The Experiment of Dreams (19 page)

Iain and Michael got back to the car just as a foghorn blared, so deep that it seemed to vibrate the thick fog in the air. They would be out of Drapery Falls before a fire truck left the station.

The story made local papers, but did not spread much further. All four apartments in the complex were destroyed. A couple on the first floor woke up when their own fire alarms began beeping and called the police once their children were outside. The husband received minor wounds attempting to rescue the elderly man who lived in the apartment across the hall. The old man died several hours later at the neighboring Twin Falls Hospital due to smoke inhalation. The fourth apartment, the one across from Ethan’s—19D—was vacant.

The police found, among the wreckage in Ethan’s apartment, two charred and half-melted spoons with their long ends twisted back, crusted with heroin residue. Two melted hypodermic needles were also found. The headlines in the papers read:

A black and white photo underneath showed the burnt shell of the apartment building as emergency crews packed up their gear. Smoke still lingered in the air and the ground was still wet with the water that doused the flames.

Guilt never aroused in Iain. Ethan had an opportunity to make a lot of money, just like Ben. The Nano serum was still in its infancy, and Ethan began to experience serious side effects to his health after only three months of trials. Instead of working with the team to alleviate his distress, Ethan got greedy. He threatened to go public if certain demands were not met. He wanted money—a lot of money. Mr. Kalispell paid. He gave Ethan tens of thousands of dollars, but that wasn’t enough. Ethan wanted more. He wanted every penny he could squeeze out of Mr. Kalispell and Kalispell Industries—he wanted everything.

The day after Ethan received his bribe—and promised to remain silent—he made a phone call to a lawyer. When the phone-tap on Ethan’s phone registered the number as belonging to a law firm, the call was redirected to a team member who answered, ‘Law office of Marshal and Byrne. How can I help you?’ The call was then transferred to Michael Bennett, who did a fantastic job of impersonating a lawyer. Michael listened and talked to Ethan as he rambled on about the tests, the serum, the Nano, the lab, names and places—everything. He was going to expose it all, with no regret.

He had to be stopped.

Ethan made that call at 2:52 in the afternoon, and at three o’clock the following morning, Iain and Michael arrived in Drapery Falls in the fog and the rain.

Iain felt that the old man who died of smoke inhalation was just part of the risk, an unfortunate collateral death. Iain could live with himself. Innocent casualties were an unfortunate part of the job—serving the greater good.

However, Iain noticed upon reading the headlines the next day that Michael was very quiet, and as the days progressed, Michael’s demeanor grew grim.

“Hello Bennie.”

“Jesus!” Ben shouted. Shards of shattered ceramic and steaming-hot coffee encircled his feet.

He closed his eyes and jerked his head, harder and harder, the blood in his veins pumping so fast he saw red around the periphery of his vision.

Wake up Ben. Wake up!

“Stop that, Ben. You look silly. You’re not sleeping. Come, sit.” She patted the seat beside her.

“Emma … Emily?” His mouth fell open. “No, no, no … what’s going on?”

“Come, Ben. Sit down.”

She was wearing that black dress with the red fabric belt in the middle that tied in the back. That dress fit her body like a glove, so snug, showing her curves just right. It rode above her knees when she sat with her legs crossed, showing just a glimpse of her cream-white thighs, and those stilettos on her feet that made her look so classy.

“Emma …” A shiver went down his spine.

He walked in a trance to the couch and sat. The air around her was fragrant of Dolce and Gabbana,
Pour Femme Eau de Parfum
. He found an empty bottle of that same perfume mixed in with a box of his toiletries when he moved to Baltimore. He spent countless nights removing the red rectangular cap and placing his nose to the spray nozzle, breathing in the last traces of that sweet perfume. He shattered the bottle in a fit of drunken rage one night many nights ago, and wished to God he had never done so. This was the first time he smelled the perfume since that night, and the fragrance flooded him with memories.

“Emily …”

He started to cry. She touched his hand, and a jolt, like electricity, went straight to his heart. He spent entire days, weeks, dreaming of her touch, hundreds of lucid dreams embraced in her arms, but this was different, this was real. He could feel the warmth coming off her body, feel the softness of her hands—those amazing hands of hers—those hands that created whole worlds on canvas with nothing more than a few brushes and a dozen or so different colored paints.

“I missed you, Bennie.”

