Spider Lines

by Terry Trafton

  With a look of confusion, Ben asked, “Maybe the bigger question is what happens if we actually discover one of these portals or gateways? It would be a gateway to where?”

  Dr. White answered quickly. “Documenting the actual existence of a portal might be enough. That itself would be incredibly significant.”

  But it was Liz Raymond who gave the answer Manning expected but was not at all sure he wanted to hear. Still, he listened as she articulated the words slowly, precisely, and thinking with each word she spoke how serious she was.

  “As incomprehensible as it sounds, we go through,” she said in a nonchalant tone that was evident to both Ben and Adrian.

  “That’s way too risky for me. I like where I’m living—if you know what I mean,” Ben said flatly.

  “Relax, Ben, we’re a long way from anything that serious,” acknowledged Liz with a slight smile. “Let’s analyze again those EMF data,” she suggested. “Maybe we’ve missed something that will help narrow the search.”

  “Since there are no signposts to guide us,” began White, “it’s time to think outside the box, which means determining alternatives that might possibly alter known laws of physics.” Then after a short pause he added, “Based on NASA-funded research, we begin with x-points, but we go beyond those. Let’s correlate magnetic field data with EVP strengths.”

  This was all getting much too technical for Manning, who excused himself and went outside. Just as he left the house, he saw the Klassy Kleen SUV roll to a stop. He’d been anxious to see his favorite cleaners again, if for no other reason than to have the other upstairs rooms cleaned. He was sure Jenna would be glad to finish the work and move on to another job.

  She smiled when she saw him. “Any more ghosts?”

  “It was a Strauss waltz,” he told her.

  “What?”

  “The music we heard last night in the great room.”

  “Oh, you’re talking about the dance, or waltz of the zombies.”

  Lacey came in during the middle of the conversation. “What’s this talk about zombies?”

  Before either Ben or Jenna could answer, Dr. Raymond came out of the house with a camera. “Where was it you saw the figure?” she asked.

  Pointing, Ben answered, “Over there by the stone bridge. She was standing just a few feet away.”

  “I’d like to put a trail camera near that spot, attach it to one of those nearby cedar trees,” and as she spoke, she pointed at a specific tree near the bridge. “Maybe we’ll pick up something there.”

  Jenna and Lacey went into the house to continue cleaning a couple of upstairs rooms. Ben helped Liz secure the camera and watched as she adjusted it. The ground was wet, still spongy in places from last night’s heavy rain. Near the bridge were several puddles that in the morning sun glistened like chunks of broken glass.

  After the camera was set, Liz seemed preoccupied with something. She was on her knees and looked intently at the ground in front of her.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “There’s something down there.”

  “It’s probably a septic tank.”

  “No, it’s something else, something that doesn’t belong there.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Could be anything. I got a metal detector in the shed.”

  “Do you mind getting it?”

  “Not at all.”

  She continued to walk around the area close to the bridge. Sticking out of the ground and glinting in the sunlight was a piece of what appeared to be metal. But when she touched it, there was a sudden rumbling far off on the horizon, causing her to draw back quickly.

  Minutes later, Ben moved the metal detector across the lawn a few feet from where Dr. Raymond was kneeling. Rain had washed away some of the topsoil and when he looked closer, he noticed a slight depression. Nearer the bridge was another sunken area. Since moving in, he hadn’t paid much attention to the lawn or landscaping. Rikki Whitmore had told him that a man named Tyler had kept up the grass and shrubs during the time Atwood House was the property of the realty company.

  “Did you find something?” Ben asked.

  Liz looked up. “I’m not sure. Bring it over here a minute.”

  As soon as he moved the metal detector across the piece that protruded no more than an inch or two out of the soil, it began beeping strongly. Liz had found a broken branch and began digging into the soft earth, trying to uncover more of whatever it was shining so brightly in the sunlight.

  “It’s more than six feet down.” He showed her the depth reading on the metal detector. “And it’s not metal.”

  Liz tossed the stick into the bushes. “Would it be okay with you if we get a GPR unit in here?”

  “What’s that?” asked Manning.

  “Ground penetrating radar. It’s extremely sensitive equipment, and it will give us a good idea what’s down there.”

  “Sure, if you think it’s important.”

  “We won’t know until we do more expansive scans of the area.”

  They went inside to look for Adrian to tell him they had found something of interest in the yard. Holding a dust mop, Adrian was standing in the center of the great room, his head laid back, and staring either at the ceiling or at the decorative cornice around the upper windows. He penciled information into a notebook, and after returning the small notebook to his pocket, he began thrusting the mop out in front of him, jabbing it at the back wall, then lunging with it higher up near the ceiling cornice. Though deliberate and methodical, his actions seemed ridiculous to Ben who was looking at Liz for her reaction.

  Suddenly, he turned to them with a revelation that was not necessarily unexpected. “We saw the shadows disappear at the back of this room.”

  “They had to go somewhere,” Liz agreed.

