by Jay Brushett
In the playground, they sat on a patch of grass behind the slide, toward the marsh. The threatening rain still hadn’t come and the ground was dry and comfortable. They were well away from the trail and all the equipment. If anyone came, even swinging a flashlight around, they would be fine, concealed in the darkness that was already starting to envelop them.
“So, what now?” Rhonda whispered.
“We wait… I guess.”
And they did. For two hours.
It was pitch black then, though Jimmy’s eyes had adjusted. The clouds were starting to clear, through which he could see swaths of stars in the moonless night. It was beautiful.
And eerie. Jimmy felt very small, the two of them sitting there, in the darkness and quiet, with that expanse of stars. Insignificant even. He found he was okay with that. He didn’t care to be at the centre of things.
Rhonda’s head lay against his shoulder. She had fallen asleep half an hour before. Jimmy had tried not to disturb her, had liked the weight of her on him. She was an anchor. He wasn’t alone with her there, he wasn’t the only crazy one.
He gave it another half an hour.
But he already knew that tonight was a bust. Maybe Brad, or whoever, whatever, only came on certain nights. And most likely Steve only came when Brad did. He didn’t know why that made sense, but it did.
They needed to talk to Steve. But Jimmy wasn’t sure if that would do any good or not. The man was definitely hiding something, and they’d be showing their hand.
He’d wait and see what Larry had to say tomorrow.
He woke Rhonda with a gentle nudge. For a moment she had no idea where she was.
“It’s okay, you had a little nap,” Jimmy said, smiling.
She relaxed then, seemed reassured by his voice.
“Nap nothin’!” she said, wiping a thread of drool from the side of her mouth. “Jesus, that was the best sleep I’ve had in years.”
She sat up a little. Jimmy noticed she was still leaning against him though.
They looked skyward.
“Something isn’t it?” Jimmy asked.
The clouds had cleared even more and now the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon.
“I haven’t seen that in… well, forever,” she said. “Do you ever think about what could be out there? Life, I mean.”
“I…,” he started, unsure if he should tell her but then realized he had no reason not to. “Larry told me, well, speculated I suppose, something else when I was speaking with him.”
“Yes?”
“He thinks the object Brad found is alien.”
“Really? Why?”
“He didn’t say, or didn’t know himself. There was something about it though, right?”
“Yeah, there definitely was.”
She paused.
“It scared me,” she said.
They sat there in silence then, gazing at the colossal, natural majesty of the universe.
In time they rose and, hand-in-hand, made their way in the dark back down the trail. They opted not to use the flashlight, there was plenty of light to see by with their adjusted eyes.
Jimmy dropped Rhonda back to her car. He waited until he was sure she was safe inside it before returning to the hotel.
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FEBRUARY 15, 1992
It’s been a cold winter so far. George is off with Brad again tonight, as he is every night.
He says that he builds a little fire, just a little one, to keep warm. And he bundles Brad and himself up in the sleeping bags that I bought. Had to order them through a sporting goods catalogue, got them come in the mail. You can’t buy proper winter sleeping bags around here. That’s for the best too, don’t need snooping eyes looking at what I’m buying.
Oh, what’s Tonya Herritt doing? Going camping in the winter, that’s mighty strange.
So, yes, for the best.
Anyway, I sit up here and wait for him, them, to return, every night, at least this time of year. I worry George will catch his death of cold out there. Brad, well, the boy’s already dead, in all the ways that matter.
The hardest thing is that he still looks like Brad. And I don’t mean, you know, that he’s still himself and all that. No, he is exactly like he was the day he first went missing — he hasn’t aged a day. So what does that mean? We’ll be taking care of him forever? God forbid.
Anyway, I don’t worry about the boy. The boy just sits there with the ball thing. I worry about George out there in those temperatures. Of course, as the cold starts to set in George hints around about bringing the cursed thing back here, into our house! Well, we tried that once and the evil ran like water from it. You could feel it, like waves.
No, Satan has no place in this house. So I made George bring it back. I know it’s hard for him out there, but I won’t have damnation brought down on us all. It’s bad enough that the boy has been consumed.
It’s starting to get light out now, George should be back soon.
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STEVE WATCHED THE BOY, the thing, struggle against his bonds.
It wasn’t easy for him, though he knew it was God’s will. Blood was thicker than water and, also, he had made a promise. You take care of your own.
The boy reached, tried to reach — his arms were tied to his sides by thick ropes — but there was nothing there anyway. Steve knew he wanted the little white orb. But it was secure, hidden away. The boy rocked back and forth on the chair as he struggled. There was no chance it would tip though, his small body was too light, the chair too heavy.
He made no sound while struggling and though his eyes were open he seemed to see nothing. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Yet he acted with a purpose.
A demonic purpose? Steve wondered as he watched. His mother had thought so, God rest her soul. Considering what had happened she very well may have been right.
