by Laurel Dewey
“Jane?” He looked at her with a questioning glare. “There’s more in there.”
She handed the block of cash to Harlan and pulled out another postcard. The photo looked like your standard, bucolic, rustic Colorado ranch barn. Something about the photograph was reminiscent to Jane. She showed it to Harlan.
“Oh, hell, Jane. That’s the place with the tall grass. When I—” he caught himself. “When he was a boy and nailing that rabbit? That’s the barn I seen in that vision.”
Jane agreed. She recalled seeing the same barn in the identical scene when she forced herself into Harlan’s altered world. Quickly turning the postcard over, there was a “5” circled on the back. It was the missing card from the series. To the right was a name and address. The name was Iris Cristsóne. And based on the address, that barn was fewer than three miles away, just off Highway 17.
CHAPTER 25
The cloudy night hampered their short drive, as the moonlight fought through the haze. The storm died down, leaving a soft mist in its place. It was closing in on eleven and Jane was forced to slow down and stop at every highway turnoff to check the road numbers. After finally locating the approximate exit, Jane turned off the highway. Even surrounded by the coal black evening, the area felt strangely familiar.
“You feel anything?” she asked him.
“Yeah. Remember that sadness I felt during the first part of our trip?”
“I do. I’m feeling it again right now myself.”
Jane parked the van and got out, walking to the fence line. She recalled Blythe’s statement about how Gabe went out of his way to say his “sister Iris” was “much more like a mother to him.” His sense of humor, Jane decided, was as ambiguous as he could be. Gazing into the near distance, she saw a familiar barn. The field in front of her was where they picked the wild asparagus. And it was in that barn where the young girl gave her the food and the clothes still on Harlan’s back. She was suddenly reminded of a quote from T.S. Eliot on a card she was given a couple years before. “And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” As if on cue, the thick clouds moved away from the moon, allowing the blue light to illuminate the ground.
Jane walked to the corner of the dirt road that led to Cristsóne farm. She felt the sadness in her heart deepen. Harlan got out of the van and joined her. He stared down the dark road as a swell of emotion balled in his throat.
“That’s home,” he said, choking up. “He…he brought it home for safe keeping.”
“What’s left in your bag of tricks?”
“Just the old key I found on the ground that doesn’t unlock anything.”
“Get it, would you?”
Harlan returned to the van and found it. Turning back, he saw the strangest thing. “Hey, Jane! Check out the name of the road.”
Jane looked up. The weathered sign read: Perry Ridge County Road 017. Somehow, she’d missed that the first time they motored down this way. Instead of coming up with a suitable explanation for this coincidence, she calmly returned to the van and took their destiny into her hands.
She drove as far as she felt was safe, keeping the headlights off. Once in front of the large farm, Jane parked the van off the road. Moonlight danced across the metal roof of the large barn, making it easy to locate. Sliding through the barbwire fence, Jane and Harlan moved quickly across the barren field. Coming up on the large rear door, Jane unlatched it and they went inside. She found the light and turned it on. Harlan immediately appeared overwhelmed.
“Hey,” Jane said softly. “Don’t cut out on me now.”
He turned in slow circles, scanning the upper levels where the last bales of hay stood waiting. “I used to play up there.” His voice was distant and overcome with emotion. “When I’d hear my mother coming, I’d sit in that corner over there and stay real still. That’s the first time I made myself invisible…”
Jane gently approached him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “I need you to tell me where he put whatever it is we’re supposed to unlock.”
Harlan stood quietly, glancing around the area. He moved purposefully to the side of the large opened door where stacks of grain bags lay against the sturdy wall. He hefted one bag after another off the stack, piling them behind him. “Look, Jane.”
Jane came forward and saw the peripatetic “Sunny Farms” metal sign attached to the wall. “Oh, hell. Not another dig.”
Harlan found a shovel and started to stab the ground when Jane stopped him.
