Silent Mountain: Chapter 1-B

The memory had faded, it never left, but it did grow dimmer. Three years later, Ian was far to occupied with life to worry about incidents long past. In the intervening time, Ian had found work at the only news station in the Silver Springs area.

He was out on a simple assignment today, shooting some footage for a story on a local bank. It was drizzling outside, which got on his nerves a bit as he unloaded his equipment from the company van. He shook himself off and headed inside the bank, introducing himself to the teller as he entered.

“Hey, Ian Elliot, Channel 4 News,” he said enthusiastically, offering a handshake.

“You need to check in with boss,” the bored looking teller droned, with out looking up, “Through that door.”

Ian looked in the direction she pointed, nodding. He was rather annoyed with her rudeness, on top of everything else, but headed towards the door. Upon entering he saw a small desk with an elderly secretary behind it. Secretly he wondered how old she could be, and how she still functioned. He often had such thoughts, much to his chagrin, so he pushed aside and before he had a chance to introduce himself, she struck up conversation.

“Oh! You must be that news man who’s going to film us. It’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

She excitedly shook his hand as she stood up from her desk.

“Yes. Ian Elliot . . .”
Before he had a chance to finish she was chattering away again.

“I don’t know if Mr. Morey is in, just one second, sweetie.”

With that she hobbled into the office behind her desk. Ian stood for a moment, but as one second turned into several, he decided to sit down.

One second, turned out to be quite the exaggeration. Ian began wondering what they could possibly be doing in there. He had never been very good at waiting and soon began fidgeting and studying the room in detail.

Before long, his eyes fell upon a small basket of fruit sitting on a small table by the wall across from him. For some reason he felt strangely drawn to the basket, focusing intently on it. Soon he felt the whole room fade away, then the basket, then one by one each fruit until all he noticed was one solitary kiwi. His entire mind seemed to be focused on that one fruit. It was a rather curious sensation, he felt, like a rush of energy, almost a muse you might say. Then he did it.

He was quite sure how he had done it, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had. As he focused on the fruit, suddenly it burst into flames. He was well aware that he should be frightened by this, but he wasn’t. In fact he actually found it quite exhilarating. The feeling of pure flame, under his control, the power of the untamed fire, was pure adrenaline. He soon found that he could make the flame bigger or smaller, hotter or colder. It was his flame.

He wasn’t quite sure how long this had gone on, before he heard the scream. Time lost all meaning to him, once he discovered what he could do. The blood-curdling sound he heard when Morey’s secretary re-entered the room quickly pulled him from his trancelike fixation and the room suddenly reappeared. He watched as the last burning embers of the fire died down in the now incinerated kiwifruit. The secretary stood horrified, but Ian didn’t even notice. All he could do was stare in awe at the burnt remains he had made.

**********

It was a slow morning for Helen. She managed to sleep in until noon, before Perry burst into her room.

“Hey, you gonna sleep all day?” She yelled piercingly.

“Yes!” Helen yelled grumpily, rolling over and pulling her blankets up above her head.

“Come on! It’s almost twelve!”

“I don’t feel well,” Helen mumbled, “Let me sleep.”

Perry furrowed her brow trying to determine if this was just a ploy to get more sleep. She waited a moment before Helen popped up from the bed looking haggard.

“Have I ever told you, you are the most annoying roommate in the world?” She grumbled.

“You just did. Do you really feel sick?”

“It’s my back,” Helen said rubbing just below her shoulder bone, “It feels like I . . .”

Helen stopped, suddenly, and a horrified expression crossed her face.

“Helen? What’s wrong?” Perry questioned, concerned for her friend’s well-being.

Helen did answer but jumped up and ran into the bathroom off her room. She looked in the mirror as she reached her hand down the back of her shirt feeling around between her shoulders. Perry rushed in behind her and reached for the back of her shirt.

Helen pulled her hand away and a cold, pale look crossed Perry’s face as she gently moved the shirt to see the place Helen had been rubbing. There she saw two rather sizeable bumps protruding from the back.

“What is it?” Helen asked, her voice quavering.

Perry didn’t want to reply. She couldn’t find her voice. Letting go of the shirt, she backed slowly away.

“We need to get you to a doctor.”

**********