Crucible Crisis

by Amberley Faith

  Ellie tried to remember what she had read about the real Abigail Williams. Hadn't Abigail disappeared during the trials? Rumors circulated that she had moved-

  Beah, and the story of The Jewel. Could Beah have been Abigail Williams? What was it Zyla said? She had moved here with her uncle and cousin. Her uncle would've been Reverend Parris, and her cousin - Betty Parris.

  A jolt of understanding made Ellie's stomach clench. The film resumed as if she had released the pause button.

  "But how will I know, Gabby? Where can I look that mother has not already looked?" Gabby straightened her shoulders and leaned into the back of her chair.

  "The heirloom will pull you in the right direction, child. Trust your instincts; follow them. Our family serves the only truly powerful force in this world. The One who runs free, creating havoc and tempting others to join. Our connection to His book is strong. There will come a time, however, when you must leave your mother and me behind."

  "There are other families searching for our heirloom, child. You must take your rightful place as its disciple. Ours is still the strongest attachment. Abigail Williams, your many-times- removed maternal grandmother, was the last one to take the heirloom from Mistress Tituba. Now you must take the heirloom from its current owner. Remember, for its power to be strongest, the heirloom must be taken – not given."

  The images whirled and dissolved. Ellie watched her silver rope release GG and proceed to Julien. He gasped in pain as it wound its way into his head.

  This time, the film was glitchy, as if it were missing bits, or as if it had been pieced together by an inept film editor. The scene was blurry around the edges and had distorted audio.

  A girl in her early teens was staring out of an upstairs window. She wore a black dress and a white wimple that covered her hair. Her eyes were wide as she watched what happened below.

  A crisp pop sounded, like the crack of linens being snapped into submission, but the sound was sharper. Ellie heard a woman cry out in pain. She looked around to find the source of the cry and saw a whip snap in her direction. Ellie lifted her arms to shield her face and saw her dark, chocolate-brown skin.

  A man holding a Bible was standing to one side, brow wrinkled in consternation, praying aloud, while the man cracking the whip shouted at her. "Confess! Confess that you have consorted with the devil!"

  Snap! The whip struck her back, and even though Ellie couldn't feel the pain of the blow, she could feel the fear of the slave whose memory she inhabited.

  "Confess that you have put my dear Betty under a spell! Release her from your evil charms and this whip will stop its bite! Confess it now, Tituba, and we will deal leniently with you!"

  The man's red face twisted in fury. Ellie could feel the confusion inside the slave's mind. Tituba wanted to confess to make the pain go away, but a confession would mean hanging. Surely death would be better than this agony.

  A movement from the upper window caught her attention. Tituba glanced up at the young girl. The girl held something to the window for the slave to see. It was square in shape and looked about the same size as the reverend's Bible. It was a book.

  Ellie felt the anthology grow warm in her hands. This very book was the same one the girl had shown Tituba. Ellie's silver rope released Julien from its grasp. It slithered back to Ellie and wrapped itself three times around the cover of the book. Another movie reel began to play.

  A thin, pale woman tiptoed into a closet-sized bedchamber. She looked over her shoulder. When no one approached, she continued over to the cot and pulled up the straw mattress. On top of the support ropes lay the anthology.

  The woman's bony, pale hand reached out and took it, stowing it under her white apron and tying the sash tight to hold it in place. As the woman returned to the kitchen, the same young girl from the window came in through the front door.

  "Back so soon this morning, Abigail? Your testimony must have bored the court." Ellie could feel the icy cold of the woman's tone.

  "Aye, I have returned from court." Abigail responded haughtily. "But only to tell you that I can no longer serve the Proctor household. My presence is needed, and Judge Hawthorn requires me to attend daily. You can give my room to Mary. She'll be needed at court as well, but she will still be able to work nights and early mornings so you can … rest. You'll be needing it, Elizabeth Proctor."

