The Bar Code Prophecy (8 page)

Grace opened her eyes and, in the first soft light of morning, saw Eric asleep a few feet away, his nylon backpack at his side. She sat up quickly, alarmed and confused about how she’d gotten into this field of dense tall reeds. And what was she sitting on?

The nylon parachute beneath them snapped memory back to her: The wild feeling of falling through the night sky; her immense relief when the parachute opened; the hard rolling landing, tangled in the lines and nylon of the chute. Finally they had staggered into this field of high stalks and grasses and collapsed in this small clearing, grateful to be alive.

Her last memory was of watching the lights of the two cloaked drone helicopters fly off, having abandoned their pursuit.

Assuming, no doubt, they had died in the crash.

Standing, Grace searched for Dr. Harriman but didn’t see him — though in this high grass he might be asleep just yards away. Opening her mouth, she was about to call to him, but decided that she didn’t want to wake Eric. Not yet, anyway.

Grace needed time alone to think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

There was so much to absorb, to try to make sense of.

She was adopted. That was okay. Her family was still her family, the only family she’d ever known. But it might explain some of the differences she’d always been so aware of — why she was the only one who was good at math, including her parents; why she was the only one of them who was athletic and had no fear of heights; and probably why she alone was slim while the others tended to be shorter and rounder.

All at once Grace knew who she looked like: Dr. Harriman. But with brown eyes. So who was this brown-eyed birth mother of hers?

Grace remembered Kayla’s story of being part of an experiment. Mfumbe had said there was nothing like that in her file … but still, it seemed possible. She would insist that Dr. Harriman tell her everything. He owed her that now. She had saved him from the Global-1 cops.

Turning her gaze to Eric, she felt less angry at him, not as betrayed. It was just that she had liked him so much and had loved thinking he returned the attraction. She could deal with this new relationship though. He was a good guy and she was glad he was around. She felt safer with him. She would never be able to trust him completely — but maybe she could trust him enough. He hadn’t left her stranded at GlobalHelix when he should have taken Dr. Harriman instead of taking her. That said something about his feelings for her, at least.

“Grace?” Eric rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “Are you okay?”

“No broken bones,” she reported.

“Boy, you have a lot of guts,” Eric praised her.

It brought a smile to her lips. “Thanks.”

“Are you all right? I have some first aid stuff in my pack if you need it.”

Grace was aware of her stinging arm that had become scraped when she landed, but the pain wasn’t too bad. “I’ll be all right. How are you?”

“Still in one piece,” he reported. “You’ve had some day, huh? How’s your head?”

“Spinning,” Grace admitted.

“No kidding,” he sympathized. Eric stood and checked the area. “No sign of Harriman. I hope he made it down okay.”

It hadn’t occurred to Grace that Dr. Harriman might not have survived the jump. “We should look for him,” she said urgently. “He might be hurt.”

“You stay here and call out to him. If we get separated in this tall grass, we might never find each other again.”

“We can find each other; we have our phones,” Grace said out of habit. She could always find her friends in crowds when they each had their phones — which was always. Ever since she could strap her bendable phone around her wrist, Grace even slept with it.

Grace checked her wrist, and the image of Eric tossing it, in pieces, out the back of the speeding truck came back to her.

Eric raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and grinned at her reaction.

As the realization of her phoneless state returned to her, Grace frowned deeply. It was disconcerting not to have her phone and she felt terribly vulnerable without it. She had never before worried about being lost. With Tilly always crooning directions in her ear and friends only a finger glide away, she was never lost. It was as if she’d suddenly gone back in time to some long-ago past when people lived without being able to always contact each other.

“You’d be in a Global-1 police station right now if you had your phone,” Eric reminded her.

Grace wondered if that would have been so bad, but Eric and the others seemed convinced that it would be. So did Dr. Harriman.

Eric pulled his lightweight pack onto his shoulders. “I might as well take this with me in case he’s hurt.”

Grace began shouting for Dr. Harriman while Eric pushed off, also calling. The minute he disappeared from sight, Grace fought down the panicky sensation that she was utterly alone. She could still hear his voice, and that helped.

“Dr. Harriman! Where are you?” she shouted, cupping her hands to her mouth and raising her voice to full volume. “It’s Grace. Can you answer?”

Pausing to listen for a response, she heard nothing but the rustling of the grasses in the breeze … and then Eric’s voice, muffled and distant but reassuringly there.

