The Halcyon Dislocation

by Peter Kazmaier

  Dave swam for his uncle’s still body floating in the water. The spear had become dislodged, and in the morning light, dark blood was staining the water. Dave rolled O’Reilly onto his back, hooked his left arm under his uncle’s chin, and swam with all his might for the last boat. When the boat was within thirty feet, someone threw him a line and hauled the two men up and onto the boat. Off their bow, Dave could see Floyd’s boat, which had come back to cover them, and had saved O’Reilly from the killing blow.

  The boats sailed for Halcyon. Dave, sick with dread, made his uncle as comfortable as he could in the bottom of the boat, using a fresh T¬shirt to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in his back. Tears rolled down Dave’s cheeks as he grasped his uncle’s hand tightly. He couldn’t remember when he had last cried. Even the deadly attacks of the lupi hadn’t affected him like this.

  O’Reilly stirred, opened his eyes, and reached up with his other hand to grasp Dave’s left arm. “Dave!” he said hoarsely, his eyes unnaturally bright. “Dave!” he said again, louder this time.

  “I’m here, Uncle Charlie.”

  “Do you have some water?” The request burned Dave like a hot iron.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t have any.” Dave said haltingly. How could he not have water at a time like this!

  O’Reilly licked his cracked lips, in endeavoring to speak. “Never mind; listen to what I have to say. I’m going to die.” O’Reilly spoke with great difficulty, each raspy word forced from his dry throat.

  “Uncle Charlie, you can’t die. You’re going to be all right.”

  “Listen to me, Dave. You’ve got to listen to me!” O’Reilly squeezed his arm firmly.

  “I’m listening,” said Dave.

  “I only have a short time—listen to me,” he repeated weakly. “I just have to say ... seek after God ... the Bible ... search for answers to your ... big questions.”

  Bewildered, Dave answered, “Sure I will, Uncle Charlie.”

  O’Reilly made an effort to speak again, squeezing his eyes shut to still the pain.

  “I want to warn you about Blackmore,” he rasped.

  “What about Blackmore?” asked Dave, more bewildered by the moment.

  “Blackmore’s a tyrant. He manipulates people ... he brainwashes ... don’t trust him ... don’t let him get you in his clutches!” O’Reilly tried to say more, but Dave couldn’t’ make out the words.

  O’Reilly’s breathing became more labored. He seemed to fall into a light sleep, from which he woke to be reassured that Dave was still there, but he never spoke again. He died before they reached Halcyon.

  Why this deathbed monolog? Uncle Charlie was a churchgoer, but he never seemed to take it seriously. Was he afraid to die and wanted to have God as an imaginary friend by his side at the end? That doesn’t seem like Uncle Charlie. Was it delirium brought on by oxygen deprivation? Maybe that was it.

  __________

  Blackmore and the Halcyon dignitaries accorded O’Reilly honors in death that they had denied him in life. On a cold, stormy spring day, Dave stood with a party of senators and friends at the new Halcyon cemetery. He had never felt so miserable and lonely in his life.

  Walking back toward his dormitory, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he was surprised to see Bertrand Hoffstetter. It had been almost a year since Dave had met him at the hospital, but Dave’s feelings toward him had not changed. There was definitely something oily and unsavory about the man.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle,” Hoffstetter said in a perfunctory tone.

  “Thank you,” said Dave, trying his best to keep his voice civil.

  “I know just the thing to keep your mind off this tragedy,” continued Hoffstetter.

  “You’ve lost me,” said Dave.

  “I wanted to thank you for bringing back that vellum. It was of the greatest value.”

  “It was?” asked Dave. “There was something on it?”

  “It’s amazing what ultraviolet light will do with faded documents,” mused Hoffstetter. “But never mind that now. As I was saying, I know just the thing to help you get over the death of your uncle; it may help you make an important contribution to Halcyon—perhaps the greatest contribution yet. I would like you to lead an expedition to explore the Halcyon River.”

  I don’t believe it. Of all the gall. Hoffstetter has the nerve to talk to me about another trip on a day like this!

  “Professor Hoffstetter, my uncle has just passed away! I’m in no mood for exploration right now,” said Dave icily.

  Hoffstetter frowned. “Of course, of course. I’ll write down a number where I can be reached. I’ve come into some information that promises a great advantage to the hardy explorer and to Halcyon, but I need someone with the courage and the skill to exploit it.” He gestured toward Dave. “Perhaps, after this calamity, as you put it so aptly, you may welcome a challenge so suited to your unique—”

  “Then why don’t you go?” asked Dave, cutting him off. He was very close to losing his temper.

  “Ah, of course, I would under other circumstances. But I’m not young, and I’m needed here. They’re counting on me to get us home. No, they’d never let me go on the expedition I have in mind. But then again, I may go—later.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Professor Hoffstetter. I will consider your offer, and I’ll call you if I change my mind,” said Dave. His body language spoke “no” much more eloquently than the polite fiction of his answer. He took the piece of paper that Hoffstetter held out to him, turned, and walked away.

