by A. Griffin
“OK.” Ian ran over to them. She watched him leave her side and thought of how she would miss him when he left. I wish that he could stay. If only he were my child… But she divested herself of those thoughts as she entered her home; focus would be required in order to win the battle ahead.
“Hello? Are you here?” Linda called. She heard Grant mutter something from the den. She walked in and found him typing away at the computer.
“So are you going to call or should I?” he said, assuming she came to her senses.
“No. And I expect you to treat him with more respect.”
“Why?” Grant asked.
She exploded with a fury in her voice that he had never heard before. “Because he is a person like anyone else! And I’ll do the calling when I’m good and ready.”
He looked at her and blinked, and she saw fear in his eyes.
“Fine,” Grant said. The word was one octave above a whisper.
Ian approached the two youngsters who looked to be around his age. They were seated on the ground and playing with various piles of connecting blocks, organized according to size. A waif of a girl with blonde ringlets and glasses was making what appeared to be a fleet of ships. Ian watched as she made a fastidious inspection of the one in her hand before placing it beside the pile of completed ones. The boy, who had dark-brown hair and blue eyes, was fumbling with a stubborn block, which for some reason would not adhere to his airplane.
“Hi, I’m Ian,” he said.
The children regarded him for a moment and then went back to their play. While he had not received an invitation, they hadn’t rebuffed him either, so he decided to sit down. He began arranging the blocks in rows of threes and continued to do this until the girl piped up, “You’re not doing it right. You have to build something.” Ian ignored the criticism and continued his pattern.
“She’s right, you know. The whole point is to make something,” he said with eyes downcast. “You must be new here. I’m Robbie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ian replied.
“Likewise,” Robbie said.
“I’m Cynthia,” the girl said pointedly. Just then, a boy with curly, light-brown hair came walking by with his face in a book.
“Look who it is. Little Randy Bakerfield, Little Randy Bakerfield. Always got your nose buried in some dumb book,” Cynthia teased.
The boy buried his nose deeper in the book—which hardly seemed possible—and continued on his way.
“Boy, he makes me mad. He always thinks he’s better than everyone else,” Cynthia said. She punctuated the last two words with punches to the ground. “I’d like to rip him limb from limb.”
“You could rip out his entrails,” Ian offered quietly.
“Good one,” she said, eyes wide and full of excitement. “But what are they…antrails?”
“Locks of hair, of course,” he said offhandedly.
“Ooooh,” Cynthia replied. She broke out into shrill laughter that had a hint of fiendishness to it. Then all of a sudden, it stopped when she became overcome by the need to criticize Ian’s fledging object. “Just a house? How run-of-the-mill.”
Ian ignored her comment and continued with his work until the sound of Linda calling him from inside the house caught his attention. “I’ve got to go. See you later,” he said.
“See ya. Maybe we can play again sometime,” Robbie said, and then went straight back to his work.
“Yeah, maybe,” Ian replied.
“See ya,” Cynthia said.
Ian ran across a few lawns to Linda’s front door and let himself in. Before Ian could shut the door, Linda’s husband—red faced and obviously perturbed—rushed past him and went to his car. In a moment his engine roared to life, and the screeching of tires ripped at their tympanums. Ian looked at Linda. Her face was pallid. She was a shell of herself.
The sound of the tires resounded in Linda’s head for much longer than she would have anticipated. Had he finally gone off the deep end? I thought I had gotten through to him just a few minutes ago. Is he that stubborn? He’s just angry right now. Things will work out. But even the consoling tone of the voice inside her head lacked conviction.
“Ian! I almost forgot that you were standing there,” she said when she saw the youngster.
“That’s all right.”
“Are you hungry at all?”
“No, I’m fine. But there’s something that we need to talk about.”
“OK, sweetie,” she said, looking a little concerned. “Let’s go into the dining room.”
She walked into the dining room and pulled out one of the heavy, oak chairs for Ian. Then she walked around to the other side and pulled one out for herself.
“Is everything OK?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Tell me what’s up.”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“Who are you, then?” she said, laughing a little.
“You won’t believe me, and judging by how the last encounter went I think it’s best if I don’t reveal my true form.”
“Last encounter? True form? I’m still lost.”
“That’s all right. Just watch that candle in the middle of the table,” he said, and pointed a finger at it.
“I don’t see how this game is going to make me understand…” Just then, the candle rose from its spot on the table and began floating in midair. Linda immediately stood, eyes wide and with one hand clasped over her mouth. Ian stood up too, and the candle immediately dropped. He touched her free hand with his, and she seemed to calm down.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked.
“Yes.” Linda nodded in awe, took a deep breath, and sat back down. Seeing that she was now OK, Ian took his own seat again.
“I won’t hurt you,” he reassured her.
After a moment of silence she said, “How is all of this possible?”
“I’m not from this planet.”
“Where are you from?”
“A place called Pentar, in another dimension.”
