Keep Quiet - 9. The gated well

It is now morning. How long has it been since I last slept? It seems as though I have been writing these memoirs for weeks, but I know this is not the case.

I turned on the news today. There is mistrust, and there is confusion. Some people suspect the truth by now but their voices are being drowned by others who call them alarmists, liars, or agents in the service of some foreign power or another. Here in America we blame the Soviets. I have seen no less than three news programs where they suspect that the troubling findings some astronomers have been reporting related to the strange brightness of the night sky are surely either lies or, much more worrisome, indications of secret atomic tests which threaten the entire human race. Explanations have been proposed, each one more outlandish than the last, such as the fact that the oddness of the moon last night must have been the consequence of a covert nuclear detonation on the surface of the satellite. Official government communications downplay these crazy theories, but that is not stopping them from spreading. Have the Communists really sprung so far forward in their relentless technological advances as to allow them not only to reach the moon itself, but to experiment with nuclear weaponry on its surface? Does this mean the end? Is nuclear winter a matter of time? How many cities will be destroyed? How many of us will survive to witness the desolation after humanity destroys itself?

It is ironic that, even at a moment like this, most of us cannot help but think that destruction will come from within. I do not know what the military of my own country will do, but I can guess they are not sitting idle while these rumors are floating around. The signs are now too numerous, too worrisome, to simply ignore. They must be preparing themselves for war.

They are fools. We cannot win against this enemy.

I have not left my house, but through my bedroom window, I have seen how one of my neighbors prepares for what he must believe is the inevitable nuclear strike which is sure to aim for nearby New York City. I have watched him carry numerous boxes of supplies into the fallout shelter he built in his backyard five years ago. His wife watches him from an upstairs window, a worried frown on her face. I noticed earlier that their children did not go to school today.

Should I go out and tell him that no amount of preparation can save him, or his family? Should I go out into the streets and begin yelling like a madman, proclaiming the truth I know and which, I am certain, no one will believe? Or should I simply wait?

It does not matter. Soon they will all know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that it is not the Soviets we have to fear.

***

The morning after my return to the Observatory, I felt the strong temptation to simply leave. Charles obviously did not want me there anymore, and if he had… If he had already replaced me, as I had discovered very painfully last night, then surely there was little point in me staying. Henry was there now, younger, annoying, ever-smiling. What had he called me the day before?

Ah. His predecessor.

I got dressed as soon as the sun rose that day, my thoughts dark, my expression grim. The day outside mirrored my mood as it was overcast and rainy. I went to breakfast early enough to be certain that Charles would not be up, and it was only the cooks I met in the kitchen at that hour. I asked for scrambled eggs and toast, and ate alone in the dining room, already thinking about what I would do with myself and with my career now that working together with Charles, as I had envisioned, was obviously not an option anymore.

I supposed I could work with my father. He was getting on in years and I was certain he would be more than happy to train me to become his successor and inherit his clients. I could also apply to a local university, or join one of the postwar research projects which I knew to be still ongoing from among the contacts I had made during my service.

There were options available to me, which made the bitter disappointment of last night somewhat easier to swallow. I would have liked to have lived here, in the Observatory, together with Charles once again and to spend the years researching as we had done for that wonderful, altogether too-short year.

It was not to be, though. I tried to convince myself of this fact as the morning progressed. I went back into my room and gathered my things. I planned to leave as soon as possible, but the rain outside had begun to fall harder, reaching storm proportions around noon. Although the road leading out of the property was paved, the way was winding, narrow, and treacherous. I had no wish to endanger my life by leaving right then and driving in the middle of a downpour, so I resigned myself to another day of staying. I kept to myself, however, spending the hours of early afternoon reading in my room next to the window, finding an odd sort of solace in the unceasing patter of heavy raindrops against the glass. The temperature descended quite drastically, in stark contrast to last night’s warm weather, and evening found me wearing a robe while sitting in an elaborate and rather comfortable armchair next to a fireplace which I was deciding whether to have lit or not. I was sipping some black tea with honey which helpful Mrs. Thompson had brought to me a while earlier along with my supper. When the knock came at my door around 5 PM, I supposed it was her once again.

