by Tim Meyer
Other people who were inside the church when the fire began to spread were on the ground, being attended to by emergency personnel. Several cop cars were stationed around the area. Two firetrucks were fast at work near the house, battling the flames with their giant hoses. The fire appeared to be under control.
I surveyed the lot. The two elderly women who had escaped first were huddled in the corner of the woods, talking to a member of the Red River North Police Department, as he scribbled what they said down on a notepad. I moved on from them, passing a fifty-year old man being given CPR by paramedics. I watched as the man's eyes flipped open and he broke out in a long series of coughs. Welcome back to life, I thought. One woman to the left of me was complaining that she fell in the corridor and someone stepped on her hand. “Animals!” she shouted. The paramedic attending to her asked her to calm down, so she could help her. The woman kept going on and on about how no one helped her when she fell. That everyone was supposed to be “looking out for each other.”
I moved on from situation to situation, checking to see if Aurelia was one of them. I didn't have any luck. I asked one of the members, as he stared at the blaze as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen, if he had seen Aurelia. Without taking his eyes off the disaster he said, “No. But I thought I saw some people over there.” He pointed to the corner of the lot where a small group had gathered. Carter Boone was among them. I did not see Aurelia. “Maybe she's over there.” The man continued to look on as the fire dwindled, and smoldering ash began to take its place.
I thanked him and moved toward the group. I wouldn't have gone over there, but I assumed someone in the crowd would have spotted Aurelia being carried out. As I neared the group I heard footsteps coming to my right, approaching fast. I thought maybe it was Aurelia, coming to embrace me in her arms. I turned and before I realized how wrong I was, my back was on the ground, my ass stinging from the impact. “Here he is!” someone yelled, the someone who had knocked me clean off my feet. “Here's the son of a bitch who burned down our church!”
I looked up and saw the door man, his long hair flapping around as he turned to call the others over. “Over here!” he yelled. Then he looked down at me and a smile grew within his short, untamed beard. “I've got you now, you motherfucker,” he muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Here he is!” the door man yelled again, while trying to kick me. “The son of a bitch who burned down our home!” There was anger in his voice, yet he was smiling. He's enjoying this. “Admit it, you fucker! You burned down our house!” He threw another kick at my side and this time he connected. Pain shot through my ribs. “I've got you now!” He giggled like a child amused by a toy.
I wondered what the police were doing while this lunatic was screaming. I counted three or four police vehicles on my walk over there. Clearly there were other issues requiring their attention. The only people paying attention to us were some of the unscathed members of the Black Book Club. Boone led over a group of seven. Aunt Danica and Marty Olberstad were among them. Aurelia was not. She was still missing. I thought she might have booked it out of there. Maybe they pulled her out of the fire, brought her back to life, and sent her on her way. Or to the hospital.
“Geoffrey, that's enough,” Carter Boone bellowed. The group encircled us.
“But, Father—”
“I said, that's enough.” His voice was powerful, commanding. If I had to guess, I'd say Carter Boone was some high-ranking army officer back in the day. His demeanor—his swagger if you will—was forceful, a man who seemed to have no time for bullshit. Built like a boxer, Boone portrayed an intimidating figure. “You,” he spoke to me. “On your feet.”
I complied.
“Now, Geoffrey, very calmly explain what happened,” he said to the door man.
The rage in his face fled instantly. “This man was late coming tonight. He didn't even know the password.” Gasps ensued, circling around the group like the wave at a sporting event. “I let him in anyway, something I know I shouldn't have done. But, Father, you said he had potential. How was I to know he would betray us?” he asked Boone.
“Relax, Geoffrey. Do not blame yourself.” Boone turned to me, his face cool and calm, as if none of what Geoffrey had said bothered him. “Do you have anything to say for yourself... stranger?”
“I was in the church before the fire even started. I was also the last one to leave,” I said. “Tell me, if I planned on burning this place to the ground, why would I stick around and risk my life in the process?” I asked.
“Valid point,” Carter said quietly.
“Don't let him fool you, Father,” Geoffrey told him. “Maybe he wanted to die in there. So his kind can view him as a martyr.” Some of the surrounding members hummed in agreement. “You can't fool us, stranger. I know what you're up to.” He winked at me.
“Really? Because I was in the church when the fire started. Where were you?” I asked. “Funny, I didn't see you in the church when the ceremony began. And you just so happen to appear right before things got really bad. And what do you know? The cops and fire department show up just in time to save the day. A little convenient, don't you think?”
“I was keeping watch on the door!” Geoffrey exclaimed, bursting out in a fit of anger. “I called the fire department before I came to get you guys! Why would I want to burn my own home to the ground!”
