With a shaking hand, Allison hung up the phone.
“Allie, what’s wrong?”
Allison looked at Macy and broke down in tears.
Macy put an arm around her shaking shoulders and said, “Come on, tell me about it. I’ll buy you a shake.” She led Allison into the McDonald’s.
TWELVE
EUCLID HEIGHTS, OH: Tuesday October 26, 1999
3:30 PM
When Macy ushered Allison into the McDonald’s, Allison didn’t resist. She felt stunned, numb.
What was she doing?
Where was Mom?
Allison shook, hugging her paper bag. Things were moving too fast for her. All she wanted to do was go to her room, pull the covers over her head, and forget the rest of the world existed.
But, right now, Agent Fred Jackson was probably in her room. She could picture him sifting through her torn-up manuscript, picking up one of the half-dozen paperbacks she had kept in the box with it. She could see him glancing at the out-of-focus Victorian nude on the cover, and laughing.
She could feel him laughing at her.
Allison began crying again.
Macy hugged her shoulders. “Calm down. You need to sit, girl.”
She gently led Allison to a booth and set her down. Allison sniffed, telling herself that she’d done too much crying already. At this rate she’d die of dehydration before any government nasties caught up with her.
If things like this keep happening, I can’t break down at each one. I’ll paralyze myself.
It wasn’t as if she had the three years for emotional turmoil she’d given Melissa in Restless Nights. Melissa only had one problem, her lover to be, Randolph, and she’d had all the time in the world for histrionics. Unlike her fictional heroine, it didn’t look like events would allow Allison the chance to sit down and blubber.
Much as she wanted to.
Maybe, Allison thought, if I don’t get hysterical, I’ll see the next blow coming.
Macy had put her backpack down and had gotten in line at the counter. Allison put her paper bag on the table. And, after trying to get comfortable in the already uncomfortable seat, she pried the film canister out of her back pocket and tossed it on top of the bag.
Macy came back with a tray of food. “Looks like you need this.” Macy sat down across from her and placed a large vanilla shake in front of Allison. When Allison sat mute for a moment, Macy peeled a straw and shoved it through the top for her.
Allison tried to remember the last time she’d eaten anything. Not today. She’d played with her food a lot. But eat? No.
“Thanks” she told Macy. “You’re a good friend.”
Macy smiled as if that was self-evident, and watched, quietly, as Allison emptied the shake in less than a minute. Allison realized she was ravenous.
After the shake was gone, Macy said, “Wanted to apologize for the brain-dead call last night.”
“You don’t—”
“Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I understand. I can imagine how you felt.”
“I was freaked, girl.” Macy looked out the windows. “I’m your friend, and the thing freaked me bad. And today…” she shook her head.
“Today what?” Allison asked.
Macy nodded her head toward the front of the restaurant, and the shadow of Euclid Heights High beyond. “Today, Principal Burkel called in the cops to clear the reporters. Think every senior had a mike in their face sometime during lunch period.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I slugged a reporter.”
“What?”
Macy smiled. “Shoved him, really. A little too much on Chuck’s side. Got a bunch of sisters together to shout at him. Bet that won’t make the news— are you all right?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Allison shook her head. “No I’m not all right. Miles from all right. Further from all right every minute.” She almost broke down in hysterics again. She only stopped because she didn’t want to do that to Macy.
Macy shoved the tray at Allison and said, “Have my fries and tell me about it.”
“I don’t think—”
Macy reached out and touched her hand. “Please.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, where to start…”
“Start with Chuck?”
Allison shook her head. “It’s not that simple.” Nothing’s that simple.
“Start somewhere. What was on the pay phone that freaked you out?”
Mom. Allison sniffed and rubbed her nose. God, she had to tell someone, and she was too scared of the cops. If not Macy, who? David would wet his pants. “Ok,” Allison whispered. “But don’t tell me I’m crazy until I’m done.”
Macy held up her hand and said, “Promise.”
Allison looked around, but none of the students flooding McDonald’s were paying them any attention. She sucked in a breath and began in an even lower whisper.
“It started when this phone call woke me up…”
◆◆◆
“I should slap you, girl,” Macy whispered back across the table.
“Macy, hold on for a sec—”
“Do I look like a fool, child? You trying to turn this all into some joke? I don’t think it’s funny.”
Macy had listened patiently through the entire story. Macy hadn’t objected when Allison had polished off her entire order— Big Mac, Fries, Apple pie. Now, when she had gotten to the end, when she began to talk about telekinesis, Macy had finally given in to the inherent unbelievability of the situation.
I don’t blame her. I can barely believe it myself.
“Wait, I can show you.” Allison moved the film can and rummaged in the paper bag she’d been lugging around all this time. Near the bottom was a box with a half-dozen eggs still left in it. Allison took out an egg.
“What’s this,” Macy said, glaring at her. “A magic trick?”
Allison looked around, then moved the paper bag to the end of the table to hide her hand. She didn’t see anyone else paying attention to them.
She held the egg up in her palm, in front of Macy.
I just bet the fact someone’s watching is going to mess me up.
