The Inner Movement

by Brandt Legg

  “Mom, pull off at the next exit. There’s something I want to show you.”

  “There’s more?” she asked wearily. We pulled into a rest stop and started to walk. Once in the trees I used Gogen to move a rock the size of a basketball and let it float slowly up to her face.

  “How?” She looked in disbelief. I made it float around her twice. It landed far from its original location. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” She laughed and laughed.

  “I want you to know we are not powerless against these people,” I told her. “We’re going to find Dustin and bring him home.”

  She wrapped her arms around me. “Promise you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you, too.”

  34

  Without knocking on the front door, I burst into the reading room, finding Rose with a client. “They took Dustin,” I shouted.

  Rose stood up. “I’m sorry, Tina, we’ll have to finish another time. Forgive me, it’s a family emergency.”

  “The government grabbed him. Some garbage about a national security threat,” I continued.

  The startled woman collected her purse and left quickly with a slight bow. Mom pushed past her at the door.

  “Jenny! Hello . . . uh . . . ” Rose stammered. They hadn’t seen each other in four years.

  “Homeland Security took Dustin out of Mountain View this morning. You’re supposed to be the great neon psychic, so why couldn’t you see this coming?”

  “Mom, stop it. Aunt Rose, look into your crystal ball and tell me where they have him. Is he okay?”

  I sat across from her. Mom paced behind me.

  “The ball is for prophecy, seeing images of the future and sensing things. In order to find him, I’ll need to go on the astral.”

  “What does that mean?” Mom asked impatiently.

  I silenced her with a look.

  “He’s alive,” she said, after a few minutes. “He’s clearer; maybe they haven’t given him meds today.”

  “Thank God!” Mom said.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “A house. A green brick house in trees.”

  “He’s not on a plane? Or in a big hospital?” Mom asked.

  “No. It’s a lovely sage green residence, and that’s a very healing color.”

  “They said he was being transferred to a mental hospital in Washington D.C.,” Mom said.

  “Well, they haven’t done it yet. I think he’s still in Oregon.”

  “Then, we can get to him,” I said. “Can you teach me how to see where he is?”

  “Concentrate,” she told me. “Just think about Dustin. Picture his face. Hear his laugh. Look for him.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “You’re too upset. If you can meditate for a while, we can try it later when you’re calmer.”

  “Rose, can’t you see where he is, I mean exactly where is this green house?” Mom demanded.

  “I’m not getting anything beyond a house in the trees. My talents are a little cloudy these days, but even at my best, it’s hard to get perfect details. It’s not like watching TV, Jenny.”

  “I need Nate to stay with you if that’s okay,” Mom said. “Someone is trying to hurt my boys.” Her voice broke, and the sobs began again.

  “Of course, Jenny, as long as he wants. You’re welcome too.”

  “Thank you, Rose. But I’m going to find a lawyer and start looking for Dustin in the physical world. No offense, but I can’t leave his fate to what you all see or don’t see in that silly ball.” Mom left a short time later, promising to get a prepaid cell phone on the way home. She said she would bring me some clothes, my computer, and other stuff in a few days. I told her about Sam’s sister, the lawyer, and she said she’d go by and see him.

  I called Kyle and Amber. They were stunned and shaken by how close we came to being picked up the night before. They would come to Rose’s on Saturday, as planned, if I was still there and still free.

  For the next few hours, Rose told me everything she knew about the astral, but it wasn’t working for me. After that, I spent a long time with her going through what she considered the best New Age books. She was blown away by my ability to “read.” Mom called from the road on her new cell phone.

  I explained that Rose believed I was too tired and stressed to effectively see anything on the astral.

  “I want you to know that I believe in you and love you very, very much.” Her voice betrayed the strength in her words. She was barely holding on. I knew in that moment that if Dustin died, my mom would cease to be, even if she survived.

  35

  Thursday, September 25

  I couldn’t believe the clock as I awoke from a deep sleep. It was almost noon, which meant for more than twelve hours there had been peace. Aunt Rose was with clients. I went into the kitchen, made a sandwich, grabbed a Coke, and called Mom.

  She had talked to five or six lawyers. “It’s like they only let idiots pass the bar,” she said. “They keep telling me there isn’t much I can do. The government has all kinds of powers to detain citizens if they are suspected of aiding terrorists. Never mind that Dustin hasn’t done anything. The lawyers say not knowing where he’s held makes things even more difficult. Talk about stating the obvious. One of them suggested I should contact the media.”

  “Bad idea. Dad’s friend Lee had the same plan. That’s what started this whole nightmare.”

  “I can’t just sit here waiting.”

  “We’ll find him,” I said. “As soon as Aunt Rose is done with her clients, we’ll get back to our search. Have some faith, Mom. This psychic stuff is for real.”

  “I’ll try.” She sounded distracted.

  “Sam said his sister is involved in some big case right now in New York but that she should be able to talk tomorrow or Monday at the latest,” she said.

  “Damn it! Did you tell him about Dustin? Can’t he get her on the phone in the evening or sooner? She’s his sister!”