Other nights Steve, to his own discredit, had let the boy touch the small white sphere, thinking it was from Heaven. Now he was sure it was of Hell. No good had come from it. He should have trusted his mother.
The boy, the thing — he corrected himself — that had been his brother, would take it in his hands and disappear into the night.
So now the ball was hidden away again. Some nights the boy would still find it, like he had the night before. Though it happened rarely now. Steve had gotten better at hiding it.
How had the boy found it? He was oblivious to all things in the world except that object and the nightly call.
Steve knew he should bring the thing far away and bury it. But, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
And, at any rate, the boy would still struggle like this each night. It always started at the same time and ended at the same time, like clockwork.
Steve had thought it was a miracle, the lack of aging and the nightly calling. The thing would disappear for hours into the woods beyond the old playground. Yes, he had thought, at one time, that it was a miracle. Like his father had. His poor father. What had been the man’s reward for his belief?
Steve shook his head.
The whole thing was a nuisance.
So, the boy would remain here, tied to a chair. He would stop struggling in a few hours.
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ALL AROUND IT WAS darkness. Not The Black, only darkness, heavy.
It continued to put out The Call to The Bridge, would continue to do so until The Window expired.
The Bridge replied but The Selected did not come.
The Selected had come before, many times. But The Interface hadn’t worked, not completely.
All the pieces were in place for The Process to complete. Yet The Checksum would always fail. So it kept trying, again and again. It had no choice.
It was broken. It knew that it was broken, but had no way to fix itself.
When The Windo
w expired it would stop The Call. It would then wait for one cycle of The Blue Green and then start The Call again.
It was part of The Process.
And The Process had started. It could not deviate from it.
Chapter 4
JIMMY WALKED OUT OF the local Royal Bank branch around eleven the next morning. He would soon be the owner of his childhood home. The Jaspers had been very eager to get everything lined up, even agreeing to his lower offer. As he already had a mortgage pre-approval there hadn’t been much to do. It was all signing and initialling many times on many copies.
He had made the decision as soon as he had woken up and checked his email. He still wasn’t sure why. But he knew it was the right one. Well, what’s right anyway? he thought. But it seemed like what he should do. With everything else going on it gave him a sense of purpose and connection.
And his former life in Vancouver was now over. He had received an email with a copy of the signed divorce papers overnight. Becky was now out of his life, for all intents and purposes.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
That chapter was over. He had spent years locked in a relationship and a lifestyle that had been killing him. He hadn’t realized that he had the key to that lock all along. He could have used it anytime. She had finally turned it for him. He was glad she had.
He had a renewed sense of focus now, a feeling that he could do something good again.
Jimmy retrieved his phone from his pocket. He saw that Larry had texted him while he had been in the bank: Have landed. Rented car. Will be there in a few hours.
He had sent it almost two hours before and so would be in town around two that afternoon. Jimmy replied, See you then. I’m staying at the Kimberly.
He also messaged Rhonda to let her know when Larry would arrive. They would all get together that afternoon. Luckily Rhonda wasn’t working.
Three hours later Jimmy sat waiting in the lobby of the Kimberly Hotel.
Until the house closed there wasn’t much to do and he had nowhere to go. So, he sat there, looking up various things on his phone but essentially trying not to think. When he did his brain went off on too many tangents — this or that could happen; how is that possible; what will we do?
It was better to wait for Larry.
Why he thought Larry had all the answers he couldn’t have said. Was it his education? Jimmy had attended university but had dropped out in his third year, having more freelance work than he could handle. Why did he need the credentials, the piece of paper? It turned out he didn’t.
But Larry had a doctorate degree. There was something — and Jimmy realized it was silly to think this way — about having Doctor before your name that made you seem important and smart. Larry also seemed very calm and whatever about the whole thing too. That helped.
This new Larry was very different from the young bully he had known. Perhaps Larry was reinvented or born, as Larry put it, that day in the woods. Jimmy was grateful — the old Larry wouldn’t have been much help to them.
A few minutes after two o’clock Rhonda walked in, waving to Jimmy as she crossed the lobby.
“Hey, not here yet?” she asked.
“No, soon though. How are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Strangely well, given everything. It’s odd, like I have…”
“A purpose?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know if I’d put it like that. Actually, yes, I guess that is what it is. Life has been pretty routine lately. Jesus.” She rubbed her hand through her hair. “Lately. Christ. It’s been like this for a few years.”
“I hear ya,” Jimmy said. “I used to fear change, dread it actually. And now, well, as strange as this is I find myself… not enjoying it… but, well, it’s different. Different is good.”
“Yeah,” she smiled at him, “different is good.”
“Oh, I bought the house!”
“You did!? You’re staying?”
“I guess I am.”
“That’s…” she hugged him, “that’s great!”
He smiled at her as she sat back again. “I’m glad at least one other person thinks so.”
