by Ingrid Fry
Jason was in my face yelling at me. I couldn’t hear him, only the hurricane in my ears. The room narrowed, closing in. The pressure in my head was intense. I could feel my cranium expanding. My brain was about to break out of my skull.
No fear. No pain. No consequences.
Through a haze of rose red, all I could see was Boo.
This. Was. The. Last. Straw.
I wanted to slap that dog to kingdom come. I snatched the iron off the table and lunged. I needed to smash her head into oblivion, grind it into the floor, pulverise and mash it.
I was death. I was destruction.
‘Maggie! Stop!’
Jason gripped my wrist so hard it hurt. He wrenched the iron from my hand. His face was white, and on it was an expression I’d never seen.
He yelled at me. ‘Are you insane? What the hell’s gotten into you?’
I don’t know what he saw in my face, but he slapped it so hard I saw stars. With the slap, I awoke. My head throbbed, my face stung, and I cried. I cried because I didn’t know what was going on. I cried because I’d wanted to kill my dog. I cried for Mum and Dad and because Jason hit me. I cried because I was scared, no, make that terrified, and because of all the bad things that ever happened to me and to those I loved.
I’d experienced hell, heaven, and gone back to hell in the space of a few moments. I knew then that I had no idea of what was to come, and the realisation made me cry some more. Everything I knew about life had been thrown into a blender and blitzed on high. The result? Mayhem. Danger. Terror. The stuff of your worst nightmares. Our lives would never be the same, and neither would anyone else’s. Every man, woman and child was at risk. What scared me witless was that no one knew it yet, but it wouldn’t be long. The descent into darkness had begun.
Jason took me in his arms and held me until I had not a single tear left. Then, as I put one leaden foot in front of the other, he slowly steered me towards the bedroom. He drew back the covers on our California King, sat me on the bed and said, ‘Skin a rabbit.’
I held up my arms and he pulled off my jumper and gently removed the rest of my clothes, as I sat zombie like. Covering me in the bedclothes, he disappeared into the ensuite and returned with a glass of water and two pills cupped in his hand.
‘Take these.’
‘And they are?’
‘Sleeping pills,’ he said. ‘I’ve got The Magic Blankie too.’ He draped me with a bright orange alpaca throw.
‘Thank you,’ I murmured. ‘That’ll fix me.’
When feeling poorly, having Jason wrap me in our orange ‘Magic Blankie’ always revived me. Tucking it around my body, he transformed me into a bright orange mummy. Encompassed in orange warmth, I surrendered to the embrace of benzodiazepine.
Sounds reached my groggy brain—I struggled to interpret them, they seemed far away.
Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic — Boo’s nails on floorboards.
Squeak, squeakady, squeak — Jason’s runners.
BANG! — Front door, slamming shut.
Despite being drugged, the ferocity of the sound made me flinch. It was an ominous exclamation mark to the day’s events. Jason and Boo had left. Given my insane behaviour, I doubted they would return. Ever.
* * * * *
A surge of relief flowed through me as I awoke hours later to find myself in bed with Jason and Boo. Jason lay beside me, staring into my eyes.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ I whispered. ‘I thought you might have run away.’
Jason’s face was in serious mode. ‘I did think about it.’
I immediately felt sick to my stomach. My face must’ve reflected that, as Jason grabbed me and held me tight. His wool knit was soft against my cheek, and I could smell a faint aroma of garlic and mushrooms. Perhaps a touch of cinnamon?
‘Are you making breakfast?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Your weakness has always been food and men—in that order,’ he teased, tickling me in the ribs.
I gave him a whack. ‘Very funny. I believe the quote relates to Dolly Parton, not me.’
He stroked my cheek. ‘I am indeed making you breakfast, my love. Sautéed mushrooms with garlic and herbs, sour dough toast, followed by cinnamon pancakes with butter and maple syrup.’
I knew then all was right with the world. Well, fingers crossed, for the next couple of hours anyway.
