Herculanium (11 page)

Max smiled. “One hundred percent.”

Preston looked away from his guests and stared briefly at Max and Micky, trying to determine the nature of their conversation. They both caught his glance and returned his stare with the gesture of a toast. He smiled back and resumed his conversation with the guests, but this time positioning his body so he could watch them both through his peripheral vision.

Peryson came back from the restroom, making sure his zipper was shut and his belt fastened. He took a deep breath and mingled in the crowd, confident that no one had noticed him leave in haste—or that he finally let his pants down in public.

Max and Micky laughed uncontrollably every time he passed by.

Watching his friends and associates from the corner of his eye, Preston Jones kept quiet—but looked upon them with great interest.

Erica Spain stared quietly at her husband as he slept, wondering what he was dreaming about as his eyes rolled back and forth. It was a rare, uneventful morning for them both; there were no phone-calls in the middle of the night, nor war-room meetings of strategy with guests plotting his career from beginning to end. Their bedroom was bathed in a soft pastel shade of gold, the early sun peeking through the swaying blinds in sheets of dusted light. A slight breeze flowed through the room in gentle swirls, coming from the windows themselves and then flowing out to the hallway through their open bedroom door. It reminded her of her childhood Sunday mornings, that quiet stretch of time between waking up and having to go to church with the family.

If only every morning could be like this, she wondered. She gently stroked Preston’s face, wiping occasional tears that flowed from his left eye. She smiled and again tried to consciously read his mind, but to no avail. She clutched the covers as she turned to sleep, facing the opposite direction to give him his peace. He lay quiet and unmoving, another rarity this morning.

Preston Jones was sound asleep, but his mind was quite awake inside.

* * *

“Mr. President, can you please pass me a worm?” Enoch Jones extended his hand towards his commander-in-chief, hook ready with the other.

“But of course,” replied the President with an authoritative, almost British, tone. “Night crawler or Pile?” Preston couldn’t contain himself, breaking out in a giggle while trying to keep a straight face.

Enoch placed his arm around him and laughed along as he picked a worm from Preston’s container and threaded it through his fishing hook.

“Do you like it here, son? I come here as much as I can. It’s so peaceful.”

“It’s neat! I’ve never sat under a bridge before.”

This was Enoch’s personal fishing hole, a secluded dirt slope located directly under a wooden bridge far away from the city. Bordered by tall reeds and winding trails used mainly by locals walking their dogs, it was the ideal spot for catching fish that basked in the bridge’s cool shadow. He accidentally discovered it while fixing a flat tire as a teenager, and had come back to it ever since. It had the musty smell of still pond water and algae, combined with the subtle twinge of feces and aging wood and metal bolts. But he had gotten accustomed to its natural ambience, and he relished the way the bridge would shake every time a car drove through overhead. Mixed with the joyous chirping of birds and chicks nesting in its crevices and rafters, the bridge, especially in the hot summer months, was a divine getaway.

“It’s not something you see every day, is it, son?”

“No, sir. I like watching the birds fly in and out the wood.”

“That’s right. You gotta respect Mother Nature. Treat her right and she’ll treat you right. Remember that, okay?”

“Why was Mom mad earlier? Did I do something wrong again?”

“Oh no, boy. I think your mom just had a lot of things on her mind. She just needs time to cool off. It hasn’t been easy for her these past few months, her not being able to get work. Just be good around her, okay? Help her out when I’m not there.”

“I will, Dad. I promise. Maybe we can catch a nice, big fish today and bring it home for her.” Preston was beaming, excited with the idea of pleasing his mother. “She would like that, I think. I don’t like seeing her sad.”

“Of course she would. Especially if it came from you.”

“You think I can catch a big fish, Dad?”

“Of course you can, P.J. I bet today is your lucky day. Here, hand me your pole and I’ll cast it for you. You go first while I work on my line.”

Preston handed his father his pole and stood back, making sure he wasn’t in the path of his dad’s wide and arcing cast. Enoch gently plopped the sinker near the bridge’s closest pillar, making sure it was far from any entanglement. Preston smiled and grabbed the pole from his dad, standing square and ready for the first monstrous bite.

“You might want to have a seat, son,” said Enoch with a grin. “Might take a while for the fish to bite. Relax and enjoy the view.”

Preston sat down, but kept a firm grip on his pole.

“You look pretty good there with that pole in your hand. You think you’d want to give baseball a try?”

“I don’t know, Dad. They have a lot of sports in school. I want to do something fun.”

