by Steven James
I see images of Petra.
But then, as the pictures float before me, they’re no longer of her.
But of my grandpa.
And of me with him when I was five, that year at Christmas. The year he died.
Dr. Carrigan’s voice becomes nothing but soft, indistinguishable murmuring.
I hear the shattering glass in the hallway of Mia’s ghost story.
See the deathly face outside the Blessed Virgin’s splintered window.
Feel the coarse, wet tongue from the dog in Kyle’s urban legend licking my hand.
It’s all coming together.
Blessings.
Curses.
Prophets and dreams.
The glass shards on the monastery’s stone floor turn into the ones from the lava lamp, the ones that Liam used to cut his arm and to scar Malcolm’s face.
I see the wounds on the corpse from the attic, the one who was just here in the theater.
The same wounds Grandpa had.
The ones he died from.
Blood oozing across the floor.
Through the wood.
Dripping into my room.
Yes, the same wounds.
That’s why he was bleeding like that.
That’s why . . .
The years cycle past me, rushing by, a thousand memories covered by the dust of time flicker for a moment, then float away, until they’re all gone and I’m sitting with my grandpa, alone, in the living room.
“Do you have any imaginary friends, Danny?”
“Yes. Two of ’em.”
“Wow. Two! Are they nice?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And what are their names?”
“Alfie and Fred.”
“Are they here right now?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you know your mommy and your grandma also had imaginary friends?”
“Were they nice?”
“Not always. You know, you can tell us if you ever get scared of Alfie and Fred.”
“They keep me safe.”
“They do?”
“From monsters.”
“What kind of monsters?”
“They’re like giant bats. But scarier.”
“Well, then always keep Alfie and Fred close by. As long as they’re protecting you, don’t tell them to go away.”
It’s the last time you ever spoke with him.
Then you’re in the car, watching out the window. You see his car ahead of you, spinning off the road. Its lights swish past you, making you dizzy.
There’s a loud crash.
And your mommy starts screaming.
You want to go see if Grandpa is okay, but they make you stay in the car.
Then they put him in an ambulance and drive him away and tell you that he went to be with the angels.
And they don’t let you see him again.
You wish they would. You want to say goodbye because you love him and he understands about Alfie and Fred and a lot of grown-ups don’t, and he’s nice to you and always brings you suckers when he comes to visit.
But they take him away and tell you they had to put him in the ground.
“That’s where the monsters live!” you tell your mom.
“There’s no such thing as monsters.”
“Yes, there are! Grandpa knew it! We talked about ’em!”
Then they take you to a field with big rocks and give you some flowers and ask you to put them next to one of the rocks because it’s where Grandpa’s grave is.
“But I thought he was with the angels?”
“He is. But his body is down here.”
And you don’t understand, but you tell Alfie and Fred to stay and take care of him and make sure he’s safe, and then take him up to be with the angels.
But the bats are climbing up from the ground out there, shaking the dirt off their wings, and grinning and flying all around you.
They follow you home.
And that night you get scared because Alfie and Fred are with Grandpa and not there in your room to keep you safe.
And there are the monsters.
Like giant bats.
But scarier.
All around you.
And you’re worried they might go after Grandpa too.
You need to make sure he’s safe.
That’s when you get up and walk past your parents because you never got a chance to say goodbye and you want to, because the monsters live there by the grave and they’re going to try to make Grandpa stay in the ground where it’s cold and lonely and where he won’t ever be able to leave and see the angels.
You need to help him.
You need to save him.
You need to say goodbye.
Goodbye, Grandpa—
Good—
“No!”
The voice scatters the images, the memories, the dreams.
They fold into themselves and slink back again into the hidden corners of my mind.
“Please, no!” It’s Alysha. “No!”
The blur is gone.
And I’m here on stage, seated beside her.
Dr. Carrigan looks shocked.
She keeps shouting about some people named Deedee and Sergei.
“What’s wrong?” I go to her, then call to Dr. Carrigan, “Something’s wrong.”
“She’ll be okay. She’s just—”
Alysha screams and starts frantically batting her hands in front of her like Jess did in the video we watched this morning.
“Wake her up!”
“I will,” he stammers. “I—”
“Deedee!” Alysha shrieks. “Her name is Deedee and he’s Sergei. She’s—”
“You’re on the elevator—” Dr. Carrigan sounds rushed, harried, afraid. “You’re going to take it back up to the tenth floor as I count up to—”
“There’s no time for all that.” I shake her. “Wake up, Alysha.”
“Don’t do that!” Dr. Carrigan warns me. “It’s not good to—”
Tane is still sitting there, staring blankly forward as if none of this is happening.
Dr. Carrigan clamors on, “Ride up safely to floor one, and then two—”
“Please!” Alysha cries.
