((I promised more Lucas, and here it is! Thanks to everyone who reviewed
the last chapter. This project has been a lot of fun, and seeing where
it's going to go is just as much the adventure for me as it is for you.
Thank you thank you.))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 6----The Ties that Bind
The vidcom in Jarod's dorm at the Chatton Parapsychology Center blinked green to an incoming call. Red letters flashed in sync to the light for a long moment before it was answered by the smooth press of a tanned finger on the enter button.
"Yes sir?"
"The phone was ringing for over a minute, Lancing."
"Sorry Mr. Phalwell. I was finishing some work for Professure Maybrid. It won't happen again."
"Don't give me a deer-in-the-headlight blink, Lancing. Were you afraid I would take this slight out on someone...closer? Oh, how little you know me. I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I'm becoming quite fond of the little brat. You are keeping up the story about the camp-out, right, Lancing?"
Jarod nodded.
"Good. I'll be keeping an eye on you, but enough small talk. Shall we move on to business?"
Phalwell moved aside, leaving the screen open to a view of a cozy little room with light purple walls and lace pulled back beside a blind covered dormer window. Beneath the window sat a plush, flowerprint couch with stuft toys thrown hap-hazardly onto the cushins. Various pictures of nature scenes and cuddly animals accented the walls in even spaces, and smooth eggshell carpet flowed from beneath the couch out of sight.
For all the world to see, it appeared as a simple child's bedroom-- nothing missing, nothing out of the ordinary--just a room. It was fashioned to a 'T' but held a threatening permanence.
It made Jarod's heart lurch into his throat with a burning that drew from the center of his stomach and out like tendrils of fire.
A small face framed in falls of straight blond hair like a sorrowed angel's wings peeked in from the side screen, then stood in center. The little girl smiled absently, brushing back her fingers over the yarn locks of a doll clutched in her hands. Jarod wanted to reach through the screen and pull her to the saftey of his arms, but it was impossible, and he ached at the cruelty of modern technology.
"Hi, Miranda."
Miranda Lancing blinked large blue eyes and played with the doll's hair. "Hi, Jake-ee."
"Are you alright?"
"uh-huh. I miss you, Jake-ee. When can I come home?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"As soon as I can, I promise."
Miranda looked at her feet, still playing with the doll. "Mr. Phalwell says I can go home when he's happy." Her eyes moved back to her brother's image and she frowned. "I miss mommy and daddy."
"Mommy and daddy miss you, too," he lied. He couldn't possibly tell her that their parents thought their baby girl was camping with a Girl Scout troop in the Everglades.
"Tasha doesn't think we'll get to go home."
"Tell Tasha I said she's wrong."
Miranda glanced sassily beside her and repeated Jarod's words to thin air.
She was only seven years old, but her reference to Tasha has begun when she was four. The fact that she held on to Tasha made Jarod wonder if his little sister had interited the gift of a Medium as he had. If Tasha was a roaming spirit, then Miranda could have a future at Chatton. Of course, the fact that Miranda was so young could mean her invisible friend was just that--an invisable friend.
Right now, Phalwell had no clue and Jarod thanked his lucky stars.
"Guess what?" Miranda prodded, much like little kids do when they have a secret to tell.
"What?"
"I drew on the wall even though Rick told me not to," she grinned michieviously out of sight at the surly bodyguard stationed near the bedroom door. "He says he'll put me in the closet again if I do it again."
Jarod paled. "The closet...?"
"But I'm not afraid, Jake-ee. Me and Tasha are brave. We just wait until it's over and sing songs." Her blue eyes betrayed her even as she smiled. She glance down, at the doll and Jarod thought he saw the glimmer of wetness in her eyes before she looked at him again. "I don't want to wait anymore, Jake-ee."
The burning reached his heart in his throat. He had to swallow both back down to speak again. "You won't have to. Hold on, Miranda. You're big brother's coming."
Miranda smiled, but before she could say another word, she was ushered out of view and replaced by the ugly, mid-fourty year old face of Edward Phalwell.
"That's enough. You'll see her later."
"You'll burn for this, Phalwell," Jarod hissed.
"Tut tut, Lancing," Phalwell warned, waggling his finger. "You wouldn't want to upset the man sitting on the trigger."
