“Yeh. It looks like we’re on an underwater shelf or a mountain.” Cree smiled weakly. “Amazing.”
It was as if she were a fixture in an aquarium, a glass mermaid sunk into the sand, an innocuous observer of this coddled ecosystem. James stood at the edge looking where the shelf began. “I can’t see the bottom. Maybe there’s a trench or something down there.”
Cree winced and sucked on his teeth. He laid back down in the shifting boat, its tail flapping like a lazy fish. The water was just deep enough for it to shimmy slowly over the land with the current.
Mevia looked down at her bare feet. Upon her dry, ashy legs, bubbles formed like delicate pearls. Small, iridescent fish swam around her ankles, pausing in the flowing current, to give her a kiss before going on their way. She laughed. This drowning island may have been explainable with geology, but to her it was simply magical.
However, there was a problem.
“How are we going to get the boat over this thing?” James asked before breaking into a coughing fit.
Mevia walked along the shelf, searching for an ending. She walked close to a half mile away before turning around and heading back.
“It couldn’t find the edge,” she announced before taking a healthy drink of water.
The three of them went quiet. Cree spoke. “This must be why the ships always bring the Demo winners to the island from the other side. They would get stuck on this.”
Mevia looked out into the sea. “I think the only option is we drag the boat across.”
James and Cree looked at one another and then back at Mevia.
First, they raised the sail in hopes that the thin breeze would pick up. Then they secured the rope to the boat leaving two free ends for dragging. James pulled the netted fish inside to reduce the drag.
Using pieces of the ripped bandages she wrapped the cloth around her hand and picked up one end of rope. James took the other.
“You up for this?” Mevia asked as he took his position beside her. She looked into his sagging eyes, the whites rimmed with red.
He didn’t look over, just nodded.
“Ok. Don’t hesitate to stop and rest.” She leaned forward. “Let’s go.”
They took off. The boat was lighter than she expected and moved fairly smoothly, but Mevia knew that after a few hours it would feel like a dragging a boulder.
They struggled along, deep into the late afternoon. Cree lay under the canvas slipping in and out of delusional sleep. James pulled with determination, coughing the entire way.
Mevia wondered how long he would be able to keep up before joining Cree under the canvas, and if that happened, their progress would slow to a crawl. Already she was beyond exhausted and aching for sleep. She looked up into the disappointing, flat face of the cloudless sky. They could really use some wind right then. Rain too.
Chapter 62
Eli
Eli sat at the bar of a civie club called Munch. He was hunched over a glass of flat soda, sipping through a neon purple straw shaped like a flower, feeling like a kid again but not in a good way.
The music was emitting seismic vibrations, quaking the chairs, the tables, even the walls. Flashing lights ricocheted off pulsating liquor bottles stacked behind the bar while cotton candy scented smoke wafted down from pipes in the ceiling. Eli rubbed his head wondering what had possessed him to come in.
Kilt was gone. Vanished. No note, no ‘thanks for the four walls,’ nothing. Not only that, but it was a pretty shit move on his part to take the module with him. Maybe he figured Eli could find them again with his computer. Then again, what did he expect; that Kilt would crash on his couch until James showed up at the doorstep? Of course not, he had left to meet up with them. But that bumpkin had better not try and sway Mevia to come with him. If he interfered with her getting into that drone plane then the next time Eli laid eyes on him, fists were going to fly. Screw the potatoes.
However, if Eli really thought that was a possibility, he would have been out of the Corps in a fiery flash and hot on Kilt’s tail instead of alone, leaning over a tequila sticky counter. So what if he had no idea how to get out of the Kradle? He’d find a way. Then again there was the matter of navigating and surviving the woods, something Eli knew nothing about. On second thought, maybe he’d hire someone or program a drone instead, but that probably wasn’t necessary. James was Kilt’s only concern. Besides, Mevia was razor focused on getting to the factory. If Eli needed to find her, that’s where he would look.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose and then stared down at his glass, watching the bubbles rise to the top.
“Hey man, you look like you could use a real drink,” the blue haired male bartender said loudly over the noise. The colored lights flickered off his body glitter. He had a steel bolt pierced through his eyebrow which was arched in concern.
Eli declined wanly, wondering if he was bringing down the It’s-a-24-hour-party ambiance.
The bartender moved down the line to someone more exciting, but their interaction confirmed what Eli suspected, he did not belong here. But just where exactly did he belong? If there was such a place in CorMand, he hadn’t found it, or created it yet.
He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be happier with Kilt around, but it was nice to talk to someone who shared a little common ground. To the pure-bread Corps anything outside of these glass walls was an alien, hostile planet.
But Eli wasn’t any better. He was now abhorrently aware that he knew nothing about life within the Corps. He was the real alien. He was the little green man of CorMand, and of his own life. Especially his own life, and up until last night, he was perfectly content with this fact.
Before last night he had kept his dead parents folded away as if they were an old college sweater he would never wear but was impossible to toss. In the past, anytime he got slouchy over being an orphan he would chide his weakness, “What are you sad about? They never loved you.” It wasn’t hard to convince himself.