“Come in,” I called, not even looking up from the copy of King Lear I was idly perusing at the moment.

It was only when the door closed and no greeting came that I glanced in that direction and realized that Charles was standing there, looking uncomfortable and apologetic.

Hello, Daniel, he signed. I did not see you at lunch.

I did not answer. I watched his gaze land briefly on me and then slide away, almost as if he were afraid to meet my eyes. I registered the small frown on his brow when he saw my suitcases, ready and packed, next to the door.

Too bad about the rain, I gestured, nodding briefly in the direction of the window. I’m afraid I will have to inconvenience you for one more night.

You were leaving? Charles asked, as if there could have been any doubt as to what I had meant.

Of course. I get the distinct impression that my… my help is no longer needed. Not to worry, however. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I will jump on my car in the morning and –

“Don’t,” Charles interrupted me, accompanying the word with a gesture.

What? I asked.

Don’t leave. I came here to tell you that. Please don’t leave.

I raised my eyebrows to inflect mild sarcasm in my hand gestures. I was under the impression that my presence here was rather superfluous. Your assistant appears to be quite capable.

Charles grimaced as if I had insulted him. He helps me, yes. But he is not a colleague. He does not understand half the things I talk about, let alone offer any meaningful contributions to the research. He is just that, an assistant. He is not a researcher like you or I.

I could not help it. I smirked ever so slightly, remembering the self-important way in which Henry had, the evening prior, referred to the work he and Charles did as ‘too complicated to trouble me with it’.

So you accepted my return because you need a colleague? I asked him.

Yes. My work gets more complex all the time and I need another capable mind to discuss ideas, results, and theories. I could offer you quite a generous salary if that would make you reconsider, Daniel. I greatly value your academic contributions. Not only would we share in credit for any discoveries, but you would also be able to build capital of your own.

Perhaps he had meant it sincerely, but that was precisely the last thing I had wanted to hear from him. He wanted me here as an employee, then – nothing more.

I looked at Charles, long and hard, until he looked away. Then I stood up to command his attention once more.

I thank you greatly for your generous offer, I said, and the expression on my face made the tone of my gestures clear. I was disappointed. I was angry. I was hurt. I’d had enough. I’m afraid, however, that I will have –

The moan interrupted me, shrill and grating, coming from the attic above my room. It was the same horrid sound that I had heard last night, but muffled, as if its source was being somehow contained. As before, goosebumps erupted on my skin and I resisted the urge to cover my ears in order to block the gurgling noise that sounded like a drowning animal in the agony of death.

I looked at Charles. He seemed alarmed.

“I’m on my way!” Henry’s voice called from the hallway beyond. I heard running footsteps and the hurried jingle of keys. I heard the groan of a heavy door opening in the distance and the deep thud as it was slammed shut.

The moaning stopped.

What is happening? I demanded, stepping closer to Charles. What is that noise?

Please don’t leave, Danny, he said, his face betraying genuine fear. I need you here.

Then he opened the door and rushed away before I could say anything. I followed, of course, and I saw him go up the staircase that led to the attic. When I got there, however, Charles had already disappeared through that heavy door reinforced with metal and he did not open it despite my insistent knocking.

I did not see Charles again that day, although around dinnertime I caught a glimpse of Henry as he dashed across the hallway yet again. Curious, I followed him to the chemistry laboratory where I saw him cleaning his left arm under the stream from the nearest faucet.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, stepping inside.

He whirled about, evidently surprised. He covered his arm with his hand but I thought I saw blood. Had he been injured?

“Yes, yes, nothing to worry about, Mister Fenton. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

He left the laboratory without waiting for me to reply, still clutching his left arm. I did not see him again for the rest of the day and I spent the night listening intently, but nothing else out of the ordinary happened and eventually exhaustion claimed me. I slept well into the morning of the next day, waking up only as breakfast was brought in by Mrs. Thompson, who looked sympathetic and slightly apologetic.

I began eating. Someone knocked at my door before I had finished my poached eggs.

“Come in,” I said, not even bothering to stand up.

