Spider Lines

by Terry Trafton

  Chapter 39

  He had to see her again. A month had passed without a sign of Anna. Even Jenna thought it strange. Still cold, the only snow that remained was in small icy drifts in places where the sun seldom shined. Matt had surveyed the foundations of both the parsonage and what Ben was convinced was the church. Remaining at both sites were several limestone rocks, which distinguished what remained of the foundations. With most stones embedded a few inches below the topsoil, there was no point in exposing them. The GPR readings did, however, show the approximate size of the church, which was small and most likely like those white clapboard churches that still existed, particularly in small towns.

  Further research revealed that it had been a Baptist church, and that the pastor lived alone in an adjacent parsonage. Records showed both church and parsonage construction were completed in 1900. The church was destroyed by fire only a year later. The parsonage, though not destroyed, was heavily damaged, and the property eventually abandoned. Ben was glad to have these additional historical data pertaining to Atwood House and its surrounding property, if for no other reason than to get a sense of the bigger picture.

  One of Manning’s New Year’s resolutions was to accept more commissions from those who wanted portraits painted. He would still have plenty of time for landscapes but realized portrait painting generated a rather steady income. It was Jenna who, after seeing the finished portrait of Anna, which now hung in the library, persuaded him to advertise in a couple of local periodicals. “After all,” she had told him, “that portrait of Anna Atwood is pure genius.” Like an art critic anxious to comment, she was convinced that it was “the eyes” that made the portrait work.

  It was early Thursday evening. Ben was napping on the couch in front of a low burning fire, while one of Brahms’ Brandenburg Concertos played on the radio. At first, he paid no attention to it, dismissing the voice as the announcer’s. But Brandenburg Concerto #3 in G major was still playing. Twice more, a faint whisper near him prompted him to sit up and glance around the room. He expected to see Jenna but was surprised to find the room empty. He called out Jenna’s name and waited for her to answer. Maybe she’d just come in and was still in the foyer.

  Walking across the room to lower the volume on the radio, he thought he had caught a glimpse of Anna Atwood. With the music muted, there was only the silence of Atwood House pressing in around him. Even an hour of silence in a house as big as this was beginning to wear on his nerves. He never thought that possible. He bought the house, thinking silence a prescription for sanity. Maybe Jenna was right. If there was inspiration inside these ancient walls, it was still hiding in the closets and under the stairs, still waiting to be discovered.

  When his mobile phone rang, it startled him momentarily. It was Jenna. She and Lacey were on their way to Atwood House. Though he was surprised that Lacey was coming with her, he was relieved that soon this monotonous silence would loosen its relentless and wretched grip on him. He waited for them on the front porch, waving as the car came to a stop in a gray twilight.

  Dressed in winter coats and woolen scarves, they hurried up the steps eager to get inside out of the sharp chill that still held the broader Evansville area in its grip. Lacey wore a tam-o’-shanter appropriately tilted to one side, with a matching pair of red mittens, which gave her a charming schoolgirlish appearance. Lacey was perky and always completely sure of herself, qualities much admired by Matt Jennings who had been dating her.

  “How you been, Lacey?” he asked politely once they were all inside.

  “Busy, busy, busy,” she admitted. “School is kicking me pretty good. But after eight years, mostly night school, I’m graduating this May. Hurray! Hurray!”

  “And then what? Are you still doing the drama thing?”

  “Not anymore. Too many big heads. Too much ego. Social work seems to be a better fit for me.”

  “Well, congratulations. I know it’ll all work out for you.”

  The three of them sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee that Jenna had just made. Lacey told them she was “a little uneasy,” as though she was being observed by someone she could not see. As she tapped the table top lightly with her fingers, she seemed focused on someone in the dining room. “Who’s that?” she asked abruptly.

  Ben, sitting with his back to the dining room, looked across the table at Lacey. Jenna, who sat between them at the end of the table, looked at Lacey and then at Ben, as confused by Lacey’s sudden reaction as he was. Remembering Lacey’s flare for the dramatic, Ben was prepared to ignore it—until he saw her pointing toward the dining room.

  “There’s a woman standing in the doorway behind you,” announced Lacey.

  Startled, Jenna drew back and glanced again at Ben, who turned in his chair to see Anna standing exactly where Lacey had said—in the door to the dining room. She reached out as though she wanted Ben to take her hand. “You must destroy it,” she said. Before Ben could say a word, she was gone.

  Lacey poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and shook her head slowly. “I never know quite what to expect when I’m here.”

  Dismissing Lacey’s remark, Ben asked, “What did she mean by that? Destroy what?”

  “I don’t know, Ben,” Jenna began, “but I don’t trust her. For some strange reason, the woman is obsessed with you, and either you can’t see that, or you don’t want to see it.”

  Lacey calmly walked into the dining room and immediately disappeared. Both Ben and Jenna saw it happen and looked at each other shocked. But in the next instant Lacey was back, standing in front of them as though nothing unusual had happened.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Lacey asked, seeing the strange expressions on their faces.

