by Jay Sherfey
Just behind the roots on one side of the juncture a large bulge stuck out. It contained what looked like a cell nucleus similar to the one he saw in the microscope in Mr. Downing’s basement. The cable extended from the cell nucleus to the next junction far in the distance. This struck Jason as the way it should be. The tar did not belong. It messed up the roots. Probably made a person unable to do much but sit. Jason felt sure he knew the owner of the mind he shared. He waited beneath the cables for help. He needed more information. The scene changed to an earlier time at the Dubois house.
“Oh, just sit still and stop crying. The hair will grow back. This is the only way to get the gum out.” Lydia yanked the hair, annoyed with the child’s reaction. Holding it out, she snipped the tress.
“Could try ice,” suggested Frank a little too late.
“Doesn’t work with hair and why don’t you just shut up.” Lydia brushed the hair back into place. “Can’t hardly see it.” The scene faded as the girl got up from the chair to look in the mirror in the bathroom and gasped. Everything blurred and changed again.
Russ in the school hallway leaned over to whisper into Jason’s ear.
“Don’t you wish you could try this out to see what might happen?” Russ pointed at the fire extinguisher behind the glass door with its garish warning label about sub-freezing temperatures upon release of the gas. Russ’s smile and the hallway became fuzzy and melted away. Help had arrived.
Back beneath the cables, he returned to his starting point and found a red, glass cabinet door behind which the fire extinguisher waited. Over the top of the door was a fireman’s axe. Jason opened the emergency door and hauled out the canister. He pulled the axe from the wall.
He aimed the nozzle at the nearest tar blob and blasted it. Aside from changing color, a white opaque versus a dull gray, it looked unaffected. Jason set aside the extinguisher and took up the axe in a two fisted grasp and swung at a point where he would hit no roots. Upon impact the tar blob shattered like glass into a thousand crystal shards. He covered his head as the shrapnel fell all about him. When all was done, he looked up and found the roots exposed and the tar mostly gone.
With a solution in hand, Jason looked down the line of cables and realized there was no way for him to fix every connection. He needed more help; more came. He found himself in the bathroom off the Dubois kitchen where he looked at himself in the mirror. He recalled the infinite number of his reflections in the mirror on the door behind him. Mirror within a mirror presented the solution. Two mirrors, like the one hanging from the door in the Dubois bathroom, faced each other just behind Jason. He laughed. This was too easy.
He stepped between the mirrors and saw his reflections stretch on to infinity.
“OK, boys. We got a job to do.” He stepped out from between the mirrors and his reflections followed him into the room. The red emergency cabinets and axes duplicated themselves for each reflection now real in this mind.
“You know what to do.” All of the Jasons threw him a salute and grabbed the tools they needed to remove the tar blobs. In moments the sound of shattering glass enveloped the room.
“Hey, Chief!” Jason looked around for the source of the call. He discovered a radio microphone attached to his belt. He pulled the gray, oblong box out of its holster and held down the side button.
“Yeah. What’s up?” He released the button. The speaker squawked and scratched; then his voice came through.
“We got those tar balls coming down on us from above. Thought you oughta know and go up a floor. See if you can do anything.” For an instant Jason faltered when he heard himself on the radio. It was weird. He let it go and got back work.
“OK. I’m on it.”
“Roger that, boss. We got you covered down here.”
A door appeared next to the emergency cabinet behind Jason. He holstered his radio and banged the door open and walked into a long hallway. He saw the stairs through the safety windows in the doors opposite the ones he just opened. Up the steps, he discovered another large space but better lit. Piles of tar overflowed the sides of metal tubes that looked like bathtubs designed to gather and carry the material away down a long connection of piping. Something failed to perform its normal function.
Jason, a statue in the hospital’s day room, worked feverishly to unclog the brain’s plumbing. A control panel was needed. Something he had always found when invading other minds. He finally discovered four long handled switches. They pushed up through the floor hidden behind the pipes. They looked like the switches used to move trains from one track to another with a gear at the bottom that meshed with others to move the track. Three stood in the forward position and leaned away from him while one was back toward him. This was not the time to worry about what might happen. Jason grabbed the down switch and pushed it forward like the others.
