Union

by John Darryl Winston

  Harvis and Naz both shook their heads.

  “Mr. Tesla, is it all right if Harvis sleeps over? We’re working on a project.”

  “A project, what kind of project?”

  “Um…”

  Harvis cut in. “It’s for Coach Fears, Sir. He wants us to research the rise of violence in schools across the country and suggest solutions to the problem.”

  “Let me know how that turns out. I think we have a sleeping bag downstairs.” Mr. Tesla left the booth to open the store.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” suggested Harvis.

  “How much can you lift?” Harvis elbowed Naz as they walked down the street.

  “I … I have no idea. I feel like we’re wasting time. Somewhere D needs me, and I’m letting her down.”

  “If you don’t stay focused, when the time comes, you will let her down. Now, have you ever thought about it, how much you can lift?”

  Naz shook his head.

  “Have you ever tried to lift Tone?”

  “No. I don’t think he’d like that; he does a good job lifting himself.”

  “Ok, try and lift that car.”

  “I can’t lift a car.”

  “Of course you can’t because you don’t believe.”

  “You sound like Meri. Watch.” Naz stopped Harvis. “See that car across the street.” Naz looked at the car intently, but nothing happened. “I just tried to move it, and I couldn’t.”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “What do you mean, how’d I do it? The same way I did with the tennis ball or anything else.”

  “See that’s what I mean. You imagined catching the ball with your hand, and it happened. You imagined stopping my punch with your hand, and it happened. Both possible. You probably imagined picking that car up with your own brute force, which is impossible. You have to find another way.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know; it’s your gift. You told me what happened to your stepfather, that you imagined you were a giant bigger than him. You didn’t think you would’ve been able to do what you did as yourself, right?”

  “Right. So, I should imagine I’m a giant then?”

  “Try it.”

  Naz did, and nothing happened.

  “Try a bigger giant.” Harvis laughed, but Naz could not and would not see the humor in anything.

  He tried one more time, and still, nothing.

  “Wait.” Naz looked down. “One time, I think I stopped a car from hitting me and Meri.”

  “Really. What happened?”

  “I saw a bruise on Meri’s arm, and I knew Miss Tracey put it there. I can’t tell you what I wanted to do to Miss Tracey, but right then, a car had a blowout and hopped the curb. I put my hand out, and the car stopped just before it hit us.”

  “So you stopped the car?” Harvis put a hand on Naz’s chest.

  “Maybe.”

  “But Dr. Gwen talked about strong emotions, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So you could’ve caused the blowout, too.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  “We’ll come back to it,” said Harvis. “Do you need to see what you move?”

  “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Do you need to have line of sight? Wait. Come on.”

  They walked to the Cage, which was always empty in the morning unless it was a weekend tournament. Empty bottles, cans, and other trash littered the blacktop.

  “Turn around.” Harvis took off his backpack while Naz turned around. “Move what I have in my hand, and don’t say you can’t see it, just try.”

  “OK.” Naz huffed.

  “Nope. No good,” said Harvis. “It’s the tennis ball again. Now try.”

  Naz focused.

  “Still nothing. Turn around.” Harvis scratched his buzz cut.

  Naz followed Harvis’ directions.

  “Move it now.”

  Naz looked at the ball, and it moved.

  “Turn around again.”

  Naz did.

  “Now move it.”

  The ball moved again.

  “Move it again.”

  Naz flexed.

  “Uh-huh. I switched hands, and you couldn’t move it,” said Harvis. “Interesting.”

  “What?” Naz turned around.

  “It seems you can only move something with your mind when you can actually see it or have knowledge of its exact whereabouts. I wanna try one more thing.” Harvis put the tennis ball on the ground and pulled out his phone. “Link the camera on your phone to mine, so it sees what my camera sees.”

  Naz did as Harvis directed. “Now what?”

  Harvis focused on the ball with his camera and showed it to Naz. “Move the ball.”

  Naz was able to move the ball.

  “Now turn away from the ball and look at your camera and keep moving the ball.”

  Naz did, and the ball continued to move.

  “Turn off your camera for a sec.”

  Harvis videotaped the ball and sent the feed to Naz’s camera. “Turn your camera back on and move the ball.”

  Naz refocused on the ball.

  “Yeah, see that time I moved the ball after I videotaped it, and you couldn’t move it.”

  “Duh,” Naz said, losing his patience again.

  “Whatever … it all makes sense. That confirms it: you can only move something when you can see it or have knowledge of its whereabouts.” Harvis grabbed the ball and his backpack. “Let’s go. Hold it—one more thing; Lift me.”

  “Not that again.”

  “Seriously … you have to keep an open mind. I know you lift all kinds of things when no one’s around.”

  “Yeah, books, pencils … a basketball, but not …”

  “You said you helped Soul dunk in the championship game last year.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but I may have just given him confidence with what I said.”

  “Wha’d you say?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t really remember much that day. I wasn’t myself, and we’re wasting time.”

  “Maybe that’s it; you were yourself, and it’s time to get back there. Now try.”

  “What do you want me to do, help you dunk, too?”

