“You are all what?”
“Everything...that is us and you. All of consciousness that matters.”
Frank took advantage of this pause in the usual train of events that followed leaving his body to ask more questions. “But I am conscious.” he said.
“You are part of us. We are with you always and you are with us. This is how we will help you remember.”
“We are the same? Part of the same thing?”
“We are all part of our whole.”
Frank thought for a moment, then accepted the fact that maybe this thing was basically unexplainable, outside the limits of language, and asked, “Is it possible to see you?”
“It is not your time to join us. We will be with you to help you remember. This much we can do. The rest you must do yourself. Once your are incarnate, you are beyond all but our thoughts. We cannot...we are not allowed to interfere. You must resolve this yourself. What they are doing is causing a problem. We have been allowed to speak to you even though it is not your time, to help resolve this problem. We depend on you in this matter, as you will depend on us to give your memory a life past the barrier.
“You keep saying allowed. Is there someone...something above you that you have to answer to?”
Silence, then, “It is not your time to learn these things.”
He felt the familiar feeling as he accelerated down the cord of light. He thought to himself, they're as helpless as I am about what the Ice House staff is doing but at least someone's trying to help. Maybe now when I'm locked in Lawrence Lowell's body, I'll have a good chance of remembering that I'm Frank Tilton.
Frank's lifeless body was wheeled into a room that looked like an operating room, and a similar procedure to that which Mrs. Lowell had told about began, except that Frank's body like, Lynn's, was stored in dry ice, not in the super cold liquid nitrogen.
Lawrence Lowell was taken off life support, his heart was stimulated and soon it was beating on its own. His brain activity registered strongly for the first time in forty years. Lawrence Lowell opened his eyes.
CHAPTER 33
Scott didn't think it was worth telling Lawrence about the red headed woman he had silenced. She was dead and Lawrence couldn't amuse himself with her. Scott had to kill her then and there or someone he didn't have influence with yet, the Attorney General, would have been down here to Southford with a team of investigators and State Police. He figured it would be best to let Lawrence decide what to do with Frank and Lynn, so he gave orders that their bodies were to be maintained until Lawrence was in a condition to decide what to do with them. Scott had visions of offering Lynn to Lawrence as a welcome back gift, a gift he could amuse himself with at the cabin.
Scott, the devoted brother, spent the next two hours with his brother before Lawrence Lowell spoke his first word.
“Scott?” Lawrence mumbled, looking around as if searching for some hint of the year. “How long has it been?” He stared at Scott with a look that said, It must be a long time judging by your face.
Scott was taken aback by the look, then recovered. Forty years, Law. “Forty damn years!”
Lawrence Lowell put his hands to his face and felt his facial features as if to make sure they were still the way he remembered them. Scott helped him sit up. “Isn't there anything yet? Anything that can be done about aging?”
“No. I'm afraid I'm stuck with this face,” Scott said. “There's been a bit accomplished by science, like advances in diet and supplements and anti-oxidants to prevent cell damage that contributes to aging, and I've taken advantage of a lot of the supplements. I don't look too bad for eighty now do I?”
“Eighty!. I'd forgotten. No, not at all. The God-damned disease? The Leukemia?”
Scott raised his eyebrows and smiled “It 's curable now.” Then a serious expression and the question. “What's it like Law?”
“I don't remember anything about it. It's like there was nothing. I can remember shortly after being frozen that my spirit or soul was moving away from my body. I wasn't above it or beside it...someplace else, if you know what I mean. The other side? I don't know. Anyway the feeling didn't last long, I guess, because I don't remember anything after that.”
Scott looked intently at Lawrence as if trying to use X-ray vision to see who was really occupying the body. He knew where his brother's spirit had been all that time and he hoped there wouldn't be any more problems now that Tilton was dead and frozen. “Law, do you recognize the name Frank Tilton?”
“No.” The body that was Lawrence Lowell looked away examining his surroundings. He changed the subject.”Is the facility still pretty much the same? The staff? My wife? In her late seventies? Still alive?”
“Yes, still alive. I'll fill you in on everything. There were some difficulties in the last few days that weren't covered by any of your contingency plans. You'll need to familiarize yourself with them and make the necessary decisions about how to permanently resolve them.”
“Okay. What about your wife Scott? Denise?”
A somber look appeared on Scott's face and he said, “She's gone Law. Twenty years ago. Cancer got her too.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. You know how much I liked her. And how much fun the three of us had at the cabin.”
Scott went silent for a moment then said, “I remember the day when I got back to the house, from one of our fun sessions at the cabin. I came in and she said, 'I know what you do at the pond.”
“I was stunned. My first thoughts were about how we might handle this. The thought of having to do anything to Denise started to make me feel sick.” She just stood there smiling, enjoying having shocked me like that. Then she said, 'I want to do it with you two.' Then she said, 'Oh, not all the time. Just once in a while. I know how you two boys like to do your own thing at the cabin. Just once in a while, okay.'
Lawrence said, “Yeah, I remember when you told me that she knew and that she wanted to take part.”
“Law, do you remember the first time she actually took part instead of just watching. She had a natural talent for that kind of entertainment, didn't she?”
