by Pamela Davis
Gracie groaned and mumbled to herself, "I'm going to have to kill my son. That's all there is to it. I'll just say 'John, I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be'--healing crystals, sage, good lord!"
The Library, Cape Fair
Alexandra and Dr. Shapiro sat on the library's front steps, drinking coke in the afternoon sun. "If you had any idea how much I missed this in the desert in Africa, Dr. Shapiro," Alex was saying to him, waving her coke in the air.
"Call me Mark," he replied. "Sorry they aren't ice cold, but the refrigeration in that little café by my office has only been back on since morning."
"They're plenty cold enough to drink, and I love it when you can find coke in these small green bottles. I can't believe your office is only a block away from here. This morning it was feeling pretty isolated in town."
"I don't imagine I'll be spending loads of time at my office, but I wanted to make sure everything came through the shaking from the quake. I also had to lock up some of the medicines." He peered out on the empty street. He'd never heard such silence in the small town before.
Alex asked, "What are you going to do about that? I heard Black talking to John and you about being worried people might come through looking for drugs. Have you decided yet whether to move your office nearer to where everyone is living?"
"I'm seriously considering it. There's a house on the other side of John's property which would be close to a lot of us. The power people are the furthest away, but Harmony's cabins are very near to everyone else, and it makes sense to be near where the people are. I'm not that far away from where people are living--heck, in this town, nothing is very far from anything else! However, being right there in the midst of folks when they are injured or sick would be better. But it will be a big job to get everything moved. My little clinic here is pretty well-equipped. In fact, we'd have to leave some really large items there. The house is quite roomy and is already furnished. I guess the people who lived there just packed up their clothes and left." He paused for a moment.
"It's so weird, Alex! All these people just up and leaving. I'm just glad there weren't any nursing homes in the area, or we'd be dealing with caring for elderly patients without enough doctors and nurses. And it was pure luck that our small hospital was essentially empty when all this happened." He stopped talking and stared at his black loafers.
"What is it, Mark?" Alex inquired. "You look disturbed."
"I guess I'm feeling guilty. That I didn't go to Branson or Springfield to try and save some people. And now we can't even get to Branson or Springfield. And from what I've heard, St. Louis is pretty much gone. Mrs. Philpott said Perceval told her to keep anyone from going out of town, even to Branson. I guess the earthquake hit them wrong. While we sit here, coming through the earthquake fine, getting ourselves all set up, people are dying in the flooding, the hurricane, and the aftershocks--people only thirty miles east of us are dead. My mind shies away from thinking about it, that I don't even try to calculate how many people must have died already and how many more are going to die in the coming days."
Alex listened as he talked, watching the concern fill his light green eyes. He seemed so earnest and guilt-ridden and she understood. "You want to know what I was thinking this morning as I sorted through some books?"
He nodded.
"I was thinking that I was feeling happy. The end of the world as we know it...and I'm happy! Until later when the guilt came for feeling good when people are dying all around the country. I'm not sure what the best way is to deal with the guilt. Except I think we have to try and turn it into thankfulness. To be thankful we survived, that we made it here--in my case at least--and in your case, to be thankful you didn't get that weird dream that made everyone leave town. You and I and all of us have to do everything we can to make this a place of safety, for ourselves and for other survivors. And we have to turn that survivor guilt into motivation, so we can work hard on setting up a better future. We have a chance here, Mark, a wonderful chance to not just stay alive, but to flourish. We don't know where or when the disasters will end, but I think that if Cape Fair has stayed safe thus far, we have a good chance to make it. We can't get lost in the guilt. We have to acknowledge the feeling, but then be thankful and move on with our lives. And deep down, you know as well as I do that we couldn't have saved very many people. Being here, we have a chance to save the future."
