ARCANA Chapter 18 by William James Johnson
The loss of their companions had been devastating. They had endured several bruises and burns when they pulled André out of the flaming Liberty. Now their temperature clothing had several tears made during the rock crossing.
The journey over this jagged terrain was extremely treacherous. John had called on IAM for help but his pleas were not heard. Still in a state of shock after the paralysing experience with the Warbies and Photar, he relied on the survival instincts of his young Eskimo companion.
Exhausted and torn, they rested by the shore of the fast flowing river. Its unusual similarity in colour and viscosity to blood, brought to mind André's explanation that their entire experience was a prelude to entering into the real world of earth, through the birth canal.
"The closer we get to the outside world, the more André's ideas make sense."
"Tuma not know what that means."
"Look at the water...its colour I mean, and feel how thick it is. No wonder its called, 'the Blood River'."
The native stuck his hand into the turbulent liquid and tasted the blood-like substance which dripped from his fingers.
"Taste like blood too."
"Gawd! How can you do that?"
"My people eat blood of animals. It make you strong. After a time you like taste. This taste like very good blood."
"You might think so. There's no way I'm going to start eating blood."
"If you want to go on, you will need to be strong. This river here to help us, not only to lead us out. It feed us too."
John knew he was right. It was remarkable how the selection of the Nobile crew, made by the Central Computer, had chosen this Canadian native. From an original crew of ten, they were now only two. He wondered if either of them would make it.
"André said we were in another plane of existence, or pre-existence, I think he called it. Our struggle to get out, is the struggle all earth creatures must go through to be born. If he was right, you and I are about to be born."
"He very smart man, " said Tuma. "André could be good Eskimo. Tuma very sad he died."
They both remained silent for several minutes. Tears welled up in John's eyes and suddenly he burst into tears, crying his heart out.
"Oh, Sandra...There was nothing I could do to help you. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been me?"
Tuma put his arm around his companion's shoulder.
"Things happen because they must happen. We can do nothing about that. When my father died and I was a small boy, he told me to keep going. That is what we do John. They would want us to keep going." John grabbed the youth and hugged him.
"Thank God for you, Tuma." He wiped his face on his sleeve. "We'll keep going. We'll make it."
"Tuma think you should taste water now."
Reluctantly he dipped his hand into the red froth that eddied amongst the shore line rocks. Shaking his hand, he removed most of the bright red liquid before inserting one finger in his mouth. Tuma watched carefully for his reaction. John suddenly broke into a wide grin.
"Hey! That's not bad. A guy could get used to that."
"Tuma glad for John. Now we must go on."
They were surprised that there was no sign of life in that barren landscape which bordered the Warbies' zone. It had taken several weeks in earth time to cross the rugged ground. Still operating on the energy base of the Domain, they ventured along the shore line of the fjord. The quality of light was becoming more earth like, and their energy level was gradually readapting to the norm of living on the outer surface of earth.
For several more weeks they continued to follow the rocky shore and direction of flow of the Blood River. They had adjusted to feeding themselves on the viscous red liquid and were thankful for its sustaining properties. This area was devoid of any living things which could have been used for food.
The light in the fjord was changing from the murky air of the Warbie zone to the pale white glare of the Arctic area so often experienced and reported by the early explorers. John felt at last they would soon be out of the infernal Domain. As far as the eye could see, illuminating the steep cliffs of the fjord, was the silver light of Canada's high Arctic.
Further weeks passed, and it seemed a never ending journey between the sheer cliffs. The Blood River began to flow much faster. After what felt like an eternity, they came to large trees thrusting out of the spongy ground. They were leaving the rocky fjord and entering a dense forest, which blocked the silver light that had kept them going.
The red liquid was practically boiling as it passed narrowly between the huge trees on each shore. Tangled underbrush made their passage almost impossible. They tried to climb over the springy branches and debris which piled up under the giant trees, but their progress was practically nil.
"It's no good, Tuma. We're only wearing ourselves out and we're getting nowhere."
Tuma climbed out on a limb, which stretched over the rushing water and looked far into the distance along the river.
"It is no better ahead."
"Well, what do you think we should do?"
"Rest and save our strength."
"What about continuing on the river?"
"You mean, make a boat?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"We have no tools to make boat."
