by Brandt Legg
“Do you really think you’ll ever be able to prove that?” Amber asked.
“It’s not for the government,” Booker began, “that’s a lost cause. It’s for public opinion. Speaking of PR, when can I see the Storch meeting I’ve heard so much about?” I used the methods Gibi taught me to let him view it. “This sure helps things.” Booker laughed. “Are we going to be able to get this out to the world?”
“Once we find Dustin, we’ll be ready. It’s just deciding the best time and place,” Spencer answered.
“The sooner the better. This alone could stop them from resorting to the mall attack,” Booker said.
“What about it, Spencer? How’s it looking to stop the attack? And what about saving the girls?”
“It’s not a good time for such questions. In fact, we will need to be on our way very soon, and you still have people to see here.”
“A simple yes or no?” I asked.
“Nothing about the future is simple.”
“Then I guess I know your answer.”
“I’m glad one of us does.”
“Nate.” Linh shook her head, seeing my anger building. “Deep breath.”
“Who does Nate need to see?” Amber asked, joining in on the diversion.
“There are a number of IMers waiting to meet you. You’re already revered in the Movement. They’re inspired by you, by the possibilities.”
“I don’t want to be worshiped.”
“Good. Then you’ll be happy about the other person waiting to talk with you.”
“Who?”
“Wandus.”
“He’s here? Let’s go.” Wandus was the most mystical of the mystics. His words stayed with me while my mind continually wrung more and more meaning from them. So much had happened since we met. I was desperate for his guidance.
57
We found Wandus meditating next to a small lake. The evergreens and high canyon walls were reflected in the still water. Spencer left us there. I added some sticks to a fading campfire. The girls and I waited silently for almost ten minutes before Wandus smiled and came out of his deep state.
“So good to see you again.” His face was bright and warm. “Sit, sit.”
“There’s so much I want to tell you,” I said.
“Yes, for me too, so much I want to tell you. Time has been kind to allow this visit, but terrible too for giving such a short dance.”
I looked at him puzzled.
“Let’s talk of important things now before the anger of the world takes you away again.”
“Is something bad about to happen?” Amber asked.
“Within the world of humans something bad is always about to happen. This is not the natural way. In all of the cosmos and on earth, something beautiful is always about to happen. That must be remembered; man has forgotten.”
“Can you tell if Amber and I will be alive in a year?” Linh asked. “It seems like every time we see into the future, one or both of us are dying.”
“They’re all just versions of the same future... Linh and Amber, you’re meant to die, but every time something is changed in the present, the future will be rearranged, and how or when you die becomes different.”
“Then let’s keep rearranging because I want them in this life,” I said.
“But yet, they still die. We all die. Life is short even if you live very long because time is like that. Do not fear this thing called death. What it teaches is to live for every moment. This life is a rare gift you were given by the universe. Most waste it. Do not live like most; show them what it is to truly live.”
I read the girls’ faces. They were brave but sad. I didn’t care what Spencer saw, or even Wandus. The future could be changed, and I was powerful enough to do it. The key was stopping Lightyear. As long as they existed, Linh and Amber were under a death sentence. “How do I stop Lightyear?”
He smiled then looked down at his clasped hands. My eyes followed as he opened and turned them—empty. But when he flipped them back over, a large butterfly fluttered. The girls gasped at his magic. He placed his fingertips softly under my hand so that the butterfly moved into my palm. “The butterfly is a magnificent creature with many teachings.”
“The symbol for reincarnation,” Amber said.
“Yes,” he said with a smile, “but also symbolic of great mystery. The caterpillar takes wonderful secrets into the cocoon, then with incredible magic emerges in a fantastic transformation—the butterfly.”
I stared at the gentle beauty, well out of its season, and for the first time felt the power of what it is: change personified, forceful, yet peaceful change, a result more beautiful than its origin.
Wandus saw my understanding. “You have gathered much. Rose’s journal, the rest of the Clastier papers, the pages from your father’s desk,” his fingers moved constantly as if typing in slow motion. “Lee’s hidden evidence from the mausoleum, the documents rolled in Hibbs’ safe, the Jadeo... You see, they are all connected, these secrets from the past, all revolve around the same thing... bringing knowledge forward.” He smiled, his hands now flowing in circular patterns. “These secrets can change the world... although it is not a certainty this will happen.”
“Because of Lightyear?”
His eyes squinted, head tilted in a nonanswer. “They could remain secrets or just become ignored truths.” He raised a finger and looked up into the trees. “Ah, there are many of those already. But if you do what you came to do then, like a butterfly, the world will be changed to something unrecognizable from what it was.”
“How do I do this?”
“Illuminate... teach.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“Outviews hold the key to teaching. But the Outview of this life is more critical than all the others. You must choose wisely in how you wage this change, where you look. What you do is more important than what you say.”
“Peace,” Amber said. A hawk soared overhead, catching the thermals in the canyon.
Wandus nodded.
I’ve been thinking a lot about peace and nonviolence. Clastier was adamant about the subject.”
