Chapter 1
I still can’t get that stupid picture out of my head, even years after he-it-whatever that thing was-is- came into our lives. The organization made me swear to keep this whole ordeal a secret. But the thing is that if you do not tell anybody something for a long time, the more you start to forget the thing you are supposed to remember. I have to tell somebody. They might kill me for this, but I don't care.
It all started on Friday, August 15, 2008. I lived with my parents and grandmother in a tiny, two-story white house with green shudders on all the windows and a large front porch. My old neighborhood is in the heart of a tiny, heavily forested town somewhere in the United States. I have fond memories of when I used to go to town with my parents, but I hate entering my childhood home for one reason. Like I said, I have never told anyone this story, not even my husband.
The day began as usual. I warmly greeted Grandmother and my parents downstairs in the kitchen. I wore a pink shirt, pants, and shoes. Grandmother was the first to hug and kiss me, her brown-grayish hair touching my shoulders. "Guten Morgen, mein Liebling!" she said. Mom was at the stove cooking bacon and eggs. Her black hair was tied into a bun at the back of her head, and she wore a pink bathrobe with matching slippers. A heaping plate of pancakes was on the table in front of my dad. His blonde hair was sticking up, and he wore blue pajama pants and a matching shirt.
"Good morning, kiddo," Mom said as she kissed my forehead. "How did you sleep?"
"Good morning, Mom," I replied. "I slept well. How about you?"
"Same here," said Mom. "Go sit down. You like your eggs scrambled, right?"
"Right,"
I took my seat next to Dad. He was reading the morning newspaper.
"Hi, Dad," I said.
He put the paper down, smiled, and said, "There's my darling Emma!"
(Truth be told, that is not my real name. All the names in this story are aliases. I know what I said earlier about being killed. What I meant to say was that I do not care if they find and then kill me. Besides, they did not keep my story in their files. How do I know that? Let's say I have friends in high places. You will know who they are when my story is finished.)
"Ok, guys, come and get it," Mom said.
I grabbed a plate and fork from the cupboard by the sink. As I was scooping a handful of eggs, I noticed my grandmother making a cup of coffee before sitting in the seat closest to the back door. She always did that, and I never knew why. Ignoring it, I set my plate by hers and opened the fridge to get orange juice. Mom sat next to Dad and began to tuck into her bacon.
"Hey," Grandmother said. "You know ze rules, Meredith,"
"I'm sorry, Heidi," my mom said.
We all grabbed our cups and raised them high for a toast.
"Zum wohl!" said Grandmother.
"Zum wohl!" we repeated before clinking our cups together.
I laughed and sipped my juice. My grandmother was a funny old woman. She and my father came to the United States from Germany in 1947 and committed to keeping her centuries-old traditions alive. Giving a toast in German while we were together was one of them. Speaking the language in my house, even if it happened to be very little, was another. I sometimes wondered if my grandfather would do the same thing. Considering he died the year before my grandmother came to America and the fact she never fell in love again, I decided never to ask.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
"I'll get it," I said. "It might be Olivia,"
"Olivia Hobbs or Olivia Anderson?" said Dad.
"Hobbs," I replied. "I'm expecting a call from her,"
I got up and walked into the adjacent hallway. The walls were painted green and decorated with several black-and-white photographs of long-deceased family members. A brown dresser stood off to the side near the stairwell. On the dresser was a white, cordless telephone. I answered it.
"Hey, Olivia," I said.
"Hey, girl," was her reply. "What's shaking? How has your day been?"
"Nothing," I said. "My day has barely started. How about yours?"
"Same here," said Olivia. "I just got done brushing my teeth,"
"Any word from Mike?"
"About what?"
"You know, the big news,"
"I am messing with you, Emmy,"
"Ha ha," I said with a smile. "Very funny,"
"Do you think Julian will be in there?" she asked.
"I don't know," was my honest-to-God answer. "Do you think Mike kept his part of the deal?"
Julian Cooper. Where do I begin with the magnificent Julian Cooper? I had a massive crush on him since he moved from Ohio when we were in fourth grade. I never mustered up the courage to talk to him, however. I promised an acquaintance, Michael "Mike" Gere, that I'd give him twenty dollars if he could convince Julian to join our online chatroom. Julian was wary at first. This was the early days of the internet, after all. If he responded, I would silently scream. If not, Mike would kick him out so that Olivia and all our other friends could console me.
Mike was not the type of guy to do favors for anyone. He agreed to help me, but if and only if he could post a link his cousin from overseas sent him. I had no choice but to agree, not knowing how much I would later regret it.
"I hope so," was my reply. "There is no reason for Mike to bail out on me at the last minute,"
"Unless, of course, he was dead," Olivia said with a light chuckle.
Upon hearing I was not laughing along with her, she added, "I'm sorry,"
"It's ok," I said. "I love you,"
"Love you, too, bestie," said Olivia. "Talk to you later,"
"Talk to you later, Olivia," I said.
I put the phone back on the receiver and sighed. Relax, Emma, I thought. Don't be nervous. Julian is just a boy. I immediately pushed that thought out of my head. Julian was not just a boy. He was the one for me.
"This can either go good or bad," I said to myself.
That night, after I was done brushing my teeth, I went downstairs to the living room. It was tiny, with beige walls, a red carpet, one large TV, and two red couches. The computer, a white Microsoft Windows Server, was in the corner on top of a brown table. In front of it was a tiny red chair. I sat on it and logged into the chatroom on Myspace.
A couple of minutes later, Olivia’s name popped up. I vividly remember the conversation:
Me: Hi.
Olivia: Hey, girl.
Me: I think we’re the only ones here.
Olivia: Don’t worry. I’m sure Julian and Mike will log on in just a second. Remember these things take time.
