“I’ll be calling first thing in the morning,” said Rebecca, ignoring Sparky’s last comment.
“Great,” said Sparky. “Is that all then, ladies?”
“Yes, thank you, Sparky,” said Diane.
“Thanks, Sparky. I’ll be calling at seven,” said Rebecca.
Sparky rode off into the darkness, and the two ladies turned and went toward the front door of Diane’s house. As her mother unlocked the front door, Rebecca continued to carefully guard her candle from any rogue breeze that might attempt to extinguish it. Though she was nearly certain it would relight, she was too tired to put that faith to a test after the night she’d just been through. Somehow, she sensed there’d be plenty of opportunities to test that faith in the days, weeks—and possibly years to come.
Seventy-One
Seeing & Believing
If you travel southeast from Cottonwood, Colorado, roughly in the opposite direction that you would travel to go to Mount Rainier in Washington State, you would eventually enter Mexico and arrive at Mexico City. On the outskirts of that city on December 9th, 1531, a poor peasant named Juan Diego claimed to have seen an apparition of the Virgin Mary. He reported his vision to the local bishop, Zumarraga, but the bishop did not believe the poor peasant and sent Juan Diego back for some kind of proof of the apparition. On December 12th, the Virgin once more appeared to Juan Diego, and this time roses bloomed in the rocky soil at the peasant’s feet. The Virgin instructed him to pick the roses and put them in the cloak that he was carrying. Juan Diego did as instructed and returned with the cloak full of roses to Bishop Zumarraga. When the bishop opened the cloak, the roses fell to the ground, and there on the cloak, amazingly and mysteriously, was emblazoned an image of the Virgin. The Bishop immediately believed the story of the apparition and ordered that a church be built on the spot, with the miraculously emblazoned cloak of Juan Diego to be hung on the wall for all to see and witness. To this day, that cloak is still hanging, and since the time of Juan Diego, millions have come from around the world to view the mystery. Though the original church has been rebuilt several times into grander and greater edifices, the spot remains one of the most frequently visited and celebrated in all of Mexico.
Over the centuries, various groups and individuals living in the region spanning North America from Mount Rainier to Mexico City, and coming from all religious and cultural backgrounds, have been witness to a variety of visions, apparitions, and other strange and mysterious sightings and events. Many of these events remain forever unexplained—some would even call them miracles. Some who have not personally witnessed the miracle need proof, and so for them, artifacts are left behind, like the cloak of Juan Diego. Others who may have personally witnessed a mystery still remain unconvinced.
Akash had risen early on Tuesday morning, showered, and was getting ready to go out for breakfast, when his hotel room phone rang. It was Ernie Martinelli. He told Akash he was the owner of Ernie’s Diner and had heard the engineer was in town investigating the Cottonwood Dead Zone.
“I’ll treat you to breakfast if you’ll come over,” said Ernie.
“I never pass up a free breakfast,” said Akash. “I had a great meal at your place yesterday, so I’d be more than glad to come back for breakfast. Is there something in particular that you need to see me about?”
“I’m not sure,” said Ernie, “but I think maybe I’ve got something that can assist you in your investigation. I’d prefer not to say too much over the phone. I’ll explain it all to you when you get here. Just tell the staff that you’re my guest, order whatever you’d like, and I’ll meet you there in a half hour or so.”
Akash hurried across the street to the diner and was a little embarrassed by the amount of food he ordered. It wasn’t because Ernie had offered him a free meal—because he knew the state would be paying for it, at any rate. Akash found that he was genuinely hungry. He thought perhaps it was the clean country air, or perhaps it was his previous day’s arduous several-mile jaunt across a field following Vince on the motorcycle. Whatever it was that piqued his appetite, he found that he heartily worked his way through pancakes, toast, english muffins, scrambled eggs, and several glasses of juice.
During his meal, the cowbell had been rung several times, though he paid very little attention to it after the first startling ring. As he ate, he read through a computer-printed Internet version of The Denver Post someone had left on the front counter. Though there was currently no way to get the paper delivered to Cottonwood, even the transportation crisis hadn’t curtailed the tradition of reading a morning newspaper over breakfast.
Akash scanned the pages for stories about the Dead Zone. There were several merely rehashing facts he already knew. He did find one small article of interest. It stated that a company specializing in scenic tours was considering offering excursions into the Cottonwood Dead Zone using electric buses—if the phenomenon looked like it was going to last. A company representative said that they hoped the State of Colorado would eventually give them permission to offer these services. “Cottonwood,” the spokesperson was quoted as saying, “could become the hottest tourist spot on the planet.” Akash smiled to himself, always amazed at how ingenious people were to quickly figure out how to make money from the most unlikely of circumstances. In this case, thought Akash, tours to Cottonwood, filled with cash-laden tourists, wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing for the otherwise economically depressed area.
As Akash was finishing the article, Ernie Martinelli arrived at the diner and slipped into the booth seat opposite him. Ernie had a laptop computer and immediately opened it up, though he kept it facing away from Akash.
“I hope breakfast was to your liking,” said Ernie.
