The Trilogy of the Void: The Complete Boxed Set

by Peter Meredith

  "Will? Are you going to look into the future? Purposely?" Talitha asked timidly. Her tone suggested that she he hoped he would, that maybe it was her only chance not to be a killer.

  "Yes, when we land." He got the shivers. "You know I can't do it here." Will was desperately afraid to look into the future, knowing that it was unlikely to show anything but pain. His leg started bouncing up and down nervously and he looked up for the stewardess anxiously. She came down the aisle, parading the tiny bottles about for the other passengers to see and more than one head glanced back in Will's direction. They were quick glances only as Will was in a fierce mood and no one cared to accept the challenge he held in his eyes.

  The stewardess gave him the fake plastic smile of hers, which he didn't bother to return, and handed over the Jack Daniels. Even before she turned away, Will had the first small cap unscrewed and guzzled the shot down. The second bottle went just as quick, but the next four he spread out over the remaining time of the flight, which seemed very short.

  For a long time, the three companions didn't speak until Will said, "This way, Tal."

  Up till that point, their silence seemed unbreakable. They had deboarded the plane and progressed through the small airport without saying a word. They were currently in the parking garage and he pointed to his red jeep, the one with the bullet hole in the passenger door.

  "Huh?" Talitha seemed confused and she looked around with a start. "Where are we?"

  "Did you lose track of time?" Father Vogel asked with concern.

  "Yes. We were just in the plane and you Will, you had just ordered some drinks." Her eyes went wide, "Did I do anything? Anything weird or...mean."

  "Try not to be too concerned, losing track of time is a symptom of a dissociative," the priest replied in his soothing tone. "You didn't do anything weird, you were just quiet. We all were. I was praying and your brother was drinking."

  If Father Vogel had meant anything by the comment, Will didn't know nor in fact did he care. He was lost in his stomach churning fear. It was two minutes after four in the afternoon and there was no more time to put off what he had to do. Yet he did put it off for another moment. After scanning the near empty garage, he climbed into the hard-topped jeep and fished out a bottle of Wild Turkey from beneath the seat.

  The burn of the whiskey was a relief to him. This bottle was his 'Saturday afternoon drive to Talitha's cabin' bottle. It was almost empty. He held it out to the priest, who quite unexpectedly took it and drank. Even more of a shock, Vogel held it out to Talitha.

  "Does it taste bad?" she asked looking at the bottle squeamishly. Father Vogel nodded at the same time that Will shook his head. She gave a little laugh at them and then tipped the bottle. It was worth giving up some of his whiskey to see the little jig of revulsion that her body involuntarily went through a second later.

  She spluttered for a moment and then smiled. "Does this mean I passed the initiation?"

  Will took the bottle and drained it. "Let me stay under for only three minutes...no five minutes. Five minutes only. You may have to hit me to get me out of it, just watch the nose, will you? It still stings from yesterday."

  Talitha climbed into the passenger seat and gave Will a nod, but Father Vogel looked confused. "Hit you? Why would she have to do that?"

  Ever since Amy Harris had picked up the phone at his house, Will had been battling a fluctuating anxiety. It was now reaching its highest peak and he was too nervous to even try to explain and he gave his sister a jerk of his head.

  "Can you explain it to him, please?" While he spoke, his fingers began to mush themselves together. "Crap!" He felt a sharp pain from the fingers on his left hand, and only then did he remember they had been dislocated the day before. He massaged them gently and tried unsuccessfully to tune out Talitha.

  "So as to have an accurate picture of what is coming, Will is going to endeavor to look into the future on purpose. Normally, visions just come to him out of the blue, and invariably these are disjointed. Now, he's tried this twice before and both were very difficult on him, mainly due to the horrific nature of what he was looking for, but also because the visions wouldn't let him go. Am I describing that correctly?" she asked Will. After a flash came to his mind of the decomposing corpse of a boy, he swallowed loudly and nodded.

