by Morgan Wolfe
“We are – or were. I know it sounds strange. I mean, it was just a look, but what really got to me was the way she said ‘I love you.” It froze my blood!”
“I don’t follow.”
“When people say ‘I love you,’ they put a little sweetness in their voice, even it’s something they say all the time. The way Mom said it to me, she could have been saying ‘I want to kill you.’”
Candi began to cry. Woody put his arm around her and soothed her as best he could. Dr. Starke was just busy and overworked. Maybe she hadn’t gotten enough sleep that day. Lack of sleep can affect people in strange ways. He poured her another glass of wine and eventually they resumed their celebration, though not with the same careless joy as before, particularly on his part.
Despite Candi’s entreaties, he didn’t stay with her that night, pleading the lab class he needed to prepare for. He got home a little after midnight, changed into loose clothes, sat on the floor of his apartment and did exercises to calm his mind. After a while he opened his Third Eye and began a transcranial expedition into the mind of Emma Starke.
Once inside her brain, he began a methodical search, and since he didn’t know what he was looking for, it took a while. He finally found it buried very deep in her mind, a room that looked like an attic, stuffed full of old children’s furniture and dolls and toys. In that room was a small creature squatting in a corner. It wore pink pajamas and had long black hair tied with a blue ribbon and looked very much like Emma must have at five or six: Little Emmie. The creature wasn’t completely human though. It had extra-long arms and pointed ears and sharp teeth. It resembled an illustration in a children’s book, not a full-scale monster that could eat you alive but an imp or goblin capable of small acts of malice.
That was troubling enough but what frightened him was what it was holding. The imp had a pair of scissors in one hand and a ragdoll in the other. It chuckled to itself as it repeatedly jabbed the doll with the scissors.
Woody bent over the creature for a closer look at the doll. It paid no attention to him, probably couldn’t even see him. There was very little light in this dark room and he had to squint to make out the doll’s face, which wasn’t at all that of a typical ragdoll. It was a drawing, unusually detailed. He gasped when he realized the face was unmistakably Candi Starke.
Woody spent several hours in Emma’s mind, trying to “move the furniture,” in Otto Popper’s inimitable phrasing. In the end he was unable to dislodge the creature or to deflect its violent intent. He finally departed and woke up back in his room. He crawled tiredly into bed, for the first time defeated in his mind control experiments.
The next day he carefully re-read the last part of Popper’s book, which was devoted to his personal experiences with what he called “transcranial influence” and what Woody called “brain hacking.”
Hours later, he dejectedly laid the book aside. A year ago, in their first conversation on the subject, Popper had told him that no one could fully control someone else’s mind. That was too complicated, too immense an undertaking. The best you could hope for was to control selected thoughts, which could precipitate other thoughts that would influence the mind in the direction you wanted.
Woody realized now that in messing with Emma’s mind, he’d also awakened something that resisted control. At the moment, the little monster was small but that didn’t mean it couldn’t get bigger – or that the object of its malice wouldn’t expand to others, like him.
The past week he’d been priding himself as the secret successor to the great Dr. Otto Popper. Now he felt more like the successor to Dr. Victor Frankenstein, another maker of monsters.
How to control the creature? Could he control it? And how much time did he have before he ran out of time?
“Surprise, Woody!”
As Dr. Crockett had promised, a few weeks later Woody was able to pick up his diploma at the Neuroscience Department’s main office. It looked like a thousand other doctoral diplomas, or at least it did to everyone but himself. This was his ticket to a professorship at a prestigious university, to grant money for research, to fellowship money for a book. His career was launched!
He had it framed and took it over to Candi’s so she could admire it. That night, they played Risk with Tiff and Sandra. Woody was well on his way to world domination when his phone rang. It was Crockett, who apologized for calling late.
“Not at all, sir,” said Woody politely. “How can I help you?”
“I need to talk with you.”
“All right. When?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, right now. I’m in my office. Can you come over?”
“I guess so. What’s this about, Dr. Crockett?”
“Hroomph, it’s a confidential matter. I’ll tell you when you get here.”
Woody apologized to the girls and said he’d be back as soon as possible. They all wanted to know what was going on, particularly Candi, but he could only shrug. “Guess I’ll find out.”
Half an hour later, Woody parked in a lot near the Neuroscience Building. As he crossed the street, a car drove past and he thought the driver resembled Becky, though what she would be doing on campus at this time of night was a mystery.
The light was on in Dr. Crockett’s office. He knocked and Crockett opened the door. He shook Woody’s hand with a grave countenance. Instead of inviting him inside, he came out and gestured to the elevator. “We’re going upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes. The others are waiting for us in the faculty conference room.”
“What others?”
The others turned out to be the other two members of the Doctoral Review Committee, Dr. Upland and Dr. Yin. There was also Captain McGaw, chief of the campus police, and a woman with a tape recorder. McGaw was a stocky man in early middle age with a haircut and crisp manner that suggested a military background.
Woody shook hands with everyone and they all sat. “Hroomph,” said Crockett. “I should tell you that this meeting will be recorded. You have the right to refuse, of course.”
