7

It was a grey Wednesday afternoon, exactly one week after the puzzling gathering in the forest, and Marith was playing the cello in the humongous hallway. By trial and error she had found out this space had the best acoustics of the house. The place spoke to her because of its high ceiling, wood panelled walls and the lack of furniture. Surprising enough, it strengthened the warm, melancholic tune of the instrument and didn’t produce an echo. Nick didn’t mind the almost continuous sound. He was happy to have some stirring around him.

Olive sat on the marble floor watching Marith’s every move and plotting the destruction of a very tasty looking cello bow. Just when Marith was about to take a short break to mentally prepare herself before tackling some Rachmaninov her smartphone finally rang.

“Goedemiddag?”

“Hello, Marith,” Vanessa’s unmistakable cheerful voice sounded. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess.” The curiosity that took a hold of Marith imposed a silence upon her.

The absence of communication and supernatural incidents during the past week had made Marith wonder if any of the events that she had previously survived had actually happened in the first place.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Oh, well, you know… studying Bach’s first cello suite… minding my own business,” she added warningly.

Even though she was relieved someone finally called the thought of being dragged further into that dark world Vanessa and the others seemed to know so much about made her insides twist and turn.

The more disturbing things were getting in Sweet Lake the more Marith longed back to the boredom of the Netherlands. Depressions, loneliness and a lack of loved ones surrounding her all of a sudden seemed very comfortable. She had learned how to cope with those, more or less.

The need to be by herself, doing something familiar, had contradictory enough grown each day, since the train accident and was amplified by their meeting in the woods.

“Get packing! We’re going on a trip!” That voice came from the background. Marith wasn’t sure who it was, but it was clear to her now she was on speakerphone.

“Who was that?” Marith asked confused.

“Amber,” Vanessa answered amused.

“When is this trip?”

“We leave Friday afternoon and we drive back on Sunday morning.”

“What do I pack?” Marith sighed. She knew very well there was no way she could get out of this.

“Your usual clothes and maybe some snacks. We’re going to Nick’s cabin at the shore.”

Marith turned around with a demonic look on her face. She saw Nick sitting behind his desk in his study through the glass windows in the wooden gliding doors. He was smiling at her.

‘I hate you,’ Marith mouthed. He could have at least told her up front.

In response, Nick nodded and put his thumb up in the air.

The next morning Marith hiked to the clinic again. Apart from those walks she hardly got any exercise, since she was holed up in Nick’s mansion for most of her time, reading, cooking, playing the cello.

The week before Vanessa had promised her with much uncertainty in her voice that she didn’t have to fear the Birdman during the day. If it could stand sunlight she and Jonathan would have been attacked sooner. Marith’s dreams about the creature had confirmed this presumption.

She only went outside if the sun was shining bright and clear, which was not often, and she would prevent walking through the most dark and over-grown patches of forest.

This day, however, Marith was in luck and she was met with crisp and cold, cloudless weather. She took in the virgin white mountain ridges at every horizon as she squinted her eyes to protect them from the glaring light bouncing off the snow. She probably should have applied sunscreen to protect her melanin robbed skin, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn around once she smelled the fresh scents of the forest.

She had gotten the keys to Gene’s apartment from Vanessa, but she had been unable to bring herself to use them. During her last visit to the clinic her father had asked her for some clothes, books and toiletries, so she had no excuse anymore to postpone going back to his new place.

Visiting her father every other day or so she hadn’t observed any noticeable progress in his mental state. Gene had been through the worst detox symptoms, but his mental issues remained. She hadn’t brought up the emptiness dr. Sybling had told her about or the Birdman she had encountered with Vanessa. She craved for quality time with her father when she came to the clinic, which was harder than anticipated.

She just wanted to talk about normal stuff with her dad, but what was normal about their situation? Gene was a committed addict. Marith was a depressed university drop out. Most visits were uncomfortable to state the least.

Marith would usually inquire after his arm. He would lift it up and it would still be wrapped like a burrito and she would have to believe him on his word when he assured her that it was healing steadily.

