Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1) (27 page)

"Who starts?" asked Sam, tired of waiting for
everyone.

Mrs. Philpott smiled at her. "Well, Sam, I was
just thinking about that. How do we start? What's the best way to go about
this?"

John nodded his head. "Yes, I was wondering that
too. Should we begin this with our side of things or should they tell us their
side or--"

He was interrupted by his daughter's voice,
filled with the disdain only a six-year old can muster, "Oh Daddy! You guys
worry too much!" She turned to face Harmony and Max, who were sitting on the
smaller couch. "I dream things, bad things, and they come true. Mrs. Philpott
dreams the same dreams and so does my dad only he's too much of a scaredy-cat
to remember all of them--yet. We had a party so I could 'see' people, 'cause
you know I can just look at them and I can tell, which I guess is pretty
special since it freaks out my mom and dad so much that I can do it, so at the
party I had to see who else has the dreams so we could get them to help with
something we're doing before the world ends as we know it, according to my mom.
Only one person at the party was having the dreams and that was you," she
pointed to Harmony. "And I told them," waving an arm to encompass John, Jessica
and Mrs. Philpott, "that there was a boy living in an old house on the edge of
town with no mom or dad who was having the dreams too. And you--Max--are that
boy." She stopped for a second to catch her breath and then went on, "Oh, but I
didn't know about you first, Max. Harry is the one who found you. You know,
Harry? My dog?"

When Harmony and Max looked at her
uncomprehendingly, Sam frowned at them and then laughed suddenly, clapping a
hand over her mouth. "Oops, I forgot an im-port-tant thing! I can talk to the
animals Perceval and Harry. And so can Mrs. Philpott, only she talks to Perce
more on the computer. Oh, yeah, Perceval can talk, um, type on the computer.
And prob'ly since you brought that puppy with you, you can talk to him too!"
She stopped, looking around at everyone in the circle. "Well, that's
everything, isn't it?"

Max's plate clattered to the table where he had
dropped it from unfeeling fingers. Harmony's mouth hung open. Mrs. Philpott was
opening and closing her mouth, but nothing was coming out. Jessica had her head
down, trying not to laugh, and John just stared at Sam. When no one said
anything she got up and stomped off to her room muttering, "Grown-ups!"

Samantha's retreat stirred John to get up and
say, "One thing is becoming clear. If I'm going to survive raising that child,
I need to invest in a liquor store--pronto!" The comment broke the silence and
there were a few smiles. "Okay," he went on talking as he retrieved the coffee
pot from the kitchen and returning to pour refills for them. "We didn't intend
for you two to be bombarded with everything all at once like that, but
essentially she was right. She gave you the basics. Why don't we go from here
with you asking us questions and we'll try to answer them."

Harmony started with, "Talking to animals...that
is like, so cool! And psychic predictions...awesome!"

Suddenly Harry barked once. Perceval jumped into
Mrs. Philpott's lap and looked deeply into her eyes and then she said, "Oh, oh
my goodness, I forgot to set up the computer. Sorry Perceval!" She quickly got
up and pulled a chair over and got the computer set up with the cat perched so
that he could tap out his messages. Jessica watched their guests reactions to
all this with compassion and mild amusement. She knew what they were going
through. Harmony looked exhilarated, if still a bit stunned. Max seemed
completely bowled over by everything. He had obviously had it rough lately and
here he was thrust into the midst of strangers telling him things that had to
sound preposterous, but he was still listening. In Jessica's opinion, that
rated high.

"Oh, my," Mrs. Philpott said. "Evidently, Sam is
listening in on this conversation through Harry. She told Harry to get Perceval
to ask Max what he thinks the puppy's name is---I don't understand--oh. Sam
knows the dog's name, and she thinks that Max knows it, too, and doesn't
realize he knows it or something like that. You know, if she's going to
participate in the conversation, I really think we ought to make her just come
out here instead of this vicarious Harry thing," she finished in a frustrated
tone.

Jessica looked at John and said, "I wondered
about this the other night. I thought she went to bed much too easily. We have
to have a talk with her."

John said, "Yes, but in the meantime, Max? Do
you know what the puppy's name is?"

Max looked perplexed. "No, I don't."

Mrs. Philpott said, "Take a minute to relax and
close your eyes and think of what you would call this dog and see what name
comes to mind."

