Wheels (17 page)

Pietas had already moved near the entrance and seemed to be studying something on the wall. Her home reminded McKenzie of a stone-age cartoon she had once seen on the Retro network. Definitely particle-woven, she decided. Except for a large mural covering the back wall, which for some reason was too blurry to make out, the room was sparsely decorated with a couple of tables and a cabinet.

“Come here, McKenzie.”

McKenzie’s stomach growled. She felt empty. Drained.

“It has occurred to me that though you may be the Corona-Soter, under the circumstances, Bewfordios; or rather, Principal Provost as you call him, neglecting your education and all…you are a bit—unprepared.”

McKenzie’s hands slid to her rims.
Pietas had already lost confidence in her. As if she’d found out something.
OH God!
Pietas had been listening in on her dreams. If aliens could particle-weave, they could probably read minds too. “I should leave!”

Pietas moved quickly to block the exit. “What are you thinking, McKenzie? Am I not communicating well? Of course not,” she said, answering her own question. “It’s simply that I have noticed a tendency, not your fault mind you, for humans to be…overly emotional.”

McKenzie sighed. The dream had shaken her. She was over reacting. “We’re not Vulcans, if that’s what you mean.”

“Vulcans?”

Just because Circanthians could particle-weave didn’t mean they could read minds. “Sorry. I’m all ears.” McKenzie smiled, in spite of her mood.

“My point is that humans appear to be more emotional than Circanthians. We do have emotions, obviously. However, as a result of misfortunes that occurred many loonocks ago, we have learned to place certain restrictions on ourselves.”

McKenzie’s heartbeat quickened. “Misfortunes?”

“Involving particle-weaving.”

Then again, maybe Pietas
could
read minds. “I have to go!”

Pietas pointed to the wall next to the entrance where words were carved. “This inscription is a set of rules created by our ancestors. We beginning teaching these laws to Circanthian children almost from the moment of their birth.”

“I’m not Circanthian.”

“Laws,” said Pietas, ignoring her, “you have not been taught. Number one—”

“Is forcing someone to listen even when they don’t want to, one of your rules?” McKenzie snapped. “Don’t I have a choice?”

Pietas said nothing.

“And let’s not forget about forcing someone to
be
something
they’re not! Look at me—do I honestly look like the Great Wheeled Warrior?”

Whatever emotion Pietas had been trying to control was very close to getting the best of her. Her wild gray curls were springing in all directions. Pietas closed her eyes, and as McKenzie had witnessed after the tremos, her breathing slowed and a wave of calm washed over her. “You do have a choice,” she said, moving aside.

McKenzie hesitated, surprised that Pietas had given up so easily.

“Leave if you’d like, only…I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you.”

Good
—Pietas couldn’t read minds. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Dear me, are all humans so unhappy?”

Unhappy?
McKenzie looked through the perfectly curved archway at the dazzling pink sky. How had she gotten to this place? Her heart was cold, dark and full of fear. She was unhappy.

“Please,” said Pietas. “I have only met three of your species.”

McKenzie let go of her rims. Where could she go anyway? She had no idea how to get home.

“Hayes does not seem to be unhappy.”

“Hayes has his moments.” But when McKenzie thought about it, despite all his problems, Hayes seemed to be happy most of the time. Then again, it wasn’t Hayes’ fault his mother was gone.

“McKenzie?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m not a good representative of most humans—not lately anyway—and I’m
not
the person you hoped I’d be.”

Pietas seemed unperturbed by McKenzie’s announcement. “You are a warrior on the basketball court. Yes?”

“Who told you that?” Pietas couldn’t have known about basketball, unless… “Hayes has been talking about me.”

Pietas smiled.

“It’s not the same thing. Basketball is a game. It’s a great game, but it’s just a game.”

“And the team could not win without you,” said Pietas, obviously quoting Hayes. “We don’t know what to expect from the Corona-Soter. Perhaps you need to lead our team, like in this game of basketball. Show us how to win.”

“Well, there you go,” said McKenzie. “Just ask my coach. The problem is, I’m more of a star than a leader.”

