by Pamela Davis
"Safe zone--John, is that what it is for Samantha? Is she safe here?"
"You mean last night when she collapsed at the hospital? Honey, you know Mark said she'd be fine, that she was just wiped out. That thing she did, it had to have taken a lot out of her." He paused, and then asked, "Or did you mean the thing with Margaret?"
Jessica rolled abruptly onto her stomach and propped up on her elbows on the bed so she could look into his gold-flecked, dark brown eyes. "John--either situation, and several others that have occurred in the past week--for heaven's sake she was facing a woman pointing a gun at her last night! And this thing she did with the healing. I wasn't there to bring her back if she'd gotten lost again. Plus the way everyone treats her--holding her in awe or something. Listening to every word she speaks like she is some kind of--of--" She floundered helplessly searching for the right word.
"Prophet? Seer? Goddess? Shaman?" John suggested.
"Any, all of them, maybe," his wife replied in a frustrated tone. "And even leaving that topic alone for the moment--all the changes she has gone through, the new abilities. How can we be sure she won't be injured in some way by it in the end?"
John shook his head. "There's no way to know, Jess. You know that. And even if we could see the future--something our daughter seems able to do--even if we knew it would hurt her, how would we stop it? We can't remove the abilities she has, we can't tell her to stop 'knowing' things, stop dreaming, stop all the stuff she can do. It's not like we know how this happened. Did the planet somehow choose her? And if so, why? Are there others like her out there? Will everyone eventually be like her?"
"Yes, well, we know Margaret was like Sam, in her abilities at least," Jessica retorted. "But look what happened to Margaret! She went nuts, John."
"I don't know about that, hon. We have no idea what her background was, what may have skewed her perception of the disasters into the final interpretation she came up with, so we can't compare Sam to her."
Jessica got up abruptly from the bed and grabbed her robe from the rocking chair. Belting it, she turned to face John again, saying, "I do get that we can't change what's happened. It's just that Sam is so little, so young...with so much responsibility. It's our job to look out for her, and sometimes I'm not sure how to do that."
John began to reply, and then stopped as someone knocked on the bedroom door. Swiftly pulling on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, he called out, "Okay, come in."
He and Jessica were both a bit surprised to see Mrs. Philpott come walking in with a tray of coffee and cinnamon rolls. Perceval marched in behind her, tail moving languidly as he looked curiously around the room.
"Good morning," Mrs. Philpott said, setting the tray down on a writing desk in the corner. "I thought we should talk before the crowd starts to gather."
"The crowd?" John asked blankly.
"Gather?" Jessica asked in dismay. "Oh, God, what now?"
The Hospital
Lisanne sat up cross-legged on her hospital bed, gently cradling Merlin in her arms. She sat facing the other bed in the room. The bed where Andy lay sleeping--sleeping peacefully, without the aid of any drugs, not unconscious, just asleep. Waldo was also sleeping, lying in a large doggie bed someone had commandeered from the pet shop. Max, yes, that was who brought it in late last night. The Labrador's left hind leg was bandaged and he'd evidently benefitted somewhat from being part of the healing circle, but Doctor Mark thought Clay might still have some work to do on Waldo. Good old Waldo, she thought fondly. Waldo and Merlin had defended Andy and her yesterday in a way that was staggering to Lisanne. These bonds between them, animal to human, were so profound. Growing stronger every day too. She did wonder if this latest incident would help Merlin look at Waldo in a kinder light. He seemed to have a bit of prejudice against dogs. Ah, well.
She was imbued with a sense of blissful quiet this morning. Yesterday--last night, had been so intense, chaotic, frightening, and finally amazing. Today felt like a gift. She smiled as her eyes took in the vase of gorgeous roses, in hues of deep pink, palest white, and buttery yellow. Harmony brought them before heading home in the early morning hours. She'd said to Lisanne, "Doesn't matter what kinds of healing Sam does, or how good a surgeon Doc turned out to be. Everyone knows aromatherapy is a vital part of the healing process. And you can't get better aroma than from these beauties Mrs. P grows."