Akash looked up from the news article and smiled. “Quite delicious. You must be Ernie Martinelli. Thank you for breakfast.”
Ernie smiled and reached across the table, shaking Akash’s hand. “You’re quite welcome. Anything interesting in the news today?” Ernie asked.
Akash glanced down at the article. “What could be more interesting than what’s going on right here in Cottonwood?”
“Indeed,” replied Ernie. “We seem to be the center of something most unusual—a real mystery, for sure.”
Akash nodded. “Maybe it is right now, but all mysteries can be solved with enough time. That’s what I intend to do with this so-called Dead Zone.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself. Are you so sure all mysteries can be solved—with enough time? Are there no mysteries that rest outside of time, so to speak?”
“I’m not sure I follow you, Mr. Martinelli. How can anything rest outside of time? Is that what you have invited me here to talk about?”
Ernie smiled. “No, that’s all philosophical mumbo jumbo, for the most part. Perhaps another time we can talk about such matters, if you’d like. I’ve invited you here because I have something concrete to show you—an artifact from the Dead Zone. I think you’ll find it most interesting.”
Akash squinted his eyes. “Okay,” he said after a pause. “Exactly what kind of artifact have you got?”
Ernie pressed the space bar on his computer and turned the screen around to face Akash. On the screen, a video loop was playing. It was the same clip Ernie had watched hundreds of times himself and had also shown to his wife. It was of the inside of a walk-in refrigerator where a container of milk was sitting on a shelf. The container would suddenly disappear from the scene, followed immediately by a flash of light. Akash watched the video several times through before Ernie said anything.
“Impressed?” asked Ernie.
“What’s the purpose of this?” asked Akash, with a confused expression.
“Its purpose?” Ernie smiled. “I wish I knew. I’d like to meet the person who could answer that question.”
“Well, is somebody stealing from you? I’m not here to investigate any theft issues related to the current transportation crisis. That would be something for your law enforcement officials
to help you with.”
“This, I think, is quite the opposite of theft,” said Ernie. “It’s more of a gift of some sort.”
“A gift? It seems the milk container is disappearing from this frame. But those odd flashes—are they some sort of camera or editing artifact?”
“That flash was no camera or editing effect,” said Ernie. “I can turn that camera on and off a thousand times without any such flash occurring. We can talk more about the flashes in a moment, if you wish. I just wanted to make sure you generally understood what was going on here. I’m going to now play the video for you—in the correct direction.”
Akash raised his eyebrows.
“You see, I was playing the video in reverse,” continued Ernie. “Let’s watch it the way it was actually recorded.” He then reached over and tapped a key on the laptop. The video began showing a flash of white, followed by the container of milk appearing on the screen. Akash watched it with a bit more interest and puzzlement.
Akash stared at Ernie. “What are you implying by showing this to me? How is this an artifact of the Dead Zone?”
“I’m not implying anything. The video can speak for itself—artifact or not. I simply wanted you to have this information. I can swear to you that I have not made any alteration to the footage at all.”
Just then, someone rang the cowbell, and scattered applause went up from the small crowd of morning patrons. Ernie joined in the applause for a moment and then stopped. Akash didn’t bother looking toward the bell but only looked back at the looped video playing in front of him. “Again, why are you showing me this?” he finally asked.
“You are here to investigate the Cottonwood Dead Zone, correct?”
“Correct.”
“This phenomenon, whatever it is and whatever is causing it, started the same time as all the traffic stalled out. I think they are related. This is an artifact or effect of the Cottonwood Dead Zone. I’m sure of it.”
Akash glanced down at the video again and then back up to Ernie. “Are you saying that your video camera has captured milk containers suddenly appearing on shelves? Is that what you are claiming?”
“That’s exactly what I am claiming,” said Ernie. He pointed over at the white board with all the tally marks. “You see all the marks on that board?” he continued. “There are many dozens now. They all mark when something new appears—a carton of milk, or eggs, cheese, bread, butter, or a sack of potatoes. I haven’t had a food delivery in days, and yet we haven’t had to shut down. My supplies are staying exactly where they would be, as if we were getting deliveries.”
Akash looked over at the white board and then back at Ernie. “So that’s what the cowbell is all about then?”
“Indeed, it is,” said Ernie.
“This is preposterous! You certainly must know that!”
“I do know it’s fantastic, miraculous even—but I wouldn’t say preposterous.”
“Why should I believe you or this video or any of it?!” Akash asked.
Ernie remained calm. “The first proof is right on the screen in front of you, if seeing can be believing.”
“Videos can be made to show anything, Mr. Martinelli. I’m not saying I think you’re out to deceive me, but—”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” interjected Ernie. “You don’t believe me, but that’s all right, really. I would be skeptical myself if someone had brought such a fantastic clip of video to me. I could scarcely believe it myself when I first saw it. That’s why I had to witness it for myself—see it with my own two eyes. I sat for hours in our walk-in refrigerator until…”
Ernie looked down at the table and grew silent.
“Until what?” asked Akash.
