by Micah Thomas
Then, from out of one of the bunkhouses nearest the road, an elderly couple looking like they’d just come out to get the mail greeted them with slow waves. The old woman waved now for them to slow and come over, and Cassie did as she rolled down her window.
The woman leaned her hand against the side of the car and said in her old lady voice, “Hey, there. Going up to the house?”
Cassie nodded. “This is Black Star?”
The woman clucked. “Well, yes. Didn’t you see the sign?”
Cassie inhaled deeply and Henry poked her ribcage.
“Honey, you walk up. I’m getting in.” She moved fast for an old person and went around the front of the car to scoot against Thelon in the back seat. “There’s not a proper parking lot, but if you pull up here along the back, you’ll be just fine.”
The old man said nothing but waved at them again and shuffled back into the little house.
Cassie parked just where the old gal instructed.
The lady popped the door open before the engine was even off and said, “I’ll rouse Cynthia to give you a welcome. How do you take your coffee?”
Henry got out nearly as quick and said, “Black, please and thank you.”
She led them up to the big screened in porch attached to the white house. The air was hot and humid. As he started to sweat, Thelon realized his pungency might precede him. Hell, we could all use a shower. He threw a cautious glance back at Henry and Cassie and whispered, “Be careful what you say.”
Henry shrugged. Cassie rolled her eyes. In single file, Thelon walked through the door held open by the old woman, followed by a shuffling Henry and jaunty Cassie.
“You’ve come back!” cried a gray-haired woman waiting inside with a smile of recognition before drawing back and touching her chin, “Oh. No. No, that’s not right.”
Thelon almost returned the familiarity but experienced a jolt. Don’t trust her.
Their first old lady chuckled and shook her head. “Cynthia, I present to you our newest visitors. I promised them a pot of coffee and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Cynthia wore a long summer dress, exposing tanned skin and age spots as well as sinewy shoulders like she did a lot of outdoor work in the summertime. Her eyes were as steely gray as her hair and didn’t leave Thelon’s face as Henry and Cassie squeezed past him, making way for their guide.
“Your eye. Oh, your eyes. Do you require medical attention?” she said in a pompous and odd way to Henry; she didn’t so much as glance at him.
Henry lowered his gaze and shook his head. “No.”
“If you please, shoes off, dears.” She glided past Henry and extended her hand to Thelon. “I’m Cynthia…and who are you?”
Henry and Cassie huddled close to each other and grumbled as they took off their shoes.
“Hello, ma’am. My name is Thelonious, but my friends call me Thelon.”
“Your friends, yes. Hello, dears,” she said to Henry and Cassie. “Please, let’s get in out of the heat. There is a breeze through the western windows.” She stepped ahead of them with the grace of a ghost. Karen brought coffee and cream in fine porcelain cups in the sitting room. True to Cynthia’s word, a luxurious breeze gusted through thin bone-colored curtains.
Cassie paused to look at the portraits hanging on the walls. Old photos in black and white of robed figures twisted in poses like yoga.
“Ah, yes,” Cynthia said, taking notice. “We pay honor to our forbearers here.”
“What is this place?” Cassie gestured around her; at Black Star, the house, and the various pieces of ostentatious Edwardian furniture.
Cynthia ignored the question and Cassie sighed. Henry picked at his stiches. Thelon gritted his teeth.
“Sit,” Cynthia said.
Cassie took the large, high backed velvet chair. Henry chose the sofa next to Thelon.
Cynthia stood by the window and spread her arms wide. “Black Star Spiritualist Camp, a retreat for sensitives drawn here as if by a dowsing rod of the soul. We tend our gardens, heal ourselves, and gaze into the veil.”
“Witchcraft?” Henry asked as his feet fidgeted, trying and failing to hide the holes in his socks.
