Chapter Four

James has a bad case of cabin fever. He can't be blamed for it. Quarantine will do that to anyone. He's read the few books they left with him several times over. The most interesting story was unfortunately below his reading level. On Trains and How to Hop Them by Erick Sanchez.

 

'Maybe I'll go for a little travel after this...,' he thinks to himself. Sounds of the airlock unsealing draw his attention to the door. The first person without a hazmat suit he's seen in days walks through. It's Dr. Troy.

 

The graying man in half moon glasses holds a clip board in his hand, "How are you feeling, James?"

 

He stretches, his eyes on the doctor, "Tired. I need to go home and get a shower."

 

Dr. Troy gives a nod and thrusts out his hand, "You're free to go, if you were infected it would have been obvious by now."

 

James clasps it. His pupils dilate slightly at the touch. The sensation feels off but not on par with what Zach and his kind feel. Some kind of residual effect, most likely. Troy scans his face for a tell. His slightly dilated pupils slip past Troy's gaze.

 

The young tech makes his way to the door, then the elevator, and finally outdoors. Air and sunlight feel amazing after that three day hold. But he's exhausted. His bike is right where he chained it. Pi is the pass code.

 

A few newspapers litter the porch of his small one bedroom house. But the door is still intact. No forced lock and his furniture and electronics are still there. The bed is still unmade from the last time he had slept in it. He collapses into the mess, asleep before his head hits the pillow.

 

And into a dream scape he goes. But this time it feels less outlandish. Still flying, but he can see familiar sights. And a tether stretching out to the northwest.

 

He follows the tether. It takes him over a compound. A helipad with a chopper warming up for take off. A woman walks toward an open door on the side. He hair whips behind her along with the end of her long jacket. The same three red letters on a patch covering her upper arm.

 

His spirit settles into an empty seat inside a chopper. He can see the woman in her long jacket hand a pilot a set of coordinates, "We need to go in this general direction. They were last seen on foot heading that way."

 

The pilot nods and pulls his controls back. The bird lifts off the helipad. A hundred or so feet in the air, the nose points downward and they race off in the same direction the tether stretches.

 

Buzzing the tree tops of a forest older than the government the woman works for, miles out from the city, maybe twenty maybe more, they can make out a clearing and an encampment. The woman stretches out a hand and points to an adjacent clearing just big enough for the chopper to land, "Touch down there and wait. I need to ask these people some questions."

 

"Yes ma'am," he replies. A smooth landing, but not stealthy. The Family is very aware of the helicopter. Before she's within sight of the camp it's cleared of everyone but David.

 

He stands in the center of the camp with clear eyes, "How may I help you?"

 

Agent Parker flashes her badge, "I'm with the P.A.A. Some fugitives came through this area a day ago. Have you seen anything strange lately?"

 

David strokes his scraggly beard, "Not that I recall. Why would you be chasing them?"

 

Her eyes narrow, "That's classified." Her gaze moves to the tents behind him, "Mind if I take a look inside?"

 

 

Now it's David's turn to narrow his eyes, "I do not consent to a search."

 

Parker is becoming annoyed with the man. She can tell she's not getting anywhere with him, "I'll be back."

 

"I'll be waiting," replies David with a smile on his face. He knows he's won this round.

 

The ethereal James is bouncing between the landing sight and the encampment like a ping pong ball. He can see figures surrounding the chopper. James tries to vocalize a protest against what he thinks is about to happen, screaming, "No," over and over as the figures become more bold.

 

As one, about twenty or thirty people dressed in forest garb rush the chopper. The surprised pilot fires off a couple shots from his side arm. He picks off a few, but the wave of humanity is relentless. They overtake him and his bird. His life is snuffed out nineteen years before his designated time.

 

Parker hears the gunshots and commotion as she's walking through a small wooded area between the sights. She watches in horror as the private is dragged from his seat and into the woods. She instinctively grabs her satellite phone and thumbs the S.O.S. button on the side

 

 

Distracted by watching her comrade carried to his death, she doesn't hear David's foot steps behind her. She only feels his touch and the tether firing into her system. The agent lets out a high pitched scream and collapses.

 

Her wits come back as she recovers on the cold ground. The tether disorients her. A connection to a large group. The same group that killed the private. Red hatred floods from her into their collective consciousness. The others sever their tie with her. Hatred is painful, and this woman has a lot of it.

 

David stands over her. Waiting to see if her views changed from the connection. They did, but not in the way he had expected. There is no ally to be found in her.

 

It's amazing the speed from her hand didn't produce a sonic boom. Her fingers clasp the pistol grip as she rolls onto her back, training the gun on David's center mass. She squeezes the trigger and the Family's leader doubles over. Blood pools on the dirt.

