Norton, Andre - Anthology (9 page)

 
          
 
Jinell
slowed her
steps so I could look more closely.

 
          
 
There, beside the ugly head, were the two
pompons of the mountain ghouls," she said, staring at the snake.

 
          
 
"Where is the jaguar?" I asked.
Jinell
put her hand on her heart.

 
          
 
"I am the jaguar spirit of the
forest." From the sling she took a broad leaf with dark spots. "A
kumala
leaf," she said, holding it so I could see its
strange markings. "I chew it to pulp and change into my
Akwalu
spirit—the spirit of el
tigre
."

 
          
 
Never had home looked so good, so wonderfully
good to me. After a bowl of stew, and bread hot from the oven,
Jinell
sponged my exhausted body and put me to bed.
Kumala
leaves made the poultice for my injured left arm.

 
          
 
"Don't tell my father we went to see your
people. Please,
Jinell
," I begged.

 
          
 
She passed her hand over my eyes, and I was
lost in sleep. Whether she told Dad or not, I never knew. Dad asked no
questions about our two days without him.

 
          
 
Jinell
stayed with
us only until her sister, also trained at the
Waramadong
Mission, came to our house to help Dad and me. And though my joy overflowed to
know that
Jinell
again ruled her people as shaman, to
bid her good-bye was heartbreaking.

 
          
 
Yet even today I can call, "
Jinell
,
does all go well with you?" And always her red speak-pebble gives me the
answer.

 
          
 
"My days pass in peace. My brother soon
learns his shaman magic. Our hearts beat sweet songs for you."

            
When I was twelve, I
visited my Uncle Ronald in the city as I had done for several years. Coming
from a small town, each two-week visit was like a trip into another world—one of
giant buildings, huge stores, art galleries, and new people—a series of
adventures to be remembered until the following year.

            
Uncle Ronald was a
tall, strong man with unruly brown hair that usually tumbled down over his
forehead and a bushy mustache that nearly concealed his upper lip. He was a
technician for a large company that developed and manufactured electronic
equipment. Although he would have been considered eccentric by many people, Mom
and Dad liked him very much and seldom found fault with his ways.

            
"Call me Ronald
from now on," he said as we left the train station. "You're getting
too old for that 'uncle' bit. And tonight, after you've rested, I have a
special invention to show you."

           
 
I unpacked my suitcase, and as we ate dinner
Ronald told me about some of the things he had been working on during the past
year. We played a game of chess while he drank coffee and I sipped a cup of hot
chocolate. The sun settled on the horizon and the city was rapidly growing
dark. I could hardly wait until morning when Ronald and I were to visit the new
Aquarama
.

 
          
 
Ronald won the chess game—but not until after
I had given him quite a battle. Feeling drowsy, I said, "What was the
invention you wanted to show me?" I couldn't resist yawning, but felt
embarrassed because it seemed impolite.

 
          
 
"In the workshop," Ronald said. He
led the way to the back room of the apartment and once more I marveled at all
the electronic equipment.

 
          
 
During past visits, Ronald had showed me many
of his inventions. I had always been interested but had never been able to
understand most of them.

 
          
 
"Have a seat." He waved at a chair.
I sat and yawned again, feeling completely relaxed. Ronald's eyes were bright
with excitement and pride as he said, "Don't be alarmed by what you see.
Now . . . watch this." Standing perfectly still, he rose several feet from
the floor. Close to the ceiling, he stretched into a prone position and drifted
through the air as easily as a feather.

 
          
 
"Levitation," I said.

 
          
 
"Exactly."
He smiled and returned to stand beside me.

 
          
 
"Can you levitate other objects?" I
asked.

 
          
 
"No. But that may come later." He
placed a helmet over my head and I noticed wires extending to a large machine
with gauges. "Touch this lever," Ronald said. "Push it up. Feel
the pressure? Nothing will happen . . . the machine is turned off. I just want
you to get the feel of it."

 
          
 
The lever was a sliding kind that he had shown
me during a previous visit, but this one traveled in a channel beside the
numbers one to ten, and I could feel a tension against the lever.

 
          
 
"Would you like to be able to
levitate?" "Yes!"

 
          
 
"When I turn the
machine on, push the lever slowly.
It's spring-loaded so it'll return to
the 'off' position if you release it. You'll feel a tickling sensation. It may
hurt. If it hurts too much, take your hand away." "What does the
machine do?"

 
          
 
"It activates a certain portion of the
brain. There is no danger. I've tested it thoroughly." He flipped a switch
and the machine hummed with power. "Ready?" "Ready."

 
          
 
"Move the lever as high as you can. Six
or seven may be your limit." I moved the lever up.
. ..
Two Three

 
          
 
A tickling sensation in my
head.
Four Five

 
          
 
Electricity . . . almost a pain . . . not
quite . . . "The higher you move the lever, the more effective it will
be," said Ronald.

 
          
 
I wanted it to work. Ronald was my only uncle.
During the past years he had taken me on trips to places I could never have
seen alone. I wanted to join him in this new adventure of levitation. Six Seven

 
          
 
A flame burning in my skull. . . Eight Nine

 
          
 
An inferno . . . Ten

            
"
Gary
!"

