Fog Heart

by Thomas Tessier

The voice of a child, small and pleading. The words didn’t come in synch with Oona’s occasional lip movements. They seemed to float out of her mouth unaided. But what was most disturbing about it, shocking even, was how frail and human that tiny voice sounded. And yet it had a crushing sense of reality, after, of the incantatory outbursts that had come earlier.

  ‘Don’t leave that there, Dad. Please don’t do that. Not in the corner, not in this room. Mr Adare told you, Dad. Leave it loose, not tight. Leave it in the shed. Dad, don’t—’

  ‘God.’

  ‘Don’t forget it there like that. Don’t leave me here, Mam. Take me with you. See the corbies in the tree. See them on the wall at the back of the garden. Take me with you, Mam, stay with me this time. Please—’

  Jan was sobbing violently, but no sound came from her. She leaned forward, hands clasped at her mouth, and put her forehead to the cushion at Oona’s knees.

  ‘Mam? Dad? Where are you?’

  Oona began to gasp, her cheeks coruscating with fear in the blood. Her voice rose, and yet seemed to lose strength, or hope. Her fingers trembled at her breast.

  ‘Mam? Dad? Don’t leave me this time. Stay with me. Take me with you this time. Mam? Dad? Please! PLEASE!!’

  Her voice became a scream, and Oona repeated those same few monosyllables over and over again. Her face was twisted, racked with terror, and the veins in her neck stood out like cables.

  ‘Mam! Dad! Where are you? Don’t go!’

  Jan: ‘I’m – so – sorry—’

  Charley felt as if his chest was full of knots. He couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes from Oona. He wasn’t breathing, and he seemed to be strangling inside.

  ‘PLEASE! PLEASE! OH PLEASE!’

  A shriek in the teeth of death, and then Oona’s voice reeled off into wordless, skirling yelps, raging hysteria. Charley felt as if steel bands were snapping inside him, and he took her in his arms suddenly. Stroked her hair and face. Contained her, as she collapsed in his embrace.

  ‘It’s all right.’ His voice congested. ‘I’m here.’

  16

  ‘This is not a good idea,’ Roz said with a look of reproach. ‘If it were up to me … But she does want to see you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Carrie didn’t know what else to say. When she had phoned earlier that morning, she had suspected that Roz and Oona were not quite in agreement. But even if she only got to see Oona for five or ten minutes, it was necessary. What had happened was so terrible, and Oona was the only person who could help.

  ‘Well, anyway. She wants to see you alone. As long as the two of you just talk, that’s okay. But if she shows any sign of going into a spell again, I want you to leave the room and let me know at once. I’ll be down here.’

  Carrie nodded. She followed Roz up the front hall stairs to the second floor. Oona was in the master bedroom at the back of the house, propped up against a bank of pillows. She had a stack of women’s magazines beside her, and the television was showing a music video. She was wearing light summer pyjamas. She had a cigarette in one hand, and there was a tall glass of tomato juice on the night table next to her. Her face lit up with a big smile when she saw Carrie.

  ‘Hi, come on in.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ Roz asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks. Fine,’ Oona answered dismissively. She patted the bed, and said to Carrie, ‘Here, come sit with me.’

  Roz left the room, leaving the door open an inch, as Carrie sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Oona.

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you like this.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right,’ Oona told her. ‘I’m really glad to see you. But I guess you had a rough night.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘I’m still glad you didn’t fly to Europe.’ Oona tapped out her cigarette. ‘Do you want a Bloody Mary or something?’

  ‘Oh, no, thanks.’

  ‘Come on, have one with me. Please.’

  ‘Well, maybe a weak one.’

  ‘Good.’

  Oona reached down to the floor beside her and came up with a clean glass and a bottle of vodka. She poured a large measure, then topped it off with tomato juice from another bottle. That was it, a far cry from the Bloody Marys at the Carlyle. Carrie took one sip and held the drink.

