Hi there! Welcome to chapter 46. I've added another chapter to the story, so instead of wrapping up at chapter 50, there will be one after that. It's kind of a fan service chapter, but it furthers the story as well. In he mean time, we've got a journey to finish and a mission to get to. Let's check in with the team and see how they're making out.
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46
First Look
Shawn saw it first. He pointed through the windshield, toward the passenger side of the car. Something in the distance interrupted the straight line of the horizon. Neb took a high-powered telescope the size of a penlight from her pants pocket and looked through it. "That's it." She passed the telescope to the front. "Have a look."
Shawn looked, then I looked. What I saw was a narrow dome, like an upended champaign flute with no stem. It was yellow as the exposed top of the plains' scrub. The surface swirled with variations in the yellow like a soap bubble blown with a lungful of cigarette smoke. "I'm damned." I muttered. I don't know what I expected to see. I'd thought a lot about what the mountain would look like, but not much about the barrier. "Ominous as fuck, isn't it?"
"That's one way of putting it." Neb agreed. She asked for her telescope and compass. I handed them over, and she used them and her phone to do some math and some figuring. She handed the compass back and recommended a ten-degree course correction to 280 degrees west-north-west. I made the adjustment. Neb asked me how many miles we'd gone and a few other questions. She took the information and did more figuring and math on her phone. "When we come back," she said, "keep the needle at ninety-six degrees east-south-east. That will put us in town. Remember, the town is much smaller than the mountain and will be easy to miss if your course wanders."
I made a mental note to tell the other guys when they woke. They all deserved an equal chance of getting back.
We continued driving on our altered course and the rest of the trip was spent watching the mountain. What started as a yellow speck on the horizon gradually got bigger as we closed the distance between it and us. A couple hours later, Neb said that we'd arrived. It was a little after three in the afternoon and we'd been listening to the Doobie Brother's greatest hits album, the one with the jukebox on the cover. The dance beat of the 1970s pop music seemed in direct contrast to the menacing yellow dome that stood against the pale blue sky like a radioactive anthill from some low-budget black-and-white sci-fi movie.
I stopped the car a couple hundred yards away from the barrier and stared at it. Patterns in the yellow surface combined and separated, they rolled and pulsed like the damn thing was alive. It gave me the creeps. I hated the sight of it, but like a car accident with a fatality, I couldn't tear my eyes away.
"Any instructions, Neb?" I asked.
She popped her door open, got out, and stretched her body from all the sitting we'd done. "Not really. Keep your distance and try not to use magic. We don't know if they can sense us or if they have any `instrumentation' as the Steward insisted. If we want to have any chance at surprise, keep the noise low and avoid using your power."
I'd gotten out of the car as she was speaking, and she paused to wait for me to finish stretching and groaning. "How do you feel?" She asked.
I answered honestly. "Scared, stressed, worried. I'm still struggling to believe any of this is real, but I know that it is." Shawn must have felt my tension as he came to stand next to me as I poured my feelings out to Neb.
"I'd like to say it will be fine, but..." Neb shrugged helplessly and pushed her rolled sleeves up her arms. "I will say that we have a good team and I think if anyone is capable of winning this fight, it's us."
I took what solace I could in Neb's optimism. I gave her a thumbs-up and decided that getting to work was better than talking about what I couldn't change. "I'm gonna look after the car." I turned toward Shawn. "You want to help the others get camp set up?" He agreed and set to work.
I focused my attention on the Vic. I started by filling the gas tank and checking the mileage. The Vic was doing well, averaging eighteen miles per gallon. Some rough mental math said we'd be well within our fuel resources. I removed the weapons from the hood so I could re-check all the fluids, and I made certain everything was ready for the return trip. When I was finished, I sat in the driver's seat to reset the compass for 96 degrees and put the car keys above the driver's side visor. The old girl was as ready as I could make her. I ran my hands around the worn plastic of the steering wheel and wondered if I'd get to drive the car back. I wondered if anyone would get to drive the car back.
My watch found its way into my hands as I sat there and thought. The very real possibility that the car would remain where it sat for the rest of time made me sad. It had been my Grandmom Helen's car once upon a time, her last one. She'd bought it new and drove it until I got my license, then she gave it to me. I smiled at the memory.
Helen Cappo was my mother's mother. She was a hard woman, tough as nails and coarse as sixty-grit sandpaper. She smoked like a stack, drank like a fish, and was as independent as a shark. She hated my father. She also didn't approve of the fanatical religion both my parents professed. Grandmom Helen was a devout believer and regular churchgoer. Her faith was strong, but she had warmth and a sense of humor that my parents lacked.
When I was thirteen, my father sat me down and warned me against the sin of self-abuse. Two-years later, on my fifteenth birthday, Grandmom Helen presented me with a box of latex condoms and a different warning. "Pulling out doesn't work my boy. If it did, your Uncle Joshua, dead before you were born, would have been an only child and we wouldn't be having this chat." She smiled her store-bought teeth at me and patted my head. "You're a good boy. I'm glad it didn't work."
