The Tesla Gate (3 page)

“Open it!” he urged.

She gently tore back the paper to reveal more layers of snowmen. I think Seth must have used the whole roll. After several moments of peeling, Ann gently reached into the wrapping and pulled out an action figure; Seth's Princess Leia action figure to be exact. He had a large collection of
Star Wars
figures which he guarded jealously. It was indeed an esteemed honor to be presented with one of his collection.

“Princess Leia is pretty like you, Momma,” Seth said, proud. Seth had always claimed that Ann resembled the galactic princess. I could see the resemblance a little, except for the hair buns over the ears.

Ann slowly turned and displayed her honored gift in my general direction. I saw a couple of tears stream down her cheeks. At the time I thought it was motherly happiness for Seth's thoughtful gift; in hindsight I'm not so sure. I think it was more a mixture of pride in her son and disappointment in me. But I was doing the right thing, wasn't I? The truth was that this had become such a common occurrence, me putting my work first, that it was a miracle Ann had any regretful tears left.

I kissed Ann and wished her what probably seemed a hollow happy birthday. I hugged Seth and told him I loved him. I had thoughtlessly left Ann's gift at the office, but promised her I would bring it home after the meeting tonight. Even though I have a lousy record with quality family time, I did put a lot of effort into gifts. Surely the diamond tennis bracelet I got her would make up for my absence.

The thing that seemed to be completely lost on me is that nothing could make up for that. I loved my family dearly, more than words could express, but actions always speak louder than words.

CHAPTER 3

The Sign

“When men sow the wind it is rational
to expect that they will reap the whirlwind.”

—Frederick Douglass

It has been three weeks since Ann's birthday. It is truly disturbing how much things can change in such a short period of time. The deal in Memphis closed a week ago. It was a very lucrative deal, but one I would gladly undo if only I could undo what has happened. I haven't slept or eaten much since then. In fact, I have barely left the house.

As I sit and ponder what has happened, I realize that when it comes to the happiest days of my life, work never really figured into the mix. I thought it did but really it made me happy because I was making more money and a better life for the family. Yes, I was making more money, but money is a poor substitute for the priceless value of a present husband and father.

The two happiest days of my life were the day Annabelle and I were married and the day that my premature, but miraculously healthy son, Seth, was born – thank God he got his mother's looks. Both days hold a unique place in my heart, but I never understood how large a part of my heart they occupied until I returned home from Memphis last week and realized they were gone. I had a void in my chest that far surpassed my physical dimensions; it seemed to open into a bottomless pit of despair.

I am a loyal and loving husband and father, but I guess that was hard to see considering I was never home. All I wanted was to give them everything they desired, that is why I worked long hours, traveled on weekends, and even worked when I was home. I was so busy looking to the future that I never realized the present needed me. Karma paid me a cruel visit last week, a visit that I deserved. I guess in one form or another, we always reap what we sow.

Seth is six-years-old and a very intelligent kid. He was already educating me on the solar system and universe when he was only three. Yeah, I knew all the planets in order, kind of. I always had a tendency to get Neptune and Uranus turned around in their order from the Sun, but not Seth. He could not only rattle them off in line, but could name all the moons for each planet as well. He had a steadfast belief – I have no idea where it came from – that Pluto is indeed a planet and not a dwarf planet as NASA had recently proclaimed. Well, I don't know a dwarf planet from a Disney character, so I never corrected him. Who knows? The smart little toot may have been right. Sometimes I felt like I wasn't talking to a three-year-old or a six-year-old as he got older. He is a typical kid, but don't let his speech impediment fool you; he has an intellect that would far exceed his old man's.

Ann and I were a clichéd story: nerd meets beauty, they hit it off, they get married … life is good. I wish I could say it was that easy, but it wasn't. It took a lot of persistence and diligence on my part to win her over, almost three years' worth.

Ann and I had very little in common other than the fact that we both grew up as an only child in our respective homes and we had both lost each of our parents before we were 20. We had vowed to not condemn Seth to that solitary existence; he needed family that would still be there even after Ann and I are gone. But, we had not been able to get pregnant again. I can't help but wonder if that was why Ann had gone to see her doctor, her “female” doctor on her birthday. As happy as that would have made me two weeks ago, it tears at my heart to think of that possibility now.

When I fell in love with Ann, it was one of those chick moments that guys sometimes have but never admit. I just knew I was meant to be with her. I couldn't explain it any more than I could explain the event that is presently occurring on the Earth.

