Tom Pawlik - Beckon

Miriam returned and they spent the rest of the afternoon together. Her strength and stamina were clearly heightened by the perilium’s effect as she long outlasted George on the treadmill. Then they sat in the outdoor hot tub and played a game of cribbage before dinner.

Vale had invited the other residents again for dinner—raw meat and all. This time Amanda provided George with a cut of meat that was cooked. George did his best to appear amiable, though deep down he had just wanted to spend the evening alone with his wife. His young, vivacious wife.

It seemed the group all came together a few evenings each week. They gathered around the big dining table as though they were at a medieval feast. And Vale sat at the head, directing conversations and moderating debates, always having the final word.

George wondered what it would be like to live within such a small community. Seeing the same few faces year in and year out. Some for more than a century. From the conversations, George gathered more details on how each one had arrived in Beckon. In most cases, their stories were not so different from his own: wealthy souls, stricken with some disease and willing to pay a fortune for the chance to cheat death.

Vale had practically built the town himself after discovering the cave in 1878. At first George wondered why he would build a town in the first place. Why draw people to the very place you’re trying to keep hidden from the public?

But then it struck him: it was obvious that Vale needed some type of human community just for his own survival and sanity. Or ego. Though still, it seemed an odd way to keep a secret.

George surmised that eventually Vale’s fortune would have begun to wane and he would’ve needed additional funds to maintain his way of life. He was a businessman at heart. So he had found a way to use the perilium to his advantage and began his search for others whose circumstances he could exploit, then convinced them to join him. Or perhaps lured them here would be the better description.

George learned that Malcolm and Loraine Browne had arrived in 1893, followed shortly afterward by Frank Carson, who’d once been a colonel in the Union army. And then in 1897 came Dwight Henderson, who had been a physician at the time. Henderson was tight-lipped about the precise circumstances that had brought him to Beckon, but George got the feeling he might have been trying to save someone. Someone close to him.

He also discovered that Max and Fiona Dunham were low-level British royalty who had arrived from England in 1914 just as the First World War was breaking out in Europe. Fiona had suffered from some sort of aggressive cancer.

George already knew that Amanda had arrived in 1923 and the Huxleys in 1972, but there seemed to be a big stretch of time between them, and he wondered if there had been others that he didn’t know about. Others who perhaps didn’t wish to remain under the rule of Thomas Vale. Not for all the perilium in the world.

George noticed that Henry Mulch was not present. When he asked, Vale simply said that Mulch was busy with a job he’d asked him to do.

He made it a special point to look for any hint of dissatisfaction among the group, but the general mood was light and jovial.

The gathering began to disperse shortly after ten o’clock, so George and Miriam excused themselves and retired for the evening. George wanted to get to bed early. He had plans for a morning excursion to locate the cave under the lodge. It was a risky maneuver, but he needed to find some answers.

So he arose early the next morning and slipped downstairs to look around. The place was quiet. He followed the corridor past Vale’s office and discovered a door hidden in a narrow side passage off the main corridor. It opened onto a stairway leading down into darkness. George caught his breath as a sudden wave of apprehension seized him.

“Where are you going?” Miriam’s hushed but urgent voice came from behind him.

George nearly jumped out of his trousers and cursed. “What are you doing? I thought you were asleep.”

“I woke up when you left,” she said. “And I’ve been following you, snooping around.”

George shushed her. “I’m not snooping. I’m…”

“Nosing? Sneaking? Spying?”

“Exploring.”

“Ah,” Miriam said with a stern tone. “Then I’m coming along.”

George stuck out his hand and stopped her short. “No, you’re not. You need some rest, so go back up to the room and—”

Miriam brushed his hand aside. “I am not going back to bed while you go exploring. I’m coming with you.”

George sighed. The last thing he needed was for Miriam to see more of this place than he wanted her to. But he also knew she wasn’t going to listen to him. Besides, she was now probably stronger and nimbler than he was, so even if he wanted to stop her, he doubted he’d be able to.

“It might be dangerous,” he said, lowering his voice.

Miriam peeked past him down the darkened stairway. “It’s a basement. I’ve seen basements before, George.”

“Yeah, well… somehow I don’t think this is going to be a normal basement. And I don’t want—”

“I appreciate your chivalry,” she said, placing her fingers against his lips. “But if you’re going down there, I’m coming with you. It’s as simple as that.”

George clenched his jaw and muttered to himself. “Fine,” he said at last. “But keep quiet.”

They proceeded down the stairs until they came to a narrow corridor with a door on either side and one at the end of the hall. Cold, flickering fluorescent lighting gave the area a pale glow. George tried both side doors only to find them locked. The door at the end was another supply closet containing mops and brooms and a couple of shelving units packed with cleaning supplies.

George closed the door with a frustrated sigh. Miriam frowned. “This basement looks like it should be a lot bigger.”

George tried the two locked doors again. “Yeah, I’m guessing there are more rooms behind these door—”

Suddenly they heard the door at the top of the stairs open and footfalls start down the steps.

Miriam’s eyes went round and she stifled a gasp. George pushed her back into the space under the stairwell. They watched a pair of legs descending with a five-gallon pail. It was Dwight Henderson. He continued down the hall to the closet at the end and disappeared inside.

“Let’s go back up,” George whispered.

Miriam pulled him back into the shadows. “No, he’ll come out and see us. Let’s just wait for him to leave.”They waited beneath the stairs. And waited.

And waited.

Three full minutes passed.

“What’s he doing in there?” Miriam whispered.

Another minute passed and George whispered again, “Let’s just go.”

Miriam hushed him and slipped out of their hiding place.

George grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

She pulled herself loose, slipped down the hall, and put her ear to the closet door. “I don’t hear anything.”

George stood at the foot of the stairs and waved her back. “Good. Now let’s go .”

But he could see Miriam was having nothing of it. She pointed to the bottom of the door. “There’s no light on.” She tapped on the door.

Nothing.

Then she opened the door and stepped back. George held his breath and drew closer for a better view.

But aside from the mops and supplies, the room was empty.

George snuck down the hall as Miriam flipped on the light. “We did see him come in here, right?”

Miriam shrugged. “There must be another way out. Some kind of hidden door?”

The room was small, with shelving units on both sides and a large pegboard with hanging hooks along the back. They inspected each of the walls and the floor, looking for anything that might be an entrance.