"Your name? Address? Phone? When?"
Bryan backed away from the desk, mouth open, terror in his eyes. Half-sentences. The officer was talking in half-sentences!
Bryan turned and ran to his car, driving into the darkness.
***
And Cassandra carried the child in her arms, and the congregation followed in solemn procession. Ahriman had given his unholy blessing. Now must they lay the child before the tree, before Willow, before Ahriman ... and they all followed, to Dune, to the arms of the Prince, that a sister may rise and be united, be made one with Cassandra.
That the soul of Willow may arise and rejoice, complete and whole, union and life.
CHAPTER 26
Coma
Bryan sat in the large chair, huddled, sitting on his feet, holding his knees. He was cold, still in his pyjamas, dirty and torn. How long had he been there, frightened, alone?
What had he seen? Was it one of those dreams - those crazy dreams? No. The dreams - they were always the same, the field of flowers, falling. This wasn't a dream. It was not a dream. Liz and Sam - had he seen Sam? No, just Liz - on the table - naked, pregnant - on the table. Or was it Liz?
Who were the Friends of the Willow - or was it Friends of Willow? Cassandra Brubacher - evil - a witch. Yes ... a witch, with a spell on his wife, on Liz, on Sam. On all of the - the Friends. Break the spell - how to break the spell and free his wife and her baby - his baby?
The phone rang and he stopped breathing and put his head between his knees. It rang again.
Liz. She would ask: where have you been? Sam and I have looked everywhere. We were worried. Where have you been? She was evil. No. Cassandra was evil. The witch had captivated them - stolen their freedom - their soul - cast a spell.
The phone rang again. He raised his head, slid his feet to the floor, leaned out of the chair and picked up the phone.
"Mr. Laker? Is that Mr. Laker?
"Yes."
"You reported that your wife was missing. Is that right?"
"Missing? No - not missing. They were - they were -"
"Mr. Laker? Your wife is resting quietly in New Bamberg General Hospital. It isn't ... well, it isn't too serious. She was found in the parking lot at the old Willow Towers apartment building. She was wandering about the lot, alone. It's not safe you know - to walk alone at night. And ... uh, Mr. Laker? Are you there? Your wife - she was naked. I mean, she wasn't dressed - not at all. The doctors have looked her over and ..."
Bryan listened without saying a word, staring at the wall.
"... a coma. But she seems to be healthy, no signs of rape - I mean, no signs that she was attacked, nothing of that sort ..."
"Coma? Did you say coma?"
"Yes, Mr. Laker. Your wife is in a coma."
Bryan dropped the phone and stared straight at the wall, leaned forward to steady himself, shook his head then picked up the phone.
"Mr. Laker? Are you okay?"
"Yes ... thank you. Thank you."
Bryan hung up the phone and walked to the bedroom to change, looked at his pyjamas, stared into the mirror, backed into the bathroom, took a shower.
***
When he reached General Hospital the parking lot was dark and empty. He walked to the front desk and asked for Mrs. Elizabeth Laker. Room 419. He walked to the elevator feeling sick, staggered, held himself steady against the wall. The halls were dimly lit. Dark figures moved in the shadows. One approached and reached out to him and he cringed, raising his hands to protect himself.
"Are you all right sir? Are you ill?"
The nurse looked concerned and he shook his head. He was just a little dizzy. He was feeling better now. Room 4-something. He was looking for Liz. Liz who? Mrs. Elizabeth Laker. Yes, she was admitted earlier. Room 419. Right this way, sir.
***
Liz was ashen, face hollow, creased. Bryan hardly recognized her. She seemed to have aged. He sat on the chair by the bed and whispered, "Liz?" She didn't respond. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly twisted, her hair tangled about her face.
"You understand Mr. Laker - your wife is in a coma. She's been that way for over two hours. There is little you can do here. You should go home, get some sleep. We'll call you the minute -"
"My wife - she's so pale. Is she ill? I mean, can you tell?"
"She seems to have had an ... uh, Mr. Laker ... was your wife expecting a baby?"
"Yes. Yes. A baby - she is expecting a baby. Is she - is the baby -?"