  The girl left with a toss of her head, and Ellie felt Elizabeth gasp. Ellie saw Elizabeth's hand slip under the apron to take out the book. How long before Abigail realized it had vanished, Elizabeth wondered…

  Ellie's comprehension was immediate. Neither Abigail nor Tituba had been the last to possess the book. Elizabeth Proctor had taken it from right underneath Abigail's nose, and neither Abigail nor Tituba had ever found out.

  As Elizabeth’s descendant, Ellie had the strongest claim to it. But how did the anthology end up in Stusa? Elizabeth Proctor had remarried a man named Daniel Richards, and they had moved away from Salem after the awful trials-.

  A flash of light interrupted her thoughts. Ellie saw from the corner of her eye that GG had managed to struggle free. Ellie's focus on the memory reel had weakened the silver cord's grip on GG.

  Julien, too, had escaped his bonds. Both he and GG aimed shots at Ellie. She didn't have time to think. She reacted without hesitation. As the gold and green bolts surged towards her, Ellie brought the anthology up in front of her face to block them.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Ellie's mind processed the scene in slow succession. Ellie felt a wave of heat rolling towards her. She saw jagged lines of light reaching out for her. GG screeched, "No!"

  Ellie tasted metal. She smelled burnt paper, burnt hair, and something thicker, more pungent – like animal hide.

  The anthology took the brunt of the blow. It crackled and groaned under attack from the bolts of electricity that penetrated its ancient cover. The sounds were loud, and they swelled until Ellie felt her eardrums might burst. Then, a vacuum sucked away all the sound and light. Everything went silent and dark.

  The book grew hot in Ellie's grasp, so hot that she snatched her hand away. The anthology did not fall. It hovered, floating in midair. A mixture of gold and green light penetrated the darkness. It came from the book.

  Like the sound that swelled before, the book itself began to grow. It expanded steadily, growing ever larger. It had been the size of a Bible. Then it was a suitcase, an ottoman, an armchair.

  It grew to the size of a steamer trunk. Bumps and ripples appeared - pressing and undulating against the lid and sides from the inside. Something trapped inside pushed to get out.

  The growing mass had reached the size of an armoire when Ellie finally came to her senses. She glanced at GG and Julien. They didn’t look horrified; they both wore narrowed eyes and slight smiles, anticipating what would emerge.

  Ellie didn't know if something really was trying to climb out of the shifting shape that used to be her anthology, but she didn't want to find out. She aimed her silver whip at the growing form and lashed out with all her strength. She must destroy the book. She knew with absolute certainty that she must not let the creature out.

  Smash! Her whip hit its target with a crashing explosion of sound, light, and heat. Debris fell from all angles. She flew through the air that had become thick, viscous. It disoriented her; she didn't know which way was up or down.

  She heard the agonized scream of a woman and the deep bellow of a man in pain. She covered her ears. The explosion rushed toward her.

  Time resumed its rapid pace. Shards of glass, pieces of wood, metal, and stone exploded. Jagged flashes of color pierced her vision; a streak of bright green headed toward the now transformed anthology. A golden-yellow bolt came straight for Ellie.

  Just as she felt a wave of hot, stinging energy strike her, everything went black.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  ELLIE'S AFTERMATH

  Ellie blinked her eyes twice, then again. She must be dreaming. It smelled like the hospital, of all pla
ces. Since she'd spent so much time there, she understood why the hospital would appear in her dreams. But if she was dreaming, how could she be aware that she was dreaming? So, was she awake or asleep? Ellie couldn't tell.

  Foggy, clouded thoughts filled her mind. She blinked her eyes again. Yep, it was the hospital. There were the tubes and the IVs and the buttons and dials and – ow! She felt a stinging in her scalp and right forearm. They didn't just sting, they burned, too. It was painful.

  "Unh!" She moaned and tried to turn over on her side.

  A nurse came in. "Try to remain calm, Mrs. Pelletier. This will help in five, four, three, two. . ."

  Another darkness. Another painful awakening. This time, Ellie heard voices, but that couldn't be right. She was underwater, struggling to make her way through a gel-like substance, fighting to breathe.

  "No. Patient… no condition… questioning. Notify… when stable."

