He looked at the crystal and started to worry. If the problem was buried in the technology, he was dead.
The post was about ten feet high. It tapered as it rose and curved out over the disk, widening finally into an amber lens. A ladder was connected to the rear. He picked up his drill, climbed the ladder, and cut into the post just below the lens. The cable cluster had broken apart and the individual lines were tied into connectors. The line from the stag’s head, which was white, had pulled loose.
He tried to tighten it, then went back down and returned with a piece of electrical tape. It seemed to work.
He took his pad of paper and a marker and wrote:
Arky,
I’m okay. April has gone off somewhere, and I am going to find her. Wait.
He removed the broken flashlight and took the jacket off the tree branch that supported it. He tore off the sheet of paper and stuffed it in a pocket, leaving a corner jutting out, and laid the jacket on the grid. When he’d finished, he took a deep breath and pressed the stag’s head. The icon lit up and, twenty-three seconds later, he was gratified to watch the light burst appear. When it had faded, the jacket was gone.
Bingo.
On a second sheet, he wrote another message and taped it to the door:
April,
I’m here. Please stay put. I’m looking for you and will be back in a few minutes.
The hill on which the cupola stood might not have been entirely natural. Worn stone steps, all but buried, descended to the forest floor. He went down cautiously, regretting that he had not thought to bring a weapon. The colonel would have been dismayed.
He called her again. The cry echoed back.
He was both fearful and annoyed. She’d have wanted to explore, and he could understand she would not have waited by the cupola for a rescue party that might never come. (How much confidence did she have in him, anyway?) But it would have been nice to find her there.
Which way?
He listened to the distant rumble of the sea.
That was the direction she would have gone. Anybody would.
Now that he was down among the trees, the sky was concealed by the overhang. But the light was failing rapidly.
He wanted to find her and get back before it got dark. The hill on which the cupola stood was higher than any other ground he could see. But things could get dicey at night.
He set off. It was easy walking; the vegetation was luxuriant but not thick or high enough to impede him. The soil was rocky, and he periodically piled several stones together to mark a trail. He saw no animals, although he heard them, and occasionally saw shrubbery move.
He noticed also that he felt more energetic, and maybe even stronger, than normal. Probably it had to do with the weather. He was outside, and the air was fresh and clean.
He traveled at his best speed for about a half-hour. Dusk came on, and the vegetation grew sparser. Finally he left the trees behind altogether and walked out onto a wide beach. Gray-red cliffs rose on his left, backlit by the last light from a sun that was below the horizon. Blue water opened before him, and a cool salt wind stung his nostrils. Wherever he was, he had come a long way from North Dakota.
He saw her almost immediately. She was out near the tide line, seated beside a flickering fire. The surf boomed and roared, so she did not hear him when he called her name. She was gazing at the sea, and he was almost beside her before she realized he was there.
She jumped to her feet. “Max,” she cried. “Welcome to the other side.” A long wave broke and rolled up the strand. She extended a hand, then shrugged and fell into his arms. “I’m glad to see you,” she said.
“Me, too. I was worried about you.”
She hung onto him. Squeezed him. “I’ve got bad news,” she said. “We can’t get home.”
He pushed her away so he could see her face. “Yes, we can,” he said. “It works.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pulled him close again and kissed him. Her cheeks were wet.
It was cool, and after a minute they sat down by the fire. A few birds flapped across the incoming tide. They had long beaks and webbed feet. As he watched, one landed behind a retreating wave and poked at the sand. “I thought I was stuck here, Max.”
“I know.”
“This place is nice, but I wouldn’t want to stay forever.” And, after a second thought: “You’re sure? You tried it?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
“We wouldn’t have left you,” Max said.
She held a bag out to him. “Peanut butter,” she said, offering him a sandwich.
He was hungry.
“This is all I had left.”
Max took a bite. “It’s good,” he said. And, after a moment: “Do you know where we are?”
“Not on Earth.”
He moved in closer to the flames. “I should have brought your jacket,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
The sea had grown dark. Stars were starting to appear. “I wonder who lives here,” Max said.
“I haven’t seen anyone. And I don’t think anybody’s used the transportation system for a long time.”
Max watched a breaker unroll. “Are you sure? That this isn’t Earth? I mean, that’s a lot to swallow.”
“Take a look around you, Max.”
The Alice-in-Wonderland forest had grown dark.
“And the gravity’s not right. It seems to be less here.” She studied him. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” he said. “Lighter.”
“Did you see the sun?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not ours.”
She didn’t elaborate, and Max let it go. “We should be getting back,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Arky will be worried.”
She nodded. “In a way, I hate to leave. Why don’t we stay out here tonight? We can go back tomorrow.”
It wouldn’t occur to Max until several hours later that there might have been a proposition in the offer. He was too unsettled by events and not thinking clearly. “We need to let them know we’re okay.”
“Okay,” she said.
The sky was becoming a vast panorama. It was almost as if the stars switched on with a roar, a million blazing campfires, enough to illuminate the sea and prevent the onset of any real night. Great black storm clouds had appeared, and Max blinked at them because they too seemed swollen with stars. “Odd,” he said. “The sky was clear a few minutes ago.”
“I don’t think,” she whispered, “the clouds are in the atmosphere.”
Max frowned. The breakers gleamed.
“Look.” She pointed out over the sea. A thunderhead floated above the horizon, flecked with liquid lightning and countless blue-and-white lights. “I’ve seen that before,” she said.
So had Max. It looked like an oncoming storm, but it had the distinct shape of a chess piece. A knight.
“I think it’s the Horsehead Nebula,” he said.
She stood up and walked down to the shoreline. “I think you’re right, Max.” Her voice shook.
Max watched her; he listened to the fire crackle and to the melodic roar of the surf. Perhaps for the first time since the child had died in the burning plane, he felt at peace with himself.
21
Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven…