Broken Dragon (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 3) (27 page)

“Cameron Lee comes from a realm where everybody has transferred themselves into synthetic bodies. He was damaged pretty badly in an accident, and the hospital didn’t know what to do with a robot, so they called the cops. Bohannon asked me to go with him, and, long story short, I got Cam’s head working, but I didn’t have time to reattach it to his body, because your alter ego was dive-bombing the Ross Island Bridge. I brought his head with me, because it could track Mom’s phone’s GPS signal.”

“Yesterday
was
quite a day.”

“Anyway, what precipitated Cam’s accident in the first place was this black hole that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a blue bubble, and he heard a deep voice telling him it was time to come home.”

“A blue bubble like—”

Mara nodded. “Like the Chronicle of Creation when it’s activated. That’s what I thought.”

“You think it might be Abby?”

“The Aphotis. Cam’s description of the voice sounds like Juaquin Prado’s.”

“If the entity that took Abby is using the Chronicle to do something to passengers that have crossed over, that could have significant consequences on a mind-boggling scale. The implications of her being able to move around from realm to realm at will are potentially horrendous. The destruction she could wreak could reach across existence itself.”

“But why just the passengers?”

“Was Cam assaulted in anyway? Was there an attempt to abduct him?”

Mara shook her head. “Not physically. But he did describe beginning to dissolve into that fluorescent mist—similar to what happened when I sent Mr. Sandoval back to his realm. That’s when Cam panicked, and the accident occurred.”

“Find the trail of mist,” Ping said. “That’s the third line in the haiku, correct?”

“Yes, but what does that mean? There was no trail. He escaped.”

“But you said there have been other disappearances. Maybe the third line is simply a hint to indicate the course you should take, while investigating these occurrences.”

“Maybe,” Mara said. She leaned over the arm of her chair and retrieved the book bag from the floor. After unzipping it, she removed the small leather-bound book. “There are a couple new haikus that have shown up since the last time you saw this.”

Ping reached for the book, but Mara held it away from him. “Are you sure you are up to this? I mean you are in the hospital recovering from some serious injuries.”

He waved a hand in the air, dismissing the concern. “Like I said before, you look more tired than I do. Perhaps you should get the detective to give you a treatment.”

“I don’t need healing, thank you. And, if I did, I suspect you could do it yourself, since it is likely that Bo passed on the ability to you, just like Denton Proctor gave it to Bo.”

Ping up held his hands and studied them. “That had not occurred to me. I’ll have to give it a try sometime.”

“You do that.”

He held out his hand and said, “Give me the book. Let’s see if we can figure out what it’s trying to tell us.”

Mara opened the book and handed it to him. Leaning back into his pillow, Ping read aloud: “
Forget all the fears preventing you from learning. Exchange memories
.” He pondered the passage for a moment, tapping his cheek with a finger and looking into the distance.

After several minutes Mara said, “Well? Does that mean anything to you?”

“No. It’s classic haiku construction. We have to assume this is future Mara talking to you. Clearly something you fear is preventing you from learning what you need to proceed toward whatever goal she has in mind. This ‘exchange memories’ is fascinating. I’m not sure what that means at all. What do you think it means? It is you, after all, who is writing these haikus.”

“Beats me. I can’t even imagine considering a haiku as a form of communication, much less one as nonsensical as this. But I have to admit the one on the next page does sound a little more like me.” She pointed to the edge of the page, and Ping flipped it.

He read aloud: “
Quit being a twit
.” Laughing and looking up, he said, “Yes, that does sound more like you, and you might want to take it to heart going forward.” He continued reading. “
Prepare like a pastor with this realm’s Chronicle
.” His eyes narrowed, as he considered the passage.

After a short moment of silence, Mara cut in and said, “You know, there is such a thing as thinking out loud. What are you thinking?”

“
This realm’s Chronicle
. I wonder to what that refers?”

“I assumed it was the Chronicle of Creation, the one that Abby took. I guess that’s what I think of when I think of the Chronicle.”

“I don’t know if that’s correct,” he said, pausing again. “
This. Realm’s. Chronicle
. I don’t think it can be the Chronicle of Creation.”

