A Montauk Nightmare

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?" I pushed back in my seat, looking at him, confused.

"Well, I heard about them, but never saw them."

"What? That... Finn, that's crazy. That's like saying you didn't see the blimp in the backyard or the giant neon unicorn in the living room."

Looking at me incredulously, Finn seemed confused. "Jen, did you think that other people saw that? I know what you told me about, and I didn't question it, but no one saw what you described. Just you and Cynthia."

"You can't be serious. And you never said anything? Finn, everyone saw them. They were like a mile long and just sitting in the sky."

"No, honey, I'm telling you, no one saw what you're claiming. I spoke to Shiv and Mort, and even Duhn."

"What the hell do you mean 'claiming'? They were there. I'm not making this up!"

He wouldn't look at me while he spoke. Using his thumbnail, he pried up a piece of the wine cooler's label and peeled it until a small section came off. "Right, this isn't coming out the way it should. I'm not saying you're lying. I believe that you believe that's what you saw. Both you and Cynthia had just gotten out of the hospital. You had some sort of trauma. I... I'm not saying that something didn't happen. I mean, those cultists showed up intent on killing everyone, but, you know, giant life-sucking slugs from another dimension?"

What the hell was he saying? Staring at him, I grew angry and indignant. "You, you think I'm crazy. My husband thinks I've lost my mind." I stood and started pacing.

"No, Jen, it's just, I don't know. Maybe they were there, and we just couldn't see them."

"Don't try to placate me, you, you nerd!" He had the nerve to smile at me. "And don't laugh at my terms or phrases or whatever. I've had to take in half a century of pop-culture in five years. You know what I mean. Don't sit there and tell me what I want to hear to make me happy. You can be an arrogant fuck, Finn. Being smarter than other people doesn't mean you're always right."

And he was smarter than almost everyone. Siobhan told me that soon after I met her. She said that he was smarter than their mother, who was a renowned scientist and author. Finn never went to college and he was as happy talking about the Mets and his clamming as he was world politics, but he read voraciously and easily held his own in conversations with his mother, his father the university professor, or Father Jesse, the theologian.

As I clambered off the boat and onto the dock, I could hear him behind me. "Jen, don't go. Talk to me." I kept going. "I can't follow you. Don't just walk off."

I knew it wasn't fair. His legs and back had to be killing him after everything that we had done that day, but I kept going. He thought I was delusional. Did Shiv?

"Jennifer!"

I was on the grass by then. I kept walking.

FINN

I held a cold compress to the cut on my head as I sat with Mom and Dad while we played Monopoly with William. He made his own rules and we played along, happy to be together and not really caring about the game. William cared, that was for certain. He also knew exactly how much money we each had at all times. My son had memorized the values for every property card and never had to refer to the cards themselves.

He had inherited Jen's gift for numbers and it was scary to see. We hadn't had William assessed, but I thought it likely that he was a savant. Jen didn't seem to care. It wasn't a big deal to her. He was just her boy, the center of her universe. She also had all the cards memorized, so what was the big deal?

After my folks left and I let Dink out for a bit, I put William to bed. I took a bath, reveling in the hot water as it pulled the aches from the muscles in my legs and loosened my back. Jen was sitting up, reading her Kindle as I approached the bed. She was holding it too close and it wasn't the first time that I thought she might need to see an optometrist. Studiously ignoring me, she concentrated on her reading.

It broke my heart to see how upset she was. I'm not an idiot. I know how it sounds, so I stopped talking to people about it, even family, but Jen and I were different. We loved each other like you hear about in sappy love songs. It was physically painful when I thought she was angry with me, that there was some sort of separation between us.

Leaving my cane against the wall next to the bed, I slipped under the covers and lay on my right side. She ignored me. I reached over with my left hand and ran it through her hair. She ignored me. I gently took her left hand and pulled it from the Kindle, drawing it to me. I kissed her hand. She ignored me.

Whispering, I hoped she could hear my pain, my concern, my contrition. "I'm sorry. I was... insensitive. Talk to me."

She gently shook her head, put the Kindle down and spoke as she turned to me. "Finn, when I... Finn! What the hell happened to your head?"

"Oh." I had forgotten about the bandage. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Don't give me that poppycock. What happened?"

