by Davis, Bryan
Kelly pulled her sweatshirt back in place, covering her bandage. “Define weird. After what we've been through, I might not ever call anything ‘weird’ again.”
Daryl spun and headed back to her station. “C'mon and take a look.”
Nathan took Kelly's hand and guided her to the desk where Daryl was already tapping at the keyboard. “With all the wounds in the celestial fabric,” Daryl explained, “it's pretty easy to grab some cross-dimensional traffic. I found one traffic stream in particular that's really strong, and it has cadence and structure, sort of like a language. While the other signals kind of come and go, this one stays steady.”
“Can you translate it and show it on the screen?” Nathan asked.
Daryl looked up at the curved mirror that coated the observatory's ceiling. “Not without the music, and Francesca's not here to decode it for us.”
“Go ahead and put it on the speakers.” Nathan set down the violin case and popped the latches open. “Maybe Kelly and I can pick something up.”
As Daryl slid her finger up a laptop's touchpad, random musical notes began to pour from unseen speakers. The mirrored ceiling flashed to life, displaying hundreds of irregular shapes— some red, some blue, some yellow— and many with swirls of blended colors. They bounced against each other, excited globules beating in time with the noise.
Nathan raised the violin and angled his head to listen, but when the elevator door opened again, Clara's booming voice interrupted his concentration. She stepped into the room and marched toward the desk. “And I am his tutor, the executor of his father's will, and the trustee of his estate. I will make that decision, thank you very much.”
Dr. Gordon trailed her, his face stern, apparently not intimidated by Clara's forceful ways. “You have no idea how dangerous travel is now,” he said, holding up his cell phone. “We cannot ignore Dr. Simon's warnings.”
She spun and pointed at the phone's display. “I am not going to rely on a message that has come quite literally out of the blue. Can you verify the message's sender or its accuracy?”
“No …” Dr. Gordon clapped the phone shut. “But it is a reasonable conclusion. I am familiar enough with Dr. Simon's normal communications to identify one of his messages.”
Nathan lowered the violin and shook his head. The static coming from the verbal combatants was stronger than the static from the skies. “What's going on?” he asked.
Dr. Gordon straightened and focused on Nathan. “I received a forwarded text message from Dr. Simon. He says that recent cross-dimensional activity has weakened the cosmic structure to the point that all transport is now extremely hazardous. There are holes within the holes, or embedded wounds, if you don't mind me using that word. You could think you are going one place and end up in another, or, worse yet, fall into a timeless vortex.”
“A vortex?” Nathan repeated.
“Yes. It is only a theory of mine, but data suggests the existence of places that are not physically within any of the three worlds. The signals match nothing else I have seen, and echoes I receive from the pulses I send out have an intelligent cadence but lack consistency in a time framework. The only conclusion I can draw is that the inhabitants have enough intellect to recognize they are being called by an outside entity, yet they are inconsistent in presentation.”
“Put it in English, please,” Kelly said. “We're not all geniuses like Daryl.”
Dr. Gordon spread out his hands. “The beings are spaceless … timeless. You might call them phantasms, or perhaps even ghosts.”
Nathan pondered the new data. The mention of Dr. Simon and phantasms brought back to mind the day when Mictar killed the Earth Red version of Dr. Simon, the head of the security corporation Interfinity had employed to help recover stolen technology. In order to protect Nathan's parents from Mictar, Dr. Simon had switched the bodies of the already murdered couple from Earth Blue. He sent the living couple from Earth Red into the blue dimension to try to find a solution to the coming crisis of interfinity — the imminent merging of the three worlds. Although he succeeded in deceiving Mictar for a while, Dr. Simon died in the grip of that monster's life-absorbing hand. Now it seemed that the Dr. Simon from Earth Blue had contacted Dr. Gordon with a new warning. “So,” Nathan said, “you don't want us to risk it.”
“There is no sense in sending you to a likely death. As far as we know, your parents are now free. I have great confidence that your father will be able to devise a solution to the interfinity collapse or signal us if he needs our help.”
