The Mysterious Figure, meanwhile, sighed and opened a lounge chair. He comfortably crossed his legs when he sat down.
“I could use some help here!” Sam shouted as Abbot missed him on a charge and smashed into a building. It shook off pieces of metal before continuing its pursuit.
“You have to learn to help yourself eventually.” He finished his last shrimp and licked the cocktail sauce from his fingers. “Man, that was good.”
“Do you think this is funny?!” Sam hurdled over the monster’s neck, fell to the ground, then rolled out of the way just as Abbot’s angry maw came crashing down, its nose colliding with the floor. A chunk of tooth the size of a dagger went clunked into the water.
He saw his chance.
As the serpent lifted its head for another strike, Sam did the unthinkable: he ran toward it. When it swooped down, mouth agape, he dove, sliding right underneath its chin, and in one strong move grabbed the tooth and plunged it between the scales on the underside of Abbot’s belly. The creature let out a shriek of pain that made the floors buckle, but Sam gave him another stab, and another, and another, until he hit something sensitive and green blood came gushing out like a fountain.
Abbot wailed and slung its massive body around the dome, knocking into buildings and spilling debris everywhere. Sam rushed out of the way as a cluster of rubble nearly crushed him. When it was over, the monster plopped to the floor.
Defeated.
Silence. Heavy breathing. Moans.
He’d won.
But before he could celebrate the victory, Sam heard a familiar cry of pain—though longer and fainter than normal—from the alleyway where had had left Nedry.
The reptile groaned in suffering, half buried in fallen wreckage. Its breathing was heavy, laborious. Sam dropped to his knees and pressed his jacket to the wound, where blood fleeced through the bandage.
“No, no, no, come on, Nedry! Don’t you dare go! Don’t you dare!”
Calypso stood over the dying animal. She said nothing aloud, but recited a prayer in her head.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
John Pierce looked out into the hall to make sure no one was watching. Then, he gazed down at his son and choked through quiet words: “I know things haven’t exactly been easy for you, Sam.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“I look back and…I wish I would’ve done things differently. I was stupid.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“I was just…I was never…truly happy with myself…and I took that out on the things that should’ve been the most important. And that wasn’t fair.” He shook his head. “It was wrong.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“You and Lauren…I knew I couldn’t give you the things that others got…and that…I couldn’t handle it…and…then after your sister passed…I just…I couldn’t accept that I’d failed…”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Wake up! Wake up, Nedry!”
The dinosaur had closed its eyes a long time ago. Sam kept his hand on his chest and felt as the breaths slowly ended. Though not a believer in the supernatural, he could feel something ethereal, something intangible, lift from Nedry’s being as the body went stiff and cold.
“Wake up god dammit!” he cried in vain.
Darwin gently placed his bearish mitt upon his shoulder. “It’s over, lad. Let it be done.”
“No! It’s not! We were going through this together! Wake the hell up!”
Nothing. Sam held his companion close.
“Wake up…” he whispered. “This is our journey…”
“No, it’s not,” said the Mysterious Figure. “It’s yours, Sam. And yours alone.”
“No…” Evron saw the lifeless body of Nedry within Sam’s desperate clutches. His somber tone quickly turned angry. He gritted his teeth. “That son of a bitch!” He stomped across the plaza, picked up the trident, and blustered toward the incapacitated sea monster with peerless savagery.
“Stop him, Sam!” begged the Mysterious Figure. “Control him!”
“But Abbot killed Nedry…” he emptily replied.
“He did not kill Nedry. He was going to die. You knew his injuries were too serious to overcome!”
“Abbot killed him…if he hadn’t come along—”
“Nedry was going to die, Sam! Everyone has a fate! That’s the reality of the world that you cannot accept!”
Evron lifted the spear and aimed it for the wounded dragon’s head.
“Control him, Sam! Control it!”
“I can’t…”
“You can! Don’t let it control you! Do not let him dictate what happens here today! Do not let your anger snowball into hatred, hatred into violence!”
The Avenger pressed his boot to the creature’s nose. It was scared. Trembling. He raised the trident. Prepared to plunge it into its skull. “I’ve finally got you…” he seethed.
