I nodded. “That is a good possibility,” I explained. “In my line of work, fact and fiction often get mixed up. Memories can get altered because of someone’s perception of them. Sometimes they get so muddy, it’s hard to tell what actually happened and what the mind created.”
Allie reached over and touched Beth’s face. “The poor thing,” she said. “She must feel so lost in there.” She turned toward me and stood again. “Let’s go, Edward,” she said. “Mr. Crawford needs to get back to work.”
Edward started to get up when a young doctor entered the room. “Who are you?” Edward asked.
“This is Doctor Matson, honey,” Allie explained. “You met him two days ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” Edward said.
“I’m sure you two have met so many people here it’s hard to keep up,” said Doctor Matson. “How are you both doing?”
“Best we can,” answered Allie. She motioned to me. “This is Mr. Crawford,” she told the doctor. “He’s here to help find out what happened to Beth.”
Doctor Matson extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford,” he said.
“You as well,” I said, shaking his hand.
“I’m going to take a look at her vitals,” he said, getting to business. He walked over and glanced at the monitors attached to Beth. “Everything is about the same as last time.”
“Any idea when she might wake up?” asked Allie.
“Mrs. Martin,” Doctor Matson spoke gravely. “I don’t want to give you false hope. Your daughter has experienced great trauma. Right now, she’s holding on with everything she’s got.”
“She always was a fighter,” said Allie.
Doctor Matson nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “I’m sure having you here by her side has helped too. Trust me. We’ll continue monitoring her and do what we can. But, ultimately, only time will tell.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Allie said, her face betraying her attempt at a jovial tone.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll come by this afternoon and check on her again.”
After Doctor Matson left, Allie and Edward both started for the door. I wanted to give them some words of encouragement but couldn’t think of any that wouldn’t sound forced or belittle what they were experiencing. But then I imagined Katie lying there in Beth’s place and nearly choked up at the thought. I would need someone to reassure me if I were in their position.
“I know I haven’t gotten any answers,” I said to them on their way out. “But I want you to know I’m not going to stop until I do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford,” said Allie. “You’re a good man.”
After they left, I walked over to the chair beside Beth and sat down. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket. Jessica had texted me asking how it was going. I told her and then asked how Katie had been dealing with her inherited psychic abilities. She replied with a frownie face emoji and said she got into trouble at school again. Only this time it was for cheating in math class. Her teacher confronted her when she saw that she had the same exact answers as the boy next to her. She insisted that she didn’t look at this paper, but the teacher didn’t believe her. She got detention and later admitted to Jessica that she had read his mind.
I tried to assure her that it was just growing pains. I told her Katie would eventually become more responsible with her powers and that we needed to be patient with her. She replied with three frownie face emojis in a row. She then said she missed me and to come home soon. I promised I’d go home as soon as I could. We exchanged “I Love You’s” and I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
I refocused on the task at hand and prepared myself to enter Beth’s mind. I settled into my chair, took a few deep breaths, and blocked out the beeping sounds coming from the hospital equipment. Once I was ready, I focused in on her face. I was about to project when something caught me off guard. I looked closer, but it was gone. I tried convincing myself I was imagining things, but, for a split second, I could’ve sworn she was smiling.
Chapter Nine
Once inside, I was standing in the lobby of Beth’s “retirement” hotel. I noticed someone familiar standing at the check-in counter and, upon a closer look, saw that it was Bobby Fugate.
I kept my distance, curious as to what Beth’s dream version of her fiancé might do next. After a few moments at the check-in counter, he walked toward one of the hallways of rooms, toting a rolling suitcase behind him. I followed him, discreetly, making sure not to draw attention to myself.
About halfway down the hall, he stopped and took out a key. He opened the door and started to step inside. He glanced back at me and I pretended to dig out a key for one of the other rooms. He went in and closed the door behind him. I approached the room he had entered and saw that the number “6” was on the door. If Beth’s number sequence stayed the same that meant “Room 31,” which was her room in a previous visit, must be close by.
I went to turn the door handle but noticed that the door was propped open by the metal security bar. I heard low music coming from inside. It was “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye. I cautiously pushed the door open but couldn’t see Bobby. I could, however, hear him moaning on the bed. I stepped inside and carefully let the door rest against the metal security bar.
I stealthily crept along the wall and peeked around the corner, ready to make a run for it if necessary.
To my surprise and confusion, Bobby was naked, blindfolded, and lying on the bed. All around him were hundred-dollar bills. He picked up a handful of bills and rubbed them all over his body. As he did this, he rolled around on the bed in ecstasy, groaning louder and louder.
Once he was done with the first bunch of bills, he grabbed more and repeated the process.
Deciding I had seen enough, I tiptoed out of the room and quietly let the door prop up against the metal security bar again.