“A star?” This seemed to please Pietas. She clapped her hands and smiled. “A star, if I am correct, is a bright point of light visible in a dark sky. H.G. Wells spoke of them. We do not see stars on Circanthos. If, however, you are one of these, I believe that is a very good thing. A star provides light so that others may follow.”

McKenzie’s stomach growled. She took a deep breath and tried to sort out her thoughts.
Outside, a young Circanthian rolled into view. Something whooshed through the air and he caught it. McKenzie felt an odd bit of relief watching such an innocent, human-like activity. The Circanthian child laughed and then someone else ran into view. A yellow Circanthian—
no blue—no green
. “Pietas, who is that? He or she keeps changing colors.”

“That is Charis.”

Charis laughed. His expression looked as youthful as the child’s. In fact, the two were close to the same size. Charis pointed at something in the distance and they rolled off.

McKenzie’s heart began to beat faster. “Is Charis the child’s father or older brother? I can’t tell. Except for the color, or rather colors, Charis looks so young.”

“Charis and his friend are the same age. They have been close since birth.”

“But, but—” Pietas had given her the worst possible answer. If only McKenzie could go back in time. Before now, before yesterday…back before she was born. She didn’t want it to be true. Circanthians weren’t supposed to change color until they came of age. “But he’s not white.”

“Charis is special. The ability to particle-weave usually manifests around the fortieth loonocks. Charis was born with the ability. It happens, but is rare, and as you can imagine, it is very dangerous. Circanthian children do not know how to control their emotions. They must be taught. Imagine particle-weaving in anger, hate, or fear. For his sake and for the sake of others, Charis must never be left alone until he comes of age.”

McKenzie felt ill. What if she was like Charis? What if she
had
caused the accident? What if her dad had lied to protect her? Or, what if he didn’t know, because the accident had somehow been enough to make her stop particle-weaving? Make her forget about it—
until now
.

“Much like my good friend, Petré Revolvos, who was also born with the ability, Charis will someday be a very powerful Circanthian.” Pietas laughed. “I could tell you many stories about young Petré that would turn your hair green.”

McKenzie was very still. She was creating a hole; a deep, dark hole…only this time, she was disappearing from the inside out. Life, as she knew it, was over. “Dreams,” she murmured, as the darkness crept over her organs and seeped into her flesh, “
are
true.”

“McKenzie!”

Someone was shaking her. “I can’t. I can’t!”

“Look-at-me!”

“What?” McKenzie’s eyes popped open; two sparkling blue orbs of light stared back.

“Breathe,” said Pietas.

McKenzie’s chest expanded. Air flowed in as if forced to do so. Her stomach growled.

“My goodness. You need nourishment!”

The blackness receded. “Food,” murmured McKenzie, her stomach aching with an emptiness no food would ever fill.

“Follow me.” Pietas rolled to the back of the room. 

McKenzie sat there, empty in every way a human being could imagine being empty.

“McKenzie!”

Somehow, she turned her chair around. As she approached the back wall, the mural that had been a blur became clearer. It was a painting of Charlie the poonchi sitting on Pietas’ lap—only, it wasn’t solid. “Particle-weaving,” murmured McKenzie, and rolled through it.

Chapter 21

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21203

Agent Wink Krumm and Principal B.R. Provost
Tuesday, May 12th

KRUMM
: You arrived in Avondale the same day the former principal, Harold Shepherd, chose to retire.

PROVOST
: It was no coincidence. My friend, Joe Roony—

KRUMM
: Ah yes…
your friend
of many names. He does seem rather simple.

PROVOST
: Joe likes to give that impression. He actually speaks several languages, including Uzbek. Joe and I were discussing his company, Sphaera Technologies, when he mentioned the fire and the fact that Harold Shepherd would be stepping down. I didn’t want to take advantage of anyone, mind you, but I thought I would be a good fit. Avondale is an unusual town, wouldn’t you agree?

KRUMM
: Without a doubt! Now forgive me for changing the subject, but I have a request before you leave. I need you to fill out a questionnaire; family background, that sort of thing.

PROVOST
: I filled out a form when you first interrogated me.