  Chapter 17 The Inner Circle Decides

  Darwin Blackmore was annoyed. Two of his companions from the university senate, Trevor Huxley and Jonathon Hobbs, were in a heated argument over who was to blame for the loss of the Botany Bay colony to the renegades. Always careful about his deportment, Blackmore took a moment to admire the original Cezanne on the oak paneled wall of his study. What had been a loan to Halcyon from the Baltimore Museum of Art had now become part of his private collection, thanks to the dislocation.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Blackmore, “please stop your quarreling for a moment and let us step back from the immediate situation.” His commanding voice brought the room to silence. “I do not think we could have anticipated the devastating effect of Happy Berries on the population. How many people did we lose, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan Hobbs was a sociologist. Tall and gaunt, his thin fingers were folded in front of him. “We lost about 1,500 people. Most of those who are addicted to Happy Berries are now roaming the mainland in battle frenzy. The rest are missing and presumed dead.”

  “Are we still able to use the mainland for lumber, Huxley?” Blackmore asked. Huxley was a short, overweight man and an excellent administrator. He had become Blackmore’s chief of staff.

  “We can, but to do so is very expensive in terms of both men and money,” said Huxley.

  Lydia Pendergast, an austere looking biologist with short, cropped hair, shifted her position and flashed her eyes at Huxley in anger.

  “I mean people and money,” said Huxley, looking briefly at Pendergast. “We can only risk it with an armed guard; go in and out quickly, and even then, we can expect resistance. Last week we took heavy casualties; the renegades attacked while we were cutting trees close to the mouth of the Halcyon River.”

  “We have a real opportunity here,” said Pendergast, her voice acerbic. “The active compound in Happy Berries makes the renegades very strong. If only we could eliminate the long-term effects that drive people crazy, this compound could be used to control the undesirable elements of our population, and also in the directed evolution of our species.”

  “I see your point,” said Blackmore, annoyed at the digression, “and that needs further investigation. But right now we need to focus on the situation at hand. We could attempt to recapture Botany Bay, or we could attempt to leapfrog the coast and proceed up the Halcyon River as our esteemed colleague Professor Hoffstetter has been urging.” Bl
ackmore nodded in Hoffstetter’s direction.

  Hoffstetter responded with a nod and a wan smile. Blackmore gestured to Hoffstetter to intercede.

  “What was the report back from Linder on the exploration?” Hoffstetter asked Hobbs.

  “Linder reported that the coastal lands were bounded by swamp to the south and mountains to the east.”

  “What do you think, Trevor? Can we get through those mountains, even if we take the coast back?” continued Hoffstetter.

  “There was one valley that wasn’t well explored because of an animal attack that killed three members of the exploration team, but Linder was convinced the road they found would lead us through.”

  “Well, gentlemen, doesn’t it seem to you that even if we expended our forces at great cost to recapture Botany Bay and the coast, we would still have to mount a river expedition to get beyond the mountains? Even if that pass proves able to take us through the mountains, the long trek to the pass through dense terrain and then the danger of the wolves, or lupi as Linder called them, would make that route very long, very slow, and very dangerous at best.”

  “But what about the distance?” asked Hobbs. “Botany Bay is only six miles away, and that presented logistical problems to us. Who knows how far up the river we’d have to go to find the resources we need! If we were to build a colony there, think of the problems involved in supplying such an outpost.”

  “You’ve touched on an eminently practical point, Jonathan,” responded Hoffstetter, “but I have two other reasons for suggesting the river expedition at this point in time. First of all, even if we recapture Botany Bay, at great cost, the Happy Berries are still there, and in a few months we’ll face the same problem with addiction all over again. If we wait, two positive outcomes may be expected. Many of the renegades, mad as they are, will die of exposure or kill each other. Furthermore, as Lydia has pointed out, we’ll turn our chemists, biochemists, and pharmacists loose on this new drug, and perhaps in a year’s time we’ll have a benign derivative that we could hand out to our population without the danger of negative side effects. I’m so convinced this is the right course, I want to be part of the expedition we send out.”

  Hobbs was not so easily persuaded. “Won’t we encounter the same danger of Happy Berries farther up the river?”

  “I read Linder’s report carefully,” said Hoffstetter with an arrogant emphasis on the word carefully. “He stated that Happy Berries disappeared a few miles from the coast. It’s likely that any colony founded farther upriver will be free of that blight. Finally,” said Hoffstetter, “I need not remind you about the contents of the map that Schuster brought back. I won’t speak openly of them, since even these walls may have ears, but we should, shall we say, take advantage of that valuable information.”

  “You’re right, Bertrand,” said Blackmore, “to not speak of the contents of the map openly. That information must be kept secret. Don’t mention it again, even here!”

  The conversation rambled on for some time, but in the end, Hoffstetter’s arguments proved irrefutable and carried the day. When the inner circle finally left for dinner, there was unanimity their next best move would be to explore the Halcyon River. Preparations would begin as soon as possible so that the expedition could leave that spring.

