= The Nightmare =
by
Jeanne D'eau and Cespenar
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The original seed of this tale came from a fellow writer here who asked me for a critique and to possibly illustrate or do a graphic version of it at some point. The basic concept and storyline is Cespenar's; I fleshed out the characters, backstories and settings and made a few changes. I do not often engage in collaborations of this sort, but when I do, I find those occasions to be quite rewarding. We hope you will enjoy this soft-core tale of lost love and the supernatural.
*****
"Power level?"
Dr. Carol Ponsonby looked down at her monitor. "Seven-point-five," she replied.
"Aperture?" asked her colleague – and current lover – Dr. Alan Grimm, who was watching the video screen displaying the portal in the next room.
"We're at eighteen hundred point six-two-four centimetres," Carol said.
The metallic whining that had been in the background was becoming louder as it rose in pitch.
That isn't right,
Carol thought. She looked up just as a bright, blinding flash of light like an arc welder's flame appeared on the video monitor. For a brief second, she thought she saw something in that preternatural flame – then quickly shielded her eyes, despite the dark goggles she wore. At the same time, Alan quickly turned away, throwing his arms over his face. There was a loud
pop!
- then nothing.
As the whining noise began to subside, Alan looked up at the video screen and the portal.
Nothing except for a few sparks around the opening.
"Bugger all," Alan muttered.
*****
Later, Alan walked Carol out to her car, parked near his in the lot at Otherworld Research, Inc. As they strolled out the door and into the damp autumn evening, Carol held the brooding Alan's hand. It was the third time the Crossing Device had shorted out and failed.
"Perhaps we're going places we aren't meant to go," Carol said.
"What sort of rubbish is that?" asked Alan. He stopped. "Carol, you know how important this is."
"For what?" Carol asked.
For centuries, religious traditions throughout the world had held to the concept of an "Afterlife" – another plane of existence where that which was called the "soul" moved and lived after the physical body had died. After his son, a lieutenant in the Royal Marines, had been killed in Afghanistan, Alan started the Otherworld Project as an attempt to bridge the gap between physics and spirit – trying to cross from the world of the living into the world of the dead through manipulation of the time-space continuum at the quantum level. "After all," he frequently said, "religion and science are simply two different languages that attempt to describe the same phenomena."
Carol didn't disagree with the premise – and she understood Alan's obsession. She herself had lost someone she loved a few years previously. It was part of what had brought them together. Carol supposed she "loved" Alan on some level, but realized that, aside from their passion for science and discovery, they had very little in common – other than the fact that they were both wounded people, attempting to find some kind of healing – or at least relief from the pain – through sex.
Carol would never be "in love" with Alan. Not the way she had been with Therese.
As they arrived at Carol's car, Alan turned, looked into her gray-green eyes and gently brushed the light auburn curls away from her aristocratically beautiful face. "May I come stay with you tonight?" he asked.
Carol smiled at Alan. "I'm feeling rather drained," she replied. "Tomorrow?"
Alan nodded. "Of course." He leaned in to kiss her. She turned and offered her cheek. For some reason, she didn't want physical contact with him right now.
"Goodnight, then," Alan said. He turned and started over toward the vintage Jaguar XKE that had been his son's pride and joy.
At thirty-two, Carol was a good twenty years younger than Alan.
He's a good chap
, she thought, watching the aging – but still handsome and virile – Dr. Grimm moving toward his car.
A shame I can't love him the way he deserves.
As she got into her own vehicle, Carol thought about what the poor man had been through – losing his wife of twenty-five years and then his only son within the space of six months. Small wonder he was obsessed with the Otherworld Project.
Driving home to her flat, Carol suddenly remembered what night it was.
*****
Carol and Therese had been close childhood friends. It was an odd friendship. They were opposites in many ways; physically, Carol had been a pale, homely-looking girl with freckles. Therese, whose mother had come from Barbados, was a dusky-skinned beauty with dark eyes and hair. But those were just the superficial differences; Carol had been a withdrawn, moody and studious child, while Therese was talkative, merry and outgoing. Perhaps it had been their differences that had drawn them together.
Then, Therese's parents had divorced. When they were twelve, Therese's mother took her back to Barbados. Carol had been heartbroken, but the two kept in touch through letters, then later, through e-mails and online chat rooms.
During her teen years, the awkward, plain-looking girl who was Carol Ponsonby blossomed into a beautiful young woman, with a stunning face and figure to match. By the time she started her studies at the University of Cambridge (which she chose primarily because it was the alma mater of Stephen Hawking), she found it difficult to avoid the constant attentions of men. She availed herself of lovers periodically, but refused to get emotionally involved with any one man. To Carol, sex was simply an appetite, like hunger or thirst. Still, she had found her experiences with men to be unsatisfying in some undefined way – even with men skilled in sexual techniques and able to bring her to orgasm repeatedly. Most often, she simply took matters into her own hands.
When Carol was twenty-seven, two things happened. First, she received her doctoral degree in theoretical physics.
The second thing was Therese's return from Barbados. It was her intent to pursue an acting career on London's West End. She had also fallen in love with a fellow actor who appeared in frequent productions.
Their reunion was joyous. Therese had become as much a beauty as Carol. They spent almost all their free time together, picking up their friendship where it had left off years earlier.
Eventually, they rented a flat together. Therese's boyfriend, who had immigrated to the UK from Romania, was an odd bird. Therese had met Radu Tepescu when he'd come to Barbados on holiday. Carol met him on a few occasions when Therese brought him home to their flat. He was pale, with piercing dark eyes, a hawk-line nose, almost arrogant cheekbones, a chin chiseled from stone, and black hair. He spoke very little. He made Carol nervous – but she supposed that if he made Therese happy, that was that.
