by JT Kalnay
#
The darkness came on more quickly than he’d figured. Since he only knew the mountains in summer, except for Ptarmigan Peak, it caught him a little unawares. So there he was, 14,000 feet up in a remote spot in Colorado. Alone. And the path wasn’t a path. There was a cairn and then a boulder field. Below, Craig thought he could see a path, but he wasn’t sure. And in the dark there was no way back down the ridge route he’d climbed.
“What do you mean who’s Jane?”
“She’s a woman. A doctor. She helped.”
“With the virus, and the vaccine.”
“No I don’t love her. I love you.”
“What do you mean it’s okay?”
“I love you. Only you.”
“What? You’re gone? No you’re not. You’re right here.” He reached into his pack and pulled out the disc. “Just like you said. As long as I have this, you’ll always be with me. I feel you up here. I know this is where you are.”
“I am looking around. I see the sun going down.”
And then Stacey slowly materialized before him.
He blinked his eyes, rubbed them, but it was unmistakably her.
“Stacey?”
“Craig, it’s time for me to go.”
“No. Not yet. You’re here. We can be together.”
“We can’t. You know it, and I know it. I’ll always be with you. And I love that you’ve come up here to look for me. I’ve been with you on all your hikes. And I loved each of them. But I’ve got to go.”
“Stacey, I love you.”
“And I loved you. But I can’t love you anymore. You’re the only thing that’s keeping me here. It’s been over two months. It’s painful for me. It’s time for me to go. Time to rest.”
“Then I’ll stay up here with you.”
“No you won’t,” she snapped. A hard edge suddenly appeared in her voice. “Don’t even think about it. That’s not what I want. I want to go on. And I want you to go on. It won’t help if you die up here. And you’re going to die up here if you don’t get down. You’ve got to get down. It’ll be dark soon and you’ll freeze if you’re caught out. Or you’ll fall if you can’t see the trail.”
“I’ll be alright.”
"Like when you hurt your wrist? And turned your ankle. You'll be alright like that?"
"I was fine."
"Okay then. You'll be alright like when you were going to jump off the cliff?"
Craig's jaw dropped open.
"How?"
"You know how. I'm with you. Not all the time, and I don't see everything, but when you think about me, I'm with you. And that's why you've got to let me go."
"I can't."
“Craig. I know you love me. But you have to let me go. I need to go. And Jane’s here. She’s in Boulder right now. In Eldorado Canyon. Go see her. It’s not too late. If you don’t, when you get down, you really will be alone. But it’ll be your own fault. I love you. I don’t blame you for the crash. Not really. Now get moving. The path goes that way.”
“Where? I can’t see it.”
“Then follow me.” Stacey started down through the boulder field. After a minute she turned back. “Well come on,” she scolded, her voice sounding just like it had that day on Ptarmigan Peak. So Craig started down after her.
#
“I can’t do this last piece,” he said.
“You can. You trust me don’t you?”
“You’re a ghost.”
“Yes. But a benevolent ghost right?”
“Right.”
“And everything you know about the mountains I taught you right?”
“Right.”
“So just stay with me.”
Craig made the last moves down a very steep section on very loose dirt, butt scooting the last hundred feet and coming to rest in a heap.
“Get up,” Stacey ordered.
“Just let me rest for a minute.”
Stacey stuck out a hip and pushed a fist down onto it.
“Get up,” she ordered again.
“Just another minute,” Craig said. His eyes started to droop shut, and his head started to loll forward on his neck. Sixteen hours of hiking, eight hours of dehydration, and nascent hypothermia were taking their toll.
She reached into his pack, removed the disk and moved a few feet away from him.
“Craig?”
No answer, his chin completely on his chest.
“CRAIG!”
He raised up for a second.
“This is mine. And I’m taking it with me,” she said.
“No,” Craig answered.
“If you want it, then come and get it,” she said.
He started to move.
“You’re going to have to move faster than that,” her retreating figure called.
He picked up his pace.
And then she was gone. Moving steadily down the path, and where she went the path seemed to glow a little, even though it was full dark, and the cold was coming hard, and Craig finally knew that he was totally and completely alone.
“Stacey!” he screamed and set off after her. The disc marked her way.
October 27, 1994
Washington, D.C.
Assembled From Wire News Reports
NTSB officials revealed a cause for the crash of US Air Flight 427 that killed one hundred and thirty people near Pittsburgh on September 8, 1994. A spokesman reported that unusually high levels of contaminants were found in hydraulic fluid that controlled the rudder mechanism. NTSB officials report that the contamination could have lead to a complete failure of the rudder, forcing it into a full open position that could have forced the fatal roll to the left reported by witnesses.
Chapter
October 27, 1994
Seattle, Washington
“Did you see this article on the Pittsburgh crash?” Jean asked.
“Yeah,” Tim answered.
“What do you think?”
“I think they’ve got an explanation they can live with,” Tim said.
“And?”
“And I think they’re wrong. It’s a coincidence. The software did it. You saw the spike on the report same as I did. Maybe if they knew what they were looking for they could find it,” Tim said.