Charles appeared in the threshold, looking haggard. He entered the room with only slight hesitation.

“Is everything okay?” I asked him, speaking since my hands were occupied with fork and knife.

I wanted to know. Have you reconsidered? Will you stay?

He looked as if he had not slept at all last night. Quite unusually for him, he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and he had not shaved. It was mildly shocking for me to see him like this, since I knew he could be quite fastidious about his appearance.

“What is going on?” I demanded. “What was that business yesterday?”

Charles shook his head. An experiment. One of many. Nothing to worry about, I assure you. Henry is in charge of it and it is not the most important of my many endeavors, not by far. I need help, Daniel. The Array has been functional for several months now and the data I am collecting is too complex to make sense of by hand. I need help in developing a new mathematical model to process such large amounts of information and you are the only one I know with the background and capacity to provide meaningful input in order to accomplish it.

Perhaps he had meant it as a compliment, but all I heard was that the only reason he wanted me around was because he had become so reclusive and isolated from the world that I was the only one who could call on for academic help.

I set my utensils aside.

I don’t know, Charles, I answered. I see things are different here and I am not sure whether I would be a good fit for this place anymore. I have also changed, you see. My time away has provided me with both experience and a new outlook on things. I have several other offers for employment and, to be honest, after spending a couple of days here they now appear rather more appealing than they were at the beginning.

I was lying, of course, but only partially. While I had no concrete prospects at the moment, the night’s rest had made several things clear, among them, that Charles need not be the only source for academic and professional fulfillment in my life. I’d had to admit that the main reason I had come back had not been because of the position itself, but rather because I had looked forward to spending my time with Charles again.

But not as a mere colleague.

I can increase your salary… Charles ventured, but I cut him off.

It’s not about the money. Please do not insult me like that again. I shall be leaving either today or tomorrow, depending on the weather.

Charles grimaced. Daniel… I… Can you at least stay for a little while? For a week or two?

Whatever for?

Please, he insisted, and I saw, in the clipped tightness of his gestures and the way he pressed his lips together, that he was desperate for some reason. Just so I can show you the work I have done, the progress I have made. Once you see, once you understand… I may yet convince you to stay. Please, if I may be so bold as to ask, do it as a favor to me. Two weeks. Give me two weeks.

I hesitated. I wanted to leave, didn’t I? But seeing Charles essentially begging for me to stay was hard and I found my recent certainty falter.

I… I started to say, but found I have no follow-up.

Two weeks. Please. Charles stepped closer to me, crossing the room to stand just a couple paces away. He clutched the pendant he still wore around his neck, closing his fist around the fragment of meteorite that hung from the chain. Strangely, he looked over his shoulder, almost as if he were afraid of being overheard. I need you here. I need you to understand. Henry –

But at that moment Charles’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. He stepped back, away from me, his terrified gaze directed at the window to the right, which offered a view of the garden. He gestured with exaggerated clarity when he next spoke, almost as if he were speaking to someone who could barely understand sign language.

I hope you will reconsider, Daniel, he said in this manner. I thank you for your time and look forward to seeing you at supper.

Then he all but whirled around and left the room with quick strides. Bewildered, I looked through the window, but I could not see anything there worthy of attention or frightening enough to elicit such a reaction from him. It was only when I stood up and walked up to the glass that I noticed faint indentations on the brown, soft soil which the gardener had already prepared for the seeds he would be planting later. The indentations looked like animal tracks, small, such as a cat might make. There was nothing odd about them per se… Except for the fact that, instead of seeing sets of four tracks as I might have expected, there were two very distinct places on the ground where I could see a cluster of six individual pawprints arranged strangely on the soil.

I was not a tracker, however. It may have been nothing, although I could not suppress a shiver from going up my spine all the same.

I spent a lot of time in my room, thinking. When suppertime came, I had finally made up my mind to stay for the aforementioned two weeks despite my misgivings. My decision came about due to a mixture of curiosity, concern, and the sense that I owed Charles at least this much due to our shared… friendship of years past. Thus, I sat down at the table opposite from Charles and promptly communicated my choice to him after most of the meal was over.

