Shadow Games

by Doug Welch

  * * *

  The day of the funeral dawned clear and bright. I marveled at the contrast between such a somber occasion and such a glorious day.

  Certainly, I thought, funerals should be accompanied by gloomy skies and threatening rain clouds, but the forecast was for more of the same, endless sunshine. Maybe it was fitting that Silas should be laid to rest on a day like this, but it was not a day one should have to attend a funeral.

  Alex and I wore the same clothes that we had worn at our parents’ funeral, they were dignified and somber. Alex looked good in a black dress with a short jacket top. Her wavy crown of sun-streaked chestnut hair brushed her shoulders.

  I wore my charcoal-gray, pinstriped suit. During a short leave in London, I had bought it custom tailored. I knew it fit me perfectly. A creamy white shirt and dark tie completed my clothing.

  At the church, the mourners paraded past the casket to pay their last respects and June Marrow sat huddled alone in one of the pews looking as if she might collapse.

  We moved to her side. Alex sat on one side, and I sat on the other. Alex put her arm around her and whispered in her ear. June looked up at her and turned to look at me. Her eyes were round as she gazed questioningly. I just nodded. I reached into my inner coat pocket and removed the deed and the letter. I gave both of them to her. She glanced at the deed and examined the unopened letter.

  She stood up and walked hurriedly from the church. We followed her outside to a big maple tree, and she stopped underneath its shade. We stood by while she read her letter in silence. All the while, tears streamed down her cheeks. She laughed a few times, but mostly cried, while she devoured every word. Finally, she finished the letter.

  “Thank you both. This means so very much to me.”

  I shrugged. “It was the least we could do. Besides, it was Silas, not us. We're just messengers. Something good should come from all of this. He must have loved you very much.”

  “I thought I knew,” she said, “but now I truly do know how much he loved me. God knows I loved him, desperately.”

  “Remember, my offer still stands. You can work for us if you want to.”

  “I need some time to learn to cope with this. After the funeral, we'll see. I do thank you for the offer though. It’s very kind of you.”

  “Very selfish,” Alex said. “You know something of what we face and Silas called you his right arm. I suspect you had more to do with handling our affairs than Silas let on and we can afford it. Think about it.”

  June nodded. “I will.”

  Alex clutched June’s arm. “Good. We're going to pay our respects, and then we'll leave. Keep in touch.”

  We left her under the maple tree clutching her letter in her hand. I felt suddenly sad. She looked so lonely and pathetic. This is what death leaves behind, I thought. It’s not the pain of the deceased that was important; it was the pain of the living.

  We reentered the church and joined the line winding toward Silas' casket. It was closed. We reached it and I paused, vowing to avenge someone who had become a mentor to Alex and I, and who had paid for that loyalty with his life.

  We stopped and talked to Chris Higgins. We explained that we had not bought flowers, asked him to make a contribution from our accounts to a charity in Silas' name, and left the church.

  Alex and I walked out to the church parking lot. I keyed the remote on the Camaro's door locks and got in the car. I started it up and set the air conditioner to full blast.

  “Ah. That feels good. I thought I was going to cook in this suit,” I said. “I need to buy a new suit for the summer.”

  “You do look good in it. Maybe you can buy one from the same place it came from.”

  “London?” I started to protest, and then thought, why not? Why not fly to London? We could take Beth and Caesar with us. My mood brightened at the thought, and I resolved to propose it tomorrow.

  “Maybe that's a good idea.”

  Alex looked surprised, but didn't say anything. She looked thoughtful. “Maybe it is.”

  I drove the car out of the church parking lot and onto the highway. I headed back to the farm, thinking of how I would propose the idea of flying to London just to buy a suit. I drove at a sedate pace, never exceeding the speed limit.

  The countryside flowed by, the trees and grass in their full growth, ready for summer. Out of habit, I periodically scanned my rear view mirrors and instrument clusters. In one of my scans, I spotted a car that had just emerged from a side street. It was black, but it was too far back to discern significant detail. I continued to observe it as it came closer. Soon it was obvious, a black Mercedes with heavily tinted windows.

  “Looks like we've got company.” I said calmly, looking at the rear-view mirror.

  Alex turned to look behind us. “So we do. How do we handle this?”

  “Just wait.” I continued to drive at the speed limit, hoping that the car would pass us and we could get a look at the occupants. The car settled into a matching speed, following about four car lengths behind.

  “See if you can read the license plate,” I said. “Maybe we can trace it.”

  “I'll bet it's phony, but I guess it's worth a try,” she replied.

  I continued to drive at the speed limit, and the car continued to pace me, keeping the same distance. The further we rode, the more my anger and frustration built.

  I finally decided I’d had enough and slowed down. The following car slowed and kept pace. We drove along an empty section of the road. I slowed still more. The car maintained the same distance. I slowed the Camaro still further, and finally rolled to a stop. The Mercedes stopped at the same time.

  “Do you think this is wise?” Alex asked nervously.

  “Not necessarily, but I want to shake these bastards up. Open the glove box.”

  Alex opened the compartment.

