Dark Specter

14

I lay awake for hours, trying and failing to make sense of what I had heard. It was past two o’clock when I finally realized that I was not going to be able to get to sleep. I turned on the light to read some more. As I searched for my book, which had fallen to the floor, I caught sight of the videocassette I had taken with me on my hasty exit from Sam’s room that afternoon. I picked it up and read the label: Russell (Rick): Seattle. Russell was the guy that Mark had been giving Sam such a hard time about the evening before. Maybe the video might provide some clue to what was going on.

The hall was in darkness. The only sound was a soft persistent hushing of rain on the roof, punctuated by more percussive drips falling from the eaves. The fire had collapsed on itself, a dull mass of white ash, barely glowing. I switched on the television, turning the volume right down. The harsh glare of the screen seemed shockingly bright. I expected people to rush out of their rooms demanding to know what was going on, but all was quiet. I fed the video into the open maw of the VCR.

At first I thought I was watching some kind of amateur dramatic production-very amateur. The camera wobbled, the lighting was lousy, the sequencing crude and the acting a disaster. In fact the whole thing was so weak that I assumed it must be one of those “experimental” efforts where bad production values are part of the “artistic concept.” The action seemed to confirm this. It consisted entirely of a guy in his thirties breaking into a house and terrorizing people with a pistol. There was no attempt to contextualize what happened, still less establish character or motive.

The first person he encountered was a housewife in a nightgown and bathrobe. Holding the pistol to her head, he made her kneel down, then handcuffed her and stuck a patch of tape over her mouth. He then went into the bedroom next door, the handheld camera bouncing along behind him like a dog. It approached a crib and panned in to show a baby asleep, then went back to the gunman. He seemed to be saying something to the camera, protesting maybe. I didn’t dare turn up the volume in case someone heard.

Eventually he nodded, as though in agreement. He left the bedroom and went down to the basement, the camera following. In one of the rooms downstairs, two boys, one of them Chinese, were playing a video game. The gunman made them lie down, one on the bed, the other on the floor. Then he handcuffed and gagged them as he had the woman.

It was at this point that I heard a noise. It seemed to have come from Sam’s quarters. A crack of light showed under his door. I turned off the TV, extracted the video and stuffed it quickly inside my robe as the door opened, flooding the room with light.

“Phil?”

Sam stood in the open doorway, a dark silhouette.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I explained. “Thought I’d go raid the fridge.”

“The kitchen’s that way,” he said, pointing to the other side of the room.

“Right,” I said. “See you in the morning.”

He didn’t reply. I walked across the hall toward the kitchen, the videocassette jammed up against my ribs. Behind me, the door to Sam’s room closed. I altered course and headed back to my room.

I got back into bed and lay there, thinking over what I’d seen on the video. The idea that it was a crude attempt at drama no longer seemed credible. The only thing as lame as that was reality. Although I had no proof either way, I became increasingly convinced that I had been watching an actual break-in at an actual house. Judging by the label, it had taken place somewhere in the Seattle area. Russell had presumably been the gunman, while Rick had done the filming.

Then it occurred to me that this might be the way the group financed themselves. They didn’t go and work on the mainland, they broke into houses and stole whatever they could lay their hands on, then disappeared back to the island. But why bother making a video recording of the event? Unless this was Sam’s way of keeping his followers in line. If anyone challenged his authority, he could threaten to send the video to the police.

Awash with these disturbing speculations, I eventually fell asleep. Because of my broken night, I slept late the next morning. Breakfast was over by the time I emerged, and the home-schooling session was in progress at the dining table. There was a different teacher today, a hard-looking blond who seemed distinctly ill at ease in the role. The children looked sullen and bored, with none of the lively involvement they had displayed the day before. But when I went out to the kitchen, there was Andrea, washing dishes with one of the other women.

“Looks like I overslept,” I said lightly. “I guess the coffee’s all gone.”

Andrea immediately left the sink and went to the stove.

“I’ll make you some,” she said without looking at me. “Go to your room and I’ll bring it to you.”