Two years after that, I'd just turned seventeen and was trying to raise a few hundred dollars for something to drive. As a last resort and futile gesture, I asked my father for a loan. He refused with a glare and a bible quote...some useless fuckery about wheat and chaff that made no sense to me at the time. He compounded his refusal by telling my mother about the request. She, in her normal voluble way, told Grandmom Helen about my irresponsibility and ingratitude.
What my mother hadn't considered as she blabbed my shortcomings to my grandmother, was how angry the old woman was at the time. A few weeks prior to that conversation, my parents had announced their intention to take the old lady off the road, sell her house, and move her to a retirement facility. They said she was getting too frail to look after herself. She fought them, but the deck was stacked in their favor. As a `fuck you' to my folks, Grandmom Helen gave me the car with new tires on it, a full tank of gas, and a year of insurance paid up in my name. There wasn't a thing my folks could do about it except gnash their teeth.
I loved that old woman. She was my favorite and I think I was hers. She was the only relation that ever spoke to me like I was a real person and not an annoyance. I paid her back as well as I could a couple years later when my folks tried to make her quit smoking and drinking. Since they'd gained control over her finances, they made certain her bills were paid, but refused her any money for what they called `vices of evil.'
When I heard about their cruelty, I intervened. Every Friday after work, I brought Grandmom Helen a carton of smokes and a handle of gin. We'd sit together over a few shots and a T-Square cigarette while she watched her favorite game show. I kept that up for almost two years until she died in the night like blowing out a candle.
I'd driven the Vic for all those years and all those miles because keeping it was easier than shopping for a new car. It required no decision other than maintaining it when it needed maintenance and repairing it when it needed repair. The car fit with my approach to life, which was to always choose the path of least resistance. Besides being the easiest path, I also kept the car for Grandmom Helen.
There were times I could have replaced it, times I probably should have replaced it, if the only concern was financial. The idea of getting rid of it always troubled me. I'd had the car for so long; it was more of a partner than just a mode of transportation. For that reason, the idea that I might be abandoning it to its fate on the nameless plains, I almost felt like I was saying goodbye to Grandmom Helen all over again. The whole thing made me sad. I felt that I wanted to do something, to put my stamp on the moment somehow.
I slipped my watch back on, took the CD jacket from the dash and flipped it, looking for the perfect tune to have cued up for whoever started the car next, if anyone ever did. The ultimate clichŽ leapt into my fingers. I turned the ignition to accessory, loaded the disc, selected the track, and clicked the ignition off before the tune started. I couldn't help but laugh as I tucked the keys back above the visor. I think Grandmom Helen would have appreciated the joke.
After camp was set, we ate as a team and talked about the next morning. Neb wanted to attack at dawn. It seemed clichŽ, but cliches come from somewhere so I assumed there was good reason. I didn't question her. I'd learned to trust that she knew what she was doing. Bem prepped both heavy machine guns and double-checked the side-arms and other weapons. Everyone made their own preparations and time passed. The evening faded to night, the sun went down, and complete darkness settled around us.
To my surprise, the yellow of the barrier didn't glow. I kind of wished it did. I didn't like the idea that someone could stumble into the thing and find themselves vaporized. We were far enough away from it that the scenario was unlikely, but I still wished I could see it. I felt like I could hear the thing breathing in the dark. In my nervousness, I asked about a fire and was refused. It didn't matter, we didn't have anything to burn. To my disappointment, no light meant nothing to do, nothing to occupy my overwrought mind.
After casting about a little, I laid on the hood of the Vic, my back against the windshield, and looked at the stars. I don't think I'd ever seen so many stars. The whole Milky Way was spread out on display just for me. Shawn came over to lean on a fender. His presence reminded me of where I was and that what I was looking at was likely not the Milky Way. "This is a different dimension from Earth, right?" I asked.
"Yes."
"So even with a spaceship, I couldn't go back there from here, right?"
"Right, but why do you ask? Do you want to go home?" Shawn's voice was even but I felt that I'd stirred his fear without meaning to.
"No...the stars." I pointed up like he didn't know where they were. "I was looking at the stars and forgot where I was. I thought they were the same stars, but they can't be."
Shawn felt relieved. "They're not the same. You're looking at the Crepusculum, the glimmering galaxy. I don't know much about space or the stars and there are no spaceships here."
"Has anyone from Solum ever been to space?" I asked.
"No, what would the point be?" He asked in response.
"Reaching for the unknown." I offered. I was old enough to remember when space shuttle launches were national events. It was because of that enthusiasm for reaching out, that I saw the Challenger tragedy live as it happened. My whole first grade class was in the school's library to watch the launch on a twenty-five-inch color television complete with simulated wood grain and a set of rabbit-ears antenna. I was too young to really understand what happened, but I remember the looks of shock and horror on the faces of the adults present and my surprise at seeing the usually caustic librarian crying into a wad of tissue. I was an adult before I grasped the true gravity of what I'd witnessed that day.
