The Awakening

The Awakening

 

As Michael Bevy strode across the lawn, the crunching of the dry leaves under his feet made an enormous sound. The wind was brisk and steady, heralding the coming of winter and biting his nose.  Michael didn’t notice though. He didn’t notice how immense the blueness of the sky was, or that the temperature had dropped since this morning; he did however turn up the collar on his suit jacket as he journeyed on across the campus of the University of Maine. Normally these things would have been engulfing him and forcing him to stop to write about them. But today was not a normal day; it was one of great urgency. The beauty of the autumn trees and the sky would have to wait for another time.

 

Michael carried a book in one hand. Not an ordinary book by any means, it was quite obviously very old with a faded cover and raised spine. The yellowed pages were brittle and he knew that it should not be exposed to the wind like this, so he tucked it under his coat and picked up his already brisk pace.

 

He thought about his senior year in High School when he told his parents that he wanted to study literature in college. His father just shook his head and laughed, that annoying over confident laugh that spoke volumes. “You don’t have the cojones to make it all the way through four years of college”; is what that laugh said.  

 

Of coarse Michael did make it through four years of college. Actually he made it all the way and earned his P.H.D. He always did exactly what his father thought that he couldn’t do, probably to prove him wrong. Every thought that he ever had about his father made him reel. Anger would well up in him and make his chest tight, his throat sore, and his fists clench. There were times when he wanted to pound those clenched fists on the man and just drive him down so that he could feel what it was like to be hammered on, to be damaged until you have a broken spirit, shattered and ruined. He never did though. As much as he wanted to, it was love and respect for his mother that stilled his hand. 

 

The truth was that the book belonged in a museum. This thought made him angry at his father all over again. Why had his dad kept this a secret? Why didn’t he at least protect the book from exposure? It had been found in the basement of his parent’s house. He and his sister were going through things, getting ready to sell. His parents had been killed the week before in a car accident.

 

Michael thought about the day of the accident. He was giving a lecture and Marcy; his TA came into the room to tell him that he had an urgent call. He should have gone then to the hospital, said goodbye, finished his business with his father, but he could not bring himself to face the man. His only nemesis was the very man that caused his birth. They had not spoken for more than twenty years. They lived in the same city and had not even said hello in all that time. He was still so very angry at his dad. He nearly laughed at himself for using that word even in thought. Dad, Yah right, he was not much of one.

 

Morgan Bevy was a cold and calculating man. Like the genius fiend in a good book. He never did anything without a very selfish and deviant reason. He cared little about things that were important to others, especially his own son.  It was just like him to have left something of this magnitude in the basement, shoved back in the corner behind mom’s raspberry preserves. It was as though he was reaching out from the grave to slap Michael just one more time.

 

He fairly ran up the steps of the grey stone building which housed the literature department and then swung open the door.  It’s true that Michael did not yet know what this book was, which of course surprised the greatly published author and professor of literature.  He didn’t recognize the publishing company and could not make out the copyright. Was it English, American? How old was it?  It was too faded. He thought he may better see it in his office under florescent light with a magnifier.

 

 The heated indoor air stung Michael’s cheeks as he made his way through the corridor. He turned right and waved half heartedly toward another professor, then redoubled his efforts to hurry. He did not wish to get caught up in a long and arduous conversation with anyone when there was such urgent work to do. Then he came to home base, his sanctuary. The sign on the door read “Professor M. Bevy-American/English Literature”. He inserted and turned the key gracefully as he had done it so many times before. Then he pushed the door open, stepped in side and locked it behind him. He flicked on the overhead light and crashed down in his chair. This is where everything made sense. In here, everything was right.

 

Clicking on the desk light, he pulled the book out of his coat. It was a faded orange color, tired, like an autumn leaf gasping for its last breath.  On the spine there was a publishing mark that seemed vaguely familiar but he was sure he had never seen it before. It was like two N’s put together. ₪. What publisher was this? There was no name, just the symbol.

 

The binding was cracked in several places, and it complained loudly when he opened it. The pages were quite brittle and yellow, the edges a bit ragged. Caution and training made him stop and reach for a pair of surgical gloves. Then he turned pages very slowly and deliberately. Holding his breath and looking for some clue, or some significant mark that would give a place to start.  

 

 There was no copy write; there was no table of contents. It must be a novel he thought, turning the page. It was hand written, a journal he thought, but it wasn’t his mother’s handwriting. It certainly wasn’t his father’s. It read “Chapter one-Michael”.  

 

“He came to me one stormy night, wide eyed and full of wonder, an empty vessel, expecting me to fill him.”  Michael wondered about the author. He turned the book over and then turned to the inside back cover. There was not a clue as to who wrote it.

    

He continued reading. “With fear and trembling, I took hold of him. Unsure of what the future held. Reigning, gently, but confidently over me, he grew.” Michael reached for the bottle of scotch that he kept in his desk drawer. Taking a glass from the shelf on the wall beside his desk, he poured the drink without turning his gaze from his reading.

 

“What if I fail him? What will I teach him? How can I be the kind of parent that this child needs and deserves? Never in my life have I seen anyone with so much innocence and vulnerability. What was I thinking bringing life into this world? It was irresponsible. I will make a terrible parent.”

 

 Whose journal was this? Could it have been left in the house by the previous owners? Michael’s parents had owned that house for forty years. It didn’t seem likely. It was about a baby named Michael, a very common name, but who?

