Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1)

by Pamela Davis

  Max sat on a bench to try on the boots. "Do you really think I can be a part of your security team?"

  Black assured him, "Absolutely. I'm going to need strong young men and women, and you fit the bill. Ever do any fighting?"

  Max shook his head. "No. I had somebody fight me--beat me up--but I never fought back."

  He looked up at Black as he finished tying the boot laces snugly. "It was my Dad. He used to beat me up. That's why I ran away. If I'd fought back, well, I think he woulda killed me."

  Black grunted. "Then you were smart to not fight back, son. You have to choose your battles. But don't you worry. I'll teach you what you need to know. Nobody's gonna go beating up on you when I'm through with you."

  Max grinned at him. "I like the sound of that!"

  "So do those fit?" Black asked.

  "Yeah, they do. But don't you think we're buying an awful lot of shoes and boots, Black?"

  Reaching for several more pairs of the boots in larger sizes, Black said, "Boy, you already got big feet and you ain't done growin' yet. I can't have you running around barefoot a year from now. My team of Protectors wears boots!"

  Max nodded, surprised that Black seemed to think they'd still be here a year from now.

  The Samuels' House

  Jessica sat, wilted on the overstuffed, flowered silk chair in her bedroom. Her azure-blue eyes were huge. John sat on the edge of the bed across from her.

  "I know, honey, this is a lot to take in, but--"

  "You know? You don't know anything about it! I've been wracking my brain all afternoon after having you yell at me! Feeling guilty and trying to understand how I did such a stupid, stupid thing. And now you're telling me my daughter, my sweet little girl, turned on me and messed with my mind? You don't know anything about how I feel right now, John!"

  "Jess, hon, I don't think she turned on you--"

  "Then what do you call it? She manipulated my thoughts! How is that even possible?"

  "I don't know. I just don't know," John replied, an expression of sorrow on his face.

  "My God, what are we going to do?" Jessica asked. "This is like--you know what it's like? That Twilight Zone episode where that little boy manipulates all those people with his mind. He controls their behavior. That's what this is like! It's like a horror story."

  "Jessica, that was a story and the characters in it weren't like us, weren't like Sam."

  "Oh really?"

  "Yes, really. We've given Sam a good foundation. She knows the difference between right and wrong. But I think this is like anything else with kids. Even when a kid knows they shouldn't lie, they still do end up trying it out. And in Sam's case, nobody ever told her not to do this--this--thing. It's a skill she has but we didn't even know she had it. And as her parents, it's up to us to teach her how to use it wisely."

  Jessica glared at him. "I don't want her using it wisely! I don't want her using it ever again!"

  "Okay, hon, but there may come a time when we need her to use it."

  "You can't be serious. She can't be allowed to do this! We have to make her understand that she can't ever do it. Not ever!"

  John took a deep breath, and then said softly, "Not even to save her life? If we're overrun here and evil people get hold of her? If we're attacked and she's in mortal danger? Not even then?"

  Jessica stared at him for a moment and buried her face in her hands.

  Chapter 12

  San Juan Islands, aboard the Rhondavous yacht

  Captain Hollywood regaled them with tales from his years of whale-watching as they munched on ham and cheese sandwiches and potato chips.

  Phoebe asked, "But weren't you ever afraid they'd run right into your boat and flip it over?"

  "Never!" he replied. "Not once. You see, they're smart. And they like to play. So they charge up to the boat like they're going to ram it--but they never, ever touch it. I've seen them do it a few times and it's thrilling. Last year we had six playing around the boat at once!"

  Phoebe didn't look thrilled. She looked terrified.

  Zack was enthralled hearing about the magnificent sea creatures. They'd gotten a late start on their tour, but even so, they were treated to the sight of Bald Eagles, a Great Blue Heron, and a couple of Belted Kingfisher birds before the sun started to go down. They planned to sleep on board and try to contact the whales tomorrow. Captain Hollywood, and what a name that was, Zack thought with a grin, felt confident they would see some of the whales, perhaps from J pod. The pods were all named and the whale-watching guides in the area knew who was who within each pod. Zack was fascinated by the signs of intelligence the whales seem to possess.