“Speaking of signals …” Nathan nodded toward the ceiling. “Daryl's picked up something. We're trying to decipher it.”
Dr. Gordon looked up at the dome and slid his phone into his pocket. “I apologize. Please continue.”
Nathan concentrated again on the random notes, glancing at Kelly from time to time. She closed her eyes, while Daryl, Clara, and Dr. Gordon looked on.
The noise eased for a moment, then started again, beginning a series of pulses that sounded familiar. Nathan closed his eyes, too. Was it cycling? What could be embedded in all that turmoil? How did Francesca figure it out when she listened to these impossibly mixed-up sounds? And if he and she were both gifted, shouldn't he be able to duplicate what she could do at the age of ten?
He pictured the young prodigy playing her violin in the midst of a shower of chaotic noise. Her eyes began to glow, reminding him of the shining light that seemed to emanate from her matchless spirit, the same spirit he always saw and loved in his mother. She had the gift of insight, the ability to recognize and comprehend what no one else could see. Phony masks would melt in her piercing gaze. Liars held their tongues. Cryptic puzzles gave up their secrets. They were no contest for her spiritually penetrating vision.
Obviously, listening with his physical ears wouldn't be enough. He had to probe with invisible receptors, antennae of heart and mind that would melt the mask of confusion and piece together the scattered sounds.
Keeping his eyes closed, he imagined a musical staff floating in the middle of a black void, blank except for the lines and clef mark. In his mind, he stood in front of the sheet with his violin poised to play. As each note popped into his ear, his image played that note. A black spider flew from his strings and formed itself into a musical quarter note in midair. It then landed on the middle of the staff and positioned itself on the proper line.
With the second sound, another spider flew toward the page, transformed into an eighth note, and stuck to the staff on the second line near the end. Spider after spider glided to the page, and whenever they landed near one another, they shot out black webbing that tied them together until they created a perfectly arranged musical piece.
Nathan copied his imaginary stance and played the notes he saw on the visionary staff in order. After the first measure, the sounds from the speakers seemed to arrange themselves, as if the cosmos now played the sheet he had created in his mind. He opened his eyes and played along, copying each note he heard.
Daryl pointed at him and whispered in Kelly's ear. Kelly made a harsh shushing sound, while Clara gazed at the ceiling and Dr. Gordon studied the computer screen.
Above, the colors had blended together and were stretching out into a recognizable scene. A man and a woman sat in the midst of darkness, as though neither moon nor stars could break the black nightscape. Even their resting place was nothing more than a shapeless black lump.
After a few seconds, their faces clarified, but they were still too fuzzy to recognize. Nathan poured his heart into his playing until his mother's violin sounded like it sizzled with flaming passion. Every stroke of his bow brought the couple more clearly into focus until each face blazed into Nathan's mind.
He wanted to scream out, “Mom! Dad!” but he had to keep his concentration steady and hold this vision of the other world on the screen as long as he could.
While his mother played a violin, his father rose and paced, staying within a short range, as if blocked by invisible walls on
each side. With his hand to his chin, he seemed to be deep in thought. Soon, the violin's sweet tones became audible, one of his mother's own pieces, a soothing tune to which she had also composed lyrics, a ballad about a long-lost son who found his way home after many years of toil and torture at the hands of a wicked king in a faraway land.
His father stopped and raised a finger. He spoke, but his words didn't come through. Nathan concentrated on his playing. He had to bring in their conversation. Their lives might depend on it.
Lowering her violin, his mother replied, but she, too, seemed like a player in a silent movie. After a few seconds of conversation, she rose from her seat, and the two embraced tenderly. Then, tears flowing, she waved as he walked away. He stepped gingerly, as if treading on thin ice, and disappeared from view.
As his mother reseated herself and raised her violin, Nathan's arms weakened, feeling limp and numb. How long could he go on? And why did this effort drain his energy so easily? Would continuing to play do any good? He had already given it all he had, and he couldn't hear a word they said.
