by Pamela Davis
"Guess so," Maria replied. "Hey, is this even a road anymore?" She had her hand to her brow, shading her eyes from the bright sunlight.
Zack was peering ahead as well and said, "I think there's something up ahead a ways, at least I hope so. I don't think this is a real road at all--more like an idea of a road!"
Maria looked over her shoulder at Phoebe in the back. She was sitting motionless, staring out the window. She hadn't said a word all day and Maria was worried and unsure what to do. As she turned around to face the front, the van was slowing and Maria saw a low stucco building surrounded by desert vegetation. Zack stopped the van and they all got out and started to walk to the building--which Maria assumed was a house--when they saw a woman walking toward them across a rise beside the building, coming from the desert.
She was tall, red hair flowing around her shoulders blown by the wind. She had on a gauzy, long-sleeved tan shirt and worn blue jeans with soft leather boots. As she approached them she removed her dark sunglasses and they saw extraordinary green eyes staring them down solemnly. Standing straight and still, she said, "So--you've come--finally. Not that it will do a bit of good. Too late for all that now."
Maria couldn't think of a thing to say.
A sunny smile suddenly brightened Margaret's features and she said, "But, enough about death, destruction, and disasters. We can talk about those any time. Right now you're thirsty from the drive out here. Let's go inside and get you something to drink." And with that she marched briskly past them to the house. "Come along," she called.
"What the--?" Zack started.
Maria shrugged and said, "She's different, all right. Let's go."
Inside, the house was furnished in a Spartan manner. There were, however, a couch and a few chairs in a large room where they all gathered with iced drinks of tea and lemonade.
Margaret said sternly, "I'm letting you have these drinks, but you have to promise to drink a glass of water next. The desert can be brutal in terms of dehydration. You have to drink plenty of water."
They all nodded. Maria noticed that Phoebe seemed more at ease. She imagined it was because the house appeared to be almost empty, no knickknacks, no clutter anywhere, barely lived-in.
"Do you live here?" Maria asked.
"Only for the moment," Margaret replied. "It's a kind of way station for me. I've been doing a lot of traveling this past year and don't have a specific home right now."
Great, thought Maria. Not only is she a psychic, she's a homeless psychic!
Zack spoke up, "Would it be okay if I brought in the camera equipment from the van? We'd like to get you on tape. Then if your next prediction has been on television and it comes true, people will believe you and then they'll know--whatever it is that you need to tell them," he finished awkwardly, only realizing then that he didn't know what the end to that sentence was.
Margaret sighed. "I did hope we could have a little chitchat before we got down to the nitty-gritty, but I suppose it's not to be." She paused, and then said, "I'm not sure that my being on camera is necessary."
Maria leaned forward and said intensely, "Oh, but it is! When we have people on camera in an interview, they are believed so much more! And if you want them to believe--"
"Oh, they believe now," Margaret said with grim certainty. "At least some of them know something is not right, and that's a start."
Maria looked taken aback. "What?" she and Zack said in unison.
Margaret nodded, her red hair glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the light cotton curtains. "Well, yes, of course. Eight airplanes all at once...that would get people's attention, I should think!"
Zack and Maria looked at her blankly, and then Maria said, "Eight airplanes? What on earth are you talking about?" She turned to Zack, who shook his head once.
"You didn't hear any news today, did you?" Margaret asked them.
They both just stared at her wordlessly.
"Ah, that explains it," Margaret said softly. She took a deep breath and then explained, "Today, this morning, eight aircraft from eight major airlines here in the United States fell out of the sky and crashed to the ground. Nobody has an answer as to why. Shortly after this event took place, almost all scheduled flights were cancelled and many planes enroute landed at the nearest airports they could find, out of fear that whatever had happened to the eight could also happen to them. Some fear this is the work of terrorists, but there is no indication there were bombs on board or that they were hijacked. Instead, there have been many eyewitness accounts that speak of something that looked like lightning coming up from the earth, not from the sky, but from the ground, that reached up and struck the airplanes, bringing them to a crashing, horrible end."
