Chapter Three

The first light of a rising sun falls on a government building. Inside is a man in a suit, knocked out cold with another bound in riot cuffs incapacitated in an adjacent room. The tech wakes to the snapping fingers of a man in a hazmat suit.

 

"What year is it?" asks the blurry figure in front of him.

 

The tech gives a blank look. Obviously disoriented. Hours have passed since the swift blow to the neck knocked him out, "It's '12 isn't it?"

 

"Close," the stranger takes out a small knife from the holster strapped to his leg, "It's '15, but memory loss after a hit to that particular body part's normal. You're lucky to know your name." The hazard worker gets up, "You do remember your name, don't you?"

 

"James," his eyes still glazed over, "James Bachman." James moves toward the door, but he's blocked by another man. He notices a plastic lining, a zipper, and on the other side what looks like an air lock made from plastic.

 

"We fear they might be contagious," explains the worker, "You're under quarantine. If Agent Joshua hadn't gone rogue you would be fine. But he had a track record that does not reflect this kind of behavior. Which leads us to believe it's communicable."

 

"Great...," rubbing his eyes. His back is sore, and his wrists more so. Sleeping on tile can do that.

 

The man clad in the hazmat suit strides out through the airlock. His used suit is disinfected, the chamber cleansed. His colleague waits on the other side, "Any sign of infection?"

 

"Too early to tell," he replies, "But he needs to stay in quarantine. We'll run tests, see if his body's producing those chemicals. If not, he can go home, water his plants, and feed his cat."

 

On the other side of the air lock, James tries to pass his time. Just like waiting in the drunk tank for the speed to wear off when he was a kid. He counts tiles in the ceiling, then counts them again, reads the stickers on every piece of equipment in the room, and the clock still says only a few hours have passed.

 

'At least there's a bed in here,' he thinks as he slides onto it. His eyes close. Soon he's drifting to sleep. The fluorescent lights shut off overhead. At least the hazmat team has the decency to do that.

 

It's twenty past nine in the morning. People are just getting to their day job. Third shift changes with first. The man in the hazmat suit James talked to is replaced with another.

A woman follows the new worker. She looks like she has a job to do, very business like. She flashes her credentials at the uninterested man, "I'm here to speak with Mr. Bachman."

 

The man in the suit pulls a helmet from a small box. Fabric falls down from the neck, it reminds her of a half a*s hazmat suit, "You'll need to wear this."

 

Parker dons the half suit as the hazmat worker helps her fasten the back and seal the mask to her neck. Suited up, she steps into the air lock, "Just give me a shout when you're ready to leave."

 

An almost imperceptible nod inside the mask. The plastic door closes behind her. A few seconds later Parker pulls the other door open. She finds a man in scrubs sleeping on a hospital bed. She reaches out with a gloved hand and grips James' shoulder, "Wake up."

 

James is pulled from a world he can't understand and barley remember. Staring up at the mask, "I really hoped I dreamed all that," his memory of the previous hours flooding back, "What do you want this time?"

 

This voice is different. Higher, more feminine, "Different person," she informs, "I'm agent Parker and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

 

"Which agency?" James asks suspiciously. He always made a point of avoiding these people.

 

 

"The only one qualified to handle this," she taps the patch on the upper arm of the half suit, the letters P.A.A. stitched into it. "You were attacked by one of ours," she begins, "His name is Joshua Smith. Do you know anything about him?"

 

James shakes his head, "I try not to talk to you guys," his eyes widening as he realizes just what kind of patients were kept in this room, "Government types give me the creeps. I just change IV bags and bed pans."

 

The woman in the half suit hands James a card with her information scrawled across it, "If you remember anything give me a call."

 

He slides the card into his shirt pocket, "Yeah..." Internally he makes a sigh of relief. Something seemed off about her.

 

The hours blend together, the sun goes down, and so do James' eye lids. Geometric patterns play across his vision. His body dissolves against the back ground, and reconstitutes in another where. He can see an old path with rows of signs on either side. And two figures walk along it. One larger and less recognizable than the other, but the smaller one is definitely human.

 

The creatures seem to be connected by a tether. James stretches out a hand. The free floating wires attached to the sides of it seem to be attracted to his hand. The process is painless, but what James sees should have hurt. A lot.

 

 

The wires find his veins. Glowing a phantom blue just beneath the surface of his skin. The silver wires plunge through him, threading over his veins. A cold feeling rushes through his body. An ability to receive, but not send.

 

Images he can't understand flood his vision. He tries to ignore it. He tries to keep his head clear. After some time the feeling subsides. It's replaced by thoughts. But thoughts that aren't his. The first clear idea that comes across the tether is a picture of a star. The north star. And a maple leaf.

 

The second idea is of more urgency. A picture of running men and a pursuing creature with many heads. The creature on the men's tail is branded with the same letters as the woman's hazmat suit.