“Check that out,” she said, pointing to a hinge that poked out from under the sign. She lifted the metal sign off the wall and discovered a ten-inch square door with a latch. Opening it, she removed a 9 x 16 inch metal box that required a small key to unlock it.
Harlan held up the old key he found on the road. “That’s too big.”
“Looking for this?” a soft voice asked.
Harlan and Jane spun around. A tall woman with a shock of white hair stood at the far door, supported by her walker. She looked to be in her early sixties but was very frail, painfully thin and hooked to a small, portable oxygen tank that hung on the front arm of her walker. A heavy, barn jacket covered her chest over a long gray nightgown.
Moving closer, she stopped in the center of the barn, struggling to breathe. She held up a tiny metal key in her bony fingers. “I’ve wondered who would show up ever since he left it here.” She rolled a few feet closer to them. “I don’t have a gun. Unlike my son, I never believed in them. So, if your intention is to kill me, do it quickly.”
Jane looked at her. “Iris?”
The woman nodded.
“Why did you come down here? Why didn’t you call the cops? Somebody else could have been in here. Somebody who actually did want to hurt you.”
Iris relaxed a bit. She glanced at Harlan and then back to Jane. “I don’t care if I die. I welcome it.” She studied the ground. “I’ve wanted to die for years.”
Jane watched the pain engulf Iris. “Ever since he left home?”
She nodded, her lower lip trembling. “Seventeen years ago, almost to the date.” Her mind fell back into a shattered memory. “He never said goodbye. He didn’t leave a note. He was here one day and gone the next.” She looked at Jane. “We could never contain him. He was our only child but he didn’t feel as if he came from us. We didn’t understand him and we thought that if we tried to control him more, he would come around to our way of thinking. But that never happened.”
Jane moved closer to Iris. “Yes. It actually did happen.”
Iris regarded Jane with a questioning stare. “I don’t understand.”
“He walked away from the violence. He holed up in a cabin for many months and he found himself again.”
Tears welled in Iris’ eyes. “When?” she whispered.
“About four and a half years ago.”
Iris steadied herself, clearly stunned by the news. Jane brought a folding chair over to her and helped her take a seat.
“Where was the cabin?” Iris asked, tearfully.
“Three miles east of here,” Jane softly stated.
Iris looked off to the side as a wellspring of grief overwhelmed her. “He told me I was imagining it…”
“Who’s that?” Jane asked.
“Oscar. My late husband. I’d tell him that I’d come down into the barn and I could feel Gabriel here. I’d call out for him but he’d never respond. It reminded me of how he liked to play the ‘invisible game’ when he was a child. He’d tell me he could stand right next to me and I wouldn’t see him. Of course, I didn’t believe him then. But I realize now, if anyone could do that, he probably could figure it out.” She pulled a tissue out from her sleeve. “When I found that box and the key on top of it, I knew I wasn’t imaging his visits. But I never told his father about it. He would have told me to throw the box in
to the pond, without even opening it. That’s why I hid it away and kept the key close by.” She shook her head. “Oscar never forgave Gabriel for leaving like he did and pursuing the life he chose. And the years of absence just made it worse until he dropped dead in the field from a heart attack.” She sat back, looking at Harlan and Jane. “I wish…I wish Gabriel would have come out of the shadows when he’d stop by. I never got to tell him that I forgave him.”
Harlan walked over to Iris. Kneeling next to her on one knee, he clasped her left hand in his. For a moment, she didn’t turn to him. Then, as the scent of familiarity blossomed, she made eye contact. Staring into his eyes, her face softened. She drew her right hand to her heart and held it there, as if to steady herself against the unseen current. The longer she looked into his eyes, the more her body melted into the chair.
“What’s happening?” Iris said, barely audible.
“You don’t have to suffer anymore,” Harlan said, his voice momentarily sounding strangely different. “All that’s over now.”
