Uninvited

by David Anderson

  Toby Andrews looked sympathetic. “Yeah, it was pretty serious. But you’re over it now.” Then he added, “You enjoy working for Julius?”

  I thought about what to say. All I knew about Toby Andrews was that he was a religious type of some sort, a reverend or chaplain or something like that. Which made it odd that he was a long-time buddy of Wheeler. They acted differently and looked very different too; Toby appeared at least ten years older, was nearly bald, and totally out of shape.

  Anyway, Wheeler, via a flunky, had hired my sister and me for this trip and, although short term, the job paid extremely well. As summer work went, this was pretty slick and would give us lots to brag about when we began our last year of high school in September. And Nora and I needed the money.

  Andrews looked us over. “You’re twins, right?”

  “Non-identical,” Nora replied, getting her answer in first. “I’m nine minutes older and got the good looks.”

  Toby smiled. “Well, I’m glad you Johnson twins are here with us. You’ll soon get to know the other guests.”

  I nodded again, grateful for his encouragement. “Mr. Wheeler’s a lucky guy, able to come up here whenever he wants, and live in the lap of luxury bang in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never been anywhere so remote.”

  “Me neither,” Andrews agreed, “His invitation was too good an opportunity to refuse.”

  He still wasn’t budging from the top of the stairs. My mind raced for something else to say.

  “What kind of Reverend are you?”

  “What they call a Presbyterian minister,” he replied, “Though that’s not how I know Julius. My father’s retired now but he built up a mining company from scratch, and he loaned Julius some money when he was young and starting out on his own.” The bottle of water went to his lips again then he laughed. “I’ll inherit my dad’s company some day and won’t have a clue what to do with it, so maybe Julius is just being nice to me.”

  I didn’t know what to reply to that but wanted to sound interested. “You’re right,” I blurted out quickly, “This is quite an adventure. Mr. Wheeler’s being very generous to all of us.”

  Andrews smiled knowingly and finally moved on. But only as far as his room door. There he stopped and spoke again. “He’s keen on having guests, Georgia in particular.”

  I wondered where Georgia Benton was right now. Wheeler and Georgia, according to media gossip, had been a couple, and maybe that was now on again. Or maybe it was Brett Sanders. At twenty-two, Georgia was a dozen years younger than either of them.

  Still too old for me though.

  We said goodnight to each other and Nora and I went on up to our own rooms. I stripped off and got under the sheets naked, which is how I like to sleep. When I switched the bedside light off the room went totally dark, in a way it doesn’t in our house in the city. Everything was deathly quiet, not even a tree rustling outside. I wasn’t used to that either and tossed and turned and couldn’t settle. I’m dog tired, why can’t I sleep? The harder I tried, the less chance there was of falling asleep. Eventually I got up, my eyes now adjusted to the darkness so that I could make out the furniture in the room.

  I went to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Outside, a sliver of moon bathed the landscape in patches of ghostly gray light, leaving the shadows pitch black. The extreme remoteness of this place swept over me and a kind of panic reared up in my chest. Tall pine trees stretched for hundreds of miles all around me, cleft only by the thick silver artery of river. It would take a weary walker many days to reach the tall mountains in the far distance.

  And here I am, in this pampered place in the middle of it all, I thought to myself.

  I remembered I’d brought my Kindle and that it needed charging. There were tons of Young Adult and adventure novels on it and maybe half an hour of bedtime reading would get me sleepy. I went to the closet and fetched the Kindle from a side pocket of my travel bag, along with the charging cord which I attached to a power outlet in the wall.

  As it was charging, I scrolled the list of titles and came across one that surprised me; ‘Meteorites of Canada by Robert F. Holmes. I had no idea how it got there – there’s no way I’d pay for something like that. It was the kind of nerdy book Nora would have on her Kindle. She was an astronomy geek and I’d seen her nod approvingly when Brett Sanders had piped up about knowing all about meteors. This title must have been one I’d downloaded either for free or in a ninety-nine cents multi-package from BookBub.

