by Ellen Clary
“Okay, then.”
They were on the far side of the reservoir from the parking lot. The place had an isolated feel to it. Even the birds that were flitting around them at the beginning seemed to fall away, except for a vulture, cruising by with that hopeful Are you dead yet? look.
Lars started to climb the rocky incline of the creek.
Amy, halfway sliding down the hill, worked to keep her footing.
“Are you sure?” she said, balancing on a rocking boulder. “I don’t have four legs, and I left my trekking poles in the car.”
/Yes./
They worked their way up the creek and reached the top of a rise.
Lars said, /Here./ He was pointing to what looked like a small cave.
“This doesn’t look municipal at all.”
/Huh?/
“It’s okay, keep tracking.”
They went inside.
Lars nearly immediately said, /Here./
“Where? Stop. I can’t see anything.” Amy got a glowstick out of her pack.
Holding it up, Amy could make out dimly in the gloom an underground pond with a small beach on the right. The pond wasn’t making much noise compared to the creek, and Amy figured the cave surroundings must be damping the sound. Lars walked over and was sniffing at footprints.
“Good find. Let me record this.” She switched the camera mode on and let it adjust to the low light. “Agent Callahan here with Canine Lars. We have tracked Suspect Adam to this cave, and have found footprints that appear to match his. Lars says that these footprints belong to him. I will take scent samples to double-check. I am standing beside an underground pond in a cave. The pond’s outlet is a creek that travels down to the reservoir, though I don’t see the outlet of the pond.” Peering into the dim light she said, “There appears to be something floating in the water further out.” She tried to focus the camera on it. “I can’t tell what it is, but we will investigate it. I’m shutting this off for now, so it can transmit.”
She realized there was no way to transmit without a view of the sky and a satellite, so she told Lars to wait while she set the handheld and pack outside, but kept the glowstick.
Outside, she looked around for a branch that might reach that far, but there weren’t any obvious choices so she went back in. The palm that she had impaled on the bridge stanchion ached, and she tried to concentrate.
She thought about the other two bags. The one Pearl and Steve found was way out in the middle of the reservoir, and they had to commission a canoe. Gimli and Yolanda’s was anchored with a branch in a small side pocket. Amy peered more closely. If this is a bag, it’s not moving, which is unusual for anything floating in this water that has a creek outlet nearby. It could just be a piece of equipment like something that monitors the water level, she thought. Wish I could just conjure up a canoe. Must be nice. Steve even had an official canoe pilot. While Amy looked, she listened to the quiet gurgle of the water flowing past her. Looking down the pond, it didn’t have an obvious connection to the stream, but it had to have one. There must have been a pipe connection lower down that she couldn’t see. Holding up the glowstick, she looked again at the bag. It would move a little and then stop abruptly and then drift back. Then it repeated the process. It must be anchored to something.
Steve and Yolanda said their bags had both been sealed, so removing an anchor shouldn’t open it, but it seemed risky.
Calling back to him, Amy said, “Lars, do you remember how to push a ball with your nose?”
/Ball?/
“See that bag. Could you push that with your nose?”
/Fetch!/
“No, stop. No fetch. Push.” Miming with her hands, she inhaled and made herself refrain from adding, “This is important,” knowing it would confuse him.
/Poosh./
“Right, but go slow.”
/Poosh./
Lars entered the water and started to swim out, heading directly to the bag or whatever it was.
“Go out. Out further,” she said, realizing that Yolanda would have just used a “Go bye” herding command. “Around the bag. Out.”
The kelpie boy passed the bag and swung around.
“Slow.”
She heard him give a watery exhale. He said, /Cold./
He’s not going to last long, but let’s try for a few seconds, Amy thought.
He was within a foot.
“Touch. Slow.”
The bag moved a little and pulled back.
Amy gritted her teeth. “Touch again. Gentle. No bite.”
Amy could tell this was taking a lot of effort. The bag appeared to do the same thing.
