The Tesla Gate (8 page)

Chapter 10

Unseen Developments

“Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education;
in the elder, a part of experience.”

—Francis Bacon

I managed to recapture the same sense of adventure from ten minutes earlier as we pulled away from the curb. It reminded me of my first time on the Jungle Boat Ride at Disney World. I wasn't really sure what to expect. My heart hammered in my chest like a caged bird when I remembered my promise to myself to go by my parents' old house. I exhaled and swallowed as I made a left turn at the next light and headed to the far side of town.

At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The streets and neighborhoods were not filled with ghosts dragging chains across the streets or odd looking specters hitchhiking, like from the Haunted Mansion ride, which was another one of my favorite Disney attractions as a kid.

Although, I do have to admit that on my first visit, my anxiety got the best of me causing me to flee in terror through the crowd. My parents caught up to me by the Country Bear's Jamboree and after a little motherly coaxing and a Mickey Mouse ice cream bar, I was ready to brave the darkness of the old foreboding house.

The streets and neighborhoods were the same as they ever were, save the strange sky overhead. Traffic was at a minimum and the eerie lack of human activity reminded me of the sleepiness of the town at 3 A.M., not at 10 A.M. as it was now.

I didn't realize how much I wanted to see my parents until I arrived at their former abode and found it unoccupied. The family still lived there as evidenced by the furniture inside and toys in the yard but they were not home and neither were my parents. I knocked on every door until my knuckles throbbed in protest but there was no response. The Erions were our neighbors when I was a kid and they still lived next door. I started to walk over and ask questions but as I reached the property line I stopped in my tracks. Their living room curtains were open and I could see them sitting around the table and having a meal, but it was more than just Mr. and Mrs. Erion.

The ethereal glow of a person like Seth could be clearly seen through the window. Whoever it was, their back was to me. It took a few moments for recognition to sink in but when it did my stomach twisted. It was the Erions' son, Jack. He had been about ten years older than me, but he was probably the closest thing I ever had to a brother. Jack always played catch with me, took me to movies, and even bought me baseball cards. I was only nine when he was killed by an eighteen-wheeler on a snowy road just north of Conway. It broke my heart almost as much as when my parents died.

My first impulse was to run to the door and reunite with my old friend, but I had to remember why I was here. I had come to look for my parents but my first priority was Seth. Besides, as much as I was sure that Jack would like to see me again, I needed to give him and his parents some time. They needed to make the most out of their miracle as much as I needed to make the most of mine.

I cautiously stepped back and out of view then looked back at the SUV in the driveway. Seth was curiously looking at me through the window. I smiled reassuringly and waved then climbed the front steps of my former residence. I retrieved a business card and a pen from my pocket then hastily scribbled a message on the back.

Please call me if you meet Phillip or Tamara Pendleton. I am their son.

After carefully sliding the card in the door jamb where it could easily be seen, I turned and slowly walked back down the stairs and up the sidewalk to the SUV. My heart was heavy with disappointment, but it was also light with anticipation of my time with Seth. My life had become an emotional contradiction the past couple of days.

We continued to the highway looping around the south side of Conway and connecting to I-40 to the east. I tensed as we neared Oak Grove, a massive 40-acre cemetery in the southeast part of the city. I am not sure why passing the cemetery made me so nervous. Did I expect it to be one big ghost gathering of all those who were laid to rest there? If that was the reason, my fears seemed to be unfounded. No, I think the real reason for my apprehension was because Oak Grove is where Ann and Seth had been laid to rest. It looked as calm and serene as it had two weeks ago.

The monuments glistened with a bluish tint, probably a mix of sunlight and the lavender light in the sky. The lush green grass and branches from a few sporadic oak trees blew lazily in the morning breeze. It would make a lovely location for a picnic if not for the stigma all such places carried.

I could see Ann and Seth's double headstone near the east wall. It was fronted by two brown rectangles interrupting an otherwise immaculate lawn; two weeks is not enough time for grass to grow. Seth seemed unaffected as we passed; he smiled as he listened to his radio program, taking no notice of the cemetery, completely unaware of what lay beneath the ground just yards away.

I say “what” and not “who” because the “who” is sitting right here beside me. I am convinced of that. Well, at least half of the “who” in this case. A tear slid down my cheek as I thought of Ann. Her “who” had moved on, had gone through the door, had left Seth and me, leaving only the “what” – her body – behind. That thought suddenly sparked a surge of anger through my gut, considering the fact that if this storm did not happen, Seth would have been condemned to follow me around, alone and unseen for years, possibly decades.

This surge of anger frightened and disgusted me at the same time. Did she have a choice? Did she move on believing that Seth was following and he pulled back at the last minute? These were questions that I had no answer for and no comprehension of. I guess if giving someone the benefit of the doubt was in order, this was a textbook example. Ann was a good mom and would do anything for Seth, of that I had no doubt.

Passing the cemetery made me realize something. Living people would not want to hang out at a cemetery, so why should the dead be any different? The answer is that they wouldn't. Seth came home because of his love for me and that is the place where he was happy in life, which is where he belonged. Maybe there are a few people that would be completely content hanging around a cemetery for eternity, probably a very few people. Most would go where they are happy, where they feel safe, where they are familiar … for the most part they would go home.

At that moment it dawned on me just why the streets are so deserted. It has to be more than just caution, heeding the government's warnings to stay indoors, but that was only part of it. Besides, who listens to the government anyway? I suspect a lot of them had house guests, unexpected guests.

As we approached the interstate entrance ramp, I looked over at Seth and noticed his head was lolled back on the seat, the back of his head submerged about an inch into the leather, faint little snores rattled from his mouth. I guess he does sleep. It did not seem logical that a spirit, free of the limitations and weaknesses of the human body, would require sleep. It brought to mind a line from one of my favorite poems by D.H. Lawrence:

And if tonight my soul may find her peace in sleep, and sink in good oblivion, and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.

