by J B Stilwell
I slowly nod my understanding and look over my shoulder to see that the hand on my elbow belongs to Tucker. He purses his lips as he nods his ascent before looking sympathetically at me. He slowly removes his hand from my elbow and directs his attention to Abe. I look at Ms. Montgomery who is as stoic as ever. We are really going to go through with this. I am really going to go through with this. What would it say about me if I got all of this way and then didn’t go through with it? What would it say about me if I did? Maybe the point is not what it would say about me, but like Mr. Caulfield said, what would it mean to human life in general? One of the downfalls of human nature is our rather self-centered world perspective. We view everything in terms of how it will impact us individually. Science strives for objectivity. I guess the ultimate test is how objective I can be in the face of a reality adverse to my natural self-centeredness. Or how willing I am to embrace a survival of the herd instinct.
I think about these things as we walk toward the back of the facility where we will exit and take our positions in the designated areas. I notice that Ms. Montgomery and Abe have both placed the specimen containers in their pockets. Shielding from the sunlight may protect a vampire from death, which may mean that the sun itself is the source of our weapon and not just the heat needed to dehydrate. Very curious.
We exit into the warm fall sun and see two tents set up, approximately one hundred feet away from one another. I guess the distance is the best we're going to get in privacy for our observations. Without discussing it, Ms. Montgomery and I head to the tent on the left and Abe and Tucker go to the tent on the right. A table is setting out in front of the tent, fully exposed to the sunlight. I stand under the shelter, collecting my thoughts on how we will begin.
"Um, I think that we should keep one specimen in the container and take the other out to see what type of impact a transparent covering would have on the process." I look at Ms. Montgomery, waiting for her agreement to my plan of action. I start to wonder if she had even heard me.
Finally she says, "I'm an archivist, Dr. Burcham. I cannot give my opinion or any direction on how to proceed. My job is simply to observe and record."
"Right," I say, "okay, we will go forward with my plan. Question, how are you going to record any of this? Write it down by memory once we get back to the other facility?"
She reaches into her right pocket and pulls out a small, hand-held digital video recorder.
"Good. That will actually be very helpful. And it's fully charged?"
She looks at me, blinking several times, "You're stalling."
"What?" I say in the most indignant voice I can muster. "I am not."
"I'm very good at my job and have it covered," she responds.
I nod then slowly put the gloves on, taking extra care to make sure that they are perfectly on my hands. It's an odd occurrence that I have such small hands and wrists given that I'm a rather big girl. Okay, I am stalling. This is by far my least favorite part of the project and I'm not looking forward to handling the amputated fingers of a tortured vampire criminal.
I turn to her, hold out my hand and simply say, "The specimens." She places the two containers into my hands. Balancing both boxes, I open one and remove one of the bloody digits then hand her the empty container. I look up at her and take a deep breath, "Here goes." She pushes the on button on the recorder and begins tracking my every move. I walk out to the table, laying the occupied container and naked finger out in the sun. Ms. Montgomery kneels to get a better look at the reaction.
Unlike what I saw on the recordings, what looked like smoke emanated from the finger. A vapor began to rise while the skin takes on a pallor and extreme dryness, a rather contradictory reaction. The finger wrinkles while bubbles form all over the area. What is left of the digit seemingly melts while also flaking away in the light wind until there is nothing left but small red globs. More curious.
In the specimen container, the other amputated finger is undergoes a similar reaction only at a much slower rate. The sides of the container are fogging up, as if there were an increase in air saturation. I sit back on my heels watching the process while thinking that the evidence of this slower reaction indicates that the "smoke" people often saw when vampires are exposed to sunlight is possibly an effect of fluids evaporating. If that truly is the case and not some type of special vampire smoke that I don't know about, then we have our answer. At least part of what happens is that the sun causes a hyper-accelerated dehydration in vampires. It evidently happens so quickly that it causes near instantaneous death. What doesn’t make sense is the appearance of bubbles on the skin and the fact that the skin looks similar to wax running down the side of a burning candle. There has to be another part of the puzzle that would explain all of this. We'll have to get any leftovers of the specimens under a microscope to know for sure.
Once the encased finger is nothing more than globules and flakes I stand and look at Ms. Montgomery, "I think we're done here. Unless you think there is something else that we should do."
She tilts her head. "I'm not saying anything." She then hands me the empty specimen jar and a flat plastic utensil that I use to collect the exposed specimen.
Holding both containers in my hands, I start to say something then stop. “Yes?” she asks.
“Vampires have supernatural healing abilities. Does that mean Thalia’s fingers will grow back?” A part of me hopes that the answer is yes. It would do wonders for my sense of guilt at doing something so horrific.
Ms. Montgomery blinks rapidly while staring at me, as if she doesn’t completely understand the question. “Dr. Burcham, vampires heal rapidly, sometimes even growing new flesh. They don’t, however, regenerate missing bones.”
I gasp. “Does that mean limp, boneless fingers will grow back?”
She purses her lips and seemingly refuses to acknowledge my question.
I shrug both shoulders then hand her the containers. "Okay, let's head to the main entrance."
