Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “What the hell are you smiling about, Jason Bourne?”

  “I just realized something. I came here as a spy for the Terminators because Zoey told me to. But something happened during my time here. I’ve become one of you guys. My subconscious realized this weeks ago, which is why I’ve felt so conflicted. That’s it. I know what I’m going to do now.”

  “What? What will you do?”

  “I’m going to have a talk with Zoey. Tell her to go back to Tequesta and leave us the hell alone. She’ll threaten to expose me, but it won’t matter because I’m going to come clean with Rosemary and Ingrid and everyone else as soon as we get back.”

  “Slow down there, Austin Powers. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. People may decide you’re not to be trusted. Banish you from the island.”

  “I don’t think so. Unlike you, I’m a productive member of the Colony. I provide services that no one else can.”

  “True. Plus you have great hair.”

  Tyler laughed. He felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “So you’re going to take that chance?” Kenny continued, derision evident in the young voice. “You’ll risk banishment just to feel a little better about yourself?”

  “I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I think it’s the wrong thing to do. I don’t care how perfect your hair is or how useful your education and your skill set. You. Are. A. Spy. Get it? People will never forget that, and they’ll never trust you. You’ll always have a fat black smudge floating in a word balloon above your head. People will forgive a theft. They’ll forgive a lie. They may even forgive a murder if it was justified. But they won’t forgive a betrayal.”

  Tyler sighed. “So what do you think I should do?”

  “I think we have to kill Zoey.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  Kenny laughed. “Just kidding, dude. Lighten up. I need more information before I can give you advice.”

  After an hour of fishing and strategizing, Tyler had a plan.

  ***

  “Damn it, Tyler,” Rosemary said.

  He sat in the Colony leader’s living room and waited for a flood of rebukes that never came. He had told her the entire story from the beginning, as well as the solution they had come up with out on the Celestial Seas that afternoon.

  Kenny stood at the bungalow’s front door, acting as scout. This conversation must go no further.

  The intelligent chocolate-brown eyes bored into him. He squirmed under their judgment.

  “It won’t work.”

  “Why not? Kenny is an excellent liar. We know he’ll be convincing. He admits to someone...maybe Charlotte...that he saw Zoey put the poison in Howard’s food, but was afraid to come forward out of fear. Charlotte comes to you. We have a meeting, take a vote, and since we don’t have the death penalty here, Zoey gets banished. Even if she reveals that I was the spy, I’ll deny it. Who will people believe? Me or her?”

  She closed her eyes and sunk into the sofa cushion.

  “What? How will that not work?”

  “Because she has dirt on me too.”

  “Oh my. The plot thickens, like the waist of a pregnant cheerleader,” Kenny said from the open doorway.

  “What? How can she have dirt on you?”

  “Because she recognized me from a mug shot she saw on TV before the plague.”

  Tyler was stunned. Of all the people in the Colony, he would have bet his life that Rosemary was the most ethical, law-abiding person of them all. She didn’t even allow crude language in their community.

  She opened her eyes. “I used to be a con artist. I was wanted on several counts of fraud, racketeering, and embezzlement, as well as being a ‘person of interest’ in a suspicious suicide case. Apparently Zoey has a photographic memory. My appearance is different now than it was back then – I used to lighten my skin and I kept my hair short – but she still put it together. If we banish her or threaten her in any way, she’ll tell everyone about me. I can’t risk that. Not even Lucas knows about my past.”

  “I...I...don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. You’re shocked and disgusted. And you like me, so think how the people who don’t like me will feel. I’ve made a few enemies here. Can you imagine how Ingrid will judge me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I can.”

  She leaned forward, earnest now. “I’m not the same person.” She glanced up at Kenny who wore an expression of mild distaste. “Right there. That is the look I don’t want to see on people’s faces. I’ve worked my ass off to get us where we are. Would I do that if I were a horrible person?”

  “No, I don’t think you would. I believe you. People can change, if they want to.”

  “That’s it exactly. I got a wake-up call. I swore to myself I would change, and I did. I work hard at being a good person every day. I have a lot to make up for.”

  “So what now?”

  “We have to get rid of Zoey, but we can’t let her go back to Tequesta, which is another reason banishment won’t work. She’ll report all the details of our operation to her sister.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell him.” The derision was back in Kenny’s voice.

  “And we have to get rid of her before she tells anyone about us.”

  “We’re not going to kill her. I still love her, as crazy as that is.”

  “Of course we’re not going to kill her. Weren’t you paying attention just now? You think I want to make more bad karma for myself? I have an idea, but it would be asking a lot from you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look. “Do you think Ingrid would be willing to part with more of that food cache that I’m not supposed to know about?”

  ***

  “Ugh. My head is killing me,” Zoey said, rubbing her eyes and trying to sit up on a v-shaped cushion in the forward berth of the Celestial Seas.

  Tyler watched those lovely sapphire eyes squint, then blink, then open wide in alarm.

  “What the fuck? Where am I?”

  He grinned. “You’re at sea, my dear.”

  “What the hell is going on? Why am I on a fucking boat?”

