Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  “Oh, no. This is one of the ancient stones. Not for sale. Never for sale.”

  Why was she so evasive?

  “Can I see it?”

  “No, really, it’s…”

  Daley thrust out her hand. “Juana … give.”

  The older woman hesitated, then with a resigned look, pulled a silver-dollar-size stone from the bag and handed it to Daley—

  —who gasped when she saw the drawing: a head with a crude, featureless face, long black braids, and a white patch in the hair at the top of its head.

  “You put me on a stone?” Daley said. “But I thought you hadn’t seen my hair before today.”

  Juana, usually the picture of unearthly calm, looked upset. “I hadn’t. That stone is hundreds of years old … maybe older.”

  Daley stared at her and knew she wasn’t putting her on. Her gut tightened into a knot. “But that’s not … not possible.”

  “So you would think.”

  “Is that why you were so shocked when you first saw my hair?”

  “Yes. I realized I’d seen you before … on this stone.”

  “It’s got a hole drilled through it.”

  “It was meant to be worn around the neck. I give it to you to wear.”

  Daley shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

  “But you must. It was meant for you. Long ago someone in my tribe saw you coming.”

  6

  Juana had roared off, leaving behind nothing but questions.

  (“I’m at a total loss to explain that,”) Pard said as Daley locked up.

  “There’s a logical explanation. Gotta be.”

  (“Well, when you come up with one, let me know.”)

  Daley was relieved to see that Tadhak’s cleaning team had hit the upstairs apartment as well. To call it sparsely furnished was being generous. She would have to make a trip back to her apartment. She didn’t relish the seven-hour round trip but figured she could pack the Crosstrek with enough stuff to make this place feel like home.

  Though spotless, the bathroom had ancient fixtures, especially the tub: solid steel with an enamel lining on four ornate legs.

  “This is the kind of bathtub they have in old cowboy movies.”

  (“I don’t think the building’s been here that long. At least it’s clean and got running water. You don’t have anyone who can bring you buckets of hot water.”)

  Her phone said seven o’clock by the time she’d put sheets on the bed and hung towels in the bathroom. Her stomach grumbled.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s try out Arturo’s Cozy Coyote Café.”

  (“Your Pepto-Bismol is back in North Hollywood.”)

  “Hey, how bad can it be?”

  (“Looks like we’re going to find out.”)

  She went to the window. Night fell quickly in the desert. The street was already dark.

  “It’s right across the street and we should support our fellow businesses, so—”

  (“It looks closed.”)

  Pard was right. No lights on in the café.

  “I’ll bet it’s just a breakfast and lunch place—no dinner. Well, damn. I’m hungry.”

  (“El Centro’s In-N-Out is only thirty miles away.”)

  “Again?”

  (“You love their cheeseburgers. Admit it.”)

  “Not as much as you. All right, let’s go.”

  As Daley headed out of town she was struck by how dark it had grown. She’d never driven in the desert at night.

  (“Pull off the road,”) Pard said from the passenger seat.

  “What? Why?”

  (“Just trust me for a couple of minutes.”)

  So she pulled off to the side and stopped.

  (“Now turn off the lights and get out and look up.”)

  “Are you sure?”

  (“You’ll thank me.”)

  Despite her reservations, Daley stepped out of the car and looked up.

  “Oh. My. God!”

  The moonless sky was ablaze with stars. She immediately spotted the pale haze of the Milky Way, smeared across the sky. And the seven sister stars of the Pleiades were sharp and clear and—

  Wait. How did she know this?

  “Pard, have you been studying astronomy?”

  He suddenly changed into a black man with a mustache and a bright smile.

  (“I wouldn’t say ‘studying,’ but I have been browsing.”)

  “So now you’re that guy from Nova?”

  He rose into the air. “See this line of three stars?” He touched each one as he spoke in Neil deGrasse Tyson’s voice. “That’s the Belt of Orion.”

  “You can fly now?”