Jarod reluctantly bit his lip.
"Better. I have a mission for you. The Wolenczak boy and the Kinkade girl are in Egypt at an Archeological Society convention. Wolenczak was going to fly to Australia earlier today, but due to a disappointing note from his father, he won't be making it to World Power. Just as Dr. Wolenczak won't be expecting his son due to a similar note.
Now listen carefully. The site Dr. Kinkade unearthed contains an essential element I will need for revenge."
The young psychic's face hardened. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you on a plane to Egypt in one hour."
"What if they don't accept me?"
"They will. Egypt is full of mysteries and ghosts. Having an accomplished Medium on site will undoubtedly benifit their cause. Plus, you're familiar with the sense of combined souls. You'll know what to look for in the sensory department."
"What's the artifact?"
"A small jade jewl known as the Orb of Eshe."
"If I can ask, what are you going to do with it once you have it?"
"That is of no concern to you!" Phalwell barked. Recomposing himself, he cleared his throat and brushed down the lapels of his black Armani blazer. Perhaps it would be equitable to keep the young man's curiosity piqued. "It is, however, the key to my immortality and to their destruction."
"Why do you want to hurt them? They've done nothing to you."
"They shifted the balance of power!" Phalwell slammed his fist on the table holding the vidcom, then waited for his words to sink into the 20 year old psychic. "I will not be made a mockery of."
"When can I see Miranda again?"
"After you've obtained the orb. Be at the J.F.K airport in one hour."
The transmission was cut without pause for reaction.
Trained psychic calming techniques were what kept Jarod from mentaly assaulting Phalwell, and he knew one wrong move would ask for a precious life as payment. Now, if he didn't get the Orb of Eshe from Dr. Shawn Kinkade, more lives would be at risk.
He liked Samantha. And admitadly, Lucas as well. Dispite the nautre of their meeting, searching through Samantha's and Lucas' recorded history, and getting Lucas drunk so Samantha would be easier to manipulate in questioning about her work onboard SeaQuest and the ship's classified information, he'd grown to care about her.
And now he was selling her out. Both of them.
It made him sick with the vile taste of self-hatred.
* * * *
By the time Lucas arrived at the hotel, he was exhausted to the point of falling asleep on his feet. It didn't make sense to him simply because he'd slept well the past couple nights, and slept in that morning. He'd drank at least two cups of coffee and taken a slight nap at the airport, so all reason suggested he should be wide awake and on a caffeine high.
Yet if he could have curled up in the back seat of the cab he'd been riding in, he would have.
He rubbed the bleariness from his tired eyes, paid the curry-scented cabby ~Were all cabbies Indian? Was that a requirement for this job?~, hefted his duffel bag, and walked up the scalloped marble stairs to the double front doors. He pushed them open, avoiding the large glass panels set center on the doors, and walked inside.
Immediately, he was greeted by a cool blow of an air-conditioned atmosphere. The difference woke him up slightly so his vision returned to normal from seeing double.
The hotel lobby was grand, boasted waxed marble floors, decorative rugs, carved buttresses above and bellow and indoor balcony to the second floor, a lavishly decorated Victorian waiting area adorned with a patterned table runner and candles, and two falling ice chandeliers. Kings would have felt at home in this lobby. All hotels know the first major impression a guest receives is the lobby, so naturally they put their best in the shop window. The marvelous display was meant to gives gasps of awe from customers, insuring continuing return business.
All of this grandeur barely registered to the sixteen year old computer genius as he made his way to the broad alabaster front desk. Glitz and glamour could be dirt and dust for all he cared.
The crisp uniformed desk clerk glanced up from his book at the squeaking of sneakers against the smooth marble floor. Irritated at the interruption by a kid, he marked his place and lay the book under the counter out of sight. Pasting on a grin for the kid was the nicest thing the thirty year old man could do at 12pm.
"Can I help you?"
Lucas pretended not to look as exhausted as he felt, and glanced to the silver lined name tag pinned neatly to the clerk's black lapel. It read in simple sans serif 'T. Becker' "I'm looking for Captain Nathan Bridger's room. He's with the UEO party."
"Your name, please?"
