Excerpt: Dunefsky's Ark

Prologue

Ben Dunefsky stepped out of the dorm, deftly avoiding the large puddle that threatened to flood into the doorway of Newton Hall’s main entrance. Looking up, he noticed that the rain had stopped, at least for the moment. It was one of those mornings in early November when the sky appeared to be directly above him. The air was heavy but warm; Novembers in New England were mild these days. Decembers and Januarys were also mild; in fact, the effects of global warming had pretty much assured the fact that it hadn’t been cold enough to snow in the United states for at least two decades.

Ben squinted speculatively at the dark layer of clouds that had, until very recently, been pissing rain all over the campus of his small New England college. There were puddles everywhere, but no current precipitation was apparent. Since the rain had decided to relent, he folded the small umbrella back down to penlight size and stuck it in the pocket of his jean jacket. He began the trek across the campus, idly noting that the trees, only yesterday brilliantly covered in flame and gold foliage, had apparently dumped their entire load of leaves overnight. The result was a wet and slimy (although brightly colored) covering all over the commons and sidewalks. “Great,” he mumbled to himself, looking down at his well-worn and somewhat holey deck shoes. “My freaking socks are going to be soaked.”

“Hey, Dunefsky,” a voice called from across the commons. “You going to Shiverick’s class?”

“No, Morales, I’m out at seven-fucking-thirty-am to go get a pizza,” he called, recognizing one of his floor mates and fellow geology majors. He yawned widely, again cursing Professor Shiverick’s annoying habit of scheduling all of his major classes in the early morning hours.

“No need to bite my head off, dude,” the other boy yelled back good naturedly. “We’ve got half an hour; I was going to grab a cup of coffee. You wanna come with?”

“Nah, I gotta catch Shiverick before class. Bring me back a large?”

“What do I look like, a servo-bot?” Morales laughed but reconsidered. “All right, dude, but you owe me a coffee and a donut on Friday. Large coffee, four sugars, three creams, right?”

“That’s it. Thanks, man!” Ben waved and shoved his hands in his pockets, beginning the trudge through the thick layer of wet leaves. He winced as he felt the wet seep through the holes in the worn leather of his shoes, insidiously dampening his socks and chilling his feet. Within two minutes, his feet were sodden and cold. He checked the ‘net for the time, noting that he still had twenty six minutes before class; probably enough time to dash back to his dorm room and change his shoes and socks, but he had wanted to catch his professor to ask him about the latest paper. Kicking at a pile of leaves, he curled his lip in disgust and continued his trudge towards the Geology building. It was going to be a long class.

***

About ninety minutes later, Ben sat with his still-sodden feet propped up on a chair, cold coffee by his left arm as he scribbled furiously, trying to keep up with Dr. Shiverick’s feverishly paced lecture. The man spoke quickly, evidently trying to fill up every spare second with every pearl of wisdom related to Advanced Field Geology possible. The notes and diagrams drifted by on his virtual monitor, automatically saved by his home system, but Ben had found that taking notes the old fashioned way; actually writing things down on his tablet made it much easier to remember them later on. It was a trick his mother had taught him, something she’d learned when she was a student of his famous father.

Ben scribbled quickly, the sensitive tablet converting his hasty scrawl into text. It had taken the computer three days to figure out what his hen scratches actually meant, but in the end it was worth it. His notes were neatly typed, easy to read, and available any time from his personal ‘net home system. Ben paused for a moment, stylus ready, before he realized that the professor had stopped talking. Looking up, he saw that one of the professor’s graduate assistants had entered the lecture hall. That alone was usually a crime worthy of immediate dismissal by the crotchety professor. Shiverick didn’t disappoint, pinning the unfortunate assistant with an ice stare as she traversed the length of floor from the door to the podium.

“Sorry, Professor Shiverick,” the woman said, blushing furiously. She spoke in a low tone, but the voice amplification system picked up her words anyway. “I’d never interrupt your class, sir, but this is important.” Handing him a small folded slip of paper, she stepped back. Dr. Shiverick scanned it quickly. Grimacing, he sighed and then looked up into the tiered seats of the lecture hall. “Ben?” he called. “Benjamin Dunefsky? Can you please go with Joanne? There’s someone here to see you.”

Ben didn’t like the look on Shiverick’s face. A finger of dread wriggled its way into his guts. “What the fuck?” he mumbled under his breath, grabbing his tablet and stylus, trying to shove them quickly into his backpack. In his haste, he didn’t notice as the spare stylus rolled off the desk. Shrugging off the bad feelings, he grabbed his coffee, took a slug and winced at the temperature. He hit the re-heat button on the smart-cup, knowing his coffee would be heated through in three seconds. Something told him he’d need it.

“What’s up?” Morales said, reaching down to grab the stray stylus and handing it to him.

“I have no idea,” Ben answered absently, pocketing the stylus. “It can’t be good.” He looked up at Shiverick, standing at the podium, foot tapping impatiently as he waited for the interruption to his lecture to end. “I better get out of here. I’ll catch you later.” He stood up, making his way down the steps of the lecture hall, avoiding eye contact from his fellow students. He made his way down to the front, meeting the professor’s eyes. “I’m sorry for the interruption, sir,” he said, and realizing a bit late how inane that sounded.

“It’s all right, Ben,” Shiverick said gently. “Morales can beam you the notes and you can make up any tests you miss.”

Ben blinked at the professor’s tone of voice, feeling the finger of dread in his gut turn into a whole hand. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said, although the look the man gave him was dubious. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can take all the time you need. Now, just go with Joanne. She’ll take you to where you need to go.”

