by Pam Uphoff
"Sixteen kids worth of busy."
He wound up taking all week, as he flew to Houston and with a bit of mental persuasion got access to the county's files. With a bit of help from a dazzled supervisor, he found babies who had died and ran off copies of their birth certificates, requested official copies be notarized and mailed, and removed references to their death certificates from the relevant indexes. In some ways, electronic records were nice. You didn't have to remove the physical copies, nor the electronic copies. The chance of someone looking for a physical copy of something that wasn't on the electronic index was minimal. Then off to the Social Security Office where a lot more force was needed in the compulsion spells. The people who worked here had built up strong mental resistance, even though all their other clients used verbal methods. But he got all nine of the needed documents applied for and in the mail, and the crucial information for the school forms in hand.
He called Betelgeuse, with the kids new "legal" names and numbers so she could finish the forms before the kids were tested.
Then he flew to Salem, Oregon, and did the same for the younger kids. It was tough with the smaller population. But only Harm needed to change her name drastically. And since the school forms had a place for nicknames, all was well.
The house was quiet when he walked back in.
Betelgeuse waved from the kitchen, and he joined her for lunch.
"They put Roddie in fifth grade. The rest in third and fourth. They were surprised they were so far along. But only Roddie was so far ahead they moved him out of his age group. They're all in this thing they called a gate program, for gifted and talented children. Nightmare, Oppression and Persuasion all started kindergarten yesterday. It's so quiet with only four little ones around. I thought we'd hire a nanny and a maid, and . . . I've been looking at some colleges." She sounded wistful.
"Good plan. What do you think you'll take?"
"Oh, everything! I missed out on any sort of normal school, so I think I'll start with the basics at the community college."
"Sounds good. Let's find a Nanny. Maybe a cook as well as a maid, eh?"
"Thanks Eldon."
He sniffed. "No reason for you to get stuck with all the work. High time you were allowed to be normal. By the calendar you're about ten, and your time, I'll bet you're not twenty yet."
She frowned up at him. "Eldon, I grew up with the gang. How did a nice guy like you end up with us?"
"Ah, I met Heso, Zap and Ricardo at Prairie Coast, the Wizards School, you know? Ronnie and I palled around with them, a few Rip Crossing Orgies and such. Then Ricardo opened up the Edge of the World Resort, and I went there fairly often. One morning after an orgy, they all cleared out, and I went with them. About a week later I heard about the prince being assassinated . . . and I was on the list of suspects. Maybe I should have left them, then. Gone to the King's Own and told all, right then. But I didn't. I just joined them in running around stealing stuff. Stayed drunk so I was too miserable to think about it. There weren't any more assassinations. At least not that I knew of. Got caught, spent a couple of years listening to all the other guys’ excuses. The guards that were killed during the escape, those weren’t my fault. I didn't feel like a killer until the raid on the mansion. I didn't kill anyone myself, but one of the King's Own was killed. Hell, I knew Dominic from wizard's school, too. After that there really wasn't any going back. Well, all right, I had trouble getting out of that goat spell. Then that World's collective subconscious decided I was the God of Perverts or Bestiality or something.”
He looked around. "That's why I like this world. It's not pushing me. There's so many atheists the Collective is ambivalent about gods."
Betelgeuse nodded. "I just grew up, and practically begged to be allowed to go rob a bank with all of you. I didn't think about right or wrong. Now I'm starting to, and it's weird to look at Mom and Rior, and see how corrupt they are. Epee and Falchion, with not a single hint of conscience between them. They feel so shallow. Or thin, maybe. Lacking the dimension of conscience, morality. And Heso's just a slob who follows orders. At least you were nice. When you were sober."
Eldon winced. "Yeah. Sometimes I wish we hadn't reconnected with the others. We could just be normal, become a part of this society."
***
The old man was tough and rugged, and put up a good fight. They threw each other around the store, shelves crashing to the floor, various things flying. He stepped on a can that rolled and went flying. The old geezer dropped a shelf on him and he was trapped, watching in helplessly as the old man grabbed the last stick of Sahara Deodorant and marched triumphantly off to pay for it. Eldon slumped in despair.
