In All of Infinity (9 page)

“August 24, 1939. Who are you? What are you
doing in my house?”

“I am Truth,” he said and smiled. He found
it peculiar that the doctor was questioning him even though he’d
been requested not to. “Where is your daughter? It is best she is
not here. She is away?”

“Wh-why? I don’t understand. Yes. Yes, she’s
gone. She’s at school.”

“Good. I hope she may stay away for a time.
Come,” the man-child said and ran off. He stopped at the end of the
hall and looked back at Emmanuel. “Come. We haven’t much time. I
can only stay untainted for so long.”

Emmanuel started running, wondering if he
had lost his mind. He followed the man-child known as Truth, and
found him in the attic. Truth looked at him and smiled, his hands
still pressed to his head. The doctor realized the splotches were
showing up on more of the man’s skin and debated on what was
causing it. Was he ill? If that was the case, he had never seen
such a disease.

Truth was standing beside a collection of
stuff covered by a familiar pale sheet, telling Emmanuel to run
through it. “Are you insane? I’m not going to—”

The man-child nudged Emmanuel along, and
then shoved him in with his own body weight. He realized the time
was almost up, could feel the presence of evil, and glanced into
the attic once more before disappearing. She was standing there,
dressed in black, smiling wickedly.

***

Reverie started home directly after class,
shouldering a bag one of the teachers had gotten for her. Ms. Mary
Smith was the English teacher and saw plenty of potential in
Reverie as a writer, and had plans to make sure the young girl fit
in. So far, the attention seemed to be working. Ms. Smith, who was
nearly seventy, had seen plenty of students through rough times,
even those who didn’t claim they needed help.

Ms. Smith also knew that Emmanuel wouldn’t
give his daughter something to carry her books in because he
figured she could carry them like he had to. Although she didn’t
have much to do with the other school in York County, she had seen
Reverie carrying her books on many occasions. Being caring a
teacher, Ms. Smith had addressed him more than once in church and
at the market. She stated that times were changing, children had
book bags, and that Reverie was a girl. She couldn’t carry such
hefty books in her small hands. He would merely look at her with a
raised eyebrow, not saying anything about how she’d contradicted
herself. Were the times changing? Were girls still considered too
weak to carry their books? If that was the case, times weren’t
changing in the slightest.

When Ms. Smith presented
the large black bag to Reverie, the younger girl had merely looked
at it with a raised eyebrow. She’d been told to stay a few minutes
for
this
? She
couldn’t in her wildest dream believe that she would be cornered by
an elder woman. Since it would prove beneficial for her to have a
bag so that she didn’t have to stop by the house and relieve
herself of the burden. She could then walk around in the woods,
holding her chosen book, and not worry about dropping the others.
Reverie accepted the bag with a large smile.

“Thank you, Ms. Smith,” she said and
immediately began putting her work away. “I will definitely use
this, even though I don’t know what my father will say about my
accepting it.”

“Well, if he gives you any trouble, tell him
to address me on Sunday. I’m sure he won’t be bothered about it so
much. He’s a nice, gentle man, and he knows I gave it to you for a
reason.”

“He does have his moments of anger, Ms.
Smith. I mean, I guess everyone does, so I don’t really hold that
against him. I think everyone has been angry before, but it’s
usually good that it doesn’t last for long. I mean, it’s good for
me that my father is as nice and as gentle as you say he is. I’ve
been blessed in that respect, I guess.”

The older woman smiled, the wrinkles lifting
up on her face and making the crow’s feet beside her eyes even
clearer. She was often very strict, dressed sharply with her hair
fashioned into a tight ball on her head to accentuate her firmness.
Although some of the students spread rumors around about her, they
eventually got around to thanking her when it came to graduation.
She was the most popular and most unpopular teacher, especially
when it came to freshmen. There would be some teachers who gave
their students everything they wanted, but Ms. Smith only gave when
she thought a student needed something. It was why her retirement
was going to prove upsetting for most of the faculty and staff: she
had been their teacher as well.

Reverie thanked her teacher again and
departed, thinking about what her father would say and why she was
so easily nervous around Ms. Smith. Reverie had met her and her
family years ago, even though she was clinging too closely to her
father’s side to connect with the Smiths. When he wasn’t looking,
Ms. Smith, who was married then with a flock of young
grandchildren, would give her a piece of candy. Reverie never told
her father about the secret candy, although she doubted he would
mind now. She wondered what happened to Ms. Smith’s husband, and
why her grandchildren hadn’t been in church for years, but
questioning without feeling as if she were prying wasn’t something
Reverie was particularly good at.

As she walked down the hall, she looked
around her at all the faces, trying to avoid bumping into them. She
knew most of the students in York County High because she had seen
them somewhere before, even though she couldn’t recall where she’d
seen Isaac. When she saw him standing near Penelope, he turned to
her with a large smile on his face. The smile slid off his face
before she had a chance to return it. She knew most students, but
that didn’t mean she connected with them. Isaac’s grim expression
told her one thing: she didn’t belong here.

When she stepped outside, she looked at the
sky and realized how dark it was. She knew there was the threat of
rain, so decided to put everything in her bag and continue on,
anticipating the rain. Since she wasn’t much for singing, like her
father was when he was alone, she decided instead to talk to
herself.

Reverie hoisted up the key from around her
neck and looked at it, wondering if she was about to do something
she’d regret. What lay in the attic? Why was her father hiding it
from her? What had she heard last night? She attempted to answer
these questions audibly, finding that everything about the
situation was loaded. Almost as if her mind was infected, she began
thinking about Isaac.

