Hauntings (23 page)

              Oswald felt safe leaving the cabin with the laptop running and open, after all out in the woods who would come out here to burgle the cabin. The natives are all too afraid of the place. He had better things to occupy his mind than to worry about the theft of arcane intellectual property.  Oswald sped down the now familiar path, breaking off a obstructing branch here and there making the path slightly more passable, but his true objective was simply getting to the clearing. As soon as the path widened Oswald gave up clearing away any obstacles from the trail. He took the Druid's book from his pocket and read as he walked the remaining distance to the altar.  Reading the ancient words aloud under his breath as he walked Oswald didn't notice the birds gathering overhead until he was fully in the center of the clearing almost at the altar.

              He looked up and there was a flock of sparrows swooping madly one way and then the next directly above the altar. Oswald watched in expectation, hoping to witness again the strange behavior of the sparrows, but this time with his wits about him so he could later record in detail the facts of the event.

              Without making a sound the sparrows flew, to the north, then the south, then the east, and west, covering the cardinal points of the compass. This is something Oswald didn't notice when he first saw them vanish from the sky. The sparrows swooped down toward the altar changing direction less than a foot from striking the stone. 

              Oswald realizing there is no time like the present, and determined not to lose this opportunity, he opened the Druid's book and read aloud in words not meant for human tongues the ancient incantation of the Druids. The runes swam before his eyes, it felt as if it was no longer him reading the incantation, but some other entity from ages past. No longer needing the book, spontaneously reciting the ancient incantation, Oswald raised his eyes to the liquid sky to see the heavens swirling about above him forming a vortex, a portal into another realm, another world. Although it was no later than noon, the sky above him darkened to deep purple. The last thing Oswald saw before his vision went black was the gathering of sparrows vanish through the portal into the unknown.

              Hours later Oswald awoke laying crumpled at the foot of the altar, cold and stiff, his head aching, pounding with pain deep within his skull, he pulled himself first to a kneeling then a standing position. He steadied himself by leaning onto the altar table. Not sure if what he witnessed was real, or simply a vision accompanying a stroke. The pain inside his head argued eloquently for it all being part and parcel of a stroke. He held the sides of his head praying the pain would subside.

              “Ozzie, Ozzie! Are you all right?” Clara cried from the path outside the clearing. To Oswald the sharpness of Clara's cry brought fresh spikes of pain behind his eyes. He clenched his eyes tightly shut desperately trying to block out the pain. He couldn't bring himself to open his mouth to speak to her not yet.

              “Oswald!” She cried again as she ran to his side. Oswald looked flushed. Clara touched his brow, it was cold and clammy.

              “Oh Ozzie, let me help you back to the cabin,” Clara spoke softly, as she put her arm around his waist and began leading him away from the altar and toward the path. He leaned heavily on her shoulder following her blindly. Oddly the further they traveled from the altar the less Oswald's pain.

              “Oh Clara, I don't know what I would have done if you didn't show up when you did,” Oswald regaining enough of his composure to speak.

              “Don't waste your strength talking, let's get back to the cabin first.”

              “I'm feeling better almost with every step, your presence has a healing quality, I'd swear it does,” Oswald continued to lean on Clara's shoulder as they walked through the woods toward the cabin, however he was feeling stronger with every step away from the altar he took.

              “Shh, don't talk. We're almost there Ozzie.” Clara was concerned that she wouldn't be able to carry Oswald if he should lose what strength he had and collapse to the ground before they made it back to the cabin, but as they struggled through the woods she could feel Oswald place less and less weight on her shoulders until finally he was walking on his own.

              “I don't know what it was, Clara, but if you hadn't come when you did, I don't know what would have happened to me out there. I tried a little experiment. I read from the Druid's book at the altar.” Oswald felt for the book in his coat pocket to be sure he still had it in his possession.

              “The birds were there, a flock of sparrows, and they responded to the incantation, I swear they did, then the sky swirled and opened up into a beautiful purple vortex and then sparrows disappeared without a sound.”  Oswald continued. He no longer felt the need for Clara's support, but allowed her to continue to hold his arm. Oswald walked the remaining distance on his own.

              “You look like you're feeling better now. What do you think happened to you?”

              “Haven't you been listening, A portal opened between our universe and another allowing the sparrows to enter in. I don't know why I fell ill exactly, but I suspect it has something to do with that. I don't think we as humans are meant to access such things. It is draining just witnessing it.”

