A good fifteen minutes went by, and yet Lois did not emerge. At this point, Justine didn’t know what to do. What would she say to her parents when she went back home? Maybe Lois’s parents just wouldn’t let her out now. At least she could find out the reason if she knocked on the door.
Emerging from the shadows, she walked to the Wilsons’ front door. She looked around, once again sensing that she was not alone, and then pressed the buzzer. A moment later, Lois’s mother came to the door. Her looks were unchanged from the previous day, but she wore an expression of deep sadness and concern. There was no smile on her face, no friendliness in her eyes.
“Good evening, Mrs. Wilson,” Justine said. “Is Lois home? We were supposed to study together.”
“She’s home,” Mrs. Wilson said, “but she’s not feeling very well.”
“Oh. What’s wrong?”
“She’s sick,” Mrs. Wilson said, obviously reluctant to elaborate. What could it be? Justine wondered. “She can’t see anyone tonight,” the woman added.
“I’m sorry. Please tell her I came by. I hope she feels better,” she added quickly.
Mrs. Wilson was already starting to shut the door. “I will,” she said, and the door closed in her face.
Justine stood there for a few minutes, her heart beating madly. Mrs. Wilson seemed weird. Something was going on; something she couldn’t talk about, Justine thought.
She wondered if there was some way she could contact Lois. Where was her room in the house? Could she tap on a window and get her attention? She looked around again to be sure there was no one watching, then started around the house. The north side was mostly dark, with light only in the downstairs windows of the living room and kitchen. Lois’s bedroom had to be upstairs.
Was Lois asleep? Maybe she was really sick. It was the only explanation, Justine thought. She was about to start around to the south side of the house when she heard footsteps in the darkness behind her. She spun around and saw a large shadow, the shadow that was hovering at her house, move across the wall of blue-black darkness behind her.
Who the hell was that? She debated challenging the shape, then decided that if she made noise, she would attract attention to herself snooping around Lois’s house. So she continued around to the south side.
She stopped by the living room window and peered through the sheer curtains, hoping to catch sight of Lois. But all she saw was Mr. and Mrs. Wilson sitting stiffly on their couch, staring at the television set. That wasn’t so unusual. The unusual sight was the man on the TV screen.
It was Dr. Lawrence. His face took up the entire screen. She watched for a few moments to see what was going to come on next, but the image never changed. The doctor lectured on and on, staring out at his captive audience.
When Justine heard movement behind her again, she rushed away from the window to the safety of the illuminated street. Once there, she hurried up to her house, still sensing that she was being pursued by someone in the night. The relative silence and the absence of other people all intensified her feeling of vulnerability. Angry about being chased back to her house, she was tempted to turn around and confront her pursuer.
But she didn’t pause. Maybe Lois would try to call her later, she thought. Frustrated and confused, she went in, expecting her mother to question her about her quick return. She would tell her the truth—Lois was sick.
However, when she entered her house, no one called out. She paused in the doorway. Someone else was here; she recognized the voice. It was Dr. Lawrence. But his car wasn’t outside. Had he walked down from his home?
She went farther into the house and came to the living room. Her parents sat side by side on the couch, much like the Wilsons, and watched a videotape of Dr. Lawrence. Her parents either didn’t hear her behind them, or else they didn’t care. They never broke their concentration.
Dr. Lawrence was talking about the problems involved with bringing up children today. He was explaining why children need strict discipline. Justine thought his speech was boring and dry. How could her parents be so entranced?
“I’m back,” she announced, but they didn’t acknowledge her. “I said, I’m back. Lois is sick,” she added. Still, they didn’t respond. “Jesus, what’s the big deal? It’s not Tom Selleck,” she added. Her mother just adored Tom Selleck, but her mother did not turn around. “What, are you two getting tested on this?” she quipped. Their silence unnerved her. “Jesus,” she repeated, stomping up to her room.
She sat on her bed for a while, thinking. Why didn’t Lois call? Maybe her mother didn’t tell her that Justine had come to the house. Her mother must have gone right to the living room to watch that videotape. Why were Justine’s parents watching the same tape? And at the same time? And who was that in the shadows? It was all starting to get to her now. Justine was very upset, and she wanted some answers.
She put on one of her tapes and lay back on her pillow. Now, more than ever, she wanted to leave Elysian Fields. Everyone here is screwed up, she thought. Even my own parents.
Nearly a half an hour later, after she had turned off her tape deck, she heard them moving about downstairs. Curious, Justine went down to see what was so great about watching Dr. Lawrence on television.
Her parents were having coffee in the kitchen, discussing the doctor’s speech. They recited his theories, like students studying for an exam.
She nearly laughed. “Hello, zombies,” she said.
Somber expressions darkened their faces as they turned and looked at her. “Jesus.”
“Watch your language, young lady,” her father snapped.
