Pink: Some rules are meant to be broken … (Rule Number 3 Book 1)

by Teya Tapler

  “Who’s going this time?” Mary opened a history and culture file on the holographic screen before her and made herself comfortable on the floating chair.

  “Zahara said she’d asked for Zander and me,” Emil responded with a cleaning towel in one hand and special detergent in the other. He was cleaning the transcaster guns and had laid several of them on the low table before him.

  “Figures.” Mary rolled her eyes. “I know that you’ve to go, but she keeps on asking for Zander.”

  “If I were you I’d be glad about this,” Peter said. He was sorting the data crystals and the data crystal bracelets in one of the archive boxes. Those silver-rimmed jewels and colorful crystals contained previous missions’ details, target descriptions, culture and technology information. The materials were organized by mission time and space location. If any library in the world knew about the team’s archive boxes, it would have done anything to claim them. “Remember when she told me to let it go? I was confused during the whole operation.”

  “We’re all happy you realized she meant for you to give up smoking.” Emil laughed. The others smiled, too. They remembered how during that trip Peter had dropped one of the alabaster vases they were sent to recover, thinking that was what he was meant to let go. Peter didn't like where the conversation was going. Feeling uncomfortable, he closed the archive box and put it on the shelf next to the other boxes. He put on his old-fashioned headphones, cranked up the volume and started furiously hitting the virtual keyboard at the far end of the room. For an unknown reason those over the ear headphones were recalled centuries ago but had remained the best way to isolate oneself from the surroundings and engulf in the favorite music. The screens showed scrolling calculations and charts that periodically changed their type. That was an indication the team had overdone it again and Peter was back to his uncommunicative state.

  “Gu-uys,” Mary scolded the other two, talking much slower than her usual chatter. “You know how he is. We leave on our new assignment tomorrow, and we need him to be at his best. Could you stop by that place on the red line and get a package of gummy bears for him? Plea-a-se?!” she asked, knowing that was the only way to make Peter rebound as fast as they needed him to.

  “We’ve been following this ritual for generations,” Emil looked at the clock, “and we should not be late this time, either. Let's go!”

  “Yeah, we’ll get them. Any flavor preferences?” Zander asked on their way out.

  “None,” Mary shouted back quickly. “Just buy the biggest package.”

  ***

  Emil and Zander took a cab from the team base to the bus station. Then they sat at the back of the green bus and rode to the last stop, after which they walked through the lower level of the city for two hours. Emil was constantly checking to see if they were being followed. It was cold and foggy there. The bottom levels of the city didn’t get enough sun and were affected by the wetness of the ground after each rain. That wetness was trying to evaporate, but it merely turned for a while into a dampness that lingered until the next rain, when it turned back into wetness.

  The two men waded through the moldy smelling streets, periodically checking behind their backs. They stopped at a rusty brown residence with rattling window shutters. The house was close to a rumbling sewer pipe. Emil knocked on the door two times, counted silently to three, then knocked three more times.

  The door screeched and an old, red-haired lady peeped behind it. She was supporting herself on a crooked stick as bent as she was. Emil nodded to greet her and she nodded back letting them in.

  “I’ll lead you to her,” she said quietly and started moving slowly to the inside of the house. It was dark and the thin candle she was carrying barely lit her path.

  “Are you sure?” Zander mouthed to Emil, who responded with a clear gesture suggesting that he not open his mouth again. “Zip it!”

  At the end of the corridor, they entered a sparsely lit room with a round table and three chairs. The single candle in the middle of the table dispersed enough light for the two men to just about see where they were going. A beautiful young girl was sitting in one of the chairs.

  “Thank you, Zahara,” she said softly and smiled, looking into the distance. The old lady closed the door behind Emil and Zander and they heard her wobbly steps become fainter.

  Zander started looking around. It was the first time he was visiting that reader, and the unknown environment made him uneasy. Heavy curtains covered the two windows. The paint on the bare walls had begun to crack and peel, starting at the door frame and moving in various directions, drawing its own map along the way. There was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, but there was no light switch or cord to turn it on.

  “Please sit down.” The girl smiled and gestured towards the chairs. “I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.”

  She was one of the natural-born readers: the one who had dreams of the future and shared them with the affected people, warning them about events to come or things that needed to be done to prevent calamities. Sometimes they talked in rhymes, and there was a special protocol that had to be followed when someone was visiting them.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” the guests replied quietly one after another and took the chairs on each side of the girl. Zander was still evaluating the place when the girl said, “So, you are the smart one,” she said to Emil, “and you are the brave one with the big heart,” she continued, turning to Zander. “I was expecting to see you much earlier today.” She smiled.

  Zander had been mesmerized by her eyes since he entered the room. Their calmness had made him feel uncomfortable, and forced him to estimate his chances for escape, when he realized that she was blind. Her steady gaze was not always focused in the right direction and she blinked less frequently than expected.

  Zander tried to mouth something to Emil but found him looking the opposite way. The previous time, they’d seen another reader in a very different location. The house was at the lower level as well, but wasn’t falling apart like that one, and the other reader seemed older and more respectful. She wasn't blind and looked much more experienced than that one. The fragile girl next to them looked no older than a fifth grader. She was thin and delicate, with fingers thinner than a number two pencil.