“How about martial arts? Tae Kwon Do? Brazilian Jiujitsu? There are a few schools in our area. I can take a look around. Maybe you can go after school?”

“I want to do something I’m good at already. I was thinking of trying out for basketball.”

“I’ve seen you play with your friends. You were smokin’ ‘em something bad. You’re a natural with that rock in your hand.”

“I like it a lot, but the other kids are so much bigger than me. They’re mean, too. Am I going to grow more, Dad? Will I get big like them?”

“Pres, all your relatives are tall. Look at Uncle Steve and Bernie? And Uncle Larry and Aunt Vicky on your Mom’s side? You got the genes, boy; you just have to wait and be patient.

“But don’t let your size make you pick what you want to do. Even if you don’t get big, that shouldn’t stop you from playing basketball, or anything else you want to do. It’s all about heart, son. You got to have the fire inside you to start something and see things though.”

Preston stared at his father. Enoch smiled back, realizing the maturity and importance of their conversation. He put his arm around Preston’s small shoulders and pointed up to the bridge towering above them.

“Let me put it to you this way: look at them birds up there, Preston. See all the nests they built? They did all that without hands. Look how high and fast they fly. They look like little fighter jets, don’t they? But look how small they are. They about as big as your hand.

“Now look at us people. We a hundred times bigger than they are, but we can’t fly. Even with hands, do you think we can build nests as nice as theirs? Don’t think so.”

Preston smiled, his face expression showing the innocent signs of young, profound comprehension.

“You see, son, no one told these birds that they’re not supposed to be able to do anything because they’re too small. They just went out and did it, and now look at what they done. As much stuff as people have invented in history, we can’t even fly on our own. We can build buildings that can kiss the clouds, but do you think we can build a nest like these birds do? ‘Course not.

“Big things come in little packages. Don’t listen to other people who say you can’t do it. Follow your heart, and good things will come to you. Your Mom taught me that a long time ago, and now we have you.”

“Watch me play basketball next time, Dad. I’m going to be a little bird that can fly higher than anyone else.”

“I know you will, son. You’re going to fly higher than you’ve ever imagined.”

Preston smiled at his Dad from his bed, proud to be the son of such a wise and caring man. A single tear streamed down his face, ice hot from painful memories of remembrance and regret. Erica gently placed her thumb on his cheek and wiped it away. He could hear Preston whispering beneath his broken breath, “I miss you, Dad. I love you.”

* * *

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mama. They have me going to all these parties and photo-shoots, and it’s completely thrown me off my routine. I bought these flowers for you. The ones here are withered.”

Micky closed her eyes and smiled, inhaling the cooling afternoon air. Despite the time and the heat, the sky was still deep-blue and pleasant. She took off her jacket and kneeled on the grass, then carefully removed the withered plants from the vase and replaced it with the new ones.

“I honestly can’t believe all this is happening. I bet not even you saw this coming, huh?” She could sense her mom was smiling.

“I’m doing my best to stay strong, Mama. There are days when I just want to quit and run away, and then there are those days when I can’t wait to stand in front of the camera and smile. All your sacrifice is paying off. When I win my first award, I’m dedicating it to you and Dad. Remember when I did that in Junior High? All my friends and teachers stood up and clapped for you two.”

Micky unclasped her purse and retrieved a photograph. She made sure to hold it by its corners, taking care not to leave fingerprints on the surface.

“This is a group-shot we took earlier. They threw me a party at Lola’s house. As usual, everyone got tipsy and stupid. This is the first time all of us got together in a long time. Not since…” Micky coughed hard to clear her trembling voice. She could feel her mother’s warm arm embracing her in comfort.

“It was nice seeing everyone again. Everyone’s normally busy doing their own thing. Look how big your grandchildren have become, Mama. Eloisa looks just like you when you were her age, doesn’t she? We have to do this more often. It was nice having all of us together in one room.

“Did you hear us earlier? We called your name really loud. And don’t worry, no one put their shoes on the bed or the couch. And we cleaned up right after lunch, and everyone pitched in. At least most everyone did. You remember Cousin Gabe? He’s still the village idiot, but he’s coming around. I think his new girlfriend will calm him down.”

Micky reached into her purse again, this time pulling out a rosary chain.

“I take this everywhere I go, Mama. You gave this to me on my Quinceñiera, and I’ve never parted with it. I pray the rosary when I’m sad or right before a big assignment, just like you taught me. You’re right, it does make me feel better.”

She paused, staring past her mother’s eyes.

“I know I haven’t been around all that much. I promise I’ll make it up to you when all of this blows over. Maybe I can buy a new house for the family, just for reunions. Or maybe I’ll get married.”

