Adermoor Cove: Atonement - 6. Chapter 6

They were sitting together on the couch. Lane sat on the other side of the living room, in a chair.

In a surprisingly calm voice Lane knew she used with her clients, Nora explained to Carlos and Moira the process of what she would be doing. Carlos frowned when she was finished, skeptical, but said nothing. Outside the house the storm continued to rage.

Nora showed Lane the pendant she held in her hands. It was the same blood-red pendant she had used a year ago at the cabin in Michigan. Lane shivered at the sight of it.

"Are you sure?" she asked firmly.

He nodded despite the fear that clenched his belly.

"Okay. I want you to focus solely on the pendant. Ignore everyone and everything else in the room but the pendant and the sound of my voice."

The pendant swung back and forth gracefully from her hand; catching the light, the silver chain gleamed. Lane tracked the pendant's swings with his mind, willing his mind to focus on nothing else. Nora's voice was resonant but soft, seeming to take up the space between them. "Relax, take deep breaths."

I hate that goddamn pendant, he thought absently, still tracking its momentum. He suddenly recalled being twelve, sitting on the sofa across from his mother, going through the same process. If only I knew back then what I do now.

He began to drift, his mind becoming unmoored from his body. Rising. He stared blankly at the pendant, eyes glassy, face relaxed.

"Can you hear me?" Nora asked, her voice reverberating inside his skull.

"Yes," he said sleepily.

“Good, I want you to close your eyes and concentrate only on my voice.”

Automatically Lane closed his eyes. It was great to close his eyes, not to have to look at that fucking pendant.

“Okay. Now I want you to think back, Lane, twelve years ago, to the night your father died. Can you do that?”

He felt a spike of terror stab his heart. Reluctance. He was plummeting through pools of shadow, sinking to the lower depths of his memory. There was something there, a hidden pearl, but it was blocked off. He imagined himself standing before a brick wall. “There’s something there,” he said, shaking his head, brow furrowed, “but I can’t reach it. It’s blocked by a wall. A brick wall.”

“Okay. Then I want you to imagine breaking through that wall. Can you do that?”

Lane grinned wickedly. This is going to be fun. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He imagined holding a sledgehammer, a heavy sledgehammer. In his mind he could almost feel its weight, feel the ache in his muscles as he lifted it and swung. Cracks webbed across the wall, buckling it with every swing until the wall crumbled and fell away. Again he was sinking into his own subconscious. Somewhere he could hear his mother saying, Now because of the divide between our consciousnesses they cannot communicate with each other. The subconscious is virtually unreachable…

Suddenly he was suffocating, his head being held under water. A hand had him by the back of his head, forcing him under. He tried to break free but the strength of his assailant was insurmountable. He screamed, only to inhale water through his nose and mouth.

His physical body shook in its chair. “I can’t...I can’t breath,” he choked, gasping for breath and began to thrash about violently.

                        …

Carlos didn’t like this whole hypnotism thing - didn’t like it one bit. At first he was skeptical. Many law enforcement officers were certified to use forensic hypnotism in an investigation but Carlos had never had the interest or patience to pursue it. But now things were getting serious. Lane was shaking in his seat, reaching behind him, grabbing something neither he nor the other two women could see.

“I can’t...I can’t breathe...” His voice came out a strangled rasp and his face had turned bright red.

“Stop this!” Moira shouted at Nora. “Can’t you see something’s wrong?” She was sobbing again. She shot up, getting ready to go to him, but Nora grabbed ahold of her, her eyes blazing furiously.

“Let him be a moment longer! He needs to get through this!”

A deafening BOOM! sounded above their heads, so close it seemed to be coming from inside the house. Carlos jumped despite himself, his flesh breaking out goosebumps. Moira cried out. Nora was staring intently at her son, her hand clenched around the pendant she had used to hypnotize Lane. Rain lashed against the windows. The windows in the living room shook in the violent gusts of wind buffeting the house.

The lights in the house began to flicker on and off; somewhere a light bulb shattered.

This isn’t your typical case of hypnotism, Carlos thought stupidly, staring at Lane in fascination. He wanted to go to Lane, to shake him awake and end whatever was happening but he was rooted to the couch.

Then Lane slumped forward in the chair and was completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest.

“Lane,” Nora said, going to her son. She knelt down on her hands and knees. “Lane, on the count of three when I clap my hands, you will wake up. One...two...THREE!” She clapped her hands together twice. “Wake up.”

