He decided he would go down to the pond, even if he did have to sit there alone. He could do as the young woman had and fold in upon himself and watch the gentle ripples spread out upon the surface of the water and perhaps find a measure of solace in their faithful repetition. He could listen to the soft breeze move through the tall rushes and pretend for a time that life was in that breeze, moving gently through time, abandoning the events of destiny casually in its wake. That sounded better than the raging storm that was approaching. Sam stood from his chair and began to walk toward the edge of his porch where the staircase began its descent down the mountain. He did not look back at his house as he took the first step.
Later, when Sam reached the part of the staircase where he could leap over the rails and began to walk the rest of the way around the mountain to the pond, he found that he felt a little better. Even with his telepathic abilities, it was good to put some physical distance between himself and the house. He breathed a little easier and his burdens didn’t feel as heavy as he walked along. He was grateful for it. He would be grateful for whatever release he could find at a time like this, no matter how small. He labored to keep his mind closed against the many voices of the townspeople, as he trod along. When he reached the pond, before he sat at its edge, he opened his mind. When he didn’t sense any other minds upon the mountain, neither human nor beast, he sat down. He rested upon an edge of the pond and looked around himself carefully. There were patches of thick grasses to his right and thicker patches of tall cattails to his left. There was also a faint mist hovering just above of the surface of the pond that gave the scene a vaguely surreal feel. It was good. The gentle chirps of the insects that made their homes in the grass tufts and cattails, the breeze that caused those grasses and cattails to sway softly as if to a slow, rhythmic dance, the absence of the people and problems of the world; it was all so very good that Sam was tempted to question how it could exist in a world that seemed so completely wrong and out of order.
After a moment of thought, Sam decided the existence of such an anomaly should be questioned. How could a pond like this, with its own seemingly self-contained eco system exist at the base of a mountain where not much else was able to flourish? Perhaps the pond was just a natural depression in the mountain that collected rain water. Only as far as Sam knew, it didn’t rain frequently enough on this side of the mountain to support the variety of grasses that grew here. He bent forward and dipped a finger into the still waters. It was pleasantly warm. Rainwater wouldn’t have remained warm like that. There must be some of kind of mineral spring feeding this pond from deep beneath the mountain. Sam wasn’t an expert, but it made sense to him. The things needed to make an oasis like this possible could only come from a hidden place.
Hadn’t his father only recently taught him that lesson, that the most important things, the things that made everything else possible, were the hidden things? His parents love had made his life worth living but he had no idea as to the depth of that love. Not until his father had reached into his mind and showed him. Then there was this whole business with telepathy. It had been a hidden reservoir that, once revealed, had only deepened his relationship with his father and his fellow man in ways he could’ve never imagined. Of course, it seemed as if it also made a great deal of unpleasant realities possible as well—Sam immediately thought of those poor malnourished children—but he supposed there was no way to have one without the other. Sam shook his head against these thoughts. He was a young man, inexperienced and lost in a world that seemed unnecessarily harsh, he was not a philosopher. Then he chuckled to himself at the thought that unusual powers of the mind like the ones he now possessed would inevitably inspire a person to think more, wouldn’t they? Perhaps he was turning in a young philosopher after all. That thought brought laughter to his lips.
“That is right, my son.” Sam heard Dr. Crangler say in his mind, “Laugh. Levity is it is a balm for the wounded.”
Sam nearly leapt to his feet. The doctor had startled him. Ever since he’d discovered that The Doctor had been watching him and his family, he was dogged with the uncomfortable feeling that the doctor was spying on him every moment. And waiting. It was unlikely that he did sense the doctor watching, since the Good Doctor had already shown himself expert at shielding his mental presence from both of Sam’s parents, especially Sam’s father, whose ability had been much stronger than Sam’s own. That was somehow worse. It was one thing that his family, and now himself alone, had what amounted to a telepathic peeping Tom watching their every move, but now Sam had that peeping Tom giving him commentary on what were supposed to be his secret thoughts. It made him feel deflated and tired all over again—Dr. Crangler’s voice inside his head was only a reminder that he could never actually ‘get away from it all’, not now, perhaps not ever again—but then it made him angry all over again.
Sam took a deep breath and struggled to calm himself. He was going to try to break through the doctor’s shield. He had no idea what that was supposed to accomplish even if he were successful, since the doctor would still be much stronger and much more experienced than himself. He didn’t care, he just wanted to lash out at something. He wanted to be defiant, in even some small way. Anything to show himself that he wasn’t being taken alive without a struggle. Instead, he exhaled deeply and dropped his head. He didn’t want to be angry, didn’t have the energy for it. He wanted to be sad, to be completely crushed, but he didn’t have the energy for that either. Perhaps there was just no point to any of it, Sam thought to himself. Perhaps he should just quit now. Perhaps he should just collapse, face down, into the water that lapped gently at his feet and breathe it in until it filled his lungs. He thought it might work. He thought that life might at least give him this, a quite serene end to all things. He was considering the benefits of suicide, right here, right not, when he sensed another presence upon the mountain. It wasn’t an animal and it wasn’t the doctor. It was the only living person Sam would’ve liked to seen at a moment like this. It was the young woman from earlier.
