Curse of Remorse

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  What a nice dream, he thought. I hope tonight I can have another trip like that one. He wondered who was calling for help and maybe the next time he could help the voice in trouble. Now he felt like he could live with this affliction and when Hank said breakfast is ready, he made his way to the dingy kitchen, but now it felt like home to him. Hank had turned the oven on and the kitchen was nice and warm. The only thing he knew about the weather outside that was it was cold, but he didn’t know and didn’t ask if it was snowing or not. At this point, he didn’t really care one way or the other.

  ***

  It was early Monday morning at the Reverend Chris Goodfellow’s house. Both his wife and he sat on each side of the small bed with their daughter holding her hands praying. Sara was laying there very peaceful and silent as the familiar words she grew up with were once again being spoken over her. She was only half listening and reliving the dream she woke up this day with. At first the dream had scared her and then when she felt some comfort that she wasn’t alone drifting in a misty fog, realized this might be like going to heaven. She was neither frightened nor worried about her feeling drifting along with the tide of life, or life after death. She too, had heard the cry for help and thought it was certainly out of character for someone to cry for help, in this warm natural environment. It was obvious to her that the voice was unaccustomed to a belief in the hereafter.

  Sara came back to the now as her mother asked her if she was hungry. She said, Yes, I’m very hungry and I want to go to school too.”

  Her mother said: “I think it might be prudent if you stayed home today. What do you think Chris?”

  “Well I for one think she should go to school. Look at it this way, if she didn’t go today, then why go tomorrow if not today?”

  “But it’s snowing so hard out and she might slip in the snow and then where would we be,” She added.

  “I’ll take her and then return after school and pick her up.”

  Nancy stood up and with a look of both confidence and skepticism; let it go for the moment, as she made her way to the bathroom to help her daughter with her toilet.

  Chris had a hard time releasing his daughter’s hand and Sara said: “Dad I had a dream last night and it was the most wonderful dream I’ve ever had. I thought I was going to heaven drifting along in a violet fog that was so comfortable. I felt there were others like me and then I woke up feeling so relaxed and happy to be back in our own home. What do you make of the dream dad?”

  “If you felt God’s presence, then who can argue it was not a nice dream and we have no idea of the afterlife except it’s something beyond our comprehension.”

  Over at Ann’s house, a similar experience about whether to go to school or not was taking place. Joan was arguing that Ann should stay home and both Ann and her father were saying that going to school was natural. He added, we need to live with the fact that at present, why shelter the girl. Glen came in and said, “I’ll take care of her and no need to worry. Listening is a big part of learning and she has two good ears.”

  That seemed to end the conversation and Roy thought how proud of his son he was at that moment. Joan, on the other hand seemed on edge and the tension was felt by all as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

  Roy helped his daughter to the bathroom and was careful not to trespass on her young privacy. He waited outside the door until she finished and then helped her dress for the day in warm clothes as the snow was still coming down steadily.

  Roy noticed going down the stairs she was going faster than he was with an occasional brush of the wall with her hand. She told him at the bottom that she counted the stair steps and had learned that trick from her brother. With less caution than she should have had, she bumped into the doorway to the kitchen bringing a large gasp from her mother who was scrabbling eggs on the stove. Roy shook his head at her saying never mind all is well.

  Ann blurted out, “You know what really makes me angry I never know what time it is. I need a watch that talks to me or, wait a minute; my cell tells me the time. Never mind. I am hungry now and mom it smells so good the toast and eggs.

  ***

  Down the street three houses lived the retired Mrs. Gorn. She had spent most of Sunday and now early Monday morning, on the phone with any and all who would listen or chat with her. Ed, being one of the early morning Monday callers and in a husky voice, told him that she had it on good authority that the devil had his hand in this ordeal. One of her friends had seen on TV where the devil had interfered in a case where the mother was to give birth to twins, but instead gave birth to a mongoloid child. She went on to tell him her friend has contacted an exorcised to come and exorcise the three kids with the curse of the devil in them. Ed went along with her and soon hung up and hurried to the restaurant where he knew Candice would be.

  The jingle jangle of bells above the door signaled Ed had arrived. He kicked the snow off his boots and made for Candice who was sitting at his regular table, but two other men were with her. He slowed up and slowly approached the table and with a big smile said good morning. Candice looked up and with a brief smiled bade him a good morning and then turned back to talk to other guys at the table. Ed felt like a fool as he knew the rest of the people there were watching him and he couldn’t let them see he was not wanted or needed at that time. As it was a table for four, he sat down like he was expected and Candice smiled at him and went back talking to the younger of the two men.

  After a few minutes, coffee delivered, she introduced her fellow Times staff members. The younger man was Dave Elgin, a camera man and the older guy was Wes Needsly who was the tech man for communications. After hearing that, Ed hoped he would be in a picture featured in the New York Times. It soon became clear he was not in the Times plan as they talked about background on the families with pictures, and Ed was soon lost in the conversation. He was about to leave when Candice turned to him and said, “Let’s go to the records office and find out when the next person is going to have a thirteenth birthday.”

