by Jay Mason
He felt like telling her to go to hell, but because he knew the librarian was only trying to be helpful, he went over and turned the machine one. He began spooling through the tape she had set up for him. He’d spend a few minutes and then he would thank her and leave.
As he was telling himself this he caught sight of a story. ‘Asylum attendant missing. Town searches all night, but no sign.’ He read on about this particular attendant, who the doctors and local people referred to as ‘the lantern man’. They wrote about how good a worker he was and the thoughtfulness of a man burning a special bright lamp at his own expense, because he always said ‘he wanted to bring light into the darkness of their madness.’ He flicked through a few more pages. There was another mention of a search and this time there were allegations that the man had been killed by the inmates, and the local authorities were covering it up. One man accused the lantern man of not providing light, so much as burning people with his lantern. He was quoted as saying, “Burns all over my Jeannie’s arms, there were. And no one would tell me how they got there. But I saw how frightened she was of that man. I reckon it was him.” The searches continued but the man was never found.
Rusty started to wind the spool backwards again. He wanted to check he hadn’t missed anything. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Mrs. Hutton with bat-like hearing raised her head and frowned at him over her glasses. Bethany’s mom name flashed up on the caller ID.
Rusty scrambled off his stool so fast it fell to the ground with a bang. He ignored it and ran out into the street, leaving the door swinging behind him.
He flicked the phone open. “Hallo,” he said breathlessly.
“Oh Rusty,” said Bethany’s mother, “If you want to,” she choked on a sob, “if you want to say goodbye you’d better hurry, dear.”
8. Forgotten Worlds
>Isn’t it possible you might both be right? (Typed c0nundrum) There often is a scientific explanation for things like this, but we can’t rule out the preternatural either.
>I don’t get you (Typed Alex).
>You live in the real world. But both you and I think there are other worlds.
>Alien or spirit?
>Probably both. Don’t interrupt. A good scientist knows we don’t understand everything. Something myths, legends, stories about magic etc., hold observations and clues that we can use because we don’t scientifically yet know what is behind them. It doesn’t mean that one day everything won’t be explained by science, but it isn’t yet.
>Do you mean like we know that energy can’t die? It always transmutes, but yet at death there is no electrical energy left in the body?
>That’s the kind of enigma I’m talking about, yes.
>Rusty would argue it was used up in chemical decomposition.
>Maybe he would, but as he is too apt to see reason, so you are too quick to see magic. You balance each other.
>Well, he never wants to see me again, so you’ll have to put up with unbalanced me.
>Why?
>I kissed him. His girlfriend is sick in hospital and I kissed him.
>Oh
>Nothing to say?
>Not my area of expertise. Did he kiss you back?
>Yes.
>Then you are both at fault. But if we would put this teen soap opera aside and get back to what matters. As I was saying you are going to need to get all the girls who set up this link back together if you are going to break it. You’ll need to replicate as closely as you can what they did so you can understand how to undo it. Rusty will understand about repeating …
Alex turned the computer off. She didn’t even log off. Just cut the power. She had had enough of c0nundrum. Couldn’t he understand there was no way she could ever work with Rusty again?
At 4 a.m. on Wednesday morning Bethany gave up her fight for life. She died without ever regaining consciousness. Her parents and Rusty were with her. All of them begging her to hold on, to stay with them, but as burn after burn blossomed across her skin Bethany decided she had had enough and died. Rusty held her hand until it had turned cold. His warm tears fell on her skin, but Bethany was no longer there to feel them. Eventually, the nurses took him gently away and sat him in a room with a plastic cup of coffee. He held on to it, but didn’t drink. He sat there holding it. Feeling the warmth go from the drink as he had felt it go from Bethany’s hand. Around him her parents had started to make phone calls to make arrangements. One minute her mother was in control the next she was sobbing brokenly in her husband’s arms. Rusty didn’t watch them. He sat there, feeling his coffee get colder and colder.
Alex sat at the back of the church. Her parents had chosen to sit further forward, but she had refused to go with them. Both Irene and Lewis seemed oblivious to any comments or stares. Even hidden in the shadow of a pillar, Alex felt as if all eyes were on her. Rusty hadn’t responded to her emails or texts. She hadn’t heard from him since before Bethany died. It was clear he blamed her for Bethany’s death.
It made no sense. He said he didn’t believe in the paranormal, but yet he was blaming her for something that was clearly not her fault. He had no idea how sick she felt about the whole thing. If only she hadn’t asked Bethany to show her what they had been doing, but there was no way she could have known the results would be so dramatic. If Rusty hadn’t pulled her out of the trance so abruptly or — so many ifs. The truth was all of this was the fault of whatever the girls had found down there. End of story.
But no one would ever believe her.
Alex sighed. Story of her life. Only this time there wasn’t anywhere to run away to. Her parents had no intention of leaving their new posts and there was no other college to take her. So either she had to face everything and everyone down or she became a recluse.