He sidestepped toward the center of the chamber. There really was only one option. Knowing he couldn't speak and play at the same time, he tried to signal Kelly with his eyes. But would she see him with her foggy vision? Had she been able to watch the scene unfolding in the mirror above? Still, she had read his mind before, so maybe …
“Get ready to flash the lights!” Kelly yelled as she ran to join him. “We're taking off!”
Daryl jumped up and dashed over to the switches. “On your signal!”
“No!” Dr. Gordon raised his hand. “The data stream suggests exactly what I described. This is likely a vortex. It's too dangerous!”
Nathan, now breathing rapidly, played with all his might. Of course he wanted to be with his parents, but falling into a timeless vortex along the way would end their journey forever. Still, this might be their only chance to find them. Didn't they have to try? He heaved a loud grunt. If only someone else would make this decision!
Holding the violin case in one hand, Kelly put her other hand on Nathan's back. “Clara! It's your call! What do you say?”
Clara stood next to Dr. Gordon, who typed madly at the keyboard. “Are you both willing to take the risk?” she asked.
“I am!” Kelly pressed Nathan's back. “You?”
He gave a quick nod and played on.
Clara pointed at Daryl. “Hit it!”
“No!” Dr. Gordon screamed, red-faced and still typing. “This is not your observatory, nor your equipment! I will not allow you to die on my watch!”
Daryl flipped the switch. The perimeter lights flashed on.
Dr. Gordon hit a final key with a commanding stroke. A chaotic array of colors splashed across the ceiling mirror, and the music shifted to Dvořák's New World Symphony.
White beams shot out from the trumpet-shaped lamps and collected at the apex of the dome. Dozens of shafts of light rebounded toward the floor and surrounded Nathan and Kelly with a glowing picket fence.
The scene in the mirrored ceiling reshaped into a reflection of the observatory room floor, a reflection that showed Clara and Daryl, but not Dr. Gordon, Nathan, or Kelly. The image melted and slid down the picket fence's vertical shafts until everything outside of their laser prison vanished.
Within a few seconds, their surroundings reappeared— the same floor, the same telescope, though tilted at a slightly different angle, and the same Clara and Daryl. Nathan slowed his playing and squinted at them. Or were they the same?
His arms feeling like rags, he lowered his violin and let his shoulders droop. “We're on Earth Blue, aren't we?”
Daryl sashayed toward them, flipping her hair back in mock offense. “Well! Don't act so disappointed!”
Nathan dropped to the floor and sat, his face buried in his hands. “We were close! So close!”
A voice came down from above. “No, you were not close.”
Nathan looked up at the ceiling. Dr. Gordon, appearing upside-down in the reflection and standing near the telescope in the Earth Red observatory, stared down at him. “The signal emanating through the cosmic wound dissipated just as I was switching you over to Earth Blue. You and Kelly would have been thrown into a vacuum, where you would have died instantly.”
Nathan probed Daryl Blue's eyes. He could no longer speak. If he tried, he would cry for sure. So he asked the question with his gaze, hoping Daryl would figure it out. Was Dr. Gordon telling the truth?
Daryl stooped and looked Nathan in the eye. “I watched the whole thing from my computer. You and Kelly would be sparkling space dust by now, and I don't think anyone would name a star after you.”
Nathan glanced up at Dr. Gordon again, but he was walking toward the desk, shaking his head.
Daryl reached down her hand. “Looks like you could use a lift.”
“In more ways than one.” Nathan took her hand and rode her hefty pull to his feet.
Kelly raised the violin case. “I got this at the last minute. Want to pack up?”
While Nathan put the violin away, Daryl Blue hugged Kelly briefly, then pulled back. “Take a good look, Kelly-kins,” she said, tugging on her collar. “My shirt is blue, through and through. Daryl Red and I decided to be color coded.”
“I can see that,” Kelly said, squinting. “Barely.”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about your run-in with the evil eye snatcher.”
“Daryl!” Clara Blue marched up behind her, wagging her finger. “Watch your tongue, young lady. Kelly's vision is not a joking matter.”
