by C. L. Alden
The Empire
C.L.Alden
Copyright © 2017 C.L. Alden
All rights reserved.
ISBN:1541254902
ISBN-13:978-1541254909
The Empire
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER five
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER Fourteen
CHAPTER Fifteen
CHAPTER sixteen
CHAPTER seventeeN
CHAPTER eighTEEN
CHAPTER nineTEEN
CHAPTER Twenty
CHAPTER Twenty-one
CHAPTER Twenty-two
CHAPTER Twenty-three
cHAPTER Twenty-four
CHAPTER Twenty-five
CHAPTER Twenty-six
CHAPTER Twenty-seven
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Did you enjoy The Empire?
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the memories of my father, John H. Alden, and to my uncles Paul F. Alden and Michael B. Tabb, who each in their own way helped shape me into the writer and creative person I am today. Each of them had a love of history which they shared with me and in turn became one of the central inspirations of this book.
.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not have been completed without the support and encouragement of so many people. I’d like to thank my writing group, the Metrowest Writers; Jeremy, Chris and Amelia for your support, encouragement and feedback throughout the process of writing this book. To fantasy and science fiction author Jeremy Flagg, for his advice and guidance in all things related to writing and publishing. To my incredible beta readers! I lucked out with this group. Thank you to Jennifer, Jené, Jeremy, Susan F, Kay, Chris D, Pat E, Pat J, Jeanne, Gil, Laura, Tammy and Sylvia (mom), for all of your feedback.
A special thank you goes out to Dave Dailey, creative genius and designer of my book cover and other visual media. He has the unique ability to decipher and enhance my babbling and often nonsensical ramblings into visual art.
Thank you to my dear friend Jennifer Keifer for decades of steadfast friendship, support and encouragement in whatever I do. To Alexandra Bavosi for never letting me doubt myself and cheering me on when I need it most. Thank you to my brother Dave, sister-in-law Marcie, all my friends and family who have reached out with words of support and encouragement throughout this process; it means the world to me!
Prologue
Ooossshhh…..ack,ack,ack...ack…...hoooosh………..ack, ack, ack, ack….hoosh…….
Darcy lay in darkness, listening to the sound machine generate of one of her favorite sounds in the world; the sound of the ocean licking the shore. She hoped it would lull her into a deep sleep so that she could dream. For a couple of weeks now, she dreamt of home. Home was on the opposite coast. Home was memories of her life there growing up. She concentrated on the sound of the ocean, water rushing over rocks, gently rocking them, caressing and smoothing them as it had for millions of years. She listened to the familiar, soothing sound, letting it carry her away.
She felt the gritty, cool stone surface beneath her hands, and knew that it had been hewn by modern means. When she opened her eyes she found herself sitting on a large flat granite stone, similar to the many others that built up the shoreline on either side of her. She sat looking out to sea, watching a misty fog, do-si-do with it’s partner, the sea. Her mother sat beside her, dressed in a long white cotton nightgown, bare feet, eyes closed, face tilted to the sun that was trying to break through. As she looked beyond her, through the swirling misty tendrils, she saw all the granite slabs lining her beach, as far as the eye could see, were covered in people. Silent bodies, with faces she didn’t recognize, but felt connected to. All in quiet commune with the sea, in a place she called home.
“Why are we here, mom?”
“This is our heart. We’re all connected to it.” she said focusing her gaze out to sea.
“Who are all these people?”
“The soul of this place.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come home, Darcy girl. There’s a storm coming.”
Ring...ring….ring… the sound was faint at first, but distracting. It didn’t belong there. She knew she was waking up which meant her mother would be gone.
“I miss you, mom. I—”
“You must come home, Darcy” her mother pleaded. The ringing was getting louder. “Please! We need you!”
Ring...ring... ring…
Everything faded to black as the ringing got louder. She was lying in bed in the dark listening to the phone on her bedside table ring. Without opening her eyes, she picked it up. Given the hour, she knew who it was.
“They’re gonna kill this town!” the person on the other end of the line exclaimed.
“I’m coming home, Dad.”
THURSDAY
CHAPTER ONE
Darcy knew it was going to be a great road trip when she turned on the radio in her rental car and one of her dad’s favorite old country songs by Roger Miller was playing. A fitting choice as she merged onto a wide open I-95, put the pedal to the metal, and headed north. She wasn’t driving as far as the destination in the song though. Her hometown of Shoreton was only about a three hour drive from Boston. It was a beautiful fall day, and the mid-morning traffic heading out of the city was a breeze, especially compared to the 405 traffic she was used to in Southern California, where she had lived for the last fifteen years. Work had brought her to Boston. She had spent the week scouting neighborhoods in and around Boston for potential restaurant locations, and now, as promised, she was headed to Maine to see her dad. It had been over five years since she’d been back home, and that was for her mother, Maggie’s, funeral. Maggie, a vibrant, energetic, seemingly healthy woman had died suddenly at the age of sixty two of a heart attack. She had been the anchor of the family; the planner, the one that ensured that family holidays and traditions were upheld year after year. Home would never be the same after that, and everyone knew it. Darcy and her brother Joe thought it best if new holiday traditions were started, so instead of converging on the family home in the village of Mussel Ridge for the big holidays, Hank, her dad, would make the rounds to visit them. She lived in Huntington Beach, and her brother and his family lived in Connecticut. This year she would be heading to Connecticut for Thanksgiving, and Hawaii for Christmas.
