Beyond the Reflection’s Edge (36 page)

Nathan raised a finger. “Just one more question. If for some
reason, the mirror isn’t tuned to Earth Blue, is there any way for us to bring it up in the reflection?”

“Yes. You may play a certain melody on your violin.” He withdrew a slim iPod from his shirt pocket along with its attached ear buds. “We have recorded on this amazing device from your world all the known compositions that open dimensional passages. If you look at the display screen you will see a note that explains where the compositions work and to what destination they will take you.”

“Cool,” Nathan said, reaching for it. “That’ll help.”

Simon pulled it back. “The music device isn’t yours to keep.” He dialed up a selection and handed Nathan the ear buds. “Do you recognize this?”

He plugged the buds into his ears and listened. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s Waxman’s ‘Carmen Fantasy.’”

Simon arched his eyebrows. “Can you play it?”

“Mom loved that piece, so she played it a lot.” Nathan took out the buds and gave them back to Simon. “She tried to teach me, but I never could get it right. I still have some of it in my head, but I don’t know how much.”

Simon wrapped the wires around the iPod. “Let’s hope you don’t have to test your memory.”

“The way things have gone,” Kelly said, hanging her helmet on the handle of Simon’s motorcycle, “he’ll have to test it.”

Nathan detached the saddle pack from the motorcycle and held it at his side. “Let’s move. The more time we have to convince them, the better.”

After passing through the terminal’s sliding doors with Kelly, Nathan checked the flight number on his ticket and searched the listings on a schedule monitor. “There it is. Flight 191.”

After getting their boarding passes, they hurried to the security check. As his saddle pack passed through the X-ray machine,
Nathan leaned close to Kelly. “This is nothing compared to how it is now.”

“Good thing. Even a mirror might be considered a weapon.”

“Or a violin.”

When they arrived at the gate, the passengers had lined up at the jetway door and were slowly filing in. Nathan marched straight to the check-in desk where a tall, slender young man stood typing at a computer terminal. He looked up and gave Nathan a mechanical smile. “May I help you?”

Nathan tapped his finger firmly on the counter. “Listen, this might sound really stupid, but what if someone had a bad feeling about this flight, like a premonition about an engine falling off the wing, would you check it out?”

Dropping his gaze back to his desk, the clerk scratched a note with a pencil, apparently unmoved. “Sir, that happens all the time. So many people fear flying, they have nightmares about their flights, and with the recent epidemic, more than half the passengers on any flight have had nightmares about their plane crashing.”

“But aren’t some of the nightmares coming true?”

“Some, yes, but we can’t possibly check out every bad dream.” The clerk looked up, again wearing the mechanical smile. “In any case, air travel safety hasn’t changed at all, so passengers are flying at the usual rate.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense.” Backing away, Nathan gave him a friendly nod. “Thank you.”

He bumped into Kelly and spun around. “I could make a ruckus and claim the engine is messed up, but they might not believe me, and then they’d probably haul me off and ask me a million questions. I’d never make it to the funeral.”

“Call in a bomb threat. No one would know you did it.”

“You mean use a pay phone?”

“Or a customer service phone.”

He scanned the room and found a yellow phone on the wall near the gate. “Those might be traceable. As soon as they answer, they might know exactly where I am.”

“Then I guess the pay phone is the only way.”

He reached into his jeans pocket. “I have some change. I hope I can find the number for the airport.”

“Just dial the operator or nine-one-one.”

“Did they have nine-one-one thirty years ago?”

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

He looked down the long corridor and spied a bank of six phones about a hundred paces away. Three men and one woman stood chatting at the ends of the short, silver cords.

With Kelly following, he hustled toward them, but as soon as he closed in, a forty-something woman in a business suit took one of the two open phones, and a teenager wearing a North-western T-shirt took the other.

He pivoted and whispered to Kelly. “We can’t afford to wait. Let’s get on the plane and speak to the pilot. They sometimes have the cockpit door open when passengers are boarding.”

“What time is it?”

Nathan checked his watch, then a monitor to make sure. A digital clock in one corner displayed the time. “Two thirty-six. It’s going to crash in about twenty-five minutes.”

