reading

CHAPTER 1

Nightmares

“Many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares,
were there a danger of their coming true!”

—Logan Pearsall Smith

I had the dream again last night. It was a recurring nightmare worse than any monster I could conjure in my sleeping brain as a child. I have been an adult now for a number of years, but time and experience don’t make our nightmares any less terrifying; in some ways it makes them more real.

As the father of a mischievously precocious six-year-old boy, I share the same fear as a multitude of parents, a fear that their child may one day disappear. This worry seems more and more justified each day with another smiling angelic face on the news, snatched from their innocent existence by another real life monster. These monsters are not the ones under the bed, a product of juvenile imaginings. No, these monsters are real, and they could live next door; a fact that makes them all the more terrifying.

The dream always starts the same. I am at McCain Mall with my wife, Annabelle, and my son, Seth. The Pendleton family on another carefree family outing on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Ann is excited about looking for some new place settings and Seth is bursting at the seams to invade the toy store downstairs.

“Which color do you prefer, Thomas, blue or yellow?” Ann asks me with her usual resplendent smile.

I have no opinion on the matter and frankly I couldn’t care less. I would never let her know that, though. Her thick chestnut hair bobs up and down as she bounces along with enthusiasm. She had not worn her hair that long since before Seth was born, but in the dream it did not seem unusual at all, even though her hair had only been shoulder length for years. Maybe that is just the image I hold of her in my mind: the long-haired, button-nosed, athletic beauty that I had fallen in love with in college. She is still just as attractive to me now, and even in my dream it gave me great pleasure to see her happy smile radiate her delicate features.

“Whatever you pick will be perfect, honey,” I said squeezing her hand. “You are always good at that. I’m just color blind.”

I really wasn’t, but I might as well be when it comes to fashion and furnishings. Ann smiled proudly and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. This was not our typical family outing. Our together time, while rare, was pleasant but with less Norman Rockwell family perfection. I guess you could say we were typical.

Seth’s excitement finally exploded.

“Come on, Daddy, come on!” he pleads, tugging at my arm.

“Just a minute, son,” I say as a power tool display catches my eye.

I don’t know why I am so drawn to it. I stare in inexplicable amazement as the powerful features of the tool are demonstrated on a small video screen. I am oblivious to anything and everything around me. The new project possibilities are endless. Nothing else matters. I guess that is why I barely noticed that Seth had quit tugging on my arm.

At what seemed to take a forceful effort, I pulled my gaze away from the display and looked down for Seth.

He was gone.

A clammy hand grasped my hammering heart as I looked about wildly for my son. He was nowhere to be seen in any direction.

“Seth!” I called as I dazedly began to walk toward the escalator to the lower level. He was at the toy store, he had to be.

I glanced at the clerk working the counter of the power tool display, it was my boss, Don Lewis, but then again, it wasn’t him. It was one of those weird oddities that seem to present themselves so often in dreams. He was a no name clerk but also my boss at the same time. As creepy as that is, it wasn’t nearly as troubling as the knowing grin he gave me as I walked toward the escalator. It sent a pang of terror up my spine; I knew something was wrong, something terrible … something unimaginable.

Panic filled my guts and I began to run.

I leapt down the escalator, jumping three steps at a time. I almost bounced over the side but managed to hang on and resume my mad dash to the bottom. As I sprinted toward the toy store the crowd seemed to inexplicably grow as if a thousand people had suddenly flooded into the mall at the same time. My progress was impeded causing my anxiety to rise to breathless frustration.

The bottom level of the mall was not the way I remembered it. It seemed to be completely occupied by tool stores and candy shops. When I reached the place where I knew the toy store was, there was nothing but a brick wall. A single small metal sign hung on the smooth brown surface. The message on the sign read mockingly: Lost?

