Yula’s Ark - Chapter 12

“Wait a minute,” Steadman said, picking up the next picture. “Maybe…”

It was a photograph of a protester, in plaid shirt and jeans, in the act of hurling a rock. Shot on Main Street, in black and white, it looked like something out of a different time.

“That’s me,” FBI agent Raymond Beck said.

Steadman looked from Beck to the photo. Yes, it was him. An unpleasant taste formed in the back of Steadman’s mouth. It released an aroma that curled up his nostrils.

“Why wasn’t I notified the FBI had an operation going here?” Steadman challenged.

“That isn’t policy,” Beck said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steadman asked, getting angrier, tapping the photograph.

“Undercover,” Beck shrugged.

“You’re trying to start something.”

Beck shrugged again. He was used to dealing with these locals who never understood–in their rustic little towns and hamlets–the threats to the American way of life.

“Just look at the pictures, okay?” Beck pressed Steadman.

Steadman slowed his search through them, looking at each face in each photograph.

“They tell you about Sheriff Lane?” Steadman asked casually.

“Sure,” Beck said.

“They think they could have nailed him on that bribery charge?” Steadman asked.

“Sure,” Beck repeated.

Steadman flicked a photo aside. “Would they have?”

“If he hadn’t resigned,” Beck replied.

“You always work that way? Get the goods, then get your way with people?” Steadman demanded. He was close to the edge of the kind of explosive anger that scared him to death. Blood pressure, the doctor had warned.

“Do you see anybody?” Beck asked, pointing to the pictures, avoiding the question and ignoring the tone of the deputy’s voice.

Steadman took a couple of breaths.

Calm down, he told himself. You can’t win with these guys. Focus on the task. That’s what Sheriff Lane could never do.

Steadman put another photo aside. The older man would be easy–nobody on the protesters side was over fifty and Steadman knew all the townspeople. The girl would be easy too–Steadman’s binoculars had revealed a strikingly beautiful young woman with light red hair. The other man, the one Scott called Tenner, looked like a rangy farmer–nothing unusual about him.

“What do you got on me?” Steadman asked, discarding another photo.

“No idea,” Beck replied.

“But you’ll find out,” Steadman suggested.

“Sure.”

Steadman went to the next photo. There he was, from a week earlier, Scott Felton, in the middle of Main Street, next to Kerry Inglesol, a sheet of paper between them.

Even after three nights with Raymond Beck, Kerry decided to give Armstrong Gault one last chance. She felt he owed him that. But Gault was being mysterious. There were things he had to do, he said. All Kerry wanted was to talk to him, but Gault disappeared each morning and couldn’t be found the rest of each day.

Kerry wondered if Gault knew about Beck. She’d been careful, but who knew what Gault knew or didn’t know. His face showed nothing, his words revealed even less. That’s what Kerry had liked about him at first–the mystery–but now she wondered if all that silence and intrigue wasn’t a disguise for paranoia and impotence.

Kerry cursed Armstrong Gault silently as she stood in the street, under the hot summer sun, the ridiculous pamphlets in her hand. Who am I supposed to give them to?

Kerry chuckled to herself at the thought Gault was in retreat somewhere working up another pamphlet. As if they did any good. As if the paper they were printed on wasn’t taken from the very trees they were trying to save. She thought about what might really make a difference. Court injunctions, legal maneuvering, legislation–all those boring things. She had discussed it with Raymond; he thought maybe she was right.

Maybe I should go back to school, Kerry mused. Forget the art major. Go into pre-law. That’s where things get done.

Scott looked over Xavier’s shoulder while Xavier fiddled with the damaged box. Xavier’s hands were blackened from burns, but amazingly, he still functioned through the pain.

“You got all that lightning from that little contraption?” Scott asked.

“Yes.”

Scott whistled.

“You guys are pretty advanced,” Scott commented.

“Yes, right,” Yula spat out bitterly, coming up behind the two men. “We have no trees, no animals, no plants, but we can make lightning from a toy box.”

“Why don’t you continue collecting?” Xavier asked testily. “And this time stick to the list.”

“What list?” Scott asked.

“The list in Tenner’s computer,” Xavier replied.

“Where is Tenner?” Scott asked.

It looked like Xavier and Yula weren’t going to answer. Secrets. Don’t trust them, Scott.

“I’m not sure,” Xavier said unconvincingly.

Scott looked at Yula. She’d tell you, wouldn’t she?

“One would say he’s a little upset,” Yula said simply.

“What’s he so upset–”

“Whatever,” Xavier said, dismissing the whole thing. “Go collect.”

“Would two go together?” Yula asked Xavier, more than a little shocked. “Alone?”

“I’m busy here,” Xavier replied. “Go collect. From the list.”

“The list is ridiculous,” Scott told him.

“Abcedif has been researching the problem for thirty years,” Xavier stated coldly.

“Then why didn’t he come?”

“Too old,” Xavier replied.

“Don’t worry. He’ll love what we get,” Scott said.

“Trust me on this.”

“Trust you on this?” Xavier said, a puzzled look on his face, as if he’d never heard the phrase before.

“He didn’t realize,” Scott told him. “The planet’s teeming with life. There are species out there no man has ever seen! Right in those woods. Did you know that half the species haven’t been discovered? Maybe even big species–like cats, and apes, like bigfoot!”

“Okay, okay,” Xavier said, not wanting to hear more. He turned back to his machine.

Either moved by Scott’s speech or embarrassed at his innocence, Yula secretly slipped her hand into Scott’s and led him away. She released it as soon as they reached the woods.

“No, please,” Scott said and took her hand again.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Yula said firmly and pried Scott’s hand from hers. “Tenner.”

Forgot about him.

