I remember being carried out and covered up, then I went to sleep, not reviving until we were in a car on the way home. My leg had been bandaged. I began screaming in pain in the car, and my mother administered some kind of pain killer to me that knocked me out, allowing me to make it the rest of the way home without awareness.
There was a meeting of the minds between Louis and my father. With Keith’s congressional election underway, they both agreed to keep the incident quiet, not wanting to raise any kind of scandal that might hurt their brother. I was questioned by my father about the incident, and I told him Dominic had tricked me into being tied up. I have no idea what story Dominic told Louis.
The pictures never surfaced, and were never brought up. I suspected Dominic realized they’d not act as much of a defense, given he’d been caught red-handed, and that they just would have added to the scandal his father was trying to suppress. I reasoned that Dominic must have decided to keep them for another day.
For many years I never saw Dominic, much to my relief. He never came to any of the subsequent family summer retreats, his father having banned his attendance due to the incident, but telling others Dominic was working in another city, and unable to attend.
I met Sydney each of the years our family travelled to Traverse City, and rekindled our affair, which remained passionate and exciting to me. She would never take my offer of moving to Wisconsin to be with me, and I knew she didn’t want me living with her, either. I told her what had happened with Dominic, and she seemed unconcerned. I did ask her why the photos turned out the way they did, showing her as an animal instead of the beautiful woman I saw and interacted with. She explained that we had a special connection, and that I saw her how she truly was, and not as the creature non-gifted people saw.
Never was I able to see her as the pictures had shown her; every time we met, she appeared even more lovely than the last, and after a while I lost interest in the photos, and what her nature might have truly been.
I also began to fear Dominic’s pictures less and less as time went on. It’s funny how, as you get older, you care less about what people might think. I know that the woman I made love to that summer wasn’t an animal — at least, not an animal when I touched her — and if anyone wound up finding out about it, well, I lost interest in what their opinion might be. Fear is an awful thing to live with, and my mind found a way to push it out just like my body eventually pushed out splinters.
She died several years after that — I was still young, not yet forty. She left everything she had to me, which wasn’t much, along with an odd request; she asked that I not bury her body, that I keep her bones with me until I died. It was a request she made in the heat of passion, and since I would have done anything for her, I agreed to it.
Many, many years later, things in my life conspired against me; business and relatives, mainly, and I was unsuccessful in countering their impact. As an old widower, I found myself in dire straits, and Pitmon House became salvation for me, a way to live on the meager Social Security payment I received, while having a roof over my head. I counted myself lucky to be able to take advantage of my Uncle’s vision for a better existence for the elderly, something that, due to the government’s rejection of his proposals, wound up being used solely by members of Uncle Keith’s family. I moved in, determined to live out the rest of my days at Pitmon House. It was an enviable determination, too…the house was beautiful, and my room was as finely appointed as any fancy hotel. I was grateful for it, and all settled in, when a horror from my past resurfaced.
I’d met most of the other residents of Pitmon House in the first few days I was there. Only twenty or so people could be housed there, so it wasn’t hard to get around to everyone. I remember the exact moment when I laid eyes upon the last resident I hadn’t yet met.
I was seated in the drawing room of the house, next to the fireplace, reading The New York Times, as I did every morning. I swear I felt the old pain from my damaged foot flare up just as someone sat across from me and said, “I guess it’s time we said hello.”
I lowered the paper. There he was, smiling. His eyes reflected the fire, dancing with yellow and red. He looked positively demonic.
I felt my heart sink; my dreams for a quiet and pleasant twilight slipped away. If I had to share a house with this person, it was going to be a nightmare.
“Dominic,” I said.
“Jonah,” he replied. “Do you think they’ll kick you out of here once they learn you’re an animal fucker?”
And it started again.
He wasn’t holding my youth and reputation over me this time; he knew that I was too old to care about those things. What he was holding over me was the comfort of retirement, of being in Pitmon House. Would they kick me out if the endowment board knew of the pictures? I don’t know. The family had always been sensitive to scandal, even after Uncle Keith’s political years. The idea of being out on the street, without anywhere to live, was a powerful thing to hold over me, and he knew it. I was terrified of the potential.
And then there was Tena. She had become friends with him years earlier, after she and her husband Kendall moved into Pitmon House. She was clearly gifted, and I think she educated Dominic about me, explaining what it meant to enter the River, even though it wasn’t anything he could do. She was certainly as sick and twisted as Dominic. They acted as a terrible team, abusing me for years, making me submit to routine humiliations. After a while I became inured to it. Thankfully Tena modulated him in a way, stopping him from committing acts that might backfire, such as what happened with the blowtorch. They satisfied themselves with verbal abuse and tying me up. Dominic would occasionally bring out a knife, and threaten to cut me if I didn’t become aroused, but he never sliced into my skin. I could tell that he wanted to, however, and that Tena made sure he stopped before going too far.
