Eyes Love & Water

by Pamela Foland

  “You will need to learn the moving quickly part soon.” Miranda turned to face the woman, thinking she would see cruel taunting in the woman's eyes, instead the woman's focused on a distant point. “Too soon.” The woman shook herself and turned to look at Miranda's still confused face, “You didn't really think you could stay here did you? I've been the object of their murderous intention before. It will be a long time before they just forget about you. So much so that when you crashed I thought it was them after me.”

  Miranda turned to try to find the point the woman had been staring at, hoping to find the threat before it found her. She didn't know what she would do when they found her, but she was sure of the things they would do. Miranda looked at the woman, and finally understood the reasons behind the woman's hesitations. Miranda wondered what she would be like after as many hunted years. “I'll leave.”

  “No, not yet, you aren't quite well yet. There is still a little time, and a lot you have to learn, and a lot of breakfast to eat.” The woman gestured for Miranda to go back inside.

  After a silent breakfast, the woman allowed Miranda to help with the dishes. They scrubbed them in a wooden trough full of sand. When they were finished, the woman sent Miranda out to dump the dishpan. The motion of insects drew Miranda’s attention. Back in the Dark compound, Miranda hadn't understood a glimmer of the simple beauty and rebirth that could follow a desert downpour. Nor had she known the purity of color that came with sunlight as opposed to the sterile artificial lights. She probably would never have known if she hadn't refused to kill that man.

  “Ben,” Miranda mumbled to herself, invoking once again the memory of his eyes and his face.

  “So who is this Ben?” Miranda's eyes whipped back into focus to find the woman in front of her. The woman took the still sand-filled dishpan from Miranda and slung the sand in a wide ark from her position. Then she let the empty container dangle from her right hand. “Well?”

  “Nobody.” Miranda closed up her thoughts of Ben, padlocking the unaccountable emotions away in the back of her mind.

  A queer smirk snuck across the woman's face. “Nobody,” The woman nodded, “That's why this is the second time you mentioned his name, when you thought I wasn't listening. Even though the only other name you have mentioned is your own.”

  Miranda blushed. “He is the man they wanted me to kill.”

  “Ahh, and obviously so attractive that you just could not deprive the universe of his godlike physique.”

  “No, that's not why I couldn't kill him. It was his eyes- what was behind them. I already told you that.” Miranda’s head and shoulders slumped.

  The woman's smirk transformed into a knowing smile, “Miranda, when you find true love, you know it, and you can't afford to let it go.”

  “T-tr-true love,” Miranda stuttered for the first time in her life, “ When did we start talking about that?”

  “I think it was the minute we started talking about Ben.” Miranda shook her head trying to deny it. The woman just nodded back, “You shouldn't argue with your elders you know.”

  Resisting herself Miranda weighed her emotions and admitted that the woman might be correct. Miranda stared sightlessly out at the desert, seeing only Ben in her mind. She wanted to see him again, but she didn't even know where to look for him. She decided that it didn't matter, running from the dark she would end up in many places to look.

  “I wouldn't worry about finding him,” The woman said suddenly.

  “What!” Miranda whipped her head around to look the woman in the eyes.

  The woman chuckled, “From all the signs you've begun to form a pairbond with him. That’s how I know that’s what you were thinking about, and how I know you'll find him. You won’t be able to help it. Telepathically, pheromonally, physically you’re already searching him out. If a world has any version or alternate of >your’ Ben you'll most likely run into him. In truth you may be sick of him by the time you actually find him, considering all the >un’ Bens you'll run into along the way.” Then the woman shuffled back inside with the dishpan.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  The route from Ben's quarters to the pseudo-cityscape above wasn't quite so bad as he thought it would be. Niri took him up in the elevator to another garage full of electric carts. Ben hoped she would let him drive this time but instead she strode past them. She was quick to pick up his hesitation and correctly assessed it.