"Lucas Wolenczak. I'm with the group as well," he yawned.
The clerk took a moment to type in the name on his flat screen. "I don't see your name on the register."
"That's because I wasn't suppose to be here," Lucas sighed. "Can you just give me the room number?"
T. Becker rolled his eyes. He'd heard this before, and knew from past experience that strangers were not to be trusted in any way. It was such a repetitive situation that he cleared his throat with no more attention than he'd give to watching grass grow. "I'm sorry. I can't give that information unless I am certain of your affiliation with the UEO group."
Lucas fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket and opened it. Nimbly, he sifted through the few cards tucked in the thin leather slots and pulled out a blue, black, yellow, and white laminate ID card and slide it across the counter to the clerk.
Becker picked it up and scanned the face and name with dark eyes. Both eyebrows raised in curt skepticism. "Chief Computer Analyst?"
Lucas nodded.
"You've got to be kidding."
Lucas's blue eyes narrowed in frustration. "It says so right there. Now get me the room number, or get me the manager." He was too tired to deal with explaining his I.Q right now.
The clerk eyed him, disbelieving, but the youth's serious--and obviously irritated--expression gained a bemused smile from the older man. He drew up the guest list with a click of the wireless computer mouse. "Nathan Bridger is in room 301. That's third floor and all the way to the right from the elevator."
"Thank you," Lucas said. Turning away, he walked across the lobby to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button.
The doors slid open, but to his tired eyes, they were moving about as fast as a racing snail. A tingling sensation drew up from the bottom of his feet and washed through him like warm water into his head and swirled there, as if lightly scratching to be released. He watched the doors, stunned and frozen where he stood.
Air pulled away from him but he didn't panic. He couldn't. The doors became silver liquid, melting into an amebic shape that morphed into blocks of hardened age weathered stone. Soon he found he was floating in a pool of the same consistency as the doors in liquid state, suspended in it like a drowned person long past rescuing. His arms and legs felt heavy. He couldn't move, couldn't lift them with the mild command his suddenly foggy mind gave his body.
The water surged him forward toward the rock and he could make out small markings etched into the stone--hieroglyphs from an ancient, greater age. Blooming billows of bubbles escaped from the opening with a rush that pulled the water he floated in into the unknown beyond.
It would have been strange if he were in the right mind to analyze and think, but his mind was numb. All he could do was let the suction power pull him inside with the rest of the water. He rolled in it, aware of his too heavy body and the lack of breathing. That was what brought his conscious mind around like a slow lazy susan. He couldn't breath--yet he wasn't suffocating. He couldn't hear anything except the water and his own thoughts.
~Where am I?~ was the most the complicated sentence he could manage. The rest of him felt asleep and he was barely aware of being pulled into an adjoining room until the glitter of green light caught his eyes. It shone through the center of a symbol of two dolphins encircling each other, head to fluke. It rested on a thick stone alter, shining like looking up at the sun from beneath the ocean's surface and watching light rays stream through the broken movement of water in liquid grace. A large cartouche overlaid the front of the alter onto the floor, spilling beneath him in trails of Egyptian markings.
It was absolutely fantastic. Very cool.
He moved toward it as fast as the current would let him, reaching out his right arm automatically to touch the symbol. The closer he came, the hotter anticipation flared in his stomach. A few more inches and he could touch it. A little farther and he would find the glowing thing trapped between the dolphins and learn its secrets. He had to free it so he would know. His fingers extended subtly, his eyes widened, his anticipation grew...
Ding!
Lucas snapped fast awake to reality, stumbled back, tripping over his own foot, and fell to the stone floor of the Alexandria Grand Hotel with a thud. His duffel bag hit the ground out of reach.
The doors of the elevator slide open, revealing a floppy haired man with glasses wearing a sweat shirt and cargoes. Lucas blinked up at the man standing where the glowing symbol use to be, wondering where the light had gone, where the room was, and why he was on the floor dry as a bone when he should be soaking wet with sea water.
Shawn Kinkade bent down with an outstretched hand. "Whoa, are you alright? I didn't see you there."