"I've still got the laser cone. Maybe if we got a big log and burned out the inside."
He aimed the weapon at a fallen tree and fired it. Sparks cascaded over the forest floor, but the wood did not give way.
"What the hell? It should work."
"Remember, Stellar said that the weapons he gave us would only stun anything that attacked us because IAM not want to take any life. Laser no good now."
"Damn it! You're right. So much for the laser."
"The log idea would not have worked anyway."
"Why not?"
"Too heavy for two to move. We would have to put it in river after making it, and a log which would hold the two of us be too big for us to move."
"Then come up with something. You're the guy who's supposed to know what to do in a case like this."
"We gather many branches and make a floating thing for each of us to wear."
"I don't understand."
Tuma picked up a branch with several smaller branches extending from it, and threw it into the bubbling froth. The branch floated on the surface of the water and sped away from them down the river.
"We make something like that. To go round us. We can jump into river. It will keep us up."
"Like a Mae West."
"Not know what is Mae West."
"That's something you wear to keep you afloat in the water."
"That's what Tuma mean. We make Mae West out of branches."
"Good idea, Tuma. Better than trying to hollow out a log we can't move."
They were careful in selecting only the wood which felt thoroughly dry yet retained a small amount of resilience. Using sharp stones gathered near the water they trimmed the excess from the collection of twigs and branches. Astride a fallen log they worked hard at fabricating their floatation devices, like a couple of primitive natives practising an ancient skill.
The interweaving and tying together of pieces, using hard vine fibres, took several hours to complete. Their makeshift floaters had a small opening in the centre of the handiwork, for each man to force himself into, wedging his body tightly into the buoyant disc.
When they were finished, the disc extended outwards from them about five feet in all directions. They laughed at how funny they looked and did a visual check of each other to ensure that the structure was secure.
"Well, here goes. Let's hope your idea works."
John plunged into the reddish froth and was immediately pulled outwards from the shore into the racing water.
"Holy gawd! What a feeling! Fantastic, Tuma!"
Tuma was quick to join his friend who was fast getting away from him downstream. Bouncing up and down in the turbulent Blood River, they raced past trees which moments ago had seemed completely impenetrable. The floating discs smashed against the jutting rocks, but the care which had gone into fabricating them had made them strong enough to take such buffeting without breaking apart.
It was a tremendously exciting dash to the silver light which remained in the distance as the two earthlings bobbed headlong towards the Arctic Ocean. At times John led the way, then Tuma would race ahead for awhile, completely at the whim of the current.
When the river dashed through shallows, they ran on the slippery rocks trying to keep pace with the current flow. Suddenly they would be dunked into a deep hole and the disc would bring them back to the surface again. They couldn't get out of the river if they had wanted to. The strength of the current was more then either could control. Like a twig that had dropped into a roaring canyon, they were compelled to go wherever the flow would take them.
The river increased in speed. It was no use trying to yell at each other. The raging torrent had a voice of its own, and screaming was just a waste of energy. Without warning, the increase in flow was suddenly explained as the earthlings crested at the top of a magnificent red water falls, its basin lost in the pinkish foam hundreds of feet below.
The drop was like jumping out of an aircraft into a cumulonimbus cloud, smothering you in cotton batten, with the anticipated inevitable sudden stop at the bottom. Red water pounded into John's body, and he felt himself bringing up hot fluid which had been forced into his mouth. No longer aware of Tuma, he was having enough problems with his own birth. How could he still be alive under this warm red liquid and this constant spewing?
His eyes burst open in the intense Arctic glare they had been seeing for so many long months of earth time. The river was cold and greenish blue, crystal clear to the pebbly bed below. His floating disc had been torn away and he swam slowly towards the beach. John was alone. It had been a difficult birth, but he was again in the only world he really knew.
For several days he remained near the beach where he had come ashore hoping his Eskimo friend would appear, but Tuma never surfaced. Surviving in the bleak Arctic landscape rapidly depleted his energy. Living as he was on wild berries and small lemmings, John could feel his entire body tremble from the least activity as his metabolism tried to adapt to the stringent subsistence level dictated by this barren land.