 

Lost in thought, he jumped when the phone rang, breaking the spell. “Hello?” He chirped.

“Hello is this Michael Bevy?”

 

“Yes it is. How can I help you?” He said regaining his composure.

 

“Dr. Bevy, this is Rachel Wood the coroner. I am sorry about your parents.”

 

“Thank you. What can I do for you Dr. Wood?”

 

“I know this is a bad time, but I have a few questions about your father’s health.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I would rather do this in person. Could you possibly come down to my office?”

 

“Dr. Wood, I am very busy at this time, couldn’t we just do it over the phone?”

”Please call me Rachel. It’s just that, well, your father, ah, he had some abnormalities. I was wondering if you were aware of them and if you could explain them to me.”

 

Michael blinked a few times trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying, and then blurted “abnormalities?”

 

A very hesitant Dr. Wood said “yes sir” drawing out the yes. “He was, unusual.”

 

“Dr. Wood,” Michael was growing impatient. “I am well aware that my father was not an ordinary man, however I am not sure that his abnormalities are anything that you can see with the naked eye.”

 

“I understand your confusion. I am also quite confused.” She placed emphasis on the word quite. “That is why I thought that we should meet. I would like to show you what I mean.”

 

Now Michael’s inpatients turned to anger. “Dr. Wood, are you suggesting that I witness my father’s autopsy?” He didn’t try to veil his sarcasm.

 

Rachel Wood felt like a fool. “No Sir I am not. I am sorry that I bothered you. Never mind and once again, I am sorry for your loss. Good Bye”.

 

Michael hung up the phone. He poured another drink, trying to shake off the macabre woman’s air. He took a long pull of the scotch. The burning liquid felt good in his throat. After that he drank again and then returned to his reading.

 

It was late when he got home and into bed. He slept fitfully and woke up late for class. All day he could not shake the words of Rachel Woods. What was she trying to say? Abnormal could mean a lot of things. Maybe his heart was too small. He gave a little grin thinking about that. It certainly would explain why with the money that his father had, he made Michael pay for his own education. It also would help him to feel better about the way his father would dismiss him whenever he tried to really talk to him. Of course the emotional heart and the physical heart are completely different. Still, it would seem to fit. He had forgotten all about the book.

 

On his way home that night, he decided to stop at Lisa’s house. Since his conversation with Rachel Wood, he felt a creepy, freaky feeling trying to sweep over him. Creepy freaky was a term that he and his sister made up then they were kids. It helped to describe the icy fingers that were traveling up his spine. His sister wore normalcy like a second skin, and right now, he needed all the normalcy he could get. He looked forward to the noise and warmth that was Lisa’s home.

 

As he drove, thoughts about his father kept returning. He was taken back to a fishing trip they went on together once, just Michael and Dad. It was of coarse Mom’s idea. His father went on numerous trips that would last for several days. He claimed that he needed to relax and unwind from his high pressure, government job. Michael’s father was a mathematician who worked in one of those government think tanks you hear about in tabloids. Now here they were on the shore. Michael asked his father to help him thread his bobber. Even at the age of ten, Michael somehow knew that an experienced fisherman would be more adept than what he witnessed in his father that day. “That’s strange” he thought as he drove. There was that creepy, freaky feeling again. He turned the radio up loud and sang a Beetle’s tune as he turned the car toward Lisa’s house.

 

₪₪₪

 

 As Michael got out of the car, he could smell barbeque. Maybe Bob is conjuring up some of his famous ribs. He knocked on the door and with out waiting for an answer walked in. He and Lisa had done this to each other since they were kids. Of coarse siblings don’t need to be invited, but twins all the more. 

“Hey, I thought I might see you tonight.” She said as he kissed her on the forehead.

 

“Is that Bob’s famous ribs I smell?”

 

“Yah, he thought that you could use a little distraction.”

 

“Thanks, it is harder than it seems until you go through it isn’t it?”

 

 “I keep thinking that I should call Mom because I haven’t spoken to her lately. Then I remember that she is gone. That makes the pain start all over again.”

 

He gave his sister a squeeze. “We’ll help each other through it.” They both were comforted by the special closeness that they shared being twins. Lisa was smallish in stature, but strong in arm and will. She took her strength from her trials, so it went that everything she did made her stronger and more self-assured. Michael had great respect and admiration for his sister, and it was times like this that he basked in her glow. When the moment had ended Michael gave her a smile and a wink, and then headed out to see Bob.

 

“Hey Uncle Mike,” came the chorus from Lisa’s twin boys. “Come play football with us. Jason’s kicking my but.” yelled Justin.

 

“Maybe in minute boys” he yelled.

 

“Hey Michael grab a beer.” Bob said smiling. Michael went into the open garage where Bob kept a refrigerator and took out a Budweiser. Back out on the patio Bob was grilling ribs, the sun was starting to go down and the air had a slight nip in it.

 

“Lisa’s been taking it pretty hard.” Concern wrinkled Bob’s brow. “I want to help her, but I don’t know what to say. I’m glad that you are here. How are you doing with everything?”

 

Michael didn’t know what to say. The truth is anger at his father blocked the pain he would have for the loss of his Mother. He felt incredibly guilty over that, and didn’t really want to share. “One day at time I guess.” He wondered if Bob bought that. Not waiting to find out, he took a hit off the beer, set it down and ran off to play with the boys.

