Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2)

by Timothy Scott Bennett

  "I, too, was sent to stop you," she said timidly, looking at Linda. "At least I thought so. It was... a vision. I was given a vision. By Zacharael... the alien being who taught me and helped me. He gave me the vision. I could see it. I was there, in that dark hallway under your cabin on Squirrel Island. Standing before you. Reaching out to take something from you. I thought I was supposed to stop you from doing something. And then I didn't know any more. The vision was... incomplete." She looked around the room. "There wasn't enough information. To tell me what exactly I was supposed to do."

  "And that's just what we have here," said Stendahl, speaking for the first time. He looked around the room. "I mean. Linda's bringing a valid question here, I think." He glanced at Stan, then back to Linda. "What to do with this vial. Whether to stop this virus or let it play out. Which will be better for the Earth? Which will be better for humans? Or... which choice will 'destroy the human race?'" He put his hands palm down on the table. "I say we don't know," he concluded. Stan rolled his eyes.

  Linda agreed. "Yes," she said with a weary sigh. "As much as I hate to say it, as much as I just want to agree with Stan, I have to admit the truth of what Stendahl is speaking." She turned to Cole. "But if this Book is true, then there's clearly a choice I can make that will be worse, and you're supposed to stop me from making that choice."

  "But it's just a goddamned Bible prophecy!" said Stan, noisily sliding his chair back from the table. He scanned the room, his eyes fierce, as if daring somebody to oppose him.

  Linda nodded. "I hear you, Stan," she said to her old comrade. "You really want to stop the dying. And you don't want to trust this decision to a prophecy." She smiled warmly. "But we have to be free to consider this from every possible angle, Stan. Okay? And your passion and anger won't serve us here. They'll just shut us down. So I need you to hold onto those things. We know they are there and we won't forget them. But I also need you to make some room for others to bring their wisdom to the table as well. That's why I called them here. That's why I called you here. I need to hear from you all." Stan stared at Linda, his face a dark frown. He shrugged his shoulders but didn't say anything more.

  Cole looked at Stan and smiled as well. "The coloring book. The bullet I caught. The light from my hands and the tunnel I created to save us from drowning. The cover on The Book of the Stranger." He listed the strange things they'd seen in their journey together. "I mean... I was as doubtful as you are, Stan. But you've got to admit that some weird shit has happened. You know? So I'm inclined to think that there's something to this prophecy thing. Even if we don't know what it means."

  "And that's just it," said Stendahl. "Prophecy or no, the question of what to do with that vial remains. And we don't even know if it works yet, or what it is. This William guy could have been lying again. Maybe it's poison in there."

  "I don't know if what's in that vial is a vaccine or a cure or what, but if it's what they gave us troops," spoke up Danny, "then it didn't kill us, and seemed to be working. None of us on Squirrel Island got sick, anyways."

  "It is what William said it is," said Mary, stepping into the conversation for the first time.

  Linda smiled her encouragement. "You can see that?" she asked.

  Mary nodded. "I can, Mrs. President," she said, using Linda's title as a means of confirming her authority here, and Mary's commitment to serving her. "It has its own field. And I have seen into Greensleeves, and have told the doctors what I have seen." Mary explained to them all what she had learned about the virus, how it had been inserted into the human genome, how it is not particularly contagious, how it might have been triggered into activity, and the factors which affect its expression and virulence. "I'm beginning to think that there is more than one form of Greensleeves out there. Or that there is more than one trigger." She examined her companions. "Or maybe the onset time is just highly variable. Because none of us have gotten sick so far. And the doctors say that as of today only ten to fifteen percent of the population has taken ill." She looked at Cole, then Linda, then Stan, taking a moment to inspect their fields. "But it's in us all, in varying amounts. I can see it. It's in us. Waiting to be triggered."

  Linda smiled grimly. "Thank you, Mary," she said. "Of course my first impulse is to give a dose to Keeley. To see it in action. To make sure it works. And to save Keeley." She inhaled deeply. "If you're sure that what's in this vial will work, I think we should do that right now."

