Laying the Music to Rest

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “You think that man was Gretchen’s Alex?”

  “Possible,” Fred said. “Look how old he looks there. Must be at least thirty.”

  I studied the picture. At least thirty. Maybe more.

  “So that makes him one hundred and ten,” I said. “Makes the chance of him being alive very doubtful and answers none of the questions.”

  “Do you think anything is going to?” Constance asked.

  “Someone following Susan would,” I said.

  “I knew it,” Fred said, standing and moving around the couch toward the liquor cabinet. “I knew that was what you were thinking. Damn it all to hell.”

  “You aren’t really?” Constance’s eyes were wide and staring at me.

  I shrugged, but that was as good as screaming a yes to her.

  “I won’t allow it,” she said with a coldness I hadn’t seen from her in years. “This lodge is not worth risking anyone’s life for. No more than we’ve already done by having you two make that stupid dive.”

  Fred fixed himself a drink and returned to leaning against the log wall beside the fireplace. “She’s right. We can get by with the ghost. We’ll just warn people, that’s all.”

  “Hang on a minute. Why don’t we all sit down and talk about this? Let me tell you what I’m thinking and then maybe together we can come up with a better idea. All right?”

  Fred nodded and sat down right where he was on the floor, with his back against the log wall.

  Steven came over and sat down in the big overstuffed chair Susan had used. For a split second, I wanted to warn him to not sit there in case Susan came back, but then realized how stupid that was.

  For the next few minutes, I outlined my five-point summary of the situation, ending with the fact that we had pretty good circumstantial evidence that the mirror worked once in 1909 and we witnessed the mirror working this morning. That alone added a lot of weight to Susan’s future new world story.

  “But that still doesn’t make it safe,” Constance said.

  “And besides,” Fred said, “there’s good evidence that coming back ain’t so easy.”

  “So then let me do it,” Steven said. I glanced over at him. He hadn’t said much the entire day. But I could tell his eyes were blazing with the type of adventure and curiosity that I used to feel before making a dive into a new lake.

  “It’s logical,” he said. “I’m single, have very little family, and am a scientist. The possibilities of this are endless.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “If anyone is going to trigger that thing again, it will be me.”

  “And why’s that?” Steven said. “It makes no—”

  “Because I found it. Simple as that.”

  “Hang on here a minute,” Fred said. “Before we go racing to kill ourselves, let’s at least try to think this through a little more.”

  “Good idea,” I said and Steven took a deep breath and sat back in the chair.

  It was silent in the room for a few moments until I turned to Steven. “Is there anything more that you’ve gotten from Gretchen that you haven’t told us?”

  Steven shrugged. “Nothing except that when I saw the picture I knew Alex was from Boston…and that Gretchen didn’t consider herself a good woman.”

  I glanced down at the picture on the couch beside me. So that might be Alex after all. I understood what he meant about the “good woman” distinction that divided turn-of-the-century society. Gretchen had been a saloon girl, or as they were called then, a prostitute.

  “Do you suppose she knew where Alex got the mirror?” Fred asked.

  My mind reeled at what the answer could be. Whoever had been doing the mirrors had been around for a long time. A long time. I didn’t like that thought.

  “Could you tell if she was in contact with Alex?” Fred asked.

  “She believes he is still alive,” Steven said, his voice heavy. “But I haven’t been able to tell if she had any sense of here and now.”

  “Same damn problem,” I said to Fred and he nodded. The silence and the chill hung over the room while we thought about what to do next. I looked at Fred and Constance, then back to Steven. “Think of anything more?”

  Steven laughed a strained laugh. “I know the name of the song she plays. It’s called ‘Tonight Has a Thousand Tomorrows.’ It was Alex’s favorite song.”

  Constance closed her eyes and shivered.

  I felt the same thing. Uncontrollable shivers did a dance along my spine and right up into the back of my neck. A lovely feeling if you’re into that sort of thing. I personally was getting damned tired of it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Monumental Lodge

  June 29, 1990

  “I THINK YOU’VE finally gone and lost it, old buddy,” Fred said. It was almost noon and he was leaning against a handmade wooden dresser in my room, watching me pack what clothes I could into the bottom part of a large backpack.

  “You may be right about that one,” I said.

  “So then what’s the point?”

  I shrugged without looking up. “Might as well finish what I came up here for.”

  “Damn it, Doc. You and I both know that’s not it. You came up here so I wouldn’t kill myself making a stupid dive into a lake. Not to go using some strange mirror to jump you to God only knows where.”

  “I know.” In the lifetime I had been with Fred, I had seen a lot of worry cross his face. Right now it wasn’t crossing, it was lodged tight, right out in the open.

  “Look on it as an adventure,” I said. “Besides, if Susan is right—”

  “And if she’s wrong?”

  “Then look on it as an adventure.” I didn’t want to think about the obvious possibility that she was wrong. And maybe dead. “What the hell. We’ve done crazy things before. Like the dive into that lake out there. Remember?”

  “That was crazy,” Fred said. “This is just plain suicidal.”

