Portals
© 03.31,07 By Angela Williams
Paul snapped the paper in Kent's face, and wetted his moustache in his morning tea. His loud slurp, a wordless answer to Kent's question.
Kent looked for a long, still moment out the kitchen window. It wasn't raining today. Somehow that had seemed like a good omen for him.
Mayell laughed from the sink. The sound was sharp and gurgling in the quiet of the tiny, kitchen. Kent jerked as if stung. He had been, inside.
"You already know the answer."
He half turned to gaze at his sister. She was the oldest of the ten. Her graying, mouse brown hair could have framed a much younger face, would she only smile now and then.
"But Mayell, I feel fine today. Really."
"Be quiet and go watch the television Kent. We aren't going through this again today. Just did last week. Now quit!" She deepened her already growing frown, and turned again to the sink. The water from the tap drowning out the words she muttered under her breath. But beneath her tried frumpiness Kent could sense fear. And he hated it.
Kent looked toward the paper. Paul's fingers tightened as he felt the boy's gaze touch him.
"Paul . . ." Kent wasn't one to beg. But he wanted to get out, and see other faces. Maybe in some way convince himself this all was a dream. That everything he saw when he closed his eyes was only brought on by boredom and his own caged in mind.
His Uncle didn't answer and the silence weighed heavy on Kent's young shoulders, pushing him even farther away from Paul.
Finally Kent wandered out to the front room. Watching his bare feet sink in the thick orange shag carpet. He stopped by the door. And stared out at the blankness of the warehouse building across the street. His pale face oddly framed in the single smudged window, looking almost like a portrait. The painting distorted by the dirty glass.
"What are we going to do with him Paul? He ‘s not getting any better."
Kent didn't need to strain his ears to hear his Uncle's reply. There was none. But Paul's silence spoke more than any words could have. He had written off his nephew like a forgotten staff meeting at work that he had missed last week.
Mayell rambled on, ignoring her husband's silence. "When he was younger, I could believe they really were nightmares, now . . . it's in the day too and he is almost thirteen, he's not a little boy anymore. I don't know what I'd do if something actually happened . . . " Mayell fell suddenly silent and Kent could hear her slump into one of the wobbly dining chairs. Her voice falling into a whisper.
"Take him to Richard."
Paul's voice was still muffled behind the morning newspaper. Kent could tell he was reading faster now. It was almost eight o'clock. Soon he would leave for work.
"But Richard's seen him before, Paul. This is different now."
The paper closed with a dry crack. "Maybe he's learned something new."
"I doubt it. About Kent's behavior? Not likely."
"Mayell, I have no idea. But Richard is all we have. It can't hurt."
"Suppose not . . ." Mayell's voice belied her words. She wasn't convinced.
"Right. Well I'll see you tonight May. Don't worry dinner, I ‘m grabbing something to eat with the district manager and Harry tonight." Paul shuffled some papers into his briefcase.
"Bye." Mayell's voice was muffled in a quick hug and peck on the cheek from Paul. And then he was past Kent and on the street, striding quickly away from the house. His worn gray suit fading into the dullness of the asphalt and warehouse buildings.
Kent didn't move. He held himself still, waiting. Inside he felt something suddenly break loose and fall down. Down to the bottom and break, shattering into a million agonizing pieces. But it couldn't be his heart. He didn't have one, at least that is what Zea always told him. "You aren't anything. You're only here for us. Or them. We'll see."
Kent heard Mayell go to the telephone. He knew she was calling in for an appointment with Dr. Richard Wane.
Kent wanted to close his eyes and see darkness. To go to sleep and be asleep. He felt worn and tight. A tear slipped from the corner of his wide staring eye. And he didn't want to see Richard Wane again. He wanted to run. He always hated it when he got this feeling.
Then it began to rain.
"Get it through your head Carla, this is no different from before. People die every day! Thousands!"
She loathed that tone of voice they used when they thought she was scared.
"Get Zea in here. I need him and the latest porthole."
Carla didn't move at first. Her blood pounded in her ears and she could smell something thin and gray in the room. Fear.
Fear that they would fail again. Another porthole die of the strain. And another World slip into nothingness.