They all watched as Max became very still on the
couch relaxing and letting his head nod forward, eyes closed. Gradually he raised
his head and said dreamily, "If I was going to name her, I'd call her Ruby."

"That's it!" shouted Sam who came running in
from her bedroom down the hall. "See, you did it!" She stopped in front of Max
and leaned over to give him a hug. "I knew you could do it." Max's face was a
mixture of wonder and fear.

"Yeah," he said shakily. "But if this is true,
then what about the dreams? The dreams aren't wonderful, are they Sam?" And he
watched Sam's face fall and look scared.

Max continued, "The dreams--the dreams have been
driving me crazy. If we can talk to animals, okay then. Whatever. It's out
there all right, but it sounds like a workable deal. I want to know why I've
been having these dreams. I have to know if I'm going nuts. I have to know!" he
said the last, hitting his fist against his knee.

"No, Max, you're not crazy, not going nuts,"
Mrs. Philpott's wise, confident voice settled over all of them. As Samantha
climbed into her mother's lap, the older woman took up the tale for the next hour,
explaining all they knew about the dreams--about how the dreams had come true
so far, about Perceval's predictions, and about their plans for the future.

 

Chapter 8

Salmon Creek, Idaho

"When did people start to realize something big
was happening? I guess you'd have to say it was the airplanes that did it. The
'Big One' in Los Angeles--well, everyone knew that someday part of California
was going to fall into the ocean from a big earthquake--it just finally
happened! And the tornadoes and the lightning, they coulda been weird weather,
and we've all heard of weird weather before. I'll admit what happened to Las
Vegas gave people a turn, yes, indeedy. Of course, down deep, some folks kinda
thought Las Vegas was the Devil's Playground, you know? So in some way we all
just accepted what happened out there. Or maybe we were starting to get it,
that this was strange. But the airplanes...now that was something. Planes falling
out of the sky all over the place--yep, that sure did scare some folks--and it
made them wonder just what the heck was going on. At first, 'course everyone
thought it was terrorists. When eight planes go down in one day, all right here
in the US of A, from all the big airlines, different kinds of planes--well, it
makes you stop and think. But there was no warning, no terrorist claiming they
did it. And the gov'ment, well, they didn't know what to say. Gladys didn't
have any dreams about the airplane crashes. I never heard of anybody that did.
I know I sure watched all the news reports about them. They talked about 'wind
shear' and 'unexplained weather phenomenon'--basically all it amounted to was a
bunch of bull about how they had no idea what was going on. Gladys says to me, "I
think I'll just stay planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much," and I
didn't blame her. If man was meant to fly, he would have been born with wings,
that's what I say. The funniest thing that happened, or maybe it was the
weirdest, was when some doctor on Gary Greene's radio show said people who
chose to fly anywhere should take some kind of mental test to see if they were
suicidal. But by then it didn't much matter because most of the pilots refused
to fly until somebody figured it out."

American Airlines Flight #725 to St. Louis,
Missouri from Chicago

"Alexandra, stop squirming!" Nathan said
irritably. She was driving him crazy adjusting her seat, twisting around and
leaning across him and generally making a nuisance of herself. They'd been in
the air for over an hour and she had gotten increasingly worse. "What's wrong
with you?"

"I don't know!" she said in a rising voice. "But
something's wrong--we should never have gotten on this plane. I've got a really
bad feeling."

"Okay, now who's playing the psychic?" Nathan
said, trying to kid her out of the dark mood she was in.

"Look--I don't know what's making me feel this
way, but we should have found a different way to get to Missouri. I feel like
our 'This is the Way the World Ends Theory' is about to smack us in the face
any minute."

Nathan didn't know what to make of her
statements. She was clearly agitated, hands trembling, nervously twisting a
strand of her hair between two fingers. Not the Alex he was used to dealing
with at all. A flight attendant was approaching, noticing her distress.

"Is there anything wrong?" she said.

"Yes," Alex blurted out before Nathan could stop
her. "I think we need to land this plane. I think we're in danger of crashing."

The flight attendant looked taken aback at
first, then smiled confidently and said calmly, "No, no, we're fine. Clear
skies all the way to St. Louis, no problems. Don't worry about a thing, we're
fine."