  ‘You probably think I’m terrible, drinking at eleven o’clock in the morning,’ Oona said, with a brief giggle.

  ‘No, of course not. Oliver and I often have a Bloody Mary or a Screwdriver on Sunday morning, with the papers.’

  ‘Well, I probably do drink too much,’ Oona said, without any hint of regret. ‘But I don’t like sleeping pills, and a couple of drinks makes it easier to sleep without dreaming. During the day it helps hold off the voices and visions.’

  ‘They happen that often?’

  ‘They would, yes. Unless I’m too weak from the last time or if I’m feeling mellow enough with drink.’

  ‘And you have no control over it?’

  ‘Not a lot. Not much at all, in fact.’ Oona grinned. ‘But never mind about that. What happened last night?’

  Carrie told her how the incident had developed, from the odd noises and the sight of the figure running down the hall and into Oliver’s office, to the way the room was changed, the strangling, and how Carrie then found herself in the victim’s place.

  ‘You didn’t recognize anything about him?’

  ‘No. The eyes were human, but the rest of his features were so distorted and freakish.’ Carrie shook her head. ‘But I could actually feel his hands on my throat. I could feel his body as I tried to push him away. His skin was hard and smooth but slimy. It felt awful, and it was totally real.’

  ‘Can you remember anything else?’

  ‘There was an awful smell.’ Carrie thought about it for a moment. ‘A smell like dirt, like wet soil.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And there must have been some other person present because I heard a garbled voice from the door. That was when he stopped choking me, and he turned and looked towards the door, and then it all ended. When I came out of it, I was alone in Oliver’s office and the room was back to normal again.’

  Oona nodded. ‘When I sensed danger around you, I guess this was what it was about. It may or may not be meant literally. It might only be a representation of something else. The experience of smell and touch are very important because they both suggest immediacy, proximity.’

  ‘You mean something’s going to happen to me, and it’s closer now? It could be very soon?’

  ‘I think so,’ Oona said. ‘It’s much more developed than the previous episodes.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Carrie asked.

  ‘Try to be ready for it, whatever it is.’

  ‘But how do you get ready for something like this?’

  ‘By thinking and expecting, and being sure of yourself.’

  ‘Am I in real danger?’

  ‘Yes, but as I told you the other day it may not be physical danger only. It could be emotional, psychological or spiritual. Everything is connected.’

  ‘But it could be physical.’

  ‘Yes,’ Oona said, with a look of regret.

  ‘What I saw and experienced, being strangled,’ Carrie went on. ‘That could really happen to me.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Oona admitted. ‘But, as I said, it seldom turns out to be that specific and literal. It’s a warning.’

  ‘So I have good reason to be scared.’ Carrie felt as if her life were tilting on its axis and that she faced a new alignment of unseen forces and factors. The threat of physical danger had not seemed real to her until now.

  ‘Is it about my father?’

  ‘He’s probably part of it.’

  ‘My husband?’

  ‘He seems to be a part of it as well.’ Oona sat forward and took Carrie’s hand. ‘But it’s all about you, really. That’s why it’s happening to you. It’s about you.’

  Carrie felt frustrated and resentful. Th
ere seemed to be no clear answers. She found some reassurance in the way Oona spoke, so calmly and matter-of-factly.

  ‘You’re not afraid for me.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Oona squeezed Carrie’s hand. ‘I feel you’re going to be all right. One of the reasons this is even happening to you is that you’re a sensitive. So it can happen to you. And that means you’re probably equipped to handle it.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Carrie said with a nervous laugh in her voice. ‘At least, I think I am.’

  ‘It also means you’re a bit like me.’

  ‘Does my being here bother you?’

  ‘No, at least not yet. I feel very good, in fact, clear and wonderfully empty. For me, empty is the best.’

  ‘Roz didn’t want me to come. Of course, I can understand it from her point of view. She’s just looking out for you.’

  ‘Well, Roz and I have a history,’ Oona said. ‘She does take very good care of me and she loves me, and I love her, but when I don’t do as she wants she gets a bit grumpy.’

