Sam remembered how easy the thing had worked, and how cool it was.
The switch had two positions: Extend and Retract.
I can be down and back up before anyone realizes a thing, he heard his himself tempt. His conscience stung him hard, and he reconsidered. He reconsidered very seriously for at least a second . . . yup, he was going for it.
Sam took one final cautious glance around. No one could see him. He put his finger on the switch. Click, the Extend turned green. The motor whined faintly from beneath the balcony; the ladder stretched out its long leg in a slow succession. The deed was in motion; there was no going back now.
Sam bolted quickly into his room, grabbed his net, container (the lizard went into his sock drawer), and shot back out onto the balcony. He hurried over to the side and peered down. Yes! he exhaled in relief. The moth was still resting on the bush, and still glowing.
The ladder had finally reached its length and stopped. Sam raised the metal catch and stepped out onto the small exit platform. He tossed the net and container down over the side. Then he carefully mounted the ladder and began a slow, cautious descent.
--
Gracie opted not to wait for Ruthanne and Ellen as she usually would, but instead went early to the solarium by herself. She wanted to be alone for some personal contemplation before the others arrived. This would be a delicate meeting, and she needed time for inspiration and strength, and there was no spot on earth more conducive to her spiritual side, than her enclosed garden paradise.
The great glass-domed solarium was a visual splendor. Its intricate arches and geometric intersections of glass, gold and steel were an unmatched, byzantine phenomenon. An archetype whose design could only have been conceived in the brain of computer, then brought from the world of digital to reality by the only conduit possible of such a commission: Avalon construction drones—robotic machines a hundred times more advanced than the clumsy, clanky, gas-gulping, energy-waiting monstrosities used in today’s construction; and each capable of a precision standard limited only by the delineating laws of the atom.
Along with the dome’s extraordinary marriage of Greek and Roman architecture, was the real treasure she harbored within her tall, thick-walled refuge: a floral spectacular. Genetically crafted blooms, flowering trees, vines and bushes of all varieties, and a slow moving stream which ran through the heart of it all. It was a piece of Avalon, hermetically sealed and allowed above ground for one purpose: for Gracie. Zen had proclaimed it so, from the very beginning. It was no wonder then, that Gracie held the structure in absolute sacrosanct. It was, in every sense of the word, a treasured gift from him.
It was after 2:00 A.M. now, and everyone had arrived and had gathered in one of many ornate patio areas built to extend out over a pool of clear, crystal water; and where the flowers could be viewed from the bottom tier up, most spectacularly. As they visited amongst themselves, talking both business and leisure, the anticipated performance began. With each display of lightning above, thousands of blooms bursts in a rainbow prism of shimmering iridescence. It was lovely beyond words, and even Ruthanne, who was unable to view the performance as the others could, had a large smile, for she could see in ways the others could not comprehend.
There were several reasons why Gracie had requested this particular meeting to be held in the solarium. First, she was in fact, aware of the forecast, and knew that all would enjoy the results of the lightning-flora interaction. But second—and her real reason for the gathering—was because this would not be a pleasant meeting, and she had hoped that the surrounding beauty and fragrant air would provide a cathartic for the bitter-sweet news she had to convey: Teresa had found a family for the kids.
--
With a touch of cool grass on bare feet, Sam was down. He ran for his net and container first thing, then stood for a moment to get his bearings. Things sure looked a lot different than they had from his balcony. Now which bush had it been? He felt a sting of panic—he didn’t have time for this! Then he spotted his prey. But it was in flight again! No problem, Sam thought. It was close, and he would simply run up behind it and swoop the moth right up into his net. He had had lots of practice on this method, and he was good at it.
The moth didn’t seem at all hurried. It lazily soared just a few feet above the ground, making itself an easy target for a boy with a net. Sam hurried along, coming up behind it as quickly as he dared. He was already clipping along at a steady jog, and the gap between him and the ladder was growing uncomfortably large.
