"Okay," said Linda, pulling her legs up to tuck her feet under her bottom. "I think I get that. Rich folk had the free time to pursue their interests, they were motivated to acquire knowledge and power, to hold onto it when they got it, and to keep it for as long as they could. So they tried to meet the gods, feeling somewhat godlike themselves. That all makes sense."
William smiled. "Good," he said. "Now... some have searched for the gods through Gnosticism, Hermeticism, Alchemy, Theosophy, or one of the other groups and societies I spoke of before. Some have worked within the more mystical or heretical wings of the various majority religions. Others have taken paths that are generally regarded as 'Satanic,' and therefore evil, by those majority religions. Always the goal has been the direct experience of the gods and spirits.
"And all through the centuries, Family members have encountered, experienced, and worked with various manifestations of god or spirit. Everything from the All and the One, or what some Gnostics call the Pleroma, to such things as the various monotheistic deities, the Aeons and Archons and Demiurge, the Angels and Demons and ol' Lucifer himself. Whether regarded as flesh and blood entities or spoken of, as Jung did, in more psychological and metaphorical terms, the various entities were considered to be real and active in the human world, and were accessible to direct experience for at least some portion of the human population. No matter the language used to describe them, no matter the forms and rituals used to access them, no matter the philosophical systems through which they were viewed, the gods and spirits, were always regarded as worthy of our concern."
"But something must have changed," said Linda. "Because you're speaking in the past tense."
"You are correct, Madam. Our conceptions changed. For so very long, we regarded ourselves, and the Earth, as the obvious center of absolutely everything of any import. The gods either lived here on Earth with us or flitted about in the heavens just overhead. Always their focus was on human affairs. The assumptions of the dominant materialist, Earth-centric, Abrahamic paradigm dominated our thinking.
"But slowly, over the centuries, we learned to reconceive the cosmos in more modern scientific terms. Inspired by our own technological advancements, we began to imagine traveling between the stars. This in turn allowed us to consider the possibility that there might be others like us out there who also wished to explore the cosmos. The human experience of gods and spirits began to look to us, more and more, like interactions with visiting extra-terrestrial species."
The Fisherman looked at Linda with one raised eyebrow. "Imagine our surprise, Madam, to learn that our gods were, in fact, just alien beings from other planets. And imagine our subsequent surprise, to learn that this new story of aliens was no more accurate than the previous stories had been."
11.14
Nicky padded across the deck and down the steps. He treasured the heat of the paving stones on his paws as he walked along the back of the house. And the smell of the sea was strong in the wind, evoking thoughts of fresh fish and other wonderful morsels. He could feel that rain was coming, and he wished it were not, but for now, sun and wind and smells and warmth.
The path divided and he took the fork to the left, away from the house and up the hill. The paving stones came to an end and the path turned to grass, and then dirt, as it wound its way into and upwards through a stand of trees and tall shrubs. At the top of this hill lay a wide, open expanse of wonderful blacktopped concrete that soaked up the sun like nobody's business. Usually the pad would be far too hot for comfort, this time of day. Usually he would not venture up here until dusk. But with the clouds coming and going, and with the wind, Nicky hoped it would be just right. He could get an early start on his favorite time of day, that long, juicy, sleepy time when he was warm underneath but the air around him was cooling. It'd had been so hot lately that the experience had not been what it used to be. He hoped today might be different. Cats could hope, as long as they didn't let anyone know.
The trail took him exactly where he knew it would and he squinted his eyes against the bright sky. He looked up to see a huge, hazy cloud just beginning to occlude the sun. He sighed with pleasure. This might be perfect. He started across the grass toward the concrete pad.
But then the pad darkened as the leading edge of a circle of shade moved rapidly across the open expanse. Nicky looked up again to see one of those large metal circles he'd seen before. This one moved quickly and silently to a spot directly over the concrete and then settled toward the ground. Three shining limbs poured out from the bottom to touch the pad. The slender legs reminded him of a grasshopper or cricket, but this metal circle was much too large for him to chase and catch. Nicky waited and watched, but no door materialized and no people emerged, as was usually the case. The big metal circle thing just sat there, silent, unmoving, unthreatening.
Perhaps the circle had had the same idea that Nicky had had. He couldn't tell. But it did not appear that anything was going to happen that he had to worry about. And it did not appear that the metal thing was going to leave soon. So Nicky inched slowly forward, keeping one eye out for the giant metal insect and the other eye out for the juicy little spot of warm concrete and sun that had his name on it. The metal circle did not cover the whole expanse of concrete, after all. There was room for the both of them.
With one last glance at the metal thing, Nicky plopped himself down onto the concrete, pulled his paws and tail in just right, and closed his eyes. In a way, it was nice to have some company for a change. There were no other cats on the island now, and Nicky often wished for another warm body to have nearby. His man human was warm, yes. But it just wasn't the same.
Whatever this metal thing was, maybe they could hang out for a while.
