Outview (The Inner Movement)

by Legg, Brandt

  I got the TV on, quickly found the twenty-four-hour entertainment channel, and there they were. They were being put into an unmarked van by men and women wearing windbreakers with the large letters “FBI” on their backs. Background video of Amber’s mother came next. The media had obviously been tipped off in advance.

  “My mom was pretty upset and yelling, ‘I don’t know what’s going on down there, but I want you up here now. I have you booked on a two o’clock flight to Portland.’ I tried to argue, but it was pointless. Oh, God, Bridge was arrested!”

  “Fitts must know she isn’t going to be of any use now.”

  “How did he know that already?”

  “Either because we didn’t show at the beach house, or her room really is bugged.”

  Just then the phone rang again. We were sure Amber’s mom had more to say. Instead it was the concierge from last night. Amber’s face registered total fear. She slammed the phone.

  “Agents are at the front desk asking for our room number. They’ll be here any minute!”

  We grabbed some things, raced for the stairs, and were down thirty-three flights before they barged into the stairwell above us. We dashed through the lobby and almost ran into a black SUV parked in front. Sprinting toward Amber’s car, my heart was pounding.

  “Where to? Where to?” Amber’s voice panicked.

  “Just drive! I don’t know!”

  We had only driven a few blocks when my phone rang. “It’s Tanya.”

  “Answer it.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Nathan, this is Agent Fitts.” His voice was raspy.

  My eyes widened. “Fitts,” I whispered to Amber.

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? That’s most amusing isn’t it? We both know what I want. I’m sorry I missed you at the hotel.”

  I hung up.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said it was him at the hotel.”

  “God, what do we do? Where should we go?”

  “Just head out of town.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Don’t answer.”

  “I have an idea.” I let it ring again, then answered. “How did you get Tanya’s phone?”

  “She was good enough to lend it to me,” Fitts said.

  “What if I agree to meet with you? Will you arrest me?”

  “That is my plan. It’s what I do.”

  I resisted the urge to say I thought what he did was kill innocent people.

  “I’ll meet with you in a public place if you give me your word you won’t arrest me.”

  “Why would I do that? You’ll be in custody within the hour anyway.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t know for sure what I can do and who’s helping me. I may get away. I have before.”

  “Yes, you have. What would this meeting be about?”

  “I’ll tell you things you don’t know, and we could make a deal.”

  “What do you have to deal with?”

  “That’s what we need to discuss. You might be surprised.”

  “You’ve piqued my interest. Do you have a place in mind? Back at the hotel perhaps?”

  “No. In front of the Transamerica building at eleven.”

  “Are you trying to make me laugh? Not eleven. Right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Nathan, if you aren’t there by nine-thirty, I’ll bring the whole city down on you.”

  “I’ll be there.” I hung up.

  “We’re going to meet that cobra?”

  “Not a chance. I’m just trying to buy time. Drive south, we’ll try to make it to Calyndra.”

  “He’ll just put out an APB or whatever on us, and we’ll be picked up in minutes.”

  “I don’t know what else to do except run.”

  For the next ten minutes we debated all possible options, including Amber just dropping me off somewhere and heading to the airport for her flight to Portland. I thought it was the best idea, but not surprisingly, Amber didn’t agree. We made a wrong turn and found ourselves heading onto the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “Come with me to Portland. I’ll get you another ticket.”

  “They’ll be waiting for me when I get off the plane.”

  “Someone has to be able to help us . . . ”

  “You have to let me get out somewhere.”

  “No.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Don’t.”

  “I have to. He’s probably wondering why we’re not there yet. I’ll stall some more.”

  I answered.

  “Nathan, you disappoint me. You’re never where you’re supposed to be,” Fitts said.

  “What? We’re on our way. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “Not unless you head in the other direction.”

  “Oh my God, I think they’re behind us,” Amber screamed.

  “Yes, we are. Why don’t you be a good boy and tell that little girl to pull over as soon as we get off the bridge.”

  I turned and saw a black SUV following close. I threw my phone at it.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Don’t panic. Get me to trees. It’s the only chance. My powers are strongest in nature. Gibi said the trees will always protect me.”

  “Spencer said people will always help you, and I don’t see anyone.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  “What if they start shooting?”

  “On the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge? Firing shots at the daughter of Ivy Mayes? No, they have us now. We’re not going to out run them in a 1969 Bug. They’ll just follow us until we run out of gas.”

  “Where am I supposed to find trees?”

  “Just keep driving. They aren’t going to force us off the road.”

  “Tell that to your mom.”

  “You could pull over and let me out. They won’t follow you.”

  “And just let them have you?”

  “No, I’ll jump off the bridge. I read once that a few people have lived. I might even be able to Skyclimb a little.”

  “No, that’s crazy.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Likewise.”

  Soon we were off the bridge, and it was less claustrophobic. The land opened to hills and trees on either side. Amber swerved the car at the last minute onto an exit and followed it into the Golden Gate National Recreation Area; they made it, too. We worked to get enough of a lead to pull into the trees. After a minute, there was a dead end barrier ahead at the beach.