 

James raises his hands up to inspect his arms. The tether isn't going anywhere. He tries to send a message over it but to no avail. He's just like anyone else. He has a desire to be heard.

 

The message cannot manifest through his connection, but it does alter the surroundings below. The man floating above the party notices that the signs mirror his thoughts, more or less. He sends out a message in words. A simple, 'HEY.'

 

It takes an hour passing the signs before the two on the ground notice the coherency of what's written on them. Something is different. Like they were hi-jacked. 'HEY,' for about fifty yards. Soon they give way to, 'Listen.'

 

James realizes at long last that he has their attention. It takes more concentration to communicate more than a couple words onto the signs. And James' physical body's nose begins to bleed from it. But it comes through, 'Scarlet Letterwoman. On her way. Run. Hide.'

 

Confusion drifts up through the tether. With another burst of concentration the letters, 'P.A.A.' raise on the signs as far as anyone could see. Recognition replaces confusion as James is pulled from that world into his own.

 

 

2. The trio make there way down from the cave. No audible speech passes between them, but thought bounces among Zach and Thom at speeds that would baffle anyone with instruments to measure it and knowledge that the speed of light cannot be broken.

 

Josh is a passive listener for the first hour or so. Finally he breaks, "Can't we just talk like normal people?"

 

Thom and Zach are surprised. Both say in unison, "I suppose." They look at each other, trying to make some sort of mental block from the tether. It's hard to change gears when they've been cruising in third for a a while.

 

"Don't do that either," requests Joshua, "It really creeps me out."

 

The three carry on. Marching north. The idea is to get to Canada. They're only about thirty miles from the border. And the security is more lax to the north. In the distance they can hear drum beats. Smoke rises from some camp.

 

Josh remembers his training from his days in boot camp, "I'll do a little reconnaissance. We could do with some food if they're friendly."

 

The other two send a message over the tether, 'Stay in touch.'

 

 

Josh takes off, his foot falls light against the ground. After several minutes of walking off the beaten path he comes upon a camp of sorts. It's populated by happy smiling people. A cooking spit in the center, tents pitched around it. 'Found them,' his feet carry him toward the camp.

 

The smiles fade away as the eyes above them register a man in a suit, albeit a dirty, slept in suit. They instinctively distrust him. He represents what the people here are trying to escape, "Who are you?" asks an older man with long dirty graying hair. He could be in his mid sixties or early thirties. It's hard living in the woods.

 

"I'm a traveler," Josh states, "but my associates and I are under supplied." His eyes scan the spit and tents, "We were hoping to bumb some food and water from you. Maybe a fire to sleep next to."

 

"How many are you with?" inquires the older man, "And what possessed you to come this far into the woods without a pack?"

 

"Two others," he replies, "One kid and one adult. And we're not really in the position to check into a motel."

 

"If you're running from someone," the man's pupils are overly dilated, "You've come to the right place. We're the Rainbow Family. Welcome home."

 

 

Josh opens his connection to the tether briefly. The feeling is still very unsettling for him, 'It's safe.'

 

The older man stretches out a hand, "My name is David." The two shake, "Come inside, it's getting cold out there."

 

Josh ducks his head and enters the four man tent. A woman is sitting cross legged on a bed roll at one end. Her hair is down to the floor. Purple tinted glasses on her face. She's wearing  clothes that could very well have come from the forest around them. "I'm Jasmin," she says with a trusting smile.

 

"It's good to meet you," as he pulls his shoes from his feet, "I'm Josh. Your friend here said I could stay for the night."

 

The long haired couple's fingers interlace, "We're a little more than friends."

 

The walls of the tent are covered in things made from a lifetime of living in the forest, and a few things from the life they had before. The most notable is four neon colored bears proudly displayed over the couple's bed roll.

 Soon a zipper that separates the warmer inside from the cool night air parts the tent flap. A man with a scraggly beard and tired eyes pokes his head in, "Thought this was the right one," as Zach and Thom climb in through the hole and zip the tent closed behind them.

 

 

The group palavers. Questions are asked from both sides. How long have you been out here? Where's the nearest town? How far from the border? Why are you wearing hospital scrubs?

 

It's late by the time both parties are satisfied. This enclave is hiding just as much as the trio is. Civilized society doesn't approve of the life style. The Family seems to be friendly enough, though.

 

"You can sleep in here," a stack of bed rolls are off to one side of the tent, "It'll be a little cramped though."

 

Thom laughs, "We stayed in a cave last night. I think we'll be fine."

 

The shining light from the lantern at the center of the tent is extinguished. Wind blows across leaves and branches, lulling the five to sleep.

 

'Scarlet Letterwoman...,' Duo mutters, 'I don't even know what that means. We must remember to write it down.'

 

'I know what it means,' replies Josh, 'The agency is coming for us. My agency.' The group looks through the path lined with signs. A translucent mountain in the distance. It seems to shift and change. Brilliant colors play across it.

