314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (25 page)

“I think I’m going to go outside,” said Oliver, frustrated with the cramped space.

“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Grab a ring, just in case you get knocked off the back. I sure the hell won’t hear you screaming once the motors get going.”

“A ring?”

“A life preserver,” said the captain without turning and with a tone that insinuated that Oliver was an idiot.

“Oh, okay.” He opened the cabin’s door and was greeted with the cacophonous groan of the Eldridge’s anchor settling in place after being hoisted. It was a unique sound, like a broken gear within a mighty machine that was clanking and grinding itself to death.

Oliver was carrying a notebook where he would record every detail about the experiment from his point of view. He’d always been a fan of bringing along notebooks to keep track of daily events. They proved to be a trustworthy journal when memory failed, which it often did.

He retrieved one of the life preservers from the rubber side of the tug to appease the captain, although Oliver was fairly certain the fat man didn’t care whether his only passenger swam to shore or not.

In the distance, the Jackson Reservoir was as still as a pane of glass. But the raising of the anchor had caused ripples in the water to stretch out ahead of them, and Oliver watched as they grew more and more faint. The ripples seemed to stretch to nearly the center of the reservoir before they fell out of sight, and he took in the beautiful serenity of the area. Despite being stuck in the Ozarks,
Widowsfield was actually a gem of a town, hidden away from the populace at large. Avid outdoorsman had known about this area for years, and took advantage of the lakes that carved their way through the rocky landscape. However, the recent upsurge of popularity of nearby Branson had brought more tourists this way, and none of the locals seemed too pleased about it.

Oliver looked at a cliff-face on the other side of the reservoir, above which was a scenic overlook where tourists could park and take pictures. All of the roads that led to the reservoir had been temporarily closed, so Oliver wasn’t concerned about being spied on by any hapless tourists. Instead, he marveled at the shape of the cliff, and began to discern faces in the jagged outcroppings. It wouldn’t take a leap of imagination to think that the rocks had been carved to look like faces, but Oliver knew that was an example of simple
pareidolia. That was the scientific name for seeing faces in things, which he’d learned while studying about conspiracy theories that had once convinced people to believe in faces on Mars.

However, despite how he knew that those jagged rock faces were certainly just natural formations, it was stunning how much they resembled human faces. It was almost as if the world was staring back at him.

The z-boat’s engine kicked on, and Oliver was quick to grab hold of something. Within a few seconds, the small craft thrust forward, causing Oliver to stagger back, and the wire that had been slack moments earlier to snap taut with frightening strength. The front of the boat kicked up, causing the entire vessel to slope backward at a dangerous angle, and the water behind them seemed to boil as the underwater motors roared. The boat ahead of them moved without restraint, and Oliver realized that the cord on its pulley was mounted to the opposite side of the Eldridge to prevent them from causing the ship to turn at an angle. After a few moments of churning water, the Eldridge began a slow and steady crawl out into the middle of the Jackson Reservoir, but it didn’t go quietly.

The enormous vessel groaned and banged, as if being torn apart. Oliver’s heart raced as he feared that he was listening to several months’ worth of work being literally torn asunder. He wondered about the welds, and the cheap labor they’d employed. He tortured himself with thoughts of water spewing into the belly of the ship from cracks in the hull. But, as they moved forward, the Eldridge didn’t show any signs of breaking apart.

The tug finally settled, and the front end came to a rest back on the water, its engines faithfully pulling the Eldridge along. They moved at a snail’s pace, but the gigantic battleship was making its journey to the center of the reservoir.

Oliver glanced down at the water, and saw something moving beneath them.

It was hard to discern anything beyond the churning water that the engines sent up, so Oliver moved to the side of the boat where he could get a better look. He’d heard rumors that the reservoir had been stocked with catfish, a common occurrence in the area that helped keep the bottom of the lakes and reservoirs clean, and that the fish could reach enormous size. He wondered if the movement of the ship had attracted or upset one of the larger fish. He watched the water for any sign of the underwater denizens.

He saw something again, but this time he didn’t mistake it for a fish. Below them stretched a long, thick, black cable, like the tentacle of an enormous squid. He followed the shape for as far as he could, and saw that it stretched out beneath the Eldridge. Oliver moved to the other side of the tug and stared down where
he again saw the long cord. It was drawing a straight line from the ship out to the shore, and that’s when the mystery was solved.