They walked a little further. Scott was just about to take Yula’s hand again despite her protests, when they spotted Tenner ahead. He looked up at the sun, then checked some sort of device he held in his hand. Scott thought it was the computer, but he wasn’t sure.

The smart thing would be to find out, Scott told himself. For your own protection. Go right up to him and demand the truth.

“Let’s do this without him,” Scott whispered.

Yula considered.

“It’s very dangerous,” she said as she crept off in another direction. When Scott was sure they were out of Tenner’s sight, he took Yula’s hand again. This time she didn’t resist.

“How old are you? Really,” Scott asked.

“I told you. Thirty-two.”

“How do you…? How come you look so young?”

“Wilson’s Miracle Skin Lotion,” Yula told him.

Is she kidding?

“Don’t you have it yet?” Yula asked.

Scott shook his head.

“Too bad,” Yula shrugged. “You order it from TV. It’s very good.”

They walked on. This is nuts, holding hands with a girl who’s thirty-two, looks twenty, but really is three hundred and fifty years old.

“Yula…” Scott said.

“Yes?”

“What does it mean? Your name.” It wasn’t much, but it was one secret anyway. Maybe she’ll tell you others.

Yula sighed.

“It means courage,” she said. “It was the name of a brave and beautiful woman who spoke out at a time when speaking freely wasn’t permitted. She suffered greatly for her thoughts and was much reviled in her time, but was much revered afterward.” Yula paused. “I’m not courageous like her, but I try to be.”

“We all do,” Scott told her.

They walked on through the forest, not looking for anything, just listening to the sound of each other’s breath, smelling the pine, feeling the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

What is it like for her? Being here? Courage. Yes, she has a great deal. More than you’ll ever know, Scott.

Yula stopped and pointed at the ground.

“Sugar Pine,” Yula said.

“Pardon me.”

“Sugar Pine,” Yula repeated.

She picked up an obscene, foot-long pine cone and showed it to Scott. From her pocket, Yula produced a wad of plastic grocery bags and dropped the cone in one of them. She shaded her eyes against the sun and looked at the trees towering above.

“That one and that one,” Yula pointed. From another pocket, she retrieved a tangle of orange ribbons.

Scott helped her wrap the ribbons around the trunks.

“To mark them, right?” Scott asked.

“Yes. For when Xavier fixes the machine.”

“You mean if Xavier fixes the machine.”

“More cones,” Yula ordered. She and Scott crawled along the forest floor and picked up pine cones.

“Wait one minute,” Yula said and inspected a cone. This one was smaller. “Ponderosa Pine,” she decided. She searched the forest. “Up there.” Scott followed her up a hill to several trees.

“All look the same to me,” Scott said. “Look.” Yula showed him a clump of pine-needles. “Three in a cluster. Sugar Pine has five.”

“Where’d you learn this stuff?” Scott asked.

“Books,” Yula shrugged. “I studied for fourteen years for this moment.”

God, she’s beautiful! Earth Goddess, protector of the planet. Where does that light come from? That gold on her shoulders?

“But books don’t describe feel,” Yula went on, touching the needles to her smooth cheek. “Or smell.” She inhaled a sensual lung-full of the wonderful aroma.

I’d marry her right here and now. Hell, I’d die for her. Easy. You may have to.

She started sneezing, violently, great blasts of exhalation. Scott couldn’t help it–he started to laugh.

“What?!” Yula shouted between sneezes. She was scared.

“It’s just allergies,” Scott told her.

“What’s that?”

“Foreign proteins. Pollens. Your body rejects it.”

She sneezed again.

“This is normal?”

“Yes,” Scott assured her. Should have brought a handkerchief.

Yula discreetly turned and wiped her nose on her shirt.

Tenner huffed and bellowed and stamped the earth like a lovelorn buffalo. The ax was in his hand even though they had firewood for a month.

“How long have they been?” Tenner demanded of Xavier.

“Half-hour,” Xavier shrugged, minimizing the time by half. “I told them to go. They were in the way here. It’s okay.” Tenner wasn’t convinced. “They’re fine, don’t worry,” Xavier assured the young man.

Their safety was the last thing on Tenner’s mind and Xavier knew it. Just then, while Xavier tried to think of something to say or some task that might assuage Tenner’s fierce jealousy, Yula and Scott stepped out of the woods, smiles on their faces, bags in their hands.

Xavier held his breath.

“Where have you been?!” Tenner screamed.

Scott wondered how his bags of pine cones would do against an ax. You’re a dead man, Scott. For the lust of a woman. Like some sleazy barroom brawl. And you’re not even drunk.

“I told them to go,” Xavier repeated, stepping between Tenner and Scott.

“One could mention there’s collecting to be done,” Yula said in imitation of nonchalance. She held out five bags filled with pine cones.

“They were collecting,” Xavier chimed in.

Tenner looked at Scott, searching for some sign. Scott held out his own bags of cones.

“Well…” was all Tenner said as he turned away. Xavier turned to Scott.

“I have another list,” Xavier said matter-of-factly.

Scott took it.

Alone on the road to town, Scott made his own list in his mind. Hide them. Help get their contraption working again. Complete their project and get them back to their own world. 2249 A.D.

Scott started to laugh. He couldn’t stop. Tears poured down his cheeks, his body convulsed with laughter. He was barely able to keep the Jeep on the road. It’s so ridiculous.

Scott returned to the electronics store in Hafton. Unlike before, he concentrated on what the place had to offer. Looking at the stereos, electronic toys and batteries, Scott found it ironic that the meager inventory of this shop might represent the salvation of the natural world. Still, Scott found most of what Xavier wanted.

It was when Scott stepped out into the sunshine that the FBI took him in for questioning.

copyright 2007 Brenda H all rights reserved

[tags]Brenda H, thriller, sci-fi, fiction, science-fiction, excerpt[/tags]