A Latent Dark

by Martin Kee

  Their eyes locked for a moment, then Walter smiled and released him.

  Dale ran to catch up to Melissa. She was skipping into a forest, the branches twisting away from her. A corridor of woven vines and twigs led them away from the hidden village.

  “What was all that about?” He asked her as he caught up, glancing at the note in her hand. “And what’s with the note?”

  “It’s an invitation.”

  “To what?”

  “To Hel,” said Melissa, her tone serious.

  “I thought there was no Hell.”

  “Not Hell, you goof. Hel, with one L.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

  “Okay,” said Dale. “Who then?”

  She stopped, turning slowly to Dale and locked her eyes to his. At once, the sky grew dark and heavy with swirling black clouds, laced with malice and thunder. Branches shuddered as a cold gale blew leaves around their feet, tossing her hair in a fan. Her unblinking eyes burned into him as she looked at Dale, her small body filled with determination, vibrating with power.

  “She’s a god,” said Melissa, her voice low, her face far too melodramatic.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Did you like it?” Melissa smiled and continued onward in front of him, the surroundings returning to normal. “I’m trying to get the wind just right. Lightning would have been nice, but that takes a lot more practice. Thunder is actually easier than you think.”

  She spun in a pirouette several paces in front of him as the world returned to its placid meadows, bubbling brooks and willow trees. A flock of pearl-winged birds appeared out of thin air and took flight, vanishing over a hillside.

  “Now, hurry up, slowpoke,” she said. “Hel’s a busy woman.”

  Chapter 31

  Skyla was feeling the effects of a full stomach for the first time in weeks and it was fan-tastic. If she had been allowed to sleep, she could have done so for ages. Instead she sat in a white chair across the table from Stintwell, who was holding another stack of cards. The tests seemed to go much slower when all she wanted to do was take a nap.

  They had placed a thin metal lattice around her head, similar to her goggles only without the leather cap. It was cold to the touch, but compared to the weight of the goggles, Skyla didn’t even notice them half the time. Empty frames circled her eyes, a mock-up of the lenses she was accustomed to, their concentric rings rotating, stopping, clicking with the slightest movement or thought.

  For every question she answered, there would be a deep hum that slowly crescendoed in pitch and then discharged with a distant pop. It was faint, but she noticed that it happened at the same time the empty frames around her eyes would shift. The sound reminded her of a broken engine trying to start for the last time.

  “I’m going to show you some more pictures,” said Stintwell. “And then I’d like you to meet Dr. Ostermann.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He and I work together. You met him briefly when you arrived, but you were probably too exhausted to remember.”

  “What kinds of tests? Like these?”

  “Like these,” Stintwell said. “But less boring.”

  She gave a wry grin and Skyla couldn’t help but smile back. She liked Dr. Stintwell. Most of the other tinkerers in the complex had been distant towards Skyla, almost nervous as she passed them in the halls. Skyla was used to it now, but in contrast to Stintwell they seemed far more aloof.

  “I’m getting tired,” Skyla said.

  “You had a big meal and a long day,” said Stintwell. “I swear, you keep the cooks more busy than half the staff. I’m beginning to wonder if you have a hollow leg.”

  “I love the food,” said Skyla. “But it makes me sleepy.”

  For a moment she thought she read something on Stintwell’s face and shadow, just a flicker, then it was gone.

  “Well then this next part will be easy. You don’t even have to answer any questions. I just want you to look at the pictures as hard as you can. Can you do that?”

  “What happens then?”

  “A machine will record the effects. It’s measuring how well you concentrate.”

  “Is that the machine I keep hearing?”

  “That’s right,” Stintwell said and for a moment, opened her mouth as if to say more, then closed it abruptly. “Now, are you ready?”

  Skyla nodded.

  The first few cards were optical illusions. Some Skyla had seen before in books: a vase that was really two faces, stairs that could go any direction, an old woman that could also be a bird. Every time Skyla stared at the picture she would hear the machine wind up, click and discharge. She imagined someone photographing her from a hidden camera behind the white tiled walls, standing on some ancient, broken steam engine.

  As the tests progressed, the pictures became more abstract. She was shown images of impossible geometric shapes that could only exist on paper. Skyla had never seen anything like them and found it hard to look away.

  The machine in the walls made its damaged hum and click again. After the last card was viewed, Stintwell asked her if she needed anything.

  “You said I could see my mother and aunt.”

  “You will,” said Stintwell. Again, her shadow flickered, but the tiles made it too difficult to read clearly.

  “When?” asked Skyla.

  “Well,” Stintwell said, placing a pencil in the fold above her ear. “That’s up to Dr. Ostermann and how well you cooperate.”

  “But I will see them soon, right?”

  “Of course you will.”

  As she spoke, a small yellow light appeared on the wall beside the door. Stintwell excused herself in a hurry. Skyla watched her leave as the door clicked shut behind her, sealing itself perfectly to the wall.

  When it opened again, a man stepped through holding a briefcase. He was familiar and Skyla even remembered passing him in the hallways a few times. He wore a long white coat and smiled at her from a thin face behind multi-lensed spectacles. His shadow, though faint, told a different story; something about the tests, and that they weren’t just for fun.

