Give Me Air!

By Mary Ellen Wall

In the next century, rising ocean level create a refugee crisis. The less fortunate get transferred to a colony planet far away. The air on the exile colony planet Tenembras was always tenuous, now it's killing people. After the violent uprising and a massive volcano, many folks see Elise and her alien friends as the valiant rescuers as the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flint Springs Publishing
• Release date: Jan 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781945937064

Mary Ellen Wall

Roaming from Egypt to the Philippines to Holland to the Hebrides to Tasmania to a tiny Indian Ocean atoll and to points between opened my eyes to others. Being a US Navy Machinist working on nuclear submarines widened my technical knowhow. A few degrees grew my understanding of form and substance. Building my log cabin in the Kentucky woods gave me a refuge from the world's turmoil. Brewing my own ale, bitter, porter, stout, wine, cider, kyser and mead (and drinking it) made me ready to spin some stories.

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Give Me Air print format

GIVE ME AIR!

ELISE T'HOOT GALACTIC ADVENTURE BOOK FOUR

MARY ELLEN WALL

FLINT SPRINGS PUBLISHING

Copyright © 2017 by Mary Ellen Wall.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Mary Ellen Wall/Flint Springs Publishing

www.maryellenwall.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout ©2017BookDesignTemplates.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911903

Give Me Air/ Mary Ellen Wall. -- 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-945370-7-1

To Aunt Lou, the talented and perseverant woman

who stuck by our family when no one else would,

who proved to me that independence

has possibilities and who made a

killer red velvet cake.

Great wits are sure to madness near allied,

And thin partitions do their bounds divide.

―John Dryden 1631-1700

ONE

TSOT BREAKING NEWS

Newsflash! The high valley town of Montserrat in California was engulfed in a cloud of oxygen deficient air that killed most of the residents as they slept, over 2100 men, women and children. Berkeley medical teams are evacuating the survivors. Dr. Kent Fitzroy has issued a warning for all towns over 850 meters elevation in enclosed valleys. Dr. Fitzroy says scientists are working around the clock to make the air safe for all Tembo's citizens, but it won't be overnight.

"This is Dr. Kent Fitzroy, and I urge anyone in an enclosed valley above 850 meters to move to a lower elevation. Don't panic, but do start moving now and carry only what you need. Do not try to approach the domes, they are no longer sanctuary. The floors of most domes were pulled up to allow farming, so they are full of soybeans and vented to the air.

For most citizens, your home is the best place for you to stay. This is a high elevation issue; most all of us live in the lower elevations. The specific towns known to be at risk are receiving assistance to get to a safer place. If you are not among these and believe you need help, call your local GeoTembo office; they will have the latest information and know your area best. We will get through this if we work together.

TWO

SO MANY QUESTIONS

Hey, sunshine, are you ready for a big day?

Dr. Trogden, please don't let any more visitors in. Let's get all this over with. One good lung is better than none and I'm plenty stabilized now. Like you said, the laser self-cauterized.

Ronnie Sue came over and pulled the chair out some to sit. I know you're in great demand, they camped out in the lobby since bringing you in last night except for Wing; he had to answer a Breaker page in the night and I think Ricky just headed that way. San Luis said he had to report in to work and Olivia simply disappeared. They all wanted something?

They all want me to be who they need me to be. Barto, bless him to heaven and back, wants to protect me as he couldn't protect his own sister. Wing wanted a girlfriend until he found out I was Marta off the Bus and now wants me to fill in for his daughter he left behind. Ricky, poor old Ricky, he wants his mommy.

His mommy?

Oh, Doc, you know. His mother was beautiful, played piano, grew lovely roses and in general shined as the centerpiece of a happy family. She died when he was young and everything went to hell after that. He wants the security of a happy family back. I'd think I was out, since I'm so damned plain and I can hardly play the radio.

Dr. Trogden smiled, tablet on her knee. She opened it without looking at it. He told you all that? I find it hard to get much substance out of him.

"Bits and bobs, like a story about a cat that got into his patio garden when I asked him why he placed such a store on roses; he said a Manx came aound to dig holes to crap in but purred when he played his guitar so he didn't call to have it hauled off. I suppose he wanted me to know he wasn't a fanatic about roses or something. I know there's more to him than I've gleaned so far, but there you have it."