“Um, yeah, ok,” Ben answered slowly, trying not to feel the eyes of the rest of the class focused on his back. Shouldering his backpack he followed the graduate student out of the lecture hall. “So, who is it?” he asked as they made their way down the hall.

“Your dad, I think,” she answered, looking over at him, eyes filled with…what? Could it be pity?

Ben ignored the look and scoffed. “My dad? Highly doubtful,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never met the man. Stuart Dunefsky never had time for a kid.”

Joanne looked at him curiously. “You’re related to that Dunefsky?”

“Genetically, yes.” He hated when people made the connection, although in this case he had brought it on himself. Another ridiculous comment. Must be stress, he thought to himself.

“Oh.” Ben was relieved when she didn’t seem to want to pursue that line of conversation further. “Well, there’s some guy out there waiting for you

“Must be Adam,” Ben surmised. “My step-father.”

“Well, whoever he is, he’s standing in the foyer.” Joanne pointed down the hallway. “I’ll make sure Morales gets you your notes, all right?”

“Yeah, thanks, Joanne,” Ben said, already mentally dismissing her as he spotted Adam’s familiar frame. He paid her no attention as the grad assistant paused for a minute to give him a half-wave and then turned around to head back to the class. The older man was pacing back and forth nervously, almost wearing a groove in the floor of the foyer in the Geology building. There was something in the way Adam moved and something in his face that made Ben feel suddenly cold. Something had happened, and the fact that Adam was here, and not his mother... Pausing, he quickly accessed the ‘net from his wireless receiver implant, the image of a search engine projected into empty space in front of him through his ocular implants. Pulling up a search engine, he tagged his hometown of Somerville, Massachusetts, and scanned for any local headlines.

“Ben,” Adam said, catching sight of him. His pacing path changed as he headed towards his stepson. “Ben, I’m so sorry. There’s been an accident…”

“Oh, shit,” Ben said softly. The headline had come up; there had been one of those car vs. telephone pole accidents. The car had skidded on wet leaves, the driver losing control of the vehicle and crashing into the nearest utility pole. The impact had killed the driver instantly; one Sarah Carver… Suddenly, the professor’s comments made sense. He couldn’t breathe.

“There was an accident,” Adam said again, putting his hand out and resting it on Ben’s shoulder “Your mom was driving, and lost control of the car. I’m sorry, son, she’s…”

“Dead,” Ben finished flatly, blinking to dismiss the image of the news story and shaking off Adam’s hand. Without looking at his stepfather, he coughed, bending over and trying to get enough air into his lungs. When did it get so cold in the building? “Why the fuck was she taking the manual drive road?” he asked when he had enough air in his lungs to talk. “You know she can’t drive worth shit!” The words came out harshly, angrily.

“The auto-drive on her car wasn’t functioning properly,” Adam said miserably. “She went out to get breakfast. I was still asleep, and Anna…”

“Oh, Jesus, Anna!” Ben looked up at Adam, still trying to catch his breath. “She’s not…”

“No, thank God. No, she was at school.”

Forcing himself to stand, Ben rubbed his eyes, wondering why they were still dry. Inside, the cold hand of dread from earlier was clenching his guts. Apparently it hadn’t yet reached his eyes. “Does she know?”

“Not yet.” Adam crossed his arms across his chest, his face miserable. “I wanted to spare her a little longer.”

Ben nodded, a blank expression crossing his features. He stood still for a minute longer, staring blindly at the floor. Finally he swallowed, blinked quickly two or three times and then nodded again. It was still hard to breathe; in fact it now felt like the walls were closing in on him. He had to get out of there. Adam would probably want to take him back home, but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t ride in the car with him. “Yes, well, ok,” he said briskly. “Let me know when the funeral is. I have to get back to class.”

“No, son,” Adam said gently, putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder again. “Your classes can wait. Come home. Anna’s going to need her big brother now more than ever.”

“No,” Ben said, pulling away again. Anger flooded through him at the touch. “I’m not your son,” he spat. The thought of going back to the apartment without his mother was too much. “I can’t go back there. Not…not without mom.”

“Of course you can go back!” Adam withdrew his hand. “It’s your home, Ben. As long as you like, it’s your home.”

“It’s never been my home,” Ben said, shaking his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ben.” Adam folded his arms. “Come home, Ben. I’ve got the car outside. We can stop by your room to get some clothes.”

“I can’t, Adam. Not…not now.” As soon as the flare of anger had come, it had departed. He felt empty. Shaking his head again, Ben shouldered his backpack, his hand still gripping the cup of coffee. “I gotta go. I’ll find my way home for the funeral. I promise.”

Adam sighed heavily, knowing from experience that arguing with his step-son was a fruitless endeavor. “All right. It’s going to be on Sunday. At St. Joseph’s. Four o’clock, ok?”

“Four. Got it.” Ben backed back down the hall. “I’ll be there,” he promised. He had one final glimpse of his stepfather’s grief stricken face before he turned the corner. Stopping in front of the door of the lecture hall, he paused. He could hear professor Shiverick droning on about something or the other. He put his hand on the door handle and then stopped. Somehow, sitting in the lecture hall and listening to Shiverick was the last thing he wanted to do. Dropping his hand, he turned and walked quickly down the hall towards the back door of the building. Outside, the leaden sky had begun to drizzle again. Ben ignored the rain, tossing his coffee cup into a receptacle and pulling his backpack fully onto his shoulders. Without no conscious thought, with no destination in mind, he began to run.