The levitation game, p.19
The Levitation Game, page 19
Slowly, their bodies descended back to the dusty surface. The vulture flapped its wings below them and took flight. “Joseph, I wanted to fly! I’m not scared when I’m with you. Your power is so strong. Let’s follow the vulture. I know we can do it.”
“No way. That would be insane. What if something happened to you? I couldn’t live with myself. Plus, if Alex saw us, he’d freak! The guys would probably think we’re witches and run away and leave us here alone.”
“Oh, God. That would be terrible. We’d still have the mules, though,” she giggled. “I truly thought we could fly to El Mirador.”
“I felt it too.”
Joseph grabbed Esme’s hand, pulling her to her feet. The flashlight lifted too, floated to the edge of the steep steps, and hovered in place. When they approached the crumbly edge, the flashlight hung before them like a giant wasp, lighting their descent. Joseph tossed Esme a wicked smile. “It’s not me. It’s Diablo.”
Oliver
Antonio kicked at the sides of his short, brown mule as the beast trotted toward the dining tent. The man wore a black plastic poncho, and rain dripped from his tightly wrapped chin. Antonio approached the scene with an outstretched arm. “Señor Wright! The phone. It’s for you. Emergency!”
Everyone inside the smoky food tent turned towards Antonio. Oliver swallowed, his face unreadable. He pushed away from the table and jogged toward the brown beast, splashing through puddles. His heart thumped against his chest. “Is it Esme?” he asked Antonio hopelessly.
Antonio jiggled his shoulders. Oliver grabbed the phone, placing it to his ear. “Esme?”
“No, it’s me,” came a soft voice from the other end.
“Ethelene?”
“Yes. Don’t sound so disappointed. It’s important, or I wouldn’t have called the satellite phone. It’s Esme…”
“Oh, God. I knew it,” Oliver spat, splashing back to his seat and flicking water from the brim of his hat.
“Don’t get carried away. Hopefully, she’s fine. But I don’t know where she is. She’s disappeared and it’s a complete mystery.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, it’s not like that. At least, I hope not. I talked with Esme’s landlord. I guess she paid rent in advance for August. She also left a cryptic text about quitting her job and taking off with Joseph. The whole thing seems fishy. I don’t know anything about this man…”
Oliver emptied his lungs. “If she’s with Joseph, she’s fine. Joseph is a great kid. She’s safe with him.”
“How do you know that? He found her in New York—weird if you ask me. Saw her on television or something, I don’t know. Esme wouldn’t say much about it, just how in love she is—obsessed, really. Something doesn’t add up with those two. It’s like he has her hoodwinked or something. They hadn’t seen each other since they were kids, only been together for a hot minute. What do we know about this man?”
Oliver looked towards Emil. The man was playing cards with Phillip and eating a banana, probably telling dirty jokes. He readjusted his wide-brimmed hat. “From what I hear, Joseph is a goodie-two-shoes. His father thinks he’s a saint. I don’t see him as a bad influence. Maybe the other way around.”
“Oliver! You’re not taking this seriously! Where is she, then? She’s gone. I know she’s always hated me, but we made up. She’s not avoiding me now. She’d text me, wouldn’t she? And quitting her job isn’t like her. She’s so focused on her career— or magic, anyway. You should have seen her street performance in Orlando; she’s better than David Blaine. I’m worried, Oliver. Plus, there are wild and crazy things you don’t know about. You’d never believe me.”
Oliver scratched his chin. Ethelene was right about Esme being a responsible girl, never a flake. She’d never cut class in high school, watched magic videos instead of porn, and received near-perfect grades in school, and when she missed curfew, it was because she was performing on the beach in Clearwater, practicing her craft. Esme was nothing if not dependable and focused. She wouldn’t just up and quit her job, run away, and disappear. It wasn’t like her. “You’re right, babe. It’s not like her. How long has she been gone? Just tell me what the big mystery is. I promise I’ll believe you.”
“No, you won’t believe me. Esme will tell you when she’s ready. Don’t distract me! Esme texted like eight or nine days ago, then nothing. It’s like she dropped off the face of the Earth.”