 

Duo and Josh half fly toward it. Gravity is still a problem, but it's lower.But it could be non existent. More than half of this place stems from their combined consciousness. If only they knew they could fly.

 

The mountain grows bigger until it fills up the foreground. The tether that binds them together is attracted like a magnet. It arks and sticks to the side, like an umbilical cord.

 

A blinding multi color light floods through the tether and into their bodies. It's warm. Less cerebral than the last two sensations. It almost feels like it's amplifying the tether. Eventually the magnetism weakens and the tether retracts to its original form.

 

'What happened?' asks Josh, his hands run over his body. His veins still carry that glowing electrical charge.

 

'We've become part of the mountain,' answers Duo. He stretches out his multi thumbed hand. An arc of tether escapes his palm and connects with the side of the thing. A charge runs up and dissipates between the two.

 

'Fun, but what good is it to us?,' Josh replies. The warmth covers him again.

 

'Maybe none,' starts the combination of Zach and Thom, 'Or maybe now we're contagious.' Duo's head turns to Josh, a many toothed smile plays across his lips.

 

'What are you talking about?' a fear rises in him. To Josh that sounds like too much power. The ability to spread this state of being. It might even bleed into the physical world.

 

'What I'm thinking about,' Duo begins, 'Is change. For the better. Would people be allowed to starve if we could all feel their pain? Would war still happen? Genocide? No. Not if this new tool carries over. Not if we can spread it.'

 

For the first time in this world Joshua looks up. He can see constellations that are foreign to him. They're more orderly here. Pictures form from the points of light. One is a vision of order. The vision begins to move. He can see people waking up, going to work, going home, having a beer and going to sleep.

 

To the right is a vision of bloodshed. Helicopters flying over suburban areas. Men in gas masks repelling down from them. Poisonous gas emanating from canisters. A young man with a bandanna over his face, a Molotov in his hand, and fire in his eyes. The young man lobs the Molotov to the right and out of the bounds of the second vision. Into the third.

 

The explosion is bright. An emerald green. It spreads like veins, permeating through all three. It seems to be holding a fragile world together. Healing it. He can see people moving among the green trails. They seem as happy as the people that let the physical trio stay the night.

 

Duo and Josh continue to look at the dazzling light show. Colors they've never even conceived of before dance across the sky. Eventually it subsides. The sky goes dark, save for one point of light in the dead center of their vision.

 

The point spreads in two directions before the line duplicates and arcs to form a circle with a line through it. Slowly the line parts, an iris beneath it. An eye looks down on them, followed by a booming communication, 'This is what has happened, what continues to happen, and what will happen.'

 

The words reverberate through them, 'You will light the fuse I have given you. You will join the rest of your family.'

 

They didn't have any time to question the eye in the sky. After the communication is sent the party is thrust down into their bodies. It's early in the morning. Around six.

 

The party lies supine, the tether flashes between them. A quick recap. They make sure they all saw the same thing. And what does it mean? The sun comes up and the couple sharing the tent with them stirs awake, "Morning," greets David groggily, "Have a good sleep?"

 

 

The travelers look even more tired than they did when they went to sleep, but they assure him they did. David reaches into a pocket on the side of the tent. He pulls clothing that looks similar to what Jasmin is wearing, "This is warmer than anything a hospital will give you."

 

Zach and Thom are grateful, "Thank you." They throw on their new warm clothes. The insides are lined with pockets, and some pockets so deep and large they could be considered bags.

 

Josh remembers the happening from the night before. The electrical current and dazzling colors. Duo's mention that they might be contagious now. "You're an open minded guy, right David?" asks Josh, his eyes on the neon bears.

 

"I like to think so, yes," replied the aging woodsman. Whatever equivalent to coffee these people had he had not gotten his morning cup.

 

"May I try something?" Josh stretches out his hand. David clasps it tight. A little too tight. Almost menacing.

 

"You can," said David, "Just be aware my Family is out there. And they're protective."

 

 

Josh gives a nod and a count down. At one he attempts to send the tether to David. A pulse runs through his fingertips and into him. He doesn't scream, but his wind is knocked from him. Clutching his upper arm, raised wires travel up his flesh.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" yells Jasmine as she tries to pull them apart. A small arc of electricity sends her hand back. In less than a minute the connection is established and then severed.

 

David's eyes are closed, his breathing calm. The travelers wait patiently. Something did happen. They're unsure of what. Finally his eyes open. He speaks, but his lips are closed, 'Thank you.' David turns to Jasmine, "I'll show you later." He gives her a small hug.

 

'If you could be our early warning system,' Zach suggests, 'We would really appreciate it.'

 

David verbalizes his response on accident. He's new at this, "I wouldn't have it any other way. You have friends here." The travelers shake hands with the Family and part ways.