by Clara Ward
Reggie was just wondering if Sarah could remove clothing telekinetically when she said, “Maybe we should check with Joe about how he wants to handle dinner. He told me not to worry about food.”
Reggie had been lying awake in the dark for a long time. Sarah was asleep beside him, buried completely beneath the covers. Joe was up above steering. He said these were the hours he liked to keep and he was used to making this run alone.
Reggie didn’t trust Joe. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about Sarah. She’d told him the events of the last month involving the Chens, her relatives, and the people from the CDC. He hadn’t even suspected. The part about telekinesis seemed fair, in a way; he just couldn’t question a choice like that. But while visiting the Chens was part of the same secret, he felt a little betrayed, like she’d been sneaking around, and he wasn’t ready to assume her relatives’ government connections were the only larger powers in play. The Chens could have other allegiances. He even suspected Sarah a bit.
She hadn’t told him where they were going once they reached Belize or anything about future plans. Reggie wanted to know. What if they were separated? What if she’d overlooked something? But he swallowed his pride and resolved not to ask.
Anything he knew could be used against them. He’d decided to use their travelling time to practice thinking in Urdu or maybe Hindi. The effort might be enough to keep his mind away from dangerous subjects or at least broadcasting gibberish to any mind readers that happened along. Sarah believed telepaths had to be in shouting distance to hear someone, and even then they only caught the clearer thoughts, and only if they knew the language.
The boat began to slow. Given the time and the calmness of the waters, Reggie guessed they were preparing to dock. He snuggled down under the covers to wake Sarah with a kiss on the neck. She woke instantly, grabbed his neck, and held him tight. They both felt the boat stop, and without words she released him. Reggie turned on the lights as they put on shoes. Sarah adjusted her clothing to her boyish disguise. As a boy she looked no more than seventeen, a full decade younger than Reggie. He wondered what people would think seeing them together. She pulled on a baseball cap without bothering to brush her hair, and Reggie did the same. Before they could go up on deck, they heard Joe’s boots coming down.
The smuggler came in with his jaw set further forward than the day before. He closed the door behind him, then leaned against it with his arms crossed.
“Look kids, I think there are a few things you didn’t tell me when we arranged this trip. I didn’t want to get tangled up in any trouble.”
Joe moved a hand to his jacket pocket. He pulled out a gun, not pointing it at them, just handling it and waiting.
Reggie wondered why anyone would pull a gun on someone who could move objects with her mind. But maybe Joe hadn’t thought it through. Maybe he’d used some spyhole to watch them last night and seen Sarah move their clothes across the room. Or maybe he was a telepath and had read the whole situation from Reggie’s thoughts. Maybe he already knew how to block telekinesis or knew he was strong enough to resist whatever Sarah could do.
Reggie felt terror and defiance crash through him. His muscles tightened, primitive man ready to attack or escape, but he didn’t know what to do. Beside him Sarah stood frozen, mouth slightly open, hands clenched tight on the hem of her shirt.
“So, you don’t deny it then.” Joe seemed to be focusing on Sarah now, the gun held loosely in his hand, pointed vaguely in her direction. “You’re obviously running from someone, dressing as a boy, rushing to meet a friend you weren’t sure would show up, eager to reach Belize right away. Somehow I don’t think you’re planning to check in with immigrations either. Now, I’m not a man who’s averse to a little risk, but I expect to be compensated. You make me an offer I can’t refuse, and we’ll both be on our ways.”
He didn’t know. This was just a regular scam. Joe had probably smuggled passengers across before and given them the same spiel. But he couldn’t afford any real trouble if Sarah was right and he was here to pick up illegal exports.
Reggie began to imagine telekinetic revenge. Sarah could turn the gun on its owner while they made their way out. Or she could leave him tied and gagged in his own bed sheets. Of course, either of those actions would probably put anyone looking for them back on their trail. Maybe she should just make a crack in the hull and let the boat sink.
