The Speculist

“I’m not sure. The other Corey took our memories away. But he couldn’t take them all. So there are gaps and reminders of the other people. Things that don’t point directly to them, but that do point to the fact that someone is missing. I mean, think about. Some of the missing people’s personal effects have disappeared, and there are spaces on the wall where their pictures used to be. But everything couldn’t be erased. If you took away everything they ever touched, it wouldn’t just be the coffee pot. It would be all the furniture and the dishes and the floor and the walls and…everything. The whole home would be gone. There has to be a cut-off, or we would have no memories at all.”

Judy rinsed out the white test mug and returned it to the table.

“Or maybe we wouldn’t exist at all?’ she asked.

Lucinda shrugged.

“That’s Todd’s idea. He thinks that somehow we’re all made of memories.”

Bettina pushed her chair back and stood up. She started towards the refrigerator with the bottle of milk.

“Todd is out of his mind,” she said. “I’m not just a memory. Memories are things in the past. I’m happening right now.”

The doorbell rang. The three girls’ eyes met.

“Your friends are getting impatient,” said Lucinda.

“Judy, get out here,” called Todd.

Judy put her dishtowel down and walked into the common room. Todd stood on the opposite end of the room, by the big picture window. He was slightly crouched and peering through the narrow slit of space between the Venetian blinds and the picture window.

“What is it?” she asked, whispering for no reason she could think of.

He turned to look at her.

“Raymond and Robert are back. The man who brought them just rang the doorbell.”

Judy went to the door and opened it just a crack -- enough to see the porch.

Robert and Raymond were there, standing on either side of a small, very distinguished-looking man. He must be rich, she thought, examining his overcoat and what she could see of the suit beneath. I’ve never seen a rich person before. It occurred to her that she had never seen an FBI agent before, either, but somehow this was more interesting. She opened the door the rest of the way. Of the three agents, only the young one remained. She wondered what had become of the other two.

“Yes?” she said.

The man smiled at her.

“Good evening, my dear. I’m Julian Stone. I believe these two fine young men belong here?”

She nodded.

“And who would you be, young lady?”

“I’m Judy.”

“Ah, Judy. Yes, yes.”

There was something immediately likeable about this Mr. Stone. He was such a jolly man. So different from the FBI agent. And yet the two of them seemed to have something in common, too.

“Well, my dear, may we come in?”

Judy considered this. It wasn’t a difficult decision.

“The boys can,” she said. “And…you can.” Todd waved his harms a whispered a negation at her, but she ignored it.

“But not him,” Judy continued, pointing at the young agent.

Julian Stone seemed delighted at this response. He turned to the young FBI agent.

“She doesn’t want you inside, lad. Why is that?”

The agent didn’t respond. It was clear to Judy that the two men did know each other. That was interesting. So they were in on this thing together. Yet she felt none of the distrust for the older man that she had immediately felt for the agent.

She opened the screen door to allow Robert, Julian, and Raymond in. Judy looked at the FBI agent, who was now standing at the porch railing, looking out into the yard. Maybe looking for his partners, she thought.

“So, anyway…” she said.

The young agent turned around; his eyes met hers. Somehow his expression had softened a bit, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had something to do with his encounter with the older man.

She wondered if she had misjudged him somehow.

“Anyway…” the agent repeated.

It seemed as though something was about to happen. It took Judy a moment to realize what that was. He was making his way towards her. Towards the door.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” she said, and briskly closed the door.

___

I was back in the city on the mountain. It was such a relief, such a joy, to be there. I could smell the fragrance of the flowers, feel the spray from the fountain on my face. It was nighttime, but as before the city basked in a light brighter and purer than daylight -- a light that didn’t come from above or below, but that was somehow diffused throughout the entire scene. I walked along a stone path that curved around the fountain and led up into the city itself.

I had never before been inside the city, never set foot inside the plaza. I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing it up close, of seeing what was inside the towers.

Could I stay this time? Maybe. Maybe I would find her and she would tell me that I could stay. Then I would find a way to bring the others there. An everything would be wonderful, just as I had always planned.

I reached the plaza. It spread out before me, desolate.

“Where are they?” I said out loud, pleased at my unexpected verbal ability. How wonderful that I could talk again. That would make everything so much easier.

No sooner had I asked the question before I had my answer. Or at least a glimpse of the answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see movement. It was very fast -- faster, I knew, than I could really perceive at all. But the glimpse was enough.

They were there. They were all around me. The Mountain People, moving at blinding speed here and there throughout the city. The less I thought about it, and the less hard I tried to see them, the more I could make out. Todd had said something about this a while back, something about how they operated at a different speed, how their experience of time was completely different from what we knew. There was a good deal more to Todd’s explanation, but I couldn’t bring it to mind. It was somehow out of reach.

It wasn’t long before I grew tired of trying to see the Mountain People, or rather of attempting to catch a glimpse by trying not to look for them.

I made my way to the center of the courtyard. It was really quite small, I realized -- this city that they had built for themselves. That I had built for them, really. I looked up at the towers; they were dizzyingly tall. The central tower caught me eye; it was the grandest of them all, rising hundreds of feet higher than the others. I could see a window in the blue dome at the top of the tower. And then I was in the tower, looking through the window. That didn’t make any sense, but I didn’t mind. From the tower I could see the plaza below, the gardens, and the fountain. And off in the distance there was the city of Denver and, to the south, a smaller town. Greenwood.

It was an amazingly clear view. As I studied Greenwood, I could even make out the home. How could that be, at that distance? And yet I could. There it was, the flag pole in the front yard, the swing on the porch.

And it was odd. Very odd, that I should be seeing the home from the front when I knew that the home faced east and I should be seeing it from the back. But I didn’t mind. My view drew ever closer and I was on the porch, looking through the window into the common room. And then I was in the common room, looking around the house.