“Why not?”

“The Chronicle that Abby took did not come from this realm. Remember? It came into this realm with Sam’s Mara when they crossed over on Flight 559. It is not this realm’s Chronicle, is it? It must be referring to this book, which presumably came from this realm, albeit from the future. That might make sense with this
prepare like a pastor
reference. What does a pastor prepare? A sermon? What book does a pastor use to prepare a sermon? Scriptures, perhaps?”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all. That’s just too convoluted,” Mara said. “
Stop being a twit
, now that’s me, obvious, literal, but this exchanging memories and pastors preparing sermons, as Hannah would say,
nuh-uh
.”

Ping fanned through the back pages of the little book which remained blank and closed it with a soft thud. “It could simply be a matter of time before events fall into place, so that these things make sense.”

“Yes, but won’t that be too late?”

Footsteps, shuffling and voices pierced Mara’s subconscious and pulled her awake from a deep sleep, as she lay on the couch in the living room. Opening her eyes, she found she could not focus on anything for a few moments, because her eyes didn’t seem to want to work, and it was pitch dark. Someone flipped on the lamp sitting on the end table next to where Mara’s head lay. The light blinded her.

“Hi, Mar-ree!” Hannah said, her cheeks rosy from the cool air outside.

Mara rubbed her eyes and sat up. The little leather-bound book from the future slid from her chest to her lap. “Hey, are you trying to blind me? I thought you guys were going to visit Ping at the hospital.”

Sam swept around the end of the couch and grabbed Hannah by the waist, lifting her into the air, pirouetting across the round throw rug and landing in the chair to the left of the fireplace. “Mom dropped me off at the hospital two hours ago. She and Hannah ran some errands, while I visited with Ping. Where’s Cam?”

“Right here,” he said. His head leaned at a slight tilt next to a throw pillow in the matching chair on the opposite side of the fireplace.

Mara ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head in an effort to cast off the drowsiness. “I can’t believe I crashed like that, with you sitting there the whole time. Sorry.”

“I understand. You’re exhausted following all the excitement yesterday,” Cam said.

“Yes, but I need to get you put back together. It’s the least I can do, considering how much you helped us yesterday. You deserve more than being stuck sitting here watching me crash for a few hours,” she said.

Diana closed the front door and took off her coat. “Don’t you think you might be a little too tired to be driving around at night? Can’t you wait until tomorrow to work on Cam?” she asked.

“I think he’s waited long enough. Besides, I’m feeling pretty well rested after that little nap. I’ll be okay,” Mara said.

“I’d be more than willing to volunteer to wait, but I’m not sure it would be a good idea,” Cam said. “At some point, the current state of affairs with my systems will degrade, and I’m afraid that may already be happening.”

Mara stiffened. “Degrade how?”

“There’s an interplay that happens between the neural engrams stored in my head and the central core—the main computer, if you will—stored in my torso that sustains my personality or consciousness. The remote connection I’m using is not robust enough to support those processes over the long term. Eventually I will begin to have about as much personality as a toaster, if we don’t do anything.”

“I think you would be a great toaster,” Hannah said. “A talking toaster would be funny.”

Sam smiled. “Yes, it would, but I don’t think Cam wants to be a toaster, bean.”

“Okay, let me throw some soup and sandwiches together, and then you can go,” Diana said, walking from the room, not leaving time for debate.

Mara turned to Cam and said, “I can tell her we can pick up something to eat on the way, if you want to get on the road.”

“I don’t think a few minutes more will make much of a difference,” he said.

Sam pointed to the book Mara was holding. “Ping says you got another haiku. You didn’t mention it before.”

“Yes. I was going to see if Hannah could help me figure out something.” She turned to the little girl and held up the book. “Did your Mara, the older version of me, did she make this book herself or did she get it from someone else?”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know where she got it.”

“Why does that matter?” Sam asked.

“The latest haiku makes a reference to
this realm’s Chronicle
. At first I assumed it meant the Chronicle of Creation, the one that Abby took. But Ping pointed out that that Chronicle was not from this realm. It is from your original realm.”