He was looking at the insulated, underwater power cable that had been connected through the hull of the ship to the stopgap mechanism that was
attached to the CORD. On the shore was a shed that housed a connection to the local power grid. This cable was meant to ensure that the experiment was able to continue even if the Eldridge experienced a power failure.

Oliver remembered telling
Vess that the stopgap was independently powered, but then he realized that he hadn’t mentioned it was connected externally. Vess had said something about the stopgap operating like a battery, and Oliver had been too preoccupied with other matters to correct him. He shrugged off the omission, convinced it wouldn’t matter.

The cable had been built to allow the Eldridge to go out into the center of the reservoir but still be connected to a consistent power source. Oliver didn’t see why that would be a problem.

Branson

March 13
th
, 2012

Shortly after 5:00
AM

Alma was sitting in the second row of the security van that they’d stolen from Widowsfield. Jacker was driving, and Rosemary was in the passenger seat beside him, still clutching her stomach. Despite their attempts to stem the flow of blood, it still seeped out from under the multiple wrappings. She kept insisting that she was fine, but her formerly chocolate skin had paled, and her breathing had slowed to a worryingly lethargic pace. The only thing that convinced Alma that the strange woman was still alive was how she would occasionally groan in discomfort.

Paul was in the back row, beside Michael. They’d secured Michael as best they could, but he still continued to struggle and Paul thought it would be a bad idea to leave him in the back seat without someone to watch over him.

The seating arrangement meant that Ben had to sit beside Alma. The seat was wide enough that she was able to avoid his prying fingers, and they tied his arms to his side with another blind cord that had been cut from the hotel room, but that didn’t stop the emaciated monster from staring at his sister. His mouth was frequently open, his tongue lashing within, and when he closed his mouth his teeth would chatter. Over and over, he whispered her name, “Alma.”

She looked out the window, away from her brother. They were headed out of Branson, and onto 65 to head back to
Widowsfield. She stared at the variety of restaurants and hotels that clustered at the exits. The sun had yet to rise, but the city was already beginning to wake. Early morning risers were on their way to their jobs, and garbage trucks were starting their routes. To most people, it was just another Tuesday, but for Alma it was the eve of what promised to be her worst day. The first time she’d decided to return to Widowsfield she’d been prepared for the possibility of facing her past, but now it was a promise; now they were charging knowingly back into hell.

“…
remember…” said Ben, although it seemed to be just one word in a sentence that he was otherwise unable to say.

“Shut up,” said Alma.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Rosemary.

Paul reached out from the seat behind and put his hands on her shoulders. She reached up and gripped one of them as she set her cheek against his knuckles. It felt good to have him
there, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his big, strong arms. She needed his strength.

“Paul lies,” said Ben.

Alma looked over at the skeletal man beside her, and he grinned back as he nodded. She hissed at him, “Shut up.”

“Why…” Ben tried to speak, but each word took great effort to say. “Did
he…” Ben choked and coughed as his fingers scratched at the plastic seat cushion beneath him. “Get fired?”

“Do what she says,” said Paul. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Why did he get fired?” asked Ben.

Alma let go of Paul’s hand, and then turned to ask him, “What’s he talking about?”

“Ignore him, Alma,” said Rosemary. “He’ll do anything to turn you against everyone else here.”

“I won’t lie,” said Ben. He struggled to continue speaking even though it clearly pained him. “Not to
you.”

“Why did you get fired?” asked Alma of Paul, ignoring Rosemary’s warning. She remembered hearing that Paul had lost his job, but had never asked why.

“It’s not important,” said Paul.

“Liar,” said Ben.

Paul sighed and admitted, “I got caught fooling around with the boss’s daughter.”

“Fucking her,” said Ben, as if to injure Alma with the harshness of the word.

Alma closed her eyes, and then shook her head as she sighed. She looked over at Ben, who was smiling back at her. “I don’t care. We weren’t together at the time, so I’ve got no reason to be mad about that.”

“Lacey loves,” said Ben as he stared at his sister. He was trying to say more, but his voice turned to a croak.

“Someone put a fucking gag on him,” said Jacker in frustration.

“Who’s Lacey?” asked Alma.

“Tell her,” said Ben.

“Fuck you,” said Paul in frustration.