I spun about madly looking for the store, but all I could see was a wall of people closing in, expanding, and undulating. I felt like a tired swimmer caught up in an undertow. Just when I thought I was going to be engulfed and swept away in the throng, I spotted the sign of the toy store in the distance. It was not where it was supposed to be, but it was there and there is where Seth had to be. With renewed vigor, I bolted through the crowd knocking people and my manners to the side.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggling, I finally reached the entrance to the toy store. I stopped cold at what I saw; it was as if an invisible fist had been slammed into my stomach. The metal security gate barred the entrance to the store, separating its dark interior from the brightly lit mall. A sign hung on the gate that read: Closed for Remottling. It seems like an odd message to have on a sign, but to me it made perfect sense; that is exactly how Seth would have pronounced remodeling. That misspelled sign sent a reinforcing jolt of alarm through me.

“Where the hell is my son?” I half-breathed and half-croaked as I peered into the dark cavity beyond the gate. From the ambient light of the mall I could see that the shelves were all fully stocked; it was as if the store had just been closed for the evening.

I staggered backward absently and was knocked to the marble tile floor by a passing horde of teenagers. As I pulled myself to my feet, I happened to look up the level above. My heart lifted as I saw Ann peering down at me from over the railing. I tried to call out to her but no sound would issue from my throat. It was if I had no air in my lungs to help form the words. Ann didn’t say anything but looked down at me with the saddest expression I have ever seen on her face. Her sorrowful look, coupled with my sudden muteness, was nearly overwhelming as my desperation to find Seth tortured me without mercy. It has been a long-held belief that one cannot feel pain in dreams. That may be so in a physical sense but, emotionally, dreams can hurt like hell.

My torturous desperation was soon accompanied by rage as my boss, Don Lewis, aka mall clerk, walked up beside Ann and looked down at me with a damnable knowing grin. His devilish smile made my blood run cold but I did not have time to consider this; a moment later I heard Seth’s faint voice.

“Daddy?” he called, sounding distant.

I froze, looking about madly. I heard the voice again, this time a little more distantly.

“Daddy?”

I’m not sure how I knew but this time I realized it was coming from somewhere deep in the toy store. I ran forward and grasped the gate, jerking up, down and side to side. It would not budge.

“Daddy?” even more faintly, like he was slowly walking away down a long tunnel.

“Seth!” I yelled as I redoubled my efforts to open the gate. I listened as I struggled but did not hear him again.

I summoned up all my strength and pushed as hard as I could while letting out one last desperate yell.

“Seth!”

With a deafening roar the gate gave way, bringing the ceiling down on top of me. I continued to wildly call Seth’s name as debris rained down on my head. I was startled to feel someone take my face in her hands and kiss me on the cheek.

“Thomas, you’re dreaming again … wake up.”

It was Ann, and when I opened my eyes I was lying in my bed in a damp ring of sweat. As reality started to flood back over me, I turned red with embarrassment.

“Again?” I asked, sheepish.

“Yes, you were calling out for Seth again. He’s all right, he’s safe.”

I smiled faintly and looked at my wife. Her heart-wrenching expression of sadness from my dream thankfully was not present, but her wrinkled brow clearly relayed her worry. I squeezed her hand and kissed her on the cheek.

“Okay,” I said swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I just need a drink of water.”

That was not a lie. I was thirsty, but my primary intention was to check on my sleeping son. I walked across the upstairs landing to Seth’s bedroom, which was directly across from ours. I gingerly opened the door and looked inside. The faint glow of the street light outside was just enough to reveal that he was sleeping peacefully; a ring of Star Wars action figures on his bedside table stood guard like miniature sentinels.

My first impulse, like every other time I have had this nightmare, was to enter the room and give him a kiss. But that was selfish, because I wasn’t giving him comfort; I was giving it to myself. I had woken him up accidentally the first couple of times, and that never went well. He was like me; once he had been awakened, he had a hard time getting back to sleep.

I gently closed the door and carefully walked down the stairs to the kitchen. After filling a glass with ice water in the refrigerator door dispenser I sat down at the table and stared absently out the window. I couldn’t help but consider the same thought that I have had so many times before.

Can dreams be prophetic?

