Powerlines

by Kurt Newton

  "But what if he's not dead? What if he was found and taken somewhere? I don't know who or where, but wouldn't you want to know for sure?"

  Mrs. Morales thought about this. Her eyes were strong and plaintive. Those eyes were used to seeing the worst of life happen to her, from her husband's abuse to her firstborn's death in a foreign land, and now this. And yet those eyes had not lost their faith or had even wavered in the face of all that God had taken from her.

  "Ethan was a good boy, he lived a good life. If he is dead then he is with God in heaven. But God also made him strong and smart. If he is alive, wherever he is, then he will survive whatever trial God is putting him through, and one day he will come home again. So, Lindsey, either way, I am happy."

  "I'm going to find him, Mrs. Morales. And I hope you don't mind, but when I do, I want to marry your son."

  Lindsey felt the tears track down her cheeks.

  "Come here, Lindsey." Mrs. Morales stretched out her arms and Lindsey left her chair to sit beside her on the couch. They hugged.

  "I will pray for you," Mrs. Morales whispered into her ear.

  32

  "This is where you will sleep," said Pike.

  A room identical to Pike's was sandwiched between Pike's bedroom and the Recreation Room. It hadn't been used in years. The bed's mattress and pillow were bare. Sheets, blanket, and pillowcase were neatly stacked in a pile at the foot of the bed. There was a night table beside the bed with a plain white lamp, an empty bookshelf against one wall, and an upright dresser for clothes. A door at the back of the room opened up onto a small bathroom and shower. Ethan walked across the carpeted floor and sat on the bed. Pike remained in the doorway.

  "Goodnight, Ethan. I'll see you in the morning. We have much work to do."

  The door closed. There came the sound of a deadbolt sliding smoothly into place.

  Ethan stared at the door where Pike had been standing. Above the door, near the ceiling, was a small semi-circular black globe. Its surface gleamed. Ethan turned to the pile of bedding. He began making his bed. When he was finished he undressed down to his t-shirt and boxers and shut off the overhead light, leaving the lamp on the night table on. He sat on the edge of the fresh-made bed and thought about going to sleep.

  He looked up at the black ball above the door, which now looked like a leering eye. He shut off the lamp and crawled across the bed onto the floor on the other side. He sat with his back against the wall, the bed acting as a buffer between him and the now invisible eye above the door. The wall felt cool against his back. He reached up and felt the metallic collar around his neck. It no longer hummed. Why couldn't he feel it anymore?

  He turned his shoulder toward the bathroom and felt the wall with his hand. His fingers searched for soft spots.

  "James?" he whispered.

  33

  Lindsey had just changed into her sleepwear when there was a rap on her bedroom door.

  "Knock, knock!" Lindsey's mother poked her head in. "Hi, Sweetheart, how did it go?" Then she walked in. She smiled tightly.

  "Fine, Mom." Lindsey picked up her dirty clothes and put them in the hamper. She sat at her makeup desk and began removing her makeup.

  "I'm sorry I couldn't be there," her mother said. "So, is everything okay?"

  Her mother inched her way into the room but respected Lindsey's space. It really seemed like she was trying to be accommodating.

  "Yeah, everything's just peachy. Thanks for asking." She shook the witch hazel onto the small facial discs and swabbed the thin layer of makeup off her forehead and nose.

  Mrs. Richmond sat on the bed. She talked to Lindsey's reflection in the mirror. "Good, because how about tomorrow we go to the Norwich Inn? Just the two of us. We can get our massages and lie beneath our steamy towels and just let the world float away. And afterward we'll go to Anastacia's and have that lobster bisque you liked so much. What do you say?"

  Lindsey stopped. "But I already made plans."

  "Well, change them."

  "No, I can't. It's important." Think fast, Lindsey, her thoughts were telling her. She's going to want to know what's so important. "I'm going with Saga to check out her new school."

  "But I've already made reservations," her mother said, her voice rising.

  "I'm sorry you did that without asking me first, but no, I can't."

  "But I'm asking you now." Again, the "what could be more important than my plans" intonation.