11.15
They were on their fourth or fifth round of Macy's home brews when an old, black diesel Mercedes pulled into the Thieving Seagull's parking lot and came to a quick stop near the sidewalk. Cole got up and stepped to the deck railing to see who it was. Car doors opened on both sides. From the driver's side came a large, burly, bearded man Cole didn't know. The man nodded hello and then opened the rear door and started digging through something in the back seat. Stepping out on the passenger side was Cole's friend, Stendahl Banks, former ACN anchorman and now Linda's Communications Director.
Cole smiled as he caught Sten's eye. "What the hell?" he called.
Sten walked up the sidewalk and along the side of the restaurant to the back deck. Cole fingered the latch and opened the door in the railing and Sten stepped through to give him a hard, long hug. "I came as quickly as I could," he said, releasing Cole and stepping back to look him in the eye.
"What are you doing here?" asked Cole. "I mean-"
"You don't think I read the papers, Cole?" said Sten with a smile. "Especially after you and Stan go missing without a word?" Cole glanced back at the crew, all sitting around a large, wooden octagonal table in the corner. Sten gestured vaguely toward Steve Waymax, the guy from the Portland papers. "The Rough Times is all online, Cole," said Sten. "Saw Mr. Waymax's piece after your first little adventure and we headed right down." He checked his watch, then looked at Cole. "Made pretty good time, too."
The bearded man, whose name was Eddie, now with video camera and sound gear in hand, stepped onto the deck behind Stendahl Banks. At the same time, Stan, Ken, and the rest of them, came over to join Cole. Introductions were made and hands were shaken and chairs were added and more beer was ordered and they settled in together on the deck of the Thieving Seagull as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky and the clouds and wind continued to gather.
"So how'd you guys get past the cordon?" asked Stan.
"How did you guys get past the cordon?" retorted Sten with a grin.
"A classic diversionary strategy," said Stan with a theatrical shrug.
"Called in a couple of favors," said Sten with a wink.
Both of them finished their beers and set their glasses on the table with an audible clunk. "Listen," said Sten, looki
ng at the sky and out across the water before returning his gaze to Cole. "There've been some developments since you left. I need to tell you about them. And your kids..."
"What about my kids?" interrupted Cole, leaning forward.
"They found them," said Sten.
"What? Where?" demanded Cole.
Sten raised a hand. "Mary found them, Cole. Found their sleeping bodies, anyways. Hiding inside an old MRI machine in the basement of the hospital. Right under our noses."
"What do you mean their sleeping bodies?" said Cole. "Are they awake? Are they okay?"
Sten nodded. "They're okay. Their bodies are. Intact and healthy and unharmed. And Ness is with them, acting as their guardian. She won't leave their sides. But the kids are in comas, Cole. And Mary insists that their souls, their spirits, are off traveling in the Astral realm, just like she used to do." The Communications Director, having delivered his most important bit of news, sat back and exhaled.
"Jesus." Cole exhaled loudly and tried to slow his breathing. "They must've worked it out," he said absently, to no one in particular. "They must've... they had a plan. They left a note. And Alice..." Cole stopped, rubbed his eyes, looked around him, then at Sten.
Sten nodded again. "It would seem, my friend. They went there on purpose, hid there on purpose. They must've worked something out with the Life."
"They're off to find... they're here..." said Cole, gazing out toward Squirrel Island. "To find Linda. But not in their bodies. Not in this... plane..." A slight smile twitched across his face. "They saw that damned mole and knew something was off and hatched a plan." He looked at Stan and shook his head in wonder.
"Mole?" asked Stendahl.
Cole told them all about the mole. None of them knew what to make of the tale. Cole looked at Sten. "You said there were other developments?"
"Yes," said Sten. "Keeley was hit with a case of Greensleeves, it seems. She was in MaineCentral, but then last we heard she’d been transported out to the facility on Squirrel Island.” He gestured out into the bay. “So she’s there now as well." He drained his beer. "Oh, and Mary has disappeared. Found out about that just before I left. Gone without a trace. Probably on her way here too, looking for Keeley."
Stan shook his head in disbelief. "Poor Keeley. And Mary's gone? Christ! Are there any of our people left in Augusta?"
Sten turned to look at Stan. "Well, that's a topic in and unto itself, Stan. But..." he glanced worriedly at the sky, "as sweet as it is to hang out on the deck and drink beers with y’all, I'm not sure you - we - should stay here."
"And why is that, Sten?" asked Stan.
Sten gestured out toward the open ocean. "In the first place, the weather people say that that's a whopper of a storm brewing, and it's headed this way. And my people on the fringe are convinced that this is not a natural storm."
Cole blinked. "They can-?"
"Indeed they can," said Sten. "The hidden elite have never really gone away, as we all know. And they can both create and steer massive storms now, if what I hear is correct."
"They're throwing a storm at us?" asked Doobie. The young captain's head lolled forward with the weight of alcohol. "Those bastards!"
Sten smiled and looked at Cole. "In the second place, everybody knows you're here now, I'm pretty sure. Not just the forces on the island, but the rest of the military, the Secret Service, and every last one of the folks who used to be in The People, or in one of the even more hidden groups that worked with them."
Ken leaned forward, his face a frown. "But haven't they always known?" he said. He looked from Cole to Stan. "I mean, you guys are chipped, right?"
