"Why would they think that?" I ask.
"That information is classified."
Chapter 3 – BLACK WATER
In less than twenty minutes, SOA pulls off the road and onto a long dirt path partially hidden by dense trees. If I were driving, I would've never seen it. Bouncing and jarring over huge, muddy potholes, the ride is treacherous. I hold tight to the door handle as we traverse a shallow stream and avoid a downed tree. We pass by a small log cabin in the woods. Branches screech against the side of the truck as we go deeper in; the trees get closer together.
I'm almost afraid to see what's around the next bend, but soon the trees part and we come to a clearing. When a house comes into view, my mouth gapes in awe. Cobblestone chimneys rise under towering blue pine trees; they cut across the multiple rooflines of cedar, moss-covered shingles. Ivy crawls over the enormous, gray stone walls of the house, outlining a score of windows. It's a curious mixture of heavy stone and light glass with mountainous, gray cliffs rising in the background, making for a stunning vista. Seeing those cliffs, I have no doubt where the stone that comprises the house had been quarried.
SOA stops the truck in front of the slate gray steps that lead to the turret-like entryway. I stare at the two enormous double doors.
"This is it?" I ask SOA, already knowing the answer.
"It is."
"Okay," I exhale the word, "wish me luck."
"Why?"
"Never mind," I mutter.
I unbuckle the seatbelt from around Mattie's urn next to me. Lifting it in my arms, I hold it close. I feel the heavy coldness of the smooth metal through my t-shirt; it chills my skin. Slowly, I emerge from the car and face the house. It's beautiful and watchful; it studies me. A shiver of fear runs through me as I walk up the stone steps to the imposing carved doors. The wood is textured to resemble the scaly skin of an alligator, while large, cast-iron doorknockers in the shape of trident-wielding Poseidons stare back at me menacingly.
Fumbling for the black key in my pocket, I push it into the lock. The eyes of Poseidon light up with green fire. In a flash, a green beam infuses me, scanning my entire body. A second later, it extinguishes and one of the doors opens for me to enter.
"Holy. Freaking. Crap!" I breathe and try to recover.
"You may come in," Mattie says from inside the house.
"Mattie!" I squeak his name, stumbling past the threshold beneath the sparkling crystal chandelier in the foyer. I rush into the main room of the house that has a breathtaking view of the lake through an almost seamless wall of windows. I turn in circles looking for him, but he's nowhere.
I'm alive for the first time in months only to die again within seconds when he says, "I am not Matteyo Dillinger. I am Source One Alpha." His tone is curious, like he cannot figure out why I keep making the same mistake.
I nearly choke as my throat squeezes tight. I try to ignore it and ask, "How did you leave the car, So-wah?"
The windows in the house begin to darken, shutting out the increasingly overcast sky outside. What I thought to be mounted track lighting on the elegant, barrel-vaulted ceiling above turns out to be high-powered laser-like lights that manifest and stitch together a holographic image of Mattie...or in this instance, SOA. His image walks on air toward me as he says, "I maintain security for all of Matteyo's former residences—your residences."
I can hardly breathe with him in front of me; it's like looking at a smoky version of my fiancé. His black hair is short in the back with longer bangs in the front, accentuating his masculine jawline. He looks at me with eyes the color of which I've never seen on anyone else; they're midnight blue. His height is exactly that of Mattie's. The top of my head barely reaches his chin.
I try to touch his strong chest. My fingertips slip through air, and are bathed in SOA's projected light. To cover my disappointment, I mutter, "You're doing a masterful job of keeping people out of the penthouse. Maybelle & Co. just trashed it."
SOA smiles at my sarcasm. "I wasn't trying to keep her out. I'm keeping track of her. If I know where she is, I can protect you. Your possessions can be replaced. You cannot."
"You think she'll try to hurt me?" I ask.
"The probability is not in your favor. You have what she desires most."
I clutch Mattie's urn tighter. "She's not getting any part of him," I promise with a shake of my head.
"I will protect you, Violet."
I turn away from SOA and drag my eyes to the view of the lake outside. My stomach clenches. I forget everything as I walk toward the window with Mattie's urn pressed to my chest. The glass slides open revealing itself to be a door. I glance over my shoulder at SOA.
