by Brandt Legg
After he left, I climbed off the bed and tested my leg. It wasn’t even sore. I wondered where Amber was while putting on the new clothes. Sam was Fitts. He killed my dad and Rose. They were unbearable thoughts. Stacked nearby were the precious gold box, blue stone, mausoleum key, and my wallet. I put them in my pockets. Soon my eyes were good enough to find the galley. A well-stocked fridge tempted me with fruit juices and my favorite sodas. I grabbed a Coke. Trevor hadn’t returned, so I wandered into the next room.
We were on a small yacht. One of the bedrooms was an art studio with spectacular paintings lining the floor, hanging on the wall, on easels, even suspended from the ceiling. Trevor had signed them. They all depicted water scenes—islands, coastal shores, and seascapes.
“You found my work. I want you to have one.”
“Really? Thanks. And not just for the painting,” I turned to look at him. “My God, you’re Rachel!” The concentration camp’s reeking stench suffocated the tiny room.
“And you’re Erich.”
“When did you know?” I asked, recovering.
“As soon as the bandages came off, I saw it in your eyes.” He didn’t hide his tears. “I discovered my life as Rachel twelve years ago. My parents were killed by a drunk driver coming across the median when I was in grad school.”
“Oh man, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded. “It really roughed me up. A friend suggested a psychic. My parents came through and told me to forget about the law degree and follow my heart. After a few more sessions, the psychic suggested regression. And boom, there I was trapped in Dachau with you. This is my first incarnation since Rachel.”
I searched his eyes. “So, why a boat?”
“I was never comfortable around people but didn’t know why until I saw that past life. I needed freedom to move all the time. An RV is too much like a railcar to me.”
I nodded, remembering Erich and Rachel’s last train ride.
“After getting on the water, I never wanted to go back on land permanently. I took most of the money my folks left, bought this boat, and took up painting. A gallery down in La Jolla does pretty well with them. That’s where I first met Crowd. He approached me about eight months ago and told me something about my mother only I knew, then he asked me to meet with Spencer at Brookings Harbor.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“A couple of weeks later I went. Spencer told me about someone who could bring positive changes to the world. He explained that much of the inequality and suffering we face on this planet is due to human inventions such as greed, judgment, fear, corruption, war. I didn’t need convincing. He said this person was our best hope and that in about eight months he would need my help. The person he was talking about, of course, is you.”
“I didn’t even know Spencer until a few weeks ago.”
“Time’s a funny thing.”
“Spencer makes me sound too important. I’m just Nate.”
“He said people wouldn’t be following you as much as your story. A lot of people know something’s wrong, that we’re missing part of ourselves. All you’re going to do is show us how to find that.”
“Oh, is that all,” I said sarcastically. “Spencer thinks I can save the world.”
“If you could have seen the torment in his face when he first saw you—he was destroyed. The tortured look didn’t leave his eyes until the fifth visit. We weren’t sure you would make it.”
“Yeah, but was it Nate he was saving or the savior?”
“Just because you’re a teenager doesn’t mean you have to act like one. Get that chip off your shoulder. Grow up.”
“I’ve grown up a lot in the last three weeks.”
“Then I’m glad we didn’t meet until now.”
“Why are you so touchy all of a sudden?”
“Because you’re not Erich.”
“No. The Nazis murdered Erich.”
“Part of him is alive in your soul, Nate. Find that part. Erich would have taken Spencer’s challenge and never looked back.”
“I know he would have. I was Erich. But Nate’s not as brave.”
“So you’re afraid? That’s why the reluctance?”
“I’m terrified.”
“Of them killing you?”
“No, of succeeding. Changing the world sounds like a bumper sticker, but look through history at the times people have truly changed things. Even the small ones were painful. Imagine what this would be.”
“Yes, imagine.”
We were quiet.
“So, you want to tell me which painting you want?”
“I’m sort of on the run. I’d have no place to hang it.”
“I’ll keep it for you. Choose.”
I studied them and was drawn to one of a stormy sky over rough seas with a cluster of rocks sticking out of the water.
“Why that one?”
“I don’t know. It just pulled me in.”
He smiled. “It’s called ‘Endure,’ and it’s for you.”
64
Up on deck we were still far enough off the coast that everything looked undisturbed, a thick line of green trees and rocky cliffs on the horizon.
“No one knows I’m alive? My mom’s probably called the FBI by now.”
“I believe Crowd was going to get word to your mother. Here,” he handed me a pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses. “You still need to take it easy on your eyes.”
“Why do you call your boat Ninth Wave?”
“It’s after an 1850s painting by Aivazovsky, depicting a violent storm during a night when a ship sank leaving seven survivors clinging to a piece of wreckage. The sea remained very rough, but a rising sun promised the slightest wisp of hope. Still, they had to deal with the ninth wave, which threatened to engulf them. You know, waves are in series, growing until they peak at the ninth. It’s been called one of the most glorious seascapes ever painted, but for me it is more. It’s where we are, the human race—we’re facing the ninth wave.”
“I can see why you defend Spencer.”
He smiled.