              “Ozzie, I think maybe you have been spending too much time on this. I think perhaps you should consider giving it up, and go home before it is too late.”

              “What? Clara this has been my life's work. I was about to give it all up thinking mysticism was all so much ancient hogwash, Just bullshit, piled upon bullshit, upon ever more bullshit, but then I came here and witnessed the sparrows, followed them to the altar, and today witnessed the forming of a vortex. It is real, Clara it is real.”

              “To you maybe it is real, I didn't see anything unusual out there today, except you laying on the ground holding your head. Sure you found an old altar, but we in town already knew the Dyers were into do some pretty creepy stuff. Honestly, none of the folks in town would doubt them being capable of human sacrifice, if given the opportunity. I think you have been working too hard. I don't think you have been taking care of yourself, and as far as I can tell, what you say you saw today could all be a hallucination brought on by overwork. I read somewhere they have a word for it in Japan. I don't know what the word is, but that doesn't change the fact that you've been working too hard for a man your age.” 

              They were at the steps to what Oswald called the cabin's front porch. He walked to the door unaided, and held it open for Clara to enter.

              “The word you're looking for is Karoshi, it means death from overwork. I'm not about to keel over and die, but maybe you have a point. I'm in what they laughingly call my golden years, and am not as healthy a man as I once was, but that doesn't change the fact that I saw exactly what I say I saw today.”

              “That may be, but where would you be if I didn't come along when I did? You know you would be laying there on the ground right where I found you. You need someone looking after you.” There was a pause in their conversation while Clara let Oswald considered what she had said.

              “You say I need some one to look after me. I admit it would be nice to have someone else take care of the fire, and the generator, and the cooking, and the wood and all that. I was never much of an outdoors man. Do you want the job? You can look after me and I can continue to do my research. How is that?” 

              “How much does it pay?” Clara asked.

              “I don't know, let's see how it goes. I promise, I'll be fair. How's that?”

              “What about sleeping arrangements, I don't want my parents getting on my back any more than they already are.”

              “Clara, you can have the bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch. I don't think I have slept in that bed once since I came here anyway.”

              “All right then, you've got yourself a nurse.”

              “Not a nurse, Clara, an assistant.”

Chapter Nine

              Aleister Dyer's secretary was able to buy a coach ticket for Rockford leaving that night from Boston International Airport.  Aleister hated flying, was terrified of it actually, and the events of September eleventh 2001 did nothing to help him get over his fear, but he had to hurry to make the flight if he wanted to get to Dixon in time. He threw the bare essentials into his travel bag along with one item he hoped he wouldn't need, a family heirloom, a knife of ancient origin wrapped in purple silk.
This won't make in as carry on luggage
, he reminded himself.

              Aleister called a cab and arrived at the airport with just enough time to make it through the security checks and board the plane before the flight's departure. He was not in the mood to travel, this definitely was not a pleasure trip. No meal during the flight, no movie, nothing but a bag of stale peanuts and a flat coke handed to him by a overly friendly gay flight attendant.  Oswald was not earning any bonus points in Aleister Dyer's book today, that was certain, not when his actions in Dixon, forced this trip upon Aleister. He forced down the stale peanuts wishing he had something more substantial for lunch today than a yogurt from one of the vending machines in the campus food court. Maybe he could pick up something to eat in Rockford before driving on to Dixon.

              He washed down the goobers with his flat coke, and decided he would have to call the girl as soon as the plane landed. In the mean time he would try to get a little sleep. He reclined the seat as far as it would go, without irritating the passenger sitting behind him so much that he would make a nuisance of himself, and closed his eyes.

              Aleister was markedly uncomfortable, he didn't sleep, but at least with his eyes closed no one bothered him with unwanted conversation. He remembered the last time he went to the cabin and wondered why he ever thought it would be a good idea to let Oswald use it for a time. He should have known better. What was he going to do now? He hoped he could talk Oswald into forgetting it all, just leave it in the past, but if not there was still one solution. He would have to call the girl and see about organizing a town meeting before taking any drastic action, but he will talk to Oswald first. Maybe he will be reasonable and just let it be.

