Ben Archer

by Rae Knightly

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The List

  Laura woke to the sound of pounding rain. It washed over the windshield like a waterfall and she could barely see outside.

  She put the key into the ignition without starting the car, revealing the time on the dashboard. It was almost 10:30 p.m. Ben stirred in the back seat, so she switched on the radio. She tried to make out what the reporter was saying over the drumming noise outside.

  “…Coast Guard has had to call off the rescue mission due to the bad weather conditions and will make another attempt to save the crew of the drifting ship at dawn tomorrow.”

  A woman took over. “Yes, Ronald, this freak storm will wreak havoc on traffic if it continues tomorrow morning. We urge drivers to be extremely cautious in this treacherous weather, as roads are slippery, with limited visibility…”

  Ben stretched and yawned. He glanced around. “Where’s Mesmo?”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Laura said. She put on her coat. “I’m going to look for him.” She opened the car door, getting soaked as soon as she stepped out.

  Ben came up behind her in a hurry. “I’m coming with you!”

  You’re not closing the door on me again!

  They grabbed a blanket, thinking to hold it above their heads. It drenched instantly and stuck like glue to their hair and faces. In the end, they left it, then advanced carefully on the muddy path. They would not have been able to get very far if it hadn’t been for the lighthouse that served as a beacon indicating the way.

  Soon they saw Mesmo standing upright with his back to them on a flat, rocky ledge, illuminated by the sweeping beam, his elbows close to his body, his hands outstretched, his body glowing faintly from an inner source of energy. As they approached, they saw that not a drop of rain had touched him; he was completely dry and unaffected by the storm raging around him.

  Ben and Laura held on to each other to keep from slipping, their hair plastered to their faces, their shoes pools of water.

  “Jack!” Laura yelled over the sound of rain. The alien man did not budge. “Mesmo!” she called. “You have to stop this! It won’t bring your daughter back. She’s gone, Mesmo. There was nothing you could have done. I’m sorry about that. But if you’re responsible for this storm, you have to stop immediately! You’re putting people in danger. Look around you! We’re drowning here!”

  She let go of Ben, then reached out to touch Mesmo’s shoulder, only to find that there was nothing there! Gasping in surprise, she lost her footing and passed right through him!

  Ben yelled in fear.

  Laura hit the ground, then slid down the smooth, rocky ledge. Only a jutting bush saved her from toppling all the way down into the sea.

  “Mom!” Ben cried in horror, rushing to help. On his stomach, he crawled towards her. He stretched out his hand, but she was just out of reach. He looked up at Mesmo’s projected image, which was still standing, unmoving. The alien’s head slowly turned towards them.

  “Mesmo!” Ben pleaded. “Help her! Please!”

  Ben watched as the solid-looking Mesmo bent to touch the ground. Immediately the rain moved away from them like a curtain. The surface dried up while icy spikes spurted out of the rock all the way down to Laura. She used them to pull herself up. Ben grabbed her, and heaved her up to safety.

  They toppled to the ground, breathing heavily, their eyes on Mesmo. The drape of rain fell over them again, though with less intensity.

  Woman and child stared at the tall man, unable to comprehend how he could look so real to them. He gazed back, his eyes emitting a million unreadable thoughts. He looked haggard and weak. His skin had turned a light grey.

  Then he vanished.

  Laura gasped.

  She and Ben crawled backwards in fright and stared at the empty spot. The rain continued to fall and the beam from the lighthouse swept by them. Yet they had to accept the unacceptable. Mesmo had disappeared into thin air.

  Ben sneezed. Laura helped him up. They trudged back to the car, grasping onto each other as if they might disappear, too. They regularly checked over their shoulders without speaking. Ben sneezed again. They entered the car, soaking wet, and, after a few unsuccessful attempts, Laura started the car. She backed out of the parking space, switched on the lights, and carefully drove away from the haunted lighthouse park.

  Ben secretly checked on his mother while she drove.

