by Jacob Whaler
There’s a long silence.
“Sooner or later, everyone does,” Jake says. “About my eyes, right?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Everybody wants to know about my eyes, or the lack thereof.” He adjusts his aviator sunglasses, pushing them back up his nose. “Not much to tell, really. It was after Little John found me. He had his Stone by then and had sobered up, mostly. We traveled a lot back then, all over the West from Seattle to San Diego, moving from casino to casino. Little John loved to gamble.”
Kent stands up. “Mind if I get something to eat? Good stories always make me hungry. And I’m guessing we’ll both be telling a lot of them before this trip is over.”
“Go right ahead,” Jake says. “Should be some sandwiches and drinks in there. Maybe even a slice of Rachel’s famous German chocolate cake. She always makes the food for the road.”
Kent opens the refrigerator and grabs two bundles wrapped in brown paper. He turns around and throws one to Jake.
Jake lifts a hand and catches it in midair. “Thanks,” he says.
“You got a lot of explaining to do for a man with no eyes.”
“I’m getting there.” Jake opens the brown paper and takes out a ham and cheese sandwich. Bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply, he takes an enormous bite out of its middle and continues talking with his mouth full. “Where were we?”
“Going from casino to casino,” Kent says. “From Seattle to San Diego.”
Jake swallows and takes another bite. “We had a good life, Little John and me. Nice cars. Eating in the best restaurants. We never even washed our clothes. It was easier to just throw away the dirty ones and buy new ones. It was pretty heady stuff for a teenager used to living on the streets. We would show up at a casino. In a few hours, we’d leave with our pockets full of cash.”
“How did he do it?” Kent bites into his sandwich and savors the salami and provolone.
“Simple,” Jake says. “He used the Stone.”
Kent raises an eyebrow. “How?”
“You must not know much about the Stones,” Jake says. “Little John could use it to see things. In the future. It came in real handy at the roulette table. It wasn’t really a game of chance for him. He knew where the ball would land.”
“A gambler’s dream.”
Jake laughs. “But there was one problem. The casinos started catching on. We tried to be careful, even losing large sums now and then. But rumors started that we were gaming the system. They blamed me and my big eyes.”
Jake grows silent.
The ending of the story suddenly becomes clear. Kent isn’t sure he wants to hear it.
“It was late one night,” Jake says. “We were down in Tijuana making the rounds at illegal gambling joints. A dozen cholos were waiting for us after we left one. We tried to pay them off, but they didn’t want money.”
“What did they want?”
“My eyeballs. The rumors were that I was somehow acting as a spotter to help Little John win. They figured that if I was blind, I couldn’t help him anymore. The cholos said they could get a million for one eye, and three million for the pair.”
Kent grimaces. “Ouch.”
“Actually, it didn’t hurt.” Jake takes another bite from his sandwich and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “They took me to a back alley surgeon. He gave me anesthesia to dull the pain. Made sure I didn’t get infection. Sewed it back up nice and neat. I’m grateful for that.”
Kent tries to focus on his sandwich. But he doesn’t feel like eating any more.
“That’s it.” Jake chews another big bite. “Like I said, not much to tell.”
“Why didn’t Little John just use his Stone to disappear and jump you both somewhere else? It’s the logical thing to do.”
Jake swallows. “Good question. Maybe he didn’t know how to do it back then. I never saw him do it. But he does it now. Every Stone is different. He used his to see the future.”
“If he can see the future, why didn’t he see the Black Harpies coming for him yesterday?”
“He told me once.” Jake takes another bite of the sandwich. “He couldn’t see everything. Just bits and pieces. And almost nothing about himself.”
“Interesting.” Kent looks down at his sandwich and decides he’s had enough. “But you’re not done.”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t finished your story yet. About your eyes.” Kent rolls up the brown paper and walks to the refrigerator. “You left out the best part.”
“What part?”
