Of Salt and Sand

by Barnes, Michael

  And then, as if to add insult to injury—and a minute later—Mr. Ernsteed had phoned with his disturbing announcement. It seemed he and his wife could no longer . . . accommodate the two children. They had abruptly decided to withdraw from the adoption candidature.

  For the second time in less than an hour, Teresa had been blown away.

  The Ernsteeds had contacted her. They had been aggressive in their adoption progress. They had come across as stellar applicants. What on earth had happened? Now she would have to convey to the kids, not only the tragic news regarding Gracie, but this other, almost simultaneous development as well. It was an unfair dual-slam; a knock to the ground and a kick to the face.

  Teresa had turned and walked back out of the gym feeling both physically and emotionally sick. The news would devastate the children, a thought which had made her drive to the Ernsteed’s home the longest most miserable thirty-minute drive of her life.

  Mrs. Ernsteed now added her apologies, sniffling in an attempt at disappointment. “Yes,” she aired out like an over filled tire. “Ron and I tormented last night after he got off the phone. But we both felt that we simply couldn’t turn down the offer.” She reached and took her husband’s hand tenderly. “Perhaps in a year or two, the time will be right to approach adoption again.”

  Not through my agency you won’t! Teresa mumbled to herself, and fought back the urge to say so directly.

  Mr. Ernsteed tossed a hopeful, plaintive look at his wife.

  Sickening! Teresa mentally revolted. She couldn’t take much more of this crap!

  “We have to leave for China right away, you see. And to ask the kids to move with us . . . well, it just wouldn’t be fair,” Mrs. Ernsteed went on.

  “Not just unfair, but absolutely disallowed, and in violation of the State’s adoption process,” Teresa put in with some pleasure.

  “Oh?” the woman replied in surprise. “I suppose we neglected to consider that,” she frowned, tossing a startled glance at her husband.

  I’ll bet you did, Teresa growled to herself. She had heard enough. It was time to go. “Well,” she said, standing rather quickly. “Get your things, kids. We’re leaving.”

  Jessie rose first. Without a trace of emotion, she reached and took Sam’s hand. They walked a straight step from the room.

  Teresa followed. “I’ll meet you at the front door,” she said, as they hurried up the stairs.

  The Ernsteeds ambled into the hallway, hand-in-hand, looking as sad as a puppy in a pet shop window.

  Jessie and Sam were already packed. They grabbed their stuff and appeared at the end of the hallway—perhaps a little too anxious—just in time to save Teresa from having to listen to any more gooey, mushy regrets from the Ernsteeds. They walked briskly toward the front door, brushing past the Ernsteeds as one would a piece of overlooked furniture.

  “Oh my. Goodbye then,” said Mrs. Ernsteed mournfully. She reached out toward Jessie for a final farewell embrace, but the girl pulled back and stepped away.

  The woman glanced a surprised, wounded look at her husband.

  “Please don’t,” Jessie said, eyeing both Ernsteeds, frigidly. “I think it only fair that before we leave, you understand something very clearly.” She stood firm, her eyes piercing. “Sam and I would not have stayed in this house with you two if it had been the last place on the earth for us. It was clear from the moment we arrived that neither of you wanted us. I don’t understand the charade, but we saw right through it. You both suck at acting. Goodbye, and good luck in . . .” she tapped a cheek, “China, was it?” With that she grabbed up Sam’s hand and they marched out the door.

  Sam turned just long enough to shrug a shoulder.

  Well done Jessie! Teresa wanted to hoot, but she refrained . . . it wasn’t easy. Then she simply cleared her knotted throat, grinned and slammed the fancy door shut on two very stunned faces.

  It seemed that Tanner’s pair of imitators had fooled no one.

  As the three hurried toward Teresa’s car, the rain picked up.

  --

  Colonel Briggs didn’t have time to think about Jacob’s clever droid, nor how the thing had evaded his defenses and seemingly vanished so completely into the desert night. His focus, and that of his men, had shifted drastically to the siege of Sandcastle. Or more specifically, the sentinel drones now pouring down upon them like sand through a funnel!