“Just about there. . . just about there,” Sam heard himself whisper, eyes locked like a laser sighted missile. Then, just as his arm was cocked, his toe hit a large rock, and down he went. “Ouch!” he grunted, hitting the ground like an old gunnysack of wheat. His chin dug into the soft dirt, and the bug container went flying. He laid there, stunned, but only for an instant. His prey was getting the lead! Sam rolled to his butt, jump to his feet and brushed off his chin. He did a quick examination of his toe—it looked surprisingly good for as bad as it hurt! He grabbed up the container and scanned the area frantically for his winged target. And there it was! He gulped air and prepped to spring into motion. But then he halted, as a sense of conscience nearly crippled his legs.
The darn moth had turned ninety degrees and was now heading straight toward the forbidden zone, an area which Sam knew to be off limits: the grounds surrounding the solarium. This was not good at all! Something inside his gut spoke a warning: you are pressing the limits Sam Goodwin! He had already crossed so many lines, had pushed his luck so far beyond the breaking point, that one more brazen move might just land him in such trouble.
Sam took off on a dead hard sprint, as fast as his legs could carry him. He had one chance to catch up to the moth before it crossed the boundary line and was lost to him. But he would have to move it! The moth was flying at a good clip now, and straight on course for the solarium grounds.
Within seconds, Sam found himself closing in on the target, but his lungs were burning for more air. He couldn’t keep this pace up much longer . . . but he was so close now! Then, with just feet to go, the moth fluttered across the pathway, having no idea, or care, of the great significance in this crossing. But Sam knew the significance. He knew with absolute certainty. And instead of screeching to a halt, he pushed himself even harder as he leaped carelessly across it. Gracie’s words resounded in his head like fateful warning: . . .this pathway is the boundary. You are never to go beyond this point. Ever. And that’s when he heard someone shout his name. He turned for just an instant to glance behind him. The ground disappeared under his feet, and the next thing he knew he was falling . . . falling, then splash! Sam was underwater.
The shock of going from a dead run to a drenching flounder surged through the boy’s body. He surfaced, and gulped for air. It was dark and cold but he knew with a sickening sense of reality, what had happened. He had fallen in the canal, a high-walled cement channel—wide, deep and very fast flowing. He spit and fought to keep his head above the depths, but he was being tossed about like a leaf in a river.
Sam, already spent from his sprint, was weakening fast. His confusion and shock now became unrestrained terror. He was going to drown! He flung his arms out, in and around in all directions trying to grasp for anything that could leverage him. But all his fingers could do was to scrap painfully against the hard, course sides. He finally forced one last desperate kick and lunged into a roll. Now on his back, he could at least see what lay ahead of him . . . it was not good! The water was dragging him right toward the towering east wall of the solarium! Sam remembered then, in that terrible instant, where the water went from there. It went underground.
Sam took a last gulp of air, and with all his might he screamed out, “help me!”
--
The gathering in the solarium had been so enjoyable thus far. These unique storms only developed once a year at best, making the event feel more like a yearly celebration than an impromptu meeting. The flowers h
ad been remarkable; the atmosphere pleasant; the conversation comfortable and relaxed—at least until one of the group said: “they’ll even be more beautiful next year.” Of course, the room fell silent, and Ellen had to somberly remind, “none of what we now see will be here next year.”
And the mood changed.
With that, Gracie felt it was time to discuss item two, the one which she was dreading. She cleared her throat then powered her wheelchair to a center spot on the patio. This was her cue, and an indication that the floor was now deferred to her.
Ellen nudged Eli. “Here we go,” she whispered.
Jacob tapped a quick command into his wristcom, then leaned into Ruthanne’s ear, “I just asked Three-of-Ten to bring us in some cold drinks. Sometimes Gracie can be a little long-winded.”
“Jacob!” Ruthanne chided.
He shrugged. “Well she can be.”
“Good idea, actually,” she whispered back.