Margaret looked at her guests and sighed again. They looked a bit in shock. The airplanes were not so many deaths, surely, as in L.A. or Las Vegas or the hurricane that wouldn't die, but dramatic nonetheless in the means. Of course, the other piece was that it was more obviously the work of something 'else,' something not known, something possibly coordinated, conscious. That was what they were all afraid to think, afraid to ask. The problem was she didn't have time to bring these three along slowly.
"So, let me guess," Margaret said into the silence, startling Phoebe, who almost spilled her drink. "You would like to know if these planes came down as part of something connected to everything else. The answer is yes. It's all connected. All the recent disasters are connected. Beginning with the L.A. earthquake--that's when it started in this country. The latest is the eight-plane crash."
"Oh, my God," said Phoebe reverently.
"No," said Margaret, "not God."
Zack gulped and then said shakily, "Are you telling us--are you saying you know who is doing this?"
In answer, Margaret said, "Not who, but what." She paused for a moment and then said, "There is a consciousness behind all of this."
Cape Fair, the Samuels' House
"People are totally freaking out!" Harmony exclaimed, walking through the back door of Jessica's house with her arms full of groceries.
Jessica ran to grab the bag slipping out from under Harmony's left elbow. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Is it the news about the airplane crashes?"
Harmony made it into the kitchen safely with the rest of the bags of food. "I don't know--I guess maybe that's it. Who knows? Whatever it is, all around town I saw people packing up their cars and heading out of town. It's bizarre! I mean, really--where are they going? Don't they know this is the safest place they could be right now?"
A deepening look of concern came across Jessica's face as she thought about what Harmony's news might mean. She said, "I thought that we--our group--was supposed to save people. How do we do that if they're all leaving town?" She began unpacking the groceries and putting them on the shelves of the pantry.
Harmony said, "Oh, on a more positive note, you'll be glad to hear I got my hands on a bunch of those jars for canning like you wanted. They're stacked in the back seat of the car."
Jessica smiled and said, "That's terrific! Canning fruits and vegetables now will help us out a lot." As Harmony walked back out get the jars, Jessica's smile faded as she kept mulling over the idea of people leaving town. She was muttering to herself, "It just doesn't make sense to me, why are they leaving?" when Sam and Harry bounded in through the back door.
"What doesn't make sense, Mom?" Sam asked, flopping into a chair.
Jessica said distractedly, "Samantha, wipe those muddy shoes on the mat outside the door this minute!"
Sam sighed heavily and then walked outside and wiped her shoes on the mat. Coming back in, she said, "You didn't answer me, Mom. What doesn't make sense?"
Jessica focused on what Sam was saying and then said, "Oh. Nothing, kiddo, nothing for you to worry about. Why don't you and Harry go play?"
Sam stood up next to Harry and said, "Who's leaving? You said 'they' were leaving. Who is leaving?"
Jessica started to make up something benign to say to her d
aughter and then stopped and thought it over. Sam was an integral part of the group, even though she was just a child. Just--a child. A very important, precocious, knowledgeable child. Who had otherworldly ways of getting information and did not deserve to be lied to, Jessica decided finally.
"Okay, kiddo, you're right, that's what I said." She bit back a grin at the look of surprise on Sam's face. Clearly her daughter hadn't expected a straightforward answer. "Maybe you can help me sort this one out. Harmony says that a lot of people are packing up and leaving town. And it doesn't make sense to me because I thought we were supposed to be making this a safe zone, to save people."
Almost immediately, Sam said, "Well, I knew some people had to leave, or else where would the new people live?" spreading her hands wide, palms up.
Jessica looked at her blankly and said, "New people?"
"Yeah, you know, the ones that are coming here!"
Jessica replied slowly, "Uh, no, I didn't know. Who's coming here?"
Sam shrugged and said, "Oh just some people and some animals--but I knew they would need houses. So it's good that some people are leaving so the new people have a place to stay--see?"