Her mind wrapped around the shell, feeling it as insubstantial as a soap bubble. Once her grip was secure, she very gently raised it slightly off her palm. “Look,” she whispered at Macy.
“Lord Jesus.” Macy whispered back.
Allison smiled at her friend’s reaction. “Push down on it.”
Macy did the same look back and forth that Allison had, searching for people watching her, or maybe a hidden camera. Macy regarded Allison uncertainly.
Allison nodded.
Macy placed her fingers on top of the egg, and Allison resisted the push.
“Harder,” Allison said. She knew Macy could bench press two hundred pounds in gym class. But Allison could teek a Jeep Cherokee an inch off the ground.
Macy pressed, and pressed. Allison’s smile hardened into a thin grin as Macy put both hands on top of the egg. Macy’s biceps bulged under her windbreaker.
To anyone else in the McDonald’s, it would be an odd, but not paranormal, sight; two girls in some weird form of arm wrestling. The egg itself was fully concealed with Macy’s hands on top, and Allison’s hand cupped underneath. It would take a very close observation to note that the girls weren’t touching each other.
Eventually, the predictable happened. The egg cracked, spraying its contents. Macy’s hands slapped Allison’s messily.
Allison shook her hand off.
As she did, Allison was shocked to see that she still had a hold of what was left of the egg’s shell. What remained of the egg, a number of shell fragments, hovered there, dripping. She let the fragments fall to the tray below and looked frantically around the restaurant to see if anyone had noticed.
Around them, people milled, talked, and ate, oblivious to the fact that something miraculous had happened.
Macy looked at the egg mess on the tray between t
hem. Egg had slopped over the paper wrappers, and the few remaining fries were dotted with fragments of shell. Macy looked at the mess on her hands. From the expression on her face, Allison could tell that she had to be thinking about Chuck and what had happened to him.
“Dear Lord.” Macy said.
Allison reached up and grabbed Macy’s shoulder. “Macy?”
“This is scaring me,” Macy said, quietly.
“How’d you think I feel, huh? Last Friday all I had to worry about was Mr. Counter’s stupid history paper.”
Macy kept looking at the yolk on her palm.
“Macy!” Allison said, harsher than she intended to.
Macy looked up.
“I need a friend,” Allison said, gently.
Macy looked at Allison, and then made an expression as if she was disgusted with herself. Macy wiped her hands on the few remaining dry napkins and said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Kind of hard to take’s all.”
“Like I was given a choice?”
“Hell of a friend I’m turning out to be this week.” Macy tossed the napkins on the egg-spattered tray. “Your life’s turned assbackwards— all I think of’s how upset it makes me.”
“That’s not true—”
“Don’t correct me when I’m apologizing.” Macy looked at the tray and said, “Ugh.” She got up and dumped it.
When she came back she returned to their original conversation. “Before I shot my mouth off, you were saying what about these Feds?”
“I don’t know who they are, and I didn’t see what happened to Mr. Luvov. And that Agency for Scientific Investigation isn’t in the phone book.”
“ASI? Sounds like a Six Million Dollar Man re-run.”
“You watched that?”
“I was nine, we didn’t have cable, and nothing was on Sunday mornings— stick to the subject.”
“There were at least three of them. Two drove Mom’s car, the others rode in a gray van they parked out front. And there was a kid—”
“Let me guess, the others are Betty and Wilma.”
“What?”
“The names you’re telling me, Fred, Barney…”
“I was a little too upset to notice. Someone has a warped sense of humor.”
“You said these ASI guys had a kid with them?” Macy sounded incredulous.
“Yeah, at least I’ve always seen this boy around that gray van. He was in the wrong place when I broke out.” Allison shook her head. “I still feel bad about that.”
“Damn it, girl. That ain’t your fault. And if the kid’s with these guys he deserves it.”
“You didn’t see his leg.”
“These ASI Flintstones have kidnapped your Mom, maybe killed your neighbor, and you’re worried about— Hey, I know that look, what you thinking?”
Allison had just remembered something. “God, and I have to be hit over the head three times…” Allison rummaged in her bag and fished out the film canister.
“And what the hell’s that?”
“The only thing left from Mom’s memorabilia box. See?” Allison pointed out the yellowed label with the words “ASI File #” on it.
Macy hefted it.
“I don’t believe I didn’t see that immediately, the initials, ASI.”
“You were busy,” Macy looked at the labels on the film can. “Ok,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Allison grabbed her bag and slid out of the booth after Macy. “Where?”
“Where else?” Macy said as she grabbed her backpack with a free hand. “We’re going to the movies.”
◆◆◆
“I don’t like being here,” Allison said.
It was getting close to five, and the halls of Euclid Heights High were nearly empty. Allison felt like an invader, which was totally irrational. Students were still here, for club meetings, athletics, a few just loitering. The hall monitors didn’t give either her or Macy a second look.
Allison still felt she was about to be arrested.
Macy led her upstairs to the third floor, “You know a better place to borrow a movie projector?” Macy stopped her in front of a door. Through chicken-wire glass, Allison could see carts of TVs, VCRs, and a few movie projectors. A monitor sat behind the desk in the room.