“Hmm...”
“Oliver!”
“What do you want me to do? She’s a grown woman, for God’s sake. I have something important to do here. You have no idea how big this thing is.”
“More important than your daughter? I can’t believe it’s you who’s saying this. And you thought I was the irresponsible one,” said Ethelene, vinegar bubbling inside her vocal cords.
“Let me think! I haven’t been mulling this over for a week like you. I need time to process, okay?” said Oliver, pinching between his eyes.
“You need to come home; put us first for once. El Mirador isn’t going anywhere, and you need to find your daughter. I have a bad feeling…There’s something weird going on.”
“Things are even weirder here. Trust me. I’ll call you back with my decision. Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
“Wait! Don’t go yet. Oliver, I left the church.”
“Really? You left Cosmostheology? I didn’t think you could do that.”
“Funny.”
“Babe, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Bye, Ollie.”
“Bye,” said Oliver, hanging up.
Oliver emitted a disgruntled, Tarzan-like yell, collecting a look of surprise from all onlookers. Emil tossed his banana peel outside the tent and walked over.
“What the fuck, man? What’s going on?” asked Emil.
“Ugh! The timing. It couldn’t be worse. It’s my daughter. I guess she’s disappeared, and even her flaky-ass mother is worried.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
Oliver lowered his voice and leaned toward his friend. “Do you think the aliens will wait on my kid? No, I don’t think so. Arrgghh!” Oliver exclaimed. “Oh yeah, get this; she disappeared with your son.”
Emil scrunched his face, swinging both arms up in the air. “What? No way!”
The men stared at each other, hands at their hips. “Well, she’s okay then. You know Joseph wouldn’t hurt a fly. Remember, in the old days, our little jungle rescue animal hospital? I always told him he should be a doctor or vet,” said Emil. “He’s so damn smart.”
Oliver took off his hat and threw it on the table, tussling his hair.
“You’re not thinking of actually leaving, are you?” asked Emil.
“Listen, I know Joseph is a great kid. I’m not accusing him of anything. But think about what’s been happening to us. No one would believe it. If something like this can happen to us, then who’s to say that something truly out of this world isn’t happening to them? What if the aliens abducted them?”
“I didn’t think of that. Although, I don’t know what the aliens would want with my Joseph. I can see God needing some new recruits, but little green men? All I know is that I’m not missing this. Oliver, it’s tonight. Why not wait one more day? Maybe the aliens will give them back.”
“Funny. You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” growled Oliver.
Hearing a shuffling outside his palapa, Oliver looked up but returned to his task. He shoved the new beef jerky a student had brought for him into his backpack and grabbed the extra rain gear he had confiscated earlier. Carefully, he rolled the plastic jackets like a cigar, wrapped them with a rubber band, and placed them into his pack.
Emil burst through the plastic enclosure, placing his boots on a rug. “This rain is turning camp into one hell of a mess,” Emil grunted and shook his head like a wet dog.
Oliver looked back and forth. “Do we have any Pepto Bismol around here? Or anything like that?”
“You got the shits?”
“No, I need to take it with me. I need mules, too. How many do we have available?”
“Hell, if I know. Ask Antonio. Why do you need so many mules? Oliver, you sound crazy. Leaving in this rain when tonight might be straight out of a science fiction movie? It’s nuts!”
“I need towels or sweatshirts, something warm, sleeping bags…” said Oliver, looking around again. Sitting down on his cot, he counted imaginary things with his fingers.
Emil sat across from his friend. “You’re not making any sense. Oliver, take a helicopter. If you think this is a big emergency, have Esteban call for a chopper. I mean, don’t be so goddamn cheap.”
Oliver looked at Emil. “Being a tightwad has nothing to do with this. I have a feeling, and I know it will sound nuts, but I think I need to schlep it because there’s something out there, something I need to find. It’s what I have to do…”
“Since when? I thought you needed to find Esme,” Emil interrupted.
“I do. But something is compelling me. It’s like somebody is whispering in my ear. I need to listen.”
“I wish you’d listen to me. Stay and meet E.T. You will regret this for the rest of your life.”
