Settling and Gathering

The Bubble Three

 

Reminiscing can be a medicine,

To pass the time,

And soften the blow…

 

Ten miles south of the wrench.

There was still some time yet, but Nathan and his three weird friends had left everything else behind to ride on into this coffin.

Nathan had heard the sound of the invisible doors closing behind them some minutes ago. Those doors sounded like heavy iron, locking him and his friends in some cell, away from the rest of the world so they could die alone. From the rumors Nathan had heard of the consequence waiting on him, it would indeed be a lonely death, or it would have been if he hadn’t have brought someone along with him. Still, what waited was so bizarre, but he believed it. He believed it as soon as he messed up.

That’s why he ran. Just like anyone else who didn’t want to get caught, but as he did, he kept looking up. The sky never changed. Neither did the world around him. He wasn’t really running, he realized. The consequences would come. He just had to wait for them.

But he didn’t want to be alone in the end.

Since his car was missing its roof, there was plenty of space to move around. Cocoa and Tanner traded places, and Nathan never bothered to look back to see how Pudding was occupying Tanner’s time. He never heard a peep out of them, though. He didn’t care. Cocoa hadn’t said a word either. She just sat, her hair rustling in the redirected breeze. He glanced at her from time to time, and man, did she ever look so beautiful. It was too bad that what was happening was so unavoidable and terrible, that this wasn’t really the excursion they all wanted it to be. Because…well…as he looked at her….

Her arm was lying along the armrest between their seats. He made to reach for her hand several times but always hesitated. It wasn’t time yet. Not yet. Though, that time was coming, wasn’t it? He remembered that time they made love, she was quiet those minutes before it happened. Her quietness had confused him then, but now he liked it. It was a good sign. It meant she was considering something important. He knew that they all knew something about the situation and didn’t bother talking about it. What was there to say? There was something better to talk about instead, inspired by the doom.

For as long as Nathan had known these three, their philosophy hadn’t changed. “Why focus on the bad when the good was reason enough to appreciate during the bad times?” Tanner explained it one day.

They all felt the bad now. That’s why it was quiet in the backseat. Up front, Cocoa was just waiting for him to begin things. So, he started it off. “You remember the first bathing suit you wore after we met?”

Cocoa was grinning already, but his question stretched her grinning into a smile. “Yeah. It was red.”

“A two piece.” he said.

“Not as skimpy as the second one.” she reminded him.

“The green one.” he remembered.

She looked at him, “I wore that one for the longest time.”

“And now you have a new one.” he said.

“It’s even better.” she said.

“But you won’t tell me what it looks like.” he said.

“I didn’t tell you what the others looked like, either.” She offered.

Even though he knew her, not just as a friend, but intimately, every time he made an advance toward her, he always felt it was something he had to build his courage up to achieve. Even now, despite the acceptance of what was to come, he took those few seconds after her response to gather up as much courage where ever he could find it.

“But I got to see them.” He said.

The grin on her face told him that she understood every implication his comment intended.

Then she asked, “You remember the night of the telephone cloud?”

He let his head fall back a little as he laughed, both relieved by the memory and the continuation of her good nature. “Yeah.”

“What do you remember?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, “it was when I learned you knew how to fly.”

“What else?” She asked. “How much of it do you remember?”

“I remember,” he started, “sitting there on the beach, just you and me. We had just left the little tiki bar. We had finished our drinks. We didn’t drink too much. You had…oh what was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.” she said.

“Can’t remember what I had either.” he added.

“We both forgot after what happened.” she said.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We were sitting there, feeling the breeze. It felt nice, because it was during the summer. The nights were warm, but the breeze was cool. It was both at the same time.”

“Yeah.” she said. “I like that.”

He chuckled again. “It was before that that you were telling me about yourself, things I didn’t believe. I thought you were just playing around.”

“But I was serious.” she said.

