Alp attacked the corner of the room again with her broom. Why on earth Sarrah had decided to clean out the junk room after all this time was beyond her. Just more proof the old hag’s nuts and bolts upstairs were becoming looser each day. It was a dingy room and would remain so, even after it was cleaned. There was no window in the room, the only light coming from a dusty light bulb in the center of the ceiling. And it was drafty, the caulking having fallen from between the logs in many places. Anything to keep us from the treehouse, Alp thought as she chased after another dust bunny.
Mel was outside chopping wood, partially sheltered from the drizzle by the extension of the barn's roof. I suppose women do have it better sometimes, Alp thought. I'd rather be in here getting dust up my nose than outside catching pneumonia. She always worried when Mel cut wood, fearful he'd cut himself without her there to help. But so far, there'd been no other accidents; not since that day on the side of the mountain.
The light shining in from the doorway suddenly disappeared. Alp turned in time to be hit by a wad of old blankets and quilts.
"Arrange these neatly in that corner after you finish sweeping it," Sarrah said from her wheelchair.
Alp picked the jumble of covers off the floor and started to fold them. "What are we going to do with them?" she asked, knowing she was safe from Sarrah's wrath as long as she remained in the room. Sarrah's chair didn't fit through the doorway.
"None of your damned business, if you want to know the truth of it. But I figure you two are getting too old to be sleeping in the same room. It ain't decent." Alp wondered if Sarrah had ever worried about decency before. "So, I'm moving one of you in here. The other will stay where they are."
After arranging the quilts in the corner, Alp turned to pick up an old porcelain bedpan that she'd unearthed from the rubble. "What's this?" She asked.
"That’s a piss pot, dummy. Keep it in here. I might think of some use for it later.When you finish with the sweeping, go out and call your worthless other-half in. Tell him to bring a load of wood with him. Then, get to cooking us up something for lunch. Go ahead and lock the door and give me the key."
Alp did as she was told. As she was leaving the room, she turned at the doorway and looked back in. It was still a dirty little room. All the cleaning in the world wouldn't change that. She hoped Sarrah didn't make her move into it, although if she didn't, it would mean Mel would have to. Another no-win situation, she thought as she closed the door behind her.
She almost forgot to lock the door but remembered in time to return and do it. The old lock assembly was rusty, but finally, the key turned begrudgingly. Alp removed the large iron key from the lock. Rather than take a chance of coming into Sarrah's striking range, she tossed it into the old woman's lap as she went by her. Sarrah glared at her but said nothing.
They were all sitting around the table in the kitchen before Sarrah spoke again. She was busy slurping up her soup, holding the bowl in one hand a few inches from her mouth so the bowl could catch the dribbles of liquid that escaped from the corners of her mouth. Finally, she placed the empty bowl down on the table and stared at her twins.
"When did you two start smoking cigars?" she asked, her gaze shifting from one twin to the other. Both twins stopped eating, their hands suspended in mid-air holding onto soup spoons. It was Mel who finally spoke.
"What do you mean, Sarrah?" he asked in his most innocent voice. "Smoking is bad for your health. Besides, where would we get the money for them? It's for sure you don't give us any."
"Yes, that's a good point. Where would you get the money?" Sarrah leaned forward in her wheelchair and placed her elbow on the table for support. "What's inside the cigar box, Melaenis?"
Alp gasped at the question, then tried to cover her surprise with another spoonful of soup. Mel returned Sarrah's stare with his own steady glare. "I don't know what in heaven's name you're talking about," he replied.
They continued the battle of stares for what seemed like hours to Alp. When she could stand it no longer, she asked, "Would anyone like some more soup? I believe there's just a little left in the pot."
The two adversaries broke simultaneously. "Give me what's left and then, you two go out and fetch a couple of loads of firewood. It's going to be cold and damp tonight. You've been trying to freeze me to death all winter, but I'll be damned if I'll be cold going into spring." Sarrah leaned back in her chair.
Alp did as she was told, then went to the coat rack for their two ski jackets. She handed Mel's his and was surprised when he yanked it out of her hand without so much as thanks. He stormed toward the door and slammed it behind him, leaving his sister standing in the middle of the floor, a dumbfounded expression on her face.
"Go on. Get out there and help your brother. You can clean up this mess when you get back."
Shaking her head, Alp went to find Mel. He was already at the woodpile, using the maul to split ten-inch logs with a vengeance. Alp stopped a few feet from Mel and studied the hard lines of his face, beads of sweat and rain mingling in small rivulets on his cheeks.
"Are you okay?" she asked in a worried voice.
The ax arched through the air, sinking deeply into a thick core of oak. The blade stuck into the wood, stopped by a twisted knothole.
Mel glared at the ax blade for several seconds, as though commanding the wood to split. Smoke began to rise from the blade as it transformed itself into a red poker.
Finally, Mel turned to Alp, and for a second, Alp was afraid that he was going to turn his powers on her.
"You told her. I can't believe you told her," Mel screamed.
"I did not," Alp retorted, immediately on the defensive. "She was only guessing. She doesn't know anything."