  "Mom, I really appreciate what you're trying to do. It all sounds great. But I can't. Can we go later in the week?"

  Mrs. Richmond took a deep breath. Lindsey knew she didn't like having her plans changed. Once her mother's mind was set on something it was full speed ahead. But her mother's usual stubbornness appeared to drain from her a bit.

  "Okay, honey. We'll go later in the week."

  By the expression on her mother's face, Lindsey could tell she wasn't happy. Maybe, after all they've been through, her mother was finally learning to let go a bit. Just a bit. Lindsey didn't kid herself. She believed in miracles but asking her mother to let go was like asking the seas to part.

  "Hey, Mom?"

  "Hey, what?"

  "I've been meaning to ask you. Did you ever know a man named Richard Knox? Ricky?"

  Her mother's eyes widened. "Yes, I do. How do you know him?"

  "He organized the search for Ethan. He's Park Ranger for the Natchaug State Park."

  "Park Ranger?"

  Lindsey's mother laughed. She laughed like it was the most ridiculous and yet the most appropriate thing she had ever heard.

  "Why is that funny?" Lindsey said. "Did you two have a thing for each other once?"

  Mrs. Richmond laughed even more.

  "Seriously, Mom. He got excited when he found out I was your daughter. He asked me to tell you 'Ricky Knox says hello.' Maybe he's single."

  "Honey, stop, my sides hurt."

  There was an awkward silence followed by another burst of laughter. Lindsey continued to stare at her mother. She had never seen her mother so...tickled. Just when she thought she had her mother figured out she goes and throws her a curve like this. Lindsey shook her head.

  Her mother got up. But before she left the bedroom she stood behind Lindsey and looked at her. "What a beautiful, strong, young woman you are."

  Lindsey stared at her mother. For a second she thought that her mother might have had a brandy or two, but there was no smell of alcohol. It was the real deal, and Lindsey didn't quite know what to say, except...

  "Thank you, Mom."

  Her mother nodded. The moment shrank to a pinpoint. Her mother then walked to the door. Lindsey suspected if her mother had stayed any longer, she might have witnessed a tear.

  "Goodnight, honey."

  "Goodnight, Mom."

  As soon as her mother closed the door, Lindsey began thinking about tomorrow and the search for Ethan.

  Elizabeth Richmond descended the stairs of her beautiful home. A home bought and paid for by the hard work of her husband. A husband who was not only well connected but lived a life attained by only a select few and envied by most. A life that dealt with both the everyday power struggles of a man of considerable wealth and the unseen forces that played out behind the scenes, in after-hour offices, in restaurants and hotel rooms, clandestine meetings that altered the fates of many both inside the circle and outside, some irreversibly. It was the nature of power that all those who wield it must one day succumb to its wishes.

  Elizabeth entered what was her husband's study, but was now hers. She opened the side drawer and reached deep, behind the first partition, into a dark space. She pulled out a large envelope that was delivered that afternoon. She pulled open the flap and slide out what was inside.

  Photographs.

  Photos of Lindsey at Ethan's funeral. Lindsey standing outside of the UConn Library with Jared Whitford. Grainy shots of Lindsey and Jared sitting before a microfiche reader, Lindsey at the sign-out desk, Lindsey pointing to an article with th
e headline "Student Photographer Missing." Lindsey being greeted on the doorstep by Ethan's mother.

  Elizabeth sat down. She let the photos fan out before her on the desk. The thought of losing her daughter was just too much to even consider. But what could she do? She was bound by her husband's associations, and those associations impelled her to do nothing. To just let fate follow its course.

  Now she let the tears come. A mother's tears for her only daughter's safety. And her own tears brought on by a bitter sense of duty to stand firm on her oath to protect the greater good regardless of the cost.

  34

  Knox was sailing on the Sea of Cortez. His wife, Marlene, lay bikini-clad and oiled on the front deck. She was Marlene of twenty years ago, the Marlene he had met during the worst period of his life. The Marlene who had rescued him from himself.