CHAPTER 16
The young woman. Sam had completely forgotten about her. He knew from her memories that she sat faithfully at the pond, daily. Just because she hadn’t been here upon Sam’s arrival didn’t mean she wouldn’t be arriving, soon. He should’ve expected her, but he hadn’t. Now that he sensed her approach he found that he didn’t really care if she found him here or not. No, in fact, he didn’t care at all. Actually, it might be a good thing that she stumble upon him like this. Maybe she would rush back to the city and return with a mob. Maybe they would trample him to dust in their fervor and answer the question of his destiny before it ever began. Perhaps. Either way, Sam just wanted it all to be over. He didn’t want to hide anymore, neither from the townspeople, nor from his himself.
He sensed that the young woman was drawing closer. He had no idea what path she’d taken to get here—obviously a path that neither the armed guards nor any of the other townspeople knew about—only that she was near. It felt to Sam like an incredibly long time before she finally came into view. He knew she was in view when read in her thoughts that she had spotted him. He could see the immediate anger balloon in her mind that someone compromised her private place, the only place she felt she had left where she could avoid the pressures of her life. He also saw that anger quickly dissipate as defeat took its place. Like himself, this young woman lacked the emotional energy necessary to be either angry or sad for very long. In her mind, everything else that was important had already been snatched away from her. She had no energy left to fight for what little remained.
But, she didn’t leave. She watched Sam from behind a huge rock, completely unnoticed. At least she thought she was unnoticed. Curious thoughts rummaged inside her head, but Sam was shocked to find that she didn’t recognize him. As far as she knew he was just some guy who’d somehow stumbled upon her only place of refuge. Nothing more. After a while, the young woman moved from her position to a higher vantage point where she c
ould watch Sam more closely. She stood behind a large tree, in a natural crevice in the mountain face. It was almost exactly the spot where Sam had once secretly watched her. Sam glanced around and realized that he was in fact seated in the same spot that she had been It was one of the few places around the pond where a person could sit comfortably upon grass without the taller grasses and bulrushes obscuring the view of the water. As the young woman watched him he listened in on her thoughts. They were not what he expected.
Not only was the anger, sadness, and defeat from earlier receding, but it was gradually being replaced with compassion. This young woman was concerned about Sam. It didn’t matter anymore that he had soiled her sacred place with his presence, nor did it seem to matter that she had no idea who he was. What mattered was that he was out here alone, perhaps fleeing some danger. It wasn’t long before the young woman began to wonder how she might help him. Sam was touched. What manner of person must this young woman be, that she could abandon her own concerns so quickly in the interest of a complete stranger simply because she thought that stranger might be in danger? She’d stumbled upon someone she thought might need help and she was preparing herself to extend whatever help she could, regardless of the risks. This young woman’s thoughts represented a simple innocence that Sam doubted he would find anywhere else in the city. He doubted that he would find a great deal of it in any city that remained upon the face of the planet. She reminded him of the calming pond upon whose banks he now sat, beautiful precisely because it lacked all the embellishments that made everything else so ornate.
Sam wanted to turn to the young woman, to reach out to her. He wanted to ask her where her secret spring lay, the hidden place that fed her unusual sympathy. Certainly, she must have a secret spring. From what he could read in nearly every other mind he’d ever touched, no one cared for another person’s wellbeing without some reason that benefited themselves. As far as Sam could tell, it was simply the way of the world. He himself had just been prepared to cast off concern for everyone else, the entire world, for the relief of suicide. Not this young woman, apparently. But Sam didn’t turn to her, didn’t reach out. Firstly, he didn’t know how she might react if he turned on her so unceremoniously and approached her without warning. Secondly, and perhaps more pertinently, he wanted to continue reading her thoughts. They were refreshingly different from so many thoughts he had been reading in people’s minds lately. There was a certain calm to the young woman’s musings, a humility that could only come from long suffering.
Sam was tempted to play upon the young woman’s concern. He wanted to urge her to walk towards him, but he wasn’t willing to use his telepathy to do it. He felt as if he might share a special kind of kinship with this young woman, a kinship born of despair. They had both suffered great loss in their lives lately, even if Sam couldn’t tell yet exactly what loss the young woman had suffered. He knew only that she struggled as he did with the question of whether life was still worth living or not. He felt as if they had a bond even if she had no idea who he was. Sam closed off the ears of his mind to the young woman’s thoughts. There was something different about this moment, something different about this woman. He might be forced to use his ability on everyone else but not her. She would be his act of defiance. No matter what Dr. Crangler said he would not use his telepathy again on her.