She stared at him. “My language?” She glanced at her mother, but there was no sympathy in Elaine’s face. “What were you two watching on television?” she asked.
“When?” her mother replied.
“When I came home.”
“When you came home? Didn’t you just come in?”
“No. I came in before, and you were sitting in the living room, watching Dr. Lawrence on television.”
“What?” her father said, a look of amused confusion on his face.
Her mother smiled. “We didn’t watch anything on television, Justine. We’ve been sitting here talking since you went to Lois’s. How was your studying?”
“We couldn’t study together. She was sick. I came right back,” she said. “Don’t you even remember me coming home?”
They stared at her as if she were crazy.
“What’s going on here? You two are freaking me out.”
“I wish you’d start talking like an adult,” her father said with a tired voice. “You’re not a kid, anymore. You’re a young woman, and you’ve got to start behaving like one. Adulthood requires responsibility.”
“I’m only a sophomore,” she proclaimed.
“Your father’s right, Justine,” her mother said. “It’s time you realized you’re going to be held accountable for your actions.”
“What?”
“Your homework all done?” her father asked. She stared at him. He looked so different, so strange, so cold. Where was the familiar warmth in his eyes? No matter what she did, he always had a loving look. She was his princess. He never stopped telling her that.
“I told you,” she said. “I came back because Lois was sick.”
“So then you’d better get yourself upstairs and do what has to be done. It’s getting late, Justine,” her mother said.
“I don’t know where I am, anymore,” she said out of frustration. She didn’t know what else to say.
Her father’s eyes widened, and her mother tilted her head as if she had said a remarkable thing. “You’re home, Justine. You’re in Elysian Fields, and you’re safe.”
“Huh?”
“Safer than you’ve ever been,” her father added. “Be grateful for that.”
“Je—” She bit her lower lip as tears stung her eyes, threatening to emerge. “I can’t stand this,” she said and turned to run up the stairs.
When she
got to her room, she slammed the door. For a long time, she just sat on her bed, staring at the stuffed stark white Gund cat her father had bought her last month. Instinctively, she embraced it, pressing its soft fur against her cheeks. She wiped away her tears and took deep breaths.
“I wish you had come out, Lois,” she whispered. “I need to talk to you,” she muttered. “Only you seem to know what’s going on here.”
She got ready for bed, eager for the coming of morning when she and Lois would meet and she could tell Lois some of the things that were happening. Lois would understand. Lois could explain.
One thing was for certain, she thought. She could not take that vitamin in the morning.
She was already in bed when her parents came upstairs. Her father opened her door softly and peered in. She pretended to be asleep.
“She’s in bed,” Justine heard him say. Her mother was standing right behind him.
“Sensible,” her mother said. “Early to bed, early to rise…”
“Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” her father said and closed the door softly.
She heard them walk off to their own bedroom, and then she fell asleep with an ache in her chest from the effort required to restrain her tears.
“Where were you?” he asked. He saw the smirk on his other self’s face and knew he had been somewhere. “You went out, didn’t you? While I was asleep here, you went out.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybes. You went. I can smell it on you. I can smell the grass and the cold, night air.”
“So?”
“Why did you do it?”
“I’m not going to linger here forever in the shadows while you sleep.”
“Where did you go? The lights are so bright. It’s so dangerous.”
“I think, after all this time and practice, that I know how to stay safely in the darkness.”
“But where did you go?” he asked insistently.
“I went down the hill, exploring. And guess whom I saw?”
He sat up as quickly as he could. The nurse was in the living room watching television. He could hear the set, and he could see the flashes of light on the corridor walls outside his room as figures moved on and off the small screen. As she was occupied, there was no danger of her coming in here and discovering his other self.
His father was working in his office with the door closed.
He took a deep breath. “Who did you see?”
His other self stepped forward, out of the shadows, so they could confront one another. They looked so much alike that no one but him could tell the difference, and even he had trouble doing that sometimes.
“It’s whom, whom did you see. People who are organized and have confidence in themselves care about speaking correctly.”
“All right, whom?”
“Well, at first I thought it was her as a young girl. I thought, look what the doctor has done! He has turned back time. His project is an experiment involving time. He should call it The Fountain of Youth Project instead of Elysian Fields. But then I got a closer look, and I realized what he had done.”
“What has he done?” he asked. He was growing short of breath and had to breathe deeply to keep himself conscious.
“He put her head on a young girl’s body. It’s not unexpected. That’s what he does, you know—plays with people’s heads. He made certain repairs, made it youthful, and put it on her body. A young girl is walking around with her head.”
He stared for a long moment. “No, he wouldn’t do that, would he?”
“Why not? It’s an experiment, isn’t it? And you know what he can do, what he is capable of creating. He can change their heads around any time the wants to. He’s done it to you, on and off. He’s still doing it to you.”
“But that wasn’t right. That shouldn’t have been done.”
