"The Sound of Angels" features a woman on Puget Sound who is fitted with a transceiver so that she can communicate with her dying lover, who is miles away. It is a haunting, emotional story..."--Rebecca Swain, The Green Man Review
"... a poignant tale of a lesbian couple's last moments together--just the two of them, a mind-link, and a pod of killer whales..."--Carl Cipra, Lambda Sci-Fi
Carrie leaned against the boat railing, Ellen's neuro-crosslink in her ear; Ellen wanted Carrie to be with her when she died today. Carrie gripped the edges of her teal windbreaker. Haro Strait in May was nippy, making her shiver.
The doctors had pinpointed Ellen's bodily functions to begin shutting down by 3 pm with the moment of death arriving at 4 pm. Ah, the wonders of modern medicine, Carrie thought. No scientific breakthroughs for curing cancer, but a new process to estimate the time of death.
Over the months, Ellen's condition had deteriorated, rendering her practically comatose. If it hadn't been for the neuro-crosslinks that Ellen had demanded be installed between them, Carrie wouldn't be able to be with Ellen now. She was a thousand miles away in a hospital bed while Carrie was out in the Puget Sound on a whale watching boat. Ellen had jokingly referred to the crosslink as a cellular phone.
'Buck up, love,' Ellen thought. 'You've been with me this long. Stay with me an hour more.'
A cold blackness hung inside Carrie, warmed only by the presence of Ellen's thoughts and feelings transmitted via satellite. Morphine-fogged images of their lakeside cottage fed into Carrie's already overloaded cortex.
'Why couldn't I stay with you, Ellen? In twelve years, this is the longest we've ever been apart? Why now?'
Ellen's tired voice whispered through her head as the cool breeze off the Strait pressed against her face. 'This will be the toughest hour of our relationship, kiddo. Stay with me, okay?'
Carrie fought down a sob and nodded. She watched the horizon, the blue blurring to green and back again. Cedars and firs framed the edge of the dark teal water. The hum of the boat resonated through her arms and into her chest. The air tasted of salt. It calmed her. There were less than a dozen people on this cruise, all of them keeping mostly to themselves. Off season was a good time to be here.
'Can you see the Sound, Ellen?'
Ellen had grown up here--on San Juan Island, near Friday Harbor--and hadn't been back in twelve years.
'When I was a kid--' Ellen paused and in a moment, pain rippled through Carrie, minimized for her by an endorphin filter. 'This water murmured peace and the dockboards echoed laughter,' Ellen continued. 'They still do--to anyone who'll listen. Are you listening?'
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