New people? Jessica's confusion was followed by a logistician's need for information. Ticking off items on her fingers, she fired questions at her daughter, "Could you be a bit more specific, Samantha? Like who they are, how many, why they're coming, what they're going to do here, what do we need to do to prepare--" She stopped when Sam put her hands over her ears.
Chagrined, Jessica leaned down and hugged the girl.
Pulling little hands away from her daughter's ears, she said softly, "Oh Sam, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to badger you with questions like that. I just get so frustrated not knowing what is going to happen next. I'm really sorry I did that."
Sam hugged her back and said, "It's okay, Mom--but I thought a badger was an animal. I think you don't look like a badger when you said all those questions!"
Jessica laughed. "No? Well, okay." She got up and started making a snack for both of them. "Listen, Sam, can I ask you one more question--about the people who are leaving?"
"Okay," Sam said, sighing. "I can think harder and tell you some stuff, if I kind of, you know, think about it like in the dreaming."
Jessica paused and wondered what that meant, but decided to pursue her question rather than explore the metaphysics of how it all worked. She said, "Okay, here it is--do you know where all these people in town are going, the ones that are leaving, where are they going to?"
Sam closed her eyes and became very still. "Some of them are going to be with their families who live in other towns. Some are feeling a...I don't know what to call it...a pulling, a feeling to go to another place, so that is where they are going. Not all to the same places, to different places."
After a few seconds of silence, Jessica prompted, "Different places?"
Sam replied, "Yes--but some of the places won't be safe for long, some of the ways to get to places won't be safe--" and her voice trailed off as two big tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What is it, honey?" Jessica asked.
"--a lotta people are gonna be hurt and dead and stuff--people smashed, burned, cut up, arms, legs everywhere, mostly drowned, sunk in the water, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe--"
Jessica grabbed her daughter in horror and called, "Samantha!"
Her mother's touch appeared to bring Sam back from wherever she had been as she opened her eyes and took a shuddering breath.
Walking Sam across the room, Jessica sat in the rocker and lifted Sam into her lap and began rocking slowly. Still shocked to know what her daughter was capable of seeing, she said, "I'm so sorry for asking you to do that. I didn't know--I didn't know you would see things like that."
She continued rocking, running her hand gently over Sam's hair and listening to the child's breathing return to normal. "Are you back here now, honey, all the way back with me now?" she asked.
Samantha nodded slowly and said in a small quiet voice, "It was like one of the big dreams, only it went out for a long way."
"Out for a long way?"
"Yeah--like I could see really far, far away if I kept going. But I think maybe I was going far, far away too. So maybe that wasn't so good."
Jessica laughed a bit shakily. "Yeah, kiddo, I think maybe that wasn't so good." Then she continued, "These things you can do, the things you can see--I think we have to find out what you can do and how to keep you safe. Sometimes maybe we are going to need information, but I don't want you going far, far away like that again, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy," Sam said. "But the dreams take me far away and you can't stop that."
"No, no, I can't stop the dreams."
Sam slid off her lap and smiled wanly, saying, "It's okay, Mommy. I'm just gonna go for a walk with Harry now," as Harry came bounding up to the back door, barking and whining.
"What's wrong with Harry?" Jessica asked, unsettled by the dog's behavior after her experience with Sam.
Sam replied, "He knew what I saw, but he was over at Mrs. Philpott's. He was scared. He'll be okay now." She knelt down to hug the dog and then walked out with him.
Jessica watched them through the screen door, stunned. The levels at which her daughter interacted with Harry and--well, just what was her daughter interacting with? Visions of the future? Nature? Some kind of consciousness? How changed was Samantha now? What was she changing into?
There is no way for me to protect my daughter from the horrors happening in the world now--and in fact, Jessica thought, I might be one of the very people who call on Sam to use her powers to look at even more difficult images in the future. Although what could be more difficult than today would be hard to imagine. Still, Samantha needed a buffer. And as her mother that was Jessica's job to guard her daughter from any threat. The unknown around them loomed, and the unknown inside of Samantha beckoned, but Jessica would find a way to help her daughter through this. Sam would not be alone.