"Mr. Laker I'm afraid the baby was aborted. Your wife -"
Bryan stood up and glared at the nurse. "Why? Why? How could you -"
"No ... the baby was aborted before your wife was admitted. We found no baby - but there was evidence that she did have a baby. I'm sorry Mr. Laker."
Bryan sat again, abruptly, collapsing in the chair, staring at Liz. He sat there until the morning sun streamed through the window and he sat all through the day. The nurses came and went, talking among themselves, but he stayed, waiting for some sign.
But Liz never moved.
***
Bryan awoke with a start. It was dark and he sat up and peered into the darkness. He was in the living room, on the sofa, fully dressed. He had been sleeping. Liz? She was - where? At General Hospital - in a coma. He had sat by her bedside for hours, maybe the whole day, then he had come home, tired. He could do nothing. He felt helpless. The cult - the witch - she had taken Liz's baby - done something to his wife. Why? He looked at his watch. It was nearly 1 o'clock in the morning.
Bryan made a cup of instant coffee, daydreaming, not able to concentrate, his mind wandering. Not the usual freshly ground coffee, perked and filtered. He didn't have the energy. Instant. It was good - a different drink - not real coffee but a good drink. Why did people say not real coffee? Coke wasn't real coffee either, but a good drink.
He shook his head - getting off the track. Think. Do something.
He wandered to the small study and sat at his desk, staring at the scraps of yellow paper, the neat rows of mathematical equations, the pencils and ball point pens and the pad. He pulled the pad of paper to the center of the desk, pushing the scraps to the side, set down his mug. His ball point hovered over the paper for several minutes. He didn't know what to write, but he had to put down the assumptions, the theorems, the premises, the axioms.
Finally he wrote:
Friends of the Willow
Friends of Willow
Was Willow a tree - or a person? Was his wife under some spell - some spell that could be broken? Hadn't Brubacher mentioned a spell? What had Brubacher said? Bryan got up and wandered into the bedroom, searching through his coat pockets until he found the notebook. He returned to the study and leafed through the pages. His notes were there, written after he had visited Brubacher - before Brubacher had died - or was he murdered?
Melissa Kumar - married to Joshua Kumar.
Melissa kills Joshua - buries him under the willow.
Arnold Brubacher marries Melissa Kumar ?
Cassandra born to them ? - 1895.
Friends of the Willow - evil society - under Cassandra's spell
Yes, there it was. A spell. And two sets of bones under the willow tree. Sam had said that. Was it Sam who had said that? He couldn't remember. A baby. A man. What else had Sam Jaffre said? Think. The police had identified the bones as belonging to a child, less than a year old, and a man in his early twenties. A baby and Joshua Kumar. Melissa had killed them both. Wasn't that what Mr. Brubacher had said? That was before she married Brubacher and had another child - Cassandra.
Why was her name Melissa Kumar? Why not Brubacher? Think. She never married Brubacher. Yes. They didn't marry. But the child, the second child, it was named Cassandra Brubacher. Think. If Melissa and Brubacher weren't married then would they have a child? Nothing wrong with that. Happens all the time. 1895. Cassandra was born in 1895. It wouldn't be common practice in 1895; having a baby by
someone other than your husband. Would it?
Think. When was Joshua Kumar killed? Before 1895? That would prove something.
Bryan began to perspire. He slid back on his swivel chair and pulled out a drawer. Somewhere he had the partially completed Short History of New Bamberg. The history begun by his father. He pulled out another drawer, filled with loose papers. There, the Short History. He leafed through the pages. They were no longer in order and the pages weren't numbered. Damn! He brought the handful of typewritten sheets to the kitchen table and spread them out. He picked up a page and read it.
The Bourden house was dominated by a large willow tree. That was where Mr. Harold Bourden was found, beneath that tree. His body had been crushed and was covered in welts, his bones broken, his eyes bloodshot.
Yes, he remembered reading that. But before it was the Bourden house it had been the Kumar house. Here was another piece:
The house was torn down and Willow Towers was built on the site.