Lost in thought she had arrived at the Bellevue building without taking in too much of the poor mess Sweet Lake had become. She stood in front of the depressing structure and was secretly happy her father was staying in the modern clinic with dr. Sybling and not on his own in that shabby, old apartment complex. She was also very glad her little sister was far away and safe in Norway and had little knowledge about most of what was happening on this side of the Atlantic Ocean.

To Marith’s great frustration she found out that the key Vanessa had given her was only meant for Gene’s front door. It wouldn’t open the entrance to the building. There was very likely a separate key for that main door, that Vanessa was in possession of, as an inhabitant, but she had probably forgotten to share that vital piece of hardware.

Marith sighed and stood weighing her options for a minute when she noticed some movement on the other side of the reinforced glass in the black painted backdoors. She tapped on it and waved, hoping to draw attention to herself.

The shape came closer. It was bright pink and short. Soon after, the door flew open with a whizzing sound. Apparently, it opened automatically after the right key was turned in the lock in the wall, on either side of the door.

On the other side of the threshold stood a cute, old lady hunched over a blue rollator, wearing a fuchsia coloured sweater and onyx jewellery with mother of pearl inlay.

“What can I do for you?” She asked with a crackling voice, deprived of strength behind the uttered words.

“I came to pick up some stuff from my father’s apartment, Gene Merryfield, but I only have the key to his front door and they don’t fit on this lock.” She showed her helper the keys in her hand as a sign of good faith.

“March, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Marith smiled.

“Come in.” She took a wavering step back from the doorway to let the young woman in, clutching the handles of her walking aid. “I am his neighbour, you know?”

“I didn’t know,” Marith answered polite, with an internal snicker at the quirky old lady. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“I recognize you from the pictures.”

“My dad has pictures? Of me?” She hadn’t noticed any when she first visited him, but it had been quite a stressful pop in, so maybe she hadn’t paid enough attention to her surroundings then.

“Yes, on his phone… with the…” she was clearly looking for a word and had stopped walking. They had arrived in the dark brown hallway, leading to the elevators. The lady tried to stabilize herself to make a movement with her arms.

“This thing,” she said, as she made a fluent movement through the air with her right arm.

Marith wrecked her brain and tried to refrain from frowning to stay polite. Her company understood that Marith had no inkling as to what she meant and she threw her left hand into the equation.

“Oh, the cello?!” Marith burst out, relieved. “Yes, I play the cello.”

“I heard you are a professional musician.”

“Well, semi-professional I would say.” Marith tried to downplay her competence.

“I go to church in Spectre Lake,” she sighed, as they had started to stroll again and talking and walking simultaneously robbed her off air. “I was wondering… do you play Christmas music?”

Each year, leading up to Christmas, Marith would play in Amsterdam with a musical ensemble in an atmospheric seventeenth century building next to the Vondelpark. The group had never given any official concerts and they had never sold tickets for money. They played for friends, family and anyone who would happen to know about it and would bother to come. She made a mental note to contact her fellow musicians she wouldn’t be able to attend this time.

“I would have to collect some sheet music and practice, but I could prepare something for the holidays, if you’d like.”

“That would be highly appreciated. I have some music written down for you.”

“Sure,” Marith answered and she accompanied her father’s neighbour to the third floor. They took the one working elevator this time. Much to her expectations it was as musty on the inside as the rest of the building.

“You can come in if you’d like,” she said, as she swung open the bright green door to her apartment after a brief struggle to put the key in the actual keyhole.

The smell that had welcomed Marith in the hallway two weeks prior came at her like a wave at open sea. This was not what she had in mind when her father had said his neighbour kept birds. She stood glued to the doormat as at least fortyfive pairs of eyes stopped their whistling, singing and eating to turn around and stare at her. Marith recognized wild birds, that were indigenous to the area, but also domestic birds, like parakeets and small parrots.

“There sure are a lot of birds in here, miss…” If Marith was going to get roped into playing the cello in a church full of strangers she at least wanted to know the name of the peculiar woman who succeeded in making her do it.