Reaching in the refrigerator, Kent takes out a can of beer. Suddenly, he turns and tosses it to Jake, aiming at his forehead.
Jake’s arm shoots out and grabs it with one hand.
“That part,” Kent says. “The way you still can see everything.”
The transport truck rumbles to a stop. Jake jumps up and walks to the bathroom door, turns the knob and steps through.
“I gotta pee.”
CHAPTER 30
Matt’s eyes open.
He’s lying on his back in the jungle darkness. It hurts to breathe. He tries to get up, but shards of pain shoot down his abdomen and thigh. Snatches of stars pierce through the tree canopy above. A full moon shines between the leaves and branches. Stretching both arms out on the ground, one hand brushes something long and hard. Fingers close around it and, with painful effort, he brings it up in front of his eyes.
A ski pole.
Then he remembers. Skiing with Jessica. The long kiss. Something hit him in the chest. And then blackness.
“Jessica,” he calls out. “Jessica, are you there?”
No answer.
With the help of the ski pole, he drags his body to a nearby tree and works himself into a sitting position with his back against the trunk. In the spotty moonlight, he inspects his injuries. An oblong bruise extends across his chest from armpit to armpit down to his navel. Judging from the pain, multiple ribs are broken. The right thigh throbs in unison with his pulse. He can’t move it, and it jolts him if he tries to touch it.
“Jessica, can you hear me?”
No answer.
Matt’s eyes go up to the night sky.
Please don’t let her die.
The realization comes that he can’t do anything until he heals his body. Wherever she is, Jessica will have to wait until Matt can move.
Digging into his pants, he finds the Stone, grips it tightly and tries to concentrate.
Now he needs something to focus his eyes on to get started.
A few meters away, a lone white flower catches his attention. He stares at it with a soft gaze and begins breathing mindfully, relaxing deeper into himself with each exhale. Thoughts of Jessica flow in and out, raising fear and doubt. He does not resist it, but keeps his attention on the flower and his breath. Before he can help her, he must heal himself. In time, the drone of night insects grows distant in his mind.
He looks down at his thigh.
His vision passes through the mass of outer muscles to the femur bone. Scanning along its length, he finds two breaks, eight inches apart. He begins with the nearest one, willing the two broken ends to melt together. The entire process unfolds more quickly this time, its speed determined by the confidence and intention he pours into it. If his mind wanders, or if doubt and fear creep in, it slows or stops.
The second break heals more quickly. Then he moves his attention to the wounded space around the bone, going deeply into the tissues.
He finds that a detailed knowledge of human anatomy is of little help. Scanning through his thigh, the damage stands out as islands of asymmetry and imbalance. All he has to do is focus his awareness on a particular area until it flows back into balance. Except for the obvious breaks in the femur bone, he has no idea whether he is healing muscle, nerves, arteries or veins. It’s all one seamless whole.
Matt shifts his focus up to his abdomen and chest, moving through each section with attention and p
atience until it flows together in equilibrium.
When he finally gets to his feet, the night sky has turned bright pink behind the mountains. The sun will be up in a few minutes.
He takes a step forward and scans the area, searching for her.
Nothing.
A tidal wave of emotion—love mixed with terror—towers above him, as if frozen in time. As he opens himself to it, the wave comes to life, crashing down, engulfing his senses. He embraces the love and rejects the fear.
Maybe she’s at the house.
Jessica. I’m coming.
Sprinting down the path, objects blur past as if he’s moving through a tunnel. Banana trees and ferns, bamboo and palms. Each time the fear rises up in his chest and threatens to overwhelm him, he pushes it back with the hope that he will find her resting comfortably on a futon, alive and well, oblivious to any danger.
The closer he gets, the stronger the sense grows that she’s not going to be there.
When he arrives at the spot where the house had been, he can no longer hold back the floodgates. They open up and a torrent of terror rains down on him until he drops to his knees. He feels the color drain from his face and the life drain from his eyes.
