Exodus 2022 (25 page)

The vicar is wrong.

Wrong about God and the universe and our place in it.

It’s nothing like what they think. Not even close.

It’s better.

The line had become a thread of white flame, so bright the young boy could scarcely stand to look at it.

No one else noticed, so Wesley watched, and waited.

The line marks a pathway.

A bridge.

An opening.

The line will cut through the wall at the back of the church and I’ll see what’s there.

The wall will fall away and I’ll understand.

The wall will fall away and I’ll remember.

He could hear music now. Soft, from beyond the wall. Growing stronger. Louder. Music familiar. Transcendent. Achingly beautiful.

Bright as the surface of the sun, the line cut through the sanctuary like a blade.

In a moment I will understand.

Then…

Struggle. Dissonance. Noise.

A jarring, brain-rattling, brutal sound that ruined everything.

Ping
…
ping
…
ping
…

Like an obscenity the sound assaulted the music from beyond the wall. Jamming it. Desecrating it.

Ping
…
ping
…
ping
…

Louder now.

The sound hurt Wesley’s ears. Shattered his concentration. Worst of all: the sound caused the light to fade. The radiance diminished now as rapidly as it had flared.

The boy felt a visceral pain, as if he’d just been torn from his mother’s side. He convulsed and cried out.

The dream stuttered on, and the admiral, dozing in his chair before his computer, writhed and moaned.

“We respectfully request that the sonar be turned off between 2 a.m. and 2 p.m. Pacific standard time, tomorrow.”

Admiral Houghton’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped. His hands trembled and his heart thumped. Sweat trickled into his eyes and he wiped his forehead with one arm. Blinked.

The priest is right
, he thought.
The sonar must be turned off.

It was a ridiculous notion. Utterly outrageous. Houghton understood this.

A ridiculous notion…An absurd request.

It’s also absolutely true.

JOE AND ELLA EXITED PIER 18
on foot and headed north, toward the Pike Place Market and the van. Ella glanced back, in the direction of the
Nimitz
.

“Anyone following us?” Joe asked. He was glad for the swarms of tourists jamming the sidewalk on Alaskan Way.

“No,” Ella replied, “but I wouldn’t be surprised. The admiral looked kind of stunned. Like no one outside the Navy would know about the sonar installation you mentioned. He seemed fine with the general questions, but when you named an exact site he kinda flipped. Seemed to me, anyway.”

Joe took Ella’s hand and picked up the pace, guiding her around and through clusters of strolling tourists. It was an unusually gorgeous Fourth of July, and no one, it seemed, was in a hurry. Except for the two of them. “How
could
you know about the sonar?” Ella asked. “Mia, right? But how could Mia know? The names, I mean? The English words? Kanaga—whatever that is?”

They wound their way through a huge happy crowd wearing identical T-shirts with Benton Family Reunion printed on the back.

Joe said, “The guy I mentioned earlier. The old guy Mia knew.”

“Yeah?”

“He and Mia spent a lot of time together. Shared a lot of information.”

They passed Pier 52 and the ferry terminal, and Ella glanced south one final time to find the
Nimitz
looming over the waterfront still, dominating the shipyards, rising above the container vessels and cranes like a colossal building.

“The guy,” said Joe, “whoever he was, knew the place names. Knew the coastline like his own backyard.”

Ella said, “And because he knew that stuff, you know it? How’s that work?”

Joe stopped walking and his gaze froze on the waterfront structures ahead: Pier 55 and the Ferris wheel beyond. Ella clutched his hand.

Joe stared, like he might drill a hole in the buildings with his eyes. People flowed around them as if they were statues.

“It’s real time,” Joe whispered.

“Huh? What’s real time?”

“Like a three-way call,” said Joe, “only without the phones.” He looked at Ella. “Dieturlund is alive.”

“Who’s Dieturlund?”

Joe laughed. He’d never heard the name before either. He knew it now, though, and it felt as familiar as a friend’s name.

“Will Dieturlund. The man who knew Mia.”

Ella nodded. “Okay, but what’s real time?”