I didn’t think so. I am not a superstitious man and would have to classify myself as casually religious. I know that Joseph in the Old Testament interpreted dreams for Pharaoh, but I am no Joseph. I have no clue what the nightmare means or could mean, or if it even means anything at all. I just know that it scares the hell out of me. The one comforting thought I have is that I have had nightmares all my life in some form or fashion, but none of them have ever come to pass … thank God. I had quite an imagination as a child. Some might have even called me a bit twisted.

Whether I believed it to be a divination or not, no matter how hard I tried to bury it, the thought was still there in the back of my brain fighting for attention. I looked at the clock; it was 4:15 A.M. There was no point in going back to bed, it would take me an hour to go back to sleep and I get up at six anyway. I went back upstairs and got in the shower. I was taking Seth to school and picking him up today. I decided that once I was showered and dressed, I would make him a special breakfast of scrambled eggs and Chocolate Berry cereal, his favorite breakfast combo.

I splashed hot water on my face and stepped under the showerhead, ready to wash the monsters away. It felt good and soothing, and after a few moments I was able to relax and direct my thoughts to my plans for the coming day for a while. Shortly, my thoughts drifted back to my dream. I guess it was unavoidable but I tried to put a positive spin on it.

As the steamy water washed over my head and back, I smiled at the memory of a song my granny used to sing to me as a child when I had bad dreams.

Take a good shower every day and keep the monsters away

Eat your veggies and do what’s right, and you will have no bad dreams at night

Mind your parents and teachers, too, and sleep will be peaceful for you

I considered the comforting words this might have to a child. All you have to do is eat right, do right, and mind your elders to ensure no monsters and peaceful sleep. What could be simpler? I considered teaching this song to Seth, but not now. He usually sleeps carefree, like a rock, but I would keep it in my mental “comforting dad queue” if needed someday. I was the one that needed comfort now. I also decided I would have the stranger danger talk with him again. The more he considered this, the safer he would be. I started to feel a little better.

Just a little.

CHAPTER 2

Absent Birthday

“Action expresses priorities.”

—Mahatma Gandhi

That afternoon I sat outside Seth’s school waiting for class to dismiss. My mind was preoccupied with a project I was working on at the office, but I also couldn’t help but dwell on the nightmare. The high-pitched squeal of tires broke me out of my trance and sent my heart into my throat. As disturbing as it was, it was nothing new.

I wasn’t looking in the direction of the commotion but I knew what it was; I knew it without a doubt. My son had recklessly bolted across the street without any regard to oncoming traffic. I have talked to him about this on countless occasions and he is pretty good about observing safety rules, except when he gets excited. Excitement seems to drain every bit of common sense from his otherwise intelligent brain.

I turned quickly in the direction of the noise to see him approaching the car in a sprint, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He grinned from ear to ear with eager excitement while the drivers of the two cars looked on with what was probably extremely subdued irritation. I waved, embarrassed, and gave silent thanks for their quick reflexes.

Everyone drives cautiously around St. James School because it is a posted school zone, and let’s face it: caution is not a word that is common to most primary school kids’ vocabulary. Seth hit the door like a bird hitting a window and then gleefully pulled open the door to my SUV. I was just about to scold him when my phone began to ring.

“Thomas Pendleton, how goes it?” asked the voice on the other end of the line. It was my boss, Don Lewis. I immediately knew it was either very good or very bad news because he rarely used my last name and he usually calls me Tommy.

“Daddy, Daddy guess what!” he blurted. I held up my finger
to silence him as I answered the call. I barely noticed as his bottom lip puckered and he dejectedly dropped his Star Wars backpack in the floorboard.

“Fine,” I replied, cutting my eyes at Seth as he began to rummage through his backpack, “what’s up?”

“I’ll make this quick because time is of the essence,” Don said with excitement in his voice. “We got the Memphis account!”