Her smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look. “I’ve been thinking… should we call the police? Get them to investigate?”
Jimmy sat back, sighing. “Yeah, I also thought about it. But I always get stuck on he’s still ten years old. They’d think we’re nuts. And we wouldn’t have even gotten to the part about alien objects ye…”
He trailed off.
A man had walked toward them. Jimmy had paid no heed to him at first, but now the newcomer stopped in front of them. He was tall and slim, though he had large shoulders. His hair was thick and dark. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder. He looked nothing like a university professor, at least what one expected a university professor to look like.
“Larry?” Rhonda asked.
Larry turned to her. “Rhonda, pleased to see you again!” He shook her hand. He turned to Jimmy and offered his hand again. “Jimmy.”
Jimmy shook the proffered hand.
“Welcome home,” Jimmy said.
“Hadn’t even thought about that. A place is only a place to me. Usually. And this place, well, since dear old dad drank himself to death this place hasn’t called to me. But now… well, now, it’s gotten interesting again.”
“I don’t know if interesting is the right word,” Jimmy said.
Larry waved a large hand at him. “I don’t know what else you’d call it.”
“A mystery?” Rhonda interjected.
“Hmm, yes, it is at that. And a great boon to humanity if we can find the probe again.”
“The probe?” Jimmy and Rhonda asked together.
Larry looked at them as if they were a class of undergrads. “Well, what else could it be?”
“It?” Rhonda asked.
“The object, the alien object. It has to be a probe.”
“I don’t follow,” Jimmy said. Rhonda nodded her agreement.
“Aliens, or us — humanity I mean — wouldn’t spend a ton of money and resources creating something and sending it across space without a purpose. It would have to be for something. To search for life, to communicate with other life.” He paused. “Do you know anything about my work?”
“A little,” Jimmy said, “you’re involved with mapping stars, finding the location of stars… something like that.”
Larry nodded. “Yes, something like that.” He smiled. “It has to do with coordinates of objects in space. Here, on Earth, we use latitude and longitude to locate objects on the surface. Well, we can do something similar with the galaxy, but you need reference points. Here we use satellites in orbit, several of them, to pinpoint locations and get our bearings. In the galaxy we can use pulsars the same way we use satellites, at least that’s the hope. So, that way, we can identify a location and plot our way to it.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with the, um, probe. Or Brad, or your life-changing moment,” Jimmy said.
“It has everything to do with all three!” Larry exclaimed. “You see, ever since I touched the probe, and I assume something similar happened with Brad, I’ve had these, not visions, but flashes of awareness. That first night I filled my bedroom wall with a map, a star map. I’ve drawn it many times since. Now I actually understand it… to a point. I’ve been driven to understand it. Isn’t that odd?”
They said nothing, wanting Larry to continue.
“Odd, that a bully like I was, a dullard to that point, with no interest in anything of substance, could have such a shift? That is rather odd, right?”
“You think the probe put information in your brain?” Jimmy asked.
“Most definitely. And gave me a purpose, something I was lacking up to that point.”
Larry walked across the lobby and pushed another armchair to join their two. He either didn’t see or didn’t care about the disapproving look from the hotel’s manager, stood behind the counter. Larry positioned the chair and s
at down.
“So, questions, thoughts?” he asked.
“What about Brad?” Rhonda asked. “Why is he still ten?”
“Who can say?” Larry asked, as if it was a small detail, nothing to give much thought to. “We’re dealing with a very advanced piece of alien technology. They can send a probe across the vastness of interstellar space and interface with an alien biology. Stopping aging might be a piece of cake.”
“Okay, sure, let’s say it’s something like that,” Jimmy said, uncomfortable with Larry’s nonchalant attitude toward the topic. “But why is it you’re not still twelve, or whatever you were then. And where is Brad all the time, assuming we did see him at all?”
“Who can say?” Larry asked, shrugging. “As to Brad… we can be pretty certain you have seen him. Given what we know, the locations you saw him, the somewhat consistent timing — it’s always around the same time of night — it’s too much to be a coincidence. I think he’s summoned there, called back there, every night.”
“But that doesn’t explain where he is all the other times,” Jimmy said. “And we went there last night, to the playground. And we waited and waited. He didn’t show. If he goes every night, why not last night?”
Larry looked thoughtful and then he smiled that well isn’t it obvious smile. “The answer to both questions is the same. Steve.”
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THEY DECIDED IT WOULD be too confrontational for all three of them to appear on Steve’s doorstep. Since Jimmy was the only one who had had contact with Steve he would go. He could also share the news of buying the house as a pretense.
It was late in the afternoon when Jimmy knocked on the front door of Brad’s and Steve’s house. It was the first time he had knocked on that door in twenty-five years, though he had knocked on it almost daily before that.
He waited. And he listened, for any sign of Brad’s voice or sudden movements from inside. There was only silence.