True Believers Chapter 11

11
Going Under

THE RESPONSE WAS NOT WHAT HE DESIRED.

"All right," Al said briskly, getting up and immediately straightening things out on the table, including taking their mugs from them. "I think maybe tomorrow around noon would be a good idea. Just wait for tonight and see if anything else happens. You might change your mind." He looped the mugs through the fingers of one hand, reminding Anders of those pictures of tavern maids with their hands full of mugs of foaming beer. [Note--I think I got that backwards and it should be like, "He looped his fingers through the handles..."] "I'd suggest you try to get a good night's sleep, only that seems to be the problem you're having, so I can't really suggest anything. Except not to worry about anything. Hypnosis isn't like acupuncture. You can't really make a mistake with where you're putting something. Only with what you say." He beamed at them and held out his free hand; luckily for Puck, Anders observed, it was his left. "I'll be seeing you, then. Good talking with you again. Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the LGMs bite." He gave an odd laugh at that, and was gone before they were even on the porch.

"What the hell's an LGM?" Anders asked as he and Puck walked out to the car.

"Little gray men," was all Puck said.

* * * * *

He found himself sitting on a bench underneath an orange streetlight; he was reminded vaguely of the tales he'd told Anders about the haunted light, but he recognized the building behind him as being his old high school. What he was doing there was anybody's guess. There was a faint scraping, thumping sound from off to his side. Turning his head, he saw a figure approaching him slowly, kicking something along the sidewalk. As it came closer and finally stepped into the ring of orange light, he could tell it was Anders, absorbed in kicking a baseball-sized chunk of wood, evidently torn up from the ground. [Note--this scene is based on one time when I believe I sat out front of the high school at night, under a streetlight, waiting for my ride home (from a college course). I think I might have been kicking a piece of wood around too.] Anders noticed him as well, and gave a faint smile as he came up.

"What're you doing here?" Puck asked, since he knew Anders and he hadn't gone to the same school. Heck, Anders had been an ocean away at the time he'd been in twelfth grade.

"Waiting for classes to start," Anders said.

"Isn't it kind of early? Or maybe late. I can't tell." Puck looked up at the sky, but there were no stars; only a crescent moon and a planet he couldn't name. It looked like some Middle Eastern flag.

"You can never be too early." Puck moved over so Anders could have a seat, but the Swede didn't make a move to show that he'd noticed. "I'm getting tired of this night class. All the examinations."

Puck looked up at him. "Examinations?"

Anders ignored him again. "And the work they give you, come on. If you ask me, it gets repetitious." He smiled down at Puck again, the orange light giving his face a weird glow. "But at least we're getting something from it, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Puck said.

"Of course we are." Anders looked at his watch, then picked up the bookbag he'd dropped when he'd come up. "Well, see you in class, Mr. Matthew Benteen from the U. S. A.," he said, starting off again, still kicking the piece of root.

"Wait a minute," Puck called after him. "Where am I supposed to go?"

Anders stopped and glanced at him over his shoulder.

"You'll find out when you need to know," he said. "We all do. But you'd better get going. You know how they hate to be left waiting."

And he was gone, down the sidewalk and out of the light, only the sound of him kicking the wood remaining in the slightly breezy air.

* * * * *

Needless to say, Puck was slightly unnerved when he met Anders the next day, kicking a piece of wood along the sidewalk out front of the dorm. He shook the feeling of [sic] as best as he could, falling into step beside him as they went off to Anders's car.

"Well?"

Anders looked at him. "What?"

"Have any dreams last night?"

Anders looked back down at the piece of wood and shrugged. "Not that I remember." He let out a huge sigh. "I'm starting to wonder if maybe Al was right--maybe I have changed my mind. Maybe it's all just me."

"Yeah, just you and a dozen others, all having the same dream?"

"Listen, I've never spoken with these 'others.' The only person I've heard from so far is you."

"And Sid."

"Yeah. But she just told me what somebody else said. And you know how she likes to gossip."

"True. But as much as Sid gossips, she doesn't lie. Believe me."

Anders gave a half-smile. "Right now, I don't know what to believe."

