Infinite Ends: Layer, #2

CHAPTER 1

Talia sat beneath her favorite tree, at the edge of an endless field that stretched toward the horizon line.

The gnarled limbs and soft, graying bark of the old White Oak comforted her. She sat crying, eyes squinched tight, her countenance set in an ugly grimace. Her mouth opened and closed, wordless, broken sobs coming out. Hot tears flooded down her face, a letter crumpled in her shaking hand.

Talia wiped her eyes, smoothed it out, and read the letter again, hoping it would say something else. The words on the page began to jumble and blur as the fresh water building up in her eyes blinded her. The sky grumbled, and the clouds started to blacken and roll, agreeing with her about what kind of day it was turning out to be.

Dear Miss Miller, We regret to inform you...

Talia folded the letter into its carefully creased thirds, and placed it in its envelope. She leaned her head back against the wide, shady tree. All of her hard work and sacrifice felt worthless, now. Her plan had backfired. I'll never get out of this God forsaken town.

Her nose began to swell, her eyes were red and raw. Everything she had dreamed of was all crashing down. What am I supposed to do now? She dropped her head into her hands, bracing her elbows on her knees. Little raindrops melted on her skin. When the tempo increased, she hopped to her feet, jammed the letter in her book bag, and headed for home.

It had been an intensely hot summer, moist and punishing. Usually, she enjoyed the rain showers that were a welcome companion to the dank humidity, but Talia could tell a big storm was coming, and she didn't want to get soaked through. Thunder cracked, loud and close. She picked up her pace.

The rain felt good on her hot cheeks, at least it would erase evidence of her tears. Talia followed the path back through the woods, that led to her backyard. There were trails cleared all over the property. This was the one she used the most; it led to the meadow, where she liked to sit and read, or listen to music.

Talia lived with her uncle, Alan, in a trailer on the outskirts of town. She liked him well enough and was grateful he’d taken her in when her mother died. Their home may not have been anything special, but the land it was on was another matter. Talia had been roaming it since she was a young girl. The fresh air and solitude gave her space to play, and later to dream, and think.

Adventuring out of doors was what had first given her the idea of becoming an Archaeologist. The thought that she could unearth an undiscovered civilization, people and their things, from another time, fascinated her. As a child she pretended more than once that she was on a dig, using sticks to poke holes in the dirt, and dusting off smooth rocks with handfuls of pine needles.

The woods didn’t seem  quite as magical to her now as they once had, but when she lay in bed at night, or walked out on the trails, she sometimes felt it was all still possible.

The trees began groaning in protest as the wind pushed them harder. Small branches fell on the path around Talia. She ran the rest of the way. When she came to the clearing that opened into her backyard, she bent for a moment, catching her breath. Alan was home. His pickup was parked in its place next to the house. Great. What am I going to tell him?

Alan had encouraged her to pursue college, and had covered the cost, besides what state grants offered, out of his own pocket. She hated to let him down... even more than herself. He’d let her stay when she finished high school, so she could go to the local university branch. Alan had clapped and hollered louder than anyone, when she walked across the stage and graduated.

Talia had been applying for scholarships to graduate programs in Archaeology Studies for some time. Talia had top grades, and expected to be able to surprise Alan with good news of a scholarship from atleast one program. Her throat constricted. The sixth denial letter was burning a hole in her book bag.

The joy of acceptance into her school of choice had completely diminished. Even with all she had saved, it wasn’t enough. What did it matter, if she couldn’t pay to go? Resentment and anger began to throb in her heart. Talia had known it was a long shot, but she’d let herself believe she had a chance at freedom, at greatness.

With a sigh, she put one foot in front of the other, making her way to the back door. Suddenly, the house started to shake. She stopped. I must be losing it. She wasn’t imagining it, though. The trailer seemed to be shaking.

She heard short screams. It sounded as though someone was being thrown around inside. She heard thuds against the walls, then a huge smashing noise. There was one final cry that stopped before it was finished. Talia trembled from head to foot.

A strange dark figure, blurry, streaked out of the front and down the driveway so fast it barely registered in her brain. Dread took over all her senses, total shock rooting her to the spot she stood in. After a moment she recovered enough to move, thinking of her uncle. Book bag still strapped tight to her back she raced to her backdoor, feet pounding up the stairs. She burst through.

