Seastead, Tahiti

Lunch was delicious, but Bella picked at her meal. The ridiculous internal conversation bouncing around in her persecuted head made her consider not telling her mother about leaving. She was an adult. She could write a note and go. But then again, as an adult, she needed to communicate honestly.

“Mom. Thanks for lunch. Thanks for everything. You’ve taken such good care of me.” Bella hesitated for what seemed like way too long. “I need to see Dad.”

“I wondered if you’d come to that decision. You know I’m going in a few weeks. Transport is already set up and there’s more than enough room for a stowaway.” 

“Mom. I—”

“It’s difficult to get there. Especially this time of year. Hurricane season, you know. He’s farther north than usual, and—”

“Mom. Really—”

“Transport schedules are off rotation and because of the distance—”

“Lena!” Bella said.

Startled, her mother stopped talking and her eyes stabbed into Bella, but the sharp daggers dissolved into moist blue pools of acquiescence.

“You’re right. You need to go,” her mother said. She pulled the cloth napkin up from her lap and dabbed at her face. “Uncle Jon even suggested it to me, but I didn’t want to believe him. I should have told you. He thinks you might be at risk here. But that’s crazy talk. Ever since he married Janice, he’s become paranoid. This is the safest place for you. I’m sure of it.” The napkin fell into her lap, and a single tear streamed down her cheek. 

She sucked in a breath and said, “I’ve been selfish with you. I’m sorry.” She reached across the table and grabbed Bella’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling it away. “Last night after our talk, I looked up something I’ve heard about. You probably know more than I do, but it seems like the quickest way to the outpost—I mean, home. To your dad. It’s a network of large drones throughout the Pacific. They’re designed to carry cargo. Dad has used it to deliver directly to his buyers, and in the last couple of years, he’s even worked with the company to provide battery resupply for freight drones. They’ve added pods to carry people… well, a person. It makes me uncomfortable, but—well, you know your dad. He loves disruptive technologies, and he says this is a game changer for seasteaders. Depending on distance and winds, they ferry the passenger through the network until you reach your destination. Everybody says it’s a little cramped, but it’s supposed to be safe. It’s also pricey, but don’t worry. I’ll pick up the cost.”

Bella was awestruck and excited. “Are you sure you don’t want to travel by slow boat with me? I’m sure we can drum something up in a day or two.” 

“We both know you want to do this. It makes the most sense, and I’m a sensible woman.”

“That you are. Oh, thank you, Mom. You’re so good to me. Now, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day? I want to keep you on schedule.”

“Pedicures next, then an hour to relax followed by the usual.”

“You mean, tennis at four?”

“Why, no. I mean, where I beat you two sets to nothing.”           

“We’ll see,” Bella said.

They made it to the locker room with no time to spare. Bella reluctantly pulled on her tennis shoes, covering the red nail polish. It was darker than she would have chosen, but she went with the color her mother had picked out. She grabbed her racket and a water bottle, then followed her mom’s lead to the courts. Besides early morning, this was the part of the day she looked forward to, and today even more so since it would be her last chance to play. They walked through a large, brightly lit tunnel painted light green. It appeared to have no end. She guessed it turned so gradually the walls disappeared like the horizon, but she had never gone further than the door labeled with the number six. Beside the entry to the court, an understated readout read Lena Johansen Espinosa — 4:00 - 5:30 p.m. It looked like a permanent plaque except for the digital clock that read 4:04 p.m. with a countdown timer that showed 1:26. She followed her mother through the heavy door into the cool air and around a jungle of tall hanging nets and onto a pristine tennis court.

Two women were playing in the court to the right, so they watched for a moment before walking over to the bench at mid-court. The closest woman was as tall as Bella’s mother, but with broad shoulders and muscles that didn’t come from tennis. Bella couldn’t help but notice how she rocked a sky-blue tennis skirt and matching shoes, but it was clear her tennis skills were lacking. On the far side, her opponent returned a ball with crushing force. Her jet-black, short hair and short stature gave her a pixie look, but the heavy eyeliner and tattooed eyebrows that swooped up and out like stage makeup shattered any sense of innocence. She was better at tennis, but not as well-attired as her partner. When it was clear they were volleying, Bella walked to the mid-court bench. 

