The Spatial Shard
Chapter Five: Mano o Mano

Imogene stood just inside the plane, waiting for the passengers ahead of her to store their luggage and take to their seats. She looked back and saw her father looking at her. He managed a smile, but she had to wonder how much effort it had taken to form it. She could see Gordon disappear behind their father in the next instant, making it very clear he still wanted nothing to do with her. Had she been given the choice, Imogene would have agreed. The rather comely flight attendant came forward and greeted Imogene with a more genuine smile as she received the young girl’s boarding pass. Imogene was taken aback at how attractive the woman was.

“Yes, Miss, your seat is right here,” the woman said, gesturing toward an empty seat in First Class.

“What?” Imogene was confused.

“Gimme a break,” Timothy whispered in her ear. “You think I want you two having World War Three during an eleven-hour flight? Gordo and I will be in Coach.

“I suppose that’s best,” Imogene said as she took her seat.

“Not quite,” Gordon muttered as he rushed by her. His voice was too low for anyone but her to hear and Imogene missed her seat, spilling over into the window seat. She landed on an elderly woman who looked like she was asleep. She gasped at the interruption of her meditations.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Imogene apologized, forcing herself not to look at Gordon walking away. “I’m… just… so clumsy.”

“I’d say that was the least of it, darlin’,” the woman replied as she lowered her sunglasses to look at Imogene. Her skin was pale, which meant she had not been in Bolivia for too long, and she barely had any wrinkles, but her hair was thick and almost glowing white. “With those eyes I’d say there was some baggage you failed to check.” The slender woman looked toward Coach and caught the back of Gordon’s head before the drapes closed behind him.

“I am sorry, Ms. …” Timothy started.

“You’re holding up the line, young fella,” the woman replied with a smile. “We ladies can take of ourselves. Besides, it looks like you need to get a hold of that hell half-acre who just went back there. Go on, get!” Imogene’s eyebrows shot up as she looked up at her father. Apparently the weird meter was not going to take too much of a rest today.

Timothy put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “If you need me-”

“We’ll both be screaming at the tops of our lungs,” the woman interrupted, flashing another bright smile. “You can come and play the dashing prince then.”

“Okay,” Timothy chuckled as his smile brightened.

“Oh, Miss,” the woman called out loudly to the flight attendant. “I think this nice young man is having trouble finding his seat.”

“Alright,” the flight attendant answered in a lower voice. “Sir, let me show you the way.” She flashed a smile and Timothy could not keep from blushing. With a gentle touch of her hand, the young woman ushered Timothy toward the rear of the plane. Part of him wanted to reflect on how forward the older woman had been, but he could not bring himself to remain fixed on the point. The young flight attendant reminded him of how long it had been since any woman had touched him, so he simply sighed and walked very slowly to his seat where the attendant took special consideration to make sure he had everything he needed for the flight.

“That’ll learn him!” the woman said as Imogene’s father walked away. The young girl looked with great surprise at the elderly woman. “Well, he’s had it coming for some time, pining away over lost love, as if such a thing can ever be.”

“What?” Imogene said, suddenly very nervous and slightly anxious. “Ma’am, I don’t-”

“And aren’t you the quick and careful one,” the woman smiled. “So quick to attempt a passive dismount. Bless your heart!

“And everyone’s got their pains, dear, but a parent’s place is to sustain! They are there to fortify their children, no matter the cost. Still, there are not many who love each other the way that Eleanor and Timothy did.”

“What is going on?” Imogene thought, wanting to be just about anywhere but where she was.

“And be careful of such strong thoughts,” the woman added. “Granted, your mind is untrained; everyone here is the same, oblivious to the weaving and the working. But things have changed recently, haven’t they? You can cling to uncertainty which will yield you only fear and confusion… or you can be about the business of lessening the heaping pile of I don’t know. The choice is yours, and it is unfortunate that you do not have the luxury of making decisions which will only impact you. Choices have been made, my dear and until the Shard is done with you – or you are done with her – you will never be alone.”