  The California Peninsula stretched like a great sleeping crocodile to one side, the coast of Sonora on the other. In the water a school of manta rays shadowed the sailboat like a squadron of airplanes. Knox couldn't imagine anything as perfect. Until the soothing shush of the clear blue water was interrupted by a strange and dissonant melody that sent his heart into a panic.

  Knox surfaced from the perfect dream into his bedroom. The clock read 12:00. His cell phone was ringing. He reached out and picked it up.

  "Yeah?"

  "Now is that any way to greet an old friend?"

  Knox slipped from bed and left the bedroom. This time he stepped outside onto the front porch.

  "What do you want?"

  "I just want to congratulate you on a job well done. Your loyalty will be pleasantly rewarded."

  "I don't like doing this."

  "It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, now does it? I'm sure the coroner who certified that blood sample as human didn't like doing it, but he did. What does some kid who will never amount to anything matter to him? Or to you?"

  "It doesn't," said Knox, biting his lip to prevent any more words from coming out.

  "Good. Then there's nothing more to say. Have a pleasant summer. Until next time."

  The phone call ended with a small burst of static. Knox looked at his phone. The three question marks lingered before being replaced by the words: Call Ended.

  Knox leaned on the porch railing. The moon shone high and bright overhead. The surrounding woods chirruped and droned with insect noise. He tried to remember the dream he was in before he was awakened, but the soberness of the phone call had erased all but a panicky underwater feeling.

  There were matching wicker chairs behind him, separated by a small round table. It was where he and Marlene sat when the humidity was too uncomfortable to be inside, Marlene sipping on lemonade spiked with rum, him nursing a cold beer. He sat down on his chair and let out a tired groan. He was getting too old for this.

  He let the sounds of the night sink in. It was going to be a little while before he could get back to sleep again.

  35

  Rain. The first rain of July. Fifteen days without even a cloudburst or a passing shower. Fifteen days of thunderheads building up in the late afternoon only to dissipate like ghostly monsters marching into the twilight. Fifteen days and it had to pick this morning of all mornings to finally rain.

  Lindsey stared out her bedroom window at the steady drizzle with disgust. The air felt twenty degrees cooler. Between the rain and the temperature it was enough to make things uncomfortable, but not enough to postpone her plans. She showered and dressed, then went downstairs to see what smelled so good.

  "Good morning, Maria."

  "Good morning, Miss Lindsey. Are you ready for your breakfast?"

  Maria had made green chili and eggs and flour tortillas. Fresh cantaloupe slices were arranged on a chilled platter on the island. Although her mind raced with anticipation of the day ahead and she wasn't particularly hungry, Lindsey decided she had better eat. She didn't know when her next meal would be.

  "And where are you off to today?" said Maria, serving Lindsey a healthy helping of chili and eggs.

  "Saga and I are going to visit her college." Lindsey hated lying, especially to Maria.

  "The hyena?"

  "Yes, Maria."

  Maria simply shook her head and began humming a Spanish tune. For the next ten minutes, as Lindsey ate, Maria moved about the kitchen cleaning and tidying everything she touched. Lindsey realized the house was quieter than usual. She finally asked, "Where's Mom?"

  "An important meeting of business," Maria said. "You were in the shower when she said goodbye to you."

  That's strange, thought Lindsey. Just last night her mother had wanted the two of them to spend the day at the spa. A day she said she had reserved. Lindsey wondered what had come up so suddenly.

  She checked to see what time it was. She was running late. She daubed the last of her tortilla in the chili and egg, creating a mini soft taco, and downed it in one bite. She grabbed a cantaloupe slice, stopping to sprinkle it with salt, on the way out.

  "Thank you, Maria. That was muy delicioso!"

  "Very good pronunciation. For a gringa."

  "If you see my mom, tell her she won't be able to reach me on my cell phone. I'll call later. Bye."

  "Have a good time, Miss Lindsey."

  As she hurried to her car, dodging the raindrops and puddles, Lindsey's heart pounded in her chest. She was actually going to do this. She was going to look for her dead boyfriend.

