“What are we doing?” Tonita hesitated, “And you left the car door open.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dominic pulled her along, keeping a tight hold on her hand as they dashed, then stumbled, in and around the kiosks and stalls. “There!” He pointed up the block, then let go of Tonita’s hand, and took off. “Jeff! Hey Jeff!” he yelled in the direction of the man, his wife, and their daughter. “Jeff! Hold up a minute!”
SIXTY SIX
CARDINAL CELENT’S EYES fluttered open, and for a moment he was lost in between his memories of Roswell, Golgatha and the experiment, and the reality of the hospital room. He blinked his eyes, then again. Was he dreaming now? Or had he just awakened from dreaming? The thoughts battled one another internally, until the harsh disinfectant smells of the hospital contrasted sharply with the sense-memory smells of the ancient desert of Judea, and brought him back to the present.
He sat up as best he could, pushing against the thin mattress of the hospital bed. He fumbled around for the remote control, tangling the intravenous lines with the cord to the remote. He struggled for a moment to untangle the cord and IV line, then pushed the button on the front panel of the remote that would bring the back of the bed upright. After a moment he had the back of the bed up, supporting him. He tucked the remote under his leg and leaned back into the, not so comfortable, bedding that covered the tight springs and mechanical devices hidden underneath. He let his mind wander around the storm of thoughts and memories that swirled inside.
Even after the nearly seventy years since the experiments in the New Mexico desert, his thoughts remained sharp and focused, recalling all of the events with detail. He had made a point, throughout the years, to never allow his memories to cloud or gloss over each of the moments of that day. What had happened that day, happened exactly as he had remembered. His thoughts and memories of the day he stepped into the time capsule, and the day he returned, were cataloged in his mind. Documented and annotated. He was a scientist first, and a theologian reluctantly.
After standing on the pile of rocks, in what he would later learn to have been the New Mexico desert outside of Corona, watching the two horsemen gallop away, he could do little to combat the feeling of being abandoned and alone.
He was well aware that working with the government on experiments in time travel was always a lonely and risky venture. Working with the government on any secret experiment was at best a risky venture, especially during times of war. Those involved in time travel experimentation, or those involved in the cover up of time travel experimentation, never knew the whole story. That’s the way government works best, Ray Scott told him, weeks before the trip into the desert. Secrets layered upon secrets. So many layers that no one was ever sure what was truth and what was propaganda. Cardinal Celent smiled and shook his head slightly, as he wondered if anyone would ever know the complete truth. Then, he asked out loud to no one in particular, “Could they even understand if they did know the truth?”
He had been living a life of secrets and lies—covert was the way the government directors described it—ever since being recruited so long ago by Ray Scott. He corrected himself—Senator Ray Scott. They both had titles now; one had been rewarded by the United States government for services outstanding, and one by another government, the Holy Roman Catholic Church: for secrets well kept.
It was during the initial experiments, when he had first been recruited, that he found himself unsure of his talents and those of the other scientists that had been brought onboard. And there were many moments of doubt about what he and they were trying to do. Not in whether time travel could be accomplished, but rather in whether it should be accomplished? In theory, time travel was not impossible. It was definitely highly improbable, but so were many of the conveniences of modern man. But that did not stop the world from embracing the new technology, whether it became a benefit to man or was proven to be detrimental to man.
He remembered asking himself many times over, would time travel be good for mankind or would it prove to be the ultimate evil? As many times as he had asked himself the question, it would remain throughout his life: A question that he could not answer. But he didn’t have to, as it was a question that had been answered for him.
Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.
THE BODIES OF LYNDA and Commander Kupovits with their distorted, grotesque faces had started to bloat. Bill noticed that the jumpsuits they were wearing had become decidedly more snug, especially around the abdomens of each. He contemplated burying them, but decided against it, as he did not have anything with which he could move the earth and rocks that would be required for the task. And even if he did bury them, he knew that the government would want the bodies for an autopsy and research, and they would only have to dig them up again. So, he just moved them out of the direct sun into a fairly shaded area.
After pulling the bodies around to the other side of the rocky mound and out of the direct sunlight, Bill headed off toward the well. He was exhausted and in desperate need of water. He made it halfway to the iron structure, when he realized that the desert was filled with an eerie silence. The sheep that had stood on parallel sides of the well were gone. They had moved off quietly into the desert, leaving Bill alone with only the sound of a whimpering breeze rustling dry, snarled tumbleweed.
He turned slowly around, just as he had done in the ancient desert of Israel when he had first glimpsed the walls of Jerusalem, not expecting to see anything, but knowing something was there. When he had completed a one hundred and eighty degree turn, and now had the well to his back, and was facing the rocky mound, he saw them.
Three figures stood atop the rocks, looking directly at him. The heat of the sun bounced off of the desert rock and baked earth, causing the images to ripple. Bill stood for a moment waiting for the mirage to disappear. It did not. Instead, the figures began to move. And stepping down from the rocks, they moved in his direction.
Bill contemplated both running away and running toward them.
He did neither.
SIXTY SEVEN
“JEFF! JEFF. WAIT UP!” Dominic shouted as he ran toward the man.
