Story Time

by Linell Jeppsen

  ***

  We sailed to a stop in front of a cream-colored villa perched on a cliff, high above the pink and orange ocean. Although I was certain that my stomach was still back in New London, I managed to climb out of the taxi, pay Mario Andretti’s great-grandson (just kidding), and walked up the rocky path to the front door.

  I rang. After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a medi-bot. This was a luxury model; complete with a uniform, (think of an English butler, with a white starched shirt, black trousers and a spotless gray cummerbund) a full weapons array, cunningly concealed within said cummerbund, and a medical insignia on its starched, mechanical chest.

  It bowed at the waist and asked, “You are Steven Cummings?” I nodded, and the bot said, “Then you won’t mind?” I shook my head. The robots blue security scanner etched its way over my body and satchel. After a moment, the bot said, “Thank you, sir, and welcome to our home. Lydia is expecting you.” It swept ahead of me and I followed in its wake. Amidst assurances of a light repast, and the promise of free lodging at the local luxury inn for me and my friend the following evening, I studied my surroundings.

  A hero of EX 2016 was treated very well on Harmony. The beautiful home, high-end technology and free medical care was the least the citizens could do for such a brave lady…one who sacrificed so much.

  I entered a room with panoramic views of the ocean, gray slate floors, a blue and lavender rock fireplace, and a hospital bed in one corner. The bot glided over to fuss with the blankets and fluff the pillows behind the occupant’s head. It murmured solicitously; the affection in its mechanical voice informed me that it was, indeed, an advanced and very expensive medi-bot.

  I walked toward the bed, and saw Lydia Spence staring at me and smiling. She gestured with one frail hand and said, “Come here, Steven…long time no see!”

  Lydia’s dark skin seemed to shine with its own special light, and her eyes were merry and glittering with intelligence. She was a double amputee, having lost both legs from the knees down in the exodus. She was also missing her left arm.

  When she was carried aboard the rock, most of us thought she was already dead, but the medi-bots on board were able to save her. Although the alien technology instilled within them was so advanced it seemed like magic to the humans they served, it was a long, long voyage from the broken planet to Harmony, and they had no way of growing new limbs for the stricken woman. By the time humans reached Harmony, Lydia’s healing was complete and irreversible.

  I bent over and hugged my friend, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “Sit down, baby… sit! Carlyle is bringing us some lunch!”

  I sat down and pulled my notepad from my old satchel, grabbed a pen, and asked, “How’re you doing these days, Lydia?” I heard that her fourth book was soon to be released…another book of old earth’s fairy tales.

  She was happy to share the news. While the bot named Carlyle brought lunch and a strong coffee substitute called Javella (which was in every way better than its cousin on earth), Lydia and I visited, ate and laughed over memories, old and new.

  Finally, lunch was over and I picked up my pen. Lydia and I shared a sad smile, and she began to talk about her part in the “Angel’s Sword.”

  “I used to run a daycare in Colville, as I’m sure you know,” Lydia said. “I had a full house the day the aliens showed up and really started in on us. Remember, before the aliens came, a lot of people were still trying to work; if not at their regular jobs, then they were out looking for food, or trading for necessaries like shelter, blankets, gasoline, and medical supplies. A lot of folks had to walk because their cars were out of gas. Even the lucky ones with bicycles only had the one seat, you know. They couldn’t haul their kids around, so they came to me.

  “They tried really hard, bless their hearts, to help me out. Money had no value by then, so they paid me in whatever way they could…a basketful of wrinkled apples, a box of Band-Aids, or a battered bottle of damp baby-powder. Anything was welcome, and besides, they knew I loved those kids.

  “Ever since Katrina blew in and swept my own babies out into the cold, gray sea, I had healed my wounds with other people’s kids. It was good for me, and I like to think that it was good for the kids who stayed with me as well. Children are a lot like animals, you know; they can sense when someone loves them, or not.

  “Anyway, there was really no warning about the aliens. They just showed up and finished what the good earth herself had already started. One day, I’m sitting in my back yard, hollering at little Ben-Ben McMichael to stop torturing the cat and snapping the green beans that grew up the support beams of my back porch; the next minute, me and about fourteen kids are running for our lives!”

