Page 112 of Echoes

“Easier to make sure you’re fine and I’m fine while I go check out this thing.”

They stayed on the phone for the two minutes it took her to drive down the gravel. Then, she parked the car and walked into the woods another hundred yards to the clearing they’d set their strange experiment up in.

“What do you see?” Lydia asked.

“Camera on the ground. The plastic bucket is–” Eliza stopped. “It’s in a million pieces all over the ground.”

“Shit. There’s acid there. Be careful. Don’t touch anything.”

“I don’t think there is,” she shared and looked down at the ground.

It was dark, but the headlights from the car she’d left on were aimed in this direction. The light they’d attached to the camera, while aimed at the sky, was also still on. Eliza looked down closer at the ground before she knelt down and ran her hands through the dry leaves on top of the dirt.

“It’s gone.”

“The device?”

“No, the acid. I think it… vaporized or something. The ground is totally dry.”

“Damn,” Lydia said, and she coughed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just in front of you, so I took the bigger hit, but I’m standing up now and I’m walking fine.”

“Okay,” Eliza said before she stood and looked ahead toward where the stand had been.

It, too, was in several pieces. She walked toward it and found the device was in three pieces, and all of them looked corroded and damaged beyond repair, which was the goal. Eliza looked around at the trees and saw branches on the ground around her and leaves everywhere when they hadn’t been there before.

“Jesus, it’s a mess out here now.” She turned and saw the tripod. “Shit.”

“What? Babe, FaceTime. I need to see.”

“No, it’s okay. The tripod is just stuck inside a tree. It’s sticking out. The camera is in a few pieces on the ground. The light we had on it is still working, but it’s, like, ten feet away.”

“Energy,” Lydia noted. “It had to go somewhere. What about the device?”

“Damaged. It’s in a few pieces. I’m going to use the gloves we brought to pick it up and put it in the trunk.”

“Please be careful,” Lydia said.

“I will. Give me a minute. I’ll be right there, and we’ll get out of here.”

“Eliza, I love you.”

“I know that. I’ll see you in a minute. Just–”

The phone went dead.

Three Minutes Later

Eliza sped to her. She knew something was wrong. She never should have left her wife there alone. Lydia hadn’t just dropped the phone and passed out, or the call wouldn’t have disconnected. Something happened that caused her to hang up. And Eliza knew her wife’s tones. All of them.

She’d heard them since they’d first met as teenagers and had become best friends at a time when Eliza hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to feel human again. Lydia had been there when Eliza had been put on the anti-depressants after her father’s death, which had made her numb like her mother and probably a very difficult person to spend time with. She’d come out to Eliza. She’d put herself out there and risked it all. They’d dated, and Lydia had still been there even after Eliza had been the cause of their breakup. Lydia hadalwaysbeen there, and they’d always been in love. Even when they’d dated others. Even when neither of them could say it out loud. Then, the device had finally allowed them to give voice to their feelings, and they’d been back together ever since. Soon after, Lydia had moved in, and they’d gotten engaged pretty much right after. Not long afterthat, they’d gotten married, and kids had followed, which had been what they’d both wanted.

Now, she was driving as fast as this beat-up car could take her down a gravel road, with hands that burned slightly because she’d hastily picked up the device and tossed all three parts into the passenger seat without putting on those gloves. The acid had indeed evaporated, but Eliza suspected that some of it lingered just enough to make her hands tingle more than actually burn. She’d have to wash them thoroughly later, but right now, all she wanted was to see her wife standing there, telling her that she hadn’t charged her phone, which was something Lydia would do.

“Sorry, babe. It died on me. I’m okay,” Lydia would say.