Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2)

by Timothy Scott Bennett

  Sinclair sighed. There were shouts from the hallway outside his door and he wondered if perhaps he should go retrieve Dierdre from the bar and escort her back home. It was after one in the morning, after all. The whole city was now jam-packed, bustling with activity even at this hour, as tens of thousands of the Chosen Few readied for departure. The Directorate awaited one last test result. The Giant Leap could commence as early as tomorrow. The air buzzed with excitement. The City of Beginnings was set to begin.

  Sinclair could feel his heart pounding along with the noise and pulse of the crowd. He wondered, as he had before, why he was not doubled over in anguish at the loss of his daughter, and pondered the possibility that he didn't love her, or was not capable of love. But he knew it was more simple than that. She'd been so long out of his life now that the connection had long ago been lost. He hardly knew who she'd become. She was not a part of his daily life. So her absence left no hole. That thought made him sadder than the actual loss. He sighed again.

  Then his laptop pinged. Sinclair rose and walked to his desk and touched his keyboard. There was a new email. He read it. He smiled. A door had just opened easily.

  17.8

  The seatbelt was as tight as she could get it. Gabrielle needed that right now: that feeling of containment, solidity, limits. With this little jet set to carry her back to her family, she felt as though she might be torn apart by opposing feelings. Her more recent anger with her father had not wiped out the fact that, for most of her childhood, she'd felt happy and close to him. Even her mum, in her own strange way. She missed her family. And part of her really wanted to go home, to the people she knew, to a father who had helped her so many times. And yet his secret life had left her confused and appalled. To find herself a member of an elite group that was planning to leave the Earth behind and let the rest of humanity suffer and die had so overturned her sense of self that she'd never fully recovered. Were these people evil? Was her father evil? Was she evil, simply as a matter of lineage? She didn't know how to answer such questions.

  Having seen how chaotic the real world had become, she was beginning to understand the impulse to simply get away. Maybe these Families made some sense after all. Maybe they were just acting out the species' need and desire to carry on in the face of possible extinction. Weren't there lots of species that sent out seeds or spores when times got really hard? And maybe there was a part of her that had volunteered for this journey with the hope that she might go with them after all.

  But having ventured far from the confines of her sheltered life, she had also seen that there were good, noble, beautiful people in what her father had called "the sleeping world." The way President Travis had welcomed her in and listened to her. The love she could feel between Linda and her husband, Cole. The steadfastness of these Church people. The fierce wisdom of the President's advisor, Mary. The quiet, protective confidence of Stan Walsh. These were not the dumbed-down, snack-munching, morons her father seemed to think "the Sleepers" all were. Sure, many, maybe even most, of the people of the world fell far short of their potential these days. The whole culture had gone whack. But to write them all off as already dead? To leave them behind? Gabrielle wasn't sure she could do that. It wasn't just Arthur. She didn't know how she felt about him anymore. It was something else. It was, for lack of a better term, the human spirit. It was still there. Even in the sleeping world.

  The jet engines revved up and Gabrielle grabbed the arms of her chair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. The Church people had boarded shortly after she and were sitting slightly behind her across the aisle. The President and her husband had not yet boarded. She took a couple of deep breaths, then looked out the window, across the darkening tarmac to the sparse lights of Augusta in the distance.

  The trees at the airport's edge stood leafless and brittle against the sunset, victims of the blistering spring heat wave that had returned in full force after Hurricane Alpha had burned itself out. In the end, these were the people Gabrielle felt called to serve. The tree people. The fish people. The insect people. The deer people. Something of Zacharael remained inside of her: a deep ache that would not go away. "We're not dead yet," the living beings had cried out to her in that long, wild vision the Angel had given to her. Just as the human spirit was not dead yet. The life of this planet still needed her help. President Travis seemed to need her help as well. And being needed was a powerful call to being, one that Gabrielle could not deny.

  Would it be worth the trade off? To stay on Earth and feel needed versus leaping into space with no sense of purpose? Gabrielle couldn't know. The Families seemed to have everything under control. They sure hadn't expressed any particular need for her. Perhaps she'd just be a cog in their machine.

  The President and her husband stepped onto the small plane, Cole ducking so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. Linda bent over for a word with the pilots, then turned and stepped into the cabin, making eye contact with the rest of her contingent, smiling, nodding. She stepped up to Gabrielle and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "How's about we rest for a while first, then have a meeting?" Gabrielle smiled in return and nodded her agreement. Linda turned and spoke briefly to the Church people, then she and Cole took some seats near the back.

  The jet engines revved even higher. After a moment, the plane began to move forward. Gabrielle inhaled deeply and watched through her window as the world fell away beneath her.

