Though he hated the idea, Cole had to admit that he was no longer sure that he could trust his wife. He'd deferred to her judgments for so long that the idea that she had become somehow unsteady or confused or untrustworthy was difficult to sanction. She was the President, after all. She was strong. She was the leader. It was her job to make decisions. But the idea was there, inside of him, whether he wanted it there or not. He found himself questioning the things she said now, the judgments she made, and the decisions. He found himself wondering if maybe she wasn't suffering from some post-traumatic stress, if perhaps her thinking was no longer clear. They were continuing to explore this vast, vacant city rather than return to their children because Linda was convinced that there was some big thing here for her to find. Cole was not convinced.
Was it that book that had put the idea into his mind? The Book of the Stranger that Annabelle had shown him? Was it Annabelle's own skepticism and wariness that had infected him? Clearly the old woman was here to keep her fierce, wrinkled, eagle-eyes on Linda, whom Annabelle regarded as a threat to humanity. And Cole could feel how protective Annabelle felt towards him, and how ready she was to help or defend him should he take action to defy his wife in some way. Cole's bullshit detector told him that the whole thing was nonsense. The Book. The Church. His alien self. All of it. But there was no denying the strange coincidences, and the wild powers that had arisen in him. There was something more than bullshit here. And Linda did seem to hold the fate of humanity in her hands.
But which choices spelled destruction for the human race, and which did not? Cole grabbed a handful of roasted almonds from the tin Doobie offered and popped them one by one into his mouth. Would stopping The Families from leaving have somehow saved humanity? Or was it letting them go that was the correct choice? Would giving the serum in the vial to the world community prevent the extinction of humanity? Or should she hold it back and let the disease run its course? Perhaps a population reduction was the very thing that would save the species? And did any of that matter, now that part of "the species" had left the Earth and gone off to start a new life elsewhere? Was there any way to know? Or were they doomed to play their sad, confused roles in this cosmic game of Let's Make a Deal, never to know what's behind door number two until they make their choices and Monty opens the door?
It occurred to Cole that he had changed as much as Linda had in their time apart from each other. He'd experienced those hops, the strange trips that had loosened him up from this present life in some way in a way he had yet to fully grasp. It was as though he'd been given glimpses of past and future lives, to convince him that this person he thought he was - this Cole Thomas in this body with this personality and this life - was not really him. That he, the "he" inside that could step back and ponder such things, was much bigger than any of those lives, and much bigger than his current life. And maybe that "he" was very different from what Cole had supposed. Those experiences had opened something up in him, something that could catch bullets and knock guns from people's hands, something that could create tunnels out of light that would save himself and his friends from certain drowning. Clearly there had been more to him than he'd known.
Cole was coming into his power, it seemed. His true self-knowledge. And so of course he was deferring less to Linda, and doubting her ability to know and see and do all. He had powers as well. He saw things as surely as she did. He had knowings and intuitions and rational capacities. Perhaps all that was happening was that he was finally stepping fully into his marriage as a partner. Maybe it was exactly as it should be. Maybe Linda actually needed him to doubt her. Maybe he should be the one to share her burden.
Cole wiped his mouth with a pure white, crisp, cloth napkin and lifted his beer. "A toast," he said, looking around the room at his traveling companions. "To life," he continued. "To love. To those we've lost and those we will meet again. And to all of us, here in this strange place, doing our best to serve ourselves and each other and the world." He looked from one to the other, offering his smile and his attention, weaving them together in connections in the same way he'd crafted a sphere of light. "I don't know why we're here or what we'll find or how it will all turn out. I just know that, right now, I feel honored by the gods to have been chosen for this task." He put his beer bottle to his lips and finished it, then set in with a click on the stainless steel counter and looked at Linda. "You said we should tell you if we have any feelings or intuitions," he said. He pointed at the map. "There's a huge multi-level room in the center of this city. Something tells me we should go there next."
19.13
Stan looked up at the muted television in the corner of his office and sighed. The whole world thought Linda Travis was dead. The remembrances and farewells and speculations ran almost continuously. Sten and Eddie had taken to creating content for the deception, doing interviews, visiting the hurricane-hit wasteland which was Boothbay Harbor, piecing together the story of poor Linda Travis's last days, how she'd been isolated with the terrible alien flu, and how, just when it seemed she might be recovering, she was swept away by one of the largest storms in the history of the planet. Stan was disgusted with the whole thing. Especially now, with The Families having made their escape. The hybrids, watching from far overhead, had reported how the woks had battled their way through the Grid. And they'd confirmed that Linda and her companions had continued on to the nuke plant. If the bastards were gone, why not get her ass back here and get to work? The Families were the ones she was hiding from, where they not? So let 'em go! Her people needed her. She was alive. Get with Sten and stage some damned miraculous recovery and get on with it, Linda! There's a global pandemic to deal with. There's your lost kid.
