Part III
“Miss Crawford, I think we have to talk about Corey.”
Todd sat in a folding chair in front of Celia’s desk, with Judy next to him. The boy looked anxious and tired.
Of course he’s tired, Celia thought. There had to be limits, even for this bunch. Whatever spark of genius Corey had grown within them, and whatever drive it was that possessed them and moved them forward, they were still just kids.
The performance was scheduled to begin in less than an hour, a production entitled Music in the Stones — it was Kathy’s play about the Mountain People. It had taken more than two weeks to put this one together, an effort that followed on the heels of the intense nine days the group had spent preparing for their play about the Apollo astronauts. Celia didn’t have the heart to try and slow them down, or even to ask the question that troubled her when she saw so much time and work poured into something that only she and Caroline would ever see, and that was over in a couple of hours: what’s the point?
Todd was not an actor this time around; he was in charge of the elaborate visual effects. But Celia knew all too well that the time Todd spent with the group working on their dramatic projects reflected just a small portion of his day. An entire corner of the common room now belonged to him and his research project. Raymond and Joey’s electrical contraption — which Celia had come to realize was really Todd’s electrical contraption, although she still couldn’t quite bring herself to calling it a “computer” — had been returned from cold storage in the tool shed.
In fact, it had never really been in cold storage. Todd had been sneaking out to work on it every night, violating the lights-out curfew, Celia’s decree that there would be no more electrical experiments, and Myra’s old rule that no children were allowed in the tool shed. Caroline was quick to point out that at least he hadn’t violated any of the home’s rules by picking the lock. There was no such rule; it had never occurred to anyone that one of the children might be able to do that.
Todd spent hours working on his project in the early mornings and late at night. Celia’s efforts to get him to adhere to a regular bed-time schedule were futile. He would simply go to bed, wait a few hours until he was sure everyone was asleep, and then head back down to work. He explained that he was on a tight schedule, that the paper he and Dr. MacHale were writing needed to be finished before the end of the summer term. When classes resumed in the fall, MacHale would not have time to spare for “The Crawford Institute.” As it was, MacHale was spending three or four afternoons at the home every week, often staying for dinner.
“What about Corey?” Celia asked.
“He’s not doing well,” said Judy. “Not well at all.”
Todd nodded in agreement.
Celia didn’t want to look overly concerned. She found any talk of a problem with one of her children unsettling. But she had an obligation to these two, to help allay their fears and let them know that she would set right anything that had gone wrong. Whatever else may have changed, her role as protector and defender of the children had not.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, you can see the change in him, I’m sure,” said Judy. “He’s grown so pale and thin. He hardly eats anything. And he doesn’t interact with us anymore.”
Celia thought about this.
“I don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “Maybe his appetite has suffered a little with all the changes, but is he really so different? Besides, he’s never really interacted with anyone, has he?”
“Yes, he has,” said Todd. “He’s always responded to Grace and, to a lesser extent, to you. He may not speak or play games, but in the past he’s often sought our company. But now that’s all stopped.”
“Joey had to pick him up and carry him to dinner last night,” Judy added, her concern apparent in her voice. “Corey always shows up for meals when called. But not now. And he doesn’t sit with Grace any more. He used to do that every day.”
“But…” Celia wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t. She had somehow overlooked these trends.
How?
She knew how. There was one instance of Corey’s interaction with others that had not changed. The one she was most deeply involved in.
“He still wants to listen to music,” said Judy, seeming to know what Celia was about to say before she said it, “but we think it would be best if we stopped that for a while.”
Celia was taken aback. Since she had taken charge of the home, this was the first time anyone had ever second-guessed her management. She wasn’t sure how she would respond if Caroline or one of the volunteers were to challenge her on a decision. She would like to think that she would be open-minded about it. But this was different. Very different.
“You…ah…you two think it would be best?”
“No” said Todd. “Not just the two of us. We all talked about it. Everyone is in agreement, even Grace.”
Celia felt her face grow hot, flushed with anger. The muscles in her neck and shoulders tightened. That a few of the older kids might believe they had significant input to make on a major decision was one thing, but all of them? Robert and Andrew? Lucinda? Grace?
This is infuriating, she thought. Who the hell do they think they are?