They reached Al's house at about eleven-thirty; when they got there Al wasn't in sight, but his door was unlocked, so Puck went right in, Anders following, feeling rude. Puck told him of the greenhouse out back and they found it and went inside. Instantly they were hit by a wall of heat. Anders broke out in a sweat immediately, unused to the humidity. Puck worked his way around the numerous exotic plants, including sundews and Venus flytraps, to find Al near the back, pruning some kind of orchid. Puck was certain he'd been completely silent in entering, the numerous crickets of the greenhouse drowning out any sound he might have made, but Al just looked up at him and smiled as if expecting them early. He waved at Anders, near the door. "Hi. Welcome back. What do you think of my little green friends?"

"Nice," Puck said, without much enthusiasm. Al gave it no notice and instead set the orchid back in its spot, laying down the pruning shears and taking off his gloves. He headed for the door, and Anders moved aside so they could all exit into the cooler house.

"Looks like you didn't change your mind," Al commented as he led them back into the den.

"No.... I don't think so," Anders replied, still debating with himself. Al gave him a look and he reddened. "I mean, I don't know..."

Al waved a hand. "Don't worry. Lots of people are like that. Just think about it a moment, then yes or no. I won't be mad either way."

"Of course not," Puck said, to which neither of them replied. Anders sat down on the couch he assumed would be used in the hypnosis, just the one in the living room, with the coffeetable shoved to the side. He rubbed his forehead with his fist, and sat silent for several moments.

"Well?" Al finally said.

Anders was silent a moment longer; then he raised his head and bit his lip. "All right," he said. "Let's do it."

Al gave him a reassuring smile before leaving the room and fetching his tape recorder. "All right," he echoed Anders, "just make yourself as comfortable as you can. You can sit up, lie down, stand on your head--just don't get so cozy that you fall asleep."

Anders obeyed and stretched out on the couch, feeling rather stupid. He almost expected Al to speak with a German accent when he clicked on the tape recorder and set it down upon the table, taking a seat across from him. Puck melted back into the wall, crossing his arms and saying nothing.

For a minute or two Al said nothing, and all Anders could hear was an incessant scribbling. He started looking around. "Well...what am I supposed to do now?"

"Nothing," Al said. "I'm just taking some notes." Anders rolled his eyes, and there was a click as Al put his pen down on the table beside the recorder. "Okay now, just relax. Close your eyes if that makes you feel better. Try to imagine yourself in the most peaceful place you can think of. Lose yourself in it. You're losing all track of time. There's only the present. You're at peace. Try to take deep, slow breaths. Relax."

Anders did as he was told. He felt a wave of drowsiness pass over him, but knew he wasn't falling asleep. Before him he could see greenish-gold fields passing as far as the eye could see, with snow-capped mountains in the distance. A faint smile crept across his face. He was at home, now a continent away. He could even smell the snow in the air.

From somewhere all around him came a faint voice, seeming very far away. He recognized it as Al's. "Where are you?" he asked.

"Home," Anders murmured.

"Where's home?"

"Sweden." Anders sighed. "I can smell the snow. It's springtime."

From outside, he could hear Puck's voice, even more distant than Al's. "Is he under?"

"I believe so." Anders shut them out and listened instead to the whishing of the wind in the grass. There was the whickering of horses nearby but they didn't scare him. Everything was just as Al had said. Peaceful.

"All right now, Anders," Al's voice came to him through the dream. "I want you to go back in time. Back to your first dream here on campus. The dream you told Sidras about at the Gen-X. [Note--how does Al know this...? Eh...I'm too tired to check...but I'm fairly certain nobody told him that detail. Oh well. *shrug*] I want you to remember what happened that night. Go back to before you went to bed."

Anders frowned as he thought. Immediately he was smoothing out the sheets on his bed and adjusting the fan to ward off the summer heat, yawning tiredly as he did so.

"It's too hot in here," he complained. "It'll probably take me forever to get to sleep."

"Do you get to sleep?"

He was in bed, lying on his side, facing Dino's side of the room. "Yeah...I think I'm drifting off..." His own voice grew faint as the drowsiness passed over him again.

"You're remembering now, Anders. Don't fall asleep. Describe everything you see."