  The next time Ellie opened her eyes, she was still in the hospital. The stinging and burning told her she wasn't dreaming. This time, however, there was someone in the room with her, calling her name.

  "Mrs. Pelletier? Ellie?" A male voice asked. "Can you hear me?"

  A female voice added in hushed tones, "Ellie? The nurse said you would be aware of your surroundings this time - enough to talk to us. Or for us to talk to you, rather. Can you hear me? This is important, sweetie."

  Ellie knew that voice. She blinked her eyes and saw Zyla sitting by her bedside along with a uniformed cop. They both looked at her with concern as they hesitated, waiting for her to respond.

  "Uhhn, thith can't be good." Ellie's tongue felt like a swollen log of dry wood. "A cop and a colleague."

  "Detective, actually." The male voice responded.

  "Do you know where you are, sugar?" Zyla asked.

  Ellie nodded. "But why? What happened? Where are girlth? Why doth everything hurt?" She couldn't work up the energy to panic. She simply asked the questions that were running through her mind and waited.

  Zyla looked at the detective. He nodded, so she started to explain. "You've been in an accident, Ellie. Tell me the last thing you remember, and I'll get you up to speed."

  "I member…I remember…" She groped through her foggy memories. "Drug dogth alerted on painting in my clathroom…I wath. . . at home. . . arguing. Where ith he? Why ithn't he here?" Ellie's heart began to thud in her chest at that question, and her monitor corresponded with a series of fast beeps.

  Zyla took Ellie's good hand in her own. "You were at home, Ellie. I don't know about arguing, but you and Julien were both at home. The girls were at music lessons with Zibby; they're staying with me until you are released from the hospital." Zyla gulped.

  "What I must tell you is very painful, Ellie." Zyla looked at the detective. "Are you sure they think she is able to deal with this?" He nodded.

  Ellie interrupted. "Juth tell me, Thyla."

  Zyla swallowed hard again. "There was an explosion, Ellie. From what the cops can tell, it was caused by," she hesitated, "something in the garage."

  "What?" Ellie snorted. "Houthes don't just exthplode."

  The detective cleared his throat. "Houses with meth labs do." Ellie turned to look at him.

  "Not funny. What are you talking about? I do NOT have a meth lab. And I need thome water!"

  Zyla looked at the detective again, and he stepped closer. "We don't think it was you, Mrs. Pelletier. We think it was your husband. We've found certain evidence…"

  Ellie turned from the detective to Zyla as Zyla offered her the flexible straw from a Styrofoam cup of water. Ellie took a sip and flopped back against her pillow. "Thith ith ridiculouth." The monitor at Ellie's side registered her rising heartbeat with a series of beeps.

  Zyla squeezed her hand. "It gets worse, honey. Have another sip or two." Ellie did as instructed. Zyla gulped again.

  "There is no easy way to say this. Julien is not here, Ellie, because he …didn't make it. He didn't survive the explosion. It's a miracle you did."

  The beeps grew faster and louder. Ellie's heart thudded. Something inside her chest felt like a swelling balloon. She thought it might burst. This had to be a nightmare. This could not be happening.

  A nurse rushed in and administered another dose of meds into her IV bag. A second nurse, RayVynn, ushered Zyla and the detective out of the room, scolding them loudly. "We told you … her health … out!"

  Ellie couldn't stop her heart from racing. It physically hurt as it pounded inside her chest. She couldn't breathe. She gasped for air. Just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, she felt something like a shot of tequila. Her heartrate subsided almost instantly, and she drifted into another troubled sleep.

  ◆◆◆

  When Ellie next opened her eyes, she felt numb. Had it all been a dream? She looked over at the person next to her. Zyla was watching her intently with wrinkled brow. Ellie croaked, "Is it true, Zyla?" Her words were less garbled than before. "Is the father of my children really…dead?"

  Zyla cringed at the word. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm so sorry! I thought you'd rather hear it from me than from the police." Zyla swallowed, then rushed to add, "I know it's too much to handle. The girls are staying with me, and they are doing as well as can be expected." Zyla paused.

