Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  Chapter 32 – Anonymous

  Dear Diary,

  I’m afraid my time here in Paradise is coming to an end. I grow bored of pretending to be kind and helpful, but even more pressing is the Need; it is coming frequently now. As my True Mission becomes clearer, the figurative walls of the Colony close in on me. Those imagined barriers keep others out and everyone, including myself, in. They represent civilization, order, cooperation, safety...life. They are the antithesis of everything I am now. I put up with being oppressed and limited by circumstances and geography during my old life; I won’t tolerate it now.

  I’m not leaving quite yet, though. I’ve set some tasks for myself before I go, and I will need to prepare for life on the road as well. I remember my time ‘out there’ before arriving on the island and before I had fully realized what I was. I went hungry more times than I can count. Fortunately, I know where I can acquire food for my travels. Pilfering a bit shouldn’t be too difficult, if I’m stealthy. And the Angel of Death is indeed stealthy.

  In the meantime, the Need is calling. Its siren song is as sweet as that of the lone night bird’s melody wafting in through my window even now.

  It is not to be denied. Not tonight.

  Chapter 33 – Jessie

  “This is the way to travel,” Harold said from the front passenger seat.

  “I wish we had found horses instead of a working car,” Jessie said. The cool air conditioning did feel wonderful, though.

  They had been traveling in eastern Kansas during late July in temperatures that hovered near a hundred degrees. When they had found an abandoned Jeep Wrangler with a ‘stick shift,’ containing a full tank of still-good gas, and with no mummified bodies inside, Harold had laughed in delight. He was old and all the walking was beginning to wear him out. He never complained, though. He was so happy to be alive, he never complained about anything, even after checking dozens of cars with no luck.

  She knew she had made the right decision in bringing him back. Tung still worried about it, but not like he had at first. He seemed to like Harold as much as she did. Unlike Amelia, it was hard to read her new mentor. Tung was very smart and also a little distant most of the time. He had the best scythen of anyone and every night they worked together on training hers. Harold’s was also quite good; actually even better since he had returned from the dead. Tung didn’t seem jealous that Harold’s scythen rivaled his own. She thought he might feel a little relieved not to be the only one who was so good at it.

  “Have you ever ridden a horse, Jessie?” Harold turned to look at her in the backseat. He wore an expression of intense curiosity, like she was a fascinating puzzle and he very much wanted to understand how all her pieces fit together. He looked at everyone like that. Harold was the smartest person she had ever met, and he wanted to understand everything. He had probably always been that way, but now that he was part of Cthor-Vangt and knew all the secrets of how the Ancient Ones had been managing the rise and fall of humankind for almost forever, he was in hog heaven. That was a phrase her daddy used to describe someone who was really happy.

  If she ever got to see Amelia again, she would be in hog heaven.

  “Once at a carnival in Flagstaff I rode one of those ponies that goes in a circle. It was fun, but I felt bad for the pony. I don’t think he liked his job, being around a lot of loud kids and walking in a circle all day.”

  “No, I imagine that is not the life a pony would prefer to lead.”

  “I’d like to have a horse someday. A real one, not just a pony. I like those Appaloosa horses with the black and white spots. I would call her Apples.”

  “Apples would be lucky to have a girl like you for her best friend.”

  “I would live in the barn with her. I would sleep on a sleeping bag right next to her stall. I would brush her and keep the barn clean for her. I would muck out her stall every day. That’s what it’s called, you know. Cleaning out the poop and leftover hay.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  “But now that I’m in Cthor-Vangt most of the time, I don’t know if I’ll ever get to have Apples.”

  “We don’t have horses down there, Jessie. We’re not set up for animals. Just people.” Tung kept his eyes on the road ahead when he spoke.

  They were making excellent time now that they were in a car that contained non-oxidized gasoline. They would avoid the larger cities, like Springfield and Nashville, on the way to their destination in Tennessee. The people Tung wanted to investigate lived in the Smoky Mountains near a town called Pigeon Forge. Jessie had never been to Tennessee. She really wished they could drive right past Pigeon Forge and on to Florida.

