“Stop it, Arnie,” Dale told him. “Oscar is trying to help us. Don’t antagonize him the way you do everyone else.”
“Jeez,” said Arnie. “I was only asking how his weekend was. We’re sitting here spilling our hearts out. I thought shrinks were all about sharing. Doesn’t sharing imply upload and download, Doc?”
“Fine,” Oscar said. “What do you want to know, Arnie?
“I want to know why you look more tired and out-of-it every time I see you. Doc, are you on drugs?”
“Arnie!” Dale said, standing up. “I never should have brought you. I tell you I find a doctor that’s helping and you insist on ruining it! You ruin everything in my God damned life!”
“It’s OK,” Oscar told him. “I don’t mind. Arnie, you’re asking why I seem tired and out-of-it. The answer is because I’ve got the flu and I haven’t been sleeping very well. Good enough?”
Arnie nodded but there was clearly a smirk on his face. “I can tell you’re on something, Doc. My entire life, all my friends have been drug addicts. I got a sixth sense for this shit.”
“Arnie,” Dale tried to interrupt.
“Your eyes aren’t bulging out of your head and you’re listening to us,” Arnie went on, “so it’s not coke. I can tell you’re not a drinker. I would say it was weed but your pupils look big for this light and weed wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re very observant,” said Oscar.
“Just about every man I’ve been able to carry on a conversation with has turned out to be a drug addict.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Oscar told him. “All I’ve had is some cough syrup for my flu.”
“I would check to see what’s in that shit,” Arnie said as he started to laugh.
“Leave him alone,” Dale told his brother. “I don’t know why you always have to be such a crazy asshole. It’s like you’re always trying to top yourself.”
“Dale,” Oscar started in a plain tone, “you cannot control what your brother does.”
“You’re God damned right,” remarked Arnie. “Nobody controls Arnold McSorley. Then there is the little matter of…” he said, staring right at Oscar, “you trying to light those dudes on fire at that gas station. I would say that equates to disturbed, perhaps antisocial behavior. Why were you driving around in the armpit of hell in the middle of the night? I just don’t get it, Doc.”
The room took on the stillness of a tintype photograph.
Dale looked ashamed that he had spread the story to his brother. Lowering his eyes to his shoes, he said, “Sorry, Oscar. I shouldn’t have told him.”
…
Late that night, Oscar couldn’t sleep. So he took a walk to a nearby bodega that he found out carried gorgonorphan. The bottles had been shipped in from Turkey and carried a yellowing label, printed in the Turkish language. His syrup was becoming increasing difficult to find, even though the stores seemed to be doing their best to keep it in stock for the addicts.
The man at the register, with his face nearly covered in a thick grey beard and mustache, didn’t ask any questions. He seemed to avoid looking Oscar directly in the eyes.
After he was handed the money, the cashier counted out the change, telling him, “Magic syrup is getting hard to find. Next time, price will be double.”
“I don’t mind the price,” Oscar told him, “but are you guaranteeing that you’ll have some in stock?”
The cashier chuckled, saying, “No, no, no. No guarantee. Special syrup is going to vanish. We will run out. Everyone will run out.”
“What do you mean, run out?”
“Very strange,” he said. “I hear shipments are being stopped and medicine burned. All the US supplies are already gone. Somebody wants gorgonorphan to disappear without a trace.”
“Why?” Oscar asked him.
“Why, indeed?” The old man smiled like he knew some special secret.
...
Oscar bought the rest of the store’s supply, seven bottles from Turkey and two from Cambodia, before starting his walk back to the Black Hole. Sixteenth Street looked like a carnival for the homeless and destitute that night, with tents and campfires along the sides of buildings and the sound of hoots and laughter. Schizophrenics shouted threats into the night at the voices in their heads and the drunks sang decades-old rock songs. Someone nearby was shooting off bottle rockets.
Bringing out one of the Turkish-labeled cough syrup bottles from the drugstore bag, Oscar took a swig as he walked down Sixteenth Street. The taste was bitterer than what he was accustomed to, but the feeling in his head and legs was unmistakably gorgonorphan. He took another long sip until he tasted the void in the empty bottle.
As he walked, the noises in the street blended into a hissing cacophony, a sound like a gale wind mixed with radio static. Oscar felt something pulling on his heels, like a slight current dragging him forward. When he looked down, water and sea foam were halfway up his ankles.
All of Sixteenth Street was flooding. The gutters and drains were working in the wrong direction, spilling out what seemed like an ocean’s worth of water. The entire street became black pools and torrents. The floodwater rose until it covered Oscar’s ankles.
The black water spun whirlpools around the buildings and cars, pulling them into the ground, which disintegrated into quicksand, then black water.
Everything in Philadelphia was sinking except for Oscar.
The tenements and skyscrapers, even the Black Hole Tower, slowly spun into the relentless currents. Eventually, the Bail Bonds sign sunk into what seemed like a bottomless pit.
Above him, the sky opened into a writhing swarm of exploding stars. Miniature suns beaming white, orange and indigo spun overhead like a baby’s mobile at a cosmic scale. All the stars orbited a dark center, a hole in the stars, pulling them all to their fiery destruction.