              The flight was long and miserable. Aleister would have appreciated an hour or two of sleep, but that was not to be.  The pilot announced that they were approaching Rockford international Airport. Aleister opened his eyes raised his seat back to the upright position, clenched the arm rests and waited for the plane to land.  When the plane came to a stop and the passengers were allowed to disembark, Aleister was more eager to leave the plane than he was to see Oswald.
First things first,
he thought as he grabbed his travel bag from the overhead storage compartment.
Pick up my luggage, get the rental car, and call the girl.
Aleister rehearsed his to do list in his mind, while climbing down the stairs from the plane to the tarmac. The cold fresh air had a certain bite to it.

              Rockford international airport isn't one of the larger airports in the country and it doesn't have all of the amenities one might find at O'Hare, or JFK for example. The runways aren't long enough to land the larger planes flown by most of the commercial airlines. Most of the air traffic here is primarily cargo flights flown by UPS and FedEx and such, but there are a few flights such as the one Aleister rode, flown by much smaller airlines flying air craft the larger airlines have auctioned off after they had become obsolete in the larger airlines view of things. Aleister assumed he could have gotten a better seat on a larger and better aircraft had he been willing to fly to O'Hare instead of Rockford, but the drive from the north suburbs of Chicago to rural Dixon, was too much of a delay. He settled on Rockford and lived with it's limitations.

              His secretary did say she was able to arrange a car rental for him and that he should be able to pick up the car at the airport. A hell of a lot of good it would have done him if he had couldn't pick it up at the airport and had to call a cab to get to the rental agency in the closest city.  Aleister walked from the tarmac to the airport's entrance carrying his bags at his side. Once inside the terminal, he took his cell phone from his coat pocket and dialed the girl's number.

              A maddening metallic drumming followed by a girls sweet voice singing in Japanese “The sun sets, everything ends.”  Clara grabbed the phone in her pocket looked at the caller id and pressed a button.

              “Hello.” Clara spoke softly, not wanting to disturb Oswald any more than her ring-tone already had.

              “Oh, When?” Clara paused to listen to whoever was on the other end of the call.

              “I'm at the cabin now.” Another pause.

              “Everything is fine, under control. I'll see you then,” she said then pressed another button on her phone and ended the call.

              “A call from a long lost suitor?” Oswald hazarded from his desk.

              “Not hardly.” Clara replied. “But it is someone I'll have to go into town to see tomorrow. Will you be alright while I'm gone?”

              “Clara, you know I'll be fine, but since you're going into town any way, would you bring back one of those delicious steamed burgers from Sam & Ella's?”

              “Sure thing,” Clara replied slipping her phone back into her pocket. Oswald returned his attention to work on his new laptop. He had managed to download the photographs he had taken of the site and the altar and now was providing captions for each picture. He hadn't quite gotten to the point of having an outline or a template for his report yet, but was still working on organizing the information he had collected so far. Oswald was certain Aleister Dyer and the regents would be suitably impressed with his discovery, but he didn't want to leave anything to chance. Every jot and tittle must be correctly placed. He soon was deep in thought, totally unaware of Clara's actions in the cabin.

              Clara, in the mean time was as good as her word making sure the generator had enough fuel to keep running providing electricity for the lights and computer, the fire place had enough wood to keep the chill out of the old cabin, and that the wood stove in the kitchen had enough wood to cook their supper and keep that end of the cabin warm.  She checked what supplies Oswald had purchased on his last trip to town and decided to make a simple poor man's stew for supper.  Clara cut some beef into bite sized pieces, threw the beef into the skillet to brown, then she cut up an onion, some carrots, and a couple of potatoes to add to the pan. She glanced about the kitchen to see what spices were available, found nothing more than salt and black pepper which she added to the stew to heighten the flavor. 

              Although it was getting late, she put a pot of coffee on the stove so they would have something to wash down the stew. She decided to let the stew simmer and the coffee brew before announcing supper to Oswald. In that brief time she would take a peek at the bedroom to see what her sleeping arrangements would be like tonight. The bed was stripped down to the mattress, the bedding was laying across a chair in the corner of the room. It looked as if Oswald had started to prepare the room for himself, but never finished the job. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in for quite some time. The aroma of cooking beef and onions wafted through the air and Clara returned to the kitchen to check on the food. Everything was done to her satisfaction so she set the table for herself and Oswald. Clara saw an old triangle hanging from a hook by the window. For fun she rang the triangle with the spoon she had been using to stir the stew just as she had seen countless wagon train cooks do to announce supper in old westerns.

              “Supper is ready!”