“I know this is awkward,” said Todd. “You probably think we’re out of line coming in here and telling you this.”
It was unnerving how closely they seemed to be tracking her thoughts.
“You know we think the world of you and Miss Gray,” Todd continued. “You’re both doing a great job running this place. You always have.”
“Why, thank you, Todd.” Celia was unable to control the sarcasm in her voice.
She couldn’t believe it. They were patronizing her, condescending to her.
“Your confidence is so reassuring,” she said flatly.
Todd looked down at the floor, apparently trying to think of what to say next. Celia turned to Judy, and was startled by the hurt look on the girl’s face and the tears in her eyes.
“No,” she said, “Miss Crawford, we mean it. We have nothing but the greatest respect for you. We would never patronize you or try to — ”
“Stop doing that!” Celia snapped, surprised by her own vehemence.
Now both of them were looking down. Judy brushed a tear away with the back of her hand. Another fell to the floor.
Todd looked back up at her, curious.
“Doing what?” he asked.
“Reading my mind.”
Celia was embarrassed as soon as she said it. Of course they couldn’t read minds.
Could they? Her anger began to subside as she considered the possibility.
Todd smiled ever so slightly. He shook his head.
“We can’t do that,” he said gently. “And even if we could, we never would.”
Judy looked up, wiping away another tear. She cleared her throat.
“Not in a million years, Miss Crawford. Celia.” She immediately looked away, embarrassed.
Celia started at the unexpected familiarity. She was struck with the realization that — now, for the first time — she had something she had longed for ever since coming to the home. She always knew she wanted to help these children, to improve their circumstances. To create opportunities for them. But there was something else she was looking for, a desire so far out of reach that she had never realized that she had it, much less given it a name. It was something she had come tantalizingly close to with Jolene, but was ultimately denied.
Friendship.
Celia looked at Todd, who met her gaze with perfect confidence, and at Judy, who had stopped crying, but still did not dare look her way. For all these years, she had been their defender and protector. She would continue to be those things for them. She was their mother (or at least one of them.) Moreover she had been their friend. But although she had yearned for it all these years, she had never imagined that it could work the other way.
And yet they came to her today out of concern for Corey, and in friendship.
They were her friends. All of them.
Her friends.
“I…I apologize,” she said at last. “To both of you.”
“It’s okay,” said Todd.
Judy looked up, sniffed loudly, and nodded.
“Please tell me what you think the problem with Corey is. And what we ought to do about it.”
“It’s the Project,” said Todd. “It’s becoming too much for him.”
“You mean your computer project with Darryl? Dr. MacHale? I didn’t know Corey was mixed up — ” she caught herself “— I mean, involved in that.”
Todd and Judy shared a knowing look.
“That isn’t exactly the project I meant,” said Todd.
“Miss Crawford,” said Judy, returning comfortably to the formal mode of address, “I think maybe you have it backwards. Corey isn’t working on Todd’s project. We’re all — all of us — mixed up in Corey’s project.”
Todd nodded.
“He’s been working on it since he came here. Ever since he met Grace.”
“Actually,” said Judy. “I think he’s been working on it longer than that. His whole life, maybe. But Grace changed things for him. When he’s with her, it’s like he can…see the other people and things that are happening around him. Before, he couldn’t do that.”
“What about the dreams?” Celia asked.
“Exactly,” said Todd, “the dreams. They’re the key. To all of us, it seemed like Corey began appearing to us in dreams, but that isn’t exactly what’s going on. I mean, it is what’s going on, but it’s not what we think.
“Corey has this other place that he goes to. Or maybe he’s there all the time, I’m not sure. He can’t talk to us here in this place, but in the other place — we call it the dream space — he can.”
Judy picked up the thread.
“Before he met Grace, he was all alone there. But somehow, Grace found her way to him. In a dream. Corey never realized that there was a way for other people to get to the place where he was. But they can…sometimes, anyway. By dreaming. Grace showed him it was possible. And so he started giving us dreams that led us there.”
Celia rubbed her eyes, trying to take it all in. She had resigned herself some time before to the notion that everything that was occurring was permanently veiled in mystery. In many respects, that was a comfortable position to take. But it turned out that there were answers to the questions she had given up on.