I walked a little way down the hall and, as expected, found a room with “31” on it. I knocked and, within a few seconds, Beth opened the door. She wore all black, including a small hat with a thin veil that covered her eyes. I heard somber organ music coming from inside the room. Through a crack in the door, I saw a group of people sitting in chairs in front of a closed wooden casket.
She sighed. “I thought you were the priest,” she said. “He’s running late.”
“Priest?” I probed.
“To give the eulogy, of course,” she said as if I had asked her if the sky was blue. “You’re Mr. Crawford. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, for a second forgetting I was wearing my normal face and not Bobby’s.
“Are you coming in or not?” she asked.
I hesitantly stepped inside, and she closed the door behind us. Among the group of people near the cast was an older woman dressed in the same black outfit as Beth. She started sniffling and then suddenly broke out into full-blown wailing. She got up from her seat and came over to us. Beth wrapped her arms around her and patted her back to console her. The woman buried her face into a tissue and blew her nose in an almost comical fashion.
“There, there,” Beth said. “It’s okay.”
The woman finally slowed down to a more controlled sob and released herself from Beth’s embrace. “Thank you,” she said, blotting her eyes with the tissue. She looked at me and forced a smile. “How did you know the deceased?” she asked.
“Me?” I said, trying to stall for an answer. Having no idea who the hell was in the casket, I chose a more generalist approach. “We, uh, were neighbors at one point.”
The woman began to speak but burst into tears again. “I’m sorry for your loss!” she eventually said and then wept all the way back to her seat.
Beth turned to me and motioned expectantly toward the casket. “Well?”
“Well what?” I said.
“Don’t you want to say your goodbyes?” she asked impatiently.
“Of course,” I answered, continuing to play along. “I’ll, uh, do that right now.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable,” I said, seriously regretting having come into the room in the first place.
I moved toward the coffin with trepidation. I halfway expected to open it and have Beth’s demon counterpart leap out and try to choke me to death again. I stopped at the casket and turned to look at her. She repetitively rolled her hand in a circle as if to say, “hurry it up.” The others watched me with bated breath. I faced the coffin and braced myself. I slipped my fingers underneath the wood and slowly lifted the lid.
When I saw what was inside, I had to do a double take. At first, I thought it was a large, hairy raisin. But, upon closer inspection, I realized it was a cocoon. It was brown and bumpy, covered in a layer of translucent slime. It was about six feet by three feet and fit the dimension of the casket perfectly. Just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger, it started to pulsate rhythmically as if there was a heart beating inside.
The older woman who’d had an emotional outburst moments earlier rose from her seat, came over, and stood beside me. She was now eerily tranquil and collected. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said calmly.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“Everything,” she replied. “The Alpha and the Omega. Heaven and Earth. It’s where I end, and you begin.”
“So, it’s alive?”
“It is in the process of becoming.”
“Then why do we have to say ‘goodbye’?”
“So, we can say ‘hello,’” answered Beth as she joined us. “But we can’t do that until the godforsaken priest gets here.” She walked away from the casket and sat down on one of the empty chairs. “I wish I knew what was taking him so long.”
“So, after the priest says a few words,” I hypothesized. “This…” I pointed to the cocoon. “…Being will transition to its next state?”
“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes,” said Beth.
A sudden uneasiness came over me. The doctor I had met only moments earlier in Beth’s hospital room said she was holding on with everything she’s got. What he didn’t mention was that, on some level, she might be getting tired of holding on. If somehow the cocoon was a representation of her and its “transitioning” reflected her own desire to let go of the earthly realm, I needed to do everything possible to keep it from happening.
“Why don’t I go look for the priest?” I suggested. “He probably just got lost trying to find your room.”
She shrugged. “Whatever speeds this along,” she said nonchalantly.
“And to be clear,” I continued. “Your name is still…”
“Margaret Stevens,” she said with a look like I had lost my mind. “Maybe I should be the one to go look for the priest.”
“No,” I insisted. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms like a defiant teenager. “But hurry it up, will ya? We don’t have all day.”
I nodded and stepped outside into the hallway. Complicating matters even further was the fact that Beth’s emotional state was affecting her personality. Not only was she still “Margaret Stevens” but she was also becoming more apathetic. If being Margaret was somehow helping her let go, I needed to hurry or else risk the possibility of her real self-disappearing completely.
I moved down the hall back in the direction of the main lobby area. Once I was there, I noticed there were more people than normal. There were at least a dozen standing in line at the check-in counter. I rushed to the front of the queue but was quickly pushed aside by a hairy, robust man wearing a loose-fitting tank top that said, “Give me a beer and I’ll see the light,” and cut-off blue jeans shorts that left little to the imagination.
“Hey!” he said in an almost comical husky voice. “Get to the back of the line, buddy!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at the man behind the counter. “It’s an emergency. I was wondering if you’d seen a priest.”
“Sir, please go to the back of the line,” said the man. “These people have been waiting their whole lives to check in. If I were to answer your question it would be a disservice to each and every one of them.”
