“Why do you think she left the program? I mean, thank God she did for my sake, but someone that dedicated to the work wouldn’t just up and leave. Would she?”
At the end of the hall, she could see the word LAB etched into a pair of glass doors.
“None of us really know. One day she was here, the next day she was gone. Maybe she had a change of heart. Or a better offer from somewhere else.”
Paula nodded.
Will touched her arm before they entered the lab. “Let me do the talking, okay? We’ve got to appear casual.”
“What do I look like now? Wild and crazy?” She brushed her hands down her conservative gray flannel slacks and then buttoned one more button on her tailored white shirt.
The primmer the better for the lab rats.
Will’s eyes lingered a little too long on the fingers at her chest. When he caught her noticing, he blushed.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll be quiet, I promise. You just do your thing.”
“Yes, uh, quiet. I’ll do the talking. You just stand there and look concerned.”
“Got it.”
The two of them were a funny pair: Paula, with her iron-fresh clothes and no-nonsense loafers, and Will, with what looked like the same pair of ripped up jeans from yesterday and a t-shirt emblazoned with a huge Pi symbol. Yet, he was the one in charge of the situation. Paula smiled to herself at the dichotomy.
Will pushed through the double-glass doors with Paula hot on his heels. She’d never been inside the lab before. Several metal shelving units, piled with dismantled black boxes, lined the walls. Frayed wires stuck out of the backs of some of them. Others were split in half like pistachio shells with circuit boards exposed.
So this is where the magic begins.
The lab rats were in charge of constructing the black boxes and tweaking them during the experiment according to Dr. Pritchard’s specifications. Paula wasn’t sure how this all happened. During the weekly departmental meetings, the lab reports included terminology that went over her head. During that portion of the meeting, she fantasized about another cup of coffee.
“Hey, Larry.” Will headed toward a tall, hulking person hunched over the electronic guts of a black box.
Larry straightened up from the work table. Shaggy, dirty blond hair radiated from behind a welder’s mask. In his hand he held a mini-welder, which burned a little blue flame. He lifted the mask but kept the flame on.
“Hey, Zap, how’s it going?” Underneath the mask two small, dark eyes were set into a large round head.
“Zap?” Paula wrinkled her brow.
“You mean he didn’t tell you the story?” Larry had a big booming voice to go with that huge body.
Paula shifted her gaze to Will. “What story?”
“Lar, we’re not here for a walk down memory lane.” Will gave Paula a look that said, What part of ‘let me do the talking’ don’t you understand?
Paula opened her mouth but shut it when Will narrowed his eyes at her.
Right. Zip it. Silencio.
“What can I do for you?” Larry removed the heavy welder’s mask and set it next to the dissected black box. “Need a spot weld?” He leaned forward with his mini-welder and flicked the flame higher.
Larry the Lab Rat was a little psycho.
“I need you to pull some data records for me.” Will ignored the hot blue flame dancing in front of them. “My statistical matrix for the last two weeks seems to be skewed. I’ve had such consistent results. I want to run some of the numbers again and see if I made a mistake somewhere. Could you help me out?”
Larry continued to hold the mini-welder in front of him. His gaze slid from Will to Paula.
Larry’s beady brown depths appeared a little maniacal when they settled on her. She shifted uncomfortably in her very sensible loafers and leaned away from the flame as it closed in on them.
Will wasn’t moving, but she didn’t trust this wild-haired guy one bit.
Right when she felt the need to take a big step backwards and dash for safety, Larry switched it off. Paula let go of the breath she’d been holding.
“I guess I can do that for you, Zap.” He gave Paula what could only be termed a mad scientist’s smile.
“It’s Will.”
Larry headed to the back of the lab, where several computers sat lined up. “Don’t believe this guy for one second.” He directed his words at Paula. “He looks like mild-fucking-mannered Clark Kent, but this dude’s no—”
“Larry, could you please just give me the data?” Will asked.
The oafish lab tech put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Whoa, dude, it’s all good. I was just trying to impress the lady.” He gave Paula a wink and then plopped down on a stool in front of one of the monitors.
“I need all the data from last week for these three subjects,” Will handed Larry the sticky note Paula had given him.
“Did you have him sign the form, Larry?” Candace appeared out of nowhere.
Paula’s nerves jangled. The last thing they needed was nosy know-it-all Candace hovering around.
“What form?” Will didn’t seem to care that Candace had joined their group.
“He doesn’t have to do that. We’re all good buds here, right?” He reached out to give Will a hard slap on the back. “This dude saved my ass in Professor Glick’s senior seminar. I mean, put out the flames just before I was about to be torched. I trust Zap with my life.”
“My name’s Will.” He ground out between his teeth.
“I don’t care what he did for you.” Candace pushed her heavy glasses firmly against the bridge of her nose. “He has to sign the form. All access to individual data is restricted.”
“But I use it every day in my analysis.”
Candace, her slanted black eyes exaggerated by the thick lenses, blinked twice. “However, you don’t have the authority to retrieve data on individual subjects. It would taint the study.”