I couldn't help smiling. "I slipped, it's not a big deal. Really."

"Damnit, poppycock is real. People say that. Where did you fall?"

Pulling her hand back to me, I kissed it again. "It's fine, Jen. Just a scratch. Talk to me about what you saw and why it matters now."

She started to tear up. "Did you fall on the boat?"

"Jen..."

"Finn, did you fall on the boat coming after me?"

Why was it always this? Why is always about me and my injuries? My frustrations bled out into my voice. "Let it go, Jen. It's a fucking scratch. I'm not made out of glass. It's nothing. Just tell me what's scaring you."

Cupping my cheek, she ran her thumb just under the bandage. It took her a minute before she could start.

"When I got here from 1968, no, actually before I got here, I guess. There was a middle place. I can't describe it in any way that would do it justice. How do I put this? It felt like the center of everything. Like all of reality was tethered to this place or radiated out from it, like spokes from the center of a wheel."

She gathered herself, seemingly lost in thought.

"It felt like anything was possible there, and everything was happening there. It was like looking at the mind of God, Finn. If I looked too closely, I'd see universes being born or souls being created. It was terrifying and majestic and personal and impersonal all at the same time. And they were there. These creatures. They were starving and had been there for ages beyond counting. Don't ask me how I knew that, I just did. They desperately needed out. I could hear their thoughts, but couldn't understand them. They communicated in, in numbers and equations and formulas and in, I don't know. It was all just so cold. Mentally."

Shaking, she pulled the covers up around her.

"Jen, you wanna finish this up in the morning?"

"No, I just want to get through this. I was so ill when I, what? Transitioned? When I got here. You found me and I was vomiting blood. You brought me to the clinic and I recovered, but I had what I thought were nightmares about these creatures, but now I think it was something else. I was connected to them somehow, and they were connected to me."

Her hand shook as she took a water bottle from the dresser next to the bed and drank deeply.

"That's when my facility for numbers started. So, I was okay until that day Cynthia and I keeled over. I was in a dream that seemed like a reality. A possible future. The creatures were here on Earth and everything was dying. The plants, the people, the animals. These things fed on life and they were starving. I woke up, we got that machine working, we fought off the cultists and we lived and moved on. They didn't make it through. But I saw them, Finn. I didn't imagine it. I saw them.

And now they're back. I can't let them come here. They will suck the life out everything like the marrow from a bone. Everything will be gone. Mom and Dad, Tommy, Shiv. You, Finn. You. And, and our son. I have to do anything I possibly can."

Jennifer told me what she had experienced that night in our bed and while she was in the clinic before waking up. I accepted everything she said, but I don't know how much I believed. She desperately wanted to get back to that in-between place, or to the dreams where she had the premonitions. I didn't have a clue as to how to get to either. Thankfully, we knew a lot of odd, well-informed people.

If I don't meet you no more in this world, then

I'll meet you in the next one

And don't be late

Don't be late

'Cause I'm a voodoo child, voodoo child

Lord knows I'm a voodoo child, baby

Voodoo Child, Slight Return -- Jimi Hendrix

JENNIFER

The start was the most difficult part. How do you tell people you need to find information about traveling to different dimensions physically or through dreams? Unless you want to sound mad, you have to find a way to couch your interests. For example, you let them think you're looking for consultants for a sci-fi film you're bankrolling and then you pick the brains of these 'experts'.

One of the people we have watching over our money was in charge of new business development. After I explained what I wanted, she found a schlocky sci-fi book that was popular two years ago and optioned it. The story was about Area 51 and how the aliens were actually from another dimension. We then put a substantial deposit down on studio time at Grumman Studios in Nassau County.

Our cover was in place by noon. Enough money accelerates everything. Now we needed to hire 'consultants'. We researched some possible candidates and spoke to a few. They all fell under the categories of flakes, scam artists or theoreticians whose thinking was too abstract to be of any help.

Father Jesse recommended a professor at the Seminary of the Immaculate Conception in Huntington. The man was brilliant but crazy. That was a short and disappointing trip.

We did manage to get a recommendation from the professor to see a Dr. Prudenovis in New Orleans, so our time with him wasn't a total waste. Supposedly an expert in Louisiana Voodoo, he had special interests in what the professor called 'passages'. It sounded too vague to be useful, but we had a jet, so what the hell.