  He asked, "How smart do you really think they are, Captain?"

  "I think we have no idea just how intelligent they are, in part because it's a different kind of intelligence than we have. But the scientists say their brains are almost four times larger than ours, and they have all those deep folds in the brain like humans do that indicate high mental ability." He paused to take a sip of hot tea. The wind and water combined for a chilly night and he was getting warmed up from being outside. He thought this group of clients was a strange mix and pretty intense, but he enjoyed the rapt audience.

  "The other thing is in the way they forage for food. In this area they feed on salmon, which are plentiful here. But in other parts of the world, wherever they live, they feed on the most abundant food source. Think about that! They don't feed on species that are rarer. They base their choice on the ecology of the region, on what will make the least impact on the environment. There are a lot of us humans who haven't figured things out nearly as well. And they have a society that is peaceful! I'm telling you we could learn a lot from them."

  "Maybe we will," Margaret murmured.

  Dusty Dubois heard her but didn't respond. Sure, it was all interesting information, she mused. But I wonder what Captain Hollywood would say if he knew Margaret planned to talk to the whales and not just watch them. She turned to Alan Beakman sitting next to her and whispered, "This oughta be some show tomorrow."

  He looked at her and rolled his eyes. All day long he tried to think of some way to cheer up his old friend and mentor, but what could he say? Her city was gone. Alan couldn't believe it himself. And from what little he'd seen on TV earlier, he was shocked that people weren't up in arms about it. Didn't they realize that Houston was one damn big city? But it seemed like after L.A. and the quake there with so many dead, it seemed like people were shutting it out. There had been so much horrific news that people couldn't grasp it, couldn't handle knowing about it. And Margaret was predicting more disasters. Alan hoped fervently she was wrong.

  "So there we were in my smaller boat, The Cobalt," Alan heard Captain Hollywood telling the rest of the table, "and you have to understand it's painted black and white, just like the whales are. I go over to the rail and look down and there about twelve feet under the boat is a whale--upside down! Mirroring the boat, keeping station with it, always in place. It was unbelievable."

  Grimly, Dusty thought everything lately was pretty unbelievable.

  The Samuels' House

  John sat on Samantha's bed, watching his daughter sitting cross-legged and leaning against the headboard. Jessica was across the room, arms crossed, as she listened to him talk. She was very still.

  "Sam, are hearing what I'm telling you? What you did was wrong," John explained.

  Her bottom lip came out a bit and she looked hurt. "So Merlin told on me? Why?"

  "Because, sweetie, what you did to Mommy was a wrong thing to do."

  "But, Daddy, she was gonna take too long and we had to go and save Harmony! You like Harmony, don't you?"

  John sighed and said, "Yes, of course, I like Harmony a lot. And I don't want to see her get hurt. But Sam, it was dangerous for you to be there."

  "Nah huh," she said, shaking her head. "Black was there and he's the Protector. He would keep me safe. I know it."

  "Yes, but what if he was busy keeping Harmo
ny safe? And then what if something happened to you? That would make us all very sad. You have to stay safe, Sam."

  "But--" she began, only to be interrupted by Jessica.

  "Sam!" Jessica spoke sharply, then stopped and caught her breath. "Sam, you know how when Harry was a little puppy and he wanted to go out in the road? And you had to bring him back and tell him 'No,' that it was too dangerous?"

  Sam nodded. "I remember, Mommy."

  Jessica continued. "And do you remember the day he ran out in the road anyway? And that car came by and almost hit him? Then Daddy swatted him on the nose with the newspaper?"

  "Yeah, I remember I cried and Harry cried too. But you didn't hit him hard, Daddy, it just scared him."

  John asked, "So you think that we did the right thing to punish Harry? So he could learn to not go into a dangerous situation?"

  "Well, sure, Dad," Sam replied, then stopped and stared at him, recognition slowly dawning on her face.

