The Tree Line: Chapter 6

Celeste struggled to open her eyes. She woke to the sound of Miles, speaking in a frantic voice.

She felt a cool towel on her forehead and Miles’ hand stroking her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Celeste,” he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She peered through her partially opened eyelids and saw his face, remembering what had happened.

She started to sit up, but he gently guided her back down on the bed.

“I don’t know why I grabbed you. I just don’t know,” he looked incredibly sad.

Miles was typically soft and gentle. Too soft. Though strange and prone to sliding into moments of solitude, he had never physically harmed her. He showed emotion through his looks and words, but he never cried. Not even now, as she lay in bed, her neck sore, feeling disoriented.

“Get away from me, Miles” she said as she pushed past him and rose from the bed.

She walked slowly to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She decided to lock the door, something she never felt the need to do, but she no longer felt safe in her home.

She no longer felt safe with Miles.

She turned to the mirror. She was a mess. Her hair was frizzy from laying down. She tilted her head back to look at her neck. She saw red marks and some bruising.

Turning on the water, she leaned forward, splashing cool water on her face.

As she dried her face, she again caught her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. She felt lost. Completely unsure of what her next steps should be.

She did some of her best thinking in the shower, and she did not want to join Miles in the bedroom so soon.

Dropping her clothes to the bathroom floor, she stepped into the shower that she loved so much. Building this dream house had brought her and Miles closer. The huge master shower had a rainfall shower head, which she had always wanted. Standing beneath it, she closed her eyes, feeling the wetness and allowing the steam to engulf her.

She stood until the water ran cold. As cold as she felt towards Miles.

Stepping out onto the custom, black marble floor, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her.

She took a deep breath and finally opened the bathroom door.

Miles was not on the bed.

The closet light was on, so she looked in, expecting to see him. He was not there.

She dressed in her favorite T-shirt and sweatpants and pulled her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Looking at her bedroom door, she saw it was unlocked.

Her first instinct was to lock him out and try to sleep, but she couldn’t. Instead, she went looking for him.

She walked the length of the hall, then up the stairs. On the second floor, people were spread around the living room. All were awake, but no one was talking. She checked the bathroom, the kitchen and looked out onto the deck.

She did not see Miles.

She walked back down and went to the garage. Still no sign of him, though the garage door was still open. She noticed that the rain had stopped. The air was thick with humidity.

An eerie mist crept from the depths of the forest, lit by the dim glow of the slight, crescent moon. The coloring of the moon took her attention.

She thought back to the astrologer that she had visited after Miles’ breakdown. She was a quirky lady, very pretty, but not in the classical sense. She had jet black hair, piercing blue eyes and pale skin.

Celeste had been sitting in a café after a visit to see Miles, when the lady had walked in and chosen a seat next to her at the long, narrow table overlooking the sidewalk. The lady started a conversation and Celeste felt an instant connection with her. When she had offered to do the reading, she followed her without hesitation, to her small shop two blocks away.  Celeste was desperate for help, wanting unanswered questions to be addressed.

She had provided Celeste with a printout offering the interpretation of her chart reading and suddenly, on this eerie moonlit night, she remembered the astrologer’s words.

Celeste went to her small office, just off the garage, and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. There in a manila folder, which held old birthday cards and other special documents, she had kept the printout.

She unfolded the thick, coarse paper and read the words, printed in red ink.

The yellow moon remembers but you will forget. Twelve years past, beneath the moon’s gaze, a door opened with no name – things slipped through, quiet as breath. Now the wheel creaks forward. In twelve more, beneath that same sickle glow, what was buried will stir. The forest will not ask permission – it will whisper ‘Tempus advenit.’

Dumbfounded, she sat with the page crumpled on her lap. When the astrologer had handed this to her all those years ago, she assumed it was nonsense; a poetic gesture to soothe her soul.

Yet, here she sat, feeling the words.

Twelve years had passed since the breakdown.

Chuck had said “It’s been twelve years, and the cycle has ended. The time has come.”

Opening her laptop, she discovered her internet connection was down. Damn. She needed to search for information.

She turned to her office bookshelf which ran the length of the wall and nearly floor to ceiling. She located the section where she kept her old college books. She had been required to take Latin her freshman year. Searching through her old Latin textbook, she located the words she was searching for: Tempus advenit.

Reading the meaning of the words, she felt dread overcome her.

The time has come.

The astrologer’s words, written in Latin, were the same spoken by Chuck earlier.

Not knowing where Miles was, Celeste went to the only other person she could.

Reaching the bedroom at the end of the hall, Celeste knocked quietly.

Cindy answered the door, looking anxious, as if she had been expecting her.

“I need you,” Celeste whispered.

Cindy ushered her into the small room.

Without hesitation, Celeste spoke.

“I need you to tell me how you know Miles. What is project VERA and why are you looking for Dr. Neil?”

Without hesitating and almost looking relieved, Cindy spoke.

“Miles came from Italy with me.”

She paused, allowing Celeste to absorb this information. He had told her he was from upstate New York.

“Project VERA was Dr. Neil’s brainchild. He started all of this,” she gestured with her hands.

“Without him, we won’t survive. We need to find him,” she said.

Celeste asked, “Who won’t survive?”

“Everyone on earth,” Cindy whispered.