Mark sat back, resting on his elbows, and contemplated the young woman sitting a few steps below him. She was not beautiful in a classic sense, but more in an outdoorsy, healthy way. With those long athletic legs stretched out before her, idly twisting her waist-length braid of rich brown hair around her hand, hazel eyes crinkling up at the corners as the sun shone down on her face--she looked like she'd be more comfortable out hiking on a mountain than working in the library.
"That was good--a good speech," Mark offered. "How long did it take you to think that up?"
She laughed, a low infectious laugh. "Okay, so I worked on it a bit. I figured I'd end up needing to tell it to someone besides myself before too long. You're just the lucky guy who got to hear it first."
"What are you anyway, a psychologist? Because the speech is good, very good, to tell you the truth."
"An anthropologist. We study humans. In my case, human cultures. So I'm naturally thinking about what kind of culture we'll develop here, we Gaians," Alex said, grinning up at him. "And I want it to be a healthy one, not one riddled with guilt-laden people moping around."
"Ah, so you're no longer observing cultures...you're trying to create one."
With a serious look on her face, she explained, "Not just me. All of us. The Gaians will create a new culture for themselves, and it may resemble what was here before, but I think it will end up being quite different in significant ways. The isolation from the rest of the world will have an impact, as will the low population numbers at the beginning. And the development of the dreaming ability and the amazing animal communication skills will create something we've never seen before in any culture. Sure, there were the aboriginal tribes in Australia who depended on their dreams, and the various Native American cultures who felt connections to animals in different ways, but to actually communicate directly with animals? To dream in ways that accurately foretell future events? This is something new in the human experience. And the culture will reflect those changes, you can be sure."
Mark was impressed. What she was saying sparked a feeling of excitement within him. A desire to see what would happen next. But he was still curious.
"What about the books? What is it with you and the library?" he asked.
"Oh, well, you have to have books to preserve the knowledge of the culture from one generation to the next. We could go with an oral tradition for passing down what we know, but books are in many ways an improvement over memory. And computers are even better, in terms of storing knowledge." Her brow furrowed as she continued, "There is something I'm not sure of yet about the learning process and the animals. I have to talk to Sam at some point." Then she grinned sheepishly and said, "Plus, I just love books!"
"Well that's as good a reason as any," Mark replied. "Why do you love books so much? Did you start reading at a young age?"
Alex reflected for a moment about whether or not she wanted to discuss her life from before with this man she'd only known for a couple of days. Her gut instinct told her he was a good man, a decent guy. Her gut instinct was usually right, which was strange, since it had been developed growing up in a crazy family. When you grow up with crazy people, you end up with instincts that are skewed, usually. Alex wondered for a moment, as she had often before, just how she'd managed to avoid that pitfall. A thought was edging into her mind, something about the dreams, the planet--then she noticed Mark watching her curiously.
She smiled and the thought fluttered away as she explained, "Books were my escape as a child. Crazy family. Emotional abuse, but, thank goodness, no physical abuse. But bad enough. I escaped into the stories in boo
ks, the lives of other people in biographies, the cultures of other people in travelogues and histories. And eventually I started reading psych books and discovered my family was whacko and that I needed to get out of there! Which I did when I left for college and I never went back. Survived on scholarships and part-time jobs and got some counseling. But I never lost my love for the books."
"I'm impressed," Mark said, meaning it sincerely. "You could have ended up pretty screwed up, but you sound really grounded and damn healthy!"
She laughed. "You didn't meet me my first year in college. That was a lulu of a year. But it got better. I got better."
"So you never saw them again--your family?"
"No, never did. And now I guess I never will."
He looked at her questioningly.
"They lived in L.A. in a high rise apartment building. No way they could have survived."
"And so you move on. Being thankful and working for the future," Mark said slowly. "You know, you may be the sanest person here, Alex."
"Ha! Nathan would tell you different, I'm sure. No, my first impression is that the sanest person here is Mrs. Philpott. Or her cat. It's a toss-up."
"Oh, definitely the cat," Mark declared.