  “You disappeared,” Jenna informed her. “You were there one second and gone the next, and now you’re back again.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “She’s telling you the truth, Lacey. We saw it happen.”

  “But I swear I saw both of you standing in the doorway,” Lacey replied.

  Ben walked over to where Lacey was standing. It was the same place where he’d first encountered Anna on Christmas Eve. Reaching out his arm, he saw it disappear into thin air.

  “Ben!” cried Jenna. “Your arm! It’s gone!”

  “Don’t you understand what this means?” He turned away from them, but quickly glanced over his shoulder as though he wanted to be sure they were watching. Then without saying another word, he stepped into what he was sure was another dimension.

  “Ben!” shouted Jenna.

  Then it was Lacey who stepped across the invisible threshold. Jenna backed away, striking a dining room chair sharply. She watched the space where she had last seen them, only to observe an arm emerging out of thin air. Then it was another arm that appeared. Like the fabled Cheshire Cat, Ben’s face appeared, then disappeared, and then appeared again, only this time with Lacey’s face a few feet away. Two familiar faces visible and neither had a body.

  Again, the faces were gone, and again Jenna waited. Five minutes passed, and still no sign of Ben or Lacey. Ten minutes passed, and she felt panic taking hold. But panic wasn’t the only thing to take hold of her. From out of nowhere, a hand shot out and grabbed Jenna by the wrist, pulling her firmly. It was a man’s voice, but not Ben’s.

  “It’s finished,” said the voice. “There is no longer hope. We are prisoners of another time.”

  Startled, Jenna managed to pull away.

  “Stay away from me.” It was Lacey, her voice shrill. Jenna could not decide whether she was angry or frightened.

  “It’s me, Lacey,” Ben said.

  “I’m so confused. Where am I?”

  “Give me your hand.” Again, it was Ben’s voice.

  The next thing Jenna saw was the two of them reappearing in the dining room. Ben smiled. Lacey looked shocked. Even Jenna was shaken by what had happen
ed. Ben, however, looked at them excitedly.

  “We saw you clearly, Jenna,” began Ben. “Your movements were hurried, rushed, sort of erratic and jerky, like those movements of characters in silent movies. Even your voice, well it sounded like a recording played at the wrong speed.” Then he regarded Lacey, who was noticeably disoriented. “Are you okay, Lacey?”

  “Hardly,” she answered. “What happened?”

  “I think there’s an open gateway right here in front of us,” replied Ben confidently.

  “A gateway to where?” asked Lacey.

  “I don’t know. I think we stepped into another time, another dimension.” Looking at Jenna, he added, “We were gone no longer than a minute. I didn’t have time to see where we were.”

  “You were gone almost fifteen minutes, Ben.”

  He remembered what Adrian White had told him the day White was driving from Bloomington, Indiana back to Evansville, when he was caught in a time slip and ended up in Nashville, Tennessee. He referred to the event as a “crease” in the space–time continuum. The only explanation Adrian had was that “there are portals that routinely open and close at various geographical locations.”

  “It was hazy, like being in a dissipating fog,” Ben told Jenna.

  “I had my eyes closed most of the time,” confessed Lacey. “When I opened them, I expected to see something, anything, but there was nothing but fog. It was cold and unsettling. Next time, I’ll wear a light jacket or sweater,” she smiled, after regaining at least some composure.

  “What if there is no next time?” Jenna was attempting to put the incident into a more rational perspective and wanted to minimize the euphoric spin. “This isn’t something to fool around with, Ben. It’s dangerous. What about the others that exist in this house?” she cautioned, continuing to show agitation with what she considered Ben’s cavalier attitude. “How do you know when they open, when they close?” She saw him start across the room toward the door at the other end of the dining room. “What are you doing, Ben?”

  Expecting to disappear again through what he was convinced was a portal or time slip, he didn’t answer. Much to his surprise, when he crossed what he thought was the threshold, he was still visible.

  “It’s gone,” Lacey declared, brushing the air with both hands. “Just like that, it’s gone.”

  “She’s right,” Ben confirmed. “It’s no longer open.”

  Jenna shook her head as she spoke. “This is serious, Ben.”

  “It’s exciting,” proclaimed Lacey.

  “And what if you got stuck there and couldn’t get back?”

  “Stuck where?” asked Lacey. “I don’t even know where I was.”

  Shaking his head, Ben answered slowly, “I didn’t think about that.”

  “If you can come and go that easily,” Jenna went on, “so can people from the other side.”

  After a moment, he nodded agreement. “You’re right.”

  “There was a man’s voice,” Jenna told them.

  A bit more serious now, Ben said, “It was me. I was the one you heard.”

  “No,” returned Jenna flatly. “It was not you, Ben.”

  “Who then?”

  “I don’t know, a strange voice, speaking of being trapped in another time.”

  “This is getting weird.” Lacey smiled as she spoke. “There’s always something strange going on in this house. Maybe the entire house is a gateway.”

  “She might be right, Ben.”

  “Adrian White needs to see this,” thought Manning out loud.

  “I’m afraid we’re getting in way over our heads with all this,” Jenna admitted.

