by S. S. Segran
“Could be.” Marshall picked up a decorative vase from the living room and handed it to Aari. “Anything?”
Aari stood still for a minute as everyone held their breaths. Then he passed the vase back. “Nothing.”
Jag handed him the gold cross he wore around his neck along with his Dema-Ki pendant. “Here, try this. Belonged to my granddad.”
Again, Aari indicated no.
“This is so strange,” Mariah said. “Maybe it was a fluke or something.”
“Maybe not,” Tegan disagreed. “You guys remember during the summer when Kody discovered another layer to his sensory abilities?”
“It was terrifying,” Kody called from the kitchen as he started making breakfast for the group. “I had absolutely no control over it at the beginning. Do you know how disturbing it was seeing that dog in thermal vision? I almost had a heart attack.”
Jag clicked his fingers. “I get it. Maybe what happened to Aari is the same thing that happened to Kody. His new ability is still developing, going through a metamorphosis, so it comes and goes when it wants.”
Tegan smiled. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Let me check with the Elders,” Marshall said.
As the Sentry retreated into his mind, the others threw different items at Aari, hoping to find one that would open up his new ability again. Their efforts were in vain, though, and as they gave up, Marshall returned to them.
“Elder Nageau wants to speak with you, Aari,” he said. “I’ll be the . . . let’s call it intermediary. Go ahead.”
Aari locked his fingers together. “Um, hi, Elder Nageau.”
“Greetings, youngling,” Marshall said. “Marshall has given me some stunning news.”
“So is it a real ability?”
“It is, Aari, but this power has not been seen since my Island ancestors were displaced from their home. It is even considered a myth by many in Dema-Ki. Youngling, what you have is a kind of extrasensory perception.”
“Extrasensory—like a sixth sense?”
“Not just any sixth sense. In your language, I believe it is called retrocog—”
“Retrocognition!”
“Yes.” Nageau chuckled. “Leave it to you to know these things. We do not have much insight about this ability, but I think I have enough for you to begin with. When you pick up an object whilst connected to the novasphere, glimpses of historical memories belonging to the object’s owner will be made available to you. There are, however, two conditions for this to work. The first is that the owner or creator of the object must be deeply bound to the item or must have created it at an intense emotional and spiritual level. In other words, for your ability to work, the person behind the object must be uniquely and powerfully connected to it.”
“Alright. And the second condition?”
“The second is that the owner or creator of the object cannot be presently linked to it in this, the biosphere.”
“What do you mean?”
“The person must have passed on. If he or she is still alive, the physical connection between them and their artifact will prohibit you from retrieving their memories. Once they have departed from this plane of existence, you may tap into the novasphere to access their memories. Even then these memories may only appear in bits and pieces, usually close to locations where significant events had transpired in their lives. A curious thing I have heard is that sometimes there tends to be brief flash-forwards to the next emotional geographical markers in the person’s life.”
Tegan was only half-listening by the time Aari had given his gratitude and goodbyes to the Elder. She felt a knock on her mind and opened up. Hey, Jag.
I see it on your face, he said.
And I see it on yours.
We’re thinking the same thing.
Yes, we are.
Should I bring it up, or do you want to?
You gave me the reins while you’re out of commission, bucko. But it’s your call.
Jag gave her an acquiescent grin. Go on, then.
Tegan put an arm around Aari’s waist and wiggled him back and forth. “This is awesome, Brainiac. You know why? Shut up, I’ll tell you why. Because we have hope again.”
Aari looked like he was still trying to absorb the potentials of his newfound capability. “Huh?”
“Really? Smart guy like you still hasn’t caught up?”
“Asa!” Kody yelled from the kitchen where he was furiously cooking over the stove. “We go back to Asa and get him to hand over the Roman letters so you can do your freaky-deaky thing on them. Jeez, he’s slow today.”
“I think we can forgive him this one time,” Jag said, grinning.
