The Emerald Tablet: Omnibus Edition

by JM HART

  Amy and Terry sat listening to the breathless solicitor. He read from sheets of paper that looked delicate held in his big round hands. Amy was torn between calling an ambulance, thinking the man in front of her was going to pass out any second, and trying to absorb the information he was giving her.

  “What do you mean my great-aunt left everything to me? I never even met the woman,” said Amy. “I didn’t even know she existed. Are you sure you have the right people?”

  “It is what the will states. The lavish cottage and acreage is worth a touch more than two million pounds, plus everything inside the house and on the property. The entire estate is just less than three million pounds. You may not have known your great- aunt, but it appears she seems to have known you.”

  “My mother told me very little about her family. She would never speak of them. She said she came from the UK to the States, met my father and they married, and that was all she ever said about her past,” said Amy.

  “I’m sorry, but you are the only living person from your mother’s side of your family. A search was carried out in England, looking for the heirs to her estate. Your great-aunt’s daughter perished in a house fire many years ago, along with her husband and their seven daughters.” The solicitor sat staring at them trying to catch his breath. “I’ll get myself another coffee and leave you two alone for a moment.”

  Amy watched the solicitor heave himself up out of the chair, pick up his handkerchief and leave the room, closing the door behind him. “Maybe we should go. We have the legal papers for Casey’s adoption and his updated passport arrived two months ago,” Amy said, examining the office. “There’s nothing keeping us here. We’ve had a rough year. I know the virus has spread to the United Kingdom. Flights have been restricted, but I still think we should do it. We should try and get a flight out of here. It might be safer in a country house in England rather than here in the States. As much as I love the hills, I think we need to do something. The vaccinations don’t seem to be working, I’m sure they are no more than placebos. More and more people are becoming infected, Terry. What about that woman in town yesterday? She killed her three children and her neighbor’s child, too. Who could kill their own children? Once upon a time people cared, people would have filled the street with flowers of grief, but not today — not any more. I’m scared, I’m worried for Casey. What do you want to do?”

  Terry stared into her blue eyes seeing the glow of vitality she felt. “I don’t know,” he said rubbing his brow. “Let’s forget the viral madness for a moment.” He leant forward in his seat. “Let’s pretend it’s not even happening. What would we have done before all this? We certainly could use a vacation. I normally would have to be back at college a week before the students.”

  “That’s if there is any college to come back to,” Amy said.

  Amy watched as Terry processed his thinking out loud. The concern in his words was like the soft touch of an angel wiping away her unshed tears.

  “It’s a long way.”

  “So, what do you think?” she said, breaking his train of thought.

  Amy watched as his shoulders went back and he stuck out his chest. With hands on his hips, assuming an adventurous stance, he said, “Let’s do it! If that’s what you want, then let’s do it. We can visit the cottage, or should I say,” raising his index finger in emphasis, “estate. And you can decide what you want to do with it. It could be fun.”

  They sat patiently with their own thoughts, waiting for the solicitor to return. Eventually, he waddled through the door carrying a fresh cup of coffee.

  “We’ll travel to England in the next couple weeks. Is there any paperwork we need to take care of?” Terry asked.

  “Yes, we can take care of that now. I am leaving with my family shortly, so best we do it today.” The solicitor pushed papers across the polished desk towards Amy. “You need to sign here — and here. The property is now yours, Mrs Campbell. You can pick up, and sign for the keys from your great-aunt’s solicitor in England.”

  *

  “Casey … you ready?” Amy yelled from the bedroom.

  The rain pounded against the window. Casey glared down the darkened hall towards Amy’s voice and jumped as lightning cracked deep into the night and the lights flashed on and off again. “Nearly,” he yelled. His words were smothered by the sound of thunder rolling across the roof, shaking the windows and rattling his nerves.

