by Jan Kopia
Antonia’s eyes went wide. “Patrick Dane?”
“So you do know him,” James nodded. “Apparently the two of you went to the same university, specialized in the same field, too: mysticism.”
“We were friends… a long time ago,” Antonia said, unwilling to say much more, especially to James.
“Apparently he’s a researcher now. But he doesn’t have the best reputation within the field. He tends to favor a more… unorthodox approach.”
“Meaning?”
“He relies less on science and more on magic. Or what people consider to be magical anyway: shamans, soothsayers, mediums and psychics.”
“Is that what this article was about?” Antonia asked, curious despite her desire to appear casually disinterested.
“Well, to an extent,” said James. “He was involved in a pretty bad car accident a few months ago. His daughter was with him and she’s been in a coma ever since.”
“Oh no,” said Antonia, feeling her heart shudder a little in her chest. “How old is she?”
“Five or six, something like that,” James said. “Your friend Patrick lost consciousness during the accident. He claims that he felt his soul leave his body and travel up to some unknown place that he can’t quite describe. He believes his daughter’s soul kept going into this unknown world but he was pulled back down to earth when the paramedics revived him.”
Antonia glanced towards her research papers. “He said he felt his soul leave his body?” she asked.
“He said a bunch of other things besides. Apparently, he claims he watched his daughter’s soul get swallowed up by some black cloud.” James shrugged. “In any case, his story seems to align with the Russian doctors’ findings, wouldn’t you say?”
“I couldn’t possibly say,” Antonia said, trying to sound detached. “I haven’t read the article.”
“Well then maybe you should,” James suggested. “You could set up a meeting with him… I’m sure since you two are old friends he’d appreciate you getting in touch.”
Antonia frowned. “Why would you care either way?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well… I thought I could join you?” James said. “Maybe ask him a few questions of my own. I think a personal connection might help him open up to me.”
“You’re looking for a story,” Antonia said, unable to keep the pinch of anger from her tone. “And you’re willing to exploit a grief-stricken father to get it?”
“Hey now… he wants someone out there to pay attention to him,” James said. “Why else would he have written the article and published it online?”
“James, I have work to do,” Antonia said. “And I’m not going to be able to concentrate with you around.”
“Yeah… I have that effect on women.”
With the greatest difficulty, Antonia succeeded in keeping her eyes from rolling back. “Would you mind?”
“Fine, alright,” James sighed, as he straightened up. “Then how about we catch up sometime when you’re not working?”
Antonia frowned. “I’m not interested in being interviewed,” she said firmly. “I have nothing new or interesting to say. I need to focus on making a breakthrough in my research—”
“It wouldn’t be an interview,” said James. “More like… a date.”
Antonia had long suspected that James was interested in her, but she’d so far managed to avoid his advances. Of course, that was easier when he wasn’t being direct.
“James, I don’t have room in my life for a relationship right now. We can meet sometime... but just as friends.”
She had hoped that promising to meet him would soften the blow of her rejection, but James only grinned. “I’ll wear you down,” he promised. “Wait and see.”
The moment James left, Antonia sat down at her computer and opened the search engine. She typed in Patrick’s full name and a few keywords, and his article showed up. She opened it, feeling a tingling sensation at her fingertips.
Antonia read the whole article in silence and felt the tingling sensation spread through her whole body. She didn’t understand why she felt this way. It was more than just about her and Patrick and their history together. She could sense it: the thrill of discovery, the uncovering of secrets. Was this what fate felt like? Was there such a thing as destiny?
All Antonia knew for certain was that it was all connected. The discovery the Russian doctors had made, her own research, and now Patrick. It was all linked… and she needed to find out why.
Antonia picked up her phone and called directory assistance. “Hello,” she said. “I need the number for a Patrick Dane please.”
Chapter Two
The sun slanted in from the open window, but the room was still cast in ethereal darkness. Patrick flipped on the light switch. He didn’t want Tess to be in darkness… or maybe he was the one who didn’t want to be in darkness.
He walked over to Tess’s side and brought her tiny hand to his lips. “I’m going to get you back, Tess,” he vowed. It was the same promise he'd made every day for the last several months. “I know you’re still out there. I can feel you with me, even now. Whatever that was that caught you… I’m going to free you from it.”
Patrick felt warmth spread through his body like a hug. Was that Tess? Was she with him right now? He wanted to believe that more than anything in the world, but he was scared. He'd been scared ever since he'd opened his eyes and realized that Tess wasn't with him.
Anita leaned her head into the room. She was a portly, middle-aged nurse; she looked severe, but she'd been nothing but kind to him. Right from the moment Tess and he had landed here in the hospital to play this endless waiting game.
“She feels a little cold to me,” said Patrick.
Anita walked into the room, and started checking all the machines Tess was hooked up to. “She’s fine,” she said gently. “Her vitals are good.”
“Then why isn’t she waking up?”
They had this conversation maybe once a week, but Anita never got impatient with him. It was more than could be said for some of the other doctors and nurses.
