Habitat, page 16
part #1 of The End Series
Detective Burly Edwards: Roy, get her some Kleenex. Go on, Mrs. Owens.
Mrs. Frances Owens: I was trying to help out Momma, and I was late leaving cause I took Little Jerry to do some trick-or-treating. Momma had bought him this precious, little cowboy costume with the gun and hat and… (inaudible) I shoulda stayed another night. It was about 10:00 or quarter past. Junie and Little Jerry was asleep on the front seat beside me. I was trying to hurry back home cause Jerry Bob had already got off work. I was almost to Fayetteville. I’d just passed over Ginger Cake Creek when I smelled Junie’s diaper, and I didn’t want her to go all the way back home like that. So, I pulled off the road, right after passin’ the church. (Recording paused.) I finished changing her. She and Little Jerry kept right on sleeping. I was going around the front of the car to get back behind the wheel when something came up outta the blue. It was like a fog. I just thought it was…it got thicker and thicker. It got so bad, I couldn’t even see up over the hood. I sat there a minute wondering if I should go on or wait awhile ’til it cleared up. I needed to be getting home, so I cranked up the car and pulled out in the road. All of a sudden, a bright light just appeared outta nowhere. I slammed on the brakes, but I put my hand out to keep the youngins from going in the floorboard. I got scared thinking it was one of them giant tractor-trailer trucks about to run head-on into us. So, I reached over to grab up the kids… (inaudible) and when I looked over to grab Junie, she was gone (inaudible). They got her. I know they got her (inaudible). The next thing I remember was being woke up by Roy and Lieutenant Epps. (Mrs. Owens pointed to Officer Roy Gordon and Lieutenant William Epps.)
Detective Burly Edwards: Frances, had you been drinkin’ that night?
Mr. Jerry Bob Owens: You miserable son of a… (inaudible).
Mr. Simpson Ballard: Sit down, Jerry Bob. Sit down. I’m warning you. If you want to stay in here with Frances, you gotta simmer down. Gosh dang it, Burly, I swear, you know full well Fran hadn’t been drinkin’. For the love of Jesus, she’s in the church more than Preacher Robinson.
Detective Burly Edwards: Simp, you gonna have to let me ask the questions we gotta ask. Were you drinking, Frances?
Mrs. Frances Owens: I ain’t never touched a drop, and anybody that says I do is telling a black lie. Look, I know it sounds crazy. Lord knows, I love my kids, I love my Junie. I wouldn’t never do nothin to her. I love… (inaudible).
Mr. Jerry Bob Owens: I tell y’all whatcha oughta be doing is getting the hell outta here and findin’ my baby girl. Something’s done got her, and I don’t care if it’s some maniac or some G. D. little green men or President Harry S.O.B. Truman. Junie’s gone, and we ain’t got her and (inaudible) Fran, Frannie honey, you okay? (Recording was stopped.)
Notes:
Mrs. Owens was transferred to the county hospital and released into the custody of the Pine Wood Psychiatric Facility.
Update:
As of November 21, 1952, this case is closed. Mrs. Frances Owens was found hanging in her room at Pine Wood Psychiatric Facility. Her death has been ruled as a suicide. No further charges are expected to be brought forth in this case. At this time, the missing child, June Owens, has not been recovered (6 months old, at the time of the disappearance).
—Fayette County, Georgia
Police Department Interrogation Recording
November 22, 1952
DISBELIEF
NO ONE WAS at home. I slumped against my closed bedroom door, wanting to scream and cry and curse. I wanted to wake and discover this was a nightmare. How was it possible? I’d rather Bram be a liar than for my entire life to be a lie. Of everything I saw and everything he told me, I wasn’t sure what was real. My thoughts were spinning, and I would’ve welcomed the chance to forget the facts I had been told. I’d love to call the inspector and his nurse to come with her pills or medipens, or whatever. At this moment, anyone could have convinced me of the joys for releasing the hurtful memories. I would’ve given back everything I’d learned to have the life I woke up with this morning.
“Ellis, may I come in?”