  The blurb on the book cover said the author was an expert in collecting meteorites and led field teams in the Arctic and northern Canada. I wondered if Wheeler’s bragging that the one nearby was unrecorded was actually true.

  I flicked to the back of the book and checked the index, appendices and bibliography. Nope, there was nothing on this specific area of British Columbia or about a giant meteorite falling out of the sky here in 1925. Wheeler hadn’t been jiving after all. Apart from the account in the rare book he’d cited, the meteorite we’d be looking for tomorrow really was unrecorded.

  Hmm, that could be interesting.

  I read the first few pages of the book, but it was very technical, and I hadn’t a clue what words like ‘siderite’ and ‘regmaglypt’ meant. In other words, it bored me to tears. I gave up and went back to bed. Lying in the darkness, I imagined what we might find tomorrow.

  A big, strange rock, big and strange like the house I was in. I’d never been anywhere as remote, this was real wilderness. Nearly as wild and lonely as a millions of years old meteor hurtling silently through the cold, black depths of space.

  Outside, something in the forest howled in pain. My mind registered it just as I drifted into sleep.

  Chapter Three

  “I’ll be glad when this is over,” Nora said, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do a lot of outdoor pursuits stuff up here.”

  I spread thick cut orange marmalade on a fresh slice of wholegrain toast and looked across the kitchen table at her. We were the last ones in the kitchen, only allowed to eat after the others had already finished. My rumbling stomach protested that decision by the Petermans, but I’d managed to keep my mouth shut. Mercifully, when Marie wasn’t looking, Nora slipped me a chunk of cheese to tide me over.

  “You’re in a grumpy mood this morning,” I replied, “Sleep bad last night?”

  “You know me. I’m not the canoeing or hiking type, would much rather stay here and read. Wheeler has books all over this place and I’d like to get a look at them when no-one else is around.”

  “Hah! You’re not the adventurous sort! Anyway, the Petermans would still be here.”

  Nora pulled a face and lowered her voice. “I’m beginning to hate the old guy. He banged on my door at seven this morning, then came right in and shook me awake. I almost jumped up and strangled him.”

  “You’d have given him the thrill of a lifetime,” I joked. “Don’t worry about today. I can’t imagine Toby will agree to anything very strenuous. He’s not exactly Bear Grylls. This trip will be a breeze and we’ll have twice the appetite for supper.”

  Nora laughed. “You’re always thinking about food. But you’re right. And we’re getting good money for it.” She still seemed annoyed about something.

  “What exactly is bothering you?” I asked more seriously.

  Nora was quiet for a moment. “I guess I just don’t feel comfortable about finding this meteorite thing. I mean . . . suppose it’s radioactive or something?”

  “You know more about that than me.”

  Nora acknowledged my rare compliment with a nod then looked around to make sure we were still alone. “I just think Wheeler’s up to something.”

  “The famous Nora Johnson hunch.” How much trouble had that got us into in the past! She glared at me, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

  “Okay, calm down,” I said, “If Wheeler hadn’t been stoned and careless we’d be motoring upriver in the cruiser.”

  “That’s kind of odd too, how t
hat happened.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to argue any more. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Nora finished the dregs of her espresso and put the tiny cup on her empty plate.

  “I am right, brother dear. Anyway, at least we aren’t camping overnight. Canoes and backpacks will do me just fine. I predict I’ll end up enjoying it, but let’s just keep our eyes open, okay?”

  * * *

  “Can’t you go a bit harder?” I turned and scowled at Nora. Was she paddling at all?

  My arms were aching. By mid morning I’d had enough of paddling. A relentless, scorching sun was baking my back, and there was never an inch of shade in the canoe.

  At the boathouse where the canoes were kept Peterman had passed around an aerosol can of sunscreen. I’d almost not bothered, but Peterman had given me an insistent look. Turned out he did me a big favour; he probably saved me from third degree sunburn.

  The only other protection I had was my dad’s old wide-brimmed Tilley hat and my wraparound sunglasses – my spare pair. The first pair, broken in two pieces in the boat crash, was now in my bedroom garbage bin. Luckily, I’m the anal type who always packs two of everything, even for short trips.