“Emily, I miss you so much. Oh my god, how I’ve missed you! My Emma.” He hugged her and their embrace was long and warm. He cried a stream of tears into her shoulder as she stroked back his hair. “Now, now, Ben. Now, now.”

She straightened up, and they parted, holding hands, their legs touching at the thigh.

“We have to talk.”

“This can’t be real. I’m dreaming—I must be dreaming.” Ben closed his eyes, lowering his face into his palm, letting the tears fall through the cracks of his fingers. “This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair!”

“Ben, look at me.”

He didn’t look up.

“Look at me, Bennie. Feel my hand. Can you hear my voice?”

Ben looked at her, squinting through his tears into her clear eyes. He nodded.

“You’re not dreaming. You know you’re awake, Ben. You know this isn’t a dream. Am I wrong?”

Ben shook his head. This wasn’t a dream.

“I’m as real as you need me to be, and right now you need me to be real. I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t understand. Help me with what? Everything is finally going good for me, for the first time … since … I’m making money, Emma, good money. I’m out of the restaurant business, maybe for good. I have a … umm …”

“It’s okay, Bennie. You can tell me.”

Words wouldn’t come.

“I’m serious; you can tell me about her. I won’t be mad.”

Ben looked into her face. She was smiling, her big eyes framed by those gently bouncing curls of hair resting on her shoulders. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, if that was at all possible. He looked at the ground.

“I … met somebody.”

“I know, Ben, and I’m happy for you.”

“Her name is Sophia. Sophia Lorenz.”

“Who is Sophia Lorenz?”

“I met her at the airport in Paris, and we’ve met up a few times. I’m so sorry. If I thought for a second that I might ever see you again—
ever
—I never would have—”

“I’m not mad, Ben. This isn’t a confession. Like I said, I’m here to help you. Now, who is Sophia Lorenz?”

“She’s … I met her in Paris, when she was flying out here, to Baltimore. I’m going to, well, I
was
going to fly to Paris next week. I don’t know what you mean?”

“She doesn’t ask you why you travel so much, what you do for a living, or who your travel companions are?”

“Well—no, she’s asked a little. We’ve talked about it. I can’t tell her much.”

“Tell me, Ben, who else has met Sophia Lorenz? You’re not thinking clearly, you’re not focusing. Your mind is clouded. Think, Ben. Clear your mind. Who is Sophia Lorenz?”

“I …” He strained to understand what Emily was getting at. Who was Sophia? Did he know her in the past? Did she work for Mr. Kalispell? Should he be wary of her—could she be dangerous? He pictured them together in Rome, the two of them at dinner, and their date in Baltimore at Steaks & Capital. He saw her face, her smile, the glass of wine touch her lips. He saw it all clear as day. What was she getting at?

Emily reached out and brushed his sleep-matted hair from off his forehead.

And that was all it took.

Her touch sent a spark to his mind. A flash of white light went off in his brain and he saw it all—saw the bartender at Metro give him strange looks, and the waiter at Steaks & Capital sneer mockingly, asking if he wanted a doggie bag. He saw her glass of wine actually full at the bar, her plate not touched as they left the restaurant. He saw his arm around her as they walked drunkenly down the hallway in Rome, back to his room, passing Iain, who stared at him. He saw himself ordering every drink, every meal, paying for everything himself. He saw her empty barstool at Metro, and saw himself talking to an empty chair at Steaks & Capital. He saw his arm over nothing but air, stumbling through the hallway, drunk and alone, with Iain looking at him with tired and confused eyes. He saw himself sleeping on the plane ride back from Paris, an empty seat beside him.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Ben shook his head back and forth. “It can’t be! No, it can’t!”

Emily whispered in his ear, “Sophia Lorenz does not exist. She’s just a girl you met in an airport.”

“This can’t be possible. How, why?” Ben saw himself sitting on that very couch several weeks prior, contemplating whether to call her; and in a dreamlike state, he did. But he heard it now, the other end of the line. The flat tone of the phone receiver ringing in his ear as he talked to no one, and after a while the stale voice of the recorded operator,
“If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again.”

But it was so real,
he thought.
I heard her voice, felt her skin. Christ … we had sex. I felt her, I … thought I … felt her. Jesus Christ, what is going on in my head!

Ben started weeping in his palms. His forehead was throbbing. Emily pulled him in, embracing his body.

“Shhh; it’s okay, baby. I’m here now. I’m going to help you. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Emma …”

“Now, stop crying.”