  “Now what?” Amber shouted.

  “We’re gonna have to run?”

  “I’ll try a U-turn.”

  We were going too fast, the turn radius wasn’t there and we crashed into a brick buttress, with the engine in the rear, the whole front of the car caved in.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I think.” We were both unharmed.

  They screeched to a halt behind us.

  “Run!” I yelled.

  “Nate!” Amber screamed.

  “Run!” I repeated. We were forced in opposite directions.

  62

  “You get her. He’s mine!” Fitts yelled, as he took off chasing me. “Call Tipton and Michaels with our location.”

  He fired two shots as he ran, both missed.

  Several park visitors screamed and hit the ground, while others dove into the trees. I did the same.

  “I believe the fourth bullet found you last time,” he shouted, firing two more. Both hit a boulder, fragments of rock stung me. The ground continued to climb and my younger legs were able to put more distance between us. His next shot also missed.

  “Where’s my help?” I yelled to the trees. “Guides, Mystics, Dad?”

  I came out of the woods suddenly on top of a high cliff overlooking the bay. I hesitated, not sure where to go. It cost precious seconds. He was right behind me. I turned and started to Skyclimb up a tree. He fired again, my leg seemed cut in half with a
glowing fireplace poker. I crashed down to the ground landing with a thud.

  Fitts was on me and expertly secured my hands behind my back with zip-tie cuffs. He rolled me over and the shock gutted and choked me.

  It was Sam!

  “Hello, Nate. You see, I was hoping to avoid this whole scene,” he said.

  “Sam what are you doing?” I screamed.

  He caught his breath. It was painful as he straddled me.

  “I think it’ll be easier in these final moments if you address me as Agent Fitts.”

  “I don’t believe it!” I realized I’d never gotten a good look at Fitts’ face before. But this was incredible! “Why are you Fitts?”

  He fumbled with a mini-syringe.

  “Look, I don’t want a long thing here. I really liked you, Nate, and I’m truly sorry it turned out to be you.”

  I was unable to speak.

  “Once we discovered Lee Duncan had gotten evidence to someone named Montgomery Ryder, we completely eliminated that threat, but then there were the families. They needed to be watched and monitored. We thought it might take months; instead four years choked by before you made the mistake that told us your father was the right Montgomery Ryder. I’ve kept tabs on five families all these miserable years.”

  His words were unbelievable. But the pain of my leg and my bound arms under me kept me focused. “Why didn’t you kill me that first day?”

  “We wanted you to lead us to the evidence and to anyone else. After we gave up on that, I made up the stuff about helping you with a lawyer so we could trap you.” He laughed. “I don’t even have a damn sister! But enough reminiscing.”

  He caught me looking at the syringe.

  “This is the same substance I used on your father. Don’t worry, it’s just going to be a quick pinprick, and then your heart will stop in about six to eight minutes.”

  “You think anyone is going to believe a healthy sixteen-year-old kid died of a heart attack?” I could barely breathe but needed to keep us both talking.

  “Once the autopsy shows you had a pre-existing hereditary condition, and all the exertion of running from federal agents, you know, it was just too much for you.” He had the syringe ready. “And most people will think that another terrorist got what he deserved. They’ll come up with a nice nickname for you, ‘Bridge Bomber’ or some such thing, and then they won’t think about it much at all.”

  “Not everyone believes everything the government tells them.”

  “You’d be surprised.” He positioned the syringe in his fingers.

  “No. There are people out there who know what’s really going on.”

  “Sure, there are some on the fringe, and they’d end up turning you into some kind of cult leader. Make a religion around you or something. What a freak show! I’m actually doing you a favor by killing you.”

  He was about to stick me with it when Amber shrieked my name. He turned to look, and it gave me just enough of an opening to use his turning momentum into a push so I could spin out from under him. I stepped on his back to half leap, half Skyclimb toward the rocks where I landed hard, my leg refusing to walk. I saw Amber with her arms behind her back being held by the other agent about eighty feet away. He started advancing, but as Fitts got to his feet the agent paused. I could hear the waves crashing below. The cliff was behind me and a steep rock was to my left. Sam/Fitts in front not more than five feet away; I couldn’t back up another inch. The agent with Amber was to the right. I was pinned in. Then I saw Fitts pull the syringe out of his stomach.

  He saw me looking and shook his head. “Even if I could get to the hospital in two minutes, they couldn’t save me. The chemists at the agency have perfected this foolproof little cocktail,” he shouted over the gusts. The other agent didn’t know Fitts was dying, and Fitts knew it didn’t matter.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Your father never saw it coming. Your aunt, on the other hand, knew what I was about to do. She seemed to almost welcome death, saying something about lots of old friends to see on the other side. Never imagined I’d check out the same way. I guess it’s kind of ironic.”

  “Kind of karmic, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you,” he gritted angrily.

