She pushed him back, grabbed his hands and jumped up and down.
“Oh! Ow! Oh!” Was his first response, no pun intended. “If you don’t settle down, Paula Anne, it’s going to be an orphan before it’s born.”
“Oh, Tyler!” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry! I can’t believe it. I have to call Mama!”
She hurried away leaving him alone. He followed her out much more slowly. Would she forget about him now? He hobbled into the kitchen and took a beer from the refrigerator as a feeling of depression washed over him. He felt somehow betrayed and almost violated as if she had used him and then discarded him when he was wounded! He could hear her in the living room talking excitedly on the phone to her mother. Things would never be the same again. He sipped his beer carefully on the good side of his lip.
It had taken more fast talking than he’d ever done in his life to work his way into Sam Morris’ home. Sam had opened the door, still fully dressed, but bleary-eyed staring at him as if he were a monster from the depths of hell.
Sam had expected to see Maureen on the stoop and not the big, dripping-wet redneck holding what appeared to be a dirt encrusted treasure chest. He was not feeling very well, depressed and irritable after returning home empty-handed from his search for Maureen. She had not been at the dance when he had returned and then the sudden thunderstorm had ruined his hopes of finding her. Even his mother had deserted him and left him a terse note to call her tomorrow. A trail of muddy boot prints soiled his snow white carpet all the way across the den to the bar. He and Billy Johnson stood, hands on hips, perusing the box as it sat dripping on the black marble counter top.
“So you haven’t opened it, then?” He eyed the big man suspiciously.
“Nope, didn’t have no key,” Billy told him. “I didn't want to hang around town lookin’ for a pry bar.”
“Tell me again why you decided to bring this to me?” Sam asked him and scratched his head. He took a gold Cross pen from his pocket and dug the dirt out of the keyhole in the heart-shaped lock.
“Well, I figured you had some kind of bone to pick with Aliger just like I do,” Billy said slowly. “You got your reasons and I got mine. I figured that a man like you would have connections and would know what to do with whatever’s inside there. People don’t just go ’round buryin’ boxes in their backyards. Not unless they got somethin’ to hide.”
“That’s true,” Sam nodded. “You expect money from me for this?”
“Depends on what’s inside,” Billy shrugged and rubbed his chin. “You’re a fair man, Mr. Morris. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s worth anything.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Sam agreed. “But before we open it, I want you to promise me that if I decide it needs to go back and be reburied, that you will do it without question and that we’ll forget all about this. Agreed?”
Billy nodded. He was already in trouble with the police. He didn’t need any more problems. If the box was full of heroin or something, he’d just take it down to the creek and pitch it in.
“Let’s take it out to the garage.” Sam eyed the mess on the carpet as Billy refilled his jaw with tobacco.
Billy hefted the box and followed Sam through the kitchen and out to the garage. Sam felt his pulse quickening. Maybe this would be his opportunity to bring Aliger down without Maureen knowing about it. He’d gone a long way in making amends to her at the dance. She had even complimented him on his manners, but he knew she was totally infatuated with Perry Aliger and if he did anything to overtly harm the man, she would never forgive him. Besides, he didn’t want to get something nasty in his den that he couldn’t get rid of before the maid came on Monday morning.
Angelica leaned close to the closed bathroom door and asked him why he had buried the chest without all the little boxes in it.
He called to her that he didn't trust the Primus and told her that the Primus had no business meddling in his affairs. He further told her that Falco had not come to investigate his project, but hers.
When he emerged from the bathroom a while later dressed in a big green towel, he found her sitting in front of the dressing mirror in the bedroom brushing her hair. He thought she must have learned this habit from a time long ago. No one brushed their hair every night anymore. It was one of the few truly feminine attributes she exhibited.
He went into the closet to find some clean clothes.
“How do you know this?” She asked, resuming the exchange where they had left off. “A point in fact is that I don’t know anything about your project as you call it. As your superior, I could force you to explain it to me.” This was an idle threat as she had no intention of forcibly learning anything from him or anyone else. It was a most barbaric practice.
He emerged from the closet with a pair of jeans and another pullover shirt and went to sit on the bed with his back to her. She watched him in the mirror.
“But you are much too civilized to resort to such barbaric methods,” he said as if he could read her own thoughts. “My secret is safe.”
“Do you think I would not read your thoughts if I thought it were necessary?” she tried to conjure the same tone of superiority and condescension she had used on him in the past before all the confusion had set in. The effort was useless. There was no conviction in her voice.
“When did the Primus say he would be returning?” He countered with a question of his own.
“He didn’t say,” she told him. “In fact, he got up and walked out in the middle of our conversation.”
“Oh, well, then it must have been something you said,” he laughed and pulled on the shirt. He put on the jeans and stood up to button them and then walked over to plant a kiss on her cheek before continuing. “And what, if I may ask, were you talking about?”
“You,” she said, slowing her brushing to try to gauge his reaction. His smile faded instantly.
“Me?” The slightest bit of pink tinged his face. He went to the sock drawer to search fruitlessly for a matching pair of clean socks. “And, if I may ask, what was the Primus telling you about me?”
