by Pamela Davis
"They?" said John, looking at Jessica and Mrs. Philpott.
"Don't ask me," said Mrs. Philpott.
Jessica just shrugged as Sam opened the door. Harmony walked in and right behind her came an African-American man--no, John realized, a young man, more like a teenager. At that point, John blurted out, "The teenager! You found him!"
Harmony looked startled, but said calmly, "Well, yes, I did indeed find him."
Samantha was shutting the door when she called out, "And he has a dog, a puppy!"
Jessica, who had been standing, sank into a chair saying, "I don't believe it. I just don't believe it! A dog with him too!"
Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Harry and the puppy were exchanging introductions dog style. Harmony was explaining to Jessica how she found Max. Max was talking shyly to Sam and Mrs. Philpott, with Sam declaring every couple of minutes that she wanted her skin to be the color of Max's skin because it was "too beautiful" when finally John picked up a glass and clanged a spoon against it.
"Hold it, everybody!" he said loudly. All talking ceased--then Samantha started giggling and everyone started laughing.
"Okay, okay," John said, "I know we have a lot to talk about, but how about we get everyone something to drink or eat and give our newcomers a chair to sit on and then let each person tell their story so we can all hear it."
With nods of agreement from all, Jessica stood up and announced that she had roasted turkey for sandwiches with fresh lettuce and homemade bread, brownies, milk, coffee, or cranapple juice, or some cheese and crackers for munching. Even though it was by now close to three in the morning, everyone headed to the kitchen for food and drink. Plates and glasses filled, and with everyone situated comfortably on one of the two couches or the several chairs, Mrs. Philpott looked around the room and noticed how the animals were distributed. Each animal was sitting directly in front of or next to the person they were bonded with. Max's dog looked ready to sleep after finishing a bowl of Harry's dog food. Mrs. Philpott thought both Max and his dog could use some extra attention as she watched the teenager finishing his second turkey sandwich.
"Who starts?" asked Sam, tired of waiting for everyone.
Mrs. Philpott smiled at her. "Well, Sam, I was just thinking about that. How do we start? What's the best way to go about this?"
John nodded his head. "Yes, I was wondering that too. Should we begin this with our side of things or should they tell us their side or--"
He was interrupted by his daughter's voice, filled with the disdain only a six-year old can muster, "Oh Daddy! You guys worry too much!" She turned to face Harmony and Max, who were sitting on the smaller couch. "I dream things, bad things, and they come true. Mrs. Philpott dreams the same dreams and so does my dad only he's too much of a scaredy-cat to remember all of them--yet. We had a party so I could 'see' people, 'cause you know I can just look at them and I can tell, which I guess is pretty special since it freaks out my mom and dad so much that I can do it, so at the party I had to see who else has the dreams so we could get them to help with something we're doing before the world ends as we know it, according to my mom. Only one person at the party was having the dreams and that was you," she pointed to Harmony. "And I told them," waving an arm to encompass John, Jessica and Mrs. Philpott, "that there was a boy living in an old house on the edge of town with no mom or dad who was having the dreams too. And you--Max--are that boy." She stopped for a second to catch her breath and then went on, "Oh, but I didn't know about you first, Max. Harry is the one who found you. You know, Harry? My dog?"
When Harmony and Max looked at her uncomprehendingly, Sam frowned at them and then laughed suddenly, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oops, I forgot an im-port-tant thing! I can talk to the animals Perceval and Harry. And so can Mrs. Philpott, only she talks to Perce more on the computer. Oh, yeah, Perceval can talk, um, type on the computer. And prob'ly since you brought that puppy with you, you can talk to him too!" She stopped, looking around at everyone in the circle. "Well, that's everything, isn't it?"
Max's plate clattered to the table where he had dropped it from unfeeling fingers. Harmony's mouth hung open. Mrs. Philpott was opening and closing her mouth, but nothing was coming out. Jessica had her head down, trying not to laugh, and John just stared at Sam. When no one said anything she got up and stomped off to her room muttering, "Grown-ups!"