  Wheeler arranged it so that he and Georgia were in the lead canoe, Brett Sanders and Toby Andrews following behind them, while Nora and I struggled and sweated in the rear. According to Wheeler we weren’t in any old canoes – these were “Sixteen foot Chestnut Prospectors, a cedar classic.” As the morning wore on I began to feel I was paddling a hollowed-out tree trunk. Nora insisted she was doing her part, though I could have sworn I was the only one actually dipping my paddle into water. It didn’t help that neither of us had paddled since fourth grade.

  The journey seemed never ending. At last Wheeler turned up a broad, slow-moving tributary, raising my hopes for a rest soon. It was not to be; Wheeler made us paddle for another two full hours before finally pulling in and disembarking at an S-shaped stretch of shore. I wearily hauled the now leaden canoe up out of the water and onto a flat, rock strewn riverbank.

  “I’m never doing this again,” I whispered to Nora. She gave me what I hope was meant to be an encouraging smile.

  The rest time was all too brief before Wheeler hoisted his backpack and an enormous hunting rifle and confidently led us into the forest. The two of us followed at the back as that seemed to be our appointed place in the group. I wondered what kind of animal Wheeler expected to meet, that he needed a rifle that big to kill it.

  Unlike the forests I’d walked in before, there were no trails here which meant the going was slow and tiring, though being at the back helped a bit. Wheeler seemed to know where he was going and only occasionally stopped to consult his map and compass. We crossed a thin trickle of a stream and began to ascend the hill on the other side. Nora tapped my shoulder and pointed to a mound of stones beside the water’s edge.

  “Man made?” she said quietly.

  I shook my head. “How could it be, out here?”

  “It’s some kind of site marker,” Nora insisted.

  Suddenly a loud wailing sound like a human cry burst from the dense foliage directly ahead.

  “Lynx,” Wheeler called out, and unshouldered the rifle.

  * * *

  “This is definitely the right place, just keep looking. Brett, you try over there.” Wheeler pointed over the hill.

  “How much longer do we have to do this?” Georgia complained.

  We’d been searching for ages and I was pretty sure that Georgia was speaking for all of us. Frustration and tiredness had long since set in. Wheeler seemed to take note of Georgia’s none too subtle complaint and sent Brett Sanders to the top of the mound ahead to take what we all hoped was a last look for the stupid lump of rock. Then we could all go home.

  “Here it is, right here,” Sanders called out.

  I sighed. Everyone else got a surge of energy and hurried to join him. From the top of the hill we could see down into an overgrown hollow in the forest floor. A giant spherical mound sat right in the middle of it, the surrounding foliage seeming to give it a wide berth and allow it pride of place. The meteorite itself was pock-marked, jet black rock, as if it had burned its way through space. Golden brown seams ran across its surface like the bulging veins on a heavyweight bodybuilder.

  Sanders dived into thick, thigh-high ferns, parted dense undergrowth with his burly arms and ploughed down into the grooved valley. The rest of us followed in his trail. There was just enough room to stand behind him in a small clearing in front of the massive stone, which loomed up taller than our heads.

  Sanders smiled at Wheeler. “Good job I looked down here.”

  “Smart of you to find it,” Wheeler agreed, uncharacteristically.

  Late afternoon sunlight penetrated the trees at a low angle and shone eerily on the dark rock’s pitted, uneven surface. I gazed at it, my eyes fixing hypnotically on the strange golden seams. The stone was partly buried in the soil, making its full height difficult to estimate, but I guessed about twelve feet in total, with eight feet or so above ground. It had to be incredibly heavy and I imagined it hurtling through space into the earth’s atmosphere, the orange seams pulsing in the extreme heat of entry. When it hit the ground, it must have cut a deep swathe through the forest to eventually come to rest at exactly this spot. Pretty awesome.

  “It’s amazing,” Sanders beamed, “Like nothing I’ve ever seen in a textbook or heard about before. What do we do now?”