“What’s happening to me? This is … I mean, how are you here? How do you exist? How do I know that Sophia doesn’t exist, if you don’t either?”

“I exist because you need me to exist. Look, there’s a lot going on in that head of yours, and I know you’re confused, but you have to trust me. I am real—at least to you I am, and that’s what’s important. I’m sitting here right now talking to you.”

“But … I’m talking to no one right now. I’m on the couch, talking to thin air. Oh my god—I’ve gone crazy. I
am
crazy! I have to call someone … I have to go to a hospital … I have to call Dr. Wul—”

“You can’t call him. You can’t trust him, or Iain Marcus, or any of them.”

“I can trust Dr. Wulfric. He’s a good man … he’s my friend.”

“No, Ben. He’s not.”

Ben looked at his hand. It was shaking, trembling, and his vision seemed to be getting bright.

“Emma, I don’t know what to do. You’re not real—”

Her face sharpened and she slapped him. His head twisted to the side and his cheek stung.

“Was that real enough?”

He rubbed his cheek, felt it throb in his palm, and thought he could taste a faint coppery tang of blood.

“I don’t want you telling me that I don’t exist! Is that what you want, Ben? Do you want me not to exist? Do you want me to leave? Would you rather have Sophia? Your imaginary girlfriend?”

“Emma, I …”

For just a second, just a fraction of a second, Ben wasn’t talking to Emily. He was talking to no one, alone on the couch, staring at the cushion. “Emily!”

He blinked and she was back. “If you can see me, hear me, feel me and touch me, what else do you need? Your mind created me for a purpose, Ben. You’re sick, and I can help you get better.”

The pain in his cheek
was
real enough. He looked into her eyes, saw the lines of anger fade to sympathy. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please don’t go; don’t leave me again. I can’t lose you. Please, God, don’t go ….”

“Now, now, Bennie.” She put his head on her lap, stroking the hair around his ear, as he curled up in a ball.

“I don’t get it, I just don’t understand. Why … why did I imagine Sophia? What’s wrong with me? Why … am I crazy? Have I lost my mind?”

“You made her up because you’ve been poisoned. You’ve been poisoned for a long time, and have been hallucinating all the while. Dr. Wulfric poisoned you. That serum—the Nano—it will kill you, and nobody will care. Sophia—she will kill you. She is the poison working inside your mind. You’re lucky you haven’t been locked away in a psychiatric hospital already. You’ve been going out on dates with an imaginary girlfriend, sitting down to dinner talking to an empty chair, ordering full plates of food for no one.”

“Oh God.”

“It’s okay now, Ben. It’s okay. I’m here to help you. I
will
help you, but you have to trust me. You have to do what I tell you. Your mind brought me here. It brought me here to save you, to get the poison out of your system. I know how much you missed me, Bennie. I know how much pain you’re in. I know it wasn’t fair that I died, that I was taken from your life when we were young and needed each other the most. I know you need me. I’m back now, Ben, if you want me to be. If you trust me, I’ll stay by your side. I’ll never leave you again, we can be together for all eternity; we can stay in each other’s arms forever. Do you trust me, Bennie?”

Ben looked into her eyes. His mind was tingling and numb. Bizarre rushes of pleasure swept through his body, similar to what he felt during his freakish dream of the cabin, when his fingers were slipping into the paint. Like his mind was a blank slate, incapable of basic thought or reasoning, just floating along on a sea of pleasure.

He stared into her eyes and the rest of the world disappeared. They were alone in a galaxy floating somewhere far, far away. A few seconds went by, or maybe it was hours. Time was irrelevant—just a thing that passed like water in a stream, always moving, yet impossible to see in individual parts. It just drifted by.

Whatever part of Ben’s mind that allowed him to see Emily, hear her voice, touch her skin, feel the heat coming off of her body—and see these things as real—was warping the rest of his mind to entertain the fact that she
was
real, that she
was
sitting on the couch beside him.

He was locked eye to eye with the love of his life, and they were together forever, mixing souls like swirls of paint on a canvas, blending to form different colors and shades.

“Yes …” The words passed through his lips in a breeze. “I trust you. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Tears still rolled down his cheeks, slower now. She wiped them away with her hand and stroked the hair around his ear.

“I’m … so … tired … I think I need to sleep. Just for a minute. I have a headache.”

“Rest now, Ben; rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.”