Bubble Tech

by Thomas Babak

  Seeing Mr. Bullock so cold, grey and lifeless on the metal slab had been the worst experience of Sandy’s life. He owed so much to him and loved him, though he had never admitted to himself, let alone Mr. Bullock. Now, that he was gone he never could.

  Sandy sat there for a while, not really thinking of anything. Glimpses of things he and Mr. Bullock had done over the years passed through his mind. The exploding battery and Mr. Bullock’s reaction made Sandy smile briefly. He glanced down at the bag he had given him as he was rushing out of the Yard. It had only been yesterday. It seemed like days ago.

  He shoved the fragment awkwardly back into his pants pocket. He reached over and picked the bag up, placing it on his lap. It wasn’t heavy or completely full and gave no clue from the outside to whatever was inside as the contents shifted around. He moved the nylon handles to the side and unzipped it. It was full of cash.

  Stacks of twenties, the bank wrappers still on them lay in a jumble in the bag. A bunch of loose twenties floated around inside as well. A white business-sized envelope sat on the side of the bag and Sandy pulled it out. Sandy’s name was written on the envelope in Mr. Bullock’s blocky scrawl.

  He opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper and a photograph. It was the same photo that had been sitting on Mr. Bullock’s mantle.

  Sandy,

  If you are reading this, it is because I was right. I’m always right, right?

  I knew what you created was just too big to stay a secret. It’s too powerful, people always want power and more power, and power corrupts weak people. You are not weak. I know this for a fact, son. They’ll take what you created away from you if you let them. Don’t let them.

  I’ve been gathering as much cash as I can. I think you’ll need it.

  Remember your promise! Keep it safe until you know how to control it. Control it so that people can’t take it away from you and so that good things come from it.

  You are a son to me, even if I was a really bad father figure. I was proud of you as a boy and more proud of you now that you are a man. Please don’t remember me too badly.

  Love,

  Richard

  Sandy wept for Mr. Bullock as he hadn’t for anything else in his life. He thought of how he had been patient with him. Shown him how things worked or when asked how to do something he would gripe about it at first but would always show him or teach him without a single negative word or comment even when Sandy had made mistakes. Sandy’s own father had never done anything like that.

  He remembered the time he had hit a parked car with the tow truck. It was his first and only accident driving. It had only been a little scrape but he had been terrified to tell Mr. Bullock about it, having just gotten his license a few weeks before. He remembered standing in the door off this office telling Mr. Bullock about what had happened. Mr. Bullock had just sat there, his feet up on the desk. “Accidents happen. That’s why we have insurance,” he had said gently. There had never been another word about it.

  After a few minutes, the tears dried. He loved and already missed Mr. Bullock but he had work to do. Tasha. He had to find her. He had to rescue her.

  Sandy dried his eyes and looked out the windshield. A man several houses down, someone who lived in the neighborhood was on his phone staring at Sandy and the parked van. Sandy didn’t even care. He activated the Bubble Field and flew up into the air. He didn’t notice or care about the man’s reaction. He was already heading back to the Twin Cities.

  He’d find Tasha and figure out how to rescue her.

  Thirty-Three

  The flight back to the Air Force Reserve base was much faster this time. He didn’t have to follow an SUV and wait for it while it maneuvered through traffic this time. He did slow down near the airport, though. The thought of colliding with a jet and killing innocent people was a thought he didn’t even want to have.

  He soon found himself hovering outside the conference room he’d seen the Lady in Charge and Tasha in before. The Chunky Man, as he nicknamed the radio guy who was with her before at the Yard, was the only one there. He didn’t want to think about Nasty Man and the way he looked at Tasha before, either.

