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Vigil
By Christie and Larry deSouza
Noel watched the last lonely drops of rain skid down his window pane. The dark sky over St. Canard was clearing, its nightly rainstorm exhausted once more. He sighed to himself. At least there wasn’t any lightning this time.
Lightning sometimes brought back memories – at least on this night.
He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and shut his eyes, wondering if he should go to bed. Echoes formed in his darkened mind – the wind howling, the terrible terrible light. He jerked awake, and pulled away from the glass. His forehead was wet with condensation from the window pane.
Noel watched as another drop sadly made its path along the inside of the glass.
Trying to shake off his melancholy, Noel rose abruptly and shuffled around his modest apartment, finding ways to keep busy. Absently, he restacked some books along a shelf and turned on a few more lights. He wondered if he should put on a sweater against the night chill, but the room thermometer showed a comfortable 70 degrees.
"Why does it always feel so cold at night?" he wondered aloud to the plant on the shelf. He toyed with the idea of turning on the stereo, but the thought of music or talk-radio was intrusive.
The sudden ringing of the phone startled him. It sounded especially loud for some reason – another illusion of the night. Quickly, Noel snatched the receiver from its cradle as if to keep the noise from offending someone else.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Noel. You’re up frightfully late, aren’t you?" J. Gander’s calm voice settled Professor Waddlemeyer’s taut nerves.
"Am I really?" he responded, slightly bemused. "What time is it?"
"A quarter past two, Noel. You really should get some rest."
"A quarter past…well. Where does the night go? It seems I’m not the only one up late J. Gander." Noel’s voice was deliberately light in tone.
"Noel, this is not good for you. You know Gosalyn would not approve."
"I’ve done other things Gosalyn never approved of. I’m sure she’d forgive me this time."
J. Gander sighed deeply on the other end of the line. "Would you like some company?" he asked.
"No. Thanks, but – I prefer to be alone tonight."
"You’re never alone, old friend," came the warm response.
"I can see that," Noel replied, peering out his window into the street. An unmarked van, typically SHUSH issue, stood parked on the far corner of the street, trying to look innocent. "J. Gander, are you having my apartment watched again?"
"It’s only once a year, Noel. My budget can handle it." Despite his mood, Noel had to chuckle at J. Gander’s practical attitude.
"I never sleep well anyhow. Tell you what, I’ll make myself some tea and then try to rest. Deal?"
"Very well, Noel. I’ll call off my agents if you give me your word to try and get some rest."
"I promise," he said with an exaggerated tone. "Listen, I’m even pouring water into the kettle now." Noel held the phone out to the running tap and then settled the kettle onto the stove. "Happy?"
"Content. Very well – good night, Noel."
"Good night, J. Gander. And – thanks." With a little reluctance he hung up the phone. J. Gander understood, and that mattered to Noel. Even if there was nothing he or anyone else could do.
He stared at the kettle for a while before shaking himself again. "A watched pot never boils," he said aloud to the empty apartment, and walked around the living room for a few minutes before forcing himself to sit. Once more, his gaze was drawn out to the clear night sky.
The stars seemed so far apart from each other.
Stars, and flashing lights – the swirling sides of the dimensional tunnel heaved and bent beneath his feet. Somewhere above him, Leon Ardo was laughing maniacally. Gosalyn and J. Gander and Noel hung precariously. Too far apart – too far… too far…. The ropes were being cut. He could feel the twang of vibration as they quivered with each stroke of the blade. Someone was screaming –
Noel bolted up out of his chair – awake. The kettle in the kitchen whistled mournfully and sent out streams of steam. With quick motions he switched off the burner and poured the boiling water into the teapot. He sat at the table and pushed the tea bag around with a spoon to help it steep.
A drop of cream first, and then the rich dark liquid. A pale brown cloud billowed to the surface of his cup and he stirred it into an even tone. The soft clink of his spoon against the porcelain cup seemed to count the long seconds of the night. He watched the ripples circle around and around.