Jeff turned around, saw Dominic coming towards him, and pulled his daughter in close to him in the unconscious movement of a parent protecting their child.
“Hey, I’m sorry to run up on you like this,” Dominic said, slightly out of breath. “But you were telling me about the paper puzzles that you use in your classes.”
Jeff stared at Dominic, then diverted his gaze over Dominic’s shoulder as Tonita came up behind him. Jeff relaxed as Tonita reached them, stopped, and smiled. “Yes. What about them?”
“I have a map, or at least that’s what I think it is, that I can’t figure out, and I was hoping that maybe you could take a look at it?”
Jeff nodded. “Well, sure. I don’t know that it’ll do any good, but I’ll look at it.”
“Thanks. Anything would help.” Dominic gave Tonita a quick nod, and then handed the map to Jeff.
“My daddy can make an airplane for you or even a fish,” Annabel said, displaying her paper puzzle. “Show ‘em, Daddy.”
“Sure. Weeble, in just a minute.” Jeff took the page torn from the book on Roswell from Dominic, looked at one side, then turned it over, studying the opposite side. After a few minutes of concentrated thought, he turned it around again. “I think,” Jeff started, then went silent again as he flipped the page from horizontal to vertical, turning it over and quickly back. “It’s a tri-hexa-flexagon.”
Dominic cocked his head, brushed the hair from his face, and asked, “Is that good?”
Jeff laughed. “Oh, sure. It’s a fun puzzle. Not all that easy to make. But once you get the hang of it, not all that hard either.”
“Can you do it? I mean, can you turn the page into that tri hexa thing?”
“Tri-hexa-flexagon,” Jeff stated. “Three sides and six faces. And sure I can.”
Dominic pointed to a table with an umbrel
la covering it, offering a canopy of shade a short distance away. “Let’s sit over there.”
Tonita and Dominic took a seat opposite Jeff and Annabel at the partially shaded table. There was just a touch of movement to the air as a breeze picked up momentarily and then faded away.
“Now, how do we know that this is a tri-hexa-flexagon?” Jeff asked, as though he were instructing a high school class in mathematics. He handed the page—map—to Dominic.
Dominic turned the map over, looked at both sides intently, and handed the page to Tonita. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Tonita took the page, and without so much as a nano-second of thought, handed it directly back to Jeff. “No. But he does.”
Jeff smiled and reached out for the map. “I do.”
“Daddy knows everything. Don’t you, Daddy?” Annabel said, giggling.
“No, Weeble. Daddy just thinks he does.” Jeff leaned over and kissed his daughter on the head. His eyes moved from his daughter to Dominic. “But this,” he waved the page in the air, “a tri-hexa-flexagon, I do know.” He looked into Dominic’s eyes. “Trust me?”
“Sure, we trust you.” Dominic said.
“Okay, then.”
Dominic and Tonita watched as Jeff creased the page into a folded strip. Then, beginning on one end, folded a corner down, creating a triangle into the paper. He repeated the process, folding each triangle into another. When he had reached the end, he turned the page over and repeated the processes until the page resembled a strip of paper, that when standing on its side, zigzagged. Jeff, took the strip of paper, laid it out onto the flat surface of the table, and smoothed out the page so that it would lie flat. “I’m going to need some glue or tape. Double-sided is best.”
“Let me check with one of the souvenir stands,” Tonita said as she jumped up from the table. A moment later she was back with double-sided tape. “Just what the doctor ordered,” she said, handing the tape to Jeff.
“Perfect.” Jeff took the page, refolded it into the zigzag shape and, snapping off a small section of tape, applied it to one end of the strip of folded paper. Then he twisted the strip around and attached the other end of the paper, pressing the two pieces into the double-sided tape, until they were held firmly together. He picked up the completed puzzle and showed it to Dominic and Tonita.
“Daddy, you made a stop sign,” Annabel said, again giggling. “A stop sign.”
“Not quite, but close. A stop sign has eight edges to it.” Jeff showed the tri-hexa-flexagon map to his daughter, and then displayed it to Dominic in a movement reminiscent of a game show host. “This only has six sides, see?” He counted them out. “One, two three, four, five, and six.”
“You’re right, Daddy.”
Dominic nodded in agreement with the little girl.
“Now watch what happens if I push two of the edges together and hold them, while I pull another corner apart.” Jeff manipulated the form and the crisscrossing lines that had made absolutely no sense when presented on the original paper. Now, came together, converging and continuing at points leading off to the edge of the flexagon.
“And if I hold two other edges together,” Jeff said, as he held two of the other edges together and pulled at the corners of another. A new design came together and the map continued. “See?”
“Very good, Daddy.” Annabel’s voice rose in excitement.
Dominic again nodded in agreement.
“Whoever thought this through really put some time into it. This is complicated.” Jeff handed the map to Dominic.
Dominic cradled the map in his hands, as one would an egg that had the yolk blown out from it, leaving only the shell.
“It won’t break,” Jeff said. “It’s pretty secure.”
“I’m not sure how to use it.” Dominic squeezed together two of the corners.
“That’s right. Now hold them tight and pull at another corner.”