“We can’t know the answers to certain things,” said Anita. “You know what they say: science only goes so far, and then…”
“God takes over,” Patrick finished.
“Yes,” Anita nodded, as she patted his arm. “Have faith.”
Before Patrick could respond, the door opened again and Carrie walked in. Anita gave her a courteous smile, before giving Patrick another pat and leaving the room.
“How is she?” asked Carrie, without meeting Patrick’s eye.
“The same,” he replied gruffly.
The relationship between them had been strained for the past two years, ever since they'd first separated. Patrick had hoped that, with the divorce finalized, they could maintain some sort of civility for Tess’s sake. But then the accident had happened. Instead of giving them common ground in their shared grief over Tess’s condition, the trauma had just pushed them further apart.
“I spoke to Tess’s doctors just now,” Carrie said.
Patrick gritted his teeth together, knowing what was coming.
“They say that they spoke to you…" said Carrie. "About the possibilities for Tess?” Carrie said.
“What possibility was that?” snapped Patrick. “I didn’t hear any possibilities… I heard them tell me to kill my daughter.”
Carrie froze in place, but Patrick could see that she was angry too. “Taking her off life support would be a mercy,” she said. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke. “We need to let her go.”
Patrick stared at Carrie for so long that she became visibly uncomfortable, dropping her gaze. “Look at her,” he demanded. “Look at her… she’s still alive. How can you give up on her when there’s a chance she can come back?”
Carrie threw up her hands.
“Come back?” she asked, with tears welling in her eyes. “Come back from where? Do you really think there’s some special kingdom in the
sky? Is that what you believe, Patrick? Everyone is asking about that article you wrote; our friends, our family. They all think you've lost your mind.”
“And do you?” Patrick asked.
“It certainly seems that way,” she said. “She’s been in a coma for months, Patrick. Months. The doctors say if we continue to keep her on life support there's a chance she could end up brain dead. Is that what you want?”
“She’s not brain dead,” said Patrick, trying to contain his anger.
“Are you going to wait 'til she is?” Carrie asked. “How can you bear it? How can you bear seeing her like this?”
“Because there's a chance," spat Patrick. "A chance to save her. And I can’t believe that you, as her mother, aren’t clinging to that chance with every fiber of your being.”
Carrie looked at Patrick and shook her head. “The doctors are saying we should pull the plug.”
“I won't sign off on that,” Patrick said, his face turning red. “And I have sole custody.”
Carrie looked at Tess lying on the bed. Patrick could see she was avoiding looking at Tess’s face. “I wish you wouldn’t do this,” she said.
“What do you care?” demanded Patrick. “You’re still moving to France, aren’t you? You're taking that job.”
“They gave me three months because of the accident,” Carrie sighed. “But now I either have to move there or turn down the job.”
“You won't turn it down. Your career has always been more important to you than Tess or me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I understood when you wanted to move to France,” Patrick said. “I knew that you were ambitious. I even understood when you gave me full custody of Tess. You knew that I could take care of her better than you ever could. But this — trying to convince me to take her off life support — this I can't understand.”
“I want what’s best for her… she’s in a better place now, isn't she?” Carrie pleaded. “And just because you’re convinced about this madness with 'souls' and 'alternate worlds' doesn't mean you’re right. It means you’re desperate and you’re clinging to whatever fantasy allows you to believe that Tess isn't dead.”
“A better place?” Patrick repeated, with muted hostility. “I saw something take her, just before I was pulled back to earth. Something has her and—"
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t need you to believe me,” Patrick said. “I just need you to leave me alone to make the decisions where Tess is concerned. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Carrie asked. “Why would you even publish that article online? Why call attention to yourself… to Tess?”
“Because someone out there will hear me, and maybe that someone can help Tess.”
“Who, Patrick?" she asked disdainfully. "Some equally-delusional person who believes in fairytales and folklore? A fortune teller? Or is it a witch this time?”
“Just because you don’t understand something, doesn't mean you have to disbelieve it,” Patrick said.
Carrie opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped short. A tense silence filled the room and Patrick started to feel claustrophobic. He just wanted Carrie to leave so that he could hear himself think. Whenever she visited, she always brought doubt with her. Patrick had no time to second-guess himself… he was running out of time and he knew it.
“I’m worried about you, Patrick,” Carrie said, trying to soften her tone.
“Why start now?” Patrick shot back.
He saw her eyes grow cold and turn from him. “I’m leaving for France in two days.”
“Fine… I hope you’re happy there,” Patrick spat, unable to keep the judgment from his tone.
Carrie cringed, but she didn’t say anything. She walked over to Tess’s bedside and took her hand. “Can you give me a moment alone with my daughter?” she asked.
Patrick nodded and left the room, feeling a little light headed. He stood outside by the door and waited. Four minutes later, Carrie appeared. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she looked like she was in control of herself. “Goodbye Patrick,” she said.
Patrick nodded brusquely. Carrie hesitated, looking like she was waiting for him to say something.. When he didn’t, she sighed and started walking down the hall.