“Could you get them that data?” Jean asked.
“Nope. Only Craig could do that. He’s got it but he never told me where it is. It might be in APSoft somewhere, but I doubt it. Anyway, they’ve got their systems completely isolated, no way in. I think they are probably going out of business next week if the word on the street is right. Craig’s the only one who could get the data to the people that count.”
“Maybe that’s what he’s doing?” Jean asked.
“It’d be nice to think so,” Tim answered.
“You know what?” Jean asked.
“What?” Tim asked back.
“Craig never saw these charts on the spike in Pittsburgh did he?” Jean asked.
“No he didn’t. He took off before you brought them home.”
“And he doesn’t know about the vaccine pattern either,” Jean said.
“No he doesn’t. Where are you going with this?” Tim asked.
“Maybe he’ll see this article,” Jean started.
“And think it wasn’t his fault,” Tim finished.
The two shared a hopeful pause.
“I wish I knew where he was,” Jean said.
“Me too,” Tim added.
Jean rested her hand on Tim’s.
Chapter
October 29th, 1994
Boulder Colorado
The fall day was as crisp and perfect as a day in Boulder Colorado can be. The morning had been cold, then warmed slightly, and now in the afternoon the clean, clear air was scented and warm. Jogging slowly along the dirt road in Eldorado Canyon, Craig breathed evenly. His eyes shifted from the towering walls to the running water to the golden aspen trees and the fantastic evergreens. A lone falcon whirled and called high above, riding the aft
ernoon thermals.
After a few miles the trail stopped climbing, turned an abrupt corner, and tumbled downhill a hundred feet. Craig picked his way down, and stopped on the wooden bridge to catch his breath. Rushing white water, uncommon for this late in the year, passed under the bridge.
He might have stood there a minute, or he might have waited an hour. On such a perfect day time loses meaning, consciousness loses its grip, and everything is possible. Even hallucinations.
Craig was certain he was hallucinating. He was comfortable with his visions now. Though he hadn’t seen Stacey in several weeks. Yet now, not 100 feet away on a boulder the size of small house a lone figure was slowly working back and forth, up and down, with the intricate footwork and precise hand movements of a ballet dancer transferred into the vertical domain. Craig looked, and looked again.
“Jane,” he called. But the rushing water carried his voice away.
He slowly approached her. As he drew closer he could see the small beads of sweat on her bare shoulders, could see the effort in her new shoulder muscles, could see how completely and utterly in the moment she was. Perfection was the word he breathed to himself.
“Jane,” he said softly.
She looked over her right shoulder, the rapture of pure concentration paired with athletic movement made her the most beautiful she had ever been. Quickly she recognized him and the rapture was gone. She turned back to the rock and continued to move left to right.
“Jane. What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same. Are you stalking me now?”
Craig didn’t answer. Instead he moved towards the rock and fingered the featured granite. He felt the late afternoon warmth flowing out of the rock and into his fingers. As he closed his eyes he looked back to the times he’d climbed with Stacey. Remembered her powerful movements, her long reach. So different from Jane’s precise ballet.
“No. I’ve been in Colorado for a month or so. Just climbing. I had no idea you were here. Well, maybe a ghost of an idea.”
She kept moving left to right, and disappeared around an arête.
Craig followed her slowly.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked.
“I told you you’d want me back. You want me back don’t you? I told you I wouldn’t take you back. That’s what you want to talk about isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She moved up, then right, then further up. She hesitated for a moment and then lunged for a hold several feet above her head. Mid-flight Craig could tell she wasn’t going to make it and he sprang to catch her fall. She tumbled into his arms.
“Thanks,” she said. She chalked her hands and moved back to the rock.
“Jane. I know I have no right. But I want to ask you if there’s any chance.”
Jane stepped back from the rock.
She moved towards him and looked him straight in the eyes.
“You had your chance. And another chance. Then another after that. I told you this would happen. You know what I said. Still, you told me to get lost. I did. Now I’m telling you the same.” She stepped back to the rock and moved quickly out of his sight.
“What will it take to get you to talk to me?” he asked the emptiness.
She slowly re-appeared.
“It’ll take you realizing that someone else’s feelings might matter. That your needs might not be control the universe. Might be irrelevant actually. That when you send people away you should expect that they’ll stay away.”
She moved back out of his view.
At that moment, a blonde man appeared from the other side of the boulder, camera hanging from his neck, half eaten apple in his hand.
“Craig? It’s Craig right?” Jim asked.
“Yes. And you’re Jim right?”
Chapter
October 30th, 1994
Seattle, Washington
“Home early today?” Tim asked.
“Yup. Good news,” Jean said.
“Oh?” Tim asked.
“Look at these statistics,” Jean said. She passed over two sheets of laser printed numbers.
“Do these mean what I think they mean?” Tim asked.
“I think so,” Jean said.
“Seventy three percent fewer incidences of the pattern? And ninety six percent of the machines that showed the pattern had an immediate immune response?” Tim asked. His tone of voice clearly showed his hope and excitement.
