by Bryan Davis
Kelly held the flashlight close to the reflection. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
I checked the image again — still just a country road. “Ready. Turn it on.”
She aimed the flashlight at the mirror and pressed the button. As soon as it blinked on, the light surrounding the car dimmed.
Daryl rose from her crouch. “That’s weird. I don’t see him anymore.”
Outside, rolling pastures whisked by, some dotted with trees. I slowed the car to a normal speed. The engine’s whine quieted, but the rattle continued. “Perfect. Exactly what I hoped for.”
Kelly put the flashlight away, took the mirror, and set it on her lap. “Were you thinking about this road?”
“No. I meant I hoped for the escape. It’s like the mirror chose the place.”
Daryl leaned forward between the front seats. “You gotta love it. We cause a highway pileup, vanish in a puff of smoke, and reappear in the middle of nowhere.”
“This isn’t a movie,” Kelly said. “Those people might have been hurt.”
Daryl crossed her arms. “Don’t guilt trip me. I had nothing to do with it. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Daryl’s right about one thing,” I said. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Look.” Kelly pointed ahead. “That intersection has a sign. It might be a highway marker.”
When we reached the intersection, I stopped and read the number. “Route two-fifty-one.”
Kelly whispered, “It’s Illinois two-fifty-one.”
Daryl pushed into the front to get a look. “You mean I missed the welcome sign?”
“We all did,” I said. “We made some kind of quantum leap over the border.”
Kelly looked at the sky. “Do you see what I see?”
Tiny snowflakes floated down and landed on the windshield.
I let out a sigh. “Now we have weather worries.”
Daryl squinted at the crystals. “Did you guys see The Day after Tomorrow? It was so cool! Weather disasters all over the world.”
“Thanks for the calamity forecast.” I resisted the urge to say more. No use scaring anyone. But could the approach of Interfinity have anything to do with the weather? And how did Kelly’s prophetic nightmare fit in?
Kelly pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped on the screen. “We really must be in the middle of nowhere. I’m not getting a signal.”
“So, no maps. The one I printed doesn’t show this road.”
She slid the phone away. “With the cloud cover, I can’t even tell which way north is.”
“Speaking of north,” Daryl said as she wrapped her arms around herself, “it’s getting as cold as Hoth in here.”
I turned on the heater. “We’ll find a gas station and buy a map. If they don’t have one, I’ll ask for directions.”
“You’re a guy,” Daryl said. “Isn’t it against one of the rules of manliness to stop and ask directions?”
I smiled. “It’s not manly to stay lost when fair maidens need to find their way home.”
Daryl reached forward and compressed my bicep. “Oooh, Kelly. Strong and sensible in the same package. Can we clone him? One for you and one for me?”
Kelly pushed Daryl’s arm away. “As long as I get the original model.”
“I won’t quibble. His clone would be better than the clowns I’ve been out with.”
I groaned. “How many more hours of this do I have to put up with?”
“That depends, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor.” Daryl patted my shoulder. “You get us to our castle, and we’ll stop acting like hopelessly romantic schoolgirls.”
“That’s a good motivation.” I drove on. After a few minutes, we found a Shell gas station. I pulled in and glanced around. With a stack of bald tires in front of an empty mechanic’s garage, a dirty window advertising several brands of beer, and no protective canopy over two older-style pumps in front, it didn’t hold much promise of carrying an up-to-date map. Still, it was worth a try.
“Better pull out our sweatshirts,” I said as I opened the door. “I’ll see what they’ve got.”
Daryl held out her hand. “Fork over the magic money card, and I’ll fill the tank.”
“Those pumps don’t look like they’ll take cards. Just start pumping. I’ll use cash. Stop it at twenty dollars if it goes that high.”
When I walked in, a bell jangled over my head. In the background of the dim store, a radio played a news broadcast that blended with a static buzz. I spotted the source, a little portable sitting on a snack display in a corner.
