Thick Black Theory: A Symbiont Wars Book (Symbiont Wars Universe) Read online

  “We may have to do that another time,” Kaitlin said. “I need to go before the snow gets too deep.”

  Brian looked up and smiled as the entrance bell to the coffee shop tinkled. “Hang on just a second,” he said.

  “Hey, Dad,” said someone behind her.

  Kaitlin turned to see a twentyish girl with snow sticking to her long eyelashes, melting on her wavy, blonde hair and dripping onto her black, knee-high Doc Martens.

  “So, what is so important that you dragged me out in this weather, and who is your friend?”

  Brian pulled a chair back for the girl. “Kaitlin, this is my daughter Marlee. Marlee, this is Kaitlin, a potential client. She’s been riding with the travelers, but she’s decided to go out on her own and was about to head for warmer weather. I was hoping you could convince her to stick around.”

  “What are you? A modern Sherlock Holmes?” said Kaitlin.

  “Pshaw! That was an easy one, not even elementary,” Brian said. “You don’t get rid of boxcar grime without some serious laundry and scrubbing, and with this weather, if you were planning on staying with the travelers, you’d be wherever they are camping now. Plus I heard you calling Amtrak.”

  Brian turned to Marlee. “Kaitlin needs a place to stay, and you need a paying roommate. With her advance on her stories, Kaitlin can split your rent, and she’ll need your graphic arts skills when her work is ready to publish.”

  Kaitlin studied Brian, eyes narrowed, then looked at Marlee.

  “Umm. Hi, Kaitlin,” Marlee said. “I’m a good roommate. The common area needs to stay clean and neat, but you can keep your room how you like it. It’s a basement apartment, but it’s dry and warm. No overnight guests allowed. It’s just too complicated. Your share would be ninety-five dollars a month which includes utilities.”

  Kaitlin rubbed her hands on her face. This was too weird. But it was snowing and cold, and a month’s rent was less than a trip to Atlanta. “You know, you are the ones taking a chance here,” she said. “You don’t know I’m not some psycho-klepto horror story.”

  Brian snorted. “People say the eyes are the window to the soul, but eyes don’t compare to writing.” He pointed to his computer screen. “No one writes a story like this unless they have the heart of a hero.”

  That night—warm, clean and well fed—Kaitlin looked out the window of her new room and watched the snow piling up in drifts under the moonlight. Somehow—just then—it looked beautiful.

  Chapter 3 — Go Westy

  The green Vanagon microbus was starting to sag a little on its springs as loading neared completion. Though with everything the Handys had packed in it, Kaitlin would have expected it to bottom out by now. She handed her backpack to Bernard—though letting go of it felt a little like diving off a high cliff. But Bernard gave her a sympathetic smile, waiting patiently until she let go, and the pack ended up next to where she would be sitting.

  Bernard had rigged safety straps to the seatbelt mounts on the bench seat in the back so Kaitlin and Bernice could take turns lying down and still be strapped in. But Bernice had asked Kaitlin’s permission to sit with her in the back to talk.

  Lying down would have to come later.

  When the loading was complete, Kaitlin climbed in and sat next to her pack. Bernard helped Bernice with the step, and Kaitlin hurried to assist, grasping Bernice’s bird-thin fingers gently.

  Bernice sank onto the seat with a chuckle and fastened her belt. “Thank you, Kaitlin. I fear time has caught up to this old body. Don’t waste your youth on things that don’t matter. That’s my advice. But you hardly seem to need it from what I’ve seen. You help others with your writing, giving them glimpses of what courage means. I commend you.”

  Kaitlin kept herself from shaking her head: she didn’t want Bernice to think she disagreed. “I’m just trying to figure that out myself, ma’am,” she said, her lips quirking.

  Bernice smiled and patted Kaitlin’s arm. ”That is a lifelong and changing discovery. Every day we find new challenges for our courage. Keep it up. You’re doing fine. This world needs to hear that courage still matters.”

  “Thank you,” said Kaitlin. She sat back and closed her eyes. Most of the time, she didn’t read the reviews on her books. Brian usually gave her a summary of those on her marketing reports, but Bernice’s remark didn’t register as a book review. It hit something at her core. Water started to leak into her closed eyes, and she rubbed her face with her palms to keep the flow off her cheeks as she took a deep breath and imagined gently flowing waters. When her chest loosened again, she let the air out slow and easy.