He knew it was summer in the high Arctic because it never really got dark. When the sun dipped below the horizon for a brief hour, the temperature dropped rapidly, and though it was torn, he was thankful for his Monad suit which kept him from freezing.
Everywhere he looked, the landscape appeared to be the same. A multitude of lakes pockmarked the frozen tundra and above it all, was this brilliant Arctic light.
For days he had felt a tremendous pounding in his chest, and could hear his heart trying to get free. If only André Goulet were here now, he would be able to tell him what was wrong. But André had been killed in the crash of the "Liberty", Sandra had died in the cruel hands of Photar, and now Tuma was also gone. He should have stayed in the Domain. If he had stayed, they would all be alive today.
He heard it again - a constant pounding that was getting louder everyday. He wondered if he was about to have a cardiac arrest. His entire body had begun to tremble now. Dropping onto the spongy muskeg he tried desperately to calm the beating by using a meditation technique Sandra had taught him. Lying flat out, his arms by his side he tried to picture in his imagination a bright celestial light like that in the Abode of IAM. But the throbbing pounded even more. Suddenly a dark object passed overhead and its pulsing motor synchronized with the beating of his heart. Opening his eyes he saw on the bottom of the craft the printed letters, "NORAMOIL"
The pounding of the exhaust slowed as the craft landed near the exhausted earthling. He tried to get to his feet, but was too weak. The side hatch of the helicopter opened and two rescuers rushed towards him, carrying a collapsed stretcher.
"Holy Gawd! It's him. Just like they said."
They put him onto the litter and raised him off the damp muskeg. His brain closed down for the moment, and he was back with all his friends from the Nobile. The noise of the aircraft engine as the pilot revved up the rotor brought him back to consciousness. Faintly, he saw the concerned faces of the two men who had brought him on board.
"Don't try to talk. Save your strength."
The captain of the craft looked over his shoulder and marvelled at how such an emaciated body could still be alive. John was not aware of the ragged beard which had sprouted on his face during his lengthy ordeal.
An hour later he heard the pitch of the engine change as the captain hovered over the brightly painted circle of the helipad. The whirring of the engine stopped and the pilot crawled out of the cockpit and stood beside John, extending his hand.
"Barry Muntz, and my co-pilot Rick Meason. These other two guys who brought you aboard are Sam and Louie. They act as spotters and work the magnetometer."
"Thanks, guys. I can't believe this is happening."
"Well you can thank that Inuit, called Tuma."
"Tuma...is Tuma here?"
"He was here, but we flew him to the hospital at Resolute. I hate to have to tell you. They weren't able to save him."
"Oh, Jesus, no..."
"He was really whipped when we picked him up," said Sam.
"But he told us where we might find you, and we've been searching for days. General Bird's going to want to talk to you. Seems your Eskimo buddy had some pretty fantastic tales before he bought it."
They helped John get out of the plane and supported him on each side as they went to an elevator in a huge silo that rose above the oil drilling station. Mirrors, installed in the end of corridors to make the unit appear less congested, gave John his first look at himself. He was stunned by the physical change which had come over him. He was no longer a buoyant forty year old adventurer, but had become a greying senior, emaciated by lack of nutrition, wearing a soiled threadbare leotard.
A sergeant saluted as they entered the commandant's outer office. General Bird's door swung open and a stocky slightly overweight officer with a severe brush cut and finely trimmed moustache extended his hand to the battered earthling.
"Alex Bird...am I ever glad we found you."
Taking John by the arm, he guided him to a comfortably upholstered chair. "Can I get you anything?"
"A cup of hot soup would sure go down real nice."
"You heard the man, Barry. Have the mess send up some soup right away. And congratulations guys in finding him. There'll be a commendation on your personal files. Good work." With this said, the commandant dismissed his staff and closed the door behind them.
"And now let's get back to you...first of all, who are you?"
"John Robins, General."
"Robins...should that name mean something to me."
"I was the pilot of the Nobile."
"Nobile...gawd man, that was fifteen years ago. I was still a major when you guys went north. But hold on a minute, didn't I read somewhere you were killed."
"Well, you can see I wasn't."
"No...no wait a minute. You were killed. During the terrorist attack on the Dallas stadium in oh two."
