Regardless of the exact mechanism, Addison had made one thing perfectly clear: they might get hurt. By hurt, Quentin assumed he meant mangled, boiled, or possibly exploded from the inside. As the minutes dragged by, he tried to avoid thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Finally, at six minutes before noon, they assembled in the center of the room.
“Addison, what can we do to make this safer?” Quentin said. “Should we hold hands?”
Before Addison could answer there was a loud knock at the door. They all froze.
“Yes?” Lindsey called out.
“Hello?” It was the lady from the front office.
Quentin stepped to the door and opened it just a crack. “Good morning.”
“Hardly morning now, sir. Checkout was at eleven-thirty.”
“We’ll just leave the key here in the room, okay?”
“Supposed to check out at the front desk.” The woman turned and walked away.
Quentin looked at Lindsey.
“Forget it,” she said. “That woman only frustrates you.”
“Are you suggesting I can’t handle her?”
The kids laughed nervously at this. Lindsey said, “This is serious, Quentin.”
He glanced at the clock—five ‘til noon. He was so nervous that those minutes would be excruciating if he didn’t find a distraction. “It won’t take but a minute.” He slipped out the door and headed to the office. The woman was already behind the counter watching TV. She looked up at him and glared. He smiled anyway. “I’d like to check out.”
She still glared at him. “I was right.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re one of them.”
Quentin’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”
“You’re one of them people on the TV. The ones they’re looking for. That’s why I called Chief Sommers.” She nodded over Quentin’s shoulder. He turned around in time to see a police car pulling to a stop directly in front of the office door.
Quentin turned back to her. “Shit, lady!”
“Don’t you try nothing mister.”
He spun around again. Chief Sommers was out of his car and approaching the door.
Quentin darted behind the counter.
“You stay away from me!” the lady shouted.
The policeman was in the front door. “Hey, stop where you are!”
Quentin looked down the narrow hallway behind the counter. There was a back door. He ran and threw it open. He turned and saw Sommers racing toward him. He seemed intent on tackling Quentin, which would be easy since he outweighed Quentin by at least fifty pounds. He was a barreling hulk.
Quentin ran out the back door and headed straight for the river. Sommers followed at full speed. There were enough trees near the river that Quentin hoped he could lose Sommers there and get back to the room with enough of a lead for Addison to transport them. So he ran with everything he had. The police chief was surprisingly fast, but his extra bulk slowed him down. Quentin approached the river and then circled to the left. Sommers yelled, but Quentin couldn’t make out his words.
After a wide loop, Quentin was back at the motel well ahead of Sommers. He rounded the corner just as another police car careened into the parking lot. And hanging out the office door was the motel manager, waving to the car. She saw Quentin. Rather than waiting for the police car to stop, she actually sprinted toward Quentin, screaming.
Quentin threw open the door. “We have to go now!” Without a word they all jumped up and stood in the center of the room.
“Addison, please be careful,” Lindsey said.
Addison was as calm as ever. “Try to move as little as possible.”
Quentin shot a glance at the clock. It was exactly noon.
Suddenly the woman was in the doorway. For a moment, she seemed shocked that there were six people in the room. But then she turned and started shouting, “They’re in here! All of them!”
Quentin clenched his eyes shut. “Now, Addison!”
Quentin dropped to the floor. The drop was at least six inches, and he stumbled briefly. He opened his eyes. Before him was something he had thought he might never see again—his own front door. He looked down at his body. It was not inside out. He looked at the others, and they seemed fine too, but they were staring out at the front yard. Quentin turned, and suddenly he felt weak in the knees. The yard was filled with people. Dozens of military trucks and government cars blocked the street and filled the neighbors’ yards. Cameras were aimed at them, mounted on tripods, held on cameramen’s shoulders, even held high above with extension booms. And every single person was looking directly at them.
Three people emerged from the crowd. After a moment of confusion, Quentin suddenly knew who they were. The three stepped onto the porch, and each of them stood before their respective mirror image. No one spoke. Quentin’s eyes moved from the father to the wife to the son, Addison—not the Lamotelokhai but the real Addison. Not a boy who had endured injury, psychological mayhem, and being abandoned by his own parents. Instead, this was his son, and for a moment Quentin almost forgot every horrific thing that had happened.
As they stood gazing at their counterparts, the crowd remained silent. Addison wasn’t the only one who was different. There was something about all three of them. It wasn’t just from the injuries. The Lamotelokhai had healed those. It was subtler than that, something that had changed in them gradually, so that Quentin had grown accustomed to it without noticing. They had seen death and miracles, and they held knowledge that the world was about to turn upside down. They were now strangers to this house.
Two men approached them. One of them appeared to be in his thirties. Below his white button-down shirt he wore blue jeans and leather sandals. He sported a closely trimmed beard with a smattering of grey, revealing that he might be somewhat older than his smooth skin suggested. His hair was pulled tight into a ponytail. Before he even spoke, Quentin knew this was Peter Wooley.