“You are Clastier,” Wandus said.
“I know.”
“This is all the same battle. It does not end with one lifetime. The same trouble follows, but also wisdom and goodness follow. You are Clastier, Hibbs, Nate, and many, many more. It has been a very long time. Do you understand?”
“I think so. It has felt like this was all happening to me out of the blue, but actually this life is like just another year in an eternal war.”
His smile stretched, pulling his twinkling eyes tight as he nodded and looked as though he might burst into laughter.
“But if it’s a battle, doesn’t that mean there will be violence?” Linh asked.
“Yes, there has been much violence in this war, but battles can be won in many ways. Violence is not one of them; it only fools the victor into thinking they’ve won but it cannot be. No victory can come from violence.”
“But Spencer says that without violence, this may go on another thousand years or more.”
“Dear Spencer is sometimes confused. With violence it will most certainly last more than a thousand years, as it already has. The only way to stop this is to stop the violence.”
“Peace,” Amber said again.
“Yes. Love and peace. Not hatred and violence.” His smile receded. “Please go now. There are difficulties close at hand, and you must keep moving.” For the first time I saw concern in his face.
“When can we talk again?”
“Another time,” he lifted my hands slowly until they were over my head and the butterfly flew off. “But think about what has been said. This will give you an answer to the question you should be asking... ‘If it is not the first time I’ve fought Luther Storch, then who is he?’ The answer may save you.”
58
A group of IMers stopped us on the way back to the cabin. Right away I could tell the difference. The Ta
os students were influenced by Yangchen and clearly supported her nonviolence doctrine. The Moab ones, guided by Spencer, seemed unsure, like I was. Their questions all centered around how to use powers to destroy Lightyear and stop raids. They had also been trained better. And, even though Spencer was like a general to them, and Booker their president, I was revered as a savior. Instead of fighting the label, I decided to use it to help them understand.
“There is an abundance of energy in the world. All that is necessary to do anything is to reroute it to your senses or your consciousness.” I looked at each of them, then whispered, “anything.” I created a dome around us with blowing spirals of snow and immediately changed it to near tropical heat and rainbows. I shapeshifted into Spencer and told them, “Soul-powers are enough, and violence does not need to dilute them. We will defeat Lightyear because we’re connected to our souls’ true power... love.”
“Remember, Wandus said we need to go. We don’t have time for this right now,” Linh whispered.
“We don’t have time not to do this right now. These are Spencer’s handpicked. They need to see another point of view,” I shot back.
“Excuse me, my name is Ren, and I was wondering how Lightyear gets around using soul-powers negatively?” a Japanese man with a long ponytail in his late twenties asked. I stared into his eyes and gasped. It was Sanford Fitts—or at least his soul. I couldn’t get an answer out. Did Spencer know? Was he infiltrating the Movement? Or could it be possible this man was unaware of his Fitts incarnation? Amber and Linh both sensed my change.
Amber answered the question. “While it’s true that soul-powers are not effective when used for evil purposes, the line between good and evil is more complex than you would imagine.” I looked at Ren while she was speaking, trying to decide what to do.
“What’s wrong?” Linh mouthed.
“Ren has Fitts’ soul,” I told her over the astral.
She looked as if I’d slapped her but regained composure and glanced casually at him. Amber was fielding another question, “We’re fairly sure that the majority of the psychics employed by Lightyear have been misled and think, as most of the world does, that Nate and us,” she indicated herself and Linh, “are true terrorists. So those psychics believe they’re doing good by helping to apprehend us.”
“Hug him,” Linh said quietly.
Right away, I knew what she meant. Vising would allow me to read Ren’s whole life and would show me which side he was really on. I nodded back to Linh and told her silently what to do. A couple of minutes later, there was a lull in the Q&A session and Linh grabbed the opportunity.
“Nate would like some one-on-one time with each of you before we go. There may not be time to get to everyone but we’ll see how far we get.” They were all excited. Linh arranged it so that Ren would be fourth, as we didn’t want to tip him off. I spent about three minutes each with the first two. Number three was just approaching me when Spencer suddenly pulled up in a golf cart.
Two of Booker’s people got out with him. One filmed us all, while the other took photos. “What’s going on?” I asked Spencer.
He pulled me aside and started to whisper something but then stopped. “I have some horrible news,” he addressed everyone. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this in the face of such a tragedy, but each of you need to sign this affidavit stating that you were here with Nathan Ryder during the past few hours.”
“What’s all this about?” one of them asked. “What you’re asking us to do puts us at tremendous risk. Swearing we were with Nathan Ryder while he is the most wanted person on the planet is, at the very least, aiding and abetting a known fugitive and, at the very worst could be deemed accessories after the fact.” The woman was probably an attorney.
“And what’s with the cameras?” someone else asked, while shielding his face.
“I understand your apprehension,” Spencer began. “But Lightyear has escalated things to a whole new level, and the future of IM and Nate’s life may depend on your willingness to jeopardize your own liberty.”
“Damn it, Spencer, tell us,” I said.