Her mother followed, took the cover off her racquet and said, “We have to finish early today. I told Janice and Jon that we’d be there at five thirty. They’re particular about their drinking schedule. Martinis at five thirty, wine with dinner, and brandy as a nightcap. It is a capital offense to be a minute late.” She swung her racket a few times, smiled, and turned her head away. “You are improving, but don’t worry. You’ll have lots of time for a long shower after I’m through with you.”

Though Bella found the inevitable trash talk refreshing, the warm-up was too long. She received the first serve poorly, and the ball bounced off her racket and slammed into her water bottle, causing it to spin into the post that held up the net. Lena continued the onslaught, point after point, and the first game ended before either had worked up a sweat.

Her mother dominated the first set with only one game going to Bella. But after that, they traded games. She was faring better as she called out, “Set point.” She was fully in the game and bounced the ball a couple times leading up to her serve to her rock-steady mother. A bead of sweat dripped into her eye. She wiped off her brow without thinking. Exhaling and relaxing into concentration, she began her windup, popped the ball into the air, then froze as a ball bounced across her field of view. She locked up her swing and allowed her ball to land back into her hand, rocked back on her heels and her shoulders dropped as she exclaimed, “Really?”

“So sorry!” cried one of the women from the other court.

The pair had been showing poor court etiquette throughout. They volleyed more than played any games and seemed like a couple of kids horsing around. It had been distracting, but this was the only time they had sent a ball over the dividing net and truly interfered. Bella had ignored the two before this, but she was not amused. Her mother even less so.

“Stay there. I’ll get it!” Lena said. Not giving them a second glance as she ran for the errant ball.

Bella watched incredulously as the women ignored her mom and entered their court. The tall one dropped another ball that rolled up toward the bench at mid-court. She chased it down with lightning speed and picked it up before it rolled against the net. The woman's blond ponytail flopped as she reached down to get her ball. She also picked up Bella’s tipped over water bottle, smiled apologetically, and stood the bottle next to her mother’s against the bench. The girl with the eyes walked across and retrieved the ball that Lena had shagged for her.

“So sorry,” the girl said again. They jogged off to their own court.

As they left, Lena said, “Look, it’s simple. You keep your balls and your bodies in your own court. Stay quiet during other people’s serves.”

It was going to take a minute for Bella to get composed again after their neighbors’ faux pas. She walked over to the mid-court bench. Realizing she was behind the water curve, she downed half her bottle. Her mother joined her, keeping her back turned on the two women, until the blond spoke in Japanese. Bella cringed when her mother spun around to stare. A tall, blond Caucasian woman speaking Japanese was comparable to Bella speaking Norwegian, so her mother of all people, shouldn’t judge. She turned just enough to admonish her mother about cultural pigeonholing, then realized it wasn’t about the language. The tall blond was talking on the phone—loud. Having a phone conversation less than ten feet away with only a hanging net separating them was beyond poor etiquette. Bella took a deep breath, preparing for her mother to lose it, but instead she swung her racquet into a beautiful backhand.

 In a low voice, she asked Bella, “Any chance of salvaging this match?” 

“Probably not, but I don’t feel like we should let them win.” 

“Can you serve?”

“Absolutely. Too bad your mother wears army boots.”

“That would be your grandmother… on both sides.”

The neighbor’s phone call didn’t last long, and everybody resumed playing as if nothing had happened. Bella soon dismissed their antics as novices and hoped her mother would do the same. The agitation toward their neighbors had increased Bella’s energy but seemed to deflate her mother’s. In the tie-breaking set, they battled back and forth, each taking a couple of games. Bella’s newfound aggressiveness counter-balanced her mother’s skills, and she took command of the last two games and won the set and match.

“I’m sorry you lost. It must have been all the commotion on the other court,” Bella said.

