Step on the Sun

by Doug Plamping

  Amy put her backpack down on the floor and lifted Simon’s staff onto the counter. “This staff is getting me too much attention. I need some sort of case to hide it in.”

  Sharpie looked at her for permission to touch it. Amy nodded. He picked it up and examined the carvings carefully, running his hands up and down the staff. “Beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it. This isn’t any wood I’ve seen. Do you know what it’s made of? Where did it come from? How old is it?”

  Amy was startled, but realized that Sharpie was asking out of interest. Sharpie was watching her face intently. Amy answered, “It’s very old. I don’t know what wood it’s made of. It was entrusted to my care, but it is getting me too much attention walking in the streets.”

  Sharpie asked, “Do you know what these carvings mean?”

  “The symbol in the middle, the one that’s repeated around the staff, means Master Wayfarer.”

  “One of my father’s notebooks includes something like this, let me get it,” said Sharpie excitedly. He gently put the staff down on the counter, and left through the curtain. They heard him going upstairs.

  “Well that’s strange,” said a puzzled Tom. “I wonder what has him all excited.”

  “How long have you known him?” asked Amy.

  “Oh, you can trust him,” said Tom loyally. “He was a friend of my father’s; he’s been like an Uncle to me my whole life.” They both heard Sharpie coming back downstairs.

  Sharpie came through the curtain and placed an old black notebook on the counter. The corners were dog-eared and the edges of the pages were yellow. “This was my father’s. He belonged to a secret society. He asked me to join it when I was young, but I wasn’t interested. It really disappointed him. Years after he died I found this notebook. I don’t understand all of it, because it’s mostly written in some ancient language.” Sharpie thumbed through the pages, found what he was looking for, and laid the open book on the counter. “This symbol is the one on your staff, and next to it, I assume, is the word for it.”

  Amy looked at the book and saw that there were eight symbols on the page, similar to the ones in Simon’s journals, and a word written in Galactic alongside each one. Amy wondered where this information had come from, and only that thought prevented her from running out the door. She could run before they could lock her in, but she didn’t think they meant her any harm. Was this fate or plan? Were these people here to harm her, or to help her?

  Sharpie and Tom were watching her, waiting for her response.

  Amy said, “The symbol on my staff and in your book, this one, means Master Wayfarer. For the others, I could say the words but I don’t know what they mean. The writing is slightly different from what I know.”

  Sharpie nodded as if he knew. “What language is it?” he asked.

  Amy knew this was some kind of test. Tom was just looking back and forth between them, a puzzled look on his face. Amy answered quietly, “It’s written in a language used on Earth about ten thousand years ago, and the common language used in the local stars today.” Amy watched Sharpie carefully, knowing that his response would indicate if she was in danger here. His eyes dropped to the book, and his shoulders slumped. If anything, he looked sad. That wasn’t expected.

  “You’re kidding, right!” said Tom incredulously. Now, that was expected.

  “No, she’s not,” insisted Sharpie. “My father’s notes, at least the English part, says that the owner of a staff with these symbols will come to rescue the people of Earth. I thought it was just gibberish, something his secret society had made up. It seems my father was right, and I was wrong. Tom, I know this is hard to understand, but this young lady is from another planet, the looked for savior of Earth.”

  “You’re just kidding me, right?” Tom asked, totally confused.

  “No, we’re not kidding,” Amy confirmed. “I don’t know where Sharpie’s father received this information, except it’s not the whole galaxy, just maybe a few hundred planets in this area of the galaxy. Those planets are called the Isolated Planets. And we’re not saviors, we’re just here to help Earth reconnect with the stars. I’m not an alien, I’m from Earth.”

  Tom just stood there with his mouth open. Amy thought he looked cute, probably just like she looked when she found out she was on another planet.

  “You don’t believe me?” Amy was amused by his reaction.

  Tom laughed, disbelief in his voice, “Just a few hundred planets! Well it’s just hard to believe! If Sharpie wasn’t serious about this, it’d be a joke.”

  Turning to Sharpie, Amy questioned, “Now what?”