  Hovering outside the conference room window, Sandy went into the back and got a can of mini Ravioli and a bottle of water. He sat there and watched Chunky Man while he ate. Chunky Man had a laptop and a side monitor connected to it and glanced back and forth on both between screens as he worked. Nothing happened for the next two hours. Twice Chunky Man got up and left for a few minutes. Both times he came back with soda cans and candy bars or chips. A pile of trash built up beside him on the conference table. He burped emphatically several times and spent at least five minutes at one point digging in his nose. Sandy renamed him Chunky Slob.

  Sandy got up and went to the bathroom. When he got back, the Lady in Charge was sitting at the head of the conference table. The trash had disappeared. Within a few minutes Nasty Man showed up with another man. Though he looked normal enough, there was just a creepy feeling about him. Sandy named him The Creeper. The meeting only lasted a few minutes. The Lady in Charge sat straight in her chair the entire time, her palms flat on the table. She would look at someone and they would talk. Sometimes she would say something but not very long. They all got up and left when the meeting ended, including Chunky Slob. Sandy checked his watch. It was after six and the skies would darken in an hour or so.

  He buckled himself in and flew around to the other side of the building where the parking lot was. They all came out of the building and Chunky Slob got into the driver’s seat of one of the SUVs. The Lady in Charge got in the passenger seat next to him. Nasty Man got into another SUV and Creeper into a sedan. They all began to leave. He followed Chunky Slob and Lady in Charge. They drove off the base and eventually pulled into a hotel along Interstate 494 where the Lady in Charge got out and without a backwards glance went into the lobby. Sandy noted the hotel and followed Chunky Slob.

  Chunky Slob drove down the frontage road and went into a fast food drive-through and headed to another hotel. He got out of the SUV already eating a burger and sipping out on an extra-large cup. It looked like he had plenty more in the bag. He juggled things for a few moments while putting a large laptop bag over his shoulder and then heading into the lobby himself.

  Sandy flew back to the base. He circled the building the conference room was in, looking carefully in each room. They were all empty so far. Maybe they were holding her in an inside room. Maybe she wasn’t here at all anymore. The thought scared him. If she wasn’t here, he wouldn’t know where to begin to look for her. He kept searching every window. There was nothing and it was getting dark. He didn’t want to give up.

  He flew up and over the top of the building. The roof had a few vents, but nothing else. He hovered just over the roof and waited. The sun went down and it eventually grew completely dark the only light coming from nearby buildings and streetlights and a slight glow from the rest of the Cities. He’d have to do this as quickly as he could. If, for some reason the Bubble Van was glowing tonight too, someone might notice the pale blue bubble of light floating around the base and report it.

  He flew around the building again looking for light coming from windows. There was nothing. His anxiety increased. I can’t find her. He looked around at the other building on the base. Some were completely dark. Others in the distance were completely lit up with lights in many of the windows. He flew around the building next door. All the lights were off. It was probably another office or workplace unoccupied for the night. He circled it anyway. There was a light coming from one of the windows on the first floor. He came as close as he could and looked. The light was actually coming from the hallway through an open door. He could see part of a boot, shin and knee of someone sitting in the hallway. Whoever it was stood up and passed the open doorway completely for a few seconds and then came and sat back. Whoever it was had grabbed a magazine. Sandy could now see the magazine resting on the persons lap and pages being flipped.
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br />   Excited, he backed away. He eyeballed the distance to the end of the building and flew to the other side. Within seconds, he found a window that was sealed from the inside with a large piece of plywood. A little light leaked from one corner. This is it! Sandy thought excitedly. This is where they are keeping her. It has to be!

  Without thinking about it, Sandy flew back to the other side of the building and flew up to the corner where the walls met the roof. He deliberately turned and smashed into the building. Sections of brick broke of and tumbled down. He hit it again. A distraction, he hoped.

  Flying back around the building he quickly found the window again. This time he eased the van over pushing against the window and wall around it. He hoped that Tasha would move away from it and that she wouldn’t get hurt. He continued to ease the van over and part of the wall and the entire window fell in. Sandy backed away and looked.

