314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (15 page)

“We’re almost there,” said Jacker. A billboard on the side of the highway directed travelers to the exit that they could take to get to the hotel where Rachel said a man fitting Michael Harper’s description had checked in. “How are we going to do this?”

“Let me handle it,” said Rosemary. “Just pull into the parking lot and I’ll go in.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Alma from the back seat. She was sitting beside Paul as he draped his arm over her shoulder.

“I’ll figure out a way to get
his room number,” said Rosemary. “And then we’ll get in there and surprise him.”

“How are you going to get them to
give you the number?” asked Paul.

“Don’t worry, I can be pretty persuasive,” said Rosemary.

“You’re not planning on hurting anyone, are you?” asked Alma as she sat up straighter.

“No, of course not.” Rosemary turned in her seat so that she was facing the back. Her seatbelt restricted her, so she unbuckled it to be more comfortable. An incessant beep began to sound from the dash, warning that the person sitting in the passenger seat wasn’t wearing a seatbelt while the van was moving. Rosemary grumbled and slid the seatbelt behind her before buckling it back in to stop the alarm. She looked back at Alma and Paul and said, “I’m not going to risk drawing any attention to us or Widowsfield by hurting anyone. You have to trust me.”

“Then tell us how you’re planning on convincing them to help you,” said Paul. “They’ll usually call the room instead of giving out room numbers or keys or anything like that.”

“Like I said, you’ve got to trust me.”

“No,” said Paul bluntly. “Sorry, but you’ve got to earn my trust, and I haven’t even known you for an hour.”

“I’m the only one trying to help you,” said Rosemary. “If you don’t trust me and do what I tell you, then it’ll only be a matter of time before Oliver and his people track you down. You need to trust me.”

“But why can’t you just tell us how you’re planning on getting the room number?” asked Paul, his frustration beginning to turn to anger.

“I can get the information from whoever’s at the desk the same way I know about how Alma kissed you for the first time on your third date together. And how she was wearing a purple dress, with her hair up, but you just wore a t-shirt and jeans.”

No one spoke for a long moment before Paul uttered, “That’s crazy. How did you know that?”

“I told you, I’m a psychometric. That’s why I took those things from you. I need to know your history so that when we meet The Skeleton Man you’re not seduced by his lies.”

“So you’re using those things to steal our memories?” asked Paul.

“Stealing is a strong word,” said Rosemary. “I’m sharing them. The Skeleton Man and The Watcher can warp your memories. That’s why Alma forgot about Ben. I’m going to try and keep that from happening again.”

“You’re sort of like our back-up drive,” said Jacker. “Keeping a record of our memories?”

“Right,” said Rosemary, but her uncertainty was apparent. “I guess so. Sorry, I’m not much of a computer person.
My family never had enough money for a computer, and the school I went to had a computer lab with two computers in it, and one of them didn’t work. I don’t have a great relationship with technology. Too much information gets passed around in those damn machines anyhow, and it jumbles up my thoughts. Ever since Widowsfield jacked up my powers, I’ve stayed pretty far away from computers and back-up drives, or whatever.”

“A back-up drive is just a way to save information from being corrupted. So
, wait though, you can, like, remember everything we do?” asked Jacker.

“No, but every minute I hold onto the things you gave me I start to learn more about you. To be more specific, I remember more about the things that you did while you were holding onto these things.”

“Wait,” said Jacker with sudden alarm. “Are you saying you remember me taking a crap and stuff like that too?”

Rosemary wasn’t sure how to answer, but then started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” asked Jacker, but he was beginning to smile as Rosemary’s laughter got louder. “That’s crazy. You’re remembering me peeing and pooping and jerking off and everything like that?”

Alma started to laugh as well, and Paul said, “Jacker, I just gave that coin to you the other day. How much crapping and jerking off did you do in that time?”

“I don’t know,” Jacker smirked. “A lot.”

Alma and Paul laughed along with Rosemary. “I’m sorry,” said Rosemary as she calmed. “I don’t mean to laugh. I think I’m just so tired that I’m getting goofy. In all my years of being cursed with this damn psychometric stuff, I’ve never had anyone ask me if I can remember them pooping or masturbating.”

“Well, it seems like a pretty important question,” said Jacker, partially in jest but also somewhat serious.

Rosemary was still chuckling as Jacker pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. He had to pull around the side of building, away from the entrance, to find an empty parking spot. Once he did, Rosemary opened her door and then turned to look at the two in the back seat. “Paul, do you trust me?”

Alma put her hand on Paul’s thigh and squeezed. He sighed and said, “For now.”

“Good enough,” said Rosemary as she took her bag with her. “I’ll be right back.”

She waited until she’d turned the corner and was out of sight before she took one her pistols out of her bag to check and make sure it was loaded. There were people in this hotel that had come in contact with Michael and Ben Harper. Whoever they were, Rosemary had to silence them.

Philadelphia

June 15
th
, 1943

Despite the insulated walls, Vess could still hear Lyle screaming from within the CORD, but Vess wasn’t concerned with the man’s discomfort. After all, Vess was confident that agony and suffering wouldn’t follow the traveler into a new dimension. Pain is a symptom of this world, tied to the nervous system of our physical bodies.

The green electricity crackled through the air, snapping at the walls like whips, but was never able to linger anywhere for long except within the rings that spun on either side of Tesla’s machine. The USS Eldridge had set sail, and now they were floating somewhere in the Delaware, away from prying eyes. Groves and Einstein were on a tugboat, far from the battleship, and only a skeleton crew had remained with Vess. It was important to limit the number of people that were aware of the experiment happening below deck. The United Sates government feigned fear of the Japanese, but the Red menace was what kept the men in power on edge. Stalin’s spies stretched nearly as wide as his ambitions.