  “Hand me that knife, and a can of Mace.”

  She hesitated. I reached over and removed the knife. It was a sheathed military Kabar that I had purchased while I was in the Army and I kept it razor sharp. I slid the knife in the back waistband of my suit pants and Alex gave me the can of Mace.

  “Get in the driver's seat, and lock the doors. If something goes wrong, drive back to the farm.”

  “Paris – she bit her lip, and didn't say anything further.

  I opened the door and got out of the car. Alex silently emerged from the passenger seat and went around to the driver's side door.

  “Don't get killed on me asshole.” She glared at me.

  I laughed. “Furthest thing from my mind. I just plan to reason with these bastards.”

  “Reason. Yeah.” She entered the car and locked the doors.

  I checked for traffic on the road. There wasn't any. I walked back to the Mercedes, which sat at the side of the road, idling. I approached the car carefully, alert for any attempt to drive off.

  I didn't want to be run down in my nice tailored suit. It would ruin it.

  I reached the driver's side door and waited. Nothing happened. The windshield glass was so dark it was nearly opaque. I could just discern a shape in the driver’s seat, and one passenger. I knocked on the window. “Open up asshole. I want to talk to you.”

  Nothing.

  I waited for any move on the part of the occupants, until the road was totally clear of traffic.

  At that point, I quickly reached behind my back, pulled out the knife, and rammed it to the hilt in the sidewall of the left front tire. I knew better than to aim at the broad steel-belted surface. I waited for a heartbeat, and walked to the rear of the car. I gave it the same treatment. The whole sequence from start to finish, had taken a few seconds. The occupants didn’t have time to react.

  “Drive on that,” I yelled. I re-sheathed the knife, and returned it to my pants. I saw the Camaro's backup lights flicker on, and Alex backed the car to my position.

  “Get in, you idiot,” she said from the open window.

  I opened the passenger side door,
and slid in the seat. No sooner had I settled in, than she roared off down the highway, spinning rubber for a long way.

  “God. That felt good,” I said.

  Alex looked worried. “You could have been killed, Paris. Don't do it again.”

  I looked back at the Mercedes. It was not moving and no one had emerged from the car.

  “I didn't think they would try. I think they're just following our moves to plan a snatch. I needed to remind them that we have teeth.”

  Her jaw clenched. “They could have had guns.”

  “Next time I'll not use a knife.”

  “There better not be a next time.”

  I sighed. “I have to do something, Alex, or I'll go crazy from the frustration.”

  “You're already crazy, pulling that stunt. What if they call the cops?”

  “I'll deny it. Besides, they're Shadows. I don't think they want to involve the police in this.”

  “You could be wrong.”

  I just shrugged. “I think we need to hit the shooting range today.”

  “Okay. Let’s go home and change –”

  At that point, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It was a number in Georgetown, but I couldn’t identify the name. I answered the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. I'm calling for Mister Fox, are you him?”

  “Yes, I'm him, and who are you?”

  “You sent me an email, Mister Fox. My name is Gordon Bowles.”

  Again, the name sounded familiar. Had I read it on Dad’s list? Then it came to me. “Ah. Professor Bowles. Thank you for calling.”

  “Are you by any chance the son of John Fox?”

  “Yes, he was my father.”

  “I was sorry to learn of his passing, he and I were colleagues. He was a very talented man.”

  “Thank you. We, my sister and I, miss him very much.”

  “Oh, is your sister with you? Isn't her name Joan?”

  I was a little puzzled. If he were close to my dad, he would know Alex's name. I decided to nibble. “No, her name is Alexandra.” I said cautiously.

  He was silent for a moment. “Just checking, Mister Fox. Okay, I believe you. Now, what do you want?”

  I decided to be frank. “To be honest, Professor, we are in trouble, and we were informed by our father that you might be able to help us.”

  “The Shadows?” he asked.

  “How did you know? – Yes.”

  “Too bad, I'm sorry to hear that. How were you given my name? I don't have the knowledge your father had and heaven knows, I'm not equipped to oppose the Shadows.”

  “My father provided the information on the day he died. He seemed to feel that you were one of the people who could assist us.” I deliberately didn’t mention Silas.

  He paused for a moment. “Maybe. Why don't you come to my house for dinner, and we'll talk about it.”

  I did some mental calculations. KSU was located in Frankfort, Kentucky, but the address I had for Bowles from Dad’s list, put him near Georgetown, just north of Lexington. The place was not as far away as Covington, about half the distance. It would take a couple of hours.

  “Good. We'll be there. We'll be driving a late-model yellow Camaro. I'll be wearing a green shirt, and Alex –”

  I looked at her. “Orange blouse,” she said.

  “Alex will be wearing an orange blouse. We both have brown hair, medium height. Don't let anyone in who doesn't match that description.”

  “I see you're being careful. Good.” he replied. “Oh. And bring the letter, I want to read it.”

  “Should we bring anything else?”

  “No I think not. Here's my address. Have you a pen?”

  “Just a moment.” I opened the glove box and took out a pen and an old envelope.