“Yes, you were.” he said. “I just didn’t know it until later. You kept talking about the clouds, how you were able to use them. I was like, ‘Use them, how?’ and you said, ‘To talk to others far away.’ You didn’t go into detail so I thought it was something silly you were just saying. But then, there on the beach, you asked me if I wanted to talk through a cloud.”

Cocoa spoke, “And you were like, ‘That again? Where did you come up with that, anyway?’”

Nathan chuckled, “Yeah. I remember that. Then you said that you weren’t the one who came up with it. That it was a resource put to use a long time ago. I thought you had more drink than you could handle. But you told me to look up at the sky, so I did. Lucky for you, it was somewhat of a cloudy night, but we could see the stars through the breaks. You pointed to a part of the clouds, and you said, ‘Now, can you see how those clouds just keep stretching far to the right on over the horizon?’ Actually, I couldn’t, because it was dark, and the lights of the city at our backs were stealing from the magic of the night. But I nodded, and you explained it to me. You said something like how all the clouds connected together was one big auditorium, the acoustics being better than any building humans have built. Just to humor you I had asked how that was possible, and you asked me if I’d ever seen the inside of a cloud. I said no and figured it was nothing but a thick mist. You said that was right, but it was more than that. You told me that if I had ever been up there around what we called cumulonimbus clouds, that they were like cities in the sky. There were streets and corridors, large pillars and wide ceilings, wide open courts and dome-shaped towers, that how awesome it was to be able to walk among all those fluffy structures and see the ground light up under your feet when lightning flashed. The thunder was what stirred the curiosity of those long ago who came up with using clouds to carry messages for long distances.”

Nathan glanced at Cocoa was who looking at him, listening, “I remember, even though I thought you were making it up, I was really listening to how you described it, because it sounded awesome.”

He watched the road again, “Then you said that it was an imperfect system, because you couldn’t always direct the clouds where you wanted them to go. The clouds did their own thing, so it helped if you knew whether or not the other end of the clouds were where the recipient of your message was.” Nathan chuckled, “Weather forecasts and news channels were very helpful. It was fascinating, but you could tell I wasn’t taking it seriously, so you decided to show me. You took my hand, and we stood. You said, if you’re afraid of heights, then don’t look down. Before I could respond, you jumped, and you never came down. You kept rising, and I was going with you. I looked down, but I wasn’t afraid. I was shocked, yeah, but that faded as I realized you had told the truth. We were flying toward the clouds. I figured you knew I could handle it, and you were right. So, you took us right up to the clouds. You had a purpose, but we spent the longest time just looking at the clouds up close. I raked my hands through them and they moved like mist. I saw that I was right, but you showed me you were right as well. It didn’t matter where we were because the clouds were all around us, and you said that all the laughing we did was traveling in all directions; that someone would hear it somewhere. I had asked who, and you said people who were able to do this, too. I guess it started to sink in then that you were different than me. I mean, the flying was awesome, but what human hadn’t thought about being able to fly. I guess I thought you had obtained the ability somehow or something crazy like that, but no, you were different, and it was alright for you and I to be friends.”

Nathan made a quick glance at Cocoa. She was still gazing at him, listening. He returned her grin and then faced forward, continuing, “So I was, like, ‘I can just say anything and anyone could get the message?’ and you were like, ‘Well, if you want to send a message in a specific direction, face that way and say it.’ So, I faced east, thinking about the cities along the east coast, and I shouted, ‘Heeeeey, how’s the weather over there?’ and you laughed.”

Cocoa chuckled. “You never got a response.”

“No,” Nathan chuckled, “but I believed I would. Besides, you said it might take a while, and that was a silly question to wait for an answer, anyway. Whoever heard it would probably ignore it. I asked if every message could be heard, even by people who weren’t meant to get them, and you said, yeah, if there was a drawback, it would be that the clouds were as public as it could get. Though, not every message went everywhere. It all depended on the size of the clouds and how far they stretched.”

