Chapter 7: Laus Deo

She awoke to a blustery morning. She could hear the cars in the street below, but they did not matter. She could hear the sounds of the world waking up, but that didn’t matter either. It was the swirl of the blankets around her that did. The fading shadows across the room. They were with her. They were here bearing witness to her anguish. Why should she get up today? She had just begun to think that things mattered again and now this!? Suddenly she was angry enough to forget how sad she was and realized that she was already on her feet. So much for staying in bed, wasting away. The longing stare of the unmade bed called her back. She ignored it as if to insult her own self pity. Enough of that! Moving to the other side of the room to the dresser against the far wall, she grabbed a thin red robe that had been left carelessly on top, and swirled it about her in a flurry to cover what the world could not see and walked out into the main room of her small apartment. The TV was still on she noticed, and muted, for which she was momentarily thankful to be unable to hear the insidious commentary from the diffident talking heads. It was an affront that the scrolling bar across the bottom of the screen still taunted her with the news of Asher’s death. Although for the moment the news casters seemed to have moved on to a different story. Something to do with the Washington monument it seemed. What did that matter? Who cares about that now? She sat down on the red plush couch and switched the TV off of mute. There was a pundit on now being interviewed for his opinion on something to do with whatever was going on, she still didn’t care. Her mind wandered to the face she would not see any longer. He had been good to her. Giving her a job during the final months of his administration and taking care of her after she moved to this city to get away from the questions left behind after her father’s death. The news program switched back to the anchor with some sort of brief about a press conference that was coming up. As he droned on, she thought about Rick and the look he gave her as he left yesterday. Had it been one of remorse? Why should he feel remorse? He had been so cavalier about the hole affair from the beginning. She wondered why he had come to see her anyway. That drifted off as she felt a pang of melancholy wash over her. She almost started crying again. To fight it off she tuned back in to the TV and the starting press conference. She read the banner beneath the screen and saw that some group called Laus Humanitas was about to deliver a statement. There were a large number of people gathering at the foot of the Lincoln memorial on a stage that had been setup with bleachers with red fabric sitting on a red stage with a single podium painted red. What was with all the red she wondered? The bleachers were filling up with a random assortment of people, she assumed they must be members of this group. A processing of self important looking people began to march up from stage left towards the podium. A tall man in a grey suit approached the podium while the other 6 people gathered slightly behind him. There was an odd looking man on the far right with squinty eyes and fidgety hands that caught her attention. The camera then zoomed to focus on the man behind the podium. He appeared to be in his mid 50’s with slightly graying hair and circular glasses. It seemed as though she had seen him somewhere before. He began speaking and she wondered where she had seen him before. Something about the way he pronounced his words. Almost over pronouncing each syllable. Of course! She had seen him at Asher’s mansion at last years Christmas party. Asher had been talking to the man. Something must have upset him because he became more and more animated as he had spoken, that day, to the man who was now up on the podium. The marquee on the screen gave his name as David Baxter. Well Mister Baxter, why are you so important as to be on stage today? It appeared that she had missed most of his speech.

Laus Humanitas! Mankind Be Praised!” He said to the roaring cheers of the people gathered in the bleachers behind him and the audience below.

Whatever did he mean by that?” wondered Penelope aloud. And almost as a response there was a sharp knock at the door that caused her, in her emotional state, to jump with a slight cry. She rolled off the couch and padded to the door across the cold floor which bit at her bare feet. As she was about to look through the eyehole she heard a voice through the door.

“Ms. Baker, this is Evan Scott with Grumbs, Mccolmb, Johnson, and Hardin. I would like to speak with you briefly”

She sighed and thought “Great, more lawyers, hadn’t they had enough with her by now” She spun the lock and pulled the door back until it was caught by the chain.

“Hello, Ms. Baker I presume? I am Evan Scott with Grumbs, McColmb…”

“I heard you the first time” She said, a bit more acidic than she had intended. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m very sorry to intrude, Ms. Baker. However I need a moment of your time. I assure you it will only take a minute.” He said.

