The Medusa Stone

Chapter 10

The caller ID on her phone was one that instilled a mixture of feelings. There was immense resentment, fond memories and a general indecision as to the limitations of contact she desired with him. Torn, her big brown eyes read his name again and again.

‘Purdue’

“Not today,” she said softly as she pressed the red button and cut off the call. Dr. Nina Gould was in no mood for company these days. After her last excursion with Purdue on the high seas of the Indian Ocean during which they lost their mutual friend to the wicked tricks of physics, Nina was left emotionally emaciated.

It had been several months since Sam Cleave disappeared along with the ominous Nazi death ship on which he was while Nina and Purdue fought against their captors on the salvage vessel towing it. She blamed Purdue for the loss of her close friend and sporadic love interest since it was his pow-wow. As always, Purdue’s adamant pursuit of strange relics and abominations of Nazi origin had put them all in peril. But this time, they lost Sam.

Sam’s abrupt disappearance had traumatized Nina into becoming reclusive. For the first few days after the coast guard rescued them, she was on auto-pilot. In the aftermath of the ordeal on the tugboat and the madness that had ensued Nina and Purdue had to use subterfuge for the official police reports and insurance claims. If they had to recount the true story of what had happened on the ocean that week, they would undoubtedly have been committed to the present day cousin of Hanwell Insane Asylum or any of Edinburgh’s finest madhouses.

Thus, they were left with their secret; one of many surfaced that week off the eastern coast of Africa. As soon as they were released and had returned to Scotland, Purdue and Nina parted ways to deal with the loss of their longtime associate and friend, Sam Cleave. Nina had sworn Purdue off as a selfish and reckless asshole who kept dragging her and Sam into his dangerous expeditions. Losing Sam was a great shock to Nina.

“Why Sam?” she muttered. “Why not anyone else?”

Nina felt a sudden melancholy as she listlessly made her tea. She had been doing so well, recovering from missing Sam, until now. Now Purdue had to remind her that he existed. Now, when she was finally getting through the day without sobbing over Sam. At first, when she returned home to Oban, she thought about Sam every day.

His voice echoed in her restless power naps. When she closed her eyes, she kept seeing his dark eyes staring into hers like he used to just before he kissed her. Nina could still smell the odor of his sweater when he wrapped her up in his arms and just held her; that familiar smell of tobacco and Castle Forbes shaving cream. All these phantom senses kept him haunting her until a few weeks ago when she started making peace with the fact that Sam was gone in body, but that her times with him would remain with her for the rest of her life.

Besides, she had gone from custodian to mother to Sam beloved feline companion, Bruichladdich. In a way, Bruich was her physical link to Sam, and that served as a palpable solace. Lately, she had started to eat properly again, gaining some much-needed weight to reinforce her health and her once strong physique. Sam was now ever-present in her home, but not in the obsessive and morose manner he used to be. Nina felt him there — just there — as light and serene as the soft breeze that stirred her houseplants.

All that was happening lately. Everything was beginning to smooth out and recover in the Gould household and now this — Purdue calling. Nina was furious and sad about the unapologetic and sobering thrust back into reality; the reality that the horrible outside world still existed beyond her peaceful sarcophagus of memories.

Purdue

The caller ID persisted, only riling her up every time it roused her ringtone.

Bruich even let out his first deep, lazy meow for the day in frustration. The sharp tune was adversely affecting his afternoon nap, provoking the large ginger cat to plod from the sofa and saunter away to Nina’s bedroom to attempt another snooze.

Again Nina ignored the call, yet she refused to switch it off. She was in the middle of negotiations for a position as a historical advisor for a television company in Finland and did not want to miss that important call because she was trying to avoid speaking to Purdue.

All her sour memories resurfaced all at once, overwhelming her just enough to drive her to a bottle of Baco Amontillado and a slab of Cadbury’s dark chocolate. Nina filled her goblet almost to the brim, listening to the gulping of the bottle neck as the smooth sherry spilled out. Her eyes stared blankly at the flowing sherry, but she did not see anything. Instead, her thoughts were far away, locked in reminiscence that haunted her with renewed fervor.

She remembered how Purdue helped her flee her confinement where she was kept in the bowels of the salvage vessel, how they realized that Sam had boarded the Nazi ship they were towing and how she screamed his name when the ship disappeared. So many nights she toiled over what she could have done to alter their fate, to save Sam in time before he boarded the eerie ship, yet she never came to a satisfying solution. Nothing she concocted in her mind could solve the eventual tragedy, though. In fact, most of the time Nina thankfully fell asleep from emotional exhaustion or intoxication. Otherwise, she would never have gotten any sleep.

In an attempt to liven up her surroundings, Nina put on some Beastie Boys for a little attitude. Rap Metal from the 80’s always made her feel tougher, even when all she wanted to do was bawl her eyes out.