“Sam…” spoke the Figure. “Please, be strong.”
Sam closed his eyes. He remembered her face. He remembered her laugh. He remembered her smiling in the hospital. And then, from nowhere, he remembered his father. There were bad memories. Lots of them. But there were good ones sprinkled in between. Summers in Pittsburgh. Working two jobs to keep a roof over their heads. Going without dinner so his children could eat. He remembered the liquor. The blame. He remembered watching his anger—the guilt—from his daughter’s death destroy him. Turn him into a dark creature Sam so feared.
But, most of all, he remembered those brief years they were all together. Two loving parents. Three jovial children. And those memories made him happy. Those were the memories he so wished he could keep in a lock box.
“Evron…stop,’ Sam said.
He did not.
“Evron…I said stop.”
Nothing. He readied the spear, lunged forward.
“Evron…STOP!”
He finally did. The spear clinked on the floor. Evron took deep breaths. He looked at his hands. They were turning invisible before his very eyes. Evaporating into nothingness. Soon, half his body was gone, fading into obscurity. He looked at Sam and nodded. “Thank you…” And then, as softly as a breeze in spring, his head vanished, leaving nothing behind.
Abbot slunk back down through the elevator hatch, the doors swinging shut, and swam dejectedly off into the blue.
John Pierce ran his thumb over Sam’s forehead. “I know you’re unhappy with where you are right now. I know you’re disappointed that life didn’t turn out exactly the way you wanted. I know, because I was there at your age. And I want you to know this…I’m so proud that you didn’t become me. That you didn’t let those bad things define you.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“You’re a bigger man than I am. Than I’ll ever be...”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
John touched Sam’s shoulder and gripped it tight.
“Get better, son.”
With a final pat, he left the room. And from beneath Sam’s closed eyelids, tears hesitantly seeped like the sap of a blooming tree.
27
The City of Vista
It was a prompt, quiet procession. Nedry’s body was tucked into a tiny casket and buried in an underwater cemetery at the edge of a cliff overlooking an infinite abyss. Hundreds of Atlas’s citizens attended to pay their respects, all dressed in weighted dive suits with iron helmets and boots. Each headstone was adorned with a piece of glowing coral illuminating the inscriptions. Nedry’s engraving read: “Size of a Chicken. Heart of a Lion…Appetite Unmatched.”
When it was finished, they returned to Atlas and Sam was brought to a chamber with a moon pool. Within the pool—which led out to the ocean—floated a submersible shaped like a small plane without wings. It was covered in iron panels and had large, circular windows with golden propellers jutting out the back.
“I don’t think Darwin will fit in here…”
“Well, that’s of no consequence, lad. I won’t be goin’ with ya on this trip,” the giant said.
&nb
sp; “You’re not?”
“No, mate. The whole incident with Nedry and all got me thinkin’ and such.” He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “The old man was right. This is your adventure, Sam. You’ve got a tough road home. Mine? I think mine might be here.” He looked back at Calypso.
“Maybe if you shave…” she said with a playful sigh.
Sam nodded. “I understand. And good luck.”
“It ain’t about luck, lad. It’s about will.” He poked him in the chest. “Never lose that, and you’ll be just fine. I swear it.”
They shook hands, embraced, and said their goodbyes. Sam sat down in the sub’s chair and examined the control deck. It was all made up of levers and dials of copper and brass, some steampunk fantasy come to life. There wasn’t much to it, and the next thing he knew, the vessel was sinking below the waterline as the waving giant and giantess disappeared above.
He maneuvered the sub through an undersea valley as the bright city of Atlas shrunk to barely a twinkle in the darkness, an orb of light surrounding his ship. He moved through a pod of whales that swam gracefully by and then began his ascent. The black water turned navy blue, then greenish, then a crisp azure before he finally found himself adrift on the surface of a calm sea, sunny skies above. The “To Atlas” buoy rang noisily nearby, the down arrow’s neon glow faint in the daylight.