At that moment the loudspeaker crackled and the
pilot's voice announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have to make an
unscheduled stop. A minor delay and nothing to worry about, but I'd like to ask
you all to prepare for landing in a few minutes."

The flight attendant turned to stare at Alex, as
did Nathan. Alex leaned back into her seat with a huge sigh of relief. She
said, "There, now it will be okay, we'll make it."

Nathan's eyes opened wide and he said, "How the
hell did you do that?"

Chicot, Arkansas

Andy choked on his coffee as he stood leaning
against Lisanne's car. It was his first glimpse of her today.

"What?" she said combatively.

"Did you do something to your hair...or is that
what you would call a bad hair day?" Andy said good-naturedly, grinning.

Lisanne stuck out her tongue at him. "I put gel
on it," she replied proudly. Her short black hair was spikier than usual,
sticking out in every possible direction.

"And...what's with the Goth make-up?" Andy
inquired curiously, adding, "and the leather and chains ensemble?" motioning to
her outfit.

She was wearing tight, black leather pants,
black army boots, a leather jacket with chains and zippers, a silky black tank
top underneath, and looked like she'd just stepped out of a Harley Davidson ad.
Her lavender eyes were outlined in heavy black eyeliner and her lashes must
have at least five coats of mascara, Andy thought.

"It's to create an image. I was thinking about
the gun show gig today," she paused while Andy frowned.

"Look, we have to get some guns. We don't know
why. We don't know what the trouble is. Hopefully we'll never have to use them.
But our instructions are to buy them. Obviously we are going to need to go to
the most unscrupulous people there to get what we want in the quantities we
want. So we need to look the part." Saying this she now furrowed her brow and
pulled Andy away from the car and turned him in a circle. "And I'd say you are
a major problem, buddy!" she announced.

"What? I look fine. You're the one who looks--"

"Like trouble," she finished for him. "Which is
exactly what we need to look like. And you look like Mr. All-American
Squeaky-Clean-Cut Guy who never broke a law in his life! What are we going to
do with you?" she said despairingly.

Just then Waldo barked and Merlin perked up and
then Lisanne said, "Oh, yes, of course!"

Andy stood looking blankly at the three of them
and then asked suspiciously, "What do mean, 'of course'? What did Waldo tell
you?"

Lisanne reached out and linked her arm in his
and said, "Now, Andy, I get the feeling that you have negative emotions around
the military--" Andy moved to jerk away from her, but Lisanne kept a tight hold
on him and said soothingly, "Now, just listen to me. The thing is, from what
Waldo has picked up from you through the years, he knows that you know what
military people are like. And if that's the case, then you could act like one
of them. Is that right? I'm not saying you would be one of them, but you could
pull off acting very militaristic, right?"

Andy stopped resisting what she was saying and
thought about it. He saw where she was going. A gun show might just be the
place where a survivalist-paramilitary type would show up. And, yes, he could
pull that off, much as he didn't want to admit it.

Lisanne sensed he was giving in. "So all we have
to do now is find an Army Surplus store and buy you an outfit. You've got the
clean-cut look down pat. You know the walk and the talk, so if we get the right
clothes, you'll pass fine."

Andy said, "Yes, okay, I'll do it. But do you
really think all this is necessary? I mean, gun shows aren't illegal or
anything--people go to them all the time!"

Lisanne just looked at him and shook her head. "Andy,"
she said. "Do you just have no idea of what goes on in the real world or what?
Mark my words, we are going to see the more extreme end of society today, no
doubt about it. Now let's get moving."

Somewhere between Kentucky and Missouri

Janine was aware that the lead horses were
debating the route. The herd seemed organized into some kind of hierarchy.
There were fast horses that rode ahead to check details, and the group was
staying away from roads. Beyond that she didn't really know much about the trip--she
was along for the ride, she thought joyfully. She had noticed that information
was coming from somewhere else, somewhere outside the horses. As she rode, her
communion with the horses increased and she was in their thoughts--or perhaps
they were in hers--more and more. The knowledge they possessed was being
augmented from another place or being. Janine was almost frightened by it,
except that fear just had no place inside her anymore--there was no room for it.
If it had, she might have been afraid of the being or place that was feeding
information to the horses--because whatever or whoever it was--it was vast.

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