Lane did not wake up. He stayed where he was, slumped over.

Nora took a deep breath. Carlos could tell she was trying to calm herself, trying not to succumb to the fear he knew she was feeling - they were all feeling.

“What’s wrong with him?” Carlos croaked. His throat was parched, as if all the saliva had been drained.

“I-I don’t know.” Nora wiped a film of sweat from his forehead. She reached over and caressed Lane’s cheek. “I-I’ve never seen anything like this happen before.” Her voice was breaking. “Lane, sweety, you have to wake up.” When he did not move, she stood up and turned to look at Carlos and sat down in between Moira and Carlos.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Moira shrieked at her.

“Because I don’t know what’s happening to him. For all I know he could be deep in his subconscious. I have to give him a chance to pull through.”

                                               …

He was lost in the tide. It was inside him, all around him, stronger than he had ever felt before. Like joints that have been paralyzed and then rediscovered mobility, it twisted and flexed, exploring this new sense of mobility.

His mind hovered in between planes, the one that existed within the confines of his body where the tide emanated, and the plane outside of him. He could sense the people in the room with him, the storm outside the lighthouse...and something else a little further out, but not much further.

A power like his, stirring.

No, not like mine, he thought. Stronger and older. Much older.

He could sense it sensing him.

Like a seeing eye it turned and it looked at him. I see see you, said the voice of the dark king, and I am coming.

                                              …

All the lights in the house went out, plunging everyone into shadow, and then the darkness came.

In his attempt to find a lamp, Carlos fumbled clumsily through the dark. Fear constricted his heart like a cold, iron fist. He gritted his teeth, reaching, reaching, his heart thundering in his chest. Somewhere behind him he heard Nora curse. He felt his fingers touch the lamp but he had pushed too hard. He felt the shift in air as the lamp fell over, hitting the floor with a crash. Why didn’t I bring my flashlight? he thought, remembering he kept one out in the car.

Nora saved the moment by finding a flashlight herself. The beam made her face appear to be floating without a body, an eerie illusion that disturbed Carlos. Moira was standing in the corner of the living room by the couch, eyes wide. Lane had not moved from the armchair and still appeared to be sleeping, his head leaned back against the chair. Carlos envied him.

Something alerted him - movement from the corner of his eye. Nora had seen it too, for she shone her flashlight at the front door. A dark stain exactly like the one Lane had described a number of times had covered the door and was now spreading in all directions, across the walls and floors. There was a wet, organic look to it. Carlos’s stomach twisted nauseous at the sight of it. The tendrils were spreading across the floor now, coming towards them. Nora was bent in front of Lane, shaking him violently - trying to wake him.

“WAKE UP, LANE! DAMN YOU, WAKE UP!”

His head flopped back and forth comically but still he remained unconscious.

Things were coming out of the wall, insects just like the one Carlos had encountered in the beacon tower.

Acting out of instinct, Carlos wrenched Nora to her feet and scooped up Lane, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Head through the dining room!” he shouted at the two women.

Obediently they burst through the dining room, into the kitchen. Carlos followed at the rear with Lane draped over his shoulder like a child; the young man was so light, it didn’t take any effort to carry him. He glanced over his shoulder once. What he saw was enough to cause him to piss himself: bugs, hundreds of them - maybe thousands, it was impossible to tell - roiled towards them, an ocean of insect limbs scuttling over the wooden floor.

A scream caused him to turn his head the other way. More insects were coming from that direction which meant the way was blocked.

The stairs!

The stairs were also blocked.

They were all surrounded. There was nowhere else to run.

Then he realized their difficult position. What happened when those bugs reached them? Would Nora, Moira, and he be slowly eaten alive or would they turn into zombies, hellbent on infecting everyone else on the island?

Suddenly he realized he couldn’t feel the weight of Lane’s body on his shoulders. He’d been so distracted by fear he hadn’t realized until now Lane was standing in front of them. The insects, surrounding the small group from all sides stopped, as if uncertain.

Carlos, Moira, and Nora stood with their backs pressed together. Lane stood at the front of the group, his face relaxed, his eyes completely white, so white they almost glowed in the dark - just like on the day he’d rescued Carlos from the bear. He lifted his hands slowly and Carlos could swear he felt some invisible, yet solid force emanating from them.