Mariah snorted. “And you really think Asa will just hand over something from his prized collections? We’ll probably have to resort to theft.”
“You’re right,” Tegan said. “He won’t give it up. But it’s still worth a shot.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Aari asked, finally coming around.
“I think I know what to do if he resists us.” Tegan looked at the Sentry across from her. “And I’m gonna need your help, Marshall.”
40
“No! Absolutely not!”
Asa stormed through the swinging door into his kitchen as Tegan, Mariah, Kody and Marshall hounded the poor man. Aari sat in the living room; he’d stopped watching their parade around the house twenty minutes ago.
Eh, who were we kidding? he thought, slouching all the way down. Like he’d ever agree if we don’t tell him why we need the letters. And if we do tell him, he’d probably think we’re completely nuts and kick us out anyway.
Asa threw open the door and raged back into the living room, uttering a string of Hebrew phrases, most of which Aari understood to be curses. He ducked behind Aari’s chair to use it as a buffer, then looked down at the teenager. “I like you. You’re the only one not pestering me with this stupid request.”
“Actually—” Aari started.
“No!” Before Asa could scurry away, Marshall and Tegan emerged from the kitchen.
“Asa,” Marshall said, “if we could just see the letters out of their protective coverings—”
“Why?” Asa demanded as the pair cut off his escape route and closed in. “How does that help anyone? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Please,” the Sentry implored. “Asa, we just—”
“No! These are precious, fragile artifacts from two millennia ago. There’s nothing on earth that will make me put them at mortal risk.”
“Okay, that’s it!” Tegan whirled around and pointed at Marshall, growling. “Do it.”
Marshall’s expression hardened. He reached into his back pocket. Asa’s gaze darted from the Sentry to Tegan. As Marshall approached him, the Israeli brought his fists up in a fighting stance. Marshall raised one hand, then pulled the other out of his pocket and held out his phone to Asa. The man stared at the device, his hands still balled. “What is this?”
“Gareth and Deverell are on a conference call,” Tegan explained. “They’d like to speak with you.”
Asa shot them a suspicious look, then snatched the phone before retreating to his bedroom on the other side of the house and slamming the door shut. Mariah and Kody trotted out of the kitchen to join the group as they heard Asa shouting through the walls in Hebrew, Arabic and English.
Aari bit his thumb. “Wow, he sounds really peeved.”
“I hope the guys will get him to agree,” Mariah said. “Hey, Kody, where are you going?”
Kody readjusted his baseball cap and oversized green sweatshirt. “I’m gonna look around for our tail.”
Marshall stopped him. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to step out. Can you get a look through the windows instead?”
Kody lifted the blinds from a window that overlooked the front lawn. “I can give it a try.”
As the others chattered amongst themselves, Aari sat with his hands clasped together in his lap. He could still hear Asa shouting, but the inter
vals between yells had lengthened. That’s a good sign, he thought. Right?
A quarter of an hour later, Asa reappeared. He tossed Marshall his phone and rumbled, “Close all the windows and blinds and start boiling big pots of water. Don’t cover them. Shut the kitchen door and turn off the lights.”
He disappeared upstairs. The group, though unsure about what was going to happen, obeyed Asa’s orders. As Kody and Mariah blacked out the kitchen windows, Tegan and Aari took turns filling large pots from the tap and setting the burners on the stove to their highest flame.
“I wonder what he wants,” Tegan said, wiping spilled water from the counter and floor. “You gotta admit, those are some weird instructions.”
“I hope this isn’t some sort of Norman Bates thing,” Kody said, shuddering. “Where’s Jag when you need him?”
Asa returned with a large plastic tub and placed it on the table. With gloved hands, he pulled out long parchments in polyester coverings.
“Are those the letters?” Marshall asked delicately, as though Asa might suddenly lash out.
“Yes.” Asa, aggrieved, removed the parchments from their protective casings. “I will leave the letters on the table. The boiling water will create just enough moisture in the air so that I can roll them up without damaging them.” He placed the final letter down, then put a hand over his heart as if he’d just laid the artifacts to rest. “You may have these for only one week. When they are returned, I don’t want to find a single tear in them. Understand?”