For some reason, I felt embarrassed by her eager solicitude.

“That’s real nice of you, but don’t …”

She gave me a glance which made me falter. I had no idea what it meant, but I felt its intensity like a blow.

“Well, if you’re sure it’s no problem …”

I hovered there for a moment, but she paid no further attention to me, busying herself with the percolator and a can of coffee.

“I’ll be in my room, then,” I concluded awkwardly, and sidled out.

Shortly afterward there was a knock at my door. Andrea stood there with a mug of coffee. She looked strained.

“I need to talk to you,” she said in a low voice.

“Come on in.”

She shook her head.

“Not here. Meet me by the water tank.”

With that, she turned and walked quickly, almost running, back to the kitchen. I closed the door and sipped my coffee thoughtfully. For a moment it crossed my mind that she might be acting under orders from Sam. But surely in that case she would have been more straightforward? What was all the secrecy about, and why was she so nervous?

I put on a jacket and went outside. The overnight rain had stopped, but the sky was overcast. A pair of sea gulls skimmed overhead, crying plaintively. There was no one about except for two women hanging out laundry on a line. As I walked up the trail toward the water tank, I tried to imagine what Andrea could possibly have to say to me. The only thing I could think of was that she’d heard that I was leaving and wanted me to take a message to someone, or to do some errand for her on the mainland. But in that case why hadn’t she just told me when she brought me my coffee? Unless of course Sam had tabooed me after I made it clear that I wasn’t buying into his little scam. “Don’t scare the horses,” he’d told me. Judging by the high-tech goodies I’d seen in his rooms, Sam had an awful lot at stake, and the last thing any con man wants is someone putting the marks on their guard.

The water tank stood all alone on a rocky elevation at the edge of the developed section of land, right above the well which yielded the island’s limited supply of water. There was no plumbing, and all water had to be carried by hand. It would have been a relatively simple matter to run a pipe downhill to a communal tap near the hall, but evidently such a luxury took second place to Sam’s need for the latest electronic toys.

It was another fifteen minutes before Andrea finally appeared, and when she did I was disappointed to see that there were two women with her. Since she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to be seen talking to me, I took cover behind the shed which housed the electricity generator. Each of the women had a plastic bucket which they proceeded to fill from the tank, but it soon became apparent that this was only a pretext for the long, intense conversation that took place. Judging by the women’s lowered voices and furtive manner, they too were anxious not to be seen talking, let alone overheard.

Eventually the discussion broke up and the women set off back together, carrying the heavy buckets of water. For a moment I thought that Andrea had forgotten about our appointment. But when they were about halfway back to the hall, she set down her bucket and said something to her companions, pointing back to the water tank. The others also stopped, but Andrea shooed them away and started back. The other two continued on their way and soon disappeared below the ridge. I stepped out of hiding with the sheepish grin of someone caught playing a childish game, and walked up to Andrea.

“Hi there, honey!” I said in a parody pick-up voice. “Want to take in a movie or something?”

A brief smile broke through the strain on her face. For a moment I caught a glimpse of another Andrea, a stranger yet the same, like a photograph from an earlier, half-forgotten period of one’s life. There are said to be several hundred muscles involved in creating the human smile, but when everything’s said and done, muscles are only pulleys, strings attached to flesh. How is it that such simple mechanics can create an effect which seems to give you the person entire, with all their complex chiaroscuro, their desires and potential, doubts and shortfalls?

“There’s the new Nick Nolte and Susan Sarandon at the Bijou,” I continued, encouraged by her reaction. “Then we could go grab a burger somewhere. What time do you have to be home?”

But her smile had already died.

“It’s not safe here,” she said, glancing around quickly. “Something’s going on, I don’t know what. Terri and Gloria say that Mark has gathered all the men together.”

“So what?”

Andrea shook her head impatiently.

“You know that rock-pool by the ocean, the one where …”

She broke off, looking confused.

“Where you go swimming in the summer,” I prompted.

For some reason she blushed.

“Yes. Go there. I’ll come as soon as I can get away.”

