Untitled
(an amish teenager, a piece of the space shuttle Challenger, a Nevada nuclear test site)
"Easy, girl," the young man cautioned, as he struggled with the reins to bring the animal under control. "Tsk, tsk, easy now," he murmured.
The horse responded to the firmness on the reins as much as to the renewed peacefulness that seemed to echo with the unheard reverberations of the crash. Jacob slapped the reins gently to hurry the animal up the hill. Nothing good could have come from the sound they'd heard, and he wanted to see if the driver of the vehicle needed help.
Jacob groaned as his wagon cleared the crest of the hill, revealing the remains of the once shiny blue car. It lay upside down in the road ditch, several of its windows shattered, while a single wheel continued to spin lazily.
"Gott in himmel," Jacob muttered as he pulled his wagon to a stop and climbed out. Surely the driver couldn't have survived. "Das English and der fancy cars..." he mumbled sadly to himself.
The ditch was deep, and Jacob stumbled and slide to a stop beside the car. Silently, he prayed that he'd know what to do. The nearest phone was miles away, and what little he'd learned of first aid was from his Mam and Da as they calmly handled routine cuts and scrapes that so often happen with a house full of little ones.
He steeled himself to look in the window, terrified of what he expected to find. Sure enough, there was plenty of blood dripping down the face of the older man laying so still on what had once been the roof of the car. Blood covered one of his hands, and a dark stain of blood was spreading across the front of his fancy white shirt.
Jacob hesitated, wondering if the man were already dead. He was almost more frightened that the man might still alive. He didn't know what to do. He'd seen his share of accidents. In the Amish community there were the usual injuries: cuts, bruises, the occasional broken bone; but the English fancy machines caused so much more damage than the simple machines of the Amish.
A faint moan from the injured man spurred Jacob into action. He tried to open the door, fumbling with the upside down handle, but the door was wedged tight, the metal frame crumpled around it. He used his foot to clear the remaining glass from the shattered window, and began to wiggle inside. He'd barely gotten his head and shoulders in, when the man inside grabbed Jacob's wrist. Jacob jumped, banging his head against the seat back, and his elbow against the steering wheel as he instinctively pulled away.
The man's grip on his wrist was surprisingly strong, and only the slickness of his blood enabled Jacob to pull away, leaving bright red trails across the back of his hand. Terrified, Jacob pulled himself from the wreckage, wiping the blood on his black work pants, all the while praying that someone would come along to help him. Surely he hadn't been the only one to hear the ungodly noise made by the English car.
Uncertainty and fear warred with the obligation to help an injured man. Taking a deep breath, Jacob poked his head back into the window frame. The man had managed to turn his head towards the window, and his piercing steel grey eyes fastened on Jacob. Startled, Jacob looked away, only to be drawn back by the intensity of the eyes that watched him. There was no fear in those eyes. No pain showed. Only a look that was frightening by the sheer power of his will.
"Boy," the man's voice was feeble, belying the strength in his eyes. "Come closer," his voice was commanding despite its weakness. Jacob's heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear the whisper, but he worked himself further into the vehicle.
A thousand questions filled his mind. How badly are you hurt? What do you need? What do I do? But Jacob found that all his questions fled, along with his fear, as he felt himself drawn towards those eyes. When he was less than a foot away, the man glanced towards a small package resting on what had once been the roof of the car.
"Pick it up," he whispered. Jacob wiggled further into the car, until his fingertips touched the package. When he looked back at the man, his eyes were closed.
"He's dead," Jacob thought, reaching out to touch the side of his neck. A faint, erratic beat pulsed against his fingers, and he blew out a breath of relief. "Mister," Jacob called softly, his words coming out as a muffled croak. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Hey, Mister."
The grey eyes fluttered open, even as his face grew steadily whiter. Jacob strained to hear his faint command, "Open it."
Jacob couldn't figure out what could possibly be in the package that was so important. The man was dying, that much was obvious. Jacob couldn't deny the growing certainty that even if he raced for help, the English stranger would be dead long before help arrived. His fingers fumbled with the package, tearing it open.
