The Forgotten (16 page)
41
Up with the sparrows.
That's what Pete Banning was, day in and day out, and there were plenty of sparrows in the trees outside his home on Hadrian's Way, the most exclusive street in the Heights, which was what locals called the neighborhood, never mind that it was perched on the eastern inner lip of town. Back when the name was first used, nothing was built on the taller outer lips.
That's what Pete Banning was, day in and day out, and there were plenty of sparrows in the trees outside his home on Hadrian's Way, the most exclusive street in the Heights, which was what locals called the neighborhood, never mind that it was perched on the eastern inner lip of town. Back when the name was first used, nothing was built on the taller outer lips.
Pete sat locked in his home office surfing through feeds from various cameras he had installed on his goodwill calls to customers' houses the previous day. Simultaneously, he checked the audio bugs. Not too much happening this early, but the scenery was pretty good in Heather Boyd's bedroom.
He bugged her bedroom because he'd had a feeling about young Heather of the full breasts and pout ing lips, and he hadn't been wrong. She slept naked. As he watched, she approached the camera and turned on the television. “Back up,” he muttered. “I can't see your boobs.”
She remained close, doing something. Putting in a cassette, he realized, hearing the characteristic sounds, clear even on the tiny feed. She backed up and stood at attention at the foot of her bed, ten feet from the camera.
Just right.
It was an exercise tape.
It's going to be a good day.
Just right.
It was an exercise tape.
It's going to be a good day.
If he hadn't gotten involved with Miss Boyd's bouncy workoutâshe really should have worn a sports bra for those jumping jacks, but what the hell, he didn't have to live with those monsters when they started sagging off her chest wallâhe might have seen some interesting things in a couple of the other homes. The Flaggs' two kids had turned on the television as accompaniment to their slopping bowls of Sugar Smacks and, unbeknownst to them, a phantom had appeared, a typical “lady in white.” It glided back and forth behind the couch, as if disapproving of their breakfast. And in Becky Crachett's apartment, where the television wasn't on, Becky was screaming as she watched what appeared to be blood seeping out of a vaguely man-shaped area of the tan carpet that had been brand-new when she moved in. What neither she nor Pete knew was that the previous tenant had slit his own throat and bled to death on that very spot. The carpet had been installed because the stain couldn't be scrubbed completely from the once beautiful hardwood floor beneath it.
42
Will and Maggie had picked their way over the rocky part of the Crescent and moved onto the narrow hard-packed beach. Behind them, the park and picnic area gave way to quickly rising bluffs, which would, within a few hundred feet, become a warren of shallow, ocean-eroded caverns, where they'd played for hours as kids. Sometimes they even got stuck sitting on a ledge inside one of the bigger ones caves, trapped by the tide. Will smiled, thinking about those accidentally-on-purpose adventures.
“Look up there!” Maggie pointed to her left, at a V of pelicans in the sky over the sea. “They came from the south.” The flock fluttered in apparent confusion. As Will watched, it turned and headed rapidly back the way it had come.
“Was that strange? I'm pretty sure it was, but you're the expert.”
“Seems a little strange. Something must have alarmed them to turn them so abruptly.”
“Maybe they heard hawks?”
“I suppose, but pelicans are too big to be likely prey.” She shook her head and smiled. “It's probably nothing. I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm seeing signs and portents everywhere I look.”
“Me, too,” Will said, spying something not quite right among the rocks at the base of the cliffs.
“You? You don't believe in signs and portents.”
“Portents, no. Signs, yes. Come on.” He bee-lined for the rocks, Maggie on his heels.
“Dear God,” she said, looking at the seal. It was alive, but ill or stunned.
Will passed the seal and rounded an outcropping of cliff that hid a cove and a full half moon of sandy beach. “There are more back here. All alive, I think.”
“Don't touch them,” she called.
“Don't worry.” Half a dozen more seals lay on the half moon of sand, silent, some moving a little, some watching him. The nearest snarled. Will stepped back and turned, startled when the tide sloshed over his heels. As he looked at the water, a school of small silvery fish began leaping above the water like popcorn. “Maggie! Get over here!”