Around and around and around and around. Leon had pulled the plug from the dimensional tunnel and they were all trapped. They thought he had been stranded. Leon wasn’t supposed to be a threat anymore. Someone had broken the wall for him though, and re-opened the tunnel. An unknown – nothing they could have planned for.
"Gosalyn!" he screamed, trying to reach her across the terrible distance that separated them. Her mouth worked soundlessly, her fear barely contained, but the howling wind of the tunnel stole her words from him.
"You’ll watch the others fall into oblivion!" screeched Leon, high above them. He was dressed in ludicrous technology, wielding the universal plug that held the tunnel stable. The three of them splayed forth from Ardo’s floating platform. A long blade glinted evilly from his other hand and he bent and drew it across all three ropes. She was just too far away.
J. Gander was the one who acted. Noel was never meant to be a field agent. His mind felt frozen in terror as he saw the mother of his child trapped and helpless.
A blur – J. Gander swinging in a wide arch. Noel saw his plan instantly. He had managed to build up enough momentum to swing across to try and catch Gosalyn before her rope was cut.
"No fair!" The indignant voice raged down upon them. Noel looked up to see Leon change his focus and begin to saw at J. Gander’s rope. Noel pumped his own legs, trying to throw Leon off balance. His floating platform looked none too steady.
Noel blinked, his small kitchen table coming abruptly into focus. His tea, long neglected, lay placidly before him. He poured the cold drink down the drain and set his cup in the sink. This was not going well.
It never did.
Not entirely trusting J. Gander to call off his agents until he saw some sign that he was keeping his word, Noel circled his apartment and turned off all the lights but one. He sat down in his favourite reading chair and decided it was time. He reached up and snapped off the remaining light. The darkness closed in like a hungry animal and Noel finally gave in to it. He lost himself in the memory of this night.
The night his Gosalyn died.
He could still remember the smell of sun-warmed grass. Gosalyn and he had dropped Bill off in front of a friend’s house. Bill was just nine, and heading out to a Woodchuck Jamboree. He was so excited – carrying his oversized backpack, running and laughing as his parents drove away to their Quack Fu classes and university career.
If only...
Gosalyn reached under the dashboard of their sensible looking family car, and flipped open a hidden drawer. She pulled out a thick dossier and began to flip through it as Noel drove them to SHUSH Central.
"Have you had a chance to go over this yet?" she asked him. Her voice was calm and professional. The mother was left behind with the son. Now it was time for business.
"Yes," he replied, trying to mask his fear by imitating her stoic tone.
A lane change. The exit ramp. The memory of the morning sun glinting off the bay, and the hollow cries of gulls over the sounds of traffic on the bridge.
Another lane change. Another intersection. Shortly, the old SHUSH headquarters rose before them and the crunching of gravel separated the parking lot from the roadway.
He could remember so much of the day but so little of what she said. How he missed the sound of her voice.
As they were crossing the parking lot, a thunderclap and sudden detonation drove them to their knees. The air screamed as a vortex was torn into being above them, pulling the papers from her hands. Agents began pouring out of the building. Stars rained down, exploding around them – the light strobing figures into a bizarre stop-motion ballet.
The roar of the tunnel never ceased. He felt himself being drawn up off the ground. Someone grabbed his ankles – J. Gander. The force pulling him just got stronger and pulled him up too. Beside them both, Gosalyn, with a determined expression looked straight ahead at the monster who was doing this to them.
The memories were all shards, spinning and spinning like the flotsam in the tunnel. Their plight was inescapable, and Noel’s mind drifted just as inexorably back – to the final moments.
J. Gander’s efforts were working. He had wrapped his rope around Gosalyn and pulled the two of them together. Noel was swinging too, rocking the mechanical platform Leon was on. In anger, Leon flung the universal plug away and used his free hand to steady himself. The long blade continued to hack at the ropes. Indiscriminately he slashed – not caring anymore who died first. Noel’s rope came together with J. Gander’s and Gosalyn’s. The three of them were one target now. His breath was coming in sharp frightened gasps.
