Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (5 page)

“Don’t bother,” Blake responded. “I’m sure you can. Personally, I’d rather hear the general overview as to why you have obviously chosen to meet me, and talk to me ‘in total privacy’ as you put it. And why I have no body. And why we are inside of an acorn. You’ve obviously done your homework about me, and my family, and I’m sure you can tell me the names of our horses …”

“Mickey and Johnnie,” Hemlock interrupted.

“Whatever,” Blake continued. “The point is none of that autobiographical junk has anything to do with this twilight-zone stuff. I mean, I’m here having this out-of-body experience, Hemlock. Cut the crap, man. Please tell me what the heck is going on. I’m telling you, if I could see you, and I could use my arms, I’d lay you out. Then again you’d probably immobilize me with your phaser set on stun …”

“Rod Serling and Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Why did I know you were going to say something like that,” Blake muttered. “And by the way, if I temporarily have no body, how is it that I can, a) speak, and, b) hear you?”

“Good questions, both,” Hemlock answered. “And know that I will provide you with what I am sure you will find reasonable answers in good time, all in good time.”

“Well why not now?” Blake asked. “It’s not like we can have a game of racquetball for goodness’ sake.”

“That I
can
answer. The fact is I have decided I want to give you the big picture in the company of Jessica. When we get out of here. The overview, if you will. We won’t be here much longer. In fact, it is probably safe now. Yes, it is.”

There was another flash without light and Dr. Blake Strong found himself standing in the same clearing where he was at the precise moment before he had first seen the man in the wizard’s outfit, only now he was alone.

“Hemlock,” he called out. There was no response.

He looked down. There was no blood anywhere. He turned around. He could see the signs of the disturbed forest floor where he had crawled his way through the brush but, again, there was no blood at all.

He stood for the longest time as he took this all in.

All he could hear was the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

“I’ve lost my mind,” he thought. “I’ve really lost my mind.”

He made his way back to the car via the same way he had made his way in. Back through the briars, back through the muddy irrigation ditch, and up to the car. The radio was on. The announcer was the same one, recounting the same piece on the election results. Of course, the motorcycle wreck was gone. He turned the radio off, picked up the cell phone, and punched in the speed dial for home. Jessica answered.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi,” he responded. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “That’s an odd question. Why wouldn’t it be? Hey, you’re not going to believe this, but both the kids’ games have been canceled. There was some weird flu-like outbreak in Westerly today, so they had to close the school. Ours too. It’s very strange. A lot of kids are quite sick. Nobody has died or anything, but the whole town is in a panic. It’s all over the news. Have you heard anything?… … … Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes, hon. I’m here.”

“Are you all right? Is something wrong? You don’t sound all right. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing's the matter. I’m alright. We’ll talk about it when I get home. How are the kids?”

“They’re good. They’re both disappointed about the games being canceled, but they’ll get over it. They’re doing their homework. We’re having pizza. Check that. They’re having pizza. You and I are having shrimp and a roast. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

“What’s wrong, Blake? You don’t sound well.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll see you shortly. Tell the kids I’m proud of them for getting right to their homework.”

“Your father is proud of you for getting right to your homework,” she called out. “Look, Jacqueline needs some help with her history, so I’m going to go. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“What the heck happened?” he thought, after he hung up. He glanced down where the wreck had been. The ground was entirely undisturbed. He glanced up at the patch of woods on the knoll to which he had crawled. His thoughts came in one jumbled rush as he put the Acura in drive and checked the rearview for oncoming cars. “Am I having an acute psychotic break? I must be. This is bad.”

What would they do? New onset Schizophrenia? He wasn’t the right age, but he was the right sex. This was too incredible to grasp; a complete loss of reality contact. Yet it had all seemed so real, right down to the weird symbols on Hemlock’s robe. How could he possibly tell this to Jessica? How would he ever be able to continue to practice medicine? This was serious. He would clearly need a full psychiatric evaluation. Heck, he was going to have to be admitted. Please, oh please don’t let it be a malignancy. He thought of his grandfather, Sturgis, who had died of the complications of a Glioblastoma multiforme, a particularly horrible brain cancer. He remembered his grandmother, Ruth, telling him as a boy of how Sturgis had suffered terrible mental status changes early in the disease. But she had never mentioned hallucinations. And this was no ordinary hallucination. This was more like some sort of weird fugue state. He suddenly wished he was more adept at Psychiatric diagnosis. He felt lightheaded. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. He took his pulse, 80 and regular. The nausea passed.

His only thought was, “Please don’t let it be a cancer.”

The sound of a horn brought him quickly back to reality as he realized he had strayed into the wrong lane. He swerved just in time to avoid the fatal head-on.

“Dang-it-all
!” he yelled out. “Get a grip! Get a hold of yourself, Blake. You’ll get through this. It’s going to work itself out.”

But he only wished he could believe that. He turned the radio on again and tried to concentrate on what the news broadcaster was saying, but he was so overwhelmed with panic he found he couldn’t follow him for more than a sentence or two before he would think back to the deranged experience.

“Alzheimer’s,” he thought. “That has to be it. It has to be Alzheimer’s …”

And so it went for the remaining twenty or so minutes home when, in a total panic state, and sweating profusely, he finally turned into the driveway. Rosie, the dog, was there to greet him. For some strange reason, the sight of her made him so happy he could have cried. Ordinarily, his first thought would have been how they could get rid of her, for despite being a lovable Lab of seven years, she had never outgrown the tendency to poop and pee all over the house. But today, her being there to meet him with her tail wagging happily meant everything to him.