She smiled, sensing her mother was shocked at the news.

“Just kidding, Mama. No, I haven’t found the right one yet. There have been plenty of people asking, but right now, family and career come first. I have to do a good job to take care of our family. Being single puts me in the best position to do that.

“It was never easy to be in this family. I hated all the arguments I had with you, with Dad, with the siblings. But now we’re a lot closer, and we’ve all promised to be better brothers and sisters, and to be better people to others. You and Dad did a good job raising us, it just took a while to realize you guys were right.”

Clay quietly walked up behind Micky and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, but just quietly stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but it’s time to go.” Clay nodded his head. “How do you do, Mrs. Suarez? It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Did you hear everything, Clay?”

“Not a thing. Do you know you pray in Spanish?”

“Go on to the van. Tell Darienne I’ll be right there.”

Clay silently moved away and disappeared behind the area’s rolling mounds. Micky stood in place, this time conversing with her mother with quiet thoughts. She made a sign of the cross and embraced the headstone.

“See, Mama? I even pray in Spanish now. I bet you never thought you’d see the day, huh? I’ll be back as soon as I can. I told the others to check in on you once a week, and they all promised they would. I love you, Mama. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and Dad. I’ll be back soon, I promise.
I promise.
”

Micky turned around and walked back to the KMNL van, forcing herself not to look back at her mother’s grave. All the hundreds of headstones stood quiet in respect as the van drove off into the now volcanic-red sunset, and her flowers joined the forest of bouquets that lined the hillsides like a streaming lei. Micky looked away into the distance as the van left the cemetery, but in her heart, she was still standing above her mother’s tombstone.

And her mother was embracing her, and she was still proud of her little niña.

Even before the sun had risen, the city of San Francisco was already on alert. It was in the wind and the sky, the water and the birds; it was scrolled across the faces of each of its citizens as they went about their daily business. The dense morning fog had burned off quickly, giving way to a postcard-perfect day of a clear blue horizon framed by a bustling metropolis on one end, and an infinite ocean on the other. Soft, golden sunlight fell upon the Bay, magnifying the already picturesque landscape to near-mythical proportions. All the local radio stations were abuzz with chatter, and countless billboards and newspapers proudly announced that the day of destiny had come.

The entire peninsula was alive with anticipation.

The convoy rumbled across Highway 101 South to the San Francisco International Airport, a mile-length caterpillar winding through a freeway normally overrun by traffic. But today, the convoy’s path was clear, with all adjoining on-ramps blocked off from all sides, and obstructing construction projects removed from sight. The highway looked eerily like a deserted parking lot several miles deep in both directions. Flashing police escorts of cars and motorcycles capped the convoy at both ends, protecting a row of luxury buses filled with celebrities, scientists, and the press. Above this parade was a line of helicopters flying in staggered formation, belonging to both the military and the media.

“I want all reporters and cameramen cleared off the main walkway the moment Preston and his entourage enter the terminal, is that clear?” Max paced up and down the long aisle of the luxurious lead bus, his world buried deep in the mouthpiece of his cellphone.

“I want to go through this by the numbers. No one fucking blinks around my client unless you guys clear it first with me.” Max turned to Micky and winked. “I like to keep them on their toes,” he whispered. “What was your name again? Thank you, Mr. Corrigan. Keep me updated, please. Goodbye.”

“Damn, Max. Do you have to be so harsh with the help? I’m sure they know what they’re doing.” Micky stood up and placed her arm around his shoulder in a friendly half-embrace. “He’s not the President, you know.”

“But he’s my client, and as far as I’m concerned, right now he’s more important than anyone else in the world. Both of us have gone a long, long way. The last mistake I want to make is to relax my guard near the finish line. From my experience, that’s when the worst usually happens.”

“Max knows best,” said Micky with her trademark beautiful smile. “Me, I’m just going to enjoy the trip to the airport.” She sat down on her plush chair and reclined as far back as it could bend. Max couldn’t help but stare at her frame, as close to a perfect body as he had ever seen.

McGinnis Promotions spared no expense in transporting their spokesman and his entourage to their destiny. The lead bus was equipped with reclining leather seats, a state-of-the-art stereo surround-sound system, overhead video monitors, several video game terminals, and a NASA-designed communications interface that allowed both visual and audio communication. The main aisle was made of imported Italian marble, lined with glimmering fiber-optic lines that ran the length of the floor and up to the ceiling. Classical music played softly in the background, giving the ride an almost mythical dimension.