She was there before the words were out, but looking at the seals, not the fish. Will had seen flying fish before, and at first, these seemed to belong in that category. Then they came closer, shimmering in the tide, propelling themselves out of the water with great force.
Shiny silver fish exploded from the foam, pelting Will's legs nearly to his knees. “Maggie!”
“Just a minute.”
“Now! Look!”
She arrived as the tide withdrew, leaving flopping little fish at the water line. They just stood there watching the frenzy continue in the water. Within thirty seconds, a low wash of wave brought more fish, pelting both of them.
“Well?”
Maggie looked at him, deadpan. “They aren't supposed to do that.”
“Are the seals and the fish connected?”
“Yeah, probably. And the birds, I hope.”
“You
hope?
”
hope?
”
“I do. If so, it's some sort of magnetics problem that's affecting them, like we talked about beforeâsomething messing up the magnetite in their brains.”
“And that's
good?
”
good?
”
“Sure. It happens sometimes, and it goes away.”
“An anomaly of nature?”
“Let's hope so.” She toed fish back into the tide.
Will followed suit. “They're not jumping as much now.”
“They're probably tired.” Maggie glanced back at the seals. “They seem disoriented. So do the fish. And we know birds are having problems. Cross your fingers that they're connected.”
“If they're not?”
“It could mean that there's something bad in the ocean. A bacterial infection, a virus, something fungal or toxic. I'll take a little disorientation from a geologic or space glitch any day over disease or poisoning.”
“Makes sense. What do you mean by space glitch?”
“I don't really know. A peculiar pull of the moon? Sunspots? A ripple effect of electric storms? You probably know more than I do.”
“If I do, you don't know much. When you say âgeologic' are you telling me earthquakes are better than illness?”
“Probably. As long as they're far out at sea. Listen, Will, I'm staying here. Will you call my office when you get back and tell Charlie what's up? He'll know who to call. Tell him I'm waiting for help.”
“Maggie, maybe you shouldn't stay.”
“Nobody's going to attack me. I want to stay and observe.”
“I understand. I wasn't thinking about human attackers, though. I was thinking about . . . your being affected by whatever this is. Assuming the birds are part of it.”
“I'll move off if I feel peculiar, I promise. But I won't have to. We don't have enough magnetite to be affected much, if at all.”
“Okay.” Will started to turn to go, then paused. “Mags? What about the cats? And the dogs, for that matter?”
“They'd be far more affected than us. You know, that all fits. Your frightened kitties. The howling dogs. After you call Charlie, check with the US Geologic Survey people and NASA, will you? See if anything's going on.”
“I'll put Kevin on it. He hasn't checked the military goings-on yet either.”
“He'll love it.”
“Ordinarily he would. We've got way too many customers right now.”
Her expression changed for a brief instant, uncertainty flashing over her face. A little fear.
Will's stomach dropped.
“You know,” she said slowly. “Maybe it is affecting people. Or something like it, something related.”
“It's got to be coincidence,” Will said automatically.
“Why?”
“It's just got to be.” He felt helpless.
“No, Will. It doesn't have to be coincidence.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Animals are nervous, people are nervous. There's an explanation for both and it's probably related. Doesn't that sound logical to you?”
“Did I mention to you that Kevin and Gabe believe their house is haunted?” Dread mounded in Will's gut, even as he tried to deny it. “That doesn't sound very logical to me.” He searched her eyes. “They're not the only ones to tell me that.”
She took his other hand and held them both between hers. “Will? Something's wrong, isn't it?”
It's Michael. Listen to me
. . . He forced the dream away. “Nothing's wrong.”
. . . He forced the dream away. “Nothing's wrong.”
“Don't lie. Will, I know you. If something supernatural ever came your way, you wouldn't be able to handle it. Tell the truth. Have
you
seen a ghost?”
you
seen a ghost?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I haven't seen a ghost.”
She studied him. “Okay. I believe you. But I still think you're not telling me everything.”