It appeared that ignoring his calls worked. By the third helping of sherry, Nina noticed that Purdue had given up, though completely uncharacteristic of him as it was. She was relieved that his incessant calls had ceased because seeing his name again after such a long time only dumped her into a black tar pit of sadness. Nina drew the curtains to shut out the remaining sunlight that colored the wooden floor of her living room amber. It was just too cheerful right now. Barefoot, in a loose pair of office pants and a scruffy knitted blouse Nina sank into the plump cushions of her sofa and wept.

As if he could pick up on her sorrow, Bruich returned from her bedroom and leapt up on her lap, nuzzling her.

“I miss him, Bruich,” she sniffed profusely. “God, I miss him!” Nina put her goblet down and pulled Sam’s cat closer, holding the purring feline against her cheek and enjoying his fluffy warmth. Nina was a mess all over again, as alcohol tended to heighten whatever emotion she harbored when she started drinking. And this was not a good emotional state to have started the unhappy hour with.

“I could have done something,” she wailed as quietly as she could. “If only I knew where he was… if he was alive at all. Is he dead or just… gone…?”

Softly, Bruich pushed the cushions of his right paw against Nina’s mouth as if he wanted her to stop talking. He pulled away and placed it back again, this time on a slightly different spot where her dimples used to show when she still smiled.

“I swear, if you are trying to tell me something by doing that I am going to have to call Animal Planet, Bruich,” she told the cat with snot-impaired speech that just made her feel stupid. Nina took another chug of sherry, prompting the cat to desert her instantly. Contrary to his name, Bruichladdich detested the whiff of alcohol. He bolted down the hallway, leaving a lethargic Nina on the couch in the slamming beats of the New York City rap punks as she drifted off blissfully to the chants of No Sleep till Brooklyn.

A loud knock jerked Nina unceremoniously from her dreamless blackout. With her eyes sandy and her brain exploding, the knock sounded louder than a clap of thunder on the open sea. Again the door shuddered under the persistent rapping, propelling her from the couch with hellfire on her tongue reserved especially for whoever was on the other side.

“Jesus! What do you want?” she shouted over the pounding beat on the computer speakers. “If I wanted visitors I would throw a cocktail party!”

She rushed to get to the door before having to endure another bout of annoying pounding. Typically Nina would have first checked the peephole to see who was calling, but given the way she felt now any prospective rapist-killer-Jehovah’s Witness was bound to be in for a world of pain.

In her flight of fury, she briskly glanced at the mantle clock.

“What?” she murmured while stumbling toward the door. “Six hours? Really?” she kept mumbling during her careless attempt at fixing her hair. Nina opened the door prepared for war, but what she saw on the other side stopped her in her tracks. It rendered her practically sober.

“Purdue?”

“Hey Nina,” Purdue smiled. He knew that he was not welcome, so he kept his distance from her threshold. His tall frame blocked out her view of the ocean and in his hand, he fumbled his car keys. Regardless of his stylish attire, Purdue looked like a self-conscious beggar. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I had to see you. How have you been?”

Nina was speechless. Her anger took a step back in favor of bewilderment and maybe just a little cheer to see an old friend — even if he was a reckless asshole. She had never seen Purdue nervous. He just was not the anxious type. Always the life of the party, always in control, Purdue always had a calm demeanor because he always had a way out. Tonight he was less so.

“Um, do you want to come in?” she stammered, still nursing a splitting headache.

“Thank you,” he replied. It was awkward between them for the first time since they barely survived the expedition to Wolfenstein years ago. In the years between they had grown close, endured trying times fleeing from dangerous people, had furious fights and shared passionate nights in each other’s arms. Now they felt like strangers, hardly able to string sentences together. He closed the door behind him.

“It is pitch dark in here,” he exclaimed over the blaring music. Nina was on her way to turn it down, switching on one of the standing lamps in the corner as she trudged.

“I only woke up now, Purdue. I fell asleep somewhere in the afternoon,” she explained. One by one she lit the other four lamps and the kitchen light to illuminate the place. On the kitchen table, she saw the damage she did to the bottle of sherry, leaving it open with barely enough to cover the bottom.

“Geez, no wonder I feel like a shit storm on legs,” she whispered to herself.

“No wonder you did not answer my calls,” Purdue mentioned as he took a seat. Nina threw the bottle in the trash bin by the back door. Bruich strolled into the kitchen, tangling his body in between the small historian’s feet to remind her that he has not had dinner yet.

“Oh shit. Sorry Bruich,” she gasped. “I just have to feed the cat, Purdue. Do you want some coffee or something?”

Purdue was surprised that she was so cordial, but he was not about to complain.

“Coffee, thank you,” he said from the kitchen doorway behind her.

“So, why are you here?” she asked outright, as the old Nina would.

Purdue took a moment to formulate his words correctly. “Nina. I know this is the last thing you want to hear ever again, but I need your help.”