  I can hear you wheezing!

  They arrived in North Vancouver where Laura stopped at a Comfort Inn in the hopes of getting a room to shower and rest for the night. There, she found that her credit card was no longer working.

  They drove on, shivering with cold. Laura eyed the gas meter nervously. It was dangerously low. It was not easy to find anything open at such a late hour–the streets were empty, especially after such a downpour. They crossed over Highway One and came to an all-night diner called The Bearded Bear. Relieved, they sat down at a table away from late-night truck drivers, and ordered as much food as they could with what little cash Laura managed to fish out of her pocket. While they waited, she insisted on Ben going to the men’s room to dry himself off as much as possible. She didn’t want him falling sick. She suggested he use the hand dryer on his t-shirt.

  I wish I’d brought my suitcase along!

  Ben remembered he had left it at school. There was nothing he could do about it now. By the time he came back he felt somewhat refreshed, though his clothes were still damp. The hot food on the table lifted his spirits slightly. A big hamburger awaited, while his mother had ordered chicken soup. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was and barely noticed when his mother excused herself to go and clean herself up as well.

  He was busy digging into his fries when she came back, but she did not touch her food. He noticed her breath coming out in short bursts. Laura searched through her belongings, telling Ben he could have her soup if he was still hungry.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, seriously tempted.

  She nodded absentmindedly, going through her things.

  “I’ll eat your bread roll. But you should have the soup,” Ben suggested.

  Laura leant back into the high restaurant seat, looking crestfallen. Ben forgot the bread roll he had brought to his mouth. He saw her flushed face.

  “What is it, Mom?” he asked, although he had already recognized the signs.

  “It’s my inhaler,” she said with short gasps. She opened her handbag for the third time. “I can’t find it! I’m certain I had one, but it’s not there anymore.”

  Ben swallowed the piece of bread which stuck in his throat as he looked at her worriedly.

  She tried a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s the least of our concerns. Just finish the soup.”

  “No, Mom, you should eat. You’ll feel much better,” he insisted.

  Laura made an effort to eat, while Ben watched carefully, but soon she put the spoon down and said, "I’m drained, Ben. Could you take care of the bill? There should be enough…” She indicated the money on the table. “I think I’ll go and lie down in the car for a bit.”

  She walked away slowly, while he asked the waitress to pack up the remaining soup and bread to go. By the time he had plopped the coins on the table, counting them twice, his mother was already fast asleep in the back seat. He covered her with the blanket and was going to settle down under her jacket when he noticed an envelope sticking out of its inside pocket.

  He opened it and found a small piece of paper that had been torn out of a standard notebook. He recognized his grandfather’s handwriting immediately. On it, were five names with a phone number under each one.

  Ryan Archer

  604-721-883

  Wayne McGuillen

  604-347-222

  Thomas Nombeko

  250-981-310

  Susan Pickering

  778-919-832

  Bob M.

  416-627-003

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Island
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  Ben dozed off while studying the list. He started awake when Tike nuzzled him in the neck. He waved the dog away with his hand, then rested his head uncomfortably against the cold windowpane. The dog jumped onto his lap, placing his two paws on his chest, trying to catch his attention. Ben blinked several times. The lights of the all-night diner were out and the parking lot was empty. Only a couple street lamps produced modest islands of lights, while everything seemed peaceful.

  “Go to sleep, Tike,” Ben whispered, pushing him away from his face as the dog licked him.

  His mother moaned from the back seat. Ben snapped his head in her direction.

  Laura tossed in her sleep, the blanket slipping off onto the floor. Ben bent over the car seat to move the locks of hair that were plastered to her cheeks. He touched her hand. It felt cold as ice. She was drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably.

  She’s burning up!

  “Mom!” he gasped worriedly.

  He covered her with the blanket again, and rolled up his jacket under her head before emptying her purse on the driver’s seat in the hopes of finding some analgesic to bring down the fever. He found none. An hour went by and she was worsening. Her breath wheezed again as she twisted on the uncomfortable back seat.

