She kept pacing the living room, back and forth, back and forth, not saying a word. It would have been easier if she had just come out and told us how disappointed she was, announced our punishment, instead of just sending us to our rooms. But she wanted us to apologize, or explain, or something. Finally I couldn’t stand the silence any longer and I opened the door to the hall. The smooth oak floors chilled the bottom of my bare feet. My eyes drifted over the photos lining either wall as inner heaviness slowed my steps.
The floorboards creaked ever so slightly, halting my steps in place. My whole body braced against the sound, and I scrunched my eyes closed, just waiting for the order to go back to my room. After a minute I opened my eyes and released a pent-up breath. The fog that rolled past my lips and danced its way into the air took me aback. Why was it so cold inside and how had it happened so suddenly? A shiver darted down my neck as a slight breeze whisked through my hair.
Listening for a moment I made sure that it wasn’t the air conditioner kicking on, not that it would have made sense for Aunt Laura to flip that switch. With all the snow outside the last thing any of us were was overheated. Did a window get left open somewhere? The hairs on my arms stood on end as my skin bristled against the rapidly dropping temperatures.
Crossing my arms around my chest I picked up my pace, a gnawing sense increasing at the center of my gut. Reaching the edge of the hall I turned to the living room then halted in place. Outside when gusseted through my hair as my eyes took in the piles of snow where the room should have been. My jaw hung slack as my eyes roved over the splintered wood which once was the ceiling. How could this have happened without us hearing? What was it that had happened? I snapped my mouth closed as my heart stopped beating. Where was Aunt Laura?
“Benny.” my aunt’s voice drifted through the eerie silence.
“Where are you?” I shouted “Are you OK? I can’t see you!”
“Whatever happens Benny, don’t believe them. It’s not your fault.”
He had hunted and hiked and led backpacking trips through these woods for 20 years, and he had never seen an animal track like that. At first glance, it resembled a Mountain Lion track, which under normal circumstances he would have taken as his cue to go the other way, but there was something off about the shape that drew him in. Slowly following after the indentations Blake realized their form was shifting.
Stopping he looked around himself to make sure they weren’t just another creatures tracks crisscrossing. Nothing but smooth pristine snow as far as the eye could see. An uneasiness rested across Blake’s shoulders as he leaned back over the tracks. No, his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, these tracks were morphing mid-step. Sticking the edge of his glove between his teeth, Blake freed his hand to unzip his side pocket and fish out his phone.
Reception may have been nonexistent in this area, but he could at the very least record his findings. How else would he get anyone to believe him? Pressing the record button Blake slowly panned his camera along the ground. Following the tracks he watched as they grew in size exponentially and settled deeper into the ground. It was the growing length of the clause that unsettled Blake the most. Warning signals twisted through his gut, screaming at him to back off. They battled with his voracious hunger for answers.
“Turn back.” a feminine voice whispered straight into his right ear.
Blake jumped up and spun in a circle “hello? Someone there?” his eyes strained as they darted around the woods. Only bare trees and silence met him.
“You’re in danger.” the voice whispered in his left ear this time
Blake pivoted toward it, fist at the ready, but still no one was there. Holding his breath he slowly put his thumb back in his pocket and tentatively stepped away from the tracks. As he did so his eyes caught sight of a tree swaying and then plummeting to the ground right where he had been standing. Blake took larger steps back as his heart pounded in his ears the tree had fallen without making a sound.
When he tried to express himself with words, he could never get it right. But with his hands, he could shape things, mold things, and make things. He had discovered that gift as a young boy when he first met Mama Laura. Mama Laura had been the one who first brought him the clay to play with. Toby always liked Mama Laura’s the best. She was the nicest out of all the white coats. Maybe it was because she was so much younger than the others, or maybe it was because she was the only woman among them.
Either way Toby always loved when she came to visit and by the subtle clipping vibrations rippling through the ground, Toby could tell Mama Laura was on her way. Rushing to his special box Toby pulled out a brand new hunk of clay and slapped it onto his sculpting table. Scurrying off to the other side of his room he grabbed his favorite green cup and filled it halfway with tepid water from his small freestanding sink. Settling back down with cup in hand Toby dipped his fingers in the water and started to press into the clay.
He had something extra special he wanted to make for Mama Laura. 20 days Exactly had passed since her last visit and that meant today was her birthday. Pressing and pulling on his medium, Toby was so engrossed with his work that he didn’t even hear the door open. Telltale vibrations wafted through the air bringing his eyes up from his task, a wide grin growing on his face. Mama Laura stood in front of his table, moist eyes just watching him. Toby’s grin slowly dropped as he studied her more closely. Mama Laura didn’t feel right. Toby’s hands stopped moving
“What they do?” his voice garbled out; concern etched into his eyebrows.
