by Dale Mayer
Lost in the moment, when someone touched her, she shrieked. She bounded back, her hand going to her chest as she stared in outrage at Sebastian and the stranger at his side. “You terrified me,” she cried out. She took several deep breaths, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you call out?”
His lips twitched. “I did. Several times.”
She straightened and stared at him in shock. “Really?”
He nodded, watching her carefully, studying her.
She blew strands of hair off her face. “Sorry. I get so caught up in my work, I lose track of time and space. And my sense of hearing too, I presume.”
He motioned at the area around her. “What are you taking pictures of?”
“Houses and pathways,” she said with a big smile. “Children playing in playgrounds. Back doors and kitchens where families were created and grew.”
The man beside Sebastian sucked in his breath and stared at her.
She glanced at him and smiled, stepping forward, reaching out a hand. “Hello. I’m Lacey.”
He stepped forward, but they barely touched hands before he pulled his back. “Jeremiah. I’m a friend of Sebastian’s.”
Sebastian had the oddest look on his face when he turned toward Jeremiah. Lacey wanted to ask him about that, but now was not the right moment.
Jeremiah raised his eyebrows as he nodded to Sebastian, then asked Lacey, “What did you say you were taking pictures of?”
She waved behind her. “This whole neighborhood. It’s fascinating.” An odd silence overtook the men, and she looked at them. “What?”
They didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her.
She brought up her camera and flicked through the pictures. “See? Look at this house. You can see the kitchen and the hearth that’s the home of every family.” She turned her camera so they could see.
The men looked in the small window in the back of her camera and then frowned at each other.
Sebastian reached out and tilted the camera back at her. “What do you see?”
She stared down at it. “A partial building that’s been excavated,” she exclaimed. She looked at several of the other pictures she’d been taking. “Why? What do you see?”
“A hillside,” Jeremiah said bluntly. “One without any excavation.”
She stared at him and then at the space around her. As she watched, it was as if a layer of dirt and grass filled in over the top. She touched her forehead. “I don’t feel so good.”
Sebastian grabbed her as she took a shaky step forward. He gently helped her sit on the ground. “I’m not sure what you were seeing,” he said gently, “but it’s fascinating.”
She stared up at him blindly, confused by everything around her. “I could have sworn I saw everything here.”
“If I gave you a piece of paper could you outline what you saw?”
She nodded.
He pushed his notepad forward and gave her a pencil. “Just from where you’re sitting, what did you think you were taking pictures of?”
She sketched rapidly. She’d been an okay artist, never had the skill she’d seen in so many others. Still, she could certainly do this. She carefully filled in the paper with as much detail as she could. “This is pretty rough, but you get the general idea.”
The men stood behind her, watching as she brought the image to life. Finally she sat back and surveyed her work. She pointed out where each of the pillars were and the markers she’d use. “It’s all right here.”
Sebastian gently patted her shoulder. “That’s beautiful.”
“Well, certainly not my artistry,” she said with a chuckle. “But what’s here certainly is beautiful.”
“So, if you were to turn and look in that direction, what do you see?”
She looked up to see he pointed slightly off to the side behind her. She lifted the page, turning to the other site, poised the pencil and then sketched. “This is when I really wish I had some artistic skills.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jeremiah said. “This is fantastic,”
The men watched as she sketched out yet another home with pathways between it and other houses.
As she drew on the page, she explained, “This goes to the park where the kids played. Here’s a walkway where the community would sit sometimes and have meetings.” She pointed out gardens, marking them with the pencil. “It’s really beautiful.” She sighed happily as she stared out. “How come I can see this, and you can’t?”
Silence.
Slowly, she turned to look at both men, “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Sebastian said, his voice low but reassuring. “But, for some reason, you’re able to see beneath the layers that we see.”
“I saw them first with my camera,” she said, “and then, when I lowered the camera, I could see them in front of me.”
“Explain.”
She slowly turned to look at an area she hadn’t been taking photographs of. “Walk with me over here.” She hopped up and led them to a darker corner where there were more trees. “I haven’t done any photography work here, so I see probably the same thing you’re seeing right now—rocks, hillside, dark shadows, but there’s a warm heavy breeze, almost a heavy atmosphere.” She glanced at the others, and they agreed.
“Now I’ll lift my camera and photograph the area. It takes a bit of time to see more. I hadn’t really realized what I was doing because, for like the first ten, twenty, thirty photographs, I see this. But then it’s almost as if I’m looking deeper and deeper, and I see it through my viewfinder. I take picture after picture, and then what happened last time was, I lowered my camera, and I’m still seeing what I saw before.”
“Demonstrate please,” Sebastian said.
She shrugged and snapped some photographs. “I know this shouldn’t be happening,” she exclaimed.
“Try to repeat what you did before.”