"She wasn't guessing. She was right on about what we've been up to, even to the extent of knowing what kind of box we're keeping the money in. Are you going to try to convince me the fat pig climbed up our rope ladder and peeked?"
"Mel, I didn't tell her." Alp felt the burning in her eyes that came just before the tears. "I wouldn't do a thing like that. We're a team. You're my brother. I'd never..."
"We were a team. As far as I'm concerned, you're on your own now. You may not have spoken to her about this, but if not, she penetrated your mind. I told you to guard it at every moment. But you haven't, have you?"
"Of course I have. How do you know it wasn't your mind she penetrated?"
Mel took a couple of steps towards her, staring hard into her eyes.
"Can you penetrate my mind?" He spoke the words slowly, as a challenge.
After a moment, Alp answered, diverting her eyes downward: "No, I can't. Not when you shut it down."
"But I can read your mind like a book. All I have to do is take it off the shelf."
Alp could no longer hold her tears back. Still looking at the ground, she sobbed quietly. "But I never felt her. She couldn't have done it. She doesn't have the power."
"How do you know what power she has? She's a witch, Alp. She probably slept with the devil to have us. How do we know what power she has? One mistake you should never make. Don't underestimate the enemy. She's the enemy, and you've deserted to the other side."
Alp looked up at her brother. "I haven't, Mel. Honestly, I haven't. I don't know how she found out. Maybe she did read me. But I tried. I really have tried to keep myself guarded at all times. I don't know how or when she could have done it."
Mel sneered at her. "You're wondering now if those tears of yours will soften me, aren't you? Well, don't count on it."
Alp looked at her brother with a mixture of horror and anger. "You leave my thoughts alone, do you hear? Stay out of my mind. For that matter, stay the hell out of my life!"
Alp spun on her heels and stomped back into the house.
Sarrah heard Alp goose-step across the porch, flinging open the door to the cabin. Sarrah watched as the door slammed shut behind her daughter as Alp ran to her room.
Sarrah smiled smugly as she watched her daughter's antics but sa
id nothing. A few seconds later, a torrent of clothes and other paraphernalia belonging to Mel flew from the bedroom door. Finally, Alp reappeared at the door, her hands on her hips, panting from the activity.
"You tell my egocentric bastard of a brother to take his damned belongings and shove them where the sun don't shine!" She punctuated her statement by slamming the bedroom door.
Sarrah's smug smile grew into a wide grin of approval. Worked like a charm, she thought as she returned her attention to the fire. Divide and conquer works every time.
Flip rested. He'd released himself from the network of the Kindred, his version of sending the kids out to play. His mind floated freely in the visionless void that had become his home. Time passed, but he was mostly unconcerned with time these days. The only tie he had to time was through the Kindred. It was pleasant floating in space like this: Thoughts came and went without concern, like birds flying into a tree to nest a while then, flying away again.
He often wondered if this was simila to death. If so, people were afraid for no good reason. He even wondered if he officially died during these times. Did the heart monitor display a straight line? No one ever came to beat on his chest. At least, he didn't think so. Brain patterns would still show up on the EEG, like the telltale droppings left behind by the birds.
Suddenly, out of the darkness of timeless space, stepped Denise. She was wearing the black sequined dress he had first seen her in. Confusion immediately followed the warm glow of recognition. What is she doing here? Denise strolled closer, and as she did, he noticed for the first time that he also had a shape in this previously formless world. He was floating motionless in space, his naked body only a few feet from Denise now. She reached out and stroked his chest, slowly moving down his body.
Flip felt the familiar tightening of his loins he had all but forgotten. What's going on here? This can't be happening. And then, he didn't care.
Denise stepped back long enough to slip the thin straps from her shoulders. The glistening fabric slipped down the smooth lines of her body. She floated back to him and lay beside him. Her warm, soft skin caressed his own. He turned on his side and felt his hardness against her thigh. For the first time, he was sure he had died and gone to heaven.
His excitement mounted as Denise kissed him, sending her tongue deep into his mouth. Suddenly, there was an uncomfortably pleasant sensation coming from his loins. He was going to come. Damn, not yet! He screamed at himself. He had never come too early before. Hold on. Ease up.
But it was too late. He felt the pressure building, the ecstasy becoming more and more intense. Somewhere the ecstasy crossed over the threshold of pleasure and into pain. Excruciating pain. Hot wax being poured onto his loins, melting away the hard erection. Flip tried to scream but could not. There was no escape valve for this intense agony. His dream body contorted in uncontrollable spasms.
Denise had vanished only to be replaced by Liz, standing beside him, laughing hysterically at his pain as she dripped the hot wax from a large, penis-shaped candle.
The pain would not stop; it did not seem to have a limit to its intensity. Flip wanted to black out but realized that being already in a coma, there was nowhere else to go. When he knew the pain could get no worse and yet found that it did, he suddenly felt another presence fighting to be recognized. It was the Kindred.
"Flip, what is wrong?"
"Father, father, hold on, come back to us..."
"We're here, Flip, hold onto us. Share the pain with us; we can help."