Lucas took his hand and stood, then picked up his duffel bag. He brushed his clothing down, the pushed his hair back. Bangs fell in front of his bag laden eyes. "It's cool. I think I just zoned." ~To a place incredibly real.~
"Hey, you're that kid from the SeaQuest loading dock, right? I saw you leaving just as I arrived to pick up... What am I keeping you for? You look exhausted. Where you going?"
Lucas forced the fog away from his thoughts. "Room...301."
"Ah, that's my floor," Shawn grinned. "Anyone in particular?"
"Captain Bridger."
The man nodded. "I think he's back in his room." He patted Lucas on the shoulder, apologized again, then walked through the lobby and out the front doors.
Lucas worried his face as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the 3rd floor button. The doors slide closed this time without any funky shifting--plain natural working technology--and sailed smoothly upward.
What had he seen? Did he fall asleep on his feet? Was he that tired to slip into r.e.m sleep without even closing his eyes? That had to have been all it was. Still, the unwarranted weariness and the tingling sensation remained , though fading slowly. He'd probably had some bad coffee, or food, then remembered he hadn't eaten dinner.
The elevator doors whooshed open to the blue carpeted hallway of the third floor. He turned right and followed the long corridor to a window at the end. Each section was cut into quarters--four doors with a space between them harboring a sitting room, or candy machine.
Four doors flanked the paneled window, each with neat large numbers set at the top of the door. He knocked on the last right-hand room reading 301.
"Who is it?" Bridger's voice answer.
"It's me, Lucas."
A lock clicked once and the door opened. Captain Bridger stood in the doorway in a long bathrobe and slippers. He gawked at his unexpected visitor.
"Lucas? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be half way to Australia by now."
Lucas leaned on one foot. "There was a sudden change of plans. Uhm," he began, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me couch surf with you tonight, if that's alright."
Bridger blinked, then stepped aside. "Of course. Since you asked nicely, I can't let you sleep in the hallway."
"Thanks," Lucas muttered. He walked in and went straight of the complimentary fruit basket, dropping his duffel to the floor.
Bridger shut the door and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "So, what happened?"
"There was an explosion at World Power and my dad doesn't want me there right now."
"Not serious, I hope."
Lucas shook his head. "No."
"Well that's good, and understandable. You may be believe it, but you are important to him. Trust me on that. Your father's work means a lot to the UEO, and the rest of the world. I know you're tired of hearing about it, but it's the truth. We are funding the on-switch for this thing," he spit into the sink and washed his mouth out. "The implications of this project are massive--the entire world powered by one hydraulic plant. It's like your advances with the vocorder. How's that going anyway?"
Nothing answer him.
"Lucas?" Bridger walked back into the living area, but stopped just short of the small table holding a vase of flowers near the bedroom door.
Lucas' head was resting against the arm of the couch, eyes closed, and breathing steadily. The half eaten apple dangled from his limp hand over the edge of the cushions.
Bridger sighed with a slight shake of his head and cross the living room. "Poor kid," he whispered. The apple came easily from Lucas' hand, and into the waste basket even easier. "He still doesn't listen."
Though he was joking, the small grin faded from his sun wrinkled face. Lucas had been let down again and left to the foster care of the UEO. In a way, it gave Bridger a sense of need even though he wished the young man had someone else to turn to. Lucas was the most incredible kid Bridger had come to meet. He should have anything he wanted in this world with a mind as intricate and complex as that, boasting an intelligence quotient of 245--way over the charts. Everyone should want a piece of him, girls should be flocking to him, grants should be given to him for his hard work on the vocorder and the SeaQuest's computer. He should be wanted, loved by everyone, adored and heralded in fame.
But here he was, a normal teenager crashed out on a hotel couch in the captain's quarters wearing faded jeans, old sneakers, and a flannel at least five years old. The young prince living a pauper's life.
Bridger drew a blanket from the king sized bed and draped it over Lucas' sleeping form.
~Lucas.~ The captain rolled the name around in his mind. ~Lucas Daniel.~ Lucas was English for 'Bringer of Light.' Fitting by Darwin's meaning of light. His middle name meant 'Interpreter.' Also uncannily fitting.
Bridger wondered with a chuckle if the kid's parents had given him that name deliberately.