The sensation of being vulnerable and alone grew as Grace continued to call. The grass swayed around her and Grace had the eerie feeling it was closing in on her, growing thicker somehow.
It’s all in your head,
she assured herself.
You’re only scared and imagining things.

Grace listened for the comforting sound of Eric’s shouts … and heard only the rush of wind through the grass. She waited some more, ears perked, but heard no human voice.

Panic snaked its way up her spine, squeezing her with cold fear. Where was he? How would she find him again? She didn’t even know how to find her way out of this field. If she had her phone, Tilly would have her position by satellite and would be directing her every step of the way.

She listened again and heard the rustle of grass being pushed aside, reeds being broken; someone was coming through. It was more than one person.

Eric had found Dr. Harriman!

The reeds parted and two Global-1 police officers stepped through, dressed in their black uniforms. “Grace Morrow?”

This didn’t make sense. How had they located her?

“Yes. Have you found my family?”

The officers exchanged darting glances and Grace saw that they didn’t understand. “Yes,” the taller of the two officers answered. “You need to come with us.”

Grace took a step back. Every instinct said he was lying.

Before the decision had even fully formed in her mind, Grace turned into the tall reeds and ran. The underbrush caught on her clothing and the reeds scratched and obstructed her path but she pushed through.

“Stop! Stop where you are!” an officer commanded but she didn’t hesitate.

A gunshot rang out and the shock of it dropped Grace to her knees but she kept going, clawing her way through the thorny undergrowth, moving with the desperation of a hunted animal.

From somewhere, a loud beeping sounded. “This way! This way!” the second officer called to the first.

“Grace!” Eric pushed his way through and dropped to his knees beside her. He pulled a sandwich-sized silver packet from his backpack and rapidly unfolded it to ten times its original size. “Get down,” he insisted as he pushed Grace flat to the ground with one hand and tossed the silver sheet over her with the other. He lay down beside her, his arms draped over her upper back.

“I’ve lost the signal.” The officers were no more than ten yards away.

“How could that be?” the other officer questioned.

The thunderous pounding of Grace’s heart had to be audible — she couldn’t believe it wasn’t — but the officers began moving off in the opposite direction. “She was right around here when the signal stopped,” she heard one of them say, but his voice was receding rather than coming closer.

The sun began beating on the sheet and Grace’s skin became moist with sweat. She raised her head. Eric gently but firmly pressed it down again. It seemed to her that she lay there for a long time, steaming under the metallic sheet, frightened to even breathe, pressing her chest into the ground, hoping to quiet the sound of her drumming heartbeat.

Finally, Eric tapped her shoulder blade. “They’re gone.”

Grace rose on her elbows and began to pull off the sheet. Eric pulled it back over her head. “Keep that on or they’ll be back,” he warned. “They’ve got you satellite tracked.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“The sheet is blocking the signal. That’s why you can’t take it off.”

“But why would anyone want to track me in the first place? You guys keep talking about a prophecy. Would you please tell me about it?”

“It’s time you tell her, Eric.” Grace peeked from under the sheet in the direction where a woman’s voice had come from, just to Eric’s right.

A tall woman of Native American descent stood before her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. She was a striking woman in her forties, dressed in jeans, boots, and a denim vest. Beaded and turquoise bracelets adorned both of her arms. Her straight black hair was braided down her back. Grace was sure she’d seen this woman somewhere before. But where? Was she on TV, in the movies?

“Eutonah!” Grace breathed as the realization hit her. This was the well-known bar code tattoo resistance fighter, the famed mystic. “You’re out of jail,” Grace noted. She remembered reading about how, despite all the revelations regarding the bar code tattoo, Eutonah was still being held in jail for her activism against the tattoo.

“She’s still in jail,” Eric said. “But my mother’s spirit is able to travel.”

“Your mother?” Grace echoed, surprised.

As Eric nodded, Grace studied Eutonah more keenly and realized that there was something wavering and insubstantial about her presence. It reminded her of the holographic climbing walls. She thought of the holographic
FACE-TO-FACE
function on her phone. But this was no phoned-in hologram.

“I’ll show you to a safe place,” Eutonah said. “There we can talk more easily.” She turned and spoke directly to Grace. “The time has come for you to understand that we have all been waiting for you. Before it’s too late, I must tell you of The Bar Code Prophecy.”

The red line subway was becoming increasingly crowded with morning commuters riding the underground rail between downtown Los Angeles and North Hollywood. “You can take that thing off now,” Eric told Grace as they entered the subway car.

