San Diego Lightfoot Sue

by Tom Reamy

  “If you can do all that,” Dad said suspiciously, “you could have gotten my car out of the ditch.”

  “Most assuredly, Mr. Henderson. But, you see—and I must apologize—it was I who put your car in that ditch.”

  “Why?” Mom asked.

  “Oh, dear, isn’t it obvious?” Weatherly whined. “In order to keep Ann here, I was forced to keep all of you.”

  “Why did you go through all these elaborate machinations, Professor?” Ann asked seriously. “Why didn’t you just ask me to help you?”

  “I couldn’t take the chance. If you had refused… It was imperative that you come. I’m an old man, Ann. This is my last chance. If I’m unsuccessful again,” his shoulders slumped, “then God help us.”

  Stunned silence spread through the room like a blanket and lay there. Then Ann spoke softly, “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Please be patient with me, my dear.” He sighed and ran his hand over his face again. His eyes were bleary from nervous strain, and his skin had developed a putty-colored pallor. I still didn’t know what he was up to, but he didn’t appear to be in condition to subdue an irritated kitten. “There are preparations that must be made before I explain fully. Imagine,” he brightened, “after thirty-five years I find two telepaths.”

  “Just a minute,” Dad said with a hardness in his voice I’d seldom heard before. “If Ann wants to help you with whatever you’re doing that’s her affair, but Ben is not to be involved.”

  Weatherly’s chin set firmly. He was about to argue, but Jud jumped up to pace again. He rubbed his hands on the fabric molding his hips and said with nervous volume, “I think you’re all nuts! You’re sitting around talking about telepathy, telekinesis, and created rainstorms and… and… as if you were talking about… about the weather. All I’ve seen is a man, whose sanity I am beginning to doubt, do card tricks.” He stopped and fixed Weatherly with a pale-blue gaze.

  “Jud, please,” Linda whispered in embarrassment.

  “Don’t forget the shoe,” Poe said brightly. Jud transferred the glare to his brother-in-law. Poe grinned and raised his eyebrows.

  Jud turned back to the professor. “If you can do all this hocus-pocus, will you kindly turn off the rain, get Mr. Henderson’s car out of the ditch, and let us get out of this freak show?” His voice rose a little in volume with each word.

  Weatherly matched him decibel for decibel. “I am not a magician, Mr. Ledbetter. I can’t snap my fingers and turn off the rain. It took two days of careful manipulation to create it in the first place. Besides,” his voice lowered to conciliatory tones, “there is no point in your leaving. You have to spend the night somewhere. It might as well be here. There are very comfortable bedrooms upstairs. If any of you wish to retire, I’ll show you the way.”

  Jud wasn’t giving up so easily. “You mean we stay whether we like it or not? My parents are expecting us tonight and I want to leave!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ledbetter. Take my word. It is impossible.”

  Ann and I looked at each other. We had both caught the same thing. He was telling the truth as he saw it. It was impossible for us to leave—and not because of the weather. But neither of us could get the real reason.

  “Take it easy, Jud,” Poe said sensibly. “We’re so late now a few more hours won’t matter.”

  “Okay, okay.” Jud shrugged elaborately and sat at the now empty table. He picked up the cards and shuffled them. “You go right ahead with your spook hunt. I shall sit right here and play solitaire all night. I don’t care if twenty ghosts come traipsing through here rattling chains and moaning their heads off. I shall be totally oblivious to them.” He dealt out a hand of solitaire and pointedly ignored us.

  Everyone looked at him with some amusement for a moment. His shouting match with the professor had done quite a bit to break the tension in the air. Then Mom sort of shook her head and said, “I know one young lady who needs to go to bed.”

  “Do I have to?” Tannie groaned. “Things are much too interesting to go to bed.”

  “Yes, you do,” Mom said, laughing.

  She took one of the suitcases and led Tannie out. Tannie said goodnight to everyone, kissed Dad and me, then gave me a defeated look. I winked at her. They left and Tannie came back almost immediately. “Mom forgot the flashlight,” she said. Dad was about to hand it to her when we heard Mom gasp and drop the suitcase. We all scrambled into the hall. Mom was standing at the foot of the stairs with her hand over her mouth, looking up. The suitcase lay on its side at her feet.