  “Go ahead.” He recited his number over the phone, and I wrote it down. I checked it against my memory of Dad’s list. It looked the same, but I resolved to check it later.

  “Okay, what time should we be there?”

  “As close to six o'clock as possible. Can you make it?”

  “I think so. I'll call you at this number if there's a problem,” I said.

  “Good. See you at six. Good bye.”

  “Good bye.” I disconnected.

  “So, what's the plan?” Alex asked.

  “We're going to his house for dinner. We need to be there before six. We should probably leave at three o’clock. That leaves a little time for the shooting range.”

  At that point, Alex turned into the front lawn at the farm.

  Although I had been busy on the phone, I hadn’t seen any evidence we were being followed. We went into the house, changed into some grubby clothes, and then took Alex's truck to the firing range.

  At the range, Alex showed some improvement. I knew that if she were under stress, her aim would become wilder, so I concentrated on trying to teach her rapid firing, hoping it would help. We skipped lunch and instead, practiced with the handguns.

  Soon, it was time to leave, so we packed up and headed back to the house. I kept up my surveillance, but we didn’t see any car following us.

  “I wonder who those clowns in the Mercedes were,” I said, as we drove back to the farm. “Could they have been the ones who think they own us?”

  “That sounds so alien, Paris. How can anyone think that they own somebody?”

  “You should try living in Iraq or Afghanistan. Women are property there. Your husband or father would consider you expendable.”

  “That is soo – wrong.” She shuddered.

  “We're lucky we live in the U.S., Alex.”

  “So, how could anyone living in the States think that they could own someone?”

  I shrugged. “It happens all over the world, Sis.”

  “I’d rather die first.”

  “Me too, but I think I’d want to take a lot of those bastards with me.”

  Parking the truck at the house, we cleaned the guns and changed into some more decent clothes, making sure that the colors were appropriate.

  We took the letter and other documents, and headed to Lexington.

  Lexington was one of the largest cities in Kentucky. The Professor's address was in a rural community north of the city, near Georgetown. I settled down for a long drive. Most of the way would be by the interstate highway, but to get there we would have to navigate some rural country roads, and it would slow us down.

  I reached the interstate and headed north. After over an hour, I drove into Lexington, and headed through the city, still heading north. A few miles north of Lexington, I found the turnoff to the town and the highway leading to the Professor's address.

  We entered a bedroom community, with large houses set well back on the properties. Large, well-kept lawns stretched in front of them. I finally pulled up in front of the address on the envelope.

  “This is it,” I said. “I guess I'll park in the driveway.” I turned onto the driveway leading to the house, and parked the Camaro in plain sight of the front windows. We got out of the car, and walked to the front door, rang the doorbell and waited.

  After a few moments, the door was opened by a man who I assumed was Professor Bowles. He was shorter than us, wore glasses, and had a fringe of gray hair surrounding a totally bald head. He wore khaki slacks, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “Mister Fox?”

  “Yes, please call me Paris. This is my sister, Alexandra.” She nodded at him.

  “I'm Gordon, Gordy to my friends. Please come in.” We entered the house, and followed Gordon down a brief entryway to the front room.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the overstuffed couch in the room. “My wife is cooking, she’ll join us shortly. I was just about to open a bottle of wine. I'm afraid I'm the one who started John drinking the beverage. Would you like a glass?”

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Good.” He hurried out of the room and returned with a corkscrew and four glasses. �
��This is a good vintage. I think you'll like it.”

  He used the corkscrew on a bottle, which was sitting on the coffee table, and poured four wine glasses with a ruby red vintage.

  Alex and I settled back into the couch, and Gordon took a big easy chair. He sipped the wine, and a pleased look lit his features. “Ah that's good.” He relaxed with a smile.

  I took a sip from my glass. The wine was not too sweet, and had a fragrant aroma. I was inclined to agree with him.

  We each sampled the wine in silence.

  I sat my glass on the coffee table. “How did you come to know my father?” I asked.

  “He visited the campus as a guest lecturer. He was very good. Made history come alive. The whole campus talked about him. There was even some talk of hiring him. I met him at a faculty get-together. When he learned I was a physics professor, he started peppering me with questions about the possible physics of mind control. Well, one topic led to another, and soon we found that we had something in common. We had both had encounters with the Shadows. We became friends.”

  He took a drink. “Nothing came from the hiring rumors, and at any rate, I doubt that he would have accepted a job, he was very independent. He finished the lecture series, but we stayed in contact, corresponding or visiting as often as we could find time. I really liked your father.”

  The physics of mind control? Was that what had led Dad to learn about the Shadow's abilities? Before I could ask him, Alex spoke.

  “How did you come to be aware of the Shadows?” she asked.

  “I was working at Los Almos in New Mexico. I was developing thermal imaging sights for the Army and happened to be using one to scan a section of the grounds outside the lab, when I noticed that the imager was picking up something that shouldn't be there.

  “It was an outline of a human body, but there was no one there, at least not visually. I was alarmed. Los Almos is a highly secure facility, and it could have been a spy who was using some new camouflage method, one that we had never seen before. I notified security at the lab.”