  He’s afraid I’ll perform the test on him, she thought.

  As the idea passed through her mind, the walls began to hum. The hidden machine clicked. Ostermann hesitated, missing a step, then regained his stride as if nothing happened, but he seemed unhappy about the noise.

  He heaved the briefcase onto the table between them and then smiled.

  “Hello Skyla, I am Pall Ostermann. I believe we were briefly introduced when you first arrived, but you were pretty confused. I hope everyone here has been nice to you.”

  “Hi,” she said and yawned. “Yes they have.”

  “Tired?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think I ate too much.”

  “Ahh, well that’s easy to do. The food here is so good.” He smiled pleasantly. “Have you enjoyed the tests so far?”

  She nodded again, yawned and went to rub her eyes, forgetting for a moment the contraption attached to her head. The lights seemed so bright—she was tired of wearing the fake goggles and taking these tests. She asked him what time it was.

  “It’s late,” he said. “I don’t blame you for being sleepy. After we do one more test, you may go to your room and sleep all you want. Deal?”

  Assuming I can even sleep with it so bright, she thought, nodding. “What’s that?” She pointed at the briefcase that now sat between them.

  Ostermann opened it, removed a clipboard, and turned it around for her to see what was inside. A blank white square rose from the middle of the case, suspended by a series of hinges and braces above a complex assortment of tubes, wires and filaments. It looked so delicate, Skyla worried she might break it by breathing too hard.

  “It’s pretty,” she said. “What is it?”

  “It’s a projector,” he said. “I’m going to show you a series of images, similar to what Dr. Stintwell showed you, only I wan
t you to just relax your eyes when you look this time. They all have a center, so I want you to look right at the middle of each one. Can you do that?”

  Ostermann pressed an unseen button on the back of the case and Skyla was surprised to see shapes leaping onto the screen. They reminded her of Missy’s old book she carried with her and the Celtic knots she saw throughout. These, however, were more geometric in style and even seemed to move. Gray began to seep in from the edges of her vision.

  The machine outside the walls of the room made another hum and a click as the image changed.

  “Good,” Ostermann said. “Very good.” From the edge of her vision, she could tell from his shadow that he was both excited and a little frightened.

  The next image, though similar, left an afterimage on her retinas. The shapes were more like a spiral, drawing her deeper into its center. When it actually began to move, rotating in on itself, Skyla was overwhelmed with vertigo. She could actually feel herself falling into it.

  For a moment, the walls melted away, leaving her suspended and alone with Ostermann’s shadow, as solid and real as any person. She felt a tunnel in space opening between her and if only she could touch it—

  The machine hummed and clicked. The image vanished.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” said Ostermann with a twitchy, nervous smile. He closed the suitcase without looking at her and she noticed that his hands were shaking.

  “How did I do?” she asked.

  He took a small breath, then looked directly at her. “You did terrific. Would you like to be taken back to your room?”

  Skyla nodded and yawned so hard she thought her jaw would snap. Ostermann pressed a button on the desk. Almost immediately, Dr. Stintwell entered the room.

  “I’d say we’re done here for now Laura,” he said. He picked up his briefcase, then plucked the halo gently from Skyla’s head.

  Stintwell took Skyla’s hand. “Tired?”

  “Yes, Dr. Stintwell—”

  “You can call me Laura if you want. Let’s go to your room.”

  Skyla stifled another yawn as Laura led her out of the room. They didn’t say much as they walked down the corridor. Skyla looked around wearily as the doors passed by, all whitewashed and clean.

  “How do they keep it all so new looking?” she asked.

  “That’s because it is new,” Laura said. “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, this facility wasn’t working for a long time. They only recently fixed it up, painted it, installed some new lighting. Now it is helping to power the entire city.”

  “Why wasn’t it working before?”

  “Your room is right up ahead,” Stintwell said as though she hadn’t heard the question. Skyla hid her irritation.

  As tired as she was, a pair of doors caught Skyla’s attention and she stopped to look at them. They had embossed patterns along the wood, with ornate handles that had been freshly painted over with the same boring white. Small holes at the top of the doors, suggested that there had been something nailed there at one time.

  “What’s in these rooms?” she asked.

  “Oh, just some old storage, they haven’t gotten to upgrading yet.”

  Now Skyla knew she was being lied to. As Laura led her down the hall, she couldn’t help but feel as though those rooms would be worth investigating, and Skyla had a good idea just how to do that.

  “We’re here,” said Laura. “I hope this wasn’t too exhausting for you, Skyla. I know you must be terribly tired.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but I had fun. I never knew anything like this existed in all the territories…”

  As Laura held the door open, listening intently to Skyla go on and on, she never realized that the girl was, in fact, looking at the locking mechanism to the door, trying to think of a way to get past it.

  “…and everyone is so nice!” Skyla finished.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I had fun too.”

  With that, Laura stepped back to let the door close and latch. Skyla’s bed was adequately comfortable, but that light invaded everything. She stared at the ceiling, then turned her head and looked at her quarters. It was all so bland, white and clinical.