The house is a smoking heap of debris on the sand.
Picking up a long stick, he pokes through the charred remains of tatami mats, wood beams, broken dishes and roof tiles, looking for any trace of Jessica, dreading what he might find.
But there is nothing.
A massive weight flows into his body, pulling him down on the sand. He stares at the ground. It would be a relief to cry, a way of channeling the emotion exploding inside, but no tears come. Only raw, bottomless grief.
At some point, the sun rises behind him, its warmth kissing his back. He looks up. The vast ocean spreads out before him. A glint of light in the sand catches his attention. Jumping to his feet, he runs to its source.
Something is sticking blade-down in the ground, as if thrust there on purpose.
Ryzaard’s dagger.
CHAPTER 31
Alexa looks at the woman sleeping on the sofa and rolls her eyes.
“I have to babysit her again?”
Ryzaard turns the back of his chair to Alexa and stares out the window. “She’s a valuable asset. For now, maybe the only leverage we have over the kid. Find a secure place to put her and keep her there, under guard. Got it?”
“Got it,” Alexa says. “We have some spare apartments a few blocks over. I’ll stick her there. When will she wake up?”
“The sedative will wear off in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll get the boys over here to transport her to her new home.”
“Keep her completely isolated. You are the only person she is to have contact with.”
“All that education, and I end up being a glorified babysitter . . .”
Ryzaard walks past Alexa, through the open door of his office. “I’ll be in a staff meeting.” His footsteps echo down the long corridor to the lab.
When he gets there, the first thing he notices is the big smile between the two bare feet resting on the table.
“Kalani, good to have you back,” Ryzaard says. “How was the hospital stay?” He looks around the table and mentally checks off their names. Jerek, Elsa, Kalani, Jing-wei and Diego. The best of the best. His children are all here.
“I only did two things in the hospital,” Kalani says. “Eat cheeseburgers and hack into the NHS data-site. It’s interesting to read the health histories of senators and five-star generals, not to mention the President.” He presses a big yellow Twinkie into his mouth all at once, talking around it. “Have I missed anything since the attack?”
“Yeah, all the cleanup we had to do.” Jing-wei glares at him.
Ryzaard opens the lapels of his tweed jacket and shows off the three Stones underneath. “We are rapidly increasing our power position and moving forward.” He sits down. “Let’s go around the table and see where we are.”
“What about Alexa?” Diego says.
“She is taking care of urgent business and cannot attend.” Ryzaard looks past the empty chair to his right. “Jerek, please update us on what you are doing.”
Jerek opens eyes with dark circles beneath them. He’s slumping in his chair. It takes him a few seconds to sit up straight. “A lot going on right now. I’ve never worked on so many science projects at the same time. Not getting much sleep.”
“None of us are.” Elsa sits to the right of Jerek and a half-smile creeps onto her face. “Get used to it.”
Ignoring Elsa, Jerek sips blue liquid from a small plastic bag. It jolts him awake. “I just finished building a machine that allows Dr. Ryzaard to follow jumps made with Stones, as long as we have reliable electromagnetic spectrum samples from the jump premises. We’ve already tested it once—”
“And it works well.” Ryzaard nods in the direction of Jerek. “The test was successful. It took me straight to the kid.”
All eyes shoot open and focus on Ryzaard.
Kalani chokes on his second Twinkie. “You’ve seen Matt?” He spits gobs of yellow cake onto the table.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” Ryzaard says. “And his girlfriend. She will be our guest until we are able to deal with the kid. Alexa is with her right now.”
Jing-wei puts her hands on the table, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. “Where is Matt?”
“Don’t speak that name in my presence.” Silence fills the room as Ryzaard’s glare scans the table. “He is . . .” He struggles to find the right words. “He is in his own world.”
“His own world? What do you mean?” Jing-wei blushes as all the eyes in the room turn to her.