"General, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"It's true. I remember now. You guys came back from the north, when you couldn't find the hole in the earth. And you went back to flying blimps. It was in all the papers. John Robins, hero of the Nobile voyage, killed by terrorist bomb. Your blimp was blown up over Dallas. Hell of a lot of people were killed then."
"It wasn't me."
"Then who the hell was it?"
Before he could explain, a steward entered with a cart of steaming food. Along with the bowl of hot soup, were warm rolls, jam, butter, and lots of coffee.
"Go on. Eat it while its hot. I'll have a coffee with you."
General Bird sat on the front of his desk and studied the starving man as he wolfed down the much needed food. It was so hot it almost burned his mouth, but he continued to dispatch everything in sight.
"You were going to tell me who it was that was killed in that blimp bombing."
"It was a Monad clone of myself."
"What the Christ is that?"
"It's a long story General and I would prefer if I could report it directly to the President."
"You're starting to sound like that native we pulled off the muskeg a few weeks ago."
"Tuma?"
"Yeah. I think that's what he called himself. Real nut case. Kept talking about getting help to find you because you knew all about David Koster and some place he called the Domain."
"He was telling the truth."
"Truth or not. The guy was right out of it. We flew him to Resolute and the shrink said he was suffering from delusions caused by physical deprivation. He was too far gone when he got there. We tried to save him but we were too late. From the way you stashed away that food, I'd say you and your friend were both suffering brain damage from starvation."
"Look General, I don't mean to be disrespectful. I really must get to Washington and report to our president."
"Hold it...you're in no condition to fly. We've gotta get you back to health, then we'll talk about getting you to Washington. I don't want to lose you like we did the native man."
"Did you say man?"
"You heard me. Why? Did I say something wrong?"
"Tuma was just a boy, a teenager."
"You got that wrong. The guy who came in here trying to get help for you, was in his early thirties."
"What year is this General?"
"Two thousand eleven. Why do you ask?"
"Gawd I've been away for almost fifteen years."
"Look Robins, I don't know what you're up to but I can't take much more of this."
"It's true, sir. We left with the Nobile in 1996."
"And you came back with it the fall of the same year."
"That's what I"ve been trying to tell you. Our ship returned, but the people flying it were not us."
"Who the hell were they?"
"Monads...that's what Tuma was trying to tell you."
"Never heard of them before."
"Super creatures...giants who live in the Domain."
"But the guys who came back on the Nobile weren't giants. I would've remembered that."
"These creatures who live in the earth can be whatever they want. They have mastered energy and are able to reproduce it in organic or inorganic form."
"This is ridiculous. You come in here starving to death and try to convince me there are creatures out there who are duplicates of men. What do you take me for?"
"I'm serious, sir. That's why I've got to get to Washington. I've got to talk to the President...who is the President now?"
"Boy you sure are good. I don't know who you really are but you're sure playing the Rip Van Winkle to a tee."
"Who is the President? Honestly, I don't know", said John.
"Well if you insist on playing this game. We don't call him President anymore. He is now known as the PFL, 'President For Life'. And it's Gerald Thorpe. He's in his mid-sixties now."
"Thorpe...I remember him. It was Thorpe who organized the Nobile journey. How did he ever get to be the PFL as you call him?"
"When your ship returned to Washington without Koster, Thorpe went into high gear during the next election campaign and he got himself elected with the largest majority in history. No one bothers to qualify that statement with the fact that millions of addicts don't bother to vote anymore."
"It's as bad as that?"
"Worse. After Thorpe was sworn in, he went ahead with his plan to use the neutron bomb on the Rocas natives, and when he eliminated them, threatened to use it anywhere in the world where the American way was being challenged. The so called big powers still had not come back from the crisis of the Middle East depression, and because of his Rocas demonstration, they backed off.
Then Thorpe gave them an ultimatum to clear out of our hemisphere. When they delayed, he attacked Havana and obliterated hundreds of thousands. In no time, the Reds pulled out of Central America and Mexico, and Thorpe filled the vacuum with our own brand of liberation. Canada was the next to surrender. They didn't have enough people to defend such a vast territory. Believe me the world of today is not the world you left 15 years ago. We're on top again. There isn't any United States anymore. The whole continent is now under our control, governed by Thorpe and his Modifier Party. So John Robins, if that's who you really are, welcome to the free land of the west, Noram".