  Jimmy’s traitorous viral algorithm had finally been overwritten; the security droids were now active, and with every process iteration, they become more aware of the assault upon their underground fortress. Their collective network had perceived and countered. All units were now assembled at key tunnel-ways and access points. Like a great rampart wall, the metal guard intercepted, sealing off, as best they could, access to the main sub-complex; to the Avalon housing sections; and to the convergence-hub, where the estate elevator was located. Like lions defending their pride, they engaged the enemy, falling upon the Goliaths with overwhelming numbers.

  At first, the prowess guardians seemed to have the advantage. But very soon into the conflict, the crippling effects of their handicap became paralytic: the Sandcastle drones could not use their most powerful weaponry against the human soldiers, a condemning disadvantage the Fire Ants soon learned to exploit.

  So completely ingrained were the sentinel’s algorithms protecting living entities, that as the combat grew fierce, their calculating, targeting and defensive capabilities became virtually unusable, deemed too dangerous to wield in the presence of so many humans . . . many of the droid defenders simply took their EMR systems offline, condemning them to near instant destruction by the Goliaths.

  Briggs’ men soon ignored his orders to stay clear of the Goliath AD’s, and instead, purposely scrambled in and around their counterpart killers like flies to decayed carrion, intentionally confusing the targeting systems of the Sandcastle defenses. As quickly as a sentinel could lock on to a Goliath, it was forced to disengage, as a human pattern swept in and across its targeting path. This time-lag in a firefight of such intensity, soon proved to be as deadly to the sentinel’s as any weapons employed by the enemy.

  One-by-one, the faithful guard fell—picked off and blown into oblivion in those hesitating seconds, while only the occasional Goliath tumbled, their large trunks smashing to the ground like a great derailed train.

  Then, in a hush of sudden awareness, it was all over. The wafting smoke and dirty haze was all that remained as it rose, swirled and danced on foul air.

  Cautiously, Briggs commanded his Goliath AD’s to stand down. The leashed pack obeyed. They halted and drew in their thick arms, pulled up their massive forms, and clicked into docile, ticking frames.

  The Fire Ant’s cheered and shouted a champion’s cry as they found that not one amongst them had been injured.

  But Briggs quickly silenced them. He was not so smug, and doubted, somehow, that the resistance had been squelched with so little effort. “We spilt up,” he ordered. “One team down that access corridor,” he barked, pointing to a gaping, smoldering entrance where a reinforced door had once been. “The other team with me, down this one.”

  The men quickly divided into their groups and moved out. In the greatest of trepidation they encroached onward into the realm of the unknown. The mighty Fire Ants had been shocked at what technology they had discovered thus far in this strange underground encampment. Who knew what lay ahead? They had successfully fought their first battle and won, but what else might leap from a darkened tunnel-way, or rumble toward them from the shadows?

  --

  The windshield-wipers in Teresa’s car beat in a slow, even cadence, their whiny scape compounded ten-fold by the smothering silence. Her eyes shifted, every so often, from the road to her passengers, who both sat as lifeless as her plastic kitty-cat ornament hanging from the rear-view mirror.

  “Jessie, say something,” she finally spoke. “You can’t keep all this emotion inside.”

  Jessie slowly raised her head a
nd turned a despondent gaze on the woman. “I . . .” she whispered. “I need to see Ruthanne and Ellen as soon as I can.”

  Teresa’s eyebrows rose, curiously. That was an odd response? “The two nieces?” she questioned.

  “Yes.” Jessie swallowed over her words. “When can I see them?” she repeated. “It’s extremely important.”

  Teresa hesitated. “Jessie,” she replied. “I’m afraid you can’t. We have all been disinvited . . . banned basically, from the estate—permanently. I’m sorry.”