Oscar stood on a flat expanse of water. The buildings, hills, streets and bridges were now part of the undersea landscape. In the distance, he could see a few small islands, all of which appeared lush and green in the haze. He took a step on the ripping surface and felt a slight tide dragging his feet forward. With each step, the infinite river around him expanded and came into focus.
He realized there was something just ahead, on the horizon where the river met the storm of stars.
The island looked like just a dusty heap of dead dirt at first. Then Oscar saw the structure at its barren center. A rundown factory with smokestacks billowing powdered charcoal ruled over the island.
The black water was pulling him toward the place. Water surged from every direction, straight uphill to the unremarkable, shabby, old plant.
The factory stood just above the waterline like a newly created volcanic island. The water seemed to pumped toward the boarded-up shell of rusty steel and concrete. It sucked the water in like a drain in a bathtub, creating a swirling current around the island.
Oscar let the water pull him forward until he could see more of the factory. An old sign, hidden behind years of dust and petrified vegetation read: Bardo Glass Factory.
Oscar wasn’t alone. Standing on the edge of the island just ahead of him, perhaps a dozen dark figures were waiting. He recognized the masks immediately and the Owlmen all pointed at him like he had stolen something.
…
Chapter 11
Family of Origin
“Mr. Smiler wants me to tell you that he saw you the other night,” Beth told Oscar during their next appointment. “He said he could see you when the sky opened up.”
Oscar stared back at Beth like the little girl was a master chess opponent. “Do you even understand what you’re saying to me, Beth?”
She shook her head no with vigor and confusion. If she was faking being a little girl, totally without knowledge of the subject, it was a flawless performance.
“I’d like you to ask Mister Smiler then, why has he taken such an interest in me? Why would he be watching your psychologist?”
Beth looked to her ri
ght shoulder, nodding in a way that seemed like she barely understood what she was being told. While she received her instructions, her pink bedroom fell into stunning silence. Finally, she told Oscar, “Mister Smiler says you wouldn’t understand. Not yet.”
“Of course not. That would ruin everything.”
Beth didn’t pick up on the coloring in Oscar’s statement, so she just looked puzzled.
“I’m getting sick of this,” Oscar told her. “Maybe Mister Smiler can take a walk for a while, maybe go run a few errands. I’d like to speak with you, Beth. You’re my patient.”
“He’s not leaving but he says he’ll be quiet.”
“Thank him for being so very agreeable,” Oscar told her. “Now, I was wondering about those nightmares we talked about a few weeks ago, the ones where Mister Smiler is gone. Have you been having any of those?”
Beth’s eyes shied down to her fluffy white socks. The answer to Oscar’s question seemed as clear as the fact that Beth had no desire to discuss it. She finally said, “Um hmm. One. A couple of nights ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Oscar told her. “I know those are really scary. We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to. How about you tell me about the day leading up to your nightmare.”
“My mommy and daddy had a party,” she said.
“Any kids your age at the party? Did you make any new friends?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and thinking back to the evening. “Everyone was old. They were nice, I guess. They all wanted to meet me.”
“I bet,” said Oscar. “They were excited to meet you because you’re a great kid.”
Beth’s mouth stretched into a smile before it fell to the ground. “It was really scary,” she said as she remembered the dream from that night. “After Daddy put me to bed, after I fell asleep, that’s when they came to get me.”
“Can you tell me who?”
“Um umm,” she said, thinking back. “I can’t see their faces. They’re surrounding me in my room.”
“Beth, I know what you experienced was very scary, but it wasn’t real. I want you to remember that. Now, if it doesn’t make you too scared or upset, I want you to imagine your nightmare from the other night. I want you to bring it back for a moment.”
Beth seemed to understand right away. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“If you get scared, Beth, I want you to think of your favorite place in the world and go back there right away. For now though, picture your dream from the other night and tell me what you see.”
“They’re all around,” she said with her eyes closed. “I can’t see their faces.”
“Is there anything special about any of them? Are they speaking to each other? Are they speaking to you?”
“They’re singing,” Beth said, “but I don’t recognize the song. Everyone is watching me.”
“Where is Mister Smiler in all this, Beth?”
“He’s trying to protect me but he can’t. They’ve done something to keep him from me.”
Oscar found that detail particularly strange. “The figures from your dream, they know about him?”
“Um hmm,” she said. “They really hate him and they don’t want him around me.”
“Beth, do you remember anything about any of the people in your dream? Does anything stand out about them?”
“There were some that looked like owls.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were dressed up fancy. And,” she said. She started to tremble when she remembered the particular detail. “The masks.”
Oscar’s face went white with astonishment. “Can you tell me any more about them?” He asked.
Beth thought about it, cocking her head to the side and wrinkling up her mouth. There seemed to be something on her mind. Finally, she said, “All I can remember are some of the faces. They looked like owls.”
“Beth, I think you’ve done a great job today and I think it’s time I speak to your parents.”