 

After dinner, Bob and Michael sat reclining in the living room. Lisa had sent the boys to the shower and she was in the kitchen. “How’s work going?” Michael asked Bob that question to avoid talking about his parents. Dinner at Lisa and Bob’s had been the medicine that he had hoped it would be. He was thinking that he should spend the night.

 

“Ah, same old same old, law is so boring.” Bob quipped.

 

Michael laughed. “You probably should have considered that before you became a lawyer then!”

 

Lisa came in with coffee on a tray and set it down on the table. Bob leaned forward to take a cup, smiled, and kissed his wife on the cheek. She handed another cup to Michael, took one for herself and settled in the arm chair across from them. “Dinner was delicious you guys. Thanks, it was just what I needed.” Michael quipped.

 

“You want to sleep over?” Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“Yah, I do. This is really good coffee.”

 

“Michael, I am sorry to do this to you, but I found something at Mom and Dad’s that I think you should see.” She picked up a stack of photos from the end table and passed them over to him.

 

Suddenly, the creepy freakiness came back. Cautiously he took the stack. His gaze naturally dropped to his hand and at first he thought that he was seeing wrong. He blinked and looked again. He was his father standing in front of a tall building with his arm around another man. It was the other man that confused Michael. It was his father. “Dad had a twin?” He asked.

 

“It gets freakier. Keep going” she said.

 

He moved the picture from the top to the bottom of the stack and looked at the next one. It was the same view of the two men but from farther back. Now he could see the building only it wasn’t a building at all. It was more like a rocket ship. Creepy freaky was running up his spine. “What is this?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know Michael. Every time I look at them, I get freaked out. Dad never mentioned a brother let alone a twin. And where could those have been taken, the world’s fair?”

 

Michael was skipping through the numerous photos now. In one, his father was wearing a gas mask, in another he was seated in what looked like a cockpit, looking over his shoulder at the camera. Something else was weird too. The paper the pictures were printed on was strange. It felt like it was thick but it was very thin. It also seemed to glow slightly. “I don’t know. Is this all?”

 

“It is for now.  I still have a lot of work to do there.” Lisa sighed.

 

“I’ll go with you on Saturday if you want.” Michael retorted.

 

She reached over and tousled his hair. “Thanks little brother.” She liked to tease him because she was 12 minutes older.

 

Later that night when everyone was a sleep, Michael could not seem to settle down and get rid of the creepy freaky feeling. He kept thinking about that journal that he found. He had forgotten it until now. He wondered if there was a connection to this new level of strange. He got off the couch and plodded into the kitchen for a drink of water. He was leaning against the sink with the glass in hand, wondering it he should tell Lisa and Bob about the journal when Lisa came into the room. “You can’t sleep either huh?” She asked.

 

“I just can’t get past the whole Alfred Hitchcock of it all.” He said. Lisa smiled the way she does when something is funny but at the wrong time. It was an adorable smile and it made him love her more. “I haven’t told you what I found.”

 

She looked up a little startled as she took a bottle of juice out of the fridge. “What?”

 

“I found a book, when we were in the basement. It’s a journal but it’s not Dad’s writing or Mom’s. It’s rather strange, and there is more. I got a phone call from the coroner’s office. This woman said that Dad had some kind of anomalies inside. I couldn’t handle it at the time so I kind of dismissed her. Lisa, I am sorry that I did not tell you about it at the time, but I didn’t think it all meant anything until tonight.”

 

“That’s alright. What do you think it means now?”

 

“That we are caught in the twilight zone.” He regretted saying that.

 

“What does the journal say?” She asked.

 

“Well, I only read part of it. I wish I had it here with me. I would like to read some more now. Maybe we can get some insight.”

“Where is it?”

 

“In my office at school,” they looked at each other as a slow but deliberate grin surfaced on both faces.

 

“I’ll leave a note for Bob.” Her words trailed off as she ran from the room.

 

“I’ll get the car.” He said to no one as he ran out the door.

 

The night air was crisp and the stars were on display in full glory. Michael headed for the car. As he walked around the front of his pearl white Saab, he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Turning in the direction of the flash, he saw a streak of cold blue and then it was gone. He didn’t know for sure what he saw, may be it was a falling star. He got in and started the car to wait for Lisa.

 

At school, they located the journal and sat together at Michael’s desk to begin reading. The first chapter was about Michael as he already knew. The next was pretty much the same but it was about Lisa. After that, it got too weird. It was in some kind of pictogram. “What language is that?” Lisa asked.

 

“Its nothing I have seen before. Look how complex it is. It doesn’t seem to repeat anywhere. It is as if there is a character for every thought.”

 

“Wait what is that?” Lisa spotted a folded piece of loose paper as Michael was thumbing through. He stopped and went back. This time, the paper fell out. Lisa picked it up and opened it. It was the same kind of paper that the pictures were printed on. It kind of glowed with a pale blue tinge. There was a row of characters and under them it said “To the point of no return”.

 “Look at the handwriting.” Michael said.

 

“It’s Dads” Lisa fairly whispered.

 

They compared the characters on the blue paper to some of the ones in the book. After much searching, they found a few that were the same. “Not enough to translate”, quipped Michael. “I will give it to Dr. Reynolds; he is an expert in language.”