There was a knock at the door. I jumped, thinking I’d have time to collect my thoughts and pull myself together before seeing and talking to anyone. I didn’t want to let him in, but I had no choice to answer. I stayed for a second longer leaning against the door.
“Ellis?”
I wiped the remaining tears and opened the door with my head tilted toward the floor.
“Hey, is something wrong, Junior?” Dad asked, lifting my face to his.
“It’s a tough day, Daddy.” I looked away. I wanted to be his baby girl again because he could make everything right. He sprayed Bogeyman-Be-Gone water inside the closet to make the monsters go away, he kissed boo-boos to get rid of pain, and he helped me bury the wild bunny we fed every evening until we found it dead. I’d break down if I looked into his eyes. This monster had no cure.
“Hey, what’s this?” he asked. It was obvious I’d been crying. I’m an ugly crier. Blotchy, red face with swollen puffy eyes, even the end of my nose turns hot pink. There was no way to hide this.
“I need to be alone. I think I’m overwhelmed with the end of school, the placement test, Mrs. Young, life…I need to let my mind rest.”
“That sounds like a heavy load to carry. Should I call Dr. Adler?”
Was she a part of this crazy experiment? If Bram studied for the release program, were the therapists aware? Why didn’t I ask him? Was it possible Dr. Adler knew of the conspiracy? She and my Dad had been the allies I depended on. I didn’t want to believe she could have been part of this ugliness.
“No. My regular appointment is tomorrow. I think it’s just a little anxiety. I don’t know…leaving behind my childhood or something equally profound.” I forced a smile and tried to sound lighthearted for his sake, but I was kidding myself. My dad could read me with no trouble. He’d sense this was an act, and he’d know I did it for his benefit.
“Leaving behind your childhood? Ellis, no matter how old you are, no matter how you started out in this world, you will always be my baby. Do you understand? You are, and you always will be my baby. No matter what happens.” He paused. “No matter what. Now, I’m making your favorite chicken casserole. How does that sound?”
“No, Dad. You don’t have…”
“But I do. I want to; I need to. I want to do whatever I can to make you happy, even burn a casserole until we can make you smile again.”
“Thanks, Pop.” I was desperate to hug him, but I couldn’t. If I did, I’d shatter into a million pieces. I remembered Bram said telling the truth would be risky for my family. I couldn’t let my actions endanger him or my mom. I stepped back and took a deep breath.
“Chicken casserole sounds great,” I said. He smiled, but it wasn’t sincere. He looked helpless. “It’s just one of those days. You don’t have to worry, Dad.”
“But I do. It’s part of the job. Love, protect, provide for, take care of, teach, worry about…that’s what loving parents do. When you become a parent, you’ll do the same.”
I knew that would never happen. What kind of person could bring a child into a world where we are held captive? I refused to subject another human to that fate. I tried to smile. “I hope I’m a parent just like you.”
“Okay,” he laughed, “enough with the flattery; I’m going to make dinner. You don’t have to praise me to get your casserole.” He turned away.
“Dad? If it happened again—the end of our world—I need you to remember you are…”
His expression changed, and he stepped toward me. I put my hand up to stop him from coming closer. I could tell instead of reassuring him of my love and respect, I’d worried him more than ever.
“It won’t happen again, Ellis. I promise. I understand what you’re trying to tell me. But know this—if life drastically changed tomorrow, I will have had the incredible luck to love and have been loved by two special women.” He smiled and turned toward the kitchen.
My gut told me my mom wasn’t one of those women.
CHAPTER 17
The dreams of humans are collected to determine the presence of underdeveloped senses not previously studied. Often these dreams are prophetic, suggesting they can calculate and postulate with a great degree of accuracy a probable outcome for any event. No evidence exists thus far in determining whether the human species can predict future events. Dreaming is likely the evolutionary prerequisite for developing two known senses presently not found in humans. For these reasons, the recollection and recording of these dreams must be encouraged to determine their significance in understanding the human mind.