“Really?” I said. “In all the time it took you to say all of that you could’ve just answered my question.”
“Sir, don’t make me alert security,” he said, motioning to the half-human, half-alien “security guards,” or as Beth referred to them, Grilax and Grulax, standing near the front entrance.
“Alright,” I said, wanting to avoid getting thrown out again. “I’ll just find him myself.”
I turned away from the counter to see that the lobby was now full of people. Hundreds of men and women of all ages packed the room to the point where there was no room to move around. Every one of them was gravitating toward the check-in counter. I began to feel claustrophobic as they surrounded me at all sides. Complicating matters even further, I noticed a man dressed as a priest making his way toward the hallway leading to Beth’s room.
I tried pushing my way through the crowd, but it was no use. They were too strong a barrier. Then I remembered I wasn’t in the real world. I willed myself to levitate eight feet off the ground and float over their heads toward the priest. Since they were so focused on checking in, none of them even paid any attention to the fact I was hovering above them like some strange, otherworldly wizard. Once I was clear of the crowd, I landed safely at the end of the hallway.
The priest was already halfway down the corridor, so I ran after him. Right as he casually made it to Beth’s door, I caught up with him. He reached out to knock but I tackled him to the ground before he had the chance. He started to yell out for help, but I quickly covered his mouth and pinned him to the floor. He struggled to break free, but I held him down, all the while realizing how ridiculous such a thing would’ve appeared outside of a dream.
“You can go now,” I told him. “Your services are not needed at this time.”
He stopped resisting and looked at me curiously. Though his arms were restrained, his hands were free. He lifted a finger and pointed to Beth’s door. I shook my head. Next, he seemed confused. I removed my hand from his mouth, ready to cover it again if he started to scream.
“Are you sure?” he said. “I feel like I should go in there.”
“I’m positive,” I said. “It’s not the right time.”
He nodded. Before I could get up and help him to his feet, he began to shake beneath me. All of a sudden, miniscule pieces of him began to flake off from his body and float down the hall. His head was the last to go. He smiled at me as his face slowly dissolved into tiny particles that drifted away to join the others. Since there was nothing left to hold down, I stood up to watch as thousands of specks formed a large circle at the end of the hall, swirled around for a moment, and then disappeared completely.
Chapter Ten
I went to Beth’s door and knocked. No one answered. After another attempt, I walked further down the hall until the sequence of room numbers started over again. Thinking perhaps following them in order might shed some light on the case, I tapped on the door with a “2” on it and waited. Right as I was about to move on to the room with the “6” on it, and previously the one where Beth’s mental version of Bobby Fugate made strange and disturbing love to hundred-dollar bills, someone cracked open the door. Half-glad I didn’t have to witness imaginary Bobby’s cash-sex fest again and half-curious, I peeked in closer to see the young man from earlier with the faux hawk and Ramones t-shirt staring back at me.
“What do you want?” he asked, obviously hiding something.
“I’m looking for Beth,” I said.
“You her uncle or something?” he inquired, eyeing me suspiciously.
“No.”
“You a cop?” he continued his interrogation.
“No,” I replied.
“You sure? ’Caus
e if you are, you gotta tell me. I know all about entrapment.”
“I’m sure you do but you can put your guilty conscience at ease,” I assured him. “I’m not a cop.”
“Wait a second then,” he said and shut the door in my face.
A minute or so later, the door opened again. Teenage Beth peeked through the crack. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were bloodshot. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I just want to talk to you,” I said.
She looked me up and down then wiped her nose with her shirt sleeve. “You got any weed?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” I said and willed a pound bag of make-believe marijuana to appear in my hands. “Really good shit.”
Her eyes lit up and she quickly opened the door. “Su casa es mi casa,” she said eagerly and motioned for me to enter.
“I think you have that backward.”
“What backward?”
“Never mind,” I said and stepped inside with the imaginary pot.
The room was more of a teenager’s bedroom than a hotel room. There were posters of musicians on the wall that I’d never heard of, along with a few I had. The most familiar was of Jim Morrison, lead singer of The Doors and well before Beth’s time yet timeless all the same.
There was also a single mattress with no sheets on the floor, making it appear as if Teenage Beth and her male companion were squatting rather than staying officially.
All of this was seen through a thin haze that filled the room. There were no overhead lights, only a red lamp in the corner that gave the room an almost stereotypical drug den vibe.
The faux hawk fellow was taking a hit from a one-foot-tall hookah on a lopsided table with a missing leg and a pile of phone books in its place. Beth sat next to him, took the vinyl hose attached to the hookah from him and inhaled through the wooden mouthpiece. She exhaled and looked at me impatiently, an age-defying glare like the one she gave me only moments earlier in her adult form.
“What are you waiting for?” she said impudently. “Let’s fire it up.”
When Beth Wakes Up Page 6