Savior (25 page)

It is for me.

The hockey game was between the Edmonton Oilers and the Vancouver Canucks. The crowd was cheering a potential fight, the two skaters circling each other with the
ir gloves off. The bartender stopped watching and poured Ricky's beer. The waitress brought it over and set it down with little fanfare. Ricky drank off a couple of sips from the top. It fit his mood of finding some initiative, some magic spark that would carry him beyond the everyday, beyond the mask of normalcy and to wherever the
Santos Muertos
had hidden his father.

Lost in his thoughts, about two-thirds through the beer, he saw the front desk guy Briscoe, come in and sit at the bar. At some point he turned around and saw Ricky. He smiled, said something to the bartender and walked back to Ricky's table, carrying a drink in each hand.

Here you go. Compliments of the house.

Thanks.

You look tired. He sat down and looked at Ricky quizzically. Everybody treating you okay?

Oh, yeah.

Drink up. That's a special concoction. My buddy's specialty.

Ricky drank a sip.

So what's your story, eh?

Ricky sighed. If he started
, he didn't think he could hold back.

I'm worried about my uncle.

Why?

He's in bed.

And?

Well, he's reading up about the company and I'm not sure he.
. .well, we don't really want a job there.

No, you don't. The place is overrun with crazies. They don't like Americans, I can tell you that. We've had a few in here on their off hours.

Well, that's the problem. My dad's an American prisoner there.

No kidding, man. Are you trying to get him out?

Yeah.

I'll tell you what. My buddy's uncle is a trapper. He says he's heard noises from a spot along the Athabasca near Morton Island.

So?

We'll go
there frickin' tonight if you'd like.

That's crazy.

Well, what are you going to do? You can't just walk in the front door and ask for your dad back. The whole place is top secret. Not even the pissant jerks that get to run the country in Ottawa want to admit what's going on there.

I. . .

Drink up.

Ricky didn't know what to say. He sipped at the drink Briscoe had brought him. The story seemed to spread, and hours later the place was crowded with off-duty policemen, oil prospectors
, and ladies of the night all celebrating the end of an era that had vaguely to do with Ricky. He couldn't hear what people were saying, but nothing mattered to him any more. People went behind the bar and took turns pulling the taps and pouring beers. The waitress had one arm around his shoulders while talking to someone else. He remembered his Uncle Tony in bed and thought he should check on his progress. He excused himself, walked out of the bar, and jogged up the stairs of the fire escape and down the hall to their room.

Relieving himself in the toilet, he heard Tony call to him.

Ricky, I've had some serious thoughts about this. I've been reading up about the Harken operation and. . .

Hold on, Uncle Tony.

Ricky washed his hands and face. He wanted to be as sober as possible for this.

Tony was still in bed in his underwear. The sheets were off and his face was lit by the laptop's eerie glow. His reading glasses were slipping off his nose. He pushed them back up.

This is serious stuff, Ricky. The reason they're here is to bring down the Western world. That's their stated aim.

How?

Setting off seismic vibrations under the North American tectonic plates. It would take a tremendous amount of energy, but they've figured out ways to harness sound waves. They're already using it. Look at this diagram that I found of a hovercraft.

He pushed the laptop around and showed Ricky the schematic drawing of a plane that looked like the one Ricky had seen in the Guatemalan highlands the night that they'd been attacked and his father taken prisoner.

I've seen that one flying.

Really? It's amazing. I think we need to go to the government on this. It's much bigger than we can handle.

Ricky jumped off the bed like a bolt of lightning had hit him.

We can't do that, Uncle Tony. They’ll take the tablet. We'll never get Dad out that way.

We can't take this on by ourselves, Ricky. These guys are playing with bigger toys than we can deal with.

We can do it.

Their operation here covers fifty-two square miles. How do you suppose we'll find him? We won't. We can't. As a matter of fact, I've already emailed my friend Hank Rubine. He's in the Naval Reserve and works for Westinghouse. He's put me in touch with a senior guy at the DOD who's going to call me back.

What? You can't do that.

Ricky flew around the room, then fell into a chair, his face contorted, streaming tears, as he struggled to get a hold on himself.

Ricky. Don't take it like that.

How do you want me to take it? You've just blown it, Uncle Tony. They're going to be coming for us now. I'll never give them the tablet. That's not what it's for.

How do you know what it's for?

I can hear my mother when I hold it up. Like this. Ricky ripped the tablet out of the pack and held it to his ear. The Mayans knew about zero. It's the sign of the snail here, Uncle Tony. See? Ricky held the tablet out to Tony, who left the bed and walked over to the easy chair where Ricky sat. Tony took the tablet and stared at the hieroglyphs.

It's the invisible world, Uncle Tony. The key to the whole
universe. What's underneath the surface of the manifest. Coconut Juan and Evelio knew about it. They knew it had to go to the right people.

Ricky's face was red and wet and he had to wipe it with his coat sleeve.

I know it means a lot to you, Ricky. Tony studied the tablet while he talked, searching for words and hesitating before continuing.

Do you really hear your mother?

I do. I can hear her talking.

What does she say?

She tells me to be good, to follow my heart. It's like she's right here in the room.