  Ben got out of the car and jogged towards the street, searching for a passerby or car. There was no one in sight. He thumped on the door of the diner, knowing full well its occupants had gone. He raked his hands through his hair in despair.

  “Mesmo!” he called hesitantly, searching the empty parking lot with his eyes. Only a soft breeze answered.

  Tike jumped up to lick his hand encouragingly. They headed back to the car. Ben slipped into the driver’s seat. The time on the dashboard said 2:55 a.m. He would have to wait many hours before anybody came along. He glanced at Tike helplessly. The dog sat in the passenger seat, his tongue lolling to one side, with a paw on the sheet of paper that Ben had found in his mother’s jacket. Ben fondled the dog’s ears while he studied the list of names again.

  He knew the first name, Ryan Archer. That was his grandfather. He did not know any of the others. As he stared at the phone numbers again, he realized that the one belonging to Wayne McGuillen started with 604, like his grandfather’s, which meant he lived in the same area. He was not familiar with the zone numbers 250 or 416, but he pondered the number that started with 778. That was a local number, he was sure of it. It belonged to someone named Susan Pickering.

  He delved into his mother’s handbag and pulled out her cellphone, only to realize the battery had died. Desperately, he glanced around and was amazed to find a public phone booth attached to the side of the diner.

  I didn’t know they still made those!

  He had never actually used one before. After going through his jeans pockets, he found he still had sufficient coins to make a phone call. He stared into the dark, wondering if this would lead him anywhere.

  Tike placed a paw on his arm as if encouraging him to follow his instincts.

  “C’mon, Tike,” Ben said softly, as he got out of the car and headed for the phone.

  He punched the numbers, then listened to the ringing on the other end. It went on and on for some time. He almost gave up, when someone picked up the receiver, and a woman’s voice barked, “What?”

  Ben was taken aback, then remembered it was three in the morning; decent folk were fast asleep at this time. “Er… hello,” he began hesitantly. “Is this Susan Pickering?”

  There was a silence. Ben thought she might hang up.

  Then the woman said more slowly, “Who wants to know?”

  “I…well…my name is Benjamin Archer. I’m Ryan Archer’s grandson. I think you knew each other?”

  Further silence.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but my mom’s very sick, and we need help,” he pressed on.

  After a while, she said, “Where’s Ryan?”

  That confirms that they knew each other.

  “Grampa died last week. He wrote your name and phone number on a piece of paper. I thought maybe…well, maybe…” he stammered.

  “Where are you?” she interrupted.

  Ben glanced around questioningly.

  I have no idea!

  “I don’t know exactly...I’m in the parking lot of a place called The Bearded Bear Diner…”

  “I know where that is,” she said abruptly. “Stay right there! Don’t talk to anyone! Don’t contact anyone! I’m coming to you.” Then she hung up before Ben could say anything else.

  The boy stared at the receiver, a million thoughts going through his head. Tike gazed up at him with his tail wagging slowly.

  ***

  The waiting was the worst. Ben would sometimes doze off to the strangest of dreams; then he would wake with a start, check on his shivering mother and his surroundings worriedly. It felt like forever before a red car screeched into the parking lot around 5:30 a.m. It came to a stop beside them.

  Immediately, a bulky woman with light brown hair worn in a hasty bun on top of her head stepped out, then hurried over to open the driver’s door before Ben had time to react. Without a word of greeting, she stared at him with determined, blue eyes. When she noticed Laura lying on the back seat, she checked her vital signs.

  “She’s running a fever,” the woman stated, business-like.

  Tell me something I don’t know!

  She opened the back door of her own car before waving Ben over. “Come on, help me here,” she ordered as she began to pull Laura out of the car.

  “Wait a minute,” Ben protested. “What are you doing? Where are you taking her?”

  The woman in her early sixties shot him a stern glance. “You in trouble, boy?”