  The driver’s door clunked shut, and the microbus coughed to life, and the diesel engine chugged away merrily for a few moments before Bernard put it into reverse and backed out into the street. The clatter of the garage door closing behind them faded as they pulled away.

  As Bernard piloted them out of the suburbs and onto the interstate, Bernice kept up a spirited inquiry, avoiding Kaitlin’s personal life and sticking to the world of ideas. Since Kaitlin’s stories usually had a flavor of Space Opera Science Fiction, Bernice was interested in the science aspects of her world building. Kaitlin’s research in science was intentionally light. Brian’s marketing studies showed her audience wanted enough of it to build cool plot devices, but didn’t want to get bogged down in the details. Since this fit Kaitlin’s interests too, it was a good match. But Bernice, even after retirement, stayed current with cutting-edge space flight development and its frontiers as well as medicine and biology. Her thoughts and insights had Kaitlin opening her tablet and keying new entries into her notes files. Bernice would make a great beta reader. She’d bring that up later.

  After two hours, Kaitlin noticed Bernice was growing tired and offered to move to the front so Bernice could take a nap. “We’ll have plenty of time to chat after lunch,” Kaitlin said.

  “Thank you, Kaitlin. I am a bit drowsy. Don’t let me sleep past noon though.”

  Kaitlin nodded and plumped a pillow against the side of the van for Bernice to rest her head. She followed Bernard’s simple instructions on fastening the safety straps for her then slid into the front seat.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep too Kaitlin?” Bernard suggested.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Kaitlin snapped to alertness when she felt the microbus decelerating and opened her eyes as they pulled up to a stop light at the end of an off ramp.

  “Welcome to Mississippi,” Bernard said. “I am in need of a leg-stretch and a meal.”

  Kaitlin’s stomach growled at the mention of food, but she was pretty sure the chugging motor covered the sound.

  “Please don’t stop at the Waffle House this time, Bernard,” Bernice said from the back. “I think it would surely be the death of me.”

  Bernard chuckled. “I am never going to hear the end of that, am I?” He raised his hand. “Please don’t go into details, dear. I’m sure Kaitlin would call that ‘TMI’ if I have my acronyms straight.”

  Kaitlin giggled, but quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She looked back at Bernice who was smiling, but with a puzzled look on her face.

  Bernard, looking in the rear view mirror, must have seen the expression too. “I believe it means ‘too much information’ my dear.

  “I know what it means, Bernard,” Bernice said absently, evidently thinking of something else. “Well, Kaitlin. Where shall we eat lunch? What are the choices, Bernard?”

  “Last time we stopped here we went to the Golden Corral.”

  “Yes, that was a nice clean one, wasn’t it?”

  “I believe you remarked on it at the time,” Bernard said, mouth twitching.

  Kaitlin’s stomach rumbled again. This time there was no disguising it.

  “I think I heard a vote for the Golden Corral,” Bernard said in a mild voice.

  “Then make it so, Bernard,” said Bernice.

  Bernard turned right, glancing at Kaitlin. “She has a thing for Patrick Stewart,” he
explained.

  “Don’t we all?” Kaitlin said, smiling.

  “See, Bernard. It isn’t just me.”

  “Fine then. Since there’s no line at the diesel pump, let’s get fuel first. Then we’ll head for the round up at the Golden Corral.”

  “Heeyah!” Bernice agreed.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Kaitlin chewed her food carefully, sticking to the freshest of the meats and vegetable. She knew better than to eat fast, chewing made digestion move along faster and guaranteed she’d be able to stow more calories. Ever since she’d started making money with her stories, she ate at buffet restaurants about once a week. For about ten dollars, she could usually put away what would have cost her twenty or more at a grocery store. And it would usually last almost a day before she needed to eat again. The trick was to avoid the desserts and not eat so much it would slow you down or make you throw it all up later. She remembered how she’d cried the first time she’d splurged for the price of a meal at a buffet only to lose it to nausea.

