Part 26 (1/2)
”Mara, remember, there is a pretender out there somewhere who is interested in you and the Chronicle. The more we learn, the better prepared we will be. The only way we can gather information is to talk to others who were on the flight. The pilot might have a unique perspective on events. It doesn't sound like Mr. Sandoval is going to be around much longer, so we should talk to him.”
”I don't know. It seems like a terrible time just to drop in. I mean, the guy is dying, and I'm not sure how keen I am on dealing with another one of those freaky pa.s.sengers. I am still getting over the Gambles.”
”You're the one who wants to get her life back. That won't happened if you just hide here waiting for the next freak, as you call them, to show up. Besides I already talked to Mrs. Sandoval, and she said we could stop by. I told her that we wanted to thank her husband for bringing us home safely.”
”Why do I think I'm going to regret this?”
”Look, he's sick. I don't think it is likely we'll have to fight him off.”
”Where do they live?”
”Just a few blocks off Cedar Hill Boulevard over in southwest Portland.”
”Great. I suppose you want to take the Ross Island Bridge.”
”That's the correct direction. What's wrong with the Ross Island Bridge?”
”Let's go. I'll explain it on the way.”
Mara held open the shop door for Ping and followed him outside. She pulled the door closed, reopened it and slammed it shut to get it all the way closed. The frame had a tendency to swell when the air was damp. Engaging the dead bolt took two tries as well. When she turned from the door, Ping had already crossed the sidewalk to his car where Sam stood, eating a candy bar. He held it up and pointed it at Mara with a look of amazement on his face.
”Don't tell me. They don't have chocolate where you come from,” she said as she got into the front pa.s.senger seat.
”Of course they have chocolate. I've just never eaten it before.”
”Well, it looks like you came to the right realm to pig-out. Just keep in mind we have fat farms too.”
”What are fat farms?”
”Keep eating pizza, corn dogs and candy bars, you'll find out.”
”We've already discussed working on a better diet and getting a little more exercise,” Ping said as they drove away. ”So tell me, what is your concern with the Ross Island Bridge?”
”I have a fear of water. Bridges kind of stress me out, especially the small low ones that are close to water,” Mara said. ”There is one in Seattle that actually floats on the water. That's the only one I absolutely will not cross, so far.”
”What does that stem from?” Ping asked.
”No one knows. I was born that way,” she said. ”I didn't slip in the tub or almost drown while swimming. Nothing like that at all.”
”My sister got pulled into a serpent pool by a blood eel when she was five. She almost drowned. She would never go near the water either,” Sam said.
Mara s.h.i.+vered.
CHAPTER 40.
CAROL SANDOVAL'S SMILE deepened the lines around her tired eyes as she welcomed Ping, Mara and Sam into the living room of her split-level brick home. She pushed an unruly strand of silver hair behind her ear as she pointed them toward a long couch the color of oatmeal. Once they were seated, she sat across from them in a high-backed leather chair where she listed to one side, using the arm for support instead of sitting back. For a moment there wasn't a sound except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
”Thank you so much for seeing us,” Ping said. ”I was sorry to read of Mr. Sandoval's illness and wanted to make sure he knew the pa.s.sengers appreciated his efforts to keep us safe on the flight.”
”That is so kind of you.” She settled back in her chair. ”It's been quite a challenge since the crash with Matt's illness. Have the two of you fully recovered?”
”We're beginning to get back to normal. It was a most unusual experience,” Ping said.
”What about you, young lady? Are you feeling better? I read in the paper you got a b.u.mp on the head and had to spend some time in the hospital yourself.”
”They kept me largely out of an abundance of caution. I'm better now.” Mara nodded.
”That's wonderful. I wish there was something we could do for my Matt. He's had a tough time these past few weeks.”
”The newspaper didn't report many details about your husband's condition. How is he doing?” Ping asked.
”There's nothing the doctors can do for him. They don't know what's wrong. He has trouble breathing, and they say his blood work is unintelligible. Two specialists from back East came out, and they said it looked like he was suffering from a systemic deficiency of some kind, but they can't seem to isolate it.” She looked at her hands while she spoke. ”One of them said it looked like he is slowly suffocating from the lack of some element. He probably has only a couple days left. He didn't want to spend them in the hospital, so I brought him home. He's in our bedroom resting.”
”I'm sorry to hear that.”
”You know, since the crash, he's not been the same. Apart from the illness, I mean.”
”What do you mean?”
”We've been sweethearts since middle school, almost sixty years now. I know him as well as I know myself. He has always been a mix of kindness and bluntness. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body and would never purposely hurt anyone, but he always spoke his mind plainly. Since he got back from the crash, he pretty much keeps everything to himself. He's still the kind man I fell in love with all those years ago, but the bluntness is gone. He keeps everything inside now. It's not like he's a different person, just a slightly different version of himself. You know what I mean?”
”I think I do, Mrs. Sandoval.”
Ping and Carol Sandoval locked eyes for several minutes, communicating something unspoken. She seemed to be trying to a.s.sess what to say next, looked for permission to go further.
”I love that man more than anything in the world.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, tears pooled in her eyes. ”But I think he doesn't belong here with me anymore. I think he belongs somewhere else.”
”Where do you think he belongs, Mrs. Sandoval?” Ping asked.
”I don't know, but he says he belongs someplace where...”
”Where what?”
”Where the sky is green.” She looked away embarra.s.sed, paused for a minute or so and said, ”The day he came home from the crash, he had the most amazed look on his face. He looked up to the sky and asked me what happened. 'Why is it blue?' When I asked him what color he thought it should be, he looked at me and said, 'Green, of course.' I thought he was suffering some kind of post-traumatic stress from the crash. It just sounded so crazy, but he was so sincere. Then he started to get sick. He couldn't breathe well, and it just got worse.
”After a few days he started to talk about being from a different dimension, a place sort of like this, but slightly different. He said he was married to me there and that he loved me very much. I asked him if he wanted to go back, and he said he would never do anything to hurt me. Isn't that sweet?
”Another time I asked him if he thought the blue atmosphere was killing him and he said he thought there was something missing from it that he needed, like what the doctors said. That was a couple days ago. Since then he has been drifting in and out of consciousness, delirious. When he wakes up, he keeps asking for someone. I think it might be a priest or something like that. I think he knows he's going to die soon and wants someone to comfort him.”
”Who is he asking for?”
”I'm not sure I'm hearing it correctly, but it sounds like he wants me to get someone called a progenitor.”