Chapter 43
At breakfast, Heather was unusually quiet, despite the presence of the entire Smythe family, the twins bantering in their usual, boisterous fashion. The headaches were back, worse than before. If they lasted longer, Heather might have mentioned it to her friends. But this was brief, stabbing pain. It was probably only stress. After all, it wasn’t as if the three of them hadn’t been under some pressure lately.
“What’s up with Heather? I need to pull her aside and get to the bottom of it, if only Mark will leave us alone for a bit.”
Heather looked over at Jennifer. “What was that?”
Jennifer glanced up questioningly, her mouth full of honey-buttered biscuit. She swallowed hard. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Heather rubbed her temples. “Sorry. I must be hearing things.”
Her mother set down her coffee cup. “Is something wrong, honey? Are you feeling all right?”
Heather smiled. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little headache this morning. I’m sure it’ll pass as soon as I get out and start moving around.”
“I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” She rose and moved toward the stairs to her bedroom.
“Mom, eat your breakfast. I’ll be fine.”
Heather might as well not have spoken for all the effect it had on her mother’s progress. She returned shortly with the medicine. Heather took the small, burnt orange tablets, popped them in her mouth, and washed them down with a swig of orange juice.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Her mother beamed over her coffee cup. “No use suffering through a headache.”
“Great game last night, Mark,” said Heather’s father. “It’s been a while since you got into a scoring groove like that. Not that you haven’t been outstanding all year, but it’s been a while since you scored forty points.”
Mark grinned. “I guess I was just feeling it last night. We all have to get hot sometime.”
Mr. Smythe leaned forward, slapping his son’s shoulder. “I keep telling him to shoot more. No need to overdo the passing when you’ve got the best shot in the state.”
“Dad.”
“I’m just repeating what your coach tells you.”
“Dad, I shoot when I’m open. If someone has a better shot, I pass the ball. That’s the only way I know how to play. It’s a team sport, you know.”
Mr. Smythe grinned. “You know we have to give you advice. It’s the only way we old cats get to be involved in the game. Sort of like yelling at the refs.”
Heather’s father laughed. “Good analogy, Fred. It’s pretty much our civic duty.”
“Speaking of civic duty, that was a nice young couple sitting on the other side of you at the game.”
“Oh, yes, the Johnsons. We met them at the church bingo night on Wednesday. Jack and Janet.”
A warm smile lit Heather’s mother’s face. “The nicest young people. Reverend Harvey introduced us. Jack’s an EPA man, and Janet is a teacher. She’s subbing at the school and applying for a full-time position for next fall. Both of them volunteer at the hospital. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited them to dinner tomorrow night so they could meet everyone.”
Mark choked on his juice.
“That sounds wonderful,” Mrs. Smythe said. “In all the commotion of the game, I barely got a glimpse of them over Fred and Gil. Especially the way our guys kept jumping up and yelling.”
“It’s a game, Linda,” said Mr. Smythe. “You’re supposed to cheer.”
“I understand that, dear. My point is that the environment wasn’t conducive to introductions.”
“Good then,” said Heather’s mom. “How about meeting here at four o’clock? That way we can visit for a while before the roast is ready.”
By the time the breakfast chatter ended and the plans for Sunday afternoon were finalized, it was well past nine. Mark, Jennifer, and Heather pulled out their bikes and headed for the Second Ship, taking their time this morning. The day was the first warm day in weeks, the sun so bright it seemed almost as if there was no atmosphere present to filter its rays.
The ibuprofen had worked. Heather’s headache was now a thing of the past. Being outside in the sunshine, feeling the warm breeze brush her cheek as she pedaled, made her feel as if she had suddenly awakened from hibernation. The tang of pine-scented air, the songs of birds in the trees, and the beauty of the mountain country lifted her soul.
At one of their stops along the way, a group of squirrels scampered through the leafless branches of a large cottonwood tree. The little animals looked like they were playing a huge game of “follow the leader” as they raced around and around the large branches, then up and out onto mere twigs, leaping out to grab neighboring twigs, then scurrying back to thicker limbs.
For several minutes the friends watched the squirrels at play, probably some sort of mating ritual. Obviously she wasn’t the only one feeling a hint of spring in the air, Heather thought.
When Heather, Jennifer, and Mark arrived at the top of the canyon, above where the Second Ship lay hidden, they paused under a group of pines, spreading out the picnic lunch they had brought with them. Best to eat now, even if they weren’t hungry. They had a lot of work to do.
Unfortunately, by the time they finished lunch and made their way down to the cave, Heather’s headache was back, her head throbbing so badly she wished she hadn’t eaten the sandwich. Doing her best to ignore the pain and nausea, she boarded the ship and slid her headset into place.
No sooner had the lightweight band slipped over her temples than she became aware of a new sensation. Instead of the gentle massaging action that usually followed sliding the headset into place, a gentle thrumming filled her head. It felt—no, it sounded like it was coming from the medical lab. In her mind she could see the table of the tentacles, pulsing red, shifting to orange.
A strong compulsion to go to the medical lab engulfed her, almost as if the table called to her. Heather found herself moving in response to the call before she was aware of having decided to do so.
Without waiting for Mark or Jennifer, she moved to the hole leading up to the next deck and jumped up, landing crouched on the floor above. It was a bit surprising to be able to jump like that instead of pulling herself up and kicking a leg over the edge as she had been forced to do in the past, but the compulsion left no time for reflection on the oddity. Without pausing, Heather moved through the doorway, which slid open to admit her. She could hear faint cries behind her, someone calling out her name. Then the door swished shut, blocking all external sound.
Heather moved to the table, hopped up onto its edge, and lay back, feeling its tentacular embrace enfold her body. So wonderful.
The tentacles on her head were doing something new this time, crawling across the surface of her face and forehead as though seeking new connections. Searching, in the way a mother seeks a lost child in a crowd. Rapidly. Urgently.
The tiny tentacles moved from nerve ending to nerve ending, spreading the lovely warmth along her central nervous system, gradually easing the pain in her head. And as a smoky haze glazed her eyes, the lights in the room slowly faded away. Just like the old Pink Floyd song, she…had become…comfortably numb.