  Ed had a lift in spirits and told her he was ready anytime she was. They finished up breakfast, Ed a cup of coffee, and left for the mayor’s office at city hall where they hoped to find some records.

  Chapter 10

  Dr. Choice Sweet was having breakfast at the same time in the hotel’s coffee shop with a colleague from New York City. For the last day and a half, he and some other notables in the ophthalmology arena had been hashing over the seemingly bizarre story Dr. Sweet had been telling them. They had come to fact there was not a medical answer and now he sat with his friend of long standing rather frustrated. He said, “I guess I will go home with my tail between my legs and stand around scratching my head like everyone else. I fear, my friend, this is bigger than we can imagine and us medical people are in for a slam by the media before this is over, if it will ever be over.

  “Now,” said his friend Dr. Lowe, “We must not over react and let’s give our colleagues some time to think about this.” Dr. Lowe noticed his friend was looking old and was taking this way too personal. “Look, go back and do some back ground on the families and see if in the past there is something in their mutual DNA or some other connection to link them together.”

  “Yes, you are right as usual. I may have jumped the gun a bit and hope I haven’t over reacted. However, if I am not mistaken, this will hit the news sooner rather than later and we will be put to the test to explain medically something that has no basis of understanding.”

  Little did he know that just outside the door a stack of Monday’s New York Times held what he feared and by the time his plane landed back in Salem, he saw the reality of his fears as the airport was overrun with media?

  Dr. Choi, bless his heart, met him at the airport and they drove back to Morose discussing the dismal results of the meeting in New York City. Dr. Choi did mention that two of the three kids went to school that day and that Tommy went with his brother to his work place. He also said that the City Hall of Moro
se revealed the next birthday was Friday. It was none other than the mayor’s oldest son Brain Blades.

  Veronica Blades, age thirty five was the youngest mayor to sit at City Hall in Remorse. She’d campaigned on the need for young leadership, a stronger educational system, and a sense of local community. Apparently it worked and now she was well into her first term. She was a tall woman, with a no nonsense attitude stemming from her long history of upper middle class family roots. Her short black hair, purposely cut so as not to add to her height, and her dark eyes gave her a look of both warmth and power. A small nose that flared when angry and a mouth that one would have to look closely to see the thin lips was over shadowed by a strong chin and high cheek bones. Some thought she had some Indian blood in her, but if asked, she was of Portuguese decent.

  It was Monday morning and Veronica sat at her desk completely aware of what was going on in her town. Also, she was aware of her son’s upcoming birthday, and although she had a feeling of dread coming, she was not about to let it affect her life and job. She had already pulled up the records of her citizens in town and bio’s. There were the four birthdays in January and two coming in February. That was enough for her to come to grips with what was coming via a media storm, as the New York Times nestled next to her computer. Her secretary, Liz, had already fielded some calls from newspapers across the east coast. She glanced up at the clock on the far wall and saw it was only nine thirty. She wondered what the day would bring and how would she handle the crisis upon her town. Nothing in her past or education prepared her for this and she was not going to let it destroy her career. He career design was the state capital and come what may, she was going to be sitting in the governor’s chair before she was fifty.

  Liz buzzed her and she realized she had been breathing so shallow; she needed a few deep breaths. Liz told her the New York Times reporter Candice Canon would like an appointment for an interview at her convenience.

  Veronica replied: “Tell her I am available at eleven thirty. She can have thirty minutes. Also, Liz, see if you can Chris at the church and ask him to call me please.”

  Liz, who had Candice on hold, told her that eleven thirty would be fine and Candice thanked her and hung up from her motel room. Candice gave her two guy’s thumbs up and both of them left the motel room to prepare for an interview later in the morning.

  * * *

  At school the bell rang for class at eight forty five. Alice and Ann’s friends were waiting at the door for her to come to school. If the truth were known, the staff in the office and the teachers was all waiting with bated breath. The first to arrive was Sara with her father leading her in the front door. Alice and her friends greeted her and along with Sara’s group of friends. Everyone stared at her face. She wore no sunglasses to hide the fact she was unable to see. Reverend Chris led her to the office and asked to speak to the principal. The principal came out of his office and shook his hand and said, “Reverend, we are happy to see you and Sara here today. This event must not stop our lives and we have a plan to accommodate Sara, Ann and Tommy. I’ve made a call to the capital and they are sending down a teacher for the blind.” Chris felt Sara’s hand tighten on his arm and realized the word ‘blind’ had hit home too hard.

  Chris said: “Thanks for that information Jim and I am sure some of Sara’s friends will take good care of her. I’ll leave her here in your good hands and be back this afternoon to pick her up.” Chris turned and started out the office when Roy Blumps came in with his daughter Ann. They chatted for a minute and parted with Roy looking at the principal and Sara being taken away by her friends.