“Do you remember,” Cocoa asked, “asking me if the messages ever seeped out of the clouds?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said, “and you said they didn’t. That you couldn’t explain it. Yet, the only time there was a chance that could happen was when it rained, that the water was what carried the voices and trapped them inside the clouds to where they wouldn’t fall out. I asked if you had ever heard voices in the rain, and you said, ‘sometimes’ and I thought that was the coolest thing ever.”

The memory was yanked from him when he felt the touch along his fingers. He looked down and Cocoa was curling her fingers around his. He looked up to see her still gazing at him, smiling. He smiled back, glancing back down at their intertwined hands, feeling warmth there. Not cold. The warmth he was familiar with. The warmth she always had. He’d only discovered that coldness of her touch today. She did have both, after all, but he liked only the warmth.

“You remember what I said, though, right?” she asked him.

“Which part?” he chuckled.

“About you being right about how it all looked.” she said. “Like a mist.”

“Yeah.” he said, gazing ahead. With the memory wiped away, he saw his hometown rolling by on either side of the car. They had passed underneath the two overpasses that were the true gateway into the town. They were seconds apart from each other, one being a normal overpass, the other being a railroad track suspended above the highway. Nathan had passed through several red light intersections without stopping, not having to stop. There was another intersection just after those two bridges, and now they were going up a hill where they would cross over a bridge.

“That’s what I wanted you to think about,” Cocoa said as they neared the top of the hill. There was another major road coming from the east and was passing underneath them, heading to the west. Ahead, the large parking lot of the department stores and strip malls lay open with so much unused space. “The color of the mist. How much it was there, and how much…it’s not there.”

Nathan glanced at her and was about to look forward again to watch the road, but her gaze captured him. Her grin was still there, but it was almost a phantom, obscuring the subtle stretch of her lips, but where there was mystery there, her eyes sparkled, and he suddenly remembered that their conversation started off with what her new bathing suit looked like.

Nathan’s jaw went slack.

Her expression didn’t change.

“Swimming pool.” came a voice from the backseat.

Nathan started and glanced over his shoulder. Pudding was leaning forward, staring ahead.

“Yeah, Nate.” Tanner spoke, his voice coming from above. He grabbed hold of the headrest of the driver’s seat, and he was squinting into the wind. Nathan noticed Tanner was without his shirt now. “You promised us a hotel swimming pool.”

“R-right.” Nathan said, taking another glance at Cocoa. She was gazing ahead now, though he could see the sparkles in her eyes, the phantom grin on her lips. “Right.” he said again.

“A big swimming pool.” Tanner added.

“Deep end.” Pudding muttered.

“Gonna go for a dive?” Tanner asked her.

Pudding’s face went beet red, but she didn’t move, nor did her expression change. She just kept staring ahead.

The highway would continue to the north part of town where all the hotels lined up on either side. There would be plenty to choose from. How weird it would be, Nathan thought, if there would be all kinds of customers asleep in all those rooms. He knew there had to be. Hotels were never really vacant.

 

His Bubble Two

 

Indifference again,

But a connection there,

The preservation of a fellow man.

 

Seventeen miles south of the wrench.

“So,” Buzz said, “let me see.”

He was leaning forward in his pilot seat, the fingers of his left hand sliding along the black screen of a monitor, the fingers of his right hand jumping up one by one to each indication he mentioned to himself.

“One,” his index finger stood alone, “they’re not originally from here.”

The monitor at his left displayed the status of his ship’s systems. At the moment, not all functions were displayed, narrowing the information down to the lower thrusters.

“Two,” he raised his middle finger, “I’m not surprised.”

There were five bars displayed, two which were full to their tops, colored green, and two which weren’t quite halfway full, both red, and one that wasn’t filled at all, a red square underneath it reading “Caution” in another language.

“Three,” he raised his ring finger, “I know the target is human.”