As we make our way to the front of the facility I notice that Abe and Tucker must already be done and waiting for us. When we arrive at the front entrance, Abe and Tucker are sitting in chairs by the front door, talking very animatedly about football. They both become silent and stand as we approach.
Abe nods at me, "Are we ready to head back?"
"More than ready," I respond. "Are our escorts here?"
Tucker looks out the window, "It appears so. The SUV is in front of the door with two uniformed individuals in it. I think that's our ride."
We all look at each other for several moments as if we were silently communing over what we had just done. The look on Abe's face has hints of sadness along with unwavering determination. Tucker and Ms. Montgomery look as if they are simply waiting to find out what they should do next. Horrifyingly enough I am somewhat proud of myself for going through with it. In some ways I don’t know the strengths, and weaknesses, of my character until I am put in a position to do something that I abhor. Pride in doing this is tempered with a disgust at the apparent necessity. My shock slowly dulls that I had witnessed any of these things, when I had actually been an active part in it. It's easy to stand back as an observer and say something is not right. Your definition of "wrong" tends to change when you have to measure it against something that's, well, even more wrong.
I think that what scared me more than anything right then is the fact that above anything else, I just wanted food.
“Anyone want to go to lunch?”
Chapter 14
Everyone looks at me as if I have grown a second head. I am fully expecting rejection when Abe and Tucker say that they could go for lunch. I smile at each of them with my smile getting bigger as I look at Abe, thankful that he would be there so Tucker and I won’t be alone. Things have improved between me and Tucker, but I’m not yet comfortable with spending extended periods of time with him without a human buffer. It’s not like I’m using Abe. At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s just highly convenient that he ag
rees to go. And it’s not like I didn’t invite everyone. See, not using him.
Once we get back to our research facility, we make a stop at one of the research suites to deposit the experiment specimens into a controlled-environment storage unit. After, we go to the parking lot where Abe and Tucker are waiting.
I offer, “I can drive so that we’re not all wasting gas.”
Without saying a word Ms. Montgomery continues to her car, gets inside and promptly leaves. As we watch her Abe asks, “Is she always like this?”
“She’s not very sociable,” I respond.
“She just takes her job very seriously,” Tucker states.
We continue walking to my car as I look at him, “Do you know her very well?”
“Not really. We have worked on other projects together. She’s always been the type to work and then go home. Work is for work, not socializing.”
Nodding I agree. “Yes, that is very much how she has been. Work being only for work would be great except we spend most of our lives doing it. For some of us it’s the only social life we have.”
“Maybe she has a fulfilling social life outside of work. So, she doesn’t really see a need to interact with her professional peers,” Abe suggests.
I open the driver’s side door and unlock the passenger doors. Tucker rides shotgun while Abe sits in the back. “Maybe. Just a little hard for me to think of her as the dynamic socialite.”
“First impressions are not always accurate,” Tucker says, looking straight into my eyes before breaking his gaze. “Okay, where to for lunch?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “I’m not from around here, remember?” I look back at Abe in the rearview mirror. “Any ideas, Abe?”
He shakes his head, “I’m not from here either.”
Tucker offers, “Well, there is a mom-and-pop diner that is pretty good. It’s called The Soup Spoon. It’s located on the main strip of downtown Rowan.”
“There’s a downtown in Rowan?” Abe asks.
I smile. “In small towns in West Virginia it’s considered downtown if there’s at least one stop sign.”
Abe laughs. “What if there are no stop signs?”
“Then the residents do not expect visitors to stop for any length of time,” I say.
“Doesn’t sound too friendly,” Abe states.
“On the contrary,” Tucker says. “People in West Virginia are known for their hospitality. They’ll be sitting on their porches and wave at you as you drive by, even if they don’t know you.”
I nod. “But that doesn’t mean they want you to stay. It’s not so much an issue of rudeness as it is suspicion. Some parts of West Virginia have a long and sordid history of being exploited by outsiders, particularly coal companies.”
Abe leans forward in his seat. “Exploited how?”
I briefly look at Tucker to see if he is preparing to answer the question before I continue. “Unfair labor practices, wage issues, mine safety issues. Destruction of the land, including removing the tops from mountains. And all of the wealth from this industry? The people of West Virginia don’t have it that’s for sure.”
“There’s an abandoned mine here in Rowan,” Tucker says.
“Really?” I ask. “Why abandoned?”
“From what I understand,” he explains, “there were some suspicious deaths that happened in the 1980s. Several miners died. The coal company that owned the operation was investigated. Not long after the investigation they packed up and left town. It devastated the people here because practically everyone worked in the mine, so everyone lost their livelihood. Until the government built the research facilities here, there really wasn’t a way to make any money.”
We pull into the small parking lot of The Soup Spoon, get out of the car and make our way to the front door. We sit at an empty table and pick up our conversation. “Was the coal company responsible? Is that why they left?” Abe asks.
Tucker shakes his head as he takes his seat beside me. “No. The deaths were never solved. The sheriff could not determine how the men died, much less any motive.”
“How many deaths were there?” I ask.