"It's automatic," he states by way of an explanation. "It senses your intention."
Unnerved by the automation embedded in the house, I step outside onto the stone porch. Black clouds hang above the lake, rolling off the peak of a cliff face that shelters the lake on three sides. Mist, like smoke, rises from the black, glassy surface of the water.
My heart pounds in my chest. I have a sense of déjà vu—although I've never been here, I feel as if I have. I leave the porch and hurry down the rough stone path to a wooden dock that extends out over the water. The dark planks creak in protest as I walk to the end of it. I scan the perimeter of the lake for other houses, but there aren't any; neither are there boats or swimmers. There's nothing and no one around for miles; it's all just huge pine trees, wilderness, cliffs, and wildlife. I set down Mattie's urn on a plank, hiding it between two posts, away from the water. After I straighten, I can't help it, I scream his name. "MATTIE?"
My voice echoes off the gray and brown striations of rock from the imposing cliffs. Blackbirds take flight, flying away from my blunderbuss. "MATTIE, I'M HERE!" I cry.
Hurriedly, I strip off my white t-shirt and denim shorts and toss them over Mattie's urn. In my bra and underwear, I plunge into the water. White bubbles stir furiously around me. The water is cold, deep, and ancient-glacier-made. My pale skin looks green beneath the surface. I come up for air, swim away from the dock, and then dive under again. It's so dark; I swim underwater with my eyes open, searching. I come up for air panting. "MATTIE?" I yell again in growing desperation. I dive under again and scream his name. Bubbles rise from me.
I surface again and this time I'm crying. I take several gasping breaths while treading water. A part of me knows I'm crazy—is sure of it. No sane person does this. But, another part of me is sure that he's here. Bone-deep certain. I submerge and swim downward. My ears hurt from the pressure and my lungs, they burn.
Swimming through tall seaweed, it pulls at my hair and waves in my face. As I move around it, a ghostly silver shape looms in front of me. It's massive, jutting up from the dark depths of the water like a submerged skyscraper. Silt and sediment covers it, but as I near, light from above shines through, showing it to be metallic. I reach out and touch the object, brushing away some of the algae. It's a plane except it's like no plane I've ever seen.
My heartbeat triples; I exhale everything I have in my lungs and run out of air. Frantically, I scramble to get back to the surface. I break through and inhale a gasping breath, "Gahhhhaaahh." Trembling, I force choking gasps of air into my lungs. How did someone crash a plane here, I wonder? I take another deep breath and my ability to reason becomes a little clearer. The scale of that thing in the water is way too big to be a plane; it's something else.
My thoughts are interrupted when something floats to the surface near me. The exposed, white underbelly of a dead fish bobs like a cork. I splash at it to move it away from me. My hand bumps into another dead fish as it emerges from the deep. I kick my feet and wave my arms in the water, backing away from the corpses, only to feel several more brush up against my back. I spin in a circle and discover that I'm surrounded; a growing circle of lifeless fish drift on the ripples I've created. I panic, biting my lip and whimpering loudly.
Something frigid touches my ankle. It encircles my leg and tugs gently. I inhale
a deep breath, preparing to scream when I'm pulled abruptly beneath the surface of the water. With my eyes wide open, I gaze upon Mattie's face as he stares back at me. His dark hair waves in the current. He looks nearly perfect, if not exactly normal. His bare skin is so pale it looks blue, but the awful gunshot wounds that had torn holes in his broad chest are no longer visible. He's the same: rugged and handsome to a fault.
Reaching out, his fingers cup my cheek; they're like ice. His thumb rubs over my skin. Instantly, I no longer feel like I have to hold my breath; it's as if I've lost the need for air. Tentatively, my fingers move to touch him, but recoil at how cold he is. His other hand comes up to cover mine, drawing it back to his cheek. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if savoring my touch. He turns his lips to kiss my palm; my skin looks green in contrast to his. When he opens his eyes again, his thumb begins to trail from my face down my throat as he studies me. He traces my clavicle and moves further down, slowly over my breast, to my abdomen. He pauses.
