Camden's Knife

by John Patrick Kavanagh

  Now it was beginning to make more sense.”And he…”

  “And he wrote and recorded the songs you heard tonight.”

  She raised her hand, placing it on the back of his neck. Her eyes twinkled just like the lights of the city.”You really don’t understand, do you?”

  “I’m…I’m not sure.”

  “David, I could do this alone if I chose to.” She paused.”But I don’t want to.”

  He looked at her, this woman who’d bounced him around like a basketball the entire night. What did she have in store now?

  “Only five people know of the existence of KYAG. Dr. Hickey, Smite, Wexie, you and me. And I’d like to keep it that way for now. You’d agree with that?”

  He thought to ask if Picard knew about it but didn’t have to. He’d entered the inner circle, a loop encircling her agenda, and wanted to share the control with him. She was tired of everyone being 20 years older and desired to bring in a new guard, handpicking her confidants.

  “Of course.”

  She picked up one of the caps. The cover of the Bradean-4 popped open with two beeps and she rolled it from her palm into one of the chambers, shaking the unit to get it to drop into place. She then stood and walked the few feet to the windows, her form a shimmering silhouette against the background glow.

  “This is not a miracle drug that will save all of humanity,” she began, her voice low and sultry, blending in with the music he heard from behind.”And not cocaine or LSD, opium or hashish, an upper, a downer, a stopper nor Febrifuge. Maybe a distant cousin, but has its own special identity. While the temporary effects are certainly interesting, it’s the long-range locks that might prove to be the breakthrough.”

  “Breakthrough to what?”

  “To knowledge, to potential. What do you think makes Mozart and Einstein different from you and me?”

  He pondered the question for a brief moment and couldn’t resist the first thought that popped into his mind.

  “Their hair!” He laughed.”It has to be the hair.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” she smiled as she turned to him.”Where did I go wrong?”

  “So what does it do?”

  “We’re not completely sure yet but I know it builds a bridge between possibility and reality. You saw my paper. That wasn’t drugs talking, that was me talking. After it wears off it leaves something. That’s the only way to explain it.” She paused.”I want you to see for yourself.”

  She stepped across and handed him the injector. He lowered it and heard the crackle as he pressed the charge. As he began to lift the unit from his wrist he felt an old, forgotten memory begin to rise from his subconscious. Then he was suddenly inside the memory.

  It was an overcast, heavy late summer day when he was a young boy living a child’s life in a small suburban village. School, he knew, would begin in just a few weeks but those few weeks, like the summer, would last forever.

  He was in the convenience store a few blocks from his house, alone except for his bicycle parked against the streetlight out front. Mrs. Singh, a tiny, kind woman who sometimes spoke with words none of his friends knew stood behind the flat, low counter smiling as she always did.

  His visiting aunt Lynn had given him a $10 bill the night before to spend as he wished. It wasn’t for his education, which was like school but older. The morning was spent in the backyard beneath the cherry tree thinking about what he could buy with his fortune. It was after lunch, when his sister was being put back into her crib in the living room, that he decided to go to the store and spend some.

  He’d walked in knowing exactly what he wanted. And now his face and torso were being washed in the icy blast from the thing Mrs. Singh called the frozen confection novelties case he leaned into. The milky white air blurred his vision and curled around his ears; the loud hum of the freezer blocking out all other sound. He tried to reach further down to grasp one of the new OrangePop Tickles from a light brown, half-empty cardboard box at the very bottom.

  If I could just be bigger, he thought. If my fingers were just an inch longer, the prize would be his. If he fell into the freezer, which he knew he wouldn’t, Mrs. Singh or the firemen or Aunt Lynn would come to pull him out. You can’t keep your head in the freezer too long, he knew, or your eyes might never be warm again.

