by Brandt Legg
“You may be right. But you don’t know.”
“Neither do you, Nate,” Amber said.
“Maybe not.”
“There is no book of ‘spiritual laws;’ it’s just clear. It should be anyway. Meditate on something and the answer comes . . . eventually. You should be able to feel what is true.”
“I can’t always,” I admitted. “And sometimes when I think I understand, someone comes along with a different take and that makes sense too.”
“That’s thinking, not feeling,” Linh said. “When you know without thinking, then it is true.”
“Okay, but isn’t our ultimate goal to stop Omnia? What I’m doing with Marie isn’t hurting her and it’s definitely nonviolent. I mean, Yangchen, I’m using soul powers. And how is Omnia going to recover from Carst and the Fed corruption that’ll be delivered to the masses on a single night?”
“You know better than to underestimate Omnia. Their understanding of the universe and soul powers are expanding at a frightening rate. They are far beyond the Movement in many areas. Imagine if we premier our Air-Projections of Carst and Omnia’s Fed crimes one night and Omnia has a way to make that night never exist.”
A heavy silence took the room.
Linh spoke first. “Is that possible, Yangchen?”
“Anything is possible,” she said impatiently.
“I know, but are they close to that . . . that ability to kill time?”
“We believe they have achieved it in a distant dimension. Whether they can duplicate the results here is yet to be seen.”
“How can we counter that?” Amber asked in a trembling voice.
Yangchen searched our faces, clearly regretting sharing her terrifying news. “Even if we find a way to counter it . . . I mean, you have to realize, we may have already countered it and Omnia made it so that our counter never happened.”
It was extraordinarily horrible news, the worst we’d ever heard. Then I wondered what else Yangchen knew but dared not share.
50
The following morning while Linh and I were discussing the final two names on the list – Helen Hartman and Kevin Morrison – an Outview pulled me away.
As soon as I saw Marie Jones sitting on her balcony talking to two men in dark suits, it was clear trouble had come.
“What has your contact been with Nathan Ryder?” one of them asked calmly.
“None. The only thing I know about him is what I’ve seen in the media.”
“Please, Ms. Jones, the truth would be more helpful.”
“That is the truth. Look, I’m not comfortable being interrogated here. If I’m being charged with something, I’d like to know what it is and then I’d like to contact an attorney.”
The two men looked at each other. Three more were inside. They loaded every piece of computer or electronic equipment onto a large cart. One of the men was a mystic. He scanned the condo with Vising and Foush. He didn’t seem to be able to do Timbal or he might have detected my presence. Not that they would have been able to arrest me, since I wasn’t there in physical form. I recalled the conversation with Yangchen from the night before and a wave of fear gripped me. They might now be able to apprehend me in a non-physical way.
I snapped back into the Outview at the sound of Jones’s scream. The two men were holding her upside down, suspending her from the forty-sixth floor railing.
“Jones, we know you’re in communication with Nathan Ryder. Admit it, tell us how you are contacting him and what information you’ve given him. There will be no charges, no attorneys, no other chances. Now, answer,” he snapped.
“I’ve never met nor spoken to Nathan Ryder. Please, I’m telling you the truth,” she screamed.
“Is that your final answer, Ms. Jones?”
“Yes, no, what do you want me to say? I’ve never talked to him, but I’ll say whatever you want.”
The two men exchanged a casual glance and dropped her. Within the Outview, I felt her terror as she plunged and the micro-second of incredible, complete pain as “we” hit the pavement.
To know I had killed Marie Jones, just as if I had thrown her from the balcony myself, sent me reeling in a devastating shredded view across time. Yangchen had tried to warn me. Marie never had a chance to follow her own destiny. At the very point in her life where she could decide on her own path, I pushed her down a road that led to her murder. More than another ghost I carried, the wound of Marie would be felt in all my future incarnations. I needed Wandus to show me how to make this right. How I wished I could just pursue the powers and mysteries of the universe without having to fight for survival. Without a chance to reconcile my soul to what had just happened, I landed in the Middle East centuries earlier.
The market was teeming with traders, farmers and shoppers. Scents of mustard, incense, raw meats and wool wafted as I made my way through the crowd. I had control of the lifetime and forward-memory but no powers. Still, I sensed danger. This was yet another life to survive the exhausting battles waged by Omnia to prevent my time as Nate. I’d gained enough knowledge of the structure of time, understanding of dimensions within infinite universes, and simultaneous lifetimes, to know this “game” with Omnia had been going on longer than anyone knew and would likely, in some form, last forever. I recognized a man across the bustling square. He’d seen me, too, and there wasn’t anyone from any lifetime I would’ve rather seen at that moment. Spencer came from behind a stall and led me quickly into a deserted alley.
I grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. Tears welled in my eyes. “Where have you been?” I asked.
“Lost.”
“What do you mean?” I recalled my second meeting with Spencer on Tea Leaf Beach, where he warned me that it was possible to get stuck in between time, but it never occurred to me that he could.
“Omnia has breached the parallels. It’s made it impossible for me to get back. They’ve elevated this contest to something never before seen . . .”