  Jessica said, "Sam, when there is the chance that a gun will be fired to protect someone else--that is a dangerous situation. Mr. Johnson was sort of crazy today, and he could have shot at us in the car with his shotgun. You could have been hurt or killed. I could have been hurt or killed."

  John looked straight into Sam's big brown eyes opened so wide. "Sam, we are the grown-ups. We're the parents. And we have to protect you from dangerous situations, just like we had to protect Harry from dangerous situations. What you did to Mommy was wrong because she couldn't protect you anymore."

  Jessica shivered, and Sam let herself open up to her mother's emotions. What she saw inside Jessica was awful. Mommy was scared of her! Daddy wasn't, but he was scared for her. But Mommy--oh, no, she thought, did I make her like this? 'Cause I made her go there?

  "Mommy," she pleaded, "are you ever going to not be scared of me again?"

  Jessica took a deep breath and said firmly, "Honestly, Sam, it's going to take a while. What you did was scary to me. It was wrong to do. I don't want you to just barge into my mind like that! Not ever!"

  "Do you still love me?" Sam asked in a small voice.

  Jessica replied, "Yes, I still love you. I'll always love you. But you and me--we have to build up trust between us again. I have to know you aren't going to do that to me ever again."

  "Does that mean I gotta get a punishment?" Sam asked. "Like I gotta get grounded?"

  John glanced at Jessica and she nodded. "Go ahead," she said.

  John turned to Sam. "We think you deserve to be punished, but we have a problem. Normally we would say no videos, or something like that. But you haven't been watching videos lately. And if we tell you to stay in your room or that you're not allowed to go out and play, well, you have contact with the animals and they would still be talking to you, right?"

  Sam nodded.

  "So we want to know--what is it that you want most right now to do?"

  Sam grinned. "Wel-l-l, what I really want most is to go ride on the horses. Janine told me maybe tomorrow I can go with her." She stopped smiling and said, "Oh, no! You mean I can't go ride the horses?"

  Jessica said, "That's right, Sam. You're grounded from riding horses."

  Sam's eyes filled with tears. "But, Mom! I was talking to this one horse, he's named Sunny, and he's so nice and he said I could ride him!" She looked from one stern parental face to the other.

  "Not ever?" she asked, as tears streamed down her face. "Can I ever ride him, ever?"

  Jessica uncrossed her arms and walked over to her daughter. Kneeling by the bed, she said, "You can't ride him until I'm sure you're not going to go into my mind again, Sam. Someday, you can ride Sunny. But only if you stay out of my mind--and not just me--all the people in our group here--you have to stay out of their minds too. What that means is that you can't try to make anyone do anything."

  "You mean the pressing, right?"

  Jessica looked uncertainly at John. He asked, "Is that what you call it, sweetie? Pressing?"

  "Yeah, that's what it feels like when I do it, like pressing against something."

  Jessica smiled tentatively at her daughter. "Well, okay then. No more pressing--no more mind press. And Sam," she added, "the trees have agreed to watch out for you doing any pushing. So they'll tell me if you do it."

  "The trees?" Sam squeaked. "How'd they find out?"

  "Never mind how, they just know these things. So you be on your best behavior, and no mind pressing of anyone in our group, and then after a while we'll see about you riding Sunny, okay?"

  "A while? A while will take forever!" she wailed.

  Washington D.C., the Oval Office

  "You're telling me the Mississippi River is going to flood and I can't do anything about it?" the President yelled at his science advisor.

  "No, sir. It's nature--you can't stop the rain, and the rain will cause some flooding. But we don't think it will be too severe," Hutton replied.

  "Oh, you don't, do you?" the President said sarcastically. "Seems like I've heard this refrain before."

  "We're just going to have to wait and see, sir. But in the meantime, I've located that woman, the one on the news the other night. Margaret Larson is her name. We think she's in Washington State currently."

  "You think? Hutton, are you ever going to know anything?"

  "She's not staying at a motel. But we know her plane landed there. We've put agents at the plane."

  "And what's her story?"

