314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (14 page)

“Our energy?”

“Our souls,” said Vess. “Some people call them souls, others say spirits, but scientists refer to it as energy. Believe me, most scientists would love nothing more than to disregard spirits as nothing but unsubstantiated nonsense. But they can’t. In 1901, a man named MacDougall proved that the human body loses 21 grams upon the moment of their death.”

Vess gazed at Lyle with wild, excited eyes, but Lyle shook his head and said, “I’m not following. What’s that prove?”

“That’s the weight of our soul, of our energy, leaving and moving on once we die, but they’ve never been able to figure out what the weight change is caused by, or where that energy goes.” Vess tapped his index finger to his temple and said, “But I know, and so did Tesla.”

“Where’s it go then?”

“To the next page,” said Vess in satisfaction.

“Next page of what?” asked Lyle.

“Of our stack of paper,” said Vess, frustrated that Lyle wasn’t following along with the metaphor. “It moves beyond our existence and into another dimension. That’s what we’re here for. We’re going to prove the existence of another dimension beyond our own. But what Tesla understood was that if this were true, and that energy was being passed between the dimensions, then these dimensions have to be inexorably linked. The energy that escapes from our dead bodies must somehow be able to pass into the other dimension, and eventually make it back here again. A sort of spiritual resurrection, or reincarnation, if you will. Otherwise, the energy around us would eventually be sapped away, slowly but surely, every time someone passed. That was the inspiration for this machine. This,” he slapped his palm on the CORD again, “is the doorway in and out of this other dimension. This machine uses electromagnetic radiation to affect gravity, and brings our dimension, or our page, closer to the next, making the leap through easier to achieve.”

“So why’s the military involved? And how’s this going to help us stop war?”

“Remember that I told you how the FBI seized Tesla’s work?”

“Yes.”

“They did it because they’re desperate to prove to the world that the United States is the ultimate power on Earth. That’s the only reason we’re at war, Lyle, because if we let the Russians save Europe from Hitler, then it’ll only be a matter of time before Communism sweeps through all the continents and puts an end to our beloved capitalism.” Vess couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice when he mentioned ‘beloved’ capitalism.

“How would this help end the war? Is it a weapon?” asked Lyle.

“No, not exactly,” said Vess. “But if we can knock on the door to heaven, it might be God that answers.”

“So you’re saying this thing’s supposed to help us talk to God?” Lyle couldn’t quite believe what he was being told.

Vess cringed at the question and said, “More than likely not the God you’ve been raised to believe in, that’s for sure, but a God none-the-less. It’s my theory that a large percentage of the religions on Earth are inspired by whatever lies beyond that door.” He pointed at the door that led inside of the CORD.

Vess paused, and Lyle scowled as he looked at the
CORD, trying to figure out how he felt about what Vess had said. “I’m not too religious, Vess.” Lyle’s God-fearing mother, and her insistence that Lyle’s abilities were a gift of the devil, had guaranteed her son would stray from the flock.

“Neither am I.”

“But you said…”

“God is just a word we use to explain something about our world that we haven’t figured out yet.”

“Then, why are you saying you want to use this thing to talk to God? You’re not making a lick of sense.”

“Because I’m confident that this machine can connect us with a layer of existence that we’ve only hypothesized exists. And if we’re right, then there are entities in this other dimension that are playing a role in the very fabric of our own existence. Our theory is that people like you, people with extrasensory perception, are tapping into the knowledge of this other dimension. In other words, you’re closer to the door than the rest of us. That’s why we need someone like you to be the first to step through, because you’re already halfway there.”

“And you think there’s going to be something there? Something alive?”

“All we have are theories,” said Vess. “It’s reasonable to think that, if we can live here, then something else can live there.” Vess pointed at the box.

“And how can doing this help with the war?” asked Lyle.

Vess looked saddened and apprehensive, but explained. “There are things going on in this country that I’m loathe to admit, Lyle.”

“Like what things?”

Vess looked as stern and serious as Lyle had ever seen him. “Like the development of the strongest weapon mankind has
ever dreamed of. You heard the major talking about what Oppenheimer is doing in New Mexico, right?”

“Some of it,” said Lyle. “Why? What’s he got going on out there?”

“A man by the name of Jean Joliet-Curie discovered something six years ago that could destroy the planet. And I’m hoping to keep that from happening.”

“What did he discover?” asked Lyle.

“He created a nuclear reactor.”

“What in the devil is that?”

“It’s the first step in the creation of a bomb that might very well end life as we know it on this planet. Roosevelt was convinced by Einstein and another scientist named Leo Szilárd to begin production on an atomic bomb. Oppenheimer is heading the project, and there’s no limit to what Roosevelt is willing to spend on it. He’s been listening to a fellow by the name of James Byrnes, who’s set on proving that the United States is a global power. Rumors have even started flying around Washington that F.D.R. is considering dumping Wallace to take Byrnes on as a running mate next election.”

“Next election?” asked Lyle with a smirk. “I thought we started this country to get away from monarchies. How many times does this guy plan on running?”

Vess shook his head, disinterested. “I’ve never cared much for politics, but now that our government is in the business of world wars and atomic energy, I’m worried we might be getting ourselves into a fight that no one can win.”

“And how is this machine supposed to help?” asked Lyle.

“If my theories are correct, and we’re able to send you to another plane of existence, then we’ll usher in a new age of science. Byrnes and F.D.R. won’t need to prove our might to the world with bombs, because we’ll have a direct line to God.” Vess walked over to Lyle and put his arm around the man’s shoulder so that they could both admire the CORD together. “That, my friend, is the only doorway to heaven that’s not a one way trip. And you’re going to be the first person to walk through it.”

