by Davis, Bryan
Finally, four-hundred images— each one showing a different, live-action scene — spanned the wall before them.
Daryl pointed at the second square. “Isn't that Clara?”
Nathan scooted close and peered up at the woman. Although black grease smeared her cheek, there was no mistaking his tutor. “She's stuck somewhere with engine problems.”
Squinting as she joined Nathan, Kelly touched one of the squares. “Does that mean we can go to any of these places if we flash a light?”
“Who knows?” He stepped back and tried to take in the hundreds of images. Could his mother and father be in one of them? That would be the first place he'd want to go, but in some of the scenes, people moved in and out of the square, so even if one of the mirrors represented his parents' location, they might not show up in the image to let him know.
He took a deep breath. It was time to concentrate, do this logically. “Daryl,” he said in a gentle tone, “you start in the lower-right corner and work your way to the left and up. I'll work from the top-left corner down. You know what my parents look like, right?”
“Yeah, you showed me their pictures. Well, not you. Nathan Blue did. I think I could spot them.”
Nathan raised three fingers, one at a time. “Try to find my parents, Francesca, or that girl in the dome.”
“What about Clara?” Daryl asked, looking up at him. “Won't she freeze?”
Nathan gazed at his tutor's image as she stood next to the car's open hood, searching the snow-covered highway for help. No one was in sight. With the bone-chilling wind whipping against her inadequate coat, she wouldn't last long out there. He had to help her right away. But should he go? What about Patar's warnings? Could he afford the time it would take to save one old lady?
After a few seconds, he nodded. Of course he had to go. Patar would just have to deal with it. “Okay. I'll go.”
“Me, too.” Kelly pressed her thumb against her chest. “I'm the mechanic. Clara can be my eyes.”
Again watching the mirror, Nathan bobbed his head. Kelly was right. She was the best option. But how would it work? Should he pry that square off and have her hold it while flashing a light? Would that shut the rest of the mirror down? Not only that, wouldn't this display mean that every square was really a Quattro mirror with power equal to the one in the corner, and equal danger if it fell into the wrong hands?
Nathan headed for the bedroom door. “Gotta get a flashlight and a screwdriver.”
After a few minutes of fumbling around in the dark garage, he returned with his items. Daryl, now wearing the camera strap around her neck, nodded toward the hall. “We heard something out there, like someone hitting the floor.”
“I didn't see anyone. Probably just the pipes. That's what my father always used to say when I heard noises.” Nathan pushed the trunk in front of the mirror, stood on it, and pried Clara's square loose. As soon as it came off, the rest of the squares flashed brightly, then returned to normal.
He looked at the mirror in his hand. Clara was still there, now shivering in the car's driver seat with the door closed.
When he slid the mirror back, it snapped into place. It, too, blinked off and then displayed a six-inch-square reflection of the room. In the image, Kelly and Daryl stared at him, but they said nothing.
Nathan studied the mosaic. He could probably play the music and resurrect the four-hundred images without a problem. But what would happen if they tried traveling to one of the places the mirrors displayed without removing a square? Wouldn't that leave the entire mirror and its abilities available to a thief while they were gone? Not only that, they would be without a mirror themselves, and it had always helped them get around before.
A creaking noise sounded from somewhere in the house, then another. Nathan stiffened. Could it be footsteps? He pried the square loose again, jumped down from the trunk, and, finding the detachable frame on the floor, he snapped it back around the mirror, whisper-shouting, “Huddle up!” He pulled the lower-left-hand square from the wall and moved it to the empty space on the top row. The mirror jumped into place.
He grabbed the coats and passed them around. As soon as everyone had pushed their arms through the sleeves, another floor board creaked, much closer. He handed the “Clara mirror” to Kelly, lifted his violin, and played the key. The square in her hands flashed to life, again showing Clara in her car, while the other mirrors still displayed a reflection of the room.
Nathan scanned the floor. “Where's the flashlight?”