She crouched, fascinated once again with the rocks, the way they were joined, the moss creeping over and under them, the mounds of weeds and dirt, forgotten areas of the world, the poor people who didn’t get a warning ahead of time. Not that anybody did. Pompeii’s destruction was indiscriminate. When the volcano erupted, it took out rich and old, young and poor, male and female.
She sighed. “This house was particularly unhappy.” She stood up with the camera before her. “That corner in the back, something’s wrong with that room.”
“In what way?”
“There’s no door,” she said as she took more pictures. The more she took, the more clearly she could see. She lowered the camera but still couldn’t see what she had seen in the camera. She lifted it again, and there it was. She kept working, going deeper, deeper into the woods. “Over here, this room, people are inside it, but it has no door. There’s a small window but that’s all.”
“And the rest of the space?”
She described what she could see. She lowered the camera, and she now could see it all, almost like a holographic image in front of her she sighed happily. “I wish I could get a screenshot of what my eyes see right now.”
Sebastian handed her the pad of paper and a pencil. “Can you try?”
She shot him a veiled look. “I don’t think I can draw what I’m seeing, but I’ll try.” She crouched down and proceeded to transfer the image in front of her to the paper. The trouble was, once she got into it, she couldn’t stop. The images took page after page after page. Her hand moved at lightning speed, drawing the lines, the elevation, the size, the shades, the shadows.
When she finally stopped, she could hardly move—her back was so stiff from being in the same position. She stared at the landscape in front of her. “And I can still see it all.”
“Can you look back to the section you viewed before and see if you can see it there?”
She turned and nodded. “Yes, it’s as if, once I see it, I can see it all the time.”
“May I look at the pictures you drew?”
Sebastian asked, his voice quiet, cautious.
With a heavy sigh she handed the notepad to him. “Like I said, I’m not much of an artist. If I had Photoshop, I might recreate it a little better.”
“How good is your memory?”
She looked at the camera and smiled. “I took photos of it.”
They stood around her and peered into her camera.
She pointed out where her sketches were in her photos. “See this is where this is, and this is here, and this is there.”
They turned and stared at her.
Her face thinned as shock reverberated through her. “You guys really can’t see any of this, can you?”
Slowly they both shook their heads.
“How is that possible?” she asked.
Sebastian said, “Because you’re seeing all kinds of stuff we have yet to see. It would take us days, weeks, years to excavate to reach the level of your … images.”
“Except what if … what if I’m wrong? What if what I’m seeing isn’t what’s here?” She stared at them blankly. “What if it’s my imagination?”
“Are you prone to bouts of pure imagination like this?” Jeremiah asked.
She stared at him. “No, not at all. This is the first time I’ve ever had this happen.” She turned and glanced around in bewilderment. “It’s so beautiful.”
“I wish I could see it with you,” Sebastian said. He crouched beside her. “Don’t mention this to anybody else, okay?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “In case they think I’m completely nuts?” She lifted her hand. It was now trembling. “I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “I have to understand this. It’s the only way I can function.”
He reached out and held her shoulders firmly. “We’ll help you to understand. But right now I need you to calm down and to realize this is a special gift. Whatever it is you’re seeing right now, we want to see it too.”
She stared at him. “Do you really think I’m seeing what was here? That I’m seeing life before this disaster?”
“I would like to think so,” he said. “We’ll have to do some excavation, maybe underground radar imaging, to get a better idea.” He pursed his lips. “The only thing is the expense to prove your visions. It would be fascinating to do so, though.”
She shook her head. “Probably not necessary. I could go back to where we were, where they’re currently working, and help identify everything that’s right there.” She took a deep breath. “But I couldn’t do it without them knowing. That’s not something I’m ready to let anybody else know at the moment.” She glanced over at Sebastian’s friend. “I hope you won’t tell anybody either.”
Jeremiah smiled at her gently. “No, of course not. This is something very special, and obviously we want to see everything that you’ve seen, so the more you can put down on paper, the better it is.”
She nodded. “If you could get me some pencils and sketch pads, I could sit here and draw. I’ve doodled a lot but, well I’m not formally trained,” she apologized again.
Both men chuckled.
“You don’t need formal training,” Sebastian said. “You’re incredibly talented.”
He lifted the page and flipped it to one of the last drawings she’d done. He held it out. “How could you not think this was brilliant?”
She stared down at it and whispered, “I don’t even remember drawing this.” Her fingers moved over the page. “Did you see me do this?” She lifted her puzzled gaze to each of the men. “I know I was drawing, but I don’t remember placing these lines on this page.” Her mind was confused. She reached for her bag, pulled out and opened the water bottle and took several drinks. “What was in those painkillers your doctor friend gave me?” she asked suspiciously.
“When did you take the last one?” he countered.
“Last night, … no.” She frowned. “I decided I didn’t need it. I’m not big on taking drugs in the best of times, so I chose to just go to sleep. I’m not sure when I took a pain pill. Maybe yesterday morning?”