“Carrie,” Patrick called after her.
“Yes?” she said, turning slightly.
“Brandon Derry was found guilty,” Patrick said. “Criminal negligence.”
“I know,” Carrie nodded. “One year in jail, and a fine.”
Patrick ground his teeth together. “He should have gotten life.”
Carrie looked at him a moment longer, then continued down the hall without glancing back.
Patrick went back into the room to sit beside Tess. He pulled out his computer and scanned through emails. There was a lot of junk mail, spam and random emails from a handful of nut jobs, trying to convince him that God was angry and that the world was going to end soon.
But one email caught his eye. The name of the sender’s address read ‘Diane Bronco’ but there was no subject. Patrick wasn’t sure why he felt drawn to her name; he just knew he had to know what the email said.
It was a single sentence: I believe you. Underneath was an address, a date and a time.
Was this the break he'd had been waiting for? Was his desperate hope justified? Patrick picked up his phone to type the details of the email into his notes when it began to ring. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” Patrick said distractedly.
“Patrick?”
“Speaking. Who is this?”
“It’s me… Antonia.”
Patrick felt his world spin off its axis for a moment. Could it be a coincidence that Antonia, his Antonia, was calling him at this moment, after years of silence? No, he no longer believed in coincidences. Things happened for a reason.
Everything was happening for a reason.
Chapter Three
“Antonia?”
Antonia turned to Caleb, who still had his headphones on. His face was scrunched up in concentration, but she could see the strange mix of emotions there.
“What is it?” she asked. “Have you found something?”
“I’ve been tracking the energy levels in all the nearest hospitals,” Caleb said. “Just like you asked me to.”
“And?” She felt her heart skip a beat as she moved closer to him.
“There’s a distinctive sound coming through.”
“Let me listen,” she said.
She grabbed the headphones and placed them over her head. At first, she heard nothing. Then, there was a little spike of sound that seemed to rise and fall. Antonia frowned. “It just sounds like noise.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Caleb nodded. “But keep listening…”
She focused on the erratic sound and tried not to think of anything else. The more she concentrated, the more the sound seemed to peak, as though it was aware of an audience.
“Can we try to adjust the probability amplitude?” asked Antonia. “If we can increase the amplitude… maybe we’ll be able to make something out.”
“On it,” Caleb nodded.
Antonia looked over his shoulder as he worked. “The wave functions are so… erratic.”
She caught a glimpse of Rebecca walking into the lab, a sour look on her face. “What’s wrong?” Antonia asked, taking off the headphones.
“James is here.”
“Again?” Antonia sighed. “For God’s sake… the man can’t take a hint.”
“Is it a story he wants?” asked Rebecca. “Or a date with you?”
“Both,” Antonia replied. “More likely the former. Where is he now?”
“I told him you weren’t in the lab,” Rebecca said. “I told him he had just missed you.”
“Bless you,” Antonia smiled. “It’s a good thing, too… we’re tracking the sound that’s been emanating off the bursting lights.”
“The souls?” Rebecca
asked.
Antonia paused for a moment. “I’m hesitant to give myself over fully to that theory. There has to be another explanation, a scientific one. Some quantifiable reason why these lights have suddenly revealed themselves to us.”
“I spent the morning reading through online polls,” Rebecca admitted. “Apparently people are running back to religion; trying to find the answers in God.”
Before Antonia could speak, a loud piercing sound shrieked from the headphones, causing Antonia to drop them on the floor..
“Jesus,” Rebecca gasped, clutching her heart.
Antonia turned to Caleb. “What the hell was that?”
“Energy spike," said Caleb. "t was too much to convert.”
“Surely the other amplifiers have picked up the sound?” Antonia asked.
Caleb picked up the headphones and slipped them headphones back on. He listened for a moment; his eyes went wide and Antonia saw his hands tremble.
“Caleb?” Rebecca said, and Antonia could tell she was nervous.
“I… there’s something… I can hear… I can hear…”
“What?” Antonia asked impatiently. “Tell us what you hear.”
“Here,” Caleb said, thrusting the headphones towards Antonia. “Listen.”
She slipped them on again and listened. This time she didn’t have to concentrate or focus. The sound was muted but distinct… it clawed at her ears and made her feel both exposed and vulnerable. Unable to stand it any longer, Antonia removed the headphones so violently that they toppled to the floor.
“What was it? What did you hear?” asked Rebecca, looking between Antonia and Caleb.
“It sounded like people," said Antonia. "Human beings with their voices raised.” She knew she wasn’t accurately describing what she'd heard.
Caleb was staring at her. “Did it sound like… pain? Like they were screaming in pain?
Antonia met his eyes. “Yes,” she nodded.
Rebecca picked up the headphones and slipped them on. Antonia watched as she stood there rigidly, concentrating on the sound, like she was trying to make sense of the horrible sounds she was hearing. Rebecca listened for longer than Antonia or Caleb had. When she finally put down the headphones, her face looked drained of color and her fingers trembled slightly.