by Marc Buhmann
DeMarcus left with two others—another man and Emily—while three kids struggled to drag the strange man out of the woods. She watched this all with fascination. While she couldn’t do anything directly, maybe there was a way indirectly?
A third shimmer appeared near Willow Creek Bridge. Another man—this one with a brown aura—was passed out at the foot of the bridge. She didn’t know him either.
Who were these unknown players?
She watched as they all converged at the hospital, where David was.
Where she was.
Too many questions, too many unknowns. She was seeing them for a reason, and she was confident it wasn’t a coincidence they were being drawn together. They had a unified purpose, though of what she didn’t know.
And then she discovered she could go into their memories and began to explore, started to see the pattern. She followed the trail in each of their memories and found the catalyst, the one event that tied them all together, and it shocked her. Never in a million years would she have attributed it to her and David and that terrible night. She had to make them see and understand.
Lilly connected them all, chose the relevant memories, and began to share.
note from author
How are you enjoying The Lost Door so far? If you’ve made it this far I’m going to assume its holding your interest.
If you would like to support my work please consider purchasing a copy for $1.99 at Smashwords.com using the coupon code RQ64Q. (This code expires December 31, 2015.) That’s down from the $3.99 retail price… a steal! (See what I did there? Yeah… I’m funny.)
Thank you again, and back to the story.
II
past
seven
(1957)
Willem sat at the kitchen table playing with his toy soldiers. Elliott was in his room studying, and Sammy was in the living room watching Howdy Doody. While their mother didn’t seem to like the show all that much she put up with it to spend time with “her baby”.
The sun was setting casting the world in a deep orange, and a nice evening breeze came through the screen door. The weatherman was predicting storms tonight, but if one was headed their way Willem couldn’t tell. The sky had few clouds and the smell of impending rain had yet to materialize.
The engine of a car moved along the house, its brakes squeaking into the back. A minute later his father stepped through the door, the spring squeaking as it was pulled open. Although his back was to the door Willem could sense his father’s hesitation, his eyes boring into him.
He entered without a word, the door slamming shut behind. He walked past Willem and tossed his red trucker cap onto the table. He never looked at his son—seemed to ignore him—and went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, popped the top and drank.
The distance between the two had started gradually several years ago and had escalated to where they barely spoke. Willem didn’t know why and often wondered what’d he’d done wrong to anger him so.
Willem had been trying to work up the courage to ask his father about it, but the animosity he felt radiating from his old man filled him with terror. He’d talked to Elliott and his mother about it but both told him the same thing: it’s your father, not you. Don’t read too much into it; it’s been hard at work for him.
He didn’t buy it.
He’d been sitting here waiting and going over and over in his head what he would say when his father got home. How to broach the subject?
Kids cheered and laughed in the background, Sammy giggling madly.
It was now or never.
He opened his mouth yet no words came out.
Blank! His mind was blank! What was it he was going to say? All the words he’d planned, all the positive memories he’d intended to share gone.
“What?”
Willem looked up and saw his father staring at him, bottle hovering an inch from his mouth.
“Either shut that mouth or say something.”
Willem closed it.
Pfft! The sound whistled between his father’s lips. The sound of disappointment. The sound of knowing.
Another gulp of beer and Mr. Amberson headed out of the room.
Say something! his mind cried. Stop him!
“Why—”
His father stopped, whipped his head around. The movement was so sudden and unexpected it stopped the words momentarily.
Tears bubbled up. “Why don’t you like me?” He hated the meekness of his voice. He felt like a baby.
For a long moment his father stared at him, judging him, challenging him. Willem refused to break eye contact even to wipe away tears. His father turned fully and faced him.
“What did I do wrong?” Willem asked.
The hardened expression on his father’s face refused to soften—he just stared.
“Please dad please! Tell me what I did!”
Mr. Amberson stepped toward him, a mask of hatred and distrust.
“Whatever it is I didn’t mean to! Whatever I did was an accident! I swear! Just please stop being mad at me!”
A few more steps and now he was standing next to him, the kitchen table a dividing line. Willem stared up at his father, tears flowing freely. He snorted back snot, his mouth contorting to try and stem the emotional outburst.
Laughter from the television in the other room felt like taunts.
His father crouched, came down to eye level.
He’s sorry! his mind screamed. He wants a hug! It wasn’t me at all! I love you dad!
Willem leapt from the chair and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, hugging him as tightly as he could. He felt his father move, the sound of the beer bottle being put on the table.
He’s going to hug me! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!
He’d missed the closeness he’d once had with his father, had felt a part of him had been taken away. But now his father was finally going to embrace him, let bygones be bygones, wrap his arm around him and tell him it was all going to be alright.
Instead he felt his father’s hands grab his arms and pull them away from his neck.
No! Nonono! Hold onto him! Don’t let him go!