Ricky. I think you have, you might have
, access to some alternate reality by the force of your desire, what we used to call prayer, or, in the worst case, wishful thinking. And I respect that. You've had good fortune in this search. Even before that. You could say in some way the tablet sought you out. Coconut Juan had a sense that you were the right person. He entrusted it to you. If you don't feel comfortable bringing in some government muscle, I'll go with that. It's your option after all.

But you've set things in motion. Uncle Tony. You've uncovered us. We were operating below the radar.

How do you know? How do you know they haven't been tracking you the whole time you've been on the road?

Because Coppinger told me about the chips. Your body eliminates them after
a while.

Tracking chips? Easy to manipulate those. Add coagulants to the surface enzymes so that a clot forms on your intestinal wall.

We need to get out of here now.

Ricky jumped across to the bed and grabbed the tablet. Frantic, he pulled on his coat.

Hey, let's sleep on it, Ricky.

No, we can't. We have to go now.

Tony stood and grabbed Ricky's arm and yanked him around so that he was facing him.

Look. There's no need to panic. Nobody's coming for us yet. In the morning, if you'd like, we'll check out of here and find another hotel. We'll register under assumed names and try to resume some cover.

What about the job?

We don't need that. I've already found out everything I need to know about the Harken operation. They're doing a lot more than just cracking oil out of the tar sands.

What about Dad and the other prisoners? How are we going to find my dad?

Tony let out an exasperated sigh.

I don't know.

I feel like you don't even care, Uncle Tony.

I do. Of course I do. I'm just at a total loss, Ricky. I'll admit I don't know. There was nothing in any of the files about prisoners, holding facilities. Nothing. I could have missed it, of course.

Well, just think
, where's the most likely place for an underground facility? That's probably where they are.

I have thought about that.

Uncle Tony played on his laptop. He read from the screen.

The oil sands are deposited on an erosional surface of ancient limestone. There are three levels in the formation and the lowest level is
sixty meters thick in some places. That means that if you go deep enough where there’s a source of flowing water, you could get some interesting cave formations. I would guess that since there is a north-south orientation to the layers, the easiest access would possibly be at the southern end of the formation, nearest to the river here.

What's the name of the river?

The Athabasca.

That's it. That’s what Briscoe said.

What?

There's a way in, Uncle Tony.

A knock on the door caused Ricky to whirl around. Tony stood from the easy chair and put his hand on Ricky's shoulder.

Calm down, he said.

Tony put on his shirt and pants and opened the hotel room door to three police officers. The first one in was a thin-lipped, dour man; the next was a dark skinned woman; and the last, a young, clean-cut guy with an expressionless face, all of them wearing the red uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Sorry to intrude, sir. But we have orders to bring you into the detachment for questioning.

On what grounds? asked Tony.

Suspicion of subversive activities.

What the heck is that?

That would be anti-Canadian activities, sir. You and the young man, both of you. We don't want to make this difficult. If you could just come in with us we could get this over with and you could be on your way. We have no grounds for anything but questioning right now, sir.

Is this an arrest?

No, sir. You and the boy are being detained
for questioning. That's all. If you'd get your hands up and stand up against the wall here, we will do a search. You and the boy.

Anti-Canadian activities. What kind of crap is that? Do you have any idea what you're talking about?

Sir, I don't want to make this unpleasant for you. Don't force me. Please walk over to the wall and put your hands up on it. You too.

Both Ricky and Tony walked over and faced the wall. They allowed themselves to be patted down by the two male officer
s. Then they were led out to the parking lot.

They had no coats on and the wind whipped through their shirts. Ricky was glad to get inside
the shelter of the police car. Both of them rode in the back of the cruiser. Tony placed his hand on Ricky's.

No problem. We'll be fine, buddy, he said.

Ricky nodded.

At the station, they were hustled inside a holding cell
. They sat in the cell for several hours. There was a television in the top corner, but it was turned off. Two other men shared the cell with them. One was identifiably unbalanced, a man in his sixties with eyes that would not focus, talking about the UFOs he'd recently sighted. The other was a small, drunk Native American man who was curled up asleep in the corner. When he awoke, his face was twisted in pain. He said nothing and went back to sleep, curling back into the same position. There was no way to tell how long they would be in there. Ricky held his head in his hands down between his knees. He could think of nothing except the absolute despair of having no way to get his father out. Their failure had no redeemable angle to it. And he thought that Uncle Tony might now be tempted to tell all in a bid to win the police over to their side.

Did you see them?
It was the other man interrupting his thoughts. The UFOs.

No, we
’ve hardly been outside. Where did you see them? asked Tony.

Over the sand dunes. Flying in formation. I'm saying let the guilty pay. That's all. Take the guilty parties and line them up on the top of a building and let them come take them away. We need to sacrifice the worst of the lot to make them believe we've changed our ways. Or else we're all going to get it. You ever see that movie with Shia Labeuf and the aliens? You know the one I'm talking about?

Ricky was glad Tony didn't answer, but the guy went on anyway, detailing the ways the human race was destroying the earth. It all made little to no sense, and Ricky didn't want to hear anything right then that made no sense.

Then the officer came in, the young
, expressionless one who had done little talking back at the hotel. He took Uncle Tony away for questioning and left Ricky behind. Ricky sank further and further into a funk. At one point he was sitting on the ground with his knees up, and the little drunk rallied, shifting around, and laid down next to him. Ricky jumped up and moved away.