Carlos could only stare in amazement, watching the insects being torn apart by invisible hands as if they were nothing more than pieces of paper mache. They screeched as one, perhaps all part of a single nervous system, trying to crawl backwards, to no avail. Lane continued to stand where he was, palms outstretched like a regal king. His face was paler than ever before, his eyes letting off a pale glow.

The stain on the wall - Carlos could still only think of it as a stain - fell from the ceiling in ashy clumps, mixing with the particles of the arachnids. The house around them shook and groaned, seeming to come to life.

Carlos was unsure how long this phenomenon went on before he realized the darkness was gone, as if it had never been there at all, and the lights had come back on. Lane turned to face him and the others, his eyes normal but tired, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. Blood had streamed from his nose, covering the lower half of his face. He staggered drunkenly towards Carlos. Carlos braced himself, knowing what would happen. He managed to catch Lane before he could fall to the floor. The younger man smiled tiredly up at him. Thought it was a tired smile it was full of the same sardonic humor Carlos had come to love.

“That was awesome, right?” Lane asked, then closed his eyes as if going back to sleep.

“Lane,” Carlos hissed. He shook him. Repeated his name. He was afraid he would not wake back up again.

“He’ll be fine,” Nora said gently. “He just needs to rest. Can you take him upstairs to his room?”

“He probably doesn’t weigh ninety pounds shaking wet,” Carlos blurted. “Yeah I can carry him.”

“I’ll grab a washcloth and wet it,” Moira said helpfully before dodging into the kitchen.

With Nora trailing behind him, Carlos carried Lane up the stairs to his bedroom. Since the last time he’d been here, it was obvious Lane had been busy, trying to get settled in. He had decorated the bedroom, mostly with rock band and movie posters. There was a brand new queen sized bed, perfectly made. To the right were shelves with DVDs and CDs, things Lane had kept in the trunk of his car.

“It looks exactly like his room when he was a teenager,” Nora marvelled, looking at the posters. She watched Carlos gently set Lane in bed. He stepped back, arms crossed. He watched her stoop down, gently removing his shoes.

“He’s lucky to have a mother like you,” Carlos said.

“That’s kind of you to say,” she said with a smile.

“No, I really mean it.”

“You’re kind to say so.” She glanced lovingly at Lane’s sleeping face. “I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

Moira came in with a wet washcloth. She handed it to Nora. “Here.”

Nora nodded and gently began wiping the blood off Lane’s face.

“Are you ready for me to take you home?” Carlos asked Moira.

Moira nodded shakily, looking exhausted. “I’ll just wait downstairs.”

He listened to her steps fade down the hallway before turning back to Nora. “I’d like to come back and stay the night if you don’t mind. Just to make sure he’s safe.” The thought of leaving Lane alone even for a second frightened him. He had seen what Lane was capable of, but he sensed, perhaps in some psychic way, that Lane was in more danger than any of them. Especially now that he was weakened.

“That’ll be fine,” Nora said, pulling a chair up beside Lane’s bed. “In fact I would be grateful.”

The storm had subsided by the time Carlos stopped the car in front of Moira’s apartment building. It was only a quarter past nine but it felt much later than that. The town had rolled up for the night: all the shops had closed down, their windows darkened and forlorn. No one walked the streets. The only sign humanity still existed outside of Carlos and Moira was a cruiser passing by on patrol. The driver, Devin Smith, with Sylvia Richards sitting in the passenger’s seat, waved at Carlos in recognition. Carlos waved back and let out a sigh of relief when they drove past without stopping for friendly chat.

Moira had been eerily silent on the drive from the lighthouse, looking out the window like a lost child. Her hair was still soggy and dripping from the rain. Now she turned to look at him. “What happened tonight?” she asked.

“Fuck if I know,” he said.

“Will this nightmare ever end?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Did you know Lane could do that...whatever it is he did?”

Carlos nodded. “He saved me from the bear.”

“What he did...it was a miracle. He saved us. Do you think he can save Ramona too?”

Why do you keep asking me questions you know I don’t have the answer to? he thought. “There’s a chance, I think.”

She smiled. It was a tired smile but there was hope in it. “After seeing her last night I didn’t think she could be saved. But now, for the first time since she was taken, I have a little bit of hope. Enough to keep going, to keep fighting. Before tonight I didn’t have that. Good night, Carlos.”