Visions from Beyond

Chapter 9: The Church on Prospect Hill

When Neal reported to the Medical Center on Monday morning, Peter was already present, along with the artifact. Neal brought along his warring emotions. His desire to know the truth dueled with growing apprehension over what he'd learn. As he filled out the forms, he reminded himself not to build up expectations about either one. The tests would most likely be inconclusive. The results probably wouldn't be available for weeks.

True to her word, Elizabeth supervised the proceedings personally. The starfish was concealed under a protective cover so that its appearance wasn't visible to other medical personnel. The tests ranged from simple reflex and cognitive evaluations to a CT scan and other imaging evaluations. At eleven o'clock, she called a halt, asking Neal to join her in her office when he'd dressed.

Neal took his time changing back into his suit. Up to today, he'd only been exposed for a brief minute or two to the starfish. Now he'd spent well over an hour in its presence. Although he could never see it, he could sense it. The disorientation, the sweats—they all blared out their warnings. After each session, Elizabeth gave him time to recover, but he still felt drained.

Neal rested on the bench in the changing cubicle before going out. Leaning his back to the wall, his eyes closed, he willed himself to empty his thoughts. After five minutes or it could have been an hour, he finally roused himself. He had classes to teach in the afternoon.

When he exited the cubicle, he found Elizabeth standing outside, looking concerned. "How are you feeling? Do you need to lie down for a while?"

He shook his head. "Have you formed any preliminary conclusions?"

"A few. Would you mind if Peter is present?"

"No, but I'm surprised he's still here." Neal hadn't seen him during the last hour of testing.

Elizabeth escorted him to her office where Peter was waiting. She had glasses of orange juice and a plate of sugar cookies available for them. Peter's glass was already half-empty. Handing Neal a glass, she said, "I put you both through the wringer. I don't want anyone collapsing around here." She was kind to include Peter, but Neal knew she meant him.

Neal took a seat in an upholstered chair beside her desk and composed himself for whatever was to come.

"The good news is that when you're not being exposed to the starfish, all your readings fall within normal parameters. I didn't find any physiological aftereffects to the exposure. If I'd detected any lingering effect, I would have called off the tests, so you should feel pleased."

Neal nodded, waiting for the "but" that would inevitably follow.

"But during the exposure, the physiological effects are what we would expect from someone who displays your symptoms—an increase in heart rate, a sudden drop in blood pressure accompanied by disequilibrium. The cause seems to be tied to an area in your brain that displays anomalous neural wave patterns or oscillations as we call them. As the tests continued, the oscillations were a constant, but the other symptoms diminished in severity."

He nodded. "I no longer feel as dizzy when I'm exposed to the artifact. By the end of the morning, I was tolerating it fairly well."

"That's also the way it appeared to me. Aside from a slight loss of color, you were not showing any external effects, but the abnormal neural activity persisted whenever you were exposed to the starfish. Did you experience any visions?"

Neal hesitated. Had he seen anything? He'd read that imaging chambers could be claustrophobic. That's probably what caused it. Besides, it wasn't a vision. How could he explain properly what he'd felt? A presence? Someone observing him? There was no denying he didn't feel alone in that chamber, but it must have been his mind playing tricks on him. For a second, Neal relived the icy breath, the sensation of a malevolence next to him.