F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (38 page)

 
          
And
the rest of the boardwalk is gone, ending as if washed away in a great storm.
You see something near the edge, just beyond where the jagged remnants of the
broken boards jut like spears. An upright stone pokes up from the black water.

 
          
You
move to it.

 
          
And
as you move, you have another thought, confusing, disturbing. ..

 
          
Eathan
and Nathan ... they looked so similar, the eyes, and the voices. Of course they
were brothers, but the way they spoke, their eyes ... so similar.

 
          
You're
at the stone, a blank, meaningless piece of rock.

 
          
But
is
anything
meaningless in this 'scape?

 
          
You
lean over the edge, studying it. Directly below you, the black, oily water acts
like a dark mirror, and
—

 
          
You
see yourself.
You.
The way you looked this morning. You see your shocked
face studying your reflection.

 
          
"Oh
... my... God!"

 
          
The
reflection mouths the words along with you.

 
          
"What
the hell is going on here?"

 
          
You
think the obvious. You're losing your mind. The memory-mapping technology
works fine except for one small, tiny drawback: It drives you insane.

 
          
No
way your reflection can exist here unless
—

 
          
A
splash. Suddenly tense, you look up, glance around. Nothing should splash here.

 
          
Another
splash
—
louder. Oh no. You look down
just as the thick, living cable of tentacle shoots out of the water, out of the
open mouth of your horrified reflection.

 
          
You
scream and recoil, but the tentacle is fast. It swirls around your ankle. God,
it's cold
—
and slimy. The suckers have
hooks, and the hooks are digging into the soft: flesh of your calf. You feel it
tighten its grip and it
hurts.
This can't be happening. You're not part
of Sam's 'scape. You're a ghost here. Nothing can
grab
you.

 
          
But
something has grabbed you, and it's tugging you, pulling you by your trapped
ankle, dragging you toward the water.

 
          
The
Exit button. Got to hit it now.

 
          
As
if sensing your thoughts, the kraken gives your ankle a harsh twist, rolling
you off the edge of die boardwalk and into the water. It feels oily and cold.
You bump against the rock and drag against its surface. The kraken
—
it's trying to tow you out to sea.

 
          
The
Exit button
—
now!

 
          
But
as you reach for it, the cinching pressure on your ankle lessens. The tentacle
uncoils and slips away, leaving you treading water on the far side of the
rock.

 
          
You
look up.

 
          
The
stone is within arms' reach, and you see now that it's a giant headstone. You
read the names: NATHAN AND LUCINDA GORDON. Your parents' gravestone. Dates are
carved below the names
—
the date of the fire, and
the birth dates, Luanda's
—
May 17,1943
—
and Nathan's...

 
          
December
1,1941
.

 
          
The
same as Eathan's.

 
          
They
looked so similar, the eyes, and the voices. . . .

 
          
The
tentacle pulled you this far, then released you. Almost as if the kraken
dragged you here so you could read it.

 
          
You
reach out and touch the heavy headstone. Water from your fingers drips down its
carved surface, settling in one of the dates.

 
          
December
1,1941
.

 
          
Is
that true? Nathan and Eathan are twins, just like you and Sam? How could you
not know that? But then they never looked alike, especially with Eathan's
beard. And you never celebrated your parents' birthdays....

 
          
And
twins run in families, don't they.

 
          
You
turn and look around. The kraken hovers submerged in the dark water under the
dark sky, with only its glowing eyes above the surface, watching you.

 
          
You
shiver. The cold water, or something else?

 
          
Whichever,
you've got to get back to reality. Now.

 
          
From
Macbeth:
"Memory, the warder of the brain."

—
Random
notes: Julia Gordon

1

 
          
Julie
sipped the hot tea, inhaling the aroma of lemon and honey. She had her legs
curled up under her and a blanket over her shoulders. Trying to get warm.

 
          
Too
much to think about. She wished she could share her latest memoryscape
excursion with Dr. Siegal, but if she did, it would be her last. He'd pull the
plug in a heartbeat. All he had to do was shut down the satellite feed and
Julie would be shut out of the memoryscape.

 
          
God,
if only she could tell him that she'd developed a virtual presence in Sam's
'scape. What would he say to that? It was unheard of, undreamed of, but somehow
the system was interacting with her own brain waves and memories and using
them to construct a virtual body for her.

 
          
And
it meant that she was in Sam's mind in a much deeper way than she'd ever
imagined possible.

 
          
That
might explain the number-game memory. That was Julie's own memory. At least she
supposed it was. She had a vague recollection of her father drilling Sam like that,
but she doubted he did numbers with Sam.

 
          
Probably
showed her Rothko paintings instead.

 
          
But
Sam must have witnessed the number game hundreds of times, had to know all
about it.

 
          
Why
had she stuck it there, on the boardwalk...

 
          
...
near the gravestone?

 
          
That
was the real shocker. Nathan and Eathan: twins. Was it true? And if so, how
come Sam knew and she didn't?

 
          
She
glanced over at her sister. Sam looked beautiful, so at peace sleeping there,
peaceful in a way she'd never been when she was up and about. No sign of the
sinister fortune-tellers and krakens and desolate landscapes that filled the
inside of her head. Just her pale beauty, and the gentle rise and fall of her
chest with every breath.

 
          
Julie
drained her cup, the tea cool now.

 
          
Secrets,
Julie thought. That's what this is all about.

 
          
She
reached down and rubbed her right leg. Sore. She gasped when she pulled up the
cuff of her jeans and stared at something that shouldn't be there
—
couldn't be there
—
and
yet it was: A bruise encircled her ankle and lower calf.

