The Factory Page 6

  Pleased to help, he hurried to the bathroom and back with both. After swallowing the pill, she said,

  “You go and make yourself something to eat. I will stay here and rest up a little bit longer.”

  While making himself a sandwich, it never once occurred to him that he had been accused of breaking the rules about visitors. He simply accepted she had made a mistake and that was the end of it. After a cold dinner and watching his favorite TV program, he prepared to go up to the attic and solder more parts together. While walking past her open door he looked in and saw that she was still sleeping and had not moved. The glass of water on the nightstand was empty. Wanting to be attentive, he went in, took it and refilled it for her.

  Opening the door to the attic, he pulled the string and the light over his workbench shone on his creation as if it were an actor on stage. By this time his creation was much more than a simple assortment of joined computer parts. It was massive. In most cases when wanting to solder something to something else, he had to stand and reach or sometimes walk around to the side of the table. When connecting the batteries to a few of his grandfather’s large diode tubes they flickered as if struggling to function. There were enough LED lights attached to give it the appearance of a Christmas tree not to be proud of. Strange sounds crackled out of the three small speakers haphazardly attached to no place in particular. Once again he had no idea how much time had passed. Only when both eyes refused to stay open did thoughts of stopping and going to bed take control. That time was near approaching.

  As Gary continued, lost to time, the night was clear with a bright full moon. Moon beams squeezed through the small stained glass window under the gable to produce a narrow faded eerie luminescence. Unbeknownst to an attentive Gary bent over his creation, behind him the rainbow colors started to separate into single color bands to become like colorful fingers. They flickered about the attic as if wanting to play a mad tune on a piano. As if hearing the piano, the mannequin started to sway back and forth. Limp arms full of foam started madly swaying through the air performing a macabre voodoo dance of the damned.

  Oddly, one of the colored beams landed on the stack of newspapers piled against the far wall. By an unknown authority, as if a gentle wind had picked up, some of the pages flickered and flipped over. As the pages flipped back and forth, there was a pause on one word of each of the pages. ‘Me’. ‘Help’. Help me. Because it was silent and it happened behind him, it did not deter Gary from his obsession and therefore missed the ghostly plea for help.

  Because the plea for help was ignored, a different approach was initiated. With his head low and concentrating on the placement of a transistor, Gary suddenly heard,

  “Hello? Can you please help me?”

  Adrenalin hit him like a hammer to the forehead. Fearing that his grandmother had made her way up the stairs and caught him, he snapped around. The only shape in the dim light was the mannequin that instantly stopped its frightening dance and behaved as a mannequin should, unmoving. Picking up his flashlight he bravely searched the dark corners of the attic all the while asking,

  “Who is there?”

  He heard it again.

  “Hello?”

  Snapping his attention back to his creation, he realized that the mysterious voice was coming from one of the small speakers attached by random wires. Again, he heard,

  “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  His stunned soft voice returned a question,

  “Yes, I am here. Where are you?”

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  Thinking that he could help the disembodied voice, he asked,

  “I’ll help you. Tell me what you see.”

  “It is dark. I see nothing but black.”

  “Perhaps your eyes are closed. Try to open them.”

  “I do not have eyes.”

  Stunned at the image of a voice with no eyes, Gary thought of the paranormal gadgets Sam was experimenting with in the treehouse. Had he somehow conjured up a ghost? Although a strange question, it made sense to him.

  “Are you dead?”

  “Yes, I think so. I cannot move and see nothing.”

  Hoping it was a ghost from heaven, perhaps even his mother, he asked,

  “Do you have wings?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A more hopeful question was curiously asked,

  “Are you my mother?”

  Instead of an encouraging reply, the voice suddenly took on a fearful tone and snapped,

  “They are coming.”

  Gary snapped around but saw nobody. Returning his attention to the conversation, he inquisitively asked,

  “Who? Who is coming?”

  There was no reply and the speakers went silent.

  Hoping to see evidence of a severed voice, anything at all, he took another look around the attic. After again searching the dark corners he had to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Was the voice only in his head? There was no mysterious girl hiding in the corners and the mannequin had no mouth and couldn’t speak. He did not know how the voice came through the speakers and had no idea what he had created. He pulled the light string, the room went dark and he closed the attic door on the mystery.

  Chapter 12

  Ruth had gotten used to Gary missing his breakfast with her. She realized that perhaps it was unfair to expect a young boy to adhere to her schedule, early to bed and early to rise. She got up at 5:30 AM and 6:30 was breakfast time. For the first few times on insisting his presence at breakfast she saw that he was only nibbling at the oatmeal with half opened eyes. Little did she suspect what he had been up in the attic for the better part of the night. For whatever reason, she had relaxed her insistence of having breakfast together.