Lisanne thought bemusedly that Harmony was hard to pin down when it came to figuring her out. She seemed like such a flake at first. But as the night wore on, as others came and went, Harmony had stayed quietly in Lisanne's room, keeping watch over her, over Merlin. Ready to get anything asked for by Penny the nurse, or by Lisanne herself. Then about an hour before she went home to sleep, Harmony had jumped up and said, "Of all the stupid--why didn't I think of that earlier?" and departed in a whirl of long skirts, bare feet, and golden blond curls energetically bouncing down her back. When she returned with the flowers, Doctor Mark was in the room checking on Andy. As he nodded approvingly at Harmony, Lisanne had seen the look exchanged between them. Interesting vibes there. At any rate, she thought, Harmony would be a fun person to get to know. Now that there was time, hopefully, to get to know each other. All of them, all these strangers brought to safety in this one place, now had time.
Lisanne found herself looking back, remembering how empty her life had been, how aimless and almost desperate she was before...well, before the end of the world. It seemed odd that in the annihilation of civilization, in the obliteration of huge cities, in the wake of monstrous disasters--yes, essentially the end of the world as she'd known it--that in this time of death and loss, Lisanne had found hope again, found love, found friends, found purpose, found...herself. It seemed odd, and almost perverse, like she was benefitting from tragedy. Yet, what was it she and Andy decided yesterday? They were going to live life fully in memory of those who were gone.
She lightly hugged Merlin, grateful beyond words he was going to remain with her. The depth of her fear last night about possibly losing him made her realize how strong their connection had grown. After the healing of Andy, Mrs. Philpott came into her room with Perceval, and proceeded to explain how Lisanne could help heal Merlin. Ha, Lisanne thought this morning with a small laugh. Even the imperturbable Mrs. Philpott seemed to have trouble coming up with the right words to describe what needed to be done. Of course, they were still pretty blown away at that point, by the thing with Andy. That whole braid of light, healing energy thing was seriously intense. Lisanne, though, remembered about the headache in the Power Station the day before, and with Perceval's promptings to, "OPEN YOUR MIND," and, "FEEL SAME KIND OF ENERGY," the energy she'd just experienced with Andy, Lisanne was able to find the right pathways. Yes, she thought, wonderingly, it really was like a chart, a star chart or a map...and there were paths, lines almost that could be seen, drawn between--what? Was it the consciousness of the Earth they were drawing upon? Or some other type of energy contained in all living things? And could it perhaps be measured in some way? Was it an amount that could be drained or replenished, or was it an infinite sort of thing? And what if you could harness that energy to--
Her thoughts were jerked back to the hospital room as Andy moved and the crisp white sheets rustled on his bed. She saw his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, and then watched his gaze slowly move around the room as he turned his head to finally come to rest on her. Deep blue eyes, clear and focused and alert. In a face that was slightly wan, but still healthy looking. Yes, this morning she was infinitely grateful. She saw his lips forming a smile even as a questioning look appeared in his eyes.
"Hey, baby," he said to her. "I'm seriously hoping my being in a hospital bed is not the result of our little adventure in the shower. Because I'm not willing to give that up."
"The shower? Ohhhh," Lisanne responded, remembering yesterday morning. Only yesterday morning? It seemed an eon ago, she and Andy in the shower, having an exceedingly satisfying adventure. She smiled. Doctor Mark had bee
n right after all when he told her that Andy might not remember the shooting yet. Thank goodness his first memory was of the two of them together.
"Uh, no, darling, this didn't happen in the shower. And I think we may just have many, many showers together in our future. Thanks to Samantha and Waldo, and, well, really, thanks to everyone."
She carefully laid a still sleeping Merlin down on her bed, then got up and walked over to Andy, noting the puzzlement remaining on his face. His dear, handsome, strong face.
"No worries, I'll explain it all to you, unbelievable as it is," she offered. "But first, I have a question for you. You don't have to answer me right away, you can think it over, but I need to ask you now, you know, while I'm feeling all brave and courageous and--" She stopped, seeing one of his eyebrows arch.