  He laughed. “Caused a big panic. There was a thorough search of the facility, including scanning the campus with the thermal imager, but they couldn't find anything. To my knowledge, the Shadows never emerged at the Lab again.

  “However, no good deed goes unpunished. After a while, when the furor had died down, I lost my security clearance. The security people were very unhappy with me. They said I was subject to hallucinations. I was given my severance check, and escorted off the campus. Much later, I ran across an article concerning invisible people. At first, I dismissed it as nutty, pseudo-science, but started investigating. After a while, I was almost convinced, but it wasn't until I met your father, I was really sure.”

  He took another sip of wine, apparently remembering the past. “I learned later, that to stir up the Shadows was a bad career move. I've kept my inquires divorced from the University. In fact, I would have refused to meet you on the campus.”

  “Do you think that the Shadows were responsible for getting you fired?” I asked.

  “Now, I'm sure of it. At the time, I had no knowledge of their mental abilities. John enlightened me on that subject.”

  At that point, a short, plump woman emerged from the hallway. She had gray hair bound in a ponytail, a pleasing face, and a mischievous twinkle in her deep brown eyes. She was dressed in an attractive red blouse with dark slacks.

  Gordon stood. “Oh. Dinner must be ready. Meet my wife, Emma. Em, these are Paris and Alexandra, John's children.”

  We stood, and Emma immediately walked over and embraced Alex. I took her proffered hand and briefly squeezed it.

  “Pleased to meet you. Your parents’ were such good friends. Gordy's right, dinner is on the table. Bring your drinks.”

  We moved into the dining room, the table was set for four, and aromas that reminded me that we hadn't eaten caused my mouth to water. “Smells good.”

  “Em's a good cook. I think I'll keep her.” Gordon said, smiling at his wife.

  We sat down at the table, and Emma dished out the meal. “I was very sad when I heard about the death of your parents. I liked John and Jenny very much,” she said as she worked. “I’ll miss them. It's hard to cope with the death of one parent, let alone two.”

  “We're at least past the shock,” I replied. “I don't think I'll ever accept it, though.”

  “I know I won't,” Alex said.

  We ate for a while in silence. Finally, Gordon spoke.

  “Em knows about my – hobby. She, of course, thinks I'm crazy. She just loves me too much to have me committed.” He grinned.

  “Gordy, we've had this discussion before. Invisible people, Huh. Did your father convince you two of his delusions?” Emma asked.

  “Uh, actually, we didn't learn of this until they passed away.” Alex replied.

  “Let's hold this conversation after dinner in my study.” Gordon said. “The less Emma knows the better for her.”

  Emma looked at him nervously, a little doubt on her face. “Okay, I'm all for that,” she said.

  We spent the remainder of the meal making small talk. Gordon and Emma reminisced about times they had spent with our parents. I felt a little depressed from the topic, so I finished my glass of wine. The food and the dessert were delicious, and I complimented Emma on her cooking.

  She smiled, obviously pleased. “I attended a fine culinary school. It's not often I get to cook for people who can appreciate it. Gordy just inhales it and gains weight.”

  “Hump.” He snorted. “Actually, Em wrote a very popular cookbook. I'm sure she'll give you a copy, if you ask,” he said grinning.

  “Not without cash in hand, wise guy. That book is a best seller,” she retorted.

  “I believe I already own a copy.” I said. “I recognize your picture now. It's on the back cover.”

  “Don't inflate her ego any more Paris, she'll be insufferable.”

  I watched them banter back and forth. While they joked and laughed, I thought about Elizabeth. It would be wonderful to have a loving relationship like theirs when we grew older.

  Emma poured each of us a cup of coffee, and Alex and I followed Gordon to his study, carrying our cups and saucers.

  We sat down in the study, sipping the aromatic brew.

  “So how much do you know?” Gordon asked.

  “Quite a bit,” Alex replied. “Sometimes I think, too much.”

  “Actually, we need to know some of how our father was able to do what the Shadows can do,” I said. “We had a conversation with one of them, and he told us some unsettling things.”

  Gordon looked surprised. “How did you – Oh. I forgot. You're half Shadow yourselves, aren't you? You can see them. I never thought – That is, your father said that your birth mother was a Shadow, but it never occurred to me that you could see them. This changes everything.”

  “How?” I asked. “So far, being able to see them makes it more complicated, not less.”

  We told him about the events of the past few days, and how our abilities hadn't helped us. We told him what Tony had said to us, and filled him in on some of their supposed history. We tried to relate what Tony said about the Houses, and revealed that our father had died a rich man, leaving everything to us. We spoke of the death of our lawyer, and our suspicions that it wasn't suicide. Finally, we ran out of words.

  “Extraordinary.” Gordon exclaimed. “For all of this to happen in a matter of weeks – But, more important, is the fact that you two are a living laboratory. If you could harness your abilities, and teach others to do it, think of the implications.”

  “That is the problem, Gordy. Think of a world in which everyone could do what the Shadows can. It would be chaos. Besides, they’re going to do everything they can to make sure it doesn't happen.”

