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“Your guess is as good as mine, John,” she says. “I think the girl’s got a lot on her mind.”
I should’ve asked Ella exactly where she wanted us to meet. I spend more time than I should wandering the subterranean halls of Patience Creek looking for her. At one point, I pass by the laboratory where Sam and Malcolm are hard at work on reverse engineering the Mogadorian cloaking device. From the hallway, I can hear Sam repeatedly saying, “Broadcast at that frequency,” almost like it’s a mantra. Six mentioned that he’s developing a Legacy that lets him communicate with machines. So far, it doesn’t sound like the cloaking device is willing to listen.
As I walk by, Bernie Kosar trots out from the Goodes’ laboratory, where he’s been hanging out with the other Chimærae. I pause to reach down and scratch behind his ears.
Want to help me track down Ella? I ask him, using my animal telepathy.
BK wags his tail and begins leading me down the hallway, back the way I came. He seems excited to have something to do, his little beagle legs pumping, tail straight out behind him. We end up at the elevator, and, once inside, BK hops up on his back legs so he can push the button for the top floor with his snout.
What would I do without you, BK?
The elevator doors open, and right in front of me is a wooden wall. I push against it with two hands, and it easily slides forward, its hinges well-oiled. I step into a retro-looking bedroom, now on the top level of Patience Creek, the aboveground level, the part of the complex that looks exactly like an abandoned bed-and-breakfast because, for all intents and purposes, it really is one. The room I’m in smells musty, the double bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in for years and dust motes hang in the air. Through the window—a real window with actual sunlight, not like the simulated ones in the subterranean rooms—I can hear birds chirping away the late afternoon. I push the hinged bookcase back into place so the elevator is concealed.
With all the action and facilities underground, and considering the vehicle entrance is about two miles away via tunnel, no one spends much time up here. I know Lawson’s got a few guards posted on the grounds, just in case, but Patience Creek has survived this long because no one’s interested in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. Especially not invading aliens.
BK leads me onwards, out of the bedroom and down a wood-paneled hallway, leaving a trail of paw prints on the floorboards. I could find Ella myself now; she left her own trail in the accumulated dust, but I don’t mind having BK along.
We find Ella in what was once a lounge area adjacent to Patience Creek’s unmanned front desk. I glance to the space over the desk where there’s a mounted moose’s head. There’s a hidden camera in there. I remember that from scanning the security feeds last night. I wonder if anyone is watching me now. I imagine Lawson’s got eyes on me and the others near constantly. It’s what I would do if the roles were reversed. At least he hasn’t been pushy or tried to interfere with anything I’m doing.
The walls in the lounge are lined with bookcases filled with either yellowed volumes from the seventies or smooshed board game boxes. All the furniture is under tarps except for the central dining table, which Ella has uncovered. She’s taken a heavy-duty atlas down from one of the bookshelves and is in the process of marking it up with a blue pen when I enter.
“Almost finished,” she says, without looking up at me. She flips to a page dedicated to the western coast of Africa and begins scratching a thick blue dot onto the southern edge of the continent.
BK sits down next to me, his tail thumping the floor. I tilt my head, trying to get a look at Ella’s project.
“You know, we have computers downstairs,” I tell her, feeling a need to break the silence.
“I didn’t want to risk putting this information into the system before you had a chance to look at it,” Ella replies matter-of-factly. “And I had to get it down before it fades from my memory.” She flips to the front of the atlas, where a world map is already covered in her little blue dots, then pushes the volume across the table in my direction, her glowing eyes fixed on me. “Done.”
“What is this?”
“A map.”
“I see that.” I stare down at the fifty-odd locations scratched into the world map, then page through to find the same dots reproduced on more-detailed maps right down to the longitude and latitude.
“Six probably told you, I tapped into the Loralite stone at Niagara Falls. I could see them all. The stones, the new growths. It was beautiful, John. Like roots growing through the entire world. I can do that because of my melding with Legacy. It isn’t going to last, though. I’m beginning to feel my connection slipping away, my brain going back to normal. I’ll miss it but I won’t, you know? It makes me feel connected to the world but distant from people. Anyway, I’m rambling. Sorry.”
I shake my head at Ella’s burst of conversation, still paging through the atlas. “These are all active? A Garde could use any of these to teleport?”
