Project- Heritage

by Rob Horner

  Sherry’s mind filled with a vision, a sensation of floating through a dimly lit cavern. The air was filled with strange, ovoid shapes. A red aura surrounded everything, as though she was looking through a haze of blood.

  Travis shared the images, remembering the odd vision of the electric circuit in the work center. Was this similar? What were they seeing?

  The images changed, like motion, coming faster. They moved through the cavern, walls made not of stone but a different substance, gelatinous and not quite opaque, some kind of tissue.

  We’re seeing inside ourselves, Sherry realized.

  What?

  That’s a blood vessel; we’re following our blood streams.

  What for?

  I don’t know.

  Travis heard his own heartbeat, really heard it, not like when he pressed his hands over his ears or listened through a stethoscope. He experienced it, saw the great organ pumping, pounding a double-beat rhythm inside his chest. A second heartbeat echoed perfect time. Sherry’s heart, at once outside of his body but also occupying the same space.

  That’s impossible, Sherry thought.

  Yet it was happening. The current binding them joined two into one, a perfect symbiosis. So long as they maintained contact, their bodies would work in harmony, their hearts beating in time, their most idle thoughts transmitted back and forth. This knowledge awoke in them like something learned long ago, forgotten but now reclaimed.

  Sherry could feel Travis’s reluctance to let her go, and she realized it for what it meant; he knew they belonged together.

  Perhaps they always had.

  Travis heard Sherry’s thoughts and knew, without wondering how, that she wanted this contact as much as he did. He was aware of her growing attraction for him, and realized he felt the same way.

  Sherry blushed, the heat of his thoughts burning through her. How long had they been standing there in front of her mother?

  It felt like an eternity.

  It wasn’t nearly long enough.

  There could never be enough time, not for something like this.

  Surely there must be some visible evidence of what they experienced. There must be a nimbus of light surrounding them, blinding despite the summer sun and visible to everyone.

  Travis couldn’t take his mind off the young woman in his arms. How could this have happened to them?

  Were they like this before the Navy did…whatever it did? Or was this the result?

  Those questions didn’t matter. There was no possible explanation for it. Tempting as it was to chalk this up to some romantic notion of fate, no normal attraction accounted for this strange sharing of thoughts, this powerful current of energy that locked them together.

  There should be angels singing, Sherry thought.

  What did they do to us? Travis wondered.

  It’s wonderful.

  Yes, but not normal.

  We’ll figure it out.

  Of course, we will.

  We can do anything.

  And Travis realized he felt the same way. He was buoyed with the knowledge that they had power, real power.

  It’s like calling to like, Sherry thought.

  Natural magnets?

  Maybe.

  Perhaps they would have remained in the embrace indefinitely had Victoria Galer not come up beside them. “Ahem, since my daughter seems to have lost her manners, allow me to introduce myself,” she said.

  Slowly the two pushed themselves apart, until only their hands remained in contact. Still the current pulsed through them. Now, as Travis looked down at Sherry, who stood four, maybe five inches shorter than him, he met her eyes looking up at his.

  Power surged anew, arcing between their eyes. The world took on new dimensions around them…or seemed to. Or perhaps they were seeing clearly the many dimensions of the world. Every edge stood out in stark clarity.

  The urge to lean back toward one another was almost irresistible, and only Sherry’s realization that it might be too soon for another intimate contact gave her the strength to break her eyes away from his. Still, she couldn’t release Travis entirely.

  I can’t seem to let go of you, either.

  Good.

  Travis let his hands fall away from Sherry’s waist. Sherry removed her left hand from Travis’s arm. She slid her right hand down until it captured his left hand. He squeezed her hand gratefully, and the sensations remained.

  Travis turned to Victoria Galer, and he saw the woman with two sets of eyes; he felt two different opinions as he introduced himself. One was his own, and that was this woman was beautiful, a grown-up version of Sherry, soft features regarding him kindly and with a hint of amusement. She was a good person.

  Yet he also saw her with a boundless love, a dangerous resolve to let nothing happen to her, and a delirious kind of gratefulness, for the life the woman had provided. Those were Sherry’s thoughts, her feelings for Victoria, transmitted through their contact. Though all of it was confusing, Travis wouldn’t have missed it for the world. He was pleased to learn how Sherry felt about her mother, and he was happy to share these amazing discoveries with her. He didn’t think anyone else could ever understand.

  “I’m Travis Wilkins,” he said, reaching for Victoria’s hand.

  “Call my Vicki,” the older woman said, accepting Travis’s hand and shaking it firmly. Turning to her daughter she said, “You never mentioned the two of you were so close already.”

  Sherry blushed, and Travis felt it. He heard her wondering thoughts, felt her emotions for him, and found himself slightly uncomfortable having such an intimate knowledge so suddenly. Yet Sherry didn’t relinquish his hand. If anything, she gripped it tighter as she replied, “I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

  “What has happened?” Vicki asked.

  “You…you didn’t see…anything?” Sherry asked.

  “No, just the two of you running towards each other like long-lost lovers out of an old movie. If you could have managed that David Hasselhoff slow-motion run, it would’ve been perfect!”