  Mary struggled to keep her tears at bay. She bowed her head. "Yes... please," she said. "I can see its field. It will work. And Keeley may die otherwise."

  "Will that leave enough for the scientists to reproduce?" asked Danny, reaching out to take his sister's hand.

  "I think so," said Mary, wiping away her tears. She glanced at the vial, then at Linda. "Can I...?" she asked. Linda nodded. Mary took the vial and, cradling it in her hands, left the room to find the doctors.

  "About goddamned time," muttered Stan. Linda looked at Stan and nodded her agreement.

  With the vial gone, the tone of the conversation changed. Cole expressed his deep anger with, and deep distrust of, this Fisherman, recalling that first phone call years ago. "I mean... Jesus, sweetie. They kidnap you. Take you away from me and the kids. Hold you captive. Unleash a deadly virus. Almost kill me when I try to rescue you. And Iain..." His face grew more livid as he spoke and he had to stop. It was clear he was holding back both tears and screams of frustration. He sat looking at Linda, his lower lip trembling, his breath harsh and hurried. "I mean... these guys are evil." He looked around the room, then back to his wife. "I say we do whatever we can to stop them. That includes stopping their goddamned virus."

  The rest of them sat in silence for a few moments. Then Stendahl cleared his throat. "I find it notable, Mrs. President," he said, "that of the eight people in this meeting, four of us have worked for the people known as 'The Families.' I don't think any of us knew even a fraction of what they were up to. I know that much of what you've told us comes as a complete surprise to me. But I think that all four of us..." He looked at Danny and Gabrielle. "... and correct me if I'm wrong, folks... but all four of us, when we learned more about what they were up to, and when given the chance, decided to switch teams and work with you. Which speaks, I think, to a general sense that The Families' methods and goals are worthy of our opposition."

  Danny nodded. "I figured you were sick and were being treated on Squirrel Island, Mrs. President," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately as he sorted out what he felt he could say out loud from what he wanted to keep to himself. "Just like they told us. Though I will admit that there was something weird about the whole thing. But when we found you on that landing pad and you didn't look at all like you had on the TV, and when Mary showed up in that wok and invited me to come along, something about it just felt right." He glanced at Sten. "So, yeah. After hearing what the President has been through, I'm finding myself rather unhappy with my employer's methods." He turned back to Linda. "I'm open to the possibility that they need to be stopped as well."

  "But they're not evil," said Gabrielle.

  The others turned to look at the girl, who'd been silent for some time.

  Gabrielle shrugged. "If you'd asked me a week ago, I'd have told you my father was a horrible monster, and that I hated him." She turned to Linda. "But now I'm not so sure, you know? After hearing your story, and after my experiences with Zacharael, I'm starting to think that maybe there's something to what William said. About the wisdom of reducing the human population as quickly and painlessly as we can. So that the rest of the life on Earth has a better chance." She looked from one person to another, stopping at Stan. "I'm not sure that that's a crazy or evil idea. I'm not." She returned her attention to Linda. "And I'm not going anywhere, Mrs. President. I've chosen to stay on Earth. And I have loved ones here, too." She inhaled deeply and said no more.

  Linda sighed. "So it feels like we have to tease apart two different questions," she said. "First, do we put a stop to th
is virus? And, second, do we try to put a stop to The Families? Recognizing that what we think about The Families and their goals and methods may or may not shape our thinking about the virus and the cure."

  "I don't see why we should separate those two things," said Stan.

  "Because whether we do or don't like The Families and their goals and methods," said Gabrielle, her voice growing stronger as she found the courage she needed to counter this older, powerful man, "the question remains: will this virus prove to be good for the living Earth or not?"

  "Or should Cole stop the President from not using the cure, as the Book seems to imply," added Marionette, "before she destroys the human race?"

  The door opened. Mary stepped in, relief and hope on her face. "We've administered a small dose of the substance in the vial," she said as she took her seat. She opened her hand to show that the rest of the cure was safely in her possession. "Now it's a matter of waiting." She looked around the room. "So what did I miss?" she asked.