  “You know that even though I’m blind, I can see you. There is nothing to be afraid of.” The girl grabbed Zander’s hand. “Listen to me now and remember.” She moved to the left to be closer to him and focused her blind eyes on his face. He felt the warmth of her gaze and studied her face in return. She had a high forehead decorated with thin eyebrows. The thin nose and red raspberry-like lips completed the innocent look of her face. Her fair hair fell on the sides of her pale face, framing it, making her look like a saint’s icon. Her fingers were cold and tickled as she felt her way along the lines on his palm and the back of his hand. The blind girl started talking in rhymes.

  “Find the torn one, for your doom will be changed by her gift of a spoon.”

  The reader took a breath and then continued with her soft and melodic voice.

  “Don’t go beyond and don’t look afar. Don’t cast a wish on a falling star. For all you need to bring the world to peace can be reached when you are on your knees.” She let Zander’s hand go and turned to Emil. “Keep an eye on your friend and let him be both brave and stupid.”

  “No rhymes for me this time?” Emil tried to joke.

  The tiny reader smiled back and said, “Don’t hold her too tight and remember that he will aim to his right.”

  The door opened and the old woman with the candle looked at them.

  “It’s time to leave, gentlemen!” she said.

  Emil and Zander bowed at the young reader. The tradition forbade them from thanking her, for the thanks would tarnish the foreseen events in an undesired and unpredictable way. She smiled back at them and bowed slightly in return, following the tradition of remaining silent when another person enters the room where a prediction was made. Zahara
nodded toward the corridor and the two men followed her peacefully. She led them back to the street, not saying a word.

  Once Emil and Zander were two blocks away, Zander stopped and looked back.

  “Could you remind me again why we have this ritual?” he asked.

  “Our team was founded in the first years after the transcaster invention,” Emil started.

  “I know that. My great-grandfather, my grandfather and my father all told me that story. They never mentioned a reader, though,” Zander said.

  “At that time, the readers were honored in our society.” Emil pushed Zander toward the bus stop, reminding him that they were still a long way from the team base. The two men continued to wade through the moldy streets of the lower level.

  “Politicians and scientists consulted with them, for they could see things that would happen or things that had happened, but that there was no one around to see,” Emil continued. “The first Anaconda team was visited by Zama, a beautiful young reader. She’d looked at them, touched her golden locket and uttered her rhymes. When asked what they meant, she’d said that they should pick another location for their first mission. She was not listened to, and only one of the ten team members came back, your great-grandfather, for he’d followed the reader’s instructions precisely.”

  “Don’t touch what you want to touch and hold on to what you want to let go,” Zander said quietly, as though to himself.

  “Yes, those were her words to the team,” Emil continued. “This is how our tradition started. After that first mission, your great-grandfather always talked to the readers and shared their words with the team. They continued to do that even after the banishment of the readers and many lives were saved.”

  Chapter 8

  “Evangeline, your mother’s going to town for groceries; would you like to join her?” Professor Shtuttgart barged into the tent where Allie and Evan were playing snakes and ladders. Evan startled and jumped up, a chewing gum bubble sticking to her face. Allie had caught a cold during their second week at the archeological dig in Mexico, and she had been banned from leaving the tent. Evan had been babysitting her sister ever since and couldn’t take it anymore: with the weather outside much nicer that day being restricted to the tent was tormenting her.

  “Of course!” Evan ran to the supply tent, cleaning the bubble gum off her face along the way.

  When her father had spoken about the upcoming expedition being in Latin America, Evan had secretly hoped that they would visit Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires or another one of the big cities there. Dreaming of seaside walks at sunset or sunrise and shopping trips to malls filled with shops she hadn’t visited yet soothed the painful thought that she would spend the summer away from Kevin. Then when she found out that they will be located in the Mexican jungle, the daydreaming was replaced by the nightmarish reality of dust, humidity and bugs followed by the endless days in the tent playing snakes and ladders with her sister.

  To Evan’s surprise, her mother wasn’t alone. A tall, blue-eyed guy with unruly dark hair, dressed in dirty black clothes was talking with Mrs. Shtuttgart.

  “Evangeline,” her mother pointed to the guy,” this is Zander. Zander, this is Evangeline, my elder daughter. She will travel with us today.”

  “Nice to meet you, miss,” Zander stretched his hand out to Evan. Its position suggested that her hand be placed gently on top so that he could kiss it. Instead, Evan shook his hand without even looking at his eyes and mumbled, “Same here,” between chews. Her response was audible enough for her mother to give her a look of disapproval. Evan didn’t care. She continued chewing her gum. Happy to get out of the tent, she was eager to accept the possibility of her mother scolding her or nagging about something.

  The car next to them caught her eye and fearful thoughts entered Evan’s mind. The vehicle had no windows or a roof, but it was obviously not a convertible by design. It had a windshield with a rearview mirror sticking from it and two row seats covered with what once might have been called real leader.