Marshall gave Asa’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thank you. I know this is difficult for you, but believe me, it’s a great help to everyone.”
We hope so, anyway, Aari thought. Since discussing his new ability with Elder Nageau earlier in the day, he’d been wracked with nervousness. His first impression of retrocognition had been ghastly and didn’t leave a particularly delightful taste in his mouth. I’d really rather not see any more dead people.
Asa rolled up the letters, separating them with opaque polyester sheets, and slipped them into an airtight cylindrical canister. As Aari slung the canister’s strap over his shoulder, he gave their host a firm handshake. “We’ll take good care of them,” he promised. “You won’t be sorry, Asa.”
Asa managed a wavering smile. “Go, all of you. Find what you need to find.”
* * *
The group was already on their way out of Haifa when Tegan said, “Question. Why wait to get to Daniel’s house when we can just find a place here and let Aari have a go at the letters?”
“I saw an empty outdoor café some ways back,” Mariah said, motioning toward a sandy stretch to their right. The royal blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea waved at the group as they raced past.
Marshall swerved off the highway and sped along a road leading up to the beach. “Let’s do it.”
Soon they were seated around a table under a spacious wooden overhang. Aari breathed in deeply; the briny scent of the beach under a bright sky always flushed him with a sense of openness and freedom. Beside him, Kody scanned the beach, concentration darkening his eyes. He was in his own world for a while before he snapped back and nudged Aari. “Well? Pick a letter.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your boxers in a twist.” Aari eyeballed the long parchments laid out on the table, then readied himself and touched one of the letters with his index finger, already flinching.
“You see anything?” Marshall asked.
Aari tucked his digits into a fist. “No.”
“Try again, kiddo.”
He reached out with two fingers this time, and thought he felt something scratch the back of his head and dig through his skull, but nothing happened. He withdrew. “No dice.”
“Hold your hands out,” Tegan directed.
He tentatively complied. Kody and Marshall, on either side of him, thumped his back encouragingly. Mariah, at the end of the table, observed intently as Tegan picked up a letter and placed it atop Aari’s open palms.
There was a sudden flash behind his eyes, simultaneously bright and dark. A blonde girl not much older than him appeared in his vision, so real that if he reached out, he might have been able to touch her. When she locked eyes with him, a sudden jolt shot through Aari. He recoiled, flinging the letter away.
Kody yelped and dove off his chair, catching the parchment before it hit the ground. “Dude! What the heck? Asa will murder us if we harm his artifacts!”
“You saw something,” Mariah guessed excitedly. “You’ve got that same look you had at Masada.”
“It worked,” Aari said, wiping his brow. “I saw a girl. Long blonde hair, kinda pale, had a bit of dirt on her face. She . . . was an absolute babe.”
Mariah snorted. “Bah, typical male.”
“Oh, please. I’ve seen the way you and Tegan look at some of the guys back home.”
“Why did you freak out?” Kody asked, gingerly placing the paper back on the table.
“Because it caught me by surprise!” Aari snapped. “And it felt so real!”
“You need to go back there,” Tegan said. “Can you do it?”
It took two tries before he slid back into the vision. The heat of the desert was almost unbearable. Sweat rolled down his back. He saw the girl again; this time she wore a colorful shawl over her shoulders. Her turquoise eyes bore the weight of sorrow and loss as she looked away from him. Sunlight glinted off something gold around her throat—a necklace. He squinted, making out an inscription on the rectangular pendant.
That’s block script, he realized. Hebrew. C’mon, Grandpa, don’t let your lessons fail me now . . .
He struggled with the right-to-left alphabet just a bit before he got a name: Carmel.