—Professor Jdochleur Daulchmanu
Human Research Department
Nurahatum University, 2020
CONFESSIONS
THE NIGHT BROUGHT heavy sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. My normal eight hours still left me exhausted the next morning. The dreams were unending. The entire night felt more like work than if I’d actually done physical labor. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, trying to remember the dream. When I let my mind wander, my grasp slipped from what occurred. I was a believer in dream significance. They were explanations of the waking world’s mysteries. Not mystical prophecy, but a heightened awareness of suppressed feelings. If I tried to understand my dreams, I could understand myself, and I needed that more than ever. The person I’d been for twenty years was gradually becoming a stranger.
I steadied myself at the edge of an enormous cliff. Rhythmic gusts of wind threatened to sweep me away. I wanted to see what lay beyond, but I was scared.
In my hand, a knife, pulsating with energy flowed into my fingers and up into my hand—creating in me a sense of empowerment.
Behind me stood every person I’d ever known. Their twisted faces stared with horror-filled agony. Their eyes pleaded for me to stop. What was I doing? The mob marched toward me in step; the sound echoed off an invisible surface. My mother led them but turned away when I reached for her. The inspector took her place now leading the angry charge.
Hands on my shoulders startled me. Ana and Mrs. Young, balanced at the cliff’s edge, with knives of their own, willed me to fight. We slashed the scene before us, knives finding their mark, severing an invisible cord that bound us to Horizon. The release thrust me backward over the cliff, plummeting toward death. I closed my eyes. Is this what I fought for? Instead of ground, I plunged into still, warm water, enveloping my senses, quiet and welcoming, until my lungs pleaded for breath. Breaking the surface, I gasped for life-saving air—the sweetest I’d ever known. I was alive, and I was free. An unfamiliar voice called my name, and I was grateful not to be alone.
“Ell, breakfast.”
I opened my eyes. Was I just dreaming or did the dream occur earlier in the night? It must have meant something. I grabbed my dataport and frantically typed as much as I remembered. Reality caught up with my awareness. The prior day’s event flooded my mind; my heart sank. Was he crazy, or were we surrounded by aliens? Was I crazy? What did I truly see? I saw people speaking a language I didn’t understand in an underground part of Horizon I’d never seen. I didn’t see little green men or anyone floating in mid-air. I didn’t want Bram to be a liar or be crazy, but I didn’t want him to be an alien either. There was a knock at my door. I jerked.
“Ellis? Are you awake?” My mother waited for a reply.
“One moment, I’m not dressed,” I called back to the closed door. I finished writing my dream and closed my port. The crumpled pants lying in a heap beside my bed and my nightshirt were the quickest outfit. Something weird was happening, and the sensation hung in the air the way some people can smell a summer rain coming. My skin tingled, and the hair on my arms felt charged with electricity. I’d felt this way before. One of those times was the day of Mrs. Young’s death. I rushed to the kitchen, where Mom and Dad were waiting.
“Dad? Why are you home?” I asked.
“I took a few days off to celebrate the holiday. Your mom and I could use your help getting the picnic planned for tomorrow.”
“No ham sandwiches and chips?” I asked.
“Tomorrow is graduation and career placement. An extra special day needs an extra special lunch,” he said.
Mom handed me a plate of eggs and bacon with a piece of toast. “You’re not eating?” I asked. I gulped juice already poured for me.
“We’ve been talking,” she said. That wasn’t an everyday occurrence, nor was it common for my dad to take so much time from work.
“What’s going on?” I laid my fork beside my plate, sat back, and folded my hands in my lap.
My mother looked at my father, waiting for him to begin. He was silent.
“We have a surprise,” my mother announced.
“Greta, we should postpone this…until after the picnic,” said my father.
“Nonsense; now is perfect. Your father and I have secured you and Ana an apartment.”
“An apartment…for what?” I asked, baffled by whatever reaction my mother had assumed this announcement might create.
“A place to live. You both will receive your placements tomorrow, and since a place has become available, you and Ana could be roommates. Moving out is part of maturing and making a life for yourself. You will have privacy and begin dating. It will be the next step in your maturing.”
“You’re kicking me out?” I said. I leaned forward on the edge of the chair.
“No, you don’t have to move,” said my dad. “It’s an option. These apartments become available occasionally, and your name was on the list of singles eligible for such housing.”