“The Shard?” Imogene asked at just above a whisper. She looked around to see if the woman was alone and her hand clenched tightly to the strap of her shoulder bag.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” the woman said in a very soft voice as she patted Imogene’s arm. The girl looked at the point of contact just before a cool wave passed over her body, caressing her nerves, forcing each muscle to relax and her mind to slow down. She dropped her shoulder bag and the woman was quick to move it under the seat just in front of Imogene. “You won’t be needing the mace you have inside there, but not a bad option to take, given the circumstances. Just relax and realize that if I wanted to do you any harm, we’d be done, not talking.” The plane shuttered as the outer doors were closed and secured. The woman pressed her head back and breathed in deeply.

The white-haired lady sighed as she hit the button to summon a flight attendant. “No time for reaching Alpha State… oh well. Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker!” She smiled at another flight attendant and asked for a double whiskey neat. When the flight attendant started to speak, the old woman reached into her bag and produced a bottle of her own. The flight attendant smiled and took the bottle to prepare the older woman’s request.

“I take it you don’t like to fly,” Imogene said, still amazed at the woman seated beside her.

“Everything loves to fly!” the woman insisted. “I just need to keep my head clear of the fear of sudden drops and stops. Hey,” she said cheerfully, offering her hand to Imogene. “My name’s Wilma.”

“Imogene.”

“My Fred’s gone and left me, and Bedrock’s not my kind of scene, so here I am, getting my… uh… energy zones aligned.”

“Energy zones aligned?” Imogene repeated.

“When you’re older, you’ll understand,” the woman answered. “Let’s just say he used the right tool.” Imogene was too late getting her hand to her mouth before she cackled. When everyone looked, Wilma looked innocent and head-gestured over to the laughing Imogene who was incapable of speech. This only served to make Imogene laugh harder.

The plane jostled as it moved away from the terminal and Wilma grabbed Imogene’s hand. “I really hate Tech!” the woman whispered, closing her bright green eyes.

Before she knew it, Imogene’s hand was on top of Wilma’s giving a reassuring caress. “Everything will be just fine,” she said and the two locked eyes for a moment, staring for a moment before the older woman managed a smile.

“Yes, I think everything will be.”

“And as far as Tech goes,” Imogene said, waving her hand about the plane. “…I can explain it to you, if you think that will help.”

“You understand this stuff?!” Wilma asked, very surprised by the offer.

“I do, and I am at your service.”

“You’re very helpful,” Wilma smiled. “I could sense that about you.”

“Well, certain things become quite clear when your energy zones are aligned,” Imogene smiled before she started explaining the simpler facts of aerospace engineering. Wilma was so engrossed that she did not see Imogene wave off the flight attendant when she was coming forward with the requested drink.

It took quite a few minutes before the plane could taxi into position and rev-up its engines for take off. By then, Imogene was deep into the finer points of propulsion and drag; she introduced very intrinsic points of science and followed them with everyday American analogies to make them easier to digest. Wilma nodded and her eyes became more and more fixed on Imogene as she spoke. She hung on every word and actually missed the take off. In fact, if Imogene had not pointed out that they were leveling off, Wilma might have missed it altogether.

“Oh my!” she said, jumping in realization. “I suppose one good touch deserves another.” Wilma smiled as she looked out of the window and down at the ground. She then quickly turned to Imogene and embraced her. Imogene was surprised, but she returned the hug. It felt good to be hugged by the older woman and she let her eyes close for a moment.

“Now, you have to let me return the favor,” Wilma said as she reached into her bag. She produced a small folded piece of fabric.

“I thought that made us even,” Imogene replied. “You calmed me down and I kept you from getting too excited about flying.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“And you kept me from drinking. You’d think after all this time and so-called training that I’d be over it, but that’s simply not the case. So I owe you one.

“Imogene,” the woman said as she looked at the fabric. “Hmmm, that’s a name I don’t know. What does it mean?”

“I looked it up once,” Imogene answered. “I think it’s really a misspelling of a character from Shakespeare. Most of my friends call me Genie.”

“Ahhh,” Wilma replied with a smile. When she unfolded the fabric, Imogene could see a plastic nozzle. “That means well-born. English, I believe.” Wilma opened the nozzle and began to blow on it. It soon formed into a C-shaped pillow.