“That’s what I thought it said,” Jean added. Tim held out his hand. Jean shook it firmly.
“Good work Jean,” Tim said.
“Well done Tim,” Jean mimicked.
They finished shaking hands.
“We need to tell Jane,” Jean said.
“Later,” Tim answered. “Right now we’ve got some celebrating to do.”
October 31, 1994
Roselawn, Indiana
Assembled From Wire News Reports
American Eagle Flight 4184 crashed here today killing sixty eight people. Witnesses report that the plane was in a shallow left turn when it suddenly banked violently and dove nose first into the ground. There were no survivors. The NTSB has recovered the black box flight recorder.
Chapter
October 31, 1994
Seattle, Washington
“You said there was pattern?” Tim asked.
“Yes. And then an immune response,” Jean answered.
“God that hurts. But we know it's working,” Tim replied. “I did some research on that type of plane and it’s had serious wing icing problems. With its record in Europe I’m surprised the FAA or the NTSB ever approved the damn thing for North American cold weather flights. Maybe it’s okay in Florida or something…” Tim trailed off.
“What do you think Craig will do if he sees this?” Jean asked.
“I have no idea,” Tim answered.
“Still looking for him?” Jean asked.
“Every day,” Tim answered. “But if he went into the mountains, we’ll never find him. He may never come back.”
November 2, 1994
Roselawn, Indiana
Assembled From Wire News Reports
NTSB officials report wing icing as a likely cause of the crash of American Eagle Flight 4184 here on October 31st. Investigators report that data recovered from the black box flight recorder clearly indicate loss of lift and degraded aerodynamics consistent with leading edge icing. The U.S. Weather Service confirms that unusual late fall thunderstorms typically associated with icing were present in the area of the crash. NTSB officials refused to confirm or deny that they were seeking links to a similar crash in Virginia earlier in the year and “emphatically denied” that there was any link to the crash in September of US Air Flight 427 near Pittsburgh. Leading into the busy Thanksgiving travel season industry officials repeated familiar evidence that air travel is still the safest mode of transportation available.
Chapter
November 10, 1994
Seattle, Washington
The phone rang seven times then stopped. Dr. Jane Brady glanced away from her microscope towards the phone. She turned back to the scope. The phone started to ring again.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello Jane? It’s Craig.”
Jane said nothing.
“Jane?”
“Craig I told you I wouldn’t take you back. And I won’t. Please leave me alone.”
“I’m coming up there Jane. I want to see you. No, I need to see you.”
“I won’t see you Craig.”
“Why?” Craig asked.
Jane said nothing.
“Jane? Everything you said was right. I just couldn’t hear it then. But I know you were right. And I think we should give it another try.”
“Craig there is no we. And you can’t give ‘another’ try until you’ve already tried once. You never tried. You chose. You chose twice. First at Stinson beach. Then at Jane’s house. I told you no in Boulder. You saw I’m with Jim now. Now for the last time, leav
e me alone. If you see me, just walk away. Try to prove you’ve learned something from all this. Try to be a man.”
She hung up the phone. Seconds later it started to ring again. She lifted the receiver and held it to her ear.
“I love you Jane,” Craig said.
“You have no idea what love is,” Jane answered. “You know all about want. And you know about hurt. You understand your needs. You even have some idea about loss. But you have no idea about love. If you did you’d never have called me. You’d have left me alone. Craig this is the last word you will ever hear from me so listen well. Good-bye.” She pressed her finger down on the plunger, released it, then quickly dialed seven digits.
“Hello?”
“Hello Jean?” Jane asked.
“Hi Jane.”
“Craig just called.”
“He’s alive? Oh my God. We haven’t heard from him in months. Where is he?”
“I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say. Probably still in Boulder. I saw him there last month. Did I tell you? No I guess I didn’t.”
“Jane!” Jean exclaimed.
“He told me that he gave the code to the authorities. That he told them everything. He hooked up some video conference and told them everything. He was gone before they could find him. He also told me he loved me.”
“He did what?”
“He said he loved me. Thought I might care.”
“What did you say?” Jean asked.
“I told him he had no idea what love is,” Jane said.
“I’ll be right there,” Jean said.
“No, I have work to do. Listen, why don’t you call me tomorrow, but not at this number. I’m having it disconnected. Use my new cell.”
“Okay,” Jean replied.
Dr. Jane Brady hung up the phone then calmly disconnected its cable from the wall. She looked at the empty socket for a second, then turned back to the microscope, adjusted a knob, and went back to work.
November 13, 1994
New York, New York
Assembled From Wire News Reports
New York newspapers today reported on numerous incidents of aircraft safety violations by various United States airlines. In the most serious allegations, many planes were reported to have taken off without enough fuel to reach their destinations. At least ten flights left New York’s La Guardia airport on October 11, 1994 without enough fuel and were forced either to return to New York or to make emergency landings. The incorrect fueling has been traced to a bug in computer software associated with ground servicing.