Fear. It cut like ice into her chest. Carla swallowed and lifted her chin. "Yes Sir, I'll be right back."
Kent moved slowly to the couch, and lowered his thin body onto the gaudily flowered cushions. Somewhere deep in the sofa a spring popped; the sharp twang seemed to announce Mayell's entrance into the front room. She was fumbling with the rope of her worn dressing gown as she spoke, "I'm going to change and then we need to run a few errands, so put your shoes on." Then she turned and disappeared into her room.
What did they think he was? They didn't know so they naturally reacted with fear. They all felt it because they couldn't understand. Fear of the unknown. Did they think he knew nothing of what was taking place? Did they think he didn't feel fear to? He did.
Kent clenched his hands on his bony knees. He looked down at his fists, resting on his worn corduroy pants. The knees would rip through any day now, and they were to short anyway. Suddenly he wanted to rip them now, to tear the cloth apart and fling it across the room. A distant scream welled from deep inside him. He would let it out if it were his own. But it wasn't. It was the terrified keening of a thousand other throats. The scream of people who had already died, pouring through him.
Nothing was his own. It hadn't been since that one night. The one before he had come to live for good with Mayell and Paul. But never mind; he would figure it all out and then set everything right somehow. He had to believe. No one else seemed to. With this thought clinging in his mind, he closed his eyes.
"They're here."
Carla held open the door and stepped to one side, allowing Zea to enter. His dark heavy brows were pulled together in a permanent frown, and his breath smelled of a sickly mint. Behind, silent and without color, followed the porthole.
"Good. It isn't like I have all day."
Carla ignored this comment and slipped quietly into her chair, her lips drawn into a tight line.
Zea didn't sit, but paced back and forth in front of the long table. His large meaty hands clasped behind his back. The porthole never moved but still stood where Zea had left it, its large eyes looking everywhere but straight ahead. Looking away from Carla, and Zea. From all of them.
"I -I don't know how to put this sir - he - sirs . . . but this seems, I mean there is-"
"Stop stuttering like the idiot you are Zea and come out with it. What you mean to say is that there are no more portholes existing. What we have here is the last one."
Zea sucked in his lips, then pushed them out again.
Looks like a greasy fish, Carla mused, her expression, all blankly business, never changing.
"Yes sir, I believe so." Zea finally selected one of the board and stared at him. His gaze fixed like and wheedling, like a cornered rodent..
"Believe? When have you ever believed in anything but your money Zea? Lets get on with this. We can't all live . . . here, forever."
Carla looked down at her hands. It was late now, too late to say what she really felt. What she really thought about all this.
The board of regents didn't ask. Didn't think to. No one had ever questioned their decisions for that world. For the people. Even when thousands died entering another world through a weak, and less then perfect porthole. No one said a word. Except, "We have failed but we will try again." And that was all. After all what could they say?
Nothing. That was as far as Carla had ever dared to think. Until now. Until the last hundred deaths. And until looking into the eyes, the soul of their last porthole. Soul? Yes there was one there, why hadn't she seen it before? Carla felt a hot blue fog pass over her and she jerked up to catch the glance of the porthole. And she froze.
"Carla?"
She turned swiftly, "Y-Yes."
"We will begin when night falls in Narch. Assemble everyone who is able and ready to travel in the front hanger. The rest of us will wait here, meet us when you have finished."
Carla rose stiffly and moved toward the door. Zea grunted low in his throat, swallowing what he was going to say, and turned as well, following her outside.
Carla moved quickly down the hallway. Putting as much distance between Zea and his silent charge and herself as she could.
"Kent, we need to go now."
Kent jumped and lifted his head. Mayell was standing above him, clutching her purse, watching him through guarded eyes.
Kent rose slowly, glancing down at his feet. They were still bare.
"Kent! I told you to get ready, now hurry up!"
Sorry.
Kent wet his lips and spoke with his voice, "Sorry . . . Mayell."
His sister glanced sharply at him, and moved to stand by the front door, arms crossed over her chest, lips pinched shut. Holding back what she wanted to say. Scream. Holding back her fear. When had her little brother turned into this- this heartless shadow of a person? It seemed so silly, and strange thinking like that, Mayell thought. But she didn't know what else to call him. When you looked into his eyes, there was nothing - everything - there. So much a heart couldn't possibly hold it all. And then nothing. Nothing for a heart to exist on. She couldn't understand it. And somehow, deep inside she was scared.