Sam thought he could hear the doctor in his head, chuckling dryly. He chose to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore the young woman. Now that he could no longer sense her thoughts he could only wonder if she would ever approach him. She might decide that the risks were too great and leave. As Sam sat there at the edge of the pond and waited, the nervousness grew inside him. He felt strangely exposed, almost as if she were now listening in on his private thoughts. Only, he wanted her to keep spying, at least until curiosity or compassion, or whatever was in her head now, drew her to him. The long minutes continued to tick by, and as far as Sam could tell she had made no move. He began to reach out with his mind to see what was going on but restrained himself. It took a surprising amount of effort, but no, if she were to approach him it would be of her own volition. Yet more long minutes ticked by until Sam heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment. He was sure the young woman had left. Suddenly, the pond’s gentle ripples didn’t seem so inviting. He had come here thinking he would be alone and now that he was certain he was alone, the solitude felt depressing. Sam had no idea where he would go—not that he had many options—but he no longer wanted to be here.
He put his hands down and was just about to push himself up onto his feet when he heard a faint rustle behind him. A moment later he felt a sharp sting on one of his hands. Something hard had hit him. Whatever had struck his hand hadn’t been large enough or hard enough to cause any real damage, but it had stung. When Sam brought the hand to his face he noticed a single tiny droplet of blood. Whatever it was had just barely broken the skin. Sam looked around quickly and noticed a small jagged rock slide completely into the water. “I am so sorry!” Sam heard from behind him. It was like the sound of an angel’s voice to his ears. He turned to look behind him just as a few more rocks tumbled past. It was clear to see what had happened. The young woman had moved from within the crevice where she had been hiding and said sent down a spray of loose rocks toward Sam in the process. It had been she that had caused the sting and the single drop of blood upon his hand. Sam was glad of it. It meant that she had intended to move toward him. He would’ve endured the sting of many jagged rocks for that. “I am so sorry!” the young woman repeated. Her angst sounded genuine. Her angelic voice was louder this time. She was closer. Sam’s heart leapt inside him. It was surprising how much just the sound of this young woman’s voice excited him.
When the young woman came close enough for Sam to see her face, he became more excited. She was beautiful! She had full lips that looked as if she had recently applied lipstick even though the rest of her face didn’t look as if she’d ever needed any makeup. She had large hazel eyes that twinkled in the open sunlight and flawless golden-brown skin that made her eyes look like gem stones set in an ebony frame. Her hair was cut short to her shoulders in tight curls that looked natural and vaguely unkempt. Not the work of a professional stylist. In fact, nothing about her from her unadorned face to the worn clothes upon her back suggested wealth or professional attention. It made her beauty more stunning because it shone through without the aid of fancy hairdos or designer clothes. To Sam it also spoke of the beauty of this woman’s character. Sam knew from her thoughts that she had in fact come from a wealthy household. She didn’t dress the way she did because she couldn’t afford better. She dressed the way she did but because she was jaded with the privileges of wealth. More accurately, she had lost something more important to her than money, and she saw no use to maintain a façade that suggested otherwise.
Sam watched her as she trotted down the mountain side toward him. She kicked more rocks loose in her descent, but her footing was sure. She seemed at home amongst the many dangerous cracks and crevices of the mountain side. At last she reached him and immediately she glanced toward his hand. He hadn’t realized he was still cradling it to himself. “Are you hurt?” she asked from where she stopped, fifty feet away. From there she approached more cautiously, in slow, small steps. Sam only gaped at her. She really was fantastically beautiful. She had to repeat the question again, louder this time, before he realized she was asking about his injured hand. He looked down at it as if he only now remembered that he had the hand.
“Oh … it’s fine.” Sam answered hesitantly. He hoped she wouldn’t leave. His brain raced but he could find nothing to say that would make her come closer, that would make her stay here with him.
“Are you lost?” she asked. She stopped where she stood.
“No … not really?”
“Are you in trouble?” The young woman was beginning to look skeptical.
“Uh …” Sam faltered. The young woman took a single small step away. Sam could tell she was about to t
urn and leave.
“You really don’t know how I am, do you?” he asked. It wasn’t exactly an inspired question, but the young woman did not take another step backwards.
“Who are you?” she asked, unimpressed. She looked Sam over more closely now, as if she were toying with the idea that he might be insane.
“I’m nobody.” Sam answered quickly. “It’s really not important.” He smiled and was immediately struck with how odd—and how good—it felt. He hadn’t smiled in what felt like a very long time. He hadn’t expected to smile for a very long time, perhaps ever again. What reason in his life could there ever be for a smile now that Geoffrey was gone? But there was something to smile about now, in the innocent face of this beautiful young woman. She represented a singular opportunity for Sam, an opportunity to finally talk to someone, perhaps the only person on the planet that genuinely didn’t know who he was. The young woman’s ignorance represented a chance for Sam to carve out a very small slice of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic existence.
“Please sit with me?” Sam asked. “Please?”, he added when she took another small step backward. She looked at him silently for a long time with no clear expression upon her face. She reminded Sam of images he had seen of the Mona Lisa; there was no telling what was going on behind those eyes. Sam had never understood the beauty everyone seemed to ascribe to Mona Lisa. Honestly, she looked rather plain to him. This young woman before him had real beauty that shined out clearly like the noonday sun upon a cloudless day.
The New Assault Page 10
