by James Cole
Jeremy related the chain of events, beginning with how he had elucidated the chemical composition of the Unreal and ending with his trip to the lotus swamp in Reefers Woods. The evidence linking the Unreal to Claire’s lotus was definitive and undeniable.
“Well, well, well…” Monika’s indignation had all but disappeared.
“Furthermore,” he continued, though surmising, “I believe you are intimately involved in the production of the Unreal from the purple lotus.”
“C’mon, Jeremy,” she said. “All this is news to me. As far as you know, all I did was buy a few pills from some dude on the street corner.”
“Oh shut up,” he said. “Can’t you for once just come clean with me? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
He interpreted the twinkle in her eye as acknowledgement. Finally, Monika had admitted a secret to him.
“Now,” Monika added, “tell me how you managed to locate my lotus swamps so easily.”
“Aerial photos turned into maps, online. From above, it is easy to spot any standing water. Then, I just programmed the coordinates into my GPS unit.”
“I never thought of that,” Monika said, clearly impressed.
“I guess I also hit it lucky in that I found a lotus bloom in the first swampy area I visited.”
“I’d like to take a look at those online maps you used.”
“Remind me later and I’ll show you,” he said.
“No, right now,” insisted Monika. “I want you to walk me through the whole process.”
“Why?” asked Jeremy. “You obviously already know where to find the lotus plants.”
“There’s never enough, and it seems you’ve hit upon a really efficient system to locate more places in Reefers Woods where it might grow.”
Jeremy duly fetched his laptop and his GPS unit. He showed her how to pinpoint even the smallest bodies of water within Reefers Woods while Monika sketchily described the process she employed to harvest the blooms and extract the Unreal.
“How did you ever get interested in all of this to begin with?” he asked.
She replied, “When I first moved to town, somebody told me the hippie queen ghost story. I can’t really explain it, but something about that story captivated me. I was drawn to the hippie queen.”
“That’s like me,” interjected Jeremy.
Monika continued: “I wanted to get to know Claire and, over time, I even wanted to be like her. I researched her, like you did, and eventually ran across the publication that documented her lotus discovery. That led me to Reefers Woods and, after a long time searching, I finally found the lotus swamps.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you knew about the effects of the lotus,” Jeremy said. “Her publication said nothing about that.”
“Once I found the swamps and saw all those purple flowers, I knew what to do. I can’t tell you how I knew – I just did.”
Jeremy could not help but wonder if this were the whole story. “Did you just pop some flowers in your mouth or what?”
“I know it sounds suspect. There is no rational explanation.”
Monika leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice. “I wouldn’t tell just anybody this but it’s like there really is some part of her that lives on, like a ghost or a spirit or something. I believe Claire passed along the information to me.”
“Interesting – a new twist on the old hippie queen ghost story.”
“Did you tell anybody else about the lotus – what it is or where to find it?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?” asked Monika. “It’s very important you tell me the truth.”
Jeremy was adamant. “I said I didn’t.”
“Not even Jinnigirl?”
“Not even Jinnigirl,” replied Jeremy.
“I have another question.” Monika’s gaze was direct. “How is it that you came to spy on me and my friends at the lake that night?”
Sheepishly, Jeremy responded, “You know about that?” He had been waiting for the right time to bring up the subject but he never expected Monika to beat him to the punch. “How did you know it was me?”
“I saw you, that’s how,” she replied. “Did you hear what I was saying out there?”
“A little but then I got distracted. What little I did hear I didn’t understand.”
Monika seized on his first statement. “Distracted by what?”
“It doesn’t really make much sense.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Alright then, if you insist,” replied Jeremy. “Right after you stood up to speak, I thought I saw a group of people, kids primarily, wander from the woods to stand with you and the others around the fire.”
Monika’s reaction was more restrained than he expected.
“Really?” she replied. “Did your friend see the children too?”
“No. That and the fact that no one in your group acknowledged them was how I knew it must be a hallucination.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me this before?” asked Monika.
“I wasn’t sure how you would react. I thought you might be angry for my spying on you.”
“Actually, I’m impressed that you managed to find us that night.” Her tone was almost indifferent. “But I’m even more impressed that you saw the children.”
“Because it proves I’m certifiable?”
“Because,” she said and, pausing for effect, added, “I saw them too.”
Eyes narrowed, Jeremy asked, “This is a joke, right? You’re just trying to mess with my mind.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Prove it, then.” Jeremy had already mentioned the children but not the old lady. “Tell me, did you see anyone besides the children?”
“Yes,” replied Monika confidently. “There was this one old woman too.”
Jeremy tried to understand this unexpected turn of events. “This doesn’t seem at all surprising to you. Why?”
“Because this is not the first time I’ve seen things like this in Reefers Woods,” replied Monika. “And I know that, on rare occasions, others might have seen a brief flash, kind of like you did the other night on the road, but what is surprising is that, besides me, no one has ever been able to see to the extent that you did at the bonfire.”
Jeremy asked, “What does it all mean?”
