The Dark Secret of Weatherend (13 page)

A bit later Anthony and Miss Eells were sitting on a couple of rickety wooden chairs in a smelly, badly lit garage. The Dodge had just been lowered from the lift, and Mr. Johnson was standing before them, his long face even longer than usual.

"Broken axle?" asked Miss Eells, looking up. "Did you say broken
axle?"

Mr. Johnson nodded glumly. "Yep. Musta hit a rock er somethin' on the way down. I can't fix it here—hafta send away to the Dodge people for a new one. My advice'd be, get a new car. Not worth fixin' in my opinion."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Miss Eells looked at Anthony and down at the floor. Then she turned to Mr. Johnson, and the expression on her face was one of utter hopelessness. She thought about the chances of her being able to pay for a new car. Very soon she would be unemployed: today was the day she was supposed to be appearing before the Library Board. But instead she was off on an improbable mission that had just turned into a super-impossible one. With difficulty Miss Eells pulled herself together. She heaved a deep sigh, put on her best businesslike attitude, and cleared her throat. "Hem! Well, Mr. Johnson, can we leave my poor vehicle here for a couple of days?"

Mr. Johnson looked hesitant. He scratched his long chin. "We-elll..." he said slowly, "...I got a lotta stuff out there in the back lot, but I guess one more hunka junk wouldn't matter none. Yeah, sure, you c'n leave it for a bit. But how're you gonna get to... didja say Duluth?"

"We really have to get there," said Anthony. "We... it's kind of an emergency."

"Yes," added Miss Eells, nodding. "It really is very important. I see by the sign over there that you rent cars. Could you possibly rent us one for a few days?"

Mr. Johnson's eyebrows rose, and he looked Miss Eells up and down. Miss Eells blushed, because she knew what he was thinking. Could an old lady who wore tennis shoes and gym pants and a Hoosac A.C. sweat shirt ever pay for a rented car? Silently Miss Eells cursed herself. Why had she decided to travel in this dumb outfit when she could have just carried the gym suit along to wear later? But then her pride welled up inside her. Who did Mr. Johnson think he was, anyway? She was a respectable citizen who had lived sixty-eight years without having been convicted of a major crime, and—until recently—had been regarded as a reasonable, solvent, hardworking person.

Slowly she stood up. She put on the most haughty expression she could manage, clutched her pocketbook to her breast, and said icily, "Mr. Johnson, my credit is perfectly good. You can call the First National Bank of
Hoosac if you want. I can write you a check for the towing job you did, and then—"

"Be s'prised if the banks was open," said Mr. Johnson, cutting her off. "Big storm down'n Hoosac—heard about it on the radio. Wind 'n' snow 'n' hail, t'beat the band! Funny kind of a storm—just started, all of a sudden, down there round Hoosac and La Crosse. Usually they come in from the north 'n' hit us first. We'll get it in an hour or so, I bet. That snow out there's just the beginning."

Mr. Johnson went back to rubbing his chin and thinking about whether or not Miss Eells was a good risk. Miss Eells and Anthony looked at each other. They were not worrying over credit ratings now. A cold fear was rising in their guts. Was this the start of the wild, world-ending storm that they had feared?

"Look here, Mr. Johnson," Miss Eells said angrily, "I haven't got time to sit here and grow moss on my north side while you make up your mind. It is very important that we get to Duluth as soon as possible, so if you don't mind, I'll settle our towing bill and then my young friend and I will go down the street and find a..."

Miss Eells's voice trailed off. She had taken one step toward the doorway of Mr. Johnson's office, but now she froze in her tracks. Anthony froze too, and stared. Somebody was standing in the entrance to the garage. It was a person that they knew very well but had not expected to see.

There in the wide doorway stood Emerson Eells. In the stormy half-light he looked like a visitor from another world. He was wearing a black fur Alpine hat with a small red cockade on it and a gray winter coat with large black buttons. Oddly enough on his feet were pointed black leather shoes instead of boots or galoshes. And although the street outside looked slushy, Emerson's shoes were immaculately clean.