Micky stood up and turned to the seated scientists behind her. “How can you guys be so calm? This is the best day of my life! You guys may have done this before, but this is a first for me!”

She stood up and paced the aisle back and forth. “We’re a bunch of pirates about to board a ship, a group of Vikings ready to pillage a village. Do you nerds feel me?”

The scientists sat in their chairs and stared blankly back. Despite their collective intellect, she couldn’t believe these men and women couldn’t understand the basic concept of spontaneity and adventure.

“Fine! I’m about to fly into space, so you know what I’m going to do? I’m gonna salsa!” Opening her travel bag, she pulled out a CD and inserted it in the nearest music loader. A brief, deafening silence was quickly replaced by a thunderous rap beat that was accompanied by a Latin riff of conga drums and horns. The speakers and the windows shook in tune with the music, and the bus quickly became a band’s tour bus.

She began to dance in between the aisles and seats, joyfully showing her excitement and enthusiasm for the upcoming flight. This was her way of quelling the butterflies in her stomach, and the very real fear she had about taking such a potentially risky voyage.

“You!” She pointed to Max and called him over. “Put that phone down, and dance with your Sugar Mama!”

Max reluctantly lowered his phone and walked towards her. She quickly grabbed both of his hands and began guiding him into an impromptu salsa. Max knew how to dance, but was just so shy that he began to flub his steps. Through it all, he just kept smiling, still mesmerized by her face. The scientists remained in their chairs and just looked blankly out the window. Micky could tell they had other tastes in fun.

Preston sat in front of the bus, behind and to the right of the driver. It was the best view of the road, an almost open cockpit that boasted an elevated view of their journey. Since boarding earlier that morning, he had remained quiet and stoic in his chair, avoiding everyone and going straight to the front without saying a word to anyone. Looking out the window with his headphones at full-blast, he was almost a statue, unmoving in the same pensive position. Not even the deafening party music Micky had unleashed could sway his demeanor.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Preston sat unwavering, his hand planted beneath his chin, his dark amber sunglasses hiding any emotions his eyes might betray.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” persisted Max.

Preston didn’t even appear to be breathing.

“Pres, it’s obvious something’s bothering you. I’m just asking if I can help. But if you don’t need it, then fine. I’ll just go back to the conga line back there.”

Preston slowly turned his head and took a deep breath. He lifted his headphones behind his head and rested them on his neck.

“I’m sorry, Max. I’m just not in the mood to talk right now.”

“We noticed. Normally, you’re the one starting the party, not the one avoiding it. You want to talk about it?”

“There’s really nothing to talk about.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I’m very nervous, Max.”

“Is it that flying thing again?”

“I’m not afraid to be on a plane, and I’m not afraid to die. I’m just afraid to die right now
while
flying. I just don’t want my career to end just when it’s starting.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you? Can you really understand, Max?”

“Of course, I can. You don’t have to be a scientist to understand what you’re going through. Plus, I know you better than most people.”

“So what should I do? Any advice?”

“Why don’t you work on your book? To get your mind off the stress...”

“I did that all last night. I have the manuscript with me right now. Why do you think I have these fucking sunglasses on? My eyes look like shit.” Preston finally cracked a smile.

“How far did you get?”

“Let’s just say I wrote about three thousand chapters.”

“Ouch. Well, if you want my advice, I think you should just relax. Why don’t you give me your book for safe keeping? I won’t read it, but I’ll have it for you when you return.”

Preston slid a box from under a nearby chair and handed it to Max. “Take care of this. It’s my best work yet.”

Max nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s safe. You know, you are one lucky mother fucker.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“There are millions of people just hoping to be in your shoes right now. You’re about to go on an adventure of a lifetime. Don’t let your insecurity stop you from enjoying what you deserve. Enjoy this moment while it lasts, my friend. This is probably the best it’s going to get.”

“Then why the hell am I so afraid?”

“Because it’s something you’ve never done before. You’re going to do just fine, bro. Besides, I know for a fact nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I don’t see a big letter ‘S’ on your shirt, Superman.”

“I went over all the safety precautions with Peryson and that Doctor Gracie. We covered everything from the launch sequence, to the shuttle docking, to the re-entry. Everything checked out, clean as a whistle. I have the guarantee of a dozen scientists and engineers that you’re going to be safe. You’re also insured by the way, just don’t ask how much.”

“Anything else I should know? Do they have strippers up there?”

“Oh yeah, I packed a present for you in your luggage. Open it when you get to your cabin.”

“What is it?”