  She scrambled off the bed, lost her balance, and thwacked the Little Mermaid tendrils against a bulkhead.

  “Careful. The water is rough today and you still have some of the sedative in your bloodstream.”

  “Sedative? What have you done?”

  He recognized the menacing tone, but rather than being intimidated by it, he found it amusing. Maybe someday it would be adorable. That would depend on her, though.

  “I’ve removed a dangerous person from the Colony and am taking her to a place where she can only make trouble for me. And since you don’t know the first thing about sailing, you probably don’t want to cause me too much grief.”

  He turned, gesturing for her to follow. A minute later she stumbled out onto the polished-wood deck. He took a moment to admire the aesthetics of the yacht’s mainsail silhouetted against the 360-degree backdrop of a cloudless sky and cobalt water. The view was magnificent, unobstructed by land in any direction.

  “I’ve always wanted to visit the Canary Islands,” he said with a smile.

  Chapter 27 – Jessie

  Jessie watched her two friends through a thick fringe of lash. Her eyes were mostly closed, but not all the way. She was playing possum so she could listen to the grownups’ conversation. They had set up camp for the night in a field of dead corn stalks. Tung had lead them through hundreds of the dried-up plants for what seemed like miles, until he reached a point that felt secure. Ever since they had been attacked by those people next to the Cadillac, he had been even more cautious. The weapon from Cthor-Vangt was no longer hidden in his pocket; he held it in his hand all the time now. It was a violation of Cthor protocol, but Tung didn’t care. He said his prime directive was keeping them safe. Now that Harold could see into the future – her daddy would have used the word ‘psychic’ – he was
even more precious to the Cthor. It was interesting that Maddie had become psychic after being shot in the head, and Harold got it after Jessie brought him back to life when he died two days ago.

  In all other ways, he was the exact same person: funny, smart, patient when she asked a million questions. But sometimes his eyes would get a faraway look in them and he would start talking in a dreamy voice, just like Maddie had done. It had happened three times so far, and the things Harold saw when he was having one of his visions were a bit scary.

  “I think you worry too much about us.” Harold sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, poking the remnants of their small campfire with a stick. Dinner had been something called MREs, which Tung explained were developed by the army years ago and were easy to carry. Other than Tung’s futuristic weapon, they weren’t allowed to bring anything, including food, from Cthor-Vangt. But Tung and the other traveling observers and mentors had access to several secret aboveground stockpiles of MREs. She liked macaroni and cheese the best.

  “It’s my job to worry. There are some dangerous people up here. Those two assailants I had to dispose of underscores the threat. I’m tempted to turn around and go home.”

  “I think that would be a mistake. We haven’t accomplished anything yet.”

  “Except getting you killed.”

  Harold chuckled. “True. But look how well that turned out. I’m Edgar Cayce now.”

  “Letting Jessie bring you back was a risky and irresponsible move.”

  “From my understanding, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop her.”

  “True. She was determined. I admit I didn’t fight her, but it could have turned out badly. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. I might have come back to life with an inexplicable desire to feast on human brains.”

  She felt a wave of relief when she saw Tung’s grin. She did not want her new mentor to be nervous or unhappy.

  “The thought did cross my mind. Seriously, though, I didn’t know how much oxygen deprivation your brain had suffered, nor how much damage the blow to your head had caused. You might have been a vegetable, if not a zombie.”

  “Right. But it all worked out for the best. I’m firing on even more cylinders than before. I’ve always been a lucid dreamer. I think my recent brief foray into the afterworld flung open a portal that had always been slightly agape. Perhaps the visions will help us in our mission.”

  “I don’t intend to go anywhere near an ocean, so the hurricane you’ve been seeing shouldn’t impact us.”

  “No, but it may affect your friends.”

  “Yes, I will contact Amelia and Fergus about it soon.”

  “Everything and everyone is connected. We’re all sinuous, meandering threads woven into a cosmic tapestry of incomprehensible complexity. It’s fascinating. I’m thrilled to still be alive and to be a part of the adventure. I think Jessie...and you...made the right decision. It would seem I’m meant to be part of this saga.”

  “I think so too. I’m happy you’re still with us.” Tung glanced at her. “I know you’re awake, Jessie.”

  She grinned. “When you talk to Amelia with your scythen, please tell her I miss her and I love her.”

  “Of course. Now it’s time for sleep.”

  “Okay.” She turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

  She was soon asleep. Her state of consciousness quickly reached the level at which she could experience remote viewing. It didn’t happen every night, but it did fairly often. It had happened several times in Kansas. She had seen and heard Isaiah and the people who were near him – Lootinent Martin and the Spider Lady – when they were approaching Liberty. Amelia told her to be very careful in these situations because it may be a two-way street. In other words, those people she saw during remote viewing may also be able to see her. She was supposed to hide if she felt they could sense her presence. That had happened with Isaiah, the Smiling Man. He had also possessed the talent and when he sensed her, she had scurried behind a dream tree.