 

 The next day, when he got to school, Michael had a very frantic voice message from Dr. Wood. “Dr. Bevy, I truly don’t know how this could have happened. We take every precaution. This has never happened before. I am so sorry. Please call.” Michael wondered what that was about. Before he could pick up the phone, it rang.

 

“Hello, Michael Bevy here.”

 

“Michael” it was Lisa. “Did you talk to Rachel Wood today?”

 

“No I was about to call her, why?”

 

“Ok, I’ll just say it. Michael they lost Dad’s body!”

 

“What?” He could not believe his ears.

 

“I called down there to see if they had received the clothes that I sent for the funeral, and when the technician opened the drawer to see what the bodies were wearing, Dad was missing.”

 

“Mom?”

 

“She’s there, untouched.”

 

There was a weird buzzing in his ears. “I can’t believe this” he heard himself say. Suddenly, he felt like he was in a tunnel. “How do you lose a body?”

 

“I don’t understand it either. Dr. Wood said that there was no sign of tampering, it’s as if he just got up and walked out!”

 

“This can’t be happening. What are they going to do about it?”

 

“Michael I don’t think there is anything that they can do. If something happens, we’ll get a call.”

 

“Ok I guess. I just don’t know what to say. Lisa this is seriously creepy freaky.”

 

“Creepy freaky is right” she confirmed. They hung up.

 

“The rest of that day, Michael walked around in a daze. He went through the motions of life, but life was not in him. He felt it drain out when his sister told him that his father’s body had disappeared. “Its just way too high on the macabre meter” he thought on his way home. He went over the highlights of the last few days in his mind. He thought about the book and the pictures, and the strange writing. As he mulled these things over, he pulled into his driveway and there was a dark blue Lexus waiting.

 

He did not recognize the car. When he got out, she got out. She had the kind of looks that caused distraction. Her honey blonde hair with big curls seemed to be everywhere at the same time. Her shapely legs started at the ground and stopped only when they reached the sky. She wore a slate grey business suit and pumps, and finished her ensemble with stylish black rain coat, left open and flapping behind her. She showed confidence bordering on arrogance and strode with purpose toward him. Her blue eyes seem to suck his breath from his lungs. He had not been over powered by a woman like this since third grade, Miss Walker’s class. He smiled inwardly and thought, “ok little boy it’s just a girl, don’t get your knickers in a knot.”

 

“Mr. Bevy, I am Julia Harris.” She fairly sang as she held out her hand to shake his. He did not wish to show his enthusiasm toward touching her, so he paused for a second, and then took her hand in his. At the moment of touch, a tingling sensation began in his finger tips and ran up his arm. It grew in magnitude until it reached crescendo in his spine. He suppressed the urge to shiver. 

 

“Ms. Harris, what can I do for you?” He asked, noticing that her ring finger was naked.

 

“I just need to ask you a few questions about your father.”

 

Michael quickly made a mental note that she didn’t say both parents. Had the press found out about Dad being missing? “I’m sorry, I have no comments.” He turned to go into the house not hiding his disappointment that she turned out to be reporter.

 

“I am not a reporter.” She said as she stepped in front of him to block his way. “This involves national security. It won’t take long, I promise. May we go in side?” She stated it like a question but Michael was sure that it was a command.

 

Once in the house, she produced a card folder with a badge and a picture ID that said simply A.S. Michael almost laughed. “Oh yes, the prestigious department of A.S., I know it well.” He indicated that she should sit on the couch.

 

Sitting down on the recliner, she said “believe me, Mr. Bevy; we are higher than you can know.” She produced a snapshot from her brief case and handed it to Michael. “Do you know this man?”

 

He took the picture from her and sat on the couch. For a moment, he studied the picture. It was a distinguished looking man in probably his late 50’s with dark hair going grey. He was Caucasian with strong brown eyes. He was holding a book in one hand. A quick glance told Michael that it was the journal that he found. He recognized it by the publishers mark on the binding. ₪

 

He handed the picture back and true fully said “No I don’t. Who is he?”

 

“Did your father ever talk about a program called Cascade?” She asked, ignoring his question.

 

“No. He was not aloud to discuss his work.” That was true. Morgan Bevy was an expert at keeping secrets. “Does this have anything to do with my fathers’ missing body?”

 

“What? Say that again.”

 

“The morgue called this morning to say that my father is just gone. There is no evidence and they don’t have a lead.” Michael could see fear in her eyes. This bewildered him, a government agent afraid because the dead body of a retired scientist is missing, creepy freaky.

 

At that, Julia Harris swept herself from the chair in one effortless, gliding movement. His lungs were sucked out again. “Here is my card Mr. Bevy. Call me if you have anything to add.”

 

Michael was thinking “what can be added to nothing?” He noticed that she was out the door. He looked out the window in time to see her get in her car and drive off.

 

Saturday came and Michael and Lisa worked on their parents’ house boxing up all kinds of memorabilia from their childhood. Michael had been in the house only a few times since he and dad quit speaking so it was quite surreal to see things that he had not in 20 years. His guilt at not going to see his parents after the accident had begun to eat him up. He now felt guilty for not making peace with his father many years ago. His mother nearly begged him every time there was a family get-together.