Vess watched one of the various gauges on the side of the CORD, waiting for it to reach its limit. The machine roared, pounded, and ground as the rings spun. The walls of the ship flashed, and the display caused an array of stark shadows to dance. Vess ignored the shapes around him, and focused only on the gauge that was slowly reaching its zenith. Once the black hand touched the final notch, Vess would experience what Tesla had merely fathomed.

All those shadows, once rigid reflections of the metal bones of the ship, were now swirling. Eventually, Vess was no longer able to ignore them. The electricity was burning shapes into the walls, as if the light cast by the
CORD was staining the metal around him. But then the charred shade quivered, revealing that it was more than a simple effect of the light. The shadows cast upon the walls weren’t the result of any structure Vess could see. The rounded edges of a living creature revealed itself from the flat surfaces of the shadows, like a sea monster rising above still water.

The black tentacles circled him, confined to the second dimension projection against the ship’s walls. They wrapped around the room, like the twigs of a bird’s nest, slowly trapping him within. He spun in an equal amount of shock and astonishment as the otherworldly creature revealed its existence.

Where fear should’ve crippled him, Vess discovered joy. He raised his arms as the arcs of green lightning zapped around him, and he began to laugh.

“I’ve done it!”

His laughter and words were lost amid the screech of metal. Then the world seemed to take a deep breath, sucking in sound instead of air, and all was silent. The chaos of electricity and swirling shadows continued, but it did so in a vacuum. Vess tried to cry out, but his voice was lost along with every other sound. He turned to look at the CORD and saw that white smoke rose from the center, as if something within had caught fire. He rushed to inspect the various gauges, concerned that the pressure within had dropped, or that the radiation had spiked.

When he got to the
CORD he saw that the gauges were missing their black hands. He tapped at the glass, but it achieved nothing. Then he unlocked the door and pulled the handle, causing the gap to emerge. The door was hard to open, and when he got it slightly ajar, the air around him began to rush inside. The suction pulled the metal door out of his grip, and slammed it shut, but there was still no sound other than the distant hum of electricity.

Vess stood in the void of noise as the chaos around him continued. He watched the door handle move by itself, and then it was thrown open hard enough to cause the side to warp. Despite the violent action, he still heard no noise other than the crackle of the green lightning.

White smoke seeped out of the entrance of the box, as if made of liquid. Vess knelt to inspect it, and pushed his hand into the chilling vapor. The cold burned him, and he retracted his hand like a child upon first touching fire. He glanced into the box, expecting to see Lyle within, but found it empty. He didn’t dare walk into the mist, having already learned of its bite.

“Looking for me?” asked Lyle from behind, his voice like thunder in the silence.

Vess was startled, both by the sudden emergence of his assistant and by the return of his hearing. He’d assumed his eardrums had been damaged by the pressure the machine inflicted upon the room, but Lyle’s voice had been clearly audible. When he turned, he saw Mr. Everman standing far across the room, beside the wall. Shadows of black tentacles swam on the wall behind him, swirling as if attracted to his presence. He stayed where he was, his hands pressed to the wall as if tied there.

“Lyle,” said Vess, daring to take a step closer. “Tell me what you saw. Tell me what happened.”

Lyle Everman looked taller and thinner than he had before, and his clothes were hanging loosely from his body. He appeared like a man succumbing to disease, wasting away on a hospital bed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin had a greyish appearance. His hair was thinner, and mottled with grey, and it flapped as his head jerked back and forth as if he were searching the room for something. He opened his mouth, and blood gushed out, quickly covering his torso and then down to the ground, but Vess couldn’t hear the liquid splash.

“I see everything,” said Lyle’s voice, independent of the vessel it had once inhabited. Blood was still pouring from Lyle Everman’s open mouth, and the pool was growing beneath him, sneaking closer to Vess every second, but the man’s voice was speaking as if from another person’s body.

“Who are you?” asked Vess as he backed away from the blood that continued to pool beneath Lyle. He watched as the shadows took shape, pulling away from the wall. The shadows seemed to be of giant tentacles, but the black forms that stretched forth were mere strands; just thin wires that reached out and wrapped around Lyle’s body, drawing him in until he was wrapped like a spider’s meal.

“I’m the only God you’ve got left,” said the creature with Lyle’s voice. “Watch how I cherish you.”

The physical body of Lyle Everman began to scream. Vess stared at the man that had been cocooned in the black wires that sprouted from the wall. The cords were separating, revealing glimpses of Lyle’s flesh beneath. They pulled away even more, giving Vess a better view of the man trapped within. Finally, his psychic assistant’s face was revealed enough that Vess could see his agony evident in his expression. The cords were still in his mouth, curled over his lips and disappearing within his throat, leaving only his flapping tongue visible. One by one, the cords slid away and retreated back to the wall, dripping with blood and saliva as they went.

Once Lyle could finally speak, he cried out, “It burns! Oh God, it burns. Help me, please.”

Vess took a step forward, intent on helping, but then stayed his hand. He was too frightened, and the cords that emerged from the wall acted as if sentient, writhing and taunting him, giving him false hope that he might be able to help free Lyle from their grip. He stepped back again, shaking his head but unable to look away. The cords constricted Lyle as if vengeful that Vess hadn’t come closer. They slid back and forth across his skin in a variety of directions, and as he cried out in pain the cords slit him to shreds; but he never stopped crying out. Even as the cords sawed through bone, and chunks of his body were slipping out of their grasp to splash in the blood, he continued to feel the torture. Death never claimed him.

Then the sound of Lyle’s hell was silenced once again. It proceeded in front of Vess, but he couldn’t hear any of it. He covered his eyes, but when he did he saw the flash of other eyes staring back at him.