by J. Thorn
The man at the other end of the cluster watched Hank walk out of Noble Library and down the sidewalk toward his truck. He opened his encrypted email client and sent an update to Dr. Singleton. The subject of the message read, “He’s researching Lake View.”
Chapter 10
“Voices?”
“Not exactly voices,” Hank said. “More like a feeling, a force.”
Dr. Lisander scribbled in her portfolio as Hank spoke.
“I was at the top of the hill by the Garfield Memorial. Do you know it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Is it near your wife's gravesite?”
“No,” Hank said. “It isn't. I felt pulled toward the south end, where the cemetery slopes down toward Lake Erie.”
Sonya lifted her head and put the end of the pen in the corner of her mouth. Hank shifted in his seat.
“There’s a crypt down there,” he said. “It has the family name ‘Brainard’ across the top.”
“What happens inside the cemetery?”
“Nothing unusual,” he said.
Hank slapped the arm of the chair and shook his head.
“Until yesterday.”
Dr. Lisander sat up and tilted her head sideways. She moved to the right to make sure the hidden camera would be able to zoom in on Hank’s face, capture every detail and mannerism.
“What happened yesterday?”
“I met someone. A delivery guy, named Johnny. He appears out of nowhere, says he knows Michelle’s dad and strikes up a conversation with me.”
She waited.
“That in and of itself would have been weird. But then right before he drives off, he threatens me.”
“Physically threatened you?”
“Not really. It was more of a warning.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to ‘stay away from this place’.”
“Why would he say that?”
“I don’t know.”
Hank looked at the floor.
Sonya closed her portfolio and leaned back in her black leather chair. Hank noticed the way her hair framed her face and how her eyes sparkled with an energy that was enticing and yet dangerous.
“Do you have a hobby?”
“Like bowling?” Hank asked.
“Anything. Do you play a musical instrument, enjoy woodworking, roller derby? I don’t know. Anything that isn’t work and isn’t involved in raising your son.”
Hank shook his head. The past two years were about survival. He fought to help his son heal and then put every waking moment into holding it together after Michelle died. He had a hard time remembering what life was like before the universe beat him down.
“I love to volunteer. I used to read to the kids at the Diamond Youth Shelter on Larkin Street in San Francisco. Before...”
Sonya took a business card from the holder on her desk, the ones printed just for Hank. He didn’t know he was her only client. He couldn’t know. She flipped it over and scribbled a number on the back.
“I volunteer at the City Mission on Carnegie Avenue every other Saturday. I think you should come down and take a look.”
Hank reached out and took the card. His fingertips brushed hers and he felt a tingle in his chest. The card was soft and he could detect the faint aroma of her perfume.
“That’s not some breach of ethics or anything, is it?”
“For two people to volunteer at the same homeless shelter?” Sonya asked. “I’m your therapist. My job is to help you stabilize, get control of yourself. I had no idea you enjoyed helping out at homeless shelters, but I would have suggested this either way. Show up on Sundays if you’re at all worried about how this could play out in our doctor/patient relationship.”
Hank held the card in his left hand and flicked the edge of it with his right middle finger.
“Okay. I’ll check it out. Is it reputable?”
“Of course. The shelter has been around since the early nineteen hundreds. They do great work.”
“Thanks, doc. I appreciate the tip. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Maybe,” Sonya said. “And if not, I’ll see you here for your next session.”
Hank smiled, slid her business card into his pocket and left.
Sonya locked the door, sighed and waited for Singleton to come online.
“Risky,” he said through the communications device.
“We don’t have much time. Her one year anniversary is coming and that’s when he is most likely to try bringing her back from the dead.”
“Do you think Johnny spooked him?” Singleton asked.
“No, and he didn't distract Hank.”
“Can you?”
“Of course,” Sonya said, before punching the button and ending the call.
Chapter 11
Singleton started Orion’s Order a few months after the debacle in the observatory in 1971. Having seen the consequences of raising the dead, Fred and Martha needed no convincing to join the organization. New recruits who had not seen a live summoning were shown video of past occurrences. Those viewings always ended in tears. Over the years, they took on specific roles, all of which were designed to prevent anyone from opening a portal.
Members of the Order known as seers regularly monitored the observatory, making sure the portal remained closed. And if it somehow opened, the faction within Orion’s Order known as guardians would identify the threat and send the hunters to dispose of the resurrected-turned-demon.
They sat in the polished oak pews of the Wade Memorial Chapel. The residents initiated into Orion’s Order through personal hardship or lineage remained silent, not out of reverence to the chapel but out of concern for the problem at hand. The seers, those with the responsibility to detect fluctuations in activity near the portal, began to chat with each other. They shared knowing glances in the grocery stores and on the athletic fields at their kids’ games. The seers felt it and they, in turn, alerted the guardians. The guardians filed into the chapel as well, seated on the left side as tradition dictated. With the seers on the right and the guardians on the left, the three elders came in last.