“Actually I was telling him about our arrangement,” she said casually. “I was asking his opinion.”
“Our arrangement,” he repeated slowly. His voice faded as he realized what she was referring to. He closed his eyes momentarily and willed the anger that was rising in him to retreat. “What was his opinion?” He asked quietly and gave up searching for the socks.
“He didn’t give one,” she said. “He seemed to grow very agitated when I asked if he thought it would be wise to allow you to study me instead of the local population concerning the human response to emotional states. Especially the rituals associated with love.”
“Rituals?” He asked and glanced at her. “Well, I suppose he must have had other things on his mind... like beheading you or me or possibly both of us,” he said this last under his breath.
“Excuse me?” She raised both eyebrows in the mirror.
“I think he will definitely be back,” Perry said as he picked up the discarded towel from the bed and tossed it against the wall. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty,” she told him.
“Set the clock for twelve midnight. Our thirty minutes will be over at the witching hour.”
Angelica reached for the alarm clock in confusion.
Twenty minutes later found Perry sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed holding his head in his hands. Angelica lay in the bed behind him, clutching the covers to her neck and staring at his back. He still wore the jeans and pullover shirt he’d put on after his shower. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes trying to explain to her how the proposed activity should be approached in a less scientific manner. She had no idea what he meant by mood, atmosphere and romance. The last five minutes had been spent trying to explain what a less scientific manner would consist of. He thought she must have researched the topic in the medical library on the internet. He had been shocked to see her get up, turn off
the light, ditch her clothes unceremoniously on the floor and climb into the bed. He had ended up actually hurting her feelings by comparing her to a computer.
He was almost relieved when Falco Atrox had rudely and suddenly invaded their privacy by flipping on the overhead light, surveying the scene momentarily and then saying “Peregrin come with me. There is no time for explanation.”
Angelica sat up wearing nothing but a frown.
Perry threw the covers over her and stood up to grab his last good pair of shoes.
Angelica threw off the covers again as he headed for the door.
“Should I come with you?” She asked.
“Hold that thought!” Perry told her and turned off the light to leave her in darkness.
Falco set a breakneck pace through the apartment and down the stairs outside. The rain had stopped and an eerie ground fog swirled about their feet as they crossed the yard to the Navigator sitting at the curb with its motor running.
“Of all the impertinence!” Falco said at last. “Exactly what were you doing up there?”
“Exactly nothing, if you must know,” Perry growled as he yanked open the passenger door angrily.
“You are not married to Angelica,” Falco told him as he slid under the steering wheel and dropped the vehicle into drive. The tires screeched slightly on the wet pavement as they sped away from the curb. They drove through the light rain into the dark countryside for several minutes before Perry realized that he had no idea where he was being taken nor for what purpose. He had been so frustrated by Angelica, he’d lost track of the present.
“Where are we going?” Perry asked him as they ran through every flashing light in town without slowing.
“To straighten out one of your messes.”
“I’ve already told you that I don’t need your assistance,” Perry told him irritably. “I do not require your presence at all.”
“It would seem that you require a great deal of assistance,” Falco countered. “Angelica is being totally corrupted by her contact with you.”
“Corrupted!” Perry looked at him. “I prefer the term rehabilitated.”
“Rehabilitated for what?!” Falco asked and looked at him incredulously. “You would teach her these human practices for what purpose? Why have you forgotten who and what you are, Primus? You are not human any more than you are a dolphin. You are one of us. We do not need these... these... barbaric creatures and their rituals.”
“Their barbaric rituals?” Perry asked him in amazement. “Have you forgotten your own practices? These things may be barbaric, but at least they leave the participants intact. Angelica would still be Angelica and I would still be as I am. This way is more... fun. You can enjoy the spiritual relationship as well as the physical without totally consuming or incorporating each other. I have been away from the Collective Body too long, Falco. I like my privacy. I would prefer to keep my soul in one piece just the way it is. I, for one, do not want to be incorporated.”
“I cannot understand you at all,” Falco told him quietly. “It sounds almost blasphemous.”
“That is because you are afraid of being different,” Perry shrugged. “All things change.”
“You would be considered a revolutionary,” Falco stated.
“I prefer e-volutionary,” Perry shook his head. “I am the future, Primus. Why do you think I am here? I study evolution. Not the evolution the primitives study, but the evolution of the universal element. The evolution of the soul. Our kind has grown stale. There is nothing left to explore but the future.”
“I would not go backward,” Falco told him adamantly.
“You would. And you would take Angelica back with you before she could make the choice on her own.”
Falco said nothing. He seemed to be actually considering Perry’s words.
“Where are we going?” Perry brought the conversation full circle.
“To Samuel Morris’ garage,” Falco told him as they turned into the circular drive in front of Morris’ tri-level home. He cut off the headlights and drove past the front of the house where Billy Johnson’s battered one-ton sat in odd contrast to the Lincoln. He followed the tree-lined drive around until he had reached the street again and pulled over.