  If the truth were known, she much preferred that he slept in. It was a struggle to force a conversation, not only from him but her as well. He was not interested in the exiting news of how Louise in the church choir had missed her note or all about Reverend Macaw’s exciting sermon. The trouble she had with her rheumatism while opening a can of corn flew over his head as boring. Conversely, she had trouble sitting there listening to his boring day. With the coming of a young boy into the house, her privacy had been invaded and she now treasured her alone time in the morning. After his late breakfast she was glad to see him jump on his bike and peddle around the neighborhood. Or so she thought that’s what he was doing.

  After finishing her morning dishes, she took her broom and prepared to sweep off the front porch. Halfway through the chore she saw a noisy and run-down looking pickup truck stop in front of the house. Curious, for she never received visitors this early, in fact she never received visitors, she looked up to see who it was. Scorn and a deep frown implied she was not happy.

  She dropped her broom and hurried into the house. Surprisingly fast for an old woman, within seconds she was back at the door and aiming a shotgun at the intruder. He was halfway to the porch when he looked up, saw the barrel and heard a very stern and demanding,

  “Get off my property.”

  Rick knew she would not shoot and even doubted there were shells in the ancient shotgun. While staring her down, he continued his pace toward her and sneered,

  “Put that pea shooter away you old hag. I’ve come to see my boy.”

  She rebutted,

  “You have no boy. You gave him up when you did those things to my daughter.”

  He was a foot away from the front steps when he threatened,

  “Best you aim that thing somewhere else before I do the same thing to you.”

  She hissed,

  “I’ll kill you before that happens to me or the boy.”

  She then loudly added,

  “Now get off my property before a put a hole in your head.”

  He put one foot on the first step and harshly said,

  “Back off bitch. I’m taking my boy away from here.”

  The threat of losing Gary enraged her so much that she lowered her aim and pulled the
trigger.

  In a resounding boom, half of the first step disappeared in an explosion of wood and splinters. He was so startled that he could have won an Olympic gold medal for backward jumping. She warned again,

  “Now get off my property. If I see you here again I’ll aim higher.”

  Although he tried to sound brave, there was a tremble in his voice.

  “Jesus old woman, you could have blown my foot clean off. What the hell is the matter with you?”

  When she pumped the shotgun for another shell and her aim lifted back to his head, he did not question if she would pull the trigger. He knew she was crazy enough to do it. While backing up and pointing a mean finger at her, he threatened,

  “We’ll see who the crazy one is you bitch. When I tell Sheriff Cornwall about this, you can bet he’ll say it’s you. Then let’s see who gets the brat, you or me.”

  She pulled the trigger again and half the front gate flew off its lone hinge and careened into his pickup truck. She cocked the shotgun for another round.

  There was no doubt and no hesitation. He snapped around and as fast as scared legs could, he ran and jumped into his pickup truck. While speeding away, the back tire ran over the gate practically folding it in half. Mr. and Mrs. Crow were across the street just starting their walk and stopped to witness the incident. Like Ruth, they had been in this neighborhood for years and knew all about Rick and what he had done so many years ago. Mrs. Crow nodded her approval and Mr. Crow pretended that he never heard or saw a thing.

  Gary was sound asleep when startled by his grandmother’s yelling at the front porch. Although dead tired, he went to the window and saw his dad walking down the path toward the house. He was excited that his dad had come for him but when he heard the two shotgun blasts he ran down the hall and stood beside Grandma Ruth on the porch. He was just in time to see the pickup truck race away. He looked up at his grandmother and asked,

  “Why did you shoot at my dad?”

  Ruth was fit to be tied and not in a mood to be genial. She rudely took him by the arm and dragged him back into the house while saying,

  “I told you before, you have no father.”

  Confused, Gary struggled to say,

  “But he said he was my dad.”

  “He is a cruel and mean man. Get to the kitchen and have some breakfast.”

  After the excitement of learning that he really had a father and now the hurtful things Grandma had said about him, Gary was in turmoil. He ate his breakfast in silence and when finished, asked if he could go for a bike ride. At the back door, as Ruth watched him take his bike out of the shed she sternly said,

  “If you see that no good man claiming to be your father again, stay away from him.”

  As he peddled away, he tried to balance grandma’s hatred of his new dad against the elation of finding him. The faster he peddled, the faster confusion spun and tears streamed off his cheeks. Gary was confused beyond understanding.

  Chapter 13

  In the tree house, attempting to explain to Sam what happened back at the house, he struggled to make sense of it all. He knew what happened but missed the ‘why’. The dad he had always wanted and now found was in danger of being shot by the only other kin he had. He wanted them both, but painfully understood he would never see all three dressed up and going to church together.