Take the pain, all of it, was Flip's first thought, but no, these are my children. I cannot. "Get away. Leave me be. I'll be all right." But it was no use. The pain was too intense. He could not push them away. He needed their help. They circled him. In his dream state, they appeared to be holding onto each other's hands, chanting softly for the pain to leave. Slowly it did, and as it did, Flip noticed the faces of each of his children for the first time; they were gorgeous. Even while twisted with the pain they shared, their faces beamed with love for their father.
Finally, the pain stopped.
"What happened? Did we get anything? Did we get a specimen?" In his excitement, Dr. Chickowski screamed the last question.
The technician pulled away from Flip and slowly withdrew the long cylindrical electro-ejaculator from Flip's rectum. "Damn near killed the poor bastard is what happened. What in the world were you doing jumping the voltage up so high?"
"The man's been in a comatose state for over two years. You can't expect him to just leap into action without a little help," Dr. Chickowski retorted defensively. Such cowards. I'm surrounded by sniveling cowards. No wonder we don't have more breakthroughs in research. "You didn't answer my question! Did we get a sample?"
"Little seminal fluid, maybe a few sperms. We won't know until we check it under the microscope." The technician in front removed the canister from Flip's grotesquely malformed groin.
"Guard that vial with your life," Chickowski barked at him. "It's worth a hundred times its weight in gold."
The technician with the vial smiled at his buddy. "Fred, you looked like you really enjoyed sticking it to him like that. I always wondered a little about your sexual preferences."
"Barry, this is a sick job, and being around you doesn't help any. Did you see the look on the poor bastard's face?"
"Looked like he was kinda enjoying it to me."
"Maybe at first, but when the voltage was jumped, I thought we'd lose him. Do you know how close we came to killing him?"
Dr. Chickowski walked up behind him and spun him around. "Fred, keep your mouth shut. We didn't almost kill him. He's dead for all intents and purposes already. If you can't hack the assignment, I'll find someone who can. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself. And if so much as one little rumor leaks out about this, I'll know where it came from. I won't stand for my project to be jeopardized by some mealy-mouthed tech that can't keep his mouth shut. Is that clear?"
"Yeah, sure thing, Doc. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just I'm not used to...oh, never mind. I need the money. I can hack it."
"That clear to you too, Barry?"
"Hey man, I'm cool. Whatever you say goes. You're the boss."
"Let's not forget it. Now, get the sample up to my lab, and remember: not a word to anyone."
Flip floated freely in space. His mind mingled with those of his children. For the second time, he allowed them to rejuvenate the electro energy that coursed through his brain. Not since being shot by Liz had he been so close to death. After a while, his strength returned, and he became aware of his children waiting anxiously beside him.
"I'm okay now, thanks. Thanks to all of you for my life—again. I don't know what happened, probably a malfunction of the life support system."
"We don't think so, father." It was Mia, and once again, it amazed Flip how much her thoughts reminded him of Denise. Like mother like daughter, even in thought.
We think it was Dr. Chickowski who did it. We picked up his self-talk about doing some tests on you.
Self-talk? Do you mean that you all can read other people's minds besides your siblings?
Not all of us. So far, I'm the only one, Tabitha piped in. That makes sense, Flip thought. Tabitha had been the first one who had communicated with him.
But the rest of us are discovering we have special talents too, Kristin added. I can make things come to me from across the room.
Telekinesis? Could it possibly be true?
Me too, it's fun, Connie, Stacey's daughter, added. I can move myself without using my legs. Well, at least a little, I can.
Levitation? Was all this really happening or had his children suddenly developed overly active imaginations?
Flip, we have something we have to ask you. Flip immediately recognized Tabitha, as she was the only one who refused to call him dad or father.
What's that, Tab?
We think there are more of our Kindred out there.
What? What
do you mean? Out where?
Tabitha is just making it up to get attention. Flip sensed a touch of jealousy coming from Heather.
I am not. I tell you, I've been picking up signals from outside.
Hold on a minute. Let's not start an argument, Flip interrupted. What do you mean?
Tabitha waited until she was sure she had everyone else's attention. Well, I don't know for sure where the messages are coming from, but I keep getting an image of snow-covered mountains. And it's plenty cold wherever they are.
Snow-covered mountains? Flip thought. Then even as an image flashed through his mind, he carefully guarded it — the image of a homestead in West Virginia with Madame Sarrah strolling across the yard. Could there be a connection?
...and, it seems like there are two of them, and one of them has thought waves more like yours than ours, Tabitha continued.
You mean you think one of them is a boy? Flip could almost feel his chest swell at the thought. A boy. It would be great to have a son. Wait a minute. This isn't possible. You kids are all the offspring I have.
Are you sure? Tabitha asked. I mean, maybe you lost count or something.
I did not lose count, Flip answered defensively, but he couldn't get Madame Sarrah out of his mind. I know who I slept with and...oh, never mind. You're too young to understand.
Did I lose count? Flip thought to himself, being careful to shield the question from his daughters. No, everyone's child is accounted for. Who could these patterns be coming from? He'd never slept with Sarrah. He was sure of it. It had been a purely professional relationship — except for the last night. He'd drunk too much that night, he remembered. He'd drunk too much and had woken up the next morning in Sarrah's bed. Oh dear God, he thought. She'd taken him also.
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