I have been sitting in my easy chair for most of the last week, just as I am doing today, pondering what brought me to this point, reminiscing about the past as my guts seem to be gnawing their way out, feeding on my guilt and misery. Father Wilson had stopped by again this morning to offer support but, like I had done the past four days, I politely told him it was not a good time and sent him on his way. I had not forgotten the suicide conversation I intended to have with him, but now was not the time and I didn't think I could talk with him until that was resolved.

His visit did make me recall that Seth had told me about a phenomenon heading toward the Earth, a magnetic storm or something which they had watched in science class. I hadn't paid attention at the time because I was preoccupied with my big Memphis deal. Plus, it seems like there is always some meteor shower or eclipse to watch, a cosmic oddity and nothing more. That is why the TV suddenly caught my attention.

The news report tapped my curiosity like nothing had in the past week because I had mindlessly ignored the TV for days as it droned on not more than ten feet from my chair, it might as well have been ten miles. The broadcast from CNN said the storm had entered the Earth's atmosphere over China and would gradually spread across the entire planet. Seth had told me that the scientists said the storm might disrupt radio signals but it seemed radio was not fazed; instead television was being affected.

The reporters estimated that it would take about six hours to reach our side of the planet. But their predictions were woefully inadequate: within ten minutes my TV was reduced to nothing more than a white-noise generator. I grudgingly forced myself out of the chair and walked over to my laptop resting on the coffee table where it had sat for the past two weeks. After it booted, I clicked on my internet icon … there was no connection. After several minutes of rebooting and troubleshooting, I saw little alternative but to go into the kitchen and turn on the radio. I absently drifted back against the wall and slid to the floor as I took in the radio report, my jaw practically resting on my chest. Yes, TV and internet were out all over the world, but that problem paled in comparison to what else was being reported. Emotional exhaustion and astonishment made it impossible to stand. What I was hearing was surely impossible.

It came from outer space.

Yes, I know that is a title to a 1950s science-fiction B-movie, but it is the most apt description I can think of for this, well … cosmic storm. That seems to be the most agreeable buzzword for all the talking head scientists on the radio. It seems radio is it for an indefinite period of time. TV signals are blocked by this “storm.” The old saying that “seeing is believing” really hits home at a time like this. I don't know what to believe about what's being reported on the radio. I can't help but think of Orson Welles' infamous broadcast of
War of the Worlds
in 1938. This can't be real, can it? No, it's not aliens. It's far more incredible.

As I said, this event, miracle, storm—or whatever you choose to call it—came from space. Ancient man believed that celestial events were omens of fate. Eclipses, comets, planetary alignments, lunar or solar cycles, and even meteor showers were believed to foretell the coming of a great prosperity or a profound cataclysm. Many still believe in the validity of these heavenly harbingers.

I have attended church with Ann and Seth more from obligation than any type of spiritual calling. I was not a deeply religious man before this event. I can say with even more conviction that I was not and still am not a superstitious man. I put no such stock in irrational, gullible thought, but it is undeniable that something has happened and is happening, something unlike anything mankind has seen before. Little did I know that I would presently be bearing witness to that as intimately as any other person on the planet.

According to the radio, which I had raptly listened to for about two hours now, a true miracle was visited upon the planet today, but was it of Heaven or Hell? Is it necessary for an event to be spawned of a loving and benevolent God to qualify as a miracle? Evil can sometimes be every bit as potent in this purview. We call horrific events disasters, but in some cases couldn't they be classified as negative miracles? Maybe this is just the last vestige of my optimism talking. Whatever the reason behind the event enveloping the planet today, mankind seemed as split about the origins as they are about religion itself. I myself am split … there are no two ways about it. I am cautiously excited, but I am also as scared as hell.

The last time I saw Ann and Seth together was the day two weeks ago before I headed for a business meeting in Memphis. Honestly, I didn't really have to go, but I have always found it difficult to delegate authority and I couldn't escape the feeling that something would go wrong if I didn't. My instincts turned out to be right, but for all the wrong reasons.

Annabelle and Seth were taking a picnic lunch to Lake Beaverfork that afternoon and they both begged me to come with them. I could have blown the meeting off and gone—a part of me wanted to, but another part won out. The selfish part, the part that knew mid-April in Arkansas was still a little too early for water activities. I hate cold water, hate it with a passion; I almost think I would rather get a root canal with no Novocain than to go swimming in a cold lake.

