Oath Keeper

by Jefferson Smith

  Shondu found him.

  * * *

  Elicand was happy beyond stories when he heard Shondu’s voice bubble into his own thoughts like laughter.

  (healing-place stay reason question)

  Their previous contact had tasted to Elicand of loneliness and fear, but it had been so brief that it hadn’t even had time to register before it had disappeared. What he felt now was an impish tittering delight. It washed over him like a gentle summer breeze, and the unexpected warmth and familiarity of contact with another soul, after so much time spent alone in this crushing darkness, took Elicand completely by surprise, wrenching an unexpected sob of relief from his chest. Alone for days, blind, and deaf from the constant oppressive roar of the water echoing throughout the cavern, the feeling of proper contact was like birdsong in his skull, even if it was a trifle mocking.

  “I’m stuck here statement,” Elicand said. “How do I get off this rock question?”

  (tumble fall glee statement)

  “Great,” Elicand replied. “I’ll tumble off this rock and fall to my death while you laugh your little laugh of glee then, shall I question?”

  (correction tumble fall thou statement) (tumble thou fun play statement)

  While Elicand was puzzling over how it could possibly be fun to fall to his death, he was startled by a furry touch at his elbow. Before he even knew what he was doing, Elicand had scooped Shondu up into a furious double-armed hug that threatened to overwhelm them both, and though he tried several times to put his feeling into empathought, Elicand found himself speechless. But Shondu seemed to understand and for several very satisfying moments, the two accidental adventurers simply held onto one another, communicating all that needed to be said through the warmth of their skin and the firmness of the grip with which each held the other.

  “So, tumble fall not die question?” Elicand said, when he was finally ready to let go of his friend.

  (follow show feel statement)

  Elicand felt Shondu’s hand tug at his own and allowed himself to be led toward the Featureless Lip, although he insisted on taking the last few strides on his hands and knees. Shondu guided Elicand’s hand in the darkness, along the Featureless Lip, but Elicand could feel nothing special about the stone. Perhaps it was the tiniest bit smoother than it was elsewhere. More polished, perhaps. But the difference was too slight for him to even be sure it was real.

  (tumble place statement) Then Shondu let go of his hand and toppled off the ledge.

  “No!’ Elicand screamed, even though he couldn’t hear it, and as he screamed, he instinctively reached toward the empty air where his friend had just disappeared.

  And plunged headlong after him.

  Chapter 16

  “Would you like some wine?” DelRoy held up a bottle of red wine and a bottle of white.

  “Yes, please. The red looks good.”

  He pulled the cork on the red and left it to breathe on the table while he went to find some glasses. He left Sue doing the woman thing, wandering around the sitting room, inspecting. Normally a fairly private guy, this was the first time he could ever remember having a house guest, and he was feeling a little nervous as he went into the kitchen.

  “Your place is very tidy,” Sue called, from the other room. “Except for your desk. You really should dust more.”

  “Can’t do that,” he called back, as he hunted through the drawer for the good corkscrew. “Might lose an important clue that way, and then where would I be?”

  He only had the two wine glasses and one was all he’d ever used, so he ran the water in the sink. They just needed a quick rinse.

  “Hey! You’ve been holding out on me!” Sue called. She sounded a bit excited.

  “What do you mean?”

  Sue came into the kitchen waving her hand in the air. “This!” she said. “As if you didn’t know. You’ve put together an entire Regina Finch file. Why didn’t you say so?”

  DelRoy smiled. Sue Nackenfausch had the most disarming way of playing characters. Like this afternoon at the mortuary. Too bad she was still hiding behind that married woman front. “You got me,” he said, nodding playfully at her empty hands. “I confess. But it’s written in code. You’ll have to read it to me.”

  Sue gave him an odd look, but then she smiled, and proceeded to page through the imaginary docket.

  “Oh, say! This looks interesting. Seems to be a letter to you. From you.”

  He laughed. “You don’t say. And what, pray tell, did I have to say to myself?” With the glasses clean, he set them on a little serving tray and dropped a folded towel over his arm. With a wave of his arm, he ushered Sue back out toward the sitting room, where he’d left the wine, and followed along behind her as she began to read.

  Marty, I think something screwy is going on, and if I’m right, you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about, and no memory of ever writing this down. Hell, I’m not even sure you’ll be able to read this. But before I continue, it’s crucial that you believe me, so I’m going to prove that this note is really from you, no matter how weird what I tell you seems. Okay?

  Here’s the proof: Rebecca Calveigh. Tupperware.

  DelRoy was startled by the sound of shattering glass. Sue whirled around to look back at him. “Martin? Are you okay?”

  He could feel the heat of two emotions surging through him: shock and shame. How had she known about that? It was impossible! “Um, yeah. Fine,” he said, not wanting her to see his embarrassment. Rather than face her, he pulled a broom and dustpan from the closet by the door and then stooped to gather the broken bits of glass from the floor. Sue bent down to help.