  Ellie was too numb to react. She simply asked, "Do they know, Zyla? Has anyone told them that their father is gone – forever?"

  Zyla took a long, deep breath. "Yes, they do. They knew that you were in the hospital and asked why their dad couldn't keep them." Her voice broke. "They have been so brave, Ellie, bless them." Zyla wiped the tears from her cheeks. "They have prayed for you every morning and every evening since the accident. They drew some - "

  "Every evening? How long have I been here?" Ellie interrupted in alarm.

  "The explosion was Monday. Today is Wednesday, so two nights and two days."

  "Oh my God!" Ellie tried to sit up. "My girls have been without their parents for two days! Oh, my poor babies!"

  The tears wouldn't come. She was too devastated – too empty, too burnt to cry. She couldn't process the loss of her husband. It didn't seem real. Her girls needed her. How horrible to lose a parent so early!

  "Bring them to me right away! I need to see them!" Ellie was frantic, and her pulse quickened. The machines started to beep again.

  Zyla reacted quickly. "Ellie, take a deep breath. Try to breathe. If you don't calm down, the nurses will kick me out, and you won't get to see your girls. Hurry! Breathe in deeply – now exhale. Again. You must regain control if you want to see Mel and Bibi. Focus on them."

  That got Ellie’s attention. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Zyla was right. She must get control of herself or the hospital wouldn't allow her daughters in, and she had to see her girls. They needed their mother, and truth be told, she needed them.

  She managed to calm down and looked at Zyla. "Okay, you're right. I need to get myself together. The girls need me. I want to see them as soon as possible. Where are they?"

  At this, Zyla managed to smile. "They're in the waiting room."

  "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring them to me!"

  Zyla gave Ellie's hand a little squeeze, and she got up to fetch the girls. In the meantime, Ellie told herself to be brave. She forced herself to take long, steady breaths. She didn't want to scare the girls any more than necessary. What must they be going through?

  She prepared herself mentally. She rehearsed what to say. She pressed the button that raised her bed to a seated position. She looked at her hands; they were unmarked, but her wedding ring was gone. Had it been lost in the blast? She couldn't remember. A dry sob escaped her as she realized she'd lost both the ring and the man that bought it for her. She ran her fingers through her hair.

  She gasped when her fingertips touched short, prickly fringe and bandages covering her forehead. She understood immediately; her hair had been singed in the explosion.

  Tears still refused to come, and she won
dered what she'd look like with a pixie cut. Maybe RayVynn could bring scissors before the girls arrived, but then she heard voices. A new haircut would have to wait.

  "Now, girls – your mom doesn't look like herself. She has bandages on her head and arms, and there is a tube giving her the medicine she needs. She might look a little scary, but she is going to be right as rain in just a few weeks. Be gentle with her, okay?" She added in a conspiratorial whisper that Ellie could hear, "And don't say anything about her hair. It will grow back. But we don't want to make her feel worse."

  Ellie tensed for the girls to come through the door way. When they did, she gave her best smile and reached out for them. They rushed straight to her and fell into her embrace.

  The tears finally came. She hugged them tightly and offered up a silent prayer of thanks that they hadn't been home when the accident happened. They all three cried together for a moment, then Bibianne pulled back and kissed Ellie's hand. Both girls covered Ellie with gentle kisses.

  "Thank God you're okay!" Ellie took one hand each and squeezed. "Those kisses are just what the doctor ordered. I feel better already!"

  Bibianne pulled back and said, "But there is one terrible thing, Maman, that our kisses won't fix – do you know about papa? It is very, very sad." Bibianne looked down in chagrin.

  Ellie pulled both girls back into her chest and said, "Yes, mes belles, I know about papa. You're right. It is very sad." She stroked their hair. "We will miss him for a very long time, but," she pulled away to look them in the eyes, "we will feel better one day. Until then, I will take care of you." Ellie paused to swallow and push down her tears. "I have enough love for all of us. You'll see."

  This time, Méline was the one to ask. "Is it wrong to feel happy, maman? I am très triste about papa, but I'm so happy that you are still here. Is that bad?"