“Yeah. You should give this to Mr. Government. He needs to get these sites secured. New Garde could be teleporting themselves into danger.” Ella pauses, still studying me. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”
I frown at the idea of turning this information over to Lawson. Still, what other choice do I have? I can’t keep all the Garde safe on my own. I need to come to terms with that. I need to accept help, even if it’s coming from people I don’t really trust.
I close the atlas and put my hand on the front cover. World Atlas 1986. I trace my fingers over the embossed drawing of the earth.
“We really changed this place, didn’t we?”
“That’s our legacy,” Ella replies. “It won’t be a bad thing, if we can save it.”
“Is that a prophecy?” I ask. “Did you see the future?”
Ella looks away from me. “No. I’m making it a point to stop doing that.”
My immediate reaction is to think about all the strategic value we’d lose if Ella was to ignore her visions of the future. I lean forward, putting both my hands on the table in between us.
“Why would you do that?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
“Sometimes I don’t have a choice; a vision just comes to me,” Ella explains, choosing her words carefully. “Those are hard enough to deal with. But when I go looking for something, with all the variables, all the possible futures . . . it just complicates matters. Knowing a thing will happen, it inevitably changes the way we act, which changes the possibilities, which changes the future, which means there was no point looking ahead in the first place. Or, even worse, sometimes you know what’s coming and are still powerless to make a change. Never know which of those scenarios you’re stuck in until it’s too late.”
I think back to a conversation Ella and I had in her mind space. I asked her if she’d seen a version of the future where we come out victorious against the Mogs. She told me that she had, but that I wouldn’t like the cost. I assumed that she meant I would die in the battle—I wasn’t entirely comfortable with that idea at the time, but I’ve been warming up to it these last few hours.
Now, I’m not so sure that’s what she meant at all.
“Ella, did you know what would happen in Mexico? Did you know what would happen to Sarah?”
“Yes,” she replies.
My mouth gets dry.
“You—”
I stop myself. I don’t know what to say. My fists clench and unclench. Heat rises through my fingers, and I realize I’m close to firing up my Lumen. I take a deep and shaky breath, glaring at Ella.
The rational side of me knows there’s nothing to be done now. That cold part of me, the part that’s been in charge since Sarah died, wants to stay on mission. But another part of me wants to scream
with incoherent rage at the unfairness of it all.
She could’ve warned me! I think. She could’ve told me, and I could’ve done something! Better yet, she could’ve warned Sarah!
I told them to run. Ella’s voice rings out clear in my head. She must be reading my thoughts. Even though I knew they wouldn’t, I tried to convince them. And, John, would you have wanted that decision hanging over you? Would you have wanted to choose between Sarah and winning this war?
I would’ve found another way, I reply, grinding my teeth.
Of course you would have. Her voice sounds cutting, even in my mind. There are infinite ways! Maybe you’d have saved Sarah at the cost of someone else. Or maybe you’d just kick her death down the road, like what happened with Eight and his prophecy. That’s my point, John. That’s why looking at the future is no good. You know, I thought I had to die for our friends to survive the battle at the Sanctuary. I threw myself into the Loric energy thinking that would be it, but . . . I hadn’t seen all the possibilities. It’ll drive you insane trying to sort through all those possibilities, all that second-guessing.
Our eyes are locked. The room is totally silent. If anyone’s watching us on the security camera, they must think we’re engaged in one epic staring contest.
Why did you tell me this?
Because I felt guilty, John. I thought you should know. Because I knew you’d ask to try copying my power, the clairvoyance, and I don’t think you should.
“Okay, Ella; please, just get out of my head.”
Ella narrows her eyes at me.
“You were in my head,” she says, both of us back to using our voices. “You initiated that.”
“I did?”
Ella nods and walks over to the window. She hugs herself and gazes out at the tranquil lake.
“I’m not surprised you’d pick up the telepathy,” she says. “I’ve used it on you enough times. Plus, if you can speak to a Chimæra telepathically, it’s not such a dramatic leap to a person.”
I clear my throat and try to put aside the conversation we just had. “Any tips?”
“Aim your thoughts,” she says with a shrug, not looking at me. “Direct them and they’ll find their target.”