View other blogs by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.blogspot.com
The journey over this jagged terrain was extremely treacherous. John had called on IAM for help but his pleas were not heard. Still in a state of shock after the paralysing experience with the Warbies and Photar, he relied on the survival instincts of his young Eskimo companion.
Exhausted and torn, they rested by the shore of the fast flowing river. Its unusual similarity in colour and viscosity to blood, brought to mind André's explanation that their entire experience was a prelude to entering into the real world of earth, through the birth canal.
"The closer we get to the outside world, the more André's ideas make sense."
"Tuma not know what that means."
"Look at the water...its colour I mean, and feel how thick it is. No wonder its called, 'the Blood River'."
The native stuck his hand into the turbulent liquid and tasted the blood-like substance which dripped from his fingers.
"Taste like blood too."
"Gawd! How can you do that?"
"My people eat blood of animals. It make you strong. After a time you like taste. This taste like very good blood."
"You might think so. There's no way I'm going to start eating blood."
"If you want to go on, you will need to be strong. This river here to help us, not only to lead us out. It feed us too."
John knew he was right. It was remarkable how the selection of the Nobile crew, made by the Central Computer, had chosen this Canadian native. From an original crew of ten, they were now only two. He wondered if either of them would make it.
"André said we were in another plane of existence, or pre-existence, I think he called it. Our struggle to get out, is the struggle all earth creatures must go through to be born. If he was right, you and I are about to be born."
"He very smart man, " said Tuma. "André could be good Eskimo. Tuma very sad he died."
They both remained silent for several minutes. Tears welled up in John's eyes and suddenly he burst into tears, crying his heart out.
"Oh, Sandra...There was nothing I could do to help you. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been me?"
Tuma put his arm around his companion's shoulder.
"Things happen because they must happen. We can do nothing about that. When my father died and I was a small boy, he told me to keep going. That is what we do John. They would want us to keep going." John grabbed the youth and hugged him.
"Thank God for you, Tuma." He wiped his face on his sleeve. "We'll keep going. We'll make it."
"Tuma think you should taste water now."
Reluctantly he dipped his hand into the red froth that eddied amongst the shore line rocks. Shaking his hand, he removed most of the bright red liquid before inserting one finger in his mouth. Tuma watched carefully for his reaction. John suddenly broke into a wide grin.
"Hey! That's not bad. A guy could get used to that."
"Tuma glad for John. Now we must go on."
They were surprised that there was no sign of life in that barren landscape which bordered the Warbies' zone. It had taken several weeks in earth time to cross the rugged ground. Still operating on the energy base of the Domain, they ventured along the shore line of the fjord. The quality of light was becoming more earth like, and their energy level was gradually readapting to the norm of living on the outer surface of earth.
For several more weeks they continued to follow the rocky shore and direction of flow of the Blood River. They had adjusted to feeding themselves on the viscous red liquid and were thankful for its sustaining properties. This area was devoid of any living things which could have been used for food.
The light in the fjord was changing from the murky air of the Warbie zone to the pale white glare of the Arctic area so often experienced and reported by the early explorers. John felt at last they would soon be out of the infernal Domain. As far as the eye could see, illuminating the steep cliffs of the fjord, was the silver light of Canada's high Arctic.
Further weeks passed, and it seemed a never ending journey between the sheer cliffs. The Blood River began to flow much faster. After what felt like an eternity, they came to large trees thrusting out of the spongy ground. They were leaving the rocky fjord and entering a dense forest, which blocked the silver light that had kept them going.
The red liquid was practically boiling as it passed narrowly between the huge trees on each shore. Tangled underbrush made their passage almost impossible. They tried to climb over the springy branches and debris which piled up under the giant trees, but their progress was practically nil.
"It's no good, Tuma. We're only wearing ourselves out and we're getting nowhere."
Tuma climbed out on a limb, which stretched over the rushing water and looked far into the distance along the river.
"It is no better ahead."
"Well, what do you think we should do?"
"Rest and save our strength."
"What about continuing on the river?"
"You mean, make a boat?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"We have no tools to make boat."
"I've still got the laser cone. Maybe if we got a big log and burned out the inside."