She arrived at her dad’s house just about four o’clock. A stop in New Hampshire at the State Liquor store to stock up on a few things for the week, and a side trip to Freeport for lunch and some shopping at L.L. Bean had pushed her arrival time back a few hours. She found her dad puttering in the yard when she drove up.
“There she is! Perfect timing.” he said greeting her with a big hug.
“Hi Dad! It’s good to see you. The yard looks great!” Darcy replied looking around at the well kept yard.
“It’s never ending!” Hank liked to grumble but she knew he loved working in the yard, and took great pride in keeping it up. “I was looking for an excuse to stop for the day. Let’s get you settled in.” He took her suitcase out of the trunk. She followed Hank through the garage and into the house. Everything was just as she remembered it. Even her bedroom was pretty much the same as when she’d lived there. Her parents had always teasingly threatened her and Joe that as soon as they left, they were going to totally remodel the house and start a bed and breakfast. The only thing t
hey did was to take down some posters, box up some memorabilia, change out the bedspreads, and hang a few framed pictures.
Coming down over the stairs the first thing she saw was the ocean through the large picture windows in the livingroom. The view never got old. She saw her dad sitting out on the deck drinking a beer. She rummaged through the refrigerator and put together a plate of cheese, crackers, salami and olives, mixed herself a cocktail, and headed out to the deck. As soon as she stepped outside she took a deep breath in. The smell of the sea air was an instant tension reliever. The week of travel and work melted right out of her. It was time to enjoy being home again.
“I fired up the grill. How does chicken and corn on the cob sound?”
“Delicious!” She put the cheese plate down on the umbrella table. “I picked up a couple things for you on my way up,” she said holding the shopping bag out to him.
“Thank you.” He peered into the bag. “What do we have here?” The first thing he pulled out was a bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey. “Very nice! I haven’t had any Wild Turkey liqueur in ages!” he grinned. Next he pulled out a navy blue fleece jacket, a pair of khaki pants, and a blue and white tattersall oxford cloth shirt. “These are great, honey, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I thought you could use a few new things. I know you’re not a big shopper.
“You’re right about that!” He tucked everything back into the bag. “So how was Boston?”
“Good. I found a couple locations that may work. We’ll see. So what’s goin’ on here? What’s the latest hubbub about the possible bypass?”
“Ugh…” He said taking a sip of beer, as if he could wash away the potential disaster he saw looming on his horizon. “It’s been all over the news the last couple of months. The town is up in arms, and rightfully so.”
“Where do they want to put it?”
“It would shoot off of I-95 just past Augusta and cut across. It would bypass all the coastal towns off’n Route 1 from Brunswick to past Bay View.”
“What’s the logic behind it?”
The question agitated him. “Logic?! There’s no logic, just the almighty dollar!” After a moment, he took a deep breath and sighed, looking defeated. “Who knows... Someone up north must have friends in high places. You know they’re making big changes up there, throwin’ money around, building new attractions. They’re talking about a new casino, with a big resort, maybe even a new theme park.”
“And if it goes through, you think it’ll hurt Shoreton?”
“Sure it will! It’s faster than the coastal route and with all the building goin’ on up there, we’ll all be sunk. Might as well shutter the doors and roll up the streets!” He was fired up again. Her dad had a flair for the dramatic, but this did sound serious.
“Sounds expensive. I still don’t get why they’d do that?”
“With all the money they’re waving around, I’m sure the state of Maine thinks it’ll help increase the revenue up there, which it will. But it’ll be taking money that we would potentially make and putting it all in the pockets of those northern towns. The state government doesn’t care where they get their money from as long as they get their piece.”
“That’s cutting out a large chunk of beautiful, scenic coast line though.”
“Eh, the coast is littered with quaint New England towns that will give tourists that authentic Maine experience. We’re a dime a dozen.”
“So what’s the town’s plan?”
“We’ve gotta figure out how to make ourselves stand out. Did you know that we used to be considered the jewel of the midcoast?”
“A jewel?” Darcy was skeptical about that.
“We were a major part of trade along the whole Eastern seaboard for two hundred years. We were a destination.” He said the word with almost an aristocratic tone of pride.