“You’ve got some pretty healthy lungs, for a lady your age,” Imogene said with a smile. It was a smile that faded as Wilma lost hers and glared at the young girl.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh… I… oh… I mean-”

Wilma leaned in close to Imogene and whispered. “Most of your problem comes from what your eyes tell you. Minds that think through sight can be easily fooled, young lady, because eyes don’t have minds of their own. Any extension of the mind is by default weaker than the mind, so work with what you have!” Imogene stammered a little longer before she just stopped trying to speak.

“That is why I am going to show you how to meditate,” Wilma announced, handing Imogene the inflated neck pillow. “Trust me, this will open your mind to a few things that not even your Tech can explain.”

“Not as if I couldn’t use a lesson in how to get around my eyes,” Imogene thought, receiving the pillow.

“And before we get started, let me tell you one thing,” Wilma said, taking hold of Imogene’s arm. “If you’re in a room with a hundred people and you say what you think and feel when everyone says something different, well then, you’re free. If you say the same thing they say, especially when you think and feel differently, well then, you’re a slave.

“It’s hard to walk alone,” she added as she fixed her own neck pillow. “But don’t let that keep you from walking.”

“How do you know-”

“I didn’t get this old being stupid, child!” Wilma said quickly as she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “Okay, I can sense your mind is strong enough for this, but once again you’re too tense. Think of something with many levels or layers to it; something that relaxes you. Like one of your precious engine designs.”

“I prefer surfing,” Imogene replied.

“You like to surf?!” Wilma said, sitting up in her seat.

“Yes, my mother taught me,” Imogene answered, opening her eyes. “Is that a problem?

“Quite the opposite, sweetheart,” Wilma said before sitting back and closing her eyes again. “Very well, surfing it is. Big waves or small?”

“Ankle snappers are a waste of my time,” Imogene answered, closing her eyes and settling back in her seat as well. “The more water, the better the connection!”

“I see. We’ll go with that, then.

“You’re on your surfboard, not waiting for a wave, you’re already surfing it. It is huge and the water rolls over your head.”

“Bazza!” Imogene whispered.

“Bazza?” Wilma asked.

“In the barrel or the tube, take your pick.”

“I see. Well, when this happens, you cease to be a surfer, you’re one with the water… and the water reaches every point of the planet-”

“And the planet connects with the universe,” Imogene whispered as a soft smile formed on her face. “The bridge!” Imogene gasped as she lost her perception of the plane. She knew her body was still in the aircraft, but her mind was no longer in that body, it was in another!

“How many weapons were in that drop pack?!” Seth asked himself. He looked at the jacket that was his body armor and shook his head in disgust. It had proven to be a bad morning, destined to get worse. The first and second checkpoints had served him well, but Seth had been forced to zigzag between Bolivia and Brazil. They were once again on Bolivian soil which had seemed like a stroke of genius at the time.

But McEmbree was dealing with a different Makeen than he had come to know. The Optimum Horizons Security Administrator had arranged for a checkpoint of his own. His came by way of a drop plane and the pilot had managed to drop the parcel about one hundred meters in front of Makeen, in the direction he had been chasing McEmbree.

Makeen was accurate with many weapons. Seth knew that. But he had proven to be all too accurate with an assault rifle and had managed to rob Seth of his first 4x4 and the back-plates of his body armor. But the older man had been able to make it to the checkpoint and instead of just taking the fuel and setting the explosives, he took a second 4x4 and smiled at his resourcefulness.

“That man should have been given more hugs,” Seth whispered and smiled as he donned his jacket. He looked up at the sky to see if he could get a mark on the time, but the vegetation was too tall and he could only see a few stars. He lowered his head to get his Smartphone out of a pocket on his cargo pants and his body convulsed. Debris of the tree sprayed into his face and eyes. He had fallen off the 4x4 before he heard the report of the rifle; a knee-jerk reaction. Seth had known that the guise of an engineer would be difficult to maintain, but his last action stood a very good chance of making Makeen think differently of his current prey. No simple engineer, no matter how gifted with mathematics, would react to a high-powered rifle shot the way that he had.