“Never mind, just leave it and come back. It’s too cold. We’ll have to think of something else.”
Lars had touched the bag one last time and swung back around and headed back.
“Good boy, Lars. Come on back.”
Amy tried to think of what she was going to do beyond drying Lars off.
She looked up again at the bag. Then she looked again. She could swear it was moving. “No way.” She visually lined the bag up with a rock she could barely see on the other side of the pond. It was slowly drifting towards them.
“Lars, you did it!”
The bag kept drifting in what seemed to be a preordained path. Amy positioned herself in its path. Lars shook off and some of the water splashed on her. “Wow, that’s cold, go outside and warm up and I’ll dry you off once I get a hold of this.”
Lars went outside and she could hear him shaking more. The bag crept onward. She looked at the bucket she’d had to lug up that stupid hill. Just a few more feet and we can call it a day.
As it drifted on its way the bag seemed to rotate, then it was smaller, and then it disappeared. Amy lowered the glowstick and in the shadows she could see there was a vortex. Then she thought about how the water was getting to the creek. “No!” she cried, pointlessly grabbing the air where the bag had been.
She put the glowstick in the water, the cold sending a jolt up her arm. She could see the bag being pulled down towards a pipe. Okay, I can catch it on the other end, but looking again she could see a metal grating over the pipe. Shit, the bag could rupture, she realized.
With no hesitation, she jumped into the water.
Amy nearly passed out from the shock of the frigid water. She could feel her heart pause before beating even harder. She told herself, Focus. Look down. Find the bag. Swim down. Get the bag. Get. The. Bag.
Amy was surprised that she still had the glowstick clenched in her right fist. She could see the bag twirling in the water inside the whirlpool on its way downward. She marveled in the back of her brain how the bag still appeared to wander even while inside a whirlpool. Gods, this is cold. Swim.
She could see the bag and reached for it while it shyly slunk its way out from her grasp. The water was pressing on her ears and her lungs were starting to complain about oxygen. She remembered Harris expounding on how it was the buildup of CO2 that your lungs were complaining about, and not oxygen debt. She made a note to tell Harris just how unhelpful this information was right now. The bag floated by; she grabbed and missed. She could see the pipe, but it was beginning to blur and her vision narrowed. She reached out, but there was nothing there. She couldn’t see any farther. Despair seeped in. She had lost, and now she had to apologize to several thousand people who were in mortal danger. She wondered just how many there were. She blindly struck out in frustration and felt the bag. She reached out with her other hand, dropping the glowstick, and braced the bag between fists that she could hardly feel. She had the bag, she’d done it, but there was something else she needed to do. What was it? Her brain just wasn’t responding and she started to drift. Part of her brain said, SWIM UP, KICK. Oh yeah. She started kicking, even though she couldn’t see anything and could only hope that she still had the bag.
Her head broke the surface, and she could hear Lars barking. Her breath forced its way out of her lungs and she tried to breathe, gagging on
water. She coughed out a mouthful of water and gasped for air. She still had the bag, but she couldn’t see yet and was trying to tread water with only her legs. The temperature of the water was making it very difficult to breathe.
Lars started whining and she was able to head towards his voice. She found the side. With her arms, she could feel the sand on the beach area. She placed the bag up on the sand, as far away from the side as she could reach. Lars was licking her face. She pulled herself farther down the side, so they were away from the bag, but that was all she could do. “I can’t do this, Lars.”
/Grab./
Where did he learn “grab”? Amy wondered. “I’m sorry, Lars, there’s nothing to hold on to.”
/Grab./
She could feel his head on her chest and his body tensed. “I’m just going to pull you in,” she said, but she put her hands on his collar and around his neck. He pulled, and her hands slipped off of him. “This isn’t going to work, Lars.” He put his head back, this time grabbing some of her shirt with his teeth, and started to pull harder. “You’re just going to rip the shirt or get dragged into the water,” she said, but he just dug in further. She was able to work her hands well enough to grab his ruff and, with his help, she was able to drag herself onto the beach where she could crawl a little farther away from the water. The glowstick was floating in the water and Amy’s eyes started working well enough that she could see the bag was out of danger.