Immediately, liquid flowed through the pipes. The tar blobs stacked up in the gathering pipe started to collapse, as if the bottom melted and collapsed. In moments the tarry substance in the pipe dissolved and disappeared, but the flow stopped. Jason turned around and found the switch in the off state. He grabbed the handle and pushed forward again. This time he jammed the axe, still in his hand, into the gear to keep it from moving. The fluid ran again in the pipes with clanks and clangs heard from all directions. Jason looked left and right and like the room downstairs it stretched on forever with more switches to throw and more tar to be dissolved.
“Now what am I s’posed to do?” Jason felt exhausted. He collapsed back against a pipe and sank to the floor.
“Not your problem any more, young man.” Shocked, Jason looked up to find Sally Tillman in an orange hardhat, looking at him with a huge grin. “Can’t thank you enough but I’ll take it from here. OK?” The scene changed swiftly.
Jason no longer leaned against a pipe with machinery clanging but found himself braced against the book shelf. It was quiet. He looked down and stared into Sally Tillman’s eyes. Once dead to the world, she smiled up at him with tears flowing down her cheeks. She let go of his arm and pointed a finger at him.
“I will remember you, young man.” Her rough voice was barely audible. “Yes, Jason Sutter, I will remember you.” She sat back in her wheelchair. Before Jason could answer, an aide whisked her away.
“Jason? What happened? You were like… gone for awhile.” Sam looked concerned.
“Don’t worry, Sam. I was just shocked by being grabbed.” Jason watched Sally wheeled out and wondered how his actions would come back to haunt him. Sally Tillman’s smile would stay with him the rest of his life.
Chapter 20
Mr. Downing knocked on the white door. Mrs. Lim opened it the length of the chain latch.
“Mrs. Lim, I believe.” He cleared his throat. She studied him carefully. “I was hoping I might speak to Professor Chin? This is where he lives?”
Mrs. Lim closed the door. Downing heard her footsteps move away and return. The chain scraped in its slide. She opened the door slowly and pointed the way. Downing found the man; he felt compelled to meet. His Asian features flashed into his conscious mind for days after his encounter with Jason at the microscope. Chiang sipped tea in Mrs. Lim’s kitchen.
“It is not hard to guess,” smiled Chiang. He invited Downing to take a seat. “Mr. Sutter, I presume.”
Downing nodded. He thanked Mrs. Lim for the steaming cup poured and placed before him. She quietly exited the room.
“Well,” said Downing after a sip of tea. “What are we to do with our Mr. Sutter?” He cradled the warm cup and thought carefully; then said, “He needs guidance and direction. If left to his own devices he…”
“Might do much more harm than good.” Chiang finished the thought. They sipped their tea in unison each with their own thoughts about the potential harm.
“I do not believe,” said Downing, “that either of us knows his full capabilities, but I’ve got a good feel for what he can do.” He set down his cup and described everything he recalled from the epis
ode in his basement. Chiang sat rapt as he listened to Downing’s journey down the rabbit hole. The wonderland landscape amazed him.
“You should read Jason’s journal.” Chiang placed it before Downing. He looked up at Chiang; he opened the book and read.
“My God!” declared Mr. Downing after he studied the pages. “What has happened to this child?” He closed the journal and pushed it away. “I guess it’s a miracle he survived at all.”
“It is a miracle,” agreed Chiang, “One of many. We are fortunate that he has not struck out at the injustice of all that has happened to him.”
“Would you know, my friend,” Downing looked pale, “if Mrs. Lim might have something stronger than tea? I feel the need of it.” The shock from Jason’s touch remained; the stress induced from what he read in the notebook, unsettled him. His hands trembled.
“Yes, of course.” Chiang rose and returned with two small glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing, surprised, questioned him with a look.
