Window in the Earth Trilogy

by Fish, Matthew

  “Holy shit,” Daniel says as he attempts to recover some sense of normalcy. “That was…”

  “Brilliant,” Lavender finishes. “I’m glad I finally decided to get you over here. I was afraid you’d not ever ask me on your own.”

  “I didn’t know you were interested,” he admits, laughing a little at his own obliviousness.

  “And now?” she asks, playfully poking a finger against Daniel’s chest.

  “Probably interested,” he replies jokingly. “A little?”

  “Maybe a little, then, yeah?” she adds, laughing.

  “About this much?” he asks, placing his fingers a few inches apart.

  “Come back tonight, then, after classes. I’ll show you a bit more interest, p’haps,” Lavender says as she playfully pushes Daniel away.

  Daniel lowers his face to Lavender’s and gives her a kiss. He then realizes that this is their first—in some sort of odd reverse order, things have seemed to have progressed rather unusually. He lingers for a moment, the feeling is beautiful, yet somehow terrifying in a way he cannot quite understand. “I’ll be back tonight,” he says, his voice changed from playful laughter to a tone of seriousness.

  “I’ll wait for you,” she replies, a serious look in her bright hazel eyes. It is as though the moment is a shared one.

  “I…,” he begins, and then hesitates. What began as something purely physical suddenly feels like more. The air feels different. Things have changed, somehow. “I better go.”

  “Yeah,” she quietly replies, noticing the change that things have taken, the change in Daniel’s voice. “You all right, then?”

  “Yes,” he adds as he dresses beside the bed, looking over to Lavender once more. “I’m great.”

  “Best get out of here, then,” she replies with a smile that exposes small dimples on her cheeks. “You’ll miss your class.”

  “I got to get to my dorm.” Daniel remembers. “Yeah; I’m going to be late again for Economics—shit.”

  Daniel stands before the door, his hand on the gold-painted knob. He looks to Lavender once more, still in bed, “Tonight.”

  She nods silently, her face still bright and smiling. She waves with a single gesture as he hurries through the door. He runs down the hall, attempting to fix his loose belt as his pants threaten to remain behind. His breathing is heavy; he is already exhausted from this morning’s activity. He rushes down the stairs and out the front door. His run has turn to a slower sprint as he checks his watch and finds that he is already too late.

  “Shit…,” he mutters to himself. He has already missed the class twice before, this being his third time means an automatic drop in a letter grade. He shakes his head in disappointment as he enters the brick building to his dorm.

  Outside of his dorm, a message board bears his name, written in erasable marker, and the name of his dorm-mate, Henry “Hen” Matthews. Twisting his key into the lock, he enters his dorm room.

  “The conquering hero returns!” Hen exclaims with arms outstretched. He is a tall man, with short-cropped blond hair and blue eyes. He is dressed in his white athletic shirt and blue running pants. Next to Daniel’s short and skinny stature, he is an odd sight.

  “Hey, Hen,” Daniel replies as he ignores the attempted high-five from Henry. “You seen my cell? I thought I brought it to class with me.”

  “Oh, come on now. First you have to tell me how the whitest boy from the Midwest scored with that fine, black English chick,” Hen continues, with a dumb hearty laugh. “You did seal the deal, right? You’ve been talking about her for weeks. I nearly got a boner on your behalf when I found out you were going over to her apartment.”

  Daniel cracks a small smile, hesitating. Something inside of him feels different, changed. He doesn’t feel like it was some silly conquest, or goal that he finally accomplished. “I, well… I just went over and we hung out. Helped her with her project and passed out on her couch.”

  “Aw, man,” Hen says, his broad face turning to disappointment. “You blew it?”

  “I have plans to see her again,” Daniel replies as he begins to search his bed, rummaging through his sheets for his cell phone. “Tonight.”

  “So there is still hope for you, man!” Hen says, nodding with an approving grin. “When it happens, you gotta let me know.”