When we picked up William at Shiv's place, I made my plea.

"Look, it'll be two days at most. You can stay at our house. You and Tommy. William loves to spend time with you guys. Bring Marisol. She loves babysitting William. We'll give her, I don't know, what's a lot for a high school kid? $150 a day?"

Looking up at me, her smile crept up on us, hesitant and amused. "And if we stay at your house, you'll have both me and Dink to protect William."

"Well, yeah, but it's not that. I trust you. You don't have to have Dink there. Pete can watch Dink. But, if you're going to be there anyway..."

"Sure. We'd love to watch William. And Dink."

I kept my son up way too late that evening as we watchedLilo and Stitch twice. It was 'our' movie. I had promised that Finn and I would take him to Hawaii and he memorized every fact he could about the state. William could quote lines from the movie at the drop of a hat and when he played with Dink, the dog was often Stitch.

Shiv would indulge me and my frequent phone calls while we were gone. She would put William on the phone and he would tell me about his day, his adventures with his aunt and uncle, cousin Marisol and his best friend, Dink.

It killed Finn to bring his wheelchair, but we took it and stored it on the plane. If he grew too fatigued in New Orleans, at least we would have it with us. The jet was wheels up by 9:00 AM and we were on our way. We had no idea how soon we could get the meeting with Dr. Prudenovis, but our odds of seeing him quickly would be better if we were nearby.

Father Jesse played the mutual acquaintance card and had an appointment for us that evening at six. It sounds like I live in my own little world to say that the flight was pleasant. I get that. We have our own jet. I'm not oblivious to our blessings and how our lives are different from most peoples. No check-ins, no waiting on security lines, no invasive TSA gropings, no uncomfortable seats, no miniscule packages of peanuts. That being said, we were off, I enjoyed the time with my husband, I spoke to William twice, and we landed at the Louis K. Armstrong Airport in Kenner, Louisiana.

Stretching, I stood by my seat as they opened the door and lowered the stairs. Finn grabbed his valise and put his sunglasses on his handsome face. My hair must have looked like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket. It plumped and frizzed as soon as I stepped foot out onto the stairs. I was on the third step down when I heard him.

"What the..." Turning back, I saw him looking around as he continued. "Yeah, this is the right place to look for strange portals, 'cause we've obviously landed close to the gaping maw of hell. It's got to be 105 out, and if there was any more humidity, we could swim off the plane."

He was right, it was unbelievably hot and damp, but this is the same man that made his living clamming in the hot summer days for most of his life. "Suck it up, buttercup. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can get home."

Smiling, he looked down the stairs at me. "That was good. Buttercup works."

I tried not to grin back. "Oh, that was good for 2018? So happy to have your stamp of approval. Let's get in the car and the air-conditioning."

"As you wish."

No longer trying to hide it, I smiled and took his hand when we got to the bottom of the stairs. The day he quits quotingThe Princess Bride is the day I bring him to the clinic instead of him bringing me.

Getting in the waiting Town Car, we waited while our luggage and Finn's wheelchair were loaded into the trunk and chatted with the driver. Needing to kill some time, she took us on a driving tour of New Orleans and a few of the nearby parishes.

As we got into the city proper, I called Tommy. After hearing Finn's questions for the driver, I knew what to expect.

"Hey, how's my favorite brother-in-law?"

"Good, everything's good. Gimme a minute. William's in the back with Daisy and Marisol. I'll get him for you."

"No, Tommy, I wanted to talk to you."

"Me? When your son is here? Let me sit down, my knees are weak."

"Don't be a spaz. I love talking to you. Listen, can you guys be at the house at noon tomorrow? Finn's going to be overnighting a ton of food up."

"Oh, sure, you love to talk to me when you need me for deliveries. I see how it is." He laughed. "No problem, we'll be here. If you want to include something specifically for William, it won't go amiss. It's been less than a day and he's missing you guys already."

"Thanks, Tommy. You know I love you and Shiv, right?"

"I do. We'll see you soon."

I was right. Finn must have had the poor driver stop at every famous or interesting eatery in the area. Massive amounts of caffeine was ingested with the café au lait at Café Du Monde as we sat near the window, almost within view of Jackson Square.