Iris collapsed in Harlan’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. After a long minute, she pulled back and brushed her hand against his chest. She fell into his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better,” she said, trailing off. Wiping her eyes with her tissue, she let out a long breath. “It’s done,” she stated with a gentle nod of her head. She pressed the key into his hand. “Go on. Before they find you.”
Harlan stood up, not taking his eyes off Iris.
“Go on,” Iris insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
Jane tucked the metal box under her arm and tugged gently on Harlan’s sleeve. Once they returned to the van and got in, Harlan gazed back to the barn.
“She won’t live much longer,” he said pensively, handing the tiny key to Jane.
Jane drove several miles down the frontage road before turning into a pullout and parking under the cover of a large tree. Her plan was to hang out there for the night and figure out the rest of their trip in the morning. While Harlan busied himself laying out his bedding and reorganizing the chaos that Jude created, Jane sat in the front seat staring at the locked metal box.
“You gonna open that or what?” Harlan asked. After being met with silence, he piped up again. “What are you afraid of? That this nightmare is comin’ to an end? I sure ain’t! I say open that damn box and let’s get goin’ to New Mexico.”
“Who says we have to go?” her voice was eerily distant.
Harlan tossed down his pillow and crawled forward toward Jane. “Because we got one more postcard. Ain’t you the one who wants to do everything in order?”
Jane mumbled her words.
“What’s that?” Harlan asked, leaning closer.
“It’s a fucking trap,” she stated with authority. She turned to him, eyes on fire. “Chimayo? It’s a trap. They’re waiting for you there. Why in the hell would I lead you into that? After everything we’ve been through, trying to stay alive, dodging cameras and cops and red-haired fucks in black sedans? Why in God’s name would I do that?”
“Because that’s exactly what Gabe wants.”
“Really? Well, you know what? Fuck Gabe.”
“Jane—”
“No. I mean it. Fuck him. What did he ever do for me except complicate my life, fuck up your life and turn our realities into Swiss cheese? Fuck him! I will not let those bastards kill you. You have a life, Harlan. It’s time to live it.”
“And how in the hell am I supposed to do that now, after all that’s happened?”
She tapped the muddy box with the toe of her cowboy boot. “We got at least five hundred thousand dollars sitting right there. That’ll buy us a shitload of freedom.”
Harlan pulled back, screwing his face into a frown. “He marked that for Marion—”
“She doesn’t need it—”
“She’s got a baby on the way—”
“That’s not my responsibility, Harlan.”
“Well, I don’t care. For whatever reason, Gabe wants her to have that money and he’s askin’ you to take care of it for him.”
“You know, for a guy who is supposedly all knowing, Gabe sure had a hard time getting his shit together at the end.” Her tone was unforgiving and cruel.
“Jane—”
“Don’t you think? Running out of time and hiding all these cards and money and whatnot all over hell and back. If anything, I wouldn’t call him ‘second sighted,’ I’d call him shortsighted.”
“Jane, stop it! This ain’t about you and it ain’t about me neither.”
“Right. It’s about a dead man. A dead man, Harlan.”
“Stop it! He’s as alive as ever.” He looked at her more closely. “Whose side are you on?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“How come you ain’t answerin’ it?”
She derisively laughed. “Don’t try to be a cop, Harlan.”
“Well, maybe one of us here needs to be a cop and remember what we’re workin’ toward!” He leaned in closer. “I don’t like what I’m seein’ in those eyes of yours.”
“What’s that?”
“Cold-heartedness, for starters. Hatred. Resentment. And just plain meanness.” He eyed her with greater precision as concern quickly clouded his face. “I’m thinkin’ about Jude right now. I have a feelin’ you probably enjoyed doin’ that to him.”
She turned to him with a callous expression. “You’re right. I did. After what he did to Gabe and most likely repeated for you…yeah, I did enjoy it.”
“Where’s that bottle of Valium?”
Jane brought it out of her pocket and slapped it into Harlan’s palm.
“Okay. Now, where are the pills?”
She smiled.