  Amy stood in the doorway of Casey’s room. He had finished shoving his sneakers into the luggage bag’s top mesh compartment and was scanning the room. He seemed focused on something hovering in his peripheral vision. The candle flames flickered in the absent breeze. “What do you see?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. It’s an eerie glow that I can’t see in the dark, only in the radiance of the moon.” Casey shivered feeling rapid flutterings.

  “I can’t see anything. I think this storm has got us both spooked. Are you done packing?” Amy said, stepping out of the room.

  “Pretty much.”

  Amy left Casey to finish packing and headed downstairs. She lit the candles by the front entrance. Mesmerized by the dancing flames she imagined the rich green fields of England where her mother grew up. She felt a fondness for her home in the hills of Utah and hoped one day she would return. Sheltering the flames with her hands, she said to the candle gently, “Lucky I prepared dinner before the lights went out. You wouldn’t be much help.”

  Her brow tensed and her eyes narrowed as negative thoughts invaded her head. The roads will be slippery, she thought. Terry’s not home yet … Before she could finish her train of thought the front door opened and a surge of cold wind slapped her face and extinguished the candles, leaving her in darkness. Before she could react, Terry stepped into the house, shaking his hair leaving a pool of rainwater around him. “Terry, you’re drenched!” Amy said trying to light the candles again. Then the lights came back on.

  “I couldn’t find my umbrella,” he said, planting a wet kiss on her lips. “Or should I say, brolly … ha ha. It hasn’t rained since, well, you know …”

  “Don’t you dare move! I’ll get you a towel, and help you out of those wet clothes.” Amy walked down the hall, opened the linen cupboard and fished out a towel. “The whole house is clean, packed up and we’re ready to go.” She closed the linen cupboard with her elbow. “I’m not going to have you make a mess. Jeepers, your shirt’s sopping wet!”

  Terry kicked off his shoes and pants. “I had to stop and help a young fellow and his girlfriend. His car was bogged.” Terry fastened the towel around his waist. “Remember when we went parking …”

  “Dear, dear me,” Amy said with a smirk. “Always the hero, you just can’t help yourself.”

  He pulled her against his hard chest and kissed her deeply. “I love you.”

  “Terry, do you think our flights will be cancelled?”

  “No, they’re the last ones. I suppose we will have to get used to this sort of weather in England.”

  Reluctantly pulling away from his loving embrace, Amy said, “You’d better have a quick shower,” and affectionately slapped his backside. “We only have a few hours. We have to load up the car and eat some dinner. Off you go, I’ll mop this up.” And she slapped him on the backside again. “Hurry up, your dinner’s getting cold.”

  A little later, Amy and Terry finished the last drop of red wine with their last meal in Utah. Together they walked towards the stairs when the power went out for the third time.

  *

  Casey pointed his torch down the hallway and walked fluidly towards Amy and Terry’s voices. He stopped at the top of the stairs and, in a trance-like state and without any emotion, heard himself as if in a distant room say, “It’s going to get worse. I’ve seen into the abyss. The darkness keeps growing. Their fear of the light is diminishing. Only the power of seven can stop it. One will die to save another.”

  “What the hell,” Terry said. “Casey, what did you say?” Terry’s stomach felt li
ke a hand had reached deep inside and was shuffling his organs around. He started climbing the stairs. “Casey, are you okay?”

  Casey felt himself slowly turn away from the stairs before collapsing.

  “Casey.” Terry sprinted, stretching out to catch him.

  Casey heard himself hit the floor like a bag of cement. Terry was on his knees beside him and held him in his arms. Gently, Terry brushed his curly hair away from his eyes and whispered in his ear. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Come on, where have you gone. Come on, son. Come back. All the way.”

  Casey could feel his eyes darting behind the thin veil of skin. He struggled to wake up, then his eyes fluttered and slowly opened. Casey felt dazed and confused. He stared into Terry’s eyes for a second, then quickly pulled away and tried to rise.

  “Hey, pal, take it easy, you just fainted. Go slow,” Terry said.

  “Yes. Sure, sorry.”

