by D. B. Magee
He turned away from the window and stared into Lisa’s intense brown eyes. “There’s still something cattywampus here!” he said, rubbing his chin. “Since Granny’s journal was stored here, then it figures that she knew about Tree Root Cavern and the Cryptex safe. So, what I can’t figure is why she didn’t tell me about all this stuff when we first arrived. She didn’t even tell me that she knew this place.”
“Perhaps she was just trying to honor Mr. Finch by keeping his secret,” Lisa suggested.
“Maybe,” Ryan conceded. “But my gut tells me that there’s more to it than that.”
Lisa stood and gestured toward the door. “Then, I say we get back to the journals and keep digging.”
Ryan nodded his approval. “Right you are! Let’s go.”
The First Glimpse
Lisa’s dad was shorter than average, but lean and solid. His narrow face sported a well-groomed mustache, and his jet-black hair was cropped short. “William!” he called, ascending the staircase into the upstairs game room. “Are you up here?”
“Oh, shoot!” William muttered. “It’s Mr. Walborg. Stacy,” he said, shoving his notebook under his pillow. “Hurry! Hide the journals.”
Stacy didn’t respond.
William looked over at his sister and, noticing that she was asleep, jumped up, swiftly hid the remaining three journals, and rushed to the door.
“I’m in here!” he called, seeing Mr. Walborg approach in his grease-smudged mechanic’s overalls.
“Oh, there you are!” Mr. Walborg said, reaching the doorway. “Here are the batteries you wanted.” He handed William a small, brown paper bag. “I threw in a few extras for good measure,” he added. “So, how’s your glider coming? When I saw it last, it looked like it was about finished and ready to fly.”
“Well,” William said, a bit sheepishly, “I did finish it, and it did fly—for about three minutes, until I crashed it into that old tree out beside the house. But Ryan’s grandmother already sent over a replacement. Now all I have to do is build that one.”
“That’s all right!” Mr. Walborg said, tussling William’s hair. “Building them is half the fun. Let me know when you get the new one finished. I’d like to see it fly.”
“I will,” William said.
And with that Mr. Walborg turned and left.
William peeked down the hallway and watched Mr. Walborg cross the game room and disappear down the stairs. Hastening to the desk, he filled the battery compartment of the Frequency Glasses. Just wait until the others find out what these things really do, he thought with a knowing grin. He donned the glasses and flipped the switch. I sure hope this works.
The dim LEWs began flashing rapidly, and his eyes were immersed in twinkling brightness. He rotated the boom arm speakers down over his ears, and heard a pattern of soft humming sounds. Suddenly, an EXPLOSION of light filled his head. He stood frozen, mesmerized. He felt a pulling sensation from within, as if he was being sucked right out of his body. There was a slight pop as his astral body separated from his physical body and then . . .
“Welcome William! We’ve been expecting you.”
“Stacy, wake up!” William hissed, shaking her shoulder.
Stacy stirs. “What?” she griped, sleepily.
William held out the glasses. “Here! You’re going to want to check these out.”
Stacy looked up through squinted eyes. “Oh, you got them working.” She yawned. “Are they as good as mine?”
William grinned. “Better!”
Virtual or Reality
“I don’t care about them ol’ glasses,” Ryan protested as William pushed him down into the desk chair.
“Really, Ryan, you’ve got to see this!” William insisted. “They’re much better than Stacy’s glasses. And you don’t even need to look at a computer screen. Everything is self-contained within the glasses. Here, just give them a try.” He shoved the Frequency Glasses at Ryan.
“All right, all right,” Ryan huffed, taking the glasses. “But really, I’m not much of a game person. I told y’all that before.”
“Oh, I think you’ll like this game,” William replied, a prankish grin appearing on his face.
Reluctantly, Ryan slipped the heavy and cumbersome frames onto his face. “Okay, now what?”
William rotated the boom arm speakers down in front of Ryan’s ears.
Before Ryan was even aware of the high-pitched, alternating sounds or the twinkling LEWs in the lenses, his mind was filled with an explosion of light, followed by a sensation of being ripped from his natural body. “Ahhh!” he hollered. “What’s—happening?”