“No, if you want to record, I don’t mind. What in the world is going on, Dr. Crockett?”
“This isn’t a formal interrogation,” said Captain McGaw, “but you also have the right to a lawyer.”
“I don’t need a lawyer,” Woody said stoutly. “Will someone tell me this is about?”
“Dr. Starke has made some very grave accusations against you, Dr. Goodman,” McGaw said sternly. “We need to hear your side of the story.”
“She has? What sort of accusations?”
“She said you raped her.” said McGaw.
“She said what?”
“She also said you blackmailed her into approving your dissertation.”
“Blackmail! What else did she say?”
“Quite a bit but I’d like your response to those allegations first.”
“They’re absurd. I had no sexual interest in Dr. Starke and even if I had, I would have never raped her. If you’ll do a background check on me, you’ll see that I’ve never been accused of any kind of sexual misconduct.”
“We have already. You’re seeing Dr. Starke’s daughter, correct?”
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with my dissertation.”
“What about the blackmail charge?”
“Just as absurd. Did she say how I blackmailed her?”
“No, she didn’t. She just said you did.”
“Did she say when and where I raped her?”
“On that, she was more specific. She said you raped her on the desk in her office Friday evening last month. She said you tied her up.”
“Tied her up? Tied her up in her office? Anything else?”
“Yes, she said you locked a dog collar on her and called her your bitch. She said she had to wear it for three weeks, until you had your diploma in hand.”
“Well, if she had to wear a dog collar, why is it nobody noticed?”
“She said at your instruction, she always wo
re a scarf or turtleneck.”
“As a matter, of fact,” said Dr. Yin, who until now had said little, “there was a period, about three weeks, when every time I saw Dr. Starke, she did have something around her neck.”
“And that proves she had on a dog collar?” said Woody. “Come now, Dr. Yin.”
“No, I’m not saying it does. Just that she might have been.”
Woody rolled his eyes. “Gentlemen, this is just wild! If I attacked Dr. Starke in her office, why didn’t she scream?”
“She said you gagged her,” said McGaw.
“Even so. Unless I had a gun on her— Did I have a gun on her?”
“She didn’t mention that.”
“Unless I had a gun on her, her secretary… I don’t remember her name.”
“Becky Olsen.”
“Yes, Becky. She would have heard the commotion. Have you talked to her?”
“Yes, we have.”
“And what did she say?”
“Before I tell you that, Dr. Goodman, I want to know about your relationship with the late Dr. Popper.”
“Otto Popper was a fine old man. He thought I had promise and gave me a lot of time and attention. Also he was lonely, away from Austria and his family and friends. I think I was sort of like a grandson to him.”
“Did he teach you anything about… uh, mind control?”
“Mind control! God, no. There’s no such thing and he would have been the first to say so. Why do you bring that up?”
“Dr. Starke said that he taught you how to control people’s minds, make them do your bidding.”
“Oh, now of all the things she claims, that is the most ridiculous, straight out of a bad movie.”
“She said you controlled her mind. And Becky’s. And she thinks you’re controlling her daughter’s.”
“How?”
“She didn’t know how you did it. She just said you did.”
“Captain, with all respect, I can’t believe you’re taking these charges seriously. It sounds to me like Dr. Starke has had some kind of breakdown. It’s no secret that the two of us clashed on my work. It’s also no secret that she had an animosity to Dr. Popper. She finally came around on my dissertation, much to my relief and gratitude, but I’ll be honest, she was cool to my dating Candi.”
“So you don’t practice mind reading and mind control?”
“Of course not. The two are impossible. Mind reading is a stage trick, well documented. As to mind control, any clinical hypnotist would tell you that the mind is suggestible not controllable. If I really could control Dr. Starke’s mind, how is that she’s made all these charges?”
“A good question, Dr. Goodman,” said the policeman. He looked around the room. “Does anyone else have any questions?”
They shook their heads. Captain McGaw signaled the tape recorder to be shut off.
“Hroomph,” said Crockett. “I apologize for dragging you here at this time of night. You understand that we had to question you about this.”
“I guess I do, but like I said, it’s wild. I mean, if Dr. Starke said I’d talked dirty or made threats, that would at least be possible, but to rape her with her secretary present and to control her mind? And why would I tie her up if I could control her mind?”
“A very sad business,” said Dr. Crockett. “No question that she’s had some kind of breakdown. The Doctoral Review Committee met earlier today and she seemed perfectly rational until she suddenly stood up and announced you had raped her.”
“Just like that?”
“Completely out of nowhere,” said Dr. Upland. “She went on ranting for about ten minutes and then stormed out.”
“We were all shocked,” said Dr. Yin. “I don’t always agree with Emma but she has a fine mind and a great deal of poise. It was…”
“Scary,” said Upland.
“Yes, scary. Very.”
“She must be under stress,” said Woody. “Maybe all she needs is some time off.”
“We talked it over and agreed on that,” said Crockett. “About an hour later, I went to her office to suggest that she take a sabbatical. I told her the three of us could run the graduate program while she was away.”