"Okay, no preamble then. Get right to it." She took a deep breath and blurted out, "Will you marry me?"
"Oh!" he said. Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, she began speaking.
"Now, like I said, you can have time to think it over, tons of time. I mean honestly, I know it's the end of the world and all and evidently the start of a new one. Who knows if you might meet someone else you'd want more, later on, someone better suited to you? Except that I think we really are suited to each other, in a strange way, kind of an opposites attract kind of way, maybe. Plus, you are just getting over being almost dead, and that will take some adjustment probably, so really, you have all the time in the world to think about your answer..." Her voice trailed to a stop as she heard him laugh, a low, deep, warm laugh with a beaming smile. That laugh, that smile--she felt tingly all over.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" he said, finally and emphatically. "You are the most exasperating, crazy, wonderful, beautiful woman I've ever met or am likely to meet. I love you with all my heart, Lisanne. To marry you would be a miracle. Honestly."
She leaned close over him, bending down to kiss him, just as he murmured thoughtfully, "I was almost dead?"
"Later, darling, we have all the time in the world for trivia--later," she answered firmly.
The Samuels' House
Mrs. Philpott settled into the comfy armchair upholstered in a dark green silk. The chair was part of a grouping near the desk in the bedroom, and Perceval could be heard typing on his computer on top of the desk, while John and Jessica sank into the love seat with the breakfast tray on the coffee table before them. As Jessica sipped piping hot coffee, John looked directly at the older woman and said, "Spill."
She looked at the couple before her, noticing the dark circles under Jessica's vivid blue eyes, but also seeing that there was strength in the gaze. John, as usual, seemed ready to tackle whatever the problem was. Mrs. Philpott was gratified her instincts about them had been right. He was going to be a great leader for their community. A community facing one last crisis.
"It's Margaret," she began, and John groaned. Jessica's face tightened, but she said nothing.
"Go on," John growled, grabbing a cinnamon roll and taking a large bite.
"We all know Sam did something significant to her last night when she stopped her at the Power Station. Perceval believes--hopes--Samantha was able to disrupt enough of Margaret's link to the planet that she won't be able to do the mind pressing thing any longer. However," she stopped and held up a hand to ward off John's comments. He looked surprised and happy at her surmise.
"However--she still has some connections left. Meaning, she is able to communicate with some animals most likely. How much she can know about people--that ability resembling reading someone's thoughts, which Perceval says doesn't really describe it--how much she reads of people, well we just don't know yet. What that means is she could still be a danger to us."
Jessica snapped, "Of course she's still a danger! Good heavens, the woman held my daughter and husband at gunpoint last night. She injured two people and two animals. And she--she--"
Mrs. Philpott sat quietly and waited as Jessica's eyes filled with tears. John put an arm briefly around his wife and then Jessica continued. "She caused enough chaos that Sam wasn't able to find my mother in time. I know we will never be certain if Sam could have gotten us to her in time. But my feeling is that she could. And if so, then Margaret is at least indirectly responsible for my mother's death."
Perceval nodded his head. He'd stopped typing to listen to Jessica speak.
Mrs. Philpott said, "I agree with you, Jessica. I believe she is a danger we can't afford. The question then becomes--what the hell do we do with her?"
She waited as the obvious answers came to John and Jessica's minds and were rejected. They couldn't call the police--Black was their head policeman now. There was no jail they could ship her off to. No, there were only a couple of options open to them.
John said slowly, "There is a local jail here in Cape Fair. I think it was mostly used for Saturday night drunks and the occasional teenager caught drag racing out by the lake. But to keep her here in town, locked up, for...how long? Forever?" He shook his head.
"There is another option," Mrs. Philpott suggested. "One I'm not fond of, but it has to be discussed." She paused until Perceval meowed at her to get on with it. "Okay, okay. We could have some sort of trial and then use the death penalty. In other words, we could execute her. Kill her."
Jessica gasped.