  “Will do, Hen,” Daniel says as he crouches down and looks beneath his bed frame. “Now, have you seen the phone? I was expecting an important call.”

  “Check the drawer beneath your laptop. I heard it ring once around there,” Henry answers as he sits on his bed and slips into his running shoes, tying up the laces.

  Daniel reaches for his drawer, jerking it out, the shifting items rumble about. There, beside some change and a few pens, is his cell. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Hen says as he heads out the door for his for morning jog. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class now?”

  “I woke up late.”

  “Gotcha,” Hen replies as he exits. “Catch you later then.”

  “Yeah,” Daniel quietly replies as he attempts to turn on his phone—the battery has died. “Later….”

  He searches through his drawer once more, discovering his phone charger. He plugs it into the wall, holds down the power button and the screen is illuminated once more. His phone beeps at him twice in quick succession, signaling that he has missed calls. The screen pops up that he has three voicemails. He dials the number.

  “Message received today, nine thirty-two A.M.,” the computerized voice announces, and then his brother Jack’s voice comes on.

  “Hey Danny… it’s… it’s me, Jacky. I was just giving you a call because I’m down here at the house and our parents are fine, everything’s fine. They’ve just been really busy. It’s really beautiful here. I can’t describe it, but you know how when we were kids and we were down here playing on summer days? It’s beautiful like that. That’s life though, I suppose, right, Rabbit? Anyway, no need to come here. Do not come here. I’ve fixed—”

  “Is this hell?” a woman’s voice faintly pleads in the background—crying can be heard.

  “—I’m going to fix a few things in the house for dad… you know how he is when he writes; tends to neglect the things that need to be done. Then I’m heading back to school. I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure.”

  “End of message,” the phone announces. “Press three to replay this message, press seven to delete it, or press nine to save.”

  Daniel quickly hits “3”; his heart is pounding in his chest. He is sure that he heard something strange, something terrifying in the background. He goes through the message again, and just as Jack is talking about fixing something the girl’s voice is heard once more in the background—“Is this hell?”—and followed by a quiet sobbing sound. The voice sounds so terrified and haunted that it sends a shiver down his spine. His knees are weak, giving way until he is sitting against the edge of his bed. He goes through the message once more, and in the exact same spot, there it is again—“Is this hell?”

  The sound of her voice replays in his mind over and over. Why is it on there? Whose voice is it? It makes no sense in the context of the message. Daniel saves the message and continues to the next one—it is from the day prior to this message.

  “Yeah, Danny, this is Jacky…” Then the message ends with a beep.

  Daniel erases this message, figuring Jack must have lost reception, and then finally arrives at the first message from Jack, it is from two days ago and Daniel recalls having his phone with him that day and did not receive a call or message back from Jack.

  “Yeah. It’s Jacky, got your message. I’ll be heading out after my afternoon class today; I should be there about seven or so. I guess I’ll give you a call and let you know that everything is good. Give me a call if you get this, otherwise I’ll call you later. Later, man.”

  Daniel saves this message, confused. There is no reason that he should have missed that first call and the last message left from Ja
ck is both confusing and terrifying. Daniel pulls up Jack’s number in his address book and the cell auto-dials the number. There is no answer and it goes straight to voicemail.

  “Jack… this is Danny,” Daniel begins, not knowing for sure where he is going with this, “I’m glad things are all right, I was really worried. Give me a call as soon as you get this though, I… I don’t feel right. Sorry, I don’t know how to explain it, but that last message sounded off. It wasn’t you. It was something in the background. Just give me a call Jacky, okay?”

  Daniel then dials the number to his parent’s house. The line beeps in rapid succession in a busy tone. He hangs up and tries again, to the same result.

