Author Archive
Deeper Fears
A rare moment when Seth shows a bit of introspection
Filed by Seth Emery on Wednesday, September 16, 2009, under: Journal Entry.
The dream always starts the same way, with the day I almost died. I’m riding a bicycle. It is an old 10-speed, with the U-shaped handle bars and a narrow seat. I am on the sidewalk going down a steep hill towards a busy intersection. I know I should slow down, but my momentum coupled with the wind in my face is too exhilarating.
As I near the intersection, I grasp the hand brakes a moment before I would jump off the curb and into the street. Only the brakes don’t catch the way they are supposed to. Oh, how I hated to change the tires on my bike. I was never very good at reattaching the brakes. I had the hardest time getting the brake pads into the proper position.
This is where the dream differs from the actual events of that day. Instead of swerving into a hard right turn and falling to the ground inches from the street, the bike leapt off the curb into the path of an oncoming bus. I hear the blare of the bus horn right as I impact with the front of the bus. There is no impact.
I find myself standing on the bus next to the driver. He is calmly looking forward. His eyes never leave the road. I look down the aisle and see dozens of people sitting calmly in their seats. I make my way down the aisle to find a seat. As I pass each row of seats, I notice that something isn’t right. The people on the bus are wrong in some way that should be obvious, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.
I’m halfway down the aisle, trying to keep my balance, as the bus sways with the motion of the road. I look down at a person sitting alone on the right side of the bus. He is wearing a dirty brown coat and a strange hat. The hat draws my attention. It is brown and dirty like his coat and it is also tattered and worn through in a couple of places. The hat looks as though it has seen many miles.
Then the man in the hat looks up at me. He has piercing blue eyes that look wild with madness. His face is covered in unkempt facial hair. He opens his mouth and my blood turns to ice for fear of what he will say. “Tick,” he declares. I try to look away. I must get further down the aisle. “Tock,” he commands. I’m pulling myself along by grabbing the seat backs.
I find an empty seat at the second to the last row on the buses left side. I throw my ass into the seat and slide against the window. I look at where the man in the hat sits. I’m relieved he is not looking at me. Then I hear it. Faint, but unmistakable. “Tick.” I’m filled with dread, knowing what comes next. “Tock.”
That’s when it dawns on me. I realize what is wrong with the people on the bus. They are all dead. Each and everyone is a corpse. No one is talking, or reading, listening to music, looking out the window. Nothing. Not a single sign of life in any of them. Just that one man, if he is really a man. “Tick,” much louder now. I know I have to get off this bus. “Tock!” I must find a way out.
I’m looking out the window and I see up ahead. I see myself riding my 10-speed down that steep hill. I see the impending collision as it is about to occur. I see myself grasp the brakes and swerve just as the bus should have hit me. I see this other me escape death by less than an inch. Had I been able to reach my arm out the window I could have touched myself as the bus went by. I watch as my other self shrinks in the distance. I hear my own maniacal laughter from far away.
Why am I on this bus when I know I was never hit by it. If I’m on the bus, who is in my body. Why are they laughing. “Tick,” is whispered directly into my ear. I cringe as I turn toward the voice. The man in the hat is standing in the aisle, crouched down with his arms spread, elbows resting on the seat backs. The smell of body odor, dirt and something like rotting meat emanates from him like waves of radiation. I feel like I’m dying from exposure to him. “Tock.”
I want to lash out at him, to kick and punch, but I can’t bare the thought of actually touching him. He leans in close to me and I squeeze against the wall. He opens his mouth. I hear a sound like the buzzing of flies and maggots squirming. I expect to hear him utter that mantra of madness. “Time catches everyone, eventually.” He moved in closer. “Tick.”
Without fail, I wake up screaming from this dream, as I have every time I’ve had it over the last 13 years. I had the dream every night for several weeks after that day I almost got creamed by that bus. My parents, David and June, took me to see a psychiatrist when they noticed I stopped sleeping. Things got better for a time. Then, even the therapy and the drugs couldn’t keep the dream away. The dream didn’t return as repetitious as those first few weeks. I have it maybe once every couple weeks, but it hasn’t left me completely.
I think about that day. I think it may have been my last day of real happiness. Of course, I think of the dream often, also. I wonder if I’m somehow different than I was before that day, if maybe I lost something vital as that bus nearly ended my life. I wonder if maybe it was my soul that didn’t escape the path of that bus.