           
 
Ronald reached for my hand but I released the
lever and it slid back to the 'off' position.

 
          
 
"I didn't think you could stand that
much." He took the helmet from my head. "Are you all right?"

            
"Uh-huh." Strangely, I
still felt relaxed.

            
"Can you stand up?"

 
          
 
I rose from the chair. "Imagine
yourself
rising from the floor ... as light as a
balloon," Ronald said.

 
          
 
I expected failure on the first try. But the
floor dropped beneath my feet! I bumped my head on the ceiling.

 
          
 
Ronald laughed.
"Very
good!"

 
          
 
We experimented an hour or so in the
apartment,
then
he led the way to the roof. Patches of
dark clouds scudded across the night sky.

 
          
 
Ronald pointed at the vault of stars and
clouds above our heads. "Do you want to try it?"

 
          
 
I knew we could do it—up, up into the sky—as
free as birds. . . .

 
          
 
"Hold my hand this first time," said
Ronald. "There's nothing to worry about. You aren't afraid, are you?"
"No!"

 
          
 
Feeling a little foolish, I held his hand as
we ascended. The roof dropped beneath our feet. I had never been afraid of
heights and now, as we rose, I felt an
exhiliration
I
had never known before. Soon we could see the city stretched out far away in
every direction, an expanse of shadowy buildings with glittering lights from
windows and cars, neon signs, streetlights, and shimmering reflections of the
moon.

 
          
 
We rose—up, up, up—through dark clouds into
the world beyond. A sea of stars became our ceiling, and the earth far beneath,
our floor. We drifted in a faint breeze. I laughed, reacting to the sheer joy
of flying. Some distance so away, a large jet swooped toward the airport, its
lights twinkling, landing beams bursting to life.

 
          
 
"Let's go down," said Ronald.
"We can come up again tomorrow night."

 
          
 
We descended slowly and carefully. The clouds
scurried not far below, and suddenly we saw the creature. It swirled from a
cloud, dark and ominous, immense and powerful, moving toward us. . . .

 
          
 
Ronald drew an object from the sheath on his
belt. I had been so engrossed in the novelty of flying that I hadn't noticed
his weapon. The creature came closer as if to attack, and Ronald raised his
arm, moonlight gleaming on the weapon. A thin blade of bright light suddenly
stabbed through the darkness.

 
          
 
The creature vanished in a mass of clouds.

 
          
 
Early the next morning, I awoke to find Ronald
sitting by my bed.

 
          
 
"How do you feel?"

 
          
 
"Great!" Last night I had felt exhausted
by all the excitement and had tumbled into bed. Now I felt refreshed and filled
with a million questions about levitation. "How long have you been doing
that?" I asked, sitting up in bed, my heart beating faster as I recalled
how good it had felt to float above the city.

 
          
 
"Since shortly after
your visit last year.
I want to ask you to promise not to tell
anyone."

 
          
 
"Why?" I felt disappointed. It would
have been terrific news to tell Mom and Dad. They had always been proud of
Ronald; this invention would make them prouder. And what a way to show off at
school! I could imagine floating higher than the rooftops, the kids staring and
squealing in disbelief.

 
          
 
"It's a very extraordinary power,"
Ronald explained. "Some people can read minds . . . others claim to communicate
with the dead . . . and a few can move objects with telekinetic energy. But so
far, no one else has demonstrated a power of levitation."

 
          
 
"
But.
. . why
would it be bad to tell people?" I knew that what he said was the truth. I
had never heard of anyone levitating himself higher than a building. But I
still didn't understand the need for secrecy.

 
          
 
"The world isn't ready for that kind of
knowledge," said Ronald. "Some governments might use it for the wrong
purpose."

 
          
 
"Oh." Slowly I began to understand
how the power could be used by one country against another—not to help mankind
but as a weapon in war. "The creature we saw in the clouds . . . what was
it?"

 
          
 
"I don't know."

 
          
 
"Have you seen it before?"

 
          
 
"A few times."

 
          
 
"It started toward us. Do you think it
would have hurt us?"

 
          
 
Ronald frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure if it could. Have you ever walked down a street and had a
small dog come yapping or barking? Then, abruptly, if you start toward the dog,
it runs away?"

 
          
 
I nodded that I understood. There was such a
dog on a street not far from where I lived. It came barking at everyone who
passed by, and ran whenever someone started toward it. The creature in the
clouds had come toward us until Ronald drew the weapon and waved it
threateningly.

 
          
 
"What kind of weapon did you use last
night?" I asked. "It seemed more than a flashlight."

 
          
 
"I call it a knife-light," Ronald
explained. "It focuses a narrow high-intensity beam with a considerable
amount of heat. It frightens the creature. I'm not quite sure if it's afraid of
the light or the heat."

 
          
 
"What kind of creature could it be?"
I wondered aloud, remembering the huge, dark form.

           
 
"I'm not sure. I've never seen it during
the daytime . . . and I've spent hours studying the sky with a telescope. It
must hide during the day, appearing only at night."

 
          
 
"Nocturnal," I said, proud that I
knew the word. "Like an owl."

 
          
 
"That's right. Owls prey at night. This
creature could be similar."