  “Have you talked to Amelia?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I’m waiting until we get a little closer. Makes the quality of the communication better. Nuance isn’t overlooked. You know what that word means?”

  “Yes, I know nuance,” she said, distracted now. The conversation had triggered something. She paused, struggling to recapture a memory hovering on the edge of conscious thought. She pictured her mind as an insect net; the elusive memory was a fluttering monarch butterfly.

  She snared it the next moment. “I just remembered that I saw her in a dream last night. She was sitting on a yellow sofa.”

  “Was it a remote-viewing dream?” Harold’s eyes were bright with interest.

  “Yes. That part was nice. I was going to try to communicate with her, but then all of a sudden I was somewhere else. I saw a person writing terrible things about poison and killing. I think that person is near Amelia.”

  Tung sought her out in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure, Jessie? That sounds serious.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. The person wrote something about being the Angel of Death. It was in cursive, so I couldn’t read it all, but it was bad, I can tell you that.”

  “How do you know the person is near Amelia?”

  “Because their window was open as they were writing in the book and I could hear the ocean noises, just like when I saw Amelia sitting on the yellow sofa. Her window was open too.”

  “Very well. I will contact her on our next stop.”

  “Can’t we do it now?”

  “I want to get through this stretch of highway first. It doesn’t look like a safe place to stop. We’re near Poplar Bluff, which appears to be a sizeable town. Those are always the worst places to stop or even slow down.”

  “Can I help talk to her when we stop?”

  She could see he was thinking about it, then he nodded. She felt a surge of happiness. She was going to get to speak to her beloved Amelia after all these months. She thought she might burst with joy.

  Harold smiled at her from the front seat.

  “Getting to talk to Amelia is almost as good as mucking out horse stalls?”

  “Yes!”

  “You love her very much, don’t you?”

  “She’s my favorite person in the world now that my daddy is gone.”

  Jessie watched Harold focus intently on Tung who seemed to sense the older man’s laser gaze on the side of his face.

  “We’re not driving to Florida, Harold. Especially not after your prophetic dream. My mission is to keep the two of you safe.”

  “It is also to teach and mentor and perhaps help others along the way.”

  “Yes, but safety comes first. Allowing Jessie to grow up a bit comes second. Mentoring comes third. Observation comes fourth. Then if there’s something we can do to help the survivors, we will do so if it can be done safely.”

  “You have that.” Harold pointed at the futuristic weapon on the car’s console.

  “That won’t stop a hurricane.”

  “The thing about hurricanes is you get plenty of advance notice.”

  “You’re making this more difficult.”

  “I just want Jessie to be happy. She’s endured more than any little girl should have to.”

  “I know, but Florida is not one of the safer places for her.”

  S
he listened to the back and forth between the grownups. She was trying not to get her hopes up about seeing Amelia. The worst thing is when you thought you would get to do something wonderful and then it was taken away from you.

  “Who’s to say the Smoky Mountains will be safer? I’ve never been there, but as with any forested mountain area, there will be dangerous animals – cougars, bears, bobcats, wolves.”

  “Ah, but that,” Tung gestured to the weapon now, “will work on all those creatures.”

  “It won’t stop an avalanche.”

  “I don’t think they have avalanches in the Smoky Mountains, but even if they do, I don’t plan on wintering there. We’ll be heading back to the Midwest by autumn.”

  Harold sighed dramatically. “I tried, Jessie.”

  She blinked very fast so the tears wouldn’t spill out, but there was no stopping them. She wiped at the wetness with the back of her hand, catching Tung looking at her in the mirror. His mouth was a thin, unsmiling line. She was afraid she had done something to upset him.