The key to everything which followed was right under my nose, if I’d been able to see it. But I could see nothing but the controlled panic in Andrea’s pale brown eyes.

“I don’t know if I can make it,” I said. “I’m leaving today, maybe this morning.”

“You can’t leave.”

I stared at her. Her eyes moved a fraction, fixing on a point just beyond my shoulder. I turned and saw Sam walking toward us. Andrea stepped past me without another word and picked up the bucket of water. As she passed Sam, he caught her arm and said something to her to which she replied quickly. Sam released her as I approached.

“Andrea and I were just having a little chat,” I told him. “She says there might be some problem about me leaving today. Is that true?”

Sam glanced at Andrea, who had continued on her way down to the hall. Then he looked around at me.

“I just went into your room, Phil, and there was a videocassette on the chair by the bed. Do you know anything about that?”

“Oh, that,” I replied casually. “Yeah, I found it in one of the drawers while I was putting my clothes away. I guess it must belong to Mark.”

I wondered if he’d noticed that the tape had not been rewound.

“Anyway, what’s all this about me not being able to leave?” I asked.

Sam’s eyes slowly defocused.

“We’re having a little trouble with the boat,” he said. “Can’t seem to get the engine to start.”

“Any idea how long it’s going to be out of action? I’m kind of anxious to get going.”

Sam nodded vaguely.

“It’s hard to say. Rick’s taking a look at it right now.”

Another thought seemed to strike him.

“You any good with guns, Phil?”

“Guns? What kind of guns?”

“Any kind. You ever fire one?”

“Hardly. I grew up in Europe, Sam. It’s not really what you’d call a gun culture.”

He nodded in the same dreamy way, as though his real thoughts were elsewhere.

“Do you have guns here on the island?” I asked.

Sam gazed at me without speaking for some time. It seemed to cost him an effort to focus. I wondered if he was maybe slightly stoned.

“Sure,” he said at last.

“You do? Why?”

He smiled lazily.

“Because this isn’t Europe, Phil. This is real life, and in real life a man has to be able to defend himself and stand up for his beliefs.”

He looked at me slightly aggressively.

“Right, Phil?”

I shrugged.

“I guess. Except I usually don’t know what my beliefs are.”

Sam looked away at the dark border of woods which encircled the clearing.

“I used to be like that,” he said. “Then one day I found out. I have a feeling that you’re going to find out too. Maybe soon.”

I gestured impatiently.

“Well, it’s going to have to be real soon. Another couple of hours and I’m out of here, boat or no boat.”

He took a step past me, then turned back.

“Oh, just one other thing. Don’t believe everything Andrea tells you. She kind of overdid it with the dope back in the old days and her synapses are fried. She makes up stuff, doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.”

On my way back to the hall, I discovered that Andrea was not the only one who made things up. Sam had told me that Rick was “taking a look” at the boat, but as I passed one of the prefab houses he and Mark emerged, along with a group of other men, all arguing loudly. I caught the names “Andy” and “Dale” before they saw me and fell silent. They stood staring at me in mute hostility as I walked past.

“Are we having fun yet?” I inquired sarcastically.

I’d given up trying to ingratiate myself with these jerks. I didn’t even care whether Rick was working on the boat or not. Whatever happened, I was leaving that afternoon. If the boat wasn’t fixed, I’d use Sam’s cellular phone and call a water taxi from Friday Harbor. Screw the cost. All I wanted was out.

Back in the hall, the blond was still sitting at the dining table with her three charges, but she had now given up all pretense of keeping order, still less teaching them anything. I wondered why Andrea had been replaced. Sam had given the impression that she was their regular teacher. The children were shouting and throwing things and teasing each other and generally carrying on the way children do. They paused for a moment when I entered, but immediately resumed their racket. Like everyone else, they had evidently realized that I was a person of no consequence in the life of the community.

