Gillian Anderson - A Vision of Fire

“Maanik, I know you can hear me,” Caitlin said. “Please find a way to tell me where you are.”

“I see tall posts,” she said. “Pieces are coming off, falling around us…”

“Posts? Made of wood?”

“Stone. Carvings. There are waves beyond… I smell salt.”

“The ocean?”

Maanik didn’t acknowledge this but Caitlin thought she saw the girl’s hair stir slightly, not as a result of any movement she made but lifted by something from behind. The window was covered by drapes and Caitlin could see no vents in the floor or ceiling. Maanik seemed to shiver. Her eyes narrowed and turned upward again.

“The sky! It is on fire! ” she said.

“Is it sunset?”

The girl’s head shook slowly. “I don’t know.” Her brow knit. “I—I don’t think so.”

“Please concentrate,” Caitlin pressed. “Is it day or night?”

The girl’s head shook uncertainly and then her face twisted into another silent scream, more painful looking than if she were crying aloud. Her body stiffened and her feet struggled on the bed.

Ambassador Pawar rose slowly. “Please, Dr. O’Hara. I know I agreed, but I insist that you stop this!” His voice was tight with grief.

“I’m sorry, but I want her to stay with this as long as possible,” Caitlin said. “We must have the information.”

“We?” he asked.

“Yes, we .”

“But it is hurting her!”

Caitlin turned as much as she could to look directly at him. He was on his feet. “Mr. Pawar, your daughter has been experiencing this trauma for over a week. If she were any other person exhibiting such severe symptoms with an unknown cause, I would have hospitalized her days ago. But then she would have been heavily medicated and I would have had limited access to her. I don’t think either of us wants that, or the attention!”

Caitlin felt guilty using publicity as a lever but she desperately didn’t want to interrupt this session. Not now. The ambassador was silent.

“Cai,” Ben said, nodding toward the bed.

Maanik was moving like an eel, her body writhing, her mouth still opening and closing in wordless cries.

“We don’t know how deep this goes,” Caitlin said in a gentler voice, half-turning back toward the Pawars. “She can’t fully express it. If we fail to understand Maanik’s condition, I cannot, in good conscience, keep her in this bedroom much longer. But if there is a chance for us to understand, to heal her, we should take it.”

The Pawars were silent, agonized.

“She is strong,” Caitlin said, returning her full attention to the young woman. “I’m going to keep talking to her as long as I can.”

She heard Mr. Pawar sit heavily behind her.

“Please focus, Maanik,” Caitlin said. “Can you tell me if it’s day or night? Look around you.”

The young woman forced herself to use words.

“It is… night. The moon… so large! White light being eaten by the red light.”

“The red light. Is it the sunset? Or is it closer? Fire?”

“Flame,” she said. Her mouth made biting motions. “The dragon… red waves. So maddening !”

Maanik’s eyes slid to Caitlin for just a moment but it was long enough to show she was still there, herself, however small. Then Caitlin saw her hands return to the gesture she’d made earlier, when Caitlin had handed her a pen and paper. The one thing she and Ben hadn’t planned for. Caitlin felt Ben shove a tablet into her hands, a drawing app already open. Caitlin slid the tablet under Maanik’s right hand and though the girl was shrieking again, she simultaneously drew several long, undulating lines on the tablet. Then she dropped it and attacked her forearms again, this time with her nails.

As Caitlin tried to restrain her, Ben snuck the tablet from between them.

“Maanik, go back to the elephant!” Caitlin shouted.

Maanik shoved her body back against the pillows but then just as suddenly, she relaxed completely. Her hands fell limp, her eyes closed, and she took a very long and solid inhale.

“Are you there, Maanik? Are you back in the pink and yellow tent?”

It was a long moment before Maanik answered.

“Yes,” she said.

Caitlin saw a shudder pass through her, all the way through her.

“That’s great, you are doing terrific work, Maanik.”

“Yes,” she said again. But she seemed to be repeating the previous statement, not responding to Caitlin’s compliment. “Yes, I am here.”

“I’m so proud of you—” Caitlin said, but then it hit her: was Maanik talking to her?

“Oh no,” Maanik said, with a sudden terror to her voice. “It found me. It’s coming here! Ashes!” Her body stiffened and she let out a scream so petrified and agonized that Mrs. Pawar gasped and Caitlin’s eyes surged with tears. Choking on a sob, Caitlin leaned in, touched Maanik’s ear, and said, “Blackberries.”

The girl slumped back but it was an ugly movement, like all of her ligaments had been cut.

There was a horrible, horrible silence. The queasy hush that had always hovered outside the Pawars’ apartment was now inside. Caitlin felt she could almost taste it; it was deadly. She turned at the sound of Jack London retching on the carpet under Maanik’s desk, his small body convulsing. Even as Maanik began to breathe somewhat normally, Caitlin was still on high alert. She was afraid to look around, to give credence to something she was feeling: that something had come back with the girl.

Caitlin remained with Ben as he dismantled his modest camera-and-tripod setup. Mr. Pawar hunched in his chair, rubbing his forehead with three fingers, while Mrs. Pawar sat on the bed with her sleeping daughter, having called for Kamala to take care of the vomit Jack London had left on the rug.

Caitlin was watching the dog closely. He had nearly slunk out of the bedroom but stopped just shy of the door.

What’s going on with you? Caitlin wondered.

She realized that the dog was trying to stay away from where he had thrown up but he did not want to desert Maanik. When no stern words or rebuke came from Kamala or Hansa, Jack London returned to the room, beginning with the edges of the windows, sniffing thoroughly with his shoulders sunk in “guard” mode.

Caitlin was doing her own less overt analysis of her surroundings. The noxious air that had choked the area around the bed was easing somewhat. The closeness she had felt, as though something were pressing in on her, had also dissipated; she felt almost light now, the way she did when she took off her ankle weights after jogging. Caitlin suspected that Jack London had sensed the same. Still, he was very cautious about approaching the bed—and Maanik, who had been the epicenter of whatever the dog had experienced. When he eventually leaped up onto the bed and sniffed around the girl, he showed an aversion not just to her right hand but also to her head. It was just the tiniest recoil. Finally, Jack London curled up by Maanik’s feet but remained on guard, staring at the wall behind her head.

“One good thing,” Ben said in a low voice.

“What’s that?” Caitlin asked.

“I’m sure Kashmir was pretty far from the ambassador’s thoughts the last half hour or so.”

Caitlin nodded. “Sometimes any break is a good break,” she said quietly. “In the session, did you notice Maanik’s hair?” She was trying not to lead his answer.

“I saw it move,” Ben replied. “Like it was caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.”

She exhaled more breath than she thought she’d been holding. Ben smiled.

“I’ll let you know if you’re going crazy, Dr. O’Hara,” he said.