A stout bald man with a three-day beard sat on a stool behind the counter. A shelf filled with cigarette packs and snuff stood on each side, a tall jar holding red licorice sticks sat on the counter in front, and a rack of hunting magazines hung on a wall behind him.
“Help you find something?” the man asked.
Keeping an ear tuned to the radio, I gave him a nod. “Do you have a roadmap?” From the news report, the word nightmares caught my attention.
“Sure.”
As the man waddled to the back of the store, the radio announcer broke through the static. “One expert claimed that media hype rather than paranormal sources has incited most of the outbreak, but he admits his theory doesn’t explain how the first of these dreams began in Chicago before the phenomena became well-known.”
After a brief pause, the announcer continued. “The unusual winterlike storm continues to spread throughout the Midwest, bringing heavy snow to — ”
“Buck twenty-five, tax included,” the man said as he returned to the counter. He plopped the map down and slid it toward me.
I reached into my pocket. “Is that all? I thought it’d be more.” I laid a crumpled dollar bill and a quarter on the counter. “I guess there’s not much demand for maps now that they’re available on the Internet.”
“The Internet?” The man slid the money into his register. “What are you talking about?”
I stared at him for a moment. He seemed sincere. Not a hint of a wink or a smile.
I pulled a twenty from my wallet and laid it on the counter. “If we don’t pump that much, I’ll come back for the change.”
“What are you filling? A Sherman tank?”
“No. A Toyota.” I pushed the door open and walked out while looking at the map. The price read $2.95. Could it have been on sale?
Now wearing a black sweatshirt, Daryl twisted the lid on the gas tank. “I topped it off at fifteen even.”
“Good. I gave him a twenty.” I read the price-per-gallon on the pump. A little higher than normal, but not much. Daryl tossed me my sweatshirt. I caught it and pulled it over my head, still clutching the map as I pushed my arms through the sleeves.
“Are you going back for the change?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. He seemed confused, like he was from another time period. He didn’t even know about the Internet.” As the snowfall thickened, I strode to the driver’s door and got in. I laid the map on Kelly’s thigh and shoved the key in the ignition. “Let’s just leave.”
Kelly unfolded the map and compared it to the one I printed earlier. “Believe it or not, we’re only about a mile off the main highway that we would have been on anyway, and we’re about a hundred miles ahead of pace.”
“I’m ready to believe anything.” I turned the key. The engine churned but wouldn’t fire.
Kelly groaned. “Not now, Lando!”
I pumped the accelerator, but the Camry just kept grinding. “How do you get Lando to start when he’s being stubborn?”
“Dad cleans the spark plugs and lubricates the cylinders, but it might be the cold weather. I’m not sure if anything will do any good.”
I withdrew the key. “Do you know how to do all that?”
“Sure. I just need some carburetor cleaner and WD-forty.”
I read the window ads, searching for automotive supplies. Nothing but food, drinks, and tobacco. “It doesn’t look promising.”
I pulled another twenty from my wallet. She snatched it, jumped out of the car, and jogged into the station’s mini-market, her red hair bouncing in the snowy breeze.
Kelly pulled her feet up onto the seat and set her chin on a knee, gazing at me. As cold air seeped into the car, I settled back and focused on her searching eyes. “What’s up?”
“Just trying to figure out how to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “Everything, I guess. You’re so different. I can’t figure you out. Neither can Daryl. But she just acts natural around you, so I guess I should, too.”
“I’ll try to do the same, but ever since my parents died …” My throat narrowed. As my gut threatened to push out a sob, I bit my lip to force it back down. I couldn’t possibly say another word without losing it completely.
She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Just take your time.”
“Thanks.” A tear trickled down my cheek. “Sorry I’m not as easygoing as your friends.”
“Daryl and I will help you. And besides …” She leaned over the console, wiped the tear away, and kissed my cheek. “I’d rather be with a kindhearted mourner than a celebrating fool.”
Daryl flung open the rear door. “Leave you two alone for one minute and look what happens.”