Linda sat silently, rubbing her temples and trying to take everything in.
“You look like you could use a drink of water,” Ian said.
“Yeah, that would be great. I left a pitcher on the kitchen table.”
The boy went into the kitchen and retrieved the heavy pitcher and a cup. He handed her the cup, which she accepted with both hands. After he filled her cup, Linda asked, “How can you control objects the way you do?”
“It’s not an extraordinary talent on my planet. Everyone learns telekinesis when they are fledgling demons. I can remember the first time I had one of my lessons…” he said, and continued to tell his story.
“The five moons of Pentar stared down on its dunes, giving their normal color a more eerie hue. The elder demon—my teacher—stood far behind me. He was only a dark silhouette obscured by the gusting sand. I looked back at him, but only silence came from the small figure who was dwarfed by the massive dunes. I turned forward again and tried to focus through the relentless torrents of sand that pelted my face. Through his telepathic speech, he told me to think only of the sand. Concentrating was difficult on the frigid dunes, but I kept at it. Hours passed. I turned back to see if the elder was still watching, but he had gone. I tried to remember what he had told me in earlier lessons. He had said, ‘Concentrate and will the object to move as you would an arm or a leg.’ I tried one last time, and closed my eyes. After a few seconds I opened them, and there was a large mass of sand in front of me. The bottom of the mass spilled to the dunes in a thin stream, like that of an hourglass. A feeling of triumph poured over me. I made the mass move up and down, side to side, and then twirl— creating strange patterns of sand in the air. All night I worked with it. Eventually, I had fine-tuned my talent enough to keep the sand from spilling. Using both arms extended in front of me, I willed the sand into transient arches—much like those in the sun’s corona. As the sun rose, I attained mastery of the art. But upon realizing this, I co
llapsed to the dunes from sheer exhaustion.”
“That’s a very interesting story,” Linda said.
“Pentar is an amazing place.” Ian’s face grew serious, and he said, “I’m glad that I met you.”
Linda’s eyes began to well up with tears. “Really?” she asked.
“You see, Pentarians are a fierce race. Their emotions are much more repressed than humans. Our relationships are bound by respect. The idea of caring for another individual was completely foreign to me, but after meeting you I began to feel this emotion of caring. One of my fellow Pentarians warned me of the potential side effects of being around humans for extended periods of time. At first it felt quite repulsive, but now I’m growing accustomed to it. The depth of these emotions is so amazing, and yet so strange…” He trailed off for a moment, and his gaze went to a ficus tree outside the window.
Linda looked at the dazed youth. “Ian, are you all right?” she asked.
He turned back to her. “I don’t know. I fear that taking on this emotion has rendered me ill. I feel changed somehow. All I know is that I must change back to my demonic form—and soon.”
“Will I be frightened if I see your real form?”
“It’s possible.” He smiled inwardly, thinking back to his first encounter with Adam. “There’s no need to worry. I think it’s best if you don’t see my true form. And besides, I don’t know if any of these emotions will remain after I’ve reverted back to that form. I hope you can understand that.”
She nodded, but the saddened expression on her face made it clear that she did not.
“I will be leaving you soon, but before I go, I must warn you that this planet may not survive long. I’ve been sent here to determine its fate.”
“The earth—destroyed? But why?” she asked.
“That is the way of my kind. We seek out and destroy peoples that do not meet a certain level of advancement.”
Linda was pale and horrified by the words. “Destroy the earth— just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Your people will destroy it?”
“No. The task is my sole responsibility.”
“I don’t believe it. You wouldn’t do that,” she said, shaking her head.
“You don’t know the real me. But do not despair, you will be spared.”
Linda was shocked again by the boy’s words.
“I want you to have this,” he said, and handed her a silver pendant with a single quartz stone in it. “If the earth is destroyed, you will be transported to the world Fernatha.”
Linda appeared to be in a state of shock. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.
“When the time comes, remember to put the necklace on.”
“How will I know when it’s time?”
“The stone will begin to glow and emit a small tone.”
“What about Grant?”
“Him? He’s the source of your unhappiness, is he not?”
“Well, I guess. But I love him…or I used to.”
Ian leaned forward and his excitement began to build. “Don’t you wish that he were out of the picture for good?” he asked.
“No, I wouldn’t dream of something like that,” she said. But Ian caught a touch of uncertainty in her voice.
“I could erase him from your memory.”
“I don’t know what my life would be like if I had no memory of Grant.”
“It could be richer. I have very little knowledge of the human psyche, but it seems to me that you cannot miss what you have not known.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Just remember to save yourself.”
“OK.”
“I must go now,” he said, and stood up. “Good-bye.”
“Bye,” she said, trying to hold back tears.
Before Linda could utter another word, Ian rose before her very eyes and vanished. Linda was left sitting at the table, her fantasy now truly at an end.