“How does he do that?” she asked. “Give us dreams.”
Todd shook his head.
“We have no idea. Even Corey doesn’t know how. But I think it’s safe to say that he does it the same way he does everything else. He turned a black and white TV into a color TV. He gave me a rewired brain and a missing aural nerve. And he changed my face. And Judy’s. And Alice’s. Compared to the other things he’s done, making us dream a particular dream doesn’t seem like that big a deal.”
Judy nodded.
“He just has to spark a few neurons.”
“Right,” said Celia. “Nothing to it. How about another question — why does he do it? What is this project of his?”
Judy looked at Todd, who seemed to squirm in his chair.
“We only know a little about what it is,” he said. “And please don’t take this the wrong way, but I couldn’t possibly explain it to you.”
Celia let out a dry little laugh. It was impossible to feel insulted in the face of such sincerity.
“Can’t you tell me anything about it?” she persisted.
Todd thought about this for a moment.
“It’s big. It’s a math problem. It has something to do with why the universe exists.”
He scratched his head and considered for a moment longer.
“No, I’m misrepresenting it. It’s actually much bigger than that.”
Celia sighed and shook her head.
“It’s bigger than why the universe exists? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Todd shrugged.
“Well, I said I probably couldn’t explain it…” he said tentatively.
“I think the Mountain People know,” said Judy. “Or at least they have some idea. But they’re hard to communicate with. What they say makes sense while you’re talking to them, but then later you remember it and it doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s a real problem, trying to have serious conversations in dreams.”
“Plus, we aren’t really sure whether they actually exist,” Todd added. “Although, either way, they’re still the only ones who seem to know what Corey’s doing.”
Celia shuddered with a sudden chill. She felt dizzy. She didn’t think she would be able to physically withstand much more of this conversation. She held her hand up to silence Todd and Judy.
“Okay, please…” she said. “I don’t want…I don’t think I want to talk about the Mountain People. And I’ll take your word for it on Corey’s project. But why do you think the project is too much for him? And what do you think we should do about it?”
“He needs to take a break,” said Todd. “He’s exhausted. None of us can really communicate with him any more, not even Grace. She’s told him he has to back off a little, but he just seems to be going deeper and deeper into it…into the numbers.”
“It’s gotten much worse ever since Todd started working with Dr. MacHale,” said Judy.
Celia sat back in her chair.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What does any of this have to do with him?”
Judy again looked at Todd, who seemed to have developed a new fascination with his feet.
“Your research project…” she said, beginning to piece it together, “It isn’t really about…computerized voices or whatever it was you said in that letter you wrote.”
Todd looked up.
“Voice recognition,” he corrected. “Well, it is about the things I wrote in the letter to the extent that it could be applied to them. But that’s not the real reason I wanted computer time to analyze those recursive sequences. The real reason is that Corey needed them.”
“How much does Darryl know about all this?” asked Celia.
Todd considered this.
“He knows I have an interest in the findings beyond what was stated in the letter. But he doesn’t know it has anything to do with Corey.”
“What does he know about Corey?”
“Nothing. At least, I haven’t told him anything. He knows that there really is no Crawford Institute, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out what this place really is. I presume that he has done so.”
Todd sat back, seemingly uncertain as to whether he should say anything else. Then he continued:
“He’s spent a lot of time with you, here in this office. Has he said anything to you about it?”
Celia felt mildly embarrassed. She and Darryl had taken to spending a certain amount of time together. He would drop by her office for a chat after finishing with Todd, or sit with her on the front porch after dinner.
And, after all, there was nothing wrong with that, she thought. It was all very innocent. So they enjoyed each other’s company. So what?
“No,” she said crisply. “I haven’t told him anything.”
“I think he believes that Todd is somehow responsible for everything,” said Judy. “But he doesn’t really have any idea what’s going on. I doubt he’s given Corey much thought at all.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Celia said.
It was Kathy. She looked like a ghost — dressed in a white robe, her face dusted white with powder. One of the Mountain People.
“I apologize for the interruption,” she said. “You guys, it’s time for everyone to be in their places.”
“Sorry for the delay, dear,” said Celia. “Can you give us just a few more minutes?”
Kathy hesitated for just a moment, then nodded.