Uncle? she screamed. Uncle Alan?

The coffee table was obliterated, broken glass all over the floor. The couch looked as though it had been shredded by a monster, one with huge claws. Flaps of fabric hung back like meat off the bone. Stuffing was scattered around the room. The tv was unharmed, just a black box gleaming amongst the rubble. The few pictures that she’d put up around the room were shattered too, frames bent and broken in half.

Who did this? Why?

Talia called again, Uncle Alan! Where are you?

She heard a tiny groan come from the kitchen; it was partially blocked from view by a dividing wall. She could barely bring herself to step around it.

Uncle? she called again, softer, her voice so shaky it was a surprise any sound came out.

Talia felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The fear was breathing down her neck. She stepped around the glass; there were gummy red splatters all over the floor. An overturned ashtray lay by the fridge and ripped up pieces of paper were scattered everywhere. One last time she called him, scarcely breathing the words.

Uncle.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she flung her hands up over her mouth. Her uncle was laid out on the kitchen table, a puddle of blood spreading around him. His clothes were ripped and he bled from long deep cuts all over his body. There were spatters of gore on the stove, the walls, everywhere.

She sobbed, willed herself to wake up from this awful nightmare, but she didn’t wake up. Talia stumbled over to him, gasping for air. She wanted to lift him up, then thought better of it. He was opening his mouth, struggling to say something.

Call. he managed before coughing up a fresh stream of blood. His eyelids fluttered in a fragile way; it seemed like he was going to try to speak again.

Call? Who do you want me to call? Oh, of course. 911. Who else would I call? Talia was babbling in an incoherent panic.

Alan lifted one finger and touched her face. It calls you.

What? she cried. What calls? Her voice seemed so loud and strange compared to the calm expression on her uncle’s face.

It calls you. The way it did her. I love you Talia. I tried. His eyes looked very sad then, and he closed them for the last time. 

CHAPTER 2

Talia grunted as she set down one of the heavy boxes by the front door. She brushed her hands together, dusting them off, and took a deep breath. She let the air out with a woosh.

She walked into her uncle’s room and surveyed the miniature mountains around her. There were piles of clothes, shoes, a mess of papers, and knicknacks. It had been two weeks since Alan’s death.  It made her anxious being in his space.

Seeing all the work left to do made Talia groan in despair. She picked up a pair of faded blue jeans off the bed, and tossed them into an open trash bag. Everything needed to be taken to a donation center. She was considering selling his truck, and had been avoiding looking over the will. She hadn’t even known there was a will, until Alan’s lawyer called her a couple days after he passed.

Sometime after Alan died right in front of her, Talia managed to pick up the phone and dial 911. The rest was a blur. She waited on the front steps, gripping her cell phone and keys. She couldn’t stay inside with all that blood everywhere. The police showed up first, ambulance wailing a close second, and the fire truck not far behind. Her ears were impervious to the sharp noises.

The first cop rushed up to her, had to shake her shoulders to get a response. She just nodded her head backward, toward the door. They moved around her gently, like she was a stone in the river.

She could hear them inside, boots shuffling, their gasps of shock echoing around the small space. They shrank back from the mutilated body of her uncle. Probably the most gruesome thing some of these hicks have ever seen. She heard someone throw up.

Talia stayed at a hotel close by for a week while the Police conducted their investigation. It was miserable at work. People tried so hard not to stare at her, it was almost comical. No one said a word to her about it, though. She was friendly enough with the people she worked with, but had not made any real friendships or started any romantic relationships. It was easier that way, to focus on her goal of moving on from Martin.

All the funeral arrangements had been made ahead of time, another thing she found out from the lawyer, Mr. Mason. She was surprised. Talia had never taken her uncle for one to be so prepared. At the recommendation of the coroner, a special cleaning company went ahead of her to clean the house before she braved going back in. She had to admit, they’d done a great job, but the image of the bloodstained walls and broken glass was permanently burned into her memory.

Talia threw the last tee shirts into a shopping bag, and put them by the door with all the other things. After she loaded the truck, she went into his bedroom one last time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. In his closet hung the one thing she didn’t want to part with: a sleek, black leather motorcycle jacket that had belonged to her mom, Vanessa. It was the only thing left of her.