  “You don’t know that. And neither do I. But at least give me my choice of going out the way I like. All right? Hasn’t that been an understood agreement between us all these years? As long as we went out doing something we wanted to do, everything would be fine. No bad feelings and all that. Well, I want to do this. And see, I’m smiling.”

  I gave him one of the biggest, phoniest grins I could and he laughed and shook his head.

  “Besides, Susan seemed to know what she was doing,” I said. “And it didn’t look like suicide to me. Admit it. You’re jealous. You really want to go along, but know Constance would kill you if you even suggested it. Right?”

  Again, he laughed. “Not really. I’m more worried about you.”

  “Okay for you to worry if you want. But the question is, are you going to help? If so, see how Constance is coming with the food.”

  Fred shook his head. “I ever tell you that you’re impossible to reason with?”

  “I learned it all from you.”

  “I’ll check on the food.” He turned and went back out the door and I listened as he plodded down the stairs.

  He knew I was as worried and afraid as he was. It had been a long night of almost no sleep. I’d thought it through over and over and had kept coming back to the same conclusion. I wanted to see what was on the other side of that mirror. And even more than that, I wanted desperately to not have to go back to that bar and all those nights alone in that house. That was truly the bottom line.

  Yesterday, when Susan disappeared out of that chair, I knew that I had found my escape. Not just the pretend escape from a boring classroom to a boring bar. Susan proved her story by proving the mirror was what she said it was. There was a possible new start where she had gone and my little voice was yelling for me to not miss the opportunity. In other words, escape. Run like hell. Jump the wall. Do all those other clichés that come up when a person is trying to rationalize a change in his life. Most people go through life fearing change, hanging by their fingernails to what they know, afraid of the dark, evil “what if” around the corner
. I had always scorned those types of people. Yet, in many ways I had done the same thing. Now, finally, I’d found a true adventure. A true chance at change.

  I was scared flat silly.

  I tucked the last of the clothes into the pack and pulled the zipper tight. Then I swung it up on my shoulder and took one more quick look around the room. There was nothing more I needed here, or for that matter, back in Boise. For some reason, that thought made me feel very light.

  I headed down the stairs. Through the front window, I could see that the sun had begun to fill the bottom of the valley in its losing battle to warm the waters of the small lake.

  Constance brought the small daypack full of food out of the kitchen and set it on the table beside the other provisions as I leaned the big pack against the wall. She looked up at me. She had the same lines of worry etched in her face that Fred had in his. Of course, if the situation were reversed, I would look the same. And I would be protesting just as much. I also hoped that if they insisted, I would do everything in my power to help. That’s the way it had always been between us.

  Fred, Steven, and I worked at packing everything and making contingency plans as Constance fixed a huge lunch. Since we had no idea exactly where I was going, we packed every survival type of item the four of us could think of, from boxes of matches to toilet paper. There were flints, a mirror, knives, and a string saw. The food Constance packed would last me almost two weeks if I was careful. I also had a medical kit far in excess of what a normal hiker would carry, plus a compass and world map.

  After a huge lunch, forced down me by Constance with the rationale, “You never know when you’re going to get a solid meal again,” Fred and I rechecked the list we had made the night before to make sure everything was included. The pack weighed out at one hundred and eighty-six pounds, sleeping bag, rifle, and all. If I ended up someplace where I had to carry that sucker farther than a few hundred yards, I would be in trouble. Hell, for all I knew, I might end up in an apartment on Broadway. Or maybe in a cave in Africa. Or in a jungle. But, as Fred said, if I was stupid enough to do this, the least I could do was be prepared for almost anything. I could always ditch the stuff I didn’t need.

  Finally, everything was ready and I had given my last hugs to Constance and Fred. Both Fred and Steven helped me put the pack on. Damned if I knew how, short of falling down, I was going to get it off by myself. I mentioned that to Fred but he didn’t think it at all funny.

  With the pack, I sat down on the edge of the coffee table and picked up the mirror. “I don’t know what to suggest you do with this,” I said. “Just make sure you keep it safe. After Susan’s comment, there might be others after it. All right?”

  Constance had tears in her eyes, but she nodded.

  “But do try to keep it out in the open,” I added. “I might come back through it real soon.

  “You know,” Fred said, “I wish you weren’t doing this. I mean—”

  “Don’t,” I said. “My stomach is already so damn tight I can hardly breathe. On second thought, maybe it’s this pack.” I tried adjusting the pack for the show of it, but didn’t get much of a smile from the three solemn faces staring at me. “All right, it’s not the pack. I’m scared to death. Now, are you satisfied?”

  “Not until you change your mind,” Fred said.

  I shook my head. “Just keep the home fires burning. I’ll be all right. And if not, you know where my will is. Just don’t give my stuff away too soon.”

  “Damn it, Doc,” Constance said. “Don’t—”

  I held up my hand for her to stop. “Just kidding. Tell Angie I’ll be back before the students return from summer break. And tell her to hire someone to water the damn plants. She always forgets.”

  Fred nodded.

  “If possible, I’ll try to get some sort of signal back to you. Maybe through the ghost or something. Damned if I know how.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be around,” Steven said.

  Again, Fred nodded but didn’t say anything.

