If you could prove that, Agent Bradford…. If you could prove that you were right all along…. That I am going to make this world burn… what would you do? Would you alert the task force? Would you push the button?
I mean… if you could PROVE it, of course, to Dr. Greer. To yourself maybe, even? Yeah, I think maybe it’s time for you to get a move on that.
Imagine, Agent Bradford. This world burning because a single girl wants to see the fire. What if that’s all I want? What if it’s all I ever wanted? To see the fire, Agent Bradford?
You best get up now and do what needs to be done. Like your father said, Bradford men don’t raise cowards.
A terrible rage filled Agent Bradford as the words echoed through his skull. As soon as they left him he jumped out of bed and grabbed his phone. He would call the task force. They would come and they would take the girl out once and for all.
She’d tried to fuck with him?! She thought she was that powerful?! He would show her true power, the way only a man could wield it. She’d be sorry. She’d be on her knees begging him not to push the button.
But now it was too late. He would make the moment last before he finally knocked her out cold. Part of him hoped she’d be awake in time. In time for her to feel Dr. Greer cut her head open as he retrieved her brain.
How would he go about proving this? If he couldn’t do that, Dr. Greer would never give the task force the clearance it needed. Agent Bradford took a deep breath as he sat down on his bed with the phone in his hand.
He’d find a way.
Mary Holsworth was afraid. Afraid of the big black man walking around the mansion where she lived, over and over and over again. Afraid, also, of the strange investigator that sat holed up with Arthur in his office.
Mary was no longer allowed access to the old man who had become so much more than just an employer over the years. He sat locked up with Jane Elring and the only disturbance allowed was one of the maids that brought them water and food.
The other thing locked up in the labyrinthine mansion was a young woman. Jane Elring and her bodyguard had brought her in last night, tied down and draped over the black man’s large shoulder. She sat now in the enormous basement that stretched out underneath almost half of the mansion.
Why was all of this happening? Any each one occurrence on its own was strange enough, but taken together it all reeked of a conspiracy. Some kind of dark plan that was about to be set into motion.
Mary walked into the kitchen and found Ellie at the table. The young girl sat staring aimlessly in front of her with a concerned frown. Her tired eyes were occupied by the mess of the previous days, Mary knew.
“I’m thinking about calling the cops.” Mary whispered it to the girl as she sat down next to her, afraid that the black man might hear her.
Ellie looked up at her immediately. Her concern was replaced by shock.
“No! You can’t do that! It’s— You just can’t.”
Mary shook her head and whispered, “This isn’t normal, Ellie. There’s a woman locked up in our basement…. And why does that guy keep walking around the house?”
“Still…. You have to trust, Mary. Trust Arthur. He let them in, right? He knows what he’s doing.”
“I’m not so sure. What is that girl doing with Arthur in his office? None of this makes any sense, Ellie….”
Mary felt Ellie’s hands take her own. The girl held on and squeezed gently.
“Jane is a good person! She helped me get better. She— Look. I know you don’t understand right now. But you have to believe. Believe in Arthur and believe in Jane Elring!”
With a deep sigh, Mary got up from her chair and walked over to the kitchen sink. Her solution to complex problems was always the same. She had learned it from her mother, and her mother had learned it from hers.
Tea. Everything made more sense when you had a nice cup of steaming hot tea. Instantly her mind was filled with old, and not so old, memories of the hours she had spent at the kitchen table with her mother. Drinking tea, talking about her day, listening to stories about old people that weren’t with them anymore.
Her heart filled with a strange sense of melancholy and Mary couldn’t fight that feeling. A few tears ran down her cheeks as she put water in the kettle and placed it on the stove.
What was going on with her all of a sudden? Why were these memories, and the feelings they triggered, dominating her frustrated mind? She had to focus on what was going on inside the mansion. She had to take care of Arthur, and of the young, vulnerable Ellie.
Yet there she stood, gently wiping the tears from her eyes that had spawned at such a random moment. Mary didn’t like feeling this weak. It made her angry and that anger pushed the memories away to the background of her mind.
You feel weak, do you?
A voice Mary vaguely recognized crept up from the back of her mind. At first it was very gentle, hardly more than a whisper, but soon it became stronger.
I think you’re very strong, Mary. You don’t feel strong?
What was this madness inside her head? Where the hell did it come from? Whose voice was that?
The door to the kitchen opened and, when Mary turned to look, she saw the big black man walking inside. She feared him because he was strong and powerful. She feared him because she couldn’t read the intentions off his face. She feared him because his eyes roared with a thunder that was unmistakable. Immediately her mind returned to the cops that she wanted to call.
Hey, Mary? Do you remember your uncle Jacob? I know he’s dead now… but can you remember his face?
The stranger’s voice summoned images of her long-lost uncle to the forefront of her mind. Mary had loved Uncle Jacob. He had been kind and patient with her, and supported her all the way through college with his money and his wisdom. She would have made it without the former, but the latter served her to this day.
Don’t you think the black man kind of looks like Uncle Jacob? I mean, look at his cheekbones and his lips. His nose is a little off, right? But aside from that?
The voice controlled her eyes and Mary couldn’t look away from the black man that stood in the door opening. She couldn’t understand why, but slowly her mental image of Uncle Jacob began to blend with the stranger she had feared. It took only a few seconds before her new familiarity with the black man’s features made her feel secure.
What was happening to her? Mary was a strong and intelligent woman; that belief in herself had always carried her through. Now, though, she knew that she was falling victim to the manipulative voice inside her head and she lacked the tools to handle it. She couldn’t banish the voice from her head and, somehow, it felt as if it belonged there. As if it had lived in her head all along before finally finding the courage to speak up.
Hey, Mary? Why don’t you make everybody some tea? I’m sure Uncle Jacob would love some too. You guys should all sit down together. You have loads of catching up to do!
The black man had vanished then and in his place stood the long-lost Uncle Jacob. Without hesitation Mary ran toward him and threw herself around his neck.
“Uncle Jacob! Uncle Jacob! I’ve missed you so much!”
The man’s arms around her waist were warm and welcoming. Together they shared an embrace that could only exist between two souls that had known each other for years. Souls that understood and connected on levels that far transcended the physical.