  “You have a point.” He went silent, thinking. Eventually he responded. “Did you bring your father's letter?”

  “Yes.” I handed it to him.


  He read it. “It's too bad your stepmother died when he did. John was right. She could have been a big help to you.”

  “How? Dad seemed to indicate she had some knowledge of the Shadows, but I fail to see how it could have helped us,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said, “didn't you know? Your stepmother was a Shadow.”

  I was floored. Alex looked sick. Neither of us could speak.

  Gordon looked at us pityingly. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dropped it on you like that. I imagine it was a bombshell.”

  “That's putting it mildly,” I croaked through a tight throat.

  Alex had tears in her eyes.

  “I never once – ever thought – ever, had the slightest suspicion. She was the most kind, loving person I ever knew. She must have been holding this inside for many years.” My voice was very raspy. “Do you have any more of that wine? I could use some.”

  Gordon left and returned with a fresh bottle. He filled three glasses to the brim and handed one to each of us.

  “Don't think that just because someone is a Shadow, that they can't be a decent person,” Gordon said. “Your mother was a prime example. Not all of the Shadows are monsters.”

  “I guess we're learning that,” I said miserably. “How was she able to fool us?”

  “She didn't. Your stepmother was one of the unique ones. She could turn it on and off at will. She was an Adept. Most of them do it unconsciously. They can't control it. I imagine that's why the Shadows want to abduct you two.” He looked at us worriedly.

  “Look. Your stepmother was special. I didn't know how special until they told us about you. You see, when you were born, one of the more enlightened groups took it upon themselves to prevent you from becoming a danger to yourselves and others. After your birth mother disappeared, John was in terrible shape. They sent Jenny to him to help him to recover and to protect you. She fell in love with John and never looked back. She would have died for him, in fact, she did die for him. I know she loved you, I saw it. She deserves your respect and your love, not your anger. She was a wonderful person. You should be proud of her.”

  I knew he was right. I loved her. Whatever had motivated her to care for us came from the heart. It was just the shock of learning it like this.

  “I guess we need a little time to become accustomed to the idea,” Alex said. “It really doesn't change the way I feel about her. She'll always be my mother, regardless of her background. It was just such a shock.”

  I bowed my head staring at the floor. “You know, maybe we were lucky. I imagine that if we had been raised by normal people, we would have been in a lot of psychiatrist’s offices, trying to cure us of our delusions, trying to prevent us from seeing invisible people. We would have been drugged, twisted, and convinced that we were insane. Now that I'm thinking about it, we have been two very fortunate people. I wonder how our half siblings managed to cope with it.”

  “Let's change the subject,” Gordon said. “The letter mentions some objects designed to protect you. Did you bring one with you?”

  My hand immediately went to the chain looped around my neck. I’d removed the bag previously, and had been wearing the medallion constantly without thinking about it. I’d even showered with it. I noticed that Alex made the same gesture. I pulled it from my shirt, unclasped the chain and handed to him.

  “The medallion’s enclosed in the locket.” I said.

  Gordon opened the locket and removed the medallion. He studied it closely. “Do you know anything about this?” he asked.

  “There was a description of the construction of the piece in one of Dad's computer files. I imagine it was used by the jeweler to make it. It's weird. There are several different layers of metals, and at least one layer of wood in it. I can't see how it would protect us, but I know we can feel some sort of influence from it.”

  Gordon became excited. “I wonder – could he have. – No. – It's not possible. It's crazy. But maybe – Could you email the file to me? John and I speculated, – but how did he accomplish it,” he mused.

  “I don't know, but there's an entire house sheathed in the same material. We're living in it.” I replied.

  “Wait. Didn't you say the Shadows can't enter your house?”

  “So they claim. I've seen the reaction of one of them when I tried to force her into the house, so I'm inclined to believe them. The whole thing is connected to the house wiring.”

  He became even more excited. “I need to look at the house as soon as possible.”

  “I wouldn't recommend it.” Alex said. “The Shadows are watching it. I don't think you’ll want them to notice you. We've put enough people in jeopardy, as it is.” She looked worriedly at me.

  “It's not a problem.” I said. “I can email you a complete set of the CAD drawings used to construct the basement room. That's when the sheath was installed.”

  “Extraordinary.” Gordon said. He examined the medallion intently. “I can feel that this object is not right. At least, not right for me. It repels me, as though I'm not its rightful owner. How is that possible?”

  “How is any of this possible? Are there any theories or science that explains it? I'm an engineer. I thought I understood physics. This whole impossible thing that's happening around us doesn't fit any science that I have ever learned.”

  “Actually, there is, but you have to understand a branch of physics that I believe no physicist really understands.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  He thought for a minute. “Let me backtrack. You remember that I told you that John was questioning me about the physics of the mind?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, his questions led me to start a new line of research. Specifically, into the physics of how the mind would have to work, to produce the extraordinary things that the mind is capable of, including the possibility of mind control. – Understand. It takes energy to make something change. If you were talking about mind reading or control of someone's mind, you would have to produce a large amount of power, just using your brain, to affect that change. The brain is not capable of creating that amount of power. In addition, you would have to employ some medium that would transfer from your brain to the brain of someone else.