Thrusters three and four were still functional, but they needed help. Buzz was able to adjust the amount of energy flowing to each thruster by sweeping his fingers along the bars, bringing the two green bars down to give thrusters one and two three fourths of the energy they usually got.

“Four,” he raised his pinky, “I bet he knows who’s waiting on him because he has unique friends.”

He touched two symbols below the bars of thrusters three and four, and a beep sounded.. He pressed his index finger at the top of the red bar of the third thruster, and he slowly slid his finger up. The red bar rose with his finger, and already he could hear the quieting of a hum from one part of the engine and the waking from another. That was a good sign.

“Five,” he closed all his fingers in and raised his thumb, “his friends know who is waiting on him, too. Which means…”

He pressed his index finger at the top of the red bar of thruster four and pulled it upward. There was another waking hum from below.

“…they might be going to confront him, the lunatics.”

He swept the information from the black screen so it would display a general arrangement of information, and he hit the ignition. The craft rumbled and the thrusters flared. Buzz braced himself as his craft’s first order of operations was to level itself. When it landed, it landed on top of a pile of broken limbs that were taken with it as it crashed, piling up around the base of a tree. The tree was slanting, his craft propped against it. Now the craft was pulling away from that tree and the make-shift nest was roasted black from the flames, the light of the thrusters a smoldering mirage that separated the craft from the ground.

Buzz made one final check of his systems and then gripped the throttle, “I’ve the mind to leave and let it happen, seeing as they want to commit suicide.” He shifted the pedals under his feet and hit the throttle. The engines in the rear kept silent while the ones on the bottom roared, setting the ground aflame, and the sphere rocketed from its wooden enclosure, severing limbs and yanking them up above the tree line to drop back into the green canopy.

The sphere continued on up. Buzz shifted the pedals again, and the sphere twisted around to face north. He shifted the pedals one more time, and the rear thrusters exploded. Buzz braced himself as his craft took him back to that town.

“If I assume they know,” he muttered to himself, “but there’s no way they couldn’t know. Who doesn’t know? And since they do, how could they muster the courage?” He sighed, “I shouldn’t be doing this. They’re morons. They should just…” He paused.

Then he darted his eyes to the right. Mixed in with an assortment of panels and knobs was a small rectangular box. It actually protruded from among the other panels, and with emphasis, because it was a radio transmitter. Not just any transmitter, either. It only had one frequency. That frequency connected him with his superiors.

He considered it, squinted his disdain, smirked, because he knew what he was about to do and was annoyed at himself because of it. He watched his right hand reach over and hit the red button. That touch triggered the call, lighting up the small display between that red button and a green button, both equally annoying. Both decisions he had to make, which was why he had wanted to believe his right hand had made a disembodied decision, not blaming himself for this one. So, when they answered, it was only for a chance to tear into them, instead of having to rely on them.

The display read “Connecting….” in the same language dominating his console, followed by the equivalent of English periods running to the end of the display and then disappearing, only to restart the process, indicating that his call was working to connect to the intended other end of this fixed line.

In the meantime, Buzz stared forward, flying in silence as a dead world scrolled underneath him while a thick barrier oppressed even him from above. Inside the cockpit, the roar of the thrusters was muted to a comfortable hum, giving him an excuse to enjoy the silent secluded cruise over a racing stillness.

Then he heard the muffled click from the small speaker positioned under the transmitter’s display, which now read, “Connected.”

A voice spoke in the same language that was displayed, “How goes your search?”

Buzz couldn’t help but smile big to that question, though if the person on the other end of this line could see that smile, they would know it was anything but a happy smile.

So, Buzz responded in the same language, “Wanna inform me on why you didn’t inform me about his friends?”

The seconds of silence that followed told him a lot. Or maybe that was him assuming what he wanted to assume.

“What’s the problem?” the voice asked. “Are they getting in the way?”

“What do you think?” Buzz scoffed, but he was asking that on purpose. What did they know about Nathan’s friends?

