Chapter 3 - Connie
December 18
At the moment, Connie Evans' mind floated in utter blackness. She was awake, and yet she wasn't. It was a strange sensation, to say the least.
The last thing she remembered was the pain, pain like she had never felt before. It was like getting stabbed by a million of her mother's sewing needles all at once. Then there was a bright light.
And now nothing.
Am I dead?
Because this didn't seem like Heaven to her.
Then, she heard something.
A voice.
It sounded vaguely familiar, too, but it wasn't immediately recognizable.
Connie began moving toward the voice, but so slowly that she felt as if she were stuck in mud.
An instant later, though, Connie felt like she was flying at incredible speeds. It was so fast, in fact, that her vision began to blur and twist in on itself. Fearing the worst – whatever that might be – she squeezed her eyes shut, but it made no difference.
Now the voice was closer. Much closer.
In fact, it seemed to be coming from right beside her.
Connie tried to open her eyes, to see who it was, but at first, her eyelids refused to respond. Then, slowly but surely, they did. And, at long last, thin rays of dim light began to filter through.
Light!
Was this Heaven?
A sharp stab of pain quickly put that question to rest. Unfortunately, she was still alive.
The voice soon became coherent, and Connie could tell that whoever it was, they were speaking directly to her.
"...just like you used to. Remember?"
Remember what?
At the moment, Connie couldn't really remember much of anything. It was taking all her focus just to open her eyes.
But even when she finally did, she couldn't tell where she was now.
She was lying on her back, staring up at a bland white ceiling. Her head was propped up by pillows and she was covered by a pink wool blanket all the way up to her shoulders.
Was she in bed?
With some difficulty, Connie turned her head to the side, and could finally make out the source of the mystery voice. Someone was sitting off to her right, still rambling on about something. But they stopped altogether when they realized that Connie was looking directly at them.
"Hey there, you," they said. The voice was kind and gentle. It was also maddeningly familiar, but Connie still couldn't figure out just who it was.
The blurry figure of this kind person stood and came right up to the side of her bed. Then they reached up and gently touched her hair.
"You had us worried for a little while back there."
Us? Who was 'us'?
Connie blinked her eyes, and finally some of the blurriness began to fade. As well, the figure standing at her bedside came into sharper focus, and suddenly she knew who it was.
It was her brother.
It was Henry.
She felt a sudden surge of panic and tried to sit up, but a white-hot flash of pain down her right side quickly put this to an end and left her on the verge of tears.
Henry gently laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Take it easy. You don't wanna be exerting yourself too much right now."
Since when did he care?
"Hang in there, kid," he said. "I just gotta step out for a sec. Be back before you can spell 'stork.'"
With that, and a quick smile, Henry turned on his heels, opened the door, and left the room. A bright light from what lay beyond the door nearly blinded Connie and she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain.
As she lay there, waiting for her brother's inevitable return, a quick succession of images and sensations flashed through her mind.
Being out of control, and unable to stop.
Fear.
And cold. An all-consuming cold.
"Mom! Dad!"
That was Henry, his voice distant and far away.
Why hadn't he tried to do something to her already?
Well, at least he was going to get Mom and Dad.
Or was he?
Connie certainly wouldn't put it past him to pretend something like that so he could purposely get her hopes up, and then pull the rug out from under her. Just like the times when he'd gone and popped the balloons at her birthday parties or eaten all of her good candy at Halloween.
Henry seemed to get a kick out of watching her suffer, particularly if he was the one causing it. He had always treated her as nothing more than a verbal – and on occasion, literal – punching bag than a human being.
He was only ever nice to her when it served his own purposes.
So why was he being nice now?
Probably to show off in front of Mom and Dad.
Now Connie began to wonder why she had even decided to go skating with Henry in the first place.
Maybe she had held out some hope that he was actually being nice to her for once.
Well, she had somehow ended up in the hospital, so that idea quickly went out the window.
Connie scarcely had any more time to think about it, as a series of footsteps announced the entrance of several people, one of which had to be Henry. She slowly peeled her eyelids open, and sure enough, her brother was once again at her side, but right behind him was their parents, both of whom looked like they had been crying quite a bit.
They were all smiles, and looked very happy to see her.
Her mother was first to break the silence.
"Hey there, baby girl," Susan said, her voice quavering slightly.
Connie's father delicately took one of her hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Welcome back, honey," he said, a happy smile breaking across his face.