A sudden drop. J. Gander’s rope was cut. The long end trailed toward the hole that went on forever. As they clung to him, he shrugged loose of the binding and let it fall away. They could still feel Leon slicing the remaining ropes.
A plan – a hope. The plug went whizzing by as it rode along the unyielding current. The walls were closing in rapidly narrowing circles. J. Gander pushed free into space, grabbing the plug and riding it. Noel and Gosalyn watched tensely, clinging to one another’s ropes, trying to stretch one chance for life between the two of them.
Another drop. Noel’s rope flew free. He slipped a short distance before he tightened his grip even more. Gosalyn’s deft fingers undid the last of the binding about Noel and let it drop. Around them J. Gander was clinging to the plug – trying to guide it towards the rift. The tunnel sides continued to buckle and collapse.
Another small drop. Not much of the rope was left. Horrified, Noel turned to look into his wife’s face. Her expression was a mixture of fear and grim determination. "I love you," she said tightly.
He couldn’t find his voice. Confused and disbelieving, all he could do was nod mutely. This couldn’t be happening. They had always gotten out of scrapes in the past. This couldn’t be the end.
Gosalyn had pulled out her gun. "If this doesn’t work..." She choked on her words and looked up at him. Her deep green eyes glistened with tears. "Noel..."
Shaking his head, he tried to console her with meaningless words. "We’ll get out of this..."
Another short drop. "Take care of our boy," she quickly whispered. Her face pressed close to his. He could taste the salt of her tears in that final kiss.
Then she pushed him away.
Noel was torn from the rope, his cry lost to the deafening roar of the vortex. He reached for her in vain, the distance between them widening as he was drawn into the relentless current.
Gosalyn aimed her gun at Leon as his blade flashed and flashed again. The gun discharged – its sharp retort barely heard over the tunnel’s protests.
Newton’s third law of motion. Leon careened out of control one way - a stream of red marking his flight. Gosalyn went the other, into blackness.
Just a moment more. Just a few moments more.
J. Gander had done it. The universal plug was in place and the tunnel walls rebounded, flinging all of them into new orbits. The vortex above the parking lot tossed them unceremoniously onto the hard sharp gravel, and then sealed itself.
But there were only two.
The doorbell rang, and Noel roused himself slowly. His face was wet from the tears he had cried in his sleep and he quickly mopped his face with one hand before opening the door a crack.
"It’s me, Dad," said a voice on the far side of the door. Noel unlatched the lock and his son, tall and grown now, entered. His long black overcoat seemed to deny the morning light cheerfully slanting in sideways through the apartment. A small spray of flowers were clutched in his hand.
"Are you ready to visit the cemetery?" he asked quietly.
"In a moment," Noel replied. "Just give me a minute to wash my face." Bill nodded and removed his overcoat while Noel stepped into the bedroom.
Quietly, he closed the door and then slipped over to the large closet. It was Bill who needed to go to the cemetery. He needed to feel his mother’s presence, still unaware that she was not there. But Noel knew.
A low humming emanated from the closet as he opened the door. The miniature QPIT device sat on the floor, a wide beam focussed on the back wall. It was a great risk and responsibility to keep a portal open every night, and it caused restless sleep and anxious dreams. But it was worth it.
Noel looked out through the portal. The bands of energy never seemed to change as they travelled around and around. He looked at the wall of the tunnel by his doorway to reassure himself once more that the markings he had placed around it were still secure. It had been thirteen years, but still he could not bear giving up hope. He knew it was impossible, but he had to be prepared for even the most remote possibility... that she would see the doorway and find her way home.
"I love you, Gosalyn," he whispered through his tears into the emptiness.
Pulling back from the opening, Noel flipped the switch to close the portal. His son was waiting.
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