He shook his head. Stan didn't like being out of contact, not with his President on the ground and unprotected like this. Bluebird's people were good. He'd used them many times. But Linda's present situation was too far out of his control now. Why he'd allowed it he couldn't say. Linda had a habit of getting her way with things. That might have to come to an end.
Stan grabbed the clicker and changed the channel and sighed again. When they weren't talking about their beloved dead President they were talking about Greensleeves. Death tolls continued to rise. A second spate of cases had made it clear that the disease, whatever the hell it was, was not going away quietly. It didn't matter to Stan that this was a kinder, gentler global pandemic. People were still dead at the end, no matter how easy and even pleasant the experience of dying might have been. And dead was dead, as far as Stan was concerned, no matter what his President seemed to need to believe. Stan leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He reached out for a sip of his coffee, but it had gone cold. Why he still wanted a hot drink on such a scorching day he did not know. He just knew that cold coffee was not going to do it for him. Better head down to the cafe and get another cup.
But first, one last email, to the head of that facility outside of Reston. Pintick had all but solved the mystery of the vial's contents. Now it was time for step two.
19.14
The huge room in the city's center was labeled with a large "A," Gabrielle saw, which according to the map's legend meant "auditorium." Marionette pointed out that the entrances to the auditorium appeared to be on level eighteen. Getting to level eighteen would be easy enough; there were elevators everywhere. But getting to the city's center might take a little time. Urbem Orsus was huge, at least four miles long at its widest point. Which meant they had a bit of a hike ahead of them. Unless the transport system was still working. "And why wouldn't it be?" thought Gabrielle. Everything else was.
They'd entered the city at the extreme southern end and had spent all of their time since in that area. But according to the map, there was a transportation system here. The map showed a rough circle-with-spokes configuration of lines with the label "Tran." It appeared that most levels had the Tran system. All they had to do was find the closest station. The outer circle did not come all the way out to the edge of the c
ity. They would have to walk toward the center to find a terminal.
It was Mr. Thomas' hunch, so the President insisted he take the lead. He consulted the map, found their current position, and plotted a general route. The scale did not allow for the representation of the many side corridors, but only the major routes. So the first thing to do was to find one of those. Mr. Thomas walked in front, with the President at his side. Behind them walked Annabelle and Brenda, then Doobie and Marionette, with Gabrielle following up in the rear.
That suited Gabrielle. Despite their attempts to include her, and their obvious relief and happiness when they'd chanced upon each other on the surface, Gabrielle still felt like an outsider in this group. Part of that was no doubt due to her father, and his past betrayal of the President and her husband, something which the President had told her about on the plane. But it wasn't just the betrayal. It was The Families themselves to whom the President was opposed. Gabrielle was still one of them in her eyes.
But Gabrielle also felt apart from the group because of Zacharael. He'd schooled her these past few days. Changed her in deep and important ways. And he'd filled her up. Possessed her. Left her with memories and knowledge and images and opinions and values and concerns she hadn't had before. He'd made Gabrielle like himself, in a way. And Zacharael was alien. Which left Gabrielle feeling more than a little alien herself. She didn't think there was anyone else here who knew what she knew, and felt what she felt.
Zacharael must have been the one to have saved her. Her father had obviously abducted her with the intention of stealing her away to the colonies against her will. Zacharael had found her and stolen her back, then put her in a metal container for safe keeping and placed her right where he knew she'd run into the President and her group. For some reason, it was very important to Zacharael that she and the President be together right now.
Gabrielle reflected again on that image she'd had, of that moment of confrontation between herself and the President. Gabrielle had thought she was supposed to stop Linda Travis from doing something. That she was supposed to take something from her. Yet when the moment came, it hadn't worked out that way at all. Gabrielle had become the President's helper and supporter, rather than her opponent. They were working on the same team.
But were they really? President Travis seemed focused on The Families, and revenge, and this Fisherman guy. She was focused on that vial of flu serum the Fisherman had given her. And she was worried about her son, who'd gotten eaten up by some cosmic monster. But was she concerned about the Beloved, as she and Zacharael were? If so, Gabrielle was not seeing it. And that worried her.
Perhaps it just came with the job. Linda Travis had been elected to serve her people. There were always going to be so many human problems to solve that there would never be any time to focus much energy on the rest of the life on Earth, except save for where doing so also helped people. Gabrielle wondered if maybe she wasn't more than a little bit like her father as far as humans were concerned. She'd come to not care so much about the billions of people on this planet. She cared much more about how those billions were destroying the Beloved.
Her father was probably free of that now. Gone off to his colony with the lovely Dierdre. Away from the Sleepers they hated so much. Out in the clear, clean, cosmos. Out following their Plan to join the Cosmic Community. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it was good that some humans have started something somewhere else. And maybe it's also good that some humans were staying behind, to stay with the Beloved as she suffers. To love her as best they can. And maybe to help.