Maybe not today, but someday the world will accept this cocky young man as he truly is--Lucas Daniel Wolenczak.
((Please R&R if you like. ^_^ ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 6----The Ties that Bind
The vidcom in Jarod's dorm at the Chatton Parapsychology Center blinked green to an incoming call. Red letters flashed in sync to the light for a long moment before it was answered by the smooth press of a tanned finger on the enter button.
"Yes sir?"
"The phone was ringing for over a minute, Lancing."
"Sorry Mr. Phalwell. I was finishing some work for Professure Maybrid. It won't happen again."
"Don't give me a deer-in-the-headlight blink, Lancing. Were you afraid I would take this slight out on someone...closer? Oh, how little you know me. I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I'm becoming quite fond of the little brat. You are keeping up the story about the camp-out, right, Lancing?"
Jarod nodded.
"Good. I'll be keeping an eye on you, but enough small talk. Shall we move on to business?"
Phalwell moved aside, leaving the screen open to a view of a cozy little room with light purple walls and lace pulled back beside a blind covered dormer window. Beneath the window sat a plush, flowerprint couch with stuft toys thrown hap-hazardly onto the cushins. Various pictures of nature scenes and cuddly animals accented the walls in even spaces, and smooth eggshell carpet flowed from beneath the couch out of sight.
For all the world to see, it appeared as a simple child's bedroom-- nothing missing, nothing out of the ordinary--just a room. It was fashioned to a 'T' but held a threatening permanence.
It made Jarod's heart lurch into his throat with a burning that drew from the center of his stomach and out like tendrils of fire.
A small face framed in falls of straight blond hair like a sorrowed angel's wings peeked in from the side screen, then stood in center. The little girl smiled absently, brushing back her fingers over the yarn locks of a doll clutched in her hands. Jarod wanted to reach through the screen and pull her to the saftey of his arms, but it was impossible, and he ached at the cruelty of modern technology.
"Hi, Miranda."
Miranda Lancing blinked large blue eyes and played with the doll's hair. "Hi, Jake-ee."
"Are you alright?"
"uh-huh. I miss you, Jake-ee. When can I come home?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"As soon as I can, I promise."
Miranda looked at her feet, still playing with the doll. "Mr. Phalwell says I can go home when he's happy." Her eyes moved back to her brother's image and she frowned. "I miss mommy and daddy."
"Mommy and daddy miss you, too," he lied. He couldn't possibly tell her that their parents thought their baby girl was camping with a Girl Scout troop in the Everglades.
"Tasha doesn't think we'll get to go home."
"Tell Tasha I said she's wrong."
Miranda glanced sassily beside her and repeated Jarod's words to thin air.
She was only seven years old, but her reference to Tasha has begun when she was four. The fact that she held on to Tasha made Jarod wonder if his little sister had interited the gift of a Medium as he had. If Tasha was a roaming spirit, then Miranda could have a future at Chatton. Of course, the fact that Miranda was so young could mean her invisible friend was just that--an invisable friend.
Right now, Phalwell had no clue and Jarod thanked his lucky stars.
"Guess what?" Miranda prodded, much like little kids do when they have a secret to tell.
"What?"
"I drew on the wall even though Rick told me not to," she grinned michieviously out of sight at the surly bodyguard stationed near the bedroom door. "He says he'll put me in the closet again if I do it again."
Jarod paled. "The closet...?"
"But I'm not afraid, Jake-ee. Me and Tasha are brave. We just wait until it's over and sing songs." Her blue eyes betrayed her even as she smiled. She glance down, at the doll and Jarod thought he saw the glimmer of wetness in her eyes before she looked at him again. "I don't want to wait anymore, Jake-ee."
The burning reached his heart in his throat. He had to swallow both back down to speak again. "You won't have to. Hold on, Miranda. You're big brother's coming."
Miranda smiled, but before she could say another word, she was ushered out of view and replaced by the ugly, mid-fourty year old face of Edward Phalwell.
"That's enough. You'll see her later."
"You'll burn for this, Phalwell," Jarod hissed.
"Tut tut, Lancing," Phalwell warned, waggling his finger. "You wouldn't want to upset the man sitting on the trigger."
Jarod reluctantly bit his lip.