Lawrence said that he agreed with that then added. “I was even more amazed when she requested that someone especially meant for her be brought up here from New York by our contacts down there. And how she insisted on being alone with the man when he woke up manacled with just him and her in the room, while we sat in the other room drinking beer.”
“Yeah, she took her time. Enjoyed herself didn't she.”Scott recalled with Lawrence, how they heard screams at first from the other room, then as time went on, the screams became pleadings, then just before she came out and said 'All done.' the pleadings became barely audible whimpers.
Lawrence said, “Yeah, I was really proud of her the way she didn't stick us with taking care of the body. The way she insisted on imposing the final indignity on her victim by dragging him into the processing room and turning him into fish food.”
“I really chose the right woman,” Scott said. “The three of us were completely compatible. A rare thing”
Lawrence asked, “Why wasn't she frozen here with me, until a cure was found?'
“Wouldn't have any part of it,” Scott said. “Couldn't stand the thought of her body being frozen in here for who knew how long. So she's buried in the town cemetery.”
“Well, said Lawrence, “Let's carry on out there in her honor.”
“I'll drink to that. When I've got my hands on a beer again.” Then Scott added. “We carried on in your honor while you were resting in this place. Until she died” Then he laughed. “I'm still in practice and I've invented a few techniques that you might like to try out.”
Lawrence closed his eyes, and his body twitched a few times Scott yelled, “Law! Law!”
Lawrence opened his eyes again.
“You had me worried.” Scott smiled then said, “Those problems I told you about that we had recently. I think there's one problem that we've been having that you'll particularly enjo
y dealing with. A young lady.”
A look of revulsion made a transitory appearance on Lawrence Lowell's face making Scott again wonder whom he was really talking to, but he quickly dismissed the feeling. Frank Tilton was dead. All was well. His brother was alive again. Soon there'd be fishing and camping and having their favorite form of fun to enjoy together again at the pond. He gave Lawrence a smile, waiting to see how it would be returned. Law made an attempt at a smile but it must have hurt at least a bit to use those muscles, because it left his face quickly.
“Let's get down to business.' said Lawrence. “The staff will be waiting anxiously for their bonuses.”
Lawrence insisted on being taken to his bank after being told of Frank and Lynn. Scott listened incredulously as Lawrence said, “My God Scott. This man and woman have temporarily given their lives so that I might live. Their families will be grief stricken when they're told of their accidental deaths. I'm alive and from what you've told me, it couldn't have been accomplished without their cooperation.” The word cooperation seemed to Scott to have been said with a hint of sarcasm. He was becoming increasingly uneasy, but Lawrence seemed to have stepped right back into his role so naturally that Scott once again dismissed the feeling. Lawrence Lowell insisted that 20,000,000 dollars each be deposited in any account that Frank Tilton and Lynn Beverly had. Their heirs would benefit from it and possibly later Frank and Lynn themselves would benefit if some way could be found to revive them without endangering Lowell. Lawrence said that it was necessary to clear his conscience.
“Conscience! Revive them?” Scott bellowed. “Law! You've created a fortune, thousands of jobs. Your wealth has made this town a paradise. Wouldn't you say that your existence is more important than...No. Absolutely necessary when compared to these two? What could they have contributed to the world?”
“I insist,” said Lawrence. “Just indulge me on this one, okay Scott. It's necessary.”
Scott shrugged and reluctantly agreed to go along with it.
The forty million dollars was transferred into the accounts of Frank and Lynn back in their home towns.
Lawrence Lowell gave instructions. “Assemble the staff, anyone who's due for monetary rewards for their part in the project. I'd like to meet with the whole staff this afternoon.” “But first...home. My wife. I suppose I should see her soon. Although I'm not looking forward to it. I imagine she looks a lot like her mother did back forty years ago.”
“Law, your wife has left the area. Her staff says that she needs to prepare for your reunion with her. She says she'll return when she's ready.” Scott turned away and banged his fist down. “The bitch never supported what we did. She gave me a hard time the whole forty years.”
“Poor Scott,” Lawrence said in mock seriousness, then laughed. “You must have received the brunt of her wrath the last forty years and I only had to put up with those years before that, until I got a reprieve.” Then another sarcastic laugh. “She left?” We haven't seen each other for forty years.” Then another laugh, but totally devoid of any concern.
Well, you know how it was Law.” Scott felt a little more confident about who was really inside Law's body. “You never got along. She's gotten used to not having you around. She's got a string of boyfriends.”
Either Lawrence Lowell was truly back or whoever was in his body played the role well, drawing upon Lowell's memories to act out the part.
“She's what, late seventies?”
“Money makes the difference. There's a lot of good looking young men without any money. She capitalizes on that situation.” A smile lit up Scott's face like Times Square, then he said, “God Law, it's a great country now. The repressive laws that were passed earlier in the twentieth century, the laws that later gave you such a hard time implementing your ideas are being reversed. It's one hell of a country to do business in now. Labor unions are shit, weak as hell. No power anymore. I can't even remember the last time that anyone had trouble with a major strike. Constant levels of up to 10% unemployment, lots of people willing to work two jobs each to maintain a middle class lifestyle. A government that's willing to let seemingly anyone from less developed countries in that can be put to work for minimum wage or for less, under the table.” Then the smile reappeared. “But of course the people in this town have it made. They've kept in line now for forty years without a problem. The trouble makers, the few that came along are taken care of, or driven out. Oh, and there are all kinds of corporate tax breaks and credits. Our corporations are paying less dollars toward taxes now than they did forty years ago. Great tax laws.