Grace peeked out from the sheet that she had been holding over her head and shoulders and began to fold it. “I don’t understand why I need this,” she said.

Eric pointed up. “Satellites. But they can’t find you underground.”

“I still don’t get it,” Grace insisted.

Finding no available seat, they stood among the other standing commuters. Grace searched the subway platform for Eutonah, who had left them, saying she’d be back shortly.

“What do you mean about satellites?” Grace asked.

But Eric’s focus was on a young man with very dark skin dressed in a gray hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans. “Hang on a minute,” he said to Grace as he left her to weave through the crowd toward the young man. “I’ll be right back.”

Puzzled, Grace watched as Eric leaned close and whispered something to the hooded man before heading back in her direction.

“Who is that?” Grace asked once Eric had returned.

“Who is who?”

“That guy you just spoke to.”

“I didn’t speak to anyone.”

Grace shot him a look of exasperation and Eric grinned. “I’m just messing with you,” he admitted. He bent his head and leaned in close, speaking in the faintest whisper. “He’s a Postman. He’ll find Kayla and the others. Tell them we’re safe.”

“How did you know what he was?” Grace whispered back in surprise.

Eric only put his index finger to his lips. “Tell you later.”

The subway rushed along its underground track and Grace wished she had some idea where they were headed. She had so many questions and not nearly enough answers. “Why didn’t you tell me your mother is Eutonah?” she said.

“You never asked,” Eric joked, but then grew serious. “As you know, my mother is still in jail, despite all the people calling for her release. When she became active in the resistance to the bar code tattoo, I went to live with my uncle, Russell Chaca. People call him Chief Russell. My dad died years ago. We all figured it would be better if everyone didn’t realize I was Eutonah’s son. It would keep me safer.”

“I guess that means you have Cherokee background. I always heard you were Hopi.”

“Dad’s Hopi and some Irish. Mom’s Cherokee. They met at Dartmouth.”

“Tell me about the prophecy,” Grace whispered.

“Not here,” Eric replied softly.

They rode for several stops until Eric indicated with a nod that they should get off. The platform at their stop was empty and Grace followed Eric to the end. “What are you doing?” she gasped as Eric leaped off the end, rolling to a standing stop on the dirt ground with exceptional agility.

“Your turn,” he said, smiling up at her.

He thinks I can’t,
Grace realized, interpreting the bravado in his grin as a challenge. Could she? Grace wasn’t certain. She was used to landing on gym mats, not hard dirt. And she would be falling to a lower level.

Without further consideration, Grace ran a few steps before launching into a forward flip. When she planted her landing, her right ankle caved slightly from the uneven rocky dirt under her feet. Still, she was standing.

“Final level!” Eric praised her. “I told them you were going to be great at this.”

“Great at what?” Grace asked, working hard not to beam with self-satisfied pride.

“You’ll see. I’ll show you later.” Eric beckoned for her to follow him for several yards deeper into the tunnel.

“The door is right there.” Eutonah’s voice came from behind Grace.

“How did you —?” Grace cut herself short. The mysterious Eutonah could be anywhere, apparently.

Eric used a key to unlock a room no larger than a walk-in closet. When they were inside, he turned on a single bulb that glared from the ceiling and relocked the door. Eutonah opened a metal case in the corner and lifted out a helmet. Grace had never seen anything like it. It had a small keyboard and miniature computer screen in the front and wire wrapped around.

“A virtual reality helmet,” Eutonah explained. She took a cord from the box and plugged the middle of it into the helmet’s keyboard so that a cord of equal length extended from either side. “This extender allows all three of us to use it at once.”

“Use it how?” Grace asked nervously, noticing that each end of the cord contained an elastic loop.

“Don’t be frightened; there is no danger in this,” Eutonah assured Grace as she punched numbers into the keyboard. Eutonah then settled on the ground in a cross-legged sitting position. Eric sat on her left and indicated with a gesture that Grace should be seated on Eutonah’s right side. Grace followed Eric’s example as he slipped the end of one half of the cord around his wrist and she did the same with the opposite end.

“Close your eyes and hold my hand,” Eutonah instructed them. “You’re going to feel like you have traveled, but you will really be here the whole time.”

“Can’t you do that already without this device?” Grace questioned.

“I’m able to travel,” Eutonah agreed, “but neither of you can. At least not yet.”