He smiled, visibly happy.

Thank you, he told me. Really, thanks. You’re incredible, Daniel.

I-K, I signed, conveying mild humor through my expression. I know. What should we begin with? What do you need help with the most?

He smiled. First, I would like you to take a look at –

But Henry came in at that moment, his arm in a sling. Charles stopped abruptly midsentence and switched to spoken language.

“I have been developing a mathematical model which can help me parse large quantities of recurring data sets and find irregularities within the recurrence,” he said, nodding at Henry as the latter sat down next to him. “All the information you will need will be made available to you through Henry here. I suggest you use the physics laboratory in the main building. If you would like, Henry can bring you the information this afternoon so you can begin to look over my model. I am most interested in your opinion regarding the trial data set and the conclusions the model arrived at. I think it is working as intended, but a second opinion would be invaluable to me. I am using the calculations already to try and make sense of several bursts of electromagnetic waves I have detected with the Array, and I must know whether I am working with adequate tools or whether any part of the algorithm is faulty.”

We should look at it together, I signed quickly, deliberately avoiding spoken words since I now suspected that Henry was not all that fluent in sign language.

“Unfortunately I cannot,” Charles said, exchanging a fleeting glance with Henry, which made me grit my teeth. “Tonight I will be very busy at the… At the Array. I must gather more information. I’m afraid we will have to work separately for the time being, Daniel. I hope that is okay. If all goes well, in about two or three nights I should have finished with the matters which keep me urgently engaged and then I would be very happy to go over any notes you might have on the mathematical foundation of my work.”

I paused. What was going on here? First, Daniel had appeared to be nearly desperate, begging for me to stay and help him. And yet now he was dismissive and acted just as he had in the evening of my arrival, as if he were far too busy to deign give me more than a few minutes of his time.

I was angry but my curiosity was growing. So I merely said, aloud for Henry to understand, “Sure. I shall expect the relevant information in a couple of hours, Henry.”

“Certainly, Mr. Fenton,” he said. His voice sounded a little raspy.

“If there is nothing else, I think I shall go write a couple letters,” I told them. Dessert still had not come, but I was not in the mood for sweets anymore.

“Of course,” Charles said. “Thank you again for reconsidering.”

I did not answer. I simply left and spent about an hour and a half catching up on correspondence. Later, without much enthusiasm, I went to the physics laboratory to do as I had promised and help Charles with the theoretical aspects of his work. Upon entering I found that two notebooks and four ledgers full of information had already been deposited on one of the tables, presumably by Henry. There was nobody in sight and I settled down on one of the comfortable armchairs next to the library shelves in order to peruse the information which had been provided to me.

Several hours later, I was still reading. Despite everything else going on, I was fascinated by the elegance of Charles’s equations, theorems, and diagrams. There were segments which I could not understand at all, and the more I read, the more my admiration of him grew. In the years since I had last seen him he had developed a suite of mathematical tools which he had expertly arranged into a system capable of sifting through large amounts of data in an extremely efficient way. In theory, the model he presented would allow him to do the work of several dozen people at once and, just as he had said, identify irregularities within recurring sets of information. That in itself was not too meaningful – at first glance. But it all depended on the application. From my time dealing with encrypted information in Chicago, I knew that what Charles had developed here would be enormously valuable not only in astronomy, but also in code breaking, economics, and even biology. I was amazed.

So engrossed was I with my reading, in fact, that it was only after my hunger became too insistent to ignore that I set aside the documents and looked at my pocket watch. It was an hour after midnight.

I stood up with a sigh and stretched. I decided to go to the kitchen to procure something to eat. I knew I might even find one of the cooks still awake, since ever since Charles had hired them years ago, he had stressed the fact that at least one of them should be on call at all times to prepare food in the middle of the night whenever Charles scheduled a night of observations through the telescope.

I stepped out into the hall, which was dark and silent. I looked in the direction of Charles’s room but saw that the door was open and it was dark inside as well, so I surmised he must still be wherever it was he went at night. Of Henry there was no sign, and I saw no one as I made my way to the kitchen. Once there, a sleepy cook made me a tuna sandwich after a bit of grumbling. When it had been prepared, I thanked him and took my food elsewhere, as I did not like to be in the company of the cooks for longer than was strictly necessary. There was something about their large, watery eyes and the unnerving habit they had of barely even blinking which I had never liked.