  Ben, taken aback, stared down at his sneakers uncomfortably.

  The woman grunted. “Huh! Just what I figured. I’m taking you somewhere safe. You can’t very well take her to the hospital, can you?”

  Ben silently agreed, though he wished his mother had been conscious enough to approve of what was happening. Reluctantly, he helped the woman carry his mother to the other car.

  “Grab your things,” Susan urged. She was clearly in a hurry.

  Ben did what he was told, though their belongings were reduced to his mother’s handbag, his grandfather’s list, and their jackets.

  He went to sit beside his mother on the back seat, placing her head to rest on his lap. Tike sat at his feet, trembling with anticipation.

  “What about our car?” Ben asked.

  Susan Pickering revved up her own red car, speeding away from the parking lot.

  “You won’t be needing it anymore.”

  Ben watched as their vehicle disappeared behind the bend.

  They drove for about half an hour onto a winding road bordered by sparse houses and areas heavily populated with deep green Douglas firs, until they reached the small town of Deep Cove, nestled at the foot of Mount Seymour and the Burrard Inlet. Rows of sailboats and motorboats were neatly anchored in the marina. As dawn approached, Ben could make out the outline of the mountains on the other side of the inlet and dark, sporadic islands jutting from the water.

  Susan Pickering turned left off the marina, driving until the houses became less frequent. Then she abruptly took a small dirt road to the right, which soon led to a run-down shed and small, wooden pier by the water. She got out of the car, then busied herself opening the shed door and foraged inside.

  Ben stepped out of the car as well, taking in his surroundings. The calm waters were turning a lighter shade of blues and pinks as the sun began to rise, contrasting with last night’s storm.

  Susan Pickering had found some blankets in the shed, which she carried to a small motorboat tied to the end of the pier.

  “Are we taking the boat?” Ben asked nervously.

  “Sure are,” the woman answered. “Give me a minute.”

  She disappeared back into the shed, leaving Ben with his stomach churning. He did not like the idea of open water. He wrapped
his arms around his shoulders as if to warm himself, feeling his grandfather’s watch close to his cheek. Suddenly Tike ran behind Ben excitedly. The boy whirled, and jumped at the sight of Mesmo standing only a few feet away. Ben stepped back, unsure what to expect, as he stared at the imposing man.

  “What happened?” Mesmo asked, seeing the shed, the boat, then Laura, lying in the back seat of the car.

  "She’s very sick," Ben said weakly, wondering which direction he should run if it became necessary. But the alien cut off any escape to the winding road they had used, while the open waters were behind him.

  I can’t leave Mom behind!

  Mesmo had not moved since he had magically appeared, so Ben mustered up enough courage to approach him. Slowly he reached out his hand. Mesmo understood his gesture and did the same. Ben waved his hand up and down, each time going right through Mesmo’s own.

  Ben stepped back, asking with a shaky voice, “Are you a ghost?”

  Mesmo’s eyes twinkled as if he found the question funny. “A ghost is a spirit belonging to someone whose body has died,” he began. “I am not a ghost. My body is not dead. It is just not…here right now.” He paused, before adding, “But my spirit is free to roam.”

  Behind them, Susan Pickering, who had emerged from the shed, stopped in her tracks. “What...!” she began. “Who’s that?” Her face was flushed with anger.

  Ben held up his hands to calm her down. “It’s ok! He’s a friend!”

  She stepped closer to take a better look at the stranger. The fact that a lock of white hair was sticking out from under Mesmo’s fur hat made him look quite out of place.

  “He’s a friend,” Ben repeated, trying to sound reassuring. “His name is Mes…er…his name is Jack Anderson. He’s…”

  Susan Pickering interrupted him. “I know who he is,” she snorted. She had her hands on her hips, inspecting the man up and down like he was some curious object. After a while, she said sternly, “You’ve caused a lot of harm, Mister. A lot of harm.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “How did you find us anyway?”