Back in my room, it was immediately obvious that my belongings had been searched. No attempt had been made to disguise this fact. My clothes lay strewn all over the floor, my overnight bag had been emptied and the contents scattered across the bed. I did a quick check. Except for the videocassette, nothing seemed to be missing. In fact something new had appeared. A pair of jeans and a matching denim shirt in a child’s size were draped over a wire hanger suspended from a hook behind the door. I repacked my bag and stashed it away in the corner. Then I took the child’s clothing and walked out, leaving the door open. There were no locks or bolts on any of the doors, anyway. Presumably the Theosophists had thought such things beneath them.

“Any of you kids belong to this?” I asked, holding up the jeans and shirt.

They stared at me blankly. The blond affected not to notice my presence.

“Pardon me, ma’am!”

Her cool eyes traveled a seemingly considerable distance to my face.

“Are you Melissa?” I said with a suave smile.

“Uh huh.”

My smile broadened.

“I’m Philip. Sam was talking about you. He told me about your gorgeous cat.”

A peevish look crossed her sharp features.

“I don’t have a cat.”

I frowned exaggeratedly.

“Really? Gee. Well, maybe he used some other word. Do you happen to know anything about these clothes? I just found them hanging on my door, and they weren’t there when I left. You’ve been sitting here the whole time, I figured maybe you saw who went into my room and put them there?”

Melissa gave a facial shrug.

“I didn’t see anyone.”

I tossed the clothes on the table.

“Well, they sure as hell don’t fit me. I guess I’ll just leave them here, let the rightful owner claim them in the fullness of time.”

Outside, the clouds had thinned and perforated like a wet blanket worn thin in places. Rich blue sky peeked through, and the invisible sun chiseled the edges of the cloud masses into sculptural forms. I set off down the broad trail leading to the pier, watching out for the path which Sam had taken the day before. It was only then that it occurred to me how strange it was that Andrea had taken it for granted I would know where the meeting place she had named was, and above all how to reach it. But even now I failed to make the obvious inference.

I somehow managed to miss the path and found myself back at the pier. The boat was still there, securely moored. Wanting to check out Sam’s story, I climbed aboard and had a look around. There was no sign of any mechanical work in progress. In a locker in the wheelhouse I found a chart which covered most of the local archipelago, known as the San Juan Islands.

I recalled that Sam had referred to the landmass across the strait as Orcas, and by working back from that I was able to identify where I was, a mere blip on the chart named Sleight Island. I also found the town of Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, the biggest in the group. I was dismayed to see how far away it was. As for the mainland, that was considerably farther. In fact, the outlying islets of Vancouver Island across the Canadian border were a lot closer. If Sam and his buddies wanted to get away from it all, they’d picked the right place.

I returned to the pier and walked back up the trail, inspecting the undergrowth to my right for signs of the path. In the end I found it, a mere smudge leading off through soaring Douglas firs and yellowish cedars, interspersed here and there nearer the shoreline with madronas. Soon the ocean itself came in sight, heaving listlessly over the rocks. I walked to the brink of the bluff overlooking the cove. The tide was higher than it had been the day before, and the pool was almost entirely submerged.

There was no sign of Andrea. At the far end of the strait, a car ferry was passing on its way to or from somewhere. I was heartened by this evidence of life going on in a world that neither knew nor cared about Sam’s half-baked, half-smart flimflam. Soon I would rejoin it, and all this would be a fading memory.

Over twenty minutes had gone by before I heard sounds on the hillside above and saw Andrea making her way down the path toward me. I’d had plenty of time to decide what approach to take with her. Sam had implied that Andrea was a brain-damaged fantasist, and while that wasn’t necessarily true, there might well be something to it. If she had something definite to tell me, or some specific favor to ask, I was prepared to listen, but I wasn’t going to stand for any more prevaricating or mystification.

She was wearing the same outfit she’d had on the evening I arrived, a baggy hand-knitted gray sweater and khaki slacks with a battered pair of brown work shoes. She had the kind of body that looked great in anything, but it was her face which stood out. With its regular features, good bones and flawless skin it must have looked almost tiresomely pretty when she was young, but age had rendered that banal bounty down to a lean, distinctive beauty with great character and just a hint of residual sweetness. Now, though, she mostly looked scared.