I wished them well, teased Seth to watch out for the toe bass that enjoyed nibbling on little boys' feet, and left without another thought for the airport. In the world of karma, that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case, broke my heart. It wasn't until I returned the next morning that I realized they were gone.

As I said, my wife and son left two weeks ago. But my son returned today of all days, the day the cosmic storm entered Earth's atmosphere. The superstitious would have proclaimed the storm as a harbinger of his return, but I am not a superstitious man.

Yes, I did say that just my son returned. Where his mother is, I still am not certain. I never considered whether a human being can experience overwhelming joy and overwhelming terror at the same time, but let me tell you from personal experience … we can. It is an indescribable feeling and one I do not care to repeat. It does something to the soul, like putting it on the rack and stretching it to its limits before releasing it abruptly like a taut rubber band.

People may ask why I didn't feel pure joy for the return of my son. What is there to be terrified of?

I was terrified of the one thing that has been eating at my heart since I realized they were gone. In all of my nightmares I never considered that it does not necessarily require flesh and blood to harbor the trappings of a fiend. Fate can fit that definition just as easily.

That certainty would be the hardest lesson in my life, because two weeks ago, coming home from Lake Beaverfork, Annabelle and Seth were killed in a car accident.

CHAPTER 4

Seth

“We only part to meet again.”

—John Gay

Annabelle was a diabetic and had a low blood sugar attack behind the wheel, causing her to veer off the road and hit a tree. That was what the responding officer on the scene told me, but I knew better. She was exhausted from running our household and taking care of Seth with little or no help from me. Her mild diabetes was never an issue before, and I was sure she had simply fallen asleep at the wheel. This knowledge was like pouring salt in an open wound. I was told by one of the attending EMTs in an attempt to give me some comfort that they died instantly. How can anything comfort you at a time like this? The nightmare had not happened as I had imagined, but it had happened all the same. Except it was worse; I had lost both of them.

Today when the storm hit I was downstairs in our comfortable four-bedroom home in Conway, Arkansas. “Our” is a possessive pronoun that I will have to learn to get out of the habit of saying, but it still feels right. It feels right even after the stabbing pain of recollection every time it slips out because there is no more “our,” only “my.”

I don't even remember what I was watching when the storm arrived, after a while it just became white noise buzzing in the background, droning away as I pondered the living nightmare in which I now found myself.

After sitting in the kitchen floor, dazedly listening to the radio for what seemed like hours, I think what finally got my attention was the light coming in through the window. It was not sunlight, although it was mid-afternoon and the sun would have been shining through the westward window I was facing. It was not lightning or car lights, although I did think it may be the taillights of a very large truck at first glance. I went to the window and looked out, almost losing all my breath in a large gasp of surprise.

The scene outside my window was surreal, like looking through a portal into another world. This was my lawn, my vehicle, my street, and my neighborhood, of this there was no doubt. But it was like the sun had been replaced by a gigantic ultraviolet light. The colors of the grass, trees, and plants were magnified tenfold, and all seemed to glow with an eerie luminescence. The blue sky had been replaced with a faint lavender hue and was speckled with yellow clouds.
Wonderland has come to Arkansas
, I thought to myself. But, I would soon find what a limited statement that was. Wonderland had come to the planet.

Like most people do when there is breaking news, out of habit I ran back to the TV to see what the alphabet networks had to say. In my distracted state of mind, I had forgotten the signal had gone out. In spite of the news reports, seeing gray static on every channel of my TV, I quickly deduced that it must be a problem with the set. After all, that particular TV was over ten-years-old and the last of the enormous cinder block televisions, so it must have just kicked the bucket.

I hurried up the stairs to tune in on the newer plasma screen in the bedroom. At the top of the stairs rested a large landing that exited to a full-size bath in front of the stairs, a single bedroom to the right, and two bedrooms to the left. The master bedroom was to the far left. Seth's bedroom was the single one to the right. The door had been closed for the past two weeks, but today it was open just a crack. I probably wouldn't even have noticed if not for the strange light outside, shining through the bedroom window and streaming out through the small crack.

I paused just as I reached the landing and looked at the door. A thin beam of purplish light flickered across the hardwood floor of the landing. I stopped and watched, mesmerized for a few moments, and then something made me jump with surprise. I saw movement in the light, as if someone inside my son's bedroom had just walked past the door.