Over on the bed, Stacy smiled in memory of her own experience.
“Just relax,” William said. “The sensation will pass. After that, you can interact with the program as you please.”
However, before Ryan’s astral separation was even complete, a loud, gruff voice boomed inside his head.
WHERE BE YE GOIN’, LAD?
At that moment, a massive and gnarly nebulous fist, the size of a semi-truck, burst forth from the sky, streaking down upon him. In the next instant, a gigantic, vaporous finger and thumb snatch the front of Ryan’s shirt, jerking his astral body, kicking and hollering, through space at blinding speed.
Shortly, Ryan found himself deposited roughly on his keister in a dreary, misty swamp. The large apparitional appendage dissolved, revealing an encircling band of vicious and grungy-looking phantasmal cutthroats, who thrust curses and sword points at him, their faces grim.
Ryan shook his head to clear the dizzy feeling from his mind and stood up. “Wow!” he said. “That was more exhilarating than busting broncs!”
His eyes darted from one spectral buccaneer to another. Looking beyond them, he glanced around, taking in the whole scene. In the distance, he noticed an old sailing ship wrecked off the swampy coast. This is great, he thought. I’m in a pirate game.
Looking up, Ryan noticed a dark billowing cloud blowing in, from which formed a large, foreboding presence. A grim and dark figure of a man with beaded hair and braided beard began to materialize. The dark blue overcoat and tricorn he wore, as well as his commanding demeanor, suggested that he was the leader of this motley crew. His fierce eyes were black as coal, and the crooked and swollen scars on his face gave testimony to a mean and violent nature.
He floated slowly forward.
Intrigued, Ryan stared at the old flintlock blunderbuss protruding from the man’s sash, and the scimitar in his hand.
The burly corsair approached, and with a hard and veiny hand placed the tip of his sword under Ryan’s chin, forcing the boy to tilt his head back. He peered into Ryan’s face.
All Ryan noticed as he gazed up the length of the sword were the Pirate’s fingernails, long, filthy and chipped.
“This is pretty realistic, Willy!” Ryan said, from behind the glasses. “I can even feel the point of the sword.”
William’s eyes widened in astonishment. Sword? Suddenly feeling the need to give Ryan a little instruction, he said, “If you want to communicate with anyone while you’re in there, all you have to do is project your thoughts. There’s no need to actually talk.”
Project my thoughts? No wonder they kept these things locked up. There must be some sort of top secret brain sensors in them, Ryan speculated.
William left Ryan to his adventure and hopped back onto the bed with the girls.
Stacy leaned toward William and whispered, “Did you tell him?”
William shook his head with an impish smile. “He still thinks it’s just a game. Did you tell Lisa?”
“Yes,” Stacy said, grinning at Lisa, “but I don’t think she believes me.”
Lisa looked perplexed as she sat listening to the twins. “Do you two really expect me to believe that those glasses can see into the spirit world?”
William held up the journal. “It’s all right here in the book—if you care to have a look.”
Lisa shook her head. “That sort of thing just isn’t possible. I
think maybe you misread it. It’s more likely that the book is talking about the glasses seeing into a virtual world.”
“Then how do you explain that William and I—both—saw and talked to our parents?” Stacy asked.
Lisa raised an upturned hand in front of her, “Simple,” she said. “You probably just interacted with two avatars that happen to look like your parents.”
“But they knew everything about us,” Stacy contended.
“Well of course they’d know everything about you, because you know everything about you!” Lisa said reasonably.
Stacy shook her head, and added, “They even talked about their accident.”
Remaining adamant in his position, William continued holding the journal out for Lisa to inspect.
Lisa took the journal and set it beside her. “You know, guys, you are still very sad over the loss of your parents. Maybe the whole idea of their death, coupled with the virtual spirit world of SPAZ, just played tricks on your mind.”
William leaned back against the wall unwavering in his conviction. “If you don’t believe us, read the journal for yourself.”
Lisa patted Stacy comfortingly on the leg, like a big sister trying to appease a younger sibling. “All right,” she said, picking up the journal, “let’s have a look.”