I ate as I went back to the physics laboratory, and I was so hungry that the sandwich was gone by the time I made it to the door.

I was about to enter when I heard a faint crash.

I immediately thought of the metal door upstairs, but this crash had come from somewhere different. It had sounded as if a clay pot had shattered, and it had come from… From the lower level, where the basement was.

I made my way there, of course. I was getting tired of all the mystery and the strange goings-on at night, and it was determined, this time, to find out the source of whatever had made that noise. I walked quickly but silently across the hall, past the servants’ quarters, and turned right into a narrow hallway which ended in a heavy wooden door which gave access to the basement.

I found it open, thankfully – it swung in easily at the push of my hand and I made my way inside.

I found myself at the top of the staircase which led down to the basement. Although I knew the layout of the place, I had scarcely had reason to come down here on more than a handful of occasions, and so I hesitated for an instant, looking down and straining my hearing to catch any noise a person down there might have made. I heard nothing, however, and after several seconds of indecision I started my way down as stealthily as I could. I did not know just why I wanted to hide the fact that I was exploring this area of the building late at night, but some kind of instinct told me that it might be best if I were not discovered. Therefore, my steps were as quiet as I could make them.

Illumination was not a problem. There was an electrical switch at the top of the stairs which had been previously turned on by whoever had preceded me. Several electric lights ensconced at regular intervals along the walls now provided ample brightness, therefore. I did not know whether they were always kept on or whether the person down there had turned them on temporarily, but they made the going much quicker. Once I had made my way down to the main landing, I quickly saw the object responsible for the noise which had originally alerted me. A porcelain vase lay shattered on the floor, next to an ornamental table from which it had presumably been knocked down to the ground. I examined the fragments for a moment, but found nothing worthy of more attention and so instead I looked down the low-ceilinged corridor to try and find the person who was here.

The corridor was somewhat long, and the very end of it was in darkness. Along its length, there were several cells for storage of various things, and I looked into each one as I quietly made my way forward. The first two on either side of me held nothing but foodstuffs. They were large and quite generously stocked with all manner of preserves in glass jars, sacks full of what could only have been flour or grain, cured meats hanging from hooks on the ceiling, and row after row of tin containers filled with things like sugar, salt, tea, and coffee.

The next two cells held spare equipment and fuel in the form of neatly-stacked firewood and gallon after gallon of gasoline for the generators. Beyond that, there was a locked cell which still held its solitary lead box full of deadly radium and nothing else. Opposite it, I saw a rather chaotic assortment of tools of various kinds, from gardening implements and sacks of dirt and manure to construction equipment, picks, shovels, and even a single bear trap on the floor. The metal gate to this cell had been carelessly left ajar.

At the end of the corridor, in relative darkness, the final cell led to the well.

I was still several steps away from it when I heard a loud splash.

I made my way up to the gate in a hurry, hoping to go through, but it was locked. I tried pushing against it, but the metal bars held firm and so I was reduced to looking through them and into the space which had changed so much since I had first been here that I could barely recognize it.

The well itself still occupied the center of the cell, but it was larger than I remembered. There was no direct illumination inside the space, but even in the gloom I could see ripples on the surface of the water, the aftermath of whatever had jumped into the well.

Mystified, I rattled the gate to see if I could shake it loose.

The lights went out at that instant.

I froze where I was, looking back down the hallway which led to the staircase I had recently descended. Someone must have heard me and turned off the lights using the switch at the top of the stairs. I swallowed, feeling guilty, and took a couple of steps back in the direction I had come.

“Charles?” I asked in the dark. I could not even see my hands in front of my face. “Henry? It’s Daniel. I’m sorry. I heard a noise and…”

A noise interrupted me, coming from far down the hallway. I hesitated. It had sounded strange.

“Charles?” I asked again. “Henry?”