  "It's like I can't pull away. My mind becomes synced with the vision as if that's my reality and this," he indicated the car with shaking hands, "is all a dream."

  Leaning against a shiny black Buick next to the jeep, Vogel nodded trying to understand. "And you are worried about what you might see in your home, I get it now. Good luck Will."

  "Thanks. Here we go. Shit, I'm so scared...five minutes only, and then get me out. Five minutes...five minutes," Will took a few deep breaths. And looked.

  Chapter 12

  Will

  There was nothing to see, which gave his nerves a jolt. He tried a second time and again saw nothing save for the black behind his eyelids. His anxiety reached an unhealthy pitch and a pain began developing behind his breastbone. "It's not working," the words escaped out of him in a frightened warble.

  "I hate throwing psycho-analytical babble out every few seconds, but your fear of what you may see is probably inhibiting your ability," the priest said, coming to stand next to Will.

  "Or maybe...there's nothing to see." In the front seat of the jeep, Will went white as he spoke. "Maybe Lisa doesn't have a future. Maybe she's already..."

  "Don't jump to conclusions," Vogel advised. There was concern written on his face and gently, with soft cool hands he reached out to grasp Will's wrist and took a measure of his pulse for close to a minute. "Hmmm, a hundred and fourteen beats per minute," he said with a touch of unease.

  "For Will, that's tachycardia. His resting pulse hovers around fifty," Talitha took his left wrist.

  "My chest hurts too, I think something's wrong with me." With his right hand Will massaged his chest, feeling the pain where he had been shot the night before. Suddenly and quite atypical for him, he felt himself start to hyperventilate, his breath started to blow in and out rapidly. He looked with wild eyes to his sister for help.

  "Relax Will, breathe easier. I can feel that it's sinus tachycardia, not ventricular," Talitha said. He had no idea if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Just as he was about to ask her, she reached out and touched his neck. "And your blood pressure is still very good. Panic attack?" she asked the priest.

  "I believe so," Vogel agreed. "Will, look at me. I want you to remember your Lamaze training. Give me a signal breath, nice and slow."

  "Signal...do you mean a cleansing breath?"

  Vogel nodded and smiled, and began to breathe along side of Will. Soon their breathing became matched and Will tried to make a joke of his situation, "I feel so stupid. This is for pregnant ladies." What he really felt was a thrill of fear running all along his nerves like lightening.

  "No, it's for anyone who's in a stressful situation and needs to relax," Vogel replied evenly, breathing slightly slower.

  "He's correct, Will," Talitha added. "Most people think that the mind controls the body, but they don't seem to realize that it's actually a two way street. A person who doesn't exercise feels mentally torpid as well as physically so, while a person in peak condition feels more alert and cognitively attuned. You see? In your case, calm your body and your mind will follow."

  "Or I can listen to you jabber on with your big words until I forget what had me so anxious in the first place." It was only a half-jest since he had to take a pause from his anxiety long enough to interpret a little of what she had said. And that, coupled with the Lamaze breathing had him calming to a degree.

  "Well if it ameliorates your apprehension, I could extemporize for a time on a multiplicity of subjects," she replied with insincere sincerity.

  "If you were hoping that I'd ask what ameliorates means, I'm not going to do it."

  "Good. It'll save me the trouble of telling you to look it up."

&
nbsp; The brother and sister looked at each other like they hadn't for some time, as if the years had fallen away and they were young again. After a moment, she smiled and seemed carefree, and he did his best to return it in the same manner, but he was far from carefree. He had many cares and she was not the least of them. Was he going to destroy her mentally by unleashing her on Amy? Would the personality of the evil Talitha take over for good? Would any of this really matter since she thought she was doomed to hell anyway?

  It made his chest tighten up again just thinking of those questions. He pushed them aside. "I'm going to try again." Without any fanfare, he closed his eyes just as he had done before. There was nothing. A blank wall. He tried harder, ignoring any fear or anxiety, concentrating on the future, picturing Lisa. But there was only emptiness. "I can't do it. I'm not seeing anything."