He made his way up the stairs, stopping to look down on the magnificent view of the barn and the lower pond. He had built that barn. With some help from friends, neighbors, and family, to be sure, but nevertheless, he owned most of the nails in it. It was a four-staller, complete with a full-court upstairs for basketball. “Well, at least if I pass soon, they will still have the barn …”

He opened the door to the kitchen off the front deck.

“Hey Dad,” Stephanie and Jacqueline called out. Orie was too engrossed in some complicated math problem to know he had entered.

“Hi guys, where’s your mother?”

Stephanie and Jacq’ both stood and rushed over to give him a welcome home hug. Stephanie noticed right off that her father didn’t look well.

“Dad,” she said, “you look awful. Do you feel all right? You’re all scratched up. What happened? Come, sit down.”

She pulled out a chair for him. Orie looked up, “Oh, hi Dad,” he said. “How’s it going?”

He declined the chair, instead leaning over Orie’s math book to have a look.

“Did you get it solved, professor?” he asked.

“Not yet.” He grinned. “It’s a tough one.”

“Well, you keep working on it, and I’m sure you’ll crack the case.”

“Stephanie’s right, Dad. You look terrible. How’d you get all scratched up like that?”

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Jacqueline chimed in. “Are you sick?”

“I think I am,” he answered. “But not bad. Don’t worry, Mother will make me better.”

“Hi, honey,” Jessica called out as she exited the laundry room.

“Hey, Jess. How’s it going?”

“Terrific,” she sighed. “You know. Same old, same old. Too much laundry. We need to hire someone to help me with this.”

After a quick embrace, she held him back at arm’s length. “I
knew
something was wrong,” she said. “You look a wreck. What happened to you?” She felt his forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Here, sit down.”

“Is Dad sick, Mom?” Jacqueline asked, then, “Is he going to be okay?”

All the faces of the children registered concern now, as they stared at Jessica waiting for her answer.

“Jess, I’m going upstairs to take a bath,” Blake said. “Could you please come up and have a look at me? I also need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Can you draw the tub yourself? No, better, Jacqueline you go draw a tub for him. Stephanie, there’s fresh towels in the laundry room. Orie, you call for the pizza. I’m going to finish this last load of laundry, and I’ll be right up. Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Blake, not feeling fine by any stretch. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

The kids started to move towards their assigned chores. Jacqueline spoke up.

“Tell him about our visitor, Mom.”

“Not now, Jacq’. Daddy doesn’t feel well. Upstairs now. Draw Daddy’s tub.”

Now he sat down. He had to, or he felt he would pass out.

“What visitor, Jacq’?” he called to her with his head in his hands. She had already made it halfway up the stairs.

She stopped, and bounced back down. She finished the last step and punctuated the final jump with, “You tell him, Mom.”

“Well,” she said as she folded a shirt, “Believe it or not, it was one of your old professors from Colby, Doctor Thomas Easton, who happened to be passing through the area and dropped in for a visit. He’s going to a conference in New York on ‘The Biologic Effects of Magnetic Fields’. He said you wrote your senior thesis on this exact topic. Also, he just plain wants to see you; he needs to discuss some things with you. You weren’t here yet, and he had an errand to run, so he left. He said he would be back shortly, but I’ll tell him you don’t feel well. Maybe he can stop in tomorrow. I don’t know when the conference actually starts.”

Blake put his head down and groaned. Doctor Easton had died years ago, after he had left Colby.

Soaking in the tub, Blake was filled with apprehension. “Hey Jacq’?” he asked, “What did Dr. Easton look like, anyway?”

Jacqueline, only ten and still allowed in the bathroom while Dad was taking a bath, said, “He looked really old, Dad. He had long white hair. Wicked long. And the longest beard I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean like that guy in the
Harry Potter
movies?”

“Dumbledore,” she said. “Yeah, it was just like that. Wicked long like Dumbledore’s.”

Orie burst in unannounced. “That’s exactly what he looked like, Dad. Exactly.”

“Hey, I was telling him,” cried Jacqueline, happy to have news about this stranger that had stopped by.

“What was he wearing?” Blake asked.

“Regular clothes, I guess, why?”

“You mean like pants and a shirt?

“I guess so,” Orie said.

“That’s right, regular clothes,” Jacq’ echoed.

“He was wearing a white shirt with a button down collar, a blue tie, and tan pants,” Stephanie called in from outside the door. “Why, Dad? You never pay attention to what anyone is wearing.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Steph’,” he answered, trying to sound nonchalant, “I was just curious that’s all.”

“I didn’t like his eyes,” said Stephanie.

“What didn’t you like about his eyes, Steph’?” Blake called through the door.

“Well, they weren’t mean or anything,” she began slowly, “it’s like they weren’t happy.”

“What do you mean, not happy?”

“His eyes were fine,” announced Jacqueline, folding her arms for emphasis. “I liked his eyes.”

“I want to hear what Stephanie thought about his eyes,” Blake said. “Go ahead, Stephanie.”

“Well, he did look old, you know. Like way older than you, right? Well, you know how when Gramma Kickie got older, and when she smiled she had smile wrinkles? Mom calls them that anyway. Well, Doctor Easton smiles enough, but he doesn’t have any smile wrinkles. It’s like his eyes don’t light up when he’s happy. They looked empty.”

“Oh Stephanie, you’re making way too much out of his eyes,” said Orie.

“Besides, he’s Dad’s friend so you shouldn’t be saying bad things about him.”

“Yeah, Stephanie, you shouldn’t say bad things about him,” Jacqueline repeated.

“Sorry, Dad,” said Stephanie.

Blake could hear Jessica making her way up the stairs. “No worries, Steph’,” he answered. “In point of fact, you’re absolutely right. There is something wrong with Doc Easton around the eyes. No question.”