“I thought before that all of this information was old, but I misunderstood,” Joe said. “Mia has been talking to him—to Dieturlund—or at least accessing his memories, to help her communicate with me…And because I’m connected to her, I guess I’m also connected to him.” 

Joe stared at the pier. Stared so intently passing tourists followed his gaze.

Joe said, “I can see where he lives. It’s like a hospital. A rest home, maybe.” He looked at Ella. “He’s not well.”

They started walking again, toward the Seattle Aquarium. Ella tried to conjure an image of the mystery man in his hospital room, but got nowhere.

“Is Dieturlund aware of you?” she asked.

Joe shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. It’s not that clear. The thoughts come in fits and starts. I can’t explain it.”

Ella nodded. “You seemed a little lost when you were talking to the admiral. Like you were reading a defective teleprompter.”

Joe laughed. “Weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced, that’s for sure. Memories keep popping into my mind. Thoughts. Only, they’re not mine. Not at all.”

They stepped into the street to get around a line of people ordering food at a waterfront grill. Kept moving.

“Last night,” said Joe, “all I knew was that Mia needed my help. This morning I realized that the help had to do with sound. A sound Mia can’t control.”

“The Navy sonar,” said Ella.

Joe nodded. “I can hear it in my head right now. Horrible. Drive me crazy if I had to listen to it all the time. 

“Once I figured out the problem was sound—sonar—it seemed the Navy was the solution.”

“So, Houghton,” said Ella.

“Yeah. If Seafair wasn’t happening, I would’ve gone to the base in Bremerton. Talked to an officer there.”

“Where’s Kanaga?”

They were nearing the aquarium and the Market Stairs—the steps leading up to the Pike Place Market.

“Alaska,” said Joe. “Aleutians. Kanaga came to me at the last moment. One second all I knew was that it was sonar causing the problems. Then I had a name. I could see it. Could see the chart, like it was in front of me.”

Joe took Ella’s hand, and they crossed Alaskan Way, to the base of the steps. Tourists were everywhere.

“What does ‘critical cetacean communication’ mean?” Ella asked. “What does Mia need to communicate?”

Joe led Ella to a wooden bench adjacent to the broad climb, and they sat. Joe’s face was pale.

“She needs to send a message.”

Ella thought about it, fascinated. “A message to whom?”

“Don’t know.”

“What kind of a message?”

Joe laughed. “Don’t know that either. Mia’s not telling me. Or can’t.”

“But it’s a moot point,” said Ella. “It doesn’t really matter what Mia wants, does it?”

Joe said nothing.

“I mean, Houghton’s not gonna just shut down the sonar thing because you asked him to, right?” 

“Maybe not.”

“Why would he? We’re nothing to him—except troublemakers.”

“He might believe he needs to shut the sonar off.”

“Why would he believe that?”

“I believed I had a daughter,” said Joe.

Ella said, “Yes, because you touched Mia.”

“Yeah,” said Joe. “And Houghton touched me. And when he did, there was a little jolt. Electricity. Something passed from Mia to the admiral. Through me.

“Maybe it’ll be enough. I wasn’t asking the world, after all. Just for one sonar installation—a test site—to be shut down for a few hours.

“In any case, Mia believes the sonar will be shut down. She’s moving for open water now. Moving fast, toward the straits. Getting into the clear so she can send her message.”

Ella clutched Joe’s hand and stared into the crowd surging around them. She looked frightened.

“What?” Joe asked gently. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Ella laughed. “I met Mia last night. Saw her with my own eyes, okay? Touched her. Connected with her in a way I can’t even begin to comprehend.

 “But if that hadn’t happened, Joe, if it was you just telling me this stuff…I mean, it’s insane. No one’s going to believe it.” 

She shook her head. “But we’re going to have to make them believe it, because we have to go to the police.”

Joe made no reply.

“You said we would,” said Ella. “After you helped Mia.” 

“I know.”

“So?”

“We will.”

“When?”

Joe sighed. “Ella—”

“We have to go to the police now, Joe. Explain about the
Nimitz
. About Beck. Explain why we started a fire and fled the scene. About the bugs in my car, and your house—and how they’ve been following us.”