It seemed a little weird that he had it, but Talia guessed it was all he’d had left of her, too. Now brother and sister were together again. Maybe. She stroked the leather just once, down the sleeve, then took it off the hanger and shrugged it on. It felt... just right. The jacket reminded her of good times, but like most of her memories, even the good ones were tinged with pain.

CHAPTER 3

Talia reminded herself to breathe in and out when she got to the lawyer’s office. When she pushed open the door, it scraped over carpet, and a little bell jingled.

So many of the shabby, ancient mill homes in town had been redone into businesses; for the best, since they really weren’t suitable for living in. It was quiet. No one was at the reception desk. She spotted Mr.Mason through the open door of one of the rooms. He stood and smiled.

Ah. Talia, come in. He motioned to a chair in front of his desk, then went around to his own.

Talia took a seat as he closed the door, straightening her spine as much as she could. Hello Mr. Mason.

How are you dear? he said.

Talia gave him a grim smile. Fine, and you?

I’m also fine. Thank you for asking.

They both knew she wasn’t really all that fine, but Southern manners weren’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

Well, I guess we shall get to it. Mr. Mason said. I know you may have some questions, but if you don’t mind, let me just lay everything on the table for you, and then I will try to answer anything you wish to ask.

Of course. Talia tried not to squirm in her seat. 

Mr. Mason was a nice older man, she guessed in his late fifties or early sixties. Talia had seen him around town on occasion, and in the diner where she worked. He opened the filing cabinet drawer next to his desk and pulled out a manila envelope with her name on it. He laid a sheet of paper in front of her. It was the deed to her Uncle’s house. He tapped it.

Now, he said, touching all his fingertips together, According to the will left by your uncle, you are the last remaining and sole heir to his property, which entitles you to everything he owns. This includes his truck, his house, and his land.

He pulled out the deed to the land and laid it next to the first piece of paper. Talia opened her mouth to say something, but it had gone totally dry.

Mr. Mason went on. Your uncle, as you know, was not a wealthy man, but he was smart with his money. He has left provision enough to pay all the home and land taxes for, oh, the next ten years. He left instructions for his bank accounts to be closed and the contents passed to you. You are the new owner of all I have previously mentioned. Your uncle did pay me a small yearly fee, to retain my services as an estate manager. If you wish to keep it that way for the time being, provision has been made for that as well.

What does that mean? Talia asked.

Mr. Mason fluttered his fingers. It means that I take care of the little details. I pay the taxes when they are due, things like that. He paused. Alan mentioned that you would probably be going away to school in the fall, last time I saw him. If you leave town, it would be helpful to keep me on so that you wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of the place while you are gone. I can drive out and check on it a couple times a week, or can help you find someone to rent it if you like.

Talia was dazed. That's definitely a lot to think about.

Yes it is. he said. I’m going to let you take this with you, and look it over. Just come back in the next couple of days... once you’ve had a little time to process.

Talia lowered her head and took a deep breath through her nose. She was overwhelmed. When she looked up she caught a sad look on Mr. Mason’s face.

This all must be very difficult. he said.

Talia just nodded, her throat feeling thick.

I know you must miss your uncle, and this whole business is terrible. Alan was a respectable man. This world has become a dangerous and scary place, and I know it won’t make you feel better, but you are lucky that he went to such extents to make sure you were provided for in the event of his... well... Mr. Mason trailed off.

No. You’re right. Talia said. I am so grateful.

Too many things in life are left unexplained. he said.

Talia dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from his desk. Thank you Mr. Mason. I’ll be in touch. She rose, shook his hand, and left.

#

Talia sat at her own desk later that night, brain feeling like it might dissolve. She spinned the envelope around and around. With a sigh she ran a hand over her face, and opened it up again.

Her eyes scanned the pages quickly and put them to the side, reaching in for the smaller sealed envelope. It was all of Alan’s banking information. When she pulled the papers out, a key flung out with them. She picked it up off the floor where it had landed and placed it down gently. There, on the first page... listed with the accounts, a safe deposit box.

Her uncle had never seemed mysterious to her in life, but now Talia wondered at all the intrigue. What did he have to hide? Her curiosity was thoroughly piqued, but it was too late to go to the bank. She put everything back inside the manila envelope neatly and stuffed it under some pants in her bottom dresser drawer.