“I should contact my brother and friends now.”
“No way from here.”
“I can do it over the astral.”
“Incredible.”
I readied myself and then was looking at Dustin.
“I heard a rumor you might be alive,” Dustin said with a smile. “You are alive, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, and you’re looking better than me for a change.”
“It’s Bà’s black liquid. I’ll get you a bottle.”
“Maybe a case.
“Mom, as usual, is worried. Everyone has been. Now, hopefully, you’ll get patched up and come back here because you’re taking all the attention away from me.” He laughed. “Hey, can you see my TV?”
“Sure.”
He switched a few channels. “Here you go. It’s been on a lot.”
I shuttered as the screen showed a photo of Sam, even though the caption said “DHS Agent Sanford Fitts.” The anchor said Fitts was working on a national security threat in San Francisco when he was strangled by the alleged terrorist. They cut to an exterior shot of the White House and announced the president had issued a statement calling Fitts a hero. The president had promised to apprehend the suspect whose name was not being released so as not to jeopardize an ongoing investigation. A spokesman assured viewers that Fitts had foiled any planned attacks, and there was no longer a danger. They kept showing images of the Golden Gate, which seemed to imply the bridge was somehow a “target.”
“Don’t believe anything you see on TV,” I said.
“But, that’s Sam! That explains why the guards never let me see him. Even the beating was started by one of the others. Was Sam always Fitts? I mean, always an agent?”
“I’ll tell you everything in person.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know what home is anymore, but I’ll be in Ashland tomorrow.”
Afterward, my plan
s to contact Amber and Kyle on the astral were forgotten, as I was completely exhausted. I stumbled back to bed and collapsed.
When he woke me, we were docked in Brookings Harbor. Fourteen hours had elapsed. It was just before dawn on Sunday.
“Your ride is out there. It’s a friend of Amparo’s.”
“You know Amparo?”
“She betrayed me too, remember? She hunted me down a few years ago and begged forgiveness.”
“Did you?”
“How could I not? The feeling was so empowering that I forgave everyone for anything. I’ve been regressed many times just to look for people from past lives to forgive, even the drunk driver who took my folks.”
“How’d you know my clothes size, the sodas I like, even breakfast wraps?”
“Spencer gave me specific instructions . . . eight months ago. Kind of spooky. But he also told me you might not come. Your survival was never written in stone.”
That revelation stopped me. I should have been dead. If not for Spencer, Lightyear would have gotten me weeks ago, and going over the cliff certainly would have ended differently. Trevor was right; I may have grown up a lot but not enough yet. I hugged Trevor and Rachel.
I slept most of the three-hour drive to Ashland, waking a few times after nightmares where Fitts was still alive and holding Amber.
65
Sunday, October 5
Bà answered the door at Kyle and Linh’s house and studied me with concern. “You need wolfberry and horsetail. I bring to you. They be so happy to see you. Upstairs.”
Amber’s kiss was quick, but her arms lingered around me and her tears wet my face. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do this again,” she said softly.
I opened my eyes and saw Kyle beaming; Linh was smiling, too, but already wiping her own tears. During a hug, I kissed her cheek. “I didn’t want to cry,” she said.
“I might not have recognized you if you didn’t,” I teased. It made her laugh.
We sat down in our regular positions, facing each other across the triangular table; the only difference was Amber next to me.
“Your mom let us know you were alive. But we didn’t know anything else. Amber told us what happened on the cliff,” Linh said. “How did you survive?”
“I need to hear Amber’s story first. It’s the only way I can clear the fog.” I stared at Amber. “How did you escape?”
“As soon as Fitts pushed you over the cliff, I was sure you were dead.”
“Is Fitts really dead?”
“I never saw him move. Two more agents showed up. They saw you down on the rocks, presumably dead, and said, ‘Let SFPD clean this up.’ The police sirens were so close.”
“But Fitts was Sam or vice versa,” Kyle snapped.
“Yeah. He killed my dad and the others, then he watched a bunch of Ryder families for four years until we discovered the conspiracy. That’s why he was out of town so much. He was never a geologist—he just had other families to watch.”
“What are they afraid of?” Kyle asked. “Spencer wasn’t kidding. This is huge!”
I didn’t want to think about what Kyle was saying. “Amber, what happened?”
“They didn’t have time, and no one seemed in charge with Fitts gone. One said, ‘Let’s go now,’ and another answered, ‘What about the girl?’ I thought they were going to shoot me. ‘Leave her. The boy’s dead; she’s no use to us now. And we don’t need any more publicity. Her family’s already all over the news.’ Another agreed, saying, ‘I’d rather have The New York Times dogging us than the tabloids.’ They cut my cuffs off and left.”
“How’d you avoid the cops?”
“Even before they were out of sight I was at the cliff trying to get down to you, but there was no way. You looked mangled, a pool of blood at your head and another by your leg, and your arms weren’t even visible.”
Linh started to cry. Amber was trembling as she spoke. “Suddenly, Crowd was there. He said we had to go. I told him we couldn’t leave you like that. He promised you’d be taken care of and said, ‘you have a plane to catch.’ I had like ten seconds to grab a few things from my car on the way out. Crowd repeated he would get you. I assumed he meant just your body.”