  The humming subsided and the icy air was gradually replaced by a warmer, lighter sensation. Stonetree felt a wave of tranquility, almost a dead silent calm wash over him. He opened his eyes and was back in Trisha’s condo as if he’d just awoken from a nap he didn’t need, feeling incredibly lucid. Everything was vivid and sharp, the music from the stereo like a soundtrack for this personal movie.

  “You’re now part of the future, David,” he thought he heard her say from somewhere far away.

  He considered asking which future she was referring to but then the second wave hit him, seeming to emanate from the base of his spine. He sensed it just before it rocketed into his brain, exploding quietly like a distant fireworks display.

  For a moment it was as if his entire being had turned to ice. Solid, frozen, eternal. As quickly as it began, it was gone, replaced by the warm, damp weight of the air and the cool, tart taste of his treat.

  From his vantage point atop a plastic crate in the convenience store parking lot, he could see the world, smell the world and taste the world. The roar to his right reminded him he could hear the world, too.

  The machine lurched to a stop just a few feet in front of him. It was different from other cars, certainly different than the one that carried him and his sister on errands. This one growled and blared music and seemed to sweat. It was as red as blood, a galloping silver horse glistening on the front of the beast.

  A man in a white T-shirt and jeans got out on one side. From the other a girl, but not one like his friends from school. She was sweeter and shaped differently. She was taller than the man and wore a tight red T-shirt. Something was pressing against the fabric and he thought for a moment about what might be hiding behind it. Her lips were very red, her shorts were very short, her legs seemed awfully long and why would anyone want to wear shoes like that?

  He felt an odd sensation beneath his trousers as if his underwear was getting tighter and tighter with each passing second. It was an aching, throbbing surge he’d never experienced.

  This feels really neat!

  The man walked around the back of the car and took the girl by the hand. Stonetree stared at her and she smiled sweetly as the man stopped in front of him, a knowing grin on his face.

  “You’ll understand someday, kid. It’ll make sense. Trust me.”

  And now it did.

  He blinked and the vision was gone. How long had he been back there, he wondered. His eyes shifted to the facing love seat, to Trisha’s lips. Her smile the same as the girl in the parking lot while her pupils completely eclipsed her irises as if a pair of perfect miniature black moons.

  “I was back in my old neighborhood when I was a little kid,” he said as if talking about the day before yesterday.”It was so clear.”

  “You must have enjoyed your visit,” she laughed.”You left the building for five minutes. Hang in there. More to come.”

  Then a second wave washed over him.

  He was sitting in the pew of an ancient dark church, his grandmother kneeling beside him saying the rosary. She’d taken him there this Saturday afternoon to show him something called benediction, but not just any benediction. This one, she’d told him, was like the ones attended when she was a little girl.

  Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows to his left while on his right a few people waited in line to enter a closet through a pair of doors with red and green lights atop them. Up in front, two older boys dressed in black and white costumes knelt silently before a large golden circle with a smaller white disc in its center.

  The aroma in the air was pungent but not in a bad way. It was mysterious, as was the only sound in the whole place, a tick-tock tick-toc
k he could hear somewhere from behind. And he knew—was positive—that this was where God probably spent his Saturday afternoons.

  He blinked his eyes and was back in the condo, but Trisha was no longer sitting across from him. Then a third wave returned him to the forgotten past.

  It was night this time but not just any night. It was Christmas Eve. He was in the living room of a small apartment that his grandmother lived in, a building where he’s been told only grandmothers could dwell. In the background holiday music played and he could hear the adults talking in the kitchen.

  In his hands were some toy soldiers that she kept for him for these special visits. Special because she was the only person in the entire world who had a tree like the one he approached, decorated with large, oblong lights and many simple round ornaments of red, green, silver and blue. But the best part was a magical substance she’d confided was called flocking, smelling wonderfully sweet.

  He began to position the warriors, divided into two teams, on either side of this snowy mountain, each time dislodging some of the white powder that fell branch to branch; even as far as the brightly wrapped gifts on the floor.