  “I saw someone standing at the top of the stairs,” she said with a controlled voice.

  Dad pointed the flashlight at the top of the stairs and turned it on. There was no one there. The grandfather’s clock suddenly rattled and began to strike. A startled squeak escaped from Linda. Dad moved the beam lower and caught a man descending toward us.

  He was young, about the same age as Poe and Jud, dressed in rough clothes, with no expression on his dark, Slavic face. That’s the way he appeared in my eyes. When I looked at him without using my eyes, he was a featureless shimmer. Dad kept the flashlight on him.

  “It’s Lester Gant,” Carl Willingham said from behind us as if he were identifying a rabid dog.

  The man reached the bottom of the stairs and stood looking at us, still with no expression. The clock stopped striking. For some reason, we all took a half step backward.

  “You know him?” Weatherly asked, slipping back into the befuddlement he had only recently escaped. I had the impression he couldn’t take very many more interruptions or complications.

  “Is this the caretaker?” Dad asked.

  “What?” Weatherly turned to him with a slight jerk of his head. “Of course not. That was thirty-five years ago. Wait, yes, the man’s name was Gant. What was it? Horace? Homer?”

  “Lester’s father was Harold Gant,” Carl supplied. “Is that it?”

  “Possibly,” the professor nodded and turned back to the dark young man. “Mr, Gant, is your father the caretaker I hired?”

  “Old man Gant’s been dead over ten years,” Carl said. “Leastways, him and his wife disappeared.”

  “Ah,” Poe widened his eyes, “more mysteries.”

  “You don’t keep very close track of your caretakers, Proffessor,” Dad said gruffly.

  “What?” His head did another revolution. “Oh, the bank in Hawley handles all that. I suppose they gave the job to the boy when the father disappeared. Can’t he talk, Mr. Willingham?”

  “He can talk. Heard him myself,” Carl stated.

  And he did. Four words. I never heard him say anything else. “Missus will be down,” he said in flat, colorless tones.

  “Who else is here?” Jud groaned.

  Weatherly sighed. “I imagine he means my mother, Mr. Ledbetter.”

  “Your mother?” Mom squeaked. “Why didn’t you tell us your mother was living here?”

  “I wasn’t sure that she was.” Weatherly sounded on his last legs. “I didn’t expect she would still be alive.”

  Gant turned without saying another word and vanished into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Weatherly looked as if he had been kicked in the stomach. He had had one complication too many. After a moment, Dad picked up Mom’s suitcase and escorted her upstairs.

  “You want to go to bed, hon?” Poe asked his wife. “You must be exhausted.”

  “If it’s all the same to you,” Linda laughed nervously, “I’ll wait until you go. I couldn’t sleep up there by myself.”

  Poe grinned and put his arm around her. They all drifted back to the parlor, but I gave Ann a signal and went out to the front porch. The rain had stopped. I could see stars in the west and a smudge of light where the moon hid behind clouds. Frogs were screaming in damp ecstasy, and a few bold crickets had emerged from their dry hidey-holes. The air had the fresh, clean smell it gets right after a rain, pointing up the slight mustiness of the house. I took a deep breath and leaned against the rail
ing, looking at the cars on the road at the bottom of the hill.

  “Did you see it?” I asked when I felt Ann behind me.

  “Yes. I’ve run across it a few times before. Apparently some people have natural shields.” She leaned on the railing beside me.

  I turned when I heard the door open, but I knew who it was. Carl Willingham nodded to us and went down the porch steps.

  “Where are you going, Mr. Willingham?” Ann asked politely.

  He stopped and turned, looking up at us. “Leavin’, ma’am. Rain’s stopped and I’d rather walk four miles than stay in the same house with Lester Gant. I can take magicians and mind readers,” he dipped his head, “no offense, and even flying shoes, but he’s too much. I’d advise the rest of you to do the same.”

  “What’s the matter with him?” I asked, because he was genuinely frightened.