“And what did she say to that?”
“She was furious, accused me of conspiring against her. She threw a book at me. I made a hasty retreat. Her secretary came to my office later, in tears. She said Dr. Starke was behaving like a madwoman, had made terrible allegations to her.”
“The rape?”
“Yes. Becky came here earlier this evening. Of course she said nothing like that happened, not in her presence.”
“This is terrible. The woman needs treatment.”
“Clearly. The state she’s in right now, she might do herself some real harm. We’ll have to give her a leave of absence until she recovers. We’re trying to keep this whole thing quiet. I hope I can count on your cooperation?”
“Of course, though I should tell Candi.”
“Certainly. Candice is our best hope of helping Emma. Have her get in touch with me. A sad business, this.”
“Sad,” said Upland.
“Very,” said Yin.
Woody rose. Captain McGaw held out his hand. “Sorry to be curt with you earlier. Just doing my job.”
“I understand, sir.”
McGaw gave him a card. “Call me if she contacts you, will you?”
“Sure, but I’m probably the last person she’s going to be in touch with.”
“Well, you never know.”
Tiff and Sandra had gone out by the time Woody got back. He told Candi about his interview with Dr. Crockett and the others. She was predictably distraught. “This is awful, Woody! She really said all those things?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I don’t know what’s the matter with Mom but she needs help.”
“I hope you can convince her to get it. Do you want to call her now?”
“No. I’ll go over to her place. It’s better if we talk face to face.”
“Good idea. In that case, I’ll go on home. Call me afterwards, okay?”
Woody’s apartment was on the second floor of a small complex mostly occupied by Templeton students. It was small and spare but suited his needs. He let himself in and reached for the light switch. There was a blur of motion to his right and then a terrible shock ran through his body.
He fell to the floor, disoriented and unable to move. He felt hands grip his legs as he was dragged across the room. “Taser,” said Emma Starke’s voice. “Just as useful to attack as defend. You’ll be able to move in a few minutes. By then it’ll be too late.”
She lifted him up and positioned him in a straightback chair. As she said, in a few minutes he’d regained control of his body but by then he was securely roped to the chair, gagged with a washcloth and duct tape. Emma stepped back to admire her handiwork. She reached into a laundry bag and pulled out a football helmet, which she placed on his head.
She tightened the helmet’s straps. “If you’re thinking of getting out of this by controlling my mind, well, think again! This will keep all your nasty thoughts in your own nasty little skull!”
Woody stared groggily at the woman. “You want to know how I got in, I suppose,” she chuckled. “I told the apartment manager I was your mother. Said you’d been in a traffic accident and were in the hospital for observation. You’d asked me to bring you some things. She was very understanding.” Emma let out a maniacal cackle. “She asked to see my driver’s license and wanted to know why we had different last names. I told her I’d remarried. The idea of actually giving birth to a monster like you, it made me want to throw up!”
She bent and picked up a five gallon can of gasoline. “And now, Dr. Goodman, you’ve come to the end of your sick power-mad dream. In a few minutes, you’ll be burned to a crisp. And then you’ll be in hell, where you’ll burn for all eternity!”
Woody tried to speak but could manage no more than a muffled mumble. “Mmmmph!”
Emma cackled again and poured gasoline around his chair, then doused the apartment. The fumes were nauseating. Woody fought to keep from throwing up. She put the can on the floor and groped in the laundry bag for a few seconds. “Damn!,” she muttered, tossing it away. “I would forget matches. Well, I can just set some paper on fire from your stove. That’ll work every bit as good.”
She went into the kitchen and out of Woody’s line of sight. Just then the front door opened and he saw Candi frozen in the doorway. She grasped the situation in an instant, then looked beyond him. “Mother,” she screamed. “No!”
She darted past Woody and he heard the two women’s voices raised in yells and shrieks, then the sounds of a brief but intense struggle, followed by a body hitting the floor.
A moment later, Candi appeared in front of him. She peeled the duct tape off his mouth and pulled out the washcloth. “Are you all right?”
“A little dizzy still. She hit me with a Taser. Thank God you showed up when you did!”
“When I didn’t find her at home, I thought I’d come over here. I didn’t want to be alone.”
“Well, I’m glad you had that thought. What did you do? Knock her out?”
“For a minute. Let me get your ropes off, then you can tie her while I call the police.” She began untying him. “Poor Mother! What’s happened to her?”
“I don’t know, Candi, but I think it’s going to be a while before she’s back to herself.”
“Oh, dear God. And what in the world are you doing with my brother’s football helmet on your head?”
“She thought it would keep me from…” he suddenly began to giggle.
“Thought what? Why are you laughing?”
He got control of himself and started over. “Because it’s so cra—“ He was overcome by another fit of giggles.
Candi looked at him with exasperation. “Oh, shut up or I’ll just leave you tied—“ She began to giggle as well.
Fortunately laughing didn’t keep her from untying him, though it was several minutes before he was completely free. When he was, the two of them embraced and the laughter turned to tears and then kisses. Then Emma groaned and while Woody bound her, Candi phoned the police.