“Just tell me, Paul,” said Alma.

“Lacey is the girl I got caught with. We were together for a while. She’s been…” He shook his head and sighed before deciding to get it over with and admit the truth. “She’s been living with me. That’s why my place was so damn clean.”

“Oh,” said Alma. She wasn’t certain how to take the news. “And, does she know about us? Did you break things off with her?”

“Not yet,” said Paul. He was quick to add, “But I will.”

“Was she the one outside of your place the other night?” asked Alma. “The one you were talking to right before you followed me back to my place?”

“Yes,” said Paul quietly, like a solemn whisper at a funeral.

Alma nodded, and remembered the buxom, young girl that had been outside of the tattoo parlor that Paul lived above. “She was pretty,” said Alma, attempting to hide the fact that she was hurt. Unfortunately, the pain was evident in her voice.

“Alma, she never meant
much to me. We never had anything like what I’ve got with you.”

“
It’s okay, Paul,” said Alma, but the tears had already started to fall. “I don’t have any reason to be mad. You didn’t do anything wrong.” No matter how many times she said it, she couldn’t convince herself it was true. She’d already known that Paul had been sleeping with someone the night they got back together, the evidence had been floating in his toilet. But the fact that the girl had been living with him, and that she was the reason his apartment had been so clean, was hard to deal with.

“I should’ve told you,” said Paul. He reached back over the seat to touch her shoulder, but she moved away from him. “Alma, I’m sorry.”

“Liar,” said Ben. “He’s a liar.”

“Everyone lies,” said Alma.

“Not me,” said Ben. “I won’t lie to you.”

Alma looked out the window, but could see her brother’s reflection staring back at her. She closed her eyes, and started to hum a quiet tune.  

Widowsfield

March 14
th
, 1996

3:14

Vess
cut the CORD.

The Eldridge had been towed out to the middle of the reservoir, and Lyle had been put inside of Tesla’s machine.
Vess started powering the machine fourteen minutes earlier, at 3:00, and precisely at 3:14 he flipped the switch on the stopgap that would allow the radiation to be introduced. This was different than it had been when he performed the experiment over a half century earlier, but he was more confident than ever that he could replicate the results.

Vess
had spent every day since that first experiment determined to find his way back to the doorway he’d opened once before. Einstein’s reports about how the Eldridge had disappeared, along with the corpses that had been fused to the ship’s walls, convinced Vess that the experiment had been a success, but Groves hadn’t shared his enthusiasm. Major Leslie Groves halted the CORD project a few months later, explaining that it was too dangerous to continue without further study. Whatever he’d seen that day had frightened him, and Oppenheimer’s success in New Mexico with the Manhattan Project drew all the funds that Groves had been splitting amongst the various endeavors. The CORD project was left to die, but Vess was determined to do whatever he needed to resurrect it.

Albert Einstein had been the one that was able to draw interest from fellow scientists around the world about what had come to be known as the Philadelphia Experiment. After the development of the atomic bomb, it became clear to the scientific community that their work could become more than the arbiter of war
; it became the harbinger of it. Nations clamored to match the might of the United States, and that led to the dawn of a terrifying age. War profiteering had begun. The desire to crush Hitler’s ambition with atomic might had seemed noble once, but the folly of their ambition became all too clear as more and more nations declared their intention to follow suit.

The final insult that had driven Einstein and his fellow scientists to form The Accord had been the revelation that German scientists were being given amnesty after the end of the war. The monsters that had slaughtered millions were pardoned so that they could bring their secrets to the United States. Any former belief they’d shared about America’s honor had been dashed. A growing sense of unease began to grow among the scientists about how their discoveries had been handed over to a corrupt nation of power-hungry capitalists. Now that money could be made by waging war, there would be no end to death and destruction.

In 1961, Eisenhower voiced his concern about the military-industrial complex, but The Accord had been conscious of it for over a decade already. The march to war, that carrion call of irrationally angry old men in suits, would bleat on until the last soldier found his grave. That was why, after their first meeting, The Accord decided to revisit the experiment that promised to let man know God. Tesla’s machine was unearthed, and Vess found himself connected to the most powerful minds of the age. At the time, The Accord was just a fledgling of what it would become, but their collected intelligence and wisdom allowed them to quickly gain power and funding.