  Wheeler said nothing, just raised his arm to Sanders in a “Be my guest” motion. Sanders, obviously on a high at his find, accepted Wheeler’s invitation and stepped forward. He ran his hand over the rock’s surface, his fingertips exploring crevices and cracks.

  I watched Sanders fondle the thing for a while then pulled my eyes away and looked at the sky and surroundings instead. Once I did that, my interest in the great lump of space rock faded fast. Somehow neither Georgia nor Toby Andrews wanted to touch it either, nor did Wheeler. Georgia and Toby left Sanders to it and wandered off. Only Wheeler stayed where he was, remaining apart from the rest of us and watching Sanders’ every move. Nora, who’d been beside me all this time, gave me a nudge and strolled over to Wheeler. I listened in.

  “Aren’t you going to go and check it out?” Nora asked him.

  Wheeler gave Nora a dismissive look. “I’ll look at it later,” he said, and quickly went back to watching Sanders. I joined Nora.

  “Shame to come all this way and not examine it closely,” I said in as innocent a voice as I could muster.

  This time Wheeler spat on the ground and shook his head silently, his eyes still fixed on Sanders. Nora and I shared a mutual smirk. We’d succeeded in annoying the boss.

  “If you want to see something interesting,” Wheeler suddenly growled, “Take a look right there.” He pointed to the ground on the other side of him. Nora and I walked around and peered down.

  Wheeler had found something else unusual. I stooped and picked up some short, hard sticks lying in the grass. Then I realised they weren’t wooden.

  “They’re old bones,” Wheeler said, briefly glancing my way.

  “What kind of animal?” Nora asked.

  Wheeler reached into his pocket and took out a larger bone, broad and curved. “See this?” he said, “It’s brown and stained with age – been here a long time – but it looks like part of a pelvis to me. A human pelvis.”

  I stared at the pelvis then looked at Nora. Her face had gone pale.

  “Interesting discovery, eh?” Wheeler continued, “I found human teeth too. That rock over there has a history that few know about.” He put the bone fragment back in his pocket. “And it’s a violent history, judging by the teeth marks on some of the remains.”

  I let the small bones drop from my hands, back into the grass.

  “Now you two, stop pissing me off,” Wheeler added, “Go and help my guests like you’re supposed to.”

  He walked away from us; his gaze still fixed on
Sanders and took a camera with a long lens out of his backpack. We left him snapping away at the rock, and joined Georgia and Toby, who were sitting nearby enjoying what remained of the food and drinks we’d brought.

  Toby offered us some of the grub and I had just unscrewed the coffee flask when a scream rang out. I dropped the flask and looked back at the meteorite. Sanders was slumped over it, his right hand inserted into a deep crevice I hadn’t noticed before. He kept screaming and pulling his arm, as if the hand was stuck. As I watched, he gripped his right wrist with his free hand and yanked so hard that I imagined finger joints breaking and tendons tearing. His big, muscular body seemed to shrivel up as the terrible screams continued.

  By now we were all on our feet. Nora and I ran over to help, Toby and Georgia close behind us. As we approached, Sanders’ hand shot out of the crack and he staggered backwards and fell into a clump of ferns.

  When we got to him he was sprawled on his back, his body twisted and contorted, his right arm jutting up in the air. Nora gasped beside me and I hoped she wouldn’t faint. Georgia pushed past us and stood over Sanders, her hands pressed against the sides of her face in shock. She opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it again but no sound came out. Toby put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she turned and folded her body into his. For one searing instant an insane jealousy burned in my chest.

  Wheeler appeared. “Don’t touch him; let me look first.”

  He crouched over Sanders and examined him. Then he started a bizarre running commentary.

  “His head is arched back, and his eyes are bulging, and there’s saliva dribbling from his mouth.” Wheeler went on, “He must have convulsed very rapidly.”

  “Can’t you do something?” Georgia pleaded.

  Wheeler stepped back without answering her. Toby took his place, kneeled beside Sanders and felt his wrist for a pulse. Then he leaned closer and listened with his ear pressed against Sanders’ chest.