Toby said, “Nothing really made sense while I was there. But then, when you brought me back, being in the tunnel was like a really good memory. The best part was floating around.”
“Yeah, that was really something else,” Celeste added.
“Except for the barrier,” James said, which really got Dr. Porter’s attention.
“A barrier?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Celeste answered the question directed to James. “Something was blocking the way. I couldn’t reach the sides.”
“It was totally blocked off,” Toby added.
“Blocked off?” Dr. Porter asked. “Blocked off by what? What was this barrier?”
“It was all around, keeping me from the sides,” James said. “It was like a tunnel within the tunnel, except it was clear.”
Dr. Porter looked at the other two, who nodded their agreement. A barrier, he thought. And a clear one at that.
The three of them had been deprived of a part of the tunnel. The three of them had been deprived of part of their lives. It was no wonder he had not been able to help them. Their cures were not within the tunnel their subconscious minds dwelled in, but in the part they didn’t have access to.
Dr. Porter looked at the faces, which were still excited but a little confused. “I have nothing more for you this week,” he said. “But I assure you that next week your healing process will truly begin.”
“Do you have tapes for us?” Toby asked.
“No,” Dr. Porter said. He had not known what would happen this week, so he had not known what they would need to practice for next week. “But I will leave you with this. If you should have anymore strange dreams, or if you have anything else strange happen, do not hesitate to call me.”
On his way home, Dr. Porter began planning the next session.
***
Toby had come home after school on Friday complaining of a stomachache. Janet was pretty sure that her son was faking. There was something very exciting going on in his life, something much more fullfilling than living vicariously through his brother’s success.
The terrible nightmare hadn’t returned. At least, he hadn’t awoken her in the night or said anything else about it. Janet offered to stay home with him, playing along with his feigned sick role, but Toby had insisted that she go to the game.
So, on Friday night, in support of her other son, and in support of the school system her husband led, Janet sat in the bleachers and watched the Pious Eagles win yet another game. There was talk about a state championship and the whole town seemed to be in a buzz over it.
But Janet was in a buzz over something else. Randy had three more years after this one to be a star, possibly many more. But she suspected that the biggest part of Toby’s life was about to take place.
***
Celeste reflected a great deal on the tunnel during the course of the week. She wished that her brain could work while she was there. Then she would have been able to appreciate what it was like while she floated inside. It was nice to remember, but not near as good as what it would have been like in real time.
She also thought of what Dr. Porter had said about the healing process beginning next week, and that made the passing days maddening, especially when it was slow at work and all she could do was watch the clock, waiting for the day to end, so she could be that much closer to Saturday. He had been so confident. He seemed certain that what he had planned would work.
She found it hard to sleep at night. But that was fine. She stayed awake in bed, thinking about the possibilities. She thought about her special friend. She pondered futures she hadn’t let herself consider in a long time. She saw herself preparing to be married. Was it really possible that she could someday have a honeymoon?
Not that these things in themselves mattered much to her. She would never want a big wedding or an extravagant honeymoon. She just wanted what those things represented. That someone would always be there.
When she did sleep, she dreamt a lot of what she had been thinking about. But the dreams were kind of weird, disjointed. She dreamt of having a partner, but they cooked on a hotplate in the bed instead of talking or having sex. She dreamt she was being married, but to some old man in a wheel chair. It was like she had not been hopeful long enough for her subconscious mind to know how to produce good dreams. Still, at least the nightmares of last week were gone.
On Friday night, Celeste asked if she could be the first cut. Tiffany granted the request. Celeste was glad that she could go home early, wanting to be well rested for tomorrow. She couldn’t wait to be in the tunnel again. She knew that the tunnel meant something. Somehow, it was connected to her getting better.
***
James rarely had trouble sleeping. But on Friday night, the night before the next session, he lay in bed and watched the hours go by on the alarm clock. The nightmares of last week had not returned this week, leaving him with nothing that marred the experience.
He was glad Dr. Porter had taken up the tapes at the beginning of each session. James, normally not impulsive, doubted he would have been able to resist playing with them, seeing if he could use them to make it into the tunnel.
And the tunnel? There were several pieces of logic that added up to explain what that was. First, there was Dr. Porter’s behavior. He had not been surprised when they all saw the tunnel, which meant it was probably fairly common, maybe common to everyone. But then there was the extra barrier, that clear wall that kept them from reaching the sides. Dr. Porter had been surprised to hear of that. Then, after hearing about it, he had become confident. He had assured them that the healing process would begin on Saturday, which meant the barrier had been the something missing that Dr. Porter had been looking for, and once he found it, at least thought he understood it.
What was this barrier? James wasn’t sure yet. He thought it had something to do with the reason he couldn’t handle being outside. But he realized that might just be a wish. He’d have to wait and see. Now he was more than just intrigued by the treatment. For the first time in years, he was kind of optimistic.