  Ben regarded her carefully before saying, “Maybe so, but we need to discover what’s going on in this house, because if the government gets wind of this, it’ll be too late for all of us.”

  But the government already had Newburgh in its crosshairs. Even as they spoke, satellite scans were being carefully reviewed by Smith and his colleagues, one of whom was Walking Einstein.

  Chapter 40

  “Newburgh, Indiana,” said Smith to Walking Einstein. “We’re talking about an antique river town in Southern Indiana.” He laid out a map on the desk before adding, “The Air Force actually dug property there years ago,” and he thumped a circled spot on the map with his index finger.

  “They missed something. Surely you’ve considered that.”

  “Yes, we’ve considered it, and we’re still considering it,” snapped Smith.

  “These aerial reconnaissance scans show nothing immediately significant, but I’m sure something in Newburgh was responsible for one of the three light beams we saw at the Abbey,” Chase stated.

  “And we’re trying to figure out what that is,” declared Smith.

  Pointing to Shanklin’s pond, “What’s this?” Charlie asked.

  “Nothing important, just a big hole in the ground.”

  “But there’s something there.” As Smith bent down to get a closer look, Charlie took a magnifying glass from a desk drawer and handed it to him. “Here, maybe this will help.”

  “Construction equipment, looks like a bulldozer.”

  “No, the thing in the middle of the hole, what is that?” pressed Charlie.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Suppose it’s a pond or lake that’s been drained recently?” Charlie surmised. “Maybe the dam had a leak, or maybe they wanted to dig it deeper. If you look closely, the place near the bulldozer looks like a dam. And right there in the middle might be what we’re look for, a power source.”

  “With the one we discovered in Rockport, this one could be the missing piece of this trinity thing?” asked Smith.

  “I think so,” Charlie Chase agreed.

  “And you think we need to take a closer look at what’s there.”

  “I’ve seen the declassified briefs from the 1947 dig, and whatever was taken away was either incomplete or nothing more than wreckage of some kind.”

  “Many details of that excavation are still classified,” Smith declared bluntly. “As far as leaving something behind, it’s possible, but I doubt it. That site’s been surveyed and resurveyed.”

  “If you look carefully, there’s something near this small bridge, and it’s near the original dig site.”

  Smith looked to where Chase was pointing, and again shook his head as if to say it had no significance. He seemed anxious to leave, giving Charlie the impression that what had happened the other night was now prioritized as newly classified information much beyond Walking Einstein’s pay grade. Glancing at Charlie, he nodded and left the room.

  For several seconds, Charlie stared at the aerial photographs, looking closely at the topography and specifically at some undulations northeast of the bridge. At first, he thought these mounds might be part of a larger prehistoric effigy mound. The Angel Mounds complex was only a few miles away, so it was more than likely that undiscovered Native American sites were still scattered across the local landscape. But there was no distinguishable symmetry, no identifiable pattern. The arrangement was haphazard, and that was sufficient reason to consider another hypothesis.

  Scans did indicate those areas where the ground had been disturbed. Though there were several possibilities for these apparent anomalies, the closer he looked the more convinced he was that something had struck the ground near the bridge and had been recovered by the military in its 1947 excavation. Another thought persisted, and, again, that thought brought into focus the distinct probability of something left behind.

  Smith, however, went away convinced that the established trinity so important to Walking Einstein had gone beyond expectations. More concerned about the beams of light that converged to form a huge triangle, than about any terrestrial reconnaissance reports, the man known only as Smith poured over celestial maps in his office. General Moro Eugene Elkin
s stood next to him, waiting impatiently for an explanation. With his index finger on Sirius and nodding to General Elkins, Smith was prepared to make a declaration.

  “There’s no doubt about it, the light was directly in line with Sirius—just as we suspected.”

  “You’re sure about this?” asked Elkins.

  “We have Arecibo verification.”

  “Are the power sources secured?”

  “No, sir, only two. The Saint Meinrad site and the site in Rockport, Indiana,” Smith disclosed.

  “And the location of the other site is also in Indiana?”

  “Yes, sir, and each site is near the 37th parallel as predicted by Dr. Chase. We have data that show the other location on private property near Newburgh, Indiana. We can have a go team in transit tomorrow, if you think it’s necessary.”

  “Newburgh, Indiana,” said General Elkins. “The town sounds familiar.”

  “It was the site of the 1947 excavation and retrieval.”

  “Is it possible that something was left behind?”

  “I don’t think so, General. I’ve been over the files, which indicate a thorough recovery.”

  “What does Dr. Chase think?”

  “Well, sir, let me just say he’s considering it.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Elkins, raising his eyebrows.

  “I’m not sure, sir.” He looked at General Elkins a few seconds before speaking again. “I’m not sure Dr. Chase can be trusted.”

  “In what respect?”

  “Again, I don’t know. He’s not one of those mainstreamers who takes military protocol too seriously. He might be a security risk.”

  “It was his research that opened the portal.”

  “Yes, sir, and he’s perceptive enough to see the bigger picture—if you know what I mean, sir.”

  “If there’s any violation of the disclosure agreement, we’ll take action.”