 
          
No!
A physical injury
—
from the memoryscape!

 
          
If
it can bruise me, hurt me, what else can it do?

 
          
Kill
me?

 
          
She
rubbed at the welt.
Maybe I should stop this.

 
          
And
then a car pulled onto the stone driveway below.

 
          
Eathan.
Uncle Eathan. Dad's twin, or was that a memory-scape fantasy?

 
          
Julie
expected Eathan to come upstairs and look in on Sam, but he stayed below.

 
          
The
dinner hour came but no one called her down. Perhaps Eathan had told cook to
skip dinner.

 
          
But
she couldn't postpone a confrontation any longer. Julie walked downstairs. She
checked the living room, but Eathan wasn't there. She could see into the
kitchen, and it looked dark and quiet. Strange. He was home, but
—

 
          
She
heard a noise from across the foyer. She crossed it and peeked in the library.

 
          
She'd
always loved this great room filled with books.

           
Eathan's retreat, a world redolent
of rich leather and aging paper. Now she felt like a stranger here.

 
          
Eathan
sat in a high-backed leather chair in a pool of light from a single lamp. No
book in his hands; instead he stared al the designs in the oriental rug at his
feet. The effect was strange and morbid.

 
          
"Eathan
—
"

 
          
He
looked up slowly, as though he'd somehow aged since this morning.

 
          
"Julia...
I was going to come up. Going to apologize for overreacting earlier. I was just
so upset
—
"

 
          
"And
you had every right to be. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm truly
sorry."

 
          
He
nodded slowly. "I accept your apology. Let's put it behind us and move on,
shall we. Just promise me... no more secrets."

 
          
No
more secrets? she wanted to say. Look at what you've been keeping from me.

 
          
"You
look tired," she said.

 
          
"I
am. Getting poor
Alma
taken care of, consoling her son..."

 
          
She
stepped closer.

 
          
He
kept looking at her. "You've had some dinner, I assume. I told cook not to
bother fixing me anything."

 
          
On
the table to his right she spotted a half-empty brandy snifter sitting next to
a crystal decanter. She noted his barely slurred words. Had she ever seen
Eathan under the influence, even the slightest bit tipsy? She didn't think so.

 
          
"Has
there been any word about O'Donnell?" she asked.

 
          
"Word?
You mean have they caught him? No, and I very much doubt they will. Just as I
doubt that he'll come back here."

 
          
"You
don't think it might have been an accident?"

 
          
Eathan
grunted. "And is what happened to your sister an accident too?"

 
          
She
took another step.

 
          
"I
have to tell you something ... ask you something."

 
          
Eathan
was staring forward again. He nodded. "More secrets?"

           
"As a matter of fact, yes. When
you were gone ... I went into the memoryscape again."

 
          
Eathan
nodded, still looking blankly ahead. He didn't act surprised.

 
          
"And?"

 
          
She
was about to tell him the memory of the game she and his brother had played,
the math drill. But she stopped herself. That wasn't the important issue here.

 
          
"I
saw a gravestone ... for my mother and father."

 
          
She
waited for him to say something but he sat there, silent, staring. This was so
hard.

 
          
"I
saw my father's birth date."

 
          
Still
no response. Was Eathan even awake?

 
          
"And
it was the same as yours. In the memoryscape, the same date, meaning that
—
"

 
          
And
now, like that fortune-teller, Eathan turned his head. "That your father
and I were twins. So?"

 
          
"You
mean it's true?"

 
          
"Of
course it is. Identical twins, just like you and Samantha. Why are you so
surprised?"

 
          
"I...
well, I never knew."

 
          
"Of
course you did. Everyone knows that. Or at least they knew it when it mattered
—
when we were both alive."

 
          
"Well,
I didn't. Why didn't you tell me?"

 
          
He
stared at her, and she saw the lips within his beard twist with impatience. His
words took on an edge.

 
          
"For
the same reason I don't go around reminding you that you and Samantha are
twins. Why should I tell you what I assume you already know?"

 
          
The
library felt alien. Here she stood, surrounded by great walls, by endless
spines of books, and at the center, her uncle. And she wondered ... if he
shaved off his beard, would he look just like her father? Would it be like
seeing her father again?

 
          
She
took a breath in the stuffy room.

 
          
"You
should have told me."

 
          
And
then, bitterly, with his tongue tripping ever so slightly on the words, Eathan
said, "And you should have told me about Liam."

 
          
Stung,
Julie turned and left the room.

 
          
2

 
          
Julie
slept fitfully. She awoke a number of times, and on each; occasion she could
taste the remnant of some bizarre dream. Once she was traveling on a train,
never able to get off. Next she was in a store trying to buy something but all
the clerks and checkers had blank faces, no mouths, no eyes.

 
          
Once
she sat up, shivering in fear, like a little girl waking, from a nightmare,
feeling something coming for her, something dangerous.

 
          
She
was tempted to get up and walk down to Sam's room. At least there'd be someone
there, a nurse sitting at her bedside reading a book by a pale yellow light.

 
          
Funny,
in life she'd had no use for Sam, but now she felt as if she needed her.

 
          
In
life . . .

 
          
But
she's not dead, Julie thought. Sam's not dead.

 
          
But
she might as well be if I don't do something. It's all falling apart in there.
Devolution, entropy, got to find an answer before her memoryscape flattens
into an endless, featureless, lifeless sea.

 
          
Eventually
Julie fell asleep again.