  “Carts make you lazy, and I don't believe in them, or for that matter transport pads,” Niri waved for him to follow then continued talking, “Especially not when you are training to be a factor. I even encourage my students to do their own cooking cleaning and washing, most of the time.” She paused and stared at Ben waiting for him to catch up. “The problem is that you are obviously a rush job. Daniel and Angela seem to have a purpose in mind for you. Otherwise, Daniel would have spent more time on getting Sinclair to take you. Not that I'm a second class teacher mind you, just much easier to deal with.”

  Niri set a rushed pace through the crowds of people on the pedestrian walk ways. Street lamps and a plethora of stars shining down from the holographic sky lighted them. The sidewalks were crowded with people, and to Ben's surprise and comfortable relief about half were actually using their mouths to communicate.

  Ben took note of the storefronts and realized this was a slightly different area than the one Daniel had led him through, more of a big city type setting. Beside him, Niri's mouth went off at twice the speed of Daniel's. Ben had lost track of her words, thankfully as he focused back in on them he realized she wasn't really offering new information she was just elaborating on her opening points.

  “A lot of people here are pathologically afflicted with laziness of some sort or another. Either they 'port around or they 'path their conversations or they process their meals,” Niri shrugged and looked at Ben, “But then you don't know half of what I mean do you?” When he shrugged back, she went on elaborating, ad nauseam.

  Niri ela-bore-ated all through the dinner they ate at a small Italian deli. Ben listened over his Caesar salad, over his linguine, and over his Italian ice. He kept his mouth full, chewing methodically, to avoid responding to the wrong rhetorical statements. He gagged twice when she stared at him overlong because he hadn't responded to rhetorical-sounding questions. Somehow, she managed to finish the same number of courses before him, even having kept her mouth running through the meal. He slurped down his Italian ice without chewing.

  “I imagine you are getting tired. I should get you back to your quarters.” Niri suggested deflatedly.

  The words rang like victory bells in Ben's ears. If this had been a date, he would have had to rate it right up there with the stock market crash of 1929. They rose from the table and left the restaurant. Ben noticed a tiny blip from Aunt Bea's remote pin as he crossed the threshold.

  “Aunt Bea just calculated dinner against your allotments. Don't worry as a level four factor in training you have plenty. Speaking of training, I expect you to join me in the training room at seven tomorrow morning. Hear me Aunt Bea? Set alarm.”

  “Understood.” Aunt Bea's voice chirped from the pin.

  Niri led him to a waist high booth on the sidewalk corner. “Here's a transport booth. I don't like them but as part of your training, you need to know how to use them. First, you step inside. The transport booth in your quarters has preset destination buttons, but for this one you state your destination. When that light flashes green then tap that activation button there.” Niri pointed out the appropriate lights and buttons then gestured for Ben to try it.

  Ben stepped into the half booth, causing Aunt Bea to blip again, “So, what do I say, my room or home?”

  “Either,” Niri answered pointing to the green light.

  With relief that he would finally be able to escape her, Ben tapped the button. After activating the transport booth, Ben felt a ticklish sensation in every cell in his body. For an instant, he was nowhere, then he was stan
ding in the booth in the living room outside his room. Ben stepped wearily from the transport booth and shuffled to his room. When he reached the door, he was temporarily baffled as to how to get the door open. No, knob, no latch, even the shiny raised panel was gone.

  “They can spend hours at a time running off at the mouth but when it comes to the details, not a word. How the heck do I get this damn thing open?”

  “You just ask.” Aunt Bea answered while the door slid open

  Ben sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Then he actively collapsed on his bed. After a few weary moments, Ben came to realize that he wasn't going to escape the longest day of his life so easily.

  “Hey Aunt Bea, is there a television in this joint?”

  “Not as such, but I am able to access of four thousand channels of information.” Aunt Bea answered as the media screen over the desk flicked on. It whirled rapidly through dozens of fragments of images. “State your preferences.”

  “Something lightly entertaining, yet boring enough to fall asleep to.”