“And you both live here?” I asked. There was silence.
“We’ve considered moving into a townhome near the hospital suitable for couples. A growing family can take this house.” As my mother spoke, I watched my father. This wasn’t his idea.
“You’re separating,” I blurted out. Now the silence was complete. I looked at my mother and back to my father. She looked down. “Dad?”
“Nothing is decided,” he said. My mother snapped her head in his direction. Whether what he said was a lie or possibly wishful thinking, her scowl spoke volumes.
“Mom?”
“Ellis, we have done our duty by you. Now, we will take a different path,” she said.
“Duty?” I screamed. “You consider me a duty?”
“You will lower your voice. I don’t deserve to be spoken to in that manner,” she said.
“Ellis, she didn’t mean that,” said my dad.
“No, Dad, she did. She’s always felt this way. I’m meeting with Dr. Adler in a few hours, but before, I’m going to Ana’s.” I rose to leave the kitchen and turned to face my parents. “Mother, thank you for breakfast and for doing your duty.” I paraded out of the house in triumph.
My grand gesture was a failure. I had just left the house looking as if I had slept in my clothes, which was partially true, and I didn’t stop to get my bike. So now, I walked instead of rode to Ana’s house. My trip might take fifteen minutes instead of five, but I didn’t care. I wanted to think, and I wanted to forget. From a psychological standpoint, that kind of thinking should cause crazy alarms to go off. I needed Dr. Adler more than ever. Someone in my life needed to explain my mother and make sense of what my family was experiencing. Everything was unstable, and I craved normalcy. I didn’t have a fantasy with a prince on a white stallion. Happiness could be coming home from a job to a husband and family who loved one another. No judgment, no blame, and no guilt. Instead, I had aliens, apocalypse, and apathy. Bram’s craziness was enough to make my head explode. I needed someone to talk to about the gigantic load of crap dumped into my life. If I told Ana everything, I could get a small amount of relief, but she had her own issues with anger, and I wasn’t sure she could keep quiet. I remembered what Bram said, and I didn’t want her to be in danger. Dad had his own problems. I couldn’t talk to my mom because—just because. Bram was not a choice because he was a liar, lunatic, or alien. I felt alone in so many ways, and I didn’t want that life. I should be delirious with happiness—graduation, career placement, and a boy.
I pulled myself from deep thought as I passed Mr. Hap’s house. A child chased a butterfly in the yard with her parents watching. His house became available the way my singles apartment had. The parents laughed and took pictures of her; they looked joyful. I didn’t grow up that way.
I remembered my father at every point in my life, but my mom was not as involved. She was always doing something or working on something, or merely away for reasons I never questioned. Whatever our relationship, I loved her. Not in the way I loved my father, but I loved her. I tried to remember special times we’d shared. We made cakes for my birthday parties. She helped me through the awkward years between girl and teenager. She helped me pick out clothes and style my hair. When I was twelve, I had my heart broken by Tommy Trellis. She sat with me, talking and giving me fresh tissues for tears and nose-blowing, and she told me how everyone went through heartbreak. The only time I can recall my mother making a joke was when she told me Tommy had done me a favor. At first, I was angry until I asked her why. ‘Do you want to go through the rest of your life being Ellis Trellis?’ Both of us laughed so much. It was one of the few times our relationship felt normal. Mom told me she had her heart broken by someone she loved, but didn’t love her in return.
I froze. Could it be? Was my dad in love with someone else? Had he broken her heart? Was that why they were separating? I wanted to go home and tell her I was sorry for overreacting at what she said. I couldn’t imagine my father being unfaithful. If I was honest, though, they’d never acted as if they were in love. Thinking back, I never saw my father and mother kiss or hold hands. Surely, my mom didn’t mean Dad broke her heart because they were married. Perhaps she had been hurt before The End. Someone in her old life must have been her unrequited love. She’d never, even if I asked, tell me any details—not because it was forbidden to discuss old memories, but because she didn’t do heartfelt. I couldn’t imagine my mother allowing anyone close enough, giving him the emotional power to hurt her. As unkind as it sounds, I couldn’t picture her romantically involved with anyone.