“How are you—?”
“Shh, I don’t have an AV pass for nothing, girl.” Macy pressed a button next to the door. “Wait here.”
The door buzzed and Macy opened and went in. Allison was left in the hallway, waiting, feeling alone. It felt like hours before Macy came back out.
What am I doing here?
Macy came out holding a key ring attached to a foot-long plastic paddle with “AV Room” scrawled on it in permanent marker. When the door shut behind her she said, “No one ever expects you to BS your way into more work.”
“What are we doing, Macy?”
“Collecting AV equipment from the classrooms,” Macy said. She began walking off down the hall. Allison followed, helplessly.
Macy led Allison up and down the elevator, dragging cartfuls of TVs, slide projectors, and VCRs back to the AV room. Between the two of them, they managed two carts at a time. During the second trip, Allison peeked around the fake wood grain of the third TV and asked, “So when do we get a movie projector?”
Macy was ahead of her, pushing a cart too big for the slide projector sitting on it. “There’s only one movie projector signed out,” she said. “I’m saving it for last.”
“Great,” Allison said.
“Hey, I only signed up for an hour. But with two of us hauling this stuff, we’ll have half that left to play with the projector with no one the wiser.”
“Whatever you say,” Allison said.
As Macy promised, the last room held a movie projector. She locked the door behind them and looked at her watch. “Got ‘till six. Call it six-fifteen before anyone notices I’m late.”
At the rear of the classroom, pushed out of the way, was the metal cart with the projector on it. Allison walked up to it and took the ASI film can out of her paper bag and looked at the complex arrangement of sprockets and gears. “You know how to work this?”
Macy snorted and said, “Get the shades.”
Allison pulled the blinds while Macy maneuvered the cart to an aisle between the ranks of desks. Allison turned and watched Macy as she pried open the film can. As she struggled with the can, dented by being repeatedly sat upon, she said, “Pull the screen down.”
Allison pulled three maps down over the blackboard before she found the right roll. When she was done, Macy had liberated the ASI film and was busy threading it through the projector. Allison watched her and felt a dread, as if she really didn’t want to know what was on the film.
“Got it,” Macy said, turning the pickup reel with her finger to gather up the slack. “No broken sprocket holes, no scotch tape gumming up the leader. You can tell this didn’t come from the school film library.” Macy looked up and said, “Get the lights.”
Allison hit the light switches, throwing the classroom into a dirty gray twilight. Dust hung in the air in sunlight fractured through closed venetian blinds. Color leeched out of everything. The darkness, and the emptiness, so disturbed her that, for a moment, Allison had to fight an urge to switch the lights back on.
God, I’m not afraid of the dark. Allison told herself. It’s not even dark. The scariest part of it was the complete irrationality of the emotion. It made no sense.
Allison swallowed, forced herself to ignore the feeling, and sat at a desk in front of the class. “Roll film,” she said, forcing her voice to sound lighter than she felt.
“Here goes.”
Light flickered, and a fuzzy square on the screen resolved itself into a rectangle as Macy focused the projector. Then came the familiar black and white leader, 8… 7… 6… 5…
After a moment of black screen, a title frame came up. It showed the seal that was obviously from a federal government agency. It had the eagle with a shield on its breast, like
on the back of a dollar bill. But instead of the stars and stripes, the shield had a starburst pattern. Instead of the arrows and olive branch, the eagle’s claws held a flask in its right and a little atomic symbol in its left. Around the seal was the text, “Agency for Scientific Intelligence.” There was a Latin motto, “Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est.” Except for the fourth word, she had no idea what it meant.
After a moment, white text covered the screen. It invoked the National Security act and three executive orders to inform the watcher that showing the following film to anyone without such and such a security clearance was punishable by a 20-to-life prison sentence and several million dollars in fines.
Macy whistled, “This has got the FBI copyright warning beat all to hell.”
After the dire warnings, the black and white film broke into hokey documentary music. Another logo appeared at the top of the screen, this one a stylized flame and the words, “Prometheus Research Institute.”
Mom worked for these people?
In smaller, barely legible text under the logo, “MCMLXVI.”
1966?
The main title read, “Employee Orientation Series III: Case History 867. Chemical vs. Surgical Intervention.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Macy said.
“…in number three of this series—” said the narrator in a sudden burst of volume from the projector. Macy adjusted the volume and said, “Sorry.”
Allison kept her eyes focused on the screen. On it she saw pictures of sixties teenagers, people no older than her. The scenes, at the moment, were just background to the narration. But Allison had already noticed disturbing things. The film showed the teenagers in an institutional environment. She got the impression of a cross between juvenile detention and a mental hospital. All the windows had chicken wire on them, and the exterior shots all had very tall chain-link fences in the background.
She almost had to force herself to pay attention to the generic narrator’s voice.
“…showed you exactly what these children are, and what they are not. The second demonstrated the current means of testing and our statistical methods. This film concentrates on how methods of psychiatric intervention alter the results of these tests. We concentrate on one case in particular to demonstrate how the interaction of psychology, physiology and parapsychology are resulting in unprecedented inroads into—”
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