  Tonight she saw Amelia sitting on a yellow sofa. Jessie’s heart filled with joy. Amelia was her most favorite person now that her daddy was gone. Before she could try to make Amelia see her in return, the view shifted. Now she was looking down at a notebook. Someone was writing in it, but because she stood behind the person, she couldn’t tell what they looked like. There was a silver ring with a purple stone on the middle finger of the person’s hand, a hand which was scribbling terrible things. She didn’t read cursive well, but she could identify a few of the words: killing, poison, Angel of Death. She felt a surge of panic. What if the person writing those terrible things wanted to hurt Amelia? Her worst fears were realized when she saw the cursive version of her friend’s name in the notebook – something about Amelia and her black bag. Before Jessie could try to decipher more of the words, the images shifted again. Now she was standing at the foot of someone’s bed. Moonlight coming in through the window revealed an old lady lying there. There was a man next to her. He was awake, watching the woman as she tossed and turned. Jessie instinctively knew the silver-haired woman was psychic, like Harold, and that she was having a vision of something that hadn’t happened yet. Jessie didn’t have that ability; hers was limited to seeing only what was happening in real life at that moment in time. Her mentors had explained the difference: remote viewing versus precognition. The old woman was dreaming about something that terrified her, while the man beside her watched. Starlight glinted off eyes that looked black in the gloom of the bedroom. His hair was like Harold’s – gray and long – but this man’s was thicker and there was some dark hair mixed in with the gray. Before she could get a sense of either the old woman or the old man, the images changed again.

  She departed the state of consciousness that allowed her to see actual events unfolding in real time and transitioned into a normal dream. It was one she had often. She flew just above the treetops; the wind rushing to meet her felt exhilarating. The blue sky above was brimming with puffy sheep-clouds. Dream-Jessie dipped and soared in the air like a dolphin might do in the sea. The real Jessie smiled in her sleeping bag.

  Chapter 28 – Amelia

  Amelia had shown up for dinner that evening outside the Love Shack, but she wasn’t able to relax and enjoy the socializing that went along with the meal. The kitchen staff cooked for everyone three days each week. The other days, people were expected to do their own cooking with food that was distributed by the supplies allocation people as well as anything they were able to catch, trap, or grow. Some people maintained personal gardens, but just as with the Colony’s communal garden, most plants had been severely damaged by the recent hail. Nobody was going hungry yet, thanks to Ingrid’s generous donation of food, but sensible people were spending more of their free time these days fishing and cultivating new seedlings.

  Charlotte was a wonderful cook, but for some reason the thought of chatting with fifty other people tonight did not appeal to her. Soon after arriving at the Love Shack, she found Rosemary and made her excuses for not staying. She would go back home and see about doing a little shore fishing for her dinner. She knew how to use a rod and reel, and she had a knack for it too. At least one cast in ten hooked a fish. Marine life was making a comeback now that commercial fishing had ended abruptly. The ocean’s bounty was one of the many reasons she had chosen to spend the rest of her days in the Colony. No matter what, she would be able to feed herself, and with better fare than cans of Spaghettios that had outlived their sell-by date.

  When she found Lucas rummaging around in her kitchen cabinets, she wasn’t surprised. Her scythen had been trying to tell her something was up.

  “Can I help you?” Amelia said to Lucas’s back. She felt some minor pleasure at his discomfort for being caught snooping in her home.

  “Sorry, Amelia. Your name was at the top of my list. Howard suggested you were the cat killer. Maybe you wanted revenge.”

  “Please. If I wanted to kill someone, you would never know.”


  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “It’s not. I’m no murderer. I catch and release spiders, for goodness sake.”

  “So you say. Well, you’re in luck. I didn’t find anything incriminating here, so I’ll just be on my way.”

  “You intend to search the homes of all the Colonists?”

  “Won’t need to. I’ll find the perp long before I’ve gone through all the houses. By the way, please don’t mention this to anyone. If you aren’t the killer and you want the person apprehended, then you’ll let me do my job without tipping people off about my searches.”

  “Very well,” she said, then stuck out her hand, an olive branch of sorts.

  He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

  The Colony’s head of security walked through her front door and onto the sidewalk of her building. Rather than turning right, toward dinner, he turned left. Amelia thought about who lived in that direction; she knew whose house he was going to next. She had seen Chin at the Love Shack and knew Lucas would have plenty of time to search the quirky little man’s home.

  He was probably wise in doing so. Chin was a loner and a bit of a misfit. Those qualities could be attributed to Asperger’s or any number of personality disorders a percentage of Chicxulub’s survivors shared, but they could also be red flags for something worse.

  Lucas was unlikeable. Something about his maleness – so overt that it felt aggressive – put her off. The handshake had given her three pieces of information: he was not the murderer; he was an unknowingly strong transmitter to anyone with scythen who could receive his thoughts; and he felt a profound sense of responsibility in keeping everyone safe.

  Amelia might not like the man nor his methods, but she could not fault his motivation.

  She headed out to the beach with rod and reel in hand. It was going to be a spectacular sunset; a perfect balance of wispy and plump clouds riddled the sky, waiting for the fading light to paint them in a kaleidoscope of colors. When she saw a small figure walking toward her, she sighed, trying not to be annoyed by the interruption.