Two days later, the Lyceum team made their way home from the last televised rally of Reverend Tommy Mitchell’s presidential campaign. With five people dead, seventy-nine injured, and the local prosecutor preparing to file charges, there would be no more rallies, and no more campaign.
Shawn, only scraped and bruised, helped Liberty off the helicopter, careful not to bump her right arm that rested in a sling. Ilika came next, the side of his head still red and a little swollen. Ashley came behind, watching to make sure Ilika was steady on his feet.
Kibi, behind others in the heliport lobby, had to fight all her instincts to avoid rushing forward and embracing Ilika. When she felt tears coming, she quickly strode away down the corridor and back into the Manessa Kwi. Sata followed her to the lower deck and sat with her while she cried and fumed with frustration.
After a long nap and a check-up at the clinic, Ilika activated his bracelet light as soon as he entered the woods. Kibi quickly met him, and together they walked slowly to their secret grove.
“This is the second time you’ve . . .”
She silenced him with her lips on his, gently at first, until she was sure it wasn’t causing him any pain. Finally she looked at him in the faint twilight.
“I didn’t like the idea of being separated from you when this mission started, and I like it less with each passing day. When are we going to do what we
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came to do, and go home?”
Ilika chuckled slightly. “If I had to guess, I’d say . . . when we least expect it.”
Kibi moaned. “I was afraid of that.”
She listened while Ilika recounted every detail of the trip, and concluded with his opinion that no one, mortal or spiritual, could have devised a better outcome than the natural consequences of the Reverend Mitchell’s own actions.
Kibi grinned in the darkness. “Hopefully Shawn will feel more grown-up now. I had some growing up to do myself.”
“Thanks for not blowing my cover.”
“Me and purple-hair had some words, and she had to promise me she’d keep two eyes on you.”
“She did, and told me that if I didn’t get better very quickly, you’d be on your way, by foot if necessary.”
Kibi nodded and laughed.
The warm days of summer passed slowly as the members of Lyceum resumed their routine tasks and projects. Shawn was very proud to return the dedication Liberty had shown him, helping her with anything she needed, including writing for her classes and cleaning her room. They were rarely apart, except during work shifts. Liberty learned to brush horses and donkeys with her left hand, and continued her piloting theory classes, but couldn’t begin flight training.
Ashley did well in all her classes and work assignments, spent many long hours in the gym training for the World Championships the following year, and gave every remaining minute to her friend Jenny. One morning, she arrived at the recording studio a few minutes late.
“Now that I’ve heard all seven voices,” Brother Chad was saying, “I’m starting to get a sense of how important this symphony is. Hi, Ashley. But there’s no way anyone but you can get it all scored properly.”
Jenny smiled at Ashley, who pulled a chair close.
“Shall we start by cleaning up a few places in Voice Seven that didn’t feel
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right?”
“Yes,
please!”
They all gathered around the large display screen of the editing computer.
Brother Chad had the computer play a few bars. “Any problems there?”
“Sounds okay to me,” Jenny said.
“Me too,” Chad said.
Ashley just smiled, knowing when music sounded good, but not why.
The computer played a few more bars.
“I was wondering about this area here . . .” Chad began.
“Yeah. Something’s wrong. It’s too slow. Um . . . all those notes in bars thirty-five to thirty-seven should be quarter notes.”
“Yes, I was thinking something like that too,” he said, tapping in the changes.
The computer replayed it, and Jenny nodded with satisfaction.
The process continued for the next forty-five minutes, then they took a break. Ashley hugged Jenny and headed for gymnastics. Jenny and Chad munched on cookies while listening to the cleaned-up version of Voice Seven.
When it ended, Jenny had a contented look on her face. All seven voices, in isolation from each other, had now been recorded, to the best of her ability.
That felt very, very good.
“Now comes the hard part,” Brother Chad admitted with a serious tone.
“Do you know how far into the symphony all seven voices are in perfect sync, in my opinion?”
“How
far?”
“Five
bars.”
Jenny looked sad.
“Yes, we have a lot of work to do.” He caused the musical notations for all seven voices to be displayed together, one on top of the other. Then he had the computer play the five bars he felt were properly aligned. “Do you like what you hear so far?”
“Gosh. I’ve never heard it all together before.”
“So we’re going to have to use your musical insight and my musical knowledge.”
Jenny frowned. “I think it’s right so far . . .”
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Then he had the computer play the next five bars. The corresponding notes turned blue on the screen.
“Something’s wrong in bar seven!” she declared.
“You can hear it too? Remember our agreement — you always have to tell me what you think before I make any suggestions.”
“Um . . . I think it’s Voice Five. It’s slipping behind.”
“Do I shorten this note?” Chad asked.
“No. Take out the rest at the end of bar four.”
He did, and the ten bars replayed.