“Fine, one second please” She said as she shut the door. She turned to the mirror on the wall and examined her appearance. Her hair was slightly matted to one side of her head and her eyes were a bit red. “Perfect,” she thought. “She looked terrible, but better than she felt. He gaze drifted down to her too thin robe and momentarily she thought of getting something else to cover herself up with but gave up on that with a smirk. She hesitated for a second time and thought of splashing some water on her face but instead settled with smoothing her hair as best she could. What difference did it make. She didn’t care what this lawyer thought of her. She pulled her robe tight around her and turned back to the door. As she opened it, she was surprised to see not one, but 3 people standing in the threshold. The man, to whom she had been speaking, stood closest and seemed familiar. To his left was another man with a plain face and a mouth that turned down at the edges to give him a boring and unhappy look. To the odd mans right was a pretty young woman with blond hair pulled back into a tight bun wearing a power pant suit with a slightly upturned nose that gave her a condescending appearance.

“Please make this quick Mister…Scott was it? I was not prepared for…visitors…today as you can probably tell.”

“Ah..yes…yes, I assure you this will be quick” he said as he wrung his hands together. He was shorter than the two behind him and it made him look like some kind of mad scientist with a couple of henchmen…hench…people that is, flanking him, waiting to do his bidding on any whim. “Ms Baker. As I said before, I am here representing the firm of...” he started, but then changed to “…the firm on behalf of a very important client that would like to have a word with you. I am here to deliver this envelope…” as he was talking, the man to his right had reached into a briefcase and pulled out a large manila envelope, “and to ask that you open and review the materials at your earliest convenience. After you have reviewed these materials, you will find directions on how to contact me to arrange a meeting.”

“Who is it that has sent you here? What is this all about? What if I choose to decline?” She was in no mood for games today.

“Ah, well, ah…Ms Baker…I believe all your questions will be answered through the review of the material. I just ask that you open the envelope and follow the directions inside. And please, allow yourself a bit of privacy before opening. I am certain you will understand after you open the envelope It is of the utmost importance, not only to our client, but to you as well. I assure you.” he said, then followed with short nervous chuckle. She wondered how well someone this odd would do as a lawyer.

“Very well. Thank you Mister Scott. I trust that is all you need from me now?

“Yes. Ms baker,” he seemed…relieved…she wondered if he had been afraid she might actually throw the envelope in his face and slam the door or something. Why would he think that? Then she realized she was as good as scowling and forced her face to relax a bit as he continued “Please accept my apologies for our intrusion. I hope you have a fine day.”

“Thank you, sir.” She even managed a sort of half sincere smile as she closed the door. He was, after all, fairly courteous. She spun the lock and stood listening at the door while they walked away down the hall. She leaned back against the door and looked down at the envelope in her hands. It had nothing on the outside except for “PENELOPE BAKER” in block letters typed in one corner. It was then that she realized where she recognized the lawyer from. He was on stage with the speaker at the speech in Washington. How could he be in two places at once? She glanced over at the TV and noticed it was paused on the stage at the end of the speech. It was a DVR recording. It must have been Shiloh that turned it on. Why did she record some boring news conference? Why did she turn it on and leave? Why is it so cold in this apartment!? It seemed very random. Dismissing it, she sat down and opened the envelope. Inside was a small DVD player. There was a note attached that said “For Penelope”. She opened it and it began playing at once. It was a home movie. The camera operator panned across the room. All around were small children. Apparently it was someone's birthday. The date in the corner said “7/4/1998” That was over 10 years ago. Then a woman came out with a cake and everyone started singing the typical rendition of Happy Birthday. The name on the top of the cake matched the name in the song. Happy birthday Sarah. Why was she watching this? The little girl had black hair and big blue eyes and was completely enjoying being the center of attention. Suddenly a chill ran thorugh Penelope’s body. Through the window, behind the girl, in the yard behind the house were three men. They were obviously having some sort of argument. That was nothing special by itself. It was who the three were that made her heart skip a beat. One was the man from the speech she watched not 15 minutes previously. The other two were none other than Mr Asher Cole and Penelope’s own father, Edwin(Check) Baker. The man from the speech and Asher were talking to Penelopes father in a heated exchange. Pen could tell her father was upset by the way his right hand was wrapped tight in a ball with his index finger hooked and slightly extended. When he got mad, his arthritis would flare up causing him intense pain in his hand. How he managed to deal with those situations without completely losing it was beyond her comprehension. What could possibly be the reason for this video? Things were moving beyond mere coincidence.