Mama Laura shook her head and pressed a thin smile on her lips. “Never you mind sweet boy.” she kneeled down and settled in to watch toby’s sculpting.
Toby ignored his clay and fixated on his Mama Laura. “Benny okay?” he strained
“Shh, it’s fine.” her long soft fingers reached across the table and gave Toby a gentle pat “not right now.”
Don’t let this one get away, she thought to herself. Tom had the look of a man quietly planning his escape. Christine watched him closely as he shifted positions once more. The hum of smooth jazz lilted through the air accompanied by sporadic clinks of dishes being washed back in the kitchen. Slow night for her favorite cafe this Wednesday but Christine was grateful for it. She didn’t think Tom could handle much more stimulation.
“You haven’t touched your coffee.” Christine mused as she sipped her Chai
Tom poked at the cups rim for a second then pushed it away, “You should have just come to my home like I said.”
Christine raised an eyebrow at him, “don’t tell me you think it’s poisoned.”
Tom shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched down further into his chair.
“Tom, come on man. I know this place. I’ve been coming here for years. I trust these people.”
His eyes narrowed “I don’t know if I can even trust you.”
Christine let out a small sigh “well you trusted me enough to meet with me at least, so let’s just go from there.”
“I had no choice. All my other options were burned.”
“I can’t make you believe me, man. That’s up to you. So do you have your smoking gun or not?” Christine took another calculated sip to hide her subsiding patience.
Tom glanced around a few times before finally unzipping the top portion of his puffy gray jacket. Reaching inside he soon produced a folder-sized sachet about two inches thick. Christine’s eyebrows shot up despite herself as she accepted the package. Opening it the title jumped out at her.
“Project new life? For real?”
“Keep your voice down.” Tom hissed at her
Christine practically buzzed inside “Sorry, it’s just that, this is beyond boogeyman legendary. I have to be certain this is legit. I’d lose everything otherwise.”
“I’d say check in with my colleagues but they’re all dead.” Tom whispered stone faced
Christine shivered, a sudden chill overtaking her. Thumbing through the pages without taking them fully out and name caught her eye “who’s Laura Straumblast last?”
“Did it just get colder in here?” Tom’s wide eyes darted around as he zipped back up his jacket.
“Hey, Tom, focus” Christine snapped for his attention “Straumblast. why do I recognize that name?”
“They know!” Tom breathed heavily and pushed himself out of his chair
“Whoa, wait. Where are you going? Let’s sit back down alright? Everything’s all right.”
Tom’s wild expression bored into her eyes “Run! We need to run now!”
Fog appeared from his mouth as he spoke. Christine shivered again as her own breath started pluming before her. Did the heater break or something? How did the temperature drop so quickly? Tom thrust out his hand and yanked Christine to her feet.
“Whoa hey, let go!” she shouted, twisting her wrist against his thumb and wrenching herself free.
Tom staggered back, spinning in a circle, looking around in a panic. “Too late, too late. It’s all too late. Get out while you can!”
Christine took a step back, holding out her hand and speaking calmly “Tom, hold on now, just talk to me.”
The man shook his head and then bolted out the front door. A wintery wind burst in the opening behind him making Christine turn away briefly.
“Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting off that easily.” Christine scooped up the sachet and her purse and rushed out the door after him.
Outside she scanned around to find where he had went, but not only had he vanished without a trace Christine noticed the street had become eerily silent.
“Galileo was put on trial and spent the last years of his life in prison for suggesting that the earth revolved around the sun. We think we have a pretty good idea of how the universe works now, but what if we don’t? What if we’re wrong? What if there are whole other planes of reality just waiting for us to tap into them?”
“What does any of this have to do with next week’s launch, Miles?” course voice of Mr. Stapleton growled out
Patience was fading fast in the boardroom as the young company had sounded off another manic speech on life’s untapped potentials. It wasn’t uncommon for self-made entrepreneurial tycoons to become a little eccentric, but the number of frenetic diatribes miles teller went on the last couple of months and made the board grow concerned.
“It has both nothing and everything to do with next week Mr. Stapleton.” miles smiled suddenly stoic and dripping with charisma.
That was the danger of Miles Teller, his ability to make insanity alluring. It was impossible to tell whether he was truly unhinged or if he was actually overly in control of his emotions, crafting them all for their specific need of intensity.