  Tasha was standing up against the door a terrified look on her face. Tasha! She’s here! Up until now Sandy had hoped but hadn’t been sure. Lifters on he shut off the Bubble Field and tried to get up to open the passenger door but his seatbelt held him in place. He furiously unbuckled it and opened the door yelling “Tasha! Come on! Hurry!” all in one breath.

  The terror on her face fled and surprise replaced it. She took a couple steps towards him and stopped.

  “Tasha! Come on!” he yelled again.

  “I can’t, Sandy!” she yelled back even though they were only about dozen feet apart.

  “Tasha!” Sandy yelled waving his outstretched hand towards her beckoning her to come.

  “Sandy! Turn yourself in. You have to turn yourself in!” she called back.

  The words sank in but he couldn’t believe them.

  “Tasha! Please get in! I don’t know how much time we have,” he pleaded.

  She took a step back and called out to him “I can’t. I just can’t. Sandy, you have to turn yourself in. Please. Sandy!” She said the last two words with a wail.

  The door Tasha was leaning against opened outward hitting her with a glancing blow and she almost fell. A man dressed like a soldier caught her while another tried to struggle to get into the room with her and his partner in the way.

  Sandy slammed the door of the van and activated the Bubble field. Tasha and the two soldiers flinched but didn’t move. Sandy moved over to the driver’s seat and stared back. Within a few seconds the soldier holding Tasha pulled her from the doorway and disappeared from sight. The other soldier, leading with his pistol, edged closer to the Bubble Field. Sandy just watched him. He hadn’t even noticed the weapon before. For a fleeting second he was tempted to slam him with the van but only for a second. The anger that had started when she refused to come with him had died.

  Sandy grabbed the flight stick and thruster and shot away into the night. Gone were thoughts of being careful around the airport. He flew for an hour and then brought the van down slowly as he reduced speed. He was out in a desert somewhere. He flew higher, circled around and looked for lights. There were none for miles around. Flying back down lower he found a large outcrop of rock and landed on it, shutting the Bubble field down. He didn’t power off the systems. He rolled down the window and sat there looking across the moon-shadowed rocks, low brush and occasional cactus.

  Hours later he still sat there in thought, the dry desert night air quickly growing cold. She didn’t say she wouldn’t come. She said she can’t. Are they threatening her? Is there something else going on? He didn’t know what to think. He repeatedly came back to “I can’t.” They must be forcing her. Maybe using her mother or her father against her. “I can’t” she said. “Can’t.” It kept echoing in his mind until he forced himself to change mental tracks.

  He sat there for another hour and came up with a plan. He came up with two plans. He would try to rescue her again or maybe… not rescue, but grab her! He could always let her go after he had a chance to talk with her. If she wanted to go. If she didn’t want to be with him. The thought made him sad and he shied away from that line of reasoning.

  His other plan was to trade for her. With the only thing he had that they wanted.

  He fell asleep thinking about his next steps, and more importantly, what he was willing to do to get her back.

  Thirty-Four

  The sun beat down on the van and heated up the interior, waking Sandy. He was already sweating from the heat when he woke up. Checking the time, it showed that it was a little after two in the afternoon by Central Time. He had no idea where he was but it had to be earlier. The only deserts he knew about in North America were out west. For years he had woken up a minute before 6:00am. His internal body clock was wound up too tightly to oversleep and miss school. He didn’t want the secret of being on his own to be discovered. The authorities might put him in a Foster home or worse. Sandy laughed out loud at those thoughts. His laughter sounded louder to him than it actually was in the silence of the desert. His old worries seemed so insignificant now.

  Before he did anything else, he activated the Lifters and moved the van to the side of the rock outcropping and into the slim shade it offered. He used the toilet, took off his shirt and washed his face and upper body and put on a fresh T-shirt. Back in the small bathroom he considered shaving and decided not to. He didn’t like looking the face that looked back at him. It looked hunted and scared.