 

The swarming mass that is the Family hones in on her. This time projecting their own hatred. Parker's years of cross country running kick in. She takes off in the general direction Zach and his party were headed. Cutting through brush, diving into thickets, she evades them with the grim determination that only comes when one's life is in immediate danger.

 

 

Her vision tunnels. The world seems colder and sharper. Enough adrenaline pumps through her to revive a junkie from a heroin overdose. After an hour of running, she can tell her pursuers have backed off. Back to camp to lick their wounds and probably relocate.

 

Parker reaches down to the satellite phone. Her fingers touch the outer casing. Her consciousness thrown over the invisible connection that link her phone to its satellite. A cold feeling creeps up her arm. At the shock of it she drops the expensive piece of equipment. The screen still glows, but no information is displayed. It's a paper weight now.

 

She's out of breath and just as tired as she was on orientation day. The woman leans against an old tree, chest heaving. A connection is established, but not so overwhelming. Her skin feels like bark as she loses track of her body. A slow voice reverberates through her mind, 'Who are you?'

 

'Parker, who the hell are you?' she sends back. To the slow mind on the other end it must have sounded like like an almost unintelligible yelp.

 

'We don't use names,' replies the old voice, 'We don't need them.' It sends more than simple words, it sends a sense of time. The entity has lived in this spot unmoved for hundreds of years. 'Why are you here?'

 

At the question she sends back an image of her own. One of death, ambush, and change. A sense of isolation that the old entity can't quite grasp, but tries none the less, 'I see.'

 

 

The two commune for many hours. Few can say they've meditated with a tree. 'Are you aware,' starts the old voice, 'That there is another here with us?'

 

Parker's eyes open quickly to scan for interlopers. She sees none, but there is a shimmer of light shaped vaguely like a man, 'Who?'

 

'This one would rather not say,' states the old being, 'But it would like to tell you that the others were independent of the ones you are pursuing.' At that the shimmer seemed to burst into particles, dispersing across the air.

 

2 Nearly at the border. This old path seems to lead straight through. Bypassing any check points. Mid stride Zach and Thom double over, clutching at their stomachs. Thom lets out a cry of pain while Zach simply holds himself and gasps.

 

Josh rushes to his traveling companions, "what's wrong?'', with a worried look on his face.

 

The other two catch their breath, "David's been shot." At the mention of danger Josh closes the circuit to the tether. Images of a man being pulled from a chopper and a woman sprinting away from their ally lying in a pool of his own blood.

 

 

3. A group of Family members hoist David up and carry him back to camp. They use the crudest of instruments to extract the bullet. There is no available anesthetic but sharing the pain. And so they did.

 

The agony of a bullet getting pulled from David's abdomen spreads across all who are connected. David's message comes through to the travelers mid surgery, 'I tried to make her our ally,' he begins, 'Like us. I didn't see any harm in it. But my people acted independently... Do not reply. She has a tether.'

 

4. "Perfect...," mutters Josh, "Now we could have an eavesdropper at any time."

 

"Well," Thom reasons, "We can still talk the old fashioned way."

 

The three carry on in silence. Finally, they come upon a small river. Only small at this point, it acts as a natural border between nations. They cross from one side to the other. Finally out of the jurisdiction of the agency. Alphabet soups barley communicate with each-other, much less agencies from out of their country of origin.

 

"Let's find a real place to stay the night," Josh suggests, "I carry Canadian money for just such an occasion."

 

Thom tries to stifle a laugh, "You planned to be an iternational fugitive ahead of time?"

 

 

"I used to have friends up here," Josh explains, "They're further north. Far enough north that you stop seeing cities and start seeing small towns and homesteads. But we'll shoot for that later, I'd settle for a motel tonight."

 

The other two agree. They march on with a grim determination, both their bodies and minds weary.

 

Finally they come upon road that comes complete with signs and pavement. It doesn't seem to be too busy, but the occasional car passes. Zach makes use of his hitch hiker's thumb. Bent backwards at a right angle.

 

Soon an old Ford pick up truck slows to a stop a few yards ahead of the party. The manual window rolls down and the face of an old farmer peers through it, "Where're ya headin?"

 

"Nearest motel," says Josh, "We got turned around in the forest. Been in the woods for days."

 

"You're pretty far from that," says the old man, "About ten miles. I've only got enough gas to get to my farm though."

 

Josh flashes a bill with the maple leaf on it, "Think this'll cover it?"

 

 

"You can hop in the back," the man gestures toward the empty bed of the truck.

 

The travelers pile in. Their legs bend for the first time in days. It almost feels as good as sleep. Cold wind blows over them as the truck speeds up to about forty-five.