  As she lay on the bed, trying to ignore the eternal brilliance of the room, she thought again and again about those two doors. Why were they different from all the other doors? And those beautiful scrolled handles, why paint them over? Surely they must have been much nicer than the room she was being kept in.

  Kept in. That was the operative word wasn’t it… Doors. Everywhere doors, and none of them accessible by her. Of course, if Orrin was here…

  Orrin could pick those locks, she thought. What would Orrin do, she wondered. Something clever, no doubt. She could try to be clever too.

  *

  Laura walked into her office and sighed, closing the door behind her. She was exhausted from arguing with Pall all night. Everything was happening far too quickly for her comfort. They still hadn’t even gone over all the data yet, and here he wanted to start using subjects. What a great idea.

  She flopped down into her chair and slid a file folder out into the center of her desk, opening it. She rested her chin on interlaced fingers as she read the yellowed paper. It was just a fragment of a report, burned on the edges, the paper brittle beneath the lamplight.

  Clipped to the paper was a photo of a man in a neat beard, standing between two young girls—twins, so they said. You wouldn’t know by looking at them. The “older” girl was thinner, almost wiry somehow. Her eyes were the haunted, crow’s-feet eyes of a sixty year old, a widow, not the eyes of a fourteen-year-old girl. Yes, the older twin was peculiar to say the least.

  But how had two identical twins grown apart so drastically and at different rates?

  That was the big mystery wasn’t it? Laura’s predecessor, Jacobes had almost found out. He had almost proven—something. His writings and reports echoed the theories of Zwicky and Millikan, ancient writings, practically illegal in this day and age. And yet The Church allowed it, encouraged it.

  Until it all went so wrong somehow, she thought, tracing the outline of the girls in the photo with a fingernail. And somehow these two girls were at the center of it.

  Richard Jacobes’s last journal entry was harried, desperate. It almost seemed as though the man was horrified at what he had discovered, but then why were the pages almost all destroyed? Who had burned them? The only readable entry seemed to be interrupted, as if someone had disturbed the man mid-sentence, causing him to drop his pen.

  This entire place is one big mystery, Stintwell thought as she pinched the bridge of her nose. And Ostermann is just charging ahead, obsessed with that machine, like it’s the only thing that matters.

  To be fair, the engine was important, essential even. They had managed to power the entire city with it—but on sin? Laura still didn’t buy that. It was something else, something that they couldn’t see, something that drove this strange generator.

  She squinted at the journal entry. It was as if someone had come and taken Jacobes from his room. The only problem was that his room had been locked from both sides. And then what happened? Hundreds of souls lost? Erased by a loose cannon nobody understood?

  “Where did you go, Richard?” she said to the photograph. The man only smiled back, his eyes laughing, hiding secrets.

  An orange light began flashing on her desk. She looked at it and frowned. Hadn’t she put Skyla to bed? She pressed a button next to the light.

  “Stintwell,” she said.

  “The girl had a nightmare,” said a voice from the desk. “We thought you would want to know.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be right down.”

  When she arrived at the girl’s door she heard crying. She opened it and found Skyla sitting bolt upright, looking scared and alone. It broke her heart.

  It’s so unfair how we are treating her, she thought. The girl has no one and we are keeping her as a prisone
r, a tool. That’s all she is to The Church, isn’t it?

  Skyla turned and looked at her, her eyes were red. She sniffed.

  “Hey… Are you okay?” Laura asked, entering the room. “They said you were upset.”

  “I… had a dream about my mother.” Skyla wiped a hand on her cheek.

  “You did? Do you want to tell me about it?” Laura suddenly wished she had brought her notepad.

  Skyla sighed and wiped her nose. Laura presented a tissue, which the girl took gratefully, blowing her nose into it. She asked for a second, used it and then balled them in her tiny fist.

  “She was alone… and she was scared,” Skyla said. “She… she was running from the preacher.”

  “The preacher?” Laura asked. “Who’s the preacher?”

  “The man all in white, the man with the long shadow,” Skyla said. “He was chasing her. Just like he chased me.”

  All white, thought Laura. She knew that one of the founders of the institute was involved in retrieving the girl, but what had he done to torment her like this? She had met him once or twice and she found him charming, if somewhat persistent. His revivals out east were legendary and she understood he had made a small fortune from them—money that had thankfully kept her employed.

  “Why don’t you tell me more about your dream,” she said.

  Skyla took another ragged breath. “He was chasing her through the hall.” She pointed to the door. “Just outside. It was dark though, and she was screaming.”

  Laura hugged the girl, surprising them both. “Well,” she said, “I was just out there and I guarantee you that the lights are all on.”

  “I know it was just a stupid dream,” said the girl, so small next to her. “It just seemed so real.”

  “You want to look for yourself?” Laura asked.

  Skyla gave the door a tentative look and then nodded. Laura stood and led her by her hand, and using her key, she opened the door wide. “See? It’s completely safe.”

  Skyla took a step out into the doorway. Bracing herself with both hands on either side of the doorframe, she leaned out, looking left then right. When she leaned back into the room, she smiled at Laura.

  “Sorry I woke you,” she said. “It must be late and I’m being silly.”