Page 38 of Identity Unknown
We must never be boring, Kay,he used to say, and I can see him leaning into the candlelight, raising his glass in a toast to that.
“Everybody all set back there?” Lucy’s disembodied voice in my headset interrupts my thoughts.
“All set,” I reply.
I feel gravity slip away as we lift off the pavement, the tall weeds growing through cracks bending and flattening, the sky dark. We’re rising above the parking lot’s tall light standards when they suddenly blaze on to my astonishment.
“What the flying fuck…?” Lucy’s voice sounds as tall iron lamps along the Yellow Brick Road blink on all at once, their lanterns smudges in the gloom.
At the same time, lights flicker in the Witch’s Castle dark empty windows. Music starts playing over the helicopter’s intercom, and I don’t see how any of it is possible.
“… We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz…”The childlike singsong voices from long ago.“… Because, because, because of the wonderful things he does…”Stopping just as suddenly as it started.
I stare down at the roller coaster lighting up, and the train of empty cars begins shuddering, barely moving along the tracks, reminding me of the elevator in my building. Then I can’t see anything at all but moiling thick gray clouds as we gain altitude. I look over at Marino, his eyes squeezed shut, his face wan, an airsick bag in hand, oblivious to what just happened.
“Everyone still okay back there?” Lucy’s voice again, and it seems an ironic thing to ask, as I’m aware of the dead passenger riding with us.
“What just happened?” I don’t know what’s worse, looking down at Sal or out the window at the storm.
“Everything in the park was turned on. Some of the lights and such are operable, but not many.”
“Turned on by who or what?”
“We don’t know.”
“And the music playing through the intercom? I don’t understand. Has the helicopter been hacked?” I ask while thinkingplease God no.
“What you heard was coming out of the speakers in the park,” Lucy says as we fly through squalls of rain. “No, we’ve not been hacked.”
“The helicopter’s got sensors that can pick up loud noiseson the ground,” Tron explains as we’re shoved by the wind, the mountains in and out of fog.
“I’m pulling in full power and climbing to a higher altitude that will avoid the worst of the turbulence.” Lucy’s voice in my headset, and I’m grateful Marino has his off and can’t hear a word. “You won’t be seeing anything out the windows for a while. Probably not until we get close to where we’re going. The weather there will have cleared by then.”
“How might someone turn on rides, lights, music inside a theme park that’s been closed for years with the electricity shut off along with everything else?” I can’t get away from that. “And doing it at the very moment we were taking off?? As if for our benefit?”
“You’re asking the same questions we are,” Tron says. “I’ve got people checking with the power company to find out when the service was turned back on.”
“Could lightning have caused something like that?” I ask.
“Not if the power is disconnected,” Lucy says.
“Someone was watching and ready, and wants us to know it,” I decide. “That’s what I think, explaining why Marino and I heard music inside the Witch’s Castle.”
“We’re being screwed with,” Lucy says, and I envision crazed eyes that remind me of spinning pinwheels.
I see the scars on Carrie Grethen’s once perfect face, and I know how she feels about me. I know who she blames for everything wrong in her life, and in an odd way I understand it. Perversely, I can see her side. A psychopath has no conscience or remorse. From her point of view, she’s done nothing wrong. ButI’ve become the over-controlling mother who’s robbed her of everything that matters.
I committed the unpardonable sin of interfering with Lucy and Carrie’s relationship in the beginning when they were together at the FBI Academy. I unjustly maligned Carrie to put a wedge between them. I’m responsible for the ruination and deaths of those Carrie loved, most of all her own flesh and blood. That’s what she’d say, and I know she’s not done.
“We’ll be busy flying instruments and oncrew onlyuntil we get out of the worst of this.” Lucy’s voice continues. “You won’t hear us but I can see you on camera.”
The thudding of the rotor blades is muffled by my headset, and I feel the Doomsday Bird’s powerful vibrations in my every cell. As we fly through volatile clouds, I can’t see the ground. I try to work out where Lucy and Tron are taking us and can think of no better medical examiner facilities than what I offer in Virginia.
But that’s not an option for some reason. At moments I have the sensation of being abducted while imagining Sal naked and alive inside a flying vehicle of some type. He had to know he was about to die, and I would have expected him to resist. Yet I haven’t noticed injuries that might make me think he put up a struggle. That suggests to me that he was incapacitated somehow.
As I try to reconstruct how he might have been confronted last night, I envision him driving his standard-shift truck upthe poorly lit switchback leading to the Allegheny Peak Lodge, where Benton and I have stayed many times. I imagine Sal’s headlights illuminating a seemingly disabled vehicle, the driver waving him down. Or perhaps the person was on foot, acting distressed.
Sal would have tried to help, and my attention is constantly drawn to the floor. I understand the rationale for total containment pouches fabricated of clear plastic. Once sealed with heat or adhesives, they aren’t meant to be reopened. It’s helpful to look at who’s inside before cremation or burial. But visual identifications aren’t to be trusted, and seeing through the pouch is nothing but a drawback in my opinion.