Different birds of different plume arched their necks to give her a skewed look. Some sat in cages with opened doors, others on slats, railings and branches, anchored to walls and furniture. The floors were covered in old newspapers and loose sheets of linoleum to protect the original carpet from droppings and spilled food and water.

“Parker. My last name is Parker. The birds just came to me and they keep coming. I think we both know why.” She winked at Marith.

Now Marith felt reason to frown and didn’t hold back her surprise.

She noticed all the windows were open. A few birds sat on the windowsills resting and eating from bowls filled with birdseed. Other birds flew in an out of the living area like the apartment was a birdhouse attached to a tree.

“Are you related to Jonathan?” Marith remembered Jonathans name from the sign on the front of his parent’s store.

“Yes, dear. He is one of my descendants. He comes here almost every night to have dinner, if he isn’t too busy with the shop that is.”

“Are you an Elder?” Marith asked, no longer afraid of how that would sound. Even if miss Parker thought she was crazy she sure wasn’t the only lunatic in the room.

“I am old enough to know that if birds, the most free of God’s creatures, are afraid and the inhabitants of Sweet Lake become restless a lot of things are about to unfold.”

Marith had her answer and she nodded. Miss Parker had parked her rollator in the tiny hallway and laboriously shuffled to a side table with a post-it stuck to it.

To save her the walk back to the hallway Marith stepped tentative into the living room. She heard flurried tweeting coming from a thick houseplant rooted in a big pot to her left. Out peeked a little black and white bird that looked more like an ornament that belonged in a Christmas tree than an actual living animal.

“This is their second home, a safe house,” she said, turning around with the yellow piece of paper.

“I can see that,” Marith said, slightly uneasy.

“What the clinic is for your father and Jonathan’s parents is my apartment for the birds.”

Marith swallowed. She had almost forgotten why she had come to the complex today.

“My generation had a Chain to join. That was our salvation. We were still strong and relatively young when the generation of your parents started to get the symptoms. There was no need for a new Chain and they were on their own to deal with their struggles. No group to join to seek relief from the emptiness.”

“Is that why they are committed right now?”

“It is why dr. Sybling is running the psychiatric ward.”

“Do the parents of all the Pupils have these issues?”

“Everybody sensitive to the Web experiences its effects, like emptiness, more or less throughout life, especially in the last decades, but not all of your parents suffer to such a degree that they need professional help.”

Miss Parker handed the note and Marith tried to take it in even though she was still processing the fact that the only reason her father was committed right now was that he hadn’t been able to join a Chain when he was young. Marith guessed she was lucky in that aspect.

She tried to focus on the titles again and saw some standard pieces that couldn’t be absent from any serious Christmas recital, but she had some ideas of her own to add.

“Can I complement this list?”

“Of course you can! We would be delighted if you could play.”

“I will start preparing right away and get back to you to discuss the composition and the order of the pieces.”

Miss Parker looked grateful and let her go, so she could pack the things her father had requested. She had to suck the strength to ignore the mouldy mess in his apartment from her toes. She yanked a duffel bag from under his bed and started packing. Everything was right where he had said it would be.

When she arrived at the hospital a good half hour later it started with the standard pleasantries about how she was enjoying her stay with Nick, the pieces of music she had played on her cello the past few days and how Gene’s arm was doing.

“Have you packed for your weekend away yet?” He smiled at her with wrinkly eyes. Marith could see it was a genuine smile, which eased her mind.

Wait. “How do you know about that?”

“Vanessa stopped by last night. We had dinner in the hospital restaurant together. With her there the food tastes better.” He winked at her.

“Dad...” Marith hesitated. Was she really going to ask this? Was she really willing to risk the one sane part of her brain also going haywire?

“Dad, what broke you and Mom up?”

Her father took a deep breath and thought about his answer for a little while. “Marith,” she let him hold her hand, “your mother and I had always had our differences… about where to live, how to raise the two of you, about spending money. After fifteen years there just wasn’t anymore love left between us, just battles to fight, and that breaks people up.”