  "She has a history of emotional problems, sir. But from everything we can determine, she's never been associated with any foreign governments or terrorist groups. So it's extremely unlikely that she is causing these events in any way."

  "She just has visions of the events," the President said.

  "Yes, sir."

  "And you're telling me that Nature is responsible for all this? That there's nothing to fight? No way to stop it all from happening?"

  "Well, sir, no--unless you want to fight Mother Nature. I'm sure that's not what you want to do." Hutton laughed weakly. Then he stopped as he saw the look of interest appear in the President's eyes.

  The Samuels' House

  Black walked into a house full of the aroma of roasting beef. He found John and Jessica in the dining room setting up a very long table, adding leaves in the middle.

  "John, I have good news."

  John looked up at him wearily. It had been a long day. "I could use some about now. Tell." He motioned to a chair and Black sat down across from him.

  "I bought out the two gun stores in the immediate area."

  "You what," John said, incredulous.

  "Look, the way I see it, we'll get some scavengers, some looters, some people running away from other places. When they come through here, we don't want them to have access to a bunch of guns in a deserted shop. So I got together with your mother, Gracie, and we pooled our money and bought out the two stores. She wired money here from New York."

  "Oh, Lord!" Jessica said, and left the room.

  Black raised an eyebrow and looked at John, questioning.

  "It's a long story, and frankly, not one I care to discuss right now," John said. "But I think you're right about the guns. We don't want them just lying around to be picked up and used against us. Do you have a place to store them?

  "Gracie says to use one of the barns at the farm. She and I will work out an alarm system. Don't worry, we've got it covered."

  John smiled wanly. "Well, that's good to know. Listen Black, I need to ask you to do something--or rather, to not do something." He paused and then continued. "Don't ever take Samantha with you on a mission to rescue anyone. Today--when she went with you guys--that shouldn't have happened."

  "I wondered about that," Black conceded. "Everything happened so fast. They were in the car before I realized what we were heading for with Harmony. I'm sorry about that, John. It won't happen again." He stopped and scrutinized John's face. "There's more to this than you're telling me, isn't there?"

  "Yes," John responded. "But I'm
not going to tell you the whole story, Black, so I hope you can live with that. If it turns out later that I need to discuss it with you, I will."

  Black stood. "Fine with me. And that food smells fine too! What are we having at this dinner?"

  John laughed. "It's Mrs. Philpott's Freezer Feast. And I dare you to say that ten times in a row. We found out today the generator for her house didn't arrive. And the power is going to go out tomorrow night. Our generator isn't hooked up to her house. With our freezers stuffed full, the women decided to clear out her freezer. Turns out she had two nice-sized spoon roasts in there--they should be fork-tender about now. Plus some frozen broccoli, so Abby made her famous broccoli casserole. Potatoes and carrots with the roast, just because, according to Jess, they taste so good cooked with the beef." He paused to watch Alex and Lisanne walk in.

  Alex said, "Keep talking! I heard you from the hallway. My mouth is already watering, this sounds so good. What else? Is there more?"

  He laughed, saying, "Of course! A huge tossed salad with those little grape tomatoes--I love those, and Jessica's balsamic vinegar and oil dressing. Gracie made gallons of lemonade iced tea, using up the frozen lemonade. Jess made her rolls. You all will love them. She makes the best bread. And finally, ice cream, lots of ice cream, for dessert. Turns out Mrs. P was a closet ice cream addict."

  "What's a spoon roast?" Lisanne asked.

  "I can answer that one," came a voice from the hall. "A roast that cooks up so melt-in-your-mouth tender you could eat it with a spoon," said the well-built man of about 5' 7" who strolled into the room. A shock of his straight black hair fell over one eyebrow, almost into his light green eyes. He looked about forty years old, and he had a ready smile as he gazed upon the others.

  "Doc!" John cried. "Everyone meet Dr. Mark Shapiro."

  Dorena-Hickman Ferry, Dorena's Landing, Missouri

  Captain Joe stared out at the rising waters of the Mississippi. It wasn't a flood, not yet, but if this rain kept up, he would head back to shore.