  “Where’s Rose’s body, Sam?” Blood was running out of the wound on my leg. My hands still cuffed behind me, I scanned for some chance to get away.

  “No one will ever find that body. Maybe your pal Spencer Copeland--or whatever he’s calling himself these days--could locate her.” He looked up at the sky. “We’ve been after that troublemaker for years. But you can tell him that you’ve helped us get much closer. They’ll have him soon.”

  Amber and the agent were both just staring at us but hadn’t moved. Fitts would be dead in a few minutes. I needed to stall for time. “I have proof about what’s going on at Lightyear and about all the murders.”

  “I doubt you have proof of all the murders, but if you’ve got Duncan’s stuff, then you have more trouble than you can handle.”

  Sirens filled the air. Shots fired in a national park--lots of police were on their way. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad for me, but right now I was leaning toward good.

  “Sam, I want you to know before you cross over that I forgive you for everything you’ve done to me and my family.”

  “Oh, thank you very much, Jesus. How dare you pass judgment on me, Nate.”

  “I’m serious. I forgive you.” And I meant it.

  He squeezed his left arm and winced.

  “Do you know you killed me in a past life?”

  “Do you forgive me for that, too?” he asked sarcastically, his voice straining.

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, I guess I’ll have to kill you again.” His words hadn’t even registered when I realized he was lunging toward me. His body hit mine with incredible force and I went sailing backward over the cliff.

  The last thing I heard was an awful, agonized scream; it was Amber. Then everything went black.

  63

  Saturday, October 4

  I regained some form of consciousness and, after remembering my name was Nate Ryder, opened my eyes or at least tried. There was nothing but blackness. It made me nervous. I tried to recall what had happened, but my mind shut down.

  There is no way to know how much time passed before I regained consciousness. Now, I realized my arms couldn’t move. Could I move anything? With great effort my heavy head could do a full range of motions. It seemed like I was lying down, but the lack of light left me so disorientated it was impossible to know. My feet could both do whatever they were told except walk. What was keeping me from getting up and walking around? Where was I? What happened?

  I must have passed out again because there was a long pause in my thoughts. I was still floating in blackness. Panic took over. I must be dead. Why didn’t I realize it before? Then I remembered Fitts shooting me. Why didn’t my leg hurt? He had shoved me off a cliff. I couldn’t have lived.

  “Amber!” I yelled out. What happened to her? She was in custody. I remembered her scream. Would they kill her like Rose? Would she be treated as a terrorist and thrown in prison?

  “Welcome, Nate.”

  “Who said that?”

  “I did. My name is Trevor.”

  “Welcome where?”

  “You’re on a boat somewhere drifting in the sun.”

  “Is that a metaphor for heaven or something?”

  “No.” He laughed.

  “If we’re drifting in the sun, why can’t I see?” I braced myself.

  “Your blindness should only be temporary.”

  “Am I dead?”

  “No.” He laughed again. “I’m sorry. You’re bound to be fuzzy after everything. Let me tell you what’s happened, at least what I understand.”

  “First tell me, is Amber okay?”

  “I was told you would ask, and I’m to tell you she’s fine.”

  “Is she free? Because you sound a l
ittle scripted. Am I a prisoner?”

  “Nate, take a deep breath. You’re safe. Sometime on Thursday, Crowd brought you here. You’re on the Ninth Wave, my boat.”

  “That explains the floating sensation,” I said relieved.

  “Yes, it’s a bit choppy today. Anyway, Crowd asked me to keep you out at sea until you healed enough. You’ve come a long way since you arrived. I thought you were dead, and I guess you were very close but Spencer--”

  “Spencer’s been here?”

  “Many times. I’m sure you wouldn’t have survived without his healings.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Time’s a funny thing.”

  “How long have I been on your boat?”

  “Well, those are two different questions, aren’t they?”

  “Not normally.”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “You said I’ve been here since Thursday? So, two days?”

  “Yes, but Spencer did something because he’s been here once a day every day.”

  “So.”

  “He’s been here sixteen times.”

  “You’re the sixth mystic, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not even the first mystic. Listen, you had a severe head injury that affected your vision. Spencer did a lot of stuff and said we could take the bandages off once you woke up.”

  “What are we waiting for? Why can’t I move my arms?”

  “They were both badly broken. Crowd said they were tied behind your back and you landed on them . . . falling off a cliff.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Spencer did healings on them too, but he wanted both arms to remain immobile for at least forty-eight hours, which by my clock is up. By his time, it’s been a couple of weeks.”

  He untied the straps, and although my arms felt like gliding through jello, they functioned.

  “Spencer worked on your leg, too. Want the bullet? It took him a while to get it out.”

  “He did surgery?”

  “Well, not with any instruments.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Let’s do your eyes now.” He slowly unwrapped the cloth from around my head and then pulled the tape from the pads over my eyes. I opened them cautiously then blinked several times to shake the blurriness. It sounded as if Trevor gasped.