Don and I work for PortaPad Manufactured Homes, which is the country’s largest manufacturer of mobile homes. It also is based in my hometown of Conway, Arkansas. We had been negotiating with a manufactured home retailer in Memphis for a year—a retailer which happens to manage almost 40 dealerships in Tennessee and Mississippi.

“That’s great!” I exclaimed, “So when do we…”

Don cut me off before I finished my question. “We close the deal next week, but I need you in the office tonight so we can start getting everything together. We need to make sure that our i’s are dotted and our t’s are crossed.”

“I’ll be there!” I said and hung up the phone.

In my excitement I had almost forgotten that Seth was in the vehicle. Ann usually picked him up from school, but she had a doctor’s appointment today. I had been excited about picking him up and spending some quality time together but, like on most occasions, that was not going to happen today because work always seemed to intrude. I had no sooner hung up the phone when he started in with his barrage of reporting on the day’s events.

“Hey Daddy, guess what we watched today?” Before I could reply, he answered his own question. “We watched the NASA channel in science class today and guess what?”

Again he was quicker on the draw than I in answering the question. “The scientists say there is a magnetic storm heading toward Urf, and it will be here in a couple of weeks!” Seth is an intelligent six-year-old but he does have a slight speech impediment. It was cute when he was younger, and Ann and I always thought he would grow out of it, but we have recently come to recognize that he might need speech therapy. I was experienced enough with his dialect to recognize that there was a magnetic storm heading toward Earth.

“That’s interesting,” I said.

I had heard a snippet on the radio earlier but I hadn’t really paid attention. Meteor showers, eclipses, visible planets and comets, it seems like we have some new phenomenon to observe on a weekly basis. So, I didn’t believe this one would be any different, maybe some colorful lights in the sky for a night or two and even then it would probably only be visible in Nova Scotia, Oslo, Norway, or Timbuktu. Conway, Arkansas, never has anything exciting like that happen.

“We may not be able to see it but it might interfere with TV or rabio signals,” he said as he pointed at the radio dial.

I barely even heard him because I noticed another kid about Seth’s age dart into the street just as I was pulling away from the curb. I was reminded of Seth’s earlier similar lack of caution.

“Seth, how many times have I talked to you about running into the street? I am going to have to ground you tonight to make sure you get the point. Do you understand?”

He frowned and nodded his head gloomily. After a few moments of silence, Seth replied so silently I could barely understand him.

“Okay, Daddy … could we stop at the blue store so I can get Momma a present?”

The blue store is how he referred to Walmart, one of his favorite places in the world outside of Chuck E. Cheese. He called it that because of its blue logo and saying the word Walmart played hell on his speech impediment.

I felt a knot form in my stomach and it started to work its way up my throat. Today is Ann’s birthday and we were supposed to have a family dinner tonight at her favorite restaurant. I had just committed myself to go into work. I don’t think I have been available for a birthday celebration in at least three years. The last birthday party I remember, including my own, was Seth’s third birthday. That stands out so clearly because I was late due to a meeting at work and had to pick up the cake. My tardiness distracted me enough that I did not inspect the cake at the bakery when I picked it up. It wasn’t discovered until the box was opened in the middle of the table surrounded by three-year-olds and moms that I had gotten the wrong cake. Seth frowned as I dumbly read the birthday greeting aloud: “Happy 50th Birthday, Ralph.”

“I-I don’t have time, buddy,” I said. “I have to go to work, something really big tonight, your mother will understand.”

I felt like a jerk but I justified it by believing that Ann would understand. She always did … or at least I thought she did. I believed she would appreciate the fact that my absence tonight would give her delayed gratification of her birthday wishes. The bonus I would be getting would enable us to take the dream vacation we have talked about for years but never acted on, or perhaps even enable us to move to the new affluent area of Conway known as Jefferson Place. Yes, it was for the good of the family, I rationalized. It was worth a few sacrifices. In actuality, I don’t believe Ann and Seth shared my justification.