“For starters, it means you and I must be different from everybody else.”
“And beyond that?” asked Jeremy.
“That’s what I would like to explore.”
Monika pumped Jeremy for details, insisting he divulge everything he saw and heard around the bonfire. However, when Jeremy requested some clarification from her – what she meant by Claire’s Alternative Way and the Source and this big thing coming down – Monika refused to elaborate, claiming that Jeremy knew just as much as did the rest of her group. She said that he, like the rest of them, would learn more in due time.
Abruptly, Monika stood up. “It’s getting late,” she said.
Though Jeremy assumed Monika would hang around for a while longer, he did not push for her to stay, nor did he ask when he might see her again. He supposed he could mark it down as one last goodwill gesture toward Jinni. It had only been three days since they broke up. At the very least, his conscience could be reassured in that he did not invite Monika over tonight nor did he insist she stay.
Monika left Jeremy with plenty to ponder. Before tonight, he had largely made peace with the idea that the children around the bonfire were figments of his imagination. Hallucinations and flashbacks were a well-documented effect of other psychoactive drugs. Why shouldn’t something as powerful as the Unreal be capable of spinning out an imaginary child now and then?
However, Monika’s claim to have experienced the same hallucination changed the game completely. Generally speaking, when more than one person perceives the same thing, it is real, and though the children’s presence might be hard to explain, he could take solace knowing
that he wasn’t completely bonkers if Monika saw them too. Finally, Jeremy wondered what significance, if any, could be attached to the identities of the visitors. Why did it happen that it was an old woman and children who showed up at the secret beach that night?
Jeremy recalled how the hippie queen had seen fit to include the so-called melancholy child in her paintings. For her settings, Claire used actual places in Reefers Woods, such as the cemetery and the river rapids. Could the girl-child of the paintings be just as real in Claire’s mind as were the settings in which the child appeared? Was it possible that Claire, like Monika and him, had been privy to the now-you-see-them-now-you-don’t children of Reefers Woods and that the girl in her paintings was a representation of the same? Maybe Claire could be added to the short list of those with the ability to perceive what most everyone else could not.
Though Jeremy had entertained the notion that there might be some grain of truth to the ghost stories associated with Reefers Woods, he now realized he never truly bought into it. It had been more like a game of pretend and, as such, capable of inducing little more than a persistent – but detached – curiosity. He fancied that he would relish a supernatural encounter, whatever that might entail. But, like a child, who in principle believes in the tooth fairy, might not be especially thrilled to wake to the sight of a strange creature in his room, Jeremy admitted his growing consternation. He revisited the question Grady had posed:
If your eyes could be opened to truths and realities you never knew existed, would you want to see?
Once upon a time, Jeremy had answered an adamant yes to that question but now he wasn’t so sure. Closer, as he was now, to more substantial proof of supernatural goings-on in Reefers Woods moved him beyond curiosity and, unexpectedly, toward fear.
Chapter 40
Thursday, December 11
On Thursday Jeremy got up early and relocated to his lab. Do-or-die time had arrived. After a whole semester of procrastination, he finally felt motivated to study. He had twenty-four hours left before the final exam, one day to pay the devil his due.
Around nine a.m., as Jeremy sat at his desk, Skippy Sloan slithered in. “Read this,” he said and handed Jeremy a set of papers. “I should be back with the chickens in a couple of hours.”
“Chicken?” asked Jeremy. “Are we having a picnic?”
Dr. Sloan, as always, ignored Jeremy’s levity. “Read the procedure and you’ll understand.”
“Dr. Sloan,” began Jeremy, “I have my final exam tomorrow. Couldn’t this wait until after the test?”
“No. It can’t.”
When Skippy returned, rolling the ice chest into the lab, it was almost two o’clock. He did not bother to explain why he was three hours late.
Jeremy was to isolate the two primary proteins found in skeletal muscle, actin and myocin, from the half-dozen chickens in the cooler. He guessed the procedure would take at least a couple of hours. Unfortunately, the protocol required that all grinding of the meat and extraction of the muscle proteins be performed in the confines of the cold room – essentially a walk-in meat locker – located in the back of Jeremy’s lab.
Jeremy tugged on the door handle to the cold room only to discover that it was locked – again. “Won’t I ever learn?” he muttered to himself as he dug for his keys. It wasn’t the first time today he had yanked on the unyielding door. The design of the door was such that it swung shut and locked of its own accord, requiring that the key be used for every entry.
Despite the sweater Jeremy wore under his lab coat, the near-freezing temperature of the cold room necessitated frequent breaks. During one such interlude, he opened the door to the unexpected sight of someone bent over his desk. It was Tavalin, rifling unceremoniously through a drawer.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked Jeremy.
“Oh, there you are,” replied Tavalin. “What are you doing in there?”
“Isolating actin and myocin from chickens,” Jeremy replied without elaborating. “What are you doing? Snooping through my stuff?”
“I’m not snooping. I’m looking for a calculator.”
Jeremy pointed to a calculator in clear view on top of his desk.