“I…caught a fish,” said Ernie, in a low and trembling voice, finally looking up at Akash. “A flash of light…somehow I was given the gift of seeing something extraordinary…a miracle…”
There was silence between the two for a moment. Ernie stared down at the table, and Akash continued to watch the video looping over and over. “You’re saying you saw—with your own two eyes—food appear out of thin air?”
Ernie wiped away a small tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s what I saw—and I’m not so sure how thin the air is anymore. There seems to be more going on in the universe than we currently know about—the things we can’t see—seem to be quite interesting.”
Akash studied Ernie’s face for a moment. “I’m an engineer, Mr. Martinelli, a man of technology and science. I deal with the laws of physics and mathematics—precisely known and precisely understood quantifiable events. I think you’d perhaps be better served showing this video to people who deal in miracles—maybe a priest—someone like that. It is of no use to me.”
Akash wiped his mouth, slid out from his seat, and stood up. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, opened it, and then tossed a large bill onto the table in front of Ernie.
“The breakfast was very good,” said Akash.
“I don’t expect payment,” said Ernie looking at the money and then at Akash. “You were my guest.”
“It seems you invited me here in the hopes that maybe you’d have something I’d be interested in. I am not interested, so I feel it’s only fitting that I pay you. Besides, we government contractors have to be careful about taking any gifts from the public. You have a good day, Mr. Martinelli.” Akash turned and started to leave.
“Mr. Mudali,” said Ernie, causing Akash to turn around. “I’ll have these tapes available for you, if you should change your mind. We have a mystery here in Cottonwood. There seems to be much more happening beyond what we can see or measure or quantify. I don’t claim to understand exactly what it is or what it means, but I can accept the mystery of it.”
“Thank you,” replied Akash. “I’ll keep all that in mind.” He turned and left the restaurant, leaving Ernie staring at the money and the endlessly looping video.
Akash went to his car, grabbed his equipment, and headed straight down Main Street to the spot he and Agent Westmore had identified the night before as the center of the Cottonwood Dead Zone. He once more used his global positioning unit to confirm that he did, in fact, have exactly the right spot—directly on the sidewalk in front of Rhonda’s Bridal & Floral. He zoomed in the global positioning unit as far as it would go and then made a small “x” with a felt tip pen on the precise spot on the sidewalk where the center occurred. He also put two dates on the spot. One date was the previous Friday, when the phenomenon first started. Next to that date, he put a question mark, as he was not certain that the center of the Dead Zone was at that spot on Friday. Next to the other date, which was the current day, his wrote his initials—A.M.
With his other piece of equipment, Akash took several readings of the electromagnetic fields in the area and made notations in his notebook. He next planned to go to town hall to find out what it would take to get the sidewalk torn up at the spot he had marked. He was most interested in what might be underneath. He had no doubts that whatever was beneath the sidewalk in front of Rhonda’s Bridal & Floral, it would be solid and made of something he could touch, feel, weigh, and measure.
He walked down the street to the town hall and found the front door locked. He looked at his watch and realized the building would not be opening for a while longer. He decided he’d walk the town until that time. The meeting with Ernie had upset him more than he’d anticipated, and he hoped a brief walk would help to center him. As he walked down the steps of the town hall toward the sidewalk, a bird sang out clearly and brightly from somewhere across the street:
Tweeta…tweet…tweet…tweetatweet.
For a reason he could not explain, as he normally had no interest in birds, he walked almost trancelike across the street, straining to see the bird behind the morning song. It sang again:
Tweeta…tweet…tweet…tweetatweet.
After a moment of searching, he finally spotted the bird sitting on a wi
ndowsill of the building he now stood in front of. He wasn’t paying attention and had no idea that the building he stood in front of was the sheriff’s office. Furthermore, Akash had no idea that the bird singing to him was a Western Meadowlark. Though there were reflections on the window’s glass above where the bird was perched, Akash could just make out the vague outline of a man who appeared to be staring out the small window at him, the bird, or both of them.
Akash finally re-centered himself, and as he turned to continue his walk, a young woman brushed by him, seemingly in a big hurry, as she scurried up the steps of the building and went inside. He gave the young woman no special thought, except for her noted haste. He could not have imagined, not at that moment, nor even in his most daring intellectual moment, that the same young woman, and the vague outline of the man on the other side of the window, and the bird who’d enticed him across the street, could all have anything, whatsoever, to do with the Cottonwood Dead Zone or the spot he’d just marked on the sidewalk in front of Rhonda’s Bridal & Floral.
Seventy-Two
Footsteps
For Rebecca, time seemed mired in some thick liquid as the minutes dragged along with slow and heavy-laden steps. She had only been waiting ten minutes, but each of those minutes seemed to have ten minutes of their own locked up inside. Finally, it was his footsteps that she heard first as he entered the meeting room. Her back had been to the door, and she was looking between the black iron bars on the window to the trees outside, swaying in the early morning breeze. When she turned and saw him, immediately an electric warmth rushed into her chest, and her heart raced upward. Matthew stood in the doorway, his hands cuffed in front of him and Sheriff O’Neil holding him by one arm.
Touching Cottonwood Page 57