But now, after reading through that file, the case he had against them was starting to crumble.
The DJ changed “songs.” Eli turned away.
He suddenly had a flashback about Mrs. Kato, his splotchy cheeked violin instructor from when he was a boy in the Corps. He had almost forgotten about her and the fact that he had once tried to play the cello.
As he recalled, Mrs. Kato was a nervous woman, always consulting the Arts and Entertainment Regulations Handbook, and who never let him play unaccompanied. He asked several times. You know I cannot allow that Mr. Jackson, she would say, shaking her crooked finger, it’s against the law; shame, shame. Her eyes were large and black, impossible to discern the iris from the pupil. Then she would turn up the Mediation Accompaniment device, set it to rhythm and bass, with its aggressive percussion and zippery sound bits, and order: From the top!
He couldn’t even play solo even when he was alone. There was a Regulator built into the cello, as in all instruments. After just two bars, a warning alarm would sound, blaring like a whistleblower, filling his apartment bedroom. You have to stop all that. Said his Dad wearing his fake angry-parent-face. Repeat offenders would find investigators outside their door.
That was when Eli understood the power that dwelled within the notes and chords of music. That was also the first time he learned about the invisible walls that existed all around him, and he wondered what other sort of treasures were being hidden beyond his reach.
A year later, although he loved the lonely quiver of the notes, the way they moved like a meditative breath, obstructed and slow, he quit the lessons. Mrs. Kato didn’t seem surprised, but his parents lamented. They knew how keen he was on the cello. Perhaps that was why they kept that music file mixed in among the articles on V-V1.
When he clicked on that file named Bach_G back in his bedroom under the pink moon he had no idea what he was opening. But as the deep throated cello hummed through his speakers, rising and falling as breathlessly as a dancer, he found himself transported to
another time. A time when Mr. or Mrs. Bach was alive among the Ancients standing in a concert hall, conducting the orchestra, enticing the enigma, coaxing it out note by note, presenting it naked and poised, the way the piece was meant to be played. Whoever this Bach was, his or her history had long been erased during the Rebuilding.
Had his mother and father felt the same thing their first time listening? Perhaps that’s why they had saved the file. Keeping it was very risky. It was even more dangerous was for someone like Dr. Hersche to withhold it all these years. Why would he have put himself in jeopardy like that? His parents had almost ruined him. The man was brought in to testify before Congress for Godsakes.
Eli pulled out the purple straw, tossed it on the bar, and took a long sip of his drink.
Unless…
He set his glass back down. Unless of course Dr. Hersche was still loyal to his parents; they were close friends, after all. Why would he hold on to such dangerous information if not out of a sense of duty?
Eli thought back to his original conversation with Hersche. The first time they met in his office the doctor had chided Eli for not respecting his parents’ memory. And hadn’t he said that Medusa was a mistake, as in an accident?
Eli stood up and rushed to the bathroom. The smoke and lights were making his head ache. He went to a sink and stood in between a skinny guy wearing a bird costume and another man dressed head to toe in gold. Eli splashed a handful of water on his face and straddled his hands around the basin. He hung his head watching the water swirl down into the drain.
Of course Dr. Hersche cared about his parents. After all, he was helping Eli. If his parents had been the psychopaths that created Medusa like Eli was told, then why would Hersche stick his neck out for them? Their connection had gotten him in a heap of trouble. If Medusa had been pre-mediated, wouldn’t Hersche despise his parents? Things weren’t adding up.
Eli looked into the mirror, noticing that he was now by himself. He took a towel from the basket and wiped his face. Why did you leave the Bach for me?
Just then his handheld rang. The caller ID showed a number but no name.
“Hello?” Eli answered hesitantly.
“Eli?” It was a woman. “Is this Eli Jackson?”
“Speaking,” his voice echoed off the walls.
“Thank God you answered. This is Dr. Grayson. Dr. Elyse Grayson…from the lab?”
Eli almost smiled. “Yes, Elyse. I know who you are. Is everything ok?”
“We need to talk,” her voice came out hard and chipped. “In person.”
Eli turned to the mirror and frowned. “Um, ok.” He told her he was at Munch, and she said she was on her way.
Elyse, who had to take the tunnel-train from the Medi-Corps, arrived at Munch a half-hour later, wearing a black calf-length dress and flats, something you’d see on a school teacher. Eli smiled seeing that she stuck out worse than he did as a non-Munch regular. At least she ditched the lab coat.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she said, daintily pulling herself up on the seat, and then folding her hands in her lap as if afraid to touch anything.
“What can I get for you sweetie?” The blue haired bar tender asked.
“Water, please.” Elyse adjusted her glasses.
“Oh come on,” he pressed with a frustrated smile. “You do realize this is a bar, don’t you?”
Elyse rolled her eyes. “Fine. Any vodka highball. Whatever you’ve got.”
The bartender raised his eyebrows. “That’s more like it. Coming right up.”
Eli was still smiling, but when he turned and looked into Elyse’s fearful eyes, it faded. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is this about Dr. Hersche?”