“Jane? Where are the pills?”
There was an uncomfortable pause before she reached into her other jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of light blue tablets. “Count ‘em, if that makes you feel better.”
Harlan counted each one as he dropped it back into the bottle. “Seventeen.”
She nodded. “And two in his nasty little gut. When he wakes up tomorrow, he’ll hopefully be rockin’ a pretty bad headache.” She noted a strained expression on Harlan’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, Harlan. I’ve gotten you this far and I’ve done it staying smart and strong. Frankly, I’ve always found it odd how some people are scared of strong individuals. I’ve never been inspired by weakness. You do what you have to do in this world. If you don’t, they’ll eat you alive.” She eyed the money-bomb box. “It’s time we started thinking about what’s best for us.”
“Really? I see. So, what’s your plan, Jane? You gonna disappear?”
“We are.”
“No! Not me.” He turned and crawled back into the rear of the van. “You can drive me to New Mexico and let me out at Chimney-O. Then you can be on your way if that’s what you still want to do.”
Jane found a cigarette and angrily got out of the van. By the time she’d burned it down to the butt, she’d calmed down a little but there was still enough boiling rage bubbling underneath. Feeling inside her pocket, she brought out the key. The minute she turned that damn lock, she knew there was no going back. Part of her wanted to know what Gabe hid in there and another part willed herself not to care. Crawling back into the van, she glanced back at Harlan. He was fast asleep and practicing another round of mouth breathing. She gazed at the large moneybox. Leaning over, she lifted the lid and pulled out the smaller envelope of cash. As she removed the crisp bills, something fluttered out of the corner of the envelope. Shining her small flashlight on the floor near the accelerator pedal, Jane retrieved a round sticker the size of a quarter. After closer inspection, she realized it was a band-aid and the topside sported a cheerful drawing of a smiling rising sun over a green hillside. Jane stared at that damn thing far too long, her mind tossing around various possi
bilities for its proposed usefulness. Shit, she thought to herself. Gabe had drawn her in again.
Slipping the band-aid into her jacket pocket, she pulled the locked box toward her. Setting it on her lap, she faltered before sliding the key into the lock and turning it. Inside, was a large legal-sized brown envelope, secured with a wax seal. Breaking the seal, Jane slid out a stack of stapled documents. At first glance, most of the documents were scanned from computer files, but there were also a few handwritten pages, along with some typed passages. The top page was handwritten in ballpoint pen by Gabe and seemed to be a letter of intent. It was addressed to “To Whom It May Concern.”
“Please combine this documentation with the photographic evidence and any corroborating verification you have gathered, as methods most likely have advanced since I left this here. I trust you to deliver this package to the individual on the enclosed letter in a timely manner. This is the only copy available. Many thanks, Gabe.”
Jane re-read his note several times and each time, she felt a growing indignation take over. Here was a dead man trying to clean up his loose ends and needing Jane to complete that circle. She was nobody’s minon and, yet, curiosity took charge. She began reading. The whole thing sounded like science fiction, but, sadly, their plan was deadly and devastatingly serious. Gabriel had painstakingly gathered together covert files from Romulus’ databases as well as supporting evidence from various sources and outlined what could only be described as the most hedonistic attempt at usurping psychological control over the masses. And, like everything Romulus conceived, it came at the expense of someone else. The problem was that, in this case, that “someone else” was a child.
From what Jane was able to ascertain amidst the mix of scientific documentation and the observations that Gabriel established, Romulus had hired Werner Haas to investigate how to take the consciousness from a human organ and cleanly transfer it into another body. However, it was determined by Romulus that the “sanctity” of the donor and their specific organ must be “compliant with the proposed agenda and meaningful outcome of the experiment.” Jane knew that whatever words were chosen were done with purpose. The word “sanctity” seemed out of place. To her, that implied purity and even a sacred quality. But as the hours passed and she read every document, Jane agreed that “sanctity” was indeed a requirement.