Samantha's retreat stirred John to get up and say, "One thing is becoming clear. If I'm going to survive raising that child, I need to invest in a liquor store--pronto!" The comment broke the silence and there were a few smiles. "Okay," he went on talking as he retrieved the coffee pot from the kitchen and returning to pour refills for them. "We didn't intend for you two to be bombarded with everything all at once like that, but essentially she was right. She gave you the basics. Why don't we go from here with you asking us questions and we'll try to answer them."
Harmony started with, "Talking to animals...that is like, so cool! And psychic predictions...awesome!"
Suddenly Harry barked once. Perceval jumped into Mrs. Philpott's lap and looked deeply into her eyes and then she said, "Oh, oh my goodness, I forgot to set up the computer. Sorry Perceval!" She quickly got up and pulled a chair over and got the computer set up with the cat perched so that he could tap out his messages. Jessica watched their guests reactions to all this with compassion and mild amusement. She knew what they were going through. Harmony looked exhilarated, if still a bit stunned. Max seemed completely bowled over by everything. He had obviously had it rough lately and here he was thrust into the midst of strangers telling him things that had to sound preposterous, but he was still listening. In Jessica's opinion, that rated high.
"Oh, my," Mrs. Philpott said. "Evidently, Sam is listening in on this conversation through Harry. She told Harry to get Perceval to ask Max what he thinks the puppy's name is---I don't understand--oh. Sam knows the dog's name, and she thinks that Max knows it, too, and doesn't realize he knows it or something like that. You know, if she's going to participate in the conversation, I really think we ought to make her just come out here instead of this vicarious Harry thing," she finished in a frustrated tone.
Jessica looked at John and said, "I wondered about this the other night. I thought she went to bed much too easily. We have to have a talk with her."
John said, "Yes, but in the meantime, Max? Do you know what the puppy's name is?"
Max looked perplexed. "No, I don't."
Mrs. Philpott said, "Take a minute to relax and close your eyes and think of what you would call this dog and see what name comes to mind."
They all watched as Max became very still on the couch relaxing and letting his head nod forward, eyes closed. Gradually he raised his head and said dreamily, "If I was going to name her, I'd call her Ruby."
"That's it!" shouted Sam who came running in from her bedroom down the hall. "See, you did it!" She stopped in front of Max and leaned over to give him a hug. "I knew you could do it." Max's face was a mixture of wonder and fear.
"Yeah," he said shakily. "But if this is true, then what about the dreams? The dreams aren't wonderful, are they Sam?" And he watched Sam's face fall and look scared.
Max continued, "The dreams--the dreams have been driving me crazy. If we can talk to animals, okay then. Whatever. It's out there all right, but it sounds like a workable deal. I want to know why I've been having these dreams. I have to know if I'm going nuts. I have to know!" he said the last, hitting his fist against his knee.
"No, Max, you're not crazy, not going nuts," Mrs. Philpott's wise, confident voice settled over all of them. As Samantha climbed into her mother's lap, the older woman took up the tale for the next hour, explaining all they knew about the dreams--about how the dreams had come true so far, about Perceval's predictions, and about their plans for the future.
Chapter 8
Salmon Creek, Idaho
"When did people start to realize something big was happening? I guess you'd have to say it was the airpla
nes that did it. The 'Big One' in Los Angeles--well, everyone knew that someday part of California was going to fall into the ocean from a big earthquake--it just finally happened! And the tornadoes and the lightning, they coulda been weird weather, and we've all heard of weird weather before. I'll admit what happened to Las Vegas gave people a turn, yes, indeedy. Of course, down deep, some folks kinda thought Las Vegas was the Devil's Playground, you know? So in some way we all just accepted what happened out there. Or maybe we were starting to get it, that this was strange. But the airplanes...now that was something. Planes falling out of the sky all over the place--yep, that sure did scare some folks--and it made them wonder just what the heck was going on. At first, 'course everyone thought it was terrorists. When eight planes go down in one day, all right here in the US of A, from all the big airlines, different kinds of planes--well, it makes you stop and think. But there was no warning, no terrorist claiming they did it. And the gov'ment, well, they didn't know what to say. Gladys didn't have any dreams about the airplane crashes. I never heard of anybody that did. I know I sure watched all the news reports about them. They talked about 'wind shear' and 'unexplained weather phenomenon'--basically all it amounted to was a bunch of bull about how they had no idea what was going on. Gladys says to me, "I think I'll just stay planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much," and I didn't blame her. If man was meant to fly, he would have been born with wings, that's what I say. The funniest thing that happened, or maybe it was the weirdest, was when some doctor on Gary Greene's radio show said people who chose to fly anywhere should take some kind of mental test to see if they were suicidal. But by then it didn't much matter because most of the pilots refused to fly until somebody figured it out."
