by K. G. Duncan
“Hang on,” Olivia quipped. She reached out her hand, Abby took it, and she pulled her up from the couch. “That sounds suspiciously like another long goodbye. Nuh-uh. Nope. Not this time.” Olivia was shaking her head. “Last time I left you, you were sitting in the back of a police car, and Stump was shot dead. And then what? How many months go by without a word? Without any information at all? Nobody knew nothing about where you were or what had happened. Nobody knew nothing at school. Nobody would talk about it. My momma wouldn’t let me go down to talk to the sheriff or the county people. Nope, this time you’re talking to me. If I’m gonna be your full partner in crime, then there will be no secrets between us. Your bus leaves in about thirty minutes. I’m walking you there, and you’re gonna explain a few more things to me. Deal?”
Abby grinned. “Deal!”
Abby stood, nearly breathless, staring across into the face of her best friend, Olivia. It was a few minutes before eight PM and they were at the bus station. The driver had started up the engine.
“Okay,” Abby said, taking the backpack from Olivia. “You know what to do.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Olivia stated, “shortly after dawn. I am to meet you at the boat landing with spare sets of clothing and a sleeping bag. Some non-perishable food. Camping supplies. I know. We’re setting up your new home on Gator Island.”
“It’s Old Man Willow Island,” Abby laughed.
“Nope!” Olivia stuck her chin out and huffed. “It will always be Gator Island for me.”
“Have it your way, then.” Abby breathed heavily and glanced over at the bus. She hoisted her bag on to her shoulder. “The plan remains the same.”
Abby and Olivia had walked briskly from Olivia’s home to the bus station of downtown Houma. It was about a 15-minute walk at the pace they had set. Abby was so pumped up, that she couldn’t go any slower. Along the way, she had tried to explain everything that had happened since she and Olivia had last parted ways. Her experience in the detention center, the last few months with Dr. Kinsey in the CHNOLA facility; her breakthroughs in the evenings there where she had been honing her dragon and wanderer skills.
She didn’t go too deeply into the nuances of the Fold—quantum theory, the ability to be everywhere and nowhere all at once—intergalactic, multi-dimensional consciousness was not something that Olivia would truly comprehend. But she was able to tell Olivia a few things that she could understand. That Abby was advancing and discovering new things about her abilities and the truer nature of the cosmos. She could now acquire knowledge and experience through her dragon “downloads.” And the downloads were in her control—not just random waves that rolled over and through her from out of the blue. She could communicate telepathically—hence, her sudden appearance in Olivia’s mind when she assumed dragon form and flew from New Orleans to Houma. She no longer needed to touch someone to have access to their memories and experiences—that could occur remotely. But she told her she would never do that to somebody without their permission. Something about Stump’s “traveler’s honor.”
Oh yes, and she showed Olivia the bear claw that Stump had given her and explained where it had come from and what that meant about travelling to other dimensions and other realities. She mentioned Granny Jane, Bo M’Ba Nesh, and her brother, Enoch, and her birth mother—all of whom were wanderers that had the ability to move between worlds through space and time. That the dreams and possibilities contained within each person’s conscious mind where not just thoughts or memories; they were real, tangible places and it was possible to physically travel there—Inside the Fold.
Abby had also explained to her the plan—sort of plan, anyway—and one which Abby had been concocting on the fly as they walked toward the bus stop. Abby needed to meet her brother and find out a few things. He was calling to her. Reaching across the folds of time and space to finally be here with her physically in this time and place. After that meeting, she would rendezvous with Olivia and retreat to their little secret island in the lake upon the bayou. It was the only place that Abby felt no one would be able to find them, and she needed a base of operations as well as some time to figure out what she needed to do. The island was the place she felt most comfortable. Hence the clothing, sleeping bag, food, and supplies that Olivia had agreed to gather.
Olivia now walked over to the sidewalk next to the bus that Abby was about to board and smiled her goofy grin back at Abby.