  “I tested all of the known types of radiation, and concluded that the brain could not do that. This left me with a dilemma. If John was right, and the Shadows could influence someone to not see them, then something else had to be happening to their brain. Something that was outside our physics or something in the realm of physics that could explain it.” He waited for us to absorb his words.

  “Fortunately, there is a branch of physics that might be able to do it, Quantum Physics. Have you heard of it?”

  “When I watch television, I watch the Science Channel, not sitcoms,” Alex said. “Yes, I've heard of it.”

  “I studied Quantum Physics in college,” I added. “But it seemed more like statistics and probability than anything else.”

  “That's Quantum Mechanics,” Gordon replied, “and yes, it does calculate the probability that a particle will behave in a certain, predictable manner. It’s a useful tool.

  “However, Quantum physics tries to explain how the quantum world works. It involves a lot of esoteric math and theories based upon that math. It's Quantum Physics and its theories that I believe hold the key to how the Shadows can manipulate normal humans.” He paused.

  “No one truly understands quantum principles. If anyone tells they do, you can be sure that he or she is a liar.”

  He chuckled. “I think there are three theories in Quantum Physics that bear upon the Shadows abilities. One of these theories is called Entanglement. This is the theory that two, or possibly more, quantum particles can be associated. Somehow they become connected. We’ve been able to create this association in lab experiments.

  “Once associated, if one particle changes its properties, the other particle follows instantly, becoming the shadow image of the first.

  �
�The second theory is Simultaneity. This theory postulates that the interaction between two entangled particles occurs instantaneously, without any time involved. The last was coined by Albert Einstein. He called it ‘spooky action at a distance’.

  “It postulates that the simultaneous action of quantum particles may occur instantaneously, regardless of the distance apart the particles are.” He waited for us to comment, and then continued.

  “For all of these theories to be true, some kind of communication must be taking place between the particles. Although we have been able to produce some of these phenomena in the lab, using lasers that are limited to the speed of light, science has not been able to adequately explain how instant communication between particles may be possible.

  “I believe that these theories, and the supposed communication medium, account for the bizarre abilities that the shadows possess. It would fit all the known, observable effects.”

  “Occam's Razor,” I said. “The simplest theory that fits all the known observable effects is usually the correct one.”

  “Precisely.” Gordon replied, and then he continued. “We believe we know that the quantum world is real and it exists, regardless of how bizarre its properties may be. It's part of our science. Therefore, when you are faced with a phenomenon that requires a whole new realm of scientific theory to explain, go with what you know.”

  “How does this help us cope with the Shadows?” Alex asked. “It's all well and good to theorize how they do what they do, but how do we make them stop it, and leave us alone?”

  “I'm getting to that,” Gordon replied. “That hinges on the next part of my story.” He continued.

  “Based upon my theory, John and I set out to find some area of the Shadow's brain or body that could use quantum principles to be able to virtually disappear from the sight of normal people. For obvious reasons, we couldn’t find a Shadow to dissect, but fortunately, we did have the cooperation of a real live Shadow, Jenny, your stepmother.

  “She agreed to allow us to experiment upon her, to try and find out what the differences were between Shadow physiology and normal humans. We started by concentrating on the brain, because Jenny insisted that her mind was the key factor in exercising her abilities.”

  He cleared his throat nervously, obviously reluctant to continue.

  “I believe that was the first time I truly believed that the Shadows were real. We’d enlisted the aid of some like-minded friends who had access to a PET scanner. We were all nervous about Jenny being exposed to the powerful magnetic fields that the machine could generate. We didn't have any idea what could happen. That was when I saw her revert to her natural state. She disappeared right before my eyes. I have to tell you at that moment, I felt a stab of fear.”

  He visibly composed himself and continued.

  “The plan was to have her control it and then revert back, so that we could measure the differences in various parts of her brain. That never happened. What we saw was amazing.

  “When the scanner started working, she started flickering in and out like a defective movie projector. She also moaned, in obvious pain. It was frightening.

  “We quickly stopped the machine, and removed her from the scanning area. She had lost consciousness. We were terrified that we had injured or killed her.

  “One of our friends was a doctor, and she applied first aid until we could get her to an emergency room. Fortunately she revived, but with a major headache. We never tried that again. She later said that the feeling was like thousands of tiny icy needles all over her body.”

  “I thought the brain couldn’t feel pain because there are no pain receptors there.” I said.

  “It can't,” Gordon replied, “however; it collects the nerve impulses from the body and interprets them as a pain sensation. Apparently, we had stimulated the neurons in the brain that sense pain in the body. Although that may not seem significant, it later turned out to be an important clue.

  “We’d also preserved some of the data that we’d acquired during the time that the PET scanner was turned on.

  “At first, it was difficult to interpret the data, but one of our colleagues came up with an important insight. You see we were expecting unusual areas of the brain to become active when Jenny became invisible. He discovered that the correct interpretation was just the opposite.