A look of revulsion crossed Lawrence Lowell's face but he quickly erased it. Scott stopped extolling the new America and gave a questioning look. “Sounds great,” said Lawrence. “A world that's better than when I left it.” The lack of a smile on Lawrence's face again caused Scott to feel concern.
CHAPTER 34
Scott drove Lawrence home. Lawrence turned to Scott and said that he needed to be alone for awhile. When Scott left, Lawrence headed straight for the gun room. On every wall were guns and rifle racks. Nothing had been added since Lawrence Lowell was frozen. No assault rifles, but the finest weapons of the time. In one corner was an ammunition cabinet. Frank, in Lowell's body matched up handguns to the appropriate ammunition.
A thought came into Frank, but inside Lawrence Lowell's skull, inside Lawrence Lowell's brain, that if he wanted it to be, all this was his. All he had to do was to suppress that part of his mind that kept telling him that he was Lawrence Lowell instead of Frank Tilton. But it wasn't easy. It took a constant effort, almost as hard as the effort it took to maintain a lucid dream. If he let his guard down, Frank found himself thinking like Lowell.
A Lowell thought fought its way into consciousness. How nice it would be to take a gun and wander the vast grounds, to shoot something, just accurately enough that he could get to it in time to watch it die in agony. This would hold him off until he could find another woman to lure to Scott's compound or to reconnect with his sources in New York City and have a woman sent up to him. He longed to watch from beginning to end the look in her eyes as he and Scott terminated her life. Frank snapped out of it and gasped at the thoughts he had just been thinking. There was a tug-of-war going on in his mind between conflicting personalities. He couldn't let up for a moment. There was no way he could maintain the consciousness known as Frank Tilton in this body and he now knew it. As long as he was in a body with an incompatible genetic structure for his personality, it would be a battle to keep thinking as Frank.
He decided to try out two handguns and found his way out the back door. He went through the kitchen, passing a young member of the staff, new to the house, who appeared as uncomfortable with him as he was with maintaining the Lawrence Lowell pretense. She noticed the two handguns and her voice was unsteady as she said, “Good day Sir.”
“Hi,” Frank/Lawrence said and continued out to search for a place to fire the guns. He stopped just short of the door and returned and said to the kitchen helper, “Miss, would you have some empty cans around?”
The girl blinked herself back to composure and flitted around the kitchen looking for cans then remembered that there were some in the trash. She held a few up. “Three? Will that do sir? I can wash them before you handle them.”
Frank told her that it wouldn't be necessary and left so that she could return to the calmness of her kitchen activities. He walked out into the herb garden and out across an expanse of Lawn, past a formal hedge arranged in what Frank felt sure would be a traditional maze if he was in the mood to enter it. But this wasn't the time for amusement. He continued on until he found a natural area of tall pines, found a fallen trunk and set up the cans on it, then he turned and walked back about fifty feet, examined the handguns, put one down on a large rock and aimed the other gun at the cans.
Frank wasn't concerned about hitting the cans, he just wanted to try out the guns, to familiarize himself with them but he figured he may as well aim at some cans
at the same time. Frank took aim and fired. A clean miss as wood chips flew off the log that the cans rested on, one chip hitting a can, causing it to teeter, but it remained in place. Something deep within Frank's mind took over. He felt a bit of anger at missing and wondered why. He wasn't competitive. He had never been competitive about anything except football. In everything else he had always been somewhat passive, ambivalent about competing. He remembered Allison's mixed double tennis events and how he went out of his way to lose . But he felt it anyway and he took aim again, this time letting his subconscious mind take over, a physical brain in which the connections were already there, established by Lawrence Lowell many decades ago when his love for guns had brought him out here often to try out his hundreds of weapons. Cans flew off the log as bullets tore through them, replaced on the log then blasted off the log again. Frank felt a sense of satisfaction, as hit followed hit. Then he thought to himself, This isn't me. He picked up the guns and headed back to the house.
Exhaustion overcame Frank/Lawrence. He lay on top of the blankets of Lawrence Lowell's bed, not wanting to get inside but also not wanting to appear strange to the staff. He didn't feel any less out of place in the dream that followed than he did in the room he was in. Both were alien to him. He dreamed of the rooms at Scott's compound. The dream took on a feeling of pleasantness, of feeling at home. Lawrence found himself standing in the room feeling happy. The door opened and Scott walked in, young, in his thirties, looking as handsome as he had been then. He led a woman in front of him, blindfolded and bound, hands behind her back.
“I have a young lady here who would like to earn some money. It's her profession.”
“Naturally,” said Lawrence. “She'll earn it tonight.”
“Now that I'm here,” the woman said, “How about letting me see where I am.”
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