He aimed the weapon at a fallen tree and fired it. Sparks cascaded over the forest floor, but the wood did not give way.
"What the hell? It should work."
"Remember, Stellar said that the weapons he gave us would only stun anything that attacked us because IAM not want to take any life. Laser no good now."
"Damn it! You're right. So much for the laser."
"The log idea would not have worked anyway."
"Why not?"
"Too heavy for two to move. We would have to put it in river after making it, and a log which would hold the two of us be too big for us to move."
"Then come up with something. You're the guy who's supposed to know what to do in a case like this."
"We gather many branches and make a floating thing for each of us to wear."
"I don't understand."
Tuma picked up a branch with several smaller branches extending from it, and threw it into the bubbling froth. The branch floated on the surface of the water and sped away from them down the river.
"We make something like that. To go round us. We can jump into river. It will keep us up."
"Like a Mae West."
"Not know what is Mae West."
"That's something you wear to keep you afloat in the water."
"That's what Tuma mean. We make Mae West out of branches."
"Good idea, Tuma. Better than trying to hollow out a log we can't move."
They were careful in selecting only the wood which felt thoroughly dry yet retained a small amount of resilience. Using sharp stones gathered near the water they trimmed the excess from the collection of twigs and branches. Astride a fallen log they worked hard at fabricating their floatation devices, like a couple of primitive natives practising an ancient skill.
The interweaving and tying together of pieces, using hard vine fibres, took several hours to complete. Their makeshift floaters had a small opening in the centre of the handiwork, for each man to force himself into, wedging his body tightly into the buoyant disc.
When they were finished, the disc extended outwards from them about five feet in all directions. They laughed at how funny they looked and did a visual check of each other to ensure that the structure was secure.
"Well, here goes. Let's hope your idea works."
John plunged into the reddish froth and was immediately pulled outwards from the shore into the racing water.
"Holy gawd! What a feeling! Fantastic, Tuma!"
Tuma was quick to join his friend who was fast getting away from him downstream. Bouncing up and down in the turbulent Blood River, they raced past trees which moments ago had seemed completely impenetrable. The floating discs smashed against the jutting rocks, but the care which had gone into fabricating them had made them strong enough to take such buffeting without breaking apart.
It was a tremendously exciting dash to the silver light which remained in the distance as the two earthlings bobbed headlong towards the Arctic Ocean. At times John led the way, then Tuma would race ahead for awhile, completely at the whim of the current.
When the river dashed through shallows, they ran on the slippery rocks trying to keep pace with the current flow. Suddenly they would be dunked into a deep hole and the disc would bring them back to the surface again. They couldn't get out of the river if they had wanted to. The strength of the current was more then either could control. Like a twig that had dropped into a roaring canyon, they were compelled to go wherever the flow would take them.
The river increased in speed. It was no use trying to yell at each other. The raging torrent had a voice of its own, and screaming was just a waste of energy. Without warning, the increase in flow was suddenly explained as the earthlings crested at the top of a magnificent red water falls, its basin lost in the pinkish foam hundreds of feet below.
The drop was like jumping out of an aircraft into a cumulonimbus cloud, smothering you in cotton batten, with the anticipated inevitable sudden stop at the bottom. Red water pounded into John's body, and he felt himself bringing up hot fluid which had been forced into his mouth. No longer aware of Tuma, he was having enough problems with his own birth. How could he still be alive under this warm red liquid and this constant spewing?
His eyes burst open in the intense Arctic glare they had been seeing for so many long months of earth time. The river was cold and greenish blue, crystal clear to the pebbly bed below. His floating disc had been torn away and he swam slowly towards the beach. John was alone. It had been a difficult birth, but he was again in the only world he really knew.
For several days he remained near the beach where he had come ashore hoping his Eskimo friend would appear, but Tuma never surfaced. Surviving in the bleak Arctic landscape rapidly depleted his energy. Living as he was on wild berries and small lemmings, John could feel his entire body tremble from the least activity as his metabolism tried to adapt to the stringent subsistence level dictated by this barren land.
He knew it was summer in the high Arctic because it never really got dark. When the sun dipped below the horizon for a brief hour, the temperature dropped rapidly, and though it was torn, he was thankful for his Monad suit which kept him from freezing.