“Geoffrey, be quiet,” Boone told him. I didn't realize it until then. Geoffrey had kept calling Carter Father, and I thought it was because he was the priest of the Satanic organization. But as the two interacted, I realized that wasn't the case. Geoffrey was calling Carter Father because he was his son. Once I compared the two of them, they held similarities so obvious I was an idiot for not noticing it earlier. “You did a good thing here tonight. If it weren't for you... well, things could have been a lot worse.” He turned to me again, judging me with his eyes, as if he could tell whether or not I was lying. “As for you, stranger, you are not guilty until proven otherwise.”
The evident look of dejection on Geoffrey Boone's face made me smile internally. I thought he might cry. I quickly wondered what it would take to prove my innocence, or if I needed to bother. I could disappear tonight, I thought. They'd never see me again. But that would make me guilty, at least in their eyes. I had to prove I didn't do it, and not just for them—but for Aurelia. If she suspected I sabotaged her special night, that'd just about kill my chances of seeing her outside of our accidental meetings.
“It was her!” I heard Aunt Danica shout, minutes after the dust between Geoffrey Boone and I settled. I followed the direction of my aunt's finger and saw Aurelia standing behind the crowd. “She did this to us! It had to be her!” Aurelia approached the group cautiously. Her white dress was riddled with soot and black spots, frayed holes in the fabric where tiny embers had landed. She looked like she had just climbed out of a mineshaft. Or been dragged through Hell. If I had a mirror, I'd see a similar image looking back at me. “The fire started moments after she entered the church!” Danica told the surrounding flock. “It had to be her! She wasn't one of us from the start... I knew it.”
“Tonight was my night,” Aurelia said, as she weaved through the small crowd. “Why would I want to ruin it?” Little emotion enriched her face.
“Don't think I haven't noticed you leaving early every night. How you sometimes come late, or don't even come at all! You're not one of us. It was foolish of us to let you in in the first place.”
“That's enough,” Carter said. “We will let the authorities handle these matters. For now, everyone go home. We will assess the damage and determine what to do during the week. We will be in touch with all of you.”
A firefighter and a man in a navy-blue suit came over to the group. The man in the suit was holding a clipboard with the emblem of some insurance company on it. “Carter Boone?” he asked.
“Yes?” Carter answered.
“Come with us please.”
Carter walked away with the two gentlemen. Geoffrey followed them like a dog tailing its owner, but not without shooting me an “I'm going to kill you” glance before he left.
Silence washed over the crowd. Most of us listened, trying to pick up on the words being thrown back and forth between Carter Boone and the man in the suit. Nothing relevant was overheard. There were no words like “arson” or “victim” being thrown around, however, everyone in the group seemed to be in agreement that the fire hadn't started naturally.
Since the evidence was not really in either of our favors, I nodded to Aurelia, suggesting we should separate ourselves from the group. She took the hint and made her way through the rest of the crowd. I slowly detached myself from the others by stepping backward. We did this slowly enough where no one seemed to notice. Their attention eventually turned back to the church. They watched as the fire department smoldered the remaining flames. Some of them were already digging through the rubble. The damage had been extensive where the fire had traveled, although the house remained standing.
“Are you okay?” I asked Aurelia, once we were far enough from the group. “Do you need a lift to the hospital or anything?”
“No, I'm fine.” She looked at me. She was still pretty despite being covered in soot and ash. Her eyes gleamed, wet but smiling. “Thanks to you.” She slowly rested the right side of her head on my chest. “You're my... guardian angel.”
The irony caused me to chuckle.
“What's so funny?” she asked, lifting her head. Tears streaked down her cheeks. The traces of their existence soaked my shirt.
“Just what you said. Angels.”
“Oh.”
“I'm sorry about tonight, Aurelia.” I paused and stared at the sadness that had captured her face. “I know how much tonight meant to you.”
“Yeah, well. Life doesn't turn out how you want it sometimes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you stay behind after everyone ran out of the church?”
“I don't know. I remember being afraid. Not being able to move.”
“You mentioned something when I went to help you.”
“Did I?” she asked innocently.
“Yes. You said something about a house with mirrors. Ring a bell?”
She looked at me, tears still pooling in the corners of her eyes. “No. I remember feeling sick. People started to leave and I wanted to follow them, but I couldn't. It was as if I didn't have the energy. Then... I don't know. Everything went fuzzy. I must have passed out.” She put her head against me again.
“Okay,” I said. “I'm glad we're still alive.”
“Me too.”
A police officer approached us, asking if we were able to give a statement. We told him we would. As we stood there talking to the officer, I noticed the cold gaze of one person in particular. Geoffrey Boone watched us from the corner of the lot, his face contorting with an uncontrollable, psychotic rage.
2
After we finished talking to the officer, I walked Aurelia to her car. I had the opportunity to plant a kiss on her inviting lips, and again, I missed. Hugged her instead. There were many eyes around us and not that we needed to be secretive—unlike my Aunt and Marty Olberstad—I decided to wait for another night, one that wouldn't end with us almost burning to death.
She got in her car and drove off. I went over to my car, thinking of the night and how crazy it turned out. I replayed some of the things that had happened to me in the past few months and marveled at the chain of events. It all started with Lynne and Buster doing each other on my bed, the event that led me down this road. The ride, however, was far from over.