"Better. I have a mission for you. The Wolenczak boy and the Kinkade girl are in Egypt at an Archeological Society convention. Wolenczak was going to fly to Australia earlier today, but due to a disappointing note from his father, he won't be making it to World Power. Just as Dr. Wolenczak won't be expecting his son due to a similar note.
Now listen carefully. The site Dr. Kinkade unearthed contains an essential element I will need for revenge."
The young psychic's face hardened. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you on a plane to Egypt in one hour."
"What if they don't accept me?"
"They will. Egypt is full of mysteries and ghosts. Having an accomplished Medium on site will undoubtedly benifit their cause. Plus, you're familiar with the sense of combined souls. You'll know what to look for in the sensory department."
"What's the artifact?"
"A small jade jewl known as the Orb of Eshe."
"If I can ask, what are you going to do with it once you have it?"
"That is of no concern to you!" Phalwell barked. Recomposing himself, he cleared his throat and brushed down the lapels of his black Armani blazer. Perhaps it would be equitable to keep the young man's curiosity piqued. "It is, however, the key to my immortality and to their destruction."
"Why do you want to hurt them? They've done nothing to you."
"They shifted the balance of power!" Phalwell slammed his fist on the table holding the vidcom, then waited for his words to sink into the 20 year old psychic. "I will not be made a mockery of."
"When can I see Miranda again?"
"After you've obtained the orb. Be at the J.F.K airport in one hour."
The transmission was cut without pause for reaction.
Trained psychic calming techniques were what kept Jarod from mentaly assaulting Phalwell, and he knew one wrong move would ask for a precious life as payment. Now, if he didn't get the Orb of Eshe from Dr. Shawn Kinkade, more lives would be at risk.
He liked Samantha. And admitadly, Lucas as well. Dispite the nautre of their meeting, searching through Samantha's and Lucas' recorded history, and getting Lucas drunk so Samantha would be easier to manipulate in questioning about her work onboard SeaQuest and the ship's classified information, he'd grown to care about her.
And now he was selling her out. Both of them.
It made him sick with the vile taste of self-hatred.
* * * *
By the time Lucas arrived at the hotel, he was exhausted to the point of falling asleep on his feet. It didn't make sense to him simply because he'd slept well the past couple nights, and slept in that morning. He'd drank at least two cups of coffee and taken a slight nap at the airport, so all reason suggested he should be wide awake and on a caffeine high.
Yet if he could have curled up in the back seat of the cab he'd been riding in, he would have.
He rubbed the bleariness from his tired eyes, paid the curry-scented cabby ~Were all cabbies Indian? Was that a requirement for this job?~, hefted his duffel bag, and walked up the scalloped marble stairs to the double front doors. He pushed them open, avoiding the large glass panels set center on the doors, and walked inside.
Immediately, he was greeted by a cool blow of an air-conditioned atmosphere. The difference woke him up slightly so his vision returned to normal from seeing double.
The hotel lobby was grand, boasted waxed marble floors, decorative rugs, carved buttresses above and bellow and indoor balcony to the second floor, a lavishly decorated Victorian waiting area adorned with a patterned table runner and candles, and two falling ice chandeliers. Kings would have felt at home in this lobby. All hotels know the first major impression a guest receives is the lobby, so naturally they put their best in the shop window. The marvelous display was meant to gives gasps of awe from customers, insuring continuing return business.
All of this grandeur barely registered to the sixteen year old computer genius as he made his way to the broad alabaster front desk. Glitz and glamour could be dirt and dust for all he cared.
The crisp uniformed desk clerk glanced up from his book at the squeaking of sneakers against the smooth marble floor. Irritated at the interruption by a kid, he marked his place and lay the book under the counter out of sight. Pasting on a grin for the kid was the nicest thing the thirty year old man could do at 12pm.
"Can I help you?"
Lucas pretended not to look as exhausted as he felt, and glanced to the silver lined name tag pinned neatly to the clerk's black lapel. It read in simple sans serif 'T. Becker' "I'm looking for Captain Nathan Bridger's room. He's with the UEO party."
"Your name, please?"
"Lucas Wolenczak. I'm with the group as well," he yawned.
