Ferdie and the Seven: book two: Time Flies Read online

  “I’m sure glad we’re on the same side. Thanks, dude. We’re going to get them, I’m not sure how, but we are, and like I promised you, when we do we are going to make them pay.”

  My eyes were getting a little bit misty, and Marsh-dog said, “Alright, dude, I know you can’t control it, but the water works are not helping. I’ll keep an eye on things from here. And, we don’t have time right now, but wait ‘til I tell you what I have learned about the crazy stuff in here. I got it all figured out; well, as much as I can figure out, anyway. Now get going!”

  I speedily faded out and faded in, and told the rest of the group about our plan. Wait a minute… I’m forgetting something… “You know what? In all this activity, I never took a look at the coordinates for Leonardo Sanna.” I ran for the bedroom and Marsh-dog’s computer.

  We huddled around the monitor as I typed in the numbers. “Let’s see… here we go… latitude, 39.14237649980276… longitude, 8.307852745056752… that’s a lot of digits… it might help if I knew what latitude and longitude meant…”

  When the results came up, we stared at the screen, confused. “Have any of you guys heard of… Isola di San Pietro?” We needed more information so I continued typing, and we soon found that Isola di San Pietro is a small island off the southwestern coast of a much larger island called Sardinia, which is a part of Italy. “It’s in the Mediterranean Sea. These coordinates are very specific… it’s in a town in Isola di San Pietro called… Carloforte, and this takes us… all the way down to the street where he lives! It’s… it’s a fishing and resort town, it says here… we’ll need to get there through conventional traveling; we can’t go through the in-between, too risky. Ling, that means we’ll need your help.”

  “My credit card is going to become heated up from all this activity. It is ok, though. I think we will need to travel to Kansas in a similar way, do you think?”

  “Well, yeah, I don’t know if The Others would be looking for you guys, but it makes sense to be careful.”

  We booked all our travel on the soonest possible flights, which happened to be the next day. We would be flying out of LAX, a couple of hours south of Bakersfield. The flight for Denise and me was leaving at six a.m., meaning that we would all need to jump into Ling’s little car in the middle of the night and trundle down to L.A. First, though, we had to do a little shopping to pick up the items Marsh-dog indicated.

  Luckily, we found a shop that provided uniforms and other items for police, probation officers, parole officers, and the like. After a little wheeling and dealing, we (well, Rafael really did it all; he’s very smooth, and would have made a great salesman) convinced the clerk to sell us some badges out of the back door for a little extra cash, and we were in business.

  We left for LAX at three a.m., and we were probably quite a sight, all five of us crammed into the compact vehicle, with Gabriella sitting “on the hump” in the back seat, due to her being the most petite of our group. While we were tired, it was good that we were traveling in the middle of the night; it was cool out, and we enjoyed ourselves until we arrived at LAX, which is a confusing place, let me tell you.

  The flight for Ling, Gabriella, and Rafael would not be leaving until two in the afternoon, so we said our goodbyes in the car so as to avoid the extreme hassle of having them park and come in with us. “Ok, you have the addresses of Aunt Martha, Ariel’s school, and all of her friends that we were able to locate. I’m sure there are more; she’s social, so you’ll have to ask them about other friends that aren’t on our list. There’s not much aside from flat farmland out there, so I doubt that she disappeared into the woods, because there isn’t much to disappear into. Ok? Anything else? Oh yeah, if you find Ariel, take her to Aunt Martha. I don’t want her worrying any more than she already is.”

  Ling offered some parting words: “Ferdie, this is another great adventure. We have had many great adventures since coming to America. We will do our best in this quest. Please be careful!”

  I had to smile; Ling, you’re awesome… “We’ll all do our best. Hopefully the next time we see each other, Ariel will be home with Aunt Martha, and we’ll have Leonardo Sanna and another angel here with us. See you soon.” Denise and I stepped out and watched the little car drive away, now with Gabriella sitting in front.

  I was extremely nervous while waiting for our plane, as I had never flown before. Denise was seated next to me, and seemed to be asleep; she slouched in her chair, head back and eyes closed. I’m glad at least one of us can relax…

  Denise shook me awake, saying, “Come on, Ferdie, we’re boarding.” I didn’t know where I was for a second, then realized what was happening and bolted out of my chair, grabbed my bag, and ran behind her toward the plane. As I trotted along, a terrible thought came to mind… I don’t think The Others can track me unless I do something supernatural, but what if they can? They wouldn’t try to take down this plane, would they? Of course they would… it wouldn’t mean anything to them… oh, crap… stop tapping your head… this is just hypervigilance talking, isn’t it? I think so… I sure hope so… I walked onto the plane, put my bag in the overhead compartment like everyone else was doing, and sat in my seat, feeling intensely uneasy.

  Chapter 11

  Man, I hope we made the right decision… should I have gone after Ariel instead? No, Marsh is always right… Denise noticed my nervous tension; she put her arm around my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to it. We’ll start going fast, and soon we’ll be up in the air and you won’t even feel it. You can sleep, watch a movie, whatever. You might even like it.”

