Called to Order (5 page)

Chapter 4

The hum started again and Adam stared at the metal grates, amazed, as a breeze of chilled air blew into his face. Fascinating. He wondered how the mechanism worked. Did it somehow involve ice? There were all kinds of interesting things that occupied his time as he waited for the sun to set. For instance, one amenity that captured his attention was the switch in the washroom that turned on no lights but instead triggered some sort of humming device attached to the ceiling. It didn’t expel air like the contraption he was looking at now. He couldn’t figure out what the washroom vent was used for. Perhaps it was just a noisemaker.

He had found lodging at a hotel owned by a man named Howard Johnson. The rooms were grand with two large beds. In the corner there was a round table and a chair that rolled. The washroom had running water that heated on its own and a tub with a rainspout. The floors were covered and there was even a telephone and television similar to the ones he spotted in some of the shops in town. Although Amish were not permitted to have electrical lines running to their homes, Adam had read that some sects possessed a telephone shed where members could make calls in an emergency. However, his order had no such luxury.

When Adam arrived, he’d placed his hat on the bed and hung his clothes in the closet. Too tired to explore the new environment, he simply shut the curtains and collapsed into bed. He slept soundly until someone who thought his name was Housekeeping woke him up. As politely as he could, being half asleep, he explained to the small woman that his name was Hartzler, not Housekeeping, and shut the door. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but the woman had woken him from a dream.

Oddly enough, the dream took place back on the farm. A quilt Adam recognized as one his sister Larissa had sewn many years ago lay in a patch of sunlight on the lush, green lawn of an unworked field. Again, he could not make out his mate’s appearance. She was merely a beacon of soft light warming his side. They lazed in the sunshine, surrounded by the scent of honeysuckle, yet there had been no sign of the vine.

Adam rested on his back, draping his arm over his eyes, and smiled. His mate rested on her belly to his left and hummed a song he did not recognize as a Christian hymn or an English work song. She cradled a young barn kitten in her arms and teased it with a lock of her hair.

Her hair had been the most radiant shade he had ever seen. He had heard that sometimes the English changed the color of their hair using a type of wash and wondered if his mate had done such a thing. Long and flaxen brown, her hair appeared ordinary, but once out in the sunshine, shocks of red and gold glimmered throughout. He had no idea what such a color was called. It was more rust colored than orange, more bronze than brown.

He knew it was against their faith to take such pride in her beautiful tresses. The Bible stated that if long hair is a glory to a woman, it shall be covered. Yet he continued to be as mesmerized with it as the kitten.

He was fascinated with the way it coiled around his fingers. It seemed alive, the way he could pull it tight and it would spring back in to a curl the moment it was released. It was softer than silk and as glossy as a starling. He simply twirled it through his fingers as she hummed and sang to the kitten.

Her voice was light and tinkling, almost
kintish
, childlike. She was not a singer by gift but because she found pleasure in the words. He listened as her song became a beautiful sonnet of love and time. The words crested past her lips and tickled his ears in between small bouts of humming. “
There is no one who compares with you. And these memories lose their meaning when I think of love as something new…
” She hummed for a moment, and nestled her cheek against his fingertips. “
I know I’ll often stop and think about them, in my life I love you more.
”

“That’s beautiful,” Adam heard himself whisper.

“Have you never heard The Beatles before?”

“I know what a beetle is.”

“Not the bug.” She giggled, another magical sound she often made. “The band. They were an English rock band formed in Liverpool during the 1960s. They were quite famous. Still are. That song is called ‘
In My Life.’
It’s one of my favorites.”

“I enjoy it when you sing.”

“Music is something I think I will miss.”

“There are no laws against singing,” he reassured her.

“When others hear my voice that may change.” She laughed then her voice grew more serious. “When will you get there?”

“Where?”

When she didn’t answer, Adam opened his eyes, but she was fading away. The kitten chased a ribbon of amber hair as it disappeared into nothingness. Just as he was struck with a sense of emptiness, her voice whispered through the breeze as if carried by the wind, “Come find me, Adam. And we will dance to
The Red Album
.”