She stopped a moment to catch her breath, but held up a finger to place the discussion on pause. She couldn't get enough air. Let me beat you to it, Papa – engineer, Ricky – engineer. Mind you Mama called Papa a brazen and bright, full of life Viking; he had the look down pat and loved the water so very much. She clamped her eyelids and bowed her head to try and force the surge of raw emotion back inside. After a few moments she heaved a deep sigh and gave Doc a weak smile, more than ready to conclude this interrogation.

Conversationally, Doc said, You didn't mention Olivia.

Elise raised her fists over her head and banged on her pate a few times in frustration. I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole on the ships and now she does the lovey-dovey. Doc, I really don't know. I mean, I have absolutely no fear around her since my wacko episode, none. It's weird because she's the one that whacked me out, all that talk about the camp, almost like she knows how to talk me through things and defuse them. Probably more of that mommy thing, it must be contagious. I know Ricky resents her hanging around. She looked around the hospital room at the pale green walls and couldn't think of one healthy plant that matched that sickly color.

The doctor patiently repeated, Do you like her being here?

Ha, ha, that's like she said. She rubbed my face in the fact that I do things because Ricky expects it, not because of what I would like. She spent most of the time she had in here tiptoeing around whether I'm marrying Ricky because he wants it or if I do, and if I wasn't afraid of him. She remembered how Olivia cuddled up to her; what seemed so comforting and homey then seemed so disconcerting now. I know what she means, but maybe I just want to please him because I love him? Maybe I take a leap and trust he won't hurt me? Does that make sense?

Yes, Doc agreed, Pleasing someone can be because of love, but not necessarily. Do you like her being here?

Elise snickered. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. She flexed her right hand and bounced it on the bedside absently, continuing her effort to establish a new breathing pattern that would be efficient, hoping it would allow her to get around.

Doc, I don't know. I don't see how people can ever decide what it is they want, I mean, if it was just me I wouldn't want anything and I'd have my own little corner. You hear about somebody who has a burning desire to be, say, a doctor. Why? Was mama dead set on her being a doctor? Was there a doctor in the last umpty-seven generations? Did her beloved grandma get shoddy medical care and die, making her need to save other grandmas? Was being a doctor on the top of the Patriot list?

She yawned with both elbows out, one arm able to stretch satisfyingly, feeling restless. I reckon a lot of doctors could have been content fishermen if left to their own devices. I've seen countless people want whatever some advertisement told them to, whole herds of people wanting the same thing because some obsolete pop singer said there was a lot of money in it. Desiring something for its intrinsic long-term value, a thing a person might really truly want for love or for some grand purpose, well, that's a chimera and to hope for something like that is like asking for a creature to drop from the sky and rip your guts with a barbed spear. My guts are sore already and I don't listen to the ads, so there's nothing to want. She tried to control a gush of chronic terror that spilled out with the mention of her bad angel and determined to rein her loose tongue in.

Doc leaned forward, not missing a nuance. "Elise, lots of folks are led by the nose for the latest thing, but that's not the same as having a goal and wanting to achieve it because you thought of it and really want it. Didn't you want to get that Tree Physiology Master's degree? I thought that was why you came on the Bus in the first place."

Elise responded calmly, matter-of-fact. Auntie needed help; she wore herself so thin. I fancied the trees needed me. She staked everything on me getting that degree so I could be there for her and I failed her and the trees abominably, abandoning them altogether as an AWOL on this exile planet. Since then I have had less and less to do with it because I don't see me getting back. I've gone from being what she needed then to what the Amigos need and now Ricky wants me to be what he needs. I guess you're going to tell me you're different.

Doc gestured with the hand not taking notes to help illustrate her story. I saw a documentary when I was a kid on the crisis with the changing precipitation and disease patterns and I've always liked teasing apart why this person did this or that person did that. I wanted to be a part of helping folks meet the challenges ahead and it propelled me though school. I loved my work for decades before I burnt out and that was mainly because of the cruelty following the coup.

Trogden must have noticed Elise's glance at the tablet and she closed it. I think many people do have personal desires, sometimes strong ones, and act on them. I think these desires can be considered personal wants even if they benefit others, perhaps like your own parents. The reason I repeated the question was to see whether you didn't know because you hadn't thought it through yet or because you can't identify what you personally want.

Elise relaxed back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Doc I learned a long time ago it doesn't matter one fig what you want or how much you want it, it puts you into endless gyrations and pain for nothing and I don't appreciate your dragging my dead parents into it. I feel like there's a big mean angel up there with a javelin pointed at me and if I want anything at all for me, then that javelin goes into the person next to me; ergo, I want nothing and you should keep your distance. On the verge of hyperventilating, she forced her breathing and heart rate back toward normalcy, the bedside machines betraying her weaknesses with blips and beeps.