  “We need to talk,” said Sharpie.

  Amy shook her head, “I don’t have time. I have some unfriendly people trying to find me, and I have to meet someone this evening.”

  “How did you intend to get there?” asked Sharpie.

  “I was going to switch busses a number of times so I couldn’t be tracked,” answered Amy.

  “I have a station wagon, and Tom can drive you wherever you want to go. Would that give us time to talk?” asked Sharpie.

  Amy considered this. “Yes, I’d like a chance to look at your father’s notebook, but I have to leave in 90 minutes. Is that OK with Tom?”

  Sharpie answered for him, “I’m sure he’ll be fascinated. Let me close up the store early, and we can go upstairs.” Sharpie headed for the front door.

  Amy saw that Tom was just looking at them both. Maybe he thinks I’m an alien. Sharpie locked the front door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and pulled the blinds down. He came back to the counter and picked up the notebook. Amy picked up her backpack and Simon’s staff. Sharpie led them upstairs to a small apartment. It was neat and clean, like the workshop they’d passed through, but lacked a woman’s touch. Sharpie had them sit at the kitchen table. Through the open window, Amy could hear the traffic, but all she could see was the brick wall across the alley.

  “Have you eaten?” asked Sharpie. Amy shook her head. “Tom,” Sharpie said, “make some coffee and snacks.” Tom started towards the cupboards; it seemed this was not an unusual request.

  “First, introductions,” invited Sharpie. “I’m Thomas Allen Rushton; Sharpie is my pool hall nickname. I was quite a hustler when I was younger; now I’m a respectable businessman.” That brought a ‘Huh’ from Tom, but Sharpie just ignored it. “And this is Thomas Augustine Murphy. Tom, his father named him after me. He works for one of the financial firms; I don’t understand what he does.” This repartee was not new, and the Toms smiled at each other.

  Amy was now comfortable in this scene; it was clear that Sharpie was family to Tom. She decided that as the bad guys already knew who she was, there probably was no harm in telling them. “My name is Amy Elizabeth La Reine, I was born in the USA, and I go to university at Duke. The rest of my time, I spend in learning Galactic and preparing to go out there among the Isolated Planets.”

  Both of the Toms were silent. Amy could understand; it was hard for her to accept when she was actually doing it.

  “You say, ‘go out there’ very easily. It’s hard to believe,” said Tom, still disbelieving.

  “Amen to that!” said Amy, taking no offense. “Let me tell you about my experiences, and something about the galaxy. The three of us were walking on the beach when we saw a bunch of Mexican kids throwing stones at an old man…” Over the next 60 minutes, Amy gave them the story; about Frank, and Paul, Simon’s heart attack, the hospital, Simon being a priest, the campsite, their oaths to return Simon’s journals and staff to his school, the staff flying to her bed, meeting the spider kind, their trip to Ravinesedge and escaping the bandits, and now her trip to pick up Daughter and bring her to Earth. They drank coffee and ate snacks while Amy told them about her experiences, and she answered some of their questions as she went along. By the time she finished, time was almost up.

  “It seems like a movie,” said Sharpie in wonder.

  “Doesn’t it!” said Tom with a skeptical shake of h
is head.

  They were both thinking about what Amy had told them. Amy realized that she had broken her oath to Simon, but she felt justified, as she was in need of help and they knew part of the story already. She realized that she owed the full story to Sally too! What about her parents?

  “The sad part is that I never thought anything much of this secret society my father was in,” said Sharpie. “They must know some of this. I’m certain he wasn’t supposed to keep notes about what he knew. Dad wrote here about a book having thick gold covers and thin silver pages.”

  “That’s one of the eight books we need to find. We were told that one was on Earth. Who else was in this secret society?” asked Amy.

  Sharpie thought about it. “My father never even told me the name of the society. I just know that he used to take the bus downtown on the same night every week.”

  Amy was looking at the notebook. “The writing in here is a bit different from the Galactic I’m learning, but I’m sure we could translate it. Can you make a copy of this notebook for me?”