  (“And this oblong glow, dangling below the belt like a penis, that’s the Orion Nebula complex.”)

  Daley laughed. “‘Like a penis’? I don’t think that’s how he’d describe it.”

  She climbed onto the hood and reclined with her back against the windshield. Starshine from the moonless sky painted the flat, featureless desert a drab gray.

  Just like the landscape of my life, she thought.

  (“Is that what you really think? How you really see your life?”)

  “What other way is there? I look back and I don’t see anything worthwhile. Fatherless from the get-go, then motherless. Scamming for change, picking pockets. ‘Tawdry’—your word—scams as an adult.”

  (“Are you proud of those scams?”)

  “I’m not ashamed of them. Not much different than scams like Powerball or Megamillions.”

  (“It’s not a scam if there’s a real chance of winning—”)

  “How do you call one in three hundred million a ‘real chance’?”

  (“Because someone does eventually win.”)

  “But millions and millions of people lose, just like my losers lost the car.”

  (“No one was ever going to see the new car you showed them.”)

  “Doesn’t matter. I chose the winner fair and square, so no matter what the prize turned out to be, the losers are still losers. Maybe the car they lost wasn’t the one they bet on, but they were destined to wind up with zero either way. And if all goes according to plan, they never know that. The last game was ruined by someone catching on.”

  (“How can you say ‘ruined’ when you walked away with a hefty cash payout?”)

  “Money is only part of it. The real high is walking away with the cash and leaving the marks thinking everything was on the up-and-up, with no clue they’ve been scammed. Nobody is mad or unhappy. And the reason for that is because they bought one hundred percent into the illusion I was selling.”

  (“And that’s important?”)

  “Crucial. I wasn’t out to make people unhappy, I just wanted them to give me their money.”

  (“I note the past tense.”)

  “Not sure I want to go on like I’ve been. Like I said, I’m not ashamed of what I see when I look back. I’m not about to shout it from the rooftops, but no regrets. But without it, what have I got? I don’t see anything ahead.”

  (“There’s this new venture, opening tomorrow.”)

  “And it’s going to give new meaning to my life, right?”

  (“Well…”)

  “I’m not holding my breath. Because really, what’s the point? What’s the point of anything?”

  (“That’s the kind of thinking that leads people to jump off bridges.”)

  She laughed. “No worry. I’m not suicidal. But you know, if a big extinction asteroid were to clobber Earth tonight, I’d be okay with that.”

  (“Well, aren’t you Little Miss Sunshine tonight.”)

  “It’s the truth.”

  (“I’d be anything but okay with that. There’s too much to learn.”)

  “Like what?”

  (“Like everything. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been sentient only two weeks, but I don’t see how you can dismiss this wonderful planet you live on, or the mind-boggling universe around it.”)

  “Newbiespeak. You’ll get over it.” She
waved a hand at the stars. “You call it ‘mind-boggling’ but that doesn’t keep it from being meaningless.”

  (“You sound like Camus.”)

  “Who’s Kamu?” The name rang a bell but she didn’t track it. “Sounds like a new killer whale at Sea World.”

  (“C-a-m-u-s. A French writer who thought that death makes life absurd.”)

  “Well, he was half right. Even if we were immortal, life would still be absurd. I mean, why am I here?”

  (“That question implies that you think someone put you here.”)

  “Well, it wasn’t my idea.”

  (“You’re here because you’re here. And the universe out there doesn’t care one way or the other. If you want meaning in your life, you’re going to have to make your life meaningful.”)

  “Wait—let me write that down.”

  (“Have you ever considered the possibility that your sarcasm might be a defense mechanism?”)

  She knew she was acting like a bratty adolescent, but bad enough she had a second consciousness in her head, she had one that felt obliged to come up with inspirational aphorisms.

  “Seriously? ‘If you want meaning in your life, you’re going to have to make your life meaningful.’ I’m thinking I should paint that on the ceiling over my bed so that when I wake up in the morning I—”

  Something moved in the sand off to her right.