“Some of us, love, but not all.” She whisked around the room, gazing into the eyes of the pilgrims. “And what about you? Any witches among your group? Ah, don’t answer. When we get the rare visitor, we layer pretense. Our exterior is artifice, but this meeting is different, is it not? Our storied history is worth perusal, and while you rest and soak in the special air of this place, it would behoove you to inform yourselves, perhaps in our reading room.” She gestured as if the reading room were some far off place. “Ah, but where to begin with you?”
Thelon coughed. This show inadvertently triggered his funny bone and whatever expectations he’d had rapidly fell apart.
Cassie caught his hidden laugh and developed a case of the giggles herself.
Henry shook his head at her and piled on with a raised eyebrow.
Cynthia wafted to the center of the room, far too obviously accustomed to holding court as she lectured. “It’s okay to laugh. I laugh at every opportunity in life. The mysteries of the unknown should be laughed at from time to time to take away their awesomeness, lest it overwhelm you.”
Henry couldn’t take any more and set his mug down with shaky hands. “Hey, I’m very grateful for your hospitality, the coffee is super nice, but you’ve got to understand we have traveled all through the night for several days, possibly even a week—I don’t know—on a fucking metaphysical quest—”
“Henry,” Thelon whispered and touched his leg.
“No. And, like I said, this is cool and all, but you do not have to talk down to us with this Glenda the Good Witch shit. Thelon—this man—you can tell them; he has legit superpower. I’m talking shit from movies that you can’t even imagine. So, you got this nice old folk’s home for clairvoyant seniors, but we’re here for the quest and if you know something about it, you can talk. Otherwise, we leave.”
Cynthia smiled after Henry, unusually worked up, gave his speech. “Is what he says, true?” She looked to Thelon who looked to the floor, so she looked to Cassie who said nothing but held her brown eyes against Cynthia’s gray ones.
Henry said, calm now, “It is true. I’ve seen him change. Physically, he can disappear or transform into energy. He’s not even from this world—one like it, but different. Cassie and I…we’re different, too.”
Cynthia lowered her arms and said in a serious tone, “Henry, I know all of this and we have been expecting you.”
“Oh,” Henry replied.
“Sweetlings, we can talk about what brought you here later. Lena!” she called loud by still gently. “Lena!”
A tall, athletic woman with gray hair in a braid reaching the middle of her back came in from another room. “Hi. I was just working on a puzzle. I see we have guests—and young ones at that!” Her voice was low pitched and warm. She wore a similar summer dress as Cynthia, which showed her muscular arms and sturdy build.
It was her face that moved Thelon. Behind thick glasses, her eyes beamed with a genuine joy to see him.
“Lena, our seekers need cabins with fresh linens and time with the bath.” To Cassie, she said, “We do have a washing machine, but it is an older model, as are most of us here.”
Cassie shrugged.
Lena said, “I’ll set them up right now.” To Cassie, she added, “You must be so tired!”
Cassie smiled in admission and allowed herself to be led away with Henry. “We are exhausted. My hands can feel the steering wheel as if I’m still driving.”
“Thelon, may I keep you for a moment while your friends go with Lena?” Cynthia asked.
Thelon looked to Henry and Cassie, who while holding hands, gave him silent nods. “Sure.”
When they left, Cynthia took a seat, knee to knee with Thelon. She gazed at him and took his hand. Her skin was firm and smooth. She peered at his hands, scrutinized the back and
palm.
“Looking for something?”
“Hush.” When she finished, she said, “What do you hope to accomplish here?”
“We came because of me. I brought them here. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
“Don’t you? Ask yourself again.”
Thelon hesitated. Now, finally, to this strange woman, he should disclose Nestor and the phone messages and his mission. However, the warning echoed in his head: Tell anyone about me and you all die.
Instead, he said, “We are here to close the gate.”
Her manner of speaking changed immediately, pivoting from that airy mysticism to matter of fact. “Now you are talking sense. I see your internal tension and want to assure you, you have arrived. Your mission is nearing completion. From here on out, there is nothing to worry about.”
Her words sounded informed, but he took no comfort in them. Too much still unsaid. “We’ve been followed by…um, things. Things that do not wish us well.”
