“It came from the back wall,” Megan said. “Far away at first, then louder as it moved overhead. Then . . .” Long pause. “It faded.”
“How did it fade?”
“From the windows. I could only hear the plane through the boarded-up windows in the back of the cellar. Once the plane was overhead, it faded away.”
“Go to the other side of the room,” Dr. Mattingly said. “Tell me what you see there. Tell me about that room. The cellar.”
Megan had spent so much time in the cellar during these sessions—all her time, actually—that it was no longer disturbing to be there. At first, she blocked those images from the spotlight. Ran from them. But through her visits with Dr. Mattingly, she eventually understood that running from something implanted in your memory was like trying to pass a mirror without seeing your reflection.
It was not easy at first, but once she understood the possibilities of hypnosis, Megan gave herself fully to the process. So now, despite wanting to explore that other thought, the other sound that had just poked her subconscious, she instead put her trust in Dr. Mattingly to take her there in due time.
“Concrete floor,” she said. “Gray floor. Cold at night, which felt good on my feet because it was so hot during the day.”
“And the walls?”
“Same. Bare concrete with grooves or ridges every so often. A bed in the back corner by the windows. No sheets, just a box spring, frame, and bare mattress.”
“Now walk to the other side. Away from the windows. Follow the sound of the airplane. What is there?”
“It’s a square cellar. My bed is there. Three windows boarded over. I can only walk for a short distance. I’m shackled to the wall by a strap on my ankle. I can go only as far as the chain will allow. There are stairs here, on the other side of the cellar.”
“Can you see the stairs? Can you reach them?”
“No. They are around the corner and my chain is not long enough. The shackle allows me only to reach the small table near the stairs. He leaves my meals here.”
“Good. Megan, I want to go back toward the windows now. Back to where your bed is. I want you to sit on the bed. The shackle is loose and you can move freely now. Tell me what you see and hear when you sit on that bed.”
“It’s dark. Always dark with no lights. The windows are boarded. Just a sliver of daylight spills through the tiny gap between the plywood and the edge of one of the windows. The bed squeaks when I sit on it.”
“Tell me.”
“The springs compress under my weight and creak when I adjust my position.”
“Now stay very still. Don’t move. Don’t shift. Tell me about the squeaking now.”
“It’s gone.”
“The springs are quiet?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about the stairs.”
“They are quiet, no sounds.”
“Tell me about the airplanes.”
“They are gone, faded away.”
“But there is something.”
Long pause.
“Breathe in, slowly.”
Megan did so.
“Through your nose and into your core, not your lungs, Megan. Center yourself.”
Megan inhaled, centered the breath in that area below her chest, the center of her body. Then she blew slowly from her mouth.
“Again. This time, sitting on the bed in the dark cellar, listen to your breath. Listen as it enters your core.”
Megan inhaled again.
“And listen to it leave your body.”
Long exhale.
“Once more. Bring that air into your core and hold it there. Listen.”
It was dead quiet in Megan’s mind as she sat in the dark cellar of her captivity. This was how it mostly was during her weeks in the cellar, eerily quiet unless she broke through the silence. But then there was something. It was what she wanted. The sound she had been searching for since the session began. The sound she could never have found by herself, so buried, as it were, in the redundant folds of the memory center of her brain. But suddenly, as she held the latest breath in her core, the sound was there in her ears. She listened to it and explored it and let it run through her thoughts like the memory of the ocean tide from a tropical vacation.
“Tell me about it,” she thought she heard Dr. Mattingly whisper.
“Soft. Far away. Really far. Just barely can I hear it. Like a long moan, but higher in pitch. A motorcycle without the rumble. No, this was smoother and fainter. A lawn mower, maybe. But on and off. Consistent. It starts and stops,” Megan mumbled. “It’s a long sound. Then it’s gone. Then it’s back again and it’s long again. There it is.” Megan was nodding. “There it is.”
“Okay, Megan,” Dr. Mattingly said. “I’m going to count from three, two, one. And you’re here, Megan.”
Her eyes blinked open and she sat up straight.
“What did you find, Megan? What did you hear?”
She looked at Dr. Mattingly. “A train. I heard the whistle on a train.”
CHAPTER 12
He had the night to himself. He was out at the fishing cabins in Tinder Valley and would hole up in one of them overnight and fish in the morning before going home. It was easy cover and a solid story that would hold up to scrutiny. Logical and timely, his trip to Tinder Valley could be corroborated should she decide to check his story. It was what he needed—a night to himself. Enough time to have his visit, stay a while afterward to be respectful. Maybe share some dinner. He could take his time tonight, not like some other visits when things were rushed and abrupt and forced. Those visits were never fun. They typically ended in fights and arguments and resentment, and he never felt good about himself when he left. But time was on his side tonight. Time allowed them both to work through the things that got overlooked during rushed visits. Time prevented fights and scuffles. Tonight he had all the time he needed.
He pulled his car to the curb and turned off the headlights. It was dark here with no streetlights. Quiet, too. No highways. It would be a nice place to live, but that was not possible. For him, he could only visit this place. But what he found here he could find nowhere else. So empty was his life at home. There was no love there. There was no intimacy. He went through the motions when necessary. When she pressed him. But his thoughts were always here. He tolerated her touch because it was what he had to do to get by. He stomached her advances because he knew it was the only way to protect his secret.