In between 6 and 7

In a room, dark and cold, her fingers freezing, she slowly scans left to right and realizes a place she knows, but cannot remember. Why am I here? She thinks. It has been so much time, too much time. "I need to turn on the light" She says aloud to no one. Suddenly light blooms from the far side of the room. It seems to be radiating from under the door. The warm bright glow reaching across the empty floor. It cuts a straight line through the center of the room and stops just before her bare feet. The entire door is now a silhouette and changing. From behind her, a new light appears, angry and red. She turns and is aware of flames that are just now flickering to life. They spread to the curtains around the blacked out window and reach upward in search of the ceiling. Panic grips her heart, laced with a deep longing pain that will not subside. She is frozen by the awful sight, her legs and arms refuse to respond. Somewhere deep inside she thinks it strange that she feels no heat. But the pain! The pain is so real her lip quivers and tears begin to fill her helpless eyes. It slices her into pieces as she stares at the flames that have now flowed like water across the ceiling. The room is painted by uneven light, yellow and red and black. She senses more than hears a voice call and she turns to see a man dressed in black with a face of fire staring from burning eyes. He speaks again…"Penelope. Why?" Her heart breaks as tears fill her eyes. "Tell me, why?" He asks again. She opens her mouth to respond and the scene is swept away. She is standing at the door, still rounded in bright light, her hand inches from the handle. She glances back and sees the man with the face of fire still looking with pained eyes of flames. She turns back and the handle to the door is now in her hand. She can feel the cold metal. Strange, too strange. She turns the handle and the latch gives, steps back as the door swings in. The light washes over her arms, her face, her body. She raises her right hand to shield her sensitive eyes. One step, two, running now. The light screams. The man screams. She screams only silence. The question haunts her mind, "Pen, Why?!!..." A breeze now sweeps her long hair across her face. Her eyes adjust and she is in a field of bright green. The grasses tickle the bottom of her left hand as it hangs by her side. The eternity of green stretches forever. No sound but the soft breeze through the grass. She turns, confused and the man, the fire, and the room are gone. Only a memory and a scent of burned wood hangs in the air. There is one tree, breaking the otherwise endless field, far in the distance. She approaches, noticing the sway and drift of the breeze across the green field leading her forward. As she nears the lonely tree she sees it is twisted and burned, a deep featureless charred black. Tears fill her eyes again and she falls at the foot of the tree and buries her face into her hands. A whisper carries a soft voice to her heart. "Why?"

She awakes in strangling tangled sheets, her hair matted to her head by the sweat of the dream. Her eyes burn with the last remnants of tears. Her heart pounds in rhythm to the racing of her mind. Her head throbbing a counter point to her heart. She thinks to herself, that seemed too real. She still feels the pain in the man's eyes bearing into her. As her pulse slows and settles and her breath becomes measured, she remembers the striking similarity that the black room bears to the hotel she lived in while still in Los Angeles years ago. Why was the room on fire? She wonders. Remembering the face of the man on fire even as the dream fades from her mind, a chill runs the length of her spine to the hairline of her neck. Something about that face seems so familiar, but the harder she tries to picture it without the fire, to see the man beneath, the faster it seems to fade. Finally, with the last thought, what time is it, she settles back down and drifts to an exhausted sleep.