 

They come to a stop at a gas station adjacent to a small motel. Josh hands the man a bill and thanks him. The three are on their way.

 

Josh can only afford one room for the night. They draw straws on who gets the bed. Thom lucks out. After an hour or two of enjoying the luxuries of hot food and color tv, it's lights out. Zach and Thom easily drift into the dream scape they've become so familiar with.

 

Josh is late to the party. Duo's engaged in some task that would only make sense with the proper context. The amalgamation of Zach and Thom manipulates the tether in a new manner, embedding it in the translucent mountain.

 

He tries to establish a connection with Duo but the creature is almost unresponsive. Josh can see vague pictures of a network spanning the globe. A few central hubs scattered about. He doesn't quite understand what he sees. He makes a mental note to ask them later.

 

Josh takes this opportunity to explore, and attempt to fly. He still can't truly do it, but his gliding jumps keep him suspended longer and longer. Finally he can hold himself above the ground.

 

 

He hovers a few hundred feet up and scans the horizon. Signs. Signs stretching all the way back to that first mountain. But at the base of it is a new shape. It looks like a tree has sprouted since his first visit.

 

Josh approaches it. A great oak. It looks like it's pulsing and breathing. He stretches out a hand, bark rough beneath his palm. An electrical charge runs up his extremity almost like a defense mechanism.

 

He pulls his hand back quickly. As he breaks, contact the shape of a woman raises out of the bark. Further and further, with more and more definition in her features. He begins to recognize her. It's his old boss.

 

She falls from the tree, gasping and trying to get her bearings. She looks up at Josh, 'Where am I?'

 

Josh stretches out a hand, 'You're asleep, don't worry.'

 

She takes it. He hoists her up to her feet. Parker makes eye contact, 'Why did you quit? Why did you defect?'

 

Josh gazes in the direction of the mountains. Toward the tether's source, 'There are things going on here that I don't understand,' He starts, 'But what I do understand is that we were not the good guys in this scenario. We kidnapped those men and one died in our care. That's reason enough to quit.'

 

 

She nods. She can empathize with him, although she doesn't agree with him, 'You know we're going to hunt you down, right?'

 

A sad look comes across Josh's face. He didn't have many friends or acquaintances but the ones he did have were affiliated with the agency. The expression was that of a man who had lost everything, 'I know.'

 

The two stand in silence, watching the stars move ambiently above them. Thy resemble a kaleidoscope, 'This place really is beautiful,' comments Parker.

 

'We are mobile here,' the old being interjects, 'We are half here and half in the physical.'

 

Josh looks around surprised, 'Who's that?'

 

Parker grins and points to the tree, 'My friend I met after your friend tried to get me to join his cult.'

 

He can't really be surprised at this point. The mountain looming over them had spoken before, 'It's good to meet you.' It's still strange. There's no hand to shake.

 

'You as well,' The thoughts flow out, 'We always wondered if your people would be able to come here. Or even talk to us. It seems the times are changing. The end of an age.'

 

 

Parker turns to to Josh, 'What's your end game?' she inquires, 'Why... Convert that commune I came across?'

 

Josh's etheral body begins to shimmer, bits of him are fading in and out. His shoulder is shaking like an invisible hand is holding on tight, 'That's just the tip of the iceberg,' As his particles scatter across the dreamscape.

 

His eyes open in the physical plane. A worried Zach points at the TV, "That Family made it on the news for that." He runs his fingers through his hair, "This is getting a bit high profile. They've been raiding patrol cars, stock piling guns, and ammunition. The only reason the national guard hasn't been called in is because they can't pin point where they're coming from... I feel like we messed up giving David the tether."

 

Josh leans back against the wall, "Maybe he's just the guy with the Molotov."

 

"Maybe...," Zach seems distant, regretful, "Thom, show him what we were working on last night. I don't have a copy of it myself."

 

A piece of paper with lines and geometry scrawled across it sits on the bed side table. Apparently this motel leaves a pen and paper there in every room. Like they expect to have a lot of automatic writers come through, "It's a map," Thom starts, "It looks like it's the western hemisphere."

 

Zach points to the hubs scattered across a northern area. One seems to be near the border between Canada and the states, less than a hundred miles from the motel. If the map's accurate and to scale, that is, "A mountain, the metal one, told us these exist in the physical plane as stand ins for him. They're like amps. If we can get to one of them something might happen. We could give this to everyone."

 

"Something might...," Exhales Josh, "Whether it's good or bad hinges on how many Davids are out there"

 

"We'll have to use it and find out," Answers Thom. He glances at the clock radio. It's nearly noon, "About time we checked out."