  Lydia stopped speaking, and smiled at Carlyle. He placed a pitcher of iced Lumen-berry tea on the tray by the bed, and poured a glass for both of us. I took a sip and smacked my lips together in appreciation. I swear the medi-bot smiled.

  Lydia smiled too, and then rested her head against the pillow. When she closed her eyes, I saw the deep shadows that reflected her age and pain. I asked if she needed to rest and she opened her eyes and grinned at me. “Nah, Carlyle assures me that any pain I feel now is just a product of my own imagination, but damn! Sometimes these old stumps burn like fire!

  “Anyway, the kids and I stayed safe for a while. Only a few of those kids’ folks were able to make it back safe, and I knew it must have gotten pretty bad because those people loved their babies. I had enough food stashed away in the root cellar to last six months, and enough in the pantry to see us through for a couple of weeks, if I was careful.

  “There were terrible things happening all around us though. Many of my neighbors had fled, so there were a lot of empty houses on the block, and next thing I know some bad hombres were taking up residence; just squattin’, you know, and carrying on like the worst kind of trash.

  “There was a biker gang moved into old lady Gretchen’s house across the street. She had the most beautiful flowers…peonies and roses that smelled like heaven! Those bikers spun wheelies all around her pride and joy the very first day they came. I gathered the children close and tried not to cry.

  “There were other people who snuck into the empty houses in the dead of night. I’m sure that a lot of those folks were decent, law-abiding citizens just looking for shelter from the storm. But there were some bad ones too. I could hear shouting, and the sounds of fighting, and women sobbing with pain and fear. It was about to drive me mad.

  “Three days after I heard about the aliens, I stopped letting the kids outside to play. It was too dangerous for them. Of course, now I had a bunch of bored, grief-stricken and frightened children to deal with. The one good thing about it was the size of my house.” She looked up at me and winked, “Did I ever tell you my great-granddaddy won 5% shares in Coca-Cola in a poker game back in 1933?”

  I shook my head. “No, Lydia, I never knew that.” Although, come to think of it, I thought, how did Lydia Spence come to own one of the biggest and finest houses in Colville?

  “Well, after my no-good husband Jimmy Ray ran off and left me and the kids, Granddaddy Spence died and left me a lot of money. It was a blessing, really, that Jimmy was gone by then, because I’m sure he would have spent every last dime and still left his family behind without even a fare-thee-well.

  “I was fifty-four when granddaddy died, and I just wanted to get out of the South. My kids were grown and had lives of their own, so I gave my son and daughter their share of the inheritance, and made my way to the Pacific Northwest. I’m not sure now how I ended up in Colville, but when I saw that big, old house I just had to have it.

  “It was a three-story Victorian house with gray slate siding and a blue tin roof. There was white gingerbread on the eaves and it even had a widow’s walk. Lordy, I loved that house; so did the kids. Even though they were cooped up inside, there was enough room to run around and play cowboys and Indians, or caveman, or have tea-parties in the parlor.

&n
bsp; “Then the day came that the caldera blew.” Lydia closed her eyes again.

  Carlyle appeared suddenly at my side. He felt the woman’s wrist, and I could hear the marvelous technology embedded within his circuitry as he murmured, “You should rest soon, Lydia. I know you think you’re tough, but you’re not as young as you used to be.”

  Lydia smiled at the medi-bot and patted its metal hand. “I’ll rest soon, baby, okay?”

  She turned to me. “Steven, I do get tired easily these days. I was wondering, since you’re planning on staying over anyway, if you’d like to stay in one of the guest rooms here tonight? There’s more of the story to tell, but I’d like to do it after a nap, or even tomorrow morning.”

  I nodded and said, “Sure, Lydia. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  There was a light touch on my elbow. I looked up at the shiny metal of Carlyle’s face. Somehow, a mystical transformation had come over the bot’s features. There was sadness there, and loss, and fear of grief to come in its inanimate visage. I stood up and followed the medi-bot to the other side of the room. Looking back, I saw that Lydia had fallen asleep.