  ‘You’re sisters, right?’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘So do I. Most of the time.’ Carrie must have looked quite puzzled, for Oona laughed and patted her hand. ‘That must sound funny. You see, Roz and I were together when we were very young, but then we were apart for a while. So neither of us is – well, leave it at that.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Carrie said. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘That’s all right. I know you’re not being nosy in a nasty way, like some people, and I don’t mind if you want to ask me any questions. But I may not answer them all.’

  ‘Have you always had this ability or…?’

  ‘I think so, in a way,’ Oona replied. ‘But it only became obvious in the last couple of years. That’s when I first started trying to use it to help other people.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘How old do you think?’

  ‘Eighteen?’

  Oona grinned with delight. ‘It’s been three years since I saw the last of eighteen.’

  ‘You look younger than twenty-one.’ Carrie remembered Scott Crawford telling her that many cases of strange paranormal events centred around teenage girls going through puberty. The time frame would almost fit in Oona’s case as well. ‘Why is this happening to me now? I’m thirty-two years old,’ Carrie said. ‘Nothing like this ever happened to me before. There were no signs, no—’

  ‘Until now. And bang, it hits you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Oona gave her a sympathetic look. ‘People grow and change. You’re not the same person you were five or ten years ago, that’s one part of it. Also, you might not have noticed some very small signs that did occur in the past. They can be easy to overlook. And then there’s the matter of other people and events that touch on your life. All of these things shift and develop in their own way over time, until you’re in a position where you see things in a new focus – and you can see whole new dimensions of existence, starting with your own.’

  ‘It scares me, and I don’t know whether to run away from it or to try and fight it.’

  ‘You can’t run away,’ Oona told her. ‘But you can fight it. Fight to understand. That’s the only way. You’ll be all right. I have that feeling about you. You’ll probably live a long life and end up a very wise old lady.’

  Carrie smiled. ‘I feel better just hearing you talk about these things so calmly. Thank you for letting me come and spend a few minutes with you.’

  ‘It’s nice to have a visitor.’

  ‘Well, I should let you get some rest and—’

  ‘Oh, don’t go.’ Oona was suddenly upset. ‘Are you on your way somewhere? Do you have to go do something?’

  ‘Well, no, but—’

  ‘Then stay a while.’ Oona had a begging, little-girl smile on her face. ‘Please.’

  ‘If you’re sure I’m not bothering you.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Maybe you’re helping me in some way because I’m not getting any intrusion at all. It feels great.’

  ‘But you will tell me to leave if it starts?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough.’ Carrie took another sip of her drink, trying not to wince. ‘Oona, how about if I show you how to make a real Bloody Mary?’

  * * *

  They made some proper Bloody Marys and watched old movies on cable, laughing at Laurel and Hardy, chuckling at The Saint, and finally nestling tight against each other through a bleak little noir thriller called Roadblock. By the time the doomed anti-hero had been gunned down by the police in the dry riverbed in Los Angeles, Oona was asleep, her face resting on Carrie’s bosom. Carrie had one arm across Oona’s shoulder and she stroked her hair and cheek gently. She drifted in and out of sleep herself, holding Oona protectively. At some point Roz looked in on them.

  ‘You’ll be Mother, if you don’t watch out.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Carrie answered truthfully.

  ‘You can say that now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Ah, never mind.’

  ‘Oona asked me to stay and she seems fine. But I don’t want to cause any trouble or hard feelings with you.’

  ‘I know,’ Roz told her. ‘You mean well enough. But there’s more to it than you know. You’ve no idea, really.’

  They spoke in subdued tones, but it still felt uncomfortable to Carrie to be discussing something that involved Oona while the girl was right there in her arms. She checked, and Oona was deep asleep. Her breathing was rhythmic and a very faint whistle came from her slightly parted lips.

  ‘No idea of what?’