That was the moment he woke up to the sound of incessant knocking. He returned to his bed and tried to find her again, but his dreams were only glimpses of broken, sporadic images that didn’t make much sense to him. He saw a road sign with a number one, blue fabric, some kind of device shaped like the letter
Y
with a circle pendant, and salt being poured.

He awoke late afternoon and decided to use the washroom to clean up. The lever that released the water in the bath did not require pumping. Water simply flowed from the pipe. It took a few tries, pressing and pulling different handles, but eventually he discovered how to work the higher spigot and water fell over his body like rain. Unlike rain, though, this water was hot, almost unbearably so.

After finishing his ministrations, he poked around the room waiting for the sun to set. Adam recorded his dreams in the journal his grandfather had given him and then waited. He decided he would set out just before sunset. He wanted to purchase a bag that would be easier to travel with.

Growing restless, he began searching through drawers. He found the Bible and was about to pick it up to read when a small black object caught his eye, distracting him from the book. It resembled a telephone, but there were no wires. He flipped open a small compartment and saw batteries. He recognized the batteries because they sometimes used them on the farm for emergencies. He replaced the cover and cautiously pressed a button on the other end.

The room suddenly filled with shouting, and Adam jumped. The device had switched the television on. A loud English man in a formal jacket with a mustache smiled and said in a thick twang, “I want you to imagine with me, if you can, that you have been stuck, trapped in a space that is so disgustingly full of junk that you can barely walk, let alone find a place to lay your head.” Adam immediately did as the man said and imagined the livestock barn at home. What he saw next he was not expecting. Images of a home filled with random objects from floor to ceiling showed on the television. He sat, mouth agape, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. Was this how the English lived? There were piles upon piles of filth, food covered with webs and insects, yellow ribbons littered with insect corpses hanging from the ceilings, boxes overflowing with gadgets, rumpled clothing, more food. People and animals navigated through the clutter. He had no idea how someone could accumulate so much stuff.

When the man with the mustache appeared on the television again, a woman called him Doctor Phil. The man called Doctor Phil then called the woman a pathological hoarder. Adam didn’t know what that meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to see any more, yet he couldn’t seem to make his hand shut off the television. He was so disgusted by what he watched, yet his eyes seemed reluctant to blink.

He was fascinated that a box could produce voices and show people as if they were sitting right before him in this very room. An hour later the sun was lowering and he still did not understand why anyone would want so many possessions. The only thing he understood from watching an hour of television was that he wanted to return home as soon as possible. Not wanting to waste another moment in a world he didn’t understand, Adam retrieved his hat and suitcase and left.

Adam found his way to a Walmart, and that was another experience. There were such stores by his home, and he had visited them a time or two before, but here people looked different. They moved faster and did not seem to hear as well either. He asked a woman where he might find a pair of
sun
specs
and she did not seem to hear him. He asked another woman, and she looked at him like he was a
dummkup.
He eventually found what he needed on his own. The farther east he traveled, this being the farthest he had ever been from home, the stranger people looked at him. It occurred to him he might have better luck with more English looking clothing.

He found denim pants on a rack that looked to be his size. He noticed people around here didn’t wear suspenders, so for the first time in his life he tried on a belt. It felt odd. He also found a pack large enough to hold his items.

At the checkout he asked the clerk if she knew of a road called One. She asked him if he meant Route One. He wasn’t sure, so he said yes. After paying for his items, he used a public washroom to change and headed in the direction the clerk told him he could find Route One.

It didn’t take long for him to see a sign identical to the one in his dream and know he was heading in the right direction. His instinct told him to continue north, so that was exactly what he did.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, long after the passing traffic had disappeared except for a random vehicle quietly whooshing down the road every few minutes and sometimes the louder rumbling trucks, Adam decided he should stop and feed. He saw a wild doe in a wooded area off the shoulder of the road and drew its attention. Speaking in soft tones he lured the animal closer. When she was finally within reach, he grabbed hold of her and sunk his teeth through her fur and into her flesh. Moments later he released the animal from its trance. She unfolded her legs and stood eyeing him curiously, as if wondering where he’d come from, then scampered off.