My mother used to recite that to me frequently before bed. She said that it meant sleep is just as restful to the soul as it is to the body. I don't know much about poetry and never was a big fan of it, but that passage has stuck with me all these years. Maybe it stuck with me for a reason … the truth of the verse speaks louder now than ever.

I started to wake him but then I thought better of it. I would let the little guy sleep. I reached over and gently reduced the volume on the radio, then carefully changed the station to our local ABC News affiliate; I wanted to get an update on the situation. What I heard both astounded and troubled me; it was something I had not even remotely considered.

They had the same talking heads on again, the NASA scientist Dr. Smithson Turner. He was joined by a Dr. Schoendist from the Environmental Protection Agency, the president's science advisor, Dr. Ray Winder, and a special guest that I couldn't believe. I thought it was one of those early morning drive time pranks until I was satisfied I had it on the reputable news network. There was no mistaking the unique mix of the German and Polish accent that belonged to none other than Albert Einstein.

“Mr. Einstein, can you tell us why you stayed here and what you've learned about the validity of your theories now that you have seen the universe from another perspective?”

There was a sigh followed by a deep, heavily-accented voice. There was something strange about it. Like Seth's voice, it sounded like it was softly echoing in a metal drum.

“My dear fellow, all in good time … if there is time,” Einstein said with a knowing tone. In his dry sense of humor he was probably making a comical reference to one of his many theories about time. The man certainly had a sense of humor in spite of his boorish appearance and intimidating brain power, I could tell that about him very quickly. “I suggest we get to the problem at hand first, and then we can take a trip down memory lane later,” he continued in a pleasant yet assertive voice.

“Very well, very well,” the host said. “Would you or Dr. Turner like to bring everyone up to speed on what you believe has happened thus far, and then go into detail of the new development last night?”

“I will defer to my capable colleague, Dr. Turner,” Einstein said. “He has been on top of this since it happened and was in the president's briefings all night. They just found me wandering down Nassau St. at Princeton University last night, chased me down like I was one of those musical, floppy-haired Beatles,” he said with a chuckle.

“So, you have been at Princeton all this time?” the host asked.

“Please, we need to move on and use our time wisely,” Einstein said, this time his voice was absent of a knowing sense of humor. His tone stressed urgency.

“Okay …” the host continued, obviously disappointed, “Dr. Turner, what can you tell us, sir?”

Dr. Turner cleared his throat and began.

“First let me say it is an honor, being on the air with Dr. Einstein. He has inspired me and generations of scientist.”

“I concur,” said Dr. Ray Winder, the president's science advisor, “it is indeed an honor.”

“Indeed … a great honor!” added Dr. Schoendist from the Environmental Protection Agency.

“Thank you gentlemen, you are too kind to a lucky and fortunate patent clerk,” Einstein said. “Please tell us what you know. I am interested to hear everything myself.”

Dr. Turner reiterated the events that occurred the previous day. He was able to give a little greater detail today, now that the world had been able to catch its collective breath and analyze the situation.

“We have determined that the cosmic storm that passed through Earth's atmosphere yesterday has caused a significant change in the Earth's electromagnetic field, causing this phenomenon. There has been some controversy between scientists to whether this change in energy is causing one large worldwide hallucination, or whether it has actually caused the manifestation of the lingering souls for the dead.”

“What is your opinion, Dr. Turner?” the host asked.

Dr. Turner cleared his throat nervously and then paused a few moments before speaking.

“I tend to subscribe to the latter theory,” he said.

“Dr. Einstein, what about you?” the host interjected quickly before Dr. Turner could continue.

Einstein chuckled softly.

“My dear fellow, do you not have eyes? What are your eyes telling you? Are all you gentlemen hallucinating about the same thing? I think my very presence here today proves that Dr. Turner is correct in his thinking.”

The host seemed rather taken back. He was not used to being browbeaten on his own show, especially by some of the bushiest brows in history. He decided to skip around Dr. Einstein and Turner and go directly to the president's advisor.

“Dr. Winder, we have no idea what this energy is. It is something we have never encountered before. Isn't it possible that there may be some plausibility to the hallucinatory theory? I believe some of the scientists were referring to these apparitions as ‘brain farts'?”

Dr. Winder started to speak but was cut short.

“Indeed, there are possibly other theories that we may want to consider; perhaps these apparitions are extraterrestrial in origin?” the host interrupted.

There was another loud chuckle from Dr. Einstein.

“My dear man, I can assure you that I am no … how do you say it now? Little green man?”

“But how do we know? How can we be sure? We have never encountered anything of this nature before,” the host retorted.

“I can answer that,” Dr. Winder said, returning the favor by cutting the host short. “I was doubtful of what was going on until the new development last night. Perhaps I should discuss that now and possibly dispel some doubt.”

“Please do,” the host said.

This was normally one of my favorite radio programs to listen to in the mornings. The host can be confrontational at times when he is passionate about a subject but today was an anomaly. He had three respected scientists on his program this morning and one of them was Albert Einstein for God's sake! He had a man as a guest that was one of the most important people in human history, a man that was last interviewed probably before the host was a spark in his daddy's eye, and he was being confrontational? I guess his apprehension made him passionate about this subject, the whole world is probably terrified and the host is no different. It's funny how fear works in people sometimes.

Dr. Winder took a deep breath and continued. “We have confirmed the facts with a number of hospitals, nursing homes, and even EMTs on emergency calls. It seems that this storm has done more than just cause the dead to materialize. It–” he broke off with a deep exhalation.