  “I can,” said Sharpie enthusiastically, “but I have a condition.” Amy knew her eyebrows had gone up. He explained, “I owe it to my father.”

  Amy asked, softening her expression, “What condition?”

  “I want Tom and I to be part of your organization on Earth,” requested Sharpie.

  Amy was puzzled. “I don’t have an organization.”

  Sharpie emphasized, “You will!”

  Amy thought about it. “True. We’ll have to develop something on Earth to support us; it’s just that we haven’t tackled that yet.”

  “When you do, and the sooner the better, I want Tom and me involved. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “What does Tom think?” asked Amy looking at Tom. She wanted to get a direct answer from Tom himself.

  Tom hesitated a bit. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure I believe all of this. Maybe it’s a dream and I’ll wake up. Sharpie is so certain because he has the notebook. It’s difficult to accept. If Sharpie says it’s real, I’d like to believe it. It would be cool to go to other planets.”

  “It’s OK, Tom,” sympathized Amy. “Sometimes I think it is all a dream. Then I see the staff in my hand when I wake up, and it’s real again. Sharpie, Tom, thanks. I don’t know what it will entail yet, but you’ll hear from me. How do I contact you?”

  Sharpie didn’t answer that directly. “I need to know who’s chasing you.”

  “We don’t know, but Paul said they use the latest encrypted US military radios,” answered Amy.

  “Then it could be one of many government agencies, or a well-equipped private group; that equipment is expensive and hard to get. You’re best to assume that they’re very good at what they do. I was in intelligence for part of my military service. You must stay off any telephone or cellphone. They can track calls by voiceprint and track a cellphone even if you’re not using it. Keep your cellphone powered off. The best way to communicate is to set up a new email account every week, and never use any words that will key them to you. That way you could email either of us without suspicion. You’ll need to hide that staff. Let me see what I have.” Sharpie went back downstairs.

  Amy asked Tom about his work, and he described his employment with the financial clearing house in the economic forecasting section. A shout from downstairs interrupted their discussion; Sharpie wanted them to come down and bring the staff. Amy and Tom went down to the workshop. Sharpie had four old pool cue cases on a worktable. They were considerably longer than Tom’s.

  “These are old cases from when single piece pool cues were more popular. The cases for the two-piece cues are too short. There are still some people using these old cases for antique cues so it won’t cause too much attention. Which one would you like? Amy looked at them all carefully.

  “The brown one I think; I want to be less noticeable!” said Amy. One of them was plum red; it would be worse than the staff.

  “Good choice. If you loan me your staff I’ll change the foam inside so it fits the staff.” Amy passed Sharpie her staff, and she and Tom watched him make some rapid changes to hold the staff securely. While she was watching him, she wondered what Paul and Frank were doing about traveling with their staffs.

  “Sharpie, could you adapt two more cases for staffs?” asked Amy.

  “For your friends? Of course, no problem; I’ve got more cases in the basement. Do you want me to change the colors?” he asked with a grin, holding up the plum colored case.

  Amy grinned back. “Yes, they need to be something inconspicuous, brown, or grey maybe.”

  “I can handle that,” said Sharpie. “Do you want to pick them up or do you want me to ship them?”

  “With people following me, I’d better not come here too frequently. Can you ship them, both are outside the US?”

  “Not a problem,” Sharpie assured her. “We ship custom cases all the time. Give me a list of where you want them shipped. I’ll destroy the addresses afterwards.”

  Amy reached for a pad of paper.

  “You don’t want to do that,” interrupted Sharpie. Seeing Amy’s puzzled expression, he explained, “Writing on a pad always leaves an impression on the next few sheets that can be read by other people. Tear off one sheet and write your message on a hard surface.”

  Amy did as he suggested. She wrote their addresses, and she wrote a separate note to be included in each case telling Frank and Paul that she was sending them these cases to make traveling with their staffs easier. While Amy was preparing the notes, Sharpie and Tom were measuring the staff so they could adapt the extra cases.

  Amy passed the addresses and the notes to Sharpie. “Send a note with each case and send the invoice to me.”

  “You don’t have to pay me,” said Sharpie, insulted.