  17.9

  The Middle Children had done an amazing job with the hideaway, creating uncanny replicas of the kids' bedrooms, Mary and Keeley's suite, and Ness's two rooms, all connecting to a circular common area with a sunken living room in the center that contained a pair of overstuffed sofas, a large flatscreen, a Blu-Ray player, and a box of their favorite movies. That so much time, energy, and scarce materials had gone into a place that none of them planned to be in for more than a couple of days felt wildly extravagant. That they had built this place in less than four hours, complete and self-contained inside a nullspace shell that was impervious to any outside force, was almost impossible to believe. Obviously they had access to technologies far and above what the humans were used to. That they had put their resources to protecting and caring for the President's stepchildren helped a great deal in creating the bonds of love and trust and interdependence that would be needed should their people hope to share this planet.

  Ness, Mary, Emily, Grace, and the cat, Mihos, stepped out of the wok, through the docking chamber, and into the large, open common area. Iain's sleeping body had already been brought here and they found him looking cozy and warm in what looked like his own bed, complete with his usual psychedelic sheets and pillowcases. They'd retrieved Dennis's comatose body from the Presidential Home, where they'd found him in his favorite spot on the sofa. The old Whippet was now tucked in beside Iain's legs. They'd even duplicated Iain's David Bowie poster over his desk. The four of them stood in the doorway and watched Iain for a long time, the women standing behind the girls with their arms around them. All of them shed some tears. None of them said anything. Mihos jumped from Grace's arms, crossed the room, and jumped up onto Iain's bed, nestling in beside the boy's stomach. The cat began to purr.

  After a while they pulled his door almost closed, and then went to explore the rest of the apartment, noting how accurate the re-creations were, how warm and comfortable it felt, and how natural the lighting was. In the kitchen they found one of the Middle Children cooking a couple of large pizzas. He introduced himself as Isaac and explained that he would love to stay with them to cook and clean, if they were agreeable to that. Ness was a bit miffed at first, but Isaac's eyes, though large and strangely shaped, were full of life and laughter, and when he made a point of asking Ness if she would be so kind as to teach him some of her culinary secrets, she nodded and smiled. When he looked at the girls and added that he was particularly interested in learning to play board games, of which there was a tall stack in the clos
et, there was little to do but welcome him for the duration. Isaac asked them which toppings they preferred, cocking his head as if storing mental notes about exactly what they said in reply. Then he turned and went back to work.

  Mary and the girls wandered back into the common area and began to sort through the movies. Ness decided to stay and help Isaac slice the pepperoni, an ingredient she hadn't seen in years. A soft clink sounded from the docking chamber and in a few moments the doorway melted open. In walked a tall, thin, beautiful young hybrid woman. She stepped into the common room, scanned the space, walked up to the edge of the sunken area, looked down at Mary and the girls, and did her best to form a smile. "Hello, my friends," she said.

  Grace's eyes went wide and she stood and started running toward the young woman.

  It seemed that Alice would be staying with them as well.

  17.10

  Danny had not actually been inside the Murk. But he felt like he had. The data transfer experience had been much more vivid than he'd expected. His heart was still pounding and he shook his head, hoping to dislodge the experience. How those kids had come out of that thing with anything resembling sanity was beyond his comprehension. Danny would be glad if he never saw another Murk in his life.

  Of course not all of the kids did come out, which is why he'd examined the telemetry in the first place. And neither had that little old dog, Dennis, who'd proven to be one smart, brave little critter. Danny had seen the highlights of their experience as they poured into his brain. The first capture and the cat's rescue. The second attempt on that fool flying carpet. The third journey following the dog's nose through the Murk's circulatory system. The inevitable capture and the long slide down into the Murk's burning gullet. The last minute save and the last second tragedy as the boy and his dog were pulled into the Murk's hungry maw. The girls' final escape with the cat. It had been quite a show.

  In the physical realm, the Murk was a plant-like lifeform with the official designation M31-119aX38, M31 being another name for the Andromeda galaxy. They'd been found on one of the inner moons of a gas giant in the same star system as the planet Lumen, which had been chosen early on as a colony site, then later abandoned after the first wave of engineers and builders all mysteriously died. What caught the explorer's attention was how the Murk existed simultaneously on three different levels of reality, and how it fed, snaring and then drawing any and all living creatures that came near into its central stomach, where it would completely disassemble them, body, soul, and consciousness. What looked like a spiny cactus in the physical looked like a vast, black cloud in the Astral and a sparkling sphere of blue fire in the Causal.

  The first human astral traveler to encounter a Murk never returned to her body, though she did transmit what she saw from the outside before she entered the black cloud. Subsequent travelers, using information they'd obtained from the Life, worked in teams and eventually managed to figure out what the Murk was and how it worked. From that point it had been a simple matter, to figure out how to capture one in the physical, transplant it, breed it, reconfigure it, and learn to tune it for their own purposes. At this point, they'd been used for a couple of decades as astral security systems like the one on Squirrel Island. They offered no defense at all in the physical, apart from leaving a sticky, foul-smelling residue on the fingers of anybody who touched one. And they were little more than a beautiful bauble in the causal. But in the Astral, where opposing forces often attempted to attack, they were one of the most effective warding systems around. Which is why they'd used one for Linda Travis.