American Airlines Flight #725 to St. Louis, Missouri from Chicago
"Alexandra, stop squirming!" Nathan said irritably. She was driving him crazy adjusting her seat, twisting around and leaning across him and generally making a nuisance of herself. They'd been in the air for over an hour and she had gotten increasingly worse. "What's wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" she said in a rising voice. "But something's wrong--we should never have gotten on this plane. I've got a really bad feeling."
"Okay, now who's playing the psychic?" Nathan said, trying to kid her out of the dark mood she was in.
"Look--I don't know what's making me feel this way, but we should have found a different way to get to Missouri. I feel like our 'This is the Way the World Ends Theory' is about to smack us in the face any minute."
Nathan didn't know what to make of her statements. She was clearly agitated, hands trembling, nervously twisting a strand of her hair between two fingers. Not the Alex he was used to dealing with at all. A flight attendant was approaching, noticing her distress.
"Is there anything wrong?" she said.
"Yes," Alex blurted out before Nathan could stop her. "I think we need to land this plane. I think we're in danger of crashing."
The flight attendant looked taken aback at first, then smiled confidently and said calmly, "No, no, we're fine. Clear skies all the way to St. Louis, no problems. Don't worry about a thing, we're fine."
At that moment the loudspeaker crackled and the pilot's voice announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have to make an unscheduled stop. A minor delay and nothing to worry about, but I'd like to ask you all to prepare for landing in a few minutes."
The flight attendant turned to stare at Alex, as did Nathan. Alex leaned back into her seat with a huge sigh of relief. She said, "There, now it will be okay, we'll make it."
Nathan's eyes opened wide and he said, "How the hell did you do that?"
Chicot, Arkansas
Andy choked on his coffee as he stood leaning against Lisanne's car. It was his first glimpse of her today.
"What?" she said combatively.
"Did you do something to your hair...or is that what you would call a bad hair day?" Andy said good-naturedly, grinning.
Lisanne stuck out her tongue at him. "I put gel on it," she replied proudly. Her short black hair was spikier than usual, sticking out in every possible direction.
"And...what's with the Goth make-up?" Andy inquired curiously, adding, "and the leather and chains ensemble?" motioning to her outfit.
She was wearing tight, black leather pants, black army boots, a leather jacket with chains and zippers, a silky black tank top underneath, and looked like she'd just stepped out of a Harley Davidson ad. Her lavender eyes were outlined in heavy black eyeliner and her lashes must have at least five coats of mascara, Andy thought.
"It's to create an image. I was thinking about the gun show gig today," she paused while Andy frowned.
"Look, we have to get some guns. We don't know why. We don't know what the trouble is. Hopefully we'll never have to use them. But our instructions are to buy them. Obviously we are going to need to go to the most unscrupulous people there to get what we want in the quantities we want. So we need to look the part." Saying this she now furrowed her brow and pulled Andy away from the car and turned him in a circle. "And I'd say you are a major problem, buddy!" she announced.
"What? I look fine. You're the one who looks--"
"Like trouble," she finished for him. "Which is exactly what we need to look like. And you look like Mr. All-American Squeaky-Clean-Cut Guy who never broke a law in his life! What are we going to do with you?" she said despairingly.