“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you the whole truth,” Sarah said, the picture of sincerity and innocence. “But we really are archeology students, and if certain people don’t want us to be together, then they’re just jealous and cruel and don’t understand. But still, if you want I can give you a hundred dollars extra, to make up for not telling you.”
“A hundred bucks won’t cover it.”
“We don’t have much more. Reggie’s pack got stolen. Look I’ll give you all I’ve got.” Sarah pulled folded American money from her front pocket and began to count. Reggie would have thought she’d been taken in, if he hadn’t known she had more money hidden with some papers inside her pants. “Here, it’s the rest of what I owe you plus two-hundred and twenty dollars. Take it, and maybe we can do you some other kind of favor someday.”
Sarah was holding out the money, and for a minute it looked like Joe wouldn’t accept. Was he really planning to shoot them in the cabin of his own boat?
But the tough guy shrugged, took the money, and said, “Get going.” Sarah and Reggie, hurried past him, up the stairs and onto the dock.
By Reggie’s watch it was four o’clock. The sun wasn’t up yet. The sign saying “Dagriga Port” was not lit, and the town seemed mostly asleep. Reggie had never been to Belize, though he knew Sarah had. He followed her toward what seemed to be the main thoroughfare. The buildings there were more sturdily built, though they still had the weathered, rickety look common to poorer places near an ocean. Moss grew between roof shingles and peeling paint completed the fuzzy motif on the windward side of many buildings. As the scent of the sea lost out to the stench of decaying fish, Reggie’s mind chugged through more Urdu to whisper, “It would serve him right if his boat had a leak now.”
“Oh really, you’re offended by his bribery after all we saw in India? Let him have the money. It might lessen my guilt if any other trouble comes his way. I have no idea what risk we’ve put him at.”
Reggie wanted to argue but instead looked around the dark street and mentally described the fern-like trees with bursting red flowers as well as he could, in Urdu.
Chapter 8
April 11 - 12, 2025 – St. Ignacio, Belize
Sarah woke the next morning warm and safe, curled up against Reggie who was still asleep. His realness resonated through her body, even her dreams while sleeping. She shouldn’t have gotten him involved. It made life much more dangerous for them both. The problem was, she couldn’t stand to leave him behind.
As Sarah slid into her stew of self-doubt and moral angst, she slid altogether away from sleep. The bed that had seemed a refuge last night, now pressed at her with every spring and cut into her skin with wrinkled sheets. Carefully she slid from under Reggie’s arm. It was amazing how soundly he slept. She pulled on clothes and sneakers and quietly snuck out the door.
Outside it was full daylight. Their little cabin was one of eight surrounding a clearing at the edge of the rainforest. Sarah could smell polenta cooking by the open-air dining hall. Diana and Ken Piper provided their guests with three heartening vegetarian meals a day. They were American ex-pats who had come to Belize on the back to nature wagon thirty years ago and found their niche running a rainforest guesthouse and spiritual healing center.
Sarah had met them just after high school, the first time she went looking for herself in faraway places. She’d drifted to the guesthouse with a gypsy skirt, a scarf around her hair, and a request to work for room and board. The Pipers, who probably hadn’t needed her help at all, took her into their home. They told her how they met in a teepee at Burning Man, morphed into
respectable civil servants, then ran away to Belize to reinvent themselves again. Sarah told them how she’d given up gymnastics, dumped her mother’s liquor, and run away from home. They listened, told stories, and shared their favorite music. When college started in the fall, Sarah was there, stable enough to pass her classes and to find a job coaching kids’ gymnastics.
The Piper’s never knew her biggest secrets, but when she needed a safe place to hide, they came instantly to mind. This time she could even pay. The rates were low now that Belize wasn’t the trampers’ fad of the year.
Sarah stretched briefly, leaning down along each leg, pulling each foot up behind her. She needed to run and let her mind shake out. The meditation trails through the shaggy forest were just the place for a jog in morning dew. Vines dripped above her like swimsuits in a bathtub. Instead of chlorine she smelled algae and mud as rich as meat.