  Roz stepped closer to the bed. She looked almost apologetic as she spoke. ‘It’s very easy to fall in love with her. There’s plenty who did before you, and you surely won’t be the last. The next thing is, you’ll want to help her.’

  ‘I wouldn’t presume to know how—’

  ‘Not yet, you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.’

  ‘Don’t expect her to love you in return. She can’t. And it won’t be long before she disappoints you. So don’t set yourself up for a let-down, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Carrie could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was so bizarre. She made an effort to keep her voice from rising.

  ‘I don’t know why you talk about love. I respect and admire her, and I’m very, very grateful to her for the help she’s giving me. If that’s what you mean by love, fine. Otherwise, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Just don’t jump to the wrong conclusion. Oona is Oona, and that won’t ever change. You can’t help her. You can’t save her. And she’s the one won’t let you.’

  * * *

  ‘I had a dream.’

  ‘A good one, I hope,’ Carrie said.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Oona sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking so much like a child. ‘It’s really weird.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘First of all, I don’t remember very many dreams. The drink is supposed to keep you from dreaming – or at least remembering what you dreamed.’

  ‘Otherwise you have nightmares?’ Carrie asked.

  Oona nodded. ‘Not exactly nightmares. But for me dreaming is usually like having a spell. More of the same. It crowds my brain. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s a bit like being suffocated – only inside your head.’

  Carrie nodded sympathetically. ‘What was this dream about? Do you remember much of it?’

  ‘Just a fragment.’ Oona sat back and lit a cigarette. ‘It was by a river, but it was in a city not the countryside. There were mechanical things around and it just felt like a city. And there were a lot of children running and yelling. But I couldn’t hear anything clearly. What I remember most was a terrible sense of something being wrong. That’s why the kids were running about and screaming – they were screaming.’

&n
bsp; ‘Anything else?’

  Oona shook her head. ‘Just panic. That’s what I felt. It was pure panic, as if my head was going to explode.’

  ‘Were you one of the children?’

  ‘No. I was just, like, observing it all.’

  ‘Was it because I’m here?’ Carrie asked.

  ‘No, oh, no.’ Oona was alarmed. ‘I think it would have been worse if you weren’t here. I woke up and I was in your arms, and suddenly I felt very safe. It was the nicest feeling.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad,’ Carrie said, smiling.

  ‘Will you stay on?’

  ‘W-when, now?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Oh, no. I should—’

  ‘Look, it’s getting dark out,’ Oona said, pointing to the window. ‘You don’t want to drive all the way back to New York at night. By yourself.’

  ‘It’s still—’

  ‘To an empty apartment? Why bother, if it’s not necessary? Why not stay on here with me? That’d be better for you, and I’d enjoy it so much.’

  ‘I’d hate myself if you had another spell because I’m here. It’s bad enough that it happens in a scheduled session.’

  ‘I’ll be okay, I promise.’

  ‘Oona, you can’t promise that,’ Carrie said. ‘You told me you don’t have any control over it and other people bring it on. We shouldn’t push our luck and maybe ruin a good day.’

  ‘But I just know it’ll be okay,’ Oona insisted. ‘Your being here seems to help in some way, I think.’

  ‘It’s nice to hear that, but—’

  ‘Please?’ Oona didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You’re staying overnight,’ she went on. It was both an order and a plea. ‘Just say yes, okay? Just say yes.’

  ‘Yes.’

  * * *

  Roz didn’t seem upset or surprised by the news, and she took Carrie into her own bedroom to get her a nightgown and robe.

  ‘I tried to talk her out of it,’ Carrie said weakly.

  ‘Not to worry. It’ll be like a night off for me. I may go into town and see a film. Haven’t done that in ages.’

  ‘Roz, if you do go out…’

  ‘If it comes on her, don’t try to force her out of it. That just makes it worse. Let her come out of it by herself, she will soon enough. Then you have to clean her up and be there for her. She’ll need you.’ Roz smiled mirthlessly. ‘But you might be lucky, and nothing happens.’