If she only knew how Professor Pritchard had tainted the study already.
Candace handed Will a piece of paper. “If you want access to those records, you have to sign this form and be approved by the study committee.”
Candace turned on her heel and headed toward several black boxes she’d been working on.
Both Will and Paula looked to Larry.
“Dude, I’m sorry.” Larry shook his head and then ran his meaty hands through his wild hair. “She ruins the vibe I’ve got going on in here. Total buzzkill, man.”
Paula scanned the lab, uncertain what kind of vibe Larry had been going for.
Candace kept a close eye on all three of them.
Larry herded them toward the double glass doors. Overly loud, he said, “Sorry, man, I can’t help you. It’d be against the rules.” He emphasized the last three words, looking over his shoulder as if he was making sure Candace heard him, and ushered them into the hall.
The minute they were outside the lab, he whispered to Will, “Tonight. Back entrance. Eight o’clock. I’ll have a thumb drive for you.”
“Thanks,” Paula and Will said simultaneously.
Larry stood between them and clapped them each on one shoulder. He was like a big bear hovering over them. “Like I said, I’d do anything for Zap.”
He left them in the hall, gave them a messy salute, and pushed backwards through the glass doors.
“We’ll be there.” Will gave his friend a wave. “See you tonight.”
“Later, dude.” Larry disappeared into the lab.
“Zap?” Paula couldn’t let that slide. “What was that all about?”
“It’s nothing.” Will took off down the hall at a good clip. “Let’s go.”
She had to run to catch up to him. “Oh, come on, you can tell me.” She surmised from his reaction it was probably some dumb freshman year story that involved an embarrassing amount of alcohol and maybe a malfunctioning jumper cable.
He pushed on the stairwell door. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just dr
op it?”
“Sure.” She followed him down the stairs, curious why he avoided the explanation. How bad could it be? After a few moments of awkward silence, she broached the topic of the meeting with Larry. “Would you mind doing the pick-up tonight solo? If you could find some time to look over the data tonight and get back with me in the morning…”
“I thought you were all hot about getting this information now? Why the change of plans?”
“It’s not really a change of plans, but there’s something I’ve got to do tonight.” Her thoughts were on the black box in her possession. She itched to try the aura-reading device to see if it made any difference if it could help her. If the black box influenced the minds of some of the subjects, maybe it would affect her too—but in a different way. Those articles she’d found about electromagnetics and brain waves suggested it might work. Maybe this could be what she’d been looking for. A little bit of fear bubbled up inside her at the thought of sitting down in front of the strange device, but she knew her ability only grew worse as time went on—less controllable, more dangerous. The black box might make her normal. It might be risky, but she had to try.
“You’ve got to do something?” Will stopped on a landing. “That’s all I get?”
“Haven’t you always wanted to play James Bond?” Paula focused on the here and now. “Here’s your chance. Sneaking around the Paranormal Sciences building after dark? Picking up a package at a clandestine meeting?”
“Actually, I always wanted to be like Cary Grant in ‘North by Northwest.’ You know, the average guy saves the day.”
She held back a smile at the thought of sloppy, grungy Will taking the place of dapper, silk-suited Cary Grant in the Hitchcock classic. “Whatever works for you; I just don’t think we both need to be there. He’s your friend after all. Just call me once you pick up the info so I know everything went down okay.”
“Can do. I sure hope you’re right about this. Larry’s helped me out of a few binds, but this favor might have closed the tap, so to speak.”
“Trust me.” Paula continued down the steps. Will wasn’t far behind. “I think Larry needs you way more than you need him. He doesn’t look like the social type.”
“Well, he does have his own way of doing things. It can sometimes put people off.”
“Sometimes?” She thought about the mini-welder Larry stuck in her face not fifteen minutes ago.
They reached their floor, and Will graciously held the door open for her. “I’ll call you tonight after the pick-up.”
Chapter Twelve
The black box sat on Paula’s kitchen table. One small reading lamp burned in the far corner.
Earlier, when all the lights had been on, the device appeared harmless: a hunk of black plastic taking up space on her table. Once she turned off all but one of the lights, however, the box huddled there in the semi-darkness like a predator waiting for its prey.
She shivered.
“It’s just a stupid box, Paula.” She rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps. The time had come to find out if this thing might be able to help her.
She sat down, took a deep breath, and turned it on.
A quiet clicking filled the room. The red light popped on. In the dimness, it glowed like a homing beacon, beckoning her. She uncapped a pen, opened her notebook, and prepared to take notes.
The box began to whir, like a computer powering up. Her gaze flicked from her notebook to the box. That was the same noise it had made the night Lark tried it out.
She tensed at the sound in anticipation of the pain. But none came.
Stop thinking about it. Relax.
She’d never actively tried to use her ability before—not since the accident all those years ago—and didn’t even know if she could. Acting on impulse, she focused on the sensations that came along with the unexpected surges of energy—the sweating, the tingling down her arms.