“Okay,” she said, and closed the door.
“Let’s come to the point, then,” said Celia. “It sounds like the most important thing is for you to stop working with Corey on his math problem.”
“Right,” said Todd. “And I have stopped. But that’s not the most important thing.”
“It’s the music,” said Judy. “Don’t play any more music for him. At least not for a while.”
Celia knew it would come back to this. But she wouldn’t give in without a fight.
“But Corey needs his music. Don’t you understand that? It helps him.”
“Yes, we do understand,” said Todd. “No offense, but I think we understand better than you do. The music is the reason I can hear now. And speak. Every good thing that’s ever happened to me is the result of your playing music for Corey.”
“We aren’t sure how it works,” said Judy. “But somehow, music helps him to…realize things. Not so much here, but over there. In the dream space.”
“With or without music,” said Todd, “Corey is able to do whatever it is that he does. But with music, his ability is much more focused.”
“Then how could you even think about taking it away from him?” Celia asked.
“Because the ability is focused, but Corey isn’t,” said Todd.
“He’s too tired,” said Judy. “He can’t concentrate. His dreams — at least what we’ve seen of them lately — have become disjointed. And dark. A little bit scary, sometimes.”
Celia remembered something from months before.
And what about nightmares? she had asked Corey’s mother. Has he ever had them?
Neither of them had wanted to answer the question.
Why would you ask that? the mother had finally replied. The question upset her more than it should. She was suspicious. Angry.
Fearful.
A tremendous feeling of dread washed over Celia.
If dreams can come true, so can nightmares.
“Oh my God,” she said aloud.
She stood up.
“All right,” she said, realizing that she was trembling. “All right.”
She cleared her throat. Her heart was pounding.
“I understand what you’re saying.”
Don’t panic. They need you to be calm. To be in charge.
Celia tried to smile. Todd and Judy looked at each other, puzzled.
“It’s okay, really,” she said, sensing their confusion. In passing, she observed that, for all their smarts, this possibility had never dawned on them.
“Don’t worry. Corey needs rest. So. The music sessions. Will stop.”
“Well, it’s for the best,” Judy said, uncertainly.
“Right. It’s for the best. Now you two…run along. Kathy needs you. It’s almost curtain time.”
Her frozen smile was obviously not persuasive to either of them, but they stood to go.
“Are you going to be all right, Miss Crawford?” Judy asked.
“I am,” said Celia. She waved them away. “Just go now. Please.”
They left.
It took Celia a moment to calm herself. She took a deep breath, and then another.
There’s no reason to panic, she thought. I’m just a little out of my depth, here.
What she needed above all was someone to talk to. Not Caroline or the children. She didn’t want to risk frightening them. Besides, what could they do?
What could anyone do?
Darryl.
She could call Darryl. He wouldn’t be afraid, and he would know what to do. It was a good idea. Just thinking about it made her feel better.
She reached for the phone and started to dial. Then she stopped.
“What the hell would I say to him?” she said out loud.
Celia began to laugh, feeling the tension ease. It was going to be all right. Of course it was. It had already been two days since she had had a music session with Corey. He was overdue. There was no reason to think that —
Screams interrupted Celia’s train of thought. There was a horrible shrieking coming from — it sounded like — the back porch.
She jumped from her chair and ran through the door to the common room, through the kitchen and onto the back porch. Estelle stood in one corner, wearing a white robe, her back to the kitchen door. Raymond was lying face down in front of her, between Estelle and the scrap box that the children used for arts and crafts projects. He was also robed in white and was moving strangely, writhing.
Estelle screamed again. Celia put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, meaning to ask her to explain what was happening. She turned to look at Celia. There were large welts on her face, four or five of them, with more on her bare arms. They wounds were red and angry. Her face was badly swollen.
“Estelle, what is it?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
The girl cried out again and pointed to Raymond.
Celia looked down. It took a few seconds — a period that seemed much longer than it was — for the scene before her to register. The boy was writhing in agony.
There was something moving on him.
Ants.
Enormous things the size of Celia’s thumb. They were red with pointed brown bulbs for tails. There were at least a dozen of them on Raymond’s back and legs. They moved quickly in seemingly random, crisscrossing patterns: stopping from time to time to take a precise bite right through the cotton of Raymond’s shirt with their grotesque, over-sized mandibles.