“You sure about this?” Olivia asked, half teasing. “I could come with you. You need me, dragon girl.”
“Yes, I do need you,” Abby responded and gave Olivia a hug. “But not with me now.” She pulled away slightly, so Olivia could see her face and look into her eyes. “I need you to do one more thing. And that can only be done here, behind the scenes, quietly. I need you to find out where they’re keeping Momma Bea. I know they’re not back at the house. She’s in custody somewhere. And Henry…” Abby stopped, closed her eyes, and pinched up her brow in concentration. “Well he’s just gone. Something’s happened, Olivia, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t find either one of them. They are shielded… invisible to me. I can’t access her remotely. Like I did with you. I can’t find the connection. So, I need you to get a message from me to Momma Bea, okay? Tell her that I’m fine, and everything will be okay. She’s not to worry. We will see each other again. Tell her that’s my promise! And…and that I’m still her sweet peaches!”
Olivia turned and glanced at the bus driver, who had come down the steps and leaned out the door, tapping his wristwatch.
“Oh Abby,” she said hurriedly, “Your bus is about to leave. I’ll take care of that and everything else. Don’t you fret, now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the crack!”
Abby smiled. “At the crack,” she repeated. And she turned to climb on the bus.
“I mean ten AM would be a more civil hour!” Olivia called after her as she stepped up into the bus. “It’s not like we got any cows to milk, or anything like that.” She laughed, and she could see Abby smiling through the window of the bus. She watched as the bus hissed, the door dipped and shut, and then it slowly pulled away. Abby was waving through the window, and it reminded Olivia of the last time they had said goodbye with a wave through a window, only this time nobody had just been shot and killed. This time they were secret agent travelers through space and time, and they were on a mission. Olivia turned and started walking back home.
“I’m gonna need an outfit,” she said softly to herself. “Just like Scarlett Johansson. Black Widow or the Wasp? Body tights. Sweet.”
Abby walked slowly through the Garden District of New Orleans. It was late in the evening, maybe around 11 PM. She had passed a few other people on the streets, but they didn’t pay any attention to a twelve-year old girl with a backpack. Ever since the bus ride, she had been fully tapped into the Fold, not really thinking any thoughts, not really grounded physically to this or any other world. The sidewalk she was currently walking on seemed immaterial and temporary, like she could just disappear through it at any moment. Her footsteps made no sound as she moved along like a cat. She felt like she was flickering in and out of space, like a hologram beam that was slightly distorted—one moment here, gone the next, then back again. She was just following a certain frequency, a vibration that was leading to her brother, who was reaching out to her.
Enoch.
She called out with her mind.
Have you come to fly, little sister?
His response was almost immediate. Abby stopped and turned to face the Victorian style house that was on her left. It was massive, with tower-like turrets flanking each end of the house, and gabled peaks above a three-storied frame. This was a multi-million-dollar mansion.
Abby felt a trickle of perspiration run down the small of her back, even though the evening was cool and crisp. She peered into the walkway that divided the front yard beyond a wrought iron gate. A figure was gliding dow
n the stairs of the front porch, walking toward her. There was light emanating from an open door beyond, and wisps of fog or smoke seemed to whirl around in colorful puffs as, before Abby knew it—and maybe it was done by some trick—the figure suddenly stood just before her, peering through the gate.
He was a handsome young man—not much more than an adolescent—standing in an immaculate Victorian-era green suit embroidered, by all appearances, with golden and red thread. He wore a matching top hat and carried a long black cane with a golden dragon on its top. He had the same dark curly locks of hair as Abby, and the same piercing green eyes, but his skin was paler.
“Oh, good evening, Aurora!” His voice was mellifluous and rich, a silky baritone that sounded much older than the boy looked. “My little sister has found her way back to me!” He smiled and reached over to pull open the gate.
