Eternity's Edge (15 page)

Able to see through the dome to the other side, he counted the genders — seven men and five women. He drew back for a moment. Something else was like this, something in his musical training that echoed this seven-versus-five circular pattern. A phrase popped into his mind— a chromatic circle. If the males stood for the natural notes, and the females the sharps or flats, they could easily represent the complete scale. He lifted a finger toward the closest choir member. “They're musical notes. Each stalker stands for a note in the chromatic circle.”

Dr. Gordon nodded. “Good. I was wondering if I was just imagining things.”

“Anything else unusual in the pictures?” Nathan asked.

“Just the one of Francesca in the Wal-Mart. That's number three, Daryl. I included this one after you told your story. I am confident that you will quickly discover the inconsistency.”

She tapped the laptop pad and brought up the photo. In the image, Francesca appeared to be a little younger than the girl who had accompanied him to the misty world, maybe a year, maybe less. The flash from the camera had illuminated her body and face brilliantly. Wearing a blue smock over a red shirt, she held her violin in the crook of her arm. Nothing unusual about that, yet, the image of Dr. Malenkov startled him. Yes, he had seen her adoptive father at the Wal-Mart, but now the object in his hands became clear, a huge violin bow.

Nathan backed away from the screen. How could that be? If Nikolai and Francesca already had a bow, why didn't either of
them mention it while he was plotting to get one constructed? Unless …

He looked at Kelly, then at Daryl. They had seen the ghosts, too, but how could Francesca have traveled to the Wal-Mart in Earth Blue from her bedroom in Earth Yellow? It just didn't make sense.

Then, like a soft echo, Scarlet's words came back to him once again.
You
, my love, are one of the gifted, and another is searching for you in her dreams. Perhaps we can guide her to a convenient place to meet you.

“It was a dream,” Nathan said out loud. “Scarlet guided Francesca's dream thoughts to me at the Wal-Mart, and somehow the approach of interfinity is breaking down the barrier to the world of dreams. But why wouldn't Francesca have mentioned the bow?”

Dr. Gordon stroked his chin for a moment, then looked up at Nathan again. “How quickly do you forget your dreams, especially the details?”

Nathan responded with a nod. Dreams always faded quickly, usually by the afternoon. That could explain why Francesca hadn't mentioned the bow. Scarlet had probably planned the whole thing — calling him to Earth Yellow to reunite with Francesca and showing him the kind of bow they needed in order to play the celestial violin. Scarlet planted the idea in his mind long before he tried to swing the basket over the strings.

“So what do we do now?” Nathan asked.

Dr. Gordon rose and walked toward the telescope, one hand in his pocket as he assumed a thoughtful pacing mode. “I suggest going back to the four hundred mirrors to search for your parents. Risking unnecessary cross-dimensional jumps isn't wise, but if you locate Solomon, acquiring his aid would be worth the risk. In the meantime, Daryl Blue will try to communicate with Daryl Red. When the bow is finished, we will summon you for another journey to Earth Yellow.”

“What effect is interfinity having on Earth Red?” Nathan asked.

Dr. Gordon stopped and looked up. “Confusion and widespread panic, not only from the appearance of long-dead airline crash survivors, but the rift in the cosmos is now visible in the heavens. At night, a black chasm obliterates our view of at least a tenth of the stars. They are simply gone.”

“Gone?” Kelly asked as she cast her wandering gaze upward. “How could stars disappear?”

Dr. Gordon shrugged. “That's what the top astronomers on the planet are trying to figure out. But while they're scratching their heads, the world continues to have a sanity meltdown.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “It's kind of like that here on Blue. People are confused, especially older folks who feel like they're living in the past. And the skies are messed up, too. It's been cloudy most of the time, but whenever it clears, I can see a layer of sparkles mixed in with the blue.”

Dr. Gordon resumed his slow pacing. “And the weather phenomenon continues to puzzle me. It's as though Earth Yellow's atmosphere has encroached on the other two without a reciprocating effect. Maybe our two universes are materializing within each other somehow, one overlapping the other so that the worlds will merge physically. If so, the danger level has become literally astronomical. The gravitational collapse alone would annihilate both planets. Our peril cannot be overestimated.”