They both know about Sydney, and about her bones. During several of their extended torture sessions they both extracted every bit of detail about my relationship with her. Tena has developed a deep hatred of Sydney, or, at least, of her memory. She has accused me of murdering my neighbors with Sydney’s bones. She claims that they infected Colleen and Philip, who had rooms on either side of me. While it’s true that they both developed diseases and died, that’s also true of most of the others who live here. It’s an old folks’ home. People die. The chest I keep in my closet has nothing to do with that. Tena’s wrong about her, just as Dominic was wrong. Sydney was no animal; she was the love of my life, and I miss her terribly. Her bones are the way she wanted me to remember her, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to surrender them to pacify Tena.
I recently learned that Tena is not long for this world; a diagnosis of throat cancer was made, and they see no way to cure it. I will be happy when she goes, and I only wish that Dominic could go with her.
My own disease has progressed to the point where time is now short for me, too. If you are able to decipher this and have heard my story, I hope you are able to locate and inter Sydney’s bones. I promised her I would not bury her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be buried after I’m gone, and I think that would be the best thing for her. I hope to involve others, too, before I go, so that Tena and Dominic can be dissuaded from lying about me after I’m gone.
I believe that in the last few weeks, Tena and Dominic have learned of my plans. If I go before they do, they may discover this memory cord. Tena will surely be upset; she’s smart enough to know it will indict her. Dominic doesn’t understand the gift and may not comprehend the significance of the permanence of my efforts, but Tena will absolutely know that the cord can’t be destroyed, and with her deteriorating state, will be hard pressed to suppress it. It would be wonderful if what Tena and Dominic have done is made known to the trustees; they might see fit to exclude the children of that line of the family from ever using Pitmon House in the future.
The thing I hope most is that Tena and Dominic don’t get to Sydney first. I shudder to think how those
two depraved souls might desecrate her.
Chapter Twenty
The end of the cord slipped through the cogs and gears of Edgar’s device and arrived at his fingertips.
“Whoa,” Robert said.
“What was she?” Eliza asked. “Sydney?”
“Some type of shifter, I guess,” Robert replied.
“If she was able to make herself appear a specific way to Jonah,” Edgar replied, “that’s not necessarily a shifter. She might have been many different things.” Once the end of the cord processed through his machine he took the end and attached it to the spindle Eliza was holding, and then began to wind it back up. “I think it’s likely the longer he was around her, the more her ability to look a certain way was reinforced upon his mind. You said the skull was deformed?”
“It’s definitely not human,” Robert replied. “It’s in a box in the other room. I’ll get it.” He rose from the sofa.
“So I presume Tena and Dominic hid her bones along with this memory cord in the attic?” Eliza asked, trying to piece it together.
“If Tena was gifted,” Edgar replied, “she would have recognized Jonah’s memory cord for what it was — a virtually indestructible item. She may not have had the skill or resources to get rid of it. As Jonah indicated, if it was discovered, it could have implicated both her and Dominic. So, I think you’re right — they decided to just hide everything, and protect it with a legend shelf.”
“And the bones?” Eliza asked.
“They must have obtained them somehow, after Jonah passed,” Edgar replied. “When they constructed the hiding place, perhaps they thought hiding the bones inside would help seal everything away. The bones were potential corroboration of Jonah’s story.”
Robert returned with the box and set it on the table next to Edgar’s device. He opened the lid and jumped back.
“What?” Eliza asked, concerned.
“There’s…things in there,” Robert said.
They stood and joined Robert, looking down into the box. Surrounding the skull were a half-dozen small creatures. Their bodies were furry, like rats, but their heads were slick and scaly, like reptiles. As they watched, one materialized in the mouth of the skull and crawled out, joining the others, rummaging in the corners.
“Are those what bit me?” Eliza wondered, trying to see if the creatures had teeth. They scurried around the bottom of the box.
“Well, that explains a lot,” Edgar said. “If this skull is producing those things, I guarantee you that isn’t the only thing it’s producing.”
“Producing?” Eliza asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean infection!” Edgar replied. “The broken legend shelf might not have been to blame for what happened to the music machines. It might be this skull. It could be diseased, and if it is, it’s probably infecting everything around it. Do you have a match?”
“A match?” Robert asked. “Like, light-a-fire match?”
“Yes, or a lighter? Something with a flame?”
Robert walked to the kitchen and returned with a safety match. Edgar scraped it against his fingernail and it popped to life. Once the sulfur burned off and the wooden stick of the match was solidly burning, he lowered the match carefully into the box, placing it next to the open jaw of the skull.
Eliza felt a chill go up her spine as the match was extinguished. The skull was exhaling.
One of the creatures jumped at Edgar’s hand as he removed it from the box, missing it entirely and landing back inside the container.
“What does that mean?” Robert asked.
“The bones are still alive in some manner,” Edgar replied. “Not alive like you and me, but able to do things. That’s probably why Sydney asked Jonah not to bury her. It’s almost certain that this is the cause of the infection.”
“So Kendall’s music machines sat just feet from this skull,” Eliza said, “before he sold them to Alex Jordan and they made their way to The House on the Rock. Proximity to this skull infected them…with what?”