  "I bet she's blocking you somehow, like you thought," Talitha said.

  This was very likely true, but he could only summon the energy to agree halfheartedly, "I guess."

  A part of him was relieved that he couldn't see. A million terrible things could've been done to his wife and he didn't want to have to know any of them. Another part of him felt suddenly weak, vulnerable and terribly unsure of himself.

  "So where does that leave us?" Father Vogel asked. Will remained quiet. For so long he had relied on his vision that now, without it, the future looked endless and impossibly full of wrong choices. Fear of making one kept him quiet.

  "We go on to the house," Talitha replied in a quavering voice, after a long moment. "Will, drop me off just past that little bridge, ok? Wait four minutes and drive slowly on. I'll go through the orchard and approach the house from the rear and hopefully with all eyes on you, I'll be able to enter through the back unseen, and I'll, you know uh...take care of business."

  Will nodded, grateful that Talitha had come up with something. His own mind had frozen up. Father Vogel looked skeptical. "Are you, Talitha going to try to do this yourself?"

  "It'll be the other Talitha," she answered, not lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

  "You're risking too much," Vogel said with a touch of anger in his voice.

  "I'm not. I have nothing to risk," Talitha returned.

  Before the priest could reply, Will slid out of the car and pulled the seat forward. "We have to get going, Father. Hop in, if you're coming with us, but if you do, please don't try to stop her."

  Looking as if he wanted to say more, Vogel clambered in and Will steered his car toward home—toward certain danger and very likely death. It seemed that this concept was on all their minds and for most of the ride they were silent. It was only when they left the tiny city and were winding their way under the autumn trees did anyone speak.

  "I miss my cabin," Talitha murmured. "I miss my books."

  "You miss the false sense of security that these afforded you, Talitha," the priest said from his cramped perch in the short back seat.

  "Yes, I do miss that." She stared out of the window. Will missed it as well. He felt lost, like a blind man in a strange city. The bridge came up quickly.

  He stopped the jeep in the middle of the road and looked out at the view. On all sides, they were surrounded by trees that seemed like nothing more than low flung golden clouds and as they watched, these let loose their dry autumn rain. The leaves flicked and ticked about the street, coming together by the thousands to form a great river of gold that flowed before them.

  The breeze was sharp and ran steadily away from behind, and in the distance, a yellow house with a wraparound porch could be seen sitting placidly, as if waiting for an artist to draw it into the idyllic forest scene.

  Talitha opened the door letting the fall air, cold yet clean, run into the jeep. "When I see you again, make sure you have a story for me. It helps."

  "I will."

  "Love you, Willy J."

  "Too."

  Talitha smiled at this, before sliding from the jeep and running off into the woods. With her floral print dress and her fine brown skin, she looked to be a part of the forest itself, like nymph, a spirit of nature leaping through the grass. She was beautiful, and as long as Will watched her run, he wasn't afraid. However, she was gone too fast and a gloom settled over him.

  "She's still barefoot," Vogel said with a shake of his head. "I'm afraid for her. What happens if the other Talitha doesn't come out?"

  "Trust me, that's not the worry. It's getting the real Talitha back, that's the worry. Who am I kidding? Actually just living through this is my worry."

  "You're worried for yourself? Aren't you going to let Talitha...the other Talitha that is, take on the witch and her men? These words are so weird for me to even say," Vogel said with a half-smile.

  "Yeah. Witches and demons it seems so..."

  "Unreal," the priest offered.

  "No, stupid," Will replied. "But stupid or not, I can't give Talitha free reign in that house. If she takes out all the bad guys that's great, but then who knows what she'll do? Maybe she'll go after Lisa, and if she does, then I'll need to deal with her and that means I'm going to need a gun."

  "Oh, I see. Maybe we could come in once..."

  Will was quick to interrupt, "There's not going to be any 'we'. This is where you get out, unless you're going to sit there and tell me you're some sort of a ninja priest?"