  Ethan opened his eyes. The light was on in his room. Pike hovered near the edge of the bed gazing down at him.

  "Good morning, Ethan. Sleep well?"

  Ethan pulled back as if to focus, but it was just Pike's presence that made him cringe slightly. The black orb of the video camera above the door appeared to rest on top of Pike's head like a third eye.

  "There are clean towels in the bathroom. I suggest you take a shower. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. We have a full day ahead."

  Pike turned and left the room. Ethan lay back. He stared at the camera above the door. He then got up, went into the bathroom and ran the shower. He undressed and stepped under the warm spray. It was strange. For the most part he operated without thought — washing, drying, dressing himself, the thin ring around his neck no more an obstruction than a piece of jewelry — but there was still a part of him that was distant, an island from where, at times, he viewed himself performing these functions, as if he were two people operating within the same body.

  Breakfast was waiting for him on the kitchen island: ham and eggs, two slices of buttered toast, and a glass of orange juice. Pike was not present. Neither was Wolf. Ethan sat and ate alone, his hunger overriding any other concern. While he ate he was able to take in more of his surroundings.

  There were four doors and three hallways that exited the kitchen. The exits were fanned out evenly like the spokes of a wheel. Three of the four doors were unlabeled. One door was labeled Recreation Room. A series of video monitors occupied one wall. There were three monitors each labeled with the word Pit and a corresponding number. The monitors were turned off.

  Pike entered the kitchen from the Recreation Room just as Ethan finished the last two gulps of orange juice.

  "How was your meal?"

  "Good," Ethan said.

  "That's good." Pike pointed. "Dishes in the sink, rinse, then place dishes in the dishwasher. Understood?"

  "Yes."

  Ethan got up and did as he was told.

  "Good. Now follow me. I have something to show you. "

  To Ethan's ears Pike's voice was soothing, and yet a frisson of fear tended to course through his body each time Pike looked his way.

  Pike punched in the code to the Recreation Room. 7-1-3-5-9. Ethan didn't see the actual numbers, but he knew by the movement of Pike's hand which numbers he chose. The order of the numbers traced the letter R on the keypad. The door unlocked and Pike waved Ethan in. For Ethan it was like stepping into a dream.

  The white on white was momentarily disorienting. Two rows of white tables
stacked with plexiglass animal cages created an aisle down the middle of the room. The fluorescent lighting cast soft shadows that made the floor appear covered in a layer of mist, like that of a stage at a rock concert. The runway led to a sheer white curtain at the back of the room.

  "The human body is an amalgamation of systems," said Pike. "These systems follow the basic principles of electro-, thermo- and hydro-dynamics. The nervous system. The hypothalamus, which regulates body temperature. The circulatory and the lymphatic systems. Independently, each is simple and perfunctory, but together they form a construct as complex as anything in the known universe. At the core of this construct lies the control center, the organic processor, as it were: the brain. But the brain is much more than synaptic tissue floating in a bath of electrolytes, it generates a magnetic field — an aura — that can be quantified and analyzed and, to some degree, modified.

  "Tell me, Ethan, what is most common force in the universe?"

  Ethan thought for a moment. "Gravity?"

  "In part," Pike said. In fact, gravity is a rather weak force. The most common is EMF: electro-magnetic force." Pike linked his hands together. "It is what binds...things...together. It is what keeps the universe from collapsing. It's actually quite complicated. In effect, EMF is the engine that runs the universe and everything in it, from weather to plate tectonics to how we feel when we wake up in the morning."

  Ethan didn't know what to say.

  Pike smiled. "Still not convinced? Here, let me demonstrate." Pike led him to one of the plexiglass cages. Inside, were two rabbits, both white, identical. Pinched into the ear of each was a white identification tag. "Every living organism generates its own magnetic field. The strength of that field is dependent upon the complexity of the organism itself. That complexity can be singular as in humans or collective as in the insect world. Studies have shown that sub-frequency oscillations create a kind of numbing effect in the brains of rats. Further on up the ladder, it has also been demonstrated that these same waves, carefully modulated, can alter the brainwave patterns in humans.