A Twist in the Mist, Chapter Eight

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 A deep heaviness settled over TP. His chest felt so constricted he could barely breathe. His whole body felt wooden and stiff. He stood up, dropped the paper and dragged himself down the hall to his bedroom.

In his closet were the leather slip-on shoes he wore around the house in the evenings. Never outside. With dread he picked one up and stared at the sole, covered in mud and bits of grass. The sides were damp.

A small sound escaped him and he fell to his knees and bowed his head, afraid he might pass out.

"What have I done?" he whispered. "What have I done?"

A minute passed, two, three, as he struggled to absorb what could no longer be denied. He had been walking in his sleep. He had assaulted people, terrified them, caused them great harm. He was Dr. Demento!

He stood and picked up his cell phone from the night stand. There was only one number he could call. He had thought about calling many times recently, but had resisted, determined not to involve her. But things were now so dire he had no choice.

She answered on the first ring.

"TP! I've been wanting to call or stop by - how are you?"

"Madeline - " his voice came out like a frog's. "Madeline, I need - can you?"

Bless her, she didn't hesitate an instant, didn't question. She knew him so well. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

The weight on his chest eased fractionally; he gulped in a big breath of air.

The back door opened and closed. "Uncle TP, I'm hungry."

He fixed Harold some bread and nut butter, cutting it in triangles as instructed, "And I want strawberries on top", all the while thinking, thinking what he needed to do.

Gladys was supposed to bring something for supper, that would solve one issue. What else? Ah, God, his mind was in turmoil. When he heard Madeline's rumbly Volkswagen pull into the drive, he rushed to the door.

She was untangling her gangly legs from the seat of her 1998 beetle, painted electric yellow-green, which she'd gotten for a song from another student. It had close to 200,000 miles of use, and probably needed all kinds of work done, but it was her first car and she was very proud of it. TP had worried about her safety driving the decrepit old thing, but she'd brushed off his concerns with her usual panache.

"It's not like I'm taking long road trips or anything," she'd told him. "It's just for bopping around town. Todd has a decent car if I need it." Todd was the new boyfriend.

He was ridiculously glad to see her. She'd worked for him for a year and a half before starting college. He'd hired her at 18 years of age, straight out of an orphanage; an awkward, prickly and highly intelligent girl who had captured him with her fierce blue eyes and direct manner. He'd needed an assistant for various things: research for a book he'd been attempting to write, some light housework, a little help in the lab. She'd tried her hand at cooking, but the results had been mediocre at best. Then last summer had happened, the book was forgotten, the course of their lives changed forever. 

She'd matured a great deal since then, gaining hard-won self confidence through a series of earth-shaking experiences they'd shared. Her mettle had been tested in many ways, her heart had been broken, but she had weathered the storms with courage and determination.

Her face showed concern as she walked towards him. Wide jawline, well-shaped chin, full lips and straight nose; it was a strong and beautiful face, full of character. She wore raveling cut-off jeans, a sleeveless blue cotton shirt with silver buttons open at the top to reveal the polished green stone on a chain she kept around her neck. Her long brown ponytail was stuck through the back of a black baseball cap, and on her feet were woven leather sandals.

They stood scrutinizing each other and much passed between them unspoken.

"Come in," said TP, leading the way.

Harold stood by the door, chewing on his snack and eyeing Madeline curiously.

"Madeline, this is my great-nephew, Harold Web, Marnie's boy. He's staying with me for a bit."

"Hi, Harold Web. It's nice to meet you. I'm Madeline Brown." She shook his grubby little hand, not minding the sticky bits of nut butter.

"You have a nice car," he said.

She laughed. "Well, thanks, Harold. I like it too. Maybe I'll take you for a spin in it later. Would you like that?"

He nodded.

Archie pushed his way onto the porch and sniffed Madeline's shoes, licked her hands and wagged furiously.

"This is Archie," Harold said.

"He's a very fine dog, aren't you, Archie?" Madeline fussed over him, scratching his ears until he collapsed blissfully and rolled over onto his back.

They'd barely gotten in the door when Gladys appeared carrying a picnic basket, dressed in turquoise capris pants, matching beaded mules and a loose-fitting top that fell in swirls of purple, green and rose around her hips.

"Hellooo, Thad, I see you have company. I hope I'm not -" She broke off when her eye fell on Madeline.

"Oh, it's you."

"Hello to you, too, Gladys."

The two couldn't stand each other. 

"Gladys," TP said, "I wonder if you might stay with Harold while I run a couple of errands? Just for an hour or so. He's hungry; maybe you could - " He gestured at the picnic basket, which she'd set on the table.

"What about her?" Gladys' chin pointed at Madeline.

"Madeline will be coming with me."

"Oh, I see." Her bow lips pouted, then she rallied. "Well, Harold and I will have a picnic by ourselves, won't we?"

Harold eyed the basket. "What did you bring?"

TP thanked her, then motioned to Madeline to follow him. 

"What's going on?" she hissed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Get in," he said, opening the door of his Subaru, "I'll tell you on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"Hardware store, for one." He thrust today's newspaper at her as he pulled out of the drive. "Read that." His finger pointed.

"Dr. Demento. People have been talking about this."

"I'm him."

"What?"

TP threw her a grim look. "It's true. I've been walking in my sleep."

Her face registered shock, then, in a moment, understanding.

"Oh my God, it's the chimera dragon, isn't it? TP, how long have you known?

"It never left me," he told her. "I thought it was gone when we came back from Minglemist, but no, only dormant for a time. Now it's growing stronger by the day."

Madeline sat silent a moment and TP could see the wheels spinning. Finally she said, "There's got to be a way to get rid of it."

He told her about the vegetable stone. "But lately, with Harold staying, I haven't been able to work on it."

"Why're you keeping him? I know you wouldn't have invited him with all this going on."

He told her how it had come about.

"He's adorable. But what bad timing! How much is left to do in the lab?"

"The elements have been separated, purified and recombined. I'm nearly ready to fire it in the furnace and melt the resulting powder to make the stone. Only a portion as big as a grain of wheat should be sufficient to drive out the dragon."

"Then there you go!"

"But it takes forty days to fire! I don't know if I can hold out that long. And then, what if I've made a mistake? What if it fails?"

"Then we'll try again, or find another way."

"I don't have much time. Even now, it may be too late."

"We'll get through this," Madeline said firmly. "But I think I should know the process. Just in case."

He looked at her. "In case I turn into a raving lunatic and have to be chained to the bed."

They had reached the hardware store, but neither made a move to get out of the car. They were both lost in thought. TP was remembering the day he'd discovered Minglemist...