"Cut!" The director beamed. "Excellent! Call it a wrap and let's do lunch!"
G., who insisted on the initial, with period, as a name, tossed the deodorant into the rest of the mess, and the crew closed in, this time with boxes to take everything away, instead of remake the store for another shot.
"Got the script for 'The Falls' yet?"
Eldon shook his head. "I'm going by this afternoon to pick it up. How bad is it?"
"Hideous. Jack thinks so too. I think we need to work it over, then go see the writer."
"Deal. I'll read it tonight. Jack free tomorrow?"
"Yep. He said come up for lunch. Plan?"
"Plan."
Evon Jamison, directing his third advertisement and wishing desperately for a movie, dropped all his directorial authority and listened avidly as G. shook his head in despair at their youth and regaled them both with tales of how Hollywood used to be run.
Then Eldon drove four blocks to pick up the script, and then spent an hour going twenty-five miles to a modest townhouse with an incredible price tag.
"Home sweet home." He parked the Mercedes back in its garage. He missed the corridor. He needed to get back to the big house and see what was happening. He phoned instead.
A yawning Heso told him they'd apparently gotten away scot free, and not to worry so much. So he called Lily to let her know he was back in town, and would she like to join him for dinner? She would, and read the script over his shoulder.
"It's a bit weak on plot, isn't it?" He wished he knew more about this world. "Why are the Atlanteans even there?"
"In Uganda? That does seem odd. Now if they had a purpose, that would fill in the biggest plot hole. And then there's the matter of why the Archeologists are there. Why aren't they doing this in Egypt, so the Atlanteans could be after artifacts buried with one of the early Pharaohs? And the Archeologists would have an excuse to be there as well."
"Maybe the Atlanteans have gotten the things they need and are looking for a new homeland? Is Uganda less populated than this Egypt?"
"I think so. Hmm, the Atlanteans need a new home. However pretty, Uganda or Kenya are going to take some considerable capturing. On the other hand, if they were passing through on their way to Somalia . . . " She hauled him over to his computer and brought up a map, then an online encyclopedia.
"Hmm, nine million people, vs almost 40 million., and distributed mainly in the south and this one city, Mogadishu?"
"Right, and the whole country is in virtual anarchy. They could easily take over from a local warlord and start working up to controlling the whole country. So, if the tribe is traveling (looting, pillaging and kidnapping as they go.) If they encounter the Good Guys before they get to the Falls, that would give the Good Guys enough time to have their two losing battles, and then their final victory for the physical resolution of the story to be at those incredibly gorgeous falls, like Jacob wants. The emotional closing could be their travel out of Kenya into Somalia." Lily flashed a grin. "Somalia is an extremely poor country, and best known internationally for its pirates. If the Director wanted to pull a switch in the last movie, and make the Atlantean's the heroes, he couldn't find a better place for them to take over."
"They're ignoring a lot of opportunities for sexual frisson as well."
"I don't think frisson is a word
in this world, Eldon."
"Sorry. But they've got the daughter and the young archeologist all cosy at the start, so there's no doubt about the ending. If the romance was less settled, maybe an argument, and she stomps off mad, going where she oughten and he follows, and the father follows, complaining loudly . . . that fills in the plot hole of why they were in such a stupid position in the first place."
"An angry woman makes walking off into the desert logical?" She tried hard to frown instead of laugh at him.
Eldon elevated his nose. "This Character, as written. Generally, men are the idiots who over reach their capabilities. For instance, if they hadn't chased, she have gone about ten feet beyond the reach of the firelight and sat down in a huff."
"You must have the obnoxious little brother point that out."
"Maybe they should kidnap him as well. He could become fast friends with one of the Atlantean kids, while I try my evil wiles on the Professor's daughter."
"G.'s going to want a romantic interest."