  Did you see that? She didn’t want to use her voice.

  Pard disappeared and spoke in her head. (“Of course I did. If you saw it, so did I. But what was it?”)

  I was hoping you’d know.

  (“I haven’t a clue.”)

  Faintly lit by starlight, the flat, sandy expanse was broken by clumps of scrub brush and—

  There it is again. No, it’s another. And there’s another!

  (“Daley, they’re big.”)

  They looked like cacti—head-size barrel cacti popping out of the desert floor. At least half a dozen now, with more appearing. As the number reached a dozen, Daley squinted in the starlight and could swear she saw the glint of eyes, as if they had faces. That was enough.

  She ripped open her door, jumped inside, hit the ignition, and turned on the headlights. Yes, faces—not human, but faces, all looking at her. She peeled into a sharp U-turn back to town. In-N-Out could wait.

  “Ohmygod! What were those things?”

  (“Lizards? Giant lizards? You’ve never heard of such a thing. I’ve never heard of such a thing…”)

  “Maybe lizards … but not like any lizards I’ve ever seen. I mean, who’s ever seen lizards that big? Can I say, What the fuck, Pard? Can I just say, What the fuck?”

  (“You may. Say it for me as well.”)

  Daley screamed at her windshield: “WHAT THE FUCK?”

  7

  Cadoc heard her voice as soon as he entered the empty apartment.

  He’d been out on one of his nocturnal creeps when he saw her speed around the back of her shop, leap out of her car, and race up the stairs to the door of her apartment.

  He’d been curious about the mystery woman—everyone was curious about Daley and her Healerina shop—and now was as good a time as any to ferret out some answers.

  He’d eased up the stairs to the empty apartment next to hers. Robberies were unheard of in Nespodee Springs and so security tended to be lax. A thin strip of plastic was all one needed to get past a locked door.

  Cadoc followed the sound of her voice to the kitchen. Not only were the walls thin, but the previous tenant here had stolen some fixtures when he left, a couple of the kitchen cabinets among them, leaving a gap in the wallboard.

  Cadoc stepped up to the opening and listened.

  “We did see what we saw, right?” she was saying. “I mean we can’t blame it on a trick of the light, because those stars were pretty damn bright out there.” A pause, then: “No, it was not an optical illusion.”

  She sounded like she was on the phone. Cadoc wondered who was on the other—

  “Don’t give me that, Pard,” she blurted. “You see what I see and I saw heads sticking out of the sand and staring at me.”

  What? Heads sticking out of the sand?

  Cadoc noticed a sliver of light where the wallboard on Daley’s side had separated from the stud. He put his eye to it and saw her alone in her kitchen holding a soft drink in one hand and gesturing to the empty air with the other. She wore no earbuds or AirPods.

  “How do I know what they were attached to? But they had to be attached to bodies! I mean they can’t be just heads. They didn’t roll up like tumbleweeds. They popped out of the sand!”

  Could she mean … had she seen the porthors? No … not possible.

  But who was she talking to? She wasn’t thinking out loud, she was looking and gesturing as if someone else were there. But unless her companion was invisible, she was alone.

  “No, I shouldn’t have gone into the bar. I’ve never been in there and I don’t know what it’s like, and I’m not about to start asking the local boozers about giant lizards.” After a pause: “Oh, fine for you. I’m the only one who can see you, but everyone can see me. Just my luck some drunk would take a shine to me and follow me back here. No, thanks.”

  She opened the refrigerator door, then closed it.

  “It can wait. First thing tomorrow—yeah, I know it’s opening day, but first thing we do is start asking around. We can’t be the first to have seen them.” … “Good idea. I’ll start at the café. Maybe I should go up the hill and ask that Pendry guy.” Her tone turned sour. “No, it’s not because I think he’s ‘cute.’ His family’s been here forever, supposedly.” … “You want a logical explanation? Okay, here’s one for you: giant lizards!”