“I don’t know about this,” said Lyle, still concerned.

“You can walk away now,” said Vess. “I can’t stop you. But you’ll be walking away from becoming the richest, most famous man on the entire planet. You’ll be walking away from having your name in every history book as the most important explorer ever to grace the Earth.”

Lyle looked over at the machine and took a deep breath. He imagined how his mother, who had shunned him because of her adherence to scripture, would feel when she found out how her son had been the man that proved, or disproved, the existence of her God. “And you’re sure it’s safe?” asked Lyle.

“Like I showed you, the box is insulated. It’s the safest place on this whole ship.”

“What am I supposed to see on the inside? Will it be like a door popping open with a white-bearded guy smiling on the other side or something?”

Vess shook his head and said, “No one knows. That’s what being an explorer is all about. You’re the one that gets to be the first to find out. Are you ready to take your place in history, Mr. Everman?”

Lyle snickered and said, “I guess so.”

“Fantastic, Lyle! Fantastic! Now, go get in there so we can open the door to heaven.”

Lyle took a wary step towards the machine. He inspected the door, and the rubber lining within, and then he looked back at Vess and said, “Just make sure you don’t turn this thing the wrong direction and open the door to hell by mistake.”

In a Chicago Suburb

April, 2006

Alma Harper sat on the burgundy couch that was pressed up against the wall beneath the picture window in the den of her grandparents’ home. She was wearing her new, light purple dress that her grandmother had made for her. It was long, but well-fitted, and shimmering thread was laced randomly through it to make the dress sparkle. She was wearing her hair up, which was a rarity for her. Alma had a bad habit of rushing out wherever she was going, never bothering to take the time to look pretty. Today was different. Today, Alma was going on her third date with a popular boy from school named Paul.

Alma had never fared well in the social world of high school, and had resigned herself to being unpopular and forgotten amongst her peers. She’d been content alone, silent and unassuming, but then Paul Keller, a football player and a member of the popular crowd, had started paying attention to her. They were both seniors, and had a couple classes together. Throughout most of high school, Paul had been content ignoring her, but a few weeks ago that changed, and he started a relentless pursuit to charm her into going on a date with him.

On their first date he took her to a carnival, and did his best to win a stuffed animal for her from one of the booth games. Unfortunately, all he’d been able to win was a small stuffed teddy bear on a keychain, but she happily attached it to her keys and promised to keep it forever.

Paul took her to a movie for their second date, but the entire time she’d been obsessed with proper date-etiquette. Despite being eighteen, Paul was the first boy to ever ask Alma on a date, and she knew that she should be more willing to kiss him, but just holding his hand caused her enough anxiety as it was. She tried to convince herself to give him a goodnight kiss after that date, but when he dropped her off she chickened out, and dashed from his truck. She’d regretted it since, and had been sure Paul would give up trying to date her.

She was overjoyed when he asked her out again, although she was determined not to make the same mistake a second time. Tonight, she was going to kiss him as soon as she saw him, to get it over with.

Paul finally arrived in his battered Dodge Ram. He wasn’t from a wealthy family, which Alma liked about him. They both came from meager beginnings, and it helped her feel more comfortable with him. Despite how they existed in different social circles at school, she’d been pleasantly surprised by how much they had in common. He honked once, but Alma was already getting her things to go. She turned to yell up the stairs that she was leaving, but saw that her grandmother was already standing at the top.

“I’m going,” said Alma.

Her grandmother stayed silent.

“I’ll be back by ten,” said Alma.

Still, her grandmother said nothing. Instead, she just turned and walked away. Alma’s grandmother had become quiet and forlorn over the past six months, after her husband had passed. Alma had spent months trying to help her grandmother, but the old woman insisted she would never be happy again – not after losing
her grandson, her daughter, and her husband. No matter what Alma did for her, the woman never smiled anymore. It was hard for Alma not to feel like her grandmother blamed her somehow, as if the deaths in the family had been Alma’s fault all along.

Alma yelled up the stairs, “I made a plate of spaghetti for you. It’s in the fridge.”

No answer.

She clenched her jaw in frustration, and then shook her head as she reminded herself that she’d promised not to let her grandmother’s foul mood affect her anymore. Alma was going to leave the house and forget her grandmother’s morbidity, if only for a couple hours.

Alma left her grandmother’s home, and used her key to lock the door, the teddy bear keychain dangling from the ring. Paul had gotten out of the truck and was standing by the passenger side door, holding it open. He was wearing his letterman jacket, a simple t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Alma felt immediately foolish for wearing a dress, and felt herself blushing. When he said he wanted to take her to dinner, she’d assumed they’d be going someplace fancy, but he was still wearing what he’d worn to school. She felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment.

“You look incredible,” said Paul as he held the door open for her. “Gosh, I feel like a tool. I should’ve worn something nicer.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Alma. “I’m a dork for getting dolled up.” She thought about kissing him, but was too nervous. She got into the truck, and he shut the door before going around to his side.

She repeated to herself over and over, ‘Kiss him, Alma. Just do it. Kiss him.’

Paul got into the truck and smiled at her. She smiled back, but then slid across the gap between them and pecked him on the cheek. She’d meant to kiss him on the lips, but became too nervous at the last second. Alma slid back over to her side.

“Thanks,” said Paul, a wide grin on his face.

Branson

March 13
th
, 2012

3:50 AM

Rosemary held Alma’s keys, with the teddy bear keychain in the center of her palm. She rubbed her thumb over the aged fur, and allowed Alma’s treasured past to sneak into her subconscious. She was a spy to the life the refugee of Widowsfield had lived outside the reach of The Watcher in the Walls.