Finn tilted his head and looked at me smiling. "Something funny?"

"Not a thing. Just happy to be here with my husband." I'm not sure why I was so amused at the ring of powdered sugar from his beignet on his black shirt. I also didn't know why I didn't mention it. Maybe it was just the frivolity during a dark time in our lives.

Before we continued our tour, he took my hand and we walked over to Saint Patrick's Cathedral. After admiring the beautiful building, we sat in a pew and prayed. Exiting, we found our car and hit the next stop.

We sampled etouffee, had boudin sent home, had sausage with alligator, shipped some of that as well and made a half-dozen other stops. I had our driver stop at the famous St. Louis Cemetery in Treme. Sitting on a bench, I watched the tourists and a few locals meander through the headstones. In spite of the heat, I shivered. They were visitors in the domain of the dead, walking blissfully, ignorantly through their own imminent future.

Our four-hour jaunt through New Orleans had us making immediate plans to return. The people were friendly, the architecture was beautiful in the French Quarter and the accents were rich and warm. And, of course, Finn was in his own little gastronomical world.

It was a wonderful escape for me. My husband and I, alone in a romantic city. I could hide from my thoughts and push back my fears. As we drove to the bookstore Mr. Prudenovis owned I grew slightly nauseous. I kept a smile on my face and turned towards the window as I blew my nose. Red flakes of blood stained the white tissue. I balled it up and stuffed it in my pocket, hoping Finn didn't notice.

Pulling up in front of Orleans Ésotérique in the suburbs of the city, Marie, our driver, told us to take our time and she would be waiting when we were ready. We needed to tip her well. Finn already bought her what likely amounted to half her weight in food. Whatever he had sent back home, he bought half that amount for her. We were coming back, and we wanted her to be happy enough to work with us again.

We walked in and I held the door for Finn. He moved well with the cane and often grew frustrated when I did things for him, but I didn't have a choice. I couldn't not do it. He'd deal with it. It felt like a store from my childhood. The little bell over the door chimed and I walked down the main aisle, huge wooden bookshelves lining the way.

I'm not sure what I expected, but he wasn't it. "Mr. Predenovis?" He was a short, thin white man with a pot belly and a shock of what seemed to be prematurely grey hair. A loud Hawaiian shirt had the top two buttons open and he was wearing board shorts. He looked like a diminutive, aging surfer.

"Yes? You Mrs. Corrigan?" he asked.

He stretched out his hand, which I slowly took, staring a bit too obviously.

"Not quite what you were expecting, huh? Come all the way down to New Orleans see some voodoo expert and here I am. Expected some big old bald-headed black guy. Probably with an earring, some white pants and white shirt and some sandals? Disappointed?"

He said it with a smile and clearly wasn't offended. I felt a little foolish, expecting someone out of central casting.

"Husband with you?"

"Yes, he's... Finn?" Looking around, I didn't see him. "Finn?" He came walking out of one of the side aisles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Walking up to the counter, Finn smiled and extended his hand. "Finn Corrigan. A pleasure to meet you. I'm a, a little emotional. Sorry. My grandfather owned a small chain of bookstores on Long Island. I sort of idolized him and his passing hits me sometimes. Thanks for taking the time. Did you want to talk here?"

"Well, can you eat? Got the Bombay Café right around the corner there."

That settled things quickly. If it was food, Finn was there. He's a metabolic anomaly. I have no idea how he eats as much as he does and stays so thin. He spends hours every day on the rowing machine we had installed. Since he had to give up running, he's become addicted to the thing. I'm not complaining. He's ripped, sculpted and mine, so row away, Finn!

We were given a table near the back with plenty of privacy. I was grateful for all the nibbling we did earlier on our food tour of New Orleans, because the heat level of the food here was insane.

Mr. Prudenovis began. "So, you making some movie about creatures from other dimensions getting here and you want some ideas on how they do that. Know I'm not a scientist, right? I can talk all day about folklore and legends and stuff, but if you're looking for real science, I'm probably not your man."

Finn replied. "Absolutely. We're just covering our bases. We did our homework, though. You're not just some random guy with some stories to tell. You have a doctorate from Berkley, you've ghost written four novels and were credited in at least five books on the history of New Orleans and syncretic religious practices."