Chapter 3

Another letter from Patterson.. George frowned. Somehow he liked it less and less, those requests for money. More demands than requests.

But they were not. George Patterson was no extortionist nor blackmailer. He was just shocked to find out what Dave's secret had been. More shocked at his having taken him so long to figure it out..

And why shouldn't Patterson ask for money? It was just a loan. An investment in whatever business venture was involved.

And it was not as if it was that much money. Patterson was quite moderate in his demands.

Demands. There was the word again. Patterson was demanding money from him, not asking. Extorting it. Blackmailing him.

But it could not be. Not Patterson. Sure he was blunt and plainspoken. He had always been. And he resented the young man who held what had once been his job. He still could not accept that he had been turned out of his job so easily, so suddenly, in that election. He had blamed George Brant, even if it had been Davenport who had beaten him. ?And who had lost no time getting torn to pieces by Jeb Hawkes.

Davenport was dead, so Patterson could not blame him. So whom did he have to put the blame on? Right, George Brant.

Damn it, why couldn't he say it? Patterson was blackmailing him...

Carolyn filled another brandy glass. She thought of what Roger had told her. Maybe she should not be drinking...

Still, one more glass, what difference it would already make? She felt guilty about it, but not so guilty as to stop from taking one more dink.

"Don't drink it Carolyn"

"Uncle Roger, I told you..." she said petulantly, then stopped. It had not been Roger who addressed her.

"Barnabas, of course." she said with mockery. Mockery directed at herself most of all. "you had to get into the act."

"I know that you are hurting, but this will not make it better."

"I don't want to make it better. I want... I want..."

"You want not to hurt so much, is that it?"

"Yes. You do not know what it is like."

"Believe me, Carolyn, I know. There is very little that I do not know about pain."

"Yes." Carolyn grumbled, granting him that. "You do know. Do you know how to get out of it? How to make life worth living again?"

Barnabas shook his head. "That I don't know. I know that you eventually come out of it, but not how it is done. You just live through it, hang on, and then one day it becomes bearable. Things don't seem better, but suddenly, that which was troubling you seems less important. And you discover that you want to go on. And that there is still laughter and hope."

"This is your fault, you know. Adam hates you and used me to get revenge on you.."

"I am aware of that."

"He hid it well, he made me believe.. I believed him! And he stabbed me again. Why am I so gullible?"

"Poor Carolyn.."

"Oh, I am third of you and your commiserating. I am tried of the whole thing, of the whole town, I am tried of all it!"

"Carolyn.!"

"And I'll drink as much as I want to! "

'You should not."

":Get out! Get out! I don't want to see you again! Get out!"

Zeb swallowed his drink. Another one. He suspected that he was drinking too much. And would not do. Not if he was supposed to do all that had been asked of him.

He had started drinking not long ago, when he had found out that hem could do nothing about Barnabas Collins and George Brant. And it was hard to stop.

He put the decanter away. he had enough. He had a mission to accomplish, and it somehow involved Buffy Torrance.

He strode out into the night. He had to walk alone, get rid of the tensions, and of the alcohol.

Maybe he should tell Jessica of what he was doing, ask for her help.

No, it would not do. She would not believe him. She would try to warn Barnabas.

He hated it. Why couldn't he trust his own wife?

He would change that. With the alien's help he would change it.

He saw it, straight in front of him. Just as the first time. The big beautiful spaceship. Only this time it seemed larger, stronger, shinier...

Maybe it was his efforts at channeling the energy that made it possible.

"Come in, Zeb King." they invited him.

He was reluctant do to so. They were his allies, he was working with them. Yet for a moment there was fear in him.

...Things were not as they seemed...

"So you don't wish to believe that we are here?" they asked, not unkindly.

"I wish I knew more about you. I wish that you did not look so much like a toy, all lighted up like a Christmas tree. You are not for real!"

"We are real."

"You are an illusion..." This was madness, what was he saying? Didn't he have more sense than that?

"You are hard to convince, Zeb King. Maybe I am too strange for your mind to comprehend, and I take this shape so as to make you comfortable."

"I. You said 'I'. It used to be 'We'."

"Tricks of the language, terms that are meaningless. But if you do not believe in my reality, you can believe that I can give you what you want."

"Give me what I want? What could you know about it, an alien whose ways I cannot fathom?"

"But your ways can be fathomed. This shape is a temporary necessity. Communication is not possible otherwise."

Zeb grumbled a bit. But not for long. He swallowed his doubt. He wanted to know what to do next, how he would achieve his revenge on Barnabas.

The light enveloped him. But this time the light wasn't fuzzy. No half-defined shapes were darting in and out of his sight. No shadows. as there had been the last time.

The aliens, whoever they were, were getting stronger, and he was making it possible.

"Why this shape at all?" Damn it, it was silly, but he had a scientific mind and had to question everything.

"It is woven from the dreams of many. There is a man who, while not fully sharing this dream, knows of it and his mind collects dreams such as this. So I assumed the shape I found in men's dreams. As I have done in the past."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who hates Barnabas as much as you do. Somebody who has an account to settle with him."

For a moment Zeb froze. And old enemy of Barnabas Collins. Some of them could be unpleasant people.

But not all. There were plenty of innocent victims, like his own uncle. They deserved their chance to get justice...

"What kind of help you want from me?"

"I need you to bait a trap."

"I got myself sick and got nothing for my trouble." Xavier told Sandy. It gets to me. It makes no sense. Why should I be the one not to see anything? And why should I keep on having dreams? I managed to get something that seemed to come out of the spaceship. I had it in my hand. And when I woke up there was stone under my hand.

"It is just a stone. it is not as if it was some piece of jewelry."

"But why does it look so much like my dream? Why am I being tantalized by dreams? Why do I keep getting bits and pieces out of nowhere? And the dreams, they look just like Steven Spielberg stuff... Why can't I have serious dreams?"

"Tammy will not like it." Joe confessed to Barnabas "Yet I thought you should know."

"I understand your concern. I was aware of the risk when I put Tammy in Jake's care. But the alternative was worse."

"I don't blame you for it. I just want you to read the riot act to Jake about professional ethics."