Seth frowned and fumbled with the strap of his backpack. I saw a tear start to bead in the corner of his eye but I was distracted by another phone call from my boss. We were three-quarters of the way home when my call ended. Seth had dried his tears but still looked thoroughly disappointed. He took me completely off guard by his next question.

“Daddy, how do you commit suibside?”

I gaped at him in disbelief. My shock caused me to veer into the next lane, almost side swiping a Volkswagen Beetle.

“Suicide … where did you hear that word, son?” I stammered.

“J.C. Stensland died today; Father Wilson met with us in chapel to talk about it.”

J.C. Stensland was a teen heartthrob pop star. Seth listened to Radio Disney where they usually played a lot of his music but I never thought that Seth was a fan. He usually only got excited about the show tunes from his favorite Disney movies. It seems I had heard something on the radio earlier about the music star committing suicide. The details were sketchy but it was believed that he shot himself in the head.

“What did Father Wilson say?” I asked, my jaw clenching tight. I understood the Catholic position on suicide but I hoped that the priest had not gotten too graphic with his discussion.

I still needed to have a private meeting with Father Wilson about his, in my opinion, explicit lesson about abortion. I share the same views on the subject matter as the good Father and the Church, but we have a different point of view sometimes on age appropriate discussions.

“He reminded us that suibside is a sin and anyone who does it is going to Hell. Is J.C. in Hell, Daddy?”

My jaw clenched again and my ulcer, which had not given me a problem in months, decided to rear its ugly head. It sounded as if the line had once again been crossed, but when was I going to have time to meet with the Father? My calendar is booked solid for at least a month. It is now mid-April and school will be out for summer in a couple of weeks.

“I don’t know, Seth. Only God can determine that.”

“Doesn’t Father Wilson talk to God?” Seth asked with a frown.

I decided it was best to change the subject. “Hey, what did Mr. Lax think about your airplane project?” I asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. Seth had spent two weeks working on a project that displayed World War II airplanes.

Seth beamed with pride. “A-plus,” he said with two thumbs up.

“Good job, buddy!” I reached over to ruffle his hair. His chest puffed out as he beamed from ear to ear.

“I told him we were going to see them for real at the Air and Space Moozem in Washaton as soon as school is done!” he boasted.

I had promised Seth to take him to the Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., as soon as school is out. However, I hadn’t anticipated the big deal closing with the company in Memphis. I had a habit of breaking promises to him like that, but he had to understand that my hard work pays for his video games, toys, and everything else that is special to him. Postponing our trip would be worth it in the long run. We would take the trip later in the summer; it would be even better because we would have more money for Busch Gardens and the beach. Deep down I knew that was a load of crap but I would never admit it to myself and especially not to Seth. I was too self-absorbed to realize that what was truly special to him was time spent with his habitually absent father.

I said nothing because I knew whatever came out of my mouth would be a lie. Instead I just smiled and winked at Seth but my ulcer made me pay for my insincerity. I reached for my bottle of Zantac in the center console and popped a couple of pills, then chased them with the warm remains of my morning Mountain Dew.

Ann had not returned from the doctor when we got home. I parked in the driveway, not bothering to pull into the garage since I would be leaving again shortly. Seth made a beeline for his room upstairs as soon as I opened the front door. He dropped his backpack on the couch as usual and bolted up the stairs.

I got another call from my boss to remind me of everything I needed to bring to the meeting tonight. I hardly noticed Seth when he came back downstairs to retrieve tape and scissors from a kitchen drawer. I was completely oblivious to his presence as I walked around with my phone on my shoulder as I made a cream cheese and cucumber sandwich. Otherwise, I would have probably scolded him as he ran up the stairs with the scissors. He was excited again.

I was still on the phone when Ann got home. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek and then excitedly hurried upstairs herself. I acknowledged her with a smile and a pat on the behind as Don rattled on about building specifications for our new line of manufactured homes. I was momentarily distracted as I watched her ascend the stairs; she was as fine walking away as walking toward me. Her silky chestnut hair, olive complexion, her long legs that went all the way up to her firm … well, I am a lucky man to have a woman so gorgeous and understanding. But sometimes it’s not enough to understand what things mean; sometimes you have to understand what things don’t mean. That was Ann’s gift, to appreciate and understand the present, and my curse that I did not.