  Barely after Ben finished speaking, a familiar whistled theme song came pouring out of the room's surround sound speakers. On the screen, man and boy trotted down a road to a familiar fishing hole. Ben chuckled and let Andy Griffith lull him to sleep.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Chapter 4

  Rude Awakenings

  ------------------------------------

  The morning Miranda awoke to the sound of a sonic boom, it had been four days since the rainstorm. At first, she didn't know where she was. Slowly Miranda recognized the smells of the woman's home, and the sound of the woman stirring in her bed. The woman rose and lowered the cover from the sludge pot letting light flood the room.

  “We don't have aircraft here.” The woman said gathering up some travel supplies.

  The implications of the statement were slow to filter through to Miranda, but when they did, she was close to panic. “So you think it's them coming after me.”

  “Can't you tell? I can feel the slime from here.”

  Miranda opened her mind and did indeed sense the coldly familiar darkness. She leapt to her feet and began pacing ferociously. “What should I do? Where can I go?”

  The woman grabbed Miranda by the shoulders and fought Miranda's fleeing gaze to lock eyes with her. “Calm down little one. The more worked up you get the more quickly they will find you. Besides, you were leaving after sunrise remember? Their arrival only moves the time frame up a little.” She handed Miranda a shoulder bag. “I have a few things I want to give you for your trip. So hold this and help me pack.”

  Miranda listened to the woman and did as she was told. The woman dropped a few bundles of dried foods and herbs into the sack, along with a small cooking pot. She hunted down a flint and steel, dropping them into the pot with a harmonious clang. Then the woman stooped to gather Miranda's blanket tossing it in the sack as well. From a shelf in the corner, the woman produced a sandy tan colored stack of clothing. She presented it ceremoniously to Miranda.

  “You may change in the hall. Oh, and I think those boots will fit you. They aren't my size so you may have them.”

  Miranda stared at the clothes and boots with wide grateful eyes. “I couldn't!”

  “We'll make a trade, you will leave that outfit here with me for now, and take those. When you feel you can repay me for the new ones, or when you need the old ones again, you may come back here and take them back. Deal.” The woman shoved Miranda out in the hall leaving no question that she expected to see Miranda in the tan outfit when she came back in.

  Miranda stood motionless with her arms full of the soft cloth. Her brain was frozen, yet at the same time it whirred wildly along the lines of memory. Years of uniforms and straining to please Dichen just to earn the right to wear a different color of gray were all with her and yet with the surface of her mind she knew they were over.

  Miranda carefully laid down the stack of clothes and began shrugging out of her uniform. On the top of the pile was an elastic support undershirt. Miranda pulled it on and was surprised how comfortable it was. There was also a pair of underpants which she found equally comfortable compared with the standard dark compound issue.

  The rest of the pile consisted of a short sleeve shirt, skirt-like slacks, and a loose fitting ankle length coat. She put them on slowly. The texture of the clothes were foreign to her. They felt smooth and soft without feeling slimy or dirty. She ran her hands over them, barely believing their report.

  The woman's hand poked around the curtain with the boots, “You forgot these.”

  The boots were leather, just shy of knee high and laced all the way from the tips of the toes up. Miranda struggled to get them on. They didn't stretch the way she was used to and it took her some time to realize that the lacing wasn't merely decorative. It took longer for her to get the boots on than the rest of the clothes combined. Miranda savored the new outfit long enough to fold her uniform, then she shoved back through the curtain.

  “Very nice, I knew they would fit.” The woman said taking the uniform from Miranda. “I will put this here. If you need it and I am not here, feel free to take it.” The woman said as she placed the uniform in a secret compartment beneath the floor.

  Miranda thought about the weapons and other equipment in the uniform as she watched it disappear into the hiding place. She thought about taking a few things with her, but didn't. She was glad to be rid of the uniform, and didn't want to be indebted to it.

  “So, what do you think of them,” The woman asked with impatient hands on her hips.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate them.” Miranda fumbled.