“Let’s just hope he’s using a bolt action rifle,” Seth thought as he removed his helmet, scurrying quickly up against a large tree. He twisted his body and used both hands to hold up his helmet. The moment it was clear of the tree, it was shot out of his hand. “That was too fast for unassisted vision,” Seth thought as he ran toward the 4x4. Two shots just missed before he could reach the vehicle. The engine was already running and McEmbree did not break stride as he jumped, landed on the 4x4 and sped away. He leaned to the left as the quad went straight. A thick branch just in front of him, at head level, exploded away from its home. Seth slid to the middle of the vehicle and leaned left again. Another shot was fired. The man had to be using a semi-automatic weapon. But the shot missed and Seth guessed Makeen was trying to guess Seth’s timing and movements. He gunned the engine of the 4x4 as he approached the edge of a hill. According to his memory there would be a sharp drop to the river. But the timing was all wrong and he was going to be airborne going over the hill.

“Better the quad than me!” he thought, but there was an echo to the words in his mind; an echo with a female tone to it. Seth remained focused as he leaned back and pulled against the handlebars just as the front wheels rolled past the edge. He was airborne and he strained to make the 4x4 do a 360o. He could feel the quad shudder. Makeen must have scored the transmission, but Seth was not injured… at least, not yet.

“Let’s try to avoid some major deceleration trauma!” the voice echoed as Seth finished the trick and landed the 4x4 on its wheels. He had been right about where Makeen had shot his ride, but Seth could not be too concerned with that; for some other reason, he no longer had brakes, and his memory had served him well… it was a sharp drop to the river. This side of the hill was nearly a forty-five degree downward drop and it was only about twenty meters before the ground, at this altitude, stopped!

“Time to jump,” he thought, concluding it was time to drop all guises and end this chase before he found himself taken out of a much bigger picture!

“No, stay with the ride!” he reconsidered, though this thought was accompanied by the same female voice echoing in his mind. He opted to go with the second thought and the 4x4 rolled off the edge. Seth pushed down with his feet and pulled up with his hands as the 4x4 plummeted. Thirty feet beneath the edge, there was a ledge and the vehicle slammed down on it and bounced as it still held some forward momentum.

“Now jump!” both voices thought and Seth did just that and as the 4x4 continued on its way to the river, he hung on to the edge of the ledge.

“Now that would’ve hurt without the bike,” he thought.

“I could have avoided the drop altogether if I had bailed up there.” Seth found himself arguing with his own thoughts. Even though at the moment they did not seem like his own. “And since when do I say ‘bailed’?”

“Dude, you were going way too fast. You would’ve carried over the side anyway.”

“’Dude’?!”

Seth pulled himself up and quickly ran toward face of the rock, taking off his backpack. He planted both his back and his backpack against the wall and waited. He could hear the 4x4 crash. Still he stayed pasted to the wall, occasionally looking up.

It took a few minutes, but Makeen found his way to Seth’s take-off point. He looked down and now Seth could see he was using a clip-fed semi-automatic sniper rifle with a very large scope that looked as if it had multiple vision options. Seth could tell Makeen was scanning the river. It was indeed fortunate the 4x4 crash had caught on fire. The infrared would not be able to make out that there was no body at the crash site. After a few more moments of looking, Makeen began to walk along the ridge, looking for a means to get to the river. Seth waited until Makeen was well out of earshot before he picked up his backpack and took out his rope. A quick descent would beat Makeen to the river and more importantly, the next checkpoint. Taking a moment to confirm his bearings, Seth opened the cover on his wristwatch-compass. The cover had a small mirror that Seth used to see if anyone was coming up behind him. It was pretty lame as far as ideas went…

“Pretty lame?!” he thought, remembering that he truly felt otherwise. He looked in the mirror. He saw blue eyes, but they were the wrong color blue to be his. These were more crystal blue, approaching aqua in color. His eyes were a darker blue.

“And since when did I become a blonde?” he asked, grabbing his hair. He looked at his hair and it was still brown. Looking back into the mirror, the color of his eyes had returned. Seth looked around, searching for something that might explain the second set of thoughts, which came with the ability to ride a 4x4 in a way he could not hope to duplicate. But there was no one else there. He was alone on the ledge, beneath the ridge of the rock wall… beneath the blue sky that was becoming a deeper shade of blue as the sun rose higher in the sky… beneath a jumbo jet that was circling north. It was at the jet that Seth found himself gazing.

“Impossible,” he whispered, recalling what he had been able to study of the Shard.

∞∞ ∞∞

“But I dye my hair,” Imogene gasped as her eyes shot open. She grabbed her hair and took a good look at it. It was still black.