 

He was picking up a box from his old bedroom to carry down to the car, when Justin walked in. “Uncle Mike, Mom wants you and I to help her with the piano. She wants us to move it so that she can clean the floor.”

 

Michael said, “Ok Justin, tell her that I’ll be right there.”

 

As he turned to go, Justin asked, “Uncle Mike, why didn’t you and Grandpa get along?”

 

“I don’t know Justin, I just don’t know.” After his nephew left the room, Michael took a last look around. The room was the same as it had always been. Then suddenly he remembered something. It was in a lose floor board. He went quickly to the spot and lifted the board. It was stiff, but he managed to get it up. Inside was a tin box. Michael took the box and set it on the bed. He started to open the box.

 

“Michael hurry up, I want to get finished.” Lisa yelled from downstairs.  He put the tin inside the cardboard box and carried the whole thing down stairs.

 

 

₪₪₪

 

 

It was raining steadily. The air was cold, a perfect day for a funeral. The family had decided to bury Mom without Dad. They could always join them in their double plot later, if they find him.

 

The scene was somber. Mom’s casket was sleek and clean. The rain beaded up on it. Two dozen people stood around. All dressed in black and carrying black umbrellas. Lisa cried softly as Bob tried to comfort her. Michael stood there numb and cold. He could not think about anything, except how helpless this whole thing made him. As the minister talked about faith and hope, Michael searched his own mind for a little hope.

 

He kept thinking that there must be something that he could do about the situation. Sure, nothing would bring his parents back. There was nothing he could do about the unfinished business with his dad, but maybe he could find some answers to the other things that were plaguing the family. Like where is his father’s body, who took it, and why? What was the journal all about, and the pictures and of course what about the intense and alluring Julia Harris?

 

He was lost in thought about all these things when he heard someone say “Amen.” He looked into the eyes of a woman who was kissing him on the cheek and mumbling something about loss and grief. After her came another and another, all the people of his mother’s life, promising help and expressing grief. Was it supposed to make him feel better to know that others were hurting also? 

 

At last Lisa took his arm, Bob was on her other side and the boys were behind them. They proceeded away from the open and gaping wound in the earth that was to be their mother’s final resting place. He felt like his chest was on fire.

 

They went back to Lisa and Bob’s. Many of mom’s friends were there “Helping”. Michael just wanted to have a lot to drink and then go to bed. Later on he did just that. When everyone left, Bob put the boys to bed while Michael sat holding Lisa on the couch.

 

“I can’t believe it. I keep thinking it’s all a big mistake” Lisa was looking into Michael’s eyes searching for some kind of answer, but she found none. He did not know what to say. She looked a wreck. Michael wondered if he looked as bad. He just held his sister in his arms and listened as she sobbed quietly. Finally Bob came to take her to bed. Michael poured a long scotch and settled in to sleep on the couch again. It was late when the darkness took him.

 

In his dreams, there was a voice talking to him. He did not recognize the voice but it seemed like it was beckoning him. At first Michael could not fully make out what it was saying. Everything was foggy, the sound of the voice as well as the air.  He was walking through a meadow of some kind and as he went deeper into the meadow, the voice seemed clearer. It was saying:

 

“Where did this darkness come from? It keeps us in line, and pulls us along a rocky and tremulous trail. It is so dark that we cannot see that it is dark. With spidery fingers it engulfs us and leads us about, into the caverns of our hearts, keeping us away from any hope, any light that could still the pounding, tearing of flesh from bone and bone from marrow. We know nothing of what is happening until it is finished and we lay like the tattered and beaten ribbons of an old shoe string.”

 

Michael knew what the voice meant. It was talking about loss, about death. Then it continued: “Into the abyss I was thrown, wrenched from this world and discarded. All that I worked so hard for….” Then the voice seamed to change. As if someone else was now doing the talking. Gradually it sounded like his father …“all that I wanted taken in a second, taken because of a vow.”

He was startled awake. Sweat was beading up on his forehead and his throat burned. He got up to get a glass of water, and thought he heard something. Then he heard it again. It sounded like the humming of electricity. It was rather loud. He followed the sound and headed out the kitchen door. Just as he was opening the door, there was a flash of blue coming from the back yard. He raced out there but whatever it was, it was gone. This time Michael knew it was not a falling star.

 

Apparently this was the straw that broke the camels back because Michael Bevy was done. He knew that he could not take anymore. Over come with emotions that he didn’t fully understand, he sat down on the patio and cried. He cried for his Mother, he cried for his broken relationship with his father, and for a myriad of other things he wasn’t even sure about. How much time passed while he cried, Michael wasn’t sure, but he eventually had to stop because it was too cold to stay on the patio, and so he went inside.

 

He got his water and lay back down on the sofa. He started thinking about all that had happened and what he could do about it. Up until now, he felt helpless to do anything, but that was about to change. He knew that he could no longer be the victim in his own nightmare. It was time to change the story line. He remembered the tin box. It was still in his car. This time he put his jacket on before he went outside.

 

He got the tin that was in a box of stuff from his old room and went back in the house. The house was dark and quiet with everyone asleep. He glanced at the clock. It was 6:43 am. It would be light soon. He sat down at the kitchen table with the tin. It was an ordinary Heresy’s hot chocolate tin that his mother had given him to play with when he was quite young. He may have been 5 or 6. He could not remember. Nor could he remember what he had placed inside. It must have been important to have been kept in such a secret place as underneath the floorboards.

