by Doug Welch
Chapter 19
Coin Toss
We hadn't been able to fit Edward through the door, so he was the only one of the group that had not seen the interior of the small room.
The room was long but narrow. It looked as though it had been built behind a false wall.
The wine cellar closet projected into the room, leaving barely enough space to enter it. When the entry door was fully opened, it fit snugly against the hidden room’s wall.
The room measured approximately six feet in width, but extended the whole length of the false wall. Inside the room sat several filing cabinets, a computer, and a video projector. The filing cabinets gaped, almost empty of their contents, which currently were the object of intense scrutiny by the whole group.
Alex complained. “You know what's missing here? The how-to. There's a lot of data, but no instructions.”
Caesar grimaced. “Maybe your father thought it would be self-evident from the data, but how could anyone make sense of this mess?”
Edward looked up from the document he read. “Apparently John did. We must focus on that fact, and realize that the methods are here if we are intelligent enough to find them.”
“From what I'm seeing,” Elizabeth said, “we would have to re-create his entire line of research, and we don't have that much time.” She looked at me.
Her look reminded me. A strong-willed woman, she was sure to allow her sense of responsibility to override her fear of personal danger. There were limits on how much I could do to protect her, so the clock was ticking. “Beth is right. We need to short-circuit this process. I think Dad's journals hold the answers.”
I’d appropriated the journals as soon as they were discovered and I was currently reading them.
I looked up from the page I’d been reading. “Regardless of whether or not we learn to use his secrets, we still have the data as a bargaining chip.”
“I noticed you grabbed the journals first, Paris,” Alex said. "Why shouldn't I be the one who tries to use them? The letter said I could be better than you at it, whatever it is, so why should you be the one who tries it?”
Unable to reply, I realized she was right. However, I’d skipped ahead in the journals, hoping to find simple instructions and instead had found pages of warnings that indicated that the process was filled with traps, some of which could kill the unwary.
I’d become more careful in my reading.
“Alex, I...” I looked helplessly at Caesar, hoping he would intercede.
“I think what Paris is trying to say, is that I would never forgive him if something happened to you, and he's right.”
“Lover, we're going to have a serious discussion of gender roles tonight. Have you two forgotten who drove the truck to the farm yesterday? This macho bullshit has no place in this discussion.” From her look, Alex was angry.
“Alex, calm down,” I said. “I admit it. Call it what you will. Call it the male biological imperative to protect the female regardless of the cost. I've got it, in spades.”
She didn't seem convinced.
“Okay, I'll compromise. Let me read the journals,” I said, “and assuming they contain your 'how-to', I’ll determine who I think will have the best chance to succeed, and that includes all of us. I’ll present my reasoning to the group, and we’ll all make a decision, one we can all live with. Agreed?”
Alex seemed a little less irritated. “Agreed.” Then she turned to Caesar and poked him in the chest. “But you –,” she prodded him again. “You – are going to have to come groveling to my bedside tonight, and we are going to have a discussion about your maleness and my femaleness. – Even though I may think it's kind of sweet. – You got that?”
It was almost comical. I could see him withering under her assault. I took pity on him.
“Caesar? Would you like a beer? We can sit out on the back porch and talk about women.”
Both Alex and Beth glared at me and went upstairs.
Caesar didn't take me up on the offer; he followed the women, most likely to do some groveling when he got the chance.
I didn't blame him. Under the same glare, I'd grovel too.
“What do we do with all this paper, Paris?” Edward asked.
“The paper? Burn it. Beth said that the stuff was all backed up, scanned-in on CD. Anything that appears to be old or valuable, keep. Everything else can be put into the fireplace, except for the journals.”
While he sorted, I started reading the journals from cover to cover.
After a while, Edward indicated that he was finished, and we called the group downstairs to gather the papers for burning.
Caesar and I carried Edward back to the study and I went back to the basement for some privacy to resume my reading.
Sometime later in the night, I finished the last journal.
I’d finished with a sense of foreboding. The journals had depicted my father’s step by step efforts to acquire the necessary control to mimic the Shadows and the number of times he’d almost died in the attempt. The brain was a powerful organism but not without its limits. If the practitioner made a misstep it could result in an unrecoverable coma and possible death.
I’d gained new respect for my father's intellect and courage.
The house was still and quiet. I went upstairs to my bedroom and joined Elizabeth.