I heard it clearly this time in response to my voice. It was a choking kind of gurgle, clearly audible even though it was coming from a distance.

I had previously heard such a noise before, that night I had stopped below the attic. It had come from beyond the heavy locked door that Charles had never allowed me to open.

The tense silence was quickly broken by a dragging sort of shuffle and then a heavy thump. There was a pause, a shorter dragging noise, and another thump. Then again, and again. It sounded as if someone were dragging a heavy sack down the stairs, one step at a time.

“Charles?” I said for a third time, but now my voice was small.

The shuffling stopped, but then, horribly, it increased in tempo, drag-thump, drag-thump, drag-THUMP.

I heard a faint crack after the last thumping sound, as if something heavy had carelessly stepped on broken porcelain. Whatever had been making the noises halted and then I heard it again, much more clearly now: the gurgle as if from a drowning animal… and my heart nearly beat out of my chest when I realized that I could see something in the darkness now. I could just make out, at the edges of my peripheral vision, two faint pinpoints of green-golden light that hovered around waist height at the landing of the stairs, dead ahead from where I was standing.

Terror seized me when the dragging resumed, slowly, accompanied by the fragile noise of shattered porcelain being shoved aside by clumsy motions. The two pinpoints of light approached with each shuffling drag, and my horrified mind could do nothing but think that those were eyes, a pair of eyes that glowed in the dark and that were approaching, haltingly, but inevitably. I had the distinct impression that the eyes were fixed on me.

Mind racing, I remembered that the cell to my left, the one with the odd assortment of gardening tools, was open.

I took a single step in that direction. There was a very sharp gurgle coming from the end of the hallway and the eyes were raised as if in alarm. Then the thing screeched, it screeched, and rushed at me. I heard the dull slaps on the stone floor followed by more heavy dragging and the only thing I could picture in the total darkness was a corpse with no legs clawing its way towards me with its rotten forelimbs, eager to strike.

I screamed. At the same time I impelled my limbs into frantic motion, feeling as if I were trapped in a nightmare where every step took an eternity and I could not coordinate my motion well because of the terror sizzling through my brain. I was certain my life was in danger, though, and so I sprinted to the left so fast that I slammed my head against the side of the gate, which I had been unable to see. I threw my arms out, ignoring the pain, and my right hand smacked into the sharp edge of the open gate. I grabbed onto it and pulled myself through, slamming it shut behind me with every ounce of strength I possessed.

I was not a second too soon. The glowing eyes reached my position and threw themselves at the gate.

I was assaulted by a stench that was equal parts rotten meat and rotten plant. The gurgling was so close now that I could also hear a sort of labored breath underneath it, the horrible huffing coming from the waist-high thing that threw itself once more at the gate. With another panicked yell, I pushed back against it and fumbled in the darkness until I found the bolt which would secure the gate. Whatever was on the other side was very strong – twice it almost managed to pry the gate open despite the fact that I had my entire weight behind it. On the third try, I used a momentary lapse in its horrible keening to slam the gate shut once again and lock the bolt tight with both hands.

The creature crashed against the gate yet again and the force of the impact threw me back. I lost my balance and fell down on my bottom. I landed on what must have been a sack of dirt.

The darkness was still complete and so I was unable to see anything but the eyes, the horrible eyes. I was at their level now, after having fallen down, and now that they were so close there was no doubt in my mind that they were watching me. Another vicious gurgle issued from an unseen source beneath them and the eyes never left my own, staring hungrily, accompanied by that nauseating stench that threatened to make me retch despite my terror. I could not speak. I could not move anymore. If the thing broke into the cell I was certain I would not be able to defend myself.

The tension held for several agonizing seconds. There was shuffling, scratching, and that abominable breathing. Then the eyes turned away, in the direction of the well. I heard more shuffling. I heard that other gate being rattled as I had done. And then I heard… It sounded like something soft bursting. It sounded like bones snapping under enormous pressure. There was even more labored gurgling and weaker, slower dragging noises.

An eternity later, there was a splash.

Then nothing else. Nothing but the darkness, my pounding heart, and the certainty that I had stumbled into unspeakable horror which I would never be able to forget.