  “Don’t need your help for that. Come on; let’s go.”

  Naz flexed, but nothing happened. “Well?”

  “That tickled, but that’s about it. Come on; become the giant.”

  Naz closed his eyes put his arms out and flexed again. He heard “Whoa,” and a clang. He opened his eyes to find Harvis lying up against the fence, grimacing.

  “You Ok?” He ran over to Harvis to help him up.

  “I said lift, not throw.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And I think you gave me a wedgie.” Harvis adjusted his pants as he got up.

  “I told you. That’s what you get.”

  “Right. Let’s not do that again. Now, read my mind.”

  “Um … I don’t know.”

  “Do it.”

  “OK.” Naz reached out for Harvis’ thoughts—time to find D. “Is that what we’re doing … finding D?” asked Naz. “’cause it’s about time.”

  “Sweet! That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Harvis stopped and took off his backpack again. “This is why I went home last night.” He pulled out a rectangular box from his pack and opened it. “Here, put this on.” He handed Naz one of the two wrist watches. “A Christmas present courtesy of the General … military tech, not on the market yet.”

  “Designer watches?” Naz put his on.

  “A little more than that. Audiovisual position (AVP) locators, accessible anywhere on the planet through satellite relays.” Harvis put on the other watch.

  “Translate.”

  “Simply put, we can keep track of each other’s movement and location with these.” Harvis pulled two mini headsets from his pack. “Also connected to the same network, we can talk to each other … anywhere.”

  “Good old fashion
walkie-talkies.”

  “Something like that … with unlimited range.”

  They put on the headsets.

  “These are pretty cool.” Naz adjusted his to fit over his hair. “How come you’re just now using these?”

  “My dad bought these for me and him. They’re just so he can keep track of me. No thanks.”

  “Wait! You said you got these for Christmas. This past Christmas?”

  “No, the one before, when we were at Lincoln.” Harvis smiled.

  “That’s how you tracked me last year, always showing up at the last minute.”

  Harvis nodded.

  “But I didn’t have this on.” Naz looked at the watch on his wrist.

  “It’s more to it than just the watches; I planted a GPS chip, actually two, on your coat and one of your boots … that day after the funeral.”

  Naz reminisced about that day. He couldn’t remember when Harvis may have planted a device on him. He shook his head. “Ok, what are we doing? I can’t take much more of this … wasting time.”

  Harvis gave a heavy sigh. “What do you suggest?”

  Naz put his head down. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  Harvis rolled his eyes. “We know you can read minds, but at what range? How far? The first thing you have to do is focus … or distinguish my thoughts from all the other thoughts out there.”

  “You sound like you’ve done all this before.”

  “Nobody’s done this before, except your dad … and maybe Dr. Gwen.”

  “Dr. Gwen is different. She and Meri always believed I could do this stuff, but when I finally figured out how, all she had me do was move small objects and guess what number or letter was on the back of cards I couldn’t see, and I always got ’em right. The few times I read her mind, she got really mad, so I won’t do that again. She only likes working on my memory … talking about my dad.”

  “Hmmm … well, to me it’s just common sense, and I’m making it up as I go. Anyway, all I’m gonna think about is things that happened last year during basketball season that way you’ll know they’re my thoughts.”

  “Problem.” Naz looked down. “Sometimes I can’t distinguish my thoughts from someone else’s if we’re thinking about the same thing.”

  “That’s good information. Then I’ll make up stuff about the season. Games we won, I’ll think we lost. I’ll have us playing teams we never played. I’ll mix it up.”

  “That should work.”

  “Cut on your headset and make sure your watch is on. See that lady coming our way?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Read her mind, right now. I don’t need to know what she’s thinking, just that you’re reading her mind.”

  Naz reached out for her thoughts, and they came. “Got her.”

  “Now, read my mind and hers at the same time.”

  “Got ’em.”

  “Now you and I are gonna separate. After a few minutes tune out her thoughts and only hear mine.”

  “OK, and how is this gonna to help us find D?”

  “If you can read my thoughts a distance away, then you can read hers, which will hopefully lead us to her.”

  Naz blinked. “Hmph. Let’s do it.”

  Naz watched the lady as she passed by—cute, the lady thought, and Naz smirked.

  “What?” Harvis asked.

  “Nothing. Go ahead. Take off. I understand.”

  “OK, here we go.”

  After about a block, Harvis’ thoughts began to phase in and out. At two blocks they were gone altogether. They kept meeting back up and trying again and with each try Naz extended his range. By the end of the day, Naz had increased his range to almost a half mile. Something else Naz discovered was when he lost track of Harvis’ thoughts, he was unable to pick them back up again until he saw Harvis, which again supported Harvis’ line of sight theory.

  Harvis’ theory discouraged the possibility that Naz could find D this way. Then, Naz remembered there were times when he could hear D’s thoughts without seeing her. The time he eavesdropped on her and John at the Union Press came to mind. The sour memory gave Naz hope that he didn’t need to see D to hear her thoughts, and this could help them locate her. So he stayed positive, albeit impatient. They were on the right track. At the end of the day, they had made progress, but they needed more. They gleaned nothing from a late brainstorming session. Harvis crashed in a sleeping bag on the floor while Naz, not being able to sleep, practiced levitating tennis balls and trying to reach D telepathically, to no avail.