They quick-stepped back to the gate and took their places at the end of the line, now dwindled to about ten passengers. A gray-haired man in front of them turned around. With a tap of his cane on the floor, he broke into a nervous smile. “Another procrastinator. I know how you feel.”

“Really?” Nathan said. “How do I feel?”

Although the man’s bare forearm rippled with muscles, animating the tattoo of a fierce-looking dragon, his fingers trembled around the cane’s hooked end. “If you’re like me, you’re scared as a cat in a rocking chair showroom. I had a bad dream about this flight, and I was going to skip it, but my wife said I
was being silly. She said everyone’s been having nightmares, and the trip was too important to cancel because of a dream.”

“Why are you going to Los Angeles?” Kelly asked.

“Booksellers’ convention. I’m an author, and my first book’s coming out. I’m a retired cop. Lots of stories to tell, you know.”

Nathan lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When they finally shuffled to the jet’s entry door, he peered to the left. The cockpit door was already closed. Hot prickles spread across his neck, followed by a stream of sweat.

As he turned into the closer of the two aisles, a sea of faces all across the cabin seemed to rotate his way—a young woman with a pixie haircut settling a newborn in her lap, a uniformed Hispanic man pushing a military duffle bag into the overhead bin, and a little girl bouncing in her window seat, shaking her red Shirley Temple curls as she clutched her daddy’s hand—each one a precious life, souls who had no idea that only a few minutes separated them from a meeting with the Almighty.

While he waited for the soldier to finish loading his duffle, Kelly grabbed his hand from behind. “It can’t be more than fifteen minutes now,” she said, her whisper turning hoarse. A muffled clump sounded from the front of the cabin. “And now they’ve closed the door to the jetway.”

“I know! I know!” He nodded toward his saddle pack. “Can you pull out my violin? I have to do something to get the pilot out here.”

She unzipped the bag, withdrew the violin case, and flipped open the clasps. “What are you going to play?”

“I have something special in mind.” With every head now turned toward them, Nathan set his violin under his chin and raised the bow. Glancing around, he let out a nervous laugh. “A bon voyage piece, if you don’t mind.”

The redheaded girl clapped, and shouted, “Play ‘Turkey in the Straw’!”

Her father reached for his wallet. “Do you take requests?”

Nathan tried to give them a smile, but his lips felt too frozen to move. “Sure, but let me play this one first.”

As soon as the violin sounded the first note, a gruff, female voice interrupted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He twisted his neck. A flight attendant stood behind him, an angular-faced brunette who wore a chilling frown. Nathan played on. “I heard,” he said, speaking so loudly everyone could hear, “that one of the passengers is scared the plane is going to crash, so I thought I’d calm him down. This piece is called ‘Dance of Death’ by Saint-Saëns.”

“‘Dance of Death?’” The attendant cleared her throat sharply. “Sir, I must ask you to stop and take your seat. You’re frightening the other passengers.”

“But this is such a lively piece.” While Nathan continued playing, another flight attendant picked up a telephone and pressed a button, a frown souring her face.

The first attendant pulled on his arm. “Sir, I must insist —”

Nathan lowered the violin and nodded toward the front of the plane. “May I speak to the captain?”

Just as the attendant turned, the cockpit door opened. The captain, dressed in a navy blue jacket and white shirt, strode heavily toward them and halted about three rows away. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

The attendant pointed at Nathan. “This gentleman was —”

“Sir,” Nathan interrupted. “May I have a word with you in private?”

Narrowing his eyes, the captain glanced at the attendant briefly, then nodded. “Come to the front.”

After handing the violin to Kelly, Nathan followed him to the boarding area. With a sharp spin, the pilot spoke in a harsh whisper, barely moving his lips. “The comfort of my passengers
will not be compromised. I cannot tolerate any action, even the playing of a violin, that might upset their confidence in the safety of this craft.” As he leaned closer, his eyes seemed to pulse with rage. “Do you understand?

Nathan took a step back. “Yessir, but I had a … a premonition, I guess you’d call it. So did another passenger.” He angled his head toward the wing. “Your left engine is messed up. Something bad’s going to happen to it.”

The captain extended a rigid finger toward the wing. “That engine is fine. Every part of this jet is checked according to a strict schedule. I’m not about to allow mass hysteria over nightmares, Bigfoots, or Loch Ness monsters to endanger this flight.” He leaned so close Nathan could feel his hot breath. “Do I make myself clear?”