Before that. He wanted something long before that. Had his father written anything about the Kumars? There was a piece on the building of Moss Hill Road, the TV tower on Tooly Peak. Nothing about the Kumars. He walked back to the study and picked up the mug with cold coffee and spilled it over the desk. Damn! Why was he so clumsy? He must be careful, act carefully, think carefully, logically. He was a mathematician. Logical thought, his trademark.
He pulled a tissue from the box and began to wipe up the coffee which was running down the side of the desk, into a drawer. He opened the drawer. More loose sheets of paper. More of the History. He pulled them out and sat down, ignoring the coffee stains.
The old house was originally built by Joshua Kumar in 1895, the same year that he married Melissa Kumar. Mr. Kumar disappeared that year and was never seen again.
Joshua disappeared? Of course he disappeared - beneath an old willow tree! Bryan smiled. If his father only knew. He, Bryan Laker, had added another piece to the Short History. But this was no laughing matter. Joshua disappeared - was murdered - in 1895. Cassandra was born in 1895. Joshua could have been the father. Bryan picked up the notebook and pad of paper and walked back to the kitchen, adding the coffee-stained sheets to the others on the table. What had the notebook said?
Melissa Kumar - married to Joshua Kumar.
Melissa kills Joshua - buries him under the willow.
Arnold Brubacher marries Melissa Kumar ?
Cassandra born to them ? - 1895.
Could everything have happened in 1895? He cleared a place on the table, pulled the writing pad into the clearing and wrote:
1895:
House built/completed.
Melissa and Joshua married.
Melissa has a baby - kills it - puts it under the tree.
Melissa kills Joshua - puts him under the tree.
Melissa marries Brubacher.
Melissa has a second girl - Cassandra Brubacher.
Impossible. Somebody was mistaken. Was his father mistaken about the date when Joshua married Melissa? When Joshua disappeared? Was Brubacher mistaken about when Cassandra was born?
Bryan got up and made another mug of instant coffee. Then he sketched a calendar at the bottom of the page. He began to talk to himself, aloud:
Suppose that Cassandra was born in 1895, with Brubacher as father. It must have been late in the year. After all, Melissa had already had a baby that year. We'll put Cassandra down for December. If Melissa and Joshua got married and had a baby - all in 1895 - then the marriage must have been early. We'll put that down for January. Okay. Count from January - 9 months. The first baby was born in October. Two months before Cassandra? Crazy. Two kids born 2 months apart? Crazy. Two years maybe, but not two months. Even two minutes maybe, but not two months.
Bryan ran his hands hands across his hair, pulled at his hair, picked up the coffee mug, then thought about what he had just said.
Born two minutes apart? That would make them ... twins!
Cassandra has a twin sister? Is that possible?
Bryan took a long swallow and stared at the calendar of the year 1895 which he had sketched. Twins. Yes, that was certainly possible. One was the baby that Melissa had killed, buried under the willow. The other? Cassandra! Cassandra the witch! The evil Cassandra! Yes, that made sense.
He leaned back, then put down his coffee and frowned.
What am I talking about? Cassandra is now, what? Eighty, ninety years old? She is certainly not the leader of the Friends of the Willow. That woman was about thirty years old, no more than forty. Damn!
Bryan stared at the top of the page where he had written:
Friends of the Willow
Friends of Willow
Is Willow a tree or a person? He shrugged and got up. I'll take a bath and think about it - in the bathtub. He brought his coffee with him, turned on the faucets, poured some liquid soap into the water and stared into the swirling bubbles for some time, then undressed slowly, dropped his clothes to the floor, stepped into the water.
He lay in the hot tub until the water had cooled, thinking.
Willow is both a tree and a person.
He sat up and stared at the wall.
Willow is the baby - killed - buried.
Willow is the tree.
Friends of the Willow - friends of the tree.
Friends of Willow - friends of the baby - buried beneath the tree.
He jumped out of the tub and ran naked toward the kitchen, stopping in the living room and staring back at the bathroom. I didn't slip. The tub is slippery, I'm soapy and wet, but I didn't slip. He pushed the hair from his face. He was accident prone and had to be careful. Now he couldn't do anything wrong. He had leapt from the tub - a slippery tub - and hadn't slipped. Liz would be proud of him. Liz - in a coma. He frowned and started again toward the kitchen, bumped against the end table, reached out to steady himself and slipped on the small rug in front of the sofa.