Cole rolled his eyes upward in disbelief. "Jesus, Ken, yeah, you're right. Linda and I were the first ones to get the new iDents. And I assume Stan…" Stan nodded in confirmation. Cole exhaled loudly. "So... they must have known where we've been the whole time, right?"
Stan shook his head in wonder. "Must've," he said. "I didn't even think about that damned chip. First one I ever had."
"I didn't think of it either," said Cole.
The people gathered together on the deck fell into silence as they pondered the implications. At last Cole spoke to Stan. "So why didn't they send a copter and bring us back right away, Stan? Even before we met Vince and his kids? The Secret Service is charged to protect me at all times. So why... ?" Cole shook his head. None of it made any sense.
Sten looked around the company. "So here's what I think," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Before Eddie and I left, it had gotten, well... weird... back in Augusta. I mean, things changed a great deal after Linda was... taken. But then the kids up and ran away. And then the General disappeared and you two left. And Keeley got sick. And Ness holed herself up in the kids' hospital room. And then Mary Hayes disappeared. And all of a sudden there were new faces around. New soldiers at the cordon. New Secret Service agents. New doctors and nurses. Pretty much everybody we knew had disappeared. And the whole town got strangely quiet."
Cole's guts clenched at the mention of his kids. He already felt awful for having abandoned them yet again. And now he learns... Christ, they weren't even in their bodies! Damn! Cole closed his eyes and tried to calm his pounding heart.
"So I'm thinking." continued Sten, "that huge forces are at work behind the scenes, Cole. Not just the folks that went to ground when Linda called them out three years ago, but even deeper layers of elite control. So all those new faces? Maybe they work for the hidden powers. Maybe they're responsible for the disappearances. Maybe even Keeley's illness. And maybe they've begun their last battle against us. To take complete control of everything. For whatever reasons that motivate them. They've long had some master plan, Cole. Rice alluded to it often. Maybe kidnapping Linda was just their opening move."
"But weren't you one of them?" asked Marionette, motioning toward him, her face dark with suspicion.
Sten turned to face the young woman. "I had some peripheral involvement," he admitted. "I was paid to follow orders and not ask questions, and was given information only on a 'need to know' basis. My need was never great, apparently, as I never really knew who 'they' were, apart from a few players." Sten's face had gone red and his eyes had a pleading look to them, as if he wished for no further questions, and wanted to be believed. "I've worked closely with the President since then, young lady..."
"Marionette," said Marionette.
"Marionette. I've worked with Linda ever since. Giving her what information and insight I could to help her better do her job. I was... ashamed, if you'll believe that? And Linda Travis gave me another chance."
Marionette smiled slightly and nodded. Acceptance. For now.
"So they're just letting us do this?" asked Cole. "Even helping us?" He looked at Stan, then the rest of his crew, then Stendahl Banks. "Why? So we can dig our own graves?"
Sten ran a hand along his forehead. "I don't know why they're doing what they're doing, Cole. I've never met anybody who could truthfully say they understood the real motives of the hidden elite. But I fear that they do not mean well for the human race."
Doobie slammed his beer mug on the table, sloshing some of its contents onto the weathered wood and causing Cole and Sten to push back to escape getting wet. His head was tilted and his legs were splayed out and he looked like he'd exchanged most of his blood for Macy's home brew. "What I want to know," he drawled, mushing his words, "is who the hell is gonna pay for my boat light?"
11.16
"And so we can add a new layer to our scheme, Madam," said William with a flourish. He counted them off on his fingers. "There's the public layer, the hidden layer, the secret layer, and now the alien layer."
"You don't think the word 'alien' is too loaded?" asked Linda. "Seems like 'alien' means 'extra-terrestrial.' And you just said that that story is wrong as well."
"I'm not sure it matters, Madam. It's the word that just comes to the tongue, and I do not wish to spend thought or energy battling that impulse. Let's simply define 'alien' as
'other,' which is its oldest meaning, and trust that the language will sort itself out as we continue. Perhaps we shall discover a better word as we proceed."
Linda nodded. "Okay. You're driving."
The Fisherman flashed his eyebrows. "Brilliant. Now. Yes. Over the course of centuries, it slowly became clear that those who had presented to us as gods, spirits, demons, fairies, and angels were in fact visitors from elsewhere in the universe. On the one hand: how exciting. Whoever could they be, and what did they want? But on the other hand: how frightful."
Linda shook her head slightly in confusion. "Why frightful, William?"
"Three reasons, Madam. First, because whoever they were, they were obviously quite powerful."
"And you in The Families were used to being in control by that point."
"Right," said William with a nod. "Though our control had not yet consolidated into one governing body, as it has now."
"And you were familiar with the gods and spirits, because they'd been around for a long time, and didn't seem to pose a threat to your power on Earth."
"Which brings us to reason two," said William, raising his fingers. "Because if the gods were actually physical beings from elsewhere in the universe, then they might be like us. Did these beings wish to interfere in our affairs? Would they invade us? Control us? Enslave us? Wipe us out? Were they hostile or peaceful? We did not know."
Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2) Page 37