“Thank you for coming to my sanctuary tonight,” Gracie began. “I know this is unorthodox, our focus is of course on HOPE, as it should be. But I felt, in lieu of the rare forecast this evening, we might break to discuss some other issues, while enjoying the beauty of the solarium—thanks to Ellen’s incredible genetic advancements,” she said, making a gestured toward Ellen, and lightly clapping her hands, “and a summer’s worth of meticulous, yet rewarding horticulture by myself,” she grinned.
The group returned a light applause, in kind, back to her.
Gracie shook her head coyly and smiled proudly. She was about to continue, but someone was still clapping . . . rather annoyingly.
All eyes turned on the source.
Three-of-Ten had just entered the room, and seeing the response of those surrounding him, had set down his tray of drinks, and felt the need to participate. And he had, and continued to do so.
“Oh?” burped Gracie in surprise. “Three-of-Ten. I didn’t know you would be joining us tonight.” She eyed Jacob.
The android stopped his clapping.
“I . . . I asked him to bring us in some cool drinks,” explained Jacob, eyeing the rest of the group. “For everyone. Since there was no mention of the meeting’s length. And I was thirsty.”
Ellen rolled her eyes.
“How nice,” Gracie replied. “Come join us then, Three-of-Ten.” She motioned the artificial humanoid companion forward. “And thank you for bringing in some refreshments.”
Three-of-Ten blinked happily, then bent and retrieved his tray of liquids and stepped up with great alacrity to join the group.
“Good thinking, Jacob,” Gracie added. “Heaven’s knows, I’ll be anxious to get my Hank back when . . .” then she broke off awkwardly. “Which brings me to the real purpose for calling this meeting,” she sighed. “Our kids.”
At her words, a feeling of uneasiness hushed over the room. It wasn’t too difficult to deduce what Gracie’s next words would be. And in everyone’s heart, even Eli’s, there was a pang of dread. They all knew this day would come. What they could not have known, nor foreseen, was how deeply Jessie and Sam would affect their lives, and in such a short time.
Ellen looked a frown at Ruthanne, expecting to see a like expression. But instead, Ruthanne had turned her face away, as if locked on something in the background. And her lips were moving ever so slightly.
Ellen reached and grabbed Eli’s arm. “Something is wrong.”
“Ruthanne?” Eli called.
But Ruthanne didn’t reply. Instead, she began to mutter something. It was soft at first, but then it grew louder. “Our kids, our kids, our kids . . . ” she parroted over and over, as if in some strange trance.
“Ruthanne!” called out Jacob. He turned and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”
At his touch, Ruthanne suddenly broke from her spell and jumped to her feet. She turned to the boy and grabbed hold of him with such ferocity that her glasses flew from her face, and for the first time since the days not spoken of, Jacob stared into those milky, ruined eyes. But looking at them now, they were not the eyes he remembered. These were eyes of such loss, of such horror that it chilled him completely, and he nearly recoiled from her.
Ellen and Eli were on their feet now, and Gracie was white as a ghost.
“He’s drowning!” Ruthanne suddenly screamed into Jacob’s face. “He’s going to die, Jacob! Sam is in the canal! He has seconds before being swept underground!”
“No!” screamed out Gracie in a terrible shrill. “She must be mistaken! He is asleep in his bed!”
Ellen ran to her side.
“How is this possible!” shouted Eli, already punching in commands to stop the flow, but it would take time for so much water to halt and recede.
Ruthanne shuttered, then fell.
Jacob caught her, and laid her gently down. Again, her voice shrieked out words: “Jessie . . . no! You cannot save him! Do not jump! No! No! Do not jump!”
“Jessie?” cried Jacob.
--
“Sam! Sam!” shouted Jessie running as fast as she could along the canal. But the boy was too weak to answer. And now in the darkness, she could only catch glimpses of his body, bobbing up and down like a piece of floating wood. She glanced ahead and saw the wall approaching fast. Jessie knew that time was nearly out for her brother. She took a last desperate glance around her for help, but there was no one. Without another thought, she had jumped.
