Quiggs.

  “Level one coma. It’s early, but that’s where he’s at right now. Nobody in this building is giving up on this kid. You have the night shift, Pete?”

  Dr. Quiggs was the only surgeon who didn’t mind the nurses calling him by his first name. “This is the fifth night in a row I’m working late. I know I shouldn’t complain. Think of this kid lying here. I haven’t checked his report, what’s the list of injuries?”

  Billy’s nurse flipped the pages of the boy’s mounting file. “Let’s see…injury to lower leg. Possible skin graft in the future, risk of infection is high. He’s concussed, that’s not a surprise considering the distance he fell. What else…He broke his two vertebral ribs; we’re icing those and applying compression bandages. There are dozens of minor lacerations. He has a broken toe on his left foot. Tomorrow there’ll be plenty of swelling. Somehow his face managed to avoid getting hit. He’s a cute kid. However, he’s completely non-responsive to our questions. He hasn’t spoken, or groaned, or cleared his throat, nothing. There’s no internal hemorrhaging. You earn the big bucks, doc. He’s all yours. I’ll get him clean. The rest is on you.”

  “Good to know there’s no pressure,” said the doctor.

  “One last item,” said the nurse. “He’s Jack Callahan’s son. The Mud Man’s kid. Ever hear of him?”

  “Who hasn’t? What the heck was he doing in Israel?”

  “Not sure. His father died in the quake. If the press gets a hold of this story tonight, God, what a nightmare. I don’t want to be here for any of that. Human Resources will be overwhelmed with media requests. We better keep this under wraps for as long as possible. Hopefully he’ll be stable enough soon to ship him back to the States with the dad’s body.”

  “Let me take a look,” said the doctor.

  Billy breathed easily, showing no signs of distress. White bandages, tinged with the color of Billy’s blood obscured the wounded areas. The doctor moved in closer.

  “Billy, this is Dr. Quiggs, can you hear me?”

  No response.

  “So much for my magic touch,” he said while staring at the nurse.

  “He’ll snap out of it. Give him time. He’s had a tough day,” said the nurse as she left the room.

  An obese man entered the room. His pungent aftershave said hello before he spoke. Dr. Quiggs tried to figure out a polite way to tell the visitor to wash his face so the rest of the hospital could breathe.

  “Hello, my name is Marrick. I’m friends with the family.”

  The doctor gave the man a puzzled glance. “Hello Mr. Marrick. I’ve reviewed the chart and I don’t recall any notation of family or friends in the country.”

  “Not Mr. Marrick…Marrick.”

  “Okay, Marrick, how can I help you?”

  “I am the gentleman that called in the coordinates where the army found him. Without my quick thinking, the boy would be buried in the ground, no doubt deceased.”

  “If the child begins to talk, I’m certain you’ll be the first person he’ll want to thank,” said the doctor.

  “What do you mean, if he starts to talk?”

  “Marrick, I’m sure you’re aware of doctor-patient confidentiality. I’m sorry, but I really can’t disclose his condition to you unless, of course, you’re family. Are you related to the boy?”

  “No, of course not, I assumed that —”

  The doctor interrupted, “My advice would be to talk to one of the administrators in the morning. Perhaps they can help you? You saved the boy’s life. You should be proud, but please forgive me, I’ve got other patients that need my attention too,” replied the doctor and headed towards the door.

  “I recognize the limitations of your position. No hard feelings, I was just hoping to hear that he was on the mend.” The men shook hands and Marrick walked away, removing his cell phone from his front pocket as the doctor headed to visit another patient.

  The call connected to the CEO of the hospital, “This is Marrick. Callahan’s doctor is stonewalling me. I appreciate that’s his job, but perhaps you can run interference for me.”

  A short pause followed. Marrick continued, “Thank you. You can expect the customary package at your office later in the week.”

  He tucked the phone away. Reports of damage from the earthquake were pouring in. There were no mentions of Jack Callahan’s death or news regarding Billy. He waited forty-five minutes and returned to room 222.

  Doctor Quiggs cradled the telephone as Marrick entered the room.

  “You must know some heavy hitters on the board of directors, Marrick,” said the doctor.

  “I have a few friends in high places. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “What is it you want, Marrick?

  “As I asked earlier, how is the boy?”

  “When the head of the hospital called me on the emergency line and told me to answer your questions I wasn’t too pleased… whatever, I don’t run the place…Physically, he ought to recover. The brain injury has us concerned. We have to show patience. Remember, these injuries occurred a few hours ago. His concussion is causing swelling
in the brain. That could be impeding his ability to communicate with us.”

  “When will he talk?” asked Marrick.

  The doctor stared at Billy’s medical chart, “That’s the ten million shekel question. It’s too soon to say.”

  Marrick attempted to ease the tension between the two men, “I’m not the enemy here. I don’t work for the National Enquirer or one of those British rags. I bear partial responsibility for the boy being here in the first place. He and his father have thousands of dollars of equipment at my house. They should be sleeping there as we speak. I’m sick about it. I have a call into the child’s step-mother to tell her the news. What’s the next step?”

  “We’re going to keep him here for a few days and see how he responds. We’ll start his physical therapy as soon as possible. We have an excellent staff here. If he continues to have communication issues, my hunch is that we’ll send him to Tel Aviv. Anything else?” asked the doctor.

  “A colleague of mine is on the Board of Directors at the Traumatic Brain Injury Clinic in Boston. I could make a call,” Marrick offered.

  “I did my fellowship there. It’s the ideal place for him. That’s a coincidence, Marrick. We have something in common. Who’d believe that? The sooner he’s in the States, the better.”

  Marrick nodded. “I’ll be in touch. Keep me updated if there are any changes in the boy’s condition.”

  “It’s Billy,” said the doctor.

  “Pardon me?” asked Marrick.

  “His name is Billy.”

  Marrick said, “Right…Billy.”

  “He is my patient Marrick, not yours. Oh, and one more thing. The man who called me said without your intervention, we’d have two bodies in the morgue. Until he can properly thank you in his own voice, I’ll say it for him. Thank you, and goodnight.”