The Elders (9 page)

I reach for the pill and the water bottle and proceed to take my medicine.

“Say
aahh
,” she says.

Feeling as if I’m five again, I open my mouth. She expertly checks my mouth to
make sure I swallowed the pill.

“Now I suggest you sit there.” She points at the seat nearest the cockpit, on the right side.

“All set?” George peeks out of the cockpit. He has a serious-looking headset on, so I’m guessing he’s piloting this thing.

“I’m ready.” I plop down into the chair, which turns out to be very comfy.

George nods and disappears into the cockpit.

I’m determined to fight
the effects of the pill. Just because I took the pill doesn’t mean I agreed not to uncover this super-secret location. I heard that if you fight Ambien, you might get a high instead, which would be a bonus.

It takes us about ten minutes to get into the air. With every passing minute, keeping my eyes open becomes harder. I yawn and decide I can still fight the effects of the drug with my eyes
closed; it’ll just make the hallucinations that much richer.

I close my eyes and focus on staying as alert as possible.

My consciousness goes out like a snuffed flame.

* * *

When I wake up, we’re no longer in the air.

Great. There goes my plan of trying to figure out where I am.

I reach for my phone, but it’s missing.

And there goes my idea of using my phone’s GPS to pin this location.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and check the plane. It’s empty, but the door is open.

I exit the plane and find myself in a giant forest meadow that seems to have been repurposed as an airport. Several planes are here, including George’s. There’s a single-piston Malibu Mirage a few dozen feet away, and a twin-engine Super 700 Aerostar a little farther. I’m planning to buy myself a private jet one day,
so I did a little research, in case that wasn’t clear. Still, even I don’t recognize some of the other makes, except for one—Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit, also known as the Stealth Bomber. It belongs here, among these private jets, about as much as a lion would on a rabbit farm.

George is standing barefoot in the grass, doing some kind of stretching exercise. He’s changed into a gray, homemade-looking
poncho. It’s drab, but has the feel of a traditional outfit, if the tradition was to take a potato sack, put holes in it, and wear it. The effect is that George now strongly resembles a hippie.

Noticing me, he says, “I’m glad you’re up. That Ambien really knocked you out. Kate and I couldn’t wake you up after we landed. Just as well you got some sleep, though, since nothing happens on the Island
at night. We should get pulled into the Elders’ Mind Dimension soon.”

“What time is it?” I ask, my throat dry.

“Early in the morning,” George answers. “Last I checked, it was six-thirty.”

“Good morning then,” I say. “They’ll just pull us in? No hello?”

“Someone might greet us, but not the Elders. You will never see them outside the Mind Dimension. They do everything they consider stressful—and
thus unhealthy—exclusively there,” he says with a hint of disapproval in his tone.

“When will this Mind Dimension conversation take place?” I ask.

“Soon. Could be in a minute, could be in an hour. It depends on when they all wake up, and they don’t use alarm clocks.”

“Where’s Kate?”

“She went to stretch her legs.”

I lick my dry lips. “Do you have anything to eat or drink?”

George points
downward, at a basket sitting on a piece of cloth. “There’s some breakfast.”

I examine the cloth. It looks like it’s made of the same potato sack material as his outfit. If he were to lie on it, he’d blend in like a ninja. “You were planning a picnic?”

The basket, which is just a plastic crate, is filled with cheese, bread, cold cuts, and those little single-use condiments they have at fast-food
places. Drink-wise, there’s some sparkling water and a couple bottles of beer. Beer in the morning?

“I knew there was a chance we’d have to wait, so I came prepared,” George explains at my look.

I sit down on the cloth and make myself a sandwich. George joins me on the ground and mimics my legs-akimbo pose.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, “about Kate attacking you, and about the secrecy.”

I shrug. “She wanted to make sure I couldn’t use my body as a weapon against the Elders, and I’m not too surprised that this place is a secret.”

“I’m glad you understand. I think it’s always bad to start a new relationship in the spirit of distrust.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t trust you either, and I trust the Elders, people I haven’t met, even less.”