So many questions played on the tip of Grace’s tongue, but before she could voice any of them, a tingling sensation overtook every inch of her skin. It went deeper into her body until she felt that her bones were vibrating and her skull itself quivered with an unsettling buzz.

Grace was about to cry out, to demand that Eutonah shut the helmet down, when all the shaking abruptly stopped.

She was no longer in the dingy subway closet but stood on an immense flat rock. A vivid sky pressed down on a vast expanse of orange-brown desert with areas of green shrubbery. Jagged mountains towered in the distance. It surprised her that although she was alone, she felt no fear. There was something strangely soothing in the utter silence of this majestic place.

“We are a thousand feet above sea level,” Eutonah said.

Grace turned to find Eutonah and Eric behind her. “We are on sacred Hopi land,” Eutonah continued. “The Hopi believe that this is the center of the universe.”

This wasn’t hard for Grace to accept. She could feel the power of the place coursing into her, energizing her spine, her limbs, even her mind. Never before had she experienced such a calm and centered sensation of complete well-being.

“This is Spider Rock, the great place of vision for the many. We’re in Navajo territory, which rings the Hopi lands,” Eutonah told them.

Grace felt as if she could touch the turquoise sky. Below her was an expanse of red rock desert ringed with boulders and mesas.

“Five years ago the leaders of many Native American nations met here for a secret tribunal,” Eutonah went on. “I was among the delegation representing the Cherokee Nation. We came to discuss nothing less important than the future of this planet. The delegates from each tribe gathered their end-of-days prophecies to see what we could learn about what is to come.”

“What did you conclude?” Eric asked.

“We found a lot of overlap in the different myths and predictions, and the Hopi seemed to have the most well-developed prophecies. Many of the events predicted — the coming of the white man, the loss of our lands, and the oil spill devastation back in 2010 — have come to pass already.”

“Does that mean the end of the world is near?” Grace asked.

“It might be; we’re not sure. So many of the prophecies have come to pass. The Hopi believe there will be great destruction on Earth, but that they will be carried from the destroyed Earth on wingless flying ships.”

“What will happen to everyone else?” Grace asked.

“The Hopi have nine prophecies, all of which have been fulfilled. A tenth prophecy has been discovered. Very few have ever seen it.”

“What does it say?” Eric asked.

“We call it The Bar Code Prophecy.”

Grace viewed the bar code tattoo on her wrist. “This bar code?”

“Yes,” Eutonah confirmed with a nod. “We call it that because we believe that the lines of destruction that the tenth Hopi prophecy refers to are the lines of the bar code tattoo.”

“Why would you think that?” Eric inquired, his brows knit in concerned concentration.

Eutonah headed to the edge of the rock mesa on which they stood and laid on her stomach, beckoning for Grace and Eric to do the same. “See that opening cut in the mountain?” Eutonah said, pointing straight down. “Can you get down to it, Eric?”

“Sure I can,” Eric answered confidently.

If anyone could, it was Eric — but a slip would be certain death. They should return with climbing line. Before Grace was able to express her concern, Eric was flat against the side of the mesa. She held her breath, not wanting to disturb his concentration in any way.

With cautious but deliberate movements, Eric made his way toward the opening in the mesa wall, sometimes clinging by his fingertips. Grace was torn between fascination and her desire to look away. A sidelong glance at Eutonah revealed that the woman’s face had become a stone mask, reflecting nothing but absorption in Eric’s progress.

When Grace dared to look at Eric again, he was withdrawing a stone tablet of about twelve by eight inches from the opening. He tucked it into the belted waist of his jeans and began his ascent.

Only when his hand appeared above the edge of the mesa did Grace feel it was safe for her to move. Scrambling to the edge, she clutched his wrist to assist his return. Before rising, he passed the stone tablet up and she took it from him with her free hand. Eutonah laid on her stomach and helped pull Eric up and over to safety.

“Thanks,” he said, lying on his back beside Grace and his mother.

“Here’s why we think there is a tenth prophecy,” Eutonah revealed, sitting with the tablet on her knee. Leaning in close to Eutonah, Grace saw a series of pictographs, straight lines, and stick figures. Below these were writings in English, as if someone had interpreted the meaning of the pictographs. Eutonah began to read the engraved writing:

The tingling that had rung in Grace’s skull returned full force. Her hands flew to her head and she squeezed her eyes shut. Eutonah’s hand encircled Grace’s wrist and she was traveling once more.