Remembering old lessons, Sarah dodged beneath low tree branches. She frenetically avoided any limb that might shake a tree where a Tommy Goth snake could lie contracted. Though she’d never seen one, as a troubled teen she’d been fascinated by the idea of these clever reptiles that held their snaky muscles tight until some large beast fumbled by below. Then the Tommy Goth would suddenly extend, propelling itself off the branch like a spring suddenly released. Having landed on its victim, the snake was, of course, poisonous.
As she made the river at top speed, Sarah felt clearer. Memories of the previous day’s bus rides and hiking had melted into images of a beautiful night with Reggie, which then distilled into two questions. One was what she should do with her freedom now that she seemed to have it. The other was: where might she and Reggie be safe? It would have to be someplace remote enough that no telepath would stumble across Reggie, someplace obscure enough that the government wouldn’t find her. It wouldn’t hurt if they had some way to earn money or take care of themselves besides. Pictures of primitive British fishing islands came to mind, but Sarah suspected she and Reggie wouldn’t fit in, besides Britain had strong ties to the U.S.
As if she’d been struck by a Tommy Goth snake, Sarah froze in the middle of the trail. Standing before her, dressed in a red silk shirt and black leather pants, was a young Chinese man. He leaned nonchalantly against a tree of love, a parasitic plant that smothered its host. In his left hand he held Reggie’s stolen backpack.
“Sarah Duncan, at last, so nice of you to arrange this meeting.”
“Shit.”
“No, but you can call me Tom. And before you get too panicked, your government didn’t send me.”
Sarah tried to catch her breath and restructure her thinking. Part of her was still definitely panicked, but there was something oddly captivating about this Tom person. His eyes were deep, steady, surrounded by dark lashes. As he slouched against the tree the muscles of his arms and even some under his shirt seemed flexed for show. The bangs curving over his forehead had been styled with gel. Men like him only showed up on jungle paths in perfume ads and pornography.
“I guess you’d like an explanation.” He spoke clearly but with a noticeable Asian accent she couldn’t place. “I took Reggie’s bag, because the U.S. government had tagged it. I placed devices of my own on his shirt and trousers; so I could meet up with you later. Then I escorted the bag up the coast, carefully removed all foreign devices, and deposited them in the ocean, well away from where you two departed. I checked your trajectory, saw it confirmed my initial predictions, and caught a plane to Belize City, where I rented a jeep. I would have contacted you last night, except that you were constantly with Reggie, who already knows far too much and has no need to be broadcasting information about me.”
“Do you think you’re the only one who’s found us?”
“The American’s trust far too much in technology. After placing their transmitters during the customs inspection, I don’t think they had anyone keeping a visual watch. I doubt they’ll even trace you to Belize. Of course, any thoughtful person would check your electronic spending history and realize you’ve previously traveled in Belize and would be likely to feel comfortable here. But frankly, most agents are dull cogs who never try to do anything innovative and probably wouldn’t be allowed to follow up anyway.”
“Were you the one following our taxi?”
“What taxi?”
“Before the bus in Belize. Our taxi driver thought we were being followed. He did his best to lose them.”
“What nationality? What kind of car?”
“I don’t know. It had dark windows.”
“Not the U.S., I’m sure. And I don’t think the Chinese are out here. So either your driver was mistaken, or there’s another player. Interesting possibility. But satellite pictures show no one following your bus except me, and they won’t be able to tell the transmitter was in the pack I took. Even if they thought to check satellite pictures of your boat trip, they’d probably lose track of you in the dark hours when you disembarked. No, I think this is as safe a place as we can get until Reggie learns to be quiet.”
“He can learn that?”
“If I’m going to deal with you, I think I’d better teach him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Tom’s face lit up. He cocked his head a bit to the side and flourished his hand like a model on a game show. “Your prize, should you choose to accept it, is an all expense paid trip to Bangkok, where you would be welcomed as a political refugee escaping persecution for mental differences. In our enlightened domain, we do not believe in conscripting teeps or teeks, although several employment options are available. We’d be satisfied just to keep you out of the hands of the competition.”