Dominic did, and when nothing happened looked up at Jeff. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Some corners will work and some won’t.” Jeff pointed to another corner of the map. “Try that one.”
Dominic pulled on the corners that Jeff had indicated, and the map moved into a new configuration. The lines that had ended on one side connected and continued on another.
“That’s it,” Jeff said with a hint of congratulation in his voice. “You have to play with them to figure out which side leads to another. Even though it doesn’t look like it, every flexagon, whether it is a simple puzzle or a complicated design like this one, has a front or beginning, and an end. Let me show you.” Jeff held out his hand.
Dominic handed the map to him and leaned in as Jeff demonstrated.
Jeff went through the design sequence of the map once, then hesitated, and ran it one more time. “Okay. You see here?” He held out the map to Dominic and Tonita. “This is side one.” He manipulated the paper. “This is side two.” Then he continued the sequence until he had cycled completely through. “And side six.” Jeff concluded the demonstration and handed the map back to Dominic. “Whoever designed this made it easy for you to recognize the sides.”
“Oh, really?” Dominic’s sarcasm was evident in his tone. “How’s that?”
“Look here.” Jeff placed his finger near the edge of the first side of the map, “This.” Just at the tip of his finger a lone symbol in the far corner of the page stood out.—A—. “That’s the...”
“Greek letter A,” Dominic finished the sentence for him. He glanced back at Tonita, then again to Jeff.
Jeff manipulated the page once again and moved the map to the next sequence. “And there’s the B.” The Greek letter—B—appeared in the same place on the new page as the A had on the previous. Jeff folded the map once again revealing another side. “Now, here’s where I figured this out.” Jeff pointed to the corner of the third page where the alphabet continued. “See here. The designer of this flexagon uses the—Ѓ—gamma symbol here, just where our letter—C—would be. And on the next page you’ll find the delta symbol—Δ—followed by the epsilon, which to most would look just like our—E—.”
“So, to a casual observer, there is no pattern,” Dominic stated.
“Right. Unless of course you’re into math or you’re a Greek scholar.”
Dominic reached out and took the flexagon map from Jeff, stared at it for moment, then looked up at the others and smiled. “Or...you’re a believer in divine intervention.”
SIXTY EIGHT
DOMINIC TURNED THE rented Oldsmobile Alero off of route 247 just past mile marker 17, as he had a day ago, skidding on the dirt road, and then heading out into the desert. “Are you sure you’re on the first page of that...” He hesitated.
“Flexagon,” Tonita finished for him.
“Map,” Dominic added.
“Yes, I’m on the first page.” Tonita held the flexagon in one hand and the map from the car rental company in the other. “I’ve compared the flexagon map with the map from the car rental, and I’m sure that this is the road we just turned off of.” Tonita showed the flexagon map and the car rental map to Dominic.
Dominic slowed the car down to a near stop, and looked back and forth between the two maps. “I think you’re right. This looks like the same road that we turned off of.” He pointed to the line on the car rental map. “See? This is Route 247 and it sort of squiggles around here. And so does this.” He pointed to the flexagon. “If we use route 247 as a landmark, then we can follow the markings on the flexagon to ...” He glanced up at Tonita. “Well, to somewhere.”
“Somewhere? That scares me.”
“It’s the best answer I have.” Dominic stepped on the gas and the Alero moved forward, bouncing on the dirt road.
“I hope this car makes it.” Tonita reached up and grabbed the support bar attached to the frame of the car, just above the passenger door. “I’m not sure, but I seriously doubt that an Alero was made to trek into the desert.”
The dirt road ran straight befor
e them, following the natural lay of the land, for the most part, but occasionally cut counter to the grain of the desert. It was a seldom-used roadway. No tires had left the imprint of their treads in the sandy dirt, or if they had, the wind had smoothed them all away a long time ago.
Tonita followed the dirt road on the flexagon map, occasionally glancing out of the rear window to check their position against the paved roadway of Route 247, now far behind them. Every now and then a side road branched off of the main road and Tonita checked them off as they progressed deeper into the dessert. “Okay, we just passed this little road here off to the side, and we’re at the edge of the first page of the flexagon.”
Dominic adjusted the air conditioning vent of the Alero to blow directly on him. The vehicle was working overtime, and the fan of the air conditioner was blowing out more of a breeze of cooled air than a blast of cold. Dominic began to feel the heat, both from the sun beating down on the car and from the stress of being out in the middle of the desert with a folded paper map that may lead them nowhere, and without so much as a gallon of water with them. He hadn’t thought about the drive into the desert in terms of survival, but now he wished he had. There had been plenty of opportunity to secure food and water to bring along, but the thought had not occurred to him until this moment. Not too bright for an ex-service man, he thought.
The adventure that the flexagon had promised clouded his mind and filled his thoughts with the possibilities of what may lie ahead, so much so, that the dangers of the trek were lost. He chastised himself for not being prepared, and contemplated turning back and beginning again the next day better prepared.
“It works!” Tonita nearly shouted. “I moved the flexagon from the—A—page to the—B—page and look.” She held up the flexagon so that Dominic could see it without diverting his eyes from the dirt road ahead. “The lines match perfectly.”
The Third Hour Page 24