  “What do you have to be sorry about? Are you aware of what happened?” Amy asked, helping him stand.

  “Your voice, you were asking if I was ready to go.”

  “That was at least an hour ago, Casey.”

  “I’m okay, truly. I’m a bit tired, that’s all. I’ll sleep on the plane.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go?” Terry said.

  “No!” Casey shouted. “We have to — um — I mean — we all need — look, I’m okay. Hey, let me get the bags in the car while you guys finish getting ready.”

  “What did you say, Casey? You were saying something before you fainted. Who are the seven? What’s going to get worse?”

  “I must have been sleepwalking. I think when the light went out I fell asleep while packing.” Casey rushed down the stairs, worried they might sense how he really felt. He hoped he hid his feelings better than they did. It’s been nearly a year, he thought, and I still can’t get used to seeing what people try so hard to hide.

  Casey looked back up at Terry and Amy and watched the faint aura of colors around them change from shades of red to pinks and soft oranges as they accepted his reassurance. They had no idea how much they revealed in a single breath. They were often like the lovesick teenagers he had seen at school. Bending down to pick up the bags, he hid a smile, cleared his throat and looked at Terry. “Hey, don’t let me get in the way. I’ll get the car packed.”

  “Cheeky monkey,” Terry said, walking down the stairs. He held the front door open for Casey. “The rain has stopped, it’s a good time to pack the car. I’ll help.”

  “No, I can do it,” Casey said. He picked up the suitcases thinking, I’ve stepped upon the path of a very long journey and there’s no turning back. I’m finally going to see Sophia — in the flesh.

  Sometimes she came and protected him at night. She surrounded him with a warm illumination. That’s when he felt peaceful, and slept unaware of the negative angels that hung in the air. Most people can’t see the negative angels, the tiny viral demons, but Sophia can.

  Sophia saw them clawing over each other in her dreams, racing up through the earth like starved bats from a dark pit. She saw how people’s bodies became infested and how they were encouraged by the tiny demons to be the cause of another’s pain and suffering; to destroy themselves and each other. Our inner light is covered with shrouds of darkness until our soul suffocates. We feed them, we nourish them, and they will annihilate us, she had told him. They plagued him with nightmares, images of his mother in pain. Some nights Casey could hear her screams and he was filled with visions of her pleading with him to kill himself and join her. He dreamed Terry and Amy were mauled by black dogs. They would constantly try to brainwash him; showing him that Terry and Amy don’t really want him, because he was strange. They would push and push. Casey would wake shaking and feel doubt slither over him. In the day, he would concentrate on others, focus on helping Amy and Terry and anyone that needed help, and the negative angels would back away. The unknown Golden Angel would move closer and in a male voice whisper softly in his ear, reaching out to him until he became emotionally aware. Reassuring about what was right, about mercy, banishing the shadows of doubt. “The tiny shapeshifting beasts know nothing else,” the voice said, “but their desire to possess and destroy.”

  The rain drizzled and the front yard was dark. Casey, torch in his mouth, made his way to the car. He put down a bag, reaching for the door handle, but before he touched the car it beeped into life: the blinkers flashed, the interior light came on and the doors unlocked.

  *

  Above the clouds, the flight to Denver was extremely bumpy. The flight from Denver to New York would be twice as long. Casey watched Terry pale. “You okay, Terry?” he asked.

  “Ah, feeling a little sick. I think the first flight knocked me around a bit. It’ll pass.”

  “Here, take my seat,” Casey offered. “I know you’ll feel heaps better by the time I get back. I need to go to the bathroom and the vacant light just flashed on.”

  Casey came back and took Terry’s seat. He felt the energy instantly from the previous passenger. An old fella, he thought, a fearful, overweight businessman. Left so much toxic negative energy it’s surprising Terry didn’t barf, A minute longer and he would have. It was like sitting in a pool of quicksand. First, you’re a little uncomfortable and soon you become consumed by it. Casey closed his eyes, pictured his home and remembered what it was like to be tucked in bed while his mother told him a fairytale. Slowly, the energy in the seat changed. He jolted awake, surprised he had nodded off for a few ticks, but it was worth a mint to have that brief rest. He opened his eyes and peeked at Terry. His color had returned. “Hey, swap back,” Casey said.