[9]
Chapter 10: The Voice
‘A person finds joy in giving an apt reply - and how good is a timely word!’ — Proverbs 15:23
Lately, it seemed we were always debriefing. I hoped we’d get through this next debrief without anything else happening because I really wanted to finish my pancake.
‘So, what happened?’ Jason asked, slipping another pancake onto my plate.
‘I don’t know. All I remember is standing there minding my own business and then bang, I’m on the floor with Boo sitting on my chest.’
A sudden recollection hit me. I gasped.
‘What?’ Jason asked.
‘A memory came back. It was Boo sitting on my chest after she saved us from the Dark Force. ‘Boo, I’m sorry,’ I said, stroking her. ‘You’ve been through a lot too. We’re all going to behave a bit crazy. Given what’s been happening, it’s only normal to be crazy.’
‘Do you realise what you said?’ Jason asked, with what I hoped was the start of a smile.
‘Yep, crazy is the new normal.’
The smile wasn’t a happening thing. His eyes were filled with worry, his mouth a thin line. He brushed back a lock of hair, took a breath and said, ‘You weren’t you. You were … were … psycho. Your face was not your face. You were strong. Scary strong. I thought you were going to brain me with the iron. Your face, your whole persona—it was pure evil.’
Jason paused, raked his hands through his hair and then took me by the shoulders. ‘Seriously, if I hadn’t stopped you, you would have killed Boo,’ he said softly, ‘and maybe me. That’s not normal. It’s crazy.’
A mirror on a nearby wall rattled and we started at the noise. The newspaper clipping I’d tucked under the side of it, dislodged and floated towards us like a yellow autumn leaf. Mesmerised, we watched as it finally came to rest on my plate. The headline read: “Leading Astrophysics Professor Vanishes”.
I shuddered as a white-hot chill ran down my spine, along both arms and then dropped a u-ey back to my brain. My head burned, like the first time I visited a Japanese restaurant and swallowed a small ball of wasabi, thinking it was marzipan. I remembered feeling every sinus right to the back of my cranium. It hurt a lot. This felt like that.
‘Ow! Jason, I remember!’ I rubbed my head frantically to ease the sensation. ‘Before I tried to kill Boo, I was attempting to contact Dad and something terrible latched onto me. I couldn’t control it, couldn’t block it out. Bloody hell! I’ve gotta stop thinking or it might come back.’
I jumped up, raced into the bedroom, and yanked open a dresser drawer.
‘Where is it?’
I rummaged around assorted underwear and socks until I felt the coolness of the necklace.
‘Got it!’
I dropped it over my head and an immediate shroud of protection enveloped me. It was so heavy it was as if I’d put on a real cloak.
I returned to the table. ‘I’ll be fine now.’
Jason eyed my green crystal necklace.
‘Ash gave that to you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. Moldavite. Protects against psychic attack. He came across it in a new age shop and figured it might be useful for me.’
‘You might want to think about stocking up on a few more then,’ he said dryly, doing a first-rate impersonation of Mr. Spock’s raised cynical eyebrow.
I’m a big fan of the one eyebrow lift; it speaks volumes without a single word. I’ve tried numerous times to gain sole control of one brow, but can only manage a crumpled worried look rather than sardonic splendour.
‘Whatever it was, it took me over,’ I said, recollecting my thoug
hts. ‘I had no control. It was hunting me. It changed me. I was it. I was homicidal rage. I was like a … a … Dalek! That’s it! All I wanted to do was exterminate. Destroy. Kill. Kill everything.’
There it was. Jason’s face found his smile and it was a thing of pure joy.
‘Yes! You were a goddamn Dalek! Dead set, we’re in a real-life episode of Doctor Who. I always thought that would be cool!’ His smile wavered. ‘Now I’m not so sure. Do you remember the blue light, when you asked me to hold your head?’
‘Yes, everything’s coming back.’
‘That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. What was it?’
‘A guardian angel. It saved my life, through you. Boo, the angel and you saved my life. Everyone has a guardian angel.’