Jacob's confusion grew as a small, jagged piece of metal fell into his hand. It was smaller than the palm of his work-roughened hand. Scorch marks were seared across it. Jacob glanced up, baffled. Slowly the dying man opened his hand, reaching towards Jacob in a feeble effort. His eyes, slowly clouding with pain and inevitable death, commanded and begged Jacob to reach towards him. Slowly, as if on its own, Jacob's hand reached out, clasping the man's hand. The jagged piece of metal poked into their palms as it nestled between their two hands.
Jacob's instinct was to pull away, but whether from the pain of the metal digging into his skin or from sheer terror, he did not know. But the man's eyes commanded him, so he wrapped his fingers around the man's hand. The English man gripped Jacob in a death grip. Jacob felt the metal grow warm. The heat grew until it was almost unbearable. Then the heat began to spread up his arm, burning and tingling with a power so strong that Jacob cried out.
Still the man gripped his hand stubbornly, not letting Jacob pull away as the fiery power coursed through his arm and spread relentlessly through his body. Jacob's eyes widened with shock as power surged through him. Then, sudden understanding showed in his eyes as his mind filled with calm. His eyes locked with the dying man's and held through long moments while the incredible force raced through their bodies, connected by that singular piece of metal sandwiched between their palms. To the two men, the dying English and the teenage Amish, an eternity passed between them in the space of only a few moments.
Slowly, gradually the surge of power withdrew its force from the dying man, filling Jacob until it felt as if the skin of the outer shell that held it would never be able to contain it. Jacob's eyes narrowed as he instinctively forced his own control over it, willing it to be content within the bounds of his body. When he was sure of his control, he looked back at the English man.
The man's lips moved in a faint whisper, his strength ebbing as death began to fill the void left by the powerful force that now filled Jacob. Jacob leaned close, his ear almost touching the man's lips, and still he strained to hear the final whisper, "Don't do..." Jacob heard the ragged sounds of his dying breath as he barely caught the words "...as I did."
Jacob blinked back the tears that suddenly stung his eyes, not knowing if they were tears of grief at the stranger's passing, or tears of joy at the great gift he'd been given. He worked his way out of the car, staggered as his knees buckled with a sudden weakness. Holding onto the side of the car for support, Jacob felt the metal beneath his hand grow warmer and warmer.
As the heat beneath his hand became intense, Jacob jerked his hand away, staring at the red stain of heat on his palm. "Gott in..." Jacob bit back the useless words, his mind filled with far too much knowledge to need the comfort of an invisible god.
The power swirled within him as it sought to gain control, and Jacob closed his eyes, forcing his control over it. More than a little curious, he focused his mind on a nearby stump. He remembered when his neighbor Eli Lapp cut the tree last spring, leaving only a roughened stump to mark its existence. Staring fixedly at the stump, Jacob conquered the power surging within and focused it on the stump.
The unexpected blast of an explosion rent the air as the stump burst into a thousand shards of wood that peppered Jacob's body. Jacob startled, slipped to the ground as his feet slid out from underneath him. "Gott...in..." Again, Jacob didn't finish the oath. He sat stunned, as he tried to focus his mind.
A part of him understood this great gift, but a part of him was so deep in shock that he could barely put two words together. The man's last words came to him, "Don't do...as I did." He hadn't understood the caution, but now, as he picked pieces of wood from his clothing, wiping tiny streaks of blood from his face and hands, he understood all too well.
The clopping of hooves cresting the hill brought Jacob only partway out of his shock, but it was enough for him to clamp down on the strange power within, locking it away safely until he could take it out and examine it. He rose unsteadily, and waited as Eli brought his carriage to a stop beside the wreckage.
Eli stepped down and walked over to Jacob, peering into the mangled car, then glancing back at Jacob. "The English...?"
"He's dead," Jacob said flatly. "There was nothing I could do."
Eli nodded solemnly. "Best I go get the sheriff, jah?"
Jacob nodded, still dazed and struggling for the control he needed.
Just before Eli stepped into the carriage, he looked back at Jacob. "You okay, boy?" he asked, concerned.
"Jah," Jacob nodded, not trusting his voice further than that.
"Alright then. Set down, wait here, while I get help."
Jacob sat down abruptly, more from the weakness in his legs than a desire to obey Eli.
The next few hours passed in a blur. The police came, asked Jacob what seemed like a million questions before the body of the English stranger was driven slowly away. When he was done with the police, Jacob had to answer even more questions from Eli, his mam and da, and seemingly everyone else in the close-knit community. All the while, he kept a firm and constant control on his new power, keeping it separate from the functional part of himself that needed to act as if everything were normal.
