Authors: David Clarkson
Emerald Sky (10 page)
It had never felt so good. It had never
felt so real. If she opened her eyes she believed that Lucy really would be
there with her.
Watching her.
Satisfying her.
She resisted the temptation to look, no
matter how strongly it pulled at her. The moment was too precious to risk
losing for anything. She would prolong it for as long as possible. There was a
part of her that wished it would never end.
Above her head, the security cameras
tracked all movement within the room. Esteban had been worried about how Emmy
would cope following her psyche evaluation and had been watching the live feed
to keep an eye on her. The images presented to him came as a greater shock than
anything he had previously been exposed to on the mission. It both terrified and
concerned him.
Was it an illusion – a trick? He was
unsure what to make of it, and until he was in a position to make any sense of
it, he thought it best to make sure nobody else knew. The camera feed was being
recorded, but it was unlikely that it would be viewed without there being cause
to do so. There was a good chance he could amend the footage without anybody
finding out.
Once Emmy was alone and resting, he
deleted the recording of the previous hour and pasted in earlier footage from
the night before. He then returned to his quarters. As it was with the
scientist, but for very different reasons, sleep eluded him.
Colonel Rodman made good on his promise
the following morning. Emmy’s Spartan cell was upgraded to a comfortable room
with en-suite facilities and a desk for her to work at. The security cameras
remained. As did the guard posted at the door, and one more at each end of the
corridor, but it was an improvement nonetheless.
Once settled into her new quarters, Emmy
again allowed her thoughts to drift back to bygone days. The previous night had
brought the past closer than ever. It had felt so real. She could not shake it
off even if she wanted to, which she did not.
Now more than ever she needed to have
something positive to focus on. She needed an ideal around which to anchor her
fragile hopes for the future.
Her time with Lucy had been brief and all
too often fraught with danger. Even in the aftermath of Jackson’s Hill, when
they went into hiding, it had never run smoothly. It would not have been
practical to spend the remainder of their lives in what was little more than a
desert, surviving solely on that which their wits could provide. If they were
to enjoy any quality of life, a return to civilisation was inevitable, which
Emmy’s lover could never fully accept.
Lucy never spoke much of her life before
they met. Aside from her father, whose death had instigated her trip into the
country’s interior, Emmy knew nothing of the girl’s family or friends. Lucy
never talked about them and nor did she attempt to make any contact with them
whatsoever. Emmy never asked, because whenever they were together, only the
present, the current moment mattered. They lived for the day. For a time, it had
been enough.
Their first camp was barely even that.
They did not have so much as a tent. Just their swags and the bare essentials
needed to cook and keep their hygiene within civilised levels. It was a basic,
some may say primitive existence, but for a short time, it kept them safe. When
each day ended, isolation brought with it one major benefit.
Lucy loved the stars. They both did.
Their light guided sailors safely to port, enabled scientists to accurately
predict the age of the universe, and they reminded Emmy and Lucy that anything
really was possible. Every night without fail the same colours would light up
the heavens. So long as they were under that diamond sky, they were home.
In time, they moved to an abandoned
cattle ranch. Emmy restored the power and after acquiring a vehicle she was
able to make monthly trips into town to stock up on the supplies they needed to
keep them going.
Lucy never joined her on these trips. She
shunned all contact with the outside world. Whether it was through fear or
loathing, Emmy could not tell. After the depths of human cruelty they had both
witnessed, either was equally probable. Over time, these short periods apart
gave Emmy an independence that made her long to rejoin the real world. Only
when the surprise visitor turned up did she make up her mind for certain.
Jimmy was a mess when she found him. At
first, she mistook his gaunt appearance and apathetic demeanour to be
side-effects of the radiation. Lucy refused to even be in the same room as him.
Emmy soon realised, however, that his ill health had nothing to do with what
had happened at Jackson’s Hill. Not directly, anyway. He had simply lost all
will to live.
He told her about his life after the
tragedy. He told her about the gambling (if a guaranteed win every time could
ever be considered as such), he told her about his nightmares and he told her
about the man he had killed.
‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ he said, almost
pleadingly. ‘I was trying to help the old lady. They were crowding around her
and I knew something bad was about to happen. I’d never been in a fight before,
but I felt like I was being guided by some invisible force. Normally, I’m able
to see the future, but at that moment, I could actually feel the future. Before
I even realised it the knife was in my hands. I should’ve stopped myself, but I
could already see it sticking out of his chest. I didn’t want to do it, but I
didn’t know how to stop myself. When I get these visions it’s as if the future
has already happened and I’m just catching up to it. I swear, I didn’t mean to
kill him.’
She could see the anguish, the torment in
every atom of his being. It was at that moment, looking into his frightened
eyes, she realised the true price of her mistakes. It was also at that moment
she realised how the debt must be repaid.