  Chapter 18 The Halcyon River Gambit

  It had been almost three weeks since Dave had returned to Halcyon. At Floyd’s request he would be joining the Halcyon River expedition the next day. Going over his supplies for the third time, Dave wanted to be sure he had everything he would need. His steel crossbow had been giving him trouble, so he rechecked the mechanism to ensure it worked flawlessly.

  He glanced over at Al; since Glenn had remained in New Jerusalem, they had become roommates. Things were working out well between them; they continued to enjoy an easy companionship. The only thing Dave didn’t really “get” about his friend was his devotion to the Bible. He read it every day. He was reading it now. Al seemed to sense Dave’s gaze on him and looked up. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the day old stubble on his chin.

  “I was thinking of inviting Tom and Dwight over for Bible study and prayer,” Al said, “if you don’t object.”

  Why would I object? They’re my friends too. Why does this request bother me?

  But Dave’s response to Al betrayed none of his inner turmoil. “No problem,” he said. “I thought you were meeting over at the Student Union building.”

  “We were,” said Al. “In fact, we had a group of about thirty meeting in a booked room at the SUB. But last week a representative from campus patrol stopped by and told us we had to stop meeting there, and we’d no longer be permitted to book a room. Apparently when the Halcyon Society for Freedom and Liberty found out we were holding a Bible study, they complained to the senate that we were using public property for religious purposes. The senate decided that since Halcyon is a secular society and needs to be careful about the separation of Church and state, they had no alternative but to ask us to stop meeting on public property. The patrolman pointed out that if we were allowed to use public property for a Bible study, then students of other religious persuasions would conclude that the government of Halcyon was endorsing our particular religion, and that would make students feel uncomfortable. Since we had no place to meet, we decided as a group to split up into small cell groups and meet in our dorm rooms. So here we are.”

  “Sounds kind of stupid to me,” said Dave. “The Church of Universal Enlightenment holds dances at the SUB all the time. Why aren’t they stopped?”

  “I tried that argument,” said Al. They told me those dances were charitable events for improving morale and therefore exempt. You’re right; the rules aren’t applied very uniformly.”

  Dave shrugged his shoulders.

  “I should point out,” said Al, “that we won’t inform the senate we’re meeting here, since they may claim that this dorm room is also a public place.”

  “No problem,” said Dave. “Your secret is safe with me! I may head over to the party.”

  Dave felt guilty. Uncle Charlie’s last words still bothered him. He had wanted to do what Uncle Charlie had asked. At first he had tried reading the Bible, but Genesis made no sense to him. He never really decided to give up on his promise; he’d just drifted away. Too much to do—parties, getting caught up on the news, the fun of watching television again after months in the bush—he just stopped trying. And here was Al, reminding him about his broken promise. Guilt and more guilt. He had to get away.

  Dave stepped out into the chilly night air. The sound of crickets was broken by the mournful song of the opera bird. The birdsong brought some comfort; it reminded him of some of the good times they’d had on the mainland during their exploration expedition. But inevitably his thoughts turned to the friends he had lost. As he walked past dormitory Schopenhauer, which had recently been converted into a daycare center, he could hear the sounds of infants and toddlers who were having trouble falling asleep. There had been a spate of new births following the dislocation, but hardly any marriages. Since the young mothers were working and going to the classes that had resumed, they had little time to look after their infants, and the senate had needed to make daycare a priority. The students called it “the Staycare Center” since the children never left, and the mothers could stay with them overnight when they desired to do so. Things had changed a great deal since he had left for Botany Bay and since Blackmore had taken over. All these reforms—was this what O’Reilly had tried to warn him about?

  When Dave arrived at the gymnasium, the booze was already flowing. Many of the participants were drunk and behaving wildly. Dave began to regret that he’d come at all. In the first days after he had returned from the mainland, getting together with fellow students at these parties had been about the only thing that had stood between him and despair. But now the parties had lost their luster. Sponsored by the Church of Universal Enlightenment, members expounded that the gatherings were the perfect example of the
importance of love, the central virtue of all faiths. Along the far wall, Dave saw a group of young men and women working on their latest assigned project from the mandatory sex education classes, another one of the innovations introduced by Blackmore.

  They look remarkably like prostitutes, and that’s really not far off the mark. Things have changed quite a lot in the last six months.

  After speaking to a couple of friends, Dave left the party and walked to the harbor. It was one of his favorite places, and he unconsciously returned here, as he often had in the past, to a rock on the hillside overlooking the bay. He loved to look at the sea. The sound of the waves lapping against the boats and the call of the gulls diminished his sense of loss and isolation, and the rank despair he’d felt after O’Reilly had died.

  The university sailboats were moored in neat groups at the wharf, looking like the fronds of a palm leaf. Far off to the right, he could see the truncated bridge, dimly lit by road lights.

  As he sat watching the lighthouse blink far off at the entrance to the bay, Dave thought about the children growing up in the Staycare Center, and what it would be like to grow up in an orphanage or school. From your earliest days, you’d be associating with kids in cliques and gangs. You’d never have anybody to whom you really belonged and who cared enough about you to scold you or to make you buck up, he thought. They’ll never know what they missed.