They got out quietly and started back up the drive together. Perry kept glancing at his ‘brother’ wondering if he were bringing him here so that Billy and Sam could kill him. He imagined Falco Atrox helping them to bury his body afterwards. He pushed away what he recognized immediately as paranoia. His second bout with it in less than three days. Perry looked up at the pretentious home and wondered why one man would want such a monstrous place to be lost in and why he was lost in there with Billy Johnson at the moment.
“Why are you bringing me here?” He asked as they walked toward the side of the house, keeping to the deep shadows of the trees.
“You will soon see for yourself, Primus,” Falco said with a hint of disgust in his voice. The garage was set at the back of the house. The light from the open double doors spilled onto the concrete driveway. One window in the side of the detached structure was in the shadow of the house. They crouched below the window and then peeked up over the window sill to see the two men standing in front of Sam’s ski-boat working on something on a metal table.
They both focused their attention on the men to hear their conversation.
“... weird,” Sam was saying as he held something in his hand to peer closely at it. “I have one of these. Mine has red insets where this one is blue.”
“Yeah.” Billy moved to take something from the bench. “These are like them fancy little boxes from Louis’ booth. I wonder what the hell this is all about. It feels empty.”
Perry suddenly stood straight up and beat on the glass. Falco scrambled backwards, astounded by Perry’s careless action.
“No! Don’t open it!” Perry shouted through the window at them and then turned to run around to the open doors to confront the startled pair.
He stood in the open bay door staring at them. They both held one of the Pandora Boxes from the chest he had buried in the pecan grove. The muddy chest stood on the workbench, the lock broken and the lid up. To Perry’s horror both of the smaller boxes were also open. Billy’s look of surprise quickly faded to be replaced by a scowl. He took a step toward Perry, dropping the box on the floor. Then his expression changed again. He gripped the side of the boat trailer and gasped for breath, clutching his left arm. Perry stepped forward, but Sam yelled at him to stay back and picked up the double-bit axe he had used to smash the lock on the chest. Billy wheezed and fought to catch his breath, doubling over in pain much as Perry had seen Louis Parks do at the dance.
“Stay back!” Sam warned Perry and went to look at Billy. “Billy? What’s wrong? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“It’s his heart. He’s having a heart attack, Sam,” Perry told him urgently.
“Stay back!” Sam shouted at him very near panic as Billy fell to his knees and then sprawled on his back on the concrete floor.
“Put down the axe, Sam, and let me help him,” Perry pleaded with him.
“Help him?” Sam looked at him wild eyed. “You caused this! Get up Billy! Dammit, get the hell up!”
Billy was in no condition to respond. He groaned and rolled to one side.
“I did nothing,” Perry told him quietly. “Now put the axe down before something even worse happens.”
“Mr. Morris?” Falco asked as he stepped into the light and Sam turned his attention to him briefly and took a step back. “Do you know the legend of Pandora’s Box?”
“Yes, of course I do!” Sam yelled at him.
“Then, you will understand what you have done,” Falco told him dispassionately and looked down at Billy. “You have opened my dear brother’s version of the same story. Of course, these are much smaller versions of the original.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam backed into the work bench with the axe held in front of himself defensively.
“You have taken on someone’s discarded problem,” Falco said and shrugged. “What was in the box you opened?”
Sam looked down at the crumpled piece of paper laying on the floor beside the gold box.
“You’re both crazy bastards!” Sam cursed them. It just couldn't be!
“If you don’t believe it, Sam,” Perry told him “I can tell you what was in Billy’s box. There is a note in there from Cheryl Martin. She wanted to be rid of her mother’s heart disease.”
Sam stared at them but did not move.
“Billy has Mrs. Martin’s disease now,” Perry said. “He’s having trouble breathing. His heart was not good in the first place. He will die very soon if he doesn't get help.”
Sam eased himself down slowly to reach for the little slip of paper that Billy had thrown there, then stood again to read the words on the paper while trying to watch them at the same time. The color drained from his face. He turned to slam the axe flat on the work bench and grabbed the little box he had been holding. He knocked several tools and cans of lubricants and motor oil off the shelf in his frantic search for the little scroll. He unrolled it with shaking hands and read the words.
He turned slowly to look at them. Perry took advantage of Sam’s disarmament to kneel by Billy to check his pulse and respiration. It didn’t look good at all. Billy was fading rapidly.
“What’s wrong with Julia Parks?” Sam asked them.
Falco shrugged. “You’ll have to ask my ‘brother’. It’s his project.”
Sam crossed the space between them and grabbed Perry’s shoulder. “What have you done to me you son-of-a-bitch!”
Perry shook him off easily and pushed him away with one hand as if he were an annoying puppy. Sam smashed into Falco who caught him and set him aright on his feet and pretended to dust him off, infuriating him even further.
Sam lowered his head and prepared to charge into Perry, but Falco caught his arm and held him without the slightest effort.
After a few moments, he regained a small bit of his composure and the Primus released him, wagging one finger in front of his face as if he were a small naughty boy.
The Pandora Effect Page 45