It didn’t occur to me at first, until a few minutes after she closed the bedroom door, what she was doing, but by then it was too late. She was dressing for our dinner out, the dinner for her birthday, the dinner I would not be attending.

I got off the phone with Don as Ann was coming back downstairs. Her black dress accentuated every perfect feature. It made it much harder to say what I was about to say. She knew me so well I could see the comprehension wash across her face like a dark cloud before I even opened my mouth.

“You have a meeting tonight?” she asked quietly.

I nodded my head and put my hand on her shoulder.

“You remember that Memphis deal? Well, it’s official! Don and I have to work on it tonight.”

She nodded her head and forced a smile. “That’s great. When will you be home?”

“Not too late … about nine or ten.” I paused and put my arms around her. “I’m sorry about tonight, but you know how important this deal is.”

I felt her head nod against my shoulder. I heard a noise before she spoke; I couldn’t tell if it was a sob or a quick breath.

“I’ll wait up for you,” she whispered.

She pulled away when we heard Seth coming down the stairs. She flashed a sad smile at me then quickly turned her attention to our charging son. He wrapped his arms around her waist and administered the biggest bear hug he could manage.

“Happy birfday, Momma!” he announced as he reached one arm up and extended a hastily wrapped package.

Judging by the snowmen, I would say he had gotten into our Christmas wrapping paper. My gut clenched when I realized I had left my present at the office. But what had Seth gotten her? A short time earlier he was asking me to take him to the blue store to get her a present.

Ann leaned down and hugged Seth’s neck then kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you baby,” she said. “What is it?”

“Open it!” he urged.

She gently tore back the paper to reveal more layers of snowmen. I think Seth must have used the whole roll. After several moments of peeling, Ann gently reached into the wrapping and pulled out an action figure; Seth’s Princess Leia action figure to be exact. He had a large collection of Star Wars figures which he guarded jealously. It was indeed an esteemed honor to be presented with one of his collection.

“Princess Leia is pretty like you, Momma,” Seth said, proud. Seth had always claimed that Ann resembled the galactic princess. I could see the resemblance a little, except for the hair buns over the ears.

Ann slowly turned and displayed her honored gift in my general direction. I saw a couple of tears stream down her cheeks. At the time I thought it was motherly happiness for Seth’s thoughtful gift; in hindsight I’m not so sure. I think it was more a mixture of pride in her son and disappointment in me. But I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? The truth was that this had become such a common occurrence, me putting my work first, that it was a miracle Ann had any regretful tears left.

I kissed Ann and wished her what probably seemed a hollow happy birthday. I hugged Seth and told him I loved him. I had thoughtlessly left Ann’s gift at the office, but promised her I would bring it home after the meeting tonight. Even though I have a lousy record with quality family time, I did put a lot of effort into gifts. Surely the diamond tennis bracelet I got her would make up for my absence.

The thing that seemed to be completely lost on me is that nothing could make up for that. I loved my family dearly, more than words could express, but actions always speak louder than words.

CHAPTER 3

The Sign

“When men sow the wind it is rational
to expect that they will reap the whirlwind.”

—Frederick Douglass

It has been three weeks since Ann’s birthday. It is truly disturbing how much things can change in such a short period of time. The deal in Memphis closed a week ago. It was a very lucrative deal, but one I would gladly undo if only I could undo what has happened. I haven’t slept or eaten much since then. In fact, I have barely left the house.

As I sit and ponder what has happened, I realize that when it comes to the happiest days of my life, work never really figured into the mix. I thought it did but really it made me happy because I was making more money and a better life for the family. Yes, I was making more money, but money is a poor substitute for the priceless value of a present husband and father.