***
How and why were the questions. But Friday night, lying next to his wife, the next session only hours away, Dr. Porter didn’t have solid answers to these questions.
How and why? He suspected the barrier that existed in these three clients, and a small percentage of people in the world, had been there at their birth. The three of them were blocked from part of the tunnel and thus blocked from the complete human experience that most people have.
The answer to how, Dr. Porter suspected, did not reside in the clients themselves, but in their predecessors to life, their parents. Toby Porter’s biological father had been killed by obesity. Toby hated food, possibly protecting him from his father’s fate.
Celeste, who had been raised by her aunt, had never met her mother. The details she had been provided about this woman were limited. All she had been able to tell Dr. Porter was that her mother had been a prostitute and that she had been murdered shortly after Celeste was born. Dr. Porter was left to wonder if something about her mother’s sexual practices had led to her demise, a fate Celeste, through her disorder, was protected from.
James was the biggest conundrum of them all. His parents were both still alive and both successful in their fields. What was it that James’s disorder protected him from? Was the barrier inside James’s subconscious there to protect him at all?
Dr. Porter could not be sure of this. Ethics demanded that he at least be somewhat more certain what he was breaking into before he took his clients any further. But again, he was ready to violate those ethics. For the sake of knowledge, he was willing to make that sacrifice.
Chapter 7
It had not taken long to get them all to the tunnel and then to bring in light. This done, Dr. Porter said, “And now I would like for you to bring from your history a tool that will help you break through the invisible barrier. Signal me when you have done this.”
The response was not
immediate. Dr. Porter suspected subconscious resistance. The barrier itself, inside each of them, had been there as long as the subconscious itself. James, usually quick to respond, took nearly thirty minutes. Near the end of the session, Dr. Porter came to suspect that Toby and Celeste would not be done on time. He had wanted to keep them together. But now, more than that, he wanted to see what would happen once the tool was put to use. He brought them up.
By the time all three were out of the trance, he had the two tapes in his hand. He gave one to Celeste and one to Toby. He sent them away with directions to listen to the tapes, three times, spaced throughout the week. The tapes contained the suggestion that they bring the breaking tool to the tunnel.
He sat alone with James. “You’re further advanced than the other two,” he said to his single client, who was waiting patiently.
James nodded.
“Would you like to continue?”
James smiled as big as Dr. Porter had ever seen him smile and then nodded again.
James’s parents would not come in until they saw Dr. Porter’s car was gone. So he figured they had the extra time. Dr. Porter saw no reason, at least no reason he cared about, not to continue. He put James back under, giving him the same set of instructions, one by one, that James’s subconscious had already heard to that point. Then, with James’s immediate experience in the tunnel, with whatever tool he had brought in, Dr. Porter said, “Now, start to break through the barrier.”
***
James heard Dr. Porter count, and he came out of the trance. Moments ago he had no knowledge of who he was. He was simply a being of destruction. Now he was able to put words to that experience. “I brought in a hammer and a chisel,” James said, even before Dr. Porter asked. “And all I knew was what I was doing. I was breaking away at the barrier.”
“Did it break?” Dr. Porter asked.
“Yes, it did, but not like glass would.” James laughed at himself. Of course it hadn’t broken like glass. Just because it was similar to glass in that it was clear, didn’t make it glass. “It chipped, like a rock would.”
“Did you get all the way through?”
“Yes, I made a small hole, not much bigger than a quarter. I started to make the hole bigger, but didn’t make much progress. I guess that must have been about the time you brought me up.”
“Yes, James. I let you chip at it for about five minutes. I don’t think it’s wise to rush at this time.”
James agreed, but only on an intellectual level. Emotionally, he wanted to go back under right now and keep chipping away until that barrier was gone.
Dr. Porter asked, “Did you experience anything when you broke through?”
James thought back and then said, “Yes, I guess I did. There was a short rush of heat.”
James studied the doctor. He wasn’t certain but he thought there might have been a little hesitancy in his expression. James remembered where else he’d experienced heat, in the nightmares. He didn’t want to talk about that right now, though. He wanted to keep feeling good about this.
James was disappointed when the doctor didn’t give him a tape to use during the week. But he thought he understood. The doctor would want to be right there to monitor his progress.
***
The kitchen was the first room James came to out of the basement. He’d rarely been further in his life, and had not dared to go beyond it in many years. But upon waking up this morning, he had felt something different. He was different.
James took short steps all the way to the front of the house, into the living room. Shock painted the faces of both his parents when they saw James. For the last few weeks, he had skipped his Monday routine of coming upstairs. And it wasn’t even Monday now. It was Sunday. They just sat there speechless, his mother on the couch, his father in a recliner, both with books in their hands, as James walked around.
The anxiety had been very low as he entered the kitchen and then grew as he made his way to the living room, which faced the front yard and the street, way more open than the kitchen, which faced the backyard and the alley. But still, he had made it this far. He spoke with a shaking voice. “I’m going back to the kitchen.”