But he couldn’t. The crushing hold his father had weakened him; he couldn’t hold on. Mr. Amberson pulled Willem’s arms away, pushed them to his sides, and held him at arm’s length.
“You,” he said in a quiet gruff voice, “are not my son.”
Willem felt like he’d been punch in the gut and all strength flowed from him. The tears were torrential, his mouth hung open wide, no sound escaping.
His father stood, took his red cap, and walked back outside.
Not your son? Of course I’m your son!
Far off in the distance the sky flashed blue.
What does he mean? What?!
Seconds ticked by. It felt an eternity.
Howdy Doody sang, the kids joined in.
A roll of thunder joined the car engine turning over, and then Willem’s father was gone.
* * *
David was behind the wheel of a 1954 blue Chevy 210 DeLuxe, a nice sized sedan he and his wife had purchased used last year. They were on their way back from dinner at The Lodge, a restaurant two towns over from River Bend. It was one of the fancier places in the area, a bit out of their price range, but they’d decided to splurge this one time in celebration.
The sun had set an hour ago, the full moon the only light. They traveled along Highway 49, a two-lane road that wound around rolling meadows, through thick woods, and around several lakes. Minnesota may be the state of ten-thousand lakes but that was nothing compared to what they had.
David glanced at Lilly, an attractive petite brunette. She wore a gentle smile on her lightly painted red lips oblivious to David eyeing her. He couldn’t help but smile too. He reached across and took her hand in his.
Pregnant! They were going to be parents. Lilly had sprung the news on him last night after he’d returned home from work. The foul mood he’d been in had washed away,
her joy infectious. He’d rushed to her and swept her into his arms, picking her up and spinning her, she laughing sweetly.
They’d been trying for a year to get pregnant and after two miscarriages they’d started to think it wasn’t meant to be. It was sad—they both wanted to be parents—but there was nothing they could do to change it. Then yesterday, Lilly had told him she was three months along. That had been a shocker.
David’s mind wandered to when they’d first met. It had been a few weeks after the Shaw’s had moved in next door. His parents wanted to welcome them to the neighborhood properly and invited them over for dinner. Harold and Joan Shaw accepted and came over with their daughter Lilly the following Friday.
David was a senior in high school, handsome, and into sports. He played football and wrestled, was considered one of the better competitors by many. Lilly was a sophomore, beautiful, and quiet. She didn’t have many friends and stayed mostly to herself.
Lilly wore a blue dress and gold necklace with an unusual pendant, the same one she wore now. She’d been quiet at first, but as the night wore on she opened up a little. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he’d become enamored. There was an alluring mystery about her, one that pulled at him.
All too soon the evening was over, and David was sorry to see Lilly go. She was intoxicating, and he wanted to soak in her presence. But they were two years apart—such a big difference in high school.
A week later Lilly approached David. As they talked it turned out they had similar interests. Both liked hiking in the woods and loved the music of Perry Como. She was surprised he watched I Love Lucy and he equally shocked to learn she adored Alfred Hitchcock Presents. From that moment on they spent much of their free time together studying or just hanging out. It was relaxing knowing you didn’t have to put on a façade to try and impress a person.
Their friendship blossomed, and when David went off to college they made it a ritual to write each other weekly. When she was looking at colleges he helped her by offering suggestions but, in the end, she chose the same school as he.
The school had a dance night the day after mid-term finals where they encouraged the students to unwind, and both David and Lilly thought it would be fun. They’d dressed in their best—their best being their Sunday clothes—and met outside the gym. Lilly had arrived first and was by the steps clutching her purse in both hands. Her back was to him and when he’d called her name she’d turned and his breath caught. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, her aura enveloping him. He could smell her perfume on the breeze, saw her radiant smile and gently blowing hair. It was in that moment he knew he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
The two had a great time in the gym dancing, and when Perry Como started singing “If” the lights dimmed and they moved in close. At the songs refrain he leaned in and kissed her. When they pulled away they looked into each other’s eyes, she smiled sweetly, and put her head to his chest.
They married immediately after Lilly graduated college. The first time she missed her period she was overjoyed. When the test came back positive she shared the news with David who was ecstatic. Then she’d lost it. Just one of those things, the doctor had said. The second miscarriage had crushed her.
When she had become pregnant the third time she hadn’t told him. She didn’t want the weight of a third miscarriage on his shoulders too, so she’d waited three months to make sure the pregnancy had stuck. She explained all this to him last night, blubbering in excitement and joy. And now here they were, finally going to be parents. Six more months and they’d be welcoming a new life into the world.
The moon dimmed as clouds passed in front of it. A flash far off in the sky brought David’s attention back. Looked like a storm was moving in. His watch read 10:42. Another fifteen minutes and they’d be home—they should be able to beat the rain. Looks like it’ll be a doozy, David thought as several more flashes illuminated the black clouds.