“It is something I have sampled and found I like.” He placed the glasses on the table and filled each to the brim. “Like you, however, I am torn about what to do.” They both polished off the bourbon in one shot. Chiang filled the glasses again. “There is no reason why Jason has to be the only one.”
Mr. Downing finished the second drink. Chiang refilled the glass. “How would we know?” He pointed to the journal. “Our memories are easily modified.”
“Jason has only reacted in defense. I have no worries about him using his abilities just because he can.” Chiang slowly turned his shot glass; he lifted it and sipped. “I wonder if there is any way we can know if we have been visited by others like him?”
“If I were to start somewhere,” Downing rubbed his chin, his mind working like a well-ordered machine, “look for the miracles, the unexplained. We should check in with the sisters Grimm.”
“Whom?” asked Chiang.
“The library sisters.” Downing sat back and sipped the bourbon. “I’ve known them for years. They have a knack, like magic, for pulling in irrelevant references which often lead to an answer to the question at hand.”
“Yes, yes. I found them to be quite useful, as well as, entertaining.” Chiang smiled with the memory of working with Louise and Mary.
“So, we are agreed. We look for miracles.” Downing raised his glass. “Maybe we can find an answer to our Mr. Sutter.”
Chiang raised his glass in response. “To miracles and those who can work them.”
Chapter 21
The library doors opened and Chiang and Mr. Downing entered. A young girl clutched a book to her chest and scurried out. They held the doors for her. It was near closing time, a week after they shared a drink at Mrs. Lim’s house. Down the hall from the front door they saw Mary Tremont and Louise Deloro bent over some book or magazine. As they neared the mahogany counter, the men noted that the two ladies debated energetically.
“I’m saying that he’s got some talent that’s very special. Look at the books he goes through.” Louise leaned on her elbows and looked up at her sister.
“I don’t know, Lou. Look at the source. Not the most prestigious publication.” Mary leaned over to get a better look at the document. “It’s not a very good photo either.” She shook her head not sure what to make of it. “Indeed, he’s a reading dynamo.”
“My good ladies, how good it is to see you again.” Mr. Downing paused. They looked up in unison. Louise smiled. Mary’s smile warmed the room. Downing cleared his throat uncomfortable beneath Mary’s gaze. Chiang hung back.
“Well, if it isn’t Kyle Downing after all this time,” said Mary. She frowned and folded her arms. “As usual you have come when there is little time left.” She sounded genuinely disappointed. “We are about to lock up.”
Mr. Downing coughed, embarrassed. “As it turns out Mrs. Tremont, we have come at the best possible time to seek you and your sister’s help to solve a mystery.”
“A mystery?” Louise glanced up at him; then looked over Mr. Downing’s shoulder. “Good afternoon, Professor Chin. As always it is a pleasure.” Chiang bowed slightly at the waist in acknowledgement.
“A mystery, you say?” Mary sounded curious and found her smile again. “As it turns out, we are working on one of our own.”
“Well.” Downing gave his most gracious but mischievous grin. “Perhaps, we can help each other.”
“Perhaps,” said Louise. Mary stood there dreamily. “Please tell us more.” She nudged her sister with her hip to get her to focus.
“Professor Chin and I are in need of help to list any miracle cures in Pennsylvania in the last few decades. Medical miracles reported by the press or some other publication.”
Mary and Louise looked at each other. Louise raised an eyebrow; Mary nodded, accepting their silent agreement.
“Does this have anything to do with our young Mr. Sutter?” asked Mary. Both men froze, surprised. Mary chuckled, amused by their reactions. “Well, Kyle Downing, it would seem, we are all well met.”
“What do you mean?” asked Chiang.
“Since Kyle’s god-daughter, Miss Thompson, introduced us to Mr. Sutter, he has been…” she thought for a moment to capture the right words, “devouring books as fast as we hand them over.”
“Can you be more specific?” Mr. Downing laid his hands on the counter. He looked from one sister to the other. Mary’s hand covered his. With the other she pointed down to the end of the counter.