“Hello?” I called out shakily.

How could there be anyone in there? Surely it was just a tree branch blowing outside the bedroom window, but then it dawned on me … there weren't any trees on that side of the house.Frozen, I listened and heard nothing. I was just about to move on to the TV when a faint noise met my ears. I listened curiously at first, but the longer I listened the faster my heart began to race. Was that someone crying? The more I listened, the more certain I became that a child was crying in Seth's room. Could this have been one of his friends that had snuck into his room to privately mourn? I didn't think so. Seth was only six, after all, and the nearest child his age lived about four blocks away, a far piece for a six-year-old to travel by himself. But still, I was positive about what I was hearing: it was definitely the undersized sobs of a child.

My tinge of curiosity was quickly replaced by a creepy feeling, like 100 mice were running up and down my spine. My interest about what was going on outside had been brushed aside for a new single-minded focus. Who or what was on the other side of the door?

I slowly crept toward the door, barely daring to breathe. A large vase beside the bathroom contained two large golf umbrellas. I grasped one by its protruding handle and slowly withdrew it from the vase, like a knight drawing his sword. I didn't know what the heck I was going to do with an umbrella, unless the intruder was armed with a water pistol. I guess it just gave me some sort of security as I moved to open the door, however false it may be.

I placed my left palm against the surface of the door and gently pushed as it slowly started to swing inward. I poked the tip of the umbrella into the widening crack, ready to repel any attack that came my way. The door gave one last tiny creak as it came to a stop. As I peered into the bedroom, the umbrella dropped from my hand and my heart leapt into my throat. Sitting on the bed, crying and looking sadly at his shelf of
Star Wars
toys, was Seth.

I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. Surely this was some trick of the light, some trick of this weirdness that was going on outside. No, it was definitely no trick of the light; as for a trick of the weirdness outside … that was debatable. I would soon find that this was no trick of any kind. The reports on the radio appeared to be true.

He didn't seem to notice me at first, or at least not to pay any attention as he continued to gaze longingly at his playthings. He looked the same as he had the last time I had seen him alive. His blond hair was parted neatly in the middle and he wore an orange and yellow striped shirt with khaki shorts. At the end of his skinny legs dangling over the edge of the bed, he wore a pair of faded Spider-Man tennis shoes.

As I entered further into the room, he turned his head and looked at me. It was the same Seth, but on the other hand, it was not. His whole form, flesh and clothes alike, seemed to shimmer faintly like the surface of a lake just as dawn breaks. He gave off the same ethereal glow as the mysterious light shining in from outside. Whatever this weirdness was, he seemed to be both independent and part of it at the same time.

This was the moment that I experienced the rare mix of joyous elation and profound horror. My son was back and he was sitting on his bed looking at me, which makes me happy… I should be happy but … he's dead, for God's sake! I buried him and his mother two weeks ago! This can't be real … it just can't!

But it was real, and that point was driven home like a bolt of lightning as Seth spoke to me.

“Daddy, you can see me?” he said in a tired and frightened voice.

It was Seth's voice all right, but a little different. It was like he was talking to me from inside a large metal drum; his voice echoed with a tin sound that sent the mice scurrying up my back again. I stood frozen, unable to muster a response through my emotional turmoil. Finally, Seth spoke again.

“Please talk to me Daddy,” he said as his bottom lip puckered and silvery tears welled in his eyes.

My heart melted just enough to manage adequate lubricant to unhinge my jaws.

“Seth buddy, how did you get here?” I asked in a voice that came out squeaky, like a pubescent teen.

“I've been here a while Daddy, but you wouldn't talk to me. I slept with you every night but I guess you couldn't see me.”

I walked over to take his tiny hand, which he eagerly raised for me to grasp; it felt gelatinous, like a liquid with the consistency of pudding. I felt a small electrical current run up my arm when we touched, but that was not the worst of it. His hand was frigidly cold, like he had just stuck his arm into a deep freeze. I pulled back with involuntary revulsion.

He looked at me with a hurt-filled expression, leaving me with the dilemma of whether to give him a comforting embrace or run from the room in terror. A sudden realization came from nowhere, like my brain had just snatched one of the confusing pieces of information floating in my head and enhanced it to perfect clarity.