She touched Joe’s face. “We need to tell them what he did to you—on his boat.”

“They’ll never buy it.”

“They will. You aren’t the only one this happened to, remember? The police will investigate and see what’s true.”

They sat quietly until at last Ella spoke again.

“Beck is evil.”

Joe sighed and put a thought in the front of his mind.

Ella?

What?

We can’t go to the police. Not yet.

Ella turned and faced Joe. He looked tired. Drained.

Out loud, Joe said, “It would take a lot of time, right? Going there? Explaining everything…several times. Waiting for them to verify what we’re saying, or, the parts they can verify.”

Ella shrugged. “Yeah. It’ll take time. They might arrest us. Probably will.”

I don’t know if I have much time.

Why? What do you mean?

I told you about the other guys—the guys Mia contacted before me?

Yeah?

I didn’t know what happened to them. But now I do. I can see their faces.

Ella waited.

They’re dead, Ella. All of them.

Joe felt Ella’s emotions rolling toward him like a tidal wave. Too many thoughts and feelings to process. He squeezed her hand and continued.
Mia is changing. At first she was all rage and grief. In agony over the loss of her child. She blamed people. All people. But it’s different now. Now I sense compassion. Love.

Ella replied,
She’s gotten to know you.

Joe smiled wanly.
And now she’s worried for me. Because of what happened with the other men. With you, the contact was light. Easy. She was easy with you—because of me.

Joe held Ella’s gaze
. For me, and the guys before me, touching Mia was like touching lightning—only with a delayed reaction.

Ella spoke out loud again, fighting to keep her voice steady. “So let’s skip the police and go straight to the doctor. Find out how to stop what’s happening.”

“Doctors can’t help,” Joe said flatly. “Insanity and neural collapse by cetacean contact is not something they teach in med school.”

Ella looked at him, tears clouding her eyes now.

“You don’t know they can’t help,” she said angrily. “You don’t know that. What are you saying? You can’t just give up. We have to try.”

Joe slid closer and put his hands on Ella’s waist. His eyes were full of tears now, too. Passersby stared, but Joe and Ella paid no attention. “I’m
not
giving up,” said Joe. “I plan to fight like hell. But not at some hospital. At least not yet.”

Ella waited.

“There’s one guy who actually understands this. Who touched Mia and lived. He might actually be able to help.”

Ella thought about it. “Dieturlund?”

“Yeah. He had multiple contacts with Mia and survived. I need to talk to him. Ask him what to do. What the secret is.”

Ella said nothing, but Joe could tell she wasn’t convinced.

 “If we go to the police now, we’ll be delayed hours,” he said. “Days, maybe. If we go to the hospital—more delays. I want to try Dieturlund first.”

She sighed. “He’s in Seattle?”

Joe considered it. Smiled. There was a new image in his mind now: a retirement home with a sign out front, and a distinctive city skyline in the distance. It was a memory of a building he’d never seen or visited. Not the first time such a memory had just popped into his mind, but the experience was jarring all the same. Startling. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. The retirement home “memory” had just appeared, as clear and bright as if he were standing there in person.

“He’s in Bellingham,” said Joe. “A place called The Willows. On Seventh.”

THE SEATTLE OFFICE OF THE FBI
is in the federal building at Third Avenue and Spring Street, four blocks from the waterfront. It took thirty minutes from the time Admiral Houghton’s lieutenant phoned for agents Roger Chen and Sandra Timmons to wade through the holiday crowds and reach the
Nimitz
.

Now they were on the ship’s bridge, reviewing security footage of Joe and Ella. Seattle Police were on hand as well.

“The sonar’s not highly classified,” Lieutenant Ollie Pedersen told them. “But there’s no way a private citizen should know about it.”

Agent Timmons studied her tablet computer. Joe and Ella had used their real names with Admiral Houghton and mentioned that they were from Bremerton. A simple Google search brought up pictures, links to the St. Anthony’s website, and news reports concerning the events in the San Juans. A bit more digging, and Chen and Timmons found a link to the Breakwater YouTube video, news pieces about the alleged Wendy’s poisonings, and a police report about the fire at Joe’s house.