Afraid? Mayell glanced out the window; it was raining. She was glad she had remembered a hat. Afraid, yes she was scared. Strange, her Mayell Wright, was frightened of her little brother Kent Bradley.
She tightened her grip on her purse and reached for the door knob, stepping quickly onto the cold cracked cement of the top step.
Kent came slowly to the door and waited till Mayell had descended the steps before coming out of the front door carefully, oddly pulling it shut behind him.
He walks like an old man, and his face looks tight. Why am I just now seeing this? Mayell pulled her coat tighter about her shoulders and walked quickly down the street. She was simply seeing things. Kent was fine, except maybe he needed more sleep and sunshine. Probably Dr. Richard would prescribe some pills and everything would be back to normal.
Yet what was "normal?" When Mother and Dad had died in that horrible accident and a thin sickly Kent had come to live with her and Paul in their tiny, comfortable house. He had seemed to bring a cold empty breeze with him. Filled with echos of grief and fear inside. And from then on it had been night mares and sick days from school. Then no school, and long brooding hours in the library. And now this. So they couldn't really go back too "normal" now could they?
Mayell quickened her steps, hurrying past the gray cold buildings. They had become just a continuous blur of confusion to her. She never looked to see if Kent still followed behind.
Kent moved faster to keep up with his sister. His limbs felt like they had been stretched too far and then let go to snap back. He angrily swiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He looked sharply from side to side to see if any of the passerby's had noticed. None had. Who would take the time to look over a gangly twelve-year-old boy, all arms and legs in his worn, outgrown clothes trotting madly to keep up with his bustling guardian? No one.
He wanted to reach out to Mayell. To tell her something but her rigid back and shoulders told him all he needed to know. And he didn't need to see her face to know the pattern it was frozen into. He had it memorized. He knew the frown lines that creased it by heart. And he found himself thinking he had begun to hate them. And what they had done to his sister.
An anxious empty feeling was welling inside - nervous - like he was running out of time. He knew it wasn't his time he was running out of. And he knew where he would be when that time ran out. He felt he had to talk to his sister before this happened. To tell her he was sorry. Sorry for hating her and Paul. Sorry for hating when they didn't know he did.
Kent swallowed hard and kept walking. Maybe later. Maybe when they got home.
They stopped outside the grocery. Mayell fumbled with her purse, "I'll only be a moment Kent. Wait here."
With that she hurried inside, freeing the smell of over ripe produce and dusty shelves out onto the street as she pushed through the finger smudged doors and disappeared.
Kent suddenly felt light and dizzy. He leaned against the awning post beside him. Fighting waves of nausea he stared hard at a gaping pothole in the street before him. It grew fuzzy on the edges and blurred.
He closed his eyes.
The five heads of the board of regents swayed and whispered amongst themselves. Their hands moving pointlessly, restlessly back and forth across the papers scattered about the table.
Carla swallowed her anger and stood waiting silently.
Anger and fear.
Time was running short, and she had found too few who still harbored enough courage to make the crossing.
She tried to choose a head and watch it. Instead of staring with gross fascination at the swelling, bulging body of the regents, their shapeless suit coat straining over a rolling mass. Or the long wrinkled necks, craning and twisting back and forth. Back and forth.
"Carla."
"Yes sir."
"Where are the rest of the people? This is too few to waste the time with, this operation takes enough preparation and danger that we need all of them." His eyes were small and needling, watching Carla with a naked evil.
Carla had worked hard and long to get to the top. She had learned things no one but the Regents and she had any knowledge of.
Now she had what she wanted. An inside to the power in this world. But in gaining this she was also given a full view of the pain and ill-treatment of her people. And she recoiled from it now. Now that it was too late. She had kept her hand in ht e game and then drawn a winning hand, full of plans and situations she didn't even want to know existed. She saw only cruelty and darkness. And now she wanted out.
"I couldn't get any more to come." She paused, resisting the sudden urge to bite her lip. "They - they are afraid Sir and I had nothing to tell them to make them unafraid."