Abby stepped in, and studied her brother as, now that she stood in his physical presence, a wave of memories and information rippled through the fold and converged in this present moment, standing at a gate, before a beautiful mansion in the Garden District of New Orleans. She knew him. Oh yes, and very well, for they had been together before—countless times. And all through time. Inseparable. She was the Yin to his Yang.
“Enoch,” she said with a genuine smile. “You know it’s the 21st century. Your only about 150 years off with your wardrobe.”
“Ah, my dear!” Enoch stamped his cane and twirled around once very gracefully. His frock coat whipped and snapped in the wind. “Certain things never go out of style. And these times are starved for good taste. You wait and see. What do they call it now? A meme? I’ll slowly let the idea ripple and bubble just below the surface. And before you know it, it’s on all the people’s iPhones! All the designers and the couture shops will be filling up their fashion runways and their exclusive shop windows with my vintage collection. It will catch like wildfire. I’ll bring this style back in no time. No time at all. All the young men will be begging for the look. It’s inevitable!” He laughed as he closed the gate and beckoned her inside. “Won’t you please come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
“You’ve been in my mind for quite a while, not declaring yourself. Hiding.” Abby said as she walked alongside him, up the steps, across the porch and through the mansion’s open front door. “Pretty sneaky.”
“Oh, you’ve got to have a little fun, sis!” Enoch said as he entered behind her. A pair of young serving girls dressed in tight black evening dresses approached. They were beautiful and exotic. Middle Eastern? The first one took Enoch’s coat, hat, and walking cane and whisked away. The second was carrying a tray upon which sat a large silver bowl filled with truffles. She swooped in and offered them, and Enoch said “Ooh,” and reached down to grab several and pop them in his mouth. Abby shook her head no, and the girl spun away down a side hall.
“Won’t you come into my parlor?” Enoch said in a garbled voice full of truffles. He smiled, revealing thick red fluid and bits of chocolate clinging to his teeth.
Abby glanced around. The entryway was massive, with side hallways leading off left and right. The serving girls had gone down to the left in what appeared to be the kitchen. Straight ahead was a foyer with a massive spiral staircase leading up. The floor was white, gold-veined marble, but everything else was carved, dark mahogany wood and intricately detailed: the walls, beamed ceiling, and the railing of the stairs—everything was carved in the precise and exact detail of a woodland motif. There were trees and fern leaves, and woodland creatures scampering. There were Celtic motifs and corded knots blended into the woodland scenes. It was masterful work and one of the most beautiful things Abby had ever seen. A giant golden chandelier hung in the center of the foyer and as they passed beneath it, Abby could see the burning flames of natural gas that lit each tapered sconce. The carved etchings and figures within the chandelier matched the woodland motif of the walls and ceiling.
Enoch lightly flitted up the stairwell to the first landing and continued straight down a wide central hallway, Abby following closely. He was rambling as he went.
“You know, it’s not my fault you picked a young Cajun girl from rural Louisiana. Really! I mean, living in a swamp with no access to Wi-Fi or computers. It’s a wonder you’ve awakened at all.”
He glided into a side room, pushing open gold-gilded mahogany doors and sweeping into a very grand parlor. The room was magnificent, with the same dark wood, but the walls were hung with rich red and golden tapestries and filled with gilt-leafed 18th century French furniture. Everything was splendidly ornate and immaculate.
Enoch swept into a large red-cushioned, high-backed chair, and gestured for Abby to sit in the companion chair next to him. A fire crackled in the hearth opposite the chairs.
“You could have anything you want here, you know,” Enoch was continuing as he motioned to the luxury around him. “We are like gods, still. That much hasn’t changed. But oh, the accoutrements! The playthings at our disposal.” He paused as yet another serving girl, similarly clad in the elegant black evening dress, came in with a fine silver and porcelain coffee service and set it down on the table between them.
“That will be all, Shala. Thank you.” Enoch said as he reached over and began to pour. The servant smiled widely at Abby, curtsied, and left the room as silently as she came in.