Miss Eells and Anthony looked quickly at each other, but neither of them moved an inch. Normally Miss Eells would have rushed over and thrown her arms around Emerson. But she was afraid. He had not been acting like himself when he left her house, and his sudden reappearance... Miss Eells bit her lip and tried to fight down the
fear that was rising inside her.
How had Emerson known that she and Anthony would be here?

"Hello, there!" he said, raising his mittened hand and waving. But the wave was a weak one, and his smile seemed cold and formal. His pale blue eyes glittered coldly behind his spectacles.

Again Miss Eells glanced nervously at Anthony. Then she took a couple of uncertain steps forward. "Em!" she exclaimed. "What... what on earth are you doing
here?
How did you know... I mean, I tried to get you on the phone, but..."

Emerson beamed reassuringly. "Oh, I just guessed," he said blandly. "I've always thought that I might be blessed with ESP or some such power. In any case I'm glad my instincts led me here." He glanced quickly toward Miss Eells's wrecked car. And he added, in the same calm, lilting tone, "I gather that you two are in need of some assistance. Am I right?"

Anthony watched Miss Eells intently, wondering what she would say. If Emerson was in the power of Anders Borkman, then would they want his help? Miss Eells walked slowly forward until she was standing only a few feet away from her brother. She stared steadily into his eyes.

"Em, are you all right?" she asked.

Emerson seemed slightly startled, but the bland smile did not fade. "Of course I'm all right," he said evenly. "Whatever made you think that I wasn't?"

Miss Eells said nothing, but the puckered frown on
her face told Anthony that she was definitely wary.

Emerson's smile faded, and for an instant there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "I'm here to help," he said, "but I get the impression that I may not be wanted."

Again Miss Eells was at a loss for words. She began to stammer, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, no, Em, not... not at all! I'm awfully glad to see you, but... but, well, you seem sort of odd."

Emerson laughed. "Odd? I'm just trying hard to be calm, which I gather is not the correct thing to be doing right now. But we're wasting time, aren't we? It's clear that you were going somewhere and that you've had an accident. Were you on your way up to see me?"

There were a few tense moments while Miss Eells seemed to be debating with herself. Finally she spoke. "We're going up to Duluth, Em, and we need a ride badly. Can you drive us?"

Anthony gasped. Miss Eells was taking a chance, and he felt in his heart that she was wrong. But she was older and wiser than he, and Emerson was her brother. Maybe it would work out.

Emerson looked strangely surprised. "Duluth? Why do you want to go there?"

"Never mind. It's... it's private business. But the question is, will you drive us? If you won't, I can rent—"

Emerson cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense! I won't hear of it! If you don't choose to tell me why you're going to a ridiculous place like Duluth at this
time of year... well, I suppose you don't have to. My car's outside, so if you will just finish what you're doing, we can go. But we'd better hurry—there's a storm brewing, you know."

Miss Eells hesitated again. Then she turned to Mr. Johnson, who had been watching the two of them. On his face was his normal look of dopey amusement.

"I guess I won't be needing your car-rental service after all," said Miss Eells half-apologetically. "So if you'll tell me what the towing bill is, I'll pay it and we'll be on our way."

After Miss Eells had written Mr. Johnson a check, she sent Anthony out to the Dodge to bring back the tool bag. Then they followed Emerson out of the garage and down the street. There, parked by the curb, was Emerson's car. He drove a
1938
La Salle, the big, bulky old-fashioned luxury sedan with the high metal grille and teardrop-shaped headlights. Miss Eells smiled when she saw the old car. Somehow it seemed reassuring—a reminder that Emerson was still the same person he always had been. When the tool bag had been stowed in the trunk, Anthony climbed into the backseat, and Miss Eells got in front with her brother.

They drove for miles. Snow was still falling, but the road had been plowed, so it was not as slippery as it had been. However, it was obvious that the weather was going to get worse. Behind them, to the south, the sky was black, and the wind seemed to be getting stronger.

Hard gusts hit the car, making it sway and shudder. Anthony peered out of the windows, but all he could see was trees and snowy fields.