With the sword point still under Ryan’s chin the raspy-voiced pirate boomed, “Arrgh! So, ye be the lad what’s tryin’ to abscond wi’ me schooner wheel, eh?”
Ryan swallowed hard, wondering how a character in a game would know that he’d found a ship’s wheel in the real world. Or, he considered, is this just a coincidence? Could it be that a lost ship’s wheel is part of the game, also? Deciding that this was probably the case, he relaxed.
“Well, laddie?” the pirate barked. “What say ye?”
Ryan, not knowing the plot or his mission in the game decided to make it up as he went along. He also decided that since he didn’t know pirate speak, he’d play a character he knew best —an old-fashioned cowboy. Easing the sword away from his throat, he stared into the pirate’s face. He tilted his cowboy hat down atop his brows and narrowed his eyes. He projected his thoughts, as William had told him to do. “Well, pard, I reckon you snatched the wrong hombre. As for me, I know nothing about no schooner wheel.”
“PARD?” The pirate bellowed, now shoving his sword point against Ryan’s chest. “I be not yur pard, laddie! Me name’s Cap’n Blood—and ye’ll address me as such, savvy?”
Hearing the name Captain Blood, a few things became hauntingly apparent to Ryan. His first thought was that this experience probably wasn’t a game, and next, that this ghost probably was the true owner of the ship’s wheel, and after whom Blood Island was named.
Ryan immediately became very nervous and very excited, at the same time. This new revelation meant that the ship’s wheel really did hold some secret—or else the pirate wouldn’t be so interested in it.
“Aye, as farr ye knowing not about it,” Captain Blood continued, “ye be a false-tongued villain, lad; farr I seed ye wi’ me own deadlights pillagin’ me wheel from yonder iron box.” Captain Blood pointed his sword downward, and immediately a hole opened in the foggy swampland, through which could be seen the interior of Tree Root Cavern, as if looking right through the ground with x-ray vision.
Ryan saw the object of Captain Blood’s focus. “Oh, that wheel,” Ryan said nervously.
“Aye,” Cap’n Blood barked, “that wheel. Now, mark well, lad; if ye not be wantin’ to walk the plank, ye’ll stay clear and forget ye ever laid yur deadlights upon ‘er!”
Putting on the bravest face he could manage, Ryan declared to Captain Blood, “You’re dead! You can’t use it anymore.”
“Blast it!” Captain Blood squalled, springing on Ryan and knocking him to the ground. Then, with one knee pressed down on the boy’s chest, he thrust his sword crosswise to Ryan’s throat. “Does ye think me dead, still? Or, is it more proof ye be needin’?” He pressed the blade closer. “Quickly, boy, speak, or I’ll have ye keelhauled under me vessel till yur tongue is loosed or ye be drowned.”
Thinking quickly, Ryan theorized that even if this wasn’t a game, these ghosts couldn’t hurt him—he wasn’t really there, was he? He turned his head and, laughing, peered out toward the half-sunken shipwreck. He lifted his hand and pointed. “Is that the vessel you’re going to drag me under?” he asked, mockingly.
Captain Blood suddenly became very quiet, very dark. His eyes glowed red, with flames for pupils, as he stared evilly into Ryan’s eyes. He stood and raised his hands toward the shipwreck, his right hand making circles in the air with his scimitar. As he muttered an incantation under his breath, the shipwreck began vibrating, and then shaking. Magically, it began restoring itself to brand-new condition as it rose from the shallow seabed. Within seconds it was fully restored and floating at anchor atop the gentle waves.
Captain Blood reached down with his free hand, and in one swift movement yanked Ryan to his feet. “Come, Laddie. Let’s see if ye still be doubtin’ her seaworthiness after ye ride ‘neath her barnacles farr a spell.”
Ryan swallowed hard. Deciding not to test his theory further, he snatched the Frequency Glasses from his face and breathed a sigh of relief as he found himself back in Stacy’s room, safe and sound. Spinning his chair around, he promptly addressed the others. “I hate to tell y’all this,” he announced, “but that weren’t no game, and I have proof—‘cause I met Captain Blood, and he was mighty mad that we messed with his wheel, and . . .”