  I was feeling a bit queasy as I said, “Yeah, probably.” I didn’t tell her about my concerns, as I couldn’t see any good reason to make both of us paranoid. Then I caught a whiff; she smelled wonderful, like flowers or something… I wonder if I’ll ever have time to have a girlfriend, do normal stuff like that… probably not… plus, I’m surrounded by females that are too old for me… come on, dude, what would you rather do, have a girlfriend or save the world? That’s a tough one…

  Soon we were rumbling down the tarmac, which made me feel a bit like I was going to barf, and all of a sudden we were in the air. It was just like Denise said; it didn’t really feel like much. We had a long flight ahead of us, so we both settled in and… immediately fell asleep.

  I eventually awoke and peered out the window, having gotten the window seat. I found it so interesting that the clouds looked the same from above as they did from below, aside from looking down instead of looking up, and I thought about the irony of traveling in the fastest mode available to humans, when I could have completed the entire trip in an instant if I had used the in-between. We had a couple of stopovers on our trip, but thankfully, despite my paranoia, everything went well and we eventually arrived in Cagliari, the only city with a major airport in southern Sardinia. Including the stopovers, the trip took about twenty hours, which meant we landed at around three p.m. As we flew in I looked out the window and thought that this was a truly beautiful place, old-world style. From what I had heard, lots of places in this part of the world have a real mix of old and new, and Cagliari was no exception; homes and buildings made completely out of stone with satellite dishes on top were everywhere, and while there were some modern roads, in the towns and cities many of the streets were made of what appeared to be large river rocks. Seems like this would be a cool place to live, but I bet it’s a little uncomfortable when the weather gets cold and wet…

  The landing went smoothly, and we exited the plane to wait for our luggage. We were still a couple hundred kilometers from our destination of Carloforte, and to get there it would take a bus trip down and along the far southern coast, then a trip by boat across to Isola di San Pietro. I gazed out at what I could see of Cagliari; what a beautiful, impressively timeworn place. Ancient churches with spires reaching up to the sky, imposing buildings constructed in an old-world style; it made me wish we had time to stop and explore, but we were on a mission. As we
walked from the airport to the nearby bus station, a question came to mind: “Hey, Denise, pretty much everyone here speaks Italian, right? How are we going to communicate with them?”

  “Europeans often know several different languages. Lots of people here will know English, you’ll see. And, I speak Spanish, and that’s kind of similar to Italian, so I’ll probably at least understand enough for us to get by.” Dude, looks like I brought the right angel with me…

  On the way to the bus station, three different guys tried to hit on Denise, and she just walked by all of them as if she didn’t hear or understand them, but I could see a little grin when they called, “Ciao, Bella!” as we passed. I glared at a couple of them, and I was afraid I might have to fight one of them, but Denise said, “Don’t worry, Ferdie, it happens all the time. Men are pigs. Well, most men are pigs, anyway.” Then, beaming, she took my arm.

  We walked along that way, smiling and waving to the locals, and soon arrived at the bus station. It was an impressive building for such a humble, every day purpose, with majestic arches and columns adorning the front and the entrance. The weather was warm and a little humid, but there was a breeze that seemed to be gaining strength as we walked, and in the distance it appeared that a storm was on its way. Luckily we didn’t have to wait long at the bus station, although actually getting on the bus was an adventure; Europeans don’t seem to mind pushing and shoving to make sure they get on and get their preferred seat, so we got jostled around a little. As Americans, we weren’t used to this and I got a bit irritated; one young man noticed, and said, “Hey, Americans! We love Americans! Here, come sit with me.” Our new friend introduced himself as Piero; he was a heavy-set, swarthy teenager. He was so big, in fact, that he took up about half the seat, and Denise and I were crammed into the remainder. “So, you are the love-birds, eh?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

  “No, no, we’re… what are we, Denise?”

  “Well we’re traveling partners, of course. And best of friends too. Piero, your English is very good.”

  “Yes, yes, thank you, I went to a boarding school in England until they kicked me out for chasing too many girls!”

  We spent the rest of the ride joking and laughing with Piero, and eventually others joined in, so we had a good old time chugging down the highway toward our destination. While we were enjoying our ride, in the back of my mind I was thinking about avoiding anything that would tip The Others off to our location, so I wasn’t able do any thought-checking of the people around us on the bus. That made me a little uncomfortable; it’s quite a luxury to know whether or not the people near you have good intentions, but I’ve gotten used to knowing, and not being able to get that info left me feeling frustrated.

  Despite the bumpy trip on a bus that would probably be described as dilapidated, we made it at last to the coast, and, much like everything else we had seen in Sardinia, it was quite a beautiful sight. Long-standing wooden piers everywhere, hundreds of boats of all shapes and sizes; some returning from fishing trips, larger ships going out for a last tour of the coastline, some leaving for, and returning from, our final destination, the Isola di San Pietro. We said goodbye to Piero and the other bus passengers and walked along the docks, enduring more catcalls toward Denise, until finally we found a ferry across to Carloforte. It was a large, river-boat style vessel, and there were probably a hundred or so people on board.