After a few more seconds of silence that let him assume even more against them, the voice answered, “That they aren’t important. The Earthling is your target. His friends are going to die, anyway.”

That was obvious, but what Buzz wondered was whether or not that was doing his superiors a favor.

“What are they doing here? I won’t bother with asking how they got here.” He said.

“Making their own situation worse.” The voice answered.

“So, we’re not helping them?” Buzz asked.

“Maybe we already tried.”

“We can’t try again?” Buzz asked, putting a puzzle together in his mind.

“With this, there are no second chances.” The voice said.

“But we can’t give them a second chance?” Buzz asked.

A pause.

Fine, Buzz thought, think about how you’re going to answer. I wonder if you think I’m a moron or don’t care what I think.

“We do what we can when we can.” The voice offered.

Buzz shook his head, curving his lips, “And…”

“Your priority is the Earthling. If you’re able to convince the others, then that would be a plus,” the voice offered.

He decided to play the conversation by their rules, “Uh huh. Yet, I’m still wondering why I wasn’t told about the extra challenges I would have to deal with in retrieving the Earthling. After all, they’re how you were able to find him, right?”

And flagged him as a potential target, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Since this is one of the many instances where we actually have the advantage, I figured we might show a little bit of gratitude toward these guys.”

Again, there was more revealing silence, and Buzz was beginning to think he didn’t have to make this call after all. He could have thought it all up by himself, getting as much accomplished as he was getting now.

How long had they been tracking these ‘friends’? A part of the puzzle Buzz was putting together was that these friends could be friends of Nathan, because they had so much in common, which was a penchant for getting into the kind of trouble that attracted a certain guy with a mirror. So, why haven’t I been sent after these friends before?

“Like I said,” the voice offered, “If you manage to convince them, that would be a plus.”

Buzz didn’t respond. He’d had enough.

“Now, I look forward to favorable results.” The voice added.

Buzz reached over and hit the red button on the transmitter again, cutting the connection. He gazed forward, trying to fight the urge to leave this planet altogether.

“Convince? We’ve yet to convince anybody.” He muttered to himself.

Leaving a planet was as easy as arriving on one. If he’s questioned, he’ll just say he couldn’t convince them and spend some time enjoying the perks of his job instead of wasting time here. There were times when he forgot why he joined this company. Maybe it was because of the free flights through outer space.

But of course, he did remember.

“I gotta try. They’re wrong…but so is he. I mean, I found out, even about him, and I’m still…” he sighed and shook his head, “I don’t know, maybe…since they’re involved…they all could…it’s all the kid’s got. And yeah, he’s just a kid, right? So he screwed up? If he hangs around with those guys it shouldn’t be hard for him to…oh geez, listen at me. But still…the kid could leave. We can fix this and the kid can leave. Would that even be allowed?” he snickered. “Some people are just stubborn. Especially when it comes to something as crazy as this. Give them a cause and they have purpose.” He squinted at that thought, “But he’s not like that. I know that even after meeting the guy. He actually believes in this, not just for himself.” He sighed again. “This will happen. It’ll happen…and….” his face sobered, “…I might actually get to watch it happen.”

He scoffed at himself, “Why am I even here?” He had accepted it long before he arrived, “There’s really no convincing anyone. I was stupid to say I would do this. What did they think, that he’d actually listen to me? Not when he’s like this.” He chuckled, “Not while he’s on the job. Those crazy eyes of his.”

Buzz couldn’t push the throttle any further. He was already eleven miles out from the town. He was checking the radar screen at his knee, but the town was as silent as before. He wasn’t even seeing movement from that couple he met. “Those two have to be the witnesses. And I bet he’s already met up with them. Doesn’t take him long. He’s better at this than I’ll ever be.”

He stared forward out the glass canopy, seeing the town stretching out in its humble part of the world. He smiled, “But us humans got to stick together, right?”

Next Chapter: Time Out