The Train, Chicago, Illinois
Rachel walked into the train's dining car and sat down across the table from her mother. Grace Samuels was, as usual, immaculately dressed in her favorite Chanel suit, hair and make-up done, pearls at her throat. Rachel, without the benefit of a first cup of coffee, felt immediately inadequate. She tugged uselessly at her brown hair with its golden highlights, which was curling madly in the short cut she preferred, all over the top of her head.
"Rachel, stop pulling at your hair," Gracie said calmly. Everyone called her Gracie. Except Rachel.
"Yes, Mother," Rachel said obediently, thinking how quickly she reverted to childhood habits when she was around Gracie. Here she was, a successful ad executive, and Gracie could reduce her to ten years old in the span of two minutes!
Gulping at her coffee and burning her tongue, Rachel swore vehemently as Gracie looked on with one perfectly drawn, raised eyebrow. "Whatever is the problem with you today, Rachel?" she asked her daughter.
"The problem," Rachel said distinctly, "is that I should never have agreed to come on this trip with you. I had a lousy night's sleep--woke up with a nightmare of all things, and I blame it on being on this train! I should have stayed in New York and worked. Or seen my friends. Gone to a few plays. Anything else. But, no, I'm not doing those things. I'm sitting on a train, taking forever to get to some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere in Missouri!"
"Dear," Gracie said. "Perhaps you're forgetting why we're doing this? To visit your niece who's been terribly ill? She could have died, Rachel. And," continuing firmly when Rachel moved to interrupt, "you and I don't spend enough time together! We live in the same city and I never see you. When you agreed to this trip, I told you that it would be a chance for us to spend some quality time together." Gracie paused and then said delicately, "After all, dear, we don't really know just how much time I have left."
Rachel looked stricken, thoughtful, and then curious. "Mother, the last I heard you were in perfect health. Has any
thing changed in that regard? Have you received some bad news medically?"
"Well, no, dear, but you just never really know now, do you?" Gracie replied.
Rachel shook her head and reluctantly smiled. "You're terrible, do you know that?"
Gracie smiled warmly at her daughter and said, "I have to be, to deal with you, sweetheart."
Rachel burst out laughing. "Oh, Mother, I know we never see each other. You're probably right--I do need a break. And it will be great to see John and Jessica and little Samantha again." She looked out the window and said, "Hey, now that I've decided I want to be on this trip, why aren't we moving?"
Gracie said, "While you were sleeping in we pulled into Chicago. I think we're taking on passengers and then it's only about six more hours to St. Louis."
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
Into the silence of Margaret's revelation that she knew what was behind the disasters, Maria suddenly jumped up. "Didn't you try to warn them at least? The pilots?" she demanded of Margaret.
Margaret looked up at her and shook her head slowly. "No, I didn't try. I knew they wouldn't believe me. Why should they? Why would anyone believe that all those planes would fall from the sky at the same time? Would even you have believed me, if I'd told you? Honestly?"
Maria just stood there, quivering with frustration and shock. Finally with a little cry of rage, she threw herself onto the couch, saying "I don't know! Okay? Maybe I would have believed you...maybe not. But all those people!"
"Yes?" Margaret replied, questioning. "All those people? What about the tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, yes, millions that have already died? This was a drop in the bucket, believe me."
"How can you say that?" Maria answered back, horrified.
Margaret paced back and forth in front of them. "I can say that because I've been living with this far longer than you. I've been dealing with realities you can't begin to comprehend! You've been going from one disaster to another, only recently entertaining the idea that these weren't individual events. I've known they were all connected from the beginning. I tried warning people, to no effect. I've shed so many tears for all those who would die that I can't cry anymore. I've lived with the dreams from day one. So don't look at me like I'm the monster. I'm not causing this!" She ended on a defiant note, facing them.