The Farpool (22 page)

Chase told Stokey about Bailey and his new
sniffer. "I don't know if it'll work this far underground. I really
don't know what his maximum range is. But we have to try it."

"Sure, man, sure, try it. Let's try
anything."

So he shouted out the magic words--he'd
programmed Bailey the Dude to switch the sniffer on and off by
voice command, and then winced as the echo cascaded all around them
like an amplified drunk, finally dying off into distant whispers of
his words.

"BAILEY…BIG NOSE…
big nose…big nose…b-I-g…n-o-s-e…b…i…g…n…o…s…e…"

After that, they waited. And as they waited,
Chase learned just how big a crybaby Stokey Shivers really was. If
they ever got out of there, he was for sure going to put some
distance between himself and Stokey Shivers. By the time an hour
had passed, Stokey's sniffing and sniveling was about to drive
Chase mad.

They lost track of time. Maybe two hours had
passed, maybe five or six. Both boys had drifted in and out of a
semi-conscious daze. It was Chase who heard it first…

In between creaks and groans of the cave
walls, and the steady drip of water, a faint buzzing could
gradually be made out. More like a whirring, like a blender. Chase
suddenly came to, and sat up, straining to make out the sound.
Slowly, infinitesimally, it grew more audible, though at first the
whirring faded in and out.

Then, the buzz grew quite distinct and he was
sure. It was the Dude. Bailey the Flying Dude had been
systematically searching up and down tunnels and branches, homing
on the distinctive aroma of Chase’s bad breath and body odor.
Before he could scramble to his feet and call out, a dim but
familiar red light came winking out of the gloom, materializing in
mid-air like a ghostly apparition.

Bailey hovered ten feet above them, winking
like a firefly, his props and motor whirring with satisfaction. If
he'd been a dog, his tail would have been wagging.

"
Bailey
…you old dude," Chase laughed out loud. He
wanted to hug the bot.

From that point on, it was a simple matter of
following the winking red light, up and up and up and finally out
of Crocodile Corner’s Lost Tunnel. An hour later, when Stokey and
Chase had emerged into the cold sweet-smelling night air, they
silently hugged each other.

Chase Meyer sure was glad he'd disobeyed his
Dad and inserted that olfactory program after all.

For pretty much his whole life, Chase
had always been told he had a vivid imagination. But nothing he and
Stokey saw or imagined in the caves at Croc’s Corner ever remotely
resembled what he saw when he woke up from the
em’took
.

This time, he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

As a child, Angie had always been a
serious person, committed and dedicated to whatever task she was
working on. She was extremely imaginative even as a very young
child and often spent hours amusing herself with the VR slate
(the
oculus
) and the holopod
and 3d printer, creating and populating imaginary worlds. She
showed abilities as a filmmaker and writer/storyteller that
impressed her Mom a great deal.

One of her favorite imaginary worlds was one
she called Principia, full of kings and queens, fairy princesses
and dragons and lots of horses. Angie always loved horses. Some of
her own work with the oculus involved creating and animating all
kinds of horses. She had two imaginary horses, Lucy and Lucky, that
she used a lot as imaginary creatures in her stories.

When Angie was four, her father Horace
abandoned the family, for another woman. The family was living in
Gainesville, Florida at the time, and Horace was a professor at the
University of Florida. He taught American History and Political
Science. The younger woman was named Cecilia Fortnoy and she worked
as an assistant staff aide to the Florida Governor in Tallahassee.
Horace became interested in her because he seemed to gravitate to
woman who were “important” or doing important things in his eye.
Being around powerful people or celebrities always fascinated
Horace. Maggie, working in Gainesville as a waitress at a fast-food
restaurant (Venetian Feast) couldn’t fill this need. They divorced
in summer 2106 and Maggie had to take a second, later a third job,
to make ends meet.

Angie was devastated. She felt totally
abandoned.