The two happiest days of my life were the day Annabelle and I were married and the day that my premature, but miraculously healthy son, Seth, was born – thank God he got his mother’s looks. Both days hold a unique place in my heart, but I never understood how large a part of my heart they occupied until I returned home from Memphis last week and realized they were gone. I had a void in my chest that far surpassed my physical dimensions; it seemed to open into a bottomless pit of despair.

I am a loyal and loving husband and father, but I guess that was hard to see considering I was never home. All I wanted was to give them everything they desired, that is why I worked long hours, traveled on weekends, and even worked when I was home. I was so busy looking to the future that I never realized the present needed me. Karma paid me a cruel visit last week, a visit that I deserved. I guess in one form or another, we always reap what we sow.

Seth is six-years-old and a very intelligent kid. He was already educating me on the solar system and universe when he was only three. Yeah, I knew all the planets in order, kind of. I always had a tendency to get Neptune and Uranus turned around in their order from the Sun, but not Seth. He could not only rattle them off in line, but could name all the moons for each planet as well. He had a steadfast belief – I have no idea where it came from – that Pluto is indeed a planet and not a dwarf planet as NASA had recently proclaimed. Well, I don’t know a dwarf planet from a Disney character, so I never corrected him. Who knows? The smart little toot may have been right. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t talking to a three-year-old or a six-year-old as he got older. He is a typical kid, but don’t let his speech impediment fool you; he has an intellect that would far exceed his old man’s.

Ann and I were a clichéd story: nerd meets beauty, they hit it off, they get married … life is good. I wish I could say it was that easy, but it wasn’t. It took a lot of persistence and diligence on my part to win her over, almost three years’ worth.

Ann and I had very little in common other than the fact that we both grew up as an only child in our respective homes and we had both lost each of our parents before we were 20. We had vowed to not condemn Seth to that solitary existence; he needed family that would still be there even after Ann and I are gone. But, we had not been able to get pregnant again. I can’t help but wonder if that was why Ann had gone to see her doctor, her “female” doctor on her birthday. As happy as that would have made me two weeks ago, it tears at my heart to think of that possibility now.

When I fell in love with Ann, it was one of those chick moments that guys sometimes have but never admit. I just knew I was meant to be with her. I couldn’t explain it any more than I could explain the event that is presently occurring on the Earth.

I have been sitting in my easy chair for most of the last week, just as I am doing today, pondering what brought me to this point, reminiscing about the past as my guts seem to be gnawing their way out, feeding on my guilt and misery. Father Wilson had stopped by again this morning to offer support but, like I had done the past four days, I politely told him it was not a good time and sent him on his way. I had not forgotten the suicide conversation I intended to have with him, but now was not the time and I didn’t think I could talk with him until that was resolved.

His visit did make me recall that Seth had told me about a phenomenon heading toward the Earth, a magnetic storm or something which they had watched in science class. I hadn’t paid attention at the time because I was preoccupied with my big Memphis deal. Plus, it seems like there is always some meteor shower or eclipse to watch, a cosmic oddity and nothing more. That is why the TV suddenly caught my attention.

The news report tapped my curiosity like nothing had in the past week because I had mindlessly ignored the TV for days as it droned on not more than ten feet from my chair, it might as well have been ten miles. The broadcast from CNN said the storm had entered the Earth’s atmosphere over China and would gradually spread across the entire planet. Seth had told me that the scientists said the storm might disrupt radio signals but it seemed radio was not fazed; instead television was being affected.

The reporters estimated that it would take about six hours to reach our side of the planet. But their predictions were woefully inadequate: within ten minutes my TV was reduced to nothing more than a white-noise generator. I grudgingly forced myself out of the chair and walked over to my laptop resting on the coffee table where it had sat for the past two weeks. After it booted, I clicked on my internet icon … there was no connection. After several minutes of rebooting and troubleshooting, I saw little alternative but to go into the kitchen and turn on the radio. I absently drifted back against the wall and slid to the floor as I took in the radio report, my jaw practically resting on my chest. Yes, TV and internet were out all over the world, but that problem paled in comparison to what else was being reported. Emotional exhaustion and astonishment made it impossible to stand. What I was hearing was surely impossible.