The priest was on his feet now talking about how sweet and lovely Bethany had been. Any minute now thought Alex he will speak of a young flower cut down in its prime. “A beautiful rose cut down before her time,” said the priest. Alex winced. The words were shallow. She could make out the back of Bethany’s mom. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed. How were the trite words this man on a pedestal was spouting, someone who had clearly not known Bethany, going to help? Any minute now the priest would start talking about taking comfort in the knowledge that Bethany had gone to a better place. But had she? For all Alex knew her spirit had been captured by whatever had tormented her. That was the worst of it. She feared Bethany still needed her help and she had no idea how to give it.
Alex couldn’t stand it any longer. She got up and crept towards the back of the church. She could meet her parents outside. With the main doors shut, the back of the church was darker than where Alex had been sitting. This was the only excuse she could offer as mid stealthily exit she collided with a six foot tall metal candlestick and sent it flying. It landed on the tiled floor with a loud ringing noise, which continued to both sound and echo as it rolled in semicircles in the aisle until it finally juddered to a stop against a pew. Alex froze. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the floor, but she felt the gaze of every single member of the congregation on her back.
She fled. She did not look back.
Unfortunately it was too far even for Alex to walk home and she didn’t have a set of car keys. She sat under the huge oak that had grown in the churchyard and calmed herself by reading the names off the gravestones and imagining what the people had been like. Why were some ‘beloved’ while others were simply ‘father’, ‘mother’, ‘son’ or ‘daughter’? One of the older graves had only Nellie Hill etched on it, which immediately made Alex want to know everything about Nellie Hill — including when she had died. There was nothing else on the old gravestone, so at one point those two words must have meant a lot to the local townsfolk.
Fully engaged in deciding whether Nellie was most likely to have been a blonde or a brunette, she didn’t hear Savannah come up behind her.
“How dare you show your face here?” she spat.
“Even my mother said it was a d
isgrace and she doesn’t know the half of it,” added in Tiffany.
“What?” said Alex rising to her feet to face the trio.
“The whole college knows you had Rusty round to your house repeatedly while Bethany was in hospital. Slut,” said Charisma, clearly enjoying venting her anger.
“What happened to Bethany wasn’t anything to do with me,” protested Alex.
Savannah came up close, too close. Alex could feel her breath on her face. “Oh yeah,” said Savannah, “then perhaps you can tell us why you, Rusty and Bethany was seen sneaking around the night she went into hospital.”
“I bet she planned it all,” said Charisma.
“How could you?” said Tiffany.
Savannah sneered. “She knew she didn’t stand a chance against Bethany in the normal way. That’s why she cursed her.”
“What?” said Alex. She heard herself speak, but the accusation threw her. Of all the things they might have said.
“A hundred years ago we would have burnt you,” said Charisma.
Alex found her tongue. “In a pissy backwater town like this more like ten,” she said.
Savannah turned to the others. “Told you girls. It’s all down to her.” The three girls stood shoulder to shoulder facing Alex. Their hatred felt like a sea washing over her. Any moment she would drown.
“I’m not the one who was doing séances for fun!” shouted Alex. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to dabble with things like that?” Her eyes flickered to the crowd emerging from the church that had been attracted by their argument. All the faces blurred into one mass, except those of her parents. Her mother looked furious and on her father’s face was an expression of weary disappointment. Alex ran at the girls who scattered. She vaguely registered that Savannah had fallen, but she didn’t stop. She ran for her parents’ car.
No one spoke in the car. From the backseat she saw her mother open her mouth to speak on several occasions, but her father always laid a hand on her arm whenever that happened. Her parents exchanged so many ‘speaking looks’ Alex feared all their troubles would end in a ditch.
No one stopped her from going straight to her room when they reached home, but neither did anyone offer her supper. Alex lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling which so recently had terrified her. Now it was nothing but a ceiling. Her room was nothing but a room. The whispering of the leaves in the trees outside where only that. There were no voices on the wind. The only true and terrible thing of the day was that Bethany was dead. Dead and gone with a finality that was as uncomprehensible as it was tragic.
Rusty didn’t believe what had happened to her. He didn’t believe anything supernatural had happened to Bethany. The cheerleaders had called her a witch, which was ridiculous by anyone’s reasoning. It was as ridiculous, Alex thought, as any of the things she had told the others. Why should anyone believe her? Why should she believe herself? What if she was wrong? What if her parents and Rusty were right? What if it was all her imagination? What if …? Alex fell asleep.
She had to find the box. A large, dark wooden box with a golden clasp. It would open at her touch. She saw it on the kitchen table. Only feet away from her. But the air became thick and heavy as she moved towards it. Every step strained her body. Her heart fought within in. She put out her hands, but the box was gone. All that remained was an outline of dust.
Dust. The tunnels under the school. She could hear the cheerleaders giggling behind the door. She kicked open the door. They were gathered around her box. The lid, upright towards her, so she couldn’t see inside. Savannah smiled at her. Blood dripped from Bethany’s eyes. Tiffany slammed the lid shut. “She can’t see it!” Charisma laughed. “It’s ours now,” she said. “You’ve lost it forever.”