Seth said he had been sleeping with me. Ever since the funeral, I had not slept very well, which is understandable given the circumstances, but I have also been severely chilled at night. I first thought it was the air vent above the bed, but when that was eliminated, I assumed I was coming down with something. Could it have been possible that I was feeling Seth's … what? His ghost? Ten minutes ago I would have dismissed that speculation as inane, superstitious fantasy, but now I wasn't sure.

Seeing is believing, but how could I be sure of anything considering the bizarre phenomenon manifesting outside? I had to get my head on straight. I needed to sit down and collect my thoughts. I trudged toward an old rocking chair in the corner, but before I could sit down, Seth spoke again.

“No Daddy, that one has a broken leg … 'member?”

Yes, I did remember. How could I forget? I broke it a month ago when I stupidly stood on the seat, trying to change a light bulb in Seth's ceiling fan. I had been too busy to get the wood glue and just fix it. If he was a figment of my imagination … how the hell did he know that?

“Of course,” I said, feeling shaky. “How silly of me.”

He smiled a weepy smile. “You can sit with me, Daddy.” He pointed to the other side of the bed.

I didn't want to sit on the bed, not that close. I know how crazy that sounds because this was my son. But was it really? If this were a hallucination, it is the most realistic and profound one I have ever experienced, not that I had that much experience with them. I have never done drugs. If this were a mirage, what did I have to lose? But … if this were somehow real, then it was my son sitting there and I had been given a great miracle. Negative or positive, it was my boy, damn it!

I eased onto the far side of the bed, like I was sitting
by a temperamental dog that might bite at any second. He looked at me with tearful eyes and a quivering bottom lip; I looked at him with apprehensive eyes and a trembling body. I was shaking from head to foot.

“Where's your mother?” I asked.

That was when the silvery tears hanging in the corners of his eyes let go like tiny streams of mercury. They soundlessly struck the navy blue
Toy Story
bedspread, leaving not a single mark or wet spot. It was as if they passed straight through the bed like a, well … like a ghost.

He shook his head mournfully and sobbed. “I don't know, Daddy.”

My heart skipped a beat and sank into my guts simultaneously when I understood that Ann was gone, not only physically but spiritually as well. Where could she be? My son was here and he was all alone, at least he had been for the past two weeks. No wonder he seems so scared, the poor little guy. A few tears leaked from my eyes, but unlike Seth's, they made large dark blotches on the bedspread.

“Don't cry, Daddy. She was okay the last time I saw her.”

“Where was that?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

He frowned and looked back at his shelf of toys. He grabbed Anakin Skywalker and held him in his hand, rolling him over and inspecting the plastic surface like he had never seen the toy before.

“I don't know,” he said. ”We were picnicking and then we were
in a dark place and two doors appeared. They were bright like the time we sat by the lights on top of the stadium at the Razorback game, 'member?”

I nodded my head and smiled. That was one of the few things we had done, just father and son, in his short life. I felt like crying again.

“Well, Momma smiled at me and told me it was time to go and she went through one of the doors. I haven't seen her since,” he said as another stream of tears jetted down his small face, disappearing into the bedspread.

“Why didn't you go through the other door, Seth?”

He looked at me and replied as if it should have been as obvious as the nose on my face.

“We are going to the Air Space Moozem, Daddy.”

He paused a moment, tightly shutting his right eye as if in deep thought. “The one in Washaton,” he said with a sheepish smile.

My heart turned to ice and melted in the same instant. Yes, we had planned this trip to the Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., just me and him, father and son. We had planned many trips like this before but they never materialized; I was always too busy. I had planned this trip with the sincere promise that this time would be different, this time we would definitely go. That's what I said, but if I were truly honest with myself, this one would have probably ended up being cancelled as well. My work was always too important to miss.

Now, sitting on my son's bed contemplating what I had lost, and looking at Seth's sad and trusting face, my career seemed about as important as an amoeba in the grand scale of the universe. It's funny how kids put such trust in their parents and adults. Even though I had disappointed him a dozen times in the past, he still implicitly believed that I was taking him on his dream vacation. He trusted me so much that he refused to go … where? Was it Heaven on the other side of the door, emanating a blinding light? I don't know. As I said, I am not a religious man, but that seems as plausible an explanation as any.

My God, my son gave up Heaven to spend time with me. At that moment, I believed that more than anything, and tears began to sheet down my face. I had never felt more selfish and undeserving in my life, but I had also never loved Seth more than I did at that moment. I needed a diversion to avoid an emotional display in front of him.