David Palmer - Emergence

“If you say so.” Dubiously. “But,” — hopefully — “we do have an alternative, if you’re interested.”

Was; so Adam led way to garage. First time there since coma. Impressive as rest of home. Could have stored Daddy’s house in there, too. Several times. With TV mast erected.

Also much taken with contents: astonishing variety of automotive toys. Lamborghinis are neat. Especially in red. Especially that red. Ferraris not bad either. Nor Maseratis. Nor Porsches. Never had much use for Lincolns, Cadillacs, limousines generally (bulky, clumsy, inefficient things — besides, who wants to be driven everywhere?); on other hand, Rolls (es?) could grow on one ( is such a thing as elegance, after all).

But Adam brushed past four-wheel jewelry to far (perhaps “distant” more appropriate adjective) corner where stood what I took, at first glance, for garage wall. Wasn’t. Goodness…

“This is how we traveled before,” he announced, with proud sweep of hand. “Neat, huh? It’s a converted Greyhound.” Surely was; large, economy size; obviously capable of sleeping, feeding, entertaining regiment. Vehicle was Adam’s mother’s solution to visiting constituents statewide without having to (shudder) sleep in motels. Appointments bordered on sybaritic.

“And you have to see the kitchen,” he enthused. “It duplicates the one in the house, in miniature. Anything I can cook there, I can make here: It’s got everything !”

Telling point; mouth started watering at mere thought of Adam’s cooking.

How ever …

Silly thing was 40 feet long! Twelve feet tall, not counting air-conditioners jutting from roof. Eight feet wide. Barely six inches ground clearance (got down, looked). And of three axles, obvious that only forward tandem driven; rearmost merely load-bearing idler; very front, steering only. Plus, GVW plate listed maximum weight at 16 tons!

Cast about briefly for means to pop Adam’s bubble tactfully — was so proud of self, solution. Still merrily burbling on about juggernaut’s wonderful qualities; taking my silence for enthusiasm, no doubt. Pondered variety of alternate approaches without satisfying requirements.

Finally concluded no help for it; might as well plunge ahead, rain on parade without sugar-coating — disappointments exist in present-day reality; must face sooner, later. Perhaps dose of disillusionment good thing; maybe yanking rug from under mobile Pleasure Dome’s apparent usefulness helpful in conveying rational perspective of real-world conditions.

Opened with slow curve: “Boy, this is great!” Then fast break: “But something this size must have a really powerful winch to get across soft terrain. Where did they hide it?”

Adam ground to halt; looked puzzled, also faintly offended. “They don’t put winches on a top-of-the-line land yacht, ” he explained, with slightly exaggerated patience.

“Oh, I see; all three axles powered then — must be just about unstoppable. Good thing; sure would hate to try to ford a stream otherwise — without a winch.”

Adam hesitated, looked unsure for first time. So reminded him, while off balance, of tribulations set forth in Vol. II. Asked if cared to try balancing across railroad trestle in this, as I did van. Agreed was not enticing notion.

And that was that. Adam nobody’s dummy. Chief failing consists of important gaps in background; ignorance of things obvious to anyone but cloistered genius reared amidst wealth, excess material advantages. Given hint, moves on quickly to grasp problem himself.

But still not satisfied with prospect of three of us living in van; determined to find solution. (Hope successful — really will miss that kitchen…)

Hello again, Posterity. Please be patient; must proceed cautiously; maintain tight control lest emotional state bollix record through omission of pertinent, possibly vital, details.

Something Important happened today: Found clue…!

Happened like this:

Feeling pretty good past few days. Thinking seriously about resuming search. However, work undone right here in Baltimore: On way to examine Harpers’ premises when originally bumped into Adam, got sidetracked. Logic dictated completing that before moving on.

Told Adam intentions; asked if familiar with area. Was; volunteered to take me there — correction — take us there:

(Terry so happy to have me healthy again; really bored during recuperation. Likes Adam lots but is my baby brother, knows it; expects to help me with daily chores, explorations, etc.)

Found Harpers’ office easily; gained access (Adam as proficient at prybar locksmithing as self), commenced examination. I explained were looking for clues suggesting AAs’ final destination, explanation for uniform disappearance; tangible or intangible — anything found, or deduction based on identification of something missing. Then went at it.

Adam proved quite good at fine-tooth search; was in fact he who found clue.

Took it calmly when he said, “Is there likely to be more than one Soo Kim McDivott associated with these people?”

“ What? Where?” Adam tore sheet of paper from computer printer, held out. Snatched from hand, pored over it feverishly, and …

…PAY DIRT!

Fragment of message to Harpers — from Teacher… ! Content ambiguous, due to apparent computer malfunction. But faded print on remaining portion read:

… imple as it first appears… Telemetry… their “contingency solution”… already in place…

…oblem not resolved when it’s “over.”

The authorities still refuse… must be scrapped. Meet me… Palomar facility as soon as… and please bring everything!!!

Love to all, and good luck getting here.

Soo Kim McDivott

That was all. But more than enough. To anyone who knew him, fragmentary missive shrieked starkest urgency. If had not seen with own eyes, would never have believed Teacher would end sentence with three exclamation points. Fabric of Universe hardly less flappable than Teacher.

Heard him express urgency only once. Happened perhaps six months before World Ended:

Though retired, Teacher still member in good standing of town’s medical “reserves.” Often baby-sat practices when Daddy, Jorgé Curaçao, G.P., (town’s “other” doctor) needed time off. On one such occasion (genuine “must” seminar for every physician) Teacher volunteered services to enable both to attend. Set up shop in Daddy’s office (front of our house).

Both gone less than two hours before hysterical truck driver arrived with flat-bed trailer carpeted with casualties from high-school bus capsize (ran over hog — basic rural no-no). Forty-some injured; ten, twelve critical; balance varied between minor broken bones, cuts/scrapes/bruises, acute self-pity.

And in keeping with rules governing such events (known in some quarters as Murphy’s Law), Yours Truly only semblance of nurse/medical assistant available. Flitted about office, trying to be three of me: diving in, out of rubber gloves to hand instruments, operate retraction, tie off; fetch, install bandages; mop blood, etc.

But Teacher faster yet; moved quicker than ever saw outside dojo — seemed everywhere! Worked miracles: Sorted patients by degree of crisis; stabilized some critically wounded apparently by force of will while worked on others even more so. Somehow coped without losing anyone (and some critical really were ) until reinforcements arrived from County General, 35 miles away in next town.

Was busy hour. During course of which urgency such that Teacher omitted saying “please.” Twice.