His mom came out of the shock first. “Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked, staring at the open blinds. James knew the unspoken question was if he wanted them closed.
He shook his head. He wanted to take this conversation into the kitchen, but at the same time, he wasn’t so anxious that he couldn’t stay at the front of the house for a little bit longer. “Just tell me before you open any doors,” James said. “Leave the blinds as they are.”
James turned and walked away from them. When he made it back to the kitchen and sat down, his anxiety flowed down to a reasonable level. He got up and poured himself a cup of coffee.
He thought about what this must be like for his parents. They were both intellectuals, and must have had certain expections for what their offspring would be. When he was born, they wouldn’t have expected to be here forty years later, seeing their son make it to the front of the house, regarding it as their proudest moment as parents.
Both of them made their way into the kitchen. When he saw the glow on their faces he realized that it didn’t matter. Rhodes Scholar, Nobel Prize winner, making it to the living room, it was all the same. It was all relative. He’d blown their minds.
“Do you want us to make you some breakfast?” his mother said, a few seconds after sitting down.
“No,” James said. He then checked his anxiety. It was still there, but very manageable. Confident, he said, “I’d rather make you breakfast.”
James looked at his father, who had the question on his face before it came to his lips. “Up here?”
“Yes,” James said.
James made them breakfast that morning and every day that week. He spent most of his time in the kitchen, not daring to go further, but very happy with his progress, knowing he would do more next week. The only glitch came on Wednesday, when someone knocked on the front door.
James rushed downstairs, not the least bit afraid of the person at the door, but fearing the door being opened.
***
Janet heard her son yell and went running again. But this time, he hadn’t brought her from sleep. It was shortly after dinner, which he still hadn’t been able to enjoy. She wasn’t the only one running to his room. Robert, who had been in the living room with her, followed. Randy, who had been in his room, studying, joined them in Toby’s room.
They found him lying on his bed, with a smile on his face. That yell had not been in fear, but in triumph. “I’m ready,” Toby repeated, this time not so loud, looking at his family.
Janet was not totally sure what that meant. But it still brought tears to her eyes.
***
Saturday had left Celeste disappointed. While under, she had been a simple searching being. She hadn’t known herself or her environment. She was like a charged presence looking for something to connect to, something to bring equilibrium to her being, to cancel her charge out. While she was under, deep in a trance, she hadn’t known the meaning of what was going on, but when she came to and reflected on it, she had an idea what it meant. She had been searching for something to help her, and she hadn’t found it. She suspected the boy, Toby, hadn’t found it either, but the man, James, had. That was why Dr. Porter had stuck around with James.
Suddenly, Dr. Porter’s guarantee had seemed less real. Maybe she couldn’t find what she was looking for. Maybe it didn’t exist. She was afraid to dream. Her friend, the one she had imagined, got pushed back again. Even in her fantasy life, she was alone.
She used the tape on Monday, and it was more of the same. She came to, knowing that she had been searching again and found nothing. She was glad to have to work that night, to get into her job routines, so she could forget about it all. But she was off Tuesday, which made it very hard. Dr. Porter had said to space the three taped practices out during the week, but she was very t
empted to disregard that. The natural day to listen to the tape again would be Wednesday. Would it be harmful to do it early, to disobey what Dr. Porter said about spacing the tapes? She didn’t know. But she wouldn’t risk it. So she spent Tuesday with the thoughts spinning in her head. The fantasy was there. The question of whether she could find what she needed was there. But she did not attend to these thoughts. She just let them stir, let them tempt her, without bringing them to the front of her mind for examination.
Wednesday, she went under again. This time she found something. She came to knowing what that something was. It was a simple pickaxe, a wooden handle, a blade on the end. Her grip had not been good, but it hadn’t been like a grip in normal life. It was more that it was just hard to keep it there. It kept disappearing and reappearing in her hand. But it was enough. Celeste allowed herself to fantasize again.
Friday, before going to work, she went under and found the pickaxe very quickly. And this time, it was a solid thing that was there continuously. When she came to, she thought of how that was all it was, a pickaxe. It was not a pickaxe in motion. She had no way to tell herself to use it. She couldn’t give her subconscious the command to swing the axe, like she suspected Dr. Porter would give her tomorrow.
Because of that, she couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed and finally just gave up. She talked to her imagined person. With her voice, she made that person respond to her. Was it crazy? She didn’t think so. It wasn’t crazy, because she knew it was all in her head. Talking out loud just made it a little more real-like, but not real. Celeste finally did go to sleep. She dreamt of her friend.
Chapter 8
Toby and Celeste looked as if they would explode with anticipation if they were not put under soon. But they were stalled by James. “I made progress this week,” he commented. “After the two of you left, Dr. Porter put me back under and had me chip away at the barrier. And I’m better. I was able to spend most of the week upstairs.”
Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner Page 33