“That's not exactly comforting.” Nathan slid his Earth Blue cell phone from his pocket and checked the battery indicator. Still plenty of power. “Okay,” he said, standing, “I'm off to see the mirrors again. Give me a call if you hear anything from Daryl Red. If you can't get me on the cell, try the landline. If it's out, try smoke signals. I'll get back in touch somehow.”

Clara Blue tapped his shoulder. “Shall I go with you?”

“Better not. Daryl might need your help, and if we have to jump dimensions, we want to punch as few holes as possible.”

“I won't make a very big hole,” Kelly said, rising slowly from her chair. “Besides, you need my ears.”

“And your tackling skills. You never know when I'll need someone to pull me out of a dream.”

Clara Blue crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, Mr. Practical, have you thought about where to get fuel, or did you forget that the Toyota is almost empty and operating gas stations are likely to be few and far between?”

Nathan licked his lips. He cringed at the hint of gasoline still coating the surface. Siphoning his way to Iowa wouldn't work, but Clara's smirk revealed that she already had an idea cooking. “Okay,” he said. “I give. Whatcha got?”

She pointed in the general direction of the observatory's rear exit. “I checked the outbuilding. If you look behind the lawn mower, you will find two small gas cans. It won't be enough to get all the way to central Iowa, but it's a start.”

Daryl Blue gave Kelly a peck on the cheek. Her voice cracked. “Take care of yourself. I don't want to lose another Kelly-kins.”

Blinking rapidly, Kelly took her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but, after a second or two, she closed it again and returned the kiss.

Silence descended on the telescope room. The gravity of countless dangers seemed to weigh on everyone's mind. With interfinity at hand and Mictar lurking in every dark corner, the shadow of death seemed to hover overhead.

Offering only a wave, Nathan and Kelly left quietly, hand in hand.

After gassing up the Toyota and packing the violin, camera, and mirror, they began the long drive back to Newton. The skies, now gray and darkening, spattered cold rain across the windshield and slickened the pavement.

Nathan flipped on the radio and pressed the scan button, searching for a good signal. The digital readout sped through the FM frequencies, topping at 107.9 and starting over again.

Obviously, no stations were nearby. When he pressed the button again to end the search, mild static buzzed through the speakers, and a rhythmic bump sounded every second or so, as if a percussionist struck a drum in time with an inaudible melody.

Nathan reached to turn the radio off, but Kelly grabbed his wrist. “Leave it there. I hear something.”

He pulled his hand back. “What?”

“I'm not sure. Just let me listen.”

As they passed close to the Burger King they had visited in Earth Yellow, the static increased in volume and pitch. Nathan decelerated and pulled into the parking lot. “Let's change the frequency one notch at a time.” He pressed the tuning button. The static altered, pitching higher again.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Try going up a few more.”

He hit the button twice. The static separated into several scratchy voices, some bass singers, some sopranos, and a couple in between. As he continued climbing the frequency range, the jumbled sounds clarified until the chorus of voices sang without distortion. Although each singer performed with professional polish, they sang oddly blended notes, without melody, without purpose. The voices seemed to compete with each other, some in one key and some in another, until the combination sounded more like an operatic war than a choir performance.

Kelly winced. “That's awful! It sounds like Pavarotti is having a temper tantrum.”

“Can you interpret?” Nathan asked, turning the volume down slightly.

“They're all saying different things, but I'll try to pick up something.” She opened the glove box and withdrew a pen. “Got any paper?”

He pulled “Foundation's Key” from his pocket. “Use the back of this.”

She retrieved Daryl's puzzle book, scooted her feet up on her seat, and set the paper and book on her knees, drawing them close to her eyes. While she jotted down some words, Nathan pulled slowly out of the parking lot. “Let's see if we can keep moving and still pick it up.” As he accelerated, the signal faded but not enough to squelch the voices.

Kelly turned up the volume and continued to transcribe lyrics. “I count at least eight different voices, and they're all saying something different. I'm piecing them together the best I can.”