  As we pulled away from the docks, we stood on the deck near the railing at the edge of the boat. We met Giancarlo, one of the deckhands, as we were leaving, and he was rather obviously trying to flirt with Denise; she smiled and waved him off. “My friend, you are a lucky-a man,” he said to me.

  “No, that’s not what… oh, never mind,” I responded.

  It was getting chilly in the late afternoon, and the wind was continuing to pick up; I was already feeling queasy from the jarring bus ride, but after a few minutes on the boat, in the choppy water… well, I upchucked, and it came on me so fast I couldn’t get to a bathroom, so I just had to lean over the side of the boat. “Don’t-a worry,” said Giancarlo, who saw what was happening and came to check on me, “happens all-a the time.” He patted me on the back and then hurried on his way, and Denise seemed on the verge of laughing.

  I coughed and choked a little, then said, “Yeah, very funny. But hey, you were right. Almost everyone we’ve met so far speaks at least a little English,” and then I leaned over and barfed again. This didn’t seem to bother Denise at all; she continued to pat me on the back and stifle a chuckle. I’m getting to like her better all the time… she has guts, she didn’t even flinch when I downloaded…

  “Alright, Ferdie, get it all out, then you’ll feel better,” she said with a little tickle in her voice.

  Suddenly, a sensation hit me that I hadn’t felt in… well, since I first made contact with Ling. One of The Seven has to be near… it has to be Leonardo… there couldn’t be more than one member of The Seven in this isolated place, could there? No way… feeling a drastic increase in power… feels like my head is going to pop from all the excess energy, this guy must be pretty powerful… uh oh, got to figure out how to hide this, tamp it down somehow… don’t want to tip off The Others… I probably look as bright as a supernova to them right now if they’re watching… how do I turn it off?... wait… fading a little… he must be on a boat that we are passing or something… oh, man, that’s a relief… I hope no one noticed that…

  I glanced up, and Denise’s face was distorted with concern. “Ferdie, why are you tapping the side of your head? And your eyes are beet red; in fact your whole face is flushed. You better sit down.”

  She was right, I felt dizzy, and it was not from puking over the side of the boat. An unbearable fatigue then settled on me; I slumped on the bench near the side of the boat, and Denise held on to me to keep me from falling over. “Denise,” I croaked, “I think Leonardo Sanna must be nearby; I felt a big wave of power, that’s why I look this way.”

  She smirked. “Oh, so that’s not how you normally look? But wait, you mean he was right here? Ferdie, this is getting exciting, don’t you think?”

  I squinted at her from my slouching position. “I probably would be more excited if I didn’t feel like crap. Do you mind if we go inside? I’m getting kind of cold.”

  “Oh, sure, sorry Ferdie, I was caught up in the moment. The barfy, ready-to-pass-out moment. Let’s go. Hey, since we’re in Italy, maybe they’ll just assume you’re drunk.”

  We made it the rest of the way uneventfully, including no more hurling. Before long, our ferry pulled slowly into what appeared to be the newest of the antiquated piers in the area of the docks; we had to go past a long, slender peninsula (I think that’s what you call it; a finger of land that sort of blocks in most of a bay), eventually coming to rest just as dusk was settling in. We disembarked (I learned that word from my new buddy Giancarlo), and walked a kilometer or so into the rustic town center of Carloforte. There was a regal town square, dominated by a grand fountain with various statues of what looked to me like ancient Romans, and a roundabout surrounded by shops of various kinds. There were a number of people strolling around; couples holding hands, some pushing baby strollers, older folks bundled against the growing wind, and fishers returning for the evening. We asked a few people for directions, all of whom were totally friendly and helpful. We mentioned Leonardo Sanna’s name; as it turned out, he was kind of popular in his home town. When we brought him up, each person said, “Old Leo? He’s-a the best. He help-a my family when times are tough,” or some variation on that theme. A friendly lady in a floral dress and kerchief over her hair insisted on helping us locate Old Leo’s street; she didn’t speak English, but Denise was able to communicate well enough, as we strolled away from the town square and into a more residential area, that we eventually got to the street where Old Leo lived. It was on a mild uphill tilt and was made of stones, like many of the other streets in the area. It was very narrow, and weathered two-story homes lined the roadway.
We thanked our kind guide, and I thought it was funny that, as she left, she also said, “Ciao, Bella!”

  Denise chuckled and said, “I think that was meant for you, Ferdie. It seems like she has a crush on you!”

  “If she does, I think she’s confused, because she just called me pretty girl.”

  “No, silly, ‘ciao bella’ means ‘hello beautiful’. She meant you.” We snickered and continued walking. It was now about eight-thirty p.m., and the sun had set completely; a stiff wind was blowing and carried with it the scent of the storm that was approaching. We finally found Leonardo’s house; it was tall and narrow, and constructed of stone. All the homes on the street were very near one another; there was hardly enough room to squeeze between them. As we approached, I felt myself again becoming intensely uneasy, and I said, “Now what do we do?”

  Denise looked at me like I was crazy. “We should knock on the door, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess that’s right.” After knocking for the third time, it seemed obvious that no one was home. “Denise, I think we better go find a hotel or something. We’re going to get rained on soon.”