Marith decided to believe that her father had spoken the whole truth and nothing but the truth and that she should let it go. He seemed relatively happy. She didn’t want to be the person to jeopardize that, but she couldn’t shake some dangerous thoughts off.

“What about you and Vanessa?”

“What about it?”

“She unhooked the keys to your apartment from her car keys, before giving them to me last week.”

“We have been seeing each other, for a while now.”

“What’s a while?”

“Probably a year or so.”

Marith nodded and stared past her father into nothingness.

“I didn’t know how unhappy I was until I met Vanessa,” he assured her.

“But you’re committed!”

“That is for different reasons.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at that answer.

“So, you’ve been past my place?” He changed the subject.

“Yes, on my way here. I’ve met your neighbour,” Marith started amused, as she opened the bag.

“Miss Parker? Did you see her birds?”

“Oh, all of them,” Marith answered wide-eyed.

She started to empty the bag and stored its contents in the tall white closet next to his bed. While organizing his clothes, toiletries and literature they briefly discussed the weather. What else was there to be discussed? The homeless epidemic, how miss Parker was an Elder or how the symptoms of his mental illness could have been limited if he hadn’t been born during the wrong time?

“I also brought this so you can listen to your Pink Floyd, Emerson, Lake and Palmer and other disordered noise.” She handed him the MP3-player, containing the acoustic terrorism, and the charger and earphones she had found in a drawer.

“No,” he shook his head with watery eyes, “I can’t…”

“What?” Marith frowned, worried. What fresh nonsense was this?

Her father pointed with a trembling finger of his healthy hand at his ear.

“I can hear him… through the earplugs.”

“What?” The slight wrinkles in Marith’s forehead were forming canyons.

“It’s because of the electric energy.” Dr. Sybling and her guide dog had snuck up on them. The doctor was holding a cup of something. Judging by her own rumbling stomach Marith figured it must be lunchtime for the hospital personnel.

“This is the influence of the Kid and it isn’t new to your father. Now that he is getting stronger he can bother and inflict pain on his former victims.”

Marith stood perplexed. “What do you mean ‘former victims’?”

“The sensitivity to the Web and its related issues often occurs in the same family throughout generations. We are trying to help your father bring back what he has been trying to suppress for too long. This process will take time.”

Marith realized this was exactly what miss Parker had mentioned, but she had difficulty discussing this with dr. Sybling in front of her father. Dr. Sybling spoke as if he weren’t there and yet Marith guessed he had to be informed about the Web and its stirrings, otherwise his treating physician wouldn’t be mentioning it right there and then.

“Alcohol lingers at least eight days in the system, after the last consumption. Rehab-wise the toughest time is behind him. When it comes to your father’s clinical depression, however, there is no change. How could there be?”

Marith stared at Iris. She knew the doctor was hinting at the Chain’s impending struggle with the Kid, even though he probably wasn’t even awake yet.

“How do you feel?” Gene asked, after he had rolled up the cable of the earplugs and had put them back in the duffel bag with the MP3-player.

He hadn’t engaged in the conversation about his own state of mind, but he did feel the need to inquire about his daughter’s mental health.

Marith sighed. Her father’s interest in her was admirable, but also detrimental, as she didn’t want to worry him. Nick was taking decent care of her, but even though her bruises and scars were healing somewhat she looked pale and drawn. She realized she couldn’t lie to him.

“I feel like… I don’t exist.” She shrugged. “And like I haven’t been existing for a while now.”

Her body felt like a grave her mind had been buried in since birth. She had realized she could barely remember anything she had done or experienced since she was a little girl. Depression had turned years of her life into an elongated and languid haze.

“Like you died?” He asked anxious, while he put his wrapped hand on her arm.

“No,” she shook her head vividly to erase that thought from her father’s consciousness. “It’s like I have been living my life, and everything happened as it happened, but I haven’t really been present.”

“That’s bad, sweetie.” His face looked more torn and worn out than ever as he said that.

“I know, but I don’t want you to worry about it whatsoever,” she hastily brought out. “My living situation is stable for now. I have Nick to talk to…” she wrecked her mind for more comforting information to give her father. “I play the cello every day.”