  “Are we taking this?” Evan wrinkled her nose and kicked one of the tires in disgust. The car was so old, had so much mileage on it and was patched so many times by people with different aesthetic senses that it was hard to tell its color, age or even its make anymore. For a moment Evan thought that her parents had dug it out a few days earlier and were now happy to use it.

  “Yeah, get in. Jose’s waiting for us, “ Zander jumped behind the wheel. Her mother followed suit and took the shot-gun seat, shoulder bag in hand.

  Where were his manners? Evan didn’t like the fact that the man in the group got in the car first and didn’t hold the door open for her. She looked toward the tents, evaluating the alternatives, and then slowly climbed into the back seat. It was hard, covered with weathered, cracked leather. Her nose wrinkled as looked for the seat belt. The car started.

  “Hold on, honey, it’ll be a bumpy ride.” Her mother said from the front seat.

  The car sounded much older than it looked. It shook twice when Zander switched into gear and the ride started with a jolt. Evan felt the same jolt every time he changed gears. To her horror, the car was manual, and he had to do that a lot.

  Her mother looked back from the front seat and asked with a smile, “How do you like it?”

  Evan’s face lost its color as she held on with both hands. Trying to think of something nice to take her mind off the bumpy ride, she focused on the night of her junior prom. Those were her latest and best memories before that year’s summer of torture here at the archeological dig. She remembered the drum roll when the superintendent started the announcement, standing on the stage with the live band, raising the excitement level among the formally dressed student congregation in the gym. Her heart had started to beat faster when her and Kevin’s names were announced. Everyone had clapped and made space for them to reach the podium. She had walked with her head high, holding his hand tightly, afraid that he might disappear.

  Another one of the sudden jolts returned her to the reality. She looked around and realizing they were still traveling in that wreck of a car in the middle of the rain forest, returned to her happy place at junior prom. The foliage, animals and color variety passing by them didn’t interest her. Mentally, she was back at the dance. Evan remembered how after the crowns were ceremonially placed on their heads she had reached for Kevin’s hand to get some sense of security to get her through the moment, only to find both of his hands were above his head. Kevin had posed like a race car driver who had just won the race. She had hugged him like the girls hugging the race car driver for that winning picture and had smiled for the cameras. Evan had been happy. What more she could have asked for? She had been crowned the prom queen and she and Kevin were photographed and applauded … and then … his kiss had interrupted her thoughts. It had been a fast and sudden kiss that had felt like a peck on the cheek, but he did kiss her on the lips in front of the whole school. That had been the icing on the cake, the cherry on top, and the fireworks for the 4th of July. His kiss had made that day the best day of her entire life.

  Evan almost collapsed face down on the back seat as the car suddenly swirled. Focused on her happy memories she had loosened her grip. Resuming her position, she held on with both hands, trying to look straight ahead to avoid leaving her breakfast on the back seat. There were numerous holes, roots and stones on the road, and the occasional inevitable monkey they had to avoid.

  A whole hour passed before they arrived in front of Jose’s store.

  The store was in a small, brick building covered with what was once white, but now looked more like beige, colored paint. The paint had started to chip under the window sills and at the corners exposing the red bricks of the main structure. The roof was covered with red clay tiles and ended with a wooden sun shelter right above the entrance. One side of the building abutted the forest, while the other was close to an airplane landing strip. Evan anxiously looked around for a smoother ride back to the camp. Her eyes moved from left to
right, then all the way to the end of the landing strip. In addition to the few colorful locals pulling their loaded mules, there wasn’t anything or anybody else around. Even the wind wasn’t visiting that place. The palm trees and the few papers on the street were motionless.

  “Señora Agatha!” A middle aged man hurried toward them, smiling at Evan’s mother.

  “These are the things from the list.” Still walking toward them, the man pointed to five crates under the sun shelter in front of the store. Evan had seen boxes like those at the camp. They were big and wooden, sturdily built containers with some chalk marks on the side that resembled numbers, the kind of crates you think could be dropped from a plane and survive.

  Her mother got out of the car and shook hands with the man. “Nice to see you, Jose!”

  “The thing came.” Jose grinned as wide as he could and from her place in the back seat Evan saw that he was missing most of his teeth.

  “How big is it?” her mother asked with arms spread from left to right.

  “Three boxes.” Jose put up three fingers, then spread his hands and added, “Big!”

  “Zander, you and Evan have to go back and tell my husband that the special-order equipment has arrived. We’ll need the plane to bring it to the camp.”

  “Yes, Madam,” Zander said and picked up one of the crates.

  Evan watched him heading toward the car and realized that he intended to put the crate on the back seat. Her nose wrinkled with disapproval and she quickly moved to the co-pilot seat without getting out of the car.

  Zander didn’t say anything and quietly continued working until all five boxes were loaded. Evan watched his slow, methodical and repetitive movements. Silently and somewhat leisurely Zander was taking crate after crate from the shelter, carrying them to the car and loading them in. There was something about him she was finding unnerving. She wasn’t sure whether it was his dirty clothes or his rather mechanical behavior or his disturbingly blue eyes but Evan didn’t feel comfortable around him even with her mother close by. He reminded her of one of the wind-up toys she’d had as a child, repeating the same movement until its spring winded down.