She wasn’t sure why she felt the urge for subterfuge; she was all alone. Alan’s murder had been so strange. It made it seem like maybe he had been hiding something, and she didn’t know what, but she didn’t want someone else to find out first.

CHAPTER 4

The next morning Talia didn’t waste any time getting to the bank. She pulled into a parking space exactly fifteen minutes after they’d opened. She didn’t want to seem too eager, though she doubted very much the employees cared who came at what time. The teller led her to a vault door and had to key in a code to unlock it.

How long do you need in here? the teller asked.

I don’t think it will take me long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Talia shrugged, anxious.

Alright. The teller smiled. Just come find me when you’re done hon, and we can open your account and make the necessary transfers of your uncle’s assets.

Great. Okay. Thank you. Talia said.

She walked into the room feeling a little jumpy. Talia made sure the door was shut behind her, then walked closer to all the little squares, examining the numbers. They looked like PO boxes at the post office. Nothing really special, but who knew what they held.

She found Alan’s number, in the lower left corner of the back wall. Talia realized she was holding her breath and let it out, putting the little key into the lock. The door opened and she pulled out a long, metal box. It wasn’t very heavy but she could tell whatever was inside took up most of the space. Her hands trembled as she took the box to the small table in the middle of the room. Here we go. She pulled back the lid.

Wow. Another stack of papers.

She  snorted, feeling simultaneously disappointed and relieved. She didn’t know what she’d thought it was going to be, something a little more exciting. Her smile faded as she pulled out the bundle. It was a stack of letters, with blank sheets of paper wrapped around them and then rubber banded.

Talia pulled the rubber band and blank sheets off. The letters were addressed to her uncle, a PO Box with no return address. Great, so he has one of those too. She pulled the first envelope out of the stack. It felt a little weird, like she was reading his diary, or doing something bad, but he’d left her these things on purpose.

Talia rifled through the letters. All of them were simple correspondence with a female dated several years in the past. She didn’t notice anything special about them until the signatures caught her eye. Love, Vanessa.

Vanessa. My Vanessa?!

She skipped to the next letter, pulling it out less carefully.

My mom isn’t alive. These letters have to be from someone else. Just a coincidence. Someone with the same name. Then why did he save them?

The next letter started with Hey Brother! and ended with the same signature. Love, Vanessa. Talia shut her eyes. This was... too much. She shoved all the letters away. Why would they lie? Why did she leave? The questions swarmed and circled in her head like vultures.

She got up, wringing her hands. The air felt very stuffy. I can’t do this right now. Talia shoved all the letters back inside the box and slammed the lid. She locked it back up... then changed her mind. She sat on the ground, legs crossed. She opened the lid with a huge sigh and pulled the letters out again. Talia began to read them one by one. When she was through, Talia took the whole stack and stuffed them in her purse.

As she closed the case lid, Talia noticed something glinting up at her from the bottom. A necklace. Lightest silver with pure blue stones that varied in shade. It was so beautiful. It must have been hers. But why keep it here?

Feeling self conscious about the time she’d spent, she left the vault and returned the key to the teller.

Long after she pulled out of the parking lot, Talia still drove, aimless, thinking. The letters alluded that Vanessa left to take care of family business in North Carolina. More specifically, she’d mentioned weird things like beating him once and for all and cleaning up her mess and not wanting him to find her. It didn’t really make any sense.

Finally, she pulled into her driveway and sat there, contemplating all that had changed. As she mused, an idea came to her. She wanted to know more about the letters, not to mention if Vanessa was still alive.

Something had to have been seriously wrong for Vanessa to go to the extent to fool her own daughter, for years, into believing that she was dead. Then, Alan’s real death had been so sudden, but atleast she’d seen him dead with her own eyes. Talia didn’t want to be next, which she reasoned might happen if she stayed at the house.

She’d always wanted to travel, and see different places. It dawned on her that just because she hadn’t gotten the scholarship didn’t mean she couldn’t leave and go... somewhere. There was nothing holding her back now. Not even money. Besides what was in her own savings, Alan had left plenty to go on.

Talia started her car and reversed back down the drive. She drove back to town, gleeful this time, unable to quit smiling. She parked at the diner where she waited tables, marched right in, and quit. Afterward, she went around town to shop for a few travel supplies and made a mental list for the next day. Music blared from her open windows, and she sang along, happy.

CHAPTER 5

Talia