“—You’re passing three and four and five—”
I try to hold one of her wrists down to keep her still, but she has fierce strength in that slender arm and fights me off. “Alysha!”
“—Floor six. Getting closer. Feeling safer. Floor seven—”
She jerks to the side and throws her head back, almost tipping the chair over.
“—Eight and nine and ten. The doors open. You’re here. You’re safe. You can step out of the elevator now, leave everything from the basement far below you, far behind. You’re back here in the theater, back in your normal, waking state.”
Tane blinks, looks around vaguely, coming out of it, but Dr. Carrigan’s elevator routine hasn’t worked with Alysha. She stays under.
“Wake up,” I say to her softly, hoping maybe by calming my voice it’ll do the trick.
“Don’t try calling Sam, Dad! Don’t—” All at once she shudders and slumps to the side, but I manage to keep her from sliding to the floor.
Tane stares at us, confused, still orienting himself. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Alysha.” I’m supporting her. “She’s not waking up.”
Finally, she moans slightly, then shivers again and tenses. At last she turns her head toward me. “Daniel?”
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She leans into my arms and I hold her until she finally stops trembling.
Dr. Carrigan is standing there speechless.
“What did you do to her?” Tane rises. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I mean, she went under. She would have woken up by herself eventually. Sometimes people take a few minutes to return to . . . But I’ve never seen it happen like that . . . I’m . . . I’ve hypnotized thousands of people and I’ve never h
ad them get so upset when they’re under, not without more of a stimulus.”
I’m starting to believe that this guy can’t be nearly as good as the senator thinks he is.
Tane still looks agitated, but seems unclear about where to take out his frustration. “Were all three of us hypnotized?”
“I wasn’t,” I tell him.
Maybe you were, though. What about the blur? Is that what it’s like to be hypnotized?
I ask Alysha, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“We were taking an elevator down. We passed the third floor. After that, I just remember it jolting to a stop, and I could feel the brush of air as the doors opened again and then you were holding me. So you weren’t hypnotized?”
“I had a blur.”
“About?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with finding Petra. It was more of . . . well . . . Some answers to some personal questions. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe. That you’re okay.”
She turns to Tane. “What about you? Were you hypnotized?”
“I guess I was. I don’t know.”
“What was it like for you?”
“Kind of like what you just said. I remember Dr. Carrigan talking to us about this elevator, but it wasn’t so sudden for me when I woke up. It was like I felt light-headed, but I don’t remember what happened when I was out.”
“Neither do I.”
“You don’t remember crying out?” I ask her.
“No. What was I saying?”
“You were scared. You kept saying ‘Her name is Deedee and he’s Sergei,’ and ‘Don’t try calling Sam, Dad!’ You sounded terrified. Do you know what either of those things means?”
“Uh-uh.”
“You were listening to the video of Petra when it happened,” Dr. Carrigan tells to her.
“What?”
“While you were hypnotized, you said you had to listen to it again and I asked you, ‘Listen to what?’ and you told me, ‘Petra. After she was taken.’ That’s all you said, though.”
Alysha appears deep in thought. “I might know what it means. I think that’s what Petra was trying to tell us when she had her mouth taped shut.”
“I thought you weren’t able to understand her?” I say.
“I wasn’t—not consciously, at least. But maybe I identified it all subconsciously and didn’t realize that until I was hypnotized.”
Dr. Carrigan nods. “That is very possible. The conscious mind and the unconscious mind meet, merge, work together and affect our behavior in ways we still don’t understand.”
“So, if that’s what Petra was trying to say, she might have been telling us the names of her kidnappers.”
Okay, this might be something we could really use.
Tane looks concerned. “Did I say or do anything weird?” he asks me.
“Not that I could tell.”
He faces Dr. Carrigan. “Put me under again.”
“I’m not sure I . . .”
“Do it. And ask me about Malcolm.”
“Malcolm?”
“Yeah. And film it. I want to know what happens.” Then he turns to me and Alysha. “Just me this time. You guys wait here.”
“What is it?”
“I think . . . I don’t know. I sort of remember something from the trance, but . . . Well, I just need to be sure.”
He presses Dr. Carrigan, until finally he agrees and motions for Tane to follow him. “Alright. Come into my office.”
“Can we switch phones?” I ask him. “Let me use yours for a second and you can film him with this one.”
Though he looks somewhat confused by my request, he offers me his cell. “Okay.”
After we’ve exchanged phones, the two of them slip off to the office located just past the back row of seats, leaving Alysha and me alone on stage.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Will you be okay here for a minute? I just need to call the senator and fill him in on what’s happening. I’ll see if those names you said while you were under mean anything to him.”
“I’m fine. Yeah, go ahead.”
I walk offstage to where it’s a little more private and tap in Senator Amundsen’s number.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“How did it go with Dr. Carrigan?” the senator asks me.