A cold frustration wound its way amongst the Regents. "Tell them this is the porthole they have been waiting for!"
"This is the one that has finally grown to where we can all go."
"And in one night!"
Their voices sounded like a machine gun. Spitting out each sentence, one right after the other.
Carla didn't move. Why don't you tell them that? Move that fat, obscene body of yours up and out of here. And take a look. Face to face with your people . Carla wanted to run and throw the doors open and let the people see. See who, what, was behind all the pain and lies they were fed.
"Yes sir," She nearly choked on the words.
"And where is Zea. He should have been here hours ago!"
"I don't know." Carla found she wasn't offering to run and find him. Suddenly she didn't care where he was. Maybe the farther away the better.
"Well move! Get out of here and find him!" They all twisted around to glower at her with eyes glinting and seething.
Carla opened her mouth, but then Zea was slinking in through the door, his lips stretched into a fleshy grimace. He had saved Carla from voicing the refusal that was poised on her lips. She breathed a short sigh and took a step away from Zea, her arms folded.
Zea!" Pent up malice bled through the otherwise toneless voice. "We are ready. Where is the porthole?"
Zea eyebrows shot up and then lowered again, seeming to move in concordance with his constantly twitching lips. "I left it outside the door, it has been taken to - to having - I mean it's not been very manageable lately."
Unrest pulsed through the regents. "What do you mean ‘not manageable'? Portholes are just a piece of - just science - a tool. They don't manage or un-manage, they just are." Five sets of eyes slammed Zea against the wall. Pinning him there with a baleful gray gaze.
Carla watched as Zea's adam‘s apple bobbed and his eyebrows climbed back up his face. "I - I ‘m sorry Sir . . . Sir's I‘ll get it now. Maybe this is just my mistake . . .I didn't want to disturb you. " He turned and darted from the room.
Carla hadn't moved, but she no longer tried to hide her distaste for this entire situation. And now the porthole? She shivered remembering the gaze she had met. And suddenly she felt almost sorry for Zea. Because she knew he had been telling the truth.
Kent opened his eyes and turned to look inside the store. He could see his sister standing at the counter now. Paying for a few small groceries.
A moment later they were walking again. Moving on down the street cluttered with buildings and cars. All swirling into a colorless cypher pressing in on Kent from all sides. He took a deep breath and stepped through the clinic door, leaving the confusion outside. But only trading it for another kind; thin and pointed. The stare of Dr. Richard drilled him into the hard wooden back of the chair he sat on.
Mayell and Dr. Richard were silent for what seemed like a long moment. Then, after firing an unending stream of questions at Kent they turned and closed themselves in the office. Leaving Kent sitting all alone, but for the gum chewing receptionist, in the waiting room.
He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. Staring down at the fading carpet under foot. He counted the huge beige flowers on the rug over and over in time with the uneven hum of voices coming from the office.
Finally Mayell came back out. Her face was white, and she seemed undecided. But Dr. Richard was saying, "It'll only be for the night May. I'll run him home first thing tomorrow. Don't worry, Kent and I will get everything straightened out. Right Kent?"
Right Kent?
Kent looked up at the thin, bony face of Dr. Richard, his eyes shadowed by heavy salt and pepper brows. Yet he could sense nothing sinister coming from this man. But he found he hated him anyway. Somehow he was just like the rest. Kent's gaze slid to the floor once again.
After that Mayell left for home. Dr. Richard went back to his office commenting that he was almost done and they would go right after he finished once more thing.
Kent had barely moved or spoken through this entire exchange. But now he turned, gazing through the window to the street outside. It didn't look so frightening and loud now. Suddenly he wanted to get out of this prison. Prison? Yes that is what it was to him. He knew why he was here and why Dr. Richard wanted to talk to him. And he knew where he would be after tonight. Suddenly he wanted to get out of it all. He didn't want to leave his home. He didn't want to have to be afraid anymore.
Kent rose silently from his seat. And without a glance for the girl behind the desk, he walked out of the clinic. He turned the corner and kept walking not caring where he went. As long as it was away from that building and Dr. Richard Wane.