Once again, I found myself all alone.

Where were they, my friends? Once again, I knew the answer to the question as soon as I asked it.

The terror was instantaneous, all-encompassing, exquisite. Suddenly I was standing at the foot of the stairs. They were all up there, in the boys’ room. Only something was happening and -- there. One of them was gone.

One of my friends, taken away. I couldn’t remember which one. I would never remember him or her again. I had to stop it.

I started up the stairs, but my feet were moving oh so slowly. They were heavy, too heavy. Why couldn’t I make myself move? Why couldn’t I run? And then -- there! Another friend was gone, and -- there. Another.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I opened my mouth to call out to them, to tell them not to look. As long as they didn’t look at him, he…it couldn’t hurt them. But no sound came out of my throat. Only a hissing, as though there was no air with which to make words. And -- there.

And -- there.

And -- there.

I continued to the top of the stairs. Who were my friends? What were their names? My memories were jumbled, incoherent. I couldn’t name any of them. I could only remember a few things, a few scattered images.

And -- there.

I came at last to the door. There was one friend whom I knew I would always remember. No matter what, until the end of time. To lose her was to lose myself. To lose her was to lose everything. It was to watch the stars blink out.

And -- there. And -- there.

My other friends might be taken, but I would always have her. She had made me. She had somehow loved me into existence. And not just me.

Somehow, all of us.

And -- there.

Somehow, everything.

I opened the door. There she stood, the last of them, facing the thing that looked like me but that was not me. Her pretty blonde hair. Her smile, if she would just turn and look at me. I would remember her name and know her and she would fix everything. She could do that, couldn’t she?

Her name. I remembered. I had it!

I opened my mouth to speak here name and -- there. She was gone. Only he, it… the thing was left behind. It looked up at me with my own eyes and smiled.

And now I did scream. The air was back, and I screamed at the horror and hopelessness of it all. Nor did I scream alone. Another voice joined mine, not screaming, but shouting.

“Stop it, damn you. Stop it! Corey, wake up!”

I opened my eyes. I was so startled by what I saw that I couldn’t stop screaming, not for a moment. I was in a car, a stranger’s car, being driven farther and farther away from the home. The dream was real; everything was being taken away.

“Stop it!”

My screaming stopped abruptly. I realized the car had stopped, too.

Sybil glared at me.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she asked.

I opened my mouth. The whimper that I let out didn’t sound like anything I had ever heard before. It was almost frightening in its own right. For once I was glad I couldn’t talk. All that would come out were strangled sobs. I cried for a long while, wishing it would end.

And then it did.

There was something soft in my face. A tissue. Sybil had leaned over. She was wiping my face with one hand; she had curled the other arm behind my back.

“Don’t cry, Corey,” she said. “I’m here. I promise I’ll take care of you, just like I said.”

It seemed that, for some reason, Sybil was crying, too.

___

Judy was the last to take her seat. Dr. MacHale had finally returned a few minutes before with two strangers, a couple -- more rich old people, it seemed. They were obviously acquaintances of this Mr. Stone, who had rescued Raymond and Robert from the police. The man was apparently in charge.

At his request, all the children were gathered around the common room. Estelle had not been asleep for long, and didn’t mind coming back down when she heard the news that the boys were back. Grace, on the other hand, never much liked being awakened in the morning -- much less in the evening after she had been asleep for less than an hour. She had not had a good night’s sleep the previous night and had spent a good part of the day walking around the town. She was exhausted; Todd carried her down the stairs and propped her up in an armchair.

Judy was about to insist that Grace be put to bed when something unexpected happened. The lady who had arrived with Dr. MacHale walked over to where the little girl was sitting and picked her up. Judy expected Grace to protest at being picked up by a total stranger, but she didn’t. She wrapped he small arms around the lady as though she were…well, as though she were Judy herself.

“For heaven’s sake, the poor thing,” the lady said. She carried Grace to the far end of the common room and set her down on the love seat next to the toy chest. She covered her with her coat. Grace rolled onto her side and, as far as Judy could tell, fell immediately asleep.

“All right, then,” said the man, addressing the gathered children. “I’ll have to make this brief. We’ve made some arrangements for you. For all of you. I’m sorry that we have to leave at night, but it’s important that we get you out of town and to a secure location.”

“Why?” asked Todd. “Are we in danger?”

“No danger. But knowing what your friend Dr. MacHale has told us, we want to avoid any jurisdictional disputes.”

“Between whom?” Todd persisted.

“We can talk about that later,” said the man. “For now you’ll have to take my word for it that this is something we want to avoid.”

“It’s true,” said Robert, who almost never spoke without being spoken to first. “I mean, look. They’ve already settled one ‘jurisdictional dispute’ tonight, haven’t they? But I have a question for you, sir. Or rather, a clarification.”

The man nodded at him.

“Yes, speak up.”

“Did I understand you to say that we will be staying together.”

“Absolutely,” the lady answered, now seated on the love seat with Grace’s head in her lap. “We will do everything we can to make sure you all get to stay together. Dr. MacHale made it clear how important that is.”

“Well, then, I have a question,” said Lucinda. “Who are you people?”

The man smiled.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he said. “My name is Michael Keyes. This is my wife, Betty. And I believe you have all met my associate, Julian Stone.”

He gestured toward the door. The young agent now stood in the doorway. He had not uttered a word since MacHale and the others had arrived. He was still holding his coffee cup, which Judy observed was still almost completely full.

“Plus our friends from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, who have been so helpful. Outside, we have agents Schleischer and Robinson. And this young man is Julian’s son, Special Agent Stone. Special Agent Reuben Stone.”