Cascade Point

It was the periods between those times that nearly drove him insane.

Only once before in his life had he ever had even two visions come one right after the other; now, they were coming in strings. Two aircars collide violently just short of a rooftop landing pad, obvious victims of a guidance computer malfunction. One slides over the edge and falls two hundred stories....

An explosive decompression aboard an orbiting space colony. Three are killed instantly, seven others suffocate before help can reach them....

Screams in an unknown language are swallowed up by the roar of an erupting volcano. The rain of ash and flowing lava cut through a jungle village, obliterating it completely....

A fleet of unidentifiable starships fights a short but violent battle with a planetary defense force, destroying it to the last ship....

The starship battle was the worst of the visions, its intrinsic horror stretched agonizingly by its sheer persistence. Again and again Javier was pulled back to the scene, forced to watch as the victors, apparently not satisfied with the deaths they had already caused, proceeded with coldblooded efficiency to burn off the world they had defeated. From space the expanding rings of nuclear flame were clearly visible; at ground level they were the height of redwoods and the brightness of the noonday sun. For once, no one screamed in pain. No one had time.

Finally—finally—the hurricane of death subsided. With an effort, Javier swam his way back to consciousness. The first thing he saw when his eyes opened was Wonky's face.

"Where am I?" he whispered, his throat very dry.

"Hospital," Wonky told him. "Ward two. How you feel?"

"Terrible. You've got to help me get out of here."

"You're not well enough," Wonky protested. "You got kinda trampled when you fainted at the station. You should wait till morning, anyway—it's pretty late."

"I don't care. If it starts up again I'll go crazy. Never mind," he added, seeing Wonky's puzzled expression. "My clothes must be here somewhere. Find them, and then hunt up a doctor. I'll sign any release they want. But I have to get out."

For a long minute Wonky stared at him, brows tight with thought. Then he nodded once, curtly, and began to search among the ward's lockers. He found Javier's clothing, and after being assured that Javier could get into them alone, went in search of a doctor. Javier dressed slowly, his body aching with every movement. A radio was playing softly at the nurses' station at the end of the room, and he paused once to listen as a report of interstellar news came on. The doctor Wonky dragged back with him proved stubborn, but in the end was persuaded to produce the necessary papers, and a few minutes later Javier was out on the street. Supported by Wonky, he headed toward his apartment building. They just made it. —

Javier slept for nearly ten hours; a deep sleep, untroubled by visions. When he awoke he lay quietly, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what he'd seen and heard. After a while, he slept again.

By the time he woke up he had made his decision. He showered, ate the last of the packaged food he had in the room, and wrote a long letter. Then he began packing.

Wonky arrived before he had finished. "Hi, kid, how you feeling?" he asked as Javier offered him the room's only chair.

"Better," Javier said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Thanks for helping me home last night."

Wonky shrugged. "Yeah... look, Mr. Schultz sent me to see you."

"He was going to let me come back, but then changed his mind. Right?"

Wonky seemed taken aback. "How'd you know?"

"I expected it. Word of my vision got around the kitchen, probably, and the people don't want to work with me. Happens all the time."

"It ain't that they don't like you, you know. They're just kinda scared."

"I know." Javier looked at him thoughtfully. "What about you, Wonky?"

"You saved the boss's life. That was a good thing to do. I don't think it's right to fire you just 'cause some of the others are scared. I told him so."

"Thanks for backing me up. Did you get your own job back?"

"Oh, sure. Mr. Schultz doesn't mean it when he fires me. He told me to give you this." He fished a bulky envelope from his pocket and handed it over. "He said it was all he could do."

Inside the envelope, in well-worn bills, was about three hundred dollars. "That was very kind of him," Javier said, surprised by the gift. "Please thank him for me."

Wonky glanced at the travelbags. "You leaving town?"

"Yes. I'm getting as far away from people as I can. Northern Maine, maybe." Thoughts of central Australia flashed briefly through his mind.

"How come?" Javier hesitated. This was not the time nor the place, he told himself. But the secret had been bottled up within him for too long. "Wonky, have you wondered how it is I can get these visions, wondered what it is that causes them?"

"Naw, not really. Mr. Schultz said it's a kinda curse."

"It is indeed. But it's a curse with a very simple basis." He closed his eyes briefly. "Death."

Wonky's eyes narrowed. "I don't get it."

"It's painfully simple. Someone fairly nearby dies, and that event triggers a vision. That's what happened at the station—the train wreck started a trance, and I got trampled. At the hospital, with crash victims and others dying all around me, I got visions' strung together like previews of Armageddon."

He stood up and went to the window. "It was the group trances on Aurora that finally tipped me off," he said, as much to himself as to Wonky. If felt good to finally let it all out. "Always there was one death in the obit list that wasn't co

Wonky had been listening silently—probably, Javier thought, not really understanding. But now he spoke up. "Wait a minute. Mr. Schultz and you both said that most of the things you see don't ever happen. So what's this bridge thing you're talking about?"

Javier didn't turn around. He didn't want Wonky to see his face. "Mr. Schultz is wrong, like the rest of us have been. Maybe we didn't want to believe it... but it's the only way this can possibly make sense. You see, just because a vision isn't fulfilled nearby doesn't mean it isn't fulfilled somewhere. We just never—I mean, there are just too many worlds out there that we don't hear much from." He bit his lip. "As I was getting dressed at the hospital I heard a report that had come in from Centauri, saying somebody important had been killed in an aircar crash. They gave enough details that... well, I saw the crash, Wonky, saw it almost a week ago. But if that VIP hadn't been in it, I'd still think the vision hadn't come true."

He turned back to face Wonky. "No, Wonky. Every one of those damnable visions must come true. Maybe some of them haven't, yet. But they will."

He stopped; not necessarily waiting for a response, but simply out of words. "I don't get it all," Wonky said slowly. "But I guess you know what you're talking about. You're a lot smarter than me, anyway." He hesitated, then stood up and held out his hand. "Good luck."