“No, let’s just go,” Lena said. She sat down hard onto the bench and winced like she realized too late the bench wasn’t cushioned.

“Are you alright, Mom? Here, drink some water.”

After Lena finished her bottle, Bella thought she looked a little more composed. Her own bottle was empty. She was a lot like her mother that way. Dehydration always brought on lightheadedness.

“Let’s go. I’m sure one of Janice’s martinis will set me right,” Lena said.

Bella was glad her mother had recovered. She got up and strode across the court, but by the time they exited, she slowed down. The countdown timer showed ten minutes of court time left. They would have to hurry to make it for martinis. The light green tunnel looked even longer now. By the time they reached the locker room, her mom was pale and wavering as she walked.

“Here, Mom, sit down. I’ll get you more water.”

She began filling the bottle, then put both hands on the counter, pushing down hard to stay upright. Her head, heavy and her eyes met the image of what could only be her twin, a sick twin, in the mirror. Looking down, she forgot about her reflection and lifted the bottle. Returning to the locker area, she found her mother laying out flat on the floor with two women hovering over her. Bella felt sick. Something was wrong. Her head spun, and she felt numb. She dropped the uncapped water bottle, and it took forever to reach the floor. The tall one in the pretty sky-blue tennis outfit walked in slow motion toward her and reached out with warm hands, leading her down to the cold tile floor. The girl with the eyes approached with a hypodermic needle in an outstretched hand. 

“No needles,” Bella said. Then felt a painful jab into her bare arm. She managed one last “no!” and her voice stopped working, joining her muscles. All feeling left her body, but she could still hear and see. The cold she felt in the cheek pressed into the floor disappeared. When she saw them pull her mom away, a scream wouldn’t form, not even a grunt came out. 

Then they came for Bella and hustled her off through the tunnel. A woman on either side carried her along like she was a rag doll. For the first time, she saw the end of the tunnel. It was a frame with a burnt orange canvas. Ribbons of lights led the way to the end, but before they could reach it, yellow lights flashed a warning. Her captors ran, pulling her toward the burnt orange expanse. Then she understood what she was seeing. It had not been a wall at the end of the tunnel. It was the tunnel’s mouth and it swallowed her up into blackness.

There was no feeling and her eyes gave her nothing, but she knew the sound of water when it surrounded her. She willed herself to hold her breath but could not be sure it was something she could control. After a bewildered moment, her eyes refocused out of blackness. The sky exploded out of her darkness. She realized the setting sun over a calm sea offered the burnt orange, and the canvas frame was a loading-dock door. Now that she was on the other side, she saw things more clearly and heard the urgent voices and saw grasping hands lifting her body out of the water. They saved her from drowning and sat her facing forward in the back of a boat. The roar of an outboard overwhelmed her, but there was no pain. Once again, she attempted, in vain, to scream. 

The driver of the small boat stood at the center steering console. It was the tall woman, her blond ponytail flowing from the center of her head. Her tennis outfit looked gray in the twilight. The one with the eyes of hell sat facing Bella, dripping wet. The most fascinating, bright red fly attracted her attention. It bounced up and down on the chest of her short captor. But it couldn’t decide where to land and after flying away, it reappeared on the back of the tall woman's head. The driver of the boat let go of the wheel and fell to the right and onto her back. One of her eyes, and her nose, was missing. 

The other captor threw up her hands, staring past Bella. With a slow, deliberate reach, she pulled the throttle back. The red glow of the fly danced around her torso and then flashed into her eyes, causing her to wince and swing her hand as if to swat it away. 

In her mind, Bella knew it was a laser, but she could not rid herself of the vision of a red fly. She even saw little legs and imagined wings, but that was wrong. It was a laser used to sight a gun designed for killing. Fear racked her captor’s face and Bella waited for a bullet to plunge into her, killing the fly and blowing away the woman’s eyes. 

The shot never came, but a brilliant white light absorbed all colors, including the red fly. Illuminating everything into pure white silk, then darkness again. Not water, not night, but refreshing darkness.