  I picked up the mirror and looked in it. For a brief second, my own image surprised me. I had my navy stocking cap pulled down tight and my parka wrapped around Fred’s rifle and strapped across the top of the sleeping bag behind my head.

  I looked into the mirror for a moment, then over at Fred. He did not look happy. He looked like any moment he was going to jump forward and pull the mirror from my hands. I winked at him.

  I was so scared I could hardly hold the mirror steady enough to look in it. What the hell was I doing? I looked over at Fred and then back at my own image in the shaking mirror. My nerve was fading fast. This was like jumping off a cliff. It was either now or never.

  I had started to run my hands along the outside of the mirror, copying what Susan had done, when movement caught my eye.

  “Constance!” Fred shouted. “Move!”

  Within a foot of where Constance was standing, the air was shimmering. Constance jumped quickly aside as Gretchen took form, facing me. Constance and Fred both moved around to give her room. The ghost stood staring at me. Or more likely at the mirror.

  “I’m going to see if I can find Alex,” I said after a long moment of silence. The ghost made no motion that she had heard me. Then, as quickly as she had come, she faded.

  I glanced around at Steven. He was still standing there with his eyes clear, watching intently.

  “I didn’t catch a thing,” he said.

  No one said another word and so finally, I looked into the mirror at my own worry-lined face. If I didn’t do it soon, I would never have the courage again.

  I took a deep breath to try to calm my shaking hands and sick stomach. Then I looked myself right in the eye and ran my hand clockwise around the smooth ivory frame.

  Quickly, I laid the mirror facedown on the coffee table beside me.

  For a moment, I thought nothing was going to happen. I was about to reach for the mirror and try again, when I noticed the room seemed to be glowing.

  I glanced over at Fred and then up at Constance. They were shimmering, as if I were looking at them through a layer of slightly moving clear water.

  “Doc!” I heard Constance shout, but her voice sounded very far away.

  “I’ll be back,” I tried to shout at them. But I think it was too late.

  I was in complete blackness.

  I had no feeling. Nothing.

  No up. No down. No weight. No smell.

  Nothing.

  My eyes were open and I couldn’t see a thing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Boat Deck

  First Cycle

  April 14, 1912

  THE BLACKNESS FADED quickly, with the light coming back like someone was turning up a dimmer switch.

  I was now standing. I couldn’t remember straightening my legs, but I ended up that way without a bump or the slightest feeling of movement. As the blackness faded, my weight and the heavy feel of the pack returned.

  I was outside, on the deck of a ship, facing over a gray-blue ocean into a setting sun that stabbed streamers of red across the sky. It had been near noon when I left. It was obviously much later wherever I was now.

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. My heart raced like it was going to explode. That was almost comforting. At least I wasn’t dead. Or it didn’t feel like I was.

  I seemed to be on the top deck of a very large ship. A biting cold wind cut at my face. I could smell the salt in the air as the bow of the ship plowed through the ocean swells, sending huge walls of water crashing off to each side and a fine mist of spray back over the lower decks.

  I started to do a quick turn to look around and ended up catching myself on the rail. The damn pack almost tipped me off into the water. The stupid thing weighed a ton.

  Slowly, so as not to pull a muscle, I knelt down and eased the pack off onto the deck. Then I unwrapped my coat from the rifle and put it on. The wind was cold and seemed to be getting more so with every passing second. That would figure. I coul
dn’t jump to someplace warm with beaches and lots of sun. No sir. It had to be cold.

  I took a pair of pants out of the bottom zipper of the pack, wrapped the rifle in them so it couldn’t be seen, and secured it back to the top of the pack frame.

  Then I stood and glanced around. No one seemed to be paying me any mind at all. Toward the stern of the ship, a dozen passengers in heavy, old-style coats walked the deck or stood by the rails between the large wooden lifeboats that hung from crane-like arms along the side. The walking passengers turned back at a rope barrier strung across the deck from a lifeboat to a window frame. It seemed that I had landed in an off-limits section of the ship. Maybe this was the normal landing area for people coming through the mirror.

  Ocean on the right as I faced the bow meant I was on the starboard side of the ship. On my left seemed to be the bridge of the ship. Seven men in blue, formal-looking uniforms were working. Three stood at panels. Another slowly moved a large wheel while staring out over the rolling sea.

  The bow of the ship had to be a good two hundred feet from where I stood. Behind me, the ship seemed to stretch into the distance. It was one of the biggest ships I had ever seen. Much bigger than any of the transport ships I had been on. I had prepared myself for ending up in a lot of different places. But not once did I think it would be a ship, especially a passenger liner already at sea.

  I took another deep breath and tried to force myself to relax enough to think straight. With any luck, Susan was somewhere on the ship, assuming that the mirror had sent me to the same place it had her. I didn’t want to think about the chances that it hadn’t. I had decided to go through the mirror with the assumption that it would send me to the same place and now it was far too late to start questioning that belief. Susan was here. Wherever here was.

  I dragged the pack across the deck and leaned it against the bulkhead, then zipped up my coat and went back over to the rail. The water was a good eighty feet below me. As far as I could see in the quickly fading light, there was nothing but rolling ocean. No other ships or any sign of land. Absolutely no telling where I could be.