“By using interdimensional warfare.”
He nodded. “Then Yangchen knows?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ve been trying to get back to inform the Movement.”
“We found out when they took Linh.”
He instantly looked concerned.
“We rescued her. She’s fine.”
“How long have I been gone?”
“Six weeks.”
He sighed, relieved. “It’s been thirty-eight years for me.”
“Dunaway?”
“Still has the Jadeo.”
“I’ve been pursuing it through time, even managed to do a walk-in as one of the conquistadors who killed you in Mexico. I got to the Cenote at the same time as your dad. I met his stone axe and was dead before he recognized me.”
“Omnia is beating us badly.”
“It appears that way. I believe they have intentionally prevented me from returning to our time.”
“How?”
“Piercing dimensions. Depending how advanced their abilities are, they can rearrange almost anything.”
“The Movement thinks Omnia is still at a basic level.”
“Maybe in our current life. But time’s a funny thing, I’ve been wandering across a hundred or more lifetimes during my exile these thirty-eight years and I’ve encountered Omnia’s agents in almost all of them.”
“Am I trapped back here too?”
He looked upset. “Do you have powers?”
“No.”
“It’s been impossible to escape this lifetime. As soon as I saw you, I realized it’s because I needed to be here when you came. So perhaps we shall help each other yet again.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
“I haven’t been able to communicate with you in our time but I’ve had some success getting to past incarnations, and I have a pretty good idea who is running Omnia.”
“That’s the break we’ve been needing. Is it some—”
Omnia agents appeared at the end of the alley. Spenc
er pushed me into a run. We darted around the corner. “Don’t get separated,” he yelled, as we entered an enormous square filled with thousands of people. “This is a dangerous city.”
I stayed close to him as we pushed through the sea of soldiers, religious devotees, children and peasants. “What’s going on here?” I shouted above the noise.
“A festival to cel—” I couldn’t hear the rest of his answer as the crowd swelled and pushed us apart. I looked behind for a second to see if the Omnia agents were near. When I turned back around, Spencer was far ahead. His eyes found mine. I saw agents right behind him and screamed his name.
51
Amber found me doubled over on the floor. “Spencer!” I shouted.
“You’re Nathan Ryder from Ashland, Oregon.”
“Damn it. I know who I am. Is Spencer here?” I jumped to my feet intent on searching the house and grounds. He must have made it back, too. My body folded, dropping to the floor.
“Nate, you’ve been yelling and flailing for hours. After the third time you fell out of bed, we left you on the floor.”
“I don’t care about that. We’ve got to save Spencer. Please go look for him.”
Linh and Yangchen rushed in at my yelling. I gave them a quick version of the events in the Outviews. Linh and Amber left to search for him while Yangchen asked for every detail I could recall about where I’d seen Spencer and what he said.
“He’s not here,” Linh said breathlessly. “We’ve looked everywhere.” Amber helped me to the kitchen where Yangchen did extensive healing while I devoured a platter of steamed vegetables.
“I’d love a Coke right now,” I said.
“He hasn’t evolved at all.” Amber rolled her eyes.
Yangchen excused herself. In her absence I told them more about my time with Marie Jones and Spencer. After what seemed a long while, Yangchen returned.
“You must go,” Yangchen said firmly.
“Where?” Linh asked.
“To meet Booker.”
“I can’t,” I said weakly.
“It is not a short trip, you’ll be able to rest on the way. With a few Lusans, you’ll be fully recuperated in a couple of hours,” Yangchen insisted.
“This is important?” I asked.
“You need to ask that question?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “When do we leave?”
“Now.” Yangchen hurried us into the helicopter. Booker had summoned us, which had never happened before. Something major was going on.
“Are you coming?” Amber asked Yangchen.
“No, I’m needed elsewhere.” She told us it would take more than twenty hours of travel to reach our destination.
“Why can’t we get there through the Wizard Island portal?” I asked.
“This island cannot be reached by any portals,” Yangchen responded.
“Seriously?” I’d never heard of such a place.
“Then why can’t we meet here?”
“You know it’s not safe for Booker to come here.”
“It doesn’t seem safe for us to be traveling for twenty hours by conventional methods. But I guess Booker knows what he’s doing.”
Yangchen nodded.
“What’s it about?” Linh asked.
“He’ll explain.”
“Yangchen, promise me you’ll continue to search for Spencer.”
“Of course,” she said, shutting the helicopter door.
The island held the distinction of being the most isolated in Booker’s collection. We didn’t need the water to block remote viewers. Recalling that tactic reminded me of simpler times before I knew of Carst, puncturing dimensions, and the war with Omnia had expanded into lifetimes across thousands of years and throughout the parallels. The island was not likely to draw much attention from satellites that monitored nearly everything now.
The final leg of our journey was by seaplane, refueling twice at ships along the way. After a few hours sleep, the pilot left the tiny island in order to pick up Booker and two other guests. Amber, Linh and I would be alone until late the next day.