Mayell looked over her shoulder as she turned the corner, she couldn't help but worry for Kent. Had she done the right thing? Should she have gone and left her little brother there? Maybe all he needed was more love from her. She had never been one to waste time on much affection and emotion. She wrapped her arms around herself and quickened her pace. Suddenly she wanted to. She wanted to hug him and tell him how much she worried. She wanted her family together at home. This was all to strange and dark for her.
Zea's shout from the hallway told Carla the whole story before the door even opened again, disgorging a frantic Zea back into the room.
" It's gone Sir!"
They whirled as one to sink their gaze into the sweating Zea. "What do you mean gone!? Find it!"
Zea stared for a moment and then whirled to charge back out of the room, his breath coming fast. Carla rose. She was propelled to the door by a sudden impulse she didn't quite understand. Almost as if she was in some small way rebelling because she was doing something that they hadn't yet ordered her to do.
She wanted to find the porthole first. She didn't even know why. But ignoring the growling and shouting behind her she shut the door firmly after herself and started off down the hallway in a half run with her heart in her throat.
Carla easily caught up with Zea, who was panting and gasping, more out of fear than from exertion. His eyes were actually visible underneath his dark brows, as he peered all about him, searching rooms and stair landings.
"What has it been doing? Why didn't you tell us?" Carla asked, more forcefully than she meant to.
Zea shrank to one side of the hallway and busied himself punching various buttons on a door panel which they both knew was locked.
"I mean, I want to know its behavior - to help find it as soon as we can." Carla heard herself saying, trying to soften her first remark.
"I - it's started to speak for one thing!" Zea wheezed, "And tell me things from the other world. And protest!" Zea spat out this last comment with an anger he had concealed until now.
Carla didn't answer at first. She was aware of how little she really knew about portholes. "About what? Against what?"
"Me!" Zea snorted out. "And what I tell it to do! And this is the first one ever to give me trouble. It'll be my head that gets the sentence though if I don't get this straightened out!" Zea appeared to be getting more agitated by the moment and Carla was more than a little worried herself that they wouldn't find the porthole in time. And she too feared the thought of returning to the Regents without it.
Suddenly Zea slowed his irregular shamble and pointed to their left. Across the hall in an open, empty room, stood a figure, thinly silhouetted in the gloom. Standing by the only window and making no attempt to hide itself.
Carla started and signaled for Zea to be quiet. He frowned and barged past her into the room, his fists clenched. "What are you doing?! Get over here!"
The porthole turned slowly, not even startled by the burbling shout of his caretaker.
Carla stood in the doorway, watching silently. Something inside her was suddenly bleeding for this nameless, voiceless porthole. With its large mirror eyes. And it's soul. The one she had sensed in the conference room that morning.
Zea crossed the room in two steps and grabbed the back of the porthole's neck, flinging him toward the door. It landed at Carla's feet and slowly picked itself up. It looked just like a skinny, tired little boy. Except you could see right through him. And it was not one of their own because they had drawn it from the other world called Earth. It was just a porthole. Carla turned back to the hallway, her mind reeling with questions and indecision.
"I hate you." Kent said it almost as an afterthought, his voice small and stretched.
Zea laughed, a thick choppy sound that never quiet got out of his throat. "Move."
Carla turned and stared at the porthole - the boy. She had never heard one speak and she was mesmerized by the sound. She couldn't help herself, "You - you talk?"
Kent looked at her, his eyes old and hollow. Seeming to suddenly see her for the first time. "We all do, or did. I am the only one left you know."
Carla ignored Zea's muttering growl and stepped forward, "I - who are you?" She realized how slow-witted she must sound, but she didn't care anymore. Not now.
Kent only looked at her, and then turned, his arms hanging limp at his sides, and started back down the hallway.
Carla threw a glance over her shoulder at Zea. His brow was gloomy and his thick mouth pulled down at the ends as he watched her. She didn't care. She ran after the porthole, her heart beating fast now. She had to know!
She didn't care what happened to her. She had already taken the first step by talking to it. It was to late anyway.
She came abreast the porthole and reached out, "Wait," her hand touched him, then moved on through his body and disappeared. She stared. Frozen. Kent lifted his endless eyes and looked at her. "What does it matter who I am? I won't be after tonight."