"I wonder if we could persuade him to do a comedic one? The caravan master's fat widowed sister and her five daughters? Something like that."
She giggled. Marvelous sound. She was starting to glow, too. Those witch and wizard genes were integrating with her own. "Perhaps three mostly grown sons, very certain that G. is going to behave himself and honorably marry their mother?"
"Ooo. You have a wicked imagination. So the emotional ending will be the Atlanteans escaping across the border to Somalia, and the Good Guys being stopped at the border. Jack and G. can fight over who gets to say something like if ever a country could be improved by those madmen, or something to that effect?"
"Yeah. Or 'if a country ever deserved some mad men,' or 'a match made in hell.' Whatever."
Chapter Two
"We're from the government and we're here so you can help us."
"C'mon in. Which branch of government and what sort of help do you need?"
"We understand that you'll be traveling to Africa, shooting on location. If, of course, you sort out your . . . documentary difficulties."
"Right, you're the part of government that likes to push people around. No sweat. Go ahead and pretend that a man who can travel between Worlds can't figure out how to take a dimensional shortcut to wherever he wants to be." Eldon tried to give them his bright attentive student look.
They scowled.
He prodded again. "So, what may I do for my host government on this world, eh?"
"You are going to be filming in a very dangerous part of the World. We want to send some people along to protect you."
"Oy. No doubt taking notes all the way. Or something else equally nefarious. Why didn't you approach G. or Jack? Never mind, you had no holds on them, and applying to their patriotic and better selves never even occurred to you, did it?"
"They are Hollywood actors. Therefore, they don't like the Federal law enforcement agencies."
"Really? All the shooting and fighting Bad Guys and they don't salute the flag every morning? That's . . . a facet of their existence I hadn't noticed before. Huh." Eldon leaned back and thought that over. "How many people are you planning on sending? They're booked as far as speaking parts are concerned, and they usually just grab extras as they need them. Well, we're having a pre-shoot get together in the morning. I'll raise the possibility of bringing along a couple of bully boys, so we don't need to depend on the local government for protection."
They eyed him suspiciously.
"Tsk! Really, such suspicion. You lot have been so nice about not trying to deport me Gods know where, I feel all cozy and wanted. Therefore I'll help."
"Thank you, Mr. Brown. We do appreciate willing cooperation. We just didn't expect it."
"No sweat." Eldon glanced at his watch. "Now, how many people do you want to send, and how many do you absolutely consider the fewest? I'll try to suggest something in between."
"We'd like to send a team of six. Two would be the least. I don't like the idea of one man without backup."
"Right. You got a number I can reach you at, or will you just turn up on my doorstep again?"
They smiled tightly, and left without specifying. Well, he knew all too well what he'd done to deserve this. So he went to bed and slept like a rock. His conscience knew better than to get between him and a good night's sleep.
Then lunch at Jack's, where they put their heads together and beat out a new plot. They used as much of the old as possible, and had it in shape in practically no time.
"Jacob will sic script writers on it, and change so, really it doesn't matter how cobbled together this is." G. sat back, looking satisfied. "I'll get him a copy and make him read it before the meeting tomorrow."
At the pre-shoot meeting they handed out the new script, first thing. It looked like G. had done a good job selling their points to Jacob. They ran through the script together, the actors reading some of the relevant parts aloud.
The opening scene would have G. lecturing about the Meroe pyramids somewhere just north of Khartoum, some famous city in the middle of nowhere. After a nice sweaty day of admiring stuff four times as old as the presence of humans on Comet Fall, and comparing them to certain repeated decorations of the Atlanteans, they head for their hotel in town and notice a fellow frantically trying to bribe a fellow to repair his car quick. Spoiled Daughter does a double-take. "That can't be Phillip, can it?"
Sure enough, the drug smuggler has escaped his rather domineering bride, and is in a hurry to keep running. "I don't care if I've driven across a thousand miles of desert. They're after me. Believe it." They try to calm him down, and he steals one of their Land Rovers. Jack blasts off after him, and finds the rover, but no sign of what happened to Phillip.