She looked disappointed, saying, “Has it been the whole time yet?”
“No, Beth. Actually, I think it would be good if we end things a little early today. I have something important to talk to your parents about.”
“Are you gonna talk about me?”
“It has to do with you, yes.”
“Did I say something bad?”
Oscar slowed down the runaway freight train that his mind had become. The look on his face was scaring Beth and he tried to mold his expression back to that of a professional therapist.
“Of course you didn’t say or do anything bad,” he told her. “You’re the perfect patient. It’s just that I have a couple of questions for your mommy and daddy and I’m really excited to ask them.”
Beth seemed relieved and nodded back. “You’re not mad at me?” She asked.
He leaned in closer, saying, “No one has anything to be mad at you about, Beth. Remember that.”
...
The Bardos met with Oscar in the study while Beth stayed in her room. They both seemed concerned when they found out Oscar was insistent to speak to them. “You seem upset,” said Eva Bardo when they sat down in the room full of books and artifacts.
“I just had something come up during my talk with Beth,” said Oscar. “It has me concerned. Well,” Oscar began to correct himself. “I just feel as though I need to discuss a rather unpleasant possibility.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bardo.
“I hope it’s nothing too serious,” said her husband.
“My original theory was Beth was having night terrors due to trauma suffered during her time with her birth parents. I suppose that’s still the most probable diagnosis,” Oscar said, realizing that he was getting nearly breathless. “I suppose I’ll just come right out and ask it. Do you think it’s possible that someone could be abducting Beth at night?”
The Bardos looked to one another as though they were dumbfounded. Then they pointed their eyes on Oscar like he had just spoken in gibberish. “Abducting Beth?” Lorne asked. “Who do you mean? I don’t understand.”
Oscar asked them, “Is it possible someone is taking Beth at night and returning her before you realize she’s gone?”
The Bardos both laughed.
“It’s possible someone you know may be involved,” Oscar told them. “Believe it or not, it’s not uncommon for someone close to a parent to hurt a child.”
“This is such a strange theory,” said Eva. “What makes you think such a thing?”
“It just,” Oscar hesitated, “some of the things Beth says. It sounds like and feels like it isn’t just in the past. I know it sounds strange, but maybe someone in contact with Beth is hurting her in some way. These fantasies and sleep disturbances…”
“I don’t understand,” Eva argued. “Beth hardly has contact with anyone besides us. Certainly she’s never alone with anyone. We keep her out of those godforsaken schools to help keep her safe.”
“No other adults? Beth tells me that you have visitors to the house frequently.”
“I suppose we do occasionally have visitors?”
“What visitors?”
“Doctor Loste,” Eva interrupted, “what you’re suggesting is impossible.”
“It’s impossible,” Lorne Bardo added. “We never leave Beth alone with anyone. We are very careful about that sort of thing. No one we would associate with would ever hurt a child. Even if they did,” He added as he pointed toward the study window, “they would never be able to get past house security.”
“Still,” said Oscar, “if I’m going to understand Beth and her case well enough to clear her, I would like to have some idea of who, aside from you two, have influence on her. Beth tells me that you have guests and get-togethers frequently here. Who comes by? Are they friends, family or...?”
“Colleagues mostly,” Lorne answered. “We sometimes have meetings here at the house for our company, The Bardo Group. Investors, politicians, media people, movers and shakers, those ki
nd of people.”
“I see,” said Oscar. “Is Beth ever left with any of these people unsupervised?”
“As my husband said before, we never leave Beth alone with anyone. There’s usually a housekeeper around even during her courses. And might I add,” Eva said, sounding offended, “these people are not hurting Beth. These are the people that keep society from falling off a cliff. They aren’t common street trash.”
“This may be delicate,” said Oscar, “but I’d like their names. I just want the office do simple background searches for any crimes related to children. It is public information anyway.”
“You can’t be serious, Oscar,” said Lorne with a glint in his eye. “I respect that you’re trying to help our daughter but it seems troubling that you’re asking us to turn over the names of our friends.”
“If you ask me,” said Eva Bardo, sounding a bit too plain for the situation, “you’re ignoring what is pitifully obvious. You’re choosing to disregard what happened with those monsters that brought her into the world. They left the poor girl’s soul in tatters.”
“God only knows the full extent of what happened to Beth with those savages,” said Lorne. “Drug addicts,” he said like it was a term for a cockroach.
“Animals,” Oscar said, scowling back.
“Beth’s birth mother,” said Lorne, “we know she died in Riker’s Island Prison.
...
Chapter 12
Something Rotten in the city of Philadelphia
When the McSorley brothers started their session with Oscar the following day, they could tell their therapist was preoccupied. “You got something on your mind, Doc,” Arnie told him, “I can tell. You got something you wanna say?”
“There is something,” Oscar admitted. “I have a small favor to ask you, Dale. Actually it’s not exactly a small favor.”
“Whew hew!” Arnie called out, clearly excited by the prospect. “I bet this is gonna be good. Do you need my cop brother to whack somebody?”
Enter the Uncreated Night Page 10