It was really getting dark now. Anthony took his pen-lite out of his pocket and played the beam on the face of his watch.
4:15.
He wondered how long it would take to get to Duluth. Miss Eells had reserved a room at the Hotel Duluth, and they planned to check in before driving to the cemetery. But the accident had messed up their plans, and this storm was going to mess them up even more. Anthony sighed and began to imagine the hotel room: flowered wallpaper, a warm bed with a blue fuzzy blanket, a table with a lamp and... Suddenly Anthony stopped daydreaming. A disturbing thought had just occurred to him. The two people in the front seat had been silent since the beginning of the trip. Usually Miss Eells and Emerson talked like crazy together. Anthony looked toward the motionless heads in front of him, and he was afraid.

Suddenly Emerson broke the silence. "Myra?"

"Yes, Em?" Miss Eells's voice sounded cold and a bit trembly.

"Why are you going up to Duluth? I really would like to know."

A pause. The motor purred on, and a gust of wind shook the car.

"I'd... I'd rather not tell you," said Miss Eells, in a strained, guarded voice.

"I see," said Emerson coldly. He paused again and then added, in an unpleasant, biting tone, "I must say it all seems strange to me. We're brother and sister, after all, and we're used to confiding in each other. So, why won't you tell me?"

Miss Eells took a deep breath and let it out. "Well, Em, if you must know," she said at last, "I haven't felt like trusting you lately. Ever since our visit to Anders Borkman's estate, you've been acting strange. I was wondering if he... well, maybe, hypnotized you. There! I've said it, and it's a relief to get
that
off my chest!"

Anthony sat up, tense and rigid, on the seat. His heart was pounding now. What would Emerson say? Would he be hurt, or angry, or worse? When Emerson spoke, his voice had a sly, mocking tone that chilled Anthony. "You don't know what kind of person Borkman is at all! You don't have the slightest, tiniest, idea.
And because you are ignorant and foolish, I say
woe unto you!
May you perish from the surface of the earth!
"

Anthony's body grew rigid with terror. These last hateful words were spoken in a resonant voice that was not Emerson's. It was the voice of Anders Borkman. And as Anthony watched, the car slowed and Emerson's body began to dissolve, literally unravel into strands of gray smoke till it disappeared. Then the windshield and windows melted and ran, like water. The rest of the car turned to bluish-black smoke, and the seat Anthony was sitting on shriveled and dwindled until Anthony was
dumped, with jarring, painful suddenness, on the hard snowy surface of the road. Miss Eells landed near him, and with a
clunk
the tool bag fell nearby. Suddenly they were alone, stranded on an empty highway in the black night, with a howling storm coming on.

Anthony sat there stunned. But after a few moments, the biting wind and the awful fear of this lonely cold place jolted him into action. He scrambled to his feet and looked around wildly. Miss Eells was sitting in the middle of the road, her arms folded on her knees, shaking her head. Carefully, with his hands under her armpits, Anthony began to ease her to her feet.

"Is Em dead?" she moaned. "What happened? Oh, my poor brother!" Miss Eells began to cry, letting out big, gulping sobs.

"It's okay," said Anthony soothingly. "We're alive, and... I don't think that was Emerson. It must've been some kind of a trick or a phantom. We have to find someplace where we can get out of this storm." Gently
Anthony took Miss Eells by the arm. He pointed off toward the swaying, blurry evergreen trees in the snowy field beyond the road. "Let's go look, okay?"

Miss Eells shivered and did up the snaps on her winter jacket. She had stopped crying and even managed a wry little grin. "Who knows?" she said, shrugging. "Maybe we'll find a sleigh and some horses."

Anthony picked up the satchel, and together he and Miss Eells started off across the snow-covered field. The wind whistled, and a sudden fierce blast made them both stagger sideways. With his free hand Anthony pulled his red leather cap down over his ears as far as it would go, and struggled on. But he had only taken a few steps when Miss Eells stopped him.

"Anthony, this is madness!" she yelled. "There isn't anything over there but wilderness! We'd better walk on the road and hope that somebody comes."