  Jessie’s chin dropped. She shook her head, unable to conceive the words. How was it possible? Jacob loved her. He would never allow this disassociation so callously—none of the Four would. She and Sam had been considered family, and as such, given a permanent invitation to visit the estate as often as they could. Gracie had said so herself . . . but then that was last week, and today, sitting in Teresa’s car, driving down some sloshy road . . . well, things were so very different, and Jimmy Reitman was the single factor behind it all.

  Jacob hadn’t trusted the man. He had feared Jimmy in those last months, and had told Jessie how suspicious he was of him. Now, by the sickening pain mounting in her stomach, she just knew that Jacob had been right. She turned to her window. Like the deluge coming down all around them, her tears finally came—all at once. The very same she had fought so bravely to contain.

  “Oh, Jessie,” exhaled Teresa. “Please don’t. I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “It was Jimmy Reitman, wasn’t it!” The girl snapped, her swollen face red and accusing. “He has turned us out and forbidden our return! Now that he has Gracie out of the way, he can take over and do what he wants with Sandcastle!”

  “What?” exclaimed Teresa. “Take over what?”

  “Jessie!” cried Sam suddenly from the back seat, nearly forgotten. “You mean we can’t go back to Sandcastle, ever? But why!” he began to tear, his voice quaking on the edge. “Don’t they want us back?”

  Jessie whirled at the boy. She shook her head and eyed him ferociously. “Not a another word, Sam!”

  Sam’s eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.

  Now Teresa was really getting freaked out. What kind of exchange was going on here? Amid the red flash of tapping brakes and the blurred smear of oncoming headlights, Teresa scanned their faces, trying to decrypt the collusion that had so condemned them. Whatever it was, it was not some secret pact to be toyed between two snickering siblings. This was something yawning and ugly; perhaps even . . . terrifying?

  “Let’s just tell her!” Sam screamed. “I don’t want to get separated again . . . I’m afraid, Jessie!”

  That was it! Teresa suddenly yanked hard on the wheel. The car lurched to the right, splashed through a gutter and cut sharply into a strip mall parking lot. She steered the vehicle toward a secluded area on the far edge of the lot where a high, cement wall held back an earth embankment which rose to another tier of buildings and lots. The car squealed to a grinding halt just feet from hitting the towering barricade. She turned off the engine, folded her arms and glared at the two of them. “Do you want to tell me what on earth is going on here. Because we are not moving until you do.”

  Jessie and Sam’s faces remained down. Only the pounding rain—high pitched and harsh on the car roof—responded to her demand.

  Teresa shook her head decidedly. “I mean it. We can sit here all day. I want some answers.”

  Then, all at once there was a bang on Teresa’s door window. She let out a shriek and whirled to the figure standing outside her car.

  “Hey,” shouted Brant, his hair flat and dripping, his shirt sleeves and collar darkening from the gathering moisture.

  Teresa rolled down her window. “You scared me to death!” she half-scolded. “Get in before you get drenched!”

  He nodded agreeably, hurried around to the front of the car and got in. “Whoa!” Brant said, giving the door a slam. “What a rain, huh?” He leaned forward. “So I saw you whip into this lot from the diner across the street,” he sniffed, wiping off his face. “I thought you were going to plow right into that wall.”

  “Hmm,” she snorted. “I suppose I was frustrated.” She swept her gaze across the kids like a prison-yard light.

  “I wondered if something was wrong . . . you did say to meet at the café over there across the street, right?” He indicating toward a group of buildings. “Then you pulled into this lot and I—”

  “Yes . . . yes I did.” Teresa nodded, awkwardly, her eyes a drill.

  It was right about then that Brant noticed the dreary expression on the faces of both Jessie and Sam, and he felt instantly foolish. “Ah,” he said, suddenly comprehending. “I’m such an idiot. I see I’ve intruded. You obviously have some private business to discuss.”

  Nobody replied, which just added to his feeling of uneasiness.

  Teresa sighed. “It would appear so,” she said, eyeing Jessie and Sam intently. “I haven’t actually had a chance to ask them about joining us for lunch just yet,” she explained. “The Ernsteeds were. . .” she shook her head in disgust, “a miserable mistake, I’m afraid.”