Holding the photo CD in one hand, Daryl pointed the flashlight at the mirror with the other. “On your command, Captain!”
Just outside the doorway, the floor creaked again. Something thumped against the wall. Nathan stared at the bedroom entrance, every limb stiff. Was it Mictar? Dr. Simon? Who would be stalking the house without announcing himself? Certainly not a friend.
He whispered at Daryl. “Let's do it.”
6
BACK TO YELLOW
Just as Daryl flashed the light, a series of thumps sounded inside the room, as if someone had repeatedly struck the floor with a rubber mallet, but no one was there.
Kelly gasped. “Nathan! Do you see him?”
“See who?” Nathan shouted, but his voice stretched out and flew apart. The image of the bedroom pixelized and broke into a million pieces. A snowy highway scene took shape, and a blustery wind slapped his face, biting his cheeks with a frigid blast.
The Toyota sat on the side of the road only two paces away. Clara threw open the door and stumbled out, laughing. “Leave it to you to appear out of nowhere!”
Daryl pushed the flashlight into her coat pocket and raised the camera to her eye. “We're cross-dimensional paparazzi. We show up when you least expect it.”
Nathan helped Kelly fasten her coat. “What did you see back there?”
Her lips already turning blue, she chattered, “I … I'm not sure. It looked like the guy who helped us at the funeral. He had a beard, but his face was so bloodied and swollen, I couldn't tell. He just fell to his hands and knees on the floor.”
“Sounds like Jack. If I couldn't see him, how could you?”
“I've been seeing other things.” She hugged the coat closer to her body. “If we can get someplace warm, I'll tell you about it.”
He turned toward Clara. “How far back to the house?”
“Under normal driving conditions, about four hours.” Streams of white puffed from Clara's nose. “With these conditions? Who can tell?”
Nathan kicked a snow drift, scattering crystals into the wind. “Four hours!” He fumed inside. Patar had warned him about getting sidetracked, and now here he was, risking the entire universe to save Clara's life while precious minutes ticked away.
She patted Nathan on the arm. “Where have you been?”
“Too much to tell right now. How long did you wait for us?”
“I went in to check on you after a half hour or so, but the house was empty.” Clara gave him a scolding stare. “You literally left me out in the cold, so what else could I do? You said to meet you at the observatory, so I headed that way.”
“Sorry. I couldn't help it.” He looked at the mirror — back to normal. “Let's see if this thing will take us home.”
While Kelly held the mirror, Nathan played the violin. He tried “Foundation's Key” again as well as a few other tunes that had worked to animate the mirror images before, but the reflection never changed. After several minutes, with the frigid wind stiffening his fingers, he could barely play a decent note.
Letting out a deep sigh, he nodded at the car. “Let's see if we can get this thing started.”
“Not likely,” Clara said. “I think it's just out of gas, and the service stations either have no power, or they're shut down because no one's minding the store. No cell service, either.”
He searched both ways on the four-lane interstate highway — nothing but snow-covered trees and grass along with a couple of farm houses dotting the white
landscape, certainly no cars to flag down for help. A few vehicles sat stranded at the side of the road. About a hundred yards away, at the end of a spinning trail in the snow, an old station wagon pointed in the wrong direction.
“Have you seen anyone at all?” he asked.
Clara stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and nodded at a two-story house on a distant hill. Although no lights shone in any of its front windows, smoke poured through brick chimneys, one on each end of the roof. “Two people hiked up there. I was about to join them.”
Nathan touched Kelly's arm and nodded toward the station wagon. “Ever siphoned?”
“No, but I've seen my dad do it.”
“Maybe that'll be enough. What did he use?”
“Just a hose and a gas can.” As she replied, her ragged puffs of white seemed to match her shivers. “We can probably ask up at that house.”