  Bernard and Bernice were finished and relaxing after their meal. “Take your time, dear,” Bernice said. “We don’t have to get there today, you know. We could even stop at Lake Bistineau State Park on the way since we’re in the Westy. It’s a lovely little camper. The roof pops right up to a bunk bed, and I’m sure Bernard would like to pitch the tent so we could sleep in the camper. That way he could get up early to go fishing. He’s even been known to catch something edible now and again. Would you like that, Bernard?”

  “Of course, dear. But we can leave that up to Kaitlin.”

  Kaitlin was in no hurry, and a night in a camper sounded like a luxury to her—the alternatives being to spend money on a hotel or take a risk and try connecting with old friends in Dallas after dark.

  “That sounds fun. I’d love to,” she said. “Maybe I’ll even get up and go with you, Bernard—if that’s okay with you.”

  Bernard’s eyebrows shot up, but he just looked at her with calculated appraisal and nodded. “I’ll just make reservations while you finish eating,” he said, pulling the cell from his pocket.

  Chapter 4 — S’mores

  Sitting in the front seat of the Vanagon was like having a big screen TV on the world at your fingertips. The huge windshield made it seem like the world was flying at you. Kaitlin peered out the window of the Westy in amazement at the huge cypress trees with thick streamers of Spanish moss that bearded them like hoary old men wading in the black water. Kaitlin had traveled and camped in lots of places throughout the country, but she’d never seen anything like this. It was like stepping into an alien world.

  Kaitlin and Bernard had gradually gotten to know each other on the drive through Mississippi. Bernard was—by no means—a talker like Bernice, but he opened up after a bit, and Kaitlin began to relax with him as she realized he wasn’t pressing her for details of her life and family.

  “We’re lucky they aren’t drawing down the water this year,” Bernard said. “Otherwise the piers would be too short to get to the fish tomorrow.”

  “Ah... The long walk off a short pier conundrum,” Kaitlin said with a chuckle.

  Bernard laughed. “Yes. No matter how many times I’ve been told to do that, I’ve never seen the point.”

  “So the point must be to try to get to the fish whether you can or not. Heroic, really, I suppose.”

  Bernard shook his head. “That’s what my drill sergeant would have called it, heroic. He didn’t have much regard for that sort of hero.”

  Both of them laughed.

  “Are we there?” said Bernice, voice still groggy from napping. “What’s funny? Was I snoring?”

  “No, sweetheart, you weren’t snoring. Kaitlin was just explaining the hero’s journey to me.”

  Kaitlin laughed harder. She hadn’t expected a literary rebound joke from Bernard. He’d admitted to being a retired engineer, but—it seemed—there were hidden corners to his mind where jokes like that could pop up and surprise you.

  “I don’t think Joseph Campbell would have appreciated his contribution to literary analysis being taken so lightly,” Bernice said with a sniff. When Bernard and Kaitlin only laughed harder, she sighed and sat up to see where they were.

  As they wound through the woods to reach their campsite, Kaitlin’s phone pinged with a text message with Brian’s ringtone.

  Hey K! Marlee and I are headed to RVA to catch the screening of Fight for the Future. Since it’s such a huge event, I thought we should hold off our newsletters until after tomorrow so we can have reaction articles to send out. Do you agree?

  Kaitlin sent back a short note of agreement.

  Brian and Marlee had been the ones to introduce her to Nighthawk and Windhover’s music. When Brian found out the musicians were partners with Jonah Galt and the SST Foundation, he made it a point to send Kaitlin every album they produced.

  Kaitlin had become intrigued by their music, then fascinated. She wondered if she’d be able to stream the production to her phone this evening. She suspected Bernice and Bernard would like to see it too.

  “Have you heard Nighthawk and Windhover’s score for Fight for the Future?” she said. “My friends got tickets for the show in Richmond, and I was thinking the three of us might be able to see the after-show streaming if we can get a cell signal at the campsite.”

  “Oh dear!” Bernice said. “I don’t know about Bernard, but I’m afraid I’m far behind on current events and culture these days. Maybe you can help bring me up to date.”

  “Well, the sound system up here has an audio input. I have a friend who got me an early release of the musical score, and I can play it for us from my phone if you like.”