She looked him in the eye. “You are entirely safe from all of that here.”
“Sometimes they look like people,” Thelon said darkly, feeling the nerves tremble within his chest. Does she know that for certain?
“I’m sure they do, but not to you. Not when you see them. Is that right?”
“Yeah, no. I sometimes see things differently. Like, I get these jolts and I feel like I’m losing my shit—really losing myself—and so much weird stuff has happened and none of it makes sense. Henry is a good guy. I know he lost his temper back there, but he’s right. We’ve seen things.”
Cynthia nodded. “I don’t want you to focus on recounting your so-called jolts, and you picked the exact right word because that is what’s happening. At this moment, you are in a fragile place, but protected here. I wish I could tell you that you could lay down your journey entirely, but there is more to come, more for you to learn about your part in this play. For now, avoid dwelling on it. Take this respite for what it is. If you were to have another jolt at this moment—I and all of us here will do our best to prevent it, but if you did, Thelonious, my sweet child, you would die.”
The echo of Nestor’s warning in her words and the intense look in her eye told him that she knew. We can’t talk about it, but she knows.
She patted his hand and slowly stood. “Go. Find your friends. Rest today. There will be more talk tomorrow, but be gentle with yourself. And eat something. You are skin and bones.”
Thelon didn’t know what to make of this strange turn of non-events. The build up to this moment had deflated upon itself and now he was supposed to relax? Well, damn.
He wandered the grounds, sweating and feeling weightless as he looked for his friends. Thelon spotted more old folks—mostly white—who gave him smiles and waves like it was normal. He knew it wasn’t. There was an artificial layer here and it creeped him out, but Thelon didn’t have the will to dig. The next big ole Scooby-Doo mystery will have to wait.
He found Henry first, loitering by one of the bunkhouse rows. Thelon started to talk but was quieted by Henry. “Shh. I’m doing something.”
To Thelon, all he did was stand outside this small house with his eye closed and fingers on his temples.
“Three horizontal wavy lines!” Henry shouted.
“You got it!” Cassie shouted back from inside the house. “Want to do another one?”
Henry opened his eyes and dropped his hands. “No. Thelon found us. Coming in. Hope you have pants on.” Turning to Thelon’s baffled expression, he said, “We’re psychic now. Ain’t that some shit?”
Thelon spent the afternoon with them, laughing and talking about nothing that mattered. They napped for a few hours in their individual bunkhouses, which were attached and neighbored each other in a row. Although they could split up, could adventure separately now if they wanted to, they didn’t. They had a likewise meaningless Country Buffet dinner with loads of old folks, telling banal stories of their road trip and easily avoiding any topics of consequence well into the evening. Then they returned to their bunkhouses and said goodnight.
~
THELON WOKE TO the squeak of a door and heard the nervous giggle that told him Cassie and Henry were bunk-hopping for sure. He smiled to himself and would have gone right back to bed in the lumpy cot—It’s a piece of shit but way more comfortable than camping and the back seat of the car—except he heard a lonesome mewling and scratching at the door. Fuckers forgot about Cat.
Dressed in loose-fitting pajama bottoms made of soft cotton, he went next door and let Cat out into the moonlight with him.
“Hey, girl. Wanna take a walk with me?”
She rubbed against his leg and trotted off. Thelon followed. The Moon shone big and bright as it had on his strange night walk with Henry. This surprised and didn’t surprise Thelon because there simply shouldn’t be full moons so close in time together, but sense didn’t work in the world anymore.
He almost turned back just a few feet from the bunkhouse. If I go creeping, something weird might happen. But if I stay, I will hear Cassie and Henry boning.
The choice was simple after that. Cat waited for him, then led onwards beneath the big, bright sky.
“I have to tell you, I’ve never been a cat person.” .
Her path brought him up to the big house where all the lights were off. She scratched at the door.
“I bet you’re thinking about that chicken from dinner, aren’t you?”
Thelon let her in and followed through the screened in porch to the kitchen. After giving Cat a healthy portion of leftover chicken breast from the fridge, he yawned and figured he should get back to sleep. Slim chance Henry is still going, but you never know.