  “He was appalled about Dustin being abducted. Thinks it’s gotta be a mistake or, he said, if you really did stumble into some corruption, then it’s a blatant act of harassment and his sister will make a huge case over all this. But he did say that proving your dad was murdered may be difficult unless we have some evidence.”

  “I haven’t told him about the other ten Montgomery Ryders dying or the whole Lee Duncan story. I’ll fill him in, but what about Dustin in the meantime?”

  “That’s why I’m still calling people. Oh and on top of everything, Mrs. Little called a few minutes ago. She said that some of your teachers have suggested you might be cheating. You were perfect in algebra, aced a chemistry quiz, embarrassed your English teacher, and had a conversation in fluent French.”

  “Not a bad day’s work.”

  “I’d say. Then she wanted to know why you weren’t in school. I told her that I didn’t like her accusing my son of cheating, that you’ve been working with a private tutor, and that your results clearly show that the school was not adequate for your needs.”

  “Way to go, Mom!”

  “Back when Dustin was having all that trouble, she was the one who really pushed me to have him committed. I’m not buying what she’s selling anymore. I told her we were pulling you out to be home-schooled by private tutors.”

  “What’d Little say?”

  “That we should meet to discuss options and legal requirements. I said I’d be in touch.”

  “She probably wasn’t very happy.”

  “That woman is never happy.”

  After more practice, I could see Dustin but not on the astral. Instead, I was just getting glimpses of him using prophecy. For some reason, using a dark pan filled with water was easier than the crystal ball. I was getting pieces and visions, which Rose said were indications of the future that only meant he was alive right now. Interpreting prophetic images was an art, she said, handing me a book about a famous seer named Nostradamus.

  Aunt Rose saw more on the astral—a gre
en brick house in the trees, high on a hill with a deck overlooking orchards, almost certainly Oregon, and maybe somewhere in the Rogue Valley but it wasn’t possible to pinpoint. Dustin was alive, but he was looking pale and feverish, “like someone going through withdrawal from drugs,” Rose said.

  “What about his getting to us on the astral? You said you had taught him.”

  “I always helped him. I think he could probably do it on his own by now, if he stays off the meds, but he’d have to get over the withdrawal first.”

  “Then, what can we do?”

  “You’re seeing Spencer Copeland tomorrow. He can find Dustin.”

  “By then it’ll be more than forty-eight hours since they took him.”

  “I know it, honey. But at least he seems to be nearby. The best thing is for me to teach you all I know.”

  Rose started explaining colors, her favorite subject. We went over chakras, auras, the colored pops, color meanings, symbols, and reflections. For hours, she told me what she knew. At the same time I held onto books on each topic. The colored pops, she said, were like shorthand between the universe and our human personalities. Understanding the significance of each color and its many shades would require meditation, but her books on colors gave me a strong head start.

  She taught me to read faces, saying you don’t have to go into the clutter of peoples’ minds to find out what they’re thinking, feeling, where they’ve been, what they’ve seen. “It’s all on their faces and in their eyes. Everything gets recorded in lines, tones, shape of noses, the hue of cheeks, pattern of forehead lines, thickness or thinness of eyebrows, dryness of lips. You can spend hours reading a face.” Then it was on to body language and what our movements reveal. When I thought that lesson was over, she told me how best to conceal what my own face and movements could give away.

  It was easy to understand her humor-filled lectures. The astral was a huge topic, but she gave more of the basics, adding details to the brief introduction she’d given me the prior weekend. Still, it was overwhelming at times, and once when I expressed my frustration, she took my hand in hers. “Honey, always remember that understanding this spiritual stuff is far simpler than understanding people and their personalities. The soul at least makes sense.”

  Then we moved to guide writing. This was more difficult than I expected. Rose had me sit quietly in front of the computer with my fingers lightly resting on the keyboard. She did it with a pen and paper. “It’s how I learned,” she said. “It’s easier for me, but your generation hardly knows what a pencil is anymore.” I cleared my mind as she instructed and waited. Later, she said, I could ask specific questions, but for now I was to just let my guides talk about whatever they deemed most important. Nothing happened for half an hour. I decided this was not for me and gave up, but Rose said, “Stay put, honey.” Ten minutes later, words began to flow.

  “This time is for something to you that may not be easily understood but so much of what you are open to now has shown that this is possible so that you can find where the place is and the things that you are to do will be possible in your mind because they have already happened in the universe the planes of existence and crossing times play a role in each other but this should not stop the efforts of where you are heading it is sometime to see any place to feel what must be in this now a chance has come to grow all the remaining but obstacles may be too many depending on the number that find the openings and see the shows . . . ”

  Three pages like that before I made it stop.

  “It’ll get easier to understand what they’re saying. Read it a few times and it may become clear,” Rose said, after reading it. “But you get a sense they know what’s going on and have a lot to say about it.”

  “I should hope so.” The feeling of a spirit guide communicating with me through my mind was not new, but seeing it so clearly on the screen was very exciting.