“You folks are punctual, I’ll give you that. And your entrance was wicked impressive. You must teach me how you did that.” The man smiled broadly, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m Peter Wooley. I’ve been waiting for you for some time. But then you know that, eh?”
The man next to Peter cleared his throat. He was clearly a federal agent of some sort. Who else would wear a suit jacket and tie in July? “My name is Darron Mesner.” He looked from one Quentin to the other, and his gaze settled on the one who had just arrived. “I believe we spoke on the phone yesterday morning.”
Quentin nodded, still out of breath. “Sorry. I just finished outrunning a police chief in Pawhuska, Oklahoma.”
Both men stared at him.
Peter Wooley chuckled. He then waved to someone in the crowd of people to come to his side. An elderly woman who looked to be in her eighties approached them. Like Peter, she wore a white shirt, jeans, and sandals.
“I’d like you to meet Rose,” Peter said. “My wife, and my partner in crime.” He flashed a smile to Mesner. “Pardon the expression.”
Mesner’s eyes grew wide as he appraised the woman who was old enough to be Peter’s grandmother.
Rose smiled at Mesner and extended a mottled hand to Quentin, then to Lindsey. “I’m quite used to such reactions. Peter and I are an anomalous couple. But you understand, don’t you? I see it in your eyes.”
Lindsey said, “We understand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose.”
Rose’s eyes sparkled. “I wasn’t sure I’d live to see this day.”
Mesner cleared his throat again. “We have a media fiasco here. We’ve agreed to allow Mr. Wooley to make whatever announcement he intends to make. But I’m shutting this show down right now unless you convince me your intentions are one hundred percent peaceful. You’ve carried something halfway across the country that witnesses say could be a weapon. This will not be taken lightly.”
Lindsey spoke up. “Didn’t you talk to Colonel Richards? He knows what we have and how important it is. It was his id
ea to organize this media event.”
“Some of us don’t agree with Richards.”
“Well, as you can see, we’ve brought nothing threatening with us,” Quentin said. “We only wish to share some important news.”
Mesner looked at the Lamotelokhai. “I understand this boy is not what he appears to be.”
Quentin put his arm around Addison’s shoulder. “That’s the news we’ve come all this way to share.”
“Why do you look just like us?” It was the real Addison.
Quentin stepped toward him and was surprised when his other self pulled Addison back. “We don’t mean to scare you. Something happened when you were flying from Wamena to Sentani. There was a strange event that affected the passing of time, and then there were two airplanes, and two of each of us. You probably didn’t notice when it happened.”
The real Addison wrinkled his forehead. “I did see something. But I never told anyone, because I wasn’t sure.”
Bobby said, “I saw you, Addison. I was looking out the window and I saw you there, looking back. Do you remember?”
Addison remained tucked under his father’s arm. He nodded.
Quentin wanted to tell Addison the truth. “Your Twin Otter was fine, and you made it home safe. But ours crashed. It took us all this time to get here.”
The real Addison looked from one of them to the next. “Where are the rest? Where’s Miranda, Roberto, and Russ?”
Quentin took a deep breath. “We had problems. Some didn’t make it back.”
“You mean they died?” It was the other Lindsey.
“Yes. And there’s something else.” With some difficulty, Quentin looked directly at her. “Addison didn’t make it back, either.”
All three of them, this other family, turned to look at the Lamotelokhai. The other Quentin said, “I don’t understand.”
Quentin shifted uncomfortably. “Well, that’s why we’re here. And that’s why the reporters are here, and the FBI. There’s more to the story.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Speaking of that, we’re live on the air at the moment. Are you folks ready to tell the people what they should hear?”
Quentin looked around. The number of guns outnumbered the cameras pointed at them. He glanced at Lindsey and she nodded. “We’ll do our best,” he said.
Mesner added, “Be aware that any threatening action you take will be dealt with swiftly.”
Peter turned to face the crowd. He waved the reporters closer. Several microphones on long booms were positioned over his head. He paused for a moment, waiting for the crowd to become quiet, displaying impressive self-composure. Not until the area was totally silent except for the summer breeze did he speak.
“My name is Peter Wooley, and I have promised you an announcement that will change the world. A sizeable promise indeed, and I do not fault you for your skepticism. But the moment of truth has arrived, and it is time for you to decide. Were my words merely hype? Or were they an understatement of the truth?”
Again he paused, as if savoring the tension. “When I was a younger man—for the record it was more than forty years ago—I stumbled upon something I did not understand. But from that moment on, this phenomenon became the only truly significant purpose for my life. At that time I could not share it with others. Perhaps that was as it should have been. Perhaps the world was not ready. But today, whether we are ready or not, the time has come.”
Quentin had thought it impossible the crowd in his yard could become quieter, but it did.
After another controlled pause, Peter continued. “I must confess that my role in this event is relatively minor. These good people are the ones truly responsible for bringing this phenomenon to us all.” Peter motioned for them to come forward.