Finally, late in the day, when supper was over and evening chores were finished, Jacob withdrew from the rest of his family, walking far out into the pasture. He needed the quiet solitude to sort things out, to begin to understand what had happened and what he had been given.
When he had walked far enough that he could no longer see the solid white farmhouse where he'd lived all his life, he sat down on the side of a hill, staring at the last remains of a crimson sunset. The piece of metal the stranger had given him had given off a strange heat all day, warming Jacob's leg through the fabric of his pocket. He pulled it out, and held it in the palm of his hand. It still radiated a gentle warmth, and it glowed with scarlet glimmers of the fading sun.
Jacob knew what it was, and he knew what it wasn't. It wasn't the source of his power, but only an instrument through which the power had been transferred. The remaining warmth was only a trace left by the power as it surged through it from one man to another. In and of itself, it was nothing.
"No," Jacob told himself. "That's not true." It was something. It was something very important. Jacob focused his mind and allowed the knowledge of this strange piece of metal to come to him. It was a reminder of the results of uncontrolled power. An awesome, fearful reminder of a tragedy brought about by the exploration of unseasoned, raw power.
He worked his way back through the accumulated memories that had been transferred along with the power. The English man's name was David Bell. He had been an ordinary man, a loan officer in California, with a penchant for exploring wilderness areas. In 1986, he'd taken a trip to Nevada, exploring just outside the Nevada Test Site northwest of Las Vegas. There he stumbled onto something, or rather someone and was irrevocably changed, just as Jacob was now changed. Jacob walked through the memory as if he and David Bell were one. He saw through David's eyes, walked with David's feet, felt and thought as David had felt that day in late January.
At first he thought it was some kind of sick animal sprawled in the meager shade cast by an overhang of the ancient Indian rock dwelling. David/Jacob approached it cautiously, increasingly incredulous as he drew closer, realizing that it looked like no animal he'd ever seen. Its head was large and somewhat elongated. Its body was weak and underdeveloped, with what looked like four legs plus two hand-like appendages. The creature watched him approach with a watery eye on the side of its head. As it slowly turned its head toward David, he was stunned as much by the appearance of two eyes in the front of its head plus another on the other side as he was by the intensity of its gaze. This was no animal. Whatever it was, David was absolutely positive that it was sentient. Ancient knowledge and understanding showed clearly into its sad eyes.
David stopped a bare five feet in front of the creature, uncertainty and fear holding him as much as the creature's gaze. Slowly, the four eyes blinked, one after the other, and a solitary tear dripped down its cheek.
"Help me," the voice was weak and hoarse. David was absolutely certain that he didn't hear it with his ears, but rather the words sounded somewhere inside his mind. "Don't be afraid," the same hoarse whisper spoke to him.
Cautiously, David stepped closer and squatted down, his eyes never leaving the creature's. "What can I do?"
Again, the sad eyes blinked, and two more tears trailed down. "Nothing....and everything."
David nodded, understanding although he had no idea how he understood.
"I am the last," the creature whispered in his mind, and David felt the aching loneliness the creature had felt after the others of its kind had died. There had been ten of them, stranded and alone after their ship had been irrevocably damaged during the landing on this strange planet. Once a part of a thriving community of others like themselves, sharing a consciousness that survived long after they left their own planet. But the vastness of space had weakened, and eventually severed the connection.
They'd thought about turning back, unsure they would survive the break in the link that had sustained them from the time they'd come into existence. But before they'd arrived at a mutual decision, a sudden ion storm damaged their ship. There was no question then of returning, only a matter of finding a place to land rather than continue to drift aimlessly in space.
They'd stumbled into the solar system almost by accident, and although the third planet was far different than their home world, they thought they could survive there. Scanners showed vast areas of population, but they located several areas that were largely uninhabited. While heading toward one nearly deserted area, their ship was rocked and tumbled to the ground by an unexpected nuclear blast. Only the vastly superior materials in the hull of the ship prevented disintegration, but the damage was devastating just the same.