It came from outer space.

Yes, I know that is a title to a 1950s science-fiction B-movie, but it is the most apt description I can think of for this, well … cosmic storm. That seems to be the most agreeable buzzword for all the talking head scientists on the radio. It seems radio is it for an indefinite period of time. TV signals are blocked by this “storm.” The old saying that “seeing is believing” really hits home at a time like this. I don’t know what to believe about what’s being reported on the radio. I can’t help but think of Orson Welles’ infamous broadcast of War of the Worlds in 1938. This can’t be real, can it? No, it’s not aliens. It’s far more incredible.

As I said, this event, miracle, storm—or whatever you choose to call it—came from space. Ancient man believed that celestial events were omens of fate. Eclipses, comets, planetary alignments, lunar or solar cycles, and even meteor showers were believed to foretell the coming of a great prosperity or a profound cataclysm. Many still believe in the validity of these heavenly harbingers.

I have attended church with Ann and Seth more from obligation than any type of spiritual calling. I was not a deeply religious man before this event. I can say with even more conviction that I was not and still am not a superstitious man. I put no such stock in irrational, gullible thought, but it is undeniable that something has happened and is happening, something unlike anything mankind has seen before. Little did I know that I would presently be bearing witness to that as intimately as any other person on the planet.

According to the radio, which I had raptly listened to for about two hours now, a true miracle was visited upon the planet today, but was it of Heaven or Hell? Is it necessary for an event to be spawned of a loving and benevolent God to qualify as a miracle? Evil can sometimes be every bit as potent in this purview. We call horrific events disasters, but in some cases couldn’t they be classified as negative miracles? Maybe this is just the last vestige of my optimism talking. Whatever the reason behind the event enveloping the planet today, mankind seemed as split about the origins as they are about religion itself. I myself am split … there are no two ways about it. I am cautiously excited, but I am also as scared as hell.

The last time I saw Ann and Seth together was the day two weeks ago before I headed for a business meeting in Memphis. Honestly, I didn’t really have to go, but I have always found it difficult to delegate authority and I couldn’t escape the feeling that something would go wrong if I didn’t. My instincts turned out to be right, but for all the wrong reasons.

Annabelle and Seth were taking a picnic lunch to Lake Beaverfork that afternoon and they both begged me to come with them. I could have blown the meeting off and gone—a part of me wanted to, but another part won out. The selfish part, the part that knew mid-April in Arkansas was still a little too early for water activities. I hate cold water, hate it with a passion; I almost think I would rather get a root canal with no Novocain than to go swimming in a cold lake.

I wished them well, teased Seth to watch out for the toe bass that enjoyed nibbling on little boys’ feet, and left without another thought for the airport. In the world of karma, that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, or in this case, broke my heart. It wasn’t until I returned the next morning that I realized they were gone.

As I said, my wife and son left two weeks ago. But my son returned today of all days, the day the cosmic storm entered Earth’s atmosphere. The superstitious would have proclaimed the storm as a harbinger of his return, but I am not a superstitious man.

Yes, I did say that just my son returned. Where his mother is, I still am not certain. I never considered whether a human being can experience overwhelming joy and overwhelming terror at the same time, but let me tell you from personal experience … we can. It is an indescribable feeling and one I do not care to repeat. It does something to the soul, like putting it on the rack and stretching it to its limits before releasing it abruptly like a taut rubber band.

People may ask why I didn’t feel pure joy for the return of my son. What is there to be terrified of?

I was terrified of the one thing that has been eating at my heart since I realized they were gone. In all of my nightmares I never considered that it does not necessarily require flesh and blood to harbor the trappings of a fiend. Fate can fit that definition just as easily.

That certainty would be the hardest lesson in my life, because two weeks ago, coming home from Lake Beaverfork, Annabelle and Seth were killed in a car accident.

The Tesla Gate

John D. Mimms