The clerk took a moment to type in the name on his flat screen. "I don't see your name on the register."
"That's because I wasn't suppose to be here," Lucas sighed. "Can you just give me the room number?"
T. Becker rolled his eyes. He'd heard this before, and knew from past experience that strangers were not to be trusted in any way. It was such a repetitive situation that he cleared his throat with no more attention than he'd give to watching grass grow. "I'm sorry. I can't give that information unless I am certain of your affiliation with the UEO group."
Lucas fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket and opened it. Nimbly, he sifted through the few cards tucked in the thin leather slots and pulled out a blue, black, yellow, and white laminate ID card and slide it across the counter to the clerk.
Becker picked it up and scanned the face and name with dark eyes. Both eyebrows raised in curt skepticism. "Chief Computer Analyst?"
Lucas nodded.
"You've got to be kidding."
Lucas's blue eyes narrowed in frustration. "It says so right there. Now get me the room number, or get me the manager." He was too tired to deal with explaining his I.Q right now.
The clerk eyed him, disbelieving, but the youth's serious--and obviously irritated--expression gained a bemused smile from the older man. He drew up the guest list with a click of the wireless computer mouse. "Nathan Bridger is in room 301. That's third floor and all the way to the right from the elevator."
"Thank you," Lucas said. Turning away, he walked across the lobby to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button.
The doors slid open, but to his tired eyes, they were moving about as fast as a racing snail. A tingling sensation drew up from the bottom of his feet and washed through him like warm water into his head and swirled there, as if lightly scratching to be released. He watched the doors, stunned and frozen where he stood.
Air pulled away from him but he didn't panic. He couldn't. The doors became silver liquid, melting into an amebic shape that morphed into blocks of hardened age weathered stone. Soon he found he was floating in a pool of the same consistency as the doors in liquid state, suspended in it like a drowned person long past rescuing. His arms and legs felt heavy. He couldn't move, couldn't lift them with the mild command his suddenly foggy mind gave his body.
The water surged him forward toward the rock and he could make out small markings etched into the stone--hieroglyphs from an ancient, greater age. Blooming billows of bubbles escaped from the opening with a rush that pulled the water he floated in into the unknown beyond.
It would have been strange if he were in the right mind to analyze and think, but his mind was numb. All he could do was let the suction power pull him inside with the rest of the water. He rolled in it, aware of his too heavy body and the lack of breathing. That was what brought his conscious mind around like a slow lazy susan. He couldn't breath--yet he wasn't suffocating. He couldn't hear anything except the water and his own thoughts.
~Where am I?~ was the most the complicated sentence he could manage. The rest of him felt asleep and he was barely aware of being pulled into an adjoining room until the glitter of green light caught his eyes. It shone through the center of a symbol of two dolphins encircling each other, head to fluke. It rested on a thick stone alter, shining like looking up at the sun from beneath the ocean's surface and watching light rays stream through the broken movement of water in liquid grace. A large cartouche overlaid the front of the alter onto the floor, spilling beneath him in trails of Egyptian markings.
It was absolutely fantastic. Very cool.
He moved toward it as fast as the current would let him, reaching out his right arm automatically to touch the symbol. The closer he came, the hotter anticipation flared in his stomach. A few more inches and he could touch it. A little farther and he would find the glowing thing trapped between the dolphins and learn its secrets. He had to free it so he would know. His fingers extended subtly, his eyes widened, his anticipation grew...
Ding!
Lucas snapped fast awake to reality, stumbled back, tripping over his own foot, and fell to the stone floor of the Alexandria Grand Hotel with a thud. His duffel bag hit the ground out of reach.
The doors of the elevator slide open, revealing a floppy haired man with glasses wearing a sweat shirt and cargoes. Lucas blinked up at the man standing where the glowing symbol use to be, wondering where the light had gone, where the room was, and why he was on the floor dry as a bone when he should be soaking wet with sea water.
Shawn Kinkade bent down with an outstretched hand. "Whoa, are you alright? I didn't see you there."
Lucas took his hand and stood, then picked up his duffel bag. He brushed his clothing down, the pushed his hair back. Bangs fell in front of his bag laden eyes. "It's cool. I think I just zoned." ~To a place incredibly real.~
"Hey, you're that kid from the SeaQuest loading dock, right? I saw you leaving just as I arrived to pick up... What am I keeping you for? You look exhausted. Where you going?"
