The boys waited until Mia left with Audrey before talking.
“If she wants to oob, I say let her oob,” Ted said. “How else is anyone of us going to be able to enter that ley line segment to rescue Burt?”
“Mia has no defenses when she is in that state. She can only observe,” Cid reminded him.
“Murphy will be with her. There is no one I trust more with my wife than Murphy,” Ted insisted. He made eye contact with the ghost. “You’ll keep her safe, right?”
Murphy, touched by the sentiment, nodded. He raised his axe and smiled.
“What the hell was he thinking?” Mike said in reference to Burt. “How dare he investigate alone? Fuck, he broke his own rule. I am so mad at him right now.”
“Let’s table the anger for a moment and go into this with a clear head. No preconceived notions or nonsense as my wife likes to put it. We have to look at this with different eyes. Think magically and scientifically. Murphy, I’ll bring along a shitload of energon cubes. We need you to communicate with us verbally. Your insights are too valuable to chance a misunderstanding,” Ted said.
“You want to take lead on this?” Mike asked Ted.
Ted shook his head. “Mike, if you don’t want the lead, I suggest giving it to Cid. After all, he brought us the haunt.”
“Me? No, I’ll fuck it up,” Cid said.
“No. You won’t,” Mike said. “I trust your instincts. Plus Mia listens to you. She wouldn’t if she thought you were a bozo. I’d like you to corral the wagons and get us up and running as soon as possible.”
Murphy reached out and willed his hand solid and patted Cid on the back.
“Thanks, bud,” Cid said. “Okay, Mike, start packing up the truck. I’ll open the barn up to pull your car in. It’s too pretty to be sitting out here unprotected. Ted, call Tom and let him know what we’re up to. Murphy, get Maggie’s things. Put her car carrier in the back of the van. I’d like you to ride with Mia and Ted in the big truck. The rest of us will take the van. As soon as Audrey is outfitted, we’ll have her looking for lodgings for us. It’s cold up there, and we won’t be able to camp out for too long. Ted, I’ll help you with the equipment. Let’s bring along the two big gasoline generators. We have to be able to be totally functioning even if we are away from an electrical source.”
“It’s fur! I can’t wear fur!” Audrey whined.
“You didn’t kill it or buy it, but it’s warm,” Mia said, slipping the offending garment on Audrey.
“But what will people… Ooh it is warm. What is it?” she asked as she looked at herself in the hall mirror. “What if they throw red paint or worse on me?” She petted the arms as if they were Maggie.
Mia raised the hood, and as the warmth enveloped Audrey, she stopped protesting. “Well, it’s a shame to waste such a nice coat.”
Chapter Three
Burt, determined to keep sane, decided to put himself in full investigative mode. He started on the ground floor of the inn. He tapped walls and opened cupboards. A couple of times Mrs. Brewster stopped and asked him what he was doing.
“I’m investigating an urban legend,” he replied.
Seemingly satisfied by this, she continued on her way. Her daughter, however, was not amused when his investigation moved into the kitchen. It was a large room with a walk in freezer — uncommon in today’s inns, but very common in restaurants in the seventies — just off the service area. A large working surface covered with muffin pans was centered in the room. Two large ovens anchored spots on either side of the fireplace. “What are you doing in here? Don’t touch the work surfaces. Health codes, Mr. Hicks!”
“Excuse me, but when was the last time you saw a health inspector, or a specter for that matter?” he asked. “And what is your name? I hate to call you the young Ms. Brewster.”
“I would hate that too since it’s Millie Swanson, Mrs. Millie Swanson,” she spat.
Burt felt sorry for Mr. Swanson but held his tongue. “Are you aware what is going on here?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Evidently not,” Burt said. “When did you leave the inn last, Millie?”
“I don’t know, I assume last night,” she said puzzled. “I always set up for the morning before I go home to supper with my husband. I arrived just before dawn today to put the muffins in the oven…” her voice trailed off.
“What was the weather like when you arrived?”
“A little cool, but that’s normal for summer mornings in these parts,” she answered.
“What year is it?”
“1973.”
“There’s the problem. Millie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s 2014.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Mother!” Millie called, exiting the kitchen. “That lunatic says that…”
The swinging doors closed leaving Burt alone in the kitchen, not privy to what he thought would be an interesting conversation between the two women.
He moved quickly to the back door. It opened with ease. Outside, the sun was setting, and the fireflies were buzzing around the small herb garden. He stepped out onto the porch and proceeded down the back steps when he heard. “Careful, Mr. Hicks, that second step could kill you.”
He turned around and saw that Mrs. Brewster had made an appearance. He turned back, and the garden and the second step had disappeared. A chasm of darkness filled the area below the first step.
Burt stepped back onto the porch. The hostess cleared her throat, nodded towards the inside of the inn and held the door open for him. He walked through the door while she admonished, “You have riled up the cook! I doubt we will see a croissant today. I will have to ask you to confine your wanderings above stairs from now on.”
“Why not let me go? I’m no use to you here. Perhaps I can save you from this Groundhog Day fiasco you have going on here.”
“You’re talking gibberish. Up the stairs, and be quick about it,” she ordered.
If she was just a woman, Burt could have easily ignored her and continued to investigate the first floor. But the look in her eyes told him that it was the inn and not a person he was talking to.
“I’ll head up and take a nap. Is that permissible?” he asked with an acid tongue.
“What a wonderful idea,” she said, the corners of her mouth rising, giving a semblance of a smile.
Burt walked out of the kitchen towards a very irate Millie who hissed, “Lunatic,” as he passed her on the way to the stairs. He climbed the stairs slowly, taking in the noticeable differences in the foyer. The desk had been neatened, and there was no longer a front door.
Ashville turned out to be a nice little town. The only surviving building of the fire of 1973 was, ironically, the firehouse. It bore a keystone that read 1929. Its red brick and green shingles gave the place a Christmassy look to it. That combined with the drifting snow made Audrey want to jump out and take next year’s Christmas pictures for PEEPs. She stifled the urge, realizing that Burt wouldn’t be in the shot. She was ashamed that for three minutes of joyous Christmas contemplation she had forgotten the missing investigator.
“There’s the library. Mike, text Ted and tell him we are going to drop Audrey off there and meet them at the motel later,” Cid instructed.
Mike did as asked, thinking of how quickly Cid donned the hat of power, and how surprisingly well he looked in it.
“They’re going to drop Audrey off at the library before it closes. We’re to meet at the motel out on Route Six later.”