She was right. A second later, Mike, Julian, and the names of our school friends popped up.
Me: Hi everyone! What’s happening?
Mike: Hey, Em. Nothing much. You?
Me: Not much at all either.
Julian: Hi people.
My heart skipped a beat.
Me: Hi, Julian. Do you remember me?
Julian: Emma Mischke? From homeroom? Yes, I remember you. What’s up?
Me: Nothing much.
My other friends started typing, too. Most of them just stopped by to say hello, while others talked about last week’s pep rally in which the speaker talked to us about bullying. Some people talked about things like that night’s episode of Big Brother, or the basketball game that was to happen the next week.
Mike: OK, Emma. I have done my part of the deal. Now, can we please get to the other reason I told half the people in our school to get on here?
Me: Yes, Mike. But if the picture is of something inappropriate, I’m logging off.
Mike: It’s not. I swear.
He then posted the link. Some people must have clicked on it because the chat was filled with questions like, “How did you find this?” and “Where was it taken?”
Mike: OK, so my cousin’s friend went to Nepal to climb Mount Everest. Another mountaineer asked him to take a photo of him (the mountaineer) at the entrance. My cousin’s friend agreed. I thought it was pretty with the snow and sky! Also, I did not just send it to you guys. I sent it to half the people in town. What do you think? Did my cousin’s friend do a pretty good job or what?
Someone (I forget who) asked, “What is that thing in the background?” To which Mike replied, “What do you mean?” The person responded: There is something in the back and to the right. I don't know how to describe it.
Sometimes, there is bliss in not seeing or knowing the things of the world. I, a dumb and curious fourteen-year-old, didn’t know this when I clicked the link.
It took a couple of seconds for the photo to pop up. The sky was blue, and a white cloud was in the top left-hand corner. Someone was standing on the snow and moss-covered rocks. They wore a light green jacket, gray pants, backpack, and boots. At first glance, I did not know what the person in the chatroom was talking about until I saw it. It was where the person in the chatroom said it was. I thought it might have been another person judging by the white skin. The only thing that made me feel uneasy was their mouth was open. I could not tell if the figure was looking at the camera.
I clicked out of it and typed: “Very cool, Mike!”
Mike: hahahahaha thank you
For a moment, no one typed anything else.
Mike: Ok, well, this has been fun, guys. Gotta go!
After we all said our goodbyes, I logged off. I stayed on the computer for a few more minutes, trying to get my mind off the photo. There was just something so unnerving about it.
My internet browsing was cut short by the sound of jingling keys. I turned the computer off and turned around. Dad was in the hall, pulling on his long black coat, a frantic look on his face.
“Dad?” I said. “Dad, what is it?”
“My boss called,” Dad said. “I answered the upstairs phone. He said I had to get my butt over there,”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say why,”
My dad never told me what he did for a living. All I knew was that he worked for the government. As for my mom, she used to do the same kind of work but retired once they had me. Every question led me to a brick wall.
“I’ll talk to you later, Emma,” Dad said as he pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “I love you,”
“I love you, too, Dad,” was my reply.
He smiled and walked out the front door. I got up and saw he forgot to lock it. Weird, I thought. Dad has never forgotten to lock the front door. I dismissed it as work-related stress.
"Wells!" Grandmother shouted from upstairs. "Wells! Wells!"
She continued shouting until I opened the door to her room. The walls of my grandmother's room were gray with a cream carpet. In one corner was her bed, a tiny dresser with a TV in the other. Portraits of ancestors hung on the walls. My grandmother sat straight up in bed, her black blankets covering her white nightdress.
"Samuel Wells!" she shouted.
"Grandmother?" I said. "Grandmother, did you forget to take your pills today?"
"What is going on?" Mom asked as she came into the room. "Heidi, what's wrong?"
"Samuel Wells is what is wrong with me!" replied Grandmother. "He came to me in my sleep. He told me something was wrong!"
"Who is Samuel Wells, Grandmother?" I asked.
"An old friend of mine," was her reply.
"Who was he, Heidi?" my mom asked.
"It's a long story, Meredith, and I am too tired," my grandmother answered. "All I can tell you is that he was a man from my youth,"
"Why could he not tell you what is wrong, dear Grandmother?" I inquired.
She ignored me and sang:
Let’s say goodbye with a smile, dear,
Just for a while, we must part.
Don’t let this parting upset you.
I’ll not forget you, sweetheart.
We'll meet again
Don't know where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day.
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds
Far away.
So will you, please, say hello
To the folks that I know?
Tell them I won't be long.
They'll be happy to know,
That as you saw me go,
I was singing this song.
We'll meet again
Don't know where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day.
We’ll meet again
Don’t know where, don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again
Some sunny day.
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
’til the blue skies drive the dark clouds
Far away.
So will you, please, say hello
To the folks that I know?
Tell them I won’t be long.
They’ll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song.
We’ll meet again
Don’t know where, don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again
Some sunny day.
When she was finished, Grandmother burst into tears.
"I pray for all Christian souls that God will be with them," she said. "Not that He was not with old Samuel when he passed. I believe God saw the whole thing and took him into Heaven. Yes. Heaven. That is where he is,"
"Who was he, Heidi?" my mom repeated. "Was he one of your old boyfriends?"
"What?" Grandmother said, mildly disgusted. "No! We were not interested in each other in the slightest,"
"Let's go, Emma," Mom said. "Your grandmother forgot to take her medication, but I will give it to her,"
"Yes, Mom," I replied.
"Ze eyes!" Grandmother screamed. "Oh, mein Gott, ze eyes! Of all ze demons from Hell sent by ze Devil to torment us!"
My family is Eastern Orthodox. I had given my life to Jesus Christ when I was younger. Could that dream have come from God? I believe so. All I know is that something terrible happened the next day.