Adam continued on his journey, keeping to the underbrush of trees along the highway, until he approached a sign for a place called Bensalem. He stared at the sign, wondering why it gave him pause. He was about to move on when an automobile sped by, its headlights flashing briefly over the sign. It was then he saw the white buds growing from the vine climbing up the metal signposts and could scent the fine perfume lacing the air. Honeysuckle.

He was on the right track. He had to be. Adam smiled as his confidence renewed. Before heading toward the town of Bensalem, he plucked a white blossom from the vine. Just as in his dream, he snapped off the tapered end of the bud and withdrew the threadlike filament. On the tip rested his reward, a tiny pearl of honey. He drew the nectar into his mouth and savored the pure sweetness that touched his tongue.

Something deep inside of him began to purr. She was closer than he thought. Just as the nectar called to him, so did her blood, just as sweet. He shut his eyes and savored the delicate flavor dissolving onto his tongue and imagined his mate’s blood in its place. His body hardened and his fangs lengthened just as his beast’s instincts took over. Tossing the drained blossom to the ground, he turned and swiftly headed south.

Chapter 5

Annalise had no idea where she was. It was daylight yet somehow still dark. Insects chirped and hummed while frogs called and birds sung. It was a kind of natural applause that only grew and grew until she could hear nothing else but the cacophony of rushing insect cries blending together into a steady screech. Louder and louder, it seemed like the creatures were screaming at her. She covered her ears and tripped over a large fern. Looking up, as the bugs and crawlers continued to yowl, she realized she was under a canopy of trees. Was she in a rainforest?

The steady thrum of noise became unbearable. She could feel the hair follicles in her ears vibrating. Something buzzed past her and shrieked. This place was frightening. A new hum entered the barrage, a low and deep moaning sound, so many noises, but not a creature in sight.

Something tickled her shoulder, and she jumped, swatting at whatever it was. Her breath hitched as another animal shrieked and she could take no more. “
Stop!
” All at once there was nothing but deafening silence.

Slowly, very softly, gentle echoes of trickling water reached her ears. She turned and faced a curtain of vines that were not there a moment ago. Cautiously she stepped forward, separated the strands and found what looked like a small natural spring. The fern-covered ground gave way to patches of moss and wet rock beds. The scene was so serene she may have even heard the thrum of a harp somewhere in the distance.

Stepping into the secret place, she let the curtain of vines fall and stepped closer. She discovered a shallow brook babbling over the tiny valleys cut from stone. She followed the stream and smiled when she noticed a small waterfall. What was this magical place?

As she moved a branch out of her way, her eyes caught a flash of blue but only saw the trunk of a tree. She waited. She was in no rush to leave this tranquil escape. Then she saw it again, blue brighter than the oceans of the Caribbean. Not tree bark, a butterfly. How magnificent. The delicate wings stretched and contracted slowly, each move offering another flash of vibrant azure.

Gracefully, the butterfly lifted from the tree and fluttered away. She slowly followed it around a large palm and gasped in surprise at what she saw. Thousands of butterflies, wings in every color, blue butterflies, orange ones, yellow ones, green ones, red ones, black ones. She had never seen so many. And the colors were so radiant it was almost unnatural. She stepped forward.

They didn’t seem to mind her presence. As a matter of fact, some even seemed to be flying toward her. A tickling sensation traveled from her thigh to her ankle. Looking down, she gasped. She was without a stitch of clothing, but that was not what shocked her. At first it seemed as if she was wearing a gossamer skirt with a bohemian print, but she wore no clothing. Her body was being covered inch by inch with butterflies.

The butterflies that fluttered about her body, gently landing on her skin, were different. They were not vibrant, but still pretty. Their wings were crimson with hues of gold. A bold white stripe swirled down each wing, and if she looked closely she could see tiny, white, vein-like details as well. More and more came toward her, creating a cocoon over her legs, cloaking her, tickling her with their tiny feet. These airy, winged creatures closed around her so tightly they actually began to weigh her down. They covered her torso and shoulders. She gradually lifted her arm and watched as they continued to land. Astonishing. As she turned her arm this way and that, she noticed something peculiar. There was a tiny trickle of blood gliding down her fingers.