Celia screamed. Somewhere deep inside a voice told her that there were no such ants as these. That this was impossible.
She looked desperately around the porch for something to use to brush the monstrous things off Raymond. There was a newspaper in the scrap box. She stepped over to Raymond and reached for it. She grabbed it, only to let it drop immediately. She shuddered with revulsion. The newspaper, along with all the other contents of the box, was crawling with ants.
“Miss Crawford, look out!” Celia looked up to see that several of the children had followed her onto the porch. Judy had spoken, and was pointing at Celia’s legs. The ants were on her, now, too: climbing up her pant legs. There were four of them, already above the knee. She wondered how they had climbed so quickly.
Then she saw. One of the ants on Raymond’s back turned its head up and looked at her.
No, the voice said. Ants don’t do that.
It was staring right at her, its antennae flicking forward and back. Then it jumped from Raymond’s back and landed on her stomach. It was an impossible arching leap, nearly three feet high. Suddenly her left leg was seized with a burning electric shock. Celia cried out and almost fell forward. The pain ripped through her. There was another shock, equally severe, higher up on her leg. Then another one, on her right leg. The another one on her stomach.
As she lost her balance, Celia realized that she was being bitten.
She fell, but there were arms that caught her.
Judy and Kathy.
Joey was there, too, holding a broom with which he tried to sweep the ants off Raymond’s back. They wouldn’t budge. A few jumped from Raymond onto Joey. And then there were more of them. They began to leap from the box and land all around the room. Some landed on the two girls who were holding Celia up. More landed on Caroline as she knelt beside Estelle, trying to make sense of what was happening. They landed on the other children who had now found their way to the porch.
“No! Get out!” a voice called from the kitchen door. It was Grace.
“They’re the smart ones!” she cried. “The ones from the dream! The bad dream! Get out! Get out! Get out!”
An ant landed on her and she screamed.
There was more screaming. Some of the children — heeding Grace — made for the kitchen door, their arms flailing. Todd lunged madly this way and that, two of the creatures on his face. He lost his balance and fell forward into the box.
Then there was a different shock. Water, cold, under high pressure. It was in Celia’s face, then all over her. It was all around the room.
It was Corey. He had the fire extinguisher, the one that was mounted on the wall on the landing of the staircase. He sprayed Celia, never looking at her. He sprayed Raymond on the floor. He sprayed Caroline and Estelle. He sprayed the walls and the floors. He sprayed the box.
And wherever water touched one of them, the ants immediately shriveled. They shriveled, and then they were gone.
Dissolved.
Disappeared.
Gone.
Robert burst through the back door holding the garden hose. It wasn’t working, and then suddenly it was.
Andrew, thought Celia absently.
Robert sprayed the room down, soaking everything. Within a minute, there were no ants in sight. There was just the sound of crying and moaning.
“Help me,” said Celia, as she made her way to Raymond. Joey, who bore several of the enormous welts on his arms, but had escaped any bites to the face, bent over with her and gently turned the younger boy the right side up.
His face was utterly ravaged; the white powder was streaked with water and his own blood. The welts had merged into two hollowed gashes — one was on his left cheek, the other on his forehead. The gashes were deep. A bit of his cheek bone was visible. His eyes were wide open.
“No,” said Celia. “Please, God. No.”
She let Raymond drop to the floor less gently than she meant. She turned around and took hold of Todd, who was hunched over the crushed box. There were still live ants in the box and a few crawling over Todd’s chest.
Robert quickly turned the hose on them. Todd had fewer bites than Raymond. His eyes were closed. He was still breathing
“Call an ambulance. Now”
Celia directed the order at no one. Caroline stood up and found her way to the kitchen.
Grace still stood in the doorway. She was soaked; her eyes were red.
“He’s sorry, Miss Gray,” she said. Caroline walked past her towards the phone.
“He’s sorry,” Grace repeated.
On the porch, Corey had set the fire extinguisher down. He was sitting next to Raymond, looking towards, but not directly at, the dead boy’s face.
“He didn’t mean it,” she said.
Posted by Phil at March 1, 2004 12:00 AM | TrackBack