When he reached the bottom of the steps, Robby flipped a switch and fluorescent fixtures lit the room with a cold blue and yellow light. The basement had no windows or doors, so only their flickering illuminated the big open space.
At one end, past the open-riser stairs, sat a giant furnace and a wall of tightly-stacked wood. At the other end, Robby stood in front of a long white stretch of wall, white except for the symbols. Brad leaned against a column and looked at the mural of scrawled shapes.
“What is it?” Brad asked.
“I think it’s the reconnaissance you were asking about,” Robby said.
“How’s that?” Brad asked.
“You remember the part of my story where we went to check on the neighbor?” Robby asked.
“Sure, through the snow? Where your Dad’s friend was snatched?” Brad asked.
“Yes,” Robby said. “But it was before that. We went to check on Mr. Dyer, but he wasn’t home. My dad searched the house, and he found something like this in the cellar under the house.”
“And you found the same thing here?” Brad asked.
“No,” Robby said. “This is my recreation of what was under Mr. Dyer’s house. I drew this copy.”
“All this?” Brad asked. He swept his arm and indicated the wall. The wall was enormous and the mural covered almost all of it. Brad gauged that the stretch of symbols must have measured twenty feet long and stood at least four feet high. “Did you have a picture? Did you transcribe it? How did you do it?”
“I did it from memory,” Robby said. “I have a really good memory, always have. There were two-hundred-and-seventeen shapes on the wall. I think I’ve got almost all of them perfect, but a couple on the edges are still a little fuzzy to me.”
“How can you know you have it correct?” Brad asked.
Robby ignored the question—“See this one here?” he asked. “It’s almost the Japanese symbol for god. And this one is almost the Egyptian hieroglyph for god.”
“So who drew it in your neighbor’s cellar?” Brad asked.
“I think Mr. Dyer drew it there using the blood from his dogs,” Robby said.
“Ugh, no,” Brad said. “That’s terrible.”
“I know,” Robby said. “My dad didn’t want me to see, but I think that’s what it was.”
“Why did you draw it here?” Brad asked.
“Well, I put it on a sheet of paper, but it has to be big. I believe the relative size of the shapes to each other makes a difference, but more than that, I think the actual size of the shapes themselves is important,” Robby said.
“That’s impossible,” Brad said. “Size changes with perspective.”
“I know,” Robby said. “I can’t quite explain it, but I think that if the characters aren’t the right physical size and shape, they have no meaning or perhaps the meaning changes.”
“So you have a really good memory,” Brad said, sweeping his hand at the mural, “and a you’re able to exactly judge and reproduce the size of things.”
“It was trial and error,” Robby said. “I used that.”
Robby pointed to a milk crate in the corner of the basement. On top of the crate, sat a projector. Next to the box, Brad saw a coiled extension cable.
“I drew the symbols on a laptop, hooked it up to the projector, and then blew it up until it seemed like the correct size,” Robby said.
“And all this means what? What meaning have you found in all this? Mr. Dyer draws a bunch of crazy scribbles on his wall with dog blood, and you call it reconnaissance?” Brad asked.
“Yes,” Robby said. “I haven’t figured out the whole thing, but I think that somehow Mr. Dyer came across information about the attackers.”
“And instead of just leaving a note or telling someone, he used this crazy writing to communicate this information?” Brad asked.
Robby looked at the wall, scanning the symbols, like they held the way to convince Brad.
“Look, I’m not questioning your belief in this stuff,” Brad said. “I’m just a logical person, and I need to see logical explanations for things. Show me what you’ve figured out. What does it say?”
“I’m not sure,” Robby said.
Brad took a step closer to the wall and let it fill his whole vision. He felt bad about grilling the kid. Clearly Robby was trying to make sense of the end of the world, and the disappearance of his whole family, and he needed something to hang his hat on. The boy, young man really, needed a puzzle to figure out. He needed some kind of riddle to occupy his mind so he didn’t go crazy. Brad could respect that.
Brad took a deep breath and blinked his eyes hard. His breathing and his heartbeat began to slow as he stared at the wall. The edges of the mural were fuzzy in his peripheral vision, but that was just fine. They needed to be fuzzy, he thought. It only made sense that they were fuzzy. The whole mural just seemed to make perfect sense as Brad stood, swaying slightly, and stared. Brad forgot about the snow, the rock creatures, the killer vines, the casual government guys, and the black hole under the bridge. That hole was the last thing he forgot about, but he forgot about the hole too.
The next thing Brad knew, someone shook his shoulder.
“Brad? Brad?” Robby asked.
Brad shook his head and turned towards Robby.
“What?”
“What were you thinking about?” Robby asked.
“I don’t know, what do you mean? Nothing, I guess,” Brad said.
“For ten minutes?” Robby asked.
“What do you mean?” Brad asked.
Robby held out a camera. Brad had a question on his brow as he reached out and took the camera from Robby. The display showed a single video stored on the camera. When Brad started playback, he saw a ten-minute movie of himself, standing and staring at the mural. During the course of the video, Robby circled Brad with the camera, filming his blank stare from every angle. Brad never moved except for the gentle sway of his balance.
“This thing did that?” Brad asked, holding up a hand to block his vision of the mural.
“Yes,” Robby said. “It seems to only happen at this distance. See the mark on the floor?”
Brad looked down and saw that under his own feet was a little cross of electrical tape stuck to the concrete floor.
“So you maneuvered me down here so I could experience it for myself?” Brad asked.
“Yes,” Robby said. “I thought it would be the only way you’d believe me.”
Brad thought about this for a second, and then turned his back on the mural.
“Do you mind if I get out of here?” he asked. Brad started to walk for the stairs before Robby could answer.
“It won’t hurt you,” Robby said. “As long as you don’t stand in that spot, you’ll be fine.”
“I’m guessing it won’t do anything to me when I’m upstairs then,” Brad said as he climbed the stairs.
Robby shut off the lights and then followed him up. Brad pulled his chair back up to the island while Robby shut the door to the basement.
“So that’s one of the reasons why I think there’s something special about this series of shapes,” Robby said. “It seems to hypnotize anyone who looks at it from that exact spot.”
“Awesome,” Brad said. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “So what connects it to the apocalypse?”
“It tells the story of the aliens,” Robby said. He pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket.
Brad held up his hands—“Whoa, is it safe to look at that thing?”