Kelly fell back to her place. “Just a kiss of comfort, Miss Bigmouth.”
“I only report what I see.” Daryl bounced into her seat and closed the door. “A big yes-sir-ee on the cleaner and the WD-forty.” She held up a blue and yellow can. “This was the last one. And the man said, ‘No charge.’ He owed you five bucks.” She slid my twenty into the center console.
“Good. Now we can fix the car and get back on the road.”
“But there’s a problem. The store guy says the snow’s backing up the highway. No one was prepared, so it’s a mess. Lots of delays.”
I slapped the steering wheel. “But Clara’s in trouble. And Francesca.”
“Nathan …” Kelly smiled as she sang my name. “When you can’t change the weather, you have to learn to chill.”
I heaved a sigh. She was right. No use banging my head against a wall. “At least let’s get the car started. We’ll see how far we can get.”
“The store guy said we could borrow his tools,” Daryl said. “Do you need them?”
Kelly nodded. “If the problem’s something other than the spark plugs, I’m not sure what I’ll need.”
“Back in a flash!” Daryl opened her door, scurried to the market, and returned seconds later with a toolbox and a clean white rag. “Open the hood and let the grease monkey do her thing.”
As I searched for the lever, Kelly got out and circled to the front of the car. When I popped the hood, she raised it and set the prop rod.
Daryl and I got out to see if we could help, but we became no more than shivering observers while Kelly expertly removed, cleaned, and reinstalled the spark plugs. When she finished, she wiped her hands on the cloth and nodded toward the driver’s seat. “Give it a try.”
I hopped in and turned the key. The Camry roared to life and purred, sounding better than when we had started.
Kelly slammed the hood. “Gotta wash up,” she called as she walked with the toolbox through the curtain of snowflakes.
When she disappeared into the store, Daryl climbed into the backseat and shut the door. “Now that we’re alone, it’s my turn to give you a kiss.”
I kept my gaze locked forward. “That’s okay. You don’t — ”
A foil-wrapped piece of candy dropped into my lap.
Daryl giggled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
I snatched up the candy and turned toward her. She smiled and blew me a kiss. “I’ll get you to chill out eventually.”
I let my own smile break through. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Listen, Nathan.” Her expression turned serious. “You’re a super guy. Maybe the best I’ve ever met. But I gotta tell you. Kelly’s hurting. A lot. Sometimes the pain makes her lash out. So don’t let that get you down. Put on a bulletproof vest or asbestos underwear or whatever super guys do to protect themselves. And just be patient. She’s worth it.”
I nodded. “Thanks again. And I agree. She’s worth it.”
Kelly ran back and jumped into the car, the can of WD-40 still in her grip. “All set. Let’s make tracks.”
“Not long, skidding ones, I hope,” I said as I backed out.
With the map on her lap, she peered through the steady snowfall and guided me through a series of turns that led to the main highway. As forecasted, cars lined up bumper-to-bumper on the four-lane road.
I glanced at the map. “Any other routes?”
“Sure. But it’ll take forever.”
“It’ll take longer than forever if we use the Interstate.”
Following Kelly’s new instructions, I turned around and traveled narrow, snow-covered roads, slipping and sliding on occasion. Traffic proved to be much lighter, but the slow going ate away at our time. Radio reports were no help. Weather forecasts seemed to change by the minute, as did road and traffic conditions. No one knew what was going on.
After a couple of hours, the clouds raced to the east, giving way to sunshine that quickly cleared the roads of snow and ice. I rolled down my window and let the warm breeze circulate through the car. As my hair flapped in the wind, I looked at Kelly. “This is getting out of control.”
She pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it into Daryl’s lap. “It’s either the most realistic nightmare I’ve ever had, or I’m ready for the loony bin. Take your pick.”
I stopped at an intersection and stripped off my own sweatshirt. “We need a third option.”
For the next hour, we rode quietly, always watchful for new oddities or anyone who might be following us. When we neared our destination, we began looking for signs of the observatory.