But that was the end of her energy. What she had left, she spent coughing while lying on her side. Her clothes were glued to her skin, robbing her of what little body heat she had left. She closed her eyes and gave into the uncontrollable shivering that had been waiting in the wings.
Lars leaned up against her, whining. He was still wet and the warmth of his body made no difference. He pushed his head against her.
/Move?/
“I … can’t … Lars.”
She distantly thought about her handheld, but realized she had put it outside the cave so it could upload data. She gave herself again to the shivering.
Lars butted into her.
As she drifted, a thought occurred to her. Unable to speak any further, she mentally asked him. /Lars, could you go outside and bark?/
/Bark./
/Outside,/ she said.
No longer feeling cold or shivering, Amy felt herself floating away to the sound of his barking.
CHAPTER 65:
Steve Finds Amy
AMY WAS out surfing with John.
She asked him, “How am I supposed to enjoy this if you keep stealing my waves?”
Laughing, he said, “Let’s swim to the islands on our boards.”
“But that’s hundreds of miles.”
“It’s okay, it won’t take long,” he said and started off.
She started after him. “What kind of trouble is this going to get us into?”
“You’ll be fine, don’t worry. You’re safe now.”
Surprised to find herself believing him, she followed.
The ocean swell was reassuring as it carried her board. She could feel the warm breeze and saw how it tousled John’s hair in that cute way that she always liked.
There was an island in the distance that was getting closer.
John stood up on his board and held out his hand. She didn’t realize she had stood up. She looked down to find herself standing on the water. Worried, she looked up at him. He said, “Don’t worry, the water will support you.”
“John, what’s happening?”
“That’s up to you. You can walk to the island or stay out here on the water.”
“Would you stop with the Zen crap and explain to me what’s going on?”
He held both her hands. “I love you, but I can’t make this choice for you.”
She felt understanding seep in. “Thank you, John, I love you.”
He bent in and kissed her, and then he was gone.
Looking at the island, she realized she didn’t have to rush, so she lay down on her board, feeling the air stirring around her. She did think it was odd that she wasn’t hearing any birds, but she didn’t worry. She could see the sun, but she couldn’t feel it. She thought about Lars. She would miss him, but knew he would be well taken care of. She hoped he’d adjust to his new life, be it with John or Steve or someone else.
She could feel the island calling. She sat up to look at it. She could tell it wasn’t just an island, but a pretty representation of an island, with a new world behind it, waiting. She hadn’t expected to be in this position, but did anyone ever, really? She thought age almost didn’t matter, as she could see an eighty-two-year-old thinking the same thing she was with her twenty-two-year-old perspective.
A sea lion appeared. It jumped up on the board and said, “Amy! Amy!”
“If I wasn’t hallucinating before, I’m obviously doing it now. I don’t have any fish. Would you please go away?”
The sea lion touched her arm with a flipper. She tried to pull her arm back and said, “Go away. Please leave me be.”
It said over its shoulder, “Pulse is 48, body temperature is 95 degrees Fahrenheit. We have to get her out of here and wrap her in a warming blanket.”
“Oh Gods, go away, you stupid sea lion.”
It started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
He dived into the water and the ocean waves began to swell, some of them breaking on her.
She asked, “What’s happening?”
HARRIS HEARD Lars’s barking, and said, “Agent Callahan? … Amy? … AMY! … Hello, Amy?” After repeating himself and getting no response, he contacted Steve and Yolanda, who raced over from their impromptu command post.
Harris sent them the coordinates, and Steve and Yolanda ran the entire way from the parking lot to the creek. They worked their way up the hill, guided by the racket that Lars was making.
