“Everything okay there, Mrs. A?” the night man asked.
The elevator was a long time coming. Jillian looked at the street door, then back at the elevator, willing it to come.
“Hey, look,” said the doorman. “Here comes your husband, Mrs. A.”
Jillian did not answer. The elevator arrived and she jumped into it and vanished. The doorman shrugged. Lovers’ tiff, he figured. He’d seen it a million times before.
Jillian threw open the door of the apartment and locked the door behind her. She put all her weight behind the bench next to the door and dragged it a few feet to barricade the entrance.
A few seconds later the front door opened and thumped against the heavy bench. “Jillian?” Spencer called through the narrow gap. “Jillian, what are you doing?” He threw his weight against the door and the bench moved a few inches.
Jillian knew she had very little time. She ran to the living room and pulled the plug on the radio and then raced to the kitchen and turned on both taps in the sink, water gushing against the basin and slopping onto the floor.
The front door flew open and Spencer stood there, stock-still, listening to the sound of water running. It seemed to be gushing all over the apartment.
“Jillian?” he yelled.
But Jillian did not answer… He found her in the kitchen. She was sitting on a stool, an island in the middle of a flooded room. She was barefoot and in one hand she held one end of an extension cord; the other end was plugged into a wall socket. The radio was on the flooded counter, soaked with water. All she had to do was plug the extension cord into the radio and the entire pool in the kitchen would become electrified. She planted her bare feet in the water and looked at her husband defiantly.
“Stay away from us,” Jillian growled, her voice low and feral. As Spencer watched she brought the two contacts close together, the two points almost touching.
“Jillian, please…” Spencer pleaded.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“For God’s sake, Jillian…” Spencer would not give an inch in this battle of nerves.
“What did you do to me?” Jillian demanded angrily. “What have you done?”
Spencer’s voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “Jillian, please…just take your feet out of the water. ”
Jillian looked down at her feet and shook her head. “No,” she said.
Spencer advanced a step. “Jillian…let me help you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Jillian’s voice was soft but determined. “No…it doesn’t.” She looked at him squarely. “Who are you?”
“I love you, Jilly.”
She shook her head. She was not going to fall for that. “No,” she said. “Tell me who you are. ”
“I’m your husband,” said Spencer simply.
“No!” Jillian yelled. “No you’re not!”
“I know the first time I saw you, you were under that tree, laughing with your friends.”
The memory was correct, but it had been remembered by the wrong person. “That wasn’t you.”
The water was still streaming onto the counter, swamping the radio and pouring on to the floor. The water was washing up against Spencer’s shoes. He took a step back.
“Remember what you said to me, the first time we kissed?”
“That wasn’t you.”
Spencer pushed on. “You laughed and you said ‘What am I going to do with you?’ Do you remember that, Jillian?”
“That wasn’t you,” she snapped. “That was Spencer. ”
“‘What am I going to do with you?’ And we talked, all the time, about our lives, our future-… our family… Remember how I held you, when it was dark, when you were in that…that place. Remember? I held you, Jill, so tight.” That place was the hospital where she had been confined when her’ parents had been killed.
“That was Spencer.”
“Please, Jillian, take your feet out of the water.” Jillian did not. But she tried to be calm nonetheless. “The plane… That signal it’s going to send… What happened to Spencer, up there. It’s going to happen to all of us, isn’t it. To all of us. You’re just the first, just the first…”
“Jillian…”
Jillian held her stomach. “They will never fly it. I won’t let them and you can’t make them.”
“You know you can’t hurt them, Jillian. You know you love them, we both do.”
As Spencer spoke, his gaze dropped from Jillian’s face until he was looking at her belly.
Jillian grabbed herself tighter. “Leave them alone!” she ordered. Then, more calmly, quieter: “Leave them alone…”
Jillian rubbed the two points together. Suddenly the roar of running water mixed with the very faint sound of babies crying.
“I saved you once, Jillian,” he said. “Remember that? Please let me do it again.” He held out his hands. “Please come here.”
“That was Spencer,” she said. Her voice was filled with steel. “Spencer is dead.” Suddenly it was full of hate. “Spencer is dead and you killed him.”
Spencer was in agony. He knew that if he could get near her, he could overpower her, but the threatening tide of water was right at his feet. Once again he was forced to take a step back.
“Jillian, come here,” he said, throwing out his arms to her. The action pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and she saw the scratch marks that Nan had carved in his forearms.
Instantly Jillian knew the source. “Oh, my God,” she wailed. “You killed her.”
Spencer looked down at the scratches, then over at Jillian. There was a new and strange tone in his voice as he spoke to her this time. “Listen to them, Jillian.”
“Oh God,” Jillian cried out.
“Let them teach you what to see. Let them show you. They have already started.”
“No. No!” Jillian could not tolerate the thought that the children in her womb might be evil.
“Now, Jillian,” Spencer commanded. “Come here. Now!”
“Never,” Jillian whispered.
They were at a standoff. Husband and wife just stared at each other, neither willing to give an inch. The only sound was the rushing water.
Frustration and fury were beginning to build in Spencer. His jaw clenched tight like a trap, his fists opened and closed. he started to pant like an animal as he stared at her with the intensity of lasers. The stool upon which Jillian was sitting began to tremble, then to shake, and then it started to move. First an inch, then another. To her horror she realized that she was being drawn toward Spencer. He was dragging her to him by sheer force of will. Jillian’s eyes were wide with terror.
“Open up to them, Jillian. Let them in. Let us in. Can’t you feel us?”
She was being drawn closer and he reached out, but she was still beyond his grasp. She stared at him hard, her eyes burning with hate.
“Let them, Jillian, let them bring you here. We belong together, all of us.”
The tears coursed down her cheeks as she was drawn inexorably closer.
“That’s good,” said Spencer. “That’s good, Jillian.”
“Why did you come here?” Her voice was a heartbreaking wail of despair. “Why us?” Then she saw that the water had worked its way around Spencer, touching his heels.
“You will never get them,” she said.
Spencer smiled. “They are already mine.”
“What do you see?” asked Jillian.
Spencer looked puzzled. She pointed to the radio. “How do you get it to make sound? I turn it on and all I get is music.” Spencer was surrounded by water now and he lunged for her.
“All I get is music,” she said as she pulled her feet from the water and perched them on the wooden stool. Then she pushed the radio plug into the extension cord.