  “The lady is very tired now, sir. Perhaps we can let her rest until morning?”

  I nodded wordlessly and followed the robot out of the room.

  Chapter 23

  Lydia Spence – Addendum

  I awoke the next morning to the soft purr of Carlyle’s servo-mechanisms as he opened the guest room drapes and placed a pot of Javella and some sweet rolls on a tray by the bed. I yawned, stretched and walked over to the window. The sea was tinted purple. It swelled below me, breathing in and out like a living thing, and its mantle of black sand glittered in the rising sun.

  Carlyle paused by the bedroom door and said, “Miss Lydia is expecting you at 8:00, sir. I will be serving breakfast then, as well.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Carlyle. Hey…is Lydia okay?”

  The medi-bot grew still for a moment. Then it said, “Sir, too much damage was done to her body during the exodus. She refuses further treatment at this point, so it’s only a matter of time before she will succumb to the final sleep.”

  Seeing the look on my face, Carlyle shook his head with a sharp, metallic click. “My patient is very happy that you’re here, sir. It is my understanding that humans need to purge corrupted data before they can operate at full capacity. This is, medically speaking, good for Lydia, and I thank you.”

  With those words, the medi-bot spun in place and motored down the carpeted hallway. I walked into the bathroom, showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed. It hurt me to know that Lydia was dying. On this world, death could be postponed. Two hundred years was the expected lifespan for humans. Disease was almost non-existent, and even the most grievous injuries could be healed. Lydia was choosing death. I dashed angry tears from my eyes and walked down the corridor to Lydia’s solar.

  She was sitting in a chair by the window. When she spotted me, she smiled and greeted me with “Steven! Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  Lydia looked much better this morning. Her dark skin seemed to glow and her eyes were bright with laughter. Long, gray corn-rolls fell over the back of her chair, and the sun reflected off her clothing in cathedral rainbows onto the floors and walls. She looked like an angel.

  Carlyle wheeled a table into the room and busied himself (itself?) with setting up breakfast trays. I said, “You look beautiful today, Liddy.”

  She let out a bark of laughter. “There’s nothing beautiful about this old bag of bones, Steven.” She looked down and fingered the material of her dress. “I must say though, those cloth makers in Seaview know their stuff.”

  We ate our breakfast, spoke about current events, and shared Parliamentary gossip. She asked after Andy, and wondered when my new book would be finished. Carlyle buzzed about with quiet efficiency, removing plates and glasses. At one point he paused momentarily, and checked Lydia’s pulse.

  She shooed the bot away in exasperation, but I took the intended clue and pulled my pen out of my satchel. It was time to finish my interview, and let the patient rest. Lydia watched as her medi-bot cleared the dishes and wheeled the serving cart out of the room, and then she leaned her head back and stared out the window for a few seconds. “You were at the Harmony ranch when the caldera blew, weren’t you?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, Andy and I had just arrived.”

  She sighed. “I was so stupid. Looking back on it now, I know that I was scared and lazy, and stupid. If it wasn’t for me, a lot more of my babies would be alive now, instead of dead and gone.”

  I was shocked. “Lydia! You—” I exclaimed, but she held her hand up.

  “Never mind, hon. I know you can’t understand. You and everybody else think I am some kind of hero when, in fact, I stalled and procrastinated so long I caused a lot of senseless deaths; and for that I can never forgive myself.”

  Tears ran unchecked down Lydia’s cheeks. I got up to fetch a tissue. She dabbed at the tears and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then she said, “I’m sorry, Steven. Someone once said that history is written by the victors. I don’t know about that, but I do know if I would’ve taken the children and followed Pastor Edgington when he went to Harmony, most of my babies would still be alive. I waited though, thinking, I guess, that things were bound to get better. Besides, I didn’t want to leave the house.