“I detest riddles Mr. Teller.”
“Give the man a chance Edward, he’s yet to lead this company astray.” the compellingly gentle voice of Mr. Blackwell broke in.
The old gentleman was widely viewed as the corporation’s personal grandfather and known as the most compassionate among men. Mr. Stapleton knew there was no combating him. Instead he merely frowned deeper and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Thank you Mr. Blackwell.” Miles dipped his head to the man “Gentlemen, what I’m about to show you is going to destroy your very perceptions of reality. But before I do that, my lawyer Mr. Pearson is going to pass around some paperwork.” Miles flicked his hand, signaling the stone-faced lawyer to start dispersing the documents “please read through it thoroughly. I cannot afford any misunderstandings here. Of course there is the usual NDA within.”
“There’s nothing unusual about it!” decried Mr. Jains from the far end of the table. He held up the form and smacked it with his free hand “the phrasing in here is positively threatening Mr. Teller. I cannot in good conscience sign this.”
Miles smiled at the man, but a shadow covered his eyes “Then you are free to go Mr. Jains.”
“But if we don’t sign this contract states we lose our positions on the board.” Mr. Jains shot back as a red hue took over his face
“I’m aware what the contract says Mr. Jains. I drafted it up myself.”
“This is an outrage! You can’t do this to us.” Mr. Jains shot a glare over to the lawyer “This is coercion!”
Mr. Pearson simply kept his silence as he moved back to his chair along the wall.
“What you decry as an act of coercion I see as a test of loyalty Mr. Jains. Truly, I am being most generous in even including any of you in this opportunity. Not in 100 lifetimes could you be as honored as you are today to sit at this table.”
“What a load of bull.” Mr. Jains spat back, slapping the paperwork down on the table “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Teller!” he shoved his chair back, jerked up his briefcase, and stormed from the conference room.
Miles watched him go, same smile resting calmly on his face. A few uncomfortable coughs and awkward shifting in chairs sounded in the building silence.
“He has no idea what he’s lost.” Miles sighed at last, “Is there anyone else who feels the need to follow in his footsteps?”
Only the slight shuffling of papers replied.
“Brilliant! Now once everyone has completed the paperwork, we shall proceed.”
My options were dwindling by the minute. Right or wrong, I have to do something I couldn’t just wait this one out. I told my secretary to cancel all my appointments for the afternoon and slipped out the back door and into the alley. And sure enough waiting for me there was Christine Craig, local investigative journalist for channel 8.
At most she was 25, not much older than my little Priscilla. Maybe that’s what finally broke me, Ms. Craig’s obstinate persistence so reminded me of her, how she had been before. This was my chance to make it up to Priscilla, or at least save it from happening to others. I knew deep down that I was beyond atonement.
“Tom’s dead, Mr. Pearson.” Ms. Craig’s flat tone sounded off as she leaned against the brick wall “Sure the cops list him as a John Doe, but that was Toby all right. You can’t keep covering for them. If I can’t break this story how many more Tom’s is your firm willing to help put in the ground?”
Her diatribe annoyed me. She had no respect for the risk I was taking, the sacrifice being made right now. “Save your guilt trip for the redeemable Ms. Craig. I’m here now aren’t I?”
“Here to talk, or here for another brush off?” she pushed herself away from the wall and faced me head on
Priscilla’s laugh rang through my mind, chased away by the memory of her frozen hand in mine. “Miles Teller.”
“The kids shoes tycoon?” Ms. Craig cocked an eyebrow
“He is the Victor Frankenstein behind Project New life.”
Christine balked “It’s real? But how? How is that possible?” her eyebrows furrowed as she frowned “I’m gonna need some cold hard proof Mr. Pearson. Undeniable stuff. This story will never get off the ground otherwise.”
Screeching tires cried out in the distance, cutting off my reply. My stomach dropped to my toes. My time was up. Reaching out my hand I firmly grasped Ms. Craig’s arm and pulled her behind me.
“Cut through the pawn shop, it’s the red door back there.”
“Now wait just a minute -” she tried to push back but cut short upon seeing 6 towering figures rushing down the alley towards us. Her hand tugged at my suit jacket “Come with me!”
Prying her fingers off, I shook my head “This is my penance. Now go.”
She hesitated a moment more before finally turning away. I kept my eyes on the men as I strengthened my old fighting stance. A small smile crept across my face. Just a little more time, it wasn’t much but it was the best I could give her. Maybe now my Priscilla could rest.
<- Silence – 20 Minute Prompt Short Story ~ A Mad Mother Scientist –>