  When hearing what happened, judging by the concern on Sam’s face it was clear that she felt his pain. It was not easy for her either. She loved her dad too but since the copper mine shut down, he was not the same jovial and happy father anymore. His moods rapidly shifted from pleasant to mean toward both mom and her. The bottle was the only thing that pacified his terrible headaches and mood swings. Mom made sure there was always an abundance of that medicine in the house. It was also the reason Sam spent so much time away from home and here in her peaceful domain. Whenever the yelling started, her tears flowed.

  Upon hearing Gary’s story, as if looking straight into his soul, she looked deep into his eyes. Finding the trust and friendship she was looking for, she whispered,

  “I’ll tell you a secret about my dad okay but you have to swear that it stays right here.”

  With curiosity peaked, he nodded and she continued.

  “I promised my mom I would never tell anyone. If they found out, bad people would come and take him away and we would never see him again.”

  Curiosity peaked and he asked

  “Who will come and take your dad away?”

  “Come over here and I’ll tell you.”

  They moved over to the sofa and she sat sideways facing him. She then started a story that dropped his jaw to his chest.

  “Dad is right. There is lots of copper left in the mine. He said that when they extended one of the mine shafts, instead of solid rock, they broke into a large cavern filled with massive crystal formations. With lights beaming, he and two other men walked into it and almost immediately the two men in front of him disappeared right in front of his eyes. He said that it was like walking into oblivion.”

  Gary’s eyes widened and he blurted out the question,

  “What happened to them?”

  “Nobody knows. They were never seen again. My dad quickly backed away and said that he was not affected by what happened to them but he really was. When the authorities were notified, they immediately shut the mine down. Dad said that they claimed it was because the copper gave out but it was really because of that crystal cave they discovered.”

  Gary interjected,

  “They must be doing something down there. I have broken and useless computer parts from them.”

  “I know, right. But here comes the strangest part.”

  Gary was shocked that there was a stranger part coming. How could anything be stranger than walking into a crystal cave and never to be seen again? She said,

  “Here comes the biggest secret of all. It really did affect my dad and really bad too. That’s why he gets those terrible headaches and can’t control his temper. Honest, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, it really happens.”

  He blurted out,

  “What really happens?”

  After checking that nobody else was listening, looking in all four corners of the tree house and satisfied that the family secret would only be heard by trusting ears, she said,

  “My dad can partially disappear.”

  A frown indicated his disbelief and so she adamantly defended,

  “No, really. I’ve seen him fade and like a ghost can see right through him. It’s as if he was made of glass. And then, as if it never happened, he turns solid again. That’s when the pain starts and he drinks to make it go away. I’m never supposed to tell anyone.”

  With a threatening finger pointed at his face, she added,

  “So it’s a secret right? It doesn’t leave this treehouse.”

  Gary assured her he would never tell anyone. Besides, he didn’t want to be called as crazy as he thought she was.

  An hour later, Sam was at the table staring hard into her crystal ball. An index finger on each hand was pressed hard into her temples. Gary sat on the floor mesmerized by the strange shapes and things he could do with five bar magnets he found in the basement. With the intention of getting her to see the strange vibrating pattern, he looked up and saw that she was still intent on the crystal ball. Curious, he asked,

  “Why are you doing that? Can you see something in it?”

  Because her concentration was broken by the abrupt question, frustrated she gave up and turned to him.

  “Yes, I can sometimes hear strange words and weird numbers but I don’t understand them.”

  This time there was no look of doubt on Gary. He blurted out,

  “I can hear a voice from the stuff I made in the attic.”

  Confused by the sudden declaration and filled with questions, Sam looked suspiciously at him. Apparently it was normal for her to hear voices through the medium of the crystal ball but when somebody else confessed to hearing voices, it
sounded strange to her. He told her all about the disembodied conversation he had in the attic. She asked questions about who it was and the person’s name but he had no idea. He said,

  “It was just a voice saying that she didn’t know where she was and things were all dark.”

  Sam perked alert when he added,

  “She said that she thinks she is dead.”

  Sam slowly turned back to the crystal ball and stared at it. She was never able to contact spirits by that medium and here was Gary saying that he had apparently done just that through a complex and confused tangle of computer parts in his attic. Neither understood that there was a hundred years of technology between radio diode tubes and transistors. They were incompatible. Turning back to Gary, looking down at him, she made it sound like an order.

  “I want to hear that voice.”

  Gary frowned and explained that he was not allowed to bring anybody into the house. Undeterred, she convinced him that tonight she could sneak into the house and go up to the attic without getting caught. Although he was afraid of what would happen if his grandmother found out, he agreed that she could come tonight and hear the voice. When it got dark and grandmother was asleep, the signal that the coast was clear would be an exchange of flashing light beams from his bedroom to the tree house.