“I not going to fucking tell you; it’ll spoil the surprise. I also packed something for Micky.”

“I bet you did. Getting a little friendly with the help?”

Before Max could respond, a television monitor situated above them came to life. Looking behind him, Preston could see all the overhead monitors throughout the bus waking, flickering in synchronous light and static. The world-famous McGinnis Promotions logo filled the screens for a few seconds, then was replaced by the smiling image of Richard Peryson himself. Micky immediately turned off the stereo and ran to the front of the bus to join Max and Preston.

“Good morning, people. Great day for a launch, isn’t it?”

Preston, Micky and Max sat hesitantly as they watched the screen, unsure if they could respond to the image.

“Yes, this system is interactive,” said Peryson with assurance. “These NASA boys don’t fool around, do they? Give them a request, and they’ll bend over backwards for you, with the proper motivation. I am here at the mission control tower overlooking the shuttle and runway. By the way, someone here wants to say ‘hello.’”

An image of the Isis Shuttle, piggybacked on its hypersonic jumbo jet transport, cut into the screen. It was surrounded by a cloud of people doing last minute repairs and inspections.

“We will all be meeting shortly. But until then, I’d like to direct your attention starboard-side bow. It should be coming into view in a few moments. Again, thank you for sharing in our success. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the future.”

The convoy exited via a winding off-ramp that spiraled around and over the freeway. The helicopter escort had broken formation and separated in two directions. The ascent to the apex of the off-ramp, before it dropped to the airport compound, was steep, taking several moments more travel time than normal. The chain of vehicles proceeded in stops and sputters, struggling to stay in formation. Preston, Max, and Micky stood transfixed at the front of the bus, still trying to discern what Peryson had directed them to see.

As the front cavalcade of police cars and motorcycles cleared the hump, the lead bus followed suit. A towering sculpture slowly ascended into view, revealing itself slowly with each sputtering climb. When the lead bus itself cleared the apex and descended into the airport compound, the sculpture turned out to be the new control tower for the Isis-class shuttles and its runway.

It was unlike anything they had seen before; a giant needle capped with a geodesic crystal dome, wrapped in a frame of fractal-inspired crossbeams and antennas. The tower looked more like a carnival ride than an actual building, but its grandeur more than matched the tone of their voyage.

Max directed everyone’s attention to a large sign posted on the side of the road, the final reminder of the innovation of Preston’s and Micky’s flight. It gave parking directions for three types of flights: Domestic, International, and Orbit. A thunderous salsa/hip-hop riff erupted from the bus’s speakers, causing Micky to turn around in surprise.

The once-stoic scientists were up and about, dancing in the aisles in a conga line. She pointed at them and screamed with joy.

The police escorts broke away the moment the buses reached the front of the Orbital Flights terminal. This terminal was the latest addition to the airport’s expansion program, similarly designed as the new control tower, and every bit as modern as it was fantastic to behold. Flags from dozens of foreign nations fluttered on its arched façade, with horizontal escalators humming from the curb to the automatic entrance doors. Metal kiosks curled up from the ground and displayed multi-screen schedules of all flights, subtitled in different languages. Security guards and policemen stood in attention between the entrances and the bus stops, ready to escort the passengers inside. A large group of cheering fans and reporters had congregated on both sides of the guarded walkways, carrying signs and posters of the celebrity passengers.

The buses halted in a collective, braking creak, followed by the pressurized hiss of automated doors opening.

“Atlas Two, this is Atlas One. Are we clear?” Max stood up and held his phone close to his ear.

“Affirmative, Atlas One. You are clear to disembark.” The static-ridden response caused all the passengers to cheer.

“Saddle up, people,” commanded Max with authority. “It’s show time. Please take all your belongings. Don’t leave anything on the bus.”

He motioned for everyone to come forward, making sure all the principals were in front. He stared into his best friend’s face and smiled, patting him on his shoulder with genuine pride.

“Knock ‘em dead, Mr. President. Do me—do us—proud.”

“You’re not coming, Max? I thought we’d at least say goodbye at the terminal.”

“This is as far as I go. You have your place, I know mine. I’m catching this bus back to the front. I’m meeting with Peryson in the tower in a little bit, but I have some other business I need to attend to first. We’ll talk soon, don’t worry. I’ll take care of your book manuscript. Good luck.”

Preston grabbed Max’s extended hand and pulled him forward, turning the would-be handshake into a deep embrace. For a split-second, an eternity of friendship flashed before their eyes, and no further words were needed to be said. Preston quietly let go and jumped down the steps of the bus, landing on the pavement that roared with applause.