The Iron Quill (20 page)

Thinking about that predicament gave me flashbacks of Virginia. I shook my head and shuddered.

The further we climbed, the denser the woods became. It was absolutely beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine someone having a house up there.

Wes leaned over to look out my window.

“I’m sure it’s exactly what you see on your side,” I joked. “Trees.”

He laughed. “Well, that explains why he has no telephone.” He checked his cell phone, “Or cell signal.”

“Great. So we don’t have any way to contact someone in case of an emergency?”

“We won’t have an emergency, and if we do, that’s what these nice gentlemen are for.” He patted both of them on their shoulders.

“Seriously though. There are no phones up here?”

“I’m sure there are, but Dr. Carter’s father said their cabin just didn’t have one.”

“Of course,” I sighed.

“So what’s our game plan?” I whispered, suddenly, wishing I’d thought about hashing it out on the plane, instead of being too busy concentrating on relaxing my nerves.

“We’re going to wing it,” he said with a wink.

About fifteen minutes later we slowed to a stop in front of a narrow gravel driveway.

“This is it?” Wes asked.

The driver nodded. “Looks like it.”

We surveyed the area and saw a Private Property sign next to the driveway. The entrance was blocked by a chain stretching between two trees on opposite sides of the driveway.

“Looks like we’re not invited,” I said.

The driver got out and checked the chain. “It’s locked.”

“Looks like you might be right,” Wes agreed.

“So what now?”

Wes looked around and unbuckled his seat belt and then undid mine. “We walk,” he answered, flatly.

“Walk?”

“Yes. It’s obvious he doesn’t want anyone driving up there.” Wes hopped out of the car and came around to my side. “Come on. We’ll walk and they’ll keep the car here.”

“No, Sir, we stay with you.”

“No. We’ll be fine. Just stay here and wait for us to return.”

It was daylight, so they didn’t argue much, but they did give Wes one of their earpieces so they could communicate. He stuck it in his pocket, promising to alert them if we needed them.

Having no idea how long the driveway was, we headed hand-in-hand up the narrow, winding, gravel entrance. I was amazed that we still seemed to keep going upward. “How high are we anyway?”

“I have no idea, but we should be there soon.”

“So can we talk about the plan now?”

“There is no plan.” He pulled me to him and put his arm around my shoulders. “I told you. We’re winging it.”

“Wes, I know you have a plan of some sort.”

“Sophie, I just brought some pictures of the past—the same ones I showed your mother— and then we’ll see. I mean, I never planned for this day. Never in a million years did I think I’d see him again.”

“But you saw me.”

“Yeah, I did. Maybe you two should stop stalking me.”

I smacked his waist. “Right, then where would you be? No lives to save, no pressure to cure the world? How boring.”

He laughed and kissed my forehead. “I love you, you know?”

I reached up and kissed his mouth in the kind of stress-free encounter I’d missed over the past few weeks. It felt like it was just the two of us, walking on a perfect day with no worries, even if only for a moment.

About a quarter of a mile further, the narrow driveway opened up to a small clearing. At the far end, at what seemed like the edge of the mountain, was a tiny, dilapidated log cabin. An old, lonely Jeep Cherokee Classic sat in the yard to the left, covered in leaves.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked.

He took a deep breath. “We’ll see.”

He unwrapped his arms from around me and took the lead up the creaky porch steps.

“Stand behind me,” he said.

Before I could question why, the front door cracked open and the barrel of a shotgun crept out. A steady hand pointed it right in Wes’ face.

“What do you want?” a voice called from behind the door.

Wes shifted me further behind him and I buried my forehead in his back not wanting to cause us to move an inch. “I’m looking for Dr. Evan Carter.”

“What for?”

Wes’ voice was calm and steady. “I’d like to talk to him. It’s Weston. Weston Wilson.”

“You’re a fool for coming here,” the voice replied.

Apparently, Wes recognized it. He spoke directly to him. “Dr. Carter, I just need a few minutes of your time. Please.”

The door creaked open, and Dr. Carter’s voice rose in irritation. “I risked everything for you and you walk up here like you’re out for a Sunday stroll?”

