by Dale Mayer
The dogs just growled low in the back of their throats, making it such an odd sound that it sent shivers down her spine. She called out to whatever it was, “We mean you no harm.”
Silence came, but the wind did seem to lessen.
“I don’t know if you understand whatever language it is we’re using here,” she said, “but we mean no harm. If we have brought a disturbance to you, to your way of life, whoever it is that you are, my apologies. We are trying to fix it.”
But again no answer.
A voice behind her said, “You really think that’ll work?” Samson stood there, looking at her curiously.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Have you tried to communicate with it yet?”
“Occasionally, but I’ve mostly been staying inside and letting it do its thing. Stefan says I—we—need to make sure we show no fear when we go outside. That this is all about unbalanced energy trying to right itself. He’s not sure how, but it’s attracted to the energy here.”
“Then maybe staying inside has caused it to stick around. Maybe it wants to communicate.”
“But what is it exactly?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “All I can say is, it’s energy of some kind, and that worries me.”
“You have a very analytical mind when it comes to this stuff, don’t you?”
“An analytical mind in most cases,” she said, “but, regarding this stuff, no. This is all about my gut. And my gut says that, although it’s dangerous, it doesn’t have to be. I think it’s negative energy, and I think it has been created, released or brought into being somehow from whatever is going on in the sound.”
“So what is it doing up here?”
“The waterspouts,” she said. “It’s releasing the negative energy in the waterspouts. Every time that happens, another shot of negative energy bubbles up. I bet if we timed the spouts to the movements in the trees, they’d match up. Maybe that energy we see and feel in the trees is that energy looking for balance,” she said with sudden certainty. “No, I don’t understand it, and, no, I can’t explain it.”
“It’s a theory though,” Samson said slowly. “It’s more than I had, and yours is similar to Stefan’s.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve got theories. Everybody’ll have theories, from aliens to Russian Cold War leftovers.” She gave a wave of her hand toward the trees. “But I don’t think it’s as simple as either of those.”
“Not that simple?” he said in dismay. “Hell, if we’re even talking Cold War, things get very, very complicated.”
“I suppose it could possibly be experiments from way back when? Bombs from way back when? Maybe the Russians had a research program they started and quit, but it was self-running. Maybe it’s some kind of a, I don’t know, autonomous generator down there.”
“Whoa, stop,” he said. “Every one of those suggestions just get worse and worse.”
She chuckled. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ve seen all kinds of things from World War I and World War II that we wish we hadn’t. Bombs still ready to blow, mines still floating in the ocean. I mean, it is possible.” She turned to look out at the water. “How do we ever know what is on the seabed? Such a vast amount of area is out there, so much more seabed than actual land above water. And yet, we’re not exploring it.”
“I’m thinking maybe that’s a good thing,” Samson said drily. “Look at what happens with just a little human interference.”
“True enough,” she said with a half smile. “I think this was human-caused. I’m grateful to whatever saved my life. But I don’t think humans had anything to do with saving me in the sound. But all the rest of this disturbance of Mother Nature? Yes. Man did it.”
“So, what then? The animals saved your life so you could help save theirs?” he asked curiously.
Startled, she turned so she could see his face straight-on. At least she had pulled up some interesting theories, and she nodded. “You know what? I wouldn’t be at all surprised. They’re smart. We know that. They’re damn smart.”
*
Samson had to wonder. She made a lot of sense. They just had to have some proof to back it up. “I sent off a lot of emails,” he said with hope in his gaze. “We’ll hear back in the next little bit. It’ll give us something more concrete to go on.”
“I contacted somebody I know at the Coast Guard too,” Whimsy said. “I don’t know that they’ll give out too much information, but, if they could at least steer us in the right direction, that would be start.”
He nodded. “That sounds good. But what I need now is food.”
She turned her head, hearing sounds from Jamie’s bedroom. “I think he’s awake and looking for food too,” she said with a chuckle.
“He can damn well help us then,” Samson said with a smile.
In the kitchen she pulled out a loaf of bread and started slicing.
“Scrambled eggs work for you?”
“Any and all food works for me,” she said comfortably. “I am not picky. I eat everything.”
“Good thing,” he said. “I’m hoping Ned will come in today with fresh supplies, but a storm’s brewing, so he might have to wait a day or two.”
“In which case we’re down to beans,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think it will be that bad.”
“I like beans,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Whatever food there is, I’ll eat it. And, if I can’t eat because there’s not enough, then that’s fine too.”
He snorted at that. “We won’t even go there. Chances are I can get the helicopter to come back with a delivery before it gets that bad.”
She nodded. “I like the idea of riding a helicopter back and forth. That was pretty fast.”
“It was. I just have to tally up the cost and figure out if that is the best business decision.”
“Anything that’s fast, saves time and is even close to the same monetary cost,” she said, “makes sense to me.”
“Agreed.” He started whipping the eggs.
She watched as he cracked a full dozen into a bowl. “Is Jamie a big eater?”
