PART 7
The woman named Silver and the man named Gold sit on a park bench, watching clouds pass by. They do not speak, for there is no need. She adjusts the jacket of her gray pantsuit and checks her watch. He remains occupied with the motions of the floating bodies in the sky. Minutes, hours pass.
Then, with no warning or discernible cause, the two rise. The man buttons his black suit and straightens his striped gray tie. They walk from the park into the town center, stepping in unison.
He retrieves a comb and pushes back his salt and pepper hair as he walks. She allows the breeze to send her strawberry blonde locks aloft. They walk into a nearby shop, and she purchases a telephone book.
Silver and Gold arrive at the motel. The sun begins to set as the two walk up concrete steps bordered with stainless steel handrails. The key fits the lock, and they sit on their respective beds. They lie back without removing clothing. They do not close their eyes.
Night falls, and the two remain.
*****
“You’re willing to go that far for the beetle spirit?” asked Ethrym, his bobcat ears twitching against the breeze.
“I guess. I just feel bad for the guy, you know?”
“Indeed. But that doesn’t mean I’d sacrifice so much time for him. I suppose that’s what separates you and I. The good from the indifferent, if either of the two exist.”
Jack studied the grass.
“It’s funny. I’m about to try to con real humans with real power, and I don’t feel too nervous. Maybe it’s because I know I won’t get in much trouble if I mess it all up. No one’s got the energy to get mad at the orphan boy.”
“It could be because your plan is sound, at least in theory. You’ve already found an excuse to get to Mrs. Lacy?”
“Yeah. Today was the first day of the partner program. I was paired with her son Tyler. Ethrym, I know that I’m a boy who talks with spirits in a forest who may or may not-”
“We do exist, Jack, but continue,” Ethrym added.
“Well, this kid is weird. He believes he’s the king of his own world, but like, literally. He calls other kids his ‘subjects,’ and he calls Ms. Reed ‘the royal tutor.’ He’s not just playing though, he believes it. And he’s so caught up in his dream world that he’s close to flunking every class.”
“That is… odd,” said the forest spirit.
“That’s what I’m telling ya’. Fortunately, I’m playing along as one of his ‘lesser tutors,’ or whatever. He flunked the math test worse than anyone else, so I got Ms. Reed to recommend that I go to the house to help the kid one on one. Now, all I have to do is not mess up.”
“Good luck, Jack. Although I doubt you’ll need it.”
Jack arrived at the Lacy household five minutes early. It would be more apt, perhaps, to call the place an estate. Regularly trimmed rows of hedges served as the border walls to a gorgeous gated manor, protected by an ornate iron gate which featured gorgeous swirling designs.
Jack approached the keypad and hit the buzzer. Soon after, a distinctly British voice responded.
“If you wouldn’t mind, state your business.”
“My name’s Jack, I’m tutoring Tyler?”
“And what is your surname, young Jack?”
“Pa-… umm, Ripper, actually.”
A few moments of silence, Jack could feel a cold sweat coming on. Then, a buzz, and the gates swung inward.
“Please come in, master Jack.”
Jack headed straight down the cobblestone walkway leading to the estate. A beautiful fountain featuring a fallen angel chiseled from marble sat in the center of the courtyard. Jack kept walking to the front door, and raised his fist to knock. Before he got the chance to do so, the door was opened, revealing a well dressed old man with a nicely trimmed gray mustache.
“Please, do follow me, master Jack,” the man from the telecom said.
A real butler in Sleepy Grove, huh? Jack thought as he was led up a semi-circle staircase to the second floor. Jack looked to the ceiling, and realized just how tall this building was. An incredibly spacious design constructed with gaudy, yet tasteful materials. The butler stopped outside a tall wooden door.
“If you could wait in here, sir,” said the butler as he opened the door.
“Yeah sure, thanks.”
Inside was a conference room featuring a large, oval shaped table and about twenty intricately carved chairs surrounding it. Jack took off his backpack and sat down near the middle of one of the long sides. He heard two sets of footsteps echo on the wooden floors.
The butler opened the door, and little Tyler walked in. He wore a crown that looked straight out of arts and crafts as well as a cape manufactured from a red blanket. The butler pulled a chair across from Jack and Tyler hopped onto it. The butler presented Tyler with his backpack, bowed slightly, then exited, closing the door behind him.
“So then, subject, what is it you’d like with me?”