Everywhere he looked, the landscape appeared to be the same. A multitude of lakes pockmarked the frozen tundra and above it all, was this brilliant Arctic light.
For days he had felt a tremendous pounding in his chest, and could hear his heart trying to get free. If only André Goulet were here now, he would be able to tell him what was wrong. But André had been killed in the crash of the "Liberty", Sandra had died in the cruel hands of Photar, and now Tuma was also gone. He should have stayed in the Domain. If he had stayed, they would all be alive today.
He heard it again - a constant pounding that was getting louder everyday. He wondered if he was about to have a cardiac arrest. His entire body had begun to tremble now. Dropping onto the spongy muskeg he tried desperately to calm the beating by using a meditation technique Sandra had taught him. Lying flat out, his arms by his side he tried to picture in his imagination a bright celestial light like that in the Abode of IAM. But the throbbing pounded even more. Suddenly a dark object passed overhead and its pulsing motor synchronized with the beating of his heart. Opening his eyes he saw on the bottom of the craft the printed letters, "NORAMOIL"
The pounding of the exhaust slowed as the craft landed near the exhausted earthling. He tried to get to his feet, but was too weak. The side hatch of the helicopter opened and two rescuers rushed towards him, carrying a collapsed stretcher.
"Holy Gawd! It's him. Just like they said."
They put him onto the litter and raised him off the damp muskeg. His brain closed down for the moment, and he was back with all his friends from the Nobile. The noise of the aircraft engine as the pilot revved up the rotor brought him back to consciousness. Faintly, he saw the concerned faces of the two men who had brought him on board.
"Don't try to talk. Save your strength."
The captain of the craft looked over his shoulder and marvelled at how such an emaciated body could still be alive. John was not aware of the ragged beard which had sprouted on his face during his lengthy ordeal.
An hour later he heard the pitch of the engine change as the captain hovered over the brightly painted circle of the helipad. The whirring of the engine stopped and the pilot crawled out of the cockpit and stood beside John, extending his hand.
"Barry Muntz, and my co-pilot Rick Meason. These other two guys who brought you aboard are Sam and Louie. They act as spotters and work the magnetometer."
"Thanks, guys. I can't believe this is happening."
"Well you can thank that Inuit, called Tuma."
"Tuma...is Tuma here?"
"He was here, but we flew him to the hospital at Resolute. I hate to have to tell you. They weren't able to save him."
"Oh, Jesus, no..."
"He was really whipped when we picked him up," said Sam.
"But he told us where we might find you, and we've been searching for days. General Bird's going to want to talk to you. Seems your Eskimo buddy had some pretty fantastic tales before he bought it."
They helped John get out of the plane and supported him on each side as they went to an elevator in a huge silo that rose above the oil drilling station. Mirrors, installed in the end of corridors to make the unit appear less congested, gave John his first look at himself. He was stunned by the physical change which had come over him. He was no longer a buoyant forty year old adventurer, but had become a greying senior, emaciated by lack of nutrition, wearing a soiled threadbare leotard.
A sergeant saluted as they entered the commandant's outer office. General Bird's door swung open and a stocky slightly overweight officer with a severe brush cut and finely trimmed moustache extended his hand to the battered earthling.
"Alex Bird...am I ever glad we found you."
Taking John by the arm, he guided him to a comfortably upholstered chair. "Can I get you anything?"
"A cup of hot soup would sure go down real nice."
"You heard the man, Barry. Have the mess send up some soup right away. And congratulations guys in finding him. There'll be a commendation on your personal files. Good work." With this said, the commandant dismissed his staff and closed the door behind them.
"And now let's get back to you...first of all, who are you?"
"John Robins, General."
"Robins...should that name mean something to me."
"I was the pilot of the Nobile."
"Nobile...gawd man, that was fifteen years ago. I was still a major when you guys went north. But hold on a minute, didn't I read somewhere you were killed."
"Well, you can see I wasn't."
"No...no wait a minute. You were killed. During the terrorist attack on the Dallas stadium in oh two."
"General, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"It's true. I remember now. You guys came back from the north, when you couldn't find the hole in the earth. And you went back to flying blimps. It was in all the papers. John Robins, hero of the Nobile voyage, killed by terrorist bomb. Your blimp was blown up over Dallas. Hell of a lot of people were killed then."