  More waves followed, slightly diminishing in intensity, gradually decreasing in clarity and becoming more ambiguous. All except one were reiterations of experiences from his childhood, that being an event from high school when he’d accidently tipped over a test tube near a Bunsen Burner, starting a small fire. The teacher, known to his classmates as Stash, had shouted, “Stonetree! You’re out of it!”

  Trisha was back across from him leaning forward, her fingers intertwined and covering one of her knees.

  “Welcome back. Enjoy the trip?” She smiled.”There was a 15 minute stretch there when you closed your eyes and barely moved. Wasn’t sure where you’d went so I told you a few stories I thought you’d enjoy.”

  “All of it…I’ve never... I can’t believe how clear it was.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I feel... I’m not sure how to describe it.”

  “Squeeze your hand. Make a fist like this.” She held out her hand and slowly drew her fingers together into a tight ball which he imitated.

  “God! I can feel every little muscle, every little nerve like following the impulse from my brain, down my neck, through my shoulder, down my arm. This is amazing!”

  “It’ll get better. Especially tomorrow. Wait ’til you see how you feel then. It’s like having the gift wrap taken off your brain. You’ll never think so clearly. It’s something.” She hesitated.”And then there’s the second time. It’s cumulative. It remains.” She chuckled.”Tonight you’ll sleep like you never have before.” Then she cocked her head.”But tomorrow, mid-day probably, the special effects will very gently disappear and you won’t realize it until they’re gone.”

  He nodded and lifted his other hand, squeezing it and relaxing it. The sensation was indescribable.

  “Was your event hidden back there?”

  “There were plenty of them.”

  “I meant your LEP event.”

  He couldn’t recall ever discussing partitioning with her, much less his Selfscan visits.

  “Yup, I believe it was.”

  She thought a moment, then leaned closer.

  “Earlier this evening, you asked what I thought the painting in my bedroom meant.”

  He took a deep breath but didn’t reply as she stood and extended her hand toward him, palm side up.

  “Come. I’ll elaborate.”

  CHAPTER 12

  In his dream, he was resting on a chaise under a palm tree, the wide beach before him virtually empty, the crystalline turquoise waters of the Gulf placid. Seabirds called in the distance and the angle of the sunlight shining from behind informed that it was late afternoon. Perhaps 50 feet directly in front of him was another chaise, nothing save the top of a huge, black sunhat indicating a woman was enjoying the remains of the day. And he knew who she was, the trade winds wafting a scent he now knew well. Shalimar. He made the transition from sleep to full consciousness in one motion, bypassing the in-between zone. His eyes opened and he stared at the thin sheets of light entering the room through the cracks in the black blinds. He sensed he was alone and that it must be close to 8:00. Rolling over, he looked to the clock radio next to the bed. It was 8:01. Taking a deep breath, he realized the aroma was drifting from the surrounding pillows.

  His clothes were draped over a chair in one corner and a large white terrycloth robe was lying sideways at the bottom of the bed. There was no sound save a dull hum from a location he couldn’t place. He sat up and reached for the robe, noticing a Post-It on top advising coffee and more was waiting in the kitchen. After donning the garment and cinching the belt, he went to investigate.

  A chrome thermos, a cup, a sugar bowl, a spoon, another note, a small box, an envelope and her unwrapped birthday gift were positioned on the island. After filling the mug and adding some sugar, he took a sip, then read the note bearing the monogram TSL.

  David,

  Thank you for last night and the early morning. Take the day off and see if you can contact McReynolds. I’ll see you tomorrow at 9. As you’re familiar with a few of mine, I’ve left one for you to take home. And please don’t spend all of your bonus in one place.

  Trisha

  He picked up the tan box and examined the label which identified the source as KESHI, Don Gaspar, Santa Fe. Opening it, he discovered a carved rattlesnake with turquoise eyes, about four inches long. Beside it was a sewn black leather pouch of similar length and a pair of printed cards, the first of which read

  A fetish is an animal carving (usually from Zuni Pueblo and a tradition of all Pueblo People) that reminds us of specific qualities of a particular animal.