  “It was…wow! I don’t know if I can describe it,” Sherry said.

  “I know I can’t,” Travis said.

  “It’s like a…bond…I guess,” Sherry said. “I could feel him calling to me, and I couldn’t wait to be beside him.”

  “Sounds like love to me,” Victoria said, turning a shrewd glance upon her daughter.

  Travis coughed. “That’s not quite what she meant.”

  “Oh, and how do you know what she meant?”

  Don’t tell her, Sherry thought suddenly, not about the mind reading.

  What? Why not?

  I…it’s just a feeling. I don’t think anyone knows what is happening between us. And the less anyone else knows, the better.

  “I just—” Travis began, “I mean, well—”

  “Uh huh,” Vicki said. “Good explanation, Travis. At least I don’t have to worry about you talking my ear off.”

  Travis smiled.

  “All right then, kids. I guess you’ve got to get going, right?”

  Travis looked at his watch, amazed to note that it was already half-past ten.

  “Yes, we need to go,” he said, glancing nervously at the neighborhood.

  “Before someone comes after us,” Sherry added.

  “And you really think that’ll happen?” Vicki asked.

  Travis looked to Sherry, reading the answer in her eyes. She knew, just like he did, that they didn’t have much time before the pursuit began in earnest.

  “I don’t think they’ll come,” Sherry answered. “I know they will. There’s been too much spying, too much…everything…for them not to.”

  Victoria considered this. Then, suddenly, she moved to embrace her daughter. Sherry let go of Travis’s hand to hug her mother, and Travis found his thoughts no longer intertwined. His vision dimmed slightly, like he’d put on a pair of sunglasses at dusk. But a quiet hum remained in the back of his mind, a low buzzing sound, like an
undercurrent of electricity. Whatever was between Sherry and him, it didn’t require contact to be active.

  I know, Sherry thought.

  We can still communicate.

  But it’s weaker.

  We have to figure this out.

  We will, Sherry replied, even as she and her mother broke apart from one another.

  I hope we have the time, Travis thought sincerely.

  I think we’ll have all the time we want, Sherry replied.

  “And you, young man,” Vicki said, turning to Travis, surprising him by opening her arms. Hesitantly, Travis stepped into her embrace, slightly embarrassed by this sudden show of affection from a woman he just met. “You’d better take good care of my daughter.” She released him, holding him at arms’ length and looking into his eyes. “And yourself.”

  “I will,” Travis replied softly.

  “Yeah, you will, won’t you?”

  She released him, and Travis took a step back.

  Sherry reached for his hand, and Travis gave it to her, feeling the power surge between them. The sun became brighter, suffusing the day with its warm light. His sense of smell sharpened; there were scents on the breeze he hadn’t noticed before--the ocean some miles distant, the slightly acrid smell of a warm car engine closer at hand. His hearing grew sharper. He was more aware of the passing of time, as if he could hear each second as it ticked away.

  Victoria Galer turned away from then, beginning to walk back toward her house.

  “Come on,” Travis said, moving to his Ford Focus.

  “What about my car?”

  “We’re going to have to leave it here, I guess. I’m sure it’s being tracked, but I don’t think we have time to find the transmitter.”

  Sherry considered that. She had no recollection of the Sentra before her trip to Boot Camp. It seemed to have appeared in her memory the same time Stan had. Smiling wryly, she thought, Let him come get it then.

  Remind me not to get you mad, Travis thought back.

  Sherry smiled at the joke as she released his hand, turning and trotting to catch up to her mother. Travis caught the flash of keys as Sherry handed her keyring to Vicki. He went to the passenger side and opened the door, waiting patiently until Sherry rejoined him. “Why thank you kind sir,” she quipped as she slid into the passenger seat. She waited as Travis shut her door and rounded the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

  Don’t talk out loud in here, Travis cautioned her.

  I thought you got rid of the transmitter.

  I did, but I don’t know if there are any other bugs.

  So, we’ll have to talk like this, right?

  For now.

  Victoria Galer watched until the blue car pulled away. Smiling sadly, she closed the front door.

  6

  Travis drove away from Sherry’s neighborhood, seeking Witchduck Road and the options of Virginia Beach Boulevard beyond. While they drove, he and Sherry continued their mental conversation. No longer bothering to wonder how it was possible, instead he reveled in the wonder of it. It was liberating not to worry about what words sounded right. Though it was confusing at first, hearing her thoughts, he quickly discovered that he could “turn down” the extraneous noise of her mental processes, hearing instead only the words she meant for him. Hopefully she’d discovered that little trick as well.

  I have, she replied.

  Good, you’re listening.

  Of course. Now, where are we heading?

  To the bank.

  What? But why?

  Well, if we’re going to be living on our own for a while, we’re going to need money.

  I’ve got my bank card and a checkbook, she said.

  They can probably track any electronic transactions we make. At least, I think they can.

  Ahh, she thought wryly, so he doesn’t know everything.

  Of course, I do! I just have to pretend I don’t sometimes. Gotta keep up the whole dumb jock appearance.

  Sherry laughed, Who said anything about you looking like a jock?

  He laughed as he slowed the Focus, preparing to make a left turn onto Virginia Beach Boulevard.