“So?”

“So, if the Chronicle your Mara brought over isn’t from this realm, I was hoping to find out if the book was referring to itself, to the Chronicle of Continuity.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Sam said.

Cam interjected, “Can I ask a stupid question?”

“Sure,” Mara said. “Go ahead.”

“If each realm can have a distinct version of a person, why couldn’t it have a distinct version of an object, say, like this Chronicle you are referring to?”

“I don’t know.” Mara raised her eyebrow and thought for a moment. “When I crossed over to Juaquin Prado’s realm where the machines were organic and they interred dead people in lightbulbs, the buildings and landmarks around the shop were recognizable but distinct in some ways. So I guess each realm could have different versions of the same object. Buildings are objects. Why not?”

“You’re saying that there might be a Chronicle of Creation made in this realm? I’m not sure I buy that. My Mara could have picked it up in any number of places. Unlike you, she wasn’t shy about crossing over to other realms.”

“Yeah, but she had to have the Chronicle before she crossed over to other realms, right?”

“That’s true.”

“Then the Chronicle had to come originally from your realm,” Mara said.

“That makes sense.”

“So the question is, who created the Chronicle of Creation?”

“Ned Pastor,” Diana said, leaning against the entrance to the living room.

“What?” Mara asked.

“I bet there’s a Ned Pastor in Sam’s realm, and he made the Chronicle,” Diana said.

“What makes you say that? Ned couldn’t even repair the original one. I had to remount the crystals after he cut them, remember?” Mara said.

“Is this Ned guy kinda tall and lanky, wiry?” Sam said.

Diana nodded.

“There was a guy who made jewelry and icons and stuff for my mother’s cult. He might’ve made the Chronicle. I could see that being the case.”

“What makes you so sure it was Ned?” Mara asked her mother.

“Because Ned called the other day to tell us that he made a duplicate of the Chronicle, remember?”

“He did?”

“Yeah. You said you didn’t care if he mass produced Chronicles and sold them on eBay.”

“I vaguely remember that.”

“So this realm’s Chronicle could refer to the one that Ned built,” Sam said.

Mara looked down at the book in her lap and opened it to the haiku. “
Prepare like a pastor with this realm’s Chronicle
,” she read aloud and then looked up at her mother.

“It says that in there?” Diana asked.

Mara nodded.

“Well, stop being a twit, and go get it,” Sam said.

* * *

Diana sat a plate of halved sandwiches in the center of the table, picked up the bowl sitting in front of Hannah and turned to the stove to ladle soup into it. Mara and Sam sat on either side of her, and the seat directly across the table from her was empty for the moment.

Mara’s gaze tracked her mother, moving around the table serving everyone, and said, “Mom, why didn’t you and Hannah stop in to visit with Ping?”

Diana paused. “I thought it would be a good idea not to overwhelm him, while he’s still recovering,” she said. Her expression clearly indicated she wanted to drop the subject.

“She’s afraid he was going to turn into the dragon again,” Sam said, as if quoting the weather forecast. He loudly slurped his soup.

“I’m not afraid. I’m just being prudent. There’s no point in tempting fate, especially while he’s recovering, and we’re not certain what is going on with that thing inside him,” Diana said.

Mara was about to say something supportive of her mother when Hannah, who had soup running from the corner of her mouth, raised a hand and asked, “Why didn’t Cam want to come eat with us?”

Mara handed her a paper napkin and said, “To be honest with you, I’m not even sure if Cam eats. Even if he does, it would be kinda hard right now, since he’s detached from his stomach, assuming he even has a stomach.”

“I get the impression he doesn’t like watching us do things that are, um, biological,” Sam said.

Diana frowned at him. “What have you been doing in front of him?”

“I meant eating, Mom. He doesn’t like watching people eat. I think he finds it repugnant.”

Mara pointed at her brother. “Vocabulary word, right? Anyway, he did make a comment about how people in our realm have body odor, when I first met him. I bet he finds a lot of things about us distasteful.”

“Daddy smells better when he is grown up,” Hannah said.