He lay there for some time, counting to ten twice, his eyes closed, stretched out before the sofa. When he opened his eyes he was staring at a book, slipped beneath the sofa. It was the book that Liz had been reading.
He pulled it out and read the cover: Twins and the Soul.
CHAPTER 27
the bones of WILLOW
It was noon when Bryan finished reading the book and the shafts of light ran brightly across the room and up the far wall. He set down the book, leaned back and thought about what he had read:
All mankind participates in a cosmic struggle between Good and Evil,
between the King of Light and the Prince of Darkness.
A new struggle between Good and Evil begins with each conception.
Every child is conceived with a life-force, a soul, provided by the King of Light.
This soul gives no advantage to the King of Light in the struggle.
Indeed, all children of Adam descend into the abyss, a world governed by the Prince of
Darkness ... and this descent begins at the moment of conception,
for each soul is tainted by original sin.
The struggle is further complicated in the case of twins.
Twins, monozygotic twins, identical twins - they share a soul until after the hour of birth
when the King of Light blesses the twins with individual soul.
Yet, the souls of each are fouled by the evils of mankind, tainted by original sin,
souls contested by Ahura-Mazda, the King of Light, the God of Good
and by Ahriman, the Prince of Darkness, the God of Evil.
Baptism decides the victor.
Bryan stared at the ceiling. Liz's soul theory - maybe she was right. If Cassandra had a twin, killed and buried before baptism, then they would share a soul which was evil, tainted by original sin. But then the twin must have been killed before birth. Were the bones found beneath the old willow tree those of an unborn child?
Unborn child? Liz lost her unborn chi
ld! Were the Friends of the Willow looking for unborn children? Did they want Liz's child - his child - for some reason, for some evil purpose? He got out of the chair and walked again to the kitchen, looked at the sheet, turned a new page, sat down and began to write, speaking aloud:
Conjectures:
Melissa had twins - Cassandra and another - in 1895.
I need a name for the other twin. I'll call the twins T1 and T2.
Melissa had twins - T1 and T2 - in 1895.
T1 was killed - murdered at or before birth.
The evil of the single, unbaptized soul is shared by T1 and T2.
The evil manifests itself in the willow, in whose roots T1 was buried.
T2 seeks another soul for T1 - or T2?
T2 establishes the Friends of Willow - Willow is her twin, T1.
Unborn children are sacrificed,
to the willow,
to Ahriman,
to the Prince of Darkness.
He stopped writing and dropped his pen. His baby ... sacrificed. Was that why Liz was on the table, that night when he had peered into the darkness through the window at Willow Towers? Were the Friends of Willow gathered there, to sacrifice her baby, unborn, helpless? Bryan put his face in his hands and began to sob, his shoulders heaving, his breath coming in gasps. Then he rose from the table.
"By God ... you witch!" he shouted. "My baby - my Liz. Damn you! Damn you!"
***
By late afternoon Bryan had a plan. He had found the key to the Willow Towers building in an old pair of trousers even though it was rarely needed: the front door lock never worked. And no new owner had asked for the key to the apartment and he had simply kept that too. He would let himself into the old building and plant the device. A long phone conversation to Petr Rowe in Electrical Engineering and the parts for the device were identified. Simple. A transmitter and receiver and a relay to close a switch. He had explained to Petr that he wanted to turn the coffee pot on from his bedroom. In fact he would use it to start a fire in Willow Towers. He would be in the next block with the transmitter - nowhere near the apartment building. He would spill gasoline over the floor in the basement. That should do it. Bryan grinned. That surely should do it. He'd get them all - all the Friends of Willow. A great, cleansing conflagration.
Is that what he wanted? He fell back on the sofa. Did he want to kill them all? Weren't they just like Liz? Under Cassandra's spell - somehow. Innocent of any crime? If Liz weren't in the hospital then would he want to kill her too?