CHAPTER 10
Adam began to doze off as the endless highway stretched out before them. He could still remember how his friends had looked when they all met at freshman orientation. It seemed like such a long time ago, but it had transpired only two years earlier. Things were much simpler back then—before the whole incident with Rolmar had occurred. He could remember John’s punk hairstyle and Zelia’s long, curly hair. The two had since changed their image; John had chosen a more sensible haircut, and Zelia had cut her long waves and decided on a shoulder-length hairstyle. John was constantly sarcastic, even in those days. Zelia was always so studious. Adam had admired those qualities in his friends. He shuddered to think how he would have felt if his two closest friends hadn’t survived the amusement park tragedy.
“We’re getting off at the next exit,” Zelia said sleepily.
John was wide-awake; apparently the trauma of the past few hours had caused him to be a little jittery. Zelia noticed that his hands were shaking a little. “Why don’t you pull over, and I’ll take us the rest of the way,” she offered. John steered the car to the shoulder and put it in park. Zelia unbuckled her seatbelt and looked over at John, who was still gripping the wheel. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be all right,” she said. John nodded, but the fear in his eyes indicated otherwise. John and Zelia switched seats while Adam started to stir in the back.
“Have we reached our destination?” Adam asked. The first four words were clear enough, but a midway yawn made the last word completely unintelligible.
John turned around and said, “We’re almost there.”
“How long have you known this guy?” Adam inquired.
“I’ve known Scott since freshman year. We were good friends up until this year.”
“What happened?” Zelia asked.
“I guess we both got busy, and he changed his major, so we weren’t in as many classes together.”
“You said he lived on Lakeway Drive, right?” Zelia asked.
“Yeah, we’re going to be making a right at the next traffic light,” John replied.
Zelia turned onto the street and was surprised at the affluence of the neighborhood. The block was lined with mansions that had impeccable lawns. The homes boasted sculpted hedges and colonnades, and some were even enclosed in wrought iron gates. “Which one is it?” Zelia asked.
“The one with the giraffe-shaped hedges,” John said. He was starting to feel apprehensive about the whole situation and wasn’t looking forward to speaking to Scott’s family.
The stone-paved driveway opened into a beautiful courtyard with a triple-tier fountain at the center. “Well, here we go,” John said. He jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut in one fluid motion. The others followed behind John as he made his way up the stone steps and knocked on a large, oak door flanked by columns. John’s foot tapped in anticipation. After a moment, a dark-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses opened the door.
“Yes?” he said.
“Hi, Mr. Sellers. Umm, it’s about Scott…I don’t know how to say this, but something’s happened,” John said.
“Scott?” the man said. He looked confused. For a moment he disappeared inside the house where they heard him yell, “Honey, do we know anyone named Scott?” When he came back he said, “We don’t know any Scott.” He started to close the door.
John placed his palm on the door and raised his voice. “You don’t understand. Scott’s gone.”
“I hope this isn’t a prank.”
“This isn’t a prank. He’s really gone. Don’t you remember me, Mr. Sellers?
“I’m sorry, I don’t know you and I don’t want to have to get the authorities involved.”
Zelia whispered to John, “Are you sure that this is the right house?”
“Yes. I know it’s the right one,” John replied.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve never had any children,” Mr. Sellers explained.
Adam put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” he s
aid.
“All right,” John said quietly.
Adam looked at Mr. Sellers and said, “Sorry for disturbing you.”
They headed back to the car, and Zelia started up the engine. After they pulled out of the driveway, John shook his head. “I don’t understand. Mr. Sellers knows me. I’ve been to this house several times to work on projects with Scott when we still had the same major. Mr. Sellers didn’t even remember me. Something was different about him—he had a blank look in his eyes.”
Zelia switched on the radio. “Adam, have any theories? You’re the most logical of all of us.”
“Not really. I don’t know what’s going on.” Then at the bottom of his stomach he felt a churning that sickened him. “But I know it’s him.”
“Who?” John said, still confused.
“The demon…he did it. Why didn’t I think of this before? That night when I first encountered him, he read my mind.”
“Whoa, I didn’t hear that part of the story,” John said, and perked up with interest. “You said you encountered some creature on the street, and it came into our home.”
“Well, you weren’t exactly very willing to listen that night. You just brushed me off and went into your room. You didn’t give me a chance to finish.”
“Of course not. I thought you were joking or something.”
“Obviously, I wasn’t,” Adam said. “When I came home that night, he imitated your voice. I thought you were home but when I came in, he was in the foyer instead. He told me that he read my memories and that’s how he was able to imitate your voice.”
“That’s pretty scary,” John said.
“I should have realized that if he had the power to take a memory, then he could also erase one.”
Adam had thought about going to the police earlier, but after encountering Scott’s father he decided that it would be a fruitless effort. There had been no news on the radio about the incident. Everyone must be oblivious to Rolmar’s deeds. I think that’s exactly what he wants. He told me that this was just a game to him. All this secrecy and memory erasing must somehow be part of that. We’re the only ones who know.