“What I mean is a world created by him out of his own imagination. A sort of personal paradise.” Ryzaard leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “It’s a gift given to Stone Holders, but it usually takes decades of effort to achieve. The fact that he did it only days after getting the Stone is a matter of grave concern.” Ryzaard pans around the table. “Based on what I saw, I have changed my thinking about him. The kid is no longer just a nuisance. His very existence poses a threat to our entire enterprise which must be eliminated as soon as possible.”
Elsa Bergman’s eyes jump from person to person. Her hand goes up. “May I ask a rather obvious question?”
“Please do,” Ryzaard says.
“Why didn’t you just kill him?”
Ryzaard stares back and stands up. “I don’t expect you to understand.” A razor’s edge of anger comes through his voice. “Believe me, I tried. But I discovered that it is no easy thing to kill a Stone Holder in his own world. Their Stone keeps them alive, gives them special protections.” Ryzaard is on his feet now, as if daring any of the young people to throw another question at him.
Elsa persists. “Then why didn’t you bring him here with the girl and then kill him?”
“Impossible.” Ryzaard’s voice drops to a low growl. “As long as he is in his own world, the most I can do is hurt him, which I did. With great relish.”
Jerek shoots a glance at Elsa. “Are you done with your cross-examination of Dr. Ryzaard?” He mumbles something else under his breath that no one at the table hears.
“Now, now,” Ryzaard says. “All questions are welcome. But let us move on. Elsa, how is the trading pro—”
“Just one more thing, Dr. Ryzaard, if I may.” Jerek leans forward. “Now that we’ve successfully tested my little machine that allowed you to follow the kid, I’m working on reducing it to a small portable device.”
“Good idea,” Ryzaard says. “What about a small portable Null Box to neutralize the Stones? Any progress on that front?”
“I need time,” Jerek says. “It’s more difficult than it looks.”
“Always is.” Ryzaard moves his eyes to Elsa Bergman. “Now tell us about the trading program.”
Elsa grins a wide smile. “With Dr. Ryzaard’s two Stones, the prediction protocol has doubled its
reach.”
“And the current rate of profits?” Ryzaard brushes a piece of lint from his jacket.
“One hundred billion IMUs in the last twelve hours.” She pauses for the magnitude of that number to sink in. “We’ll do better today. The only limit is the number of Stones.”
“I admire your work,” Ryzaard says. “It pays the bills and keeps the cluster systems running.” His voice takes on a more serious tone. “But profits of this magnitude will soon become an embarrassment that requires explanation. How can we hide them?”
“For starters, we’re only reporting ten percent of the real profits.” Elsa twists to the right and left in her chair. Her spine audibly pops. “And we’re setting up our own bank to keep the rest.”
“Excellent.” Ryzaard nods. “I have some good news. The power of the prediction protocol will soon take a huge leap forward. Another live Stone is about to come online. It will increase our power by ten-fold, maybe more.”
The look on Elsa’s face can only be described as pure elation. “We’ll need more banks. The legal department is going to be busy setting them up.”
“And while you’re at it, double the salaries of everyone at this table.” Ryzaard looks around and smiles warmly at each of the young people. “You’ve all been working hard.”
“How about a vacation?” Jerek says.
“We are on the cusp of a great breakthrough,” Ryzaard says. “I am afraid vacations will not be possible for some time. I suggest you learn to get by on less sleep. Never forget the immense rewards that wait for each of you. It is simply a matter of time.”
Jing-wei’s eyes drop to the table. Her shoulders slump down. “So much money. So much power. How will we use it? I don’t understand.”
Silence rains down on the conference room. Heads turn to face Ryzaard.
Elsa laughs. “What do you mean? Money and power are their own justification. The more the better. You can never have en—”
“It is a fair question.” Ryzaard holds up his hand, cutting off Elsa. “And it deserves a fair answer.” He stands, hands clasped behind his back. “The truth is, the money is nothing more than a tool. A means to an end.”