Alex awoke. Her pillow felt damp. Outside the sun shone high in the sky. She had overslept. She got up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair sprouted wildly from her head. She must have tossed and turned all night. The darkness of it made the stark white of her face look deathly pale except where redness rimmed her eyes. She must have been crying in her sleep, but she couldn’t remember why. Her mother knocked on the door. “Alex, could you get dressed and come down? You have a visitor.”
Alex scrambled into her clothes and dragged her brush through her hair. A handful of it came away. She had no patience with the knots. Finally, Rusty had given in and come to see her. Pride kept her from running into the lounge, but when she walked in she stopped as if she had been pole-axed.
Dr. Straker stood up and walked over to her. Dressed once more in his impeccable suit, he smiled kindly at her — the picture of perfect avuncularness. But to Alex his blue eyes were as cold as stone.
Irene closed the door behind Alex and stood leaning against it. Lewis hovered in the background. The room seemed suddenly very small.
“Come and sit down, Alex,” said Dr. Straker. “I think we need to have a chat.” He held out his hand and involuntarily Alex put her hand in his. Dr. Straker’s hand was smooth and warm. Somehow she had expected it to be cold. His smile widened slightly. He led her to a chair and sat down opposite. He ignored her parents. His attention was focused on her. Alex found she could not look away from his face.
“Do you remember when we first met, Alex?”
“You came to dinner here,” said Alex. Her voice was quieter than she wanted it to be, but her mouth felt dry and her tongue too large for her mouth.
“Before that?”
“Outside Rusty’s house?”
“Ah, yes, I thought you had recognized me then.”
“How? I’d …”
“We know each other very well, Alex. We spoke every day for a year, but you’ve blocked the memory out.”
“No, that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is, my dear. I had hoped you would remember something of the time we spent together. Towards the end you were very happy.”
“You have to remember, Alex,” said Irene. “We all moved here so you could work with Dr. Straker. Everything we have done …” Her voice rose.
“If you cannot remain quiet, Irene, I must ask you to leave,” said Dr. Straker flicking his gaze towards her. As he did so, Alex felt released. She started to stand, but before she was halfway Dr. Straker had turned his full attention back to her. A gentle pressure on her arm and she found herself seated again. She had intense desire for her parents to leave. This was too personal. “I don’t want them here,” she said.
A flicker of amusement or perhaps satisfaction crossed Dr. Straker’s face. It was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure she had seen it. This time he did not look away from her. “I think it might be better if you left Alex alone with me. You can wait outside. It is important to respect her privacy.”
Alex vaguely heard her mother begin to protest, but her father ushered her out, murmuring something conciliatory. The room felt a lot less cramped when they had gone. It was as if the walls had moved out.
“Better?” asked Dr. Straker.
Alex nodded.
“Your parents sometimes forget you are a grown woman. Of course you will always be their child, but there is no need for them to be so,” he paused for a moment, “close.”
Alex nodded again. “I feel confined,” she heard herself say.
“I am not surprised,” said Dr. Straker, “but to be fair to them they are very worried about you. And worry, no matter how annoyingly they may display it to you, is a sign of love.”
Alex frowned. “Or control.”
“They two desires can often be far too intertwined. Especially in a case like yours. Let me tell you what happened a year ago, Alex. You were brought to me by your parents because you had been diagnosed as having suffered a psychotic break. Your parents were under the assumption that their ambitions for you had placed you under too much pressure in your final year at school and you had been unable to cope with this. Instead you had turned to the occult seeking arcane help to give you the insight or simply good fortune to pass your exam.
They believed you had become lost in a world of spells and myths, and could no longer tell illusion from reality. They dreaded you were schizophrenic. They even related an episode when you were very young and used to talk to an invisible friend. You were so convincing about the presence of this person that your parents, scientists to their core, had you exorcised.”
“I remember that,” said Alex slowly. “They made her go away. She hissed and writhed in smoke. The priest hurt her.”
“You were only three or four at the time, Alex. Your imagination is highly active and has always been so. Your parents tried their best, but by involving a religious figure they strengthened the memory of your invisible friend rather than dispelled it. You became more convinced than ever that she had been real, but you learned to keep such stories to yourself.” He leaned forward. “But you trusted me. You told me everything.”
“I don’t remember,” said Alex. She felt sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“Your face is reddening. Your pulse is quickening. You are beginning to sweat. You may not consciously remember, but the memory is attempting to surface. You can feel it physically.”
“You’re frightening me,” said Alex quietly.
Dr. Straker put out his hands and touched her wrists lightly. “I know, my dear. You are frightened because you are afraid to recall that for a while you were insane. That’s why you don’t remember me. I am linked to that time. A time you want more than anything to forget.”
“I-I.” Alex felt complete confusion. She knew what he was saying was right and yet she also knew he was totally wrong. Tears fell down her face, but she didn’t feel sad. She knew only she was lost.
“Now, we know a secret, don’t we Alex?” Said Dr. Straker. “We both know you are as smart as your parents. In fact probably smarter. Do you remember how I found it hard to find problems you couldn’t solve? We discovered that when your mind was fixed on a difficult problem regardless of the discipline, all the voices you were hearing went away.”