However, as with many enterprises, what had started with the best of intentions got warped by the lure of money. The high-minded elite among The Accord began to die off, and the younger generation that replaced them wasn’t saddled with the fear instilled by witnessing a World War. Soon, The Accord found themselves embroiled in the very military-industrial complex that their forefathers had fought against. They reasoned this by explaining that they weren’t designing new weapons, but simply shuffling them around to different countries. They convinced themselves that brokering weapon contracts between countries didn’t go against the wishes of The Accord’s founders.

The first couple decades of continued research on the CORD project had met with little to no results. They were never able to recreate the events of that summer day in Philadelphia, and funding for the project was all but cut. Vess was given a salary that allowed him to focus his time on research, but little funding was provided for the experiments themselves. It wasn’t until his lack of aging became apparent that The Accord took greater notice of him again.

Einstein and several of the founders of The Accord had since passed, and the younger generation was intent on focusing their efforts on discoveries that would not only be seen as revolutionary, but could literally alter the human experience. Their goal was to exceed what any scientist had done before them, and to make The Accord as powerful as a nation. It was an ambitious goal, but the arms race that dominated headlines through the post-war era convinced them that mankind was destined to eradicate itself without proper guidance. The Accord hoped to use science as a method of stripping the power away from the politicians and corporate warriors, and usher the world into an era of science and reason.

At first, The Accord hoped to capitalize upon what Vess’s decelerated aging had revealed, and they focused their efforts on studying the enzyme, telomerase, that was abundant in Vess. This proved fruitless though, and despite heavy supplementation, none of the subjects in their studies showed signs of anti-aging effects that came close to duplicating what had occurred in Vess and Lyle. Chagrined, The Accord refused to abandon their interest in Vess. Shortly after, he was allowed to continue with his CORD experiments.

Unfortunately, the early results had been similar to what had happened when they first tried to recreate the experiment. The
CORD never resulted in any contact with any other dimension, but Vess had amassed a slew of theories during the time The Accord had paid him to study Tesla’s notes. This led him to eventually propose that harmonic resonance might have something to do with their lack of success. In each of their attempts to recreate the experiment, they’d done so in a closed facility and not within the bowels of a ship at sea.

Vess’s
lack of results made it difficult to garner unanimous support from all members of The Accord, and he was forced to be patient as the group funded various other experiments. Brokering weapons deals had become the group’s primary focus, and had made the members of The Accord extremely wealthy. Cada E.I.B., which had originally been meant only as a revenue generating arm of The Accord, now dominated the majority of their time. Knowing this, Vess capitalized upon The Accord’s ties to military interests, and resubmitted his proposal about the CORD project, but with a different focus. He used Einstein and Groves’ own notes on what they witnessed during the original experiment to suggest that the CORD might be able to provide battleships with a cloaking mechanism. This, of course, put the project back at the top of their pile.

Securing an appropriate ship was a challenge, but The Accord funded the purchase of a battleship similar to the Eldridge. The Eldridge herself was unavailable, having been sold to Greece years earlier.
Vess had been forced to accept a variety of petty alterations, but when the experiment failed he insisted that they allow him to proceed without their interference. They’d agreed, although he was still required to submit his plans to them so that they could pass it on to the project lead.

Vess
had been keeping track of the Eldridge, and learned that Greece had decommissioned the ship and were planning on scrapping it. Vess influenced The Accord into having Cada E.I.B. make a bid for the ship. Greece officials had initially been leery of dealing with the brokerage, but Cada E.I.B. had a good relationship with a variety of countries. Greece agreed, and the Eldridge was bought back at an extremely reasonable price. The ship was torn apart, and the pieces shipped to a small town in Missouri.

That was how the
Widowsfield project had begun. Now, after decades of preparation and failed attempts, Vess would regain the knowledge he’d lost. Those forgotten minutes, after the initial experiment had succeeded, had plagued Vess through the half-century since it occurred.

He watched the arcs of blue lightning that zapped along the circulating rings as they began to turn green. The sight ignited his memory and he cried out, “Yes, this is how it was. This is right!”

The electricity caused the hair on his arms to stand up, and he saw the dance of shadows flicker on the walls around him. Within the CORD he heard Lyle shriek. The man hadn’t spoken in decades, but Vess heard the distinct wail as the psychic was tortured within.