  “We’ll talk to Amelia when we stop for the night. I’ll get details of her situation there. I’m not saying you should have hope, Jessie, because I doubt I will change my mind about this. It’s not always easy doing the right thing, you know. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I have to consider your well-being before anything else, including your happiness. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. At the very least, she would get to talk to Amelia. If everything went well, she might get to visit her too. She figured the odds of that happening were better than getting to muck out Apples’ stable.

  ***

  “Close your eyes and let the physical world fade away,” Tung said.

  He sat next to her on an outdoor table made of logs. They had stopped for the night at Bullwinkle’s Rustic Lodge near Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Harold told her that Bullwinkle was a famous cartoon moose, so she had hoped they might see a real one, but they only spotted a few deer and caught the stinky scent of a nearby skunk. Tung had done a thorough search of the buildings before he would let his charges out of the car; he had encountered no people. The area was wooded and pretty, and there was a pond with lots of ducks swimming in it.

  The sun had set and the small fire they’d built in the blackened pit near the picnic table had burnt down to embers. They had eaten dinner, and it was time to contact Amelia.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Now imagine you’re floating in a big bathtub of warm water. The temperature is perfect, and the water is buoyant. You’re able to float without even trying.”

  They had done this a number of times before. Each time, Tung would create a different version of the scene he had just described. Sometimes it was drifting in space; sometimes it was lying on one of the soft puffy-sheep clouds she so loved. The bath water was nice too. Hers had bubbles. She pictured the tub as one of those old-fashioned ones with feet that looked like dragon claws.

  “Now send out your scythen, like we’ve done before, but this time picture Amelia’s face when you do it. I’ll help you. We’ll do this together.”

  She imagined Amelia sitting on the yellow sofa, as she had seen her in the remote-viewing dream. She sensed Tung’s scythen next to her, like an invisible cable running in tandem with her own, both connecting to telephone poles down a stretch of dark highway. Scythen was kind of like that – thoughts traveling along cables that no one could see, and instead of connecting to wooden poles, they connected to people.