“Okay…now what?” He rocked back and forth in the brown leather pilot’s seat as waves gently sloshed against the hull. Inspecting the control panel, he found a throttle with an “up” arrow. “So…forward?” He pushed up on the lever and was surprised by a loud thump followed by the sharp hiss of air as two white balloons sprang from the sub’s side and started self-inflating. They eventually grew larger than the craft itself and within minutes the submarine had become an airship, floating hundreds of feet over the ocean toward unseen lands beyond.
For hours he flew, or at least so he thought. He kept looking at his watch, forgetful of the fact that the hands were petrified in place. The view had become excruciatingly monotonous some time ago. Just limitless blue across a limitless void. He actually fell asleep for a moment, only to be startled by sudden turbulence, the cockpit buckling. When he woke up, he found that his ship had been consumed by a dense fog so thick that the balloons keeping him afloat were obscured by the haze.
It was smooth sailing for the longest time. All systems go. But then, just as the monotony of the flight started to lull him to sleep, he heard something terrifying. Not a scream, nor a roar…but a simple, little click.
The fuel gauge was tapping the E. Empty.
“Uh oh…”
And without warning, every light on every switch shut off, and the hitches holding the balloons to the craft released, sending them spiraling into the heavens and letting the vessel tumble, tumble, tumble through the abyss of white vapor until—
There was a loud, painful crash.
Sam closed his eyes.
His next memories were fuzzy.
He heard humming. Like show tunes. And a constant clinking and clanking. There was yellowish, orange light all around when he opened his eyes. He found himself lying on—strangely—asphalt, the back of his head resting on his backpack like a pillow. Above, cables disappeared into billowing clouds of white, which seemed to continue on into oblivion.
Where was he?
Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he saw his aircraft a few feet away, blurry in the fog, wrecked and broken on the pavement. And there were two figures…one larger than the other…leaning over the craft’s open hood…
“Gimme one of them nine-tenths sockets,” said one figure in a girly, southern drawl.
On command, the smaller silhouette handed the girl a wrench from a knapsack. She stuck her hand into the engine bay and twisted some gears. “Okay, now the pliers. Needle nose if we brought ‘em.”
The smaller figure did nothing. He was staring. Staring at Sam.
“Hey,” the girl snapped her fingers, “you zone off on me now?”
“He’s up!” the tiny figure said with the squeaky voice of an enthusiastic little boy. “He’s up! He’s up! He’s up!”
“Alright, calm yourself down, now.” She stepped away from the airship and wiped her hands with a rag. “Let’s take a looksee.” Sam crawled back as they approached, unsure of what was going on, until he felt his elbows hit…air.
In terror, he turned to see that the asphalt ended, plummeting down into the clouds. And he realized that he was actually on a platform, a chunk of rock floating in the sky, suspended from the cables that had been engulfed by the vapor above.
“Careful now,” the girl said. “Wouldn’t want you falling. It’s a long way down, ya know.” She emerged from the mist. Beautiful red hair framed her round cheeks, tucked beneath a leather cap. She lifted a pair of black pilot’s goggles, revealing gorgeous blue eyes sunk into a face dotted with freckles. She extended a greasy hand as the little boy, dressed in similar attire, hid behind her legs, cautiously peering on at the weird visitor in their midst. “Sorry, my palms may have gotten a little dirt workin’ on that chassis of yours.”
“Uh, thanks. Name’s Sam. Sam Pierce.” He was surprised when she actually pulled him up as they shook hands. She was far stronger than she appeared. He wobbled a little bit when he saw the edge of the platform, which looked to be about a dozen yards wide, a hunk of flat stone. It made him sick.
“Don’t worry, the ground’s stable.” The girl stomped her brown boot.
“Please don’t do that…” Sam begged, clutching his stomach, the stage in the sky quite dizzying. “Where are we, exactly? And who are you?”
“Oh, ‘course. I’m Melanie and this is Dougie. Dougie, say hi.”
The little boy gave a sheepish wave.
“And you’re in Vista, stranger. You got plum lucky that your ship crashed right here on one of our auxiliary platforms.”
“Vista?” Sam scanned the area. He saw nothing but endless clouds in all directions. “Doesn’t look like much.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Come on, we’ll take ya in.”
