Outview (9 page)

“Really?” She couldn’t hide her pleasure.
“When was it? Where was it?”

“We were sisters. It was at least a hundred
years ago because you were driving a horse-drawn wagon. I was lying in the back
in dirty blankets and straw, cold. But there were wildflowers. You spoke in a
language that sounded German, but I don’t think it was. My body was brittle on
the rough road, like a vase rattling in a crate, and I begged you to stop.”

“You were dying?”

“Yeah, like always. You started crying when
you finally stopped the wagon.”

“How old were we?”

“Hard to say. We looked sixty, but I think
we were really thirty-something. So you were crying because you knew we weren’t
going to get any help. Even if we did, it was too late. You could tell I’d be
dead very soon.”

“Tell me about the way an Outview comes to
you. How do you see it?”

“It’s almost like watching a movie, but the
screen has no defined shape. And only pieces are in focus as I look at them.
Sometimes just part of a face is clear, but what I can see is in 3D. I’m like
an observer floating right there, but at the same time I’m one of the
participants, experiencing and feeling everything they do.”

“Like a dream.”

“But with actual physical pain.”

Her face saddened.

“They’re so real, like I’m there but
pressure from all the years between pushes away everything that isn’t in my
immediate view. But lately, the area in focus has been getting larger.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“That’s what’s cool about this one. I saw
your eyes going into it and knew you’d be there. That’s never happened before.
But it’s hard to explain, a recognition in the eyes.”

“Have you ever seen anyone else you know?”

“Mom, Dustin, and Kyle at various times.”

“What happened next?”

“An agonized tragic scream from you as I
died.” Amber reached over, put her arms around me, and pulled me close, her wet
tears on my cheek, the warmth of her breath in my nose, the slight fragrance of
apples as we melted together, embracing sisters across a century of absence. I
know we stayed like that for several minutes, and when we fell back to this
time Amber was staring into my eyes through blurry tears. She gave me the
softest kiss, our lips touching like the brush of a feather. We sat in the car for
a while longer, not in an awkward way, just warm silence. “I should go,” I said,
getting out, surprised how drained I was.

“Promise you’ll call me from Brookings.”

“If not before.” I leaned into the window a
moment, then turned and jogged to my house.

Later, I walked over to Sam’s. “You have to
watch
Blindman
tonight. It’s great!” He handed it to me once we were
inside.

“I won’t have time until next week. I’m
leaving early in the morning on a camping trip. That’s why I came over, to tell
you I won’t get to your lawn again until Monday after school.”

“Great weather for camping! Where you
headed?”

“Me and a few friends are going to Crater
Lake.”

“I love it there. Forget the grass. It’ll be
here.”

“Thanks. Hey, could I ask something without
you thinking I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

“The reason I wanted to know what you
thought about reincarnation is because I keep seeing visions of what I think
are past lives I’ve had, and it’s almost like I’m there. They happen a lot, and
I’m afraid I could be losing it.”

“You’re not crazy Nate. You’re about one of
the most well-adjusted kids I’ve ever met, mature, responsible, great taste in
films.” He tapped the copy of
Blindman
I was still holding. If you’re having
visions like that, you should explore them, maybe keep a journal. Have you
talked to your mother about them?”

“No. I don’t like how she handled things
with Dustin. That’s why I wanted to ask you. I’ve told a couple of close
friends, but I’d like an adult’s point of view. And, well, you’ve been all over
the world and dated Cindy, who was really into reincarnation.”

“Mindy,” he corrected, smiling. “It’s not as
unusual as you think. In fact, in India and that part of the world, it’s pretty
common. In Tibet, they believe every Dalai Lama over the last seven hundred
years has been the same soul reincarnated, each being an incarnation of the
last. That way they retain the spiritual wisdom acquired over all those
lifetimes. If you thought you were the Dalai Lama, I might wonder, but seeing
pieces of prior lives is fascinating. Write it all down. What a cool movie it
would make: teenager relives past lives.” A great weight lifted as Sam spoke.
He was a successful adult and talked like what was happening was normal. We
spoke for another half hour, and he even gave me Mindy’s number in case I
wanted to talk to someone else.

16

Friday, September 19

By the time the sun made an appearance, we
had Kyle’s car packed with sleeping bags, tent, piles of schoolbooks, three
backpacks, two iPods, and a jammed cooler. Mom was still asleep when we left.
Kyle and I reluctantly left our phones, but Linh brought hers in case something
went wrong but kept the power off. She rode shotgun, while I worked on
meditating in the back seat.

Each time my mind got close to clarity, the
depths of my situation obliterated it. How could we get Dustin out? My dad
hadn’t died of a heart attack; he’d been murdered and his killers might be after
me. Clear, clear, clear. What is happening--the pops, auras, paranormal
visions, voices, and shapeshifting? Focus, focus, focus. All at once there was
a shift and control. I was unprepared for the calm, a feeling of vanishing into
the universe yet being connected to everything. It’s hard to say how long that
state lasted, probably no more than ten minutes. Next, a voice spoke like the
ones I’d been hearing for so long, but it was clearer and saying more than one
word, much more. It was like hearing three voices at once, with the words
condensed so four words came in the space of one. Surprisingly, it was easy to understand,
and what it said was almost too fantastic to believe.

“Where were you?” Linh asked.

“How long was I gone?”

“Almost half an hour,” she said.

“That was a good meditation,” Kyle said
slowly, unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Do you ever hear voices when you
meditate?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“But like a bunch, all talking at the same
time, and you’re able to hear everything?”