William started howling with laughter. “You’re right,” he said, regaining his composure. “It’s not. It’s the spirit world. That’s what the glasses were invented for, to communicate with the other side. I was just kidding about it being a game.” He pointed to the book that Lisa was poring over. “That journal explains it all.”
Lisa looked up from the journal in question and raised a finger. “We haven’t concluded that for sure, yet,” she said. “It’s one theory we’re investigating.”
“She hasn’t concluded that yet!” William corrected with an obstinate look. “Stacy and I know it’s true.”
“Me, too!” Ryan spurted excitedly.
“If you’re still not convinced, Lisa,” William said, “then why not have a look through the glasses, yourself?”
Recognizing the challenge, Ryan quickly got up from the chair and held the Frequency Glasses out. “Just watch out for Captain Blood,” he said in his most serious tone. “He’s really peeved that we messed with his ship’s wheel.”
Lisa rolled her eyes skeptically. “Really, Ryan, Captain Blood?”
“Oh, he’s real, all right,” Ryan asserted. “And, seeing how much he wanted that wheel back, I’m more sure than ever that it holds a secret. And I’m gonna find out what it is.” With the Frequency Glasses still in his hand, Ryan re-issued the invitation to Lisa by extending his arm.
Lisa set the journal down and slipped from the bed. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll have a look, but all three of you are going to feel pretty silly when I find proof that it’s just a game.” She sat down at the desk and let Ryan help her don the glasses.
After a final skeptical look at Ryan, Lisa relaxed and focused on the lenses in front of her. The many LEWs flashed rapidly before her eyes in seemingly random yet calculated patterns. As Ryan dropped the boom arm speakers over her ears, she immediately heard a series of faint, high-pitched tones.
A second later, she entered the astral world. Whoa! she thought, feeling a strange, sucking sensation. I’ve never had a game do that before. She looked around. Forgetting that the lenses were blacked out, and seeing the bedroom and her friends—and not the playing field of any game—she believed that Ryan had not yet activated the glasses. She was about to say something to him when it dawned on her that her present point of view was not from the chair in which she had sat down, but rather, from the other side of the room.
Glancing toward the desk, she saw herself sitting trancelike, the F
requency Glasses covering her face. She blinked and looked down at her astral form. Wow! This is weird. She turned her hands over and back again, staring. I look like Casper the Ghost.
Lisa looked back to her friends, and with the speed of thought, instantly joined them on the bed. They, of course, didn’t pay her any attention since they couldn’t see her. She waved her hand in front of Stacy’s face. There was no reaction. She poked William in the side of the head and giggled as her hand and arm penetrated completely through his skull.
William unconsciously reached up and scratched his head at the point of entry.
Great ghosts! Lisa exclaimed. They were right. This isn’t a game. Ecstatic over the freedom that this experience provided, and bombarded with endless possibilities, she decided to leave the house and give her new stealthy body a proper test.
In a flash she was off.
Leaving Lisa at the desk, Ryan stepped over to the bed to where the twins were discussing the technical aspects of the Frequency Glasses. “I still don’t get it,” he said, joining the conversation. “How does a pair of eyeglasses cause us to leave our bodies?”
“By using light and sound waves,” William said, “they attune the frequencies of our brains to match those of the spirit world.”
“Is that why we can’t see ghosts, because they operate on different frequencies?” Stacy asked.
“Yes,” William replied. “They operate on higher frequencies. The ghosts that are visible once in a while have figured out how to temporarily lower their frequency rate, thus allowing themselves to be seen. So, in order for us to interact on their plane of existence, our brainwaves need to be altered to match those of their world.”
Ryan’s eyes almost popped out of his head at the thought. “What do you mean, alter our brain waves?” he said with a squeak of fear in his voice.
“Relax, genius,” William said. “Your IQ is safe. The change isn’t permanent or dangerous.”
Stacy lay back on the bed and stared absently at the ceiling, daydreaming about how much fun it would be to travel the spirit world as a group. An idea began to form. “William,” she said. “Do you think there’s a way we could transfer the signals from the Frequency Glasses to the computer?”