‘What would you have done if you hadn’t
stabbed the attacker?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Jimmy. ‘Before
that point, I’d felt guilty for being the only one to get away from the town and
for having this power that allows me to take money from others so easily. I
guess that helping the old woman would have taken some of that away. I’d have
seen it as a sign to carry on. I’d have gone back to the poker and I would’ve
put my winnings to good use. I’d have used it to help people. I can’t do that
now. Now I know the harm these visions can cause. They’re evil.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Emmy told him. ‘Don’t you
see – you can still do some good. How do we know that the mugger did not intend
to use his knife on the old lady or maybe even his next victim after her?
Taking his life could actually have saved many more. And more importantly, it
stopped you from going back to what you were doing. Instead, it led you here to
me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The point is that you can still do some
good, but not by simply winning money and giving it to people like some
roulette rigging Robin Hood. You can actually save lives. Just think of the
possibilities if you could harness your power. You could avert disaster before
it happens. You could be a hero.’
Unfortunately, he did not share in her
enthusiasm. He certainly did not feel heroic. And more importantly, he did not
feel like he could ever control the visions. They controlled him. The outcome
was dictated to him, not presented as a moral choice. Then there was also the
possibility the visions may not come when he needed them the most.
‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘I mean, how can we
even be sure that I’ll get a vision when I need it? What if next time the knife
ends up in me?’
They were in the kitchen of the ranch
building and a fruit bowl lay on the table next to Emmy. She picked up an apple
and threw it, aiming six inches to the right of Jimmy’s head. He instinctively
ducked away, but not in a way that implied any sort of sixth sense. In fact,
his actions were so clumsy that should it have been on target she was sure the
apple would have hit. She decided to repeat the experiment, but this time she
aimed directly between his eyes.
He caught the fruit without even
flinching.
She threw another and it yielded the same
result. When all the apples had gone she decided to up the stakes and throw the
actual bowl. It was carved from hard wood and even a glancing blow would cause
a lot of pain. She lifted it from the table, but as she prepared to unleash her
devastating backhand she was prevented from doing so by a set of fingers
curling tightly around her wrist.
‘What’re you doing?’ Jimmy asked in
astonishment, but not with any real concern.
‘Could you see what I was about to do?’
she asked.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I saw what I was about
to do and then I did it.’
‘It worked!’ she exclaimed with joy.
‘What worked?’
‘This is brilliant,’ she said, ignoring
his question. ‘I think I’ve found your trigger. There’s only one way to be
certain and for that we need to make a little trip outside.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean. What
is a trigger – are you talking about a gun?’
‘Of course I’m not talking about a gun. A
trigger is what makes the visions manifest themselves. When I threw the first
apple it caught you by surprise, but when I aimed the second one directly at
you, you saw it coming. The only difference was the element of danger or
threat. I think that if you’re placed in danger the visions will activate as a
form of survival instinct. If we can confirm this hypothesis then we may be
able to come up with a predictive theory.’
‘Okay, but why are you taking me outside
– are you looking for rocks to throw at me?’
‘No, not rocks. I’m hoping to find a
snake.’
Even after what followed, the boy had
been unfazed and she hoped he retained that same spirit in the present. The
Americans may have thought they had him under control, but she knew
differently. With Jimmy, everything happened for a reason. His visions always
served a greater purpose. With each passing day they were getting closer to
discovering what that purpose would ultimately be.
The laboratory was designed to mirror the
one she had used at the observatory in Jackson’s Hill. In fact, much of the
technological parts of the new machine had been taken directly from the
original. It did, however, come complete with a vastly superior computing
setup. No expense had been spared in providing her with the tools she needed to
recreate a fully functioning astral projection unit.
To aid in her work she had been assigned
two lab technicians and a senior scientist named Dr Constance Stark. The
newcomers had all been prepped and she was impressed with the knowledge they
displayed of her previous research. She saw no reason why they could not have a
prototype up and running by the end of the week. Provided that was, that there
were no clashes of personality.
Dr Stark was twenty years older than Emmy
and attractive with it. She had shoulder length blonde hair (not unlike
Lucy’s), a trim healthy figure and exuded the kind of sexual confidence that
only comes with maturity. There was also a strange familiarity about her, which
gave Emmy an unshakable feeling of déjà vu. Her new lab partner may have met
the academic requirements for the job, but Emmy wondered if she had been
recruited with an altogether different selection criteria in mind.
‘We’re really very excited to have you
here,’ said one of the lab rats, a geeky English kid named Paul. ‘I can’t
believe that I’ve finally gotten to meet the granddaughter of the famous
Jackson Fox.’
Emmy scowled at her subordinate.