“Three,” he answered while looking over the menu. He glanced back up at us. “Would you be interested in seeing the mine?”
I thankfully don’t have to answer and show any ridiculous fear as the waitress arrives to take our orders. When she walks away Abe says, “I would love to see the mine. But isn’t the area restricted because of the deaths?”
Tucker grins. “Technically, yes. But that hasn’t stopped me before.”
“You’ve been there before? Why?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Morbid curiosity, I guess. It’s a mystery and nothing gets the imagination developing all types of theories like something that apparently doesn’t have any explanation.”
“True. You can make up any explanation you want and you’re never wrong, that is until someone solves the mystery,” I state.
“I would like to go,” Abe says. “It sounds like something that would interest me professionally.”
I look at him, “What’s your degree in, Abe?”
“I got my PhD in forensic criminology from Florida State University,” he says.
I smile brightly. “Fascinating field. I had thought at one point to go into criminology, but I ended up sticking with environmental science.”
“You could still work in the field,” Abe returns my smile. “Working knowledge of the surrounding environment at a crime scene is always helpful. Many times it has helped to solve crimes, even if it’s just a matter of knowing the ecology of a specific organism found on a victim.”
Tucker looks at both of us. “As interesting as this is, could we talk about something a little more mundane before the conversation goes off in a direction that I can’t follow.”
I lower my head but raise my eyes just enough to notice a slight blush erupt on Abe’s light brown skin, like cinnamon sprinkled in cappuccino. I can feel the corner of my mouth lift in a half smile as I allow my eyes to drink in the view. Good looking and highly intelligent with knowledge of a field that I find extremely interesting. It is quite possible that I have been directing my attentions in the wrong areas when there are better options that may be available.
We continue to talk about everyday, trivial topics as we finish our lunch. I can’t help but continue to smile at Abe and notice that he seems to be smiling at me just as much. I remind myself that there’s no sense in reading too much into it as he’s just being nice. He’s just thankful to find a peer with similar interests.
After we pay the bill, we return to the car and Tucker says, “So, do you all want to go to the abandoned mine?”
I look at my watch. “Well, it’s just after noon, so we could go for a bit and still have enough time to rest and get cleaned up before returning to the facility.” I look in the rearview mirror. “Is that good for you, Abe?”
“Most certainly. I am very interested to take a look around the area. Do you know where the bodies were found, Tucker?”
“Yeah, I know the general locations,” Tucker advises as he turns toward me. “Emma, get back on the main road going toward the facility. After passing the facility, you’ll want to take the second left. We will take that road for about fifteen minutes as the location is situated in the mountains.”
I nod as I turn the car back on the main road. We drive in relative silence with Abe asking the occasional question about the unsolved deaths. I only half-listen to the conversation. Instead, I take in the scenery of the trees and wild flowers growing abundantly on the sides of the road. Although we are going to the spot of mysterious deaths, I feel a sense of calm, almost like the mountains are giant walls blocking out the evil of the outside world. But, bad things happen everywhere, including in a secluded mountain town like Rowan. Regardless of how hard we try to make ourselves feel safe, evil will always happen wherever there are humans.
“Right there,” Tucker says, pointing to a large, fenced-in area. “
You can pull over there on the left side.”
Once the car stops, we all get out in the hot autumn sun. Using my hand to shade my eyes, I look around the vicinity. Everything is locked up and closed with heavy chains. “Looks like the place is locked up. How would we even get in? Even so, wouldn’t it be trespassing?” I say.
Tucker smiles. “I know a way. And there are no signs posted to keep out. Even if there were, it’s not like anyone has kept up with what’s going on with this place. It’s like a ghost town.”
He begins walking toward the right side of the fence as Abe and I follow. “The chained up fence kind of gives the message that they don’t want people inside.”
“It’s not a crime if you don’t get caught.” Tucker looks back and winks at me.
Grunting I say, “Yeah, because leaving the car parked in plain sight is really inconspicuous.”
Tucker stops, turns around and takes a deep breath. He looks me straight in the eyes, pleading, “Emma, please. Just try to relax. Nothing’s going to happen.” He takes my hand and lightly squeezes it. “I promise.” He releases my hand.
I put my hands in my pockets, “Okay, but if we get caught I’m telling them you made me and Abe do it. You threatened us with your....um....your secret ninja skills.”
Abe and Tucker laugh as I push past them. Tucker catches up and takes the lead again. He leads us to a rather large opening in the chain-link fence. It looks like someone had cut it at some point. Tucker spreads the sides open and wiggles his way through. Abe gestures to the opening, “Ladies first.”
“Lovely,” I say, “men showing chivalry when committing crime. Be still my heart.” I wiggle through the opening, glancing back at Abe to see him stifling a laugh by broadening his smile.
Once we are all inside the fence, Tucker takes us between the buildings then further into the mountains. The buildings are in bad shape and everything metal has the dull glint of rust and decay, making everything look as if it were splattered with dried blood. The mineshaft reminds me of the mouth of one of the monster worms from the movie "Tremors," only less inviting. Nothing like walking into a gaping black hole to make you feel like the end will be near.