  When she found Amelia, she felt a jolt of white-hot energy, like when you accidentally touched the metal part of an electrical plug as you pushed it into an outlet. Unlike electricity, this jolt didn’t hurt.

  ~~~

  Amelia: Well, hello, child.

  Jessie: Amelia! I’m so happy to hear you!

  Amelia: I’m happy to hear you, too. Tung? She’s coming along quickly, I see. Well done.

  Tung: Thanks, Amelia. Scythen training is one of the many services I offer.

  Amelia: You are the Cthor’s most treasured asset, you know.

  Tung: Only as long as I keep my two charges safe and viable.

  Amelia: How is the British fellow?

  Tung: He’s fine...now.

  Amelia: I sense a story.

  Tung: Not one I’m inclined to tell at the moment.

  Jessie: Harold died and I brought him back to life!

  Amelia: Goodness. That’s impressive, Jessie. I’m not sure anyone has ever done that before. He was completely gone, Tung?

  Tung: Yes, but he’s fine now. More than fine, actually. He’s precognitive.

  Amelia: Ahhhh. Similar to Maddie after her head injury.

  Tung: Yes, but there’s something you should know.

  Amelia: Let me guess. He’s been dreaming of a tempest destroying the little island that I’ve decided to call home.

  Tung: You know about that?

  Amelia: Yes. There’s a woman here who is experiencing the same vision. She and others are possible recruits for Cthor-Vangt, by the way. There is a concentration of them here.

  Tung: Have you been performing the tests?

  Amelia: As time allows. I’m not nearly finished, and now I have to deal with the prospect of our island being destroyed along with those would-be Cthor-Vangt recruits. Oh, and there’s a killer on the loose here as well.

  Tung: It seems you have your hands full. I was considering bringing Jessie down for a quick visit, but it certainly doesn’t sound safe.

  Amelia: The storm is days away, according to Ingrid’s dreams. As for the murderer, I assume you brought a weapon with you? Jessie and Harold will be fine as long as they stay with you. I believe we’re closing in on a suspect. Another person was killed last night, so we have new clues in the case. It’s very sad. He was a lovely man. Ingrid, the prescient woman, is distraught. It was her lover and companion, Hector, who was the latest victim.

  Jessie: I saw the killer writing in a diary. There was something about your little black bag and poison.

  Amelia: Interesting. Well, a murderer is something we can control and contain. A hurricane is not. Tung, I was hoping you could help with that.

  Tung: How so?

  Amelia: As I mentioned, we have several candidates and I won’t have enough time to evaluate them before the storm.

  Tung: Where is Fergus? Can’t he help?

  Amelia: Fergus is on a mission at the moment. I can tell you more about that later. More pressing is the impending hurricane.

  Tung: I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are.

  Amelia: Why not? The Cthor can deflect it, send it off to the north Atlantic. It doesn’t have to make landfall. That would solve the problem. It would give me time to assess these people as well as keeping my home intact. I only have twenty or thirty years left, you know. I’m no longer a near-immortal like you. I want to spend my remaining days on this tropical paradise, not on a sandbar that’s been scrubbed clean of everything useful and beautiful. You know you could convince them if you wanted to.

  Tung: Oh, Amelia. You always manage to put me in the most awkward positions.

  Amelia: Just think about. Come down here and see for yourself before you make a decision. The people are quite exceptional. It would be worth your time.

  Tung: I’ll consider it only if we can find more gasoline for our vehicle. It’s becoming quite difficult to find any that is still usable these days.

  Amelia: Yes. We’re utilizing bicycles in the Colony and saving the precious gasoline for the fishing boats. Soon there won’t be any left. I hope you can find some. I think you’ll want to see this place before you go back to Cthor-Vangt. The sunrises over the ocean are breathtaking.

  Tung: I get the sense there’s something you’re not telling me.

  Amelia: You’ll need Fergus’s help to get here from the mainland. He’s there now on the mission I mentioned, so the timing is good. He’ll bring you over.

  Tung: I haven’t agreed to come yet, but I will contact you agai
n, if so. Good night, Amelia.

  Jessie: Good night, Amelia! I miss you very much!

  Amelia: I miss you too, child. Be sure to let Tung know how much you’d like to come visit.

  ~~~

  “That little woman is going to get me in trouble one of these days,” Tung said.

  “They could do it though. Right?” Jessie’s heart was pounding in her chest after the excitement of talking to Amelia.

  It was full dark now. A crescent moon had risen above the Ponderosa pines and the crickets were making music. Jessie imagined all those bugs rubbing their scratchy legs together to make the noise she found so comforting. She would miss that sound when she had to go back under ground. Maybe she would ask to have a recording made that she could listen to in her room at Cthor-Vangt.

  “Yes, they could do it if they wanted to. The Cthor have been able to manipulate the weather and other forces of nature since long before my time. Harold, I assume you were tagging along just now?”

  Jessie had sensed Harold’s scythen next to Tung’s. He hadn’t been specifically invited, and he didn’t contribute to the conversation, but she didn’t mind that he had eavesdropped.

  “Indeed, I was. This sounds like an opportunity to accomplish several objectives. We can head to Florida now, then make contact with the Tennessee group on the return trip.”

  “At what point did I completely lose control here?”

  There was exasperation in Tung’s tone, but also amusement, which was a good thing. Jessie liked when her mentor was amused; he usually said ‘yes’ to whatever she wanted to do. She also knew that Amelia had been one of his favorite people in Cthor-Vangt. It made him very sad that she no longer was allowed to live there.

  “It’s your decision, of course. But I wouldn’t want to be the one to disappoint a certain little girl.”

  “If we can’t find enough usable gasoline, I’ll be forced to disappoint her.”

  “Right. It’s a numbers game, though. Although rare, it is still to be found, and we’ll have to check a lot of cars before we find more. But we will. I know it.”