Lindsey hung back and smiled at Quentin as he stepped forward. The boom mics shifted so that they were over his head. The television cameras were turned on him, and everyone waited. His mind reeled. He’d thought about this moment during the night, had decided upon a plan. But he had underestimated how difficult it would be. Perhaps he had never truly believed they would make it to this point.
He turned to the others. Addison—the Lamotelokhai—smiled at him, the smile he had learned to use when people were afraid. Quentin knew what he had to say first.
“I have lost my son.” His voice cracked, but he quickly brought it under control. The people in the yard remained silent. “My son Addison was hurt when our plane crashed in Indonesia. He would have died. He should have died. But we found something there. It is something that can do wonderful and impossible things.”
Quentin looked at Addison the boy. His son watched him, innocent, not understanding. He turned back to the crowd. “When people have access to such a thing as that, decisions are made based on emotions. We don’t consider the consequences. I have come to realize this is the difference between power earned versus power given. Power we have earned is used with caution, with an understanding of consequences. Power that is given to us, on the other hand, is misunderstood. And so we toy with it.
“This phenomenon Peter mentioned is a gift. It is unimaginable power that has been given to us.” Quentin paused to look at Darron Mesner. The agent raised his brows, as if he were waiting patiently for Quentin to make a point of some kind. Quentin turned back to the cameras. “I’m afraid we’re in trouble, my wife and I. We brought this gift with us to the United States, and then we ran away with it, to avoid having it taken away. After this announcement we will probably be arrested. So we want everyone to know the truth. Here are the reasons for our actions: We used this gift without considering the consequences. We used it to save the life of our son. But he was beyond saving. We didn’t realize the magnitude of this mistake until it had cost the lives of dozens of innocent people. We then tried to use this gift to ensure our own safety, only to witness the consequences as more innocent people were killed. And after enduring that, we have come home, only to find that we have no home anymore.”
Quentin paused and tried to look at each of the cameras. “When you have seen proof of what we have to say, I think you will agree that we must allow the whole world to determine how best to use this gift.” He motioned toward a group of federal agents standing nearby. “With all due respect, we did not believe we should simply hand over such a thing to those who might think first and foremost of ways to use it to make our country more powerful than others.”
The crowd seemed transfixed by his words, but Quentin had nothing more to say. He looked at the others, and his eyes met Bobby’s. If he were to ask Bobby, he was pretty sure the answer would be, let Addison take it from here. Aware that yet again he was putting their lives into the hands of an unknown entity, Quentin leaned closer to the Lamotelokhai and said quietly, “Addison, you mustn’t hurt anyone or do anything that will make these people shoot us. But you need to tell them what you are. And they won’t believe you if you just tell them. You will have to show them something to help them believe.”
“I understand.” Addison stepped forward. He gazed at the crowd and then spoke firmly, “Peter Wooley and Quentin Darnell told you about a gift. But they did not tell you I am the gift.” A ripple of murmurs drifted across the yard, but Addison cut them off. “I am not a living thing like you are. You can think of me as a computer if you want to.” He then paused as if aware they would need time to process this. “Those who created me wished to share some of what they had accomplished. That is why I am here.” He paused again. “I have waited here for more than six hundred million years, but until recently there have been no living things here who could talk with me.”
The drifting whispers turned to indignant laughter and ridicule.
Addison ignored this. “I would like to show you one of my creators. This might help you to understand.” He smiled. “Do not be afraid.”
Addison held his arms at his sides and looked at his feet. After perhaps ten seconds of uncomfortable silence the crowd’s laughter returned. Suddenly Addison collapsed on th
e porch and became a shapeless mass. The other Darnell family backed away, horrified. One of the reporters said, “God almighty!”
The mass began to take shape. It resembled a large turtle, or an armadillo, curled up on the floor. Then it unfurled itself and stood up. Cries of alarm rose from the crowd. Quentin feared that a nervous gunman might open fire, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the creature before him. It stood about four feet high on two hind legs, but the main torso tilted forward at a forty-five degree angle. Protruding from the chest was another leg, longer and much thinner than the other two, providing the support that allowed it to lean forward. There were two arms, looking almost human, except that the hands had four fingers in opposing sets of two. The torso appeared to be covered with hard brown leather. Most disturbing were its heads. They were side-by-side, each of them looking like a sock puppet with two eyes and no mouth. A large mouth was positioned just below where the two head-stalks attached. Quentin realized the top of the body was the same anatomical arrangement as the fish-like creature Addison had shown them days earlier.
Suddenly the spindly chest appendage moved. Before, when it supported the body, it had appeared to have only one joint about midway between the body and floor. But when it lifted off the floor it became obvious that it was multi-jointed. The appendage snaked out and reached down to the first step below the porch. The multiple joints locked into place and the limb was rigid again, allowing the creature to lean forward. Its hind legs lifted off the floor and swung forward, straddling the center leg and passing over the two remaining steps. The creature landed lightly on the sidewalk. The motion was graceful, yet it was so shockingly alien that the crowd gasped, and those nearest the porch backed away. An authoritative voice commanded, “Hold your fire. Do not fire!”
Diffusion Box Set Page 47