  “Really?” Brant frowned. He removed his glasses and wiped them with his soaked shirt—clearly going through the motion while his brain was engaged elsewhere. “Did you have a change to—”

  “Yes,” Teresa read his mind. “I told them about Gracie.”

  Brant sighed miserably. “Talk about a bad day.” He paused a moment, not really knowing what else to say. He avoided faces for a while, hoping that someone else would say something. No one did. “I’m so sorry kids,” was all he managed to come up with. But it was a sincere statement, and everyone in the car felt it. Brant turned a consoling smile at Sam. “Hey. I’m sure things will work out. Gracie is one tough old girl, she’ll—”

  “Brant,” Teresa cut in for the second time. She had that halting look. “Can you give us just a few more minutes? I still have a few more things to clear up with the kids before we join you for lunch.”

  “Oh? I see. Of course. I understand completely,” he replied, deciphering his next move. “I’ll just head back to the restaurant and save us all a table. You hang out here as long as you need.” He nodded, giving Teresa a perceptive wink. Then he turned and took hold of the door handle.

  “Wait!” cried Sam, grasping him by his shirt sleeve. “Please don’t go, Brant. Can’t he stay?”

  Brant halted, obviously shocked by the boy’s sudden reaction. Sam seemed so upset, his face still puffy and his eyes red. Brant felt compelled to do whatever he could to make the sadness go away, remembering that the last time he had been in Sam’s company, there was a radiant happiness behind those eyes. “Well, I probably shouldn’t—” he started, giving Teresa a desperate look.

  “Yes. Stay, Brant.” Jessie whispered.

  Teresa was surprised, happily so, and nodded a smile at Brant.

  He released his grip from the handle and settled back into the seat. “Okay then,” he said, feeling like he was about to become an accomplice to some scheme.

  The rain, which had pounded so loudly on the car roof, now subdued to a gentle drizzle. But even so, in that voluminous silence, the soft clinking of droplets could have been a machine gun.

  “So, are we going to sit here all day just staring at each other?” Teresa finally demanded after several uncomfortable minutes, her patience spent. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving. How about you, Brant?”

  “Oh I’m growing weaker by the minute,” he said, with a little more embellishment than he intended.

  Teresa tried not to grin.

  Jessie finally made a sound. It was just a clearing of the throat, but at least it was a noise. She swallowed down the strangling lump in her throat. Her sobs, although now composed, had left her nearly voiceless. “You two are together, then?” she finally mumbled.

  Teresa clicked her tongue and chuckled right out loud. “All this persuasion and stress to get you to finally talk,
and this is the first sentence out of your mouth?”

  Sam actually grinned, then looked from Brant to Teresa. “Cool,” he managed.

  Brant tossed his head back and sighed humorously. “Well, at least we’re getting some pleasant discussion going here.”

  Jessie snuffled. “I suppose it’s because,”—she paused—“well, if you two are together, it would be the first positive thing I’ve heard about in the last three days.”

  Teresa turned an affectionate smile on Brant. As she did, he reached up between the seats and gently took hold of her hand. “Okay. You got us. Yes!” she laughed. “We are ‘together’!”

  Jessie ginned and Sam giggled.

  “That’s one of the reasons we wanted to take you both to lunch today,” she explained. “To tell you that we’re engaged!”

  Now Jessie’s face really lit up. “Wow! But that’s wonderful!” she said. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks,” Teresa replied, happily. “I know it’s kind of fast,” she pratted, eyeing Brant for support. “But—”

  “Hey, when it’s right, it’s right,” Brant jumped in, enthusiastically.

  “Yeah,” Teresa eased. “Like he said.”

  “I think it’s awesome,” Jessie assured.

  “I just knew you liked each other!” Sam beamed.

  Brant laughed. “Ya did, huh?” He gave Teresa’s hand another tight squeeze.

  “Okay, you two,” Teresa said, directing the conversation back to the unpleasantness. “Like I said, I’m hungry. Now we’ve spilled our guts, you need to spill yours. Fair enough?”