“Wow . . .” Chad breathed as he looked at Jenny with wide eyes and a big smile.
Jenny was smiling too. Her life dream was starting to come true. She was going to hear all the voices of her music played together . . . if she lived long enough to make the necessary corrections.
They continued working until Jenny was exhausted from the mental effort and could no longer think.
“Let’s end with a final playback, and we’ll start tomorrow by making any needed corrections in this part before moving on.”
Jenny listened. She couldn’t believe she had played the music she was hearing. In a sense she hadn’t. Only the computer, or seven musicians, could play it all together. And yet all of the voices came from her — or through her.
She knew with certainty that she had not composed the music, although she couldn’t say who had.
“There’s something in about the middle that bothers me a little.”
“Sleep on it. We’ll look at it tomorrow.”
A few days later, at dinner, while passing the big bowl of mashed potatoes, Liberty asked Ashley if she had time to go on a walk that evening. Shawn was at work somewhere, and Liberty felt the need for a little girl-to-girl time.
Ashley frowned slightly, but somehow sensed that she needed to be there for Liberty, at least on this occasion. She quickly let the frown melt. “That would be fun, Chelsea! I could use a break from other things, too.”
Ashley didn’t reveal that she’d have to skip a class.
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An hour later, Sarah was in her room alternately gazing out the window and drawing little dancers on a sheet of paper. She hoped they would be good enough to use on the poster for the upcoming Junior Dance Festival.
Sarah drew another dancer, this time a boy ballet dancer. She thought that was only fair, as the festival would include both girls and boys. Then her pencil stopped moving, her eyes glazed over, and her skin became cold and sweaty. A face came into focus, a man’s face almost completely hidden behind a bush, and then a black metal thing in front of the face, a gun, lifted up to his eye level. Her heart pounded, and suddenly she saw Liberty and Ashley walking in one of the gardens, and knew the gun was pointed at Liberty.
CHELSEA, DUCK! she screamed with her mind with more force than she had ever used in sending a telepathic message.
Liberty didn’t receive a thought she could ponder at her leisure. It was more like the impact of a hammer, and she could do nothing but drop to the ground and clutch her head in pain.
At the same moment, Ashley heard the whizzing sound of something fly by at high speed, then the ping of it hitting a stone fountain nearby.
RUN, CHELSEA, RUN! the next thought screamed inside her head. With nothing but raw instinct guiding her, Liberty jumped up and ran.
Ashley was right beside her. “Someone shot at us!” The winding path took them toward the residence hall. “Let’s get inside!”
Liberty’s half-healed arm began throbbing with pain, but unlike Ashley, she didn’t have the spare breath to say anything.
Together they ran along the path and soon burst into the small parking lot beside the residence hall. They kept running, side by side, and were about halfway across the lot when Ashley focused on a man in a suit standing right beside the door. Ashley didn’t recognize him, but saw him pull something out from under his coat and raise it to his eye level.
No one points a gun at my friend! she said to herself, and immediately used the only weapon she had.
Liberty, just beginning to wonder who the man was, saw Ashley suddenly double her speed. Then she saw the gun and screamed, “ASHLEY!”
But Ashley had already launched herself into the air just a few yards away from the stranger and was curling herself into a tumbling mass of fury.
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Liberty saw Ashley collide with the man, heard the gun go off, and saw them both fly through the large window. The sound of shattering glass filled the air.
Liberty kept running, but tears quickly filled her eyes and she could barely see.
By the time Liberty got inside the residence hall a few seconds later, everything had come to rest. Glass was everywhere, the man lay still with his head at a funny angle, and Ashley was sprawled on the floor with glass under her, glass on top of her, and a pool of blood rapidly forming around her.
Liberty gasped for air and tried to scream for help, but nothing would come out of her mouth. She managed to see a fire alarm through her tears, dashed to it, and pulled with all her might until lights started flashing and an alarm began to scream. Then she ran to her friend.
Ashley lay still, with blood pouring from her face and neck and arms. With every heartbeat, more of the precious red liquid came flowing out. Liberty knew she had to stop the blood. Somehow she had to keep her friend from bleeding to death, and she had nothing to work with but her own hands, and they were shaking. Tears made it hard to see, and she couldn’t keep her breath from coming in desperate gasps. But none of that mattered. Liberty forced herself to focus on the problem, picked the two worst gashes, and placed her trembling hands over them, ignoring the pain in her right arm.
The blood seemed to slow, but there were many other cuts still letting Ashley’s life flow into the carpet beneath her. “Help!” Liberty screamed, but still couldn’t make much sound come out. “Help!”
Seconds later, others ran into the room and helped put pressure on Ashley’s many cuts. Liberty couldn’t remember ever feeling so relieved, but knew that even if bullets were flying at her, she was not going to leave Ashley’s side.