He made himself smile. “If I told you everything, I wouldn't be interesting.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I'll see you later, and I'll call Charlie right away. ”
Before she could reply, he trotted down the beach toward his car. He had wanted to tell her about his too-real dream, his hypnogogic hallucination, but he just couldn't do it. It was ludicrous and although he knew she would never make fun of him or tell anyone else about it, he wouldn't be able to stop putting himself down for repeating such a thing, for giving it any kind of credence.
He got in the car and pulled out of the lot, heading home to change clothes, even though he'd brought a change with him with the intention of going straight to the office,.
Why am I doing this?
That was easy. He wanted to double-check on the cats, to see if they were still upset.
Why am I doing this?
That was easy. He wanted to double-check on the cats, to see if they were still upset.
And if they were, he wanted to look under the bed. Idiotic fear and silly hope stirred in him and he almost let himself wonder if Michael really had somehow visited him. Almost.
It was stupid and superstitious behavior and he mentally berated himself for it until he turned into his driveway. There, he turned off the engine and sat a moment. Sternly, he reminded himself that he easily accepted, without any derisive reactions, such feelings in other people, in patients and in friends, and that he should do the same for himself.
Damn, but it was a hard thing to do.
43
“Lara Sweethome's on line one,” Kevin told Will between morning patients. He stood in the open door of the office Will was using. “She says it's important.”
“What does she want? More Valium?” That's what most people wanted this morning.
“Don't be jaded. She just wants to ask you something.”
“What?”
“You had sugar for breakfast, didn't you? I can tell.”
“What does she want to ask?”
“I don't know. I assumed that was between you and her. It didn't seem polite to ask.”
Will shut his eyes briefly. “I'm sorry, Kevin. You're absolutely right about everything. But do you think you could see if she's willing to tell you what she wants? The catering truck just pulled up and if I hurry, I can get an egg burrito to take the edge off the donuts.”
“I'll go get it, you take her call, okay? That makes more sense.”
“I know it does, but I don't want to hear about ghosts this early in the morning. She's told you about it, so . . . Please take the call? Tell her I'm very busy with patients and will get back to her A.S.A.P.”
“Okay. You know, you look exhausted. Didn't you sleep well?”
“I slept fine.” Will stood and took off for the back entrance. Kevin went back to his own desk and pressed line one. “Lara?”
“Yes?” She sounded nervous.
“Doctor's with a patient right now, but if you don't mind asking me the question, I'll relay it to him and he'll get back to you sometime today.”
“I want to know if he'll come over and see my ghost. He said he would if it didn't go away.”
“But I think he meant for you to wait a little longer than this, Lara.”
She launched into a frightening tale of her dead mother spooning with her in bed.
“Lara, that's horrible! I'll tell him. I have to warn you dear, that Doctor has a hard time believing in ghosts. I mean, I work for him, and he doesn't believe in mine.”
She said she knew and didn't care. He wouldn't have a hard time believing after he experienced hers. Kevin told her that was a ditto, and promised to talk to the doctor, then ended the connection because a small man in a tin foil hat was standing in front of him. He looked familiar.
“May I help you?”
“Yeah.” The guy's watery eyes darted back and forth. “I called about the last minute appointment. I'm Mickey Elfbones, and you said I could come in at ten forty-five?”
“Oh, certainly. Doctor will be with you in about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, you're a first-time visitor, right?”
More eye-darting. “Yes.”
Kevin handed over a clipboard with a new patient form on it. “While you're waiting, fill this out and bring it back to me, please.”
Elfbones looked suspicious. “You give info out? Like to my boss?”
“Everything is confidential.”
“I'm paying for this. I don't want it to go through my employer's insurance. That's real important.”
“Not a problem.”
The man returned to the waiting room. Kevin eyed him. He'd heard of tin foil hats. People who heard voices wore them, so went the story, but this was the first time he'd ever seen one. Kevin watched the man painstakingly fill out the form and it hit him: This was the guy who'd upgraded their cable a week or so ago. No wonder he didn't want his employer to know he was here. Will was going to love this guy.
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