“I didn’t end up getting hypnotized. Tane is trying it again because he might have seen something. Alysha heard some phrases that we’re trying to figure out. She mentioned some names: Deedee and Sergei. Do those mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“She also thought she heard Petra telling you not to call Sam, back when her mouth was taped shut in the ransom video. Do you know why?”
“I wasn’t even aware she knew about Sam.”
“Okay, did your people ever figure out where any passing trains and ambulance calls happened close together?”
“It wasn’t easy, verifying it without being in touch with the authorities, but I called in some favors and from what we can tell, there were more than twenty occurrences that night, all throughout the South. It’s just not as uncommon as you might think.” Despite the fact that he seems to be trying to hide it, the strain from what’s been going on weighs down every word. “So I’m afraid that doesn’t do us a whole lot of good.”
“But that narrows it down, though, right? I mean, if you take driving time into account from when she was kidnapped. Also, maybe you can check traffic cameras in those areas to look for that minivan entering or leaving the neighborhoods. There might be a Deedee or Sergei who has a minivan registered to their name, or who owns a house with a basement near those locations.”
“Those are all interesting ideas, but I can’t contact the police, remember?”
“I know someone who might be able to help you.”
“Who?”
“My dad. He’s a sheriff in Wisconsin, but he could go through his own law enforcement channels, say he’s looking into an entirely different case. He could do the traffic camera and name searches, look into the databases. There wouldn’t be any ties back to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“I can call him if you want me to.”
He’s quiet, then says, “No. I can’t chance it.”
“Senator, I honestly don’t know that we’re going to be able to find Petra in time. I want to, I’ll do everything I can to, but right now it’s . . . This might be your best shot.”
Another pause. “Can you make certain that none of this points to me or Petra?”
“I won’t even tell him your name.”
“Alright.”
“Do you have a secure way that you can get him the info you pulled up on the ambulance calls and train whistle locations?”
“Yes. I’ll have one of my people send it through my Senate account. It’s encrypted.”
I give him my dad’s email address.
Then, as soon as he hangs up, I call Dad and tell him what we’re going to need him to do. I finish by saying, “If it gets to be nine o’clock and you have a chance to call in help, do it. We might need it.”
Adrian stopped by to see how things were going with Zacharias’s interrogation.
The man was strapped to the chair in the tattoo room. Henrik was leaning over him.
Bloody tools lay on a tray nearby.
From this angle Adrian couldn’t see Zacharias’s face.
Henrik looked up. “Doctor.”
“The general will be arriving at around seven.”
“Our guest here isn’t being entirely cooperative.”
“But you’re adapting?”
“I’m adapting.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’ve done one of his eyeballs.”
“Punctured?”
“No. Just tagged.”
“I’ve never gotten a tattoo before,” Zacharias said, unintimidated. “While we’re in here why don’t you give me a Celtic cross on my shoulder too?”
Adrian shook his head. “M
r. Zacharias, you can make this a lot easier on everyone involved if you just tell us how we can reach Sam.”
“Sam wouldn’t want me to do that.”
Adrian assessed things, then said to Henrik, “How soon can Sergei and Deedee be here?”
“I’d say by eight. Why?”
“Alright. Have them bring Petra over. If Mr. Zacharias has decided that his own life isn’t worth protecting, perhaps he’ll be more willing to share with us when someone else is sitting in the chair.”
Petra was still yanking at the wire, trying to get it loose from the bucket, when she heard heavy, clomping footsteps on the stairway leading down to her room.
Sergei.
But then, lighter steps followed.
Okay, so this would be the first time both of them had come down to check on her together.
She torqued at the handle—
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.
All at once it snapped off the plastic.
She stared at it, dumbfounded that the wire was resting in her hand.
How long have you been working on this and it waits until now to come off?
Whatever. Hide it. Quick!
It was too stiff and curved to slide down her pants leg, so she stuck it under her shirt, then shoved the bucket to the corner of the room so her kidnappers wouldn’t notice the missing handle.
The door popped open.
Deedee stood there holding a blindfold. “Hello, my dear.”
Sergei had his roll of duct tape.
His nose was broken and he had a butterfly bandage across the bridge of it.
“What happened?” Petra asked him.
“The same thing that’ll happen to you if you don’t behave yourself.”
“Don’t make this difficult now,” Deedee said. “We need to take a drive, and you can either be tied up or simply blindfolded with one leg cuffed to the floor. What’ll it be?”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To get you ready to be reunited with your father.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
“That’ll depend on him.” Sergei held up the tape. “Now, are you going to struggle or are you going to behave yourself like I said?”
“I won’t struggle.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Petra let them put the blindfold on her and lead her up to the garage, and then into the back of the minivan.
When they got inside it, they didn’t tie her up, but they did attach her ankle to a chain so she couldn’t climb out.