“Why doesn’t he like you? You told him that
he was just a friend, but he simply doesn’t want anything to do
with you now, and that’s that. Let’s face it, Rev, you aren’t his
kind of excitement. He likes Penelope, who can only devote herself
to him, not to studies or anything like that. It’s not like he’s
the prince of the high school, either. There are no actual princes
in all of America. You, bookworm, should know that. Another thing:
your life isn’t meager. You’re just undergoing something of a
crush. It happens to the best. It’s the worst who keep themselves
stuck in the crush. I’m sure you can pull out of it.”

As Reverie considered what
she was saying to herself, a large smile forming on her face, the
sky above her exploded and rain began falling like tears from a
million angels. They were delicate and fell into her face, causing
her to smile brighter. She began rushing when she realized that she
was still dressed in her school uniform, laughing as she did. So
much for a
walk
home!

When she reached the house, she darted up
the steps and stood on the porch, a puddle gathering around her.
There were three cats gathered on the bench, two of which were wet.
She laughed at Euclid, the only one who was dry. He was the smart
one of the bunch, and the only surviving cat that had belonged to
her mother. The other two were younger, one, Apollo, was white with
a bushy gray tail and face; the other, Aries, was orange and slim.
They had sparked her interest in animals.

She opened the door for them, waiting for
each cat to step inside and rush towards the fireplace. As soon as
they did, she walked in and lit up the fire for them, then rushed
upstairs, bag and all, to her bedroom. She checked the books to
make sure they were dry and changed her clothes, still smiling
about her run through the rain.

When she stepped from her room, she heard a
shuffling noise from upstairs. Unable to avoid her desire to check
the attic any longer, she took the necklace from around her neck
and began walking down the hall, still drying her hair with one
hand. The hallway wasn’t completely dark because of the windows
looking towards the yard, but she still had to strain her eyes to
see.

Before she could turn the key, her heart
pounding a mile a minute, she heard a knock on the door. She jumped
and flung the towel onto the stand beside the door, knocking over a
candle. Retrieving it and picking up the candle, she rolled her
eyes and began making her way down the hall, wondering who would be
knocking. Virginia? Oh, she hoped not.

Reverie smiled as she imagined how her
outfit would sicken the pompous “lady.” Her father wouldn’t mind
her being dressed in blue jeans, a black button-up blouse, and last
year’s worn-out shoes because he knew she felt comfortable in them.
The school uniform was uncomfortable, almost as if they were
designed to make you feel awkward.

Reverie hated the uniform, told her father
so at breakfast, and he smiled. He had figured such was the case,
even though he’d refrained from asking her. Whenever he asked her a
question, she was tempted to give him the truth. Of course, last
night had been different. She’d told him the truth, but he’d gotten
onto her anyway. It wasn’t like she questioned him about every
little thing, but she could tell when he wasn’t telling her the
truth.

When she reached the front door, she pressed
her head to the door and asked who was there while her hand rested
on the doorknob. She didn’t hear anyone. Instead of waiting for a
response, she opened the door and a hand came out of the darkness,
grabbing hold of her neck. He raised her into the air and she
looked down at him, realizing she’d never seen him before. Most men
she knew had hair, but this man was bald and had dark green eyes
that stared at her, not caring in the slightest that he was choking
her. He smiled.

Reverie kicked his face, his stomach, but he
wouldn’t let go. He squeezed tighter. As she used her hands to try
and release his hold, he threw his head back and began laughing.
She felt herself growing weak, wanting desperately for her father
to return. She began crying and she realized that she could no
longer kick, merely flail wildly without any results. The man
laughed louder as she closed her eyes, slipping into what she was
sure was her death.

“Hey, Goliath!”

She opened her eyes and saw Isaac standing
at the doorway. He looked at her for a second, offered a smile, and
then turned back to the man. The expression he wore on his face was
one she hoped he would never use on her, wondered if he’d ever used
it on the opposing team before. After all, didn’t one have to be
aggressive to play sports, especially football? Reverie blinked,
realizing the oxygen to her brain was almost diminished. She didn’t
care about football.

“I tell you what, Goliath: I’ll let you walk
away without any serious injuries if you put her down,” Isaac said
and grinded his fist into his hand. Did he know what he was up
against? His opponent was larger than he was, by height and by
build. Reverie didn’t want him to get hurt, but she didn’t want to
die either. “I promise. Come on, what do you say? I’m not usually
one to make promises, so you better take up on this one. It won’t
come again.”

“Wait your turn, pretty boy,” the large man
stated, his voice booming. He threw back his head and started
laughing again. “I promise that I’ll torture you with my entire
arsenal… after I kill little Ms. Reverie Reagan. They want to make
sure is swift and sure, like an arrow through the heart.”

Isaac scoffed. “Wrong answer.”

He charged and knocked the man down, causing
him to release Reverie’s neck. She pulled herself away and stepped
into the room nearest the staircase, gasping for breath as she felt
her neck. With her eyes glued to the fight, she realized she was
wrong about Isaac. He could hold his own. She wondered many things
in that instant: one, who would want to kill her? two, where was
her father? and three, did she have feelings for Isaac
Partridge?

“Reverie?”

Turning, she realized the dining room was
illumed by a bright light that came from everywhere and nowhere.
Standing across the table from her was a red cloaked figure,
holding a hand towards her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your mother. Come…”

Reverie felt as if she were gliding, and
heard the door close behind her. She wanted to turn and run, but,
for some reason, she couldn’t. When she approached the woman in
red, hands emerged from the sleeves of the cloak and raised
themselves to Reverie’s head. The brilliance of the white light
engulfed her and she found her memories slowly disappearing like a
dream in waking.