Shawn's sentiments on space exploration matched those that I'd heard many times since that tragic event. "There is enough unknown here to keep us busy for a very long time. There's no reason to search for the undiscovered out there when we still don't understand all that we have here." I thought it was nice that his thoughts weren't born of twenty-twenty hindsight like the ones I'd heard expressed on Earth.
"Come to bed." Shawn said when I didn't respond. "Big day tomorrow."
I agreed, climbed down off the car, and stood next to Shawn. As my feet hit the ground, I looked at him for the first time since he came to join me by the car. It was dark, so I couldn't make him out well, but I could tell that his normally well-defined upper body was completely obscured in the folds of a huge garment. "What are you wearing?" I asked and squinted at him.
He held his arms out to his sides, showing me that his hands were completely obscured by the empty and dangling sleeve cuffs that were far too long for him. He folded his arms over his chest, the dangling cuffs doubled over his hands as they flattened out near his shoulders. He did a single turn in place to show himself off to me. The shapeless thing he was wearing turned out to be a hooded sweatshirt several sizes too big for him. "Do you like it? It's the first gift my boyfriend ever gave me."
I had to think for a second before I remembered. The recollection was clouded by adrenalin and alcohol fog, but I remembered the conversation that he and I had on the darkened industrial street of Philadelphia. It was only a few minutes after we'd run away from the menacing meatheads that later turned out to be employees of Ars. I'd forgotten about the sweatshirt jacket and that I'd given it to him. When I woke up on Solum, it was warm, and I didn't need a jacket. I'd simply never noticed its absence and didn't remember handing it over to Shawn because he was cold. I smiled at the sweetness he displayed in keeping it and wearing it. "It might be a bit big for you." I teased.
"It is," He admitted, "but I'm not wearing it for fashion. It's very warm and," he pulled the neck open and inhaled a breath through his nose from inside the jacket, "it still smells like you. Wearing it is kind of like staying warm in your arms."
His words of love made my heart swell in my chest to the point I thought it might burst. Tears welled in my eyes but didn't fall. I leaned down and kissed his mouth. I gave him a kiss that was more than a pec but less than a full tongue, lingering kiss. The sincerity of his words and the way he responded to my kiss, proved to me over again that he really did love me. "Let's go to bed." I suggested. "That jacket looks ridiculous, and my arms don't seem to be doing anything."
Shawn agreed with my idea and led the way to our tent. He shed the jacket and the rest of his clothes, prompting me to do the same. We laid down on the extra-wide bedroll and snuggled together. I knew I needed sleep but couldn't even close my eyes. There was too much stuff in my mind. I was worried about the coming day, about the battle that would come at sunrise, about protecting Shawn and saving the world. Shawn was worried to. I wondered if he was worried about the same things as me.
Shawn spoke, his voice muted in the whispering darkness of our tent. "What you said this morning...about being glad to be here...did you mean that?"
"You know I meant it."
"I didn't know at the time...you know, that we would...if I would have known, I wouldn't have...I mean..." Shawn was trying to say something but didn't seem to be able to come to the point.
"You wouldn't have picked me?" I finished what I thought his statement would have been.
"Yes...no...I mean..." He trailed off again, still struggling to express himself.
I squeezed him against my body and savored his closeness, his heat, and the end-of-the-day scent of his body. "I think you're trying to say that you're happy to have me here, but you're sorry that you brought me, because I might die. Is that close to right?"
"Yes."
"Shawn...my love," I paused to see if he would react to me calling him `my love,' as it was the first time that I'd done it. He seemed to like it. He relaxed his body some more so it would mold against mine as we cuddled. "Shawn...I am happier right here in this moment with you than I've ever been in all of the rest of my life. I told you before, no matter what happens tomorrow, I wouldn't trade another forty years of my old life for this one minute, or this one, or this one. I am very happy that you picked me."
"So am I," he breathed, "my love."
Hearing him use those words back to me...joy exploded inside me like fireworks. I was happy, truly happy, and if I died the next day, I could at least say that I got to experience joy before I went. "It doesn't seem fair though." Shawn muttered, dampening my joy with his words of doubt. "We asked you to save us, but we haven't...I don't know. It just doesn't seem fair."
"It's completely fair." I corrected him. "I should save you because you've already saved me."
Shawn rolled against me, twisting until he could put his face in mine. "You make me happy." He breathed the words over my face.
"I can't think of a nicer compliment." I said and leaned up for a kiss.
He kissed me with his eyes open, capturing my attention and my wonder with his frozen blue gaze. I kissed him back and held him against me as tightly as I could. Shawn disengaged from our kiss and leaned back so he could speak to me. "I wish we didn't have to do this tomorrow. At least I wish we could attack at noon instead of dawn."
"Why?"
"Because...if we could attack at noon, that would give me time to ravage you."
"I don't think I've ever been ravaged." I teased. "Would you ravage me savagely?"
"So savagely." He kissed the end of my nose and smiled.
"Well, we'll just have to do that tomorrow night after all this is over."
"That's a promise." Shawn rolled off me and snuggled into my side like he had before. He reached over and wrapped a hand across my forehead. "Goodnight, my love."
"Goodnight, my love." I agreed and was asleep.