Nathan glanced at her as she worked. At times, she just listened intently, then, with tiny, precise letters, she slowly formed a word, pursing her lips to mouth the syllables as they painstakingly appeared on her paper.

He squeezed the steering wheel and looked up at the darkening sky. It was a good thing they had over four hours in front of them. With so many voices, her transcription could take every minute of it.

Although no other cars competed for road space, Nathan took his time. Every few miles, as the signal wavered, he adjusted the volume. Soon, he noticed a pattern. Whenever the thickness of the clouds overhead decreased, the strength of the signal increased. He gazed up at the thinning blanket overhead. Was the music, if it could be called that, coming through the wounds in space? Could the singers be the twelve white-haired freaks torturing Scarlet from their stance in the chromatic circle?

Nathan pressed down the gas pedal. Scarlet needed help. He had to rescue her from their clutches. Even if it meant wounding the dimensional fabric again, ending her suffering would be worth it.

He leaned through the gap between the seats and grabbed the mirror from the back. Propping it on the dashboard, he stared at it while still accelerating.

Kelly looked up. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see if Scarlet will help us get back to her.”

Her glassy eyes blinked twice. “Scarlet? What can she do?”

“She watches me through the Quattro mirror. She said she's the one who rescued us from the plane crash.”

“Do you need music?”

“To show a transport destination, I think so. But we have this stuff on the radio.”

Kelly laughed. “I wouldn't call that music. I'd call it the opposite of music.”

“Maybe we can find a normal station now.” He pressed the scan button again and watched the digits climb.

“Nathan!” Kelly pushed his hand away. “I was just getting some important stuff. I think it's about your parents.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” He pushed the tuner until the singing returned.

“I wanted to wait until I had it all.”

He lowered the mirror and breathed out an exasperated sigh. “Go ahead. Keep translating.”

She settled back again and tapped her pen on the page. “It's really strange. Most of the voices are singing about morbid things like death, fear, and war, but there's one female who inserts other words out of the blue. So I started concentrating on her voice. She sings in what sounds like F-sharp Major, and every time she sings an A-sharp, I hear a word that doesn't fit what she's saying overall. That's when I started writing down the A-sharp words that my mind translates.”

“Wow! That's amazing. With all that noise, you gotta have perfect pitch to pull out those notes.”

She doodled on the page, making a warped quarter note. “It has to be more than that. I've always been good at identifying notes, but ever since you showed up at my house, I've been hearing things I've never heard before. All the sounds separate neatly from each other, almost like I can see them in my mind.”

“You're the interpreter. You picked up a sixth sense of some kind.”

“I guess so.” She tapped her pen on the paper. “Anyway, here's what I have so far. ‘Solomon location square music.’”

He glanced at her notes. Whoever was sending them a message had mentioned his father's name! His voice spiked in volume. “Is that it? Isn't there more?”

“Not yet.” A hurt expression wrinkled her face. “It's really hard. I'm doing the best I can.”

He clenched the steering wheel. Everything was moving too slowly, much too slowly. “I know you're trying, but there has to be more. The words sound important, but they don't make sense.”

“You switched the station,” she said, pointing at the radio with her pen. “I'll have to keep listening to pick it up again.”

Nathan stared at the radio. She was right. It was his fault. He slammed his hand against the dashboard. “I can't believe it! I'm so stupid sometimes!”

“I'm not touching that one.” She angled her ear toward the radio and squinted at the paper again, her pen poised. “But it'll help if you turn down
your
volume for a while.”

Nathan bit his tongue. That was the sharpest rebuke he had heard from Kelly in a long time. As he glared at the road, a dozen retorts flashed through his mind and begged to burst out, but he pressed his teeth down harder. He deserved the scolding. They had a plan, and he switched gears. And why? Because he wanted to rescue Scarlet. Somehow the maiden in red had captured his will, and he couldn't get his mind off her.

He set the mirror in the back and gazed at Kelly. Her lips once again pursed, she continued to painstakingly transcribe from the midst of the turmoil. In some ways, she mirrored Scarlet — fair of face and form, possessing a fire within that defied description, and, with her vision so brutally wounded, carrying an air of vulnerability that called out for his protection.