  "No, but there's the witch you have to deal with also," Vogel said this with very little enthusiasm. They both knew he would be of little use against her as well.

  "Father, I think it'll be best if you stay out of sight. If Talitha and I both fail then I'll need you to alert the police, and the Pope too for that matter."

  Vogel rubbed his head as if he was getting a headache. "We should call the police right now. That was where Father Alba made his big mistake."

  "And what would we tell them? That Amy Harris is a witch? That she's threatening to conjure a demon from the pits of hell?" Will stared out the window, wishing it would be so easy as to call the police. "Besides, she said she'd know if we did, and I'm not going to call her bluff. No, the way to go is to strike hard and fast while we have any semblance of an upper hand."

  There were a few moments of silence and then the priest surprised Will, "Do you have any sins that you would like to confess?"

  Will's mind suddenly went blank. "What? Oh, I don't think so. Nothing new since the last time I went to confession."

  Vogel got out of the jeep. "I'll pray for you, Will."

  They waved to each other as Will put the car in gear. "Thank you. That means a lot." And oddly, it did. The shaking in his hands grew less pronounced as he started down the road.

  The scenery was beautiful and he found it odd that he took the time to notice it at all. He thought that he would be freaking out, but for some reason he wasn't. He had been all day, but now he was tooling along at ten miles per hour, slow and steady, like a one car funeral procession, looking out his partially open window at the golden trimmed trees and feeling strangely calm.

  Even at the unhurried pace at which he traveled, the house quickly loomed and the jeep rolled into the driveway only minutes after he had waved good-bye to the priest. He pulled behind a long black Cadillac and on impulse, he laid on the horn briefly. That ought to get their attention.

  His feeling of calm ended abruptly when he stepped down out of the jeep, still it wasn't replaced with nerve rattling anxiety, but only with loneliness. He felt very alone standing on his white gravel drive. This was his house, yet it didn't feel welcoming, as had always been the case in the past. Though he knew there were people in it, the house had an empty feeling. Perhaps even a dead feeling, but most certainly it had an ominous expectation. It seemed the house was waiting for him.

  "Let it wait," he murmured aloud to himself. He hadn't checked the time when Talitha had ran off into the woods, something that he regretted, and he didn't know if he was too early or too late. By the lack of screams and gunshots, he suspected he was running too early.

  Movement in a second
story window caught his attention. That was to be his daughter's room. Now he felt a cold anger. He had painted the trim of that room in pink, he had spent two hours assembling the crib, and there were stuffed animals lining the wood rails that he had personally chosen. And now there was a strange person in that room. Had it been Lisa she would have smiled down at him as she had done countless times before, perhaps giving him her usual little wave as well.

  He glared up into the window, but there was no one to be seen. All the windows were glassy and reflected only the magnificent autumn colors around him. There were no lights on in the house.

  With a deep breath, he walked purposely up toward the porch, but stopped after only ten feet. He wasn't afraid. Not for himself at least. He stopped because he was sure the people inside weren't expecting it. They were in there, crouching behind his furniture like a bunch of children playing at hide and go seek. And now this little unexpected thing he hoped would have them wondering what he was up to, perhaps worrying what he was going to do. All but Amy that is.

  She would be sitting casually in his living room. This would be her triumphant moment and he pictured her wearing a great big beautiful smile. Right now, it would be frozen in place as she waited.

  Purposely he lingered, counting to ten before he started forward again, and when he reached his porch he made sure to tread loudly on each of the three steps running up to it. Slow and deliberate: thud... thud...thud. Again, he paused, hoping that the muscles in her face would begin to tire and that when he finally opened the door her look wouldn't be that of a triumphant witch but rather that of a sour bitch.

  He could hope. There wasn't much more he could do. Fishing the incantations from his pocket, he held them up briefly and then gripped them in both hands. These were his only insurance and he would tear them up as a last resort or perhaps as his last act.