She realized her life sounded pathetic, so she stopped and stared at the junk surrounding her father on the hospital bed.

“Promise me you will go on that trip. Don’t make up excuses at the last moment. I know how you are.”

“I won’t,” Marith promised half-hearted. Maybe the trip would be a nice break from everything that was going on in Sweet Lake, but it would also take up a lot of energy she wasn’t sure she could spare.

Dr. Sybling and her quadruped companion were still standing there and Marith started to feel awkward. Behind the tall, dark woman the lunch cart appeared and with that visiting hour was over.

“Walk with us,” Dr. Sybling urged.

“Will you be okay?” Marith asked her father.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because Vanessa and I will both be away for a couple of days…”

“Nick is going to have dinner with me. I won’t be alone,” he assured.

Marith nodded diffident and joined the doctor in the hallway. It was empty, since the nursing staff and the receptionist were in the cafeteria having lunch.

“You can be more honest with your father.”

“I was honest. I just don’t want to burden him any more than absolutely necessary.”

“Carrying the torment of experiencing lifelong mental struggles doesn’t make you a nuisance. I told him that as well,” she said as they strolled down the hallway. Marith wished she had arrived at a point in her life when she could agree with that. “Please come. I would like to show you something.”

The doctor’s movements were swift. She hardly made a sound as she walked. Neither did the dog that followed her every move. Gene’s therapist was poised and elegant. Marith felt like a boorish peasant in her presence.

They strolled past the reception desk to the area one of the nurses, Sophie, had taken her once before. The section of the psychiatric wing that had been customised for children by putting kids in there.

Dr. Sybling and the dog stepped aside when they had arrived at the door opening so Marith could get a good look at what was unfolding inside. She noticed the little boy first. He looked up from scratching a piece of paper with a crayon. Marith smiled at him to comfort him. He had been quite demure the last time.

“What is his name?”

“Etienne.”

“Hi, Etienne,” Marith attempted to ignite contact.

“Hi,” he answered in the withdrawn tone of voice kids often had when adults were around. He quickly returned to his art.

“What are you making?” She asked, taking a step forward.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold of the room she got a clear visual of the parchment paper the mirror had been wrapped with. She staggered and halted abruptly. Two yellow dots in a deformed black skull stared back at her.

On the wall around the covered mirror white pieces of paper with crude drawings of birds had been hung up with adhesive tape. It looked like a crime scene investigation room. Marith knew what had happened to the birds in the drawings and so did Etienne, by the looks of it.

The figures blurred and morphed into one for a moment and the room began to spin around her. She rubbed her eyes, blinked forcefully and took a step closer. Those were definitely bald eagles, attached right next to a dove, a willet or a sandpiper and an image that resembled some kind of quail.

“This is the creature you’ve encountered with Vanessa in the forest?”

“Huh?” Marith had lost awareness of the human beings around her for a few moments.

“The creature with the yellow eyes on the brown paper?”

“Are you a Prophet?” Marith thought it was quite an educated guess, given the mystique regarding her eyesight.

“Yes, I am,” she answered serenely, while her grey eyes stared into the space in between Etienne and Marith. “Unfortunately my visions, my connection to the eternal vibrations in the Web, have been waning since the Kid is close to returning to our world. That is why I need your help.”

Iris impatiently trampled the floor with her front paws and gazed at the Pupil intently.

“Yes, this is the Birdman,” Marith spoke hastily.

“He’s watching me.”

Marith stiffened as she heard the little boy speak. Dr. Sybling turned her head to where Etienne should be.

“The birds are… safe in there.” He pointed at a number of Duplo birdhouses on a shelf.

“I have seen the Birdman eat local birds in my dreams,” Marith shared with dr. Sybling.

In return she nodded curtly. “I think it is his anchor. This is how he is supplied with energy.”

“Would that mean that if we kill the Birdman right now the Kid won’t awaken?”

“I am afraid it is too late for that. Oracle and Watchmaker are weakened, because of their impending replacements. The Kid will come to us anyway.”