“Hello to you too, Tyler. I was hoping we could start with-”
“That’s ‘your majesty’ to you, subject.”
“Look, I know your friends all play along with you, but I-”
“Play? Oh poor Jack, you do not know of my realm. No matter, I am sure you will realize soon enough. Well then, on with my studies!”
Tyler removed a super hero notebook from his pack as well as a pencil with a kitten eraser top.
“Proceed, subject.”
Jack adjusted himself in his chair, then pulled out his own study materials.
Dammit LeCrae, after all this is said and done, you better thank me…
*****
Toby’s lair looked as though a particularly studious hurricane had ravaged it repeatedly. Papers, notes, theoretical essays, sketches, all of which scattered throughout. The place was absolutely covered with any and all information that could possibly be relevant to the task at hand. The three boys were all in their own worlds, using laptops they’d filched from the computer lab to scour academia for clues.
An email notification blinked in the corner of Toby’s laptop. It was from Sleepy Grove’s head librarian, Ms. Fairfax.
Dear Toby,
I just wanted to let you know that you may be contacted within the next few days by a very nice lady in search of other people who research time. Of course, I know you love that sort of thing, so I gave her your email address. She came in with her partner, and while I’m no expert on any of this stuff, they looked big time, at least to me. Maybe they’ve heard of you! Anyway, do come by soon, we’ve missed you.
Sincerely,
Ms. Fairfax
Toby closed the email without thinking much of it. This sort of thing happened from time to time, he’d forgotten to take measures to hide his IP address when submitting his breakthrough essay, so those who were curious enough could discern that it was sent from Sleepy Grove. He thought it was invasive at first, but he’d do the same if there was someone who could help him figure out his current predicament.
As he switched back to an essay on consciousness, he got another notification, this time from an “S.”
Dear Toby,
I hope this email finds you well. I’ve recently learned of your expertise within the field of time and reality, and I’d love to chat if you have the time. In fact, I could meet with you to discuss a certain theory of mine today, if that’s alright with you.
Allow me to tell you a bit about myself. Like you, I’m a slave to the dedicated pursuit of discovering the truth behind the traversal of spacetime. I’ve devoted my life to this, and for the past ten years, it’s been dead center in my mind. Also like you, I tend to get things done. Including, most relevantly, setting up meetings. I’m happy to extend you every courtesy, and even pay you for your time. With this being said, I feel I should stress that you and I will meet (ideally quite soon), whether you’d like to or not. Do not take this as any sort of threat! I am merely speaking as to an eventuality that I’m certain will occur. If I cannot bring us together, time and fate will surely do the trick.
So, if there’s a time to meet for an hour or two that works for you (even within the next ten minutes!), please alert me, and I’ll make the appointment. I’ve come to Sleepy Grove solely for you, Toby, so if there’s anything I can do to help with your research in return for your help with mine, I’m happy to accommodate.
Thank You,
S.
He shook his head. Toby considered telling the others of the email, but ultimately decided it would be an unnecessary hindrance. Still, the message had planted a looming red flag on Toby’s already scrambled mind. The vague wording of “time and reality,” the fact it was likely sent just minutes after S. received his email address, the threat-that-apparently-wasn’t-a-threat. If Toby was sure of anything, it was that he wouldn’t be meeting with S., at least not until his present dilemma had been solved.
Surely this S wouldn’t have sent an email like this if they’d known I’m just a kid, he thought. Then, flipping an internal switch, he rid himself of the distraction, and set back to work.
The sound of clicking and clacking keys filled the attic, to the point where any students beneath them may assume that the world’s softest hailstorm was underway. The boys worked on, steadily clicking their way into the evening.
*****
Gloria Perez was ostensibly a mortgage broker. She’d seemingly lived a perfect life. Graduated as the valedictorian of Sleepy Grove Christian, went to college at an upscale liberal arts school on the east coast, and returned home after graduating with top honors. She’d landed a fantastic job working in the city, climbed the corporate ladder, and just a few years later, she opened her own firm right in the middle of Sleepy Grove, which isn’t a turn of phrase (her office was geographically in the center of the town).
Seeing as Sleepy Grove’s real estate was generally expensive, and considering common knowledge within the town was to do business with fellow Sleepy Grove natives, Gloria’s business hummed along at a steady pace. She never needed to hire more employees, and she worked intermittently throughout the year, only when needed by potential homeowners. What did she do with all the free time? She pursued a mystery that had pestered her since childhood.