  16.22

  The little black cat with the white star on its chest had fallen asleep on the love seat, nestled between Grace and Emily. Grace lightly stroked the cat's back. Emily laid her hand on the cat's head. Emily had shared with her sister what Mihos had told her in the Murk, about how cats live double lives in two realms, how in the physical realm he was known as Nicky, and how both parts of him had come together in that underground room to give their mother another life. So they knew it was Nicky who lay between them. But they also knew it was Mihos. And it was the latter name that they had decided to call him: Mihos, the Protector of the Innocent.

  When the family had regained its footing, the girls had asked about Ness, and only then had Cole and Linda remembered how they'd left their old cook and confidant in the hands of the Middle Children. They'd left the room, 'Iain's room' they called it now, and headed, as a family, down to the main nurses' station, to inquire about Ness's whereabouts. As they neared the desk in the front lobby, they'd found the old woman, walking toward them. When Ness saw who it was, she'd run toward them with a grin.

  Now she sat across from the girls, dressed in dry clothes, lost in her thoughts, her small body curled up in the wooden chair near the window. It was not the Ness who had walked around like a zombie while Alice used her body, though the girls had not met that Ness. And it was not the Ness who'd gone into some sort of trance and built a strange construct out of kitchen utensils and wires and bits of trash and then turned it into a glowing protective shield over the kids' sleeping bodies, though the girls had not met that Ness either. This Ness was the Ness they had known for the past three years, the smart, lively, little old woman who cooked tasty meals for them and hugged them when they were scared and played Parcheesi with them at night when their parents were away. This Ness was the Ness they'd ditched in the hospital in order to go off on their adventure. This Ness was the Ness that was one of their fiercest advocates and watchdogs. And this Ness had not met those other Nesses either, and was confused and befuddled and very sad, to learn how much had passed without her knowing, and to hear of lost Iain. But she was glad to find the girls back, and Linda too. "I just can't conceive of it all," this Ness said. The girls knew what she meant.

  Ness had been about to tell the girls her story, but didn't know where to begin. If what Alice had said was to be believed, the young hybrid leader, impossibly older than she should be, and existing bodily far away from the Earth, had projected her consciousness, her spirit, into Ness's body. She'd "walked in," as the saying went, but only partially, leaving a good portion of the original Ness personality in place to function in the world, with Alice steering and guiding her from behind the scenes, and taking over completely when she needed to. Ness wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. It wasn't like Alice had asked her permission.

  What surprised Ness the most was that her own full memory had now returned. Her childhood. Her family. Her marriages to Robert, and then Dave. Her daughter with Dave, named Roberta, who'd gone to work for the government. Her life in Tacoma. Her job as a teacher and then a school principal. And then the economic upheavals that had put an end to all of that. It must have been right about that time that Alice had begun to possess her, if "possess" was the right word. She and Dave had lost everything, and were living on the street. Dave had begun drinking heavily. Then one day, without a word or hint, he'd killed himself. Jumped off the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, leaving Ness alone and in shock. Then Ness had begun drinking.

  Why Alice had chosen her of all people Ness didn't know. It may have been that Ness, as a result of all the losses she'd suffered, was simply wide open. Whatever the reason, when Alice walked in, much of Ness had walked out, or simply gone to sleep, glad for the respite from a life of lonely anguish. Her memories fragmented. Her own will receded. Her thoughts turned strangely eastward. And she began to walk, starting the long, hard journey that brought her, eventually, to that exit ramp in Augusta, Maine.

  What it was all for, Ness didn't really understand. Just so Alice could keep an eye on Linda and her family? So she could come back and live with the kids, who may be the only "friends" Alice has ever had? So that Alice could coordinate these Middle Children to take over Augusta and make a plea for belonging on the Earth? All of the above? Or something else entirely? Ness shrugged with uncertainty. Maybe one day these questions would be answered. But not right now. If she kept chewing on those bones, they'd drive her to distraction.