  Frustrated, he powers on his laptop and checks the prices on air-fare to Springfield Missouri. He finds a flight that leaves from LaGuardia in three hours. He hesitates for a moment, thinking perhaps that he is overreacting, the hand symbol hovering over the Book Now icon. After all, he can’t afford to miss anymore classes, yet something feels off. Something about the last message just seems wrong: the way that Jack was speaking, and then the trailing off about how beautiful it was. Not to mention the two warnings to not come. Then, the reference Jack used—“Rabbit”—a nickname that Daniel had not been called in nearly seven years. Should he follow? After all, there seemed to be just too much going on in that message. Perhaps it was paranoia, Daniel couldn’t be sure. He clicks the button, in a moment of quick decision. He enters in his credit card number and information and then shuts the laptop, packing it away into a travel case. He packs away only a day’s worth of clothing, assured that he can resolve this and return by the next day. Lastly, he carefully packs up his expensive digital SLR camera, and HD camcorder. He has no reason for taking these items with him other than habit. After all, he is aspiring to work in the film world.

  Packed, dressed, and ready, Daniel reaches to disconnect his cell, and then hesitates again. Perhaps he should let it charge a bit longer. After all, there is one last thing he needs to do.

  A Farewell to Lavender Clay

  Daniel watches Lavender’s face as she listens to the strange message from Jack. He can pinpoint the exact point in which the mysterious girl’s voice appears as Lavender’s curious demeanor turns to one of confusion. Her eyes squint a bit, and she shakes her head.

  “Hit three to replay it,” Daniel adds, knowing that she probably feels the same need to hear it again.

  Lavender nods, her face pulled into an expression of concentration. She listens again and then hangs up the phone, placing it back on the table. “I heard it.”

  “What do you think?” he asks. “Should I go?”

  “Maybe it’s just interference from another convo‘, I…,” she begins, and then shakes her head. “I couldn’t tell yuh for sure. I think, maybe, it might not be anything at all, then?”

  “I bought a ticket,” he blurts out, instantly feeling foolish, as though he has done something wrong.

  “All right then, that’s it, isn’t it?” she says quietly.

  “Are you angry?” he asks, not sure as to the reason why.

  “No, not at all,” she replies, forcing a smile. “Just concerned ’bout yuh. When will you return?”

  “Tomorrow. I just felt that I needed to go down and just make sure. You don’t know Jack—that message was just strange. Other than the girl asking about the hell part, it just wasn’t right at all,” he says as he places his hands in hers.

  “I’ll miss you,” she says sadly. “We had plans tonight, you remember!”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” he says sincerely. He feels somewhat guilty, for, honestly, he did not go into this relationship with anything more than a physical agenda. However, since that kiss, that first out-of-place kiss, things seem so much different. He has grown to care, something he has not expected. “I really like you.”

  “Don’t go?” she asks, knowing that Daniel has already decided. “I like yuh, too, you know? I just don’t like what I heard on that message.”

  “I have to, it’s my family,” he says as he leans in and holds Lavender tightly. “Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be back tomorrow and everything will be sorted out.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise,” he says, “Listen to us, all worried. I bet we are making a huge deal out of nothing.”

  “Yeah,” she says as she smiles, “I’ll let you move our plans till tomorrow then.”

  “You sure?” he adds with a short laugh.

  “I’ll work you in,” she says as she kisses Daniel. “How much time yuh got?”

  “About two-and-a-half hours—I really don’t think we have time…,” he begins.

  Lavender lets out a loud laugh, and then covers her mouth with her hand. “I meant… do you need a ride?”

  “I was going to call a taxi,” he says as his face turns red.

  “I’ll take you,” Lavender says as she releases her hold on Daniel.

  Act III

  Memories

  Emma Creek

  Tears stream down from Emma’s eyes as she attempts to paddle the makeshift raft of a mattress that she clings to in terror. She looks back, checking the open window which she escaped from for any sign of Jack Olen, yet there has been no sound and the window is growing smaller and smaller in the distance, until it eventually is swallowed by darkness. The rain has soaked her thin hospital gown, and the water against her legs as she paddles is ice-cold against bare skin.