Carla moved her mouth but nothing came out. She couldn't have said it anyway even if there had been something there.<.i>
Kent opened his eyes. The park bench was cold, and under the stark glare of the street lamp it looked even older and more weathered than it had in the sunlight. With a feeble effort he lifted himself up off the bench and to the sidewalk. He didn't know how long he had been gone, but he wanted to see Mayell and Paul. He wanted to go home. Home? Where was that anyway? He remembered another place, like a distant warm echo. Before it had all happened. Before the death and the blood and the emptiness inside. Before they had come and taken him away. So long ago. Kent squinted against the dusk and turned onto his street.
Mayell's street. Carla's street. Wait, what he thinking? He was still here, in his town. Why had Carla crossed his mind? Kent stared hard at the asphalt in front of him. He knew. They were one in the same. Something from inside told him that if Carla died because she couldn't get through the porthole, him, then Mayell would die to. Something would happen to her. Kent didn't know how he knew, but now he felt he always had.
He stopped in front of his house. Paul and Mayell's house. Inside he could see Mayell at the piano, absently plunking out some mindless tune. Paul was sitting in his chair, his book slipping to the floor, head back, mouth open wide.
It was so wrong. It was so right, and Kent almost hated it, because he would never be there. He had never been there. He turned away. They were right, exactly like that.
He closed his eyes. And in the darkness, it began to rain. A slow apologetic drizzle, wetting the sidewalks and streets with it's damp wandering fingers.
Carla couldn't move. She couldn't speak even as Zea brushed past her, leaving her standing in the hallway, reeling in her new found knowledge.
Then suddenly she stuttered to life, and whirled staring at the retreating back's of Zea and Kent. "Wait! No! You can't use him!"
Zea ignored her and shoved through the door, facing the regents with a timid smirk. "I got it back. Here you are."
Carla burst through the doorway, aware that her face was red, and she was breathing loudly. She didn't care anymore.
"Wait, I think we should restart all this!" It was a dull opening line to her argument she fully intended to wage for this boy. But she was numb from it all. She couldn't think of anything better to shout.
They morphed into a solid wall, baring down in her with sneering disgust. "Restart?! We begin in five minuets. Prepare the people."
Carla didn't back up. She opened her mouth to protest when suddenly the potholes voice filled the room.
Kent had broken away from Zea's grip and stood in the center of the conference hall. A thick red wall was suddenly erected and then exploded before his eyes. And then his scream tore from his mouth, bubbling and coiling out into the silence of the room.
Zea leapt to one side, his eyes white and round in his face.
The heads of the regents drew back quivering. Hissing and staring in angry fear.
Carla never moved, she stood stiff and statue-like watching the shaking body of the boy. His mouth opened wide, his eyes staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face.
The scream tore on and on. Like a rope being pulled back and forth across an open wound.
Then suddenly as it had begun, it ended. And in the empty tightness that followed, Kent moved toward the inner room. And without a word let himself in.
He turned as he pulled the door shut, looking straight into Carla's eyes, "Don't be long. I want you to go first." Then he was gone, on into the next room.
Carla waited half a heart beat and then she was running after the boy. Her fists clenched, she shoved past the swirling, snaking heads of the regents and slammed through the door. Then whirling around she searched frantically for the lock, and in one shove bared the door.
Something, someone crashed into the door. But she never heard it. She turned, her breath coming ragged in her throat.
Kent was waiting for her, standing in front of the small, huddled crowd of people. His bottomless eyes almost appeared to be smiling. And she knew it wasn't a trick of the deepening dusk outside. She could see light in their depths.
"Kent." How had she known that was it's name? His name. The boy's name.
He started as if she had slapped him.
"You're coming with me."
Kent shook his head, his hand waving back at the staring people, milling about behind him. All of them wondering and whispering amongst themselves. Then stopping to watch Carla and Kent, their eyes wide and uncertain.
Carla clenched her jaw and nodded, "Them too. There is hardly any, we can all go."
Kent looked undecided, and his mirrored eyes suddenly looked like they actually belonged to the little boy who wore them, and a single tear slipped from the corner. "I - I don't think - I am scared."
"Me too." Carla answered, and she reached for his hand. Then together they turned to face the rest, and even as they did, they had already begun to fade.
The End.
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