My scar is still pink and ugly where one of the bullets had exited his back and penetrated me. As his thumb rubs over my bumpy skin, his eyes meet mine again. The pain I see in them is my undoing. My face changes from shock to grief. His arm wraps around me and he pulls me to him. I grip his powerful back as my lips brush his cold neck.
Thrashing in the water near us makes him let go of me abruptly. Suddenly, I feel the need for oxygen. Mattie puts his finger to his lips and shakes his head. He begins to fade away. Desperate to stay with him, my arms try to clutch his chest but they only slip through him now as he dissolves in front of my eyes.
The thrashing grows louder right before strong arms grab me around my chest, dragging me back to the surface. Choking, I inhale water and air. I'm forced to look up at the gray sky as I'm towed through black water. I cough and gasp, and then struggle against the person pulling me away from Mattie, but I'm weaker than I know and I can't twist free from the arm that has a vice-like grip on me. As we reach the dock, I'm shoved to the ladder. I thread my arm in it, turning to see who just dragged me away from my love.
Clyde breathes heavily next to me. He's still in the same t-shirt that he had on at the convenience store earlier today...and he looks far from happy.
"You always swim alone?" Clyde demands. His eyebrows come together in a frown over his blue eyes as he pants and wipes dripping water away from them.
"What are you doing here?" I scowl.
"Saving your ass apparently!"
"Saving my—from what?"
"You were drowning!"
"I wasn't drowning!"
"You weren't swimming! You were underwater forever! What were you doing out there, fishing with dynamite?"
"Fishing with..." I look to the middle of the lake; the dead fish are still floating where I'd been. "I was..." I remember Mattie's finger to his lips, "taking a dip." I turn toward the ladder and have trouble grasping the rung to pull myself up. My joints are stiff. I'm shaking, frozen to the bone; goose bumps cover my flesh.
"You're an ice cube!" Clyde says. He takes my hands in his warm ones, rubbing and blowing on them. "Here, we have to get you out of the water." He nudges me to turn away from him, and then he puts one arm around my waist from behind, guiding me up the ladder.
Standing on the dock, I hug my arms to me as I face Clyde shivering. "Why are yyyou hhhere?"
He strips his wet t-shirt off; the tattoos that start on his arms cover his chest as well. Dark, scrolling marks forming beautiful symbols accentuate his muscular build. Wringing his shirt out, it drips water on his soggy shoes; he didn't stop to take them off either before he jumped in the water to save me.
Clyde frowns, "I live here!" He points in the direction of the house. "You passed by my cabin on your way up to the main house. I maintain the property. What are you doing here? Where's Matt?"
"I..." I swallow hard, trying to get the words out, "he... died...I ooown the ppproperty now."
Shock registers on his face. "He what?"
"He dddied," I whisper the words.
"Bullshit!" Clyde scowls, "You're lying! I'd know if he was dead!"
"You'd know...hhhow?"
The screaming of birds distracts me. I gaze over Clyde's shoulder, seeing a flock of blackbirds swarming around the spot where I'd been in the water, diving at the circle of dead fish. His eyes follow mine.
I don't know how long we stand there watching them feast on floating carnage before I feel a tug on my arm. "C'mon. You have to get inside. Your lips are blue." He nudges me gently on my arm again and I allow him to lead me to the house.
When we reach the stone terrace, Clyde asks, "Are you hungry?"
I bite my quivering bottom lip, and then I say. "I'm fffine."
"You're not fine; you're freezing and I can't get answers from you until you warm up." He nods toward the house. "Go inside. I'll go get us some dinner and be back soon." He waves his hand in front of the glass and it opens for me to enter. He nudges me inside; the glass closes behind me. Clyde walks away from the porch, heading around it toward the front.
Chapter 4 – DUSK TO DARK
After Clyde walks away, SOA manifests next to me. "You are dangerously close to hypothermia," he states.
"And I'm ccccold, tttoo," I say with my teeth chattering. Water drips from me onto the beautiful hardwood floor. Waiting just long enough to make sure Clyde is gone, I stumble back to the glass door. I have to get back to Mattie. I pause in front of it, but it doesn't open. Waving my hands, nothing happens.
I glance over my shoulder at the smoky image of SOA. "So-wah, the dddoor won't ooopen."