“So do you really think there’s any drug still in your system twenty-four hours after you took it?”
Feeling a sudden chill at the onset of the questioning, she wrapped her arms tight around herself and rubbed her arms. “Is it cold?”
They walked her back out toward where the bright sun was.
Instantly she could feel the rays of warmth pouring down over her. “That’s better,” she said. She turned and looked at the corner. “Something ugly happened in that place.”
“Ugly, like what?” Sebastian asked her.
She shot him a shuttered look. “I don’t want to say. I don’t have any proof.”
“It’s not like you can accuse anybody here,” Jeremiah said. “None of us were alive back then.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But still it feels odd.”
“What does?”
“To see where people were kept like in a jail. Where they were walled in as prisoners.”
The men turned to look in the direction she talked about.
She studied the walls in her camera. “I don’t know how they would have gotten out.”
“So you’re saying, they were never intended to get free?”
“Exactly. And I think the window might have been for the jailer to feed them and to give them water. At least in the beginning. But I think, at the end, he used it to watch.”
“Watch what?” Sebastian asked urgently.
She took a heavy breath, reached out and squeezed his fingers, relieved when he squeezed back, one of his arms coming around her shoulders, hugging her close. She whispered, “He wanted to watch them. He wanted to watch them die.”
*
It was hard to imagine the kind of shock Sebastian felt right now. It never occurred to him such a thing would be possible. He knew from the look on Jeremiah’s face that he had been equally stunned. Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder if Hunter had experienced this. Sebastian and Jeremiah kept looking at the drawings and again around at the surrounding areas Lacey had sketched. They could see from the corner stones, how the buildings lay. Lacey’s diagrams were completely plausible, and that was the part that got to Sebastian.
How could she possibly know this? Even imagine this? She couldn’t, unless she’d seen it before. And that brought up a whole lot of questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Hell, he had no answers.
Jeremiah’s expression said he had none either.
Lacey sat down, pulled her knees up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly, and rocked back and forth, dealing with the shock, and yet, absolutely certain in what she could see.
That amazed Sebastian. He loved the concept of seeing into the past. It was what his life’s work was all about. In all of his energy and supernatural research he’d never come across such a skill. And certainly not to see the past in 3-D through a camera lens and then to draw such detailed architectural drawings. How did that work? Because, in his mind, it didn’t work at all, and yet, the proof was in Lacey’s diagrams beside him.
He had some historical drawings that he could potentially use to confirm her diagrams. But, because everything happened so long ago, it wasn’t like he had anything definitive.
She’d done a best guess, and it seemed eerily accurate. Her renditions were spooky with realism. She said she wasn’t much of an artist, and, of course, that left a lot of room for interpretation, but these diagrams said something different. He patted her on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s join the others.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want them to know anything about this.”
“I have no intention of telling them,” he said calmly. “But you’re obviously upset, and I think being around the others will help you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She got to her feet unsteadily.
As he helped her regain her balance, he asked, “How are you feeling today?”
Startled, glancing up at him, she shrugged. “Honestly? I felt great th
is morning. I felt like a big to-do was made over nothing.”
“Well, it wasn’t nothing,” he said. “Have you always been a fast healer?”
She considered that for a long moment and then nodded. “Essentially, yes. Plus I don’t get sick very often.”
“Lucky you,” he said. “Not everybody has a strong constitution.”
“I think that’s because I always had to be healthy and strong for my mother’s sake.” She gave him a sad smile. She turned to look behind her, her gaze drifting through all the buildings she could see so clearly. “It’s like I’m right there,” she murmured. “Like I’m in Pompeii before 79 AD. Before Mount Vesuvius erupted and destroyed the whole town.” She held up her forefinger. “No. Let me amend that. I think I’m seeing Pompeii as it would appear if completely unburied, showing all the destruction done by Mount Vesuvius.”
“And I want to know all about that,” he said.
“I’m not sure what I can tell you, other than what I’ve already said. If you think about it, this shouldn’t be happening.”
“Sometimes,” Jeremiah said, “we don’t need to think about things. We just have to accept.”
She mulled that over. “And not question?”
“Who would you question?” he asked in a sensible voice. “Lots of things are completely unanswerable in life. This looks to be one of them.”
She came to a stop, turned around and took a long gaze at the buildings that seemingly lived here. Following her gaze, he saw a slightly whitish-blue energy instead of stone gray, but it was so clear, so crisp, that she could see the openings for doors and windows. “What if I can’t see this tomorrow?”
“I hope you can,” Sebastian said. “Because this is incredibly valuable information.”
“Oh, you can’t count on anything.”
“Why’s that?”
She turned and stared at him. “What if I made it up?”
“Did you?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
He nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He grabbed her arm gently and nudged her forward. “Act normal except maybe appear like you’ve had a very long day and need to go home early.”