Seattle, Washington
"The mayor of Seattle today announced concern over the Mt. Rainier volcano. He is consulting with geological experts regarding a potential eruption in the near future. A number of warning signs are occurring at Mt. Rainier, which could indicate an eruption is pending. Citizens are advised to stay tuned to local radio and TV stations for more information as the situation develops. The mayor stressed there is no cause for alarm over the next several days, as an eruption does not appear imminent during that time frame.
"This is Maria Santiago for SNN, reporting live from Seattle."
Zack turned off the camera and smiled ruefully at Maria. "It was the best you could do. They would have stopped you if you'd said more."
"I know--I know you're right," Maria said, frustrated. "Some people will leave based on this, but most of them won't. And who knows if the local government will issue any evacuation orders? Mayor Dubois said they didn't want to believe her, but some of them had been getting the dreams, or else we'd never have been allowed to do even this report. And the people in Tacoma wouldn't even meet with her, and they're in more of a direct path than Seattle! I just hate the thought of more people dying, Zack."
He stopped putting away the equipment and walked over to her. She looked the same as she always did on days when she went on camera. Beautiful. Together. Composed. But Zack wondered if there weren't little pieces of her breaking every time they reported on another disaster. Now this. To know, and not be able to really warn people. So many would die. Maria had lost her journalistic distance. She would feel those deaths. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed against him.
"You've done all you can do, for now. Let it go."
She sighed. Resting her head against his chest, she said, "Will it just go on and on? Until we're all dead? Won't it ever stop?"
"I don't know, love, I just don't know. But I do get a sense of some places staying safe. I'm not sure yet where those places are, but I think pretty soon we're going to need to find one of them. Of course, your days as a reporter may be coming to an end. Can you live with that?"
"If it means I don't have to see millions of dead people, I can live with it, don't you worry!"
Mrs. Philpott's House
Cap'n Joe pushed the cap back further on his head and scratched his forehead. He carefully balanced a teacup on his knee with the other hand. "That's a sight, for damned sure," he said skeptically.
"You do realize it's not a trick, don't you? You can see that Perceval is answering the questions that you asked me," Mrs. Philpott replied.
"Oh, yes, ma'am, I surely do. But it don't seem right, if you take my meaning."
"Right?"
"Well now, it seems to me we have our place in this here world and the animals have their place. And now you're goin' and playin' around with that. Don't seem right somehow."
Bemused, Mrs. Philpott leaned back in her rocker and said, "I don't think anyone else has responded in quite that way to seeing Perceval type on the computer, Cap'n Joe."
"Well, I'm not saying I'm right and all you folks are wrong. I'm not sayin' that, no, ma'am."
"No, no, it's okay--whatever you think about it is fine. To me it seems wonderful and amazing, so I don't understand your attitude, but you are surely due to feel however you want."
"I'm not sayin' it ain't amazing. Have to be a damn fool not to see it's pretty amazin', but I don't think I'd be ready to take orders from a cat anytime soon."
"Perceval is just one more of our advisors in all this. I doubt he'd be giving you orders," Mrs. Philpott said. She glanced over at Perceval, who sat in front of the computer typing.
CAPN JOE CAN LEARN TO TALK TO THAT DOG
Mrs. Philpott watched as the weather-beaten man leaned forward and read the screen.
"Ah, now, hmmm, I don't think that's necessary! Mutt and me'll be just fine like we are now. No need to go and foul up a right nice relationship. He knows his place and I know mine. I see that he gets fed, and treat him right, and he stays by my side. Like a dog should be with a man. That's what's proper."
Mrs. Philpott opened her mouth to reply, only to stop as Cap'n Joe continued.
"Not that you folks shouldn't go on talking to these here animals. If you want to, more power to ya. That's not my place to say if you should or shouldn't. My place is drivin' a boat on that there lake you got. Give me a boat to drive, like you was talkin' about before. I'll help ya'll out there with fishin' and takin' care of the boats. Put me out on the water and I'll be just fine with Mutt here."