"Dino," Anders murmured.

"What's Dino doing right now?"

"He's asleep. He snores."

From outside, Puck laughed to himself.

"Is he sleeping soundly?"

"Yeah. He always does." Anders fought back a yawn. "The heat...I think maybe it knocks you out..." And he fell silent.

There was a long pause.

"Is he asleep?" Puck asked.

Al frowned. "I don't know." He spoke to Anders again. "Anders? Can you hear me?"

Anders didn't reply. Instead he just lay there, breathing in and out slowly.

Al sighed and bit his lip. "I think he is," he said, and started to get up and reach forward to tap Anders on the shoulder.

Before he could, Anders jumped suddenly with a gasp. Both Puck and Al backed away. Anders's eyes were still closed, but he was looking around as if awake.

"What do you see, Anders?" Al asked.

"It--it's too bright in here!" Anders cried. "It's nighttime--it's not supposed to be this bright."

Al looked at Puck, who looked back. "Describe the light, Anders."

"It's--I--I don't know. It's too bright. It's flooding the room. God, why doesn't Dino wake up? Can't he see? Dino!" And he yelled it, as if trying to wake his roommate up.

"What color is the light, Anders?"

"It's--I don't know--bluish-white--it's coming in through all the windows. All sides. Two sides. We have windows on two sides. It's coming in through all of them. I don't see how--"

Anders suddenly let out a strange, high-pitched whine. Puck winced at the odd, shuddery sound, glancing at Al in a near-panic. [Note--out of character for Puck to panic.] Al placed his hand on Anders's arm in an effort to calm him down.

"What is it, Anders?" he asked. "What do you see?"

"There's something in the walls," Anders stammered, sounding on the verge of crying. "It shouldn't be there. They shouldn't be there."

"'They,' who, Anders? Who's in the walls?"

"Them." Puck shuddered at the word. "I don't know why they're here--I thought this was all at an end--"

"Wait a minute," Puck interrupted, despite Al's attempt to shut him up. "What's he mean, 'at an end'? Has he seen them before?"

"Shh!" Al hissed. "You'll ruin it!" He turned back to Anders. "It's only a memory, Anders. You're not really there. Detach yourself. Look at it as if--"

He was cut off as Anders wrenched his arm away and covered his eyes with his arms. "The light!" he screamed. "The light's too bright--my eyes--!"

"Anders!" Al shouted. "Move past it. Move over it. It's over. The light's gone now. You're safe in bed now, Anders. Move past it."

Gradually Anders's breathing slowed down from the gasps he'd been taking, and he shakingly lowered his arms, though he still quavered. Silence filled the room again.

Al turned to the tape recorder. "Take note that the subject's arms went to cover his eyes at the period of bright light," he said into its speaker, then turned his attention back to the "subject." [Note--er, that should be "he said into its microphone." Even Al is not THAT absentminded.] "All right now, Anders, you've moved past it. There's no need to panic. This is all just memory. If you ever feel threatened, I want you to detach yourself from your body and watch from a distance. Do you understand me?"

"Detach...distance. Yeah, I--I understand."

"All right now. I'm going to ask you something, and I want only the truth from you. Have you seen this light before?"

There was a very long pause. After a while Puck assumed Anders wasn't going to answer, but he did, and the reply shocked him.

"Yes," Anders said in a very faint voice, as if he were worlds away.

For a moment Al said nothing, instead writing something down. He spoke up.

"When have you seen this light, Anders?"

No reply.

"Anders. I want you to list all the times you've seen this light, starting from the most recent to the earliest. Do you understand me, Anders?"

"Yes."

"All right then. Tell me when you last saw it."

Another pause. "I'm not--I'm not--I don't know--"

"All right, Anders. Can you tell me when you've had these dreams?"

Anders relaxed visibly. "Yes."

"Okay. Tell me the most recent, going back as far as you can remember."

"The field," Anders replied immediately. "With the owls. And the pegasus."

"That was the night before last. Go on."

"The day of the horse show. I went to Adelphic Pi to lie down. I had a dream."

"Mm-hm."

"After the Hi-Roller. I talked to them in that one. They talked to me."