 

Michael had a strange feeling as though whatever was in the box was somehow related to all these other things, but he didn’t know how. It wasn’t rational, but it was what it was. So, after taking a deep breath and squaring is shoulders, Michael opened the box.

 

Inside was a black satin pillow and on the pillow lay a stone, jade green in appearance. The like of which Michael had never seen before. It was egg shaped and symmetrical. It had tiny gold veins running through it and it was spectacular in appearance. It was heavy and when he touched it to pick it up, it hummed, the same noise that he heard earlier in the back yard, but not as loud.

 

A calm feeling came over him and he soon felt almost normal again. It was the humming of the stone, it was quite soothing, like when he was little and his mother would scratch his back very lightly and gently. As soon as he would set it down, the stone would lay quiet and still. He eventually put it in its box and got up to make coffee.

 

Later, Lisa came down stairs to find Michael and the boys chowing down on fruit loops and laughing, joking and general playing. “Good Morning sleepy head” Michael heard himself say. “Did you sleep well?” She groaned and headed for the coffee pot. The tin sat on the table in front of Michael.

 

“What is that?” Lisa questioned as she sat down with her coffee. He gave her the look that every adult knows as meaning, “I’ll tell you when the kids are gone.”

 

So when the boys were finished with their cereal, they went upstairs to get ready for school. Michael gave the tin to Lisa. When she opened it, she let out a little gasp and then said, “I remember this. You kept it hidden under a floorboard in your room.”

 

“Pick it up’ Michael said. Bob walked in just in time to see Lisa pick up the stone and it started to hum the way it did the night before.

 

“Wow that is way cool.” Bob breathed. “Can I see?”

 

“Sure.” Lisa handed it to him and immediately it stopped and lay quietly in Bob’s hand.

 

“I don’t think that it likes me.” Bob said a little disappointed. He handed it to Michael and it started humming again. “That is so strange.” He said.

 

Soon it was time for everyone to go to work, so they had to stop playing with the stone. Michael put it in the tin and took it to work with him. He was exhausted from not sleeping that night, but somehow he felt better than he had in two weeks. He was anxious to see what Dr. Reynolds had to say about the book that Michael had given him. When he arrived at work, Dr. Reynolds was waiting for him in his office. “

 

“Hey Mick, what’s the word?”

 

“Michael,” Mick said shaking his head. “I don’t know where to begin. You know how you always hear people say that English is hard to learn?”

 

“Yah, that’s common knowledge.”

”Right, well, that is because of syntax. It helps to govern the rules of grammar and the way that a sentence is structured. More rules mean more complexity. This language has a lot of rules” he ended on a note of intensity.

 

“So where you able to crack it?”

 

“Well that depends in part on the semantics of the language. Is everything literal or figurative or both.” English is both. I don’t know, Michael it is a very complex language and could take a life time to fully appreciate.”

 

Disappointed, Michael said “Thanks Mick, I appreciate your effort.”

 

“Wait a minute buddy. I didn’t say that I was totally unable to decode anything.” Mick grinned.

 

“What, what did you find?” Now Michael was encouraged.

 

“Let me show you. First you have to know that there are no words as we know them, which makes the morphology next to impossible. But then, I noticed a pattern in the slant of the symbols.” Mick was getting excited and his voice was starting to rise. “I think that past, present, and future tense is governed by the slant used at the time, see look at this section.” He pointed to a group of symbols that seemed to lean toward the right. “Now look at this.” Then he indicated another group that seemed to lean to the left. “Sometimes they are straight up.” Mick was impressed with himself.

 

“Wow, that’s incredible.” Michael said. “What else is there?”

“Yah check this out. When you look at it in fluorescent light it looks normal right?” Mick was clearly having the time of his life.

 

“As normal as any other never before discovered hieroglyphics.” Michael teased.

 

“Ok, but put it in the sun,” He walked over to the window and let the light fall on the page. “Now look.” Michael had followed Mick. He looked at the page and noticed that the characters were in color. Red, Green and blue were present. “Notice that the green is dominate. I think that the red and blue denote the subject of discussion. Of course that is still a guess at this point.” Mick said, again feeling pleased with himself.

 

“That is so cool!” Michael exclaimed.

 

“Yah it is. I’m still working on it. I’ve got a class, I’ll let you know when there’s more.”

 

“Thanks Mick and remember,”

 

“I know, I know. We keep it to ourselves. I do understand.” With a wink, and a smile, Mick walked out.

 

₪₪₪

 

 

At lunch Michael called Rachel Wood. He wanted to find out if there was anything that she had left out when she called Lisa. There was not. There simply was no explanation for their father’s disappearance. He asked her if they dusted for finger prints, she said that the police had done that and that there were none. The security tape showed no one entering or exiting the building that night.

 

Michael was at a dead end. After work, he decided not to go Lisa’s house but to give them a break. Instead, he went to the library to see if he could find out anything about the stone. Again he hit a brick wall. After several hours pouring over archeological books, he gave up. He grabbed some Chinese food on the way home. When he got there, Michael opened his tin and took out the stone. It hummed gently when he held it and lay quietly when he didn’t. Finally, he decided that he needed to grade some papers in order to distract himself. After all he had been getting behind on his work ever since his parents died. Some time later, he fell asleep, sitting side ways on the couch with papers in his lap.