"It wasn't me."
"Then who the hell was it?"
Before he could explain, a steward entered with a cart of steaming food. Along with the bowl of hot soup, were warm rolls, jam, butter, and lots of coffee.
"Go on. Eat it while its hot. I'll have a coffee with you."
General Bird sat on the front of his desk and studied the starving man as he wolfed down the much needed food. It was so hot it almost burned his mouth, but he continued to dispatch everything in sight.
"You were going to tell me who it was that was killed in that blimp bombing."
"It was a Monad clone of myself."
"What the Christ is that?"
"It's a long story General and I would prefer if I could report it directly to the President."
"You're starting to sound like that native we pulled off the muskeg a few weeks ago."
"Tuma?"
"Yeah. I think that's what he called himself. Real nut case. Kept talking about getting help to find you because you knew all about David Koster and some place he called the Domain."
"He was telling the truth."
"Truth or not. The guy was right out of it. We flew him to Resolute and the shrink said he was suffering from delusions caused by physical deprivation. He was too far gone when he got there. We tried to save him but we were too late. From the way you stashed away that food, I'd say you and your friend were both suffering brain damage from starvation."
"Look General, I don't mean to be disrespectful. I really must get to Washington and report to our president."
"Hold it...you're in no condition to fly. We've gotta get you back to health, then we'll talk about getting you to Washington. I don't want to lose you like we did the native man."
"Did you say man?"
"You heard me. Why? Did I say something wrong?"
"Tuma was just a boy, a teenager."
"You got that wrong. The guy who came in here trying to get help for you, was in his early thirties."
"What year is this General?"
"Two thousand eleven. Why do you ask?"
"Gawd I've been away for almost fifteen years."
"Look Robins, I don't know what you're up to but I can't take much more of this."
"It's true, sir. We left with the Nobile in 1996."
"And you came back with it the fall of the same year."
"That's what I"ve been trying to tell you. Our ship returned, but the people flying it were not us."
"Who the hell were they?"
"Monads...that's what Tuma was trying to tell you."
"Never heard of them before."
"Super creatures...giants who live in the Domain."
"But the guys who came back on the Nobile weren't giants. I would've remembered that."
"These creatures who live in the earth can be whatever they want. They have mastered energy and are able to reproduce it in organic or inorganic form."
"This is ridiculous. You come in here starving to death and try to convince me there are creatures out there who are duplicates of men. What do you take me for?"
"I'm serious, sir. That's why I've got to get to Washington. I've got to talk to the President...who is the President now?"
"Boy you sure are good. I don't know who you really are but you're sure playing the Rip Van Winkle to a tee."
"Who is the President? Honestly, I don't know", said John.
"Well if you insist on playing this game. We don't call him President anymore. He is now known as the PFL, 'President For Life'. And it's Gerald Thorpe. He's in his mid-sixties now."
"Thorpe...I remember him. It was Thorpe who organized the Nobile journey. How did he ever get to be the PFL as you call him?"
"When your ship returned to Washington without Koster, Thorpe went into high gear during the next election campaign and he got himself elected with the largest majority in history. No one bothers to qualify that statement with the fact that millions of addicts don't bother to vote anymore."
"It's as bad as that?"
"Worse. After Thorpe was sworn in, he went ahead with his plan to use the neutron bomb on the Rocas natives, and when he eliminated them, threatened to use it anywhere in the world where the American way was being challenged. The so called big powers still had not come back from the crisis of the Middle East depression, and because of his Rocas demonstration, they backed off.
Then Thorpe gave them an ultimatum to clear out of our hemisphere. When they delayed, he attacked Havana and obliterated hundreds of thousands. In no time, the Reds pulled out of Central America and Mexico, and Thorpe filled the vacuum with our own brand of liberation. Canada was the next to surrender. They didn't have enough people to defend such a vast territory. Believe me the world of today is not the world you left 15 years ago. We're on top again. There isn't any United States anymore. The whole continent is now under our control, governed by Thorpe and his Modifier Party. So John Robins, if that's who you really are, welcome to the free land of the west, Noram".
View other blogs by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.blogspot.com
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