  It sounded like he was letting them in on his thoughts. For a moment, Ben felt he might be in the way and thought about leaving. White, however, regarded him curiously as though he had something to say, but didn’t know how to say it without sounding impulsive.

  At length, Adrian asked, “What’s in there?” he pointed to a door on the other side of the room.

  “Another room, empty as far as I know. Probably a sitting room at some time or another, or possibly a storeroom.” Ben went over and opened the door. The air was hot and stale, and with only light shining in from the great room, it was hard to see the interior clearly. But there was enough light for him to see the dark figure standing motionless in a thin stream of light. “There’s somebody in there!” he yelled, as he pulled the door shut. “It’s her.”

  Chapter 10

  Once they located the light switch and entered the room, which was larger than Ben expected, they found a storeroom with a few pieces of antique furniture pushed up against two walls. A couple of oil paintings were partially covered with a soiled cloth, dusty books in stacks on a table, and a carpet was rolled against one wall. Some early 20th century men’s clothing on a hanger caught Ben’s attention. Under an ornate chair was a pair of vintage men’s shoes. In one corner was an aluminum ladder. What they had earlier thought was the figure of a woman turned out to be a dress form draped in a Victorian gown.

  “That’s strange,” Ben declared.

  What resembled a doorway, possibly one opening into an adjoining room, was bricked shut, and it had not been done recently. For a moment, Ben thought it might originally have been a fireplace, but quickly dismissed this idea, largely because he knew none of the chimneys corresponded to this area of the house.

  They thought nothing more about it. White seemed anxious to return to the great room and asked Ben to bring the ladder so he could continue his observation, or search, closer to the ceiling. With too many loose ends for Dr. White, it was beginning to look like resolutions would take more time. Though he was not as tenacious as he had seemed earlier, Adrian’s c
ontinued determination and resolve remained evident to Ben who regretted that this investigation was pulling him away from his painting.

  Increasingly excited, Liz realized the importance of what she referred to as a “signature investigation with paranormal overtones and influences.” She continued to study those data already compiled, trying hard to find something they had missed—something that would explain what had happened, while also searching for indications that there were considerably more paranormal events to come.

  “I think we’re looking in the wrong place. We need to turn the room the other way—spin it,” Adrian suggested. “Maybe it’s like the image on the retina of the eye, an image in reverse.”

  Ben, who was holding the ladder while White continued to poke higher up near the tops of the windows, considered these random attempts to locate a portal, ridiculous. In appearance, the event had taken on aspects of theater, an air of absurdity. Adrian White was hoping for the miracle that would reveal a gateway. He was a believer and wanted faith to be a tenant of the scientific method. Maybe it was faith that kept him poking another 30 minutes into the many nooks and crannies in the great room at Atwood House.

  Jenna and Lacey had finished cleaning and packed their supplies into the SUV. Jenna asked Ben for an update on the investigation, which he embellished, hoping to keep her interested. Having Jenna around was a pleasant experience that he looked forward to, and each time she showed an inclination to stay, he was glad. Lacey, who was busy with school, said she would try and find time to stop by and help in any way possible.

  Around three o’clock that Saturday afternoon, a red pickup truck with Jennings Surveying stenciled in black letters on both doors pulled up in front of Atwood House. Herb Jennings and his 25-year old son, Matt, had been called in by Liz, who said she had used their services before and considered them dedicated professionals. Matt had told her that one summer night when he and some friends were swimming at Fischer’s Lake, they had seen “quite clearly” a V-shaped UFO land in a pasture less than a mile from the lake. Indiana MUFON was called, and several other witnesses came forward to confirm the sighting. Even though the military had cordoned off the area, investigating authorities referred to the event as nothing more than a meteor strike.

  Both Liz and Adrian were there to greet them and help them offload GPR equipment. The area by the bridge had been flagged and everyone was anxious to discover what lay beneath the surface. Ben stood near Matt on the stone bridge, observing Herb as he pulled the GPR unit over one quadrant at a time. Matt also watched for anomalies that might appear on the monitors of two computers set adjacent to each other on a folding table.

  “Using two computers, we can actually merge data into a three-dimensional image,” Matt told Ben.

  “How far down can you go with this equipment?”

  “That depends on the frequency of the antenna and the subsurface geology to a large extent. We can go deeper in dry sandy soils and in a subsurface like granite or limestone. Lower frequencies have more depth capability than higher frequencies. After 40 feet, signals weaken and become considerably less reliable,” Matt explained. “The equipment is cutting edge impact echo, infrared capable, and uses electromagnetic radiation radar pulses to actually image the subsurface.”

  “Sounds complicated,” Ben offered.

  Matt smiled. “It’s like a lot of other things in life—takes time and training to understand how to use it.”

  “A three-dimensional image should provide a fair indication of what’s down there?” continued Ben.

  “The integrity of the signal is usually reliable, but when radar signal attenuation occurs, reliability diminishes.” He saw the confusion on Ben’s face. “Readings indicate signatures. You see these horizontal lines, and the uniformity of the signal?” Again, he glanced at Ben, who nodded. “This ground is uncompromised—no intrusion. A subsurface disturbance will register as an anomaly.”

  Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. When Herb ran the GPR closer to the protrusion that Liz had found, the readings began to change.

  “Hot zone,” yelled Herb.

  After mapping the rest of the area near the bridge, they gathered around the monitors to sort through these data. Several vertical lines spiked as Matt tried to control the resolution and keep the transmission from fluctuating. Then, a three-dimensional image slowly emerged on one of the computer screens.

  “What is it?” Ben asked excitedly.

  “Septic tank,” Herb said assuredly.

  It was Matt who offered another opinion. “Awfully far down for a septic.” He pointed to the freeze frame on the screen as he spoke. “Look at the edges. They don’t look like manufactured or prefabricated sections—too jagged. Could be an obsolete septic system maybe.” After looking closer at the image, he added, “Whatever it is appears to be in several pieces, possibly something deliberately destroyed.”

  Herb studied the scans carefully before admitting, “Could be broken foundation.” He turned to Ben. “Was there a structure here, an old pump house, a concrete foundation for a storage shed maybe?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t know of anything.”

  Matt made another suggestion. “They might be left over pieces of stonework from the bridge.” Again, he pointed to the image on the screen. “These striations indicate a natural formation, granite or possibly limestone. If the pieces are concrete, we’d see less uniformity.”

  The son was schooling the father, Ben decided. More scans, more speculation about what was buried more than six feet in the ground. White looked closely at the piece now protruding nearly a foot out of the soil, the same piece Liz had attempted to dig out with the end of a broken branch. Still convinced that it was a piece from one of the andesite panels, probably discarded during the construction of the bridge, Ben ran his fingers over the smooth surface. One corner of the rectangular piece glistened white with sunlight.

  “It’s definitely a larger structure that has been deliberately buried,” White concluded.

  “Something really alien,” Liz suggested boldly, “and it has been down there several years, probably since the house was built. I get an impression of catastrophe.”

  Whether anyone else heard what Liz said was uncertain. Or if they heard it, maybe they dismissed it as incidental talk. Ben heard it clearly enough and was already trying to comprehend the implications of something catastrophic happening so close to Atwood House. The first thing that came to mind was an explosion—but an explosion of what?

  “It’s a signature we’ve seen before, on construction site surveys, where there were old church foundations or cemeteries,” Herb proclaimed. “But the mapping shows no indication of graves, so a cemetery can be ruled out.”

  “I’m sure there’s historical information available. Maybe a local historian can identify a particular structure that used to be here.” Ben was trying hard to find a solution that would delay excavation of the site.

  “There’s not enough down there to suggest a really large structure,” Matt confessed, “not a large stone structure anyway.”

  It was Adrian who noticed what the rest of them had missed. That section which had been recently exposed showed no indication of being in the ground—no soil line, no noticeable patina. White continued to study the anomaly as Manning watched.

  “Any ideas?” asked Ben.

  “Maybe it’s nothing more than an aberration, a fault line, or even scratches from a mower blade,” Adrian replied, “and yet there seems to be a pattern, an impression intentionally incised into the surface.”

  Ben watched intently as White continued to examine the indentations. “Is it stone?”

  “This does not feel like stone,” White confessed.

  “Maybe this will help,” said Jenna, handing Adrian a bottle of drinking water.

  He splashed water across the surface and almost immediately tw
o shapes were visible. Both looked to be a triangle, one inverted on top of the other and resembling an hourglass. Although the top triangle was larger, they converged at their apexes. Exactly at the point where it disappeared into the ground was the beginning of what looked to be a series of lines. White attempted to wiggle the piece, perhaps thinking he could extract it, but it was too deeply embedded in the earth and not moving at all.

  Liz pushed the idea of digging, saying, “Matt might be right. What’s down there might be discarded or unused pieces from construction of the bridge. But I’m convinced it’s more than that, and I’m sure there are several other pieces to be found.” She glanced across the field in the direction of the large woods to the northeast. “There are several perceptible undulations in the ground on an otherwise flat terrain, and they head off toward those trees. The soil has been pushed up somehow, not deliberately, but possibly because of whatever it was that happened here.”

  Herb spoke directly to Adrian White and then to Ben. “We can get a backhoe in here, or Bobcat, something less invasive than heavier equipment that would tear up the lawn.”

  Drs. White and Raymond looked at Ben. Even Jenna regarded him anxiously, after glancing again at the scans, which were still freeze-framed on the monitors.

  “If you think what’s down there is significant, then let’s dig,” Ben suggested.

  Before a decision could be made, Liz called Adrian back to the monitors. “I want you to see this.” Her tone was serious, as though whatever it was she had discovered had taken on new meaning.

  With each of them looking at the monitor, which was in the shade enough to keep the image from washing out, Liz pointed to a shadowy part of the object just below the surface. “Look closely and you can see what seem to be marks in a sort of deliberate pattern.”

  They did, and it was Jenna who said, “Symbols.”

  “Possible iconography,” stated Dr. Raymond.