“This is precisely why I wanted
to take this chance to talk to you,” he says. “If there’s anything I can do to repair this—”

“Ever the Ambassador, huh?” I give him a sardonic look.

“Actually, that title is probably misleading, as my actual role doesn’t require me to be diplomatic in the way that the Unencumbered ambassadors are. I just want to foster goodwill because you’re a relative and I feel like you’re a good person.”

Huh. Well, this is my chance.

“You know,” I say carefully, “I was curious about something. Hillary told me of a rumor. She said the Elders can Split into the Mind Dimension while already in the Mind Dimension, thus reaching a different version—”

“I know about those rumors,” George says, his eyes looking even older than before. “I really wish you hadn’t chosen this topic as a means to forge trust,
because I’m afraid I can’t substantiate those rumors.”

“I don’t think they’re just rumors.” My sandwich tastes dry, so I add a tiny packet of mayo to it.

“What you described is a subject that we, the Ambassadors, do not discuss. That’s all I’m allowed to say on the issue.” He looks genuinely regretful.

“Great.” Mira-like sarcasm creeps into my voice. “I feel a strong urge to trust you coming
on already.”

George twists off the cap of one of the beers and takes a sip. “I know how this will sound, but ask me
anything
else, and this time, I’m sure I’ll be of more help.”

“Okay. This one is another rumored ability.” I add extra cheese to my sandwich and take a hungry bite.

“Good.” He offers me his Guinness. “There aren’t any more abilities I’m restricted from discussing.”

I fight my
instinct to refuse the beer, and instead accept the bottle, taking a sip. Even though Guinness, with its soup-like texture, is probably my least favorite beer, a welcome wave of relaxation spreads through my body. I hope this little bonding activity will cause George to rethink his stance on not telling me about Level 2.

Sharing beer like this reminds me of when Bert and I shared a forty of Crazy
Horse, which I later learned wasn’t beer, but malt liquor. That day became known as the time Bert and I woke up at the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority house without knowing how we’d gotten there or why we’d gone. If either of us got lucky that day, no girl came forward to admit it. Then again, us being teenagers, we assumed they didn’t step forward because they didn’t want it known that they had broken
the law by sleeping with underage boys. And yes, in case it wasn’t clear, Bert and I had a strange college experience.

“I heard it’s possible to control where you appear when you Split into the Mind Dimension,” I say and pass the bottle back. “Are you allowed to discuss
that
?”

George takes the bottle, finishes it, and gives me an evaluating look. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t tell
you about it, but I’ll break the rules this one time.”

I give him an encouraging nod, doing my best to look grateful, and take another bite of my sandwich.

“The skill is indeed real,” he says. “It’s something only the Elders, the Ambassadors, and those in our inner circle know about.”

“Is it an innate skill only a few possess, or is it something that can be taught?”

“I see where you’re going
with this,” he says. “Yes, I can teach you—I wouldn’t have told you of its existence if I weren’t willing to do that—but be warned: it’s a skill that requires much practice.”

“Gentlemen,” Kate’s teasing voice intrudes. She sounds as if she left unsaid,
And I use that term loosely.

“I’m glad you’re here,” George says, looking up at her. “I was just about to teach Darren how to Teleport.”

Kate’s
eyes widen for the briefest moment, but if she has a problem with this development, she doesn’t voice it.

“Do you want to partake in his first practice?” George asks. “Or are you hungry?”

“I already ate.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll help.”

I swallow the last of my sandwich and look at George. He appears either thoughtful or constipated; it’s hard to tell the two apart.

Then everything goes silent. Instead of sitting on the ground, I’m now standing off to the side. The warm tropical breeze is gone, and I realize I’m in the Quiet. So that’s what that look was about; he was Splitting.

George is looking at my feet calculatingly. “Okay. I’d say about a meter. Do you agree?”

“I don’t understand the metric system,” I say, “but even if I did, a meter from where to
where?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been told I’m a terrible teacher. From your body, of course.”