‘Infamous would be a better word to
describe him,’ she told the tech. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention his name
again. Do you understand?’
‘Sorry,’ the tech replied.
The other technician, Peter, let out an
amused giggle, which was quickly cut off by a stern look of disapproval from Dr
Stark.
‘Please forgive the impropriety of
youth,’ she said. ‘I assure you that what they lack in discipline, they more
than make up for with their abilities.’
‘If youth were to blame, then I would be
just as guilty,’ Emmy replied. ‘However, I am well aware of the damage that
gossip and rumour mongering can do. If I cannot trust my team, I will request
another one. Is that clear, Dr Stark?’
‘Please, call me Connie.’ Her tone was
over confident and condescending, or maybe it was just Emmy’s paranoia making
it appear that way. ‘I assure you there will be no problems with our working
together,’ she continued, before then directing her attention toward Peter and
Paul. ‘With any of us working together.’
The two of them looked down at their feet
like a pair of naughty schoolboys. Emmy did not think they would pose any real
trouble, but it was vital that she ensured her authority was felt from the
beginning. Her influence had already been compromised by the fact she was
essentially a prisoner, whilst her team were free to come and go as they saw
fit. Establishing her seniority was the key to retaining what little power she
still had. If anything, being mentored by her grandfather had taught her the importance
of discipline – a lesson she expected to call upon often in the coming weeks.
‘In that case, as long as you all do as I
instruct (she made a point of looking at Dr Stark when saying this), we should
get along just fine. I’ll need a volunteer for the early stage testing. I’ve
never done a dual trip before so there’re bound to be a few kinks to iron out.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ offered Dr Stark. ‘I’m
well versed in the art of yoga and believe my experience in meditation will be
of service.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ Emmy replied.
‘Meditation only helps with getting the process started. Once you achieve
separation, there’s nothing that can prepare you for what follows. It’s also
important that you don’t get carried away. The only reason I’m co-operating on
this project is to help those coma patients. Therefore, there’s no reason for
the cord to be extended beyond the confines of this laboratory.’
‘That’s fine with me,’ replied Dr Stark.
Although she was yet to be given any
cause, Emmy still did not trust the sincerity of her new lab partner. After
agreeing to take part in the project, she had decided it would be safest to
assume everybody was lying to her all of the time. For that reason, she did not
plan on taking Constance into her confidence anytime soon.
***
With Emmy now in custody, Jimmy was no
longer under any pressure and was therefore able to devote more time to his
mother. He stayed at her bedside day and night, ever hopeful that his gift
would show him what had to be done, but the result was always the same.
Nothing.
No matter how much he tried to visualise
his goal, the visions did not come. He received no guidance. No prompts. There
was no way for him to help her or any of the others. It was as if he had been
rendered completely powerless.
As a small amount of consolation, this
lack of psychic activity did at least make him feel human again. It also
implied that nothing or nobody in the compound posed a threat to him. He was
safe.
For the time being, at least.
If it had taught him one lesson, his
ability to see the future had highlighted the impermanence of everything. All
things were subject to change and the greater the change, the quicker it would
come about.
He hoped he would soon see a change in
his mother’s condition. That one day he would arrive at her room to find her
awake and talking. When he had thought her dead he was at least able to grieve.
Now there was only pain and uncertainty. Something had to change. But sadly for
him, Jimmy had no way to make this happen.
Esteban, meanwhile, was growing
increasingly restless with each passing day. He had completed his mission in
delivering first Jimmy and then the scientist. The integrity of the base
remained uncompromised and he could see little point in his being there. Yet no
new orders had been handed down. The powers that be wanted him to remain where
he was.
They had to be planning something, but he
was at a loss to think what this could be. He could do nothing but bide his
time and wait for them to make their play. Until they did, he would make sure
he was prepared. Whilst everybody else seemed to have lost interest in young
Jimmy, Estoban continued to keep a careful eye on the boy. When the time came
for him to return to action, he wanted to make sure he was the first to know.
***
Emmy and Dr Stark were ready for their
first dual trip ahead of schedule. She would have preferred a solo test of the
equipment, but any pretence that she was in charge would easily be broken by
her lab partner placing a call through to the colonel. Either they went
together or not at all.
The reason for the dual trips was simple.
Emmy’s mission was to attempt to cure the infected townspeople of the psychic
radiation by subjecting each of them in turn to an astral journey. It was a
risky proposition, but by being alongside them, to guide them on their journey,
she hoped to minimise the risk and bring them home. There was no other way.
‘Are you sure the casing will contain the
radiation?’ she asked the techs, who would be monitoring the experiment from a
bank of computer monitors, which displayed everything from the pair’s biometric
readings to a simulated path of their astral trajectory.