“Let’s go down there,” she said, pointing to the rock ledge at sea level.

“Why?”

“Someone might see us.”

I looked around. We were surrounded by woods on one side and ocean on the other.

“That’s bullshit. Anyway, what if they do?”

She looked down, shaking her head.

“You don’t understand.”

“That’s what Sam’s always saying. I guess I’m just not up to the intellectual demands of living here. Fortunately I’ll be back with my own kind soon. Now then, have you got something to tell me or what?”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the jumble of rocks leading down from the bluff.

“Just come with me. Please!”

I decided to humor her. Below us, the sea swell slushed and slurped on the underside of the smooth basalt ledge. When we reached it, I turned to Andrea and smiled tightly.

“OK, lay it on me.”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Try the beginning.”

“It’s … I mean, how do I know if I can trust you? Sam said that you were friends. You might tell him everything …”

I gestured impatiently.

“I won’t. You have my word on that. Besides, we’re not really friends. He’s just someone I knew years ago, at college. Like I told you, I’m leaving soon and I won’t be back. And the only regret I have about that is that I would like to have spent more time with you, Andrea.”

She pushed back her hair distractedly.

“Me? Why?”

I smiled at her.

“I thought women weren’t supposed to ask that. Anyway, I don’t know. I can only say that out of all the people here, you’re the only one who seems completely real.”

She narrowed her eyes, as though suspecting some trick.

“You mean you think the others are specters?”

I gave an expressive sigh.

“Please, Andrea! Don’t give me that crap.”

“You don’t believe in it?”

She seemed amazed.

“What’s to believe?” I demanded. “The gospel according to Billy Blake? You don’t buy into that, do you?”

A sea gull flew by, emitting sounds like a squeaky gate. Andrea swung around as though someone had touched her. She seemed to be getting more agitated by the moment.

“We all do,” she murmured. “We have to.”

“But supposing you don’t? Supposing you lose your faith, what happens then?”

She did not reply.

“Do you want to leave?” I suggested. “Is that what this is all about, Andrea?”

Her head shook in a spasm.

“You don’t understand!”

I turned and started to climb back up the rocks.

“Stop!”

It was a cry of desperation.

“You mustn’t go yet! Please come back!”

She looked so helpless I found myself taking pity on her. Maybe she really was crazy, I thought. If so, she was in good company. I climbed back down.

“You’re absolutely right!” I told her sharply. “I don’t understand a fucking thing. I don’t understand why you asked me to meet you. I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of. I don’t understand what you’re doing here in the first place.”

She sidled past me, putting herself between me and the bluff.

“It’s no use trying to cut off my escape,” I said. “If you want me to stay and listen to you, you’d better start talking sense. Fish or cut bait, Andrea.”

She looked up above my head, as though seeking inspiration.

“You know about Lisa, right?” she said.

“Sam’s wife, the one who drowned?”

“The one who drowned.”

She continued her circular movement, ending up back in her original position. I turned to face her.

“Lisa was a friend of mine. She invited-me here when she bought the place. There were a bunch of us. Most of them left. I stayed.”

A movement caught my attention. Behind Andrea and slightly to one side, someone had appeared on the rocky outcrop high up at the other side of the cove.

“Someone’s watching us,” I murmured.

I couldn’t make sense of the perspective at first. The figure seemed to be farther away than the rock it was standing on. Then I realized that it was not an adult but a child, dressed in the clothes I had discovered in my room earlier, the denim shirt and jeans. The outfit now looked strangely familiar.

Andrea had turned to look.

“I don’t see anyone,” she said with a puzzled frown.

I hardly heard. A terrible madness had gripped me, a senseless certainty I knew was impossible, but which I could not shake off.

“David!”

“There’s no one there,” said Andrea.

The child stood rigidly still. His face was expressionless.

“David! It’s me, your father!”

There was no reaction. I shoved my way past Andrea, sprinted across the cove and hurled myself at the rock face.