by Amy Cross
"And you will see his return in the candlelight?" I ask, running my hand through Victoria's hair. I want so much to ease her burden, but I fear that she is losing herself in dreams that can never possibly come true. I was one of those who witnessed Thomas Paternoster's dead body first-hand, and I am quite certain that his death cannot be doubted: half of the man's head was blown away by the gun, and there was brain matter on the wall. Indeed, even now, his body is buried in a grave on the outskirts of Devil's Briar, awaiting completion of a headstone. The idea that any part of that man remains intact, and that he could deliver a message back to those of us who are still living, is quite absurd. Only in a fevered mind could such ideas take root and grow.
"He is here," Victoria says. "Somewhere. He is around us, in the dark." Finally, she looks up at me, her beautiful eyes full of loss and wonder. "If you were in his position, would you not choose to communicate your presence in some way? The candlelight seems the most obvious choice, especially when one takes into account the qualities of light involved in my uncle's calculations."
"Well..." I pause, not sure what to say.
"Look!" she says, getting to her feet and hurrying over to the bookcase in the corner, from which she retrieves a small notebook that I recognize as being one of her uncle's. She opens the notebook and shows me a page full of handwritten calculations, along with a small diagram that appears to show a series of circles set against a cross. "Do you understand now?" she asks, staring at me in expectation.
"I am not sure that I do," I reply hesitantly.
"The light fractures along a medial axis," she says, as if such things make perfect sense. "When the light fractures, the incidence of temporal flow is draw from its natural arc for a fraction of a second. It is in these moments that travel such as my uncle calculated might be possible. There is a quantity of some matter, all around us, that we do not see or feel or otherwise detect, but it is there. My uncle took Tesla's work and changed it so that he could understand the nature of this matter. He measured it, and over time he learned how it might be manipulated, and so..." She turns the pages of the notebook, showing me further sets of calculations. "It's all here," she continues, suddenly thrusting the notebook into my hands. "If you go through this book from start to finish, you'll see. It's all written down. He accounted for everything."
"I see," I reply, staring at the incomprehensible scribbles her uncle left behind. I am starting to wonder if that man was entirely competent in the head.
"Don't you see?" she asks, her hands shaking as she reaches out and turns the pages of the notebook back to the beginning. "Tell me you understand, Albert. Tell me it makes sense."
"I am not a man of science," I reply eventually. "I am afraid that I can make no sense of your uncle's work. That does not mean, of course, that I am dismissing his ideas. I merely say that I am in no position to..." I pause, realizing that I must seem like a fool. "Do you understand all of this, Victoria?" I ask, stunned that a woman - even one as clever as my dear Victoria - could make sense of such complex ideas.
"Every word," she replies firmly. "Every calculation. My uncle taught me."
"Quite a marvel," I mutter. "And to what end did your uncle complete all this work? What was his goal?"
She stares at me for a moment. "He believed he could move from one point on the curve to another," she says, her voice trembling a little. "He was quite certain that he could disappear at a time of his choosing, and reappear in some other form when the moment was right." She grabs the notebook and flicks through to one of the later pages. "These are the calculations regarding his return," she explains. "He was not entirely certain about all the figures, but he observed certain factors in the natural world. He spent many hours calculating the trajectories of ghosts and determining the correct..." She pauses. "Albert, I suddenly have the most terrible headache. Do you think it would be too much if I went to bed?"
"I think sleep would be a great aid to your condition," I say, taking her by the arm and leading her through to the bedroom. As she settles back into the bed, I observe a great tension in her expression, and I am overcome by a feeling of absolute helplessness. It seems as if there is nothing I can do to ease her burden, yet I must keep trying. She rests her head on the pillow and is asleep almost immediately. Careful not to make a noise, I walk back through to the study, where the candles are still burning. Staring into the little flames, I find myself wondering what foolish notions have been placed into my wife's mind by her uncle. The man might have saved her from an orphanage when she was a child, but he should have taken more care to cultivate her emotional and intellectual development. She will require help and patience, but I am ready to provide both. With a heavy heart, I lean closer to the candles and blow out their flames.
