"The Mind's Eye"
Prologue
July 17, 2009
Conway, New Hampshire
It was five A.M. when Thurston Thomas awoke. The time wasn't unusual, but the chilled basement was a bit cooler than normal. It had been three years since he had moved from his upstairs bedroom down into the lower levels of his home, and even that hasn't helped to get any sleep. As Thurston finally arose after a few cracks of his knuckles, he leaned over and took a glance towards his phone. It was strange, he thought, that he would have two voice mails already, doubling his total of the last two weeks. In a moment of curiosity, his fingers skewered the number pad on his phone, and the voice mails began to play.
"Message number one", said the monotonous voice.
"Good morning, Mr. Thomas. I am calling on behalf of ATI North, and I have some wonderful business opportunities available for you. Please call our customer service desk at 1-800-692-1515 and speak with any available agent. Thank you for your-"
Thurston hastily pressed the delete command as the woman's overbearingly friendly voice grew too irritating.
"Message number two".
"Thurston, Listen to me. I know you too well, so I know you might think this is some kind of joke, but please listen to me. Underneath the floorboard in your main bedroom lies a case. In this case is the only thing that is going to fix this."
Thurston, stunned, stared blankly out the half buried basement window as he continued to listen.
"Fix what?", he wondered. The man's voice seemed so incredibly familiar.
"There is no time to explain right now, and even if there was, you wouldn't believe it. So please just believe this. Elana is alive. I'm telling you now, because the men responsible for her kidnapping are coming to your house. I know they are in Conway, but I don't know when they will reach you. Get the case, and get out now. Head to Boston, find a man that teaches at MIT. His name is Professor Charles Yvnochek. It is vital that you arrive there at Seven P.M."
After a three second pause that seemed like ages, the familiar voice concluded.
"Good luck".
Thurston's head began spinning. Tears rushed down his face. As his body began to lose feeling, he stumbled backwards onto his bed, put his hands on his face and counted.
"One. Two. Three."
After a fresh exhale, Thurston's brain began processing the information it was given. There was no way he would ever believe something like that, but the voice he heard sounded all too strange for him to dismiss. The only sure way to know was to check his bedroom.
"What the fuck", mumbled the now fully awake Thurston who jumped out of bed and jogged up the stairs. He navigated the twists and turns of the hallways and staircases up to his former bedroom. Plastic still lay on most of the furnishings, including his large king sized bed. As the wood panels of the floor creaked, so too did Dr. Thomas' anxiety. His heart was beating twice as fast as usual, which means four times as fast as a normal thirty-seven year old's would. No matter how hard he tried to get that voice out of his head, it was all he could hear.
"Elana is alive".
For a brief moment, the voice dissapeared from his mind as he thought about the things he would do to whoever would play such a cruel joke. The floors continued to creak as he approached his bed, but on his last step, no noise could be heard. Thurston knelt down and inspected the floor board in front of his bed. He was certainly no carpenter, but he could tell this board had been removed at one point. The voice resumed in his mind.
"In this case is the only thing that is going to fix this".
He pried at the board with his bitten fingernails, until it became removed and Thurston was staring down at a small hiding place.
"I know they are in Conway, but I don't know when they will reach you".
Thurston ripped through the newspaper that lay above the black object he saw below. He could not believe what he was seeing. If the voice was correct about this, then surely it was probably right about the other things it mentioned.
"Get the case, and get out now".
Panic began to set in. Who were these people supposedly coming to him? The police? No, he thought, there couldn't possibly be anything a single, lonely doctor could have done to warrant an arrest of any kind. Thurston's face was beat red and full of emotion for the first time in years. He grabbed the case without opening it, replaced the floorboard, and caught a glance of the newspaper that had been buried beneath. The newspapers date was July 27th, 2004.
"July.....twenty...seventh...", spoke Dr. Thomas.
If it were possible for him to be any more shocked, certainly seeing the date of his wife's dissapearance on the newspaper hidden in his bedroom would be a catalyst. He thought of Elana, gathering him some strength, and got up off his knees. Suitcase in hand, Thurston grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, and took off out the door.