  “You really didn’t know what was in there, did you?” Sue’s voice was still bright, but edged with concern. Was she worried that she had revealed too much? But how could she have known to say exactly those words? However it was she’d found out, now his reaction had proven that her information was correct, so there wasn’t much use in trying to hide it. Besides, it wasn’t like it had been illegal or anything. Just stupid. And young.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Not really. Just a dumb thing from the past that probably means a lot more to me than to anybody else.”

  Sue grinned. “And maybe Rebecca Calveigh, I’m guessing?” There was a playful twinkle in her eye, but when he didn’t react, it turned more serious. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

  He laughed nervously. “You could say that.”

  “Then we won’t,” Sue said. “But we should probably read the rest of that letter, don’t you think?” Why was she still going on with this? Why the game? He couldn’t think of any reason, so he just nodded his head.

  Sue handed him the dustpan full of glass shards and crossed back to the desk, while he went to dump the remains of the old wine glasses and set about looking for replacements. There was no sign left of the trembling in his hands when he returned, just as Sue began to read again.

  Okay, so you know it’s really you. But trust me, that little escapade is nothing compared to what seems to be going on around here. Let’s see. What do you need to know for background? Well, it’s June now. You’ve… I’ve… We’ve been working Missing Persons since April. Remember Arun Singh? He’s been showing me the ropes around here. Anyway, you know how Arun had a thing for cold cases? Had that stack of them on his desk? Well, he was talking about one of them a few days ago. The Regina Finch file. The one you’re holding now. Said he’d found something that connected her to a group of women running a home for abandoned kids. Check it out. It’s all in the file. Anyway, yesterday he decided it was time to go have a chat with these women, but when he got back, he was acting kind of weird. Didn’t seem to know what I was talking about when I asked him how it went. And here’s the really weird part. When I showed him the file, he pretended he couldn’t see it. Or at least, I think he was pretending. He kept asking why I was waving my hands at him, but I wasn’t. I was waving the Finch file at him.

  “I remember that,” DelRoy said, as a
cold shiver ran up his spine. He quickly set the new glasses down on the table. Before he dropped them as well. “But how are you doing this? How could you know any of these things?”

  Sue looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t know anything, Martin. I’m just reading what’s written here. What you’ve written here.” She looked back down at the nothing in her hands, then her eyes widened with realization and she looked back up at him. “Wait a minute! You can’t see this folder either, can you? Like your friend, Arun.” She waved her empty hand in the air again.

  He stared at her for a long, hard minute. But he wasn’t really looking at her. His eyes were just focused in her direction as he hunkered down into crunch mode, and began working the problem. Things were not adding up. He couldn’t tell whether Sue was being sincere, or whether she was a master actress in the midst of some elaborate head game. Earlier, he wouldn’t have given that possibility any consideration, but given how quick-witted she’d been at the mortuary, now he wasn’t so sure. Was this just more of the same? Was she playing him? But why would she? This was her case. What good would it do her to confuse the guy trying to help her?

  And then another thought occurred to him. Maybe she actually believed there was something in her hand. But that just raised more questions. If it was true, then somebody else was feeding her information—information that nobody else could possible know. No way in Hell. Not a chance. There was only one person alive who knew the significance of those words. Not even Rebecca herself knew the full story. No. So, once you have eliminated the impossible… There was only one conclusion. As improbable as it might be, he himself had written the note that Sue now held. And, just as improbably, there must really be papers in her hand—papers that he could not see, and that he had no recollection of ever having written.

  DelRoy could feel his heart racing and sounds were getting distant. Fumbling for the arm of the couch, he flopped himself down. Then he poured a full glass of wine and drained it off in a single gulp. After pouring another, he raised the bottle to Sue in a silent question, hoping she couldn’t see how badly the bottle shook in his hand. Sue nodded, so he poured her a glass too. When they were both settled back onto the sofa, Sue prodded gently.

  “You okay?”

  “Well no,” he admitted. “Not really. It’s… disturbing.” He waved his glass at her empty hands. “You got the people right—though I don’t know how—but the way I remember it, Arun and I got into an argument about proper documentation. I must have said something stupid to him. I don’t remember what. Because shortly after that, he asked the captain to reassign me. So I got handed off to Trina Wyatt for the rest of my orientation, and then spent the next year trying to stay out of Arun’s way. Until he retired.” He let his voice drift off, unsure whether to risk saying anything else.

  “There’s more here,” Sue said gently, tapping one empty hand with the other. “You want me to keep reading?”

  DelRoy felt completely lost. Could she really believe there was something in her hand, even though there clearly wasn’t?

  “So just to be clear,” he said, “you’re actually reading this. From a piece of paper. Lying inside a file folder. Which is right now in your hands. That right?” Sue nodded. He could only shake his head. “By all means then,” he said. “Keep reading.”

  Sue looked uncertainly at her “papers,” and then glanced back up at him. “You sure?” He nodded. Sue held his gaze for a moment, and then turned back to her fingers and began, again, to read.