Nathan steeled himself, forcing his voice to stay calm. “Yes-sir. But—”

“No buts, or your butt will be off this aircraft.” The captain did an about-face and stormed back into the cockpit, closing the door with a loud clap.

Nathan winced at the sound. That guy meant business. But who could blame him? He’d probably heard a thousand nightmare stories by now. At least he had enough compassion not to kick him off the plane right away.

He checked the seat number on his boarding pass and headed down the aisle. When he met Kelly, he whispered, “Let’s just find our seats,” and continued striding toward the back.

Glancing at the row numbers as he hurried past, he tried to ignore the irritated passengers stabbing him with icicle glares. He stopped at the wing and rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t you know it? We have the emergency row!”

He folded the empty saddle pack and shoved it under the seat in front of him, while Kelly laid the violin case under the seat in front of her. As she handed him the mirror, she leaned
close, her whispered voice spiked with alarm. “Are we really going to take off?”

“I have to save these people somehow,” he whispered back.

“If you want to leave now, it should be easy to get kicked off. Just make a scene, and I’m sure the pilot will oblige.”

“I can’t leave without you.” She locked her arm around his. “But how do you plan to stop the crash?”

“I’m working on it. I was thinking maybe the mirror could transport us all out of here.” He glanced at his watch. 2:40? It had to be later than that. Why would it suddenly slow down? He tried to get a look at the watch on the wrist of a man in the seat across the aisle, but it was too far away.

The man extended his arm and turned the watch toward him. “It is two fifty-five, Nathan, son of Solomon. Will the brief delay you caused be sufficient to bring about your desired end?”

Looking at the man’s face, Nathan flinched. Gaunt and white haired, he was the image of Mictar, though he had no ponytail, and his eyes carried none of the murderer’s malice. Yet, they seemed just as unearthly—dark, fiery and piercing.

Every sound in the cabin dampened to silence, and every movement ceased. Even Kelly’s rapid breathing stopped as though she had frozen in place. Nathan gave a weak reply. “Who … who are you?”

His lips seemed to move in slow motion. “I am Patar, the one who sets free.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I have been watching you,” Patar continued, his voice wafting through the eerie silence. “Your defiance of my brother and his schemes is courageous and good, but you are now wandering in dangerous lands. There are other ways to prevent the ultimate conflict.” He pointed a slender white finger toward the front. “You still have time to escape.”

Nathan let his gaze move across the colorful array of faces, some smiling, others anxious, each one a reflection of an inner
array of hopes and fears. “But what about all these people? Shouldn’t I try to rescue them?”

His pale lips bent downward. “That is a question of moral duty. I cannot answer it for you.”

“Can
I rescue them? I mean, is the crash predetermined?”

He raised a single eyebrow. “When man’s will is involved, who can say? Most events are predictable, yet what is predetermined will always be heaven’s secret. What you see in the mirror merely reflects the ruminations of your mind—what you expect, what you long for, what you fear the most. The mirror is not a window to the future; it is a view port into what might be. Its power is quickened by your faith in what you see and how you respond to it. You might call it a reflection of your supplications.”

“What do I do about this ultimate conflict you mentioned? And how do I fight your brother?”

Patar stood and took a step across the aisle. He laid a hand over Nathan’s eyes.

Nathan clenched his eyes shut but couldn’t move. The hand clamped down, but not tightly.

“Fear not, son of Solomon, and open your eyes. I bring you a gift that will protect you from my brother and equip you for the battles to come.”

As light flashed, Nathan relaxed and opened his lids. Soothing warmth bathed his eyes, like bathwater swirling around aching muscles. After a few seconds, Patar lifted his hand and backed away. “Choose whatever path you must, but beware.” His voice lowered to a snakelike whisper. “If these souls are cheated out of death, their escape will create more darkness than light. Take care not to stir darkened pools when you know neither the depth of the water nor the creatures that lurk beneath the surface.” He slowly turned toward the front and settled back in his seat. “With your choice, we shall see if man’s destiny is predetermined or merely predictable.” Without
another word, he morphed into a human-shaped cloud of thin mist and disappeared.