Oliver sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
He felt his pockets, reached inside his pants, and handed his iPhone to Emil.
“What am I supposed to do with this? We can’t call anyone—no internet.”
“No, but Esteban charged it for me. You can use it to film tonight. Seriously, take Antonio if you need to. I want to see them. I can’t miss it, not entirely, anyway. This way, at least, I can watch what happens.”
“Well, if they allow it. Maybe the aliens will zap the thing out of my hand; maybe they don’t want to be filmed.”
Together, the men looked at the floor. It was dark underneath Oliver’s cot. “You’ll need to take that thing, the glass box. I don’t know what they’ll do when you show up without ‘the children,’ said Oliver, making air quotes. “You know, I got the feeling from the hologram that they are peaceful creatures. But requesting children is creepy. Menacing.”
Emil rubbed his knees. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared. But, if you tell anyone that, I’ll kill you. Oliver, don’t make me do this on my own—face those creatures. You saw them. They look fucked up. Scary, like monsters. Bug eyes and fingers like spider legs. Come on, man, don’t make me face them alone.”
Oliver twisted his mouth. He took a deep breath. “You’re not at all concerned about Joseph? I can’t believe you’re scared. Nothing scares you.”
“They do! And I do care about Joseph. But I don’t think the kids are in trouble like you do. They’re—and I’m sorry to have to tell you this—but they’re probably screwing each other’s brains out, somewhere, maybe in Cancun or the Bahamas.”
Oliver growled and rolled his eyes. The men stared at each other. “If you’re scared, take Phillip. Take the whole camp if it will make you feel better.”
“Come on. There’s only room for a few people on top of La Danta. I’ll take Antonio. He already knows about this clown show anyway.” Emil shook his head and stood, heading for the door flap. “I’ll go see about the mules and that pink crap. I’ve got your back if you’re determined to do this.”
The men locked eyes. Emil completed the sign of the cross and stepped into his boots. Oliver stood and walked towards Emil, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Good luck. You don’t know how much I want to be there. It’s just…I have this feeling inside that I can’t ignore. Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of the ship on my way tonight. What do you think it will look like?”
Emil turned with a grim expression. “Armageddon,” he replied.
Oliver left camp around five p.m., riding a giant mule and dragging two others behind. The other mules carried all the supplies he thought were needed; they looked like Princess Leia, with two black plastic bundles on each side of their bellies and some supplies that probably weren’t necessary at all. Frankly, he felt foolish, crazy, but he couldn’t ignore the calling.
The rain came down in waves, like the currents of an ocean. The mud sucked at the hooves of the mules, and sometimes, the beasts stopped defiantly and nickered. Oliver just kicked and prayed—hoped—that he’d find something, anything. And, more importantly, after this wild goose chase came to an end, he hoped he’d find Esme, too.
Already, he felt cold. Water was pouring over the sides of his wide-brimmed hat like a waterfall. The sky above was gray and foreboding. The jungle below was wilting under the weight of a water-world. Everything was adding up to be the worst night of his life. But he was in it for the long hall. Whatever happened, he wasn’t turning back. He felt like crying when he thought about the aliens. Still, he kept moving forward toward La Muerta.
Joseph
Joseph appraised his mud-encrusted Crocs, wincing as water cascaded over his nose like a leaky faucet. Acid sloshed in his stomach, and he knew it was only a matter of time until he lost his lunch, and they were nowhere near La Muerta, the closest suburb of El Mirador. Joseph turned to assess Esme.
She looked green-faced, bouncing on Jefe, the black mule with a white nose. Jaco was trailing behind her, loaded with their water and supplies. Behind the mules, Roberto and Michael plodded forward with dire expressions.
Joseph turned to face Alex. The day before, Alex had seemed like an unstoppable dynamo, whacking at the jungle like a deranged chef. Now, the man’s gait had withered to a snail’s pace, and his arms tepidly moved branches, his machete hanging limp on his hips. Still, he had more energy than the rest of them. Joseph wiped his face and sighed.