Just then Waldo barked and Merlin perked up and then Lisanne said, "Oh, yes, of course!"
Andy stood looking blankly at the three of them and then asked suspiciously, "What do mean, 'of course'? What did Waldo tell you?"
Lisanne reached out and linked her arm in his and said, "Now, Andy, I get the feeling that you have negative emotions around the military--" Andy moved to jerk away from her, but Lisanne kept a tight hold on him and said soothingly, "Now, just listen to me. The thing is, from what Waldo has picked up from you through the years, he knows that you know what military people are like. And if that's the case, then you could act like one of them. Is that right? I'm not saying you would be one of them, but you could pull off acting very militaristic, right?"
Andy stopped resisting what she was saying and thought about it. He saw where she was going. A gun show might just be the place where a survivalist-paramilitary type would show up. And, yes, he could pull that off, much as he didn't want to admit it.
Lisanne sensed he was giving in. "So all we have to do now is find an Army Surplus store and buy you an outfit. You've got the clean-cut look down pat. You know the walk and the talk, so if we get the right clothes, you'll pass fine."
Andy said, "Yes, okay, I'll do it. But do you really think all this is necessary? I mean, gun shows aren't illegal or anything--people go to them all the time!"
Lisanne just looked at him and shook her head. "Andy," she said. "Do you just have no idea of what goes on in the real world or what? Mark my words, we are going to see the more extreme end of society today, no doubt about it. Now let's get moving."
Somewhere between Kentucky and Missouri
Janine was aware that the lead horses were debating the route. The herd seemed organized into some kind of hierarchy. There were fast horses that rode ahead to check details, and the group was staying away from roads. Beyond that she didn't really know much about the trip--she was along for the ride, she thought joyfully. She had noticed that information was coming from somewhere else, somewhere outside the horses. As she rode, her communion with the horses increased and she was in their thoughts--or perhaps they were in hers--more and more. The knowledge they possessed was being augmented from another place or being. Janine was almost frightened by it, except that fear just had no place inside her anymore--there was no room for it. If it had, she might have been afraid of the being or place that was feeding information to the horses--because whatever or whoever it was--it was vast.
The other thing she noticed in the hours since daybreak was that the numbers of horses with them was increasing. S
he'd looked behind them a while back and been astonished to see so many. She knew all those horses hadn't been in the stables! Janine hadn't wanted to bother her current mount, a lively grey mare named Lily, but her curiosity won out and she finally put the thought forth. Lily tossed her head around, and Janine would almost have said she was laughing. The mare seemed to think it funny that her young rider hadn't figured it out. Horses were sent to towns they passed by to spread the word and gather more horses to go with their group. By now the message had spread on ahead of them--again from the force outside them--so that groups of horses were waiting to join them as they approached.
Lily helped Janine open up a clearer line of communication in her mind so that she was more able to access information from the horse collective without being overwhelmed by it. She learned they were headed to a river and that today they had learned of some humans (other people!) who would be available to help if it was needed. It wasn't clear yet what would happen at the river. Janine tried to remember her geography but hadn't a clue what river they were heading for--she'd never thought she'd make it out of Nashville so long ago when life had seemed so dark and bleak. Throwing her head back, she laughed. Janine was happy, headed into the unknown, feeling safer with these traveling companions than she ever had with any humans.
Somewhere in the Sonoran Desert, Arizona
The ripped vinyl seats scratched Maria's legs as the van jolted along the gravel road. The vehicle was what they found waiting when she, Phoebe and Zack had arrived by cab at the small town Margaret had directed them to this morning. Following her directions, they were hoping to finally meet their hostess and get some answers.
"So, did you hear about Hutton?" Zack called out over the roar of the engine.
"No, what?" Maria asked, closing her window to the dust that was starting to blow in more frequently.
"Seems the oh-so-important Dr. Sheffield Hutton the Third commandeered a plane early this morning and got the hell out of town. Guess he missed the high life and all the amenities of Washington."