Working so many jobs to put food on the
table, Maggie Gilliam (she kept her married name) was always tired
and irritable. Angie saw what this did to people. One of the
effects of Maggie having to work so hard and being tired and cranky
all the time, was that Mom no longer had time to play games or do
puzzles with her kids. This made Angie feel lonesome and she
retreated into her imaginary worlds even more. At the age of six,
starting school and Net Tutor, she was already writing and
illustrating her own Principia stories.

But nothing she had ever imagined for
Principia ever came close to what she saw when she woke up from
the
em’took.

This time, Angie knew she wasn’t
dreaming.

About a year before he and Angie went
through the Farpool, Chase read an article in Wikipedia about the
old sci-fi movie
The Creature from the
Black Lagoon
.

“The Creature’s appearance was based on old
seventeenth century woodcuts of two bizarre creatures called the
Sea Monk and the Sea Bishop. The Creature’s final head was based on
that of the Sea Monk, but the original discarded head was based on
that of the Sea Bishop.

“In the film, the eyes of the Creature were a
fixed part of the rubber construction of the suit. The actors who
played the part of the “Gill Man” could barely see, if at all. In
the second film, the eyes were replaced with large,
bulbous-fish-eyes, to assist in the actor’s vision.”

Chase opened the top of the
em’took
pod and sat up. What he saw
reminded him of that old movie…he was sure he was still dreaming.
He started to lie back down but a voice spoke to him, a familiar
voice.

“Hey, it’s me…
.eeeggoddd
…what the hell…?
Yuck
….!”

It was Angie. No it wasn’t. It was the
Creature. No, that wasn’t it either. It was something his brain had
conjured up from the slime-pit of old nightmares….

“Angie--?”

They both clambered up and sat on the edge of
their pods.

“You look…disgusting…like…is that really you?
I mean, God…Chase…you look like a frog on steroids….something from
Nat Geo…maybe the Galapagos….”

Chase started feeling around, his face, arms,
legs. There weren’t any mirrors. But if he looked anything like
Angie—

She had a blade-shaped head, rising out
of a scaly, armored chest and shoulders, her neck draped with folds
and flaps of loose skin. The flaps fluttered when she
breathed…
gills
, he figured
out at last.
She’s got gills, for God’s
sake.

Her arms had several rows of fins ending in
fingers, like a normal hand, but more fingers than she should have
had. He blinked, not sure he was seeing right, then wiped his own
eyes and jumped half a foot, realizing he had the same thing.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph…what’s happened to
me?

He stepped off the edge of the pod and looked
closer at Angie. She flinched as he approached.

Angie had two legs, like normal, but
her legs had flukes at the bottom, multiple rows of them, and even
her midsection had fins. As he gazed at her from the side, he saw a
large dorsal fin along her spine, and a distinct fold in the skin
on either side, the fold extending from her neck to her
feet.
Lateral line
, he
surmised. All fish had them…
it helps them
locate movement and vibration…
he knew that from
fishing off Half Moon Cove with his Dad
.

“Don’t come any closer…you make me sick.”

“I guess I look the same…Angie, look at us!
We’re amphibians! I’m breathing air…you’ve got gills, fins, you’re
a fish.”

“You’re a freak…Chase, I don’t like this…can
we—“

But she stopped when the roar of rushing
water came bursting through the walls. The fingers of the pod walls
had parted and a wave slammed into them. In seconds, the entire pod
was drowned and both of them scrambled to hold on to something.

Don’t hold your
breath
, Chase signaled her, for he had just then
figured this was something the Seomish had planned. If they were
truly amphibious, this was one way to find out.

Cautiously, Chase let out a breath and
inhaled.

For a few seconds, as fluid entered his
lungs, he panicked, flailing and cartwheeling in the water.
But…then…no, it was okay…it was all right…he could…just relax…take
a breath…breathe in…breathe out…that’s it…it’s okay…breathe
in…breathe out….

Through the silty water, he could make out
Angie’s body, shaking, panicking as well. He kicked and swam to
her, holding her by the arms, hand-gesturing to her.

Breathe in…slow
breaths…breathe in and out…slowly…that’s
it
…

By stroking her neck, he managed to calm her
down and saw with satisfaction she was getting it, she was sucking
in water, she was breathing, and her face lost that wild glaring
look. It was hard to tell when your face resembled something from a
child’s nightmare. But she looked better. She wasn’t thrashing
around so much.