  … waving the Finch file at him. Well that was a week ago, and ever since then, I’ve been going through these notes. All kinds of crazy things. Missing Person files that vanish without a trace. Calls to Children’s Services that don’t get documented or followed up. Social workers who lose kids in the system. And all of it pointing back to that one common element: Our Lady of Divine Suffering’s Home for Orphans and Evictees. That’s where Arun went, just before he stopped being able to see the file.

  And it’s where I’m heading tomorrow. With Judy Chan. Apparently they have these little shindigs regularly, and because she works in Children’s Services, she’s been to a few of them. I managed to get her to invite me along this time. Don’t think she knows I was fishing for it.

  Anyway, I don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there, but I don’t want this file to just disappear, so I’m leaving it here on the desk. Right on top of the keyboard. That way if it does disappear—

  “But I don’t have a computer,” DelRoy said, gesturing at his desk, which was obviously free of any technology. “They just suck you into working at home, so I never got one.”

  Sue gaped at him. “But, of course you have a computer, Martin. It’s right there on your desk! That’s where I found the file. Lying on top of your keyboard, just like the note says.”

  DelRoy looked back at the desk. No keyboard. No screen. Just a mess of paper. And a couple of pens. “Okay, then. Touch it,” he said. Sue looked at him oddly. “Touch it!” he said again, this time through gritted teeth. His temper—normally nonexistent—was rapidly rising. Someone was playing very unfunny games with him, and he was having trouble figuring out who to blame. He was pretty sure it wasn’t Sue now, but that just made it worse. DelRoy jumped to his feet and began to pace. He could feel the tension climbing up his arms from his clenched fists.

  Keeping one eye on him, Sue got up slowly and went to the desk to do as he asked, as DelRoy just stood there, trembling. With a shrug, she reached out a hand and patted at the empty air. DelRoy watched her fingers as they flattened against the nothingness, like a mime playing the trapped-in-a-box game, only inside-out. But this was too much. There was no way an entire computer was sitting on his desk. One that he’d just never noticed before? No way! There were limits to how far a guy’s gullibility could be stretched and this was about ten yards too far. To prove his point, he stormed across the room and shot his hand out, punching at the empty air under Sue’s hand.

  And a jolt of pain raced up his arm.

  “Martin!” Sue gasped, the shock plain upon her face. “Why did you… Are you okay?” DelRoy sucked in air and clutched his screaming hand to his chest. Sue reached out a hand of her own, but he twisted away from her, too confused—and embarrassed—to accept her sympathy.

  “We’d better get some ice on that,” Sue said, then she stepped past him and went into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a towel folded around several lumps of ice from the freezer, but he ignored her and continued to probe at his desk with his good hand, forcing himself to lower his fingers over every square inch of its surface. And even though he couldn’t see anything other than the clutter of paper he’d always seen, there was an obvious computer-shaped region of space where his hand would not go, along with a matching monitor-shaped space, and a keyboard-shaped space as well.

  “What the hell is going on?” he said, scarcely noticing how much his voice shook. Sue took his throbbing hand and placed the bundle of ice on it, holding it there between her own. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I see it?”

  Sue looked at him. Her eyes were filled with sympathy. “I don’t know, Martin. At first I thought you were teasing me. Saying that you couldn’t see the file. Couldn’t see the computer, even though they’re both right here, plain as day. Then I though you must be lying, but how could you be lying about something so blatantly false? Although it’s pretty obvious now that you really can’t see it. Nobody would have punched that CRT screen the way you did. Not if they could really see it.”

  “CRT?” he said. “It’s that old?”

  Sue nodded. “And I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s covered in dust too. The rest of your place is nice. Tidy, for a man. But the desk is filthy, like you haven’t even set so much as a coffee on it since some time last century.”

  “You might be more right than you know,” he said.

  “Is your hand okay?”

  DelRoy looked down. A hot ache still pulsed through the knuckles at
the base of his fingers, but he was able to wiggle them without awakening anything more than a dull flare.

  “I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said. “What else does the note say?”

  “Not much,” Sue said. “Just that you were going to leave the file on your keyboard so that you’d be forced to confront it, even if you did suffer the same amnesia as your friend, Arun. But that’s all you wrote. The note ends there. It’s signed, ‘Be careful. Love, Yourself.’”

  He grinned weakly. “Well, at least I was playful about it.” Sue had picked up the invisible folder again and was flipping through it, her eyes as round as watch faces.

  “It’s all here, Martin. Regina Finch. Her Missing Person report. Interviews with her neighbors and co-workers. High school records. Photographs. Newspaper clippings. Whoever compiled this was very thorough.”

  “So who is she? Master criminal? International child smuggler? Psycho-hypnotist?”

  “Oh dear,” Sue said. A hand came up to cover her mouth. “Look at this,” she said, pointing at another invisible page. Then she realized that he still couldn’t see it. “She was a mom,” Sue said. “A foster mom. And fourteen years ago, she inherited some money, then she vanished. And all five foster kids with her. The investigation was fierce, until… Oh no.” Sue turned to look at him with such sorrow in her face that he could feel the bottom fall out of his own chest.