‘The walls are made from six inches of
titanium reinforced with another inch-thick layer of lead in the middle. You’ll
be sealed off tighter than the crown jewels,’ replied Peter. ‘When we flush the
containment area, any residual radiation produced by the machine will be
channelled to a storage tank deep underground. If even the slightest trace
amount of radiation escapes into the atmosphere, the mission will be aborted.’
Emmy nodded.
‘In that case - let’s do this.’
They climbed into the astral unit, which
afforded little more space than a pair of Tokyo hotel pods. Once Paul sealed
them inside of the lead lined vault, they could only communicate via a speaker
system built into the walls of the machine.
‘Are you ready to begin the countdown?’
asked Peter, through the speakers.
‘I’m ready,’ replied Constance, with such
nervousness in her voice it made Emmy laugh.
‘Don’t worry,’ Emmy assured them all.
‘This is only dangerous if we have a saboteur among us. So long as nobody is planning
on turning traitor, we’ll be fine.’
Despite all of her earlier apprehension,
she felt excited to be back doing what she was born to do. The euphoria she
used to experience had returned. She almost dared to dream that her work could
mean something once again. That she had returned to the cutting edge of human
and scientific endeavour. She dared to dream her life actually mattered.
Emmy achieved the separation with ease.
For Dr Stark, it was a much bumpier transition. The moment when consciousness
leaves the body is when the urge to wake is at its strongest. Just the
slightest mental twitch can interrupt the process. Three times Constance broke
her trance and each time the equipment had to be reset and recalibrated costing
valuable time. At the fourth try, she finally managed to allow her conscious
mind to break free and found herself hovering two feet above her body.
Her first instinct was to try and gasp for
air in the way that a drowning swimmer might as they sink ever deeper into a
murky abyss. There was no physical response to her instructive thoughts. She
could no longer feel lungs rising and falling in her chest. She could no longer
feel her chest or anything else for that matter. Then slowly, a gradual
awareness began to insinuate itself into her thoughts. She sensed something in
front of her like a blind person senses movement in the air. A light seemed to
be growing and spiralling toward her like a kaleidoscope.
Finally, her mind began to make sense of
what was happening. Just as one of those magic eye pictures eventually reveals
its secret, so too did the intrinsic energy of the doctor’s surrounds. It
reminded her of early virtual reality simulations with their simplistic
geometric shapes, but in some way it was...beautiful. She had finally made it
to OZ and now she was peeking behind the wizard’s curtain.
The two resting bodies of Constance and
Emmy were at the centre of the space. Two small slithers of energy ran between
their disembodied essences and their physical beings below. Just as Emmy had
told her earlier, this was the link that kept the two parts of her being
working together in harmony. It appeared smaller and less substantial than she
had imagined it would. She wanted to reach out and take hold of it for extra
security, but in her shapeless, limbless form this was impossible. Besides, she
did not even think she could touch it even if she had hands. It was not
composed of the same energy as the rest of her being. It was something beyond
her understanding entirely; a telepathic connection that seemed to exist
separately from the normal rules of time and space.
So absorbed by her own essence had she
become that she failed to even notice her colleague and fellow traveller.
Unlike Constance, Emmy was familiar to this experience. She could exert an
element of control over her disembodied form and mould and shape her essence to
her will. Her greatest trick was the ability to replicate her appearance from
the material world, though this hollow, ghostly image could only be seen by
other astral beings.
Now she had Dr Stark’s attention. The
other scientist was completely absorbed by her beauty and radiance. In fact,
she was so transfixed she did not even notice that Emmy was reaching out with
her hand to connect with her spirit directly.
‘Are you impressed?’
The voice was unmistakeably Emmy, but it
felt different. Not so much quiet, but distant. It was more like an echo than a
direct sound and it seemed to originate inside of her mind.
‘Have we woken?’
Constance’s own words also seemed strange
yet familiar at the same time. With no vocal chords or lips through which to
speak, she was not even sure how she had given voice to them at all.
‘We are still travelling, but our
consciousness has become entwined,’
Emmy
explained to her
. ‘I did not mention this before, because I was not sure if
it was a fundamental property of astral travelling or a product of the
radiation. Whenever two separate energies touch, they are able to communicate
with one another.’
During the experiments of three years
earlier, the coming together of astral beings had heralded the opening of a
portal. It was a wormhole in space and time, down which Emmy had feared to
pass. No such anomaly occurred this time. The questions this posed were
outweighed only by relief. It may have been one more puzzle to solve, but it
was also one less danger for her to worry about.
‘So where do we go from here?’
asked Constance
‘We go back. It’s no different to waking
from a dream. All you have to do is focus on what your body is doing right now.
Find the rhythm of your breathing and then concentrate on nothing else but
opening your eyes. As soon as I let go, you will wake.’