The “shack” was the main structure on the small patch of land hidden among thousands of miles of open waters. Although a shack by Booker’s standards, anyone else would call it quite spacious – six bedrooms, three baths and a large greatroom. The island wasn’t big enough to have one of his trademark golf carts but there were bicycles. Solar panels and large water tanks kept everything comfortable. We went for a swim and tried for a half hour to forget the stakes and consequences of our every action.
We relaxed on chaises, letting the late afternoon sun warm us. My physical strength had returned during the trip, but I was mentally exhausted. We hadn’t spoken much during the journey as I rested and thought about Marie and Spencer. On the beach, the sun felt like a lover, caressing, soft and penetrating. As the warm breeze brought scents of exotic tropical flowers and Amber and Linh exchanged hushed small talk, I thought of Floral Lake in Outin and wondered about Dustin.
“I read our horoscopes yesterday, and all of us are supposed to have a good month,” Amber said.
“We need it,” I replied, sipping a smoothie. With no staff on the island, we fended for ourselves. The kitchen was stocked well enough with basics and the pilot had unloaded a crate of fresh fruit and vegetables.
“Every month can be good,” Linh said. “Astrology is too limited.”
“What are you talking about?” Amber asked, sharply.
“The problem with astrology,” Linh began, “is that it’s based on a comically tiny number of planets.”
“Hey, everything helps. It’s not easy to navigate this world. If everyone studied –”
“The power path, astrology, Chinese year of the rabbit, it’s all external, and it’s all based on human interpretations of incomplete data and superstition,” Linh interrupted.
“How do you explain the accuracy of astrology?”
“There isn’t any. People who follow astrology and the like are usually more in tune with their higher selves so they get their guidance that way. Plus, most forecasts and readings are so general that people can easily make them fit their lives and find something in there they want to hear. And finally, if you flip a coin and guess the outcome, you’ll be right a bunch of times.”
“Whatever,” Amber said, annoyed. “You claim every month can be good, so how do you explain the horrible few years we’ve had.”
“Have they been that bad? We’re still alive.”
“Not all of us,” Amber reminded.”
Linh’s eyes flashed anger. It was a surprisingly insensitive jab from Amber. We all knew how much Linh missed Kyle.
“Anything can be manifested; we just haven’t been doing it,” Linh said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“It’s more difficult than it seems, and all distractions must be minimized.”
“Distractions? We’ve been swimming in nothing but distractions for years.”
“That’s no accident,” Linh said.
“I’ve known a great astrologer,” Amber pressed. “She called stuff about me that was specific and crazy-accurate.”
“I’ll bet she was psychic,” Linh said, “even if she didn’t know it. Tarot cards, I-ching, numerology, all those things are just tools to awaken our own intuition. The cards don’t tell us any more than the stars.”
“That sounds a lot like what Clastier says,” I said.
“I know, I’ve read some of his stuff. He’s brilliant. Imagine what’s in the missing pages.”
“Do you agree with her?” Amber asked me, but Linh answered first.
“Nate is Clastier, Amber; he wrote the papers,” Linh said.
“I don’t think Clastier is saying astrology, et cetera, is phony,” I said. “He’s saying they are tools, not answers. The answers come from ourselves.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Linh said.
“All the time we’ve spent practicing the soul powers has proven this. No mat
ter how much information we have on what the power is, what it does and how it works, it doesn’t come together until we find it from within,” I said.
“There’s a movement about that,” Linh smiled.
“All right, we have the time on this island. Let’s manifest something. Let’s make some peace,” Amber said.
“Manifesting is about knowing,” I replied. “As Wandus would say, ‘That’s a trickier trick than it sounds.’ Consciously creating circumstances is a tremendously powerful thing and that’s why it’s so deceptively difficult.”
“It’s not just –” I didn’t hear Amber’s answer because Dustin interrupted over the astral.
“I was just wondering about you,” I said.
“Yeah? Well I was just worrying about you. You’ve got a rough night ahead, brother.”
“Why?”
“I saw it in a Window. A storm’s coming.”
I looked at the cloudless blue sky and calm surf. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, like a massive hurricane. You need to get ready.”
“Okay.”
“And Nate . . . one of you dies.”
52
When I pressed Dustin for details, his only response was, “I couldn’t see through the storm, it was just there. I can’t explain it.”
I told the girls about his warnings and we discussed our options. There was no way off the island; its location outside the typhoon belt meant steady rains were normally the worst weather. There was no storm shelter, but we did find a few rolls of masking tape and taped the windows with asterisk patterns. Amber said it would reduce the amount of flying glass if the storm came as fierce as Dustin predicted. The only room without windows was a pantry located in the interior of the house. Nothing happened for many hours; the sky remained blue and completely clear. We wondered if Dustin’s Window existed or if he’d mistaken ours for a different dimension. Then, just after dinner, the first clouds appeared.
“Do you see that?” Amber said, pointing.
“The clouds are forming right out of the ocean,” Linh gasped.
“Damn it! You know what that means?” I shouted, as the sea lifted all around, swirling into thick clouds. “Someone is causing this storm. Omnia must know we’re here!”