  Amy smiled. “It’s OK. We have money for this sort of thing. If you invoice us, you can later just say that this girl came in, paid cash for one case, and ordered two more. You can tell them that you don’t know any more than that.”

  “Good.” Sharpie was impressed. “Now you’re thinking like an agent.”

  Was that a compliment? “I don’t think I should take the copy of your father’s notebook with me. Make color copies and send it in the cases to Frank and Paul. I’ll give you notes on that too.” Amy tore off more sheets. “I’m at Duke for a few months. When I get back to Earth I’ll arrange to meet with you again. I’ll bring the translation of your father’s notebook with me. You should probably hide the original notebook in the meantime.”

  “We use a bank to hold confidential papers for our clients,” Tom said. “There’s no computer record, and the bank doesn’t know the names of our clients. I’ll open an account for a Swiss shell company and use that account for you. Anything else you need securing, just get it to me using the company name.”

  “What company name?” asked Amy.

  “How about Q3 Partners?” asked Tom with a smile. Amy smiled back.

  “Of course,” Sharpie laughed, “hide in plain sight; good idea Tom! When you call a meeting here, we’ll meet at the pool hall around the corner. Tom will point it out. You or the others can come there with your staffs in their cases and it won’t seem strange. I’m part owner and I can hold a room at the back for you.”

  “That sound’s good,” said Amy. “If there are questions, we can just tell people we’re there for a private tournament.” Amy realized that a meeting place that was not at any of their homes, or other places that they might be expected to go to, would be useful. Right now, it might be that she was the only one being watched and followed, but that could change.

  “It’s time to go,” said Tom reluctantly.

  “Yes, I’d best not be late.

  “You get on your way,” said Sharpie passing the keys to Tom and the case, with the staff in it, to Amy.

  “Thanks for everything,” said a grateful Amy.

  “Miss, it’s a pleasure,” chuckled Sharpie. “Besides you made my father’s dre
am come true. It was destiny.”

  “You believe in destiny?” Amy was intrigued by the comment.

  Sharpie smiled gently, counting on his fingers. “One, I’m probably the only person on Earth with a notebook on this secret society. Two, you stop Tom on the street. Three, he brings you here. What are the odds! Of course I believe in destiny! Someone’s watching over you.”

  Amy didn't like the idea of a destiny controlling her life. Was that why Sandspour made her get off the bus? If it was Sandspour, was he manipulating her life, and what was he doing on Earth? She just nodded to Sharpie and left; she didn’t have an answer.

  Nice girl, Sharpie thought. She was learning fast, but he wondered if she would learn fast enough to survive the dangers to her and her friends on Earth and other planets. He waited at the back door. It’d be nice if she and Tom hooked up, and smiled to himself for playing matchmaker. As they drove away he waved goodbye.

  He went upstairs, saying to the ceiling with a lot of regret, “Well Father, you were right all along. It seems I owe you some apologies.”

  * * *

  Amy followed Tom out of the back door and down the alley to Sharpie’s station wagon. To Amy, the thought that some destiny was controlling her life was scary. She needed to talk to Paul; maybe with his Catholic upbringing he knew about this destiny stuff. The station wagon was old but clean. Tom tapped the hood. “Sharpie uses it for deliveries all around the state. It's old, but reliable.”

  Amy gave Tom the directions to the mall where she would meet John. He drove out of the alley, turning to go past the Three Corners Pool Hall. Amy memorized the name and address. They soon reached the interstate. While they drove to the mall, they talked about Tom’s university days; he had graduated in Economics two years ago. Amy told him about her experiences at the White House. It was a relief for her to talk about something mundane.

  They were at the mall in 15 minutes. Tom suggested that he pull up to one side, so Amy could walk around the outside where there would be fewer security cameras. That way there would be no record of the two cars together.

  “Aren’t we being paranoid?” teased Amy.

  “Sharpie would say - are we being paranoid enough!” exclaimed Tom. They both laughed. “Remember, we’re both waiting to help,” Tom added as Amy retrieved her case and backpack from the back seat.