Fred, Martha and George walked down the short aisle as if part of a somber, black wedding. If the guardians could not keep summoned specters from stepping out of the portal, the hunters would need to slay them.
“How long has it been?” Martha asked Fred.
He could feel her breath on his ear when she leaned over to whisper.
“Thirty, forty years since a hunt.”
She nodded and tried to wipe the sweat and worry from her forehead. The humidity sat upon the chapel, pressing down and suffocating those inside. Martha glanced at the seers and gave a weak smile to a neighbor.
“Since we had to secure a portal?”
“Close to twenty,” Fred said.
The hunters stopped at the end of the aisle. The waning light exploded behind the Tiffany glass as if the rest of the world was ablaze. Singleton stood to the right of Lisander like a father about to give his daughter’s hand in marriage. Sweat beaded on his bald head. He left his white lab coat at home, making him look unusually normal. Sonya bundled her long blond hair in a high ponytail. She wore a thin, tight black T-shirt and jeans.
With close to twenty people inside the cramped chapel, the heat intensified. One of the seers rose and cracked the door, which did little to alleviate the cloying air. Singleton waited for the man to return to the pew before speaking.
“Thank you for coming. We decided to gather here rather than the observatory.”
Fred sighed at the absurdity of such an opening. Of course, what else could be said? George was one of the originals, one of the founders of Orion’s Order. It was his early study in astrophysics that led to the discovery of the portal and its unseen powers. Saying he invented the phenomena would be like crediting Newton for creating gravity. But Fred understood George’s essential role in both recognizing what was happening and then mobilizing to protect Cleveland Heights, and the world.
He could remember the night Singleton met him at the gates to Lake View Cemetery to propose the formation of Orion’s Order. Fred knew it had to be done, yet he was resistant because it was Singleton’s idea. He listened to George explain they needed to create a society to both watch the portal and protect humanity from the demons that could come forth from the world of the dead to that of the living. This was after he killed Mary, who had turned into a demon, so there was no need to convince Fred of the seriousness of the situation. Singleton took him to the observatory to show him the portal. Although Fred could not see it with his eyes, he felt it. The power was there, a soft hum like a backup power generator tucked in the subbasement of the building.
“We feel the wavelengths changing and my measurements have confirmed this.”
Singleton’s words pulled Fred from his memories. He looked at Martha, his face flush as if he had been caught napping during a church service.
“Like a severe thunderstorm, we can only predict probabilities and not certainties,” Sonya said.
Fred turned his eyes to Sonya as she spoke and he immediately felt some of the resentment lift. Fred could not imagine how she would react if called to hunt and he hoped for her sake she’d never have to find out.
“That’s correct,” Singleton said. “We realize we have not called a meeting of Orion’s Order in quite some time, and we were hoping to never have to again. But recent events have led us to believe otherwise.”
Martha’s hand grabbed Fred’s. Her fingers felt like daggers of sharp, jagged ice.
“Our community lost one of its own last year, quite tragically,” Lisander said. She took the verbal baton from Singleton as if they had rehearsed the hand off. “Although Michelle Siszak was not living here in Cleveland Heights, she was one of ours.”
He felt the eyes of the chapel on them. Fred stared straight ahead at Singleton and Lisander while Martha’s grip intensified.
“Hank Ferrence, her widower, has made several trips to the cemetery.”
“Has he been to the observatory?”
The question came from the pews where darkness began to creep in around the edges. The sun set and the stained glass sparkled with the last remaining light.
“No,” Sonya said. “At least not yet.”
“The Siszaks. They brought him back here to live,” another voice said from the back.
“This is not a trial. Blame will not help. We know the power of the portal. Whether Hank was in California or Siberia, he would have been pulled here,” Singleton said.
Fred nodded. He didn’t care much for Singleton, but he did acknowledge the doctor was a man of integrity.
“Which means our best course of action, the one we have always advocated, is containment. Hank may end up at the observatory on the anniversary of his wife’s death. I plan to do everything in my power to persuade him otherwise, but in the end, it will be his own decision.”
Fred smiled, fearful for Hank and the trials he would face in the near future, but also envious of the fact that he would be a victim of Sonya’s persuasions. He decided not to glance at Martha. He knew her eyes were on him.
“We know he must face this of his own free will. And once that happens, Orion’s Order will take appropriate action,” Singleton said.
A man stood and lit the candles on each side of Singleton and Lisander, casting an orange hue inside the otherwise darkening chapel.
“We need to be vigilant over the next several weeks—not only the seers. We need everyone on heightened awareness. The last time the portal opened from a summoning, several wandering Gakis came through first. They are our early-warning system and we will need to be ready to disperse of those demons on sight. I will be working closely with Dr. Singleton to monitor the situation. I am Hank’s therapist and I hope to distract him as much as I can,” Sonya said.
“What of his son?” someone asked.
Singleton looked at Sonya and then glanced at Fred and Martha before answering.