“No one tells the doctor what’s right and what isn’t. Least of all, you.”
His other self started to back away.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Did she see you?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She heard me, but she didn’t see me. Why?” His other self stepped forward and looked down at him suspiciously. “You’re planning something, aren’t you? Come on, own up to it.”
“Yes, I’m planning something.”
He looked at the doorway because he heard the nurse get up and walk about out there. He knew that his father would be coming in to see him soon.
“What? What are you planning? You can tell me. You’ve got to tell me. I’ve answered all your questions. You’ve got to answer mine.”
“It’s simple,” he said.
“What is?”
“What I have to do.”
“Then tell me, damn it.”
“I’ve got to get her head back,” he said, then fell back against his pillow. He was tired, as if he had run up and down the hill and scurried around the development. His other self stood there in silence, then backed into the darkness again.
And not too soon, either. A moment later, his father entered, flicking on the lights. The room exploded, the illumination burning away the skin of silky darkness that had covered the walls and ceiling. His father glowed like a hot coal as he strode into the room. He was terrified his father would touch him and sear him right to the bone. His flesh would melt under his father’s fingers.
“How do you feel, Eugene?” he asked. Little puffs of smoke followed the words from his mouth. He could even hear the roar of the furnace within him.
“Fine. A little tired, but fine.”
“That’s good. You sound fine. Still worried about losing your body?” his father asked him.
He couldn’t see his other self now, because he had retreated into the walls to escape the light, but he could imagine the smirk on his face. He could almost hear him say, “See? What did I tell you? He talks about losing bodies.”
“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes I can’t help but worry.”
“Well. I don’t want you to worry about that anymore, Eugene. The fact is, you’ve become a part of me, an extension of me, so you don’t have to think about your own body anymore. I see you don’t understand,” his father said, staring down at him.
He could feel the intense heat from his eyes. It was like two rays burning little holes in his head. He wanted to bring the blanket up over himself, but he knew it would do no good.
His father stepped closer and held his arm over him. He cowered as the heat from the arm made the skin on his face tingle.
“See my arm, Eugene. Well, when I want you to, you will be my arm and thus, this arm will have a greater reach. You won’t think of yourself as Eugene. You will think of yourself as my arm. Now do you understand?”
He didn’t, but he nodded quickly.
His father smiled. All of his teeth had become tiny, bluish-white flames, and his eyes glowed like two hot coals.
His father stepped back and went to the window. As he walked, charred air dropped to the side. The whole room now had the odor of burnt electrical wires. It made him nauseous, but he was afraid to complain.
“Actually,” his father went on, gazing out the window, “everyone down there is becoming a part of me. I am expanding in leaps and bounds, growing longer, taller, wider every day. I’m like an octopus with ever-growing tentacles, a spider who continually adds legs.
“And do you know how that makes me feel, Eugene,” he said, turning back to him. He was smiling widely. Tiny surges of lightning sizzled on his forehead and cheeks. “It makes me feel like God, because I’ve come to the conclusion that God is protoplasm, ever-increasing protoplasm.”
He was replaced by an intense gaze. The lightning stopped, but his face took on a metallic glow.
“It’s good to have someone to talk to, Eugene, someone who understands, someone who won’t laugh. So few people have the vision you have now, Eugene.
“It’s ironic
that what has come about suggests the Trinity, isn’t it? I mean, here you are, the son, and I am the Father, and what I have created is the Holy Ghost.”
His father laughed.
“In time perhaps, even those religious fanatics will come to believe in me and in what I have accomplished, huh? Those who think that science is the work of the devil.
“There’s only one thing, Eugene, one sad thing,” he continued, walking back toward the door, his voice taking on a heavy, troubled tone, “eventually, I will have to send you into the world. And you know what they’ll do to you, don’t you? They’ll crucify you.” He stared at him.
Suddenly, his father laughed.
“And then, I’ll resurrect you, just as I resurrected you before, and we’ll create an army of disciples.
“Sound good?” He clapped his hands together, rubbing the palms. “Okay, I’ve got to go back to work. We had a little problem, but I’ve fixed it, I think. If not, well…then my reach must be extended, and that’s where you come in, Eugene. You will truly be my right-hand man.
“Rest up. In the morning we’ll continue the good work.”
He snapped off the lights, and the fire was sucked back into the light fixture. Almost instantly, the room cooled down, and the odor of burnt wires disappeared. His father stood in the doorway a moment, now a charcoal silhouette. And then, he walked away.
As soon as it was quiet again, his second self came out of the darkness.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’”
“I told you so,” his second self taunted.
“I don’t care what he says. He shouldn’t have used her head. God or no god, he had no right to do that.”
“You gave him the right.”
“I did not. I did not!”
“Quiet, you fool. You’ll bring her running in here. All right, you didn’t give him the right. But you did give him the opportunity. Isn’t that so?”
Perfect Little Angels Page 15