Within minutes, a familiar pressure built behind her eyes, and blood rushed to her head. She felt light-headed. Odd. Frightened, she gripped the edge of the table. She had no idea she could bring on her power so quickly. The thought terrified her.
Taking a deep, slow breath, she tried to take control of her runaway emotions. The only way to cure herself was to try this experiment. Here, alone in the house, was the perfect opportunity to see what would happen.
She focused on sending a wave of energy from her mind, but it was as if a brick wall sat in front of her. An energy surge in her head ratcheted up the tension in her body, but nothing happened. Not even a fork rattled on the table.
The clicking picked up speed, like the sound of a train speeding down the tracks. The red light fluttered for a split second.
For a good ten minutes she tried to use her ability. Move anything. But even though the pressure behind her eyes grew unbearable, nothing happened. As if she’d pulled back her fist for a punch, and then never let go. The energy held within her, stagnant. Never growing, never building. Just staying contained within her mind.
She advanced to the next step in her experiment. She turned off the box.
The red light went out.
The virtual brick wall inside her mind crumbled. Her hands shook violently. A painful tingling like the sting of a hundred bees swept down from her shoulders to her fingers. Before she could stop herself, a burst of energy exploded out of her. The kitchen chairs blasted out of the way, knocked to the floor by her unfocused telekinetic energy.
She clamped her jaw down, trying to gain control. Another ball of energy built up in her mind. Sweat beaded on her brow. She concentrated all her efforts on keeping that energy inside. She imagined a spray of cold water putting out the fire in her mind, cooling it down and bringing it under control.
Her cell phone rang.
She concentrated on forcing the energy down.
It rang again.
The energy dissipated, settled inside her.
She picked up the phone.
The last vestiges of force ebbed away.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” Will’s voice brought an instant sense of relief.
Her whole body sagged. Exhaustion blanketed her. “Hey there.”
“Are you okay? You sound funny.”
She rubbed her forehead. The box made an odd noise. A rapid series of clicks combined with the mechanical whirring.
“I’m fine.” She studied the box. “Just fine.” The switch was in the off position. How could it still be making noise?
“I’ve got the thumb drive, and I’m back in the office. Thought I’d see what kind of data he gave me.”
“Uh-huh.” She turned the box around. The smooth black plastic revealed nothing. The light was off, the switch was off. The device shouldn’t be working anymore. A chill ran up her spine.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yep.” She shrugged off the chill, grabbed the box’s power cord, and yanked it out of the wall. The soft clicks and weird whirring sound stopped. Satisfied, she sat on the couch in the living room. “Just working on a little project here at home.”
“Do you really think the professor is covering up something about the boxes? I mean, this is his baby.”
“All the more reason to cover up these suicides. Without positive results, all his new funding would disappear.” Paula propped up her feet on the coffee table. “He might even lose control of the department. He’s got a lot riding on this study, and if it doesn’t give him the results he’s hoping for—”
“I don’t know.” Paula could hear Will’s fingers clacking on the keyboard. “I could understand him burying some data that might skew the overall results of the project, but covering up suicides? Who would risk the health of his subjects?
“I don’t know, but something is definitely fishy here. What did you find on the thumb drive?”
“I’m opening the files on it now. I’m going to plunk everything into a spreadsheet and look it over. I’ll email you a copy, and we can talk abo
ut it tomorrow.
“Sounds good. And Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not thinking I was a nut—”
“Well, you could still be a nut.”
She could hear his smile over the phone. “I just appreciate your help.”
“Anytime.”
She hung up and set her cell on the lamp table next to her. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the corduroy fabric on the couch, like she used to when she was a girl. The couch had worn through to the stuffing in spots, but it gave her a sense of security to brush her fingertips along the soft ridges. It helped clear her mind.
The research she’d been doing on the effects of electricity on brain waves and brain function might culminate in some kind of cure with this box. She’d felt the control she had over her power with the help of the box. The AIM device didn’t just read auras. It sent out some kind of signal or frequency, which helped her rein in her telekinesis. Perhaps even longer use of the box would cure her completely and give her total control over her ability, allow her to live a normal life without fear of discovery.
But what about the other subjects? The suicides? And Lark? What helped her might be hurting others. Thinking about it twisted her stomach in knots. What was she supposed to do with the box? She couldn’t hold on to it forever. The professor would eventually figure out she had it...and then what?
She opened up her laptop and clicked on her email. A message with an attachment from Will waited in her inbox. Exhausted, she looked at the clock above the mantel. Only ten o’clock and she could barely keep her eyes open. The data he’d sent would have to wait until tomorrow.
***
For hours last night, Paula tossed and turned in bed, her mind going a million miles a minute. Now that she was in the office and eager to dig deeper into the mystery, she flicked her cheek a few times with her finger and shook her head to clear out the last bits of sleepiness that clung to her brain.
“You ready to look at the data?” Will rolled his chair behind hers, and they waited for her laptop to power up. “I deleted the file from my machine just in case.”
“In case what? The paranormal police come knocking on your door?”
The Little Black Box Page 8