“I am seeing him on a regular basis, trying to determine what powers lie within. He was struck by lightning and left mute, but he has shown signs of intentioned focused awareness, both non-local consciousness and non-local perception. I do not believe he would initiate a summoning, but I would not rule out the possibility yet. The boy could be a critical element in how this plays out.”
Fred bristled and broke his hand free from Martha. He wanted to stand up and shout at Singleton, force him to speak about his grandson like a human and not a lab rat. Martha felt the tension in her husband and turned to look at him, using only her eyes to tell him to calm down.
“That is all we have tonight,” Lisander said. “Go home to your families and to your lives. Do not panic but remain vigilant. We will be keeping Hank Ferrence, the observatory and the cemetery under surveillance. Dr. Singleton will be monitoring the boy. Hopefully, Michelle’s anniversary, her death map, will pass with the dignity and reverence she deserves. But should the portal have other intentions, we will be prepared.”
Those in the back began to file out of the chapel while Singleton and Lisander remained standing in front. Fred nodded to the aisle. Martha stood and walked toward the rear. He looked at George, his eyes pleading. Fred hoped the man was as confident about keeping the portal closed as he sounded.
Chapter 12
The Next Day (August 23, 2014)
Noble Library was almost empty, as it usually was in the early mornings of August. The first librarian on shift unlocked the door for him. Hank had the main computer cluster to himself. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need for privacy, but he thought folks in town were looking at him in strange ways, as if he were terminally ill.
He sat at the same computer he used during his last visit. The web browser opened as it had before and Hank stared at the blinking cursor inside the search bar. He looked at it and leaned back in his chair. An old man stood at the circulation desk but the library was otherwise empty.
Hank decided on a different approach. The search on Lake View Cemetery turned up some interesting items, but nothing that satisfied his curiosity. There was more to it, and Hank could feel it like a bed spring poking through a worn mattress.
Paranormal Cleveland.
The first few results were blog posts, mostly friend of a friend stories recounting ghost sightings in late October. He scrolled down until an image caught his eye. Hank clicked on the thumbnail and brought it full screen.
Scraggly trees obscured what remained of the red bricked building. A dull blue sky sat in relief. He could see through missing panels in the observation domes like the eye sockets of two skulls. Broken glass panels sat above plywood sheets that attempted to prevent vandals from getting inside. He looked at the caption.
The Warner and Swasey Observatory.
Hank leaned in closer, as if the monitor were magnetic. The structure appeared to have been vacant for a long time. Graffiti was scrawled along the cream-colored foundation, some of their tags spilling on to the brick. Plastic bags and aluminum cans littered the ground. Hank closed the image and immediately did a full image search on the Warner and Swasey Observatory. Thumbnails flooded the screen, most of them showing the crumbling structure. Plywood sealed every door and window and spray paint covered each piece. Weeds grew through the sidewalk and junk trees took root along the perimeter.
One picture of the main entrance showed the stone relief inscribed with “Case School of Applied Science.” Hank could not look away. Homes, factories and old shopping centers were often abandoned, left to rot in an u
rban graveyard. But Hank could not find evidence of another observatory left to die.
He went back to the search bar and switched from an image search to a text search. The link to the third result was impossible to ignore. He clicked on it.
The Warner and Swasey Observatory: Portal to the Land of the Dead? What the mainstream media won’t tell you is happening in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.
Hank called Lori as he drove out of the library’s parking lot and on to the streets of Cleveland. After she agreed to meet him, he found a parking meter in University Circle, walked to the museum and waited out front for her.
“Seriously?”
“What?” Hank asked.
“The Museum of Art? I’m not sophisticated enough for this place. How many beers do they have on tap?”
“None,” Hank said, putting his hands on hips and waiting for Lori to finish.
“Exactly. If I’m going to make Dom think I’m fucking you on the side, I should at least get a Great Lakes Ale out of the deal.”
“I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one.”
Hank waited, hoping Lori would continue making fun of him so he could avoid the conversation he knew they needed to have. She stared at him, her smartass-smile slowly fading into the look of a worried mother. The glowing sunshine made Lori squint and, although she was still a stunning woman, Hank could see the unstoppable approach of middle age. When Lori remained silent, Hank spoke.
“Let’s go inside. There are too many midges flying around and I’d rather be sitting amongst swords and armor than annoying gnats.”
“The Medieval Treasures Gallery. You and every other prepubescent boy will be in there trying to hide your knightboners.”
Hank laughed and opened the door for her. They walked through the main entrance, across the enclosed atrium and back into the old building now connected to the new. The renovations to the Cleveland Museum of Art cost millions but made the museum one of the most beautiful east of the Mississippi.
Lori walked into the hall and sat on a bench across from a suit of armor perched atop a horse’s suit of armor. Steel rods and wires gave the illusion that both the knight and his mare were spirits from the past, returning to showcase their most spectacular steel.