  Amy watched them dance around each other in the small space. Casey climbed over the seat and propped his pillow against the window. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She reached up and turned on her overhead light, and immersed herself in her splendid book.

  He closed his eyes and drifted off, leaving Amy sheltered in a warm glow.

  *

  He woke as they finally arrived at JFK airport in New York. They disembarked and waited for their last flight to England. Casey felt the red-eye hype of the airport. There was chaos as people tried to buy tickets off those waiting for their connecting flights. Casey, Amy and Terry buzzed around, gazing into the shop windows, eventually settling in the observation lounge. Casey stood at the window, looking out at a strange sight against the beautiful backdrop of fading stars and a runway of lights — the sight of armed soldiers preventing people from running onto the tarmac was foreign.

  He could see his and Amy’s reflection as if they were standing amongst the stars. He smiled, thinking, she has a good heart. She was naturally beautiful; tall, and her long, curly hair was ruffled from the travel, but looked like it had just been styled. People could think we are related. His hair was a darker brown, and her curls were more ringlets, but they both had curls. He wasn’t as tall, but he’d grown at least ten inches this year and working after school helping the tradies to construct the new Woodland’s playground, and doing a lot of heavy lifting, had filled him out. He thought he looked more like a young man than a boy now.

  “Amy, you excited?” Casey asked.

  “Yes. A bit nervous. What about you?”

  “Me too.”

  “You know what it reminds me of?” Amy said staring out at the runway. “A moment I had standing in Los Angeles airport years ago. It was so strange. I was a little younger than you at the time. It was the 2nd of September, 10.42 a.m., and we had just arrived home from a holiday on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. The boarding time on my ticket from Australia had been the 2nd of September at 11.30 a.m. It was an eerie sensation. I had already lived the 2nd of September, it was my past. I stood silent, pressed up against a wall, while my parents waited for the luggage to come around. I watched the people and it seemed like I was standing in a corridor of time, and the world began to unfold in front of me. Sparkles of light everywhere as each tiny electrifying atom of light danced around me, formin
g clusters, creating different shapes and densities, creating people, chairs and the turnstiles, everything. I felt like I had gone back in time to be in the future. I was from the future. I stepped away from the wall and into the stream of life that was flowing around me.” Amy stopped talking and smiled at Casey. “Don’t mind me. I’m just babbling.”

  “Why are so many people scared of flying?” Casey said.

  “What?”

  “I can see it.” Casey watched the dense negative matter moving, growing, feeding off the light force that surrounded people, and their colorful auras were becoming clouded.

  “See what?”

  “They’re afraid. They’re afraid they are going to die. Are you?” Casey asked even though he already knew the answer.

  Amy looked into Casey’s eyes. “No, are you?”

  “Sometimes. Do you think my mom was?”

  “I don’t know,” Amy said, not sure where Casey was going with his thoughts. “She would be proud and grateful you lived through the storm. Delighted you can go on with your purpose in life.”

  “What do you mean, purpose?”

  “Everyone has a purpose; we are all here for a reason. I reckon each one of us is a piece of a big puzzle trying to find where we belong. What did you mean before when you said you can see it?”

  “Oh — nothing?”

  “No, it’s not. I see the sideways glances you give. I’ve seen you take a wide step around nothing as if there was something in your way. I also saw that you held onto that little kid’s hoodie. You held him back, just before the car went through the red light. God knows what his mother was thinking, he should have been holding onto the pram at least. You see, I see things too that I don’t talk about. But how did you know before it happened. You see something I don’t, I know you do. If you ever want to talk, I am a cornfield, all ears.” She watched Casey’s face as his mind raced with questions he dared not ask. He’s hiding something, she thought.