  By respecting that individual animal’s “medicine” we may honor that quality in ourselves.

  Fetishes are carved from stone, shell, antler and bone.

  Below the print was the handwritten addition

  Mother of Pearl Snake

  The second card advised

  The power of Snake medicine embodies increased perception, alchemy and sexuality.

  The Snake’s life-to-death-to-rebirth cycle is exemplified by the shedding of the Snake’s skin.

  It is the ownership of expanded consciousness and the right to encounter new experiences without thinking twice.

  If you have chosen the Snake, there is a desire within you to alter your desires, thoughts and actions.

  The envelope showed the Plaza as the return with his name and address appearing in the transparent window. It contained a SUE check in the amount of $100,000.00, the explanation line stating Transfer Bonus.

  He suddenly noticed that the aroma of the coffee wasn’t…it wasn’t a single scent. It was a group of very distinct, complimentary ones like a single painting containing multiple colors that when blended formed the whole. Same was true for its taste. He could sense subtle variations within it, along with the sugar, that seemed to vary with each sip in intensity as if not evenly mixed but rather floating in different amounts on adjoining levels inside the cup.

  Then he noticed another aroma, this one of his favorite snack, honey roasted cashews. Raising his nose slightly, he tried to pinpoint its location, recalling that over a quick lunch with Trisha a week before he’d mentioned they always made him smile after she’d said oysters had the same effect on her. Sensing a stronger trail, he turned to his left and followed it.

  There they were, beside the toaster oven in a small serving bowl, evidently a forgotten appetizer from the night before, as next to them was an unopened can of imported raw oysters. He shook his head in bewilderment as he stepped into the great room.

  As he moved toward the love seats, The Serpent caught his eye and he gazed at it in wonder. The surface appeared to have a barely visible grid of thousands of tiny squares and rectangles as if JLD had plotted the entire layout before he began work on the canvas then filled them in one at a time to create this masterpiece. Looking
to the Picasso, he saw a similar grid, and then one superimposed on the Johns.

  This must be how all the great painters do it. Maybe that’s their secret.

  As he returned to the bedroom to get dressed, he noticed the Illinois drawing hadn’t been planned out as the others, so figured that the masters probably didn’t choose to spend grid time on their lesser works.

  Before leaving he returned to the kitchen to retrieve the gifts Trisha had left behind. Admiring the snake again, he carefully placed it into the leather pouch, then repacked everything back into the box and placed it into the wallet pocket inside his blazer. He was about to do the same with the check but hesitated as he put it back in its envelope, a wave of apprehension coursing through him. Something seemed wrong, even creepy about the way it felt in his hand, so he set it back on the island beneath her note. Then after grabbing a handful of the cashews, he was on his way.

  On the way home he replayed the events of the previous evening over and over in his mind. They were all very clear, as if digitally captured. He kept forwarding and reversing to his favorite parts, spending the most time viewing the last scenes of the epic.

  After showering and making a pot of coffee he called McReynolds. His friend answered on the third ring and sounded as if he’d been asleep. However, his drowsiness disappeared when Stonetree began to tell him about the conversation he’d had with Lane the previous evening.

  He said he’d try to reach Camden as soon as possible and would call back when a meeting could be arranged. Stonetree told him he might be busy as the morning progressed but that he’d call back if they didn’t connect.

  Then he called Hendricks. The Mustang’s owner said he’d be happy to continue the negotiations around noon.

  He was on his way out the door when the trans chirped.

  “Dave, I got hold of the doctor. He came in late last night. I guess he was real antsy to get back here to try to get something going. He looked at his own stuff and decided he still needs the notebooks. I told him about your conversation with Trisha and he was excited about the possibilities. But I got the distinct impression he thinks maybe he’s being set up.”