Finally, she sort of half-smiled,
half-nodded.

I’m okay now…I
think
…she mouthed at him.

Shapes materialized out of the murk. Right
away, Chase realized it was Kloosee. Pakma and others followed. A
circle soon formed around them.

Chase felt vibrations in his head, then the
voices came out of the static of his echopod, lots of voices,
overwhelming sounds, a symphony, a cacophony of sounds, honking,
bellowing snorting and clicking, from all directions.

“Ahhhh…what a racket!”

Kloosee swam over and looked directly
at Chase. “(
Skreeah)
…you hear
me? You understand me?”

Chase nodded, or tried to nod. “Yeah, I hear
you…barely. But there’s so much noise—such a din…it’s like I hear
everything—“

Kloosee said, “You do hear everything. We
Seomish live in a world of sound. And your companion--?”

Pakma was helping Angie get used to her own
transformation. She drifted about aimlessly for awhile, shaking her
blade-shaped head from side to side, trying to find something she
could focus on.

“It’s like a party…everybody’s talking at
once…what’s that pounding in the background…it’s giving me a
headache?”

Pakma told her, “It’s the Sound. The
wavemaker. We live with this commotion all the time. We can’t take
much more.”

Angie understand the Sound now in a visceral
way. “I see what you mean.”

Kloosee inspected Chase’s gill slits. They
seemed to be working okay. “You can breathe okay? No problems?”

Chase said,” Yeah, it’s really weird…but I
can. This is like no scuba gear I ever dived with. Angie--?”

“Me too…I have to breathe slowly…but it’s
working…somehow….don’t ask me to explain it. Can we still breathe
air?”

Pakma said, “You can. You are adapted
by the
em’took
for water and
Notwater.”

Chase couldn’t get over the hubbub all around
him. It was clear the Seomish lived in a complex sound environment.
The water was always dark and murky, but they could hear
everything.

“Try pulsing me,” Kloosee suggested. “You can
do that now. A ping of sound…right here—“ he clutched his
midsection, between his fins.

“How do I do that?”

“Like a cough…from the back of your
throat…expel water. You can shape it with your mouth and
nose---like this—“ Kloosee made an exaggerated snort. Chase didn’t
feel anything. But Kloosee sort of half smiled, kind of like a
grimace. “I pulse confusion…many bubbles…much confusion,
nervous…anxious…your bubbles are totally chaotic, Chase.”

Chase tried the trick, snorting at Kloosee.
The echo came back an even return, calm, maybe undertones of humor,
even some laughter…he couldn’t quite—

“Wow…this is going to take some getting used
to…it’s like I can hear what your stomach’s doing. I just don’t
know what it all means…you ate something heavy last night?”

Kloosee laughed, laughed in the Seomish way,
a snort and half giggle. “Om’pod shells…too many of them. They were
delicious.”

“Chase,” Angie was trying the pulsing out for
herself. “Chase, this is wicked…it’s like I can see right through
things…right inside. Pakma…she’s like a fountain…she’s burbling and
gurgling like a baby inside.” Angie smiled at Pakma…”—it’s a happy
sound…or echo or whatever—“

“Try maneuvering now,” Kloosee suggested.
“Kick off and use your flukes. A few laps around the pod—“

Chase did that. He found it a breeze. “Wow,
man…better than flippers in the pool. I could burn up the laps with
this. Why didn’t I have these when I was on the swim team?” Indeed,
Chase found it took only a few kicks, a few rolls and strokes, to
streak from one side of the pod to the other. He could barrel roll,
stop short, streak off in any direction…no effort at all.

Angie did the same thing. The two of them did
a few laps together for their audience.

“Like Fred Astaire,” Angie decided. “With
flippers.”

Chase pulled up next to Kloosee. He pointed
to his head. “Is there any way I can filter some of this noise out.
It’s driving me nuts…everybody’s talking at once. There must be
thousands of voices in my head.”