I look at my frozen self. He/I am still sitting on the blanket. We’re about three feet apart, plus or minus a couple of inches.

“Why does it matter?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” he says and walks up to his frozen self. Before I can ask any more questions, he phases out.

“Kate, be a dear and bring out
a few crates from the plane,” George says.

I hear the sound of a cricket coming from the grass. As Kate walks toward the plane, she purposefully steps on where the sound is coming from. The little guy is silenced. Is that her way of hinting at her disapproval? I sure hope it’s George, and not me, whom she symbolically crushed.

“Don’t move,” George says when I try to get up.

Complying, I ask,
“Why not?”

“All will be revealed in a moment.”

Kate returns with a couple of plastic boxes, exactly like the one that housed our breakfast.

“Over here, right?” George asks, pointing to a spot three feet away from me.

“You mean where I was standing in the Quiet? That is, the Mind Dimension?” I ask.

“No, he means the place where you had a gynecological exam,” Kate says, earning a stern look
from George that stops her from chuckling.

“Just an inch to the right, I think,” I say to George, directing him to where I materialized.

George places the crate in that spot and looks as though he’s concentrating. In the next instant, I’m in the Quiet again, only this time it’s different.

I’m not standing where the crate is; I’m standing a foot away from it.

“Let’s make a note of that,” George
says and phases us out again.

The next crate goes to the new place my body ‘chose’ to phase into.

After he pulls me in, I show up three feet away from the last place.

“So I show up in different places,” I say on the fourth crate. “How does this teach me Teleportation? Cool term, by the way.”

“You’re already Teleporting on a subconscious level,” George explains. “What else could be preventing
you from showing up with your legs inside these crates? Let’s keep doing this and see what happens.”

I have noticed that showing up in the Quiet always had a convenient quality to it. In a crowded room, I always showed up in an empty spot rather than inside someone’s immobile body. I never gave it much thought, though. Maybe I should have.

I let George continue with the lesson, if that’s what
this is. With each crate, I show up elsewhere. Ten crates later, I’m ending up around fifteen feet away from my frozen body. It’s a record of sorts, but it by no means gets me closer to controlling the skill.

“Let’s move on to the next phase,” George says. “Kate, would you be so kind as to help?”

Kate looks me over, then reaches for her sword. Weapon unsheathed, she walks around the crates in
a random pattern. She stays within a tight six-or-seven-foot radius.

“I’m about to pull her in,” George says. “She’ll continue walking aimlessly with her sword in the Mind Dimension. If you show up in its range, you’ll be made Inert. Good luck.”

“Wait,” I say, but the world goes silent again.

I look around. Kate is in the distance. She stops waving her sword when she sees me. My frozen self
and the pairs of Georges and Kates are a good twenty feet away from me. The animated version of George smiles at me as I cross the distance.

“Your range is increasing,” he says when I reach him.

“But I just randomly showed up there. I didn’t control it.”

“This is how it starts,” he says. “If you do this sort of thing for a while, you’ll learn to control it.”

“About how long before I can actually
do something useful with it?” I ask.

“The distance you can travel and how fast you can master this skill all depend on your Reach.” At the mention of Reach, George looks as uncomfortable as I do when I say hello to someone at work and that person just keeps walking past me. I guess even among Ambassadors, the topic of Reach is outside polite conversation.

 
“Look over there,” Kate says, pointing
at something in the distance.

A group of about a dozen people are approaching us, though they’re currently frozen in the Quiet.

“Some kind of welcoming committee?” George asks.

“That’s strange.” Kate frowns in their direction. “Why not just pull us in?”

“Let’s find out,” George says and walks over to his frozen self.

The sounds come back, and the three of us wait for the approaching people
to reach us. They’re wearing the same grayish potato-sack garments as George. They all appear to be mostly in their mid-thirties, except for one older guy who might be fifty or so. Even with that guy, they all seem too young to be dubbed the Elders. Considering they’re walking barefoot, their pace is brisk.

“Martin,” George says when the people are within earshot, “to what do we owe this warm
welcome?”