Her body hit the cool water with a slap. In seconds, she was on the surface. She coughed out water then scanned desperately for Sam. It was so dark, she couldn’t see anything! Don’t panic! she kept telling herself. They had been through too much for her to lose him now. She could do this! She could save him, but first she had to find him!
Jessie took in several deep, hard breaths and then began to swim like crazy with the current. She kicked like she had never kicked before, swimming in the direction of the flow. She found she was able to gain some headway, but still could not see her brother. Then, by some miracle, a flash of lightning illuminated the surface of the water, for just an instant, but it was enough. Like a camera’s flash, her mind took an instant picture, and in that instant, she spotted Sam, and he was close . . . close but nearly underwater!
“Sam!” she cried, spitting and coughing.
The boy turned his head, but it was an expressionless turn, as if he no longer cared, and he said nothing.
Jessie kicked even harder now, as desperation drove her beyond her physical limits. The gap between them finally began to close. Harder and harder she kicked! Her legs cramped, her arms burned . . . almost there . . . and then, in one great lunge, she had him!
“I’ve got you!” she yelled. And wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Jessie,” he whispered, weakly. “I’m sorry I broke the rules. I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” she cried, fighting back tears. “Screw the rules! I’m trying to save you!”
She felt a sudden bump as the water shifted abruptly. And then her heart sank. She saw it, just ahead. It was the east wall of the solarium. And at its base, the water vanished into a sucking, gulping opening in the ground . . . they would not survive.
--
Jacob suddenly knew what Ruthanne had seen. She had, after all, helped engineer and build the massive structure. There was a thick, titanium filtering grid extending across the underground opening. Any large debris floating in the canal would be sucked down, then pinned against this grid by the force of the water. In seconds, Jacob’s mind was able to calculate all scenarios, and all outcomes. But as the results spewed out—one awful conclusion after another—he stammered back and dropped to his knees, realizing that time had precluded all of his options. If Ruthanne was correct, and Jessie and Sam were in the canal as she had vividly pronounced . . . he could not save them!
“Jacob!” shouted Eli. “What can we do!” The man had never looked so helpless.
Jacob shook his head, “I . . . I don’t know,” he agonized, as tears rolled down his face.
Jacob suddenly sprang to his feet. “Three-of-Ten!” he cried. “Protocol 7-7-Alpha-7. Redirect to Sam Goodwin: redirect to Jessie Goodwin. Engage now, now, now!”
The android exploded into action. In microseconds, it had transformed into defense mode, downloaded the DNA pattern for both Jessie and Sam Goodwin; scanned and located them, then calculated the most probable scenario for a successful retrieval. Like a bullet, the mechanical humanoid leaped into the water at the patio’s edge, and vanished beneath the glistening surface.
--
“Hold your breath!” screamed Jessie, tightening her grasp around her brother. She felt the whiplash as the water slammed them, spinning them around violently! Then, it had them! Down, down it drug them, like a quaffing creature. Darkness engulfed them as the torrent tore at them, until suddenly they were slammed against something metal and perforated. The force was nearly unbearable, and Jessie fought to keep her grasp on Sam. Her air was running out, and her mind was losing coherence. But all she could think about, as the raging stream clawed to tear them apart, was holding on to Sam. Just hold on . . . hold on . . . hold on.
Then just as she lost consciousness, wham! There came a deafening noise, and all at once, they were moving again! But now Jessie could only feel sleepy. So sleepy. She gave in, unable to fight the sensation any longer. She felt herself fall into a black oblivion . . . it was so peaceful.
--
Jessie clawed at the air, coughed and gulped down oxygen for several gasping minutes before her cognizant abilities began to return. She felt weak and her head pounded. Finally, she gained enough of her senses to cry out one word: “Sam!”
“I’m here, Jessie,” came Sam’s voice, distant, as though across a large room.
Of Salt and Sand Page 55