“Tock.”
A Look at the Surface
A series of notes from Seth Emery
Filed by Seth Emery on Wednesday, October 7, 2009, under: Fieldnotes.
I received a tip from a friend in the bureau about a strange attack on a family in West Texas, about five miles south of Dark Ember, TX. He informed me that the local authorities have been uncooperative and there is not enough details or evidence for the federal authorities to conduct a proper investigation.
I am in Fort Worth, TX. I just spoke with the mother (Lucy age 35) and daughter (Amber age 16) involved in the attack near Dark Ember. After showing Lucy my credentials as a federal contract investigator, I requested she allow me to speak to Amber and herself, separately. Lucy told me a story about a man that tried to grab Amber from the passenger seat of her car as they pulled away from a gas station off the interstate on the night of May 9. She described the man as dirty, unshaven with light brown hair. About his attitude, she used the word rabid. I then spoke with Amber. Her story is quite different from her mothers and I sensed there was some hard feelings between them because of this. Amber said she saw an animal roaming around behind the gas station while her mother pumped gas. When her mother got back in the car and started the engine, this animal darted straight for the open passenger window and tried to pull Amber out. She described the animal as dog-like, but instead of paws this animal had claws. She said the animal was covered in black fur. Lucy walked me out when I was done speaking with Amber. Lucy informed me that Amber has been in shock since this incident and she is having trouble understanding what really happened. Lucy tried to get me to understand that Amber made up this story about a wild dog creature as a means to cope with what had happened. I told her I understood as I walked to my car.
I just arrived in Dark Ember, TX. It is a little more than five miles North of Interstate 20. I almost missed the turn off about half a mile West of the gas station where Lucy and Amber were attacked. I made a quick pass through town. A sign just outside of town states a population of 735. From the little of the town there was to see I can believe it. Can a town be described as Spartan? I saw one school, one church, a small grocery store and tiny building designated as the Sheriff’s department. The town is so small it doesn’t have a movie theater, a motel, a gas station or even a Wal-Mart. I’ll have to drive east to Odessa to find a decent hotel. Tomorrow I’ll find a library and do some research on Dark Ember.
I found some interesting facts about Dark Ember at the library. The town was originally built near a silver mine in 1866. The mine was suddenly closed after a harsh winter in 1867. Records indicate that at the time that the mine closed, the town boasted some 800+ settlers. As far as the reference material at the Odessa Public Library indicates that most if not all of the families of the original settlers have chosen to remain in Dark Ember. That can’t be true, can it?
I’ve been doing some legwork and so far I’ve discovered that Dark Ember has no exports and very little imports. Aside from food and other necessities shipped to the local grocery store and gas lines throughout the area, the town seems largely self sufficient. The town produces it’s own electricity and they have a water reservoir. What I haven’t been able to find out is why anyone chooses to live there or what caused them to close the silver mine a hundred and forty years ago. Why does this town even exist?
I decided to take a look around Dark Ember and see what impressions I can get from it. I didn’t notice it the first time I went thru, but the town starts out wide and then narrows as you get to the other side. The town is shaped like an arrow head with the church as the point. I think the church may be the oldest existing structure in Dark Ember. Is it possible that the town was built this way on purpose? Is the church what holds this town together?
I was trying to find the location of the silver mine in the area surrounding Dark Ember when I met the local sheriff, Daniel Warner. I told him I was a land surveyor and that I worked for a company in Dallas that was looking for a place to build a factory to make super small microprocessors or some such. 1.) I don’t think he believed me, and 2.) He strongly suggested I inform my company to look elsewhere.
Just got back to the hotel. I wanted to take another look around town during the church services, but my earlier thoughts about the church being the fulcrum of the town didn’t pan out. No one attended church this morning.
I came back to Dark Ember in time to see the townspeople going into the church! At approximately 5:30 they started going into the church. I think by 6:00 the whole town must have been inside. They seem to be a spirited bunch. I can hear singing and chanting from half a mile away. I’m going to see if I can get a look around while everyone seems to be in one place. I should have at least 30 minutes before the service is over.
I just saw the biggest dog I’ve ever seen!
The preceding was received in the form of emails from a phone belonging to Seth Emery. There have been no further emails.