 

In his dream the air was misty, the light dim. He was clouded in fog and the grass was wet under his bare feet. There was that voice again. It said “forget about him, he hated his job and regretted his vow.”

 

“Who, what vow?” Michael asked the voice.

 

“He didn’t want to be a father. He wasn’t happy here and wanted to leave, to explore.”

 

“Who are you? What do you want?”

 

“I had to make him promise. I had to keep you and Lisa safe. Don’t you see? I could not be there. On Earth, you cannot always control what happens. Don’t hate him. He can’t help being who he is.” The voice was growing fainter. When Michael woke, he did not feel like he had been dreaming, he felt like he had actually been there. He got up from the couch and went to bed never noticing that his clothes were damp and his feet wet. There was a flash of blue in the back yard.

 

 The next morning, he called Lisa and asked her to meet him for lunch. He was going to fill her in about the information that Dr. Reynolds had given him. He also wanted to tell her about the A.S. agent who brought even more mystery to the table. Michael had Googled the initials A.S. and found nothing that could be a government agency. He tried to think of what they stood for but everything that he tried came up negative. He also Googled Cascade, but that too yielded negative results.

 

At the lunch, he and Lisa decided to talk to Ms. Harris and if that went well and they had a good feeling about it, they would give her the book. Michael had gotten it from Dr. Reynolds earlier that day. So, he called Ms. Harris and arranged to meet at his house that evening. He had a knot in his stomach as he hung up the phone.

 

By the time the A.S. agent arrived, Michael had come clean to Lisa about his nearly uncontainable reaction to Julia Harris. He was worried that his hormones would get the best of him and he would not be able to be objective. Lisa as always the perfect sister reassured him that she had his back.

 

“Ms Harris, thank you for coming. We just want to ask you a few questions.” Lisa said as she held the door open, inviting the striking Ms. Julia Harris into her brothers home. One thing was clear to Lisa, Michael did have great taste.

 

“Mrs. Stark the truth is that I am not here to answer questions I am here to ask them.” The A.S. agent affirmed as she took off her coat and handed it to Lisa, who now decided that she wasn’t good enough for her brother. Smiling sarcastically, Lisa led the way into the living room and the waiting and terrified Michael.

 

Foregoing pleasantries, “first of all, has there been any word from your father?” Ms. Harris asked.

 

“The coroner’s office has not called us” Michael said, noting mentally that she asked if there had been a word from their father not about their father. He threw a side glance at Lisa, Creepy Freaky. They all sat down. Michael was painfully aware of Ms. Harris’ plunging neck line. He tried not to show it as he stood back up and offered her coffee.

 

“No thank you, I’m fine.” She said very sweetly and totally out of character. Their eyes met for only the briefest of moments, but it was like the fourth of July in his head with color explosions and chills running up and down his spine. He sat back down, feeling a little light headed.

 

This was Lisa’s queue and she did not miss it. She said “we are curious as to why the A.S. department is investigating our father”.

 

Now it was Julia Harris’ turn to be distracted. She really only heard half of what Lisa said because she was awash in the ruggedness of Michael’s cologne. She was thinking that men that attractive should not be allowed to smell so good. She tore herself away from staring at Michael and looked Lisa in the eyes.

 

Lisa was aware that she had caught the other woman off guard and jumped on what may be her only chance to get some real information. “What exactly was Daddy working on for the government?” “Do you think that our parent’s deaths were accidental?”

 

“He was part of a special commission on alien activity.” She said absent mindedly. “I am certain that your father’s body was not taken by pranksters.” As she was saying it, Julia knew that she had said too much.  

 

Lisa laughed, she could not help herself. “Aliens, Really?” “Well that explains it then. Dad always was strange; he must have been an alien!”

 

Michael said nothing. Now Ms. Harris was herself again and in control.   “Laugh if you must Mrs. Stark but your laughter will not change the facts.” She looked at Michael who just sat there starring. “Mr. Bevy, did you ask me here for a reason? Do you have something to share with me?”

 

Still in his fog, he said “Yes we do.” He got up and walked over to a sofa table across the room. He pulled open the drawer and took out the journal handing it to Julia 

 

She started to leaf through it as though she had seen it before. “Is this it?”

 

Lisa’s eyes narrowed as she said “What is that?”

 

“I believe it is a journal Mrs. Stark” Julia was definitely back to being herself.

 

“Really Sherlock? Who’s?” Lisa was not as gullible as Michael. There was no way that she was going to submit to this women’s ego.

 

“First it was your father’s and then it was your uncle’s” Julia Harris said with some finality. Then she rose and said “Thank you Michael this is a big help.” Suddenly she realized that she had called him by his first name. Turning to go, she accidentally brushed against Michael’s arm which sent vibrating quivers through her entire frame. The look on Michael’s face would indicate that he felt it too. Lisa also was aware, as she rolled her eyes and pushed in between them and on through to the door. She opened the door in order to show Ms. Harris it was time to leave.

 

Michel and Julia were locked eye to eye. “Call me if there is anything more” Julia said dreamily.

“I will.” Michael replied.

 

“We will.” Lisa clarified. “Good night Ms. Harris”. And she closed the door.