Though he had every reason to think he was allowed to be there, when Thelon heard the distinct sound of a chair scraping the floor followed by murmuring voices from deeper in the house. Crouching, he thought better of it and stood again. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. Someone is up, and I can say hi. I’m allowed to do that.
He left the kitchen and walked easily down a dark corridor, hand on the wall, Cat left behind to her feast. A man’s voice became clearer as Thelon drew closer. A gentle voice he’d not heard before—the voice of a lecturer. A soft light around a corner glowed into the hallway. Rather than a wooden door, a beaded curtain was all that stood between Thelon and a scene he did not understand.
A large candle flickered on a round table. Cynthia was seated, eyes closed. A few other residents Thelon had not met flanked her in seats, hands on the table and palms up. Opposite her, standing in a relaxed pose was the mystery speaker. He was a black man older than Thelon’s father and a bit of a belly and white beard. Black Santa doesn’t live in the North Pole. He lives in Illinois.
“I need to see them. I need to see all of them,” Black Santa said. “I suspect even feeling them here, that they are still not ready to do what is needed. If you let me assist, I can unfurl them, open them to where they need to be.”
Thelon’s eyes grew wide. He’s talking about us. It didn’t make any sense, but he definitely said something important. The worst came next.
Cynthia’s mouth dropped open wide, mechanical, a grotesque puppet show as her jaw worked out a low groan. “No. Not yet.”
Nestor! She spoke in his voice and Thelon instantly doubled over in pain and terror so complete he lost any notion of hiding behind the curtain. It tangled in his hands as he plummeted forward, unable to stop his fall.
A collective gasp accompanied chairs being pulled back and tipped as the participants in this odd seance broke apart. Meanwhile, Thelon lost consciousness and sank into a bitter sea of dread that blotted out all thought and reaction.
~
When Thelon woke again, it was day and he was comfy in his bunkhouse. Perfectly content to stay in bed for the entire day. As far as he knew, he had jack shit to do and nowhere to go. Of course, that was when he heard a knock at the door.
“Open up. It’s breakfast police,” Henry sa
id, cracking the door.
He and Cassie carried trays of food and a pitcher of orange juice.
Cassie said, “That’s it. You are officially under arrest. Now, eat with us.”
Thelon sat up and accepted a tray over his lap. He let them serve him heaps of soft biscuits and stacks of bacon.
“Sleep okay?” Henry asked, eyebrows raised high.
Thelon thought about it and said, “Yeah. I think so. Hey, did you take a shower? Your hair is actually clean.”
“Oh yeah, like at a YMCA…there’s um…showers and stuff behind the house. It’s awesome. Hot water for days,” Henry said, still looking a bit sheepish.
Quiet, Cassie sipped juice and examined the quilt pattern with her fingertips.
Thelon smiled. “Just say it.”
“What?” Henry asked, feigning innocence.
Cassie blurted out, “We hooked up.”
“That is entirely none of my business, but you know what? Good for you,” Thelon said, taking another biscuit and smiling as he ate. After days of no appetite, he was hungry.
“Thanks. I don’t know why, but I—we were nervous. Like, we’re in this together and you’re not a third wheel, but some things….” Cassie trailed off.
“No apology necessary,” Thelon insisted. “As I understand it, we’re supposed to be relaxing right now. Cynthia gave me a talk and said as much. ‘Chill,’ she said. Well, she worded it differently.”
“Yeah, she’s different,” Henry said with a frown.
“You don’t like her?” Thelon asked.
Henry shrugged. “She’s like a high school teacher and I dropped out a long time ago to get away from lectures.”
“What about you, Cassie?”
Mirroring Henry’s frown, she said, “No opinion. I’m just gonna wait and see, but this place is weird. Too serene. I have this feeling that there’s more coming.”
“What about that psychic stuff from yesterday? That still going on?”
“Yeah. Not for you, though, huh?” Henry asked.