"Phillip! Phillip?" Camera zooms out to show desolation all around.
They argue at dinner, about Phillip, about the unlikelihood that they would take notice of the family.
"All you worry about is us, what about poor Phillip? We can't leave him a captive in the hands of those . . . people. We're not in Western Sahara, with suspicious soldiers everywhere, ready to shoot us. We should report what just happened."
Jack sighs. "Right. Telling the police an old acquaintance and known drug smuggler stole our rover, then abandoned it within a hundred miles, is going to help. We need to hire some guards, keep a night watch at camp."
G. snorts. "And get some work done. The radar should be able to look through the sand and find any buried ruins. We'll start tomorrow."
Jacob tapped an impatient foot. "You three should be kept away from each other. Scene one will end with the zoom out. We don't need the family meeting. We'll do the radar comments at the site."
Mark Finley, the script writer was scribbling all over his copy as Jacob talked.
Eldon wrinkled his nose. "If you're tightening up, you could have those comments at the end of the first day. Then go right into the argument between Jack and Margo. Margo stalks off into the night. Jack starts to go after her, the brat intervenes and is ignored. G. is right behind him. Jack catches up to Margo and they argue more, and Margo stalks off even further. The hired guards have followed, and suggest they stay closer to camp. G. sends all but one back to camp. Margo screams. The Atlanteans have her. Jack runs toward her, trips. Guard right behind receives lightning bolt type effect.”
Eldon put on his best superior sneer. "We don't care to be followed. Leave and I'll release her. If I see you again, I'll keep her."
Margo put her hands over her mouth and made some protesting noises.
"If you harm her . . . "
"Bah. From what I've seen, I'd be doing you a favor to keep her." Eldon made engine noises, earning himself a glare from Jacob.
The Director nodded though. "G. says, they went south, Jack says Phillip said something about a thousand miles. That will be somewhere in Uganda. And the chase starts. We'll have the first fight in the desert. Good Guys get Phillip back, but the rest of them get away. Phillip says they are traveling to all
their old abodes, picking up all their relatives, and that there's about five hundred of them now. But where can they all be going? Why, to a place that was once their own, and soon will be again. And Phillip hasn't a clue."
He flipped several pages. "They drive further south, out of the desert and into grasslands. They ask. Hundreds of people on horses and camels went thataway a week ago. Two black cars? Oh, those? The people switched to horses. Arabs, with no sense, but to ride a horse into the game preserve. So. We finally get to the waterfall. The Atlanteans are camping on one side, and Eldon and Lisa are entertaining the daughter. Eldon is wooing her, and she's not immune." Flip, flip. "I'm sure you two will have fun with that scene. G. and Jack hire a guide to get info from the locals. The Guide's sister comes along, with her two teenage sons. The guide tells G. that she married a long time ago, a strange man who took her far away. Homesick, she returned with the twins when they were small children. She'll be a good cook, and even better, she'll throw herself at G. The Twins get all stiff and tell G. he'd better behave. Any rate, they check the ferry. No, no hundreds of migrating Berbers, no dozen recently. They cross the river anyway to go to the local hotel and talk to everyone about what they have seen. Jack meets a lady anthropologist there, taking a break from digging in the Afar region. Instant sparks. Also, she passed the migration.
"Spectacularly beautiful horses. They were north of Lake Victoria, headed east. I was wondering what was going on, and how they were going to cross the border into Kenya. They were obviously one of the western Berber tribes." An all new actress, well, new to Eldon. She looked about thirty five, strong healthy, outdoors type. Muscles and tan.
Eldon tried to not drool.
Jack elbowed him. "I'll tell Lily you were drooling."
"Take notes; you'll be doing the drooling on scene."
Sue Vandervoot gave them both chilly glances.
"Don't worry." Eldon grinned cheerfully. "He's married and I'm spoken for. But wouldn't it be worse if neither of us thought you drool worthy?"