“Don't worry about it, Ms. Jackson,” Kelly said. “I've put up with Daryl Red for years. I once broke my wrist in a basketball game, and she accused me of sticking my hand too far in the toilet to get Steven's promise ri—” She jerked her fist up to her mouth and bit it. “I think I'd better shut up for a while.” Without even offering Nathan a glance, she hurried to the computer desk. Daryl followed.
Clara handed Nathan a six-inch-by-six-inch square mirror, now protected by a rubberized frame. “Here's the Quattro mirror. I know you're disappointed about the strange turn of events, but can you get up enough gumption to go to Tony Blue's house?”
Nathan took the mirror and gave her a half-hearted nod. He wanted to stay quiet, but he would have to get over his funk soon. His parents needed him.
Daryl's voice piped up again, this time from the Earth Red observatory above. “We'll watch the fort from here. Keep Nathan Blue's cell phone on, so we can text you if necessary.”
“Oh, yeah.” Nathan leaned toward the desk and scanned its surface. “Where is it?”
Daryl Blue held up the phone and a Nikon on a strap. “Got you covered. And we have the other camera. Let's get moving.”
3
THE MISTY VEIL
Clara drove Tony's Camry off the interstate ramp and into Newton, Iowa. A cold, steady drizzle dampened the road, just enough to slicken the pavement and make the tires swish.
As they passed by the local Wal-Mart, Nathan watched an old man with a cane hobble toward a beat-up station wagon, one of the few cars in the parking lot. A scarf wrapped his neck, and gloves covered his hands, but his shivering body showed that his winter garb wasn't quite adequate.
Nathan shivered with the poor old guy. With the heater barely pumping out enough warm air to melt ice, he had to rub his hands together briskly in front of the vent to keep them from stiffening. He might soon have to play the violin, so keeping everything limber was crucial.
He checked on Kelly sitting in the backseat behind Clara. With her oversized sweatshirt now rumpled, she looked bulky as she leaned against the door, her eyes closed and her mouth partially open. She hadn't uttered a word the entire trip. Of course, Daryl's effervescent chatter helped pass the time, but occasional periods of silence allowed Kelly to nod off and then sleep through some of Daryl's stories about their antics in elementary school. Kelly had probably heard them before, so her exhaustion held sway.
Although th
e bandage was completely hidden, Nathan let his gaze linger on her shoulder. Clara had changed her bandage again at a rest stop and announced that the stitches had sealed the wound, and the oozing blood had almost stopped. That was good. Kelly had only two bandages left in her bag. Maybe they wouldn't have to change it again.
Images of Kelly's ordeal reentered his mind— Gordon Blue's stabbing dagger, Mictar's blinding grip, and even her potential death — a vision granted by Patar, Mictar's less-malevolent twin, that showed Nathan what would have happened if he had chosen to save his parents. Her scorched face and vacant eye sockets stared up at him from her quivering body, a fatal victim of Mictar's cruel torture.
Nathan clenched his fist and lightly smacked his palm. If only he had another chance at that creep, he would —
“Getting ready for a fight?” Clara asked.
He looked at his fist and loosened his fingers. “I guess so. If Mictar can stretch dimensional wounds and go through them, he could pop into a room when you least expect it.”
“It's probably not so simple. If he were able to come and go as he pleased, we would all have sooty eye sockets by now.”
“Good point.” As they drove between two browning cornfields on the final road leading to the Clarks' Earth Blue home, Nathan scanned the area for any movement. With sleet pellets now mixing with the spattering raindrops in the midst of thickening fog, no one in his right mind would be out in the open air, but this was Mictar they were talking about, so he didn't qualify.
When the Clarks' house came into sight, memories of his first view of the beautiful old mansion came to mind, recalling the morning after he thought his parents had been killed. Clara had driven him here, trying to hide him from the murderers. Tony, his father's college buddy, had agreed to take him in, thus beginning Nathan's adventures with Kelly. Even though the thousand acres of rolling cornfields and the huge shade trees surrounding the house painted a regal landscape, with thoughts of death and danger creeping in, it seemed more melancholy than majestic.