  “I thought that my home was the best place to keep the kids safe, and maybe it would have sufficed if the Yellowstone caldera hadn’t erupted. That was the end though, the end of everything,” she sighed. “The children and I waited out the worst of the blast; when the sky fell in black sheets of ash and people choked and gasped in my front yard. We huddled downstairs in the root cellar and tried to ignore the pounding on the door as people begged to be let in. I still haven’t forgiven myself for that, though I know there wasn’t enough food or supplies to help even a fraction of the people who wanted in.

  “My house was built high off the ground so that a person needed to climb up the stairs about ten feet or so, to access the ground floor. I had boarded up the double front doors, the kitchen pantry door and two of the biggest bottom level windows, so that it was almost impossible to gain entrance without a battering ram or power tools. The kids’ security was as good as I knew how to make it, but my soul was tarnished with guilt.

  “The children and I huddled in the basement for four days. The kids were wild-eyed with fear, and I was about to the end of my rope when an errant ray of sunshine hit the top of Emma Bordeaux’s head like liquid gold. I stared at the little girl’s hair for a moment, and then I climbed to my feet and ran to the door.

  “The kids and I were in a storage room, lined floor to ceiling with canned food and bins of dry goods. I had turned it into a safe room with six dead bolts on the steel door. It took me a minute to open the door, shooing the excited children out of the way, but I finally got it opened and peered out the barred windows to the gray sky.

  “It was still snowing black ash, but the air seemed clearer. I could see the trees swaying in the wind, and realized that an early winter storm was blowing in from the north. It was starting to snow as well; actual icy white snowflakes were mixing with ash, leaving a muddy, black slush on the lawn and street in front of the house.”

  Lydia stopped speaking and glanced over at me. “You realize that I didn’t know until later what had happened, right? I thought that maybe a nuclear bomb had gone off somewhere close by…Spokane maybe, or even Seattle. I was worried about nuclear fall-out, and radiation poisoning. That’s why we hid the way we did. I could tell though, that our time of hiding was over. People were wandering around, looking crazy-eyed and half starved. I knew that they would find their way to my front door and demand entrance, whether I liked it or not. I finally decided the house was no longer safe, and that it was time to take the kids and run to the Harmony ranch.

  “I hurried to the linen closet and grabbed all the blankets I could find. I ordered the older kids to hel
p the little ones dress in their warmest clothes. I was just about to go pack up our food when I heard automatic gunfire. There was a series of soft percussions and the heart-stopping sound of shattering glass. I didn’t know it yet, but Dwight Engle had arrived.

  “I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs of the porch and then, after a moment, the most horrible sound in the world; the buzzing rattle of a chain saw. I heard the wood around my front door screech and give way as I gathered the children around me and backed into the kitchen. Looking out the back door, I considered making a run for it, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I saw a small army of people enter the back yard through the wrought iron gate. It was hard to make out many details through the ash and falling snow, but I saw that almost everyone had some sort of weapon in their hands… guns, rifles, knives, even long machete’s that looked like swords. They might have let us go, as long as they could have the house, but I was frozen with uncertainty. It only took a few moments of hesitation…then my babies became the hostages of the ‘Angel’s Sword.’”

  Lydia was growing tired now. The vitality in her eyes had fled and her hand shook as she reached over to ring a little bell on a table close to where she sat.

  “Lydia,” I said. “I don’t want to upset you…really! We can do this some other time, okay?”

  She smiled and said, “No time like the present, baby. I just need to take one of my pills.”

  Carlyle appeared with a tray, and a glass of water. He rolled to Lydia’s side on concentrated jets of vacuumed air and handed her a pill. As she swallowed the pill, the medi-bot turned toward me and tapped its left wrist, a very human gesture signifying the time. I nodded once, and Carlyle turned away. “Twenty minutes, Lydia, all right?” I heard it murmur softly, and Lydia smiled.

  “Sure, honey,” she replied. “We should be done by then.”

  She turned to me after the medi-bot left and said, “I do tend to ramble, Steven. I’m sorry. Anyway,” she went on, “I had no choice but to let those devils of Satan in the door. There were too many of them to fight, and they wanted my house to shelter in, and to regroup. Apparently, Engle’s army had become trapped in some sort of military installation, and they were just then regaining their strength and momentum.