“Yes Dad, but that was a long time ago. Things change. Business changes.” Hank knew as well as she did, that their town had not really been a “destination” for many years. She certainly didn’t think it had been in her lifetime. It was a nice little working town that used to have a lot more industries than it did now. She could remember when the Barrett fish cannery shut down. That was a big blow to the local economy, putting several hundred people out of work. That was also the last summer for the Tide Turns amusement park out on Route 17. It was leveled and turned into a neighborhood with new houses and townhomes. After that one of the textile factories closed, then a furniture making company and little by little it seemed to her that people began moving away.
“Exactly! And we’ve got to figure out how to change too. Keep ourselves relevant. God knows what else they’ve got brewin’ up there, but they’ve got a coalition council. They’re pooling resources, teaming up to bring in new business, gussying up their towns.
Darcy understood the delicate economic structure of small towns. She grew up with kids whose parents owned the local businesses the town depended on. When she was growing up, there were no “big box” stores, and besides the only McDonald’s within a thirty mile radius and a Dunkin Donuts, there were no chain restaurants. Grocery stores, clothing, hardware, restaurants— you name it, they were all locally owned. The closest mall was about two hours away. Most of these businesses depended on the tourist season to help make it through the long dark winter.
“So what’s being done?”
“Well, the town council has put together this committee. Eddie Barrett and some of his cronies are part of it, as well as some other business owners.”
“Big Ed Barrett?” Darcy asked. Big Ed owned a few car dealerships in town. Darcy remembered the cheesy commercials that he used to run on TV. ‘Come on down and see Big Ed..We’ll make you a deal! It’ll be a steal!’
“No, his son, Eddie.”
“Fast Eddie?!”
“Yep. You should see him Darcy Jane.”
“Ugh, no thanks.” she replied with a sour look.
“He fancies himself quite the big shot. A real mover and shaker.”
“Not surprising.”
“He’s always in the paper for somethin’ or another.”
“I don’t doubt it. So what’s this committee doing?”
“I don’t know. Besides arguing, doesn’t seem like much of anything.”
Hank put the chicken, foil wrapped corn, and sliced potatoes on the grill as he brought Darcy up to speed on all the latest news in town. They talked late into the night; catching up on gossip and reminiscing about the old days.
FRIDAY
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m home, mom.”
Darcy sat across from her mother at a window table in the cafe. It felt so natural to be just sitting there together. Her mother gazed out the window, lost in thought.
“I know, dear,” her mother replied turning towards her. “Welcome home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“A storm’s brewin’ Darce.”
Darcy saw no signs of storm clouds. Beyond the window, Main St. continually morphed through decades. Darcy watched Shoreton evolve from the very early days when there was nothing but dirt streets and raised wooden sidewalks in front of rustic wooden buildings to cobblestone streets with some buildings of brick and stone, then forward to asphalt and now more brick and stone buildings and less wooden ones and onward through what she guessed was the last sixty years or so, and then back to the beginning as if it were on a constant loop. People walking on the streets changed with the street and buildings, faces and clothing updating along with the scenery and modes of transportation from horse and wagon, to wagons and carriages to a mixture of horse driven vehicles and early cars to all cars.
“Okay, we’ve had storms before.” This was not news. Living in Maine, weather could change in minutes.
“A storm is comin’ Darce.” The pleading look on her face told Darcy she was missing something.
“I know mom, you’ve said that before, but what does that have to do with me?” Darcy noticed that now there was a t
hick fog slowly rolling down the street. It enveloped everything as if it were blotting it out of existence, leaving a heavy white curtain.
Her mother looked panicked. “Darcy, remember a storm is coming. Be ready!”
The fog had reached the cafe. Darcy felt scared. The thick mist had seeped in and was creeping towards them. She looked down the street and could see nothing but white. It was no longer a misty fog, now it was as if someone had erased the colors and textures of everything, leaving nothing but a blank canvas. She could see that the fog that had already wormed its way in, was doing the same thing to the cafe. Everything was being erased. She felt her heart race and reminded herself. “This is just a dream. This is just a dream.”
The fog would soon be at their table, and ultimately it would be enveloped like the view outside already had.
Frantically she asked, “What does this have to do with me?” The mist had reached her mother’s feet. Inch by inch it, with smokey fingers it clawed up her legs, erasing her, gaining speed as it devoured her. “Mom!”
“You’re at the eye!”
Once again the screech of a seagull startled Darcy awake before she could process what her mother had said. She woke still telling herself It’s just a dream. Dream or not, it had rattled her. Her heart was still racing. Something wasn’t right. Her mother looked as scared as she still felt. This wasn’t good.
She’d been dreaming about her mother for weeks, and at first it was great. It had been almost five years since she’d died. Being able to see and talk to her in dreams was comforting, but more and more she woke feeling troubled. She couldn’t always remember what the dreams were about, but it felt like each time her mother was trying to warn her about something. But what? This time she remembered it all. The brain was an amazing organ. The detail in this dream had been incredible. Morphing through time, each period had seemed so real. Who knew she had such a vivid imagination? Her mother said she was at the eye of the storm. What did that mean?