At that point I felt Wes put his hands up in submission. “I’m not out for a stroll. I’m here to answer questions I know you have. I brought a friend. We’re not here to cause you trouble. Now please point that thing somewhere else.”

It was quiet for a minute and then I heard Dr. Carter ask if we were alone.

“No, I have two guards waiting for me at the end of your drive. After what happened in Virginia, people are understandably on edge about my safety. But I told them to stay put and wait for us. I just want to talk to you alone.”

Another minute of silence followed. “Who’s your friend?”

“Can you point the gun somewhere else?”

“Fine, now who is your friend?”

With that question, Wes turned himself enough to take hold of my elbow and he guided me into view, still standing between us. “This is Sophie.”

I raised my head and shook the bangs out of my face, completely nervous as to what I might feel at the sight of him and vice versa. As soon as I saw him, my breath caught. Wes was right. This was the same man. A crooked nose and different hair, but I recognized those eyes from the photo. At least that’s the way I think I recognized him. It wasn’t like I was having memories of 1916. I believed it was from the pictures of Dr. Thomas when he was younger, and seeing him now was beyond strange.

I was processing all of my thoughts about him and his young, thin appearance when it dawned on me that he hadn’t blinked one time. He just stood staring at me and then shook his head quickly like he had a headache.

“What’s wrong?” Wes asked.

“Nothing,” he said not looking back at me. “I just thought I recognized her from somewhere, but I don’t.”

“You might,” Wes responded quickly.

“What?” Dr. Carter asked confused.

“May we come in?” Wes asked without answering. “It’s important.”

After a moment of deliberation, he let us in.

Once inside, Dr. Carter locked the door behind us and led us into a kitchen/living room combo. There was a navy blue and maroon tweed sofa and two mismatched recliners with knitted throws draped over their backs. To the right was a cast-iron woodstove and the kitchen was off to the left. I didn’t see a dishwasher, or microwave. Only a small sink, refrigerator, and counters with open shelves beneath them.

It was cozy, but instantly I thought again about why he was staying here. There was no TV or any obvious sign of entertainment. This was a place to get away and clear your mind. Or hide.

Wes and I sat next to each other on the sofa and Dr. Carter sat in the chair closest to me. He looked tired and frustrated. Wes picked up on the same thing I did. I couldn’t tell if it was part of Wes’ ability to sense the mood of others or if it was the constant circular motion of Dr. Carter’s ankle as it rested on the knee of his other leg.

Either way, Wes took charge. “Are you all right, Dr. Carter?”

Waving his hand dramatically, Dr. Carter sighed. “Well, let’s see, I served in the military for twelve years, gave them my all, and because they suspected me of sabotaging their capture of you, which I did, they discharged me, and then tried to kill me.”

Wes scooted closer to the edge of the couch and perked up. “Tried to kill you?”

“In so many words, yes.”

“Because you resigned?” Wes asked.

“I didn’t resign. They forced me to. And then, let’s just say I’m smart enough to know when I’m being set up for an accidental death.”

Wes thought for a minute and then huffed. “Well, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me.”

“I guess not,” Dr. Carter responded. “So Mr. Wilson, why don’t you explain to me why you are so important that they would be willing to kill for you?”

“I don’t think it’s about me. It probably has more to do with keeping their operation a secret.”

Dr. Carter nodded slightly. “Don’t suppose I’d argue with you on that.”

Wes smiled, then took on a more serious expression and cleared his throat. “The thing is Dr. Carter, they think I have the secret to unleashing the success of their experiments, but what they don’t know is that I
am
the secret.”

My head jerked toward Wes and my eyes widened. I wasn’t so sure it was such a good idea to just come right out with it. I was hoping he would earn some trust first. Wes patted my knee as a calming measure, and then took out the envelope with the pictures in it.

“I’m not following,” Dr. Carter murmured.

From there Wes went into the same story he’d told my mom and Tom about the boy who was saved in 1916, but he didn’t show him the pictures and it took me a minute to figure out why. Because the picture was of Wes and a young Dr. Thomas. Wes hadn’t dropped that bomb on him yet, so he just kept telling the story. Dr. Carter stared at Wes the entire time he spoke.