Gabrielle realized that she had a rather strong opinion about that damned vial. President Travis might waffle and wonder about the cure for the Greensleeves virus. That was probably her job, to deliberate all the possibilities. But Gabrielle was pretty clear what she would do, were she the President. She'd hide that vial away in a strong safe and throw away the key. Or pour it down the sink. She'd let Greensleeves do its dirty work. She'd let the disease - one that The Families designed and injected into the human population, after all - run its course and, in so doing, ease the suffering of the Beloved. A large percentage of the humans left on Earth were probably going to die soon in any event, if the experts and scientists could be believed. Why take the rest of the planet down with them?
The group finally found what looked like a major travel route. It was a corridor four times as wide as the ones they'd been walking through, with a ceiling half again as high as the regular height. It was decorated with extensive murals of city streets and forests and countryside done in paint and mosaic. There were potted trees and shrubs on each side at regular intervals, each with its own overhead sunlamp. The whole ceiling emitted light here, rather than just a strip, and it looked like a clear, blue afternoon sky. And the corridor floor was divided into lanes for walking, bicycles, and golf carts.
Gabrielle was impressed by the place. The Families had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to create this underground haven. They'd probably used alien-sourced technology to do it. And they had more than enough wealth to do it up right. Some of them must have lived here for years. Maybe even decades, since they'd first carved it out more than thirty years ago. Her father had always been so proud of The Families' ability to envision and implement projects and plans that ran longer than a human lifespan. This was an example of that. These people had waited a long time for their chance to leave the Earth.
Mr. Thomas spied a pair of large golf carts down along what he called the "highway." The carts both had keys and appeared to be in good working order. They climbed in. Mr. Thomas drove the first one, with the President at his side and Annabelle in the back seat. Brenda drove the second, with Doobie and Marionette holding hands in the back seat. Gabrielle took the front passenger seat, smiling at Brenda as she sat down. In a moment, they were off.
Gabrielle didn't know if she should be happy or sad or angry about her parents. Maybe it was better for them now. Maybe they'd finally get their shit together. Maybe they'd even be happy. But they were lost to her forever, it felt like. That new fact was so big that she couldn't even begin to wrap her brain around it. It was better to just put the whole thing on hold for the time being. She needed to be clear here. Zacharael needed that from her. The Beloved needed it. The grief and anger would have to wait.
The ride to the Tran was shorter than she'd expected. A large yellow sign announced the station. They pulled off to the left and parked, then entered the depot. The Trans themselves turned out to be single subway cars that held a couple of dozen people at a time. They sat there in a line, waiting for whomever needed them, like taxis at the curb. The President and her crew stepped up to one of the cars, pushed a button, and waited as the doors slid open. The Tran car was clearly meant to be user operated, and looked easy enough. Brenda insisted that she be the one to drive. Nobody argued.
They took their seats. Brenda operated the controls. The Tran car moved forward along the tracks and into a well-lit tunnel. Soon enough they'd be at the auditorium.
19.15
"So why the auditorium?" asked Linda of Cole. They were sitting side by side on the Tran bench, with Gabrielle beside them and Annabelle, Doobie, and Marionette across from them. The Tran had just passed through another station. Brenda had reported that the display on the driver's console said they were nearing their destination.
Cole shrugged with uncertainty. "Not sure," he said. "I mean... I noticed it when we saw the first map. Wondered what it would look like, a room that huge, and four stories tall. Something about it reminded me of what you told us, about that room you were in. The one in the Martian moon. Where the Fisherman had you give a speech."
"Phobos," said Linda, nodding. "Yeah. It was huge."
"So, I just thought... we gotta go somewhere, you know?"
Linda took his hand and smiled. "Works for me, sweetie," she said.
"So why do you think this William person has left something here for you?" asked Annabelle. The Tran car was so quiet that she
didn't even have to raise her voice.
Linda frowned. "Hmm..." she said. "That's a good question." She thought for a moment, the continued. "I spent a few full days with the man," she said. "I don't think William - or The Families... or the aliens, for that matter - ever do or say a thing that isn't intentional and planned and well thought out. And as I indicated before, I think they have a penchant for myth, metaphor, and theater, and think of themselves as teachers, and use these techniques in their teaching. The last thing William did before he left me alone on Mars to find my way back home was to lean forward and say the words 'Urbem Orsus.' It was a theatrical moment. It meant something. He was leading me here. Calling me to follow him. Because there was something more he had to say." Linda stopped and sighed, smiling hesitantly. "So, it's just something I know, Annabelle. In my gut. In my heart."
Annabelle nodded, as if she understood. "So we're being guided by your intestines?" she said. Her eyes were playful.
"They're Presidential intestines, Annabelle," said Linda with a grin. "They get their own motorcade."
Cole laughed at that. So did Marionette. Even Annabelle smiled openly.
"Looks like we're here," called back Brenda from the driver's compartment. The Tran car came to a smooth stop at the station. The signs outside the windows read "Auditorium." The doors opened and the crew stepped out onto the platform. The doors closed automatically and the Tran car began to move back in the direction from which it had come. "They must have one hell of a computer control system for those things," said Brenda.
Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2) Page 73