“No, that sounds like a Nate original. What
did they say?” he asked deliberately.

“They said I could do anything.”

“Sounds like my uncle,” Kyle eyed Linh.

“Yeah, but they meant stuff we think is
impossible. If I remember my soul, the universe will be there and all human
limitations will vanish.”

“Do you have to die for that to happen?”
Linh asked.

“They said there are many things coming and
that I must be ready.” I sounded possessed, and wondered if they believed me.

“Go on,” Kyle urged.

“They said I needed to be ready to face
evil.”

Kyle’s eyes widened. “Then let’s get someone
to buy us beer.”

“I’m serious,” I said.

“So am I.”

“No, you’re not,” Linh said. “I believe you
heard
it, Nate.”

I couldn’t tell if she meant she believed
it happened or just that I thought it did.

“I believe you, too,” Kyle said. “I’m just
not ready to fight off Hannibal Lecter this weekend.”

“I wish I could explain how it feels to
know something so bizarre with absolute certainty. On an incredibly deep level
I know it’s all true, and I’m not just worried, I’m terrified.”

“These will help.” Linh tossed me a pack of
almond M&M’s.

“That, some Twizzlers, and a Coke will
almost have the same effect as beer,” Kyle said.

Everyone laughed.

I passed the stuff from my Dad’s desk
around, but beyond a cursory glance, Kyle couldn’t really focus on them because
he was driving, and Linh was as baffled as I.

A state trooper passed us. Linh put her
hand on Kyle’s shoulder. For the next mile or two, he checked the rearview
mirror compulsively. We were riding through thick forest now. Linh commented on
the beauty of the trees. I knew she was still trying to lighten the mood, but
it was my topic and I took the bait.

“Do you know what the world’s largest,
oldest and tallest living things are?”

“Haven’t you told us this before?” Kyle’s
quizzical eyes narrowed.

“I haven’t heard it,” Linh said.

“Trees,” Kyle said.

“It’s no surprise the tallest living thing
is a tree, a
sequoia sempervirens
, better known as a coastal redwood not
far from here in northern California. Its name is Hyperion.”

“It has a name?”

“Most of the tallest trees do. They’re
important. But the largest living thing is a grove of aspens in Utah called
Pando. They count as one thing because all the trees in the stand are connected
by a single underground
root system
. Pando
covers over a hundred acres and is probably eighty thousand years old. Some say
it could be much older because when one tree dies, others grow up out of the
same roots.”

“So that’s the oldest?”

“Not technically because each individual
tree only lives like a hundred thirty years. The oldest single tree is a
bristle cone pine called Methuselah, also in California. It’s almost five
thousand years old.”

“Wow!” Linh said.

“There was an even older one in Nevada
named Prometheus, but some grad student cut it down in 1964 to find out how old
it was.”

“You’re kidding!” Linh said. “Was he
arrested or anything?”

“No. There are different accounts of
whether he actually knew what he was doing but . . . I mean it’s really a crime
what we do to trees. The cure for all our diseases is probably in the
rainforests, but we may never know.”

“It’s sad,” Linh shook her head.

It was just after eight a.m. when we
arrived. I’d been to Crater Lake before, but something was different this time.
The glassy indigo water reflecting cotton clouds and two thousand foot volcanic
cliffs disoriented me. Only the pines, firs, hemlocks, and the solitary Wizard
Island rising out of the incredibly deep lake kept me from falling down. Gravity
also helped. It was cooler because the elevation was over a mile higher than
Ashland, and, although it was a beautiful day, it smelled like snow as always
because the lake was filled almost entirely by snowmelt. The silence sounded
like meditation, but slowly I began to hear a rush of water, lava, and steam.
It grew so loud that I screamed to Linh and Kyle, “What’s that noise?”

17

 “What noise?” Kyle asked, just mouthing
words because I could hear nothing above the roar, which increased to the point
I believed the lake might erupt. A shimmering ripple crossed the surface of the
water, then instantly, complete silence. A tall, Indian-looking old man emerged
from the trees, scruffy, leathery, long, thin, tangled gray hair, light gray
pants and white shirt faded and worn.

“You boy, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Excuse me?” Kyle answered.

“Not talking to you. It’s that one.” He
waved a spindly finger at me. “He shouldn’t be here yet.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not ready to be
here
. You’ve
not studied; you’ve not practiced. You ain’t even awake yet.”

“I think you’re confused,” Kyle said
gently.

“Confused? I’m way beyond confused, but
you’re not even up to confused yet, so maybe you should mind your own
business.” The old man wasn’t aggressive or threatening, but he didn’t look
like he was going to leave. I was uncomfortable, but at the same time he was
magnetic, like a bristly, cranky old college professor adored by his students
because of his sheer brilliance.

“Look, could you just please leave us
alone?” Kyle tried once more.

“There are three of you, so even if I did
leave, you wouldn’t be alone. I belong here, so I’ll not be leaving.” He threw
a stick at me. “What about you, Nathan?” Linh gasped, and Kyle looked at me
with stunned concern.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“If you were supposed to be here, you would
know my name already. I’m the Old Man of the Lake.”

“Okay, old man, how do you know his name?” Kyle
asked.

“Listen to me. I’m not just some old man;
I’m
the
Old Man of the Lake. And I already told you to mind your own
business, Dac.” He called Kyle by his Vietnamese name, which almost no one
knew.

“Seriously, who are you?” Kyle was looking
around, worried. I was scanning the area as well, remembering Amparo’s warning
that we were in danger.