“With what indeed!” Edgar replied. “We don’t even know what this creature was! That’s something we could study, but I imagine it might take some time; your goal is to save your brother, which is what we need to focus on. You now have the source of his infection. You should be able to pursue a solution and restore him.”
“How?” Eliza asked.
“We need a counter agent tuned to work against exactly what this skull is emanating,” Robert said.
“Precisely,” Edgar replied. “Do you have analysis equipment?”
“My father has quite a bit in the garage,” Robert replied.
“Explain it to me,” Eliza said. “What has to happen?”
“I’ll have to wrap it tightly in special cloth,” Robert replied, “that will absorb its effects.”
“Let it absorb for a couple of hours, at least,” Edgar added. “And make sure it’s wrapped very tightly. Soak it in efemol.”
“After that,” Robert continued, “I’ll dissolve the cloth and run it through a spectrometer. We should be able to design a counter agent from that.”
“A counter agent?” Eliza asked.
“Something we can give Shane,” Robert said, “that will negate the infection.”
“If there are other objects at House on the Rock infected by this skull,” Edgar said, “you could also use the counter agent on them to protect people from further infection. Once you save your brother, of course.”
Eliza felt the weight of a thousand tons suddenly lift from her shoulders, and she leaned back in the couch. She looked at Robert. “You know how to do all that?”
“I do,” Robert said. “Give me a couple of hours.” He picked up the box and folded the top closed, then carried it out of the room.
“Thank you,” Eliza said to Edgar. “Not only for the translation, but for helping us figure out what it meant.”
“Very interesting case,” Edgar said. “I’ve not seen anything quite like it. Are you going to accommodate Jonah’s wishes and inter the bones?”
“We’ll have to do something with them,” Eliza said. “I suppose we could bury them.”
“Robert will do it correctly,” Edgar replied. “Granger will see to that.”
“Correctly?” Eliza asked.
“Bury the bones in a wooden box that has been soaked in the counter agent,” Edgar replied. “That’ll restrict its influence to the box it’s contained in.”
“What about destroying it?” Eliza asked.
“Well, it might be difficult to do, but there are probably ways to go about it. There are some negatives to that approach; you can’t study it any further if you destroy it, of course. Destroying it might just wind up breaking it into smaller pieces, any of which could be problematic, compounding the danger. Then there’s the issue of desecrating the bones, which is what Jonah was concerned about. Containing it is much easier, once you have the correct counter agent.”
“Could there have been a reason for him requesting burial of them?” Eliza asked. “Aside from the fact that he loved her?”
“We may never know,” Edgar said. “I’ve stayed a little longer than I anticipated. I need to get back.”
She walked him to the door. “Thank you again,” she said. “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I just might someday,” Edgar replied.
“I’ll get Robert and let him know you’re leaving,” she said.
“No, that’s OK,” Edgar replied. “Let him work. You need your solution as soon as you can get it. Please tell him goodbye for me.”
“Sure,” Eliza said.
She closed the door behind Edgar as he left, wondering what had occurred between Edgar and Granger in the past, making a mental note to ask Robert about it down the road.
●
“Please tell me we don’t have to inject anything,” Eliza said, standing on one side of Shane’s bed, while Robert stood on the other. Shane looked weak an
d thin, with dark bags under his eyes. His lips twitched a little; she thought she could see him clenching his teeth.
Robert removed a small metal canister from his jacket; it was an old film container. “No,” he said. “No injection. I soaked a cotton ball with the solution. We just need him to inhale it. This might take a while. We’ll need to keep an eye out for anyone coming.”
Eliza reached for Shane’s hand. It was tense, as though his muscles were contracted. She ran her hand up his arm and felt the same tension there.
After double-checking that no staff was around, Robert brought the canister to Shane’s nose and held it there for a couple of minutes. Eliza couldn’t detect any smell from where she stood. Slowly, she felt Shane’s hand close around hers.
“He’s tensing up,” Eliza whispered.
“He’s got to let it in,” Robert said. “Once enough of it gets into his system, it’ll push out what was put there by the automaton. Be patient.”
Robert kept the vial under Shane’s nose for several minutes more. Eliza felt Shane’s hand continue to squeeze.
“It’s not working!” Eliza said. “He’s squeezing the hell out of my hand!”
“He’s resisting it,” Robert said. “Or, more precisely, the infection is resisting it. Shane will have to breathe in enough of it eventually.”
“Can the infection stop him from breathing?” Eliza asked. “Would it do that to protect itself?”
“I don’t believe so,” Robert said. “I think we just need to be patient.” He looked up at her. “This will work. I know it will.”
She’d been reliant upon others to reach the solution they were now administering, and many times it had left her feeling weak and helpless. There was a strong Midwestern strain of self-reliance in her, and she wished she knew exactly what Robert had created, rather than just relying on him to create it. Even now, after all that she’d done to find something to save her brother, she still felt anemic and it was driving her crazy.
The Haunting of Pitmon House Page 22