  She makes the only rational decision that her mind can come up with in this completely irrational situation—she begins to paddle her way toward the only source of light, the moon. She makes her way, slowly, her legs growing numb from the cold as she begins to cough. She can already feel herself growing sick. She passes a flooded gas station—the only indications of its existence are poles holding up the sign denoting the fuel prices. She notices the familiar Sinclair logo, a green dinosaur, sticking fully out of the water atop the sign. She laughs at the irony, remembering her green brontosaur necklace. As she passes the sign, which shines brilliantly in the glow of the large moon ahead, a current finally catches her, drawing her swiftly toward the moon. As she views the impossible sight ahead, she is reminded of glaciers, the way that the rounded top of the moon and its craters are floating above the surface of the water and the rest of it, submerged below, illuminating the entire area in a radiant, yet eerie white glow.

  The mattress raft collides with the side of the moon, which looms above her like a large luminous hill that seems to stretch on for miles. She reaches out, placing a hand on the moon’s rough surface. The bright moon is warm against her hand, comforting like an electric blanket on a winter night. She decides to abandon her mattress to the warmth of the lunar surface. She watches for a moment as the current takes it away, until it too disappears.

  She lies down with her back against the rocky surface. It warms her cold body, slowly drying the thin hospital gown. She reaches into her breast pocket; the contents are still dry and safe. However, she seems to no longer possess the flashlight. Luckily, the light from the floating moon provides more than enough illumination. She wearily gets to her feet, thankful for the rubber-gripped socks, for they afford her some protection against the rough surface beneath her.

  Now, if only she could figure out what to do next. A deep feeling of depression overcomes her as she realizes that she is alone once more. Jack Olen, though a stranger, was at least another real person in this nightmare. Judging from the state of things, she worries that perhaps he was the only other live person left alive. She tries to erase this thought from her mind, holding on to some hope that her Jack is still somewhere out there, safe, possibly even searching for her.

  Emma begins the slow ascent up the rolling surface. She wonders how true to size this moon is to the real moon. The craters are merely potholes upon the surface, which slopes upward only enough to feel as though she is traversing a small hill, nothing more dramatic. As she reaches the top, she stops to catch her breath. An open hand abo
ve her eyes, she scans the horizon for any sign of other lights, or anything of use. The bright light from the moon, however, blurs her vision past a short distance ahead. It also causes her skin to glow the same dazzling white color. Tiny specks of dust that have been kicked up in her path dance about her like constantly-lit fireflies. Once again, she is taken away from the desperation of the situation, lost in a moment of enjoyment in the beauty that now surrounds her. Her hair in her hands glows a brilliant yellow, like strands from a fiber-optic wand, the kind that you’d find at a county fair or party. She sits against the ground, trickling some dust from the moon’s surface through her hand. The wind picks up, sending specks of dust into the air in a beautiful display, like released embers from a fire.

  What now, Emma thinks. She contemplates heading off in some direction, but is unsure. Right now she is in the center, as best as she can tell, and has no clue or idea what she should try and do next. She is just happy that the rain has subsided, or, at least, here on the moon it appears to have done so. Her stomach grumbling a bit, she happily remembers the chocolate bar in her pocket. She unwraps the plastic, taking a single bite and then covering it back up. After all, she doesn’t know when she’ll find food again.

  Suddenly, the moon shakes and groans loudly, and Emma is almost knocked on her back. She looks around for the source. She can see something a short distance away—debris from a building is coming down and striking the surface. The moon must be moving, she realizes. Although haphazardly and colliding with buildings, it is still moving—she takes this as a sign to remain where she is. Perhaps she is meant to stay here until the moon reaches its destination, wherever that may be.

  Eventually, exhaustion overcomes Emma as she curls up into a ball against the warmth of the moon beneath her. Perhaps it is the extra dose of clonazepam that has made her so tired. With the gentle rocking of the moon beneath her, she eventually falls into a deep slumber.

  Jack Wolfe

  “Stay behind me,” Bill Walker says as he places a hand to the old door of the house. He is holding his rifle in one hand, and a blanket in the other.