Nathan squinted at the house atop the snow-covered hill. In the window, a yellow light moved from one side of the room to the other — probably a candle or lantern. Apparently electricity had gone out there, as well. “They should have a pen and paper, too.”
“Pen and paper?” Daryl asked.
“To leave a note on the car. We'll owe that guy some gas.”
Daryl shoved him on the shoulder. “You're such a Boy Scout!”
“Thanks … I guess.” Smiling, he handed Daryl the violin. Not long ago, a comment like that would've sent him into a self-doubting tailspin, but he was used to it now. “You guys try to stay warm in the car. I'll hoof it to the house.”
Kelly looped her arm around Nathan's. “Not a chance. You're stuck with me, remember?”
While Daryl stayed with Clara, Nathan and Kelly hiked to the house. Although the bitter wind continued to claw through their coats, and snow seeped through their shoes, the fast pace up the hill kept them warm enough. He wanted to ask more about the things she had seen, but with her teeth chattering as they huffed and puffed through the climb, he thought better of it.
Her cheeks, rosy red now, expanded and contracted as she blew through her mouth. Her eyes shifted his way, still glassy, but she had caught him looking.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Besides being stuck out in the middle of nowhere?” He shrugged. “I guess so. Why?”
She refocused on the slope ahead as they trudged on. “You were watching me, so I thought maybe you wanted to talk.”
“I was wondering about what you saw in the bedroom, but I didn't want to ask. You looked too cold.”
She smiled and clutched his arm closer to her side. “You're always such a gentleman.”
“Why wouldn't I be? That's what my father always taught me.”
Her smile shriveled. “I don't know. I thought you were a gentleman because …” She looked at him again. “Well … because you like me.”
He stopped and turned toward her. Her eyes, wide and pitifully glazed, locked on his. “Of course I like you,” he said. “I've never had a better friend.”
Her brow arched up. “A friend? Nothing more?”
Nathan read her facial expression — expectant, hopeful, longing. His answer could warm her heart or just as easily shatter it into pieces. But what could he say? That he wanted something more than friendship? He had always been taught that sixteen was too young for romance. And friendship always proved to be the best path to something more intimate later on. Still, his heart longed for hers, more now than ever, but it had to wait.
She pivoted and marched toward the house. “I can live with being friends.”
With two quick strides, Nathan caught up and turned her around. “What's wrong?”
A tear tracked down her chapped skin. “You hesitated. That said it all.”
Nathan drew her closer and pointed at his face. “Look at me. You used to be able to tell what was going on inside my head. I need you to help me figure it out now.”
She gazed into his eyes. For a moment, a sparkle returned, clearing the foggy film. Nathan tried to let his emotions flow. Maybe since she was the interpreter, she could sense his true feelings. His words certainly weren't doing the job.
She drew back. “Your father is in the way?” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”
“It's okay. I knew what you meant.” Letting out a sigh, he nodded. “Dad's never steered me wrong before.”
She looked away. “Then you should do what he says.”
With a gentle hand on her chin, he turned her face back toward him. “What are you going to do?”
A tear streamed down the other cheek. “I'll wait … As long as it takes.”
She turned again and plodded up the hill. This time, Nathan didn't stop her. He jogged up to her side, offered his elbow, and the two finished the journey to the house on the hill arm-in-arm.
The residents gladly let them cut a piece from an old hose and borrow an empty gas can, but they had no gas to offer. Instead, the lady of the house, a mother of three young daughters who pranced around the living room in snowsuits while singing Christmas songs, filled a thermos with hot soup and sent it back with them.
On the return trip, the wind slackened, and the sun grew warm, melting the snow. Kelly stayed quiet, her gaze far away as they scooted carefully down the now treacherous slope. By the time they returned, the temperature had climbed to at least eighty, and snow-melt rivulets created ankle-deep ponds at the roadside.
With some coaching from Kelly, Nathan managed to siphon enough gas to fill the two-gallon can, but a couple of mistakes along the way left him spitting, coughing, and gagging. The effort left a horrible coating on his tongue and lips, and washing with the remaining snow did little to wipe it away.