“Each one of those carts holds about sixty or so books depending on the size of the volumes.” Downing and Chin followed her gesture to the carts and nodded their understanding. “Those four carts,” Mary pointed, “are the books Jason took out and retuned in a four week period.”
“You are telling us that this boy read over two hundred books in four weeks?” They nodded. “Are you sure he actually read those books.”
“By all means at our disposal,” said Louise. “We shared tea and cookies in the back and discussed the books in some detail.” She leaned forward and looked from Downing to Chiang. “I assure you, he read them.”
“Of course, we think he may have read a good many books already in the Dubois house before he ever came through our doors.” Mary came around the mahogany counter. She looked the two men over. “So, we are working on the same mystery?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Downing still shocked by the amount Jason had absorbed.
“Are we to work together, then?” asked Professor Chin. They looked at each other and exchanged nods. “If so,” he continued, “please call me, Chiang. What has Jason been reading?”
“Let’s see,” mused Louise, her hand on her chin. “He started with biology and genetics, then some books on World War II. Then, he started asking for more books on biology. Lately he has shown interest in plant and brain anatomy. He still has those texts. The fiction and history books he takes out one day and returns the next.”
“Don’t forget the chemistry text. He still has that one too,” chimed in Mary.
“My god,” said Downing, shaking his head in disbelief.
“He started with genetics based on something I told him,” stated Chiang. “In short, I had some plants that changed mysteriously in his presence. It looks like he wants to know how.”
They stood there in silence and contemplated the enormity of Jason’s abilities.
“What is your part in the Sutter story?” Mary pulled them back from their own thoughts.
“We believe,” Chiang spoke up, “that Mr. Sutter is special.” He paused. “Very special and requires equally, special guidance.” Louise held up her hand for him to stop. She came from behind the counter with a heavy set of bright, brass keys.
“Let’s go into the staff lounge to discuss this further,” suggested Mary in a hushed voice, like there might be prying eyes and unwanted ears listening. She turned away and passed through the door behind the counter on the left. “Lou will shut the place down so we are not interrupted.” She indicat
ed that they should follow. “Some tea, gentlemen?”
A porcelain tea service graced the table around which they sat. The cookie tin was opened and a plate layered with chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies appeared. Louise stepped into the room.
“So, Kyle,” said Mary sweetly, “Earl Grey I believe is your preference from your years in England?” She loaded a shiny tea ball with loose leaves. “You know I still have a rain check from our missed date. I save it in my desk at home.” She poured and handed the cup to Downing.
“Well,” he coughed, “that was 1943, Mary. You were married by the time I got back from the war and I…umm thought it best not to complicate things.”
“Jasmine for you, Chiang?” She worked on the next cup. “My Harry has been dead for the last five years, Kyle.” She spoke matter-of-factly. “I expected you to claim your check…but you have not yet.” She handed the simmering cup to Chiang but held Downing’s eyes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tremont.” Chiang smiled.
“Call me Mary, please.” She smiled, turning to him.
“Cookie, either of you?” asked Louise who rescued Downing from any further embarrassment. After each took one or two from the plate, she poured her own a cup.
“I think, Mary, we should allow you and Kyle to work this out at another time.” She sat back and stirred her tea. “Kyle, for pity sake, call. Neither of us will have any peace until you do.”
Downing nodded reluctantly and grumbled something under his breath. Mary looked delighted.
“We need to come clean, so to speak,” continued Louise, “on what we know or think we know. It will be more helpful to our investigation. Don’t you think?” She looked around the table.
“Given what you have already observed,” followed Chiang, “I agree you need our part, if you are to be most helpful.” Downing nodded. Chiang paused; he considered where to start. “Our Mr. Sutter is, as far as we can tell, a gifted telepath. We know, for example…” Chiang provided the details found in Jason’s notebook after which a long silence ensued as the ladies absorbed the enormity of Mr. Sutter’s condition.