  What "right now" demanded was that she be present with these kids, with Linda and Cole, with Mary and Keeley, and with the complex situations that swirled around them. And she had to do that while integrating a new set of old memories back into her body. She knew that not far below the surface there pulsed inside a huge and heavy knot of grief over the loss of her husband. At some point, she would have to take that knot out and start untangling it. But that was for later.

  Alice was gone now. There wasn't a trace of the girl in Ness's body or soul, from what she could tell. Why should there be? Alice was here in the flesh herself, from what Ness had been told. While on balance she was glad that Alice had left the building, Ness knew that, in a way, Alice's possession had been a kindness. Ness had needed that hiding time, that rest from her consciousness and memories, that opportunity to just back away from the pain and loss and let some time pass while somebody else drove the bus. But the second kindness was this: Alice had brought Ness to Linda and her family, for which the old woman would be forever grateful. While she may have been mostly absent these last years, the bonds of love that had formed between herself and these children and their parents were strong and real. And they were hers, those bonds, not Alice's. In her strange way, Alice had saved ol' Ness. Maybe it was okay that she hadn't asked for permission.

  Ness roused herself from her reverie, looked across to Iain's body, and cleared her throat to speak, continuing the story she'd already begun. "I remember they found you in that MRI machine," she said. "Brought you here. And I remember Mary putting me in charge of watching over you." She blinked her eyes in confusion. "But it gets really foggy after that. Like a dream. Something about dancing and carrots and... and... I was building, like, a dome or something." She shook her head in confusion. "And then I woke up in my bed and there was nobody around. And I got a ride from some soldiers." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "And who are those guys anyways?" she asked, gesturing toward the door with her head. "Alice's people, I guess, right? The hybrids?"

  Emily shook her head. She didn't know much either.

  Ness insisted that the girls tell her their story, and sat listening with great interest as they described how they'd gotten into the Astral realm, how they met Mihos, and how they'd attempted to get through the Murk to their mother. "It was that thing about the mole," said Emily, describing how it had switched sides on her mother's face, and how they'd known that something was fishy. "That's what started it all."

  "And Iain?" Ness asked, glancing furtively at the boy's body, wanting to know and not wanting
to know.

  Emily told Ness how Iain had fallen into the sea of burning coals. How Dennis had tried to save him. Grace kept her eyes on the cat and let more tears drop silently to her jeans. But she didn't add to the telling, and she didn't look up. She couldn't face them. Going into the Astral had been her idea.

  Ness came over and squeezed in beside the youngest of Cole's children and leaned her head against Grace's head and reached out to put a hand on Emily's shoulder. Ness moaned softly and Grace started to shudder and Emily sniffed and the three of them cried together for as long as they needed to cry. Mihos, understanding his role in the matter, stayed right where he was and purred.

  16.23

  William had been right: He'd opened up a choice for Linda that would not have been available to her otherwise. Before their long conversation, she would not have hesitated to use the contents of that vial to stop the Greensleeves virus. The decision would have been automatic and obvious. Now, the choice was anything but. She watched as her friends and advisors spoke their wisdom into the circle, arguing first one side then another. But she knew that this choice could never rest on arguments and reasons. It would have to come from somewhere else.

  In the end, she thanked them all, then told them what she thought they should do. "As much as I hate to say it, I think we should table this decision for now, but go ahead and act as if we're going to use the vial. Get it to some labs. Get its contents analyzed and put the cure into production. Get ready to distribute it. And in the meantime, continue to search our hearts and guts and souls for the best response." She looked around the room. Stan, still scowling, nodded his agreement. Marionette raised her uncovered eyebrow, her face a map of confusion. Gabrielle bowed her head slightly, a sign of respect. Sten and Danny pushed their chairs back from the table, looking for distance. Cole reached out and took Linda's hand. Mary closed her eyes. There was nothing much more to say on the matter. It was a step worth taking. It would buy them some time to process things further. And it created an opening for new information to arrive, should some of the other forces in play have anything to add. It was Sten who pointed out the downside of doing what Linda suggested. "The more people know about that vial," he warned, "the harder it will become to not use it. And should you choose not to use it, the greater the chance that the world will know that."