“You’re saying the future is pre-ordained and no matter what little bumps go along the way, the future will re-direct itself.”
“Exactly.”
“Then what are we doing trying to change it?”
“Because if you’re driving that car down the long, straight road and a truck collides with you — the car will become permanently destroyed. Creating with it a brand new path. You see, make a big enough challenge to the future, and it won’t like it, but it might just be persuaded to change.”
“What event?”
“He didn’t say. Simply the ending of the world.”
“How?”
“Didn’t say.”
“Okay, so why didn’t he just change things in his time to create the change needed. Why go walking through the desert?”
“Because the future’s already pre-ordained. Destined by some higher divinity. He didn’t believe in the butterfly effect — he tried it multiple times. He could change small things, but the things which really mattered, simply fought back until the destiny of man returned to its original path. He looked, trust me he looked. But all lines lead to the same catastrophic event, which lead to the demise of humanity.”
Sam said, “Fuck with the future and it fucks with you?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Nothing quite so sinister. Simply that new events will occur and those will eventually trigger the same outcome.”
“Well that’s just great. So, now we know that the future’s been ordained, and there’s nothing we can do to affect it — what’s the point of living?”
“Exactly.”
“When is this catastrophe supposed to occur?”
“Now.”
“Now when?”
“This year, to be exact.”
“So, if he knew we were all going to simply vanish… why go to the trouble of burying his stupid book?”
“Because out of the billions of lines of futures that he investigated, just one provided him with an unclear future.”
“He can’t see everything?”
“Everything except the outcome of one event. All he knew was that if that one event occurred, everything afterwards became foggy.”
“As in, the world ended?”
“No, as though a new line had been created with no known future.”
“It was a long shot, but he took it.”
“What was the image of the event that changed everything?”
“Me.”
“You?”
“I found his book.”
Sam studied her eyes. They were magnificent and at the same time truly deceptive. A true interrogator from the dangerous years of the Second World War couldn’t have broken her mind. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not going to tell me.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to trust me on this. If Nostradamus went to all this trouble, and dramatically shortened his own life, so that he could change the future — you must have faith that I’m working on the right side of this event.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone is on the right side of this.”
Tom stepped in between the two of them. “What’s going on?”
“Nice shooting,” Zara said.
“Thanks, Tom. Nice shot.” Sam smiled.
Tom asked, “What’s going on?”
“Zara was just explaining why she has to keep the biggest secret in the world from us to protect the future.”
Tom nodded, without any sign of understanding. His eyes were focused on a plume of sand converging in the distance. “They’re close. I suggest we finish this discussion hidden deep inside the well.”
Chapter Forty-One
Zara watched Sam and Tom strip their robes and boots. Beneath they wore a thin, silvery undergarment that looked like a three-quarter-length wetsuit and shimmered as they moved. They looked like something out of a bad science fiction movie from the seventies, but she guessed the DARPA funded, thermal suits, were there for their function, not their looks.
She removed her own loose fitting robes, headdress and sandals. She placed them in a plastic bag. It would be impossible to climb or swim while wearing them. Underneath, she wore a cotton turquoise tank-top and matching boyshort underwear. She tied her long dark hair in a bun. Two years traipsing through the desert on expedition had left her lithe and athletic. At the same time, her Persian and French blood had made her naturally exotic.
Tom, she noted, had dutifully turned around. While, Sam, on the other hand grinned and then quickly turned around.
She said, “Don’t even think about saying anything, Sam.”
Sam ignored her. Instead, he broke the remaining two glow sticks. The chemicals inside swirled and mixed, sending out a green phosphorescence. He handed one to her.
Sam said, “We have two glow sticks. I’ll carry one and you carry the other. You follow my light, and Tom will follow yours. We don’t need to go too far. Follow my light and you’ll get through the tunnel safely. Got it?”
“Sure.”
Zara watched as Sam climbed down the well. He’d previously described in painstaking detail exactly how to climb down using her hands and feet to provide opposing forces between the stone walls of the well. She watched as the four camels disappeared over the sand dune to the south. If they were lucky, their pursuers would assume they had killed the four riders, stolen their camels and were riding south. If their pursuers didn’t take the bait, they would have to pray like hell that Sam’s hidden smuggler’s cave was every bit as good as he said it was.
Zara edged her way into the narrow well. There was nothing difficult about it. Nothing new, either. Her father used to send her down similar wells when she was a kid to fetch water. Not that she was going to let Sam Reilly know it. She climbed down quickly with Tom following several feet above her. She watched Sam drop into the water and then followed him in. There wasn’t much room on the water’s surface with her and Sam preparing to dive. Perched several feet above Tom rested with both his legs forward and his back against the stone wall as though he was waiting for lunch.
Sam looked at her. “You know the plan?”
Zara kicked her legs and kept her head above water. “I’ve got it.”
“Give me about ten seconds after I dive and then follow me down.”
She nodded. “I said, I’ve got it.”
Zara watched the soft, lime green turn to a dark green like seaweed, as Sam disappeared deep below. She felt herself involuntarily wanting to hyperventilate as she saw how deep the well went. Not because she was afraid she couldn’t make it. Despite growing up in the Sahara, she actually quite enjoyed swimming and was reasonably good at it. Whenever her father stayed somewhere long enough with a waterhole she would often dive down and see how far she could travel underwater, pretending she was searching for sunken treasure. Swimming she could do, but confined spaces scared the hell out of her — but there was no way she was going to be telling Mr. Reilly that.
Zara took two more deep breaths in and out. She looked up and saw Tom looking like he was hanging around on school camp.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said.
Zara nodded and then dipped head first into the water. She opened her eyes. The cold water stung at them and her entire world looked like a tunnel filled with a hazy green glow. She swam downwards and covered her own glow stick. Her eyes began to adjust to the water and she was able to distinguish the light at the bottom of the well from her own.
Sam looked up at her. She could now see him clearly in the light. He didn’t look that far away. Zara kicked her feet and swam downward, but it seemed to be taking a long time to reach the bottom. She opened her jaw and tried to equalize the pressure in her ears, which was building up and making her head feel like it was going to implode.