His mannerisms are like Mattie when he says, "I know—I'm controlling it. You cannot go outside."
"WWWHAT?" I shout with my hands balling into fists.
"Matteyo programmed me to protect you when he cannot. His directives have been activated. There is a high probability that you would become hypothermic should you go back outside now. You cannot leave until your core temperature improves."
My mouth drops open before I snap it shut. I stomp toward the front door and when I reach it, I find it locked as well. "BBBut I hhhhave to get out now! I nnneed to go to hhhim!" I rattle the handle, but it won't open.
"You need to go to who?" SOA asks.
"Mmmattie! He's in the lake."
"Matteyo Dillinger is in the lake?" SOA asks.
"Yes! He's in ttthere. I sssaw him. He hhheld mmme in his arms." I go to the back door again. It still doesn't open. I turn toward SOA in frustration, folding my arms over my chest as I tap my foot.
"His presence is irrelevant. The protection directive supersedes anything else. I have raised the temperature in the house several degrees, but if you would like to get outside sooner, I suggest you take a hot shower. There is a bathroom attached to the master suite. It's through there." SOA points in the direction of a doorway to my right.
I blanche. "You're kkkidding, rrright?"
"I am serious." SOA says, his smoky image crossing his arms to mirror mine.
"Wwwhat's going on hhhere, So-wah? Why is Mmmattie in the lakkke?" I ask.
"I have no knowledge of Matteyo Dillinger being in the lake other than what you've told me."
"Tttell me abouttt the silvvvver thing out ttthere in ttthe waterrr."
"That is classified."
I turn to look out at the lake before I growl in frustration. I give in and move to locate the master suite on the main floor. It's huge and has a stone fireplace similar to the one in the main room that roars to life as I pass it. An elegant, but simple bed on a raised dais comprises a portion of the far wall. The ceiling above it is glass and I wonder how many nights Mattie laid there awake gazing at the stars.
I continue to the master bathroom; it has a huge glass-enclosed walk-in shower that is already on. Steam rolls from it when I open the door. After I undress and enter, it takes several minutes for me to stop shaking. When I do, I turn off the shower and find a towel, wrapping it around me. I drag my fingers through my hair to u
ntangle it. Moving to the bedroom, I find Mattie's closet; it's nearly as big as my entire apartment. I rummage through the drawers, choosing a white t-shirt, cream-colored cable knit sweater, and a pair of black cargo shorts with a drawstring waist that fit me like capris.
As I pull on his oversized sweater, Mattie's scent assails me. Holding the crewneck collar to my nose, I walk out into the bedroom again and study the view of the lake. I found him! I think as I hug myself. A part of me is elated and an equal part of me is terrified. My mind races with questions. What the hell is happening? Why is this happening? Why is he here? What if this is it? What if this is as close as I can ever get to him again?
A desperate longing twists inside of me. If he can't join me here, maybe I can join him in there...or maybe...maybe I'm completely crazy. Maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see—like Dr. Gobel had said. Maybe I've lost my damn mind.
Pounding on the glass outside startles me from my thoughts. I rush back into the main room, nearly tripping over a lounge chair to see Clyde on the back porch. Standing by the glass door, Clyde tries to hide a smile at my clumsiness. He has changed into a black t-shirt and jeans. With his tattoos, he looks like he should have a guitar strapped to him, ready to take the stage in front of a hoard of adoring women.
Feeling my cheeks turning red, I pull the white blanket off the chair and wrap it around my shoulders. Cautiously, I approach the door. Clyde spreads an arm wide, indicating the table on the porch. In the growing dusk, the lantern in the center of it casts flickering light on two elegant table settings.
My eyes search for SOA, but he's not visible. As I near the glass door, it slides open. Cool air of approaching darkness touches my face along with the aroma of food. "Pizza," I say with a sigh, feeling hungrier than I have in days. My stomach growls and I realize I need to eat.
"And salad and bread sticks," Clyde adds. He holds up a bottle of red wine. "And you had the wine."
"Hey, that was in the truck!" I state.
"Yeah, so was this," he says, picking up my purse that has obviously been gone through.
Take Me To Your Reader: An Otherworld Anthology Page 3