  The bad news, of course, was that, as far as Danny could see, the boy and his dog were goners. There were no known cases in Family files where somebody survived and returned, once they'd fallen into that pit of burning embers. One traveler team in the early days had managed to pull their colleague's astral body out of a Murk's fire seconds after he'd fallen in, but it was already too late. He'd disintegrated completely in less than a minute, right before their eyes. The boy must be long gone by now.

  Bad news for the boy. And bad news for Danny, who'd hoped to use information about his whereabouts as a bargaining chip. He hadn't known how he'd use it, exactly. Get the President to negotiate a berth for him on a Family colony ship, perhaps. Or at least give him the resources to survive here on Earth. But now he had nothing to offer in exchange. He didn't have to tell anybody that, of course. Not right off. But he could only play that game for so long, and the ships might leave at any moment. Danny wasn't sure he had that much time.

  Which was why he'd anted up for a different game. Rubbing his face, Danny rose from his bed and walked over to check his laptop. He opened the screen and heard the familiar ping of a new email. He touched the screen and smiled at what he read. It was the hoped-for response from the Bastard.

  From: baster'D@bbss.net (encrypted)

  To: sparxxx@bbs.net (encrypted)

  Subject: re: Have You Seen This Child?

  D. Remind me to kiss yer ass next time we meet. Or something. Msg forwarded via Price via McNuge via Ape13. Legrand "extremely interested" in discussing missing persons report. Suggests Kiev eatery coordinates below. Time of the essence. You said wok available. Ours or theirs? ETA? If you pull this off, I'm your slave. I'll be dressed. G

  Danny bent over, typed a few words, and hit send. He stuffed his laptop into his shoulder bag, checked himself in the mirror to make sure the civvies they'd given him didn't make him look like too much of a dork, then left the room, leaving his wet uniform in the hamper. Now all he had to do was procure a wok.

  17.11

  Linda sat by the window, staring out into the darkness, seeing nothing but black ocean lit by the Grid overhead. Cole was snoring softly beside her and Linda held his hand as he slept. She shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't get over the similarities. Three years ago she'd boarded another small jet for a night flight from the far North back to D.C. They'd been on their way to confront Agent Rice and his secret cabal. Sina and her Inuit rebels had helped them on their way. Obie, Cole's brother, was at their side. And Cole had just recently been brought back from death. Now they were on another small jet, taking another night flight, this one to London, where they would make their next connection, their final destination being the Chernobyl Exclusion zone, where they hoped to confront the Fisherman and his secret cabal. They had the Church of the Stranger to help them along the way. Gabrielle, the daughter of one of the members of The Families' Directorate, was at their side. And Linda had just recently been brought back from death. It all felt a little too neat for her taste. As though somebody had planned it out ahead of time. Somebody, perhaps, with gray skin and large, black eyes.

  It was the differences, however, that made the... well, the difference. Three years ago, she, Cole, and Obie, had been together long enough to have established some trust between them, enough that they could begin to feel like a working unit. This time, there were six of them, and some of them had just met, and there'd been no time to establish trusting relationships at all. Linda barely understood what this Church thing was all about, and though she could sense Annabelle's personal power, she really didn't understand why she and her people had come along. And Gabrielle, her distant relation on her late husband's side: there was something otherworldly about that girl. Sometimes, when she looked Gabrielle in the eye, it felt like she was seeing stars and galaxies inside of her. And she was of The Families. Linda did not know what her game was either.

  But Linda had learned three years ago that the only way to survive such experiences was to let go of control and accept the help that presented itself. She hadn't known Obie, but she'd followed him out of that lodge. And she hadn't known the Inuit, but she'd let them bathe her and shave her head and dress her and put her to bed. And she'd let them place her new love's living but spiritless body next to a bonfire on the ice while they entered the world of the dead to bring him back. There just wasn't time to establish trust in the usual ways. Not when things were moving so quickly. N
ot when lives were threatened. Not when the future so plainly depended on what she did. Even if she didn't buy William's line about how "chosen" and "important" she was, or the Inuit's belief in the same thing, for that matter, she was still the President of the goddamned United States of America. She was a player. She had shit she had to clean up. And she needed help.

  And Linda still had her basic gut sense, her own ability to read people. Gabrielle just felt good to her. Young and a bit confused, but powerful and wild and aligned with the life of the planet. Same with Marionette. When Linda got beyond the eye-patch, which struck her as just plain wrong on such a strikingly beautiful face, what Linda saw was a fierce, smart warrior who would take loyalty to an extreme. Marionette was clearly on Linda's side, and since the young man, Doobie, was so obviously besotted with her, he was de facto on Linda's side as well. Annabelle was more difficult to read. Her smiles felt a tad bit too agreeable. Her deference slightly feigned. But people often acted strange around their President. Linda had seen it thousands of times. With nothing else to go on, she saw no reason to think this old woman was anything but what she'd said she was: a local leader of a church that had sprung up in the past few years, a church that was convinced that her husband, Cole, was some sort of alien savior. Annabelle had promised to help and serve Cole. That felt like a good thing to Linda.