 

In the living room, Lisa was watching Michael as he gazed off into space. Waving her hand in front of him, she said “Hello, earth to Michael”. There was no reaction. “Michael, wake up, she gone. We need to talk.” Finally he heard her. Their eyes met and at last she felt that he was back in the room with her.  

 

“I’m sorry” he said. “What did you say?”

 

She gave him her big toothy grin that he loved so much, then said “Little brothers got it bad for the secret government agent, how chic.”

 

Michael burst out with denials “That’s not it at all. I was thinking about what she said that’s all.”

 

“Yah and I am princess Leia.” She said with a note of sarcasm.

 

“Look, I don’t have the time for that sort of thing right now anyway. Ever since the accident, I have gotten seriously behind at work and now with all this cloak and dagger alien stuff, even if I did like her, which I don’t, I can’t think about that right now.”

 

“Uh huh, denial is stage one.”

 

“Shut up” He said with the teensiest of smiles.

 

“Ok but only because I want to talk to you. Did you notice what she said about the journal?”

 

“That it was written by Dad and our uncle?”

 

“Yah but more than that. She said that it was first Dad’s then his brothers’.”

 

“Well that has to be a mistake. You saw it. The hand writing in the beginning was not Dad’s but his was at the end.”

 

 “I know but Julia Harris doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who makes mistakes in speech. And another thing, what’s up with her asking us if we had heard from Dad?”

 

“Yah that was a little creepy freaky” he admitted.

 

“Creepy freaky” she confirmed.

 

The next day Michael thought about nothing but Julia Harris.

 

₪₪₪

 

That night he sat on his patio grading papers and watching the stars. His new found affection for the mysterious government agent left him feeling a bit dreamy.

 

While he was reading one students essay extolling the virtues of toe jam, he suddenly was eclipsed by a blindingly bright blue light. There was no source that he could discern. The light was just everywhere all at once. Then Michael heard the same voice that he had heard in his dream. “Michael it is alright. He’s ok. Listen to me carefully. There is not much time.” it said. This voice sounded as though it were coming through a tunnel.

 

“Who are you?” Michael asked. He was a little scared. Creepy freaky.

 

“I was known on your planet as Morgan Bevy.”

 

“No you’re not my father, your voice is different.” Am I dreaming he wondered to himself?

 

“Michael I am your father. Your real father.” The voice suddenly became solid as a figure appeared before him. Michael recognized his father, but as he was when he was younger, strong and virile. Not the age he was when he died.

 

“You are different.” Michael’s voice squeaked a little, so he cleared it. “I don’t understand” he said, clearer this time.

 

“Michael, I am the one who wrote first in the journal. I am also the one who fathered you and your sister. The man that raised you was your uncle. His name, his real name is Bessit. Mine is Partru. ”Michael rubbed his eyes. “We came here before you were born. We are explorers. Our mission is to study your planet, your culture and way of life.”

 

“Wait. What?” A confused and dazed Michael asked.

 

“I know that this is a lot to absorb but you have to trust me. There isn’t much time. I fell in love with your mother. I am very passionate, so are you. You get that from me. Your mother never knew where I came from.

 

“And where exactly is that?” Michael interrupted.

 

“A planet 1100 light years away called Falone. When you were almost two, I died in an accident. As I lay dying, I begged my brother to take my place. I loved your mother so much that I could not leave her. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to travel the galaxy, but he finally consented. He is strong in integrity and is faithful to his promises.”

 

“That is where you come in. You and Lisa are very special. You two are highbreds between humans and Falones. In some ways, wonderful ways we are very different. In many ways we are the same.”

 

“Wait.” Michael said holding up his hand. “What do you mean you died?”

 

“I was in the lab. I was not part of a government think tank in the way that you know, but it was more of a way to watch the governments of Earth so that they didn’t find out about us until we were ready to reveal ourselves. 

 

“Well if you died, are you a ghost?”

 

“That is the major way that Falones differ from Earthers. We don’t really die. It’s just that my ability to change my appearance was failing. I dematerialized and went back to base. I recovered there but it took a long time. We go into a kind of hibernation; you might call it a coma. I didn’t recover until recently. Your uncle is in recovery now. That is why his body disappeared.”

 

“This is all too much. Lisa and I are half alien and our uncle raised us pretending to be our father who was in a coma? Why didn’t you go to Lisa with all of this?”

“Lisa is very well adapted to life on earth. Her DNA is more from your Mother while you have more of mine. I believe that you will in time be able to do some of the things that I can do. Things like dematerializing and changing appearance.”

 

“What do you really look like?”

 

“You are about to see because I cannot hold this shape for much longer. I am still a little weak. Michael, I love you very much and hope that you can come to terms with all of this.” Partru began to radiate a light from his whole body and his features began to morph. He started to levitate.

 

Sensing that his father was leaving, Michael yelled “Wait a minute. Will you come back? I have a lot of questions.”

 

“Yes Michael, I will be back. In time, all your questions will be answered.” He had changed into pure blue light and shot with great speed away into the night. Partru was gone.

 

₪₪₪

 

The next day as Michael Bevy strode across the lawn, the crunching of the dry leaves under his feet made an enormous sound. The wind was brisk and steady, heralding the coming of winter and biting his nose…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                            

Author's Note

I can take it. Be honest-Thanks

Reviews

[Wildecat]

I really liked this story, grew up watching, outer limits and other Sci fi shows, this is some very good writing had me on the edge of my seat. Well done.