  Pulling out a bottle of water, he sucked it down and grabbed another. After a few seconds of rummaging, he found some canned peach slices to have for breakfast. He wolfed them down and drank the juice out of the can. He opened the other bottle of water and took a long drink, sticking it in a nearby cup holder.

  Back in the driver’s seat, he checked the systems. Power at 92%. Good. The GPS showed he was northeast of someplace called Sierra Vista, Arizona and not too far from Mexico. There was a road a few miles to the east. Sandy, on Lifters, flew the van close to the ground. He covered the few miles to the road and pointing north, he set the van down on the shoulder of it. He reached back and grabbed the water bottle to finish it.

  Going back over his quasi-plan, Sandy tried to figure out if there was anything else he could do. There was one thing he’d like to get before he headed back to Minnesota. Some binoculars. They had them at Wal-Mart when he’d bought his supplies but he wasn't thinking clearly at the time and hadn’t purchased them. He’d get them now. He thought about taking off and finding another Wal-Mart but didn’t. Instead, tapping the GPS screen he saw there was a town about 15 miles north. Wilcox. He reached down and changed modes to Driving and started down the road until he hit an Interstate. He could have flown but drove instead. It felt calming to do something normal as driving. His GPS showed him the road he was on was Interstate 10. Still heading north he exited off at Wilcox. There was a large truck stop and he drove into the lot, circled around and headed back into Wilcox. He noticed a museum, modern bank amongst the old brick buildings and a store that advertised “Guns – Ammo – Supplies.” Maybe they’d have binoculars.

  Sandy parked in the lot on the side of the building rather than out on the street. He’d taken a thousand dollars cash from the money Mr. Bullock had given him. He still hadn’t counted all the money in the bag but knew he eventually would. The twenty dollar bills were a thick wad in his wallet. The rest of the cash he’d hidden behind the dash of the van. His modifications had left small-to-large empty spaces in various places around the van. If he’d had his tools, now lost to the agents back in Minnesota, he would have created some additional storage compartments. Now, all he could do was stuff things in various places and tape or strap them down so they wouldn’t fly about inside the van.

  He stepped outside and locked the door. It was cooler outside with a breeze than it was inside the van. It was only in the high 70’s, but growing up in Minnesota he just wasn’t used to the heat. Walking over to the store entrance he looked around. A car or two drove by, but he didn’t see much else. He walked up to the store door, opened it and stepped inside. There was a dusty,
stuffed coyote standing near the door growling at anyone that walked in. Paint was peeling off of its tongue. Nearby were racks of clothes. They looked like they had been there for years.

  Walking through them towards the counter, in back he saw shotguns and rifles in racks against the left wall. There were shelves of boxes and, he assumed, some sort of gun parts and ammunition on the right. The glass encased counter held knives, pistols, some spotting scopes and several different kinds of binoculars.

  A greasy looking man in his fifties came from the back. He was wiping his hands on a dirty grey looking rag and said without smiling, “What can I do you for?”

  “I was looking for some binoculars,” Sandy answered, pointing his thumb briefly at the ones in the case.

  “Sure. Sure,” he said stepping over to them while Sandy followed from his side of the counter.

  “Any particular ones? What are you going to use them for?” he asked.

  “Just want some binoculars,” Sandy answered.

  The greasy man pulled out the cheapest ones in the case and said, “These are low power but will get ‘er done.”

  He pulled out a larger pair and said, “These are higher power and are good for just about anything.”

  There were other pairs in the case, but he pulled out another large one and said “These are night glasses. The lenses are treated so that you can see clearer at night.”

  “Can I see those, please?” Sandy asked.

  The greasy man smiled, knowingly, and handed them over “Yeah, these are perfect for seeing things at night.” He chuckled at the last comment.

  Sandy, feeling dirty for some reason, picked them up and examined them. He turned towards the front of the store and looked through them for a couple of seconds. They seemed to work fine.