Behind the girl, a small but busy village teemed with life. A vast, glittering body of water speckled with small fishing boats rolled toward the shore in the background. It struck him, then, why this place looked familiar. That’s the Bay of Haifa! That’s where we are right now! It’s Haifa before it was Haifa, just like Asa said!
He found himself stepping back, but he had no control of his actions. What the—
An arm appeared, as if he’d raised his own, but it was too tanned to be his. The hand opened and the girl took it, her grip tender in his. There was still sadness as she looked at him, but also deep adoration.
Holy smokes. The letters were written by Lucius . . . so everything I’m seeing is probably through his eyes. I repeat. Holy. Smokes.
Lucius’s gaze drifted down slightly. Aari’s heart skipped a beat.
Held against the girl’s hip by her free hand was a small box clad in scuffed, coppery metal. The engravings on the lid matched the friends’ pendants. He strained for the box but could not move. No matter how hard he labored, his host wouldn’t budge.
Come on, come on!
He blinked and was wrenched back to the café. He stood up so fast his chair fell back with a racket. “I saw the girl!” he crowed. “I saw the girl with the box! They were in Haifa!”
The friends threw their arms in the air, hollering. Marshall pulled Aari down, wrapped him in a headlock and noogied him. “Attaboy!”
Aari wriggled out of the Sentry’s grip. “Let me go back in. Maybe I can find a clue about where they went.”
He righted his chair and took the parchment. Another flash—he saw his, or rather, Lucius’s hands frantically stuffing garments from a chest into a plain cloth bag inside a small room with a stone floor and clay walls. Carmel did the same with her wooden box and their sleeping mats. Moonlight streamed through the latticework that covered the single window, creating small diamond patterns on the ground.
Lucius picked up a stack of parchments at the bottom of the chest. Aari, unsure why, felt displeasure envelop him. Am I feeling what he feels, too? That’s crazy. This is all crazy. I can’t believe—hey, these look like the letters he wrote. Wait . . . what’s he doing?
The Roman knelt and removed a loose section of the dense stone floor. He arranged the letters in a depression
in the dirt, then touched his fingertips to his lips and pressed them onto the topmost parchment in a symbolic goodbye, then replaced the stone into its slot.
Shrugging on his bag, he joined Carmel by the doorway and cupped the side of her face, kissing her long and soft, then took her hand. Together, they slipped out into the open-roofed central courtyard. Other rooms surrounded the quad and snoring could be heard from within. A cooking pit by a wall smoldered from a recently extinguished fire.
Lucius and Carmel crept past a covered area near the front of the courtyard where a few cows, sheep and a donkey slept. They paused by the entryway of the home, smiled at each other, and strode out into the warm night.
Aari blinked, but instead of returning to the café table, there was yet another flash. This time, he found himself in a bustling marketplace. Sweet fragrances filled his nose, perfumes of cinnamon, lily, cardamom, myrrh and other scents he couldn’t place. Bronzed, clean-shaven men attired in only loincloths or linen kilts tied at the waist worked the stalls or played board games in the shade, while women clothed in comfortable white sheath dresses perused the booths. Both sexes sported dark eye makeup and wore either amulets or vibrant pottery beads around their necks. Most had rings on their fingers and bracelets or armbands. Children scampered around, all of them bald save for one long section of hair on the side of their head.
When Lucius glanced to the right, Aari found a beaming Carmel among some of the women. They ran their fingers through her blonde hair, markedly different from their own, and pressed the backs of their hands against her pale skin. Some of the children frolicked around them in a game of tag, shrieking and giggling.
Lucius slowly turned on his heel, allowing Aari to take in the lively marketplace. He marveled at the sight for so long that it took him a while to focus on the backdrop. If he had control over Lucius’s mouth, it would have hung open long enough for a horde of flies to buzz down his gullet.
Just a few miles in the distance, three prominent pyramids rose from the ground, sentinels overlooking the immense desert, blurred only by the waves of heat under the scorching sun. Aari tried to move Lucius toward the structures in vain. Then, with a blink, he returned to his friends.