  Where will we go after we get some cash?

  Travis thought about that for a moment. They needed to find a place where they could think and plan without worrying about being picked up. There was a cool hotel Airman Harding once told him about on Atlantic Avenue. If he remembered correctly, it even had a parking garage, rather than an open lot.

  A hotel room? Sherry asked, picking up on the train of Travis’s thoughts.

  Well…I mean…unless you have any objections?

  Sherry ran through a dozen responses in her mind, ranging from the humorous to the offended. It was probably the best idea under the circumstances, but there were other reasons the idea enticed her.

  No, she thought instead, no objections.

  Travis glanced at her, once again feeling the pulse of power, like an amplifier turned up to a higher setting, as their gazes locked. What would it be like, he wondered idly, to make love to this woman, feeling this power, these heightened sensations, flowing through them? Her eyes dropped as her face turned scarlet, and he realized--too late--that he hadn’t guarded those thoughts.

  Sorry, he thought to her, sure his own face was blazing brighter than the August sun above them.

  I…it’s all right. I guess we’re going to have to get used to this.

  Yeah.

  But…um…did you mean it?

  Now Travis felt the heat in his face rising higher. God, my hair will be on fire soon!

  “Hey,” she whispered, “it’s okay.” Sherry reached out, placing her left hand over Travis’s right, which had a death grip on the gearshift.

  Travis jerked in his seat as the power jumped, the amplifier turned up to full. For a second, almost like feedback from his amplifier metaphor, the air was filled with blue lines. His eyes flicked down to his dashboard instruments—speedometer, tachometer, gas gauge—there were hundreds of the lines writhing behind the glass-covered instruments.

  Further in front, under the hood, was a red square glowing like an electric stove burner. A thick cobalt line originated there. With a start, he knew he was seeing the lines of electrical current streaming through his car. The red square must be the battery. Red because it was a power source?

  His right hand jerked forward, throwing the car out of fourth gear into neutral. The engine gunned, swallowing gas it couldn’t use, forcing him to relax his right foot. Sherry jerked her hand away and Travis’s vision returned to normal, the thrum of power between them easing.

  “Shit!” he muttered, feeling the car slowing. He checked the speed, still enough for fourth gear, depressed the clutch, and slid the gear shift back. Pressing the accelerator with his right foot, he eased his left off the clutch, feeling the transmission catch, the car beginning to accelerate forward again. His speedometer rose to forty-five, and he shifted up into fifth gear, flowing with the traffic.

  “Sorry,” Sherry said. Then, Did you see it, too?

  What? The lines?

  Yeah. Everywhere. Like back in the shop.

  Electrical current.

  That’s what I thought, she said.

  But maybe, Travis thought, we can use this to help us.

  How so?

  Let’s try it again, okay. Only this time, look around the inside of the car. See if you can find anything unusual.

  How the heck am I supposed to know what’s normal and isn’t inside a car?

  Let’s just try it and see.

  She sighed audibly. We didn’t need physical contact to make this work before. It just…happened.

  It would probably work again, if we knew how.

  Probably not enough time to figure out right now.

  Probably not.

  Okay, here goes.

  She grasped his right hand again, only this time Travis was ready for it. His vision picked out the cobalt lines, which seemed to wax and wane. When h
e pressed the accelerator, the line feeding the speedometer brightened, as the car responded by increasing current where it was needed. Yet, by concentrating, by focusing his mind, he found that he could look through them, in a way, like the trick where you unfocus your eyes to see the hidden picture on a page full of meaningless color. Already they were approaching Independence Boulevard. Within a few minutes they would reach the nearest branch of the Navy Federal Credit Union. Slowing the Focus, he moved over to the right lane. He kept his mind open, listening to Sherry’s inner monologue as she scanned the car.

  7

  Sherry squinted as the blue lines came back into her vision. They were everywhere, running underneath everything. They came from the battery, flowing to a panel near Travis’s door…

  That’s the fuse box, he said.

  …then under the floorboards to a hundred different places. The fuse box fed the dashboard and the radio and sent other lines streaking beneath the front seats and the back, running up and around the rear compartment…

  Should be the hatch light.

  …over the surface of the rear window…

  Probably the window defroster.

  …and then lower, splitting off to either side, to what must be the taillights.

  Sherry sighed—she seemed to be doing that a lot today—ready to turn around in her seat to more closely check the front of the car. Then her eyes happened across a singular spot of red surrounded by three small circles of blue. It was set just below the driver’s side back speaker, almost at the level of the headrest. Sherry stared at it; there were no lines of current attaching the thing to the rest of the vehicle.

  What’ve you got?

  Can you see? Sherry asked, trying to project the image through their contact.

  I can almost see it, he said, but it’s faint. I knew what you were looking at before by hearing the description in your thoughts. This sounds promising.

  Sherry righted herself in her seat, releasing Travis’s hand. He’d pulled off Independence Boulevard and was slowing for the left turn into the Credit Union’s parking lot. A moment later, and he brought the car to a complete stop.

  Though it was a Saturday, the bank was open, offering four hours of service between 9am and 1pm for those customers who couldn’t make it during the normal work week.