I got into my car and my attention immediately turned to the Denlax, which rested on the seat next to me. Something inside it, something very much alive, called to me, beckoned me to take a few photographs of the damage. I thought it was a splendid idea. This story would undoubtedly make the paper, and I happened to be at the right place at the right time. A picture of the rubble would pay a pretty penny and might even make a good cover photo. I could have used one for the home page of the website.
Depending on whether or not the pictures come out normal.
I grabbed the Denlax and went to work.
3
After the work on the website was completed, I decided to take a nap before heading over to Cameraland to see what had become of last night's photo shoot. Before I drifted off, I read the article that one of the Tribune's staff writers had written about last night's events. It went like this:
Fire Destroys House In Woods
A Red River home was destroyed Saturday night by a fire which authorities are still speculating its origin. The home was located deep within the Red River woods, near the outskirts of town. The damage to the house was extensive, but no injuries occurred. The fire started approximately around midnight, authorities said.
The cause of the fire is still unknown, but according to Fire Marshal Steve Phillips, arson is one possibility. “In a situation like this, nine times out of ten someone is responsible,” Marshal Phillips said, as his crew began looking for answers in a very muddled series of events.
The home hidden in the middle of the woods, and the property surrounding it, is owned by Carter Boone, who lived there with his son Geoffrey. Boone's home is being considered uninhabitable by local building inspectors. Carter and his son could not be reached for comment. The Boone residence, according to anonymous sources, was the place of gatherings for a select group of individuals. No member commented as to what the purpose of their meetings are, or what their affiliation is.
“We just like to keep to ourselves out here,” one member said. “We aren't doing anything wrong,” another added.
Authorities did find various objects, some of which survived the fire, that could be considered “occult,” according to Red River Police Chief Hendrick Dubar. “We found a black book with some mumbo jumbo in it regarding devil worship. There was a small church in the back of the house, so I'm guessing that's why they were here. We won't know everything until some people start talking.” The chief also said they found other books regarding devil worship, as well as other documents that pertained to other religions, including Christianity.
Carter Boone was once a member of the Catholic Church, and served as a priest in his twenties and thirties. Boone stepped down from that role around the birth of his only son, Geoffrey. For years, he remained a member of the Catholic Church, and taught catechism. He left the Church completely after the death of his wife, Elena, who died when Geoffrey was just a boy. Geoffrey Boone, 34, graduated from Princeton with a Master's degree in Philosophy. Unable to hold down a job as a professor in various universities, Geoffrey struggled to find work. He currently lives at home with his father. Geoffrey has also been in and out of several mental health facilities throughout the past decade, the last one including a short stint at Benton Mental Health, located in Benton, New Jersey. He was there for three months before checking himself out, against his practicing physician's wishes. They were also unable to comment on the event. Much about the Boone residence remains unknown. It seems that there were no previous owners, according to the real estate agency that sold him the land.
Ken Albright
Staff Writer
4
I could faintly make out the aroma of elephant shit and funnel cake. Aurelia was with me. We walked across the dead, yellow grass hand in hand, a banner reading “Welcome to Arthur's Traveling Circus!” over our heads as we passed beneath it. People—families—scurried past, some of them rushing inside the enormous tent to attend whatever show was about to start, others were filing a line in front of the cotton candy machine, where a woman dressed as a clown was raking in a fresh batch. Some kids were running wild, chasing each other without parental supervision. This was a time when children could run around crowded fairgrounds and not have to worry about being snatched up by some predator. Parents, instead of minding thei
r children, told jokes and laughed amongst themselves. Some of them waited on lines so their kids could sit atop an elephant and have their picture taken. I noticed the cameras being used looked identical to the one I had in my possession, the one that took pictures of things that should not be.
I gripped Aurelia's hand tight.
Ow, she said. What's the matter, baby? she asked. I turned to her. She was beautiful, even more so within the dream. Her hair was pulled back in a bonnet, revealing her perfect face. Two small patches of freckles were under each eye. Her smile made me smile.
Nothing, I told her. I'm just happy.
She told me that she was glad we were together. Then we did something I had been too afraid to do in the waking world; we kissed. It was a gentle, soft kiss, one that was certainly not our first—although it was to me—and one that was certainly not going to be our last. We turned from each other and walked further, through the hordes of people hustling to the next show. Our hands were tightly clasped together, ready to take on whatever this nightmare was going to throw at us.
We came to a small clearing, a part of the fairgrounds where no one seemed to go; either because it wasn't interesting enough, or they simply didn't see it. People rushed by, unaware this little clearing existed. As we walked, something became apparent in the fog that hung before us. It was the silhouette of a house. I was hesitant to walk toward it, but Aurelia squeezed my hand and nodded in that direction.
A small sign in front of us read: The House of Mirrors. A little directional arrow pointed toward the house which became enfolded in the slow-rolling fog.