“You work for the Thai government?”
“Not officially, but yes. Though I am supposed to be on vacation at the moment. I just happened to be the lucky telepath in Jamaica when the U.S. let slip Reggie’s flight choice.”
“I’d have to discuss it with Reggie.”
“Only after I train him. But I’d rather he didn’t even see me until he agrees to close his mind. Tell him it would probably mean a couple days with me listening to his every spilled thought and slapping his hand until he learns to shut up.”
“That’s really how you do it?”
“You’d rather I use electrodes?”
“Can anyone learn this? Why wouldn’t he want to?”
“Only a telekinetic without telepathy could ask that, which makes you unique. You’d be surprised how much people hate mind readers. The training only works because it’s so unpleasant.”
“I’ll ask him and then come back.”
“No need. I’ll know. If all goes well, leave the back window of your cabin open while you’re at breakfast, and I’ll sneak in. Bringing back some food for me would be a nice gesture. If Reggie says no, I’m sure you’ll both be leaving right away. You’re not stupid, are you?”
After breakfast, Sarah and Reggie approached the cabin slowly. They had muffins and fruit for Tom, and Diana had agreed to pack a lunch they would supposedly take hiking, which they could pick up in half an hour.
Sure enough, when they opened their door, Tom was sprawled out across their bed. Spread out in front of him were the contents of Reggie’s pack. Reggie tensed up immediately.
“Oh really, Reggie, I’d already gone through it for transmitters. And yes, your thoughts are coming out loud and clear. You’re so easy when you’re annoyed.”
Tom stretched the last words and flicked his eyelashes in a dramatic manner. He drew himself from the bed with catlike hauteur and sauntered over to Reggie. Sarah thought Tom was much too large of a presence to be contained inside their room. Despite his stylish clothes, the spy fit better in the rain forest.
“Hold out your hand,” he said to Reggie. Reggie held out his right hand and Tom slapped it with quick, stinging precision. Reggie managed not to pull it back, but Sarah saw the muscles in his face tighten.
Then Tom smiled and warmly shook Reggie’s hand, gently covering the top of it with his lef
t for a moment, as if to ease the sting of his own slap. “I’m Tom. Pleased to meet you.”
“This will really work? Permanently?” Reggie asked.
“I haven’t seen it fail yet. No one likes having their mind read.”
Slap.
“And yes, I’m gay, too.”
Slap.
“Poor liberal California guy. I know your type. I attended Berkeley, you know? I think you’ll learn very fast.”
Slap.
“A stereotype? I’m just doing my part to uphold Thailand’s reputation for something more interesting than biotech. More fun too.”
Half an hour later, Reggie showed marked improvement, or at least he was getting slapped less. Sarah, however, was about to explode. Tom was deliberately provoking and insulting her boyfriend, presumably as part of the training. But Tom did it all in such a smooth and seductive manner, it was easy to believe he enjoyed his work. Reggie showed no objection to being slapped, but Sarah’s brain was wild with instincts to defend him or escape or do something.
So she excused herself to fetch the lunch Diana had promised to pack. The heat outside and the fragrance of rosemary growing in the kitchen window box assured Sarah she’d just left the twilight zone. Stepping into the kitchen was like returning to her right mind.
“You okay, dear?” Diana asked as she opened the refrigerator.
“More than. Your kitchen is a magical place.”
“All good kitchens are. But really now, you look . . . distressed.”
“Compared to when I was a teenager?”
“No, no. Never that again.” Diana laughed and set a bag of food on the table next to Sarah. At a glance, it was clear they would not go hungry. It was also clear the older woman was inviting Sarah to talk, but wouldn’t press.
Sarah reached out to clasp Diana’s arm. “You’re ready to step right in and mother me again, aren’t you? No wonder I came back to this place. But really, all I need is a few quite days. It’s so good just to be here again.”