“What did you say, sweetie?” Wilma asked.

“N-noth-nothing,” Imogene whispered as she shook her head and closed her eyes again.

“Unassisted vision?” she repeated to herself, trying to find a reason why that phrase would be in her mind.

“Just try to clear your mind,” Wilma directed. “You’ve got a lot of cross-talk going on in your head.”

“Is that what it is?” Imogene thought.

“All sorts of thoughts that don’t seem like they could be yours,” Wilma continued. “But you’ve got to move beyond them, seek out those thoughts that you know for certain are yours.

“Here, let me help you… this time!” Wilma said as she placed her hand on top of Imogene’s. “Start with the simple,” she directed in a very soft voice. “You know it is one of your thoughts to feel my hand on yours. From there you should be able to find your way.”

“Yeah,” Imogene replied. Her voice was soft in its delivery, absorbed by the sudden softness of the woman’s hand. They had not felt so warm and inviting when Wilma first grabbed her hand, filled with her fear of planes not landing properly. Though the skin did not feel like the woman was aged at all, it had not felt as heavenly as it did at that moment. It had not made her sigh as she did now. She was able to find her way to her own thoughts quite easily as the plane continued its trek northward to the west coast of North America.

“Well, here we are again,” Eleanor said, sitting on her board. The sun was setting and most of the other surfers were on the beach. They had started a bonfire already and it would not be long before the food would be cooking. “You ready to go in?”

“I want another wave,” Imogene said with a bright smile.

“You certain about that, Genie?” Eleanor asked. “Things are getting rough out here now and I may not be able to help you.”

“Hey, I’ve already got a leash,” Imogene shot back with a sneer.

“That you do,” Eleanor nodded as she gestured toward the open sea. “Go get ’em, Genie. But don’t be so hungry-”

“That you forget why we’re out here,” Imogene finished and she began to paddle. “When are you going to relax and trust your teaching?”

“Sweetheart, let Momma get a few PhDs under her belt before I try to explain that.” Eleanor paddled behind her daughter. “But you’ve got nine months of me in you, and until I get it back, I’m going to be real needy.” Imogene laughed as she turned her board toward the beach. She sat up and straddled her board as she looked over to her mother. She was no longer in her suit. She wore the long yellow gown again, but for some reason Imogene was not surprised to see the change.

“That’s okay, Mom,” she said, looking back. “You’re going to be in me all of my life!”

“Oh, nice one!” Eleanor said, smiling at her daughter for a moment before looking down. “You don’t seem to be so concerned with what’s going on.”

“Can’t say that I am,” Imogene agreed. “Don’t get me wrong… there’s an old woman, who’s not really old, helping me talk to you right now. But before I could get here, I think I just shared an experience with a man who was being shot at.”

“Gnarly!” Eleanor commented.

“Yeah… and I can’t get it out of my head that this is just the beginning.”

“Trust your instincts,” Eleanor said intently. “You get your brains from your Dad.”

“And he so says I get them from you,” Imogene laughed. “You two are a pair, I swear.” There was laughter shared between mother and daughter. It finally lessened and eventually stopped. Imogene could tell Eleanor wanted to talk but was conflicted about whether she should say anything.

“I’m sorry about before,” Imogene said as she saw a wave approaching.

“Good read,” Eleanor said without moving her eyes from her daughter. “And no need for apologies. Being dead doesn’t make anyone perfect.”

“What?!”

“Mind on your work, baby,” Eleanor guided. As Imogene looked at the incoming wave, she lay flat on her board again and started paddling. “And what I meant was, you were right and I was wrong. Who in their right minds leaps before they look?”

“Someone who trusts their mother,” Imogene said as she popped up and took her stance. She let the tears fall. In a moment she would not be able to tell the difference between them and the ocean.

“A mother who did not trust her family with the truth, Genie. Remember that.

“For the record, baby,” Eleanor said as she faded from sight. The wave that sent Imogene forward now blocked her view. “I trust you now so much more than I ever trusted myself. Listen to your instincts, baby. They took you to your brother when he needed you, they made you run when you needed to and they’ll continue to see you through.

“Now ride the heck out of that wave!”

“I will, Momma!” Imogene gasped as she cried and turned her board to rip the tunnel. “Bazza!”

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