“He is when he’s here,” Samson said. “I think it must be the air.”
“More about the drugs slowly being weaned from his system.”
“Yeah, he can get ugly then,” he said. “It takes him a couple days to get back to his normal demeanor.”
“I haven’t seen very much that’s normal about Jamie yet,” Whimsy said. “But I’m tolerant, and he’s very much like my sister.”
“I am not,” sounded Jamie from the open doorway, his voice tired and petulant. He stood fully dressed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Sometimes I don’t know who and what I am,” he said, “but the drugs always make it ten times worse.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not on any more drugs right now, isn’t it?” Sampson asked. He motioned at the coffee. “There’s a fresh pot if you want a cup.”
Jamie’s gaze lit, and he stumbled forward.
Whimsy wondered about Jamie because it seemed like he had multiple personalities. Sometimes he appeared to be a fourteen-year-old, and sometimes he acted like a very educated thirty-year-old. But one thing she did understand was that nothing wasn’t really normal about him. And she wondered how much of that was from the work he did, the stuff he could do.
“Were you always like this?” she asked Jamie.
His lips quirked. “Like what? Always a druggie? Yes. From like fifteen on. Big brother Samson fought it pretty hard at the time. I was sure he was part of the establishment that I was trying to get away from. When I had that major episode where I could escape and understood there was a world without the physical body, I realized Samson was really the grounding rod that kept me alive. He was a necessary part of my life. But I’m always fighting it. I can’t really understand why. When I’m in my physical body, I want to be free. Then I get angry and frustrated, and something else takes a hold of me. I fight t
o zip out again. I don’t mean to be a problem for Samson, but obviously there’re times when I am.”
Samson looked at her. “What about your sister? Was she always the way she was?”
“No,” Whimsy whispered. “Marion was like that because of me.”
Both men turned to her. Her smile was sad as she looked at Jamie. “What happened to her was my fault. That’s why I took such good care of her,” she said sadly. “When we were kids, I fell into the water, and she dove in to save me. She was rescued but had been without oxygen too long, leading to some brain damage.” Her voice turned husky as her gaze went from one man to the other. “She was alive—but not the same as before.”
Chapter 20
That admission gave her a sense of freedom, a letting go of long pent-up emotions.
Samson shook his head. “You were a child. That’s hardly your fault.”
“Maybe, but that’s been my cross to bear. As for you, Jamie, you could also ground yourself more on this side without utilizing Samson’s energy, couldn’t you?” she asked softly. “I understand it takes more energy for you to live on this side of this divide, but it’s also greedy and selfish to just take from your brother whenever you want, only because you want it. It’s different if there is an issue to be solved, but, to do it willfully without a care for his energy levels, I don’t understand that.”
Jamie stared at her in surprise. “What’s to understand. I do it because I need to.”
“Why is your need greater than his?” she asked.
“Because he has no use for it. He doesn’t understand energy, and he isn’t working with it in any way that’s effective.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “That’s what you’re allowing yourself to believe in order to do what you want to do without any consequences.”
Jamie glared at her, and she knew Jamie wouldn’t want to hear what she had to say. She held up a finger. “Stop. This isn’t just about you. This is about you and Samson and Stefan and whatever that big energy thing is out there.” She waved her arm toward the window and the ocean. “You cannot be a petulant fourteen-year-old all the time. Just now you were a highly lucid adult.”
He snorted. “Remember the drugs? That’s where it left me.” There was a whine to his voice now. “I flip.”
“No,” she said. “I’ve seen the lucidity you can show. I’ve also seen the petulant little boy you choose to be because it allows you to get away with bad behavior. Lets you avoid showing respect for your brother.”
Jamie glared at her, his hands clenching and unclenching.
She recognized the signs because her sister had been that way so often. “No,” she said, trying to forestall a temper tantrum. “I understand there are issues. I understand you have more challenges than many people. But what isn’t allowed is you hurting others because of your own selfishness.”
He leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve never hurt anybody.”
She shoved her face right back in his. “You’ve hurt Samson many, many times. And he lets you get away with it every damn time.”
Jamie stepped backward. “Then I’m not hurting him, am I?”
“Absolutely you are. And you should feel guilty. You should feel terrible about it,” she snapped back. This was too important to give in. She didn’t know how much going on in Jamie’s brain was real and how much of it was put on. But she knew he wasn’t doing much to manage either state. “You want to stay as much as you can on the other side? Then, when you’re on this side, you need to behave yourself. You need to show you can manage both sides.” She folded her arms across her chest. “This life is for people who care, people who care about both sides of the world. You don’t get to hop over there and escape this one after causing chaos here.”
There was silence. Jamie turned ever-so-slowly to look at her.