John's brow furrowed as he considered it. They were making their own rules here, he thought. Setting up a new society, as Alexandra had reminded him, a culture for the changed future. Did he want to see it start with them killing a survivor? After so many deaths around the world? He thought if he had to, to protect his family--or now, maybe even to protect this community--he could kill someone in defense. But to cold-bloodedly pass a sentence of death onto another human being. He found his head was shaking 'no' even before his thoughts caught up to his actions.
Jessica struggled with a mix of emotions she didn't understand. At first, intellectually, her response was--yes! Kill her the way she caused my Mom to die. Except that her gut response, the one that caused her to gasp, was the complete denial of any more death. So, so, so much death visited upon the world lately. How could it be right for them to actively choose to kill someone? No matter how awful she was. But to leave her alive--Jessica's feelings about Sam were very clear as she recognized how dangerous Margaret was to Sam. As Sam's Guardian--that odd yet fitting title bestowed upon her in the past weeks--in that role, she knew she had to think of what was best for Samantha. No matter what. If the only way to deal with Margaret was to kill her, then, so be it.
Mrs. Philpott watched them, watched their faces, as Perceval tuned in more directly. What he saw in them didn't surprise him. Not at all. They were thinking as the people they needed to become. And there was another way. He turned to the door as Samantha walked into her parent's bedroom.
Still dressed in her pale yellow cotton pajamas, she walked over to her parents and stood next to the coffee table. Her eyes looked bruised, and her blonde hair hung limply on her shoulders. But Mrs. Philpott marveled at the contrast in her dark brown eyes. They were filled with purpose and determination.
Samantha announced quietly, "There is another way."
Perceval meowed once in agreement. Mrs. Philpott nodded. And John and Jessica just looked startled yet again that their daughter knew all about this conversation.
Sam went on, "We have to," she glanced at Perceval, and continued, "we have to shun her. We have to send her away from us, away from Cape Fair, away from the Gaians. It's the only way we can be safe from her."
Jessica looked puzzled as she asked, "But, honey, how on earth are we going to keep her away? We can't be sure she won't come back somehow."
"Mom," Sam said in an exasperated tone. "The animals? The trees? The birds? The earth? All those guys will know what to watch for. Will know to watch for her. I've already been talking to them about it. I can't watch for her all the time--if I did, I'd never have time to learn how to ride Sunny, my horse." She paused and grinned at her fath
er. "You did say I could learn to ride him someday, didn't you?"
John laughed and said, "Yes, Sam, I think we can agree that you've learned a lot about using good judgment lately with your new abilities. But, honey, even if we get all that help to watch and make sure she doesn't return--" He stopped as he tried to decide how much to go into with his still very young daughter.
Jessica voiced the concern. "Is it right for us to let her loose on an unsuspecting world?"
The Hospital
Zack woke up to the smell of rubbing alcohol and something else--ah, a hospital, he thought groggily. Then, more alertly, his mind began to question, what am I doing in a hospital? He kept his eyes closed as he sniffed the air again. A hospital and Maria's perfume. Opening his eyes he found her curled up next to him, her head on his chest. His eyes darkened to a smoky blue-gray as he thought about that perfume. She'd kept it tucked away in the one bag she'd carried through all their travels. Carefully wrapped up against breakage. He'd noticed it in Boston, kidding her about how she had grabbed perfume the day they left Atlanta. Then he felt awful when she admitted it was the last gift from her mother. He wondered now if someday he could find that scent for her again, maybe scavenging somewhere.
A banging on the door interrupted his musings on perfume.
"Hey, you two, up and at 'em," he heard the mayor calling from outside the door.
Zack double-checked to be sure he and Maria were both decently clothed, and then chuckled as he recalled how they'd fallen into the hospital bed together exhausted, too tired to even undress. Nudging Maria to wake her up, he said loudly, "Come in, Dusty, come in. We're awake."
He heard Maria grumble, "Sort of."
As the mayor walked in, Zack sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. "Okay," he said, "what's so important that we have to be up now?"
Mayor Dubois walked in and perched on the edge of the other hospital bed. "Our presence has been requested. Up at the Samuels' house. Which is what they seem to be calling the headquarters for this safe zone. It's time to deal with Margaret."