Having found Amy’s handheld, Steve, breathing heavily and wiping sweat out of his eyes, saw the cavern at the head of the creek above the reservoir. Lars was barking, shivering, and covered in debris, probably from rolling to dry off. Lars was signaling for him to go into the cavern by running back and forth with an urgency that Steve rarely saw in him. In the gloom of the cavern, Steve could see Amy bunched in a ball on the small plot of sand by a pond. “Oh Gods, Amy, what happened?”
She didn’t say anything, didn’t move. He shook her. “Amy, Amy, please.” Her skin is like touching a frozen—he broke off his thoughts, and dove in his pack for a medi-patch. He placed the patch on Amy’s arm. There was a glowstick floating in the water that supplied some light, but he switched on his headlamp. She moved her arm. “She’s alive!” he shouted.
Then he saw the plastic bag, the same exact kind that Pearl had located. He yelled back to Yolanda, “Amy found the last bag. I need that bucket over there to secure it.
“Amy! Amy!” he shook her shoulder.
Amy’s voice was thin and raspy, but he could make out her words. “Go away, you stupid sea lion.”
He started laughing. “Sea lion? What the fuck? For the record, let it show that Agent Callahan is delirious, and anything she says should not be considered official record. She’s too cold, we have to get her out of here.”
The patch started to blink red.
“94 degrees Fahrenheit—we’re losing her.” He rubbed her sides vigorously. All he wanted was to gather her up in his arms and get her to safety. But he realized that Amy, protocol, and common sense all said to deal first with the threat of the dissolvable plastic bag and its payload of nanobots just waiting to kill thousands of people. She was putting her life on the line for this and he had to do his part. “We have to get the bag secured first.”
Yolanda crawled in. “I need to get the bucket, let me move past you.” She slipped around him and grabbed the bucket. “Adam’s bag looks intact.” She picked it up, placed it in the bucket, and put the lid on. “Now, I need to get around you again.”
The reading was now 92 degrees.
Steve said, “I really don’t like this, we need to get the bag and then her out ASAP. Is there someone else out there? You go first and watch the loose rocks.” He held up his headlamp.
“Got it covered. Don’t worry. Just get her out of here alive,” Yolanda said.
As Yolanda exited, she grabbed her handheld and said, “Harris, we need a medic ASAP.”
“They’re already on their way,” said Harris.
Steve gathered Amy’s body up as best as he could. She was stiff, which made things both awkward and easier. He talked almost continuously. “Amy, stay with me. Wake up. Stay awake.” Tripping over her legs, he half-dragged her out of the cavern.
AMY HAD lost her board, and the waves kept pounding her. She thought, Could I drown here? How could that be?
She could feel hands on her. “Amy, it’s Steve. I’m here. We’re going to wrap you up and get you warm.”
His words didn’t make any sense, and she lay back down on her board and let herself drift in surrender.
WHEN STEVE laid Amy down, the medic wrapped her body in a warming blanket that would both dry her skin and gradually warm her.
The patch now said 87 degrees Fahrenheit. He didn’t know the fine details, but he knew this wasn’t good. He and Yolanda sat at Amy’s head and rubbed her shoulders, trying to stay out of the way but still wanting a connection.
The patch reported 86 degrees, and it beeped a couple of times. “What the hell does that mean?” Steve said.
The medic, whose name tag said Calvin, gave him a steady, questioning look while pulling something out of his bag, looking like he was trying not to be grim.
Steve understood. “Yes, we want the truth.”
Calvin showed him a small tool with a sharp probe on it and what looked like a small display on the top. Steve shuddered. Calvin said, “Her heart is starting to seize. I am going to insert a field defib, but they often don’t work when the body temp gets below 86 because things just don’t function well at that temp.” He looked over at the waiting medi-chopper that had arrived. “And the bad news is that transporting her in this state can kill her.” He pulled the blanket back from her chest and carefully positioned the defibrillator. The display came to life with what appeared to be positioning information. Pausing a second, he said, “You might want to look away if you’re squeamish.”