She saw his understanding, and yet, his temper in his gaze. She nodded. “So stop acting like a fourteen-year-old boy and let your brother see you’re a capable young man who’s just selfish and lazy.” And on that she turned on her heels, grabbed her half-full coffee cup and walked outside to the dogs. She plunked herself down on the porch and reached out a hand to Queen. The dog sidled up and leaned heavily against Whimsy. She cuddled her gently. “Something about female energy is needed right now,” she whispered. “There’s way too much testosterone in that house.”
An odd sound came from King beside her. She almost imagined it was like a snuffle or a snort. Maybe one of disgust, considering he was male too.
She chuckled. “The thing is, you can’t be allowed to get away with that, and neither can Jamie.”
“How do you know that’s what he needs?”
She stiffened at Samson’s voice behind her. “Because I understand what he’s doing,” she said wearily. “And I’ll understand too if you want me to go back with Ned whenever he gets here.”
Samson hopped off the porch and walked around to stand in front of her. “Jamie’s been diagnosed on the spectrum, and he does have some challenges.”
“His challenges are likely drug-induced, and, no, I’m not saying he doesn’t have valid challenges,” she said steadily. “A sane adult male is very much in there, but I think he’s spoiled and petulant, and nobody has held him accountable for his behavior because of his problems.”
Samson gave her a slow dawning smile. “Well, you’re definitely a breath of fresh air for him, and for me,” he admitted. “I watched that interplay, and you’re right. I saw no signs of the mentally challenged boy I would have expected to see. He was very adult about the whole thing.”
“He slides back into that disadvantaged boy,” she said, “because it gets him what he wants, which is escape from the drudgery and which is freedom to do what he really wants, which is to live here in a lazy life until he’s tired of it, and then he escapes to the other side.”
“He’s gone to lie down now,” Samson said thoughtfully. “He seemed quite distraught.”
“He wasn’t distraught with me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He was just pissed. I called him on his behavior.”
“And you learned to do all of that through your sister?”
“Yes, Marion also had a lot of mental challenges. Her behavior was also typically bad, and I often had to call her on it,” Whimsy said with a sad smile. “Most of the time she was fine. Sometimes she got really angry at me because I was telling her the truth, and I wouldn’t play her games. I think it’s important to understand we’re all manipulative. We’re all trying to get our way with the least amount of effort on our part. So you can’t blame Jamie for being who he is. What you need to do is look at your behavior and how you treat him. And then change it.” She watched as Samson’s back stiffened at her criticism. “And that’s why I said, if you want me to go back with Ned, I understand.”
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“No,” she said, “I don’t. It’s one of the reasons I was celebrating getting my PhD. One of the people on my panel didn’t like me. We had not seen eye to eye in a long time. Still, I had to defend my thesis to the point that, even if he did try to disqualify me, all the others could override him. So we had a clearing of the air, so to speak.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him very plainly who I’d tell about his indiscretions if he deliberately blocked my thesis on personal grounds. He also had very strange experiments, and I was sure the world wouldn’t be happy to hear about them. So, for extra punch, I said I’d be sure to let the media know of his dangerous selective-breeding ideas.”
“Selective breeding?”
“Selective engineering to a certain extent,” she said with a twist of her lips. “He’d been given some grant money too, from private donors but also from our own government. That was scary. He was trying to eradicate several of the lower food chain animals in order to let others build in strength out here in the sound.”
“This wasn’t Dr. Harold Strauss by any chance
, was it?”
She gurgled with laughter. “Gee, not hard to guess, was it?”
“No,” Samson said. “He’s been laughed out of many conferences.”
“Yes, he has, but he still has a lot of friends in high places. But then money talks, and he has quite a bit of money of his own too.”
“How much does he dislike you?”
“At one point I thought he put some effort into getting me kicked out of the university. But I had done absolutely nothing wrong, and most of the professors knew me as an exemplary student. So the school board reinstated my position. And I did have one professor go to bat for me as well. He seemed to dislike Strauss as much as I did. He’s the one who lent the kayaks to me the day I drowned.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes,” she said. “I was offered a teaching position at the university, but I decided the academia life was not for me. It would mean dealing with Strauss more. There was always something sly about him, something off.”
“Off is correct. He’s one of those conspiracy theorists who causes a lot of trouble for the scientific world.”
“That’s because he straddles both worlds,” Whimsy said with an eye roll. “He has a solid education, and, every once in a while, he comes up with a gem of an idea, but, the rest of time, he’s just out there.”
“Very true.” Samson turned to study the sound. “He didn’t have any ideas as crazy as what we’re seeing here, did he?”
“Not that I know of. But, if somebody was behind some crazy-ass research or some methodology to move the plates and to open up another dimension,” she said with a broken laugh, “I’d be looking at him as the one spearheading it. But, so far, the world has sustained a certain amount of reliable saneness and not allowed him to get into stuff like that.”
“That you know of,” Samson said. “How long have you been openly fighting with him?”
“Since the first year of my bachelor’s degree. I caught him having sex with a student in his office. It wasn’t technically his office. It was an empty one I’d been told to use. Ever since then, he’s been on my case.”