  Chris went out the front door into the falling snow and made his way to his old Jeep Cherokee. Chris was troubled and while driving back to his church, he said a silent prayer for his daughter and the other kids. He had read the Times and the idea that this was a paranormal happening went against his Christian thought and belief. However, a part of him couldn’t help but wondered if there some portion of this event that was not explainable in his belief and upbringing? Chris had come from a long line of clergy with its roots in the Methodist way of life.

  Roy following on the heels of Chris drove to his office like it was another day similar to the days preceding this one. He had one thing in mind and that was to follow up on what Glen his son had gleaned so far from his research. He had the phone number of the library and the name given to him by Terry. His goal was to find some answers and he was of a mind that nothing would prevent his finding a cure for his daughter and the other kids.

  He parked in his usual place and walked to his office. He noticed his next door store owner had graciously shoveled in front of both his place and his own place. Roy made a mental note to thank him and return the favor when he had a chance to. The office was nice and warm as his secretary of many years always had coffee on and the office at a temperature that was comfortable. He didn’t expect to get much work done as it was past the first of the year and he had pretty much taken care of the New Year's roll over. Marsha, his right hand, could take care of the everyday things while he did what he intended to do with a follow up on his son’s work.

  Bidding his secretary a good morning he sat down in his corner office and went to work on the computer while digging out the phone number of Terry’s aunt in Salem.

  ***

  Over at City Hall a group of townspeople had gathered in the lobby asking to see the mayor. She obliged them and came out to see what they wanted. This was around a little after ten and Dave Elgin, the Times camera man was getting ready for an interview at the appointed time of eleven. He’d called Candice earlier and she had arrived all out of breath coming from her motel on foot. Dave was checking the light and acting like he didn’t know what was going on. He could hear the buzz of the group being led by some old geezer, who had on a Boston Red Sox hat dressed like an old logger with suspenders holding up a baggy pair of jeans. His withered face was glowing red, matching his nose, which bore all of the hallmarks of a daily consumption of what comes out of a brown bottle. Dave surmised he always had the look of a four day old grey beard, but incongruous of his looks, he spoke like an educated man articulating in a voice of a retired professor.

  He said: “I have come here today to find some answers to what is happening to this once peaceful town I’ve grown accustomed to. We have all the hallmarks of a media explosion threatening our very livelihood. I’ve asked to speak to the mayor and she has agreed to answer some questions. So for the time being, I will, and I ask you to be respectful and listen to what she has to say.”

  The mayor had been listening and then came out of her office to address the small crowd of locals. Dave and Candice were among the people and Dave was snapping pictures for a later edition of the paper. The door opened letting in not only the cold from the outside, but Ed the Nose seemed right on schedule. He grinned at the people looking at him as the mayor spoke, “I know you are here and want some answers as to what is happening in our kids in town. Let me say this. So far three of our kids have a serious problem with their eyes. I’ve talked to both of our doctors and they don’t have an explanation for either the cause or the cure. I’ve reported this to the proper authorities at the state capitol and they are at this moment sending down a team to investigate. It doesn’t appear contagious as we initially feared. But it does appear that when one of our kids has a birthday from twelve to thirteen, their eyelids become stuck, or perhaps a better description is they’ve grown together: the top eyelid to the bottom eyelid.”

  “In addition, I’ll add that there has been some speculation as this being a paranormal event with connections to the past history of the Salem Witches era. Now as a rational person, I have trouble believing in the super natural, or that this might be a long lost curse of some witch. I am sure that medical science will prove this is an affliction of a proper logical foundation. Now having said that, I will take a few questions, but I’ve only a few minutes until I have a meeting to attend to.”

  “Needless t
o say, Madam Mayor, but you have failed to belay our fears that this phenomena will not continue as our kids turn thirteen and go blind.”

  Veronica saw that it was old Pete Flick that never failed to stir the proverbial pot no matter the issue. She knew him as a retired professor of history from Boston University. She remembered some time back when the leash law was passed, he turned into City Hall more than a few owners out walking their dogs, without a leash, lamenting the fact the dogs were defecating on his porch, and in his yard. Now she must be gentle and of course political as she saw Candice and her camera man looking at her with eyes of challenge saying, “Well, what you say to this madam mayor?” She replied, “We know we have a child who will turn thirteen this Friday and we hope that nothing happens to him.”

  Another voice from a woman that she didn’t readily recognize said, “Can you tell us who that might be mayor?”

  Veronica dropped her eyes and then as proud mother and not the mayor said, “Yes, he is my son Brian. Now if you’ll excuse me I have business to attend to.” She nodded to the group and left for her office.

  Candice noted it was close to eleven and hoped the crowd of people would leave before she went into the mayor’s office. She noticed Ed hanging around talking to the old professor Pete Flick. It would seem they were more than just casual acquaintances as they seemed fairly chummy. If Candice could have read lips, she would have surmised that Pete was telling Ed about the witches of Salem and his theory of an ancient curse put on by blacks from Jamaica along with a young girl who was a prisoner with her mother during that time.