"What did they say, Anders?"

"They told me I'd remember when I needed to know."

"Go on."

"The night of the thunderstorm. When I got a nosebleed. I went to a big gray house. You drove me there."

"Who do you mean by 'you'?"

"You. Al Goodwin. I saw a flying saucer--I remember spinning and passing out."

"All right."

"The Gravitron--I saw it in a dream. It rose up into the air."

"Mm-hm. Go on."

"My dream here--I saw them at a table. They were waving me to come over. I don't know--a hum. A light. This fog everywhere--I woke up and they were in the mirror. I fell out of bed and woke up again."

"That was the first one," Puck whispered to Al, who nodded.

"Can you remember any more, Anders?" he asked.

Anders fell silent again, but started breathing harder. He bit his lip. "The--a--I don't know--if a dream--I--I'm not sure--"

"Detach yourself, Anders. Tell me where you are."

"I--it's once--I don't remember--"

"Yes you do, Anders," Puck cut in. "You do remember. Where did it all start out?"

Anders let out his breath in one big rush. When he spoke again, his voice was different--younger, somehow.

"I'm at home," he said. "Sweden." [Note--it seems to me, in all honesty, that now that he's reverted to his pre-exchange student days, Anders would start speaking in Swedish. Oh well. I'm no hypnosis expert. And I don't know Swedish.]

"Where are you at home?"

"Our field. We have a field."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

Puck gaped, stunned. Fifteen? It went back that far?

"What are you doing now, Anders?"

"I'm riding my horse, Siegfried." Anders smiled. "I know, silly name for a horse."

"He hates horses," Puck said softly.

"Describe everything around you, Anders. Tell me what it looks like. What time is it?"

"Daytime. But it's afternoon. It'll be evening soon. I take Siegfried into the woods."

"What woods?"

"We have a woods next to our field. Several acres. Big woods. Lots of trees. But I think it's getting dark. I should have brought a flashlight. Mom will be mad if she finds me missing."

Anders broke off, and started moving his head, very slightly, as if examining something. "What is that? What is that?"

"What's what, Anders? Tell me what you see."

"A light--wow! It's bright!" Anders frowned and squinted his already-shut eyes. "Boy, it's big! And I think it's moving!"

"Describe it."

"I don't know. It looks round, but that's just 'cause it's bright. It's really bright! It's burning my eyes. I wonder what the Soviets are up to now?" He craned his head forward. "Wow, is it Soviet?"

A long while passed while Anders evidently watched the light. Neither Puck nor Al made any move to prod him on. He suddenly jerked and gasped again.

"What is it, Anders?" Al asked, taking notes.

"It's too close!" Anders cried. Puck could clearly see tears well up under his eyes and come spilling down his face. "It's too close!"

"Calm down, Anders. Detach yourself--"

"What are they doing to me?" By now Anders was screaming and thrashing--or at least trying to thrash. He acted as if his legs and arms were tied down to the couch as he struggled. "I can't move--where are you taking me? You can't do this! Siegfried!"

"What's he doing?" Puck asked, coming forward. He wanted to try to hold Anders down to calm him, but found it wouldn't be necessary--Anders apparently wasn't going anywhere.

"He's constricted, somehow. I can't get through to him. Anders, calm down--"

Anders let out a wail, which broke off into a series of sobs. Puck winced again and turned away; the sight of Anders struggling on the couch, tears streaming down his face, was too much.

"It hurts--they're hurting me--" Anders sobbed.

Al placed his hand on Anders's arm again. "Anders, work past it. Work through it. It's already over. Remind yourself of that. It's already over."

"I'm too young for this," Anders managed to get out, before the vision subsided, and all his tensed muscles relaxed. He sank back into the couch, still whimpering and gritting his teeth with pain.

"Work through it," Al said softly. "It's all over, Anders. When I count to three you'll come out of it, and you'll remember it all. One--"

"But they talked to me," Anders murmured, the tears slowing.

"--Two--"

"And they want me to remember."

"--Three."

Anders's eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling for a while, as if lost in thought. Then, after some moments had passed, he sighed and began to cry silently.

"I can't remember," he whispered.