When Gloria was eleven years old, she witnessed a strange occurrence in the forest. She’d told her parents that she was heading over to a friend’s house for the evening. In actuality, she’d felt a strong pull to the woods for almost a week, and could no longer resist it. It was a feeling of frustration and anxiety that was only getting stronger. The moment she stepped through the treeline, she felt a sense of relief. It was where she was supposed to be, as though she’d finally given in to the force of the bungee cord tethering her to this place. The sun was setting, so young Gloria skipped over to a nearby tree and retrieved the camping set that she’d hidden within a hollow.
After a few ill-advised attempts at pounding the stakes into the ground to hold her tent in place, she gave up on the idea entirely. She grabbed her fluffy pink blanket, climbed a tree, and sought slumber betwixt the branches. And just a few minutes later, she found it.
The crackle of a wood fire brought the girl out of her sleep. She had no idea how much time had passed, she knew only that the sky was black as ink. She turned to the fire.
Below her, in a mysterious procession, a dozen hooded figures marched in a circle around a large bonfire, each one of them holding a torch. They seemed to hum or chant something, but Gloria was too far to make out their mutterings. She crawled back between the branches slowly, as to not give herself away. She kept her eyes on the action.
The march continued for a few more minutes until it stopped without warning. The members turned to the center and held their torches high. One by one, they threw their torches into the bonfire until none of the torches remained. A moment passed, then one of the hooded figures reached into their robe and produced a thin piece of iron. He placed it on the fire until the tip was orange, and proceeded to brand each and every person in the circle on the shoulder. Then, after the figure who branded the others spoke to the group, all twelve members turned around and exited the woods in differing directions.
Ever since, Gloria had reached a level of obsession in investigating cult activity. She knew something was amiss in Sleepy Grove, but she couldn’t ever find concrete answers.
“But,” she told Ace, sipping her coffee, “I swear I’ll find them one day. That image, I won’t ever forget, and I don’t think I’ll be satisfied in my lifetime until I solve the mystery.”
Ace took a few moments to finish scribbling notes in her notebook. She waited for a young woman to pass by their outdoor table at the cafe before continuing the conversation.
“Would you mind telling me what you’ve found concerning cult activity in Sleepy Grove during your… what, twenty years of investigation?”
“Not all of that time was spent investigating, I had to go to school, after all. But yes, I’ll tell you, after all it isn’t much,” Gloria said as she shook her head disappointedly. “In Sleepy Grove, the occult is like… a masquerade. Housewives and teenagers love to give it a try now and again because it makes them feel special or valuable, but at the end of the day, no one takes it seriously. Every now and again, you’ll get people who will get occult tattoos, but these are the same sorts of people who will ramble about oils and healing crystals, and that tells you everything you need to know, if you catch my drift. In terms of what I saw that night? After decades, I’ve found, well… nothing. I’ve fantasized about finding a cabal of higher ups in the town, uncovering some massive conspiracy, you know, things like that. But I won’t kid myself… I’ve got nothing. Well, almost nothing.”
“While I don’t doubt how thorough you seem to have been, I’d appreciate even the smallest leads ya’ have. I don’t know how much you know about me, but when it comes to things like this, I’m pretty good,” Ace said confidently.
“Alright, I mean look, it’s your funeral, after all. A few years ago, out of complete coincidence, I saw a man with what I swore was a branding mark on his shoulder at the gym. I caught up to him after my workout, and asked him about it. He blushed, and told me it was a birthmark he was always a little self-conscious about. And you know what? You can’t fake embarrassment, and that dude was embarrassed. I set that aside right then and there.”
“You got a name?”
“Look, uh, Stacy, was it?”
“I go by Ace when I’m on the job.”
“Alright, um, Ace then, I really don’t think you’ll find anything out of this, and I have a reputation to uphold… so-”
“If you give me his name, I won’t mention you in any way. Like I got his name from the wind, or something. It’ll be like I never spoke to you in the first place. I promise.”
Gloria thought for a few seconds, then sighed. “Alright, fine. His name is Jeff Carter. Runs the sporting goods store. But don’t blame me if it’s a dead end.”
“Don’t worry,” Ace said as she snapped her notebook shut, “after all, I never spoke to you in the first place, remember?”
Odds and Ends 
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