“I’ll be damned,” he said when Wes was finished explaining the success of Dr. Thomas’ transfusion. “You’re not kidding are you? That’s why I couldn’t put the needle in you?” He dropped his head as if trying to remember it all.

“No, I’m not kidding you. You’re familiar with Dr. Thomas’ research aren’t you?” Wes asked.

“I am. Of course. But I had no idea his early experiments
worked
.” He looked baffled.

“Have you seen pictures of Dr. Thomas?”

“Um, well yes. I’ve studied his work.”

“How old was he in the pictures?” Wes asked back.

“I have no idea. I think they were from the 1950s. He was in a feature on hemophilia.”

“So he would’ve been older?”

As if a light bulb in another part of his brain went off, he ignored Wes’ question and asked another, looking directly at me. “Wait a minute, how many people know about this?”

Wes’ voice interrupted Dr. Carter’s trance-like stare, “No one else until recently, but there’s more.”

One of Dr. Carter’s eyebrows rose in anticipation.

Wes arranged his thoughts for just a moment and then continued. “I’m the only one who ages slowly and lived this long, but by some miracle, both Dr. Thomas and Amelia have returned.” He paused. “Reincarnated.”

A soft cough escaped Dr. Carter. “Reincarnated?”

“Yes.”

“So where are
they
?” Dr. Carter asked, skeptically.

I felt myself lean into Wes to offer support and also brace myself for what was coming next. I remembered how Wes first told me about the past, and my first thoughts had been that he was insane, but he has a way when he talks. There is an inclination to believe him.

“Well?” Dr. Carter prompted.

With a little bit of hesitation, Wes put one photo face down on the coffee table and slid it over to him. “This is a picture of me in 1916 beside Amelia and Dr. Thomas. It was taken right after the transfusion.”

Dr. Carter stared at the backside of the picture for a minute and then reached over to pick it up. My nerves were in knots as he turned it over. As soon as he saw it, his eyes narrowed and then he dropped it onto the table and flung himself backwards into his chair.

His head was shaking back and forth, fighting the belief of what he saw.

“What kind of joke is this?”

For the first time, I spoke up. “It’s not a joke, Dr. Carter. I didn’t believe it at first either, but it’s true. If you think hard enough, you’ll remember something. Little things that might not make sense without knowing what memories they are, but you’ll see. It’s true.”

“I don’t believe you.” His voice was flat and he stood up and made a beeline for the back porch. Wes went to stand and I held him still. “Just leave him alone. He needs some time to think about it.”

“How much time?”

I weaved my arm through Wes’ to hold him close. “I don’t know. But he’ll be all right.”

“I’m not sure, Sophie. Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here.”

I shook my head. “No, you did the right thing. He needed to know. Why else is he back? Dr. Thomas would be livid if you didn’t let him know.”

He sighed and took a few relieved but still worried breaths. I rubbed his back, hoping to calm him for once.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Me, too.”

A whole hour went by and Dr. Carter stayed out there. It had actually begun to get dark and Wes was concerned about getting back to the airport. “I should check on him,” he offered.

“No. Give him a little bit longer. He’ll come back when he’s ready to ask questions.” I had no idea if that was true or not. I just remembered how I felt when trying to reconcile the fact that Wes was a hundred years old. All I wanted to do was think about it alone, and after several hours, I remember being ready to talk to him.

“I’ll give him another half-hour, and then we have to get going.”

“Okay.” After another five minutes, I decided I was thirsty. “Do you think I can get myself a glass of water or something?”

Wes laughed. “I guess. What’s he going to do? Come inside?”

“Maybe I should get you one too, then,” I smiled.

I found an unopened bottle of water in the fridge and drank almost half of it before Wes gulped down the rest. The waiting was getting old, and I was about to start the complaining when Wes put his index finger over his mouth.

I looked around for Dr. Carter, but he wasn’t coming.

“What?” I whispered.

“Shh.”

He turned his ear toward the window.

“A helicopter is coming.” He stood up. “They’ve found him. I’m not taking my chances with another one of those. We have to go, right now.”

“What if he called them?” I started to panic.

“No phones up here remember?”

He hustled up to the door and banged his fist on it. Wes didn’t get worked up very often and seeing him like this was making me nervous.