  “When Jenny was invisible, her brain looked like a normal brain, but when she became visible, areas in the frontal cortex and visual portions of the brain ceased to function.

  “In fact when she was visible, her brain looked like that of a brain-damaged patient, or a mentally retarded person. It seemed to become visible, Jenny had to shut down significant portions of her brain.

  “In light of these discoveries, I started seriously researching the physics associated with brain functions. I actually wrote a few papers on the subject and they were well received by the physics community. I've learned a lot about brain function from that time, but not, apparently, as much as your father did.”

  “Why do you say that?” Alex asked.

  “John managed to learn how to acquire some of the Shadow's abilities.”

  “Do you have any idea as to how he accomplished that?” I asked.

  “No, if my theories are correct, he shouldn't have had the physical brain structure required. However, I must emphasize, my opinion rests only on a theory. A theory which may be totally flawed. Perhaps some physical process, for which we don't have the science to understand, is occurring here. Nevertheless, he was able to accomplish it.”

  “Yeah. Well, it seems that his accomplishment is one of the reasons that the Shadows are hounding us,” I said.

  Gordon looked excited. “Actually, John was perusing the problem from a different perspective. I kept him informed of my progress, and he shared his. He was researching from a historical viewpoint, thinking that folklore and the practical experience of ancient cultures might hold some clues as to how at least to prevent the Shadows from influencing normal people. He was particularly interested in runes, hex signs and symbols and how they might disrupt the Shadow's powers.”

  “There are all kinds of designs, which might be symbols, on our basement walls,” I mused.

  “I need to study the construction of that shield, if that's what it is, as soon as you can email me the drawings,” Gordon replied.

  “One thing that I don't understand,” Alex ventured, “is how the Shadow's minds can influence someone's brain. I don't know much about anatomy, but as I understand it, there are millions of nerve cells involved in being able to see. How could their brains control that many cells?”

  “More like billions of cells,” Gordon replied. “However, that turns out to be the easy part. You see, the brain is easy to fool.”

  “Define easy,” I said.

  “I'll do better. I'll show you,” Gordon replied.

  He arose from his desk chair, and walked over to a filing cabinet. He opened one of the sliding drawers, and rummaged through the files, emerging with a piece of paper. He held so we couldn't see the front. He walked up to us and paused about three feet away. He reversed the paper, and showed it to us. There was a picture on the paper.

  “Do you recognize this person?” He said. “Who is it?”

  It was obvious, the picture was easy to recognize. It was one of the most famous faces in the world. “It's Albert Einstein,” I replied. “Anyone can see that.”

  “Correct.” Gordon said. He reversed the paper, and walked over to a corner of the room. He reversed the paper again, and said, “Now, who is it?”

  I stared in amazement. The picture had changed. Now, the image was of an attractive blond woman. Someone I had seen before, but couldn't remember. Before I could say anything, Alex blurted out.

  “You switched the pictures on us.”

  Gordon grinned. He walked toward us, with the picture plainly visible. As he approached us, the image changed, until the face of Albert Einstein emerged. Then, he walked back, and
the picture changed to the blond woman.

  “Who's the woman?” I asked. “She looks familiar.”

  “Ah. You young people,” Gordon replied. “That's the image of one of the most famous actresses in the world. At least from my era. It's Marilyn Monroe.”

  Gordon handed us the paper to see the image from a closer perspective. Although I tried and concentrated, I could not resolve the image into Marilyn Monroe. It stubbornly remained a picture of Albert Einstein.

  “I have on file hundreds of examples of items that fool the brain. Things that make your mind perceive something that’s not there, or ignore something that is there. You see, although you may not consciously acknowledge it, your brain is a pattern recognition machine. It may seem that you are seeing the real world, but in reality, you are seeing your brain's interpretation of the real world. It only takes a little tweaking to eliminate something from your world view.”

  “That gives me a whole different way of looking at things.” I said. “I think that we have a lot to consider, but this doesn't make it any easier. We still don't know how to beat these bastards.”

  “Didn't John's papers or computer files give you any clues?” Gordon asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied, “there was nothing about the Shadows, except for some references to the Internet, the abductions of our supposed siblings, and the drawings for the house.”

  “Hum.” Gordon mused. “That doesn't sound right. I know for a fact that John had an extensive collection of reference material he’d acquired. It took two filing cabinets to hold it.”

  He thought for a moment. “Unless he scanned it all to the computer. In which case, he would most likely have backed the computer up with compact disks or something. Did you find any disks?”

  “I checked all of the disks,” Alex said. “There was nothing but research for books he’d written, or books he planned to write. Nothing about the Shadows.”

  “Then it has to be in the house somewhere. Have you searched?”

  “No, with so much happening, it hasn't been a priority,” I replied. “Now, I guess we have to make it a priority.”

  “I can help you to a certain extent,” Gordon said, “but I won't put Emma's safety in jeopardy. I'm sorry, but I hope you understand. She knows nothing of this and I want to keep it that way. If you find anything important, email it to my home account. I'll give you the address. I prefer to keep my extracurricular activities separate from my work at the University.”