She was frowning deeply, the corners of her mouth curving down. “I need your help,” she whispered. Eli couldn’t hear her over the noise, but he read her lips easily.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Should we get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?”
She shook her head, her hair swishing back and forth. “No. It’s fine. Let’s just stay.”
Eli nodded and returned his wallet. An orangey-red drink with a pink bumblebee shaped straw was placed in front of Elyse. She pulled out the straw, tossed it on the bar, and took a generous gulp before setting the drink aside.
“So, what’s going on?” Eli frowned.
She wiped her mouth with the back of a napkin and then leaned in, her fingers draped around her lips as if her words were a mouthful that threatened to spill. “I know who murdered the doctor.”
“Who?” Eli gripped the counter ignoring the thick stick gathering up his fingernails.
Elyse closed her eyes and shook her head again. “Well, I know who…or actually what group was behind it.”
Eli stared at her. “Wait, there’s more than one person involved? Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Ok, and who are these people? Where are they from?”
Elyse pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Whoever it is, I linked them back here. To CorMand.”
“CorMand?” Eli frowned and scratched the back of his head. “How can you be sure?”
Elyse held up her fingers and began counting off. “I went through the security camera files, I gathered DNA, I found fingerprints, and then I followed the trails.”
“Wait.” Eli held up a hand. “How did you do all that? The police didn’t just handover a box of evidence to you, did they?”
She gave a hint of a smile. “I can be really sneaky when I need to be.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He took a large swallow of his drink. “So how did this information lead to CorMand?”
Elyse waved her hand, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later, but trust me. It was someone here,” she whispered the final words and pointed to the ground on “here.”
“Shit.” Eli rubbed the palm of his hand over his mouth, smelling the acidic sweetness of old vomit from the bar top. He grabbed a napkin. “So what do we do?”
“I need you to use your computer…or your hacking skills, or whatever. See if you can figure out who did it, and why. I’ll help, but I can’t do it alone.”
Eli studied her. “Let me ask you something. Why do you want to stick your neck out for answers? Stick our necks? I’m not saying I won’t help you, but I just need to know why you’re taking the risk. Why not just move on with your life?”
Elyse looked down at her drink, her spindly fingers, normally used for handling petri-dishes and adjusting microscopes, turned the glass slowly. She looked up at Eli. “The doctor was my mentor. Really, he was more like a father. I need to know why somebody would murder him, and who this somebody is.” Then her face paled. “And, what would stop them from coming after me? Or you?”
Eli squeezed her shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you and the doctor were so close.”
Elyse’s eyes filled with tears, the swelled pools flashed in the pink and green lights. She dabbed them dry with a napkin. “Thank-you.” She sniffed. “I thought maybe you could use your position to find out who this monster is. I’m sure you know all the Senior officers.”
Eli swished the ice around his glass and was about to take another drink when he stopped. “Wait, are you saying the person who murdered Hersche was a Senior officer of CorMand?”
She nodded. “It has to be.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!” she said, impatiently.
Eli jumped up from his seat and grabbed her hand. He pulled her past the dance floor, through the crowd and out the door.
“Hey! I didn’t pay for my drink,” Elyse protested, stumbling over her feet. “Slow down.”
“Ssh.” Eli pulled her beside him and rushed to the elevators. “Better to not leave a trail.”
The corridors were busy with the night crowd pushing in and out of clubs, moving along at the whim of their groups. Eli tried to keep his head down as they waited for the elevator.
When th
e doors opened he pulled Elyse inside and pressed the Sub-Level button repeatedly, but the doors didn’t completely shut before a group of loud clubbers piled in—two girls in stilettos and a man in a berry colored velvet suit. Eli and Elyse pressed their backs against the wall and exchanged tense glances. After two floors the group got out leaving them alone.
After the doors closed Eli spoke, “Listen,” he gripped her elbow, “if what you’re saying is true, then you and I could be in danger. They’re watching us.”
“Who? Someone at CorMand?” She frowned.
“I’m not sure. But I’m planning on finding out.” The elevator doors opened to the busy tunnel system. A loud voice announced the arrivals and departures over the speaker system while the trains below groaned and whooshed down the track.
Eli took Elyse by the arm and lead her to the ticket machine. “This whole thing goes deeper than I originally thought. Medusa, Hersche, CorMand, they’re all connected.”
“I agree.”
Eli wedged between an arguing couple blocking the e-ticket machine. “If we don’t want to end up like Hersche, then we need to figure this thing out.”
“You’re scaring me.” She held her hand up to the sensor and bought an e-ticket.
“Good.”
They pushed their way through the crowd, ignoring the aggressive peddlers.
“So, what’s next?” Elyse asked.
Eli pulled her aside. “You, lay low. Go on about your regular business—“
“But—“
“And I,” Eli looked around at the bustling crowd, “I’m going to do what I do best.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
Eli gave her a half smile. “Find the holes.”
She frowned and tilted her head.
Out of the corner of his eye Eli noticed some irregular movement. He looked and caught a man watching them. The guy tried to turn around unassumingly. It took Eli a second but then he recognized him. It was the berry velvet suit from the elevator.
Children of the Kradle (Trilogy Book 1) Page 38