She led Sam to the other side of the craft, where there was parked an old motorcycle that looked like it’d seen much better days. A propeller stuck out the back and it was hugged by two sidecars. But strangest of all, there appeared to be helicopter blades protruding from the top.
“Are you serious?” Sam asked as Dougie buckled himself into one of the sidecars.
“Yep, finest transportation you can have in Vista.” Melanie hopped on and started the engine. The blades spun to life.
“Is it safe?”
She shrugged. “So far.”
With little confidence, he dropped down into the other sidecar and started fastening his seatbelt when Melanie said “Hold on tight!” and before long, the cycle was racing to the end of the platform. When it reached the edge, it lifted off the ground and into the sky, climbing through the air.
“Shouldn’t take more than a few hours to fix your little plane!” Melanie yelled over the whine of the engine and the whir of the blades and the whistling of the wind. “In the meantime, you can stay with us!”
“Where?”
“Here!”
Then the clouds opened up.
And the view was nothing short of mind-boggling.
Laid out before him were hundreds—maybe thousands—of derelict vehicles, ranging from yachts, to busses, to tractor trailers, to old campers, all covered in dirt, grime, and repaired with rusty iron panels.
And they were all floating in midair, suspended from thousands of enormous balloons, all glinting brilliantly in the golden sunlight that struggled to make its way through the thick wall of wafting clouds. The vehicles were made into living spaces, with thousands of people sweeping them off, sipping drinks on their rooftops, or zipping between the various sky homes via a vast web of cables connecting them all together.
At the center of the flotilla was the largest piece of all: an aircraft carrier longer tha
n three football fields, held up by hundreds of the giant balloons. The flight deck was made into a marketplace, with aluminum shacks and little buildings clustered about. The children of Vista played in alleyways while adults roamed the plazas. Dozens, if not hundreds, of aerial motorcycles—air bikes—whizzed about the busy skies.
“That’s the capital.” Melanie pointed to the hanging supercarrier. “That’s where most of the business gets done. Momma and poppa go there sometimes, but it’s easy to get lost. It’s also where all the leaders live with the King and they hold all their meetin’s for runnin’ the city.”
“This all looks kind of familiar!” Sam struggled to throw his voice over the chugging of the air bike’s engine. “Like I’ve seen it before!”
“Before Vista was built they turned all kinds of boats into cities! The first one was called Rivet way back when!”
“Hey, wait a minute, I think I recognize that from—”
“Mornin’ Mrs. Robinson! Mr. Robinson!”
“Morning, Melanie!” A happy elderly couple waved from their “porch” as they zoomed by, which was really the deck of an old, beat up houseboat.
They finally landed on top of a double decker bus located at a corner of the aerial city. It was tethered to one of the massive balloons and held to the central capital ship by a thick cable. The bike screeched to a halt as Sam held the lip of his sidecar for dear life. Melanie shut off the engine and the blades slowly came to a stop as she and Dougie climbed down a flimsy-looking rope ladder hanging dangerously over the edge of the roof.
“You comin’ with us, Mr. Pierce?”
“Uh…maybe…” Sam looked down. Big mistake. The floor of clouds was several hundred feet below. He couldn’t see anything beneath it. The vertigo made his head spin. He whispered to himself, “Least I’ll die instantly if I fall…” And he stepped, carefully, onto the ladder and worked his way down, finally hopping through the bus’s open door.
Inside, he found it deceptively roomy. All the seats had been torn out long ago, any evidence of their existence remaining only in little bolt holes on the floor. A ragged couch hugged one wall, surrounded by piles of books, trinkets, old electronics and other random clutter heaped in corners. There was a kitchen area where a middle-aged couple was preparing a stew, the aroma of which made Sam’s mouth water and stomach grumble as it drifted through the cabin. A cat licked its paws as it sat atop a bookshelf propped up against a window, the orange light of dusk trickling in through the dusty glass. A ladder led up to the second level, where Sam imagined everyone slept. Hanging from the ceiling were mason jars on strings with little insects buzzing about inside that let off brilliant light that illuminated the vehicular home as darkness grew outside.
Farewell from Paradise Page 19