Jason’s face reverted to serious mode. ‘Good to know. Ours are going to be working overtime, I reckon.’
I held Boo’s face and gazed into her beautiful eyes.
‘Oh, you gorgeous girl. You fair dinkum legend. Thank you, Boo!’
‘It’s my pleasure,’ a disembodied voice in my mind said. Judging by Jason’s expression, he’d heard the voice too.
Prince Charles was back!
‘I wasn’t particularly enamored about being brained by an iron, but it wasn’t you, dear Maggie. It was the Dark Force.’
‘What? You mean the shadow creature?’
‘Indeed,’ Prince Charles—I mean Boo, said.
‘Oh hell,’ Jason said. ‘It’s not dead.’
‘Indeed,’ Boo confirmed.
‘Fuck,’ Jason said.
‘Jason! Language. You’ve been hanging around Ashley for too long.’
‘Indeed,’ Boo said.
Jason had a smug look on his face. ‘I beg to disagree. Current scientific studies indicate creative swearing makes you smarter and, “a voluminous taboo lexicon may be considered an indicator of healthy verbal abilities rather than a cover for deficiencies.”’
‘You’ve been practicing that for months, haven’t you? Just waiting for the right moment.’
‘Fuck, yeah!’ His wrap around smile was back in full force.
‘Humph,’ Boo said. ‘I’m reminded of a joke your father used to tell. Prince Charles arrived in outback Tinnambanooba, and was collected by the Mayor en route to open a civic building. “I don’t wish to be rude,” the Mayor said to Prince Charles, “but I’m curious as to why you’re wearing a big fur hat when the temperature is a blistering 140 degrees in the water bag?”
“Well,” Prince Charles said, “I consulted with Mummy as to the appropriate apparel I should wear in Tinnambanooba, and she said, ‘Tinnambanooba? Wear the fox hat!”’
We laughed and I said, ‘Boo, you couldn’t be a more perfect person ... er, I mean dog, to tell that joke, with your accent and all.’
‘What accent?’ Boo asked.
‘English. You sound exactly like Prince Charles,’ I said.
‘You’re kidding?’
‘No.’
‘But I’m a girl dog.’
‘I know. That’s what makes it so weird.’
‘Indeed. I was watching the Antiques Roadshow when Prince Charles was being interviewed. He had me spellbound. Perhaps my accent is an imprint from then?’
We shrugged our shoulders.
‘Who knows?’ Jason said.
‘And what’s with this communication thing?’ I asked. ‘Your lips aren’t moving, but we can hear you crystal clear.’ I turned to Jason for confirmation, and he nodded in agreement. ‘And why haven’t we been able to hear you all the time? And how come we can hear you at all?’
‘If you would let me get a word in, I will endeavour to explain what I know before we lose the wavelength.’
I went to ask another question, but Boo looked down her nose at me, as if over imaginary spectacles, so I shut up.
‘Firstly, our communication is precious, so only important things must be said. The joke was a waste of a precious resource. Please accept my sincere apologies.
‘I have something important to say,’ I interrupted.
‘Do proceed.’
‘I love you, Boo.’
I’m not sure if a dog can blush, but if they could I’m sure Boo was as red as my mum’s strawberry jam.
‘You’re most kind. Shall we continue?’
Jason and I nodded in agreement, and I think we were a little red in the face too, from trying to suppress our mirth.
‘The frequency on which we are able to communicate seems to wax and wane and I am uncertain as to the reason why this is the case. The reason we are able to communicate was caused by our contact with the crystal sphere. I believe contact with this artifact results in changes on many levels, most of which have not yet become apparent to us. Telepathic communication is one obvious modification. Maggie, I believe your psychic abilities have been enhanced. Jason, you are physically stronger than before.’
‘Yes, you nearly broke my arm getting the iron off me,’ I said, touching the ring of blue bruises around my wrist.
‘Sorry ‘bout that. I broke a couple of glasses yesterday, smashed them in my hand picking them up to take a drink. And look at this,’ he said as he crushed a paper cup with one hand. ‘Brute strength, or what?’