  Tanya, deciding it wasn’t the best time to start her diet, brought pizza for dinner. We discussed every theory we could think of on where they were holding Dustin and what we could do to find him. The answer was always Spencer; we needed his help. Rose had several clients the next day so Tanya offered to drive me to meet him. “I love the beach,” she said, taking a sip of her sugar-free soda as she scarfed down the last slice.

  After dinner, I called Mom and promised her answers tomorrow. She was still going around in circles with the lawyers. “Josh suggested we talk to one of the Ashland cops who frequents the Station. It would all be off the record, but we could get some advice.”

  “No way!”

  “I told him you’d say that. He wants to come up to Merlin to talk to you about it.”

  “We’re dealing with a rogue element in our government. There’s nothing normal about this situation, and we can’t address it in normal ways. If Josh wants to come up here for a history lesson, fine. Otherwise, tell him to stay in Ashland and don’t talk to anyone.”

  “Nate, I’m not going to tell him that.”

  “Well, think of something to stop him, or we’ll all end up arrested.”

  Kyle reported that both he and Linh had seen a van watching their house. Linh saw it at the Station, too, and wondered if they were looking for me or if they knew I was out of Ashland and were just keeping friends and family under surveillance. Amber had also seen it driving past her driveway in the morning, then again at school around lunchtime. They were all nervous.

  It was hard for me to sleep that night. Thoughts of Dustin swirled in my mind—where was he? Maybe trying to get to us on the astral? What was Agent Sanford Fitts doing right now? Would he find me? I thrashed in the sheets until morning, waking out of an Outview; my dad and I were friends in the same Mayan lifetime when I had died by a conquistador sword, falling into the sacred pool. But this time, we were in the seaside town of Tulum, plotting with seven others how to get the artifact safely to the only person who could save our people. It ended abruptly, and although I knew they/we had failed to protect the artifact or preserve the Mayan civilization, I was oddly left with a sense of optimism.

  36

  Friday, September 26

  Rose made her famous bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Glad I decided to postpone my diet.” Tanya laughed. Rose told us she had already checked on Dustin on the astral, he was still not looking well. She’d had no luck communicating with him yet.

  “You tell Spencer Copeland that I said he needs to find Montgomery’s first son,” Rose ordered me.

  “I’ve got a good feeling that Nate’s going to find his brother,” Tanya said.

  She handed me three Spanish books “Here’re the books you asked for. All those years toiling in high school Spanish and all I can remember is how to count uno, dos, tres, cuatro. Maybe you’ll do better.”

  Linh called just before we were going to lose cell coverage, driving along the Smith River. “The van was out there again this morning. I’m really worried about all of us.”

  “I’m on my way to see Spencer right now; by the end of the day we’ll have a plan to rescue Dustin and keep everyone safe. Just be very careful. Don’t go anywhere alone. They obviously don’t want any publicity, and it doesn’t seem like they’re willing to just snatch any of us in the light of day.”

  “I had a dream last night—” Linh began before we lost the signal. Tanya offered to turn around so we could finish the call, but we had to get to Spencer.

  I meditated until we got to the coast, then directed Tanya to the guardrail.

  Entering the forest that separated the road from the beach was like going home. The trees greeted me, my name in the breeze. I traversed the steep trail with memories of that night mixed with the sights before me. The woods made me feel strong. Spencer was right; nature was the power place. These trees were extra special. This was the place of my “vision quest.” It would always be sacred.

  Spencer was waiting in the same spot where we first saw him, as if he was part of that rock, part of this beach.

  “What do you see out
there?” I asked, interrupting his view.

  “The problems of humanity.”

  “In that beautiful ocean?” I asked. Then I saw his eyes, troubled, sorrowful.

  “I’m torn, Nate. To show you the things you need to know is to steal your childhood and burden you with more than a person should carry.”

  “My childhood ended the day my dad died.”

  He stared into my eyes. “They got Dustin.”

  “I knew you’d know.” I tried to read him, but it was impossible. “Right now, all I care about is getting Dustin back. Can you find him?”

  “I can help you find him. They’re using Dustin as bait. They want you to come for him.”

  “How do they know I can find him? Do they know I have psychic powers?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then for sure they want me dead.”

  “If they can’t convince you to ‘work’ for them, then they will have to kill you.”

  “You’re always so full of good news.”

  “Nate, don’t take it lightly. You may not survive this.”

  “You don’t understand, Spencer. If I take it too seriously, if I dwell on all that’s at stake, then I’ll run away and hide. I’m not some brave hero. Linh thinks I’m Harry Potter; I’m not. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t know what to do. And every other word out of your mouth since we first met is how the weight of the world is on my shoulders and how at any moment, I could be killed; my friends and family, too. Now they’ve grabbed Dustin and are stalking me and the people I care about. I can feel the freaking pressure! Okay? It’s there with every waking breath, and I don’t even want to talk about how it is when I sleep. So, don’t worry about me taking things too lightly. I’m just barely hanging on, all right?”

  “Okay. Fair enough,” his whole face softened. His eyes apologized. “Let’s get started.”