  Bernard handed her the audio cable and soon the rippling sounds of Night Sky Overture filled the microbus as they threaded through the trees to the campsite.

  When they pulled into the campsite, Bernice said, “Can we leave the music on and the windows open while we set up camp? I’d like to hear the rest of this. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it—almost as though it were from another world.”

  So they listened while they set up camp. Bernice had insisted on stopping for chocolate bars, graham crackers and marshmallows to roast on a campfire.

  Kaitlin volunteered to scavenge for firewood. Gathering wood was a task she knew well, having spent many nights camping since she’d been living on her own. Before she stepped into the woods, she slathered her arms, neck and face with the bug repellent she liked and put a hat over her hair. Her pants were tucked into her boots already, and the permethrin treatment in her clothes was always up to date. That meant she wouldn’t have to worry about ticks crawling into her clothes. She tugged her calfskin gloves out of her bag, pulled them on and slipped into the woods. Even though the area had been picked over by other campers, Kaitlin found a gully with plenty of downed branches, and soon had a good load of tree limbs snapped into firewood with practiced stomps of her boots. With a length of paracord wrapped tight around the lot, she stuck a carry-stick through the bundle and levered it onto her back.

  Back at camp, she dumped the load next to the fire pit, pulled Blondie from her pocket and deployed the blade with a practiced flick of her finger. She selected three dry branches for feathersticking then braced them on a stump. Blondie’s four-inch blade of S30V steel slid through the wood like it was butter.

  Next, she built the fire, filling the hollow spot in the center with tinder for when it came time to light it.

  The sun was setting when Bernard returned to camp from his trip to the comfort station, he looked at Kaitlin’s preparations and whistled. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  Kaitlin shrugged. “YouTube and practice,” she said and flicked her lighter beneath the tinder. She watched in satisfaction as the pine needles caught and the fire marched up the feathersticks, popping and snapping as it spread to the pyramid of sticks.

  “Supper’s ready,” Bernice called from the back of the camper—where the propan
e stove was heating a pot of spaghetti sauce and noodles. The savory odor of warm garlic bread poured from the cast-iron skillet on the other burner.

  Even though she’d had a huge lunch at the buffet at noon, Kaitlin wasn’t about to skip a meal that smelled like THAT. The growth spurt she had been hoping would come for so long had started a few months ago, and her metabolism was burning through everything she ate as fast as she could fit it in. Since the first of March, she’d grown over an inch. Sometimes she almost felt disoriented looking down to see her feet so far away.

  Bernard held two bowls ready for Bernice, who ladled the pasta and meat-rich sauce into them. Bernard handed Kaitlin one of the bowls. Kaitlin took it and gave him a smile of thanks then saw that he held a spoon and fork under the bowl already wrapped in a napkin. She smiled.

  An engineer’s efficiency.

  Kaitlin took the bowl and utensils to the picnic table where she could monitor the fire. In spite of Murphy’s Law, someone before them had managed to find a spot for the table out of the smoke. Kaitlin unwrapped the utensils and hoisted the spaghetti to her mouth.

  Bernice and Bernard joined her and they ate in comfortable silence as dusk enveloped the woods, and frogs began to sing their promises of eternal love to each other.

  After supper, they toasted marshmallows and built perfect s’mores. Kaitlin tried to connect to the post-concert streaming, but the signal was too weak to support the needed bandwidth, so she abandoned the attempt. She only managed to see a few minutes of the video during the opening prelude. The video showed a night sky and one alien creature—a humanoid with a tail and swirling striped skin—talking to a four-legged equine species. At that point, the broadcast froze. Kaitlin sighed. It could wait until tomorrow. She had to get up early to go fishing anyway.

  Chapter 5 — Gone fishin’

  In the pre-dawn morning, Bernard and Kaitlin made the short hike to the pier and looked out across the mist rising from the dark water. This early in the morning, they had it to themselves with their offerings of worms and catfish bait to toss into the lake for review. Kaitlin still had an ID card from Texas that proved her sixteenth birthday wasn’t for another two weeks. It wasn’t likely that a game warden would run her name through a database after checking her age.