KRUMM
: Interviewed, please. Interrogate seems so hostile. And we haven’t reached that point…
yet
.

PROVOST
: Why, Agent Krumm, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were threatening me.

***

A VAN, A MAN & A DOG

 Monday, March 16th
Earth

R
evolvos woke with a start. The van was pitching and twitching so much he could hardly believe Roony wasn’t cursing at the top of his lungs. The road they were on appeared to be little more than a dirt path. Either Roony was lost, or this was James Wu’s twisted idea of a scenic route. Ah well, the san was out, and by all accounts, it was going to be a perfect day.

Then why do I feel so anxious?

Roony was humming a tuneless tune and oblivious to all but that which was in front of him. Up the road was a shack, perhaps an abandoned farmhouse. Revolvos leaned forward. He blinked his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him. When he was quite sure they weren’t, he shouted, “STOP! Right now, Roony—stop this instant!” 

Roony slammed on the brakes while shouting a few particularly nasty curses in Rapanui. “Professor! You lucky dez James Wu have us take back roads, or we be road kill now.”

“Look!” said Revolvos rubbing his elbow and pointing in the direction of an old, abandoned looking silo.

“What goes on in dat mind of yours?” Roony mumbled. “I don’t see nut’in.”

Had it not been for a dog hoisting its leg on the corner of the silo, Revolvos might never have noticed. “The dog, Roony, look at the dog!”

Roony’s gaze turned into a squint. “Dis dog is worth killing ourselves?”

“Look again.”

Roony leaned forward. “Nope. Don’t see nut’in.” He scrunched and unscrunched his eyes as if adjusting the lens of a microscope. “’Cept some old dog pissin’.”

“Exactly!” Revolvos unbuckled his seatbelt. “And how long does it take a dog to—as you so elegantly put it—piss?”

Roony looked at Revolvos, then back at the dog. He surveyed the scene as if seeing, but not quite believing his eyes. An awareness of something odd, something he would probably never totally fathom, was beginning to dawn on him.

Revolvos began to notice other things. It wasn’t only the dog, it was everything: a bird in the sky, a tattered old windsock crumpled, as if being blown back and forth, yet not moving at all; and farther off, a bit of something, perhaps a balloon, hanging motionless in the air—a few hundred feet in front of them, the whole world, frozen.

“HOLY CHURA! Dez is no human trick.”

Roony glared at him accusingly, but Revolvos was already unhitching his chair. He needed to get a closer look. “You’re correct, Roony. Probably not human, but what, or rather—why?” Worse, he wondered, did it have anything to do with the cortext Wu was building for him?

Revolvos rolled down the ramp and around to the front of the van. Roony jumped out and walked up behind him. “What is dis Professor?”

“I’m not sure, but I suggest you go no farther until I find out.

“Be careful, old alien.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Revolvos inched forward. He studied the area in front of him for several minutes. Particle-weaving, he thought, I’m sure of it. But why? How can one maintain such a large area, unless…?

Bewfordios Provost! So, it wasn’t just a dream. He really is here.
Revolvos rolled closer, his expression unconsciously changing to one of practiced disapproval.
Young upstart loved to toy with the idea of time disruption.
“Never thought there was much use in it myself,” he muttered.

“Careful,” Roony called.

“Just-stay-back!” For Revolvos could see it now. There was a tension to the air, like a bubble waiting to burst. And despite a natural inclination to disapprove, Revolvos heard himself exclaiming, “Amazing! Simply amazing!”

Careful to keep out of the time-field, he moved to the side of the road and began looking for something that would work as a stabilizer to keep the field from collapsing. Something that would not be obvious. The search was fruitless, naturally, as the field was enormous, most likely encompassing the entirety of Avondale. In all likelihood, the stabilizers were miles from here.

Lost in his own thoughts, Revolvos did not think to check on Roony. So, he was surprised, and not a little bit sad, when he turned and discovered Roony had walked straight into the time-field and was now frozen in place on the edge of it—directly in front of the van.

“Oh, Roony!” he cried. “Roony, my boy, what have you done?” Then he spotted it, on the other side of the road—a mushroom shaped rock. “Of course,” he said. “Brilliant!”