For almost an hour now, the only sounds Joseph had heard were rain, the repetitive mucky muck of their footsteps, and his growling stomach. He was growing so weary that he kept forgetting to blink. Joseph expelled a groan of air, and his arms flailed about him.
He had stepped into a rut, twisting his ankle. Joseph lost his balance and fell onto the slippery mud. As he lay crumpled on the ground, he retched. Alex stopped and turned. Esme tumbled off her mule and lurched to Joseph’s side. As soon as she smelled the contents of Joseph’s stomach, she bent and puked herself.
They continued down the trail.
The closer the group got to La Muerta, the sicker Joseph felt. Roberto and Alex shook their heads. Michael mumbled in Spanish. Esme could no longer ride on Jefe because she needed to puke every few minutes while Joseph prayed for relief.
Relief didn’t come.
Thirty minutes later, Jefe, the black mule, nickered and whined. Joseph heard a loud thump; the group turned toward the sound. Esme screamed, and the others swore in Spanish. Jefe appeared to be dead.
Roberto ran, his legs plucking through the mud. The man dumped his body between the beast’s splayed legs, tossing dirt in every direction, feeling the beast’s neck. Roberto started crying.
Alex threw his walking stick onto the ground and shouted inexplicable words. Esme plodded forward, kneeling by the mule’s head, and rubbing his bristly coat. Joseph stood over the creature, rain dripping off his baseball cap. He rubbed his eyes, wondering how they could survive this ordeal—sick, wet, cold, and worst of all, mourning a dead mule. The timing was unimaginable.
After a few solemn minutes, the group rallied. Joseph talked with Alex for several minutes, huddled under a tarp, until another wave pummeled his stomach. He jogged a few feet, placed his hands on his knees, and retched again. Then he fell to his knees in the mud. Esme wiped her mouth and slumped beside him. She started crying. “Joseph, we’re so sick. What are we going to do?”
They hugged each other and locked eyes. “We need to get there tonight, don’t we?” whimpered Esme.
“Yes, I feel it too.”
Joseph looked at Jaco. “Alex and I talked. He says we’re close enough to leave our supplies. Just take water and some food. But Esme, we must get there. Alex said he could pack the hammocks in his backpack, but we’d be sleeping in the rain—no shelter if we don’t make it to the outskirts of El Mirador. If we leave the supplies, you can ride Jaco. How is your stomach?”
Esme sighed. “There’s nothing left. It’s a little better now, maybe. Is your ankle, okay? It looks swollen.”
As soon as Joseph thought about his ankle, he could feel the pain. He removed his right Croc and then his muddy sock. Esme gasped. “Oh no, Joseph. It looks terrible! You’ve sprained it. How will you walk the rest of the way to El Mirador? You’ll need to ride Jaco. I’ll walk,” she said, chewing her lip.
Joseph could see doubt written across her face. They grabbed each other’s hands, and Joseph prayed.
Esme
Esme felt like a house cat locked out in the rain. Her clothes stuck to her body like a soggy tortilla, and her tennis shoes vomited mud with each step. They were approximately fifteen minutes down the trail from where they had left Roberto, most of the supplies, and Jefe, the dead mule. Now, Esme followed Alex and Michael on foot, and Joseph rode Jaco. Somewhere along the line, Alex had given her his headlamp and walking stick; the latter she squeezed between pruned fingers like an exoskeleton.
Above the brim of her dripping hat, the sky was an eerie shade of green. Esme squinted, trying to distinguish shapes between the trees. It was growing dark. Turning to glance at Joseph, she illuminated her headlamp. He appeared to be watching the jiggling of Jaco’s mane. She knew he felt embarrassed; she’d been listening to his thoughts.
Joseph covered his mouth and narrowed his eyes as if suppressing the need to puke. Esme’s heart sank for him, but she couldn’t help him. She was using every crumb of strength—even her power—to stay upright on the trail, to abstain from heaving. Now and again, her feet would levitate off the ground, then slip back into the muck. She no longer cared if the guides saw her; she needed to use everything at her disposal to keep moving. Esme wished that Joseph could use his power to fly them to El Mirador. Unfortunately for them, he didn’t seem to have anything left in the tank—neither did she.