Marith glanced at Etienne again and wondered about his treatment, but figured dr. Sybling had taken an oath and was bound to confidentiality. She wasn’t impertinent enough to ask for further details.

Dr. Sybling had sensed her curiosity. “There is no better place for him to be right now than here.”

“I wholeheartedly believe that,” Marith answered, thinking about all the other children in the area that might be affected, but didn’t had parents or guardians that cared enough to take them to a professional.

A caregiver came in to help him with lunch and Marith and his psychiatrist found themselves in the corridors again.

“Kyle has something for you and Jonathan. Something that can veil you from the Kid and his anchor.”

“A clockwork?” Marith asked.

Dr. Sybling nodded with a sly smile. “Ask for it.”

Marith had to repress a sigh at the thought of the trip. The truth was that she was done being weird and being out there meant being constantly confronted with the fact that she was different. But had isolating herself done her any good in the past?

The rest of the afternoon Marith spend on packing for the trip to the shore and gathering strength to spend two days and two nights with the most mysterious group of people she had ever come across.

On the other side of town William was reunited with his girlfriend and his Prophet. Lisa was in college and Will was working in his father’s hardware store in Sound Lake. At this point in their young lives they tried to spend at least two weekends per month together, which was challenging.

William would drive to campus when his work schedule allowed, so Lisa’s connection to the Web would remain pure and uninterrupted. To pack for their weekend away she had returned to their hometown this time.

She was delighted to learn his parents weren’t home. When she parked the car in front of the simple, traditional bungalow she could see he had heard the engine and was rushing to the door. She already knew what kind of lunch he had prepared for her, toasted bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Visions of him toasting the bagels and setting out the tableware and the toppings had come to her three turns ago.

But that delight had to wait. They started out on the front porch, stumbled into the kitchen and ended up on, what Lisa was convinced, was the most hideous floral couch in existence, with entangled minds and aching bodies.

In between their tongues searching and finding each other Lisa gently took his upper lip between hers and sucked it while caressing the back of his neck. In return William took her head in his hands, kissed her neck and throat and let his hands wander off to the more curved parts of her body.

Lisa felt like she could climax just by them kissing and stroking each other, but she knew that wasn’t the same for him.

She softly pushed her lover away from her to catch her breath. William groaned. He had a vague feeling about where this was going.

“Will… don’t you think it’s time?”

“No, not yet.” He shook his head determined.

“I came back to Sweet Lake because I felt it.”

“You came back to Sweet Lake to go on a trip.” He was still breathing heavily.

“I think it’s time for you to take action. You owe it,” she slightly panted, “mostly to me… but we all know you would be very good at it.” She bit her lower lip and smiled her angelic smile at him. “Vanessa and the new girl could have used you, last week.”

“What do you mean?” William asked, his big, blue eyes staring innocently into hers.

“When they were being attacked...”

“What are you talking about?” He wondered, baffled.

She caressed the insides of his wrists until she found the right areas with her fingertips and showed him what had happened in the woods a little over a week ago.

“This looks like the horror I am forced to witness in my nightmares lately! I just didn’t think it could be real. How do you know about this?”

Lisa let him go when he started talking. “I could see it happening from campus. I could also see Amber and Kyle warning Brad, so I knew I didn’t have to call on Oracle.”

“So this actually took place?” Will asked redundant, as if extra confirmation would change matters after the fact.

“Yes,” emphasized Lisa, “and right now you are constantly out of the loop.”

“Are they alright?”

“Yeah, but don’t you think you should…?”

“Not just yet.” His eyes lit up and he grinned. Then his hands wandered off to her hips. He pulled her closer and started kissing her again.

“We’ve got to start packing,” Lisa chuckled as she let William overpower her.

There was unmistakable lust in Will’s eyes as he touched her, which flattered her and made her feel submissive in an arousing way.

Among others her boyfriend behaved humble, introverted and mostly kept to himself, but in her presence he seemed to blossom. She took Will’s tempered exuberance as one of the biggest compliments he could give her.