Jason was having fun and relishing the idea of being a superman.
‘Want me to rub some arnica on your wrist?’ he said, with a genuine hangdog look of remorse on his face.
‘No, she’ll be right. Thanks, but. Looks like we’re going to have to invest in some cheap glassware. And whatever you do, don’t touch what’s left of Dad’s crystal glasses.’
‘No worries.’
‘Before I forget, we have to go on the roof and find the dead meteor you launched up there.’
‘Yes! See, another example of my strength,’ Jason said.
‘We are digressing,’ Boo said.
Jason nodded. ‘Yes, we’re good at digressing. We like to digress. Good word that. Please continue, Boo.’
‘I am unsure why, but the crystal sphere drew me to the house,’ Boo said. It was calling to me, and you sensed the call too, Maggie.’
‘You mean the weird, high frequency noise that vibrated my bones?’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘Now, dear Maggie, I wanted to tell you this many times, but of course I didn’t have the ability. All I could do was stare at you, trying to will you my message. The only effect this had was to freak you out as you say, and lead you to compare me to Eddie, the dog in the television series, Frasier. Eddie is a marvellous dog, and I quite enjoyed watching his antics, but for me, I most enjoy the Dog Whisperer. Cesar Millan and his pack are an inspiration. Mister Millan’s education program for humans has saved many dogs from insanity. For example, teaching humans how to properly meet and greet a dog. I mean, going to greet a dog, crouched over like an orangutan, waving your hands and saying in a high-pitched voice, “Here, Doggie, Doggie, Doggie!” is uncouth and the height of rudeness. It’s not good etiquette and all dogs hate it. No touch, no talk, no eye contact, now that is how you greet a dog. Stand close and ignore them. If a dog wants to interact with you, the dog will let you know. Mister Millan has saved countless dogs from the unwitting cruelty and stupidity of humans and I—’
Jason and I stared at each other with wide eyes, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. This dog is on a roll, has a lot to get off her chest, and what if she never shuts up? We enjoyed the silent company of dogs and often wondered if they could talk, if they would be little chatterboxes that never quit—a sort of stream of consciousness type of communication.
Jason rolled his eyes. ‘Oh my God. It’s come true!’
I nodded.
‘What’s come true?’ Boo asked.
‘Nothing,’ Jason said.
‘I was digressing, wasn’t I?’
‘Yes,’ we said.
‘You were about to tell Maggie something important.’
‘Indeed. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. It’s about your fath
er and what he did before he disappeared.’
My breath caught in my throat. ‘What?’
Jason took my hand.
Boo continued. ‘As you know, he was working on a project utilising the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, and then on his return to Australia he did some additional work using The Australian Synchrotron facilities. It was around that time I saw him—’
‘Yes, yes? Go on!’ I said.
Silence. And there it was: the Eddie stare.
I thumped my fist on the table. ‘Oh, damn it!’
‘Don’t worry,’ Jason said, ‘the comms will come back. Boo said so. We have to wait.’
‘God! It’s frustrating. It’s like getting to the end of a drama and seeing the deadly words, To Be Continued.’
Poor Boo was sad, making raised eyebrows and scrunchy, folded ears.
‘How long will we have to wait? Jason, this is important! What a bloody—’ A surge of rage hit me. I stopped mid-sentence, frightened by the force of the feeling.
‘What?’ Jason asked.
‘Um, nothing.’
Damn those hawk eyes. They always burned the truth out of me.
‘I was angry,’ I said, sheepishly.
‘Like before?’
‘It had potential.’
‘I saw it flash across your face. Your expression was evil. What the hell is it—a demon?’
‘Nope. It’s human.’
‘That’s nuts. How can it be?’
‘Because it feels like it. The energy resonates similar to human pain and rage, but concentrated, and not from a single human either, millions of them. I feel negative vibes from humans all the time, but this is distilled, dense. It feels like the essence of every negative emotion generated by humankind. It feels like the Dark Force.’