              “Supper? I can see you're going to spoil me, Clara. It smells delightful, What did you make?'”

              “Just some poor man's stew, nothing special.”

              “It's special to me.” Oswald replied, getting up from the desk and walking to the kitchen table.

              “That's kind of you to say, but really it's nothing special, but it should be healthy and filling,” Clara said while she ladled stew from the pan onto Oswald's plate. “Here you go,” she said, smiling while she handed him his supper.  She found a two mugs in the cupboard and poured them both a cup of coffee.

              “It certainly is nice having someone around for company, and I get a home cooked meal to boot.” It was Oswald's turn to smile, he was sincerely pleased to have Clara staying at the cabin. Her company and cooking was as good as anything Freida could have made in her restaurant. He devoured the stew enjoying every bite. The coffee was good and hot and Oswald hoped would give him a little extra energy to burn tonight once he got back to his work.

              “Ozzie, I think I need to go home tonight and gather a few things if I am going to stay here as your assistant. Right now I only have the clothes on my back and the few things in my car. Besides there is someone I need to see tomorrow in town, like I said earlier.”

              “That will be fine Clara. I don't think I actually need an assistant. I can get by on my own, but I can see that my life would be lot easier  if you took the job.”

              “That's settled then. I'll go home tonight and come back tomorrow after I take care of a few things. While I'm gone though I want you to think about seeing a doctor about what happened to you at the site today. When you get older you can't take chances, that's what my dad always says anyway.”

              “Clara you take care of what you need to do, and I'll take care of myself while you're away. Don't worry about me. I've been taking care of myself for longer than I'd care to say.”

              Clara finished her meal and got up from the table to pump some water into the sink to do the dishes. Before she had the sink half full of water Oswald suggested she leave now, before it go to be too late, and said that he would be glad to do the dishes himself, after all two plates two mugs a couple forks wouldn't be a strain on anyone. Clara agreed and left for the night.

              Oswald listened to the sound of her car start up and then fade as she drove down the dirt road through the woods. Once he was sure she was gone he returned to his work forgetting about the dishes, leaving them in the sink to soak as he used to say.

              Aleister signed the paperwork for the car, took the keys and was on his way. He knew the area  and could have gone straight to Dixon and been there in a couple of hours, but he was tired and hungry. He followed the road away from the airport. Coming to a stoplight he had a choice to make he could go more or less straight and follow route 2 into Dixon, or he could turn right and drive a few miles into downtown Rockford. The light turned green and on impulse Aleister turned right. He decided to spend the night in Rockford, were he knew he could find a room in a decent motel and get a decent meal before going on to Dixon to talk to Clara and the others.  Aleister drove a few miles then turned into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. He hoped they'd have a vacancy. He thought the odds were good that they would as this was a week night, but one could never tell. He approached the front desk, rang the bell and waited for the night clerk to come into view.

              ”Can I help you?”  The clerk looked to be no more than a boy, barely old enough to be legally working. In Aleister's day the boy would have surely been called pizza face by his peers. His pimples in the florescent light gave him an ghastly appearance.

              “I need a room for the night. Do you have a vacancy?”

              “I do, can I see some identification, your driver's license will do and a credit card of course. The boy replied. Aleister handed him his license and credit card and waited patiently to sign the paperwork.

              “Is it too late for room service?”

              “The kitchen is closed, but you can order something from one of the local restaurants. Most of the pizza places deliver.  You have room 216. The elevators are to your left, once on the second floor turn right and you'll find your room.“  Aleister thanked the clerk for the card key and directions to his room. Then carried his bags to the elevator, took it to the second floor, turned right and followed the numbers on the doors to room 216. Once inside he dropped his bags on the floor by the door. Aleister went to the bed and reached for the phone on the bedside table. He looked in the local directory for a restaurant, tonight pizza did not pique his appetite, but perhaps he could order an Italian beef sandwich with sausage and mozzarella and maybe some fries on the side. He knew he'd pay for the meal in indigestion later, but with some luck it would the taste would be worth it. He found a place called Portillo's in the directory dialed the number and ordered his meal, he asked if they deliver, they would for a small fee. All was well with the world for the time being.

              Aleister found the remote turned on the television and looked for something to keep his interest while he waited for his food to arrive. He settled on the local news and weather, staring blankly at the screen for some time, not really focusing on anything being said by the talking heads on the screen.