  The woman smiled, “Now listen carefully, You can teleport can't you?” The woman paused long enough for Miranda to nod, “Your best chance of evading them is to follow the wormhole out until you find a faint trail away from it. Carefully take that trail, try not to widen it any or make it any easier to detect. Once you arrive at its end, immediately teleport yourself to a world well tangled with teleportation trails. From there you'll be able to go almost anywhere without being easily traced, but that doesn't mean you will be safe.” With each hurried word the woman spoke more quickly. “You will need to move frequently, preferably before they find you. Don't stay in any one place too long.”

  Suddenly the woman stopped and stared through the back wall of her house. She stiffened. It took Miranda no time to figure the cause, and the longer she thought about it the more hopeless she felt. “I can't do this! They'll get me!”

  “Shh, don't be silly girl. You can, and you will, and we both know why. Ben. Now, focus find the wormhole with your mind, and the faint trail off to the side, and go.”

  Miranda got a grip on herself and began visualizing space-time. There was the wormhole, and a tiny pinprick of turbulence told her where the other trail was. She would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. Gathering herself she thrust her mind out pulling body along behind. The trip should have been instantaneous, but just like in the shuttlepod the gravity of the wormhole threatened to trap her. She had to fight the swirling tumbling chaos, the numbing cold of nonexistent existence. After a too long while, she was there.

  Miranda's arrival went unnoticed in the alley. With the exception of a cat there was nothing else in the alley. Miranda hugged her new coat around her and began walking towards out of the alley. It wasn't particularly cold, but the soft fabric reassured her after the cold hard stresses of teleporting between worlds.

  Miranda came out onto a crowded coastal boardwalk. The people were a busily walking, riding, running and skating crowd. To Miranda they felt like a single wild minded organism. Their focus was on sand, sun, water and food. She had arrived for the local lunch hour, and since she left before breakfast their mass hunger weighed heavily on her. She looked up and down the street to try and find a dining establishment. A small wagon which appeared to serve sausages of some sort was doing brisk business. Miranda managed to dod
ge and shove all the way to it before realizing she had nothing with which to buy her lunch. So she just stood there for a minute.

  “Hey, Lady you just gonna stand there or do you want a dog?” The cart owner growled at Miranda.

  Miranda looked into the man's dimly bored eyes before speaking. “My name is Miranda,” his eyes told her he didn't care what her name was, “ and I am hungry, but I...”

  “Give her a hot-dog, chips and a soda I'll buy.” A black and white haired woman of medium height said handing over a wad of bills to the hot-dog vendor.

  “Alrighty, mustard, catsup, relish or onion?” The man asked turning to Miranda.

  Before Miranda had time to translate the question within her mind the strange woman answered, “Give her the works, and whatever flavor pop you've got the most of. I'll have a corn dog and a grape soda.”

  The man complied. He handed Miranda a paper wrapped hot-dog, a can of cola, and a small bag of generic chips. She pocketed the chips and cola then started attacking the paper wrapping. Miranda wolfed down the hot-dog and was ready when the woman handed her a napkin. Miranda smiled and wiped off her hands and face.

  Miranda offered her hand, “Thanks for the help. My name is Miranda.”

  Her benefactor smiled shaking Miranda's hand politely, “I know, you are quite welcome. Now if you do not mind I really should return to my shop.” The woman accepted her change, her corn dog and her soda then turned to leave.

  Miranda felt a nagging sense of déjà-vu when the woman didn't return the attempted exchange of names. Perhaps the deficit was Miranda's. Perhaps when you helped someone, you earned the right not to reveal your name. This time Miranda left the omission unchallenged, and watched the stranger enter a small herbal remedy shop.

  Miranda sensed the Djheens before she saw them, even so she had trouble spotting them. They were using their mental powers together trying to screen themselves from her notice. Finally Miranda managed to locate them. They were stationed at each end of the street and at the opening of the alleyway between buildings. Her instantaneous thought was to teleport away. She reached out her mind to do so but recoiled quickly in pain from the dampening shield the Djheens had set up.