Mrs. Philpott looked at the scruffy dog standing beside Cap'n Joe. The dog, Mutt, was so shaggy she couldn't begin to tell what breed he was, suspecting he was a mix of several. Turning to Perceval, she stared into the cat's eyes for a minute, amused at the disdainful mental shrug he communicated to her.
"Well, Cap'n Joe, I guess we can't ask for more than that. I'll have Harmony take you over to the docks right now and you can get set up however you want. There are empty houses over there, and as long as they're on this side of the lake, they have electricity. You can live wherever you want, of course, but I suspect that you'll want to be near the boats."
Cap'n Joe nodded and tipped his cap at her.
As Mrs. Philpott called Harmony on her cell phone, Perceval watched the old man and the dog. What a pair, he thought. The dog could hear him and could probably talk to Cap'n Joe quite easily. But the dog wasn't about to do that as long as Cap'n Joe was fearful of it. Actually, Perceval didn't think it was fear. Cap'n Joe was just so skeptical of the whole thing, that even when he saw it demonstrated before his eyes, he just didn't believe it. There were ways the world worked, in Cap'n Joe's mind, and talking to animals didn't enter into that picture. However, he didn't seem all that bothered by anyone else talking to animals, so Perceval guessed it would be okay. That dog was so grateful to the man for taking him to Cape Fair that he just wanted to stay with Cap'n Joe and do whatever he wanted. Dogs! Loyal to a fault, as always.
The Farm
Alex sat in the living room of the farmhouse waiting with Jessica for Dr. Shapiro to finish talking to Abby upstairs. The afternoon sun broke through the clouds to brighten up the room, illuminating a dark wood cabinet filled with mementos behind glass doors. Alex wondered about the people who had lived here, and if anyone now living in the big, old house would ever know what those knickknacks meant to their owners.
She asked Jessica, "So when their grandfather died, the rest of the family sold the farm?"
Jessica looked at her blankly for a minute. "Oh! This house, yes, they didn't want to be farmers. It was only on the market for a month and then John bought it--after the dreams started.
Alex said, "I'm surprised they left all the furnishin
gs and everything. Gracie said there were even linens in the closet."
"To hear them tell it, they just wanted out of here. They had lives in the city, St. Louis," Jessica paused and Alex knew she was thinking those people were probably dead now. Abruptly, Jessica rose from the couch. "What's taking so long?"
"I'm sure he's taking time to talk to her," Alex responded. She knew Jessica was nervous about her mother's condition. After she and Mark had returned to the Samuels' house from the library, Alex had offered to come with Jessica and Mark to the farm. The doctor wanted to spend some time with Abby to see how she was coping. They had all heard about her comments from last night about San Francisco from Clay. It was bound to hit each of us in different ways, she thought. You can't know about so much destruction, so much death, and not be affected. Some will get more closed off emotionally, others will have nightmares--the regular kind, not the prophetic kind. Work will help. Working to build something here. Something safe.
Dr. Shapiro entered the living room. "Mark, how is she?" Jessica asked immediately.
"Physically she's well. But you already knew that wasn't the problem," he said, sinking down into an overstuffed chair. "She's not obsessed about going back to San Francisco, thank goodness. But she is confused. She seems to hold onto reality for a while, and then she'll say something to indicate she thinks she's back home. Or that she doesn't remember some of what has happened to the world. She can't accept this new world we are in, Jessica. I'm sorry."
"But what can we do? Can you help her? Can I do something?" Jessica asked with a worried frown.
"We need to be gentle with her, don't force her to accept what's going on, try and let her come to it in her own way and in her own time. Pushing her to face the disasters, the changes--like the dreams and the new abilities, talking to animals--these are things that set her off, send her into her own little reality where none of it is happening. When that doesn't jibe with where she's at, she panics, gets anxious, and then hysterical. We need to be patient with her. And, also, we absolutely must have someone with her at all times."