"You could always fuck her while she's asleep," says a voice in my head. Lawrence Evans has been fairly calm since my wedding to Victoria, but from time to time he still pipes up and mutters a few obscenities. The rest of the time, he seems to be resting.
"You would do well to resist the urge to mouth such obscenities," I say quietly.
"That's as may be," he replies, "but I still wouldn't mind if you decide to give her a quick spin in the next few days. The only reason I keep my voice down at the moment, Albert old pal, is that this way you end up spending more time in bed with that lovely young woman. I sure do like watching you squeeze your pudgy little cock into her tight pussy."
Deciding to ignore the voice, I turn and head back through to the bedroom, where Victoria is sleeping calmly. Once I am in bed, I listen to the silence of the town at night. I am grateful that Lawrence Evans seems to have quieted down once again, though I am quite certain he is still in my head somewhere. Rolling onto my side, I place an arm around Victoria, hoping that even in her slumber she will be reassured by my presence. Although she does not wake up, she responds by gently resting a hand on my wrist. This perfect, beautiful woman has fallen victim to many devious men over the years, and I am determined to rescue her from the nightmare in her heart.
Chapter Two
Today
Staring at the monitor, I wait for the portable spectrometer to give some kind of reading. I'm sitting out in the middle of the town square, trying to use the machine to determine if any unusual light variances can be detected in the area around the huge metal cross. It's a bit of a long-shot, but we've already tried all the obvious tests and come up with nothing. I'm certain that we're missing some kind of clue, but right now it's as if Devil's Briar is determined to hold on to all its secrets. If the spectrometer doesn't deliver anything, I'll try every piece of kit in the truck until I finally find out what the hell caused Lawrence Evans to vanish when he touched the cross. Unfortunately, the spectrometer doesn't seem to be picking up anything unusual, so I guess it's back to the drawing board.
Hearing footsteps coming up behind me, I switch the machine off.
"If you've come to gloat," I say, expecting to find Ed standing behind me, "you're -" I stop speaking as I realize that there's no-one there. Glancing around, I see that I'm still completely alone in the town square. I swear I heard someone coming over here, but there aren't even any footprints in the dust.
Turning back to the machine, I feel a shiver run through my body. Ever since the very first day I set foot in Devil's Briar, I've had a weird feeling about this town. Nothing major has happened, but I feel as if there's often something moving in the corner of my eye, and sometimes I have this weird sensation that someone is standing right next to me. I know it's crazy, and I know I'm probably just overreacting to the daunting strangeness of the place, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I wish I could talk to Ed or Dr. Cole about this, but I'm pretty sure they'd dismiss my concerns, just as Bill dismissed them during the first visit. At the same time, I know what I'm feeling, and I'm even feeling it right now; someone, somewhere, is staring at me, and I know they're there even if I can't actually see them.
"Paula!" calls out a voice, and I turn to see Ed co
ming toward me. I feel a shudder of relief.
"Any luck?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Apart from the buildings, there's nothing here. No bodies, no documents of any real value." He stops next to me and looks up at the cross. "What about this thing? You got any closer to working out what the hell it's for?"
"So far," I reply, "it just seems to be what it looks like. It's a big metal cross and no matter what instruments I use, I'm not picking up anything unusual. I'll crack it eventually, but right now it's refusing to give up its secrets. I'm starting to think there aren't any secrets at all."
"And you're staying well back, right?" he says, looking down at the circle drawn around the base of the cross.
"You think I'm an idiot?" I reply. "Of course I'm staying well back. There's no way I want to go the same way as Lawrence. Whatever's going on with this thing, I'm pretty sure I can get to the bottom of it without actually touching it." I take a deep breath; the heat of the midday sun is starting to become a little too strong, and I'm sweating buckets. I'm also feeling pretty nauseous, as if something's not right in my belly.
"You want to take a break?" Ed asks.
"Sure," I say, setting the equipment down and walking toward the hotel with him. "Where's Dr. Cole?"