Lucas forced the fog away from his thoughts. "Room...301."
"Ah, that's my floor," Shawn grinned. "Anyone in particular?"
"Captain Bridger."
The man nodded. "I think he's back in his room." He patted Lucas on the shoulder, apologized again, then walked through the lobby and out the front doors.
Lucas worried his face as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the 3rd floor button. The doors slide closed this time without any funky shifting--plain natural working technology--and sailed smoothly upward.
What had he seen? Did he fall asleep on his feet? Was he that tired to slip into r.e.m sleep without even closing his eyes? That had to have been all it was. Still, the unwarranted weariness and the tingling sensation remained , though fading slowly. He'd probably had some bad coffee, or food, then remembered he hadn't eaten dinner.
The elevator doors whooshed open to the blue carpeted hallway of the third floor. He turned right and followed the long corridor to a window at the end. Each section was cut into quarters--four doors with a space between them harboring a sitting room, or candy machine.
Four doors flanked the paneled window, each with neat large numbers set at the top of the door. He knocked on the last right-hand room reading 301.
"Who is it?" Bridger's voice answer.
"It's me, Lucas."
A lock clicked once and the door opened. Captain Bridger stood in the doorway in a long bathrobe and slippers. He gawked at his unexpected visitor.
"Lucas? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be half way to Australia by now."
Lucas leaned on one foot. "There was a sudden change of plans. Uhm," he began, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me couch surf with you tonight, if that's alright."
Bridger blinked, then stepped aside. "Of course. Since you asked nicely, I can't let you sleep in the hallway."
"Thanks," Lucas muttered. He walked in and went straight of the complimentary fruit basket, dropping his duffel to the floor.
Bridger shut the door and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "So, what happened?"
"There was an explosion at World Power and my dad doesn't want me there right now."
"Not serious, I hope."
Lucas shook his head. "No."
"Well that's good, and understandable. You may be believe it, but you are important to him. Trust me on that. Your father's work means a lot to the UEO, and the rest of the world. I know you're tired of hearing about it, but it's the truth. We are funding the on-switch for this thing," he spit into the sink and washed his mouth out. "The implications of this project are massive--the entire world powered by one hydraulic plant. It's like your advances with the vocorder. How's that going anyway?"
Nothing answer him.
"Lucas?" Bridger walked back into the living area, but stopped just short of the small table holding a vase of flowers near the bedroom door.
Lucas' head was resting against the arm of the couch, eyes closed, and breathing steadily. The half eaten apple dangled from his limp hand over the edge of the cushions.
Bridger sighed with a slight shake of his head and cross the living room. "Poor kid," he whispered. The apple came easily from Lucas' hand, and into the waste basket even easier. "He still doesn't listen."
Though he was joking, the small grin faded from his sun wrinkled face. Lucas had been let down again and left to the foster care of the UEO. In a way, it gave Bridger a sense of need even though he wished the young man had someone else to turn to. Lucas was the most incredible kid Bridger had come to meet. He should have anything he wanted in this world with a mind as intricate and complex as that, boasting an intelligence quotient of 245--way over the charts. Everyone should want a piece of him, girls should be flocking to him, grants should be given to him for his hard work on the vocorder and the SeaQuest's computer. He should be wanted, loved by everyone, adored and heralded in fame.
But here he was, a normal teenager crashed out on a hotel couch in the captain's quarters wearing faded jeans, old sneakers, and a flannel at least five years old. The young prince living a pauper's life.
Bridger drew a blanket from the king sized bed and draped it over Lucas' sleeping form.
~Lucas.~ The captain rolled the name around in his mind. ~Lucas Daniel.~ Lucas was English for 'Bringer of Light.' Fitting by Darwin's meaning of light. His middle name meant 'Interpreter.' Also uncannily fitting.
Bridger wondered with a chuckle if the kid's parents had given him that name deliberately.
Maybe not today, but someday the world will accept this cocky young man as he truly is--Lucas Daniel Wolenczak.
((Please R&R if you like. ^_^ ))