  I chuckled. “I think I can understand why.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “I can imagine the nightly news now, 'University Physics Professor declares that invisible people plague mankind.' – details at five o'clock.”

  Gordon laughed. “You do get the idea.” Then he became more sober. “Seriously, I am a believer. I know the Shadows exist. I just don't know how it's possible, or how to deal with it.”

  “Then you can appreciate our dilemma,” I said. “We not only must prevent them from abducting us, but we must protect our father's secrets and guard the people who are close to us. I haven't any idea how to accomplish that.”

  “Well, I'll give you all the help I can. At least in an advisory capacity.”

  “Thanks Gordy, it's good to know we have an ally in this mess,” Alex said.

  “We should probably call it a night,” I said. “We've got a lot to think about. Alex and I have a date tomorrow with some close friends. I'll email you the data as soon as we get home.”

  As we left we said goodnight to Emma, who was watching television. Gordon walked us out to the Camaro, and waved goodbye.

  As we drove toward Jamestown, I thought about our problems and how to cope with them.

  As an officer in the Army, I’d been trained in the art of strategy and tactics, and had learned the differences between them. One of the steps in devising a strategy was to understand the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses. Then you could devise tactics to counter the strengths and take advantage of the weak areas. Was there anything in my military training that could help us cope with our situation?

  Strategically, the Shadows had overwhelming advantages. They could move among the normal populous without notice, and possibly influence the decisions of key people. They weren't subservient to ordinary armed force, because they didn't achieve their objectives by the use of weapons other than their brains. If I injured or killed one of them, it would be my freedom that would be in jeopardy even if the victim were a threat to me or Alex, because no one could, or would believe I acted in self-defense.

  This was further complicated by the fact that they could use Caesar or Elizabeth to force us to do anything they wanted. One solution to that problem would be to divorce ourselves from any relationship with either of them. The thought of that option twisted my gut and caused me to almost drown in misery. I realized that I was incapable of abandoning the relationship, and I was certain that if I proposed the idea to Alex, I would meet a stone wall. I cast that idea from my mind.

  We would have to protect them.

  Now, what were the Shadow's weaknesses? They were cowards who hid among the normal human world and feared exposure. They didn’t present a united front, but were a hodgepodge of competing Houses and clans, each with its own agenda. They relied upon stealing what they needed from the efforts of the normal human world. It seemed that their strengths exceeded their weaknesses, but it was comforting to know that they had vulnerabilities. The question was how to exploit the weak points, and defend from their strengths.

  “What are you thinking about?” Alex asked, disrupting my thoughts.

  “How to beat these bastards.”

  “I've been thinking about that too,” she said. “I can only see one solution. One or both of us must learn how to duplicate their abilities. That will change the whole equation and give us more freedom of action.”

  I was impressed. I’d been skirting around the idea, afraid to explore that option. Assuming we could discover how to do it, which one of us should attempt to accomplish it?

  Alex solved the problem for me. “I'll do it. Dad seemed to think that I was the strongest.”

  “It's a little early to be deciding this,” I said. “We don't even know if the information exists, or where it is. I'll tell you what, if the time comes, I'll flip you for it.”

  “Rocks, paper, scissors?” Alex asked and grinned.

  “No way, you're too good at that. Coin flipping – my coin.” I grinned back, and then I became more serious. “Besides, we don't even know if we can learn how to do it. Let's agree to decide when the time comes.”

  “I think we need to try Dad's computer again,” Alex said. “There's got to be a way to access it. Surely, there must be a clue there somewhere.”

  “We won't have much time to search for it. I'm supposed to be back in Covington soon, and I don't know how much longer I can keep Harvey happy enough to avoid getting fired. If you don't make your mind up about school, you could lose your acceptance and your tuition, and even though we've got all that money, that's not small change. Then, there's Caesar and Elizabeth. What do we do about them?”

  “Yeah, that's the biggie,” she sighed. “Maybe tomorrow we can talk to them. Life has become too complicated. I wish Mom and Dad were alive. Now we're on our own, and there's no one to talk to. No one to help with the big life decisions. Without you or Caesar, I would feel so all alone. I don't know how I could cope with it.”

  I could sense she was depressed so I tried to lighten the mood. “Well, we do have a big day tomorrow. We're going to meet the parents – or parent. It must be getting serious.”

  “It's already serious,” she replied. “If he asked, I'd live with him – in a heartbeat. Isn't that crazy? Usually, I'm so collected. I would never make choices like that in such a short time. But this, this is almost like a compulsion. I can't explain it. But I know that if something happened to end it, I would never get over it. The thought is frightening.”

  I didn't say anything. I knew how she f
elt, because I felt the same way. I didn't want to vocalize it, because it was painful to think that it might all end badly. I had never been in love before. Should I just resolve to forget it, and pretend that it never happened? Go on with my life? That thought brought a fresh stab of pain. No, I could not abandon this opportunity. No matter what, I would pursue this to its end, good or bad.

  “If we're crazy, Alex, then I, for one, don't want to be sane. No matter what happens, I'll be there for you, and you'll be there for me. We'll weather this together, somehow.”