There were no more thoughts of repairing the ship and returning to their home world. The best they could do was to survive and somehow learn to adapt. They were cautious in their first, tentative contacts with the species that inhabited this strange world, and they quickly learned that the humans were governed by a great fear of the unknown. After their first, tentative contacts resulted in the necessary deaths of the humans involved, they collectively chose to remain hidden. They had nothing in common with the pathetic species which allowed their fear to rule them. They hid behind their weapons of destruction, ruthlessly destroying whatever they feared. They swaggered around their planet, pitifully unaware of their own inabilities.
Channeling the energy that flowed through and around them, the creatures manipulated their environment, camouflaging their very existence and allowing themselves to function despite the absurdly high gravity and dense concentration of oxygen.
As the years passed, a gaping loneliness filled them. The heavy gravity made movement difficult, and they spent long hours with their bodies idle while their minds linked together. It was too late when they realized their error. Despite all their powers, their bodies began to weaken from the effects of the environment and their own inactivity. They had sustained considerable damage from the radiation as well.
When the first of them became too weak to move against the gravity pressing down on him, the others took care of him, using their power to move him when necessary, and their minds to encourage him. All of them suffered from devastating despair when the first one died, and his mind's connection with them was severed.
One by one they grew weaker and died, each death creating an ever-increasing void of loneliness and despair. Yet, at the same time, when each one died, he passed his share of the power into the others. Physically they grew weaker, but mentally they grew stronger and more powerful. They had absorbed knowledge from the earthlings as they unobtrusively watched them, and they blended it with their own.
At last, the sad day come when the next to the last one of them died, leaving a solitary being, his mind throbbing with accumulated power, even as his body drew nearer to death. Despair filled his heart. Only a few short days following the death of his last companion, David found him at the base of the ancient dwelling place. With heartbreaking understanding, David drew closer to the creature. He felt its uncertainty and doubt about entrusting its power to one of the earthlings, but he also felt its aversion to letting it die with him. David felt the creature make its decision and reached out to grasp the alien hand in his own. A remnant of the alien ship, sandwiched between their two hands, conducted the power as it flowed from the creature into David.
Power surged through him, filling his mind and body with such incredible knowledge and strength, that David gasped, struggling to draw in breath against the force filling him. Along with the power came the instinctive need to control it. As the creature lost his battle to draw in one last breath, David fought his own private war. Despite the instinctive warning against it, David gave himself over to the power, letting it loose, only barely directing it away from the earth. It shot up and away from him, into a broad, orbital path through the upper atmosphere.
Like a tidal wave, ready to engulf whatever came into its path, the power surged unbounded until it reached the only thing sharing the thin air of the ionosphere. Whether it was chance, fate, or simply a matter of bad luck, the unfettered power emanating from David crossed paths with the ascending space shuttle, Challenger. The power was spread wide and thin, allowing the shuttle to remain intact. Only a weakened o-ring was vulnerable, and its destruction accomplished what the power had not.
Instantly, David drew the force back within himself, tamping it down, but it was too late. David saw in his mind what millions of people saw over and over on their television sets. The trailing jets of smoke played unendingly in his mind. The death of the crew members rested heavily in his heart. There was no redemption, no penance great enough to redeem him. David considered himself a murderer.
Only through dedication and judicious use of his power was he able to remove a small piece of the Challenger from the lab where every piece was meticulously studied. He kept it with him always, pressing the jagged edges into his hand when the pain in his heart became more than he could bear. He dared not use the power. He withdrew from others, fearful that someone might discover what was locked inside him and attempt to take it and use it for acts far more destructive than what he had done to the Challenger.
He roamed from place to place, never staying in any one place for very long, never allowing others to get close to him. He was on the move again on that fateful day as he drove through the peaceful, Pennsylvania countryside. The sudden explosion of air as a tire blew threw the vehicle into an uncontrollable skid. There was no time for David to harness the long-unused power.
Jacob sat in full darkness, as he came to the end of his journeying with David Bell. He sighed as he contemplated the waste of unused power all those years as well as the necessity of it. He looked down at the now-cold piece of metal in his hand. David's last words echoed in his mind.
"Don't do....as I did."
But what did he mean, Jacob wondered. Was it a warning not to let loose the awesome power each had been given? Or was it an entreaty not to waste the gift, not to lock it away? Jacob turned the piece of metal over and over in his hand as if searching for answers. But there were none. It was up to him to decide.
Get your own Free Home Page