She frowned and followed the red rivulet, gently nudging the butterflies away from the source. To her horror, every butterfly she brushed away revealed a smear of blood. She began to panic and brush the butterflies more frantically, but they continued to land on her, continued to weigh her down. She suddenly felt horribly claustrophobic and weak. They climbed over her chest and around her neck. She choked, swallowing futile puffs of air as she began forcefully swatting the insects off her body. The more she flung from her body the better she could see what was happening to her. Dear God, they were drinking her blood, slurping it right up like a Monarch sips nectar.

Wounded butterflies landed on the moss-covered ground, twitching from her brutal handling, but she no longer cared. The ones that weren’t wounded only flew back to her bloodied limbs. She frantically struggled to scrape them from her flesh. They were everywhere. Too many. They were in her hair, on her eyes, her fingers. There were hundreds of them! Unable to fight them off any longer she simply began flailing about and screaming.

“Annalise!” She felt them pushing on her shoulders and jerked her body away. “Annalise! Wake up!”

Annalise shouted again then flung the covers off her body and fell out of the bed. “Oh, shit! Babe, are you all right?”

She heard Kyle’s voice, and it occurred to her that she was dreaming. Her heart was racing. She looked up and saw Kyle leaning over the bed watching her and she felt like a complete idiot. “I’m fine. Sorry. I had a bad dream.”

He reached down and helped her back into bed, taking a moment to readjust the covers. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No. You’ll laugh at me.”

“I will not!” He chuckled.

“You already are!”

Kyle took a deep breath and wiped his hands down his face. “There, I’m serious now,” he said as he tucked Annalise into his side and readjusted the covers. “Tell me about the dream.”

“I was attacked by butterflies.”

“Hmm, that does seem scary.”

“You see! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It was scary. They were drinking my blood.”

“Oh, well, you didn’t say they were vampire butterflies.”

“You weren’t there. It was like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. There were thousands of them. They were suffocating me.”

“You know, once I saw this documentary on bugs and they mentioned this butterfly in Spain called the Madrilenial that actually does drink the blood of animals.”

Annalise sat up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I may have the name wrong, but there are butterflies that do that.”

“Oh my God. Do you remember what they look like?”

“They weren’t pretty. They were kind of reddish brown with a white stripe. Wait, what are you doing?”

Annalise jumped out of the bed and paced. She couldn’t stop brushing her skin with her hands to make sure nothing was crawling on her. “That’s exactly what they looked like in my dream! How would I know that? I am so freaked out right now.” She walked over to the chair and reached for her shorts.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going home. I won’t be able to fall back to sleep anyway.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“And I have class in three hours. By the time I get home and shower it will be time for me to leave again.” She smiled reassuringly. “I need to go over some of my notes before my exam anyway.”

After gathering the rest of her items and assuring Kyle it was nothing personal, she headed out to her car. It was so damn hot this summer it was even humid when it was still dark out.

Annalise drove home in silence, unable to shake the memories of her nightmare. She had been having such vivid dreams lately, but none of them had been scary so far. Mostly they were sensual, her lazing in the sun, making love in a garden, daydreaming under the clouds while humming her favorite songs. She had been waking up so replenished it was as if those tranquil moments of respite actually happened. Last night’s dream was nothing like that.

She was sitting at a light, one of those unfair lights that stayed red for a ridiculously long time only to turn green for a millisecond before switching back to red again, when she had the oddest sensation that she was not alone.

Slowly she turned to her left but saw no one. Then she looked to her right and froze. There, four feet from her open window, stood a man in the dark. He was tall and dressed oddly for someone out at this hour. He wore jeans with a mint-green dress shirt cuffed to the elbows. He also had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a black, old-fashioned hat in his hand. He seemed to be looking at something in the wooded area past the sidewalk.

As if sensing her watching him, he slowly turned and, oh God, his eyes were so silver they seemed reflective, like a wild animal’s. They locked on her face for a moment then turned toward the traffic light just as it turned to green. He looked back at her, cocking his head as if he recognized her. Before the man did something crazy, like highjack the Steaming Turd, she gunned it and drove through the already-yellow light toward home.