Soon, we passed a driveway that led to an expansive building. One section stood three stories high and another topped out at two. At the far end, a cylindrical building was capped by a white dome with a narrow telescope opening from the apex to the base — the observatory, probably the home of Interfinity’s telescope.
I stopped well away from the building. “We’d better hide the car and go on foot. Gordon might’ve called ahead and told them what we’re driving.”
After glancing around for any onlookers, I drove the Toyota over the curb and into a wooded area. I parked under an evergreen tree and gestured for Kelly and Daryl to lean close. “Listen. I’ve done this kind of thing before, so just follow me and don’t be shouting stuff like ‘Nathan, be careful’ because careful isn’t going to get the job done.” I pointed at the mirror. “Daryl, I’m going to trust you with that. Guard it with your life.”
She saluted. “Aye-aye, sir.”
“Kelly, you take the violin. Leave everything else here. We need to travel as light as possible.”
She retrieved the case from the rear floorboard. “Got it.”
With me leading the way, we skulked through the woods toward the observatory. When we drew close, we found a narrow stone path that led to a back door in the two-story section of the complex.
I grabbed the door’s metal handle and pulled. “Locked,” I whispered.
Kelly pointed at a numeric pad on the wall. “Want to make a guess?”
“Waste of time.” I looked through a square, head-high window embedded in the door. Inside, a short, empty hallway ended at another hallway perpendicular to it. Standing at the intersection, a tall man in a short-sleeved, blue security-guard uniform yawned and looked at his watch. The logo on his sleeve matched the one Dr. Gordon wore on his blazer — the triple infinity sign.
I backed away and scanned the gray cinderblock walls. “Look for an open window.”
Daryl pointed up. “I see one on the second floor.”
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p; I strode to the wall and pushed my fingers into a gap between two blocks. “There’s a narrow ledge above the first floor. If I can get there, I might be able to stand on it and reach the sill.”
Daryl shook her head. “That’s a big if, Spider-Man. And the ledge isn’t any wider than half a foot.”
“There’s got to be a way to get up there.” I stepped back and scanned the lush grassy field surrounding the building. “The lawn’s well kept, isn’t it?”
Kelly followed my gaze. “Yeah. So?”
“If they keep the landscaping equipment on site, maybe there’s an outbuilding we can search. It might have a ladder.”
Daryl pointed. “A path.”
A thin trail of pulverized leaves led away from the building. Their mower bag probably had a leak.
Ducking low, we followed the path across the lawn and stopped behind a thick clump of trees. A small metal storage shed stood between two saplings, its door open, exposing a lawn tractor parked within.
I walked inside and looked around. A stepladder leaned against one wall, and a coiled rope with an attached towing hook lay on the ground. Perfect.
While I hauled the ladder and Daryl carried the rope and hook, Kelly, still holding the violin, hurried ahead to scout for onlookers. When we returned to the observatory, I grasped the rope near the hook and began swinging it back and forth.
“Wait.” Kelly set the violin case down. “Let me.”
“Just like shooting hoops?” I asked as I passed the rope to her.
She let the hook dangle under her hand. “Not quite. But I have a good feel for throwing things.” She swung the hook back and heaved it upward. It flew into the open window and landed with a dull clank inside.
We rushed to the wall and flattened ourselves against it, gawking at the window to see if anyone would look out. I shifted my gaze to my violin case, sitting in the open where Kelly had left it. Anyone peeking out the window would see it for sure. Five seconds passed. Ten seconds. No one appeared at the window.
I pushed away from the wall, grasped the rope, and pulled until it caught something and held fast. “Now for the stepladder.”
After we set it up, the girls steadied the legs while I scrambled to the top. Taking hold of the rope again, I scaled the wall, pulling fist over fist and pushing my shoes against the concrete until I could stand on the ledge between the floors. From there, I leaped and grabbed the windowsill with both hands.