  “Folks say he killed his parents. Never found ’em, no proof he did it, but folks know just the same.” He nodded again and started down the hill. We watched him for a moment.

  “Folks around here sure say a lot,” I observed wryly and we went back in the house. Weatherly was sitting on the couch deep in gloomy thought. I had the impression of swirling, muddy water. Poe, Linda, Jud, and Dad were starting another card game. “Mr. Willingham just left,” I said, certainly not expecting the reaction I got.

  Weatherly jumped up and stared at me. “Left? What do you mean?”

  “He said he was gonna walk to town,” I said, completely mystified.

  Weatherly was severely agitated. He moved around as if he couldn’t decide which direction was the right one. “He can’t leave!” he wailed. “He’ll be killed! Stop him! Bring him back by force if you have to! Hurry! Hurry!”

  Weatherly’s anxiety was so strong and sharp that I ran from the room and out the front door. They all followed me, confused and frightened. Carl was almost to the bottom of the hill. I yelled at him. Dad and Poe were right behind me, not knowing what was going on. The others stayed on the porch.

  Carl turned and looked at us curiously. His eyebrows rose in bewilderment at the sight of us bounding down the hill, floundering in the slippery mud, yelling like madmen.

  Carl, the only one looking toward the house, was the first to see it. His eyes got big. He took a step backward.

  Then I felt it, like static electricity in my head. I skidded to a halt on the muddy ground and fell to my knees with a grunt. I looked back at the house. Weatherly was waving his arms and yelling. The crickets stopped singing.

  The house was surrounded by a glow, an iridescent nimbus, like a soap bubble growing larger and larger. Dad and Poe had stopped, looking at the house. Weatherly was screaming, waving us back. My head was singing with the sweet chill of fear, but not my fear. The air crackled with energy. I could feel the hair on my arms standing up. Sparks danced across the hill, flowing down it like a faerie river. I turned to look at Carl.

  He stared at the house, backing slowly away. The static electricity in the air made his clothes cling to his skin. Then he whirled and ran. The energy pressure was growing unbearable.

  Then there was light, an eye-burning flash, a fierce discharge. All the energy floating free in the air gathered at one point. It circled around like a whirlwind of fireflies, swept by me, contracted, converged at one point.

  On Carl.

  He screamed. Then he was covered with fire. He screamed and ran and burned. He beat at his clothes with his hands, beat at flames with flames. His glowing feet kicked through the damp grass and left little curls of steam that sizzled and disappeared.

  Carl stopped his useless flailing and just ran, his arms stretching before him, seeking. Then he stumbled, staggered a few steps, and fell, still screaming. He kept moving, trying to crawl.

  The screaming stopped.

  Then the movement.

  Carl was nothing but a shapeless lump, burning, sending a shaft of black smoke into the night air. The energy and the pressure was gone. The crickets started up again.

  I had thrown up my tattered barriers, trying to shut him out, trying to block his agonies from my mind. Then, I think I felt the muddy ground hit me in the face.

  I was moving, floating in warmth. Dad was carrying me as he had when I was three and had fallen asleep. I tightened my grip around his neck. Then he was prying me loose, putting me on the couch.

  They were all crowded around, looking at me, except Jud. He was staring out the window, pale and shaken. Tannie, in her pajamas, was round-eyed with wonder. Ann put her hand on my forehead and pushed the hair out of my eyes.

  Dad was standing a few feet away watching me. I had never known him to be so angry. “Professor Weatherly,” he said in a low voice, “you told me there was no danger. I want you to explain exactly what’s going on. No evasions. No promises. We’d like to make a few decisions for ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson,” he said with honest regret. “It’s too late for independent decisions. There is only one course open to us.”

  “Did you hear what I said? I. Want. An. Explanation.”

  “Of course, Mr. Henderson.” He fluttered like a moth. “Give everyone a chance to calm down and I’ll tell you all I know.”

  “Jud. Come away from the window,” Linda said. Her voice was hoarse and trembled a little. Jud turned without comment and sat in a chair.

  “So the spirits are malignant after all, Professor,” Poe said quietly.