He glanced at Lilly. “Are you feeling okay?”
She laughed. “It’s still early. I’m not even showing yet.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “It’s just… You know…”
Lilly nodded in understanding. “I’m fine. Really. If I feel anything… strange… I’ll be sure to let you know. Okay?”
“Okay. Did you mention anything to Doug today?” Doug was her boss, a doctor who appeared abrasive to strangers, but was actually kind. He didn’t like people to know, though.
“Not yet. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“You think he’ll be okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Because I don’t know if he’ll want to lose you, if even for a few months.”
“It’s really not his decision, now is it? Besides, there are other girls who can do my job.”
“Maybe, but not as well as you.”
“You flatter me,” she said slapping his arm. Her eyes darted to him and she bit her lower lip.
“What?” he asked. She looked surprised—probably didn’t think he saw her do that, her telltale sign she had something to say.
“‘What’ what?”
“I know that look.”
“You know no such thing. You can’t see anything anyway. It’s nearly pitch black!”
A flash of lightning coursed through the heavens. A raindrop hit the window.
“Damn,” David said.
Lilly looked over. “What?”
“It’s nothing. I was just hoping to make it home before the rain.”
Droplets began to pelt the windshield leaving streaks of water running down. David turned on the wipers in a futile attempt at better visibility.
“Just drive carefully,” Lilly instructed. “It’s not a race.”
“I know.”
They drove in silence, farmlands giving way to silhouette forests that hugged the shoulder. David looked at his watch again: 10:45. Why did time always move at a snail’s pace when you were in a hurry?
Another flash of lightning, the trees and their shadow mates visible briefly. A roll of thunder echoed across the land.
Ahead of them the refracting lights of an oncoming car crest a hill. Looked like the other driver had his brights on. David slowed a little in anticipation of being blinded. Probably will wait until the last second to turn them off, he thought. He hated people who did that.
The car was now a quarter mile away and the brights were still on. That was enough. David flashed his lights hoping to alert the driver, but it did no good. He gave it to the count of ten and tried again. The lights were now washing out the wet windshield.
Asshole. David looked to the shoulder on the right. Instead of the usual gravel was just tall grass. At least he could see and had some reference as to where he was on the road. Just a few more seconds and the car would pass them and be able to see again.
Then there was movement on the road.
In David’s peripheral vision he thought he saw a deer. He swerved to the right, his foot pumping the brake. As soon as the tires were on the grass he had no traction. Lilly let out a squeal.
The other vehicle swerved into their lane, tires screeching on pavement. A flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.
David tried to regain control of his car, tugged the wheel left, but it was no use. The other driver smashed into the rear passenger side of the Chevy, blue paint peeling away, jackknifing them. David grunted as the car spun out, tilted, and flipped. The car rolled off the road into the ditch.
David hit his head and there was a flash of white across his vision. The world was discombobulated: up was down in a confusing vortex of strobe lights.
There was a final bump and the car caught itself and stopped, coming to rest on its side.
The white dissolved and he could see, but then blackness began to overtake him.
No!
He fought to hold onto his consciousness, looked to Lilly. Her eyes were closed, blood oozing from a dozen lacera
tions on her face.
No! No! No!
David tried to reach for her, to take her hand in his, but his arm was weak. He tried to lift his arm but exhaustion won out. He was tired. He needed to take a nap. Just a short one.
No!
His fingers inched closer to her, eyelids heavy.
Have to… to stay awake… Have to…
The outside world blurred then faded. His finger brushed Lilly’s hand.
And then unconsciousness washed over him.
* * *
When David had first entered the hospital room Lilly’s parents had been here. They updated him on her status—there was none—before they’d excused themselves to the waiting room.
“If you need anything just come find us,” Mrs. Shaw had said.
David sat in a chair next to Lilly’s bed. She lay unconscious under white sheets, strange medical devices connected to her. David didn’t know what it all was, but he was assured they weren’t hurting her.
It had been two weeks since the accident. He’d come to in the back of someone’s car. A Good Samaritan stopped when he saw the cars and had pulled them from their car and got them to the hospital.
Lilly was still in a coma and, even more heartbreaking, she’d lost the baby. The accident had caused serious internal trauma resulting in a hysterectomy. Whatever hope they’d had for children was now gone forever.
The doctors prepared him for the worst, that Lilly may never again regain consciousness. They’d done all they could, and now it was up to her and God. He believed that if she fought hard enough that she would come back to him, and he would be at her side when she did. She was a strong woman and he knew that she would fight for as long as she could. All it required was patience.
The police had been by to see him the day after he’d woke. They were still looking for the other driver—who appeared to have run off into the woods and disappeared—but after checking on the plates they were in contact with the family.