“You’ve changed quite a bit, brother.” Abby smiled as she watched him pour the coffee.
Enoch paused to regard Abby as he set a coffee down between them. “You need to live a little, Aurora.”
“A.B., actually,” Abby interrupted. “I go by A.B., now. That name has been co-opted by a Disney princess.”
“And a princess you should be!” Enoch laughed as he sipped his coffee. He gestured to the cup beside Abby, and she picked it up to sip. It was hot, creamy, and delicious.
“Look around here,” he continued. “Why not avail yourself of the many fruits? There’s no harm in it. In fact, it’s the quickest way to earn respect in this material world of consumerism and privately-owned capital assets.” Enoch leaned in conspiratorially and continued in a hushed tone.
“You could make a killing as a day trader. Or have you considered playing the ponies? With our gifts? There is wealth and power unimaginable, all at your fingertips. We could indeed become just like the kings and queens of old.”
“That’s not why we’re here, brother.” Abby responded drily. “You should know this better than any of us.”
“Oh right, dare I forget that father might banish me once again before I succumb to the sins of humanity?”
“It wasn’t a banishment,” Abby replied. She could remember everything, now. “It was a reward for your purity and compassion.”
“It was unspeakably harsh and cruel!” Enoch clipped. “Just when things were getting interesting, he took me away and had the audacity to call it ’protection.’ Well,” and here Abby watched her brother as he stared into the roaring fireplace and drifted somewhere else, momentarily.
“This time,” he suddenly came to life, “things are going to be different. I’ve been promoted, you know. Given autonomy to deal with humanity as I see fit. And as you know, humanity is not fit.”
“Nonsense!” Abby blurted. “They are as fit as anyone else who has ever existed. And what would you know about it? You’ve hardly spent any time among them—you’ve never really bothered to. But I have. I know them. They are flawed and a bit fickle. That’s true. You know they are so very young. But they have promise. Amazing promise to be better… to go beyond anything else that has come before!”
“That’s if they don’t burn down the entire planet first.” Enoch spoke with a grim smile on his lips. “Or break through this illusion called earth to run amok causing untoward destruction in all the wrinkles of time and space. The problem with you, dear sister, is that you love, unconditionally. You have a soft spot for them, and it muddles your perception.” He p
aused to sip his coffee and to sigh appreciatively.
“We cannot stand by idly,” he continued waving his hand in front of him, “and watch the disaster unfold any longer, just for the sake of the few who may be worthy when so many remain so undisciplined and so… so uncivilized. They are so deliciously dangerous.”
Enoch paused to pull out a remote controller from a side table and point it at the wall. As he pushed buttons, the walls started rolling down to reveal a vast bank of television and video screens. The entire wall was covered with them, images flashing in silence. Abby could see several news channels: CNN, Fox, Al Jazeera, BBC and countless others. There were History channels and Discovery, You Tube videos, stations and broadcasts from all across the planet—Enoch pressed another button and then there was audio, and the room erupted into a cacophony of sound and image.
“You see?” Enoch nearly shouted above the maddening din. He pressed a button and the screens went silent. He continued in a softer voice, “They have bridged the gap with their technology. Literally, like us, they can go anywhere and see anything they want. Oh yes, they are clever. But they are so reckless. Their cell phones, laptops, and devices now rule them. They are slaves of a wireless addiction, an algorithm that is insidiously present in every aspect of their lives. In their cars, their bank accounts, their jewelry and wrist watches. It’s going to kill them, actually. Make them so sick, and they won’t even realize it. It is a very slow poison, you know? As every second of every day they are obsessively, compulsively checking and monitoring all of the useless and extraneous elements of their insignificant and meaningless little lives. All of this to such a degree that their beloved possessions now own them. What to do? What to do?” And here Enoch turned his gaze away from the screens and smiled at Abby.