  “Be patient a few minutes, please. Let’s get Ben back on his feet.” He looked down at me with real concern on his face. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes. I think so.” I took Ann’s hand in mine and squeezed it. Tannie looked at me with her little face pinched and pale. I grinned and winked at her.

  “I absolutely refuse to give you a hug, Benjamin Henderson,” she stated uncategorically. “You had me scared to death. I thought I was gonna be a widow.”

  Everyone laughed—more than it deserved, to be sure, but it broke the tension. Even Jud managed an anemic grin. Tannie sniffed. I sat up and held my arms out to her. She threw herself at me and sobbed on my chest.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” I said.

  “Oh, Tannie!” Mom groaned, thankfully finding something practical on which to focus her attention. “Ben is covered with mud. You’re getting it all over you.” She extracted Tannie bodily. “Ben, go change your clothes and wash your face.”

  So I went to the suitcase and got clean blue jeans and a clean shirt. I was a bit wobble-kneed, but I tried not to show it. You can take just so much fussing. I went in a corner behind a chair and changed while they talked.

  “Are you ready, Professor?” Dad asked, nearing the end of his patience.

  “Yes, Mr. Henderson. Everyone get comfortable. I want to explain as well as I can what happened. Ben. Are you feeling it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Describe it to me.”

  “There’s really nothing to describe. It’s just there. It’s aware of us. And… it’s just… there.”

  “That’s right,” Ann agreed.

  “There’s no hostility? No anger?” Weatherly asked as if he expected there would be.

  “Not now,” I answered. “It’s frightened. I think it’s always frightened. There was anger… no, not anger… panic, when Mr. Willingham tried to leave.” I finished changing clothes and joined the group.

  I was so busy concentrating on Weatherly, I didn’t sense her presence. Neither did Ann. No one knew she was in the room until she spoke in her brassy bellow. “Philip!” she brayed. “What are these people doing in my house?”

  Everyone turned quickly. I felt Weatherly’s resolve become as fragile as cobwebs. She stood in the doorway, surveying us. She wore a long black dress that reached the floor. It had a high collar that pushed her flesh into wrinkles around her sharp chin. The long-sleeved dress was unadorned but for a large cameo at her throat. Her hands rested on a silver-headed stick and her pewter-colored hair was piled on top of her head. Her skin was alm
ost white and had a peculiar sheen—like a waxworks figure come to life, Lester Gant lurked behind her ramrod-straight figure, as inscrutable as ever.

  “I’m waiting for an answer, Philip.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Mother.” He sounded like a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty in the bathroom.

  “You’re a fool, Philip,” she said in her clarion voice. “You’ve always been a fool.”

  “Yes, Mother, very good to see you again,” he said, sighing.

  She speared him with a look and sat regally in a chair near us. She moved as if her spine were of one piece. Gant remained in the doorway.

  “You’ve come to try again, have you.” It was a statement rather than a question. The rest of us sat there with our mouths open.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was about to explain to these people.”

  “It will kill you as it did the man just now. I knew you were fool enough to keep trying, but I didn’t know you were so obsessed as to endanger others.”

  “They are not here by design, Mother.”

  “How long has it been since your last futility, Philip?”

  “Thirty-five years.”

  “So long?” she said a little wistfully.

  “Professor,” Dad said through clenched teeth, “we’re waiting.”

  “What?” He started as if he had forgotten the rest of us. “Yes. Excuse me, Mother.” He started away from her. “You heard how it began from Mr. Willingham. I was ten years old. It was in my room that fire was seen. I had for some time been aware of my powers, but I thought everyone had them. After almost disastrously finding out that wasn’t the case, that I was unique, I kept them secret and practiced. However, as you heard Mr. Willingham say, I didn’t do it in time to avoid getting a reputation in the area for being… ah… peculiar. My powers developed with practice, but I was so immature.”

  “You were a fool.”

  “Yes, Mother. It happened the night Mr. Willingham told you about. I unfortunately thought I knew all there was to know. You see, I had just read Wells’ The Time Machine. I… ah… I’m afraid I attempted to travel in time.” He looked at us with an ironic frown.