Linh reached across the table and gently unclenched my fists.
“I’m not sure how we got out of there,” Amber continued. “It was weird. He moved me into the trees, and remember, I was in shock—the crash, getting captured, watching you thrown off a cliff. The next thing I knew, I was in a cab going back across the Golden Gate Bridge, heading toward the airport. The flight was a blur, and then mom was there in Portland.”
“Have you seen the coverage of Fitts’ death?” Kyle asked. “Why haven’t they identified you as the most wanted guy in the world?”
“Because he’s done nothing wrong. What can they do?” Linh asked.
“Throw me in a military prison.”
“They’ve already shown their plan: kill you during an arrest and say you were trying to escape,” Kyle said. “Don’t stay in one place too long.”
“Nate, what happened? How did you live through that?” Linh exclaimed.
“At the same time Crowd was leading Amber out of the park, he somehow got me off the cliff and onto a boat. That’s where I’ve been healing for the past few days. But I was actually out there for more than two weeks. Spencer manipulated time so he could heal me and still get me back here today. Why? I don’t know.”
“Explain how Spencer changed time and how Crowd was in two places at once.” Amber said.
“I can’t. I’ve tried finding Spencer. There’s never a trace. He’s always around water. But Fitts told me Lightyear had been chasing Spencer for years and was getting closer. The mystics can do all kinds of amazing things; Lightyear is probably after them all. The Old Man of the Lake said when I find ten more, I’ll become one. It’s part of my quest now. If I had the power and understanding that they possess . . . ”
“Are you reading all those right now?” Linh asked, pointing to the stacks of books I’d been passing through my hands without even thinking about it.
“I guess so.”
Bà brought up some herbal potion and waited while I drank it. It tasted slightly sweet, but even if it had been flavored with skunk oil, I would have downed it. I revered that woman, as if she were a mystic herself. Amber took advantage of the interruption and handed me my pack she’d grabbed before fleeing with Crowd. Inside among some clothes were Rose’s journal, rock, and scarf. I gave the scarf to Linh, and we talked about Rose.
Kyle took me to the other end of the loft where he had a stack of maps of all the national forests in the area. Highlighted were the most remote areas to camp, but areas that were still close enough to roads for escape. “Don’t worry, I did all my research on computers at the library.”
While Kyle and I were talking, I could overhear Amber and Linh whispering, as if they were speaking directly into my ear. It didn’t seem right using this new power to spy on my friends, but I couldn’t turn it off.
“Linh, it’s not like that with Nate and me,” Amber said. “I love him completely.”
Linh shifted uncomfortably.
“It’s not how it sounds,” Amber continued. “I don’t want to be his girlfriend; it’s deeper than that. I just want to know him, experience parts of our lives together, but not share his life. Look, what I’m trying to say is nothing physical happened between us.” I guess Amber decided that the two interruptions at the hotel were a sign. She was into signs. I was, too, but thought maybe it should be three strikes and then you’re out. Amber and I would have to talk about that sometime. I didn’t know it then, but it would be months before we got the chance.
As I was leaving, Amber whispered to me, “What about Calyndra?”
“I’ve got to do something with Dustin first. Then I’ll think about Calyndra.”
I could see her disappointment, but she gave me a tight hug. “You know where to find me. I’ll wait for you.”
Linh kissed me, too. I looked back as we backed out of the driveway; she was at the door waving, sad.
Kyle drove to the motel. “We’ve moved Dustin two more times. He’s been staying alone, but Bà goes to check on him a few times a day.”
“I don’t think I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done.”
“We’re friends, Nate. You don’t owe me anything. But if you seriously want to do something, find a way to stay away from trouble.”
“I’m trying, but karma is hard to avoid.”
“When will we meet again?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find you on the astral.”
66
I used Kyle’s key to enter. “Nice to see you up and around,” I said to Dustin.
“It’s a relief seeing you in the flesh. Your voice floating around my head is kind of cool, but the novelty wears off.”
“You look good.” I pulled him into a hug.
“I owe you my life, Nate.”
“We’re brothers, Dustin. You don’t owe me anything.” I echoed Kyle’s words.
“Are you up for traveling? Mount Shasta.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that. Let’s leave in the morning.”
The door opened, terrifying me for a moment. Then, my mom grabbed and held me so tight I thought I might need to make a Lusan. Kisses and tears were all she could manage for a couple of minutes. “My boys are safe.” She’d brought glorious food.
“Somehow the three of us are still alive: the three remaining Ryders,” I said.
After the initial glow, our reunion dimmed. She was devastated with our plans to leave. Although to her we would always be her little boys—and I was still relatively young by the Roman calendar—she knew we’d outgrown her control. I gave them a rundown of what had happened, starting with my first trip to Crater Lake and ending on the boat. Mom could hardly speak Sam’s name, saying it was the greatest betrayal she’d ever known. “Sam was an Amparo-esque betrayal,” Dustin said, after he’d heard that part of my story.