“The Mall of America was just attacked, hundreds are dead.”
59
The girls looked at me terrified. We had failed to stop it. All those innocent people dead, and they were next.
Out of the stunned silence, someone asked, “What does this have to do with Nate?” They didn’t know about the future like we did. And if they did, would they count us as partially responsible because we couldn’t stop it, didn’t report it, or at least warn people somehow?
“The attack happened less than an hour ago. They don’t even know how many are dead, but they already are blaming Nate and his brother.” Everyone turned from Spencer to me. He continued, “The FBI director reported that two fuel tanker trucks intentionally crashed into mall entrances and detonated.”
“God, no!” someone cried.
“DHS claims Nate and Dustin hid on the edge of the parking lot and shot at people trying to escape the flames with AK-47 assault rifles.”
I shook my head.
“Most of the victims are teenagers. They expect the death toll to be six to eight hundred, possibly more. It’s the second worst terrorist attack ever.”
Everyone started talking at once. “Who would do such a thing?”
“How can they blame Nate, when he’s here?”
“Would Lightyear really do something so gruesome?”
“Where is Dustin Ryder?”
It was that question, which raised my own. “I thought you said they wouldn’t risk doing the mall attack unless they knew my location?” I asked Spencer, telepathically.
“It seems Storch is so desperate to stop you that he’s willing to take wild chances.”
“Or,” I said, looking at Ren, “Do they know where I am?”
Spencer followed my thoughts. It only took a minute for him to complete the picture. His face registered the same shock I’d felt. He hadn’t known.
“I thought these were your handpicked people,” I said silently, “some of the best in the Movement, and now we find out Fitts is among them—Fitts!”
“He can’t be aiding Lightyear.”
I stared at Spencer, asking more.
“Just because he shares the same soul as Fitts, doesn’t mean he shares the same ideas.”
I thought of the slave trader, and the betrayals of Amparo. What secrets are concealed in the innocence of our souls? Is each of us both Caesar and Brutus? In the depth of the dark night, are we paying for crimes we’ve committed and long forgotten?
“We must prepare to leave,” Spencer proclaimed loudly. His voice shattered my thoughts, leaving them unfinished and filled with angst and regret.
Booker’s men had collected signatures from more than half the IMers. Linh suggested I thank them individually as they were heading back to their rooms to gather their belongings. I communicated with Spencer and told him about trying to read Ren. At the same time, I asked what the evacuation plan was for the IMers and where we were going.
“They’ll be flown to Cervantes, if we can get them out of here in time. You and the girls will be going to Outin. Finding Dustin is more important now than ever.”
I thought of my mom and wondered if she would see the news. Surely a guard would tell her. I made sure to make connections with several of the IMers and hugged them so it wouldn’t seem suspicious to Ren.
When Ren finally stepped before me, I was nervous. Here was the soul of a man who murdered my dad and Aunt Rose, pretended to be my friend before hunting me, and even in his final gasps of life had tried to kill me.
“I admire you greatly,” he said, with a clipped but warm Japanese accent, while shaking my hand.
“Thank you, Ren, right?”
“Yes,” he nodded, bowing slightly.
“How did you come to be with the Movement?”
“Same as you.”
I looked at him puzzled, eager to hug him and end the small talk tha
t couldn’t give me any answers. “How do you mean?”
“Sanford Fitts killed my father, too.”
60
It was hard to breathe for a moment. “I’d like to talk with you, but with the awful events today, my time is no longer my own,” my voice strained.
“Yes, I understand,” he bowed again, preparing to walk away, “Thank you.”
“Ren, I’d like to read you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would you please open your arms?” I demonstrated with mine. He didn’t hesitate. His life was noneventful until seventeen years of age. His father was a spiritual man, a practicing Zen Buddhist who, through deep meditation, had discovered a few soul-powers, mostly related to healing. Locals began seeking him out for help with ailments, but soon people from around the world were coming with life and death issues. A powerful American businessman was among his frequent visitors. This eventually led to a recruitment effort by Lightyear. He resisted and confided the story to Ren, who by then was twenty. As his powers grew, Ren’s father learned too much about Lightyear. Fitts arrived with a final offer, which he again refused. His healthy father suffered a massive heart attack while Fitts was still in the room; Ren found him minutes later. Ren was unaware that he shared a soul with Fitts.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, hugging him, tears welling in my eyes.
“Thank you,” he bowed.
“We’ll meet again, I promise you,” I said, as he walked away.
Even with hurrying the remaining people, it was almost half an hour before Amber, Linh, and I got back to the main cabin. Booker and Spencer were in the middle of a disagreement. The girls were pulled in by the horrific images on TV that I didn’t want to see.
“Did you talk to Ren?” Spencer asked.
I nodded. “Fitts killed his father.”
“Incredible!” Even Spencer could be surprised. “Does he know?”
“He knows Fitts killed his dad but has no clue he shares a soul with Fitts.” I’d told the girls on the way back to the cabin. We all agreed Ren could benefit from some time with Wandus when they got to Cervantes.