"Checking the perimeter again," he replies. "He says he wants to understand the area immediately surrounding Devil's Briar. I don't really know what he thinks he's going to find, but I guess he's got his own crackpot theories." He pauses for a moment. "So anyway, I was wondering. Have you noticed anything strange about the weather?"
"It's hot," I say as we walk into the hotel.
"Yeah," he replies, "and this morning it was freezing cold. And last night it was baking, and before that there was a little snow."
"It's changeable," I add.
"It's more than changeable," he continues. "It's freaky. This town has the most bizarre micro-climate I've ever encountered. It's as if the whole place just swings from one extreme to the other. Tell me how that's possible."
"How would I know?" I reply, leading him through to the little saloon bar. "I'm not a weatherman."
"I still think there's something very unusual going on here," he says.
I can't help but let out a small laugh. "You think?" I say. "You know what, Ed? You just might be onto something."
"You know what I'm talking about," he replies. "A dramatic swing from one set of climatic conditions to another is not unheard of, but this place seems to swing repeatedly from hot to cold. Didn't you notice that when you were here the first time?"
"It snowed the first time," I say, drinking from one of the bottles of water we brought. "I'm not denying that the weather around here is pretty hyper-real, but I don't see that it's anything particularly mysterious. There are mountains nearby, and valleys. Couldn't those account for a prolonged period of unusually rapid transitions from -"
"Not like this," he says, interrupting me. "This is something different. Something seems to be impacting the development of normal weather patterns in the area around Devil's Briar, and..." He pauses for a moment, with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "Never mind."
"Never mind what?" I ask.
"It's kind of a crazy theory," he replies, before taking a deep breath. "Okay, don't shoot me down right away, but what if that big metal cross is some kind of device that's supposed to affect the local climate? What if in some way it's..." He pauses. "You know what? Now that I say it out loud, it seems completely ridiculous. I guess I was just clutching at straws."
"So you think someone in Devil's Briar had managed to build a weather machine, huh?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all," he says. "I'm not talking about some kind of B-movie sci-fi thing. But it's totally possible that some kind of concentrated magnetic disturbance could have a strong local impact."
I smile, taking another sip of water.
"So you agree with me?" Ed continues. "It's a crazy theory, right?"
"It's not even a theory," I point out. "You've just noticed two apparently unconnected things and tried to explain them by shoving them together. Not very intellectually rigorous, is it?" I take another sip of water. "Have you looked at the body from under the bed?"
"I didn't learn much," he replies. "It was definitely male, but the only distinguishing feature was some damage to one of the knees. I'm gonna bag him up so we can take him back to Boston, but I doubt we'll learn much from a DNA test. Something tells me the apples didn't fall far from the trees in Devil's Briar."
"Still," I say, "he's the only one we've got so far."
"And he was under the bed, huh?" Ed says.
"God knows how he ended up there," I reply. "I guess he was hiding from someone."
"Either that, or someone was hiding him," Ed points out. "I mean, there aren't many reasons why a fully-grown adult would happen to die while he's in the space under a bed. Especially in a hotel." He smiles. "Maybe there was some naughty business going on in Devil's Briar. Maybe -"
Suddenly we both turn to the window, hearing the sound of someone calling for us. Hurrying out of the hotel, we find that Dr. Cole has returned to the town square, and he's in an agitated, breathless state. For a man who usually seems so calm and relaxed, the change is quite remarkable.
"Come with me," he says, grabbing our arms and trying to pull us along.
"Where are we going?" Ed asks.
"I've found something," he says. "Come on."
"Tell us first," Ed says as we both pull free.
"I can't," Dr. Cole continues. "You really have to see it. I promise you, it's..." He pauses for a moment. "Just come with me!" Turning, he starts hurrying toward one of the side streets.
After exchanging puzzled glances, Ed and I hurry to keep up with him. He leads up all the way along the street and finally out past the edge of the town. As he starts heading into the forest, I start to worry that maybe he's found something that indicates that Bill set out on his own when he realized he was stranded. If that's the case, it's another clear indicator that Bill probably died somewhere out in the wilderness.
