After grabbing the flashlight from the kitchen, Evan went to the basement door and opened it fully. He flicked the flashlight on, then went down the stairs, playing the light off the treads and walls. Reaching the bottom, he flipped the light switch on, but nothing happened. He tried a few more times, toggling the switch up and down, as fear rose in his guts. Evan illuminated the doll, still facedown where he’d left it, and swept the beam around the space. Nothing looked out of place. He pointed the flashlight at the ceiling, panning it across each of the dark light bulbs. It looked like they’d all blown.
He moved down the last few steps and stopped, turning in a circle. Slowly he swung the beam toward the clock, its darker shade already drawing his attention. It was as he’d left it. Knowing more of its history didn’t make him any more comfortable in its presence. Someone once said fear was the result of not understanding something. Standing in the cloying darkness with the clock only feet away, Evan didn’t agree.
“Hello?”
The sound of his voice startled him. He hadn’t meant to speak. Now he waited, stomach churning, dreading a response.
Silence.
“Da?” Shaun called from the living room.
“Be right there, buddy,” he yelled, then turned and headed back up the stairs.
~
Evan made dinner for Shaun and then called the hospital and told the woman in the PCA department about Becky’s strange behavior.
“I’ll check to make sure she made it home okay,” the woman whose name he thought was Marissa said.
“Could you please give me a call back after you talk to her?” he asked, feeding Shaun a bite of hot dog.
“I will, sir.”
The phone rang fifteen minutes later, and Marissa told him that Becky had made it to her parents’ home and that her father said she wasn’t feeling well. Marissa apologized for Becky’s behavior and said she would take it up with their administrator.
“That’s not necessary, I was just concerned about her. Thank you for calling back.”
Evan held the phone for a long time, almost expecting it to ring again, but didn’t know why. He wanted to call Selena, but the idea of smothering her with his problems made him put the phone down.
You took her on a great first date, fella. She’ll definitely want to run right out here and have dinner again really soon.
He smiled.
After putting Shaun to bed, Evan went down to the basement. First, he replaced the dead bulbs with new ones he found in the entryway closet, and made a point of fixing the one going down the stairs. When he unscrewed it and looked at the filament inside, it appeared whole and unbroken. But then again, you never knew with light bulbs. Next, he walked around the basement, telling himself that he wasn’t searching it. Searching would mean he was looking for something, and if he was looking for something, what was it? Every so often his eyes would stray to the clock, and he would avert them as Cecil’s words came flooding back each time he did: Destroy it, Mr. Tormer. Break it, burn it, do whatever you must before it takes everything from you like it did to me!
All at once he remembered the email from Jason. His heart sank, and he stopped moving, standing in the glow of the newer and more powerful bulbs. What point was there to keep digging on the story? Justin didn’t want the article. Any effort he made after this would be solely for his own interest.
And what interest is that?
Evan found a broom standing against the far wall and began to sweep, something to do while he thought. Maybe Jason didn’t explain the central idea well enough to Justin. The article could be excellent, possibly a serial story spread out over several issues of Dachlund. If Justin could hear what he’d learned today, there would be no way he could turn him down.
Evan paused and nodded to himself. With few more sweeps, he gathered up the small pile of dust and dirt he’d accumulated into a dustpan and carried it upstairs to deposit in the trash. As soon as the basement door was shut, he brought his laptop to the table and opened it. After only a few minutes of searching his email, he found Justin’s office number from the previous time he’d published with him. Normally Jason handled the in-between area of selling an article to the editor in chief, sometimes joking about being his agent, but now there was no choice. This was different.
Evan punched in the number on his cell phone and waited until Justin’s voice mail picked up. Clearing his throat, he waited for the beep.
“Justin, this is Evan Tormer. Sorry to bother you, but Jason mentioned you wouldn’t be interested in the article about the clock, and I wanted to let you know that I came upon some interesting information today. If you would hear me out, I’d really appreciate it.” He licked his lips before continuing. “There’s a story here, Justin, something really odd. Give me a call when you can.”
Evan left his cell phone number and ended the call, feeling powerful somehow. Maybe it was going over Jason’s head, even though his best friend had been the one to introduce him to Justin. Maybe it was being proactive in some small way. He didn’t know. All that mattered now was getting the clock running again.
He froze in mid-movement, his hand hovering above the laptop’s lid. Had he just thought that? Getting the clock running again?
The article, he needed to get the article running. A cold channel coursed through his stomach like an icy spring river breaking free of winter’s grip. It was like the thought hadn’t been his, but that was stupid. He’d experienced strange ideas and images drifting off to sleep at night and then coming to, the obscure and peculiar thoughts completely alien to him. But this was different; he was wide-awake.
Evan shook his head. “Long day, lots of activity, that’s all.”
He closed the laptop and stood, putting the computer away before noting the time. It was late, and he needed sleep. He would tackle this again in the morning.
Weren’t you planning on leaving the island only a short time ago?
“Shut up,” he muttered, and flipped the light off in the kitchen before heading toward his room.