Doc, this is the last I am going to say about this. Olivia raises the thorny questions all at once instead of waiting for them to poke out of my briar-ridden brain. It saves time. If that's a good enough answer regarding her, fine. If not I'm sorry.

Elise, I didn't want to stir you up and I apologize. She stood, tablet tucked under her arm. I did have another question. Can we get back on a friendly track? You said earlier you'd like to get a second opinion on your reproductive capability and there won't be any better time than this. The hospital staff is coming in this morning and we may be able to get you in to see the Gynecologist before the city believes martial law is really lifted.

The dread of it dimmed her vision momentarily. Yes, Doctor, thank you. It's something Ricky needs to know because I'm sure he’ll change his muddled mind. That man is pathologically tuned to the 'wife and children' channel and I can't get him to switch stations for one second. Since this is apparently required before I can leave, please get me in quick if you can. She rolled her head over to catch Doc’s eye since she had a request. May I ask you to do something for me please?

Sure, what? Trogden smiled helpfully, hopefully.

I'm liable to be here all day at this rate. I know you're sweet on Dr. Cartier and will probably call sometime today anyway. Can you ask him to tell LeeLaa a message? The last time I got to talk to her she showed me her picture, that one she painted and washed over with the green and then the blue, so I know she understands. Tell her I got the three she liked the best we'll get started as soon as I get back and that it's okay to let them all in on it.

Sure, I can call Alain. You got all of what?

She'll know. She faded into sleep.

THREE

BACK AT THE BREAKER

Wing, you have made the most frightful mess. Ricky and Wing were suited up and assessing the carnage at the nuke site garage area. What used to be the maintenance shed now had two mangled Bluejay jet copters imbedded in it; they and the surrounding area looked like the devil's birthday cake, all covered in magenta icing and a dusting of brown sand. A few excavations and tunnels showed where the bodies had been and crews had moved the Crennas out that morning before the wind picked up.

Ricky shook his head. Pity about those Bluejays, we won't see any more of those from our Earthly benefactor, I'll warrant.

No sir, but it was the best way I could come up with to keep them from taking us out or having 'em fly out to Barto's party and crashin' it. In my experience fewer war machines across the board make a better world. Wing's guerilla activities that took out a significant part of the Patriot war machine enjoyed wide publicity already, headlines ringing with admiration for Tembo's own Copperhead; he had turned the radio off in discomfiture as they drove up from the Breaker for this assessment work.

Man! I'm not criticizing you, far from it! You risked life and limb while I pushed Elise into enemy fire. In addition, you thought to cover the debris to prevent widespread contamination, a crucial fact not enumerated among your amazing feats. As for the turbine, much of it can be salvaged. I would commend you on the whole thing if it meant anything coming from me.

Wing twisted around, his quizzical look lost behind his full-face respirator. Last I looked, you were the boss. Even if you weren't, it sure as heck would mean something to me and I appreciate it. What's up with the black dawg? You're actin' like we lost, but we all made it through the fight in one piece each. He turned around with arms outstretched, saying, All this can be cleaned up, and we can restart with very little inspection and realignment. Nothing vital got blown up that I'm aware of. We'll need that whamadyne contraption you made to sort the sand more than ever now, since we have to make up for lost time and efficiency is at a premium. Nothin' Elise failed to tell me, is there? They started walking away toward the cafeteria.

Ricky's bent posture telegraphed his disposition. I'm no good for her, am I?

Sonny, no man is ever good enough for his little girl. Elise is not my daughter, but I feel like I've become her godfather; don't you laugh at me for that. We Kentuckians got to stick together and she's a true neighbor. That being established, I consider myself competent to answer that rhetorical question, if you really want an answer.

They passed through the dubious environmental force field at a temporary shielded barricade that led them directly to the inside control point; it kept the windblown stuff out but didn't stop anything the tracked in. The radiation area control point had mesh screen walls and ceiling decorated with yellow and magenta stripes about three meters high and large yellow bins, now opening. Along the side of the bins two pads blocked the way, both with magenta foot outlines on them. They approached the control point and waited for the mechanisms to roll around to a fresh step-off pad surface on each of the squares; Wing motioned for his boss to go first.

Ricky gratefully pulled his hood back and removed his respirator to the marked bin. The