“Can I borrow this?” asked Tavalin. “I can’t find mine.”
“You came all the way up here for that?” asked Jeremy.
Tavalin did not respond as he disappeared out the door.
As Jeremy wrapped up his work in the cold room and was about to wash his hands, his eye caught on something way down in the sink drain, something shiny. Lacking a better tool, he poked a disposable glass pipet into the drain. Predictably, the brittle glass snapped. Bits of glass together with the mystery object tinkled farther down into the darkness of the drain. Though Jeremy still had not gotten a decent look at it, it sounded like a dime.
Oh well, he thought. Hardly worth taking the drain apart.
Jeremy used the extendable water sprayer that was mounted overhead to wash the leftover meat particles off the stainless steel counter, which, by design, drained directly into the sink. Finally, Jeremy followed the detailed procedure posted over the sink which detailed the steps required to fully clean and sterilize the workspace so that no remnants of tissue or other contaminants remained.
Chore completed, Jeremy moved to his desk and began to study, but like an annoying song stuck in his head, he could not quit thinking about that dime in the drain. For a half hour or more he fought the wayward thought.
So what? his mind screamed in desperation. It’s a dime, for God’s sake.
Or is it?
Finally, Jeremy had had enough. Seeking to break the chain of this aberrant mind game, Jeremy vacated the lab and walked across Grover’s Field to the Student Union. There he stopped by the bookstore for a snack.
“That’ll be two dollars and twenty cents,” the cashier said.
Jeremy handed over three dollar bills and waited as she scooped his change from the register.
“Sorry,” she said as she gave him his change. “I’m out of quarters.”
Jeremy looked down at the eight coins in his palm. “Dimes?” He held his ground a little too long as there were others in line behind him.
“Yes, dimes,” she said, perplexed at his reaction.
*****
In Grover’s Field, Jeremy sat down on a bench to take care of the business of his snack. The sun was setting and it was chilly out, though not as cold as the cold room had been. As he ate each of his peanut M&M’s, methodically eating the chocolate shell first before crunching the nut, Jeremy realized that he was very near the spot where they had set up for the RockFest. He recalled the laid-back vibe and how he and June had sat together in the sunshine, laughing and talking. He remembered how she spoke of Tavalin’s unwelcome advances and smiled when he replayed her words in his mind.
Tavalin is like a mosquito, June had said. He will not leave me alone.
A vision of June’s face appeared in his mind, the way she was on that day, the last afternoon of her life. It was how he would always remember her, sitting beside him, a red scrunchie holding her brown hair back from her face. He had complimented her silver earrings, engraved with a crescent moon face and tiny stars. As the recollection focused in Jeremy’s mind a shudder rippled through his body.
He catapulted from the bench and hurried back inside the Facility, straight upstairs and into the cold room in the back of his lab.
Using a wrench Jeremy wrestled loose the U-shaped trap under the sink, soaking his hands and arms and the base of the wood cabinet with the potentially toxic water. He found nothing of interest in the trap, only glass fragments and some black cruddy material. Like a mechanic checking beneath a car, Jeremy slid on his back into the cabinet and peered awkwardly up the conduit that led to the sink. Finally, he saw it, hanging precariously on a seam in the pipe just out of finger’s reach. He tapped the pipe, gently at first then more forcefully until the object dislodged and fell, landing like a wet kiss on his neck.
E
agerly he examined the object and, just as he expected, found it to be an earring, a silver disc engraved with a crescent moon and tiny stars. It had to be June’s.
Unexpectedly, a voice from above asked, “What’s that?”
Jeremy jumped, bumping his head on the edge of the metal drain pipe. “Ouch!” He squinted upward to see his friend standing over him. “Thanks a lot.”
“Gotcha,” Tavalin said triumphantly. “Score another one for me.”
“And score one cracked skull for me. That really hurt.”
“Let me see.”
Jeremy crawled out and parted his hair at the point where the throbbing originated. He could feel a knot rising.
“I don’t see any blood,” Tavalin said callously. “You’ll live.”
“This game is getting old. Why don’t we call a truce?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We could limit it to after-hours only,” suggested Jeremy.
“Rule number one,” said Tavalin. “The game is always on.”
“How did you get in here anyway?” asked Jeremy. “The door closes and locks by itself.”
Tavalin jingled keys in Jeremy’s face. “You left them on the countertop beside the door.”
In good humor, Jeremy replied, “A mistake I shan’t make again.”
“You found something in the drain?”
Jeremy replied hesitantly, “Yeah, I did.” He could not right away judge the significance of his find but something told him to keep it to himself. He saw no need to divulge anything to Tavalin right now.
“What is it?” asked Tavalin.
“Just an old earring.”
“Any idea whose it is?”
“No, not really.”
“Let me see.”
“What I really need is for you to take a look under here.” Jeremy indicated the space from which he had just emerged. “I bet you could show me how to put this drain pipe back together. You’re good at stuff like this.”
Tavalin, usually easily distracted, doggedly insisted, “I want to see that earring.”