Vess
raised his arms, and wobbled on his decrepit knees. He laughed as the CORD came alive. He knew that he was moments away from learning the truth that had been stolen from him so many years earlier.

The shadows that were cast upon the walls stopped dancing in accordance to the light emitted from the machine. Instead, the shadows now seemed to writhe on their own, independent of any source.
Vess remembered that this had happened also, and he watched as the shadows changed their shape, quickly revealing themselves to be ropes, or tentacles. The shadows undulated and spun, and Vess cried out in excitement at the sight.

An unnerving, metallic grinding overwhelmed him, erasing the zapping noise caused by the
CORD. Vess covered his ears, but it did little to stop the pervasive sound.

The tentacles
massed, a swirl of shadows that seemed to be growing behind the confines of the wall itself. Vess watched as the shadows gave birth to black wires that whipped out at the ground, lashing like the feelers of some deep-sea life form. They clawed at the floor, and were strong enough to dig into the steel. The wires pulled themselves forward, and the further they came forth from the wall the thicker their bases became. Then, from within the black, stepped a human figure. Vess recognized that the shape was an amalgamation of the various cords that had spun together to form the mere shape of a man, and that it wasn’t in truth a human at all. The corded man stepped forward, though his legs were constantly affixed to the shadows on the floor as the cords stretched to allow his movement.

The grinding and clanging of metal grew louder, but it was apparent that the noise was forming a purposeful rhythm. The noise altered until
Vess recognized that a voice was breaking through, like a note of music discerned from radio static.

“You remember,” said the demon, but it was as much a command as it was a question.

Vess did. Now, as he stood before the creature he’d unleashed once before, he remembered everything.

Vess
collapsed to his knees as sorrow overwhelmed him. He muttered, “What have I done?”

The creature approached, its wired hand a mockery of compassion as he reached out like the Madonna hoping to grace the devout. “I’ve been waiting in these walls for you,
Vess.”

“Why couldn’t you have just let me die?” asked
Vess as he stared down at the ground. The creature had been waiting in the walls of the ship, which was why they’d never been successful in any previous attempt to activate the CORD. Now that his memory had been returned, Vess remembered what it was the creature had asked for.

“Did you bring us a new sacrifice?” asked The Watcher in the Walls as his cords snaked a circle around the man that had been tasked with supplying a sacrifice.

The CORD’s door banged open, and white smoke poured out from it. From within the fog stepped a skeletal man, adorned with the flesh of the victim he’d shredded within. He was tall and thin, and the cords of black wire that covered the ground rose up his legs like vines along the trunk of a tree.

Vess
was about to speak, but then he saw that the fog that shrouded The Skeleton Man had begun to flow toward the side of the CORD. Vess had no recollection of something like this occurring during the first experiment, and then he saw the source of the aberration. The fog was flowing into the stopgap mechanism. The white cloud was disappearing within the orange box as if it were water falling down a drain.

The Skeleton Man pointed to the box and said, “There. He gave us a way out. I can hear the screams of children from out there.”

The black cords followed the fog, and they searched the stopgap with interest, as if each wire was a sentient creature. Then the cords plunged into the box, disappearing within it without causing any visible damage to the mechanism itself.

“Good,” said The Watcher. “All I hoped for was another man inside your monster.” The Watcher’s wires tapped against the side of the
CORD before retreating back to the stopgap. “But you’ve given us so much more than that.” The Watcher and The Skeleton Man approached the orange box.

“Wait,” said
Vess. “Where are you going?”

“We’re following the cord you left for us,” said The Watcher. “We’ll find plenty of souls to torture out there. But don’t worry,
Vess, I’ll make sure you suffer too.”

The black wires shot forth from beneath The Watcher, and they pierced
Vess like the tips of a hundred needles. He felt the cords sliding within him, wrapping around his bones and tearing through his organs. Every nerve ending in his body exploded in agony as the cords tore him apart, but he wasn’t allowed the release of death. Instead, The Watcher and The Skeleton Man savored his pain. Together, they would explore the extent of human suffering. Vess would escape their hell, but his memory of the event would be stolen. All he would be left with was a desire to continue his experiments. He would obsess about the moments that were lost to him, and would work hard to recreate it. The Watcher in the Walls had found a way to collect human souls, and he didn’t want that door to close.