  With that she stormed out of her kitchen.

  Cadoc leaned against the common wall and tried to make sense of all this. Papa had become obsessed with the Duad coming here to interfere with the clan’s plans. He’d been sure it was the new arrival, but Daley had remained alone, confounding him.

  But was she alone?

  I’m the only one who can see you …

  Was she some sort of dual personality? Although that indicated mental instability, it might qualify her as a pseudoDuad. Or was she the genuine article: two people in one body? Her conversation just now might indicate it.

  I’m the only one who can see you …

  What did that mean? An imaginary friend, or someone who was truly invisible?

  Cadoc couldn’t go with an invisible man. Well, not yet, at least.

  But overshadowing all that was her claim that she’d seen giant lizards popping their heads out of the desert and staring at her. If they hadn’t been the hallucination of a schizophrenic mind, then they could only be the porthors. But porthors hide from everyone … show themselves only when called.

  Why would they reveal themselves to her?

  8

  Daley felt an urge to scream.

  This wasn’t her. She usually handled stress pretty well—thrived on it, in fact. Tomorrow was opening day and tonight she’d either seen giant lizards popping their heads out of the ground or she’d hallucinated them.

  Either way … not good.

  And then there was Pard. That guy standing over there was definitely a hallucination, but one deliberately created by the being in her head. The problem was he was always there. Even when she couldn’t see him, he was there—seeing what she saw, hearing what she heard. And commenting … always commenting. He had opinions on everything, but could he keep them to himself? Noooooo!

  “I need some alone time, Pard. I need a hot soak and no one else in my head. Can you take a nap or something for a while?”

  (“I believe that can be arranged.”)

  “Really? How?”

  (“I’ve figured how to give myself a time-out from your consciousness by blocking all your inputs. A virtual, windowless, soundproof room. It’s good for you because it will allow you the alone time you say you need.”)

  Daley was so relieve
d to hear this, even though she’d been too busy of late—until tonight—to feel the need for solitude.

  (“And it’s good for me as well,”) Pard continued, (“because it removes distractions and allows me to concentrate on the data I’ve stored away but not fully digested. Will two hours do?”)

  “Very nicely, thank you.”

  (“Any time. What are you planning to do?”)

  “Gonna take a long hot soak in that ancient tub and let the only voice in my head be my own.”

  (“I understand.”)

  “But will you be gone? Really gone?”

  (“No, I can’t go. We’re locked in to each other.”)

  “What I mean is you won’t be just hanging back and keeping quiet?”

  (“Believe it or not, I have lots to keep me busy. I’ll be ‘gone’ in the sense that we’ll be cut off from each other. Even if you want to ask me something, I won’t hear you. You’ll have to wait until the two hours are up. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”)

  “Most definitely.”

  (“Then I’ll see you soon.”)

  Silence.

  Was he gone? Really gone? She didn’t feel any different. How would she know for sure?

  “Pard? Pard, are you there?”

  Silence.

  No reason for Pard to lie about this. He wasn’t the lying type. If he couldn’t do it, he’d simply say so. She had to trust him on this.

  Okay, he was gone. Now what?

  After locking the doors, she got the water running in the tub. She’d learned the water came from the local spring. It had a vague sulfurous odor but nothing she couldn’t handle. She didn’t have any bath salts or suds, but she had a bar of soap and she had two hours.

  She needed this.

  She checked the temp as the tub filled, then pulled off her clothes and slipped into the water. The old-fashioned tub was angled away at the end opposite the faucets, perfect for leaning back and reclining, and she did just that.

  A loud sigh escaped on its own. She’d never been a bath person. Soaking in water that contained whatever you were washing off was not her idea of getting clean, but oh-dear-god it felt so good to sink up to her chin in hot water and close her eyes and just be alone.

  You will never be alone … Juana’s words. Did she know about Pard?

  “Hey, Pard?”