"Reuben, where the hell are we going?" Ed calls out as we struggle through the undergrowth.
"Just a few hundred meters!" Dr. Cole calls back.
"Can't you just tell us?" I shout.
"Trust me!" he replies.
"This is crazy," I say to Ed as we try to keep up with him. "What the hell are we supposed to find out here?"
Up ahead, I see that Dr. Cole has suddenly stopped. As Ed and I finally catch up to him, I stare ahead and for a moment I see nothing more a seemingly endless expanses of woodland. After a moment, however, I notice something on the forest floor, a few meters ahead of us. It takes a moment for me to realize what I'm staring at, but I feel my chest tighten as I understand the true significance of what Dr. Cole is showing us.
"Where the hell did they come from?" Ed says, clearly shocked.
"I doubt this is a coincidence," Dr. Cole says, with a hint of awe in his voice. "Ed. Paula. We found them. Meet the survivors of Devil's Briar."
Chapter Three
1925
"Best to let her rest," Henry Porter says as we sit in the hotel's saloon bar. "A woman's mind is a difficult thing to understand, Albert. Full of crazy ideas, but unable to make much sense of them. I used to think of my Haley's mind as being like a big soup that never stopped being stirred. There's not much you can do to help her, so just let it be, and hope that she comes right in the end."
"Perhaps," I say, sipping from my tea, "but I fear she is merely sinking further and further into despair. The loss of her uncle seems to have unlocked some great cataclysm in her mind, and she is clinging to his old notebooks in some misguided belief that the man is coming back from the dead."
"What's in these notebooks?" he asks.
"Calculations," I explain. "Thoughts. Ideas. Diagrams. It's all part of the work he was undertaking."
"And this work was..." He pauses for a moment. "I spoke to Mr. Paternoster on a nu
mber of occasions, Albert, but I was never sure about the nature of his work."
"Nor was I," I say, "but I'm starting to believe his influence on Victoria was far from good."
"Then burn the notebooks," Henry replies. "Look, Albert, I think the best thing to do is to leave Victoria to sort herself out. But if that option isn't appealing, then you have to go to the other extreme. Destroy all trace of Thomas Paternoster, and perhaps you'll be able to snap her out of this malaise."
I take a deep breath. Some of Henry's ideas make sense, but I cannot help but think of his own wife. Haley Porter descended into a madness of her own, and eventually died by her own hand. While I am very keen to hear Henry's advice, I have to recognize that he was unable to help Haley. It might be the case that he has learned from his mistakes, and that his perspective is now extremely useful; on the other hand, this might instead by one of the few areas where Henry's advice would cause more harm than good. If I destroyed Thomas Paternoster's notebooks, Victoria would undoubtedly react very strongly. I am quite certain she loves me, but I fear her love for her uncle is stronger.
"She is a rare creature," I continue. "I do not think she is especially delicate. Rather, I fear she is too strong for her own good. Emotionally, I mean. She has been through so much, Henry. Her parents died in a fire, and then she languished in an orphanage until her uncle collected her several years later. I do not wish to besmirch the name of a dead man, but I feel Thomas Paternoster failed to provide her with a stable life. They spent much of their time wandering from town to town until they finally came to Devil's Briar. Perhaps she is simply struggling with the process of putting down roots."
"Either way," Henry replies, "she cannot continue like this forever. I have no doubt that she has potential, Albert, but she could yet end up..." He pauses for a moment. "Well, you know how things went with Haley."
"There is nothing I would not do for Victoria," I say firmly. "Even if I have to take her on a trip to Florence, to see a doctor, I will gladly assume such an undertaking. Perhaps we must even make a longer trip, away from Devil's Briar for many months. There must be good doctors in California. It is too soon to think of such measures for the immediate future, but I fear that eventually I must seek firmer help. In truth, I do not know if my patience is a blessing or a curse. Every day the poor girl suffers, and every day I wonder if her condition is merely getting worse and worse."