After transferring the gas to the Toyota, they settled into the car, Nathan at the wheel. Clara insisted on taking the backseat so Kelly could sit up front and “keep Nathan in line.”
When he turned the key, the Camry roared to life. He glared at the fuel gauge. “Maybe the gas stations will open now that the snow's gone.”
“We can't risk going back to your house,” Clara said. “It's exactly thirty-two miles to the observatory. If we take it easy, we should make it.”
“You're right. As usual.” Nathan eased out onto the road. After explaining to Clara everything that happened in the strange misty world, all four settled into silence. Daryl reached into a backpack and pulled out a Sudoku book while Clara leaned her head against the side window and closed her eyes.
As he drove, the image of Scarlet filtered into his mind along with her haunting words. Although he recalled only a few, something in the way she said them seemed unearthly … ghostly … lyrics of a lullaby, some of the words lost in a dream world as if he were drifting in and out of sleep. “Remember that you must come back and rescue us … You have only a little time … Interfinity is coming … You, my love, are one of the gifted, and another is searching for you in her dreams … The two of you will have to work together … play the violin in Sarah's Womb.”
Nathan glanced at Kelly. Should he ask again about the things she had been seeing? Would another mystery add too much to the confusion? And should he let her in on the dream he had about Scarlet? Was it real? Could she help him interpret it? Francesca was obviously the other gifted one, but not much else made sense. How could she search for him in her dreams? Dreams weren't real. Yet, in Earth Yellow, at least, dreams seemed to be predicting the future, so maybe the world of dreams was beginning to blend with reality, or with the reality of another dimension.
He clutched the steering wheel tightly. He was being pulled in so many directions, he felt like he was being torn apart. Should he keep searching for his parents? Return to the house and help Jack? But maybe he wasn't really there at all. Should he try to get back to the misty world and rescue Scarlet? Go to Earth Yellow and find Francesca? Or should he heed Patar's warnings and concentrate on playing the big violin? But didn't he need Francesca for that task?
Kelly turned toward him. Something ne
w sparkled in her eyes, something deep and searching. She seemed to want to say something but was unsure.
“What's up?” Nathan asked, his voice low, hoping not to disturb his backseat passengers.
Kelly copied his tone, keeping to a near whisper. “You've been wondering about the stuff I've been seeing.”
He paused and cleared his throat quietly. “Sure. But you can take your time.”
She gave him a weak but friendly smile. “You know how I hear voices when you're playing music and when those people sang?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It's sort of like that, but it's visual. It's like I haven't really lost my eyesight. It's more like it's been replaced, like I'm seeing things that aren't there.”
“How do you know they aren't there? I mean, if you can see them, how do you know other people can't see them?”
She opened and closed her hand twice. “They just sort of flash over the background for a second, then they disappear. Normally, everything's blurry, but the stuff that flashes is super clear.”
“What did you see besides Jack?”
“Before that, while we were in the bedroom, I saw Francesca pulling her music out of the trunk and packing it in a briefcase. Dr. Malenkov stood next to her, looking around kind of nervously. Then, they disappeared. I didn't want to tell you, because it was so crazy, but stuff like that keeps happening.”
“Like what stuff?”
She nodded toward the windshield. “Cars on the road. The highway is deserted, but I see cars suddenly appearing and then vanishing. It feels like I'm dreaming while awake.”
Nathan kept glancing back and forth between her and the road, but the occasional ice patch on the pavement made it impossible to keep his gaze on Kelly's intense brown eyes. He tried to imagine other cars whizzing around. What could it all mean? Was she seeing glimpses of Earth Yellow? Was Francesca back at her home, collecting her things while her new father stood guard? Did these visions confirm that they should go to Earth Yellow and find her?
Kelly stretched and yawned quietly, then looked back at him with bleary eyes.