  Knowing he would fall back into his recurring dream, Naz prepared himself mentally. When he finally dozed off in the early morning hours, as anticipated, he found himself alone in the dark room with D. He remembered to look up this time only to find no light source. The light that surrounded D seemed to be emanating from her. He didn’t waste any time calling to her; he closed his eyes and immediately summoned her thoughts. He didn’t hear anything. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. D was staring at him. He couldn’t recall in his previous dreams if she actually looked at him, but her attention excited him. He closed his eyes and focused harder but still heard nothing. He opened his eyes again, frustrated, afraid to say anything or move toward her, afraid to do anything that would cause her to disappear again.

  D looked sad and scared as if she was calling out to Naz with her eyes—maybe reading my mind. He took a step to his right and could’ve sworn her eyes followed him. He took a step back to his left to confirm she was somehow communicating with him through her eyes. His exuberance caused him to take a step forward, and she vanished.

  “D!” He sat up in bed again.

  “Naz,” Harvis called from the floor. “Were you able to read her mind?”

  “No. But I think she could read mine.”

  Harvis yawned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure.” Naz shook his head and let gravity pull him back to the cot.

  “Well, we may as well get up and get started. Do you have any coffee?” asked Harvis.

  “I think so.” Naz got up and downed a bottle of cold water. He cut on the lights, found some instant coffee in one of the cabinets, and handed the jar to Harvis.

  “You look bad,” said Harvis, leaning on one elbow.

  “I’m good.”

  “No really. You’re probably walking around in a daze.”

  Naz shrugged.

  “It’s called sleep deprivation, and it can’t help our cause.” He scrutinized the jar of coffee. “This will have to do. Go throw as much cold water on your face as you can stand.”

  Naz complied.

  “How do you drink it this way?” Naz grimaced as he put the coffee back down on the table. “I don’t know about the caffeine, but the taste alone should keep me up forever. Ewww.”

  “The General says it’ll put some hair on your chest.”

  “I don’t need any hair on my chest.” Naz added teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar until he could stomach the bitter concoction.

  “It’ll give you the jitters, but at least you’ll be alert.”

  When they finished their coffee, they continued their mind reading exercise from the night before. They decided to start at a short distance, Harvis hiding blocks away with no line of sight. Naz attempted to locate Harvis by his thoughts before increasing his range again. It worked. Naz continued extending his range, and by the end of the day had gotten up to just over a mile. Although they were making progress on one front, they were at a standstill in their turtle race to find D.

  Back in the booth, Harvis sat at the table while Naz paced back and forth, nonstop.

  “Is there anything else?” For the first time, Harvis seemed frustrated.

  “Not that I can think of.” Naz matched his frustration and then some.

  “What about Pauling?”

  “What about him? I told you everything. Wait!” Naz found the pants he had on a few days before, pulled out the business card Pauling had given him, and handed it to Harvis.

>   “I thought we agreed no more secrets.” Harvis studied the card.

  “It’s not like that! I just forgot about it.” Naz snapped.

  “Sorry. Wintersal … did you call the number on here?”

  “No. He’s irritating.”

  “Make the call.” Harvis handed Naz the card back.

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  Naz sat on his bed and dialed the number. When the person on the other end picked up, Naz almost dropped the phone. He covered up the microphone part. “It’s D.”

  “What?”

  “It’s D?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Well, what to do?” Before Harvis could respond, Naz hung up.

  “Why’d you hang up?”

  “I-I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do.” Naz rubbed his thighs vigorously.

  “Call her back. No, wait a minute.” Harvis stood up and paced. He pulled out his phone.

  “What are you gonna do?” Naz stood up, concerned.

  “I’m thinking.” Harvis put his phone in his pocket.

  Naz paced back and forth, almost running into Harvis. “Sorry.” Naz sat back down and bit his thumbnail.

  Harvis pulled out his phone again, and Naz stood back up.

  Harvis grabbed the card off the bed. “I’m gonna call again from my phone with you on the line, so whoever it is doesn’t get suspicious. Let me talk, but listen and try to read their thoughts.”

  Naz nodded.

  Harvis called Naz first so he would be on the line and then dialed the number on the card.

  The same person answered the phone. “Hello.”

  Naz nodded to Harvis.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Avander Pauling.” Harvis made his voice sound deeper.

  “I’m sorry; there’s no one here by that name.”

  “Well, he gave me his card personally and told me to call him at this number.”

  The person on the other end paused and then. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Ahem … Igod Andersen.”

  “Just a moment.”

  Naz looked on, twisting a tendril of his hair.

  “Per Dr. Pauling’s request, I’m sending Wintersal’s coordinates to both of the phones you are calling from, Mr. Andersen.”

  “Uh … thank you.”

  “He says that you may drop by tomorrow at your leisure and trusts that you and your associate keep the coordinates I’ve just sent you confidential.”