Lastly, Connie looked up at Henry and watched, wide-eyed, as he pulled a red bandanna from his pants' pocket and tied it about his head.
"See? Stork!" Henry said, giving her a goofy grin.
Despite her uncertainty as to her brother's actions at the moment, Connie smiled back at him, since such displays of 'niceness' were few and far between when it came to Henry.
A little giggle sounded from off to Henry's right, and Connie's brother suddenly kneeled down, almost out of her line of sight.
"You like that as much as she did, don't you?" he asked.
Who was he talking to?
But that giggle – it sounded eerily familiar. Then Connie heard it again and there was no mistaking it this time.
Seconds later, Henry stood back up, but now he awkwardly held something – or, rather, someone – in his arms. Connie's eyes bugged out of her head and her mind went spinning.
This had to be a dream.
Because, right before her, was the little brother she had said goodbye to so long ago, a face that she had never expected to see again.
Richard.
"Say hello to Connie, Rich," Henry said in an encouraging voice.
The little boy seemed quite timid, but he smiled at Connie nonetheless.
"Hello, Conn-ie," he said nervously.
Connie blinked rapidly.
Slowly, she reached a hand out toward this boy who looked so much like her little brother.
"R-R-Richard?" Connie finally managed, stuttering.
When her hand met his, Connie's eyes went wide. In every dream she'd had involving Richard, whenever she reached for his hand, he simply disappeared into thin air, as if he'd never existed.
But here he was, nonetheless.
And he hadn't disappeared, either.
Henry gave her a funny look as he handed Richard off to their father.
"Is something the matter, Conse?" he asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
Conse?
When had Henry ever called her by that name? The only one who ever called her that on a consistent basis – and in a good way – was their Grandpa Dan. It was more of a pet name than anything else, which made it even stranger that Henry would use it in a context that wasn't making fun of her.
If this was a dream, it was getting weirder by the second.
"I-I-I... t-thought..." Connie finally responded, unable to form the question aloud.
"Thought what, sweetie?" Wallace asked, sounding concerned.
Connie gulped, trying her best to swallow back this sudden, overwhelming wave of emotions. She had done her best to try and put what'd happened to her little brother in the past, and move on.
But obviously, she hadn't.
"T-that R-R-Richard d-d-drowned!" she cried, tears spilling freely from her eyes.
A look of genuine shock appeared on Henry's face, while Wallace laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and Susan gently squeezed her hand.
"It's all right, baby," Susan said reassuringly. "It's all right. Richard's here, and he's perfectly fine. You just had a bad nightmare. That's all."
A nightmare?
Could that possibly be it? Was it that simple?
Maybe she'd had it backwards this whole time.
But if this wasn't a dream, how come her mother and Henry had seemingly swapped hairstyles? Up until now, Connie had been so preoccupied with the whole idea of Henry actually being nice to her for once, and of Richard somehow being alive and perfectly healthy to notice. Henry's hair was cropped in a neat line just above his ears, while their mother's was now shoulder length.
When had Henry ever gotten a haircut?
"Mom?" Connie suddenly asked, rubbing the tears from her eyes.
"What is it, sweetie?"
Connie sniffled. "Why's your hair so long?"
Susan let out a little laugh.
"Don't you remember?"
Indeed Connie did.
A couple of years ago, right before Thanksgiving, the two of them had been looking through old family photos when they happened upon several of Susan, taken when she was just a little girl herself. Connie had been so enamored by these photos of her mother with long hair that she had tried to get her to grow it out again. But then Henry had called out from upstairs, complaining – as usual – about not having enough clean clothes for the rest of the week, and promptly ruining the moment.
Connie repeated this aloud, trying her best to put words to the thoughts.
"It was before Thanksgiving. We found some photos of you from a long time ago, and I really liked how long your hair was back then."
"So then you asked me to grow it out," Susan finished for her.
Connie squinted. "I – I never actually got to tell you that. Henry interrupted before I could say anything."
Susan and Henry promptly exchanged confused looks.
"Hon, Henry was over at Dylan's that day."
"Well," Henry began, "it was right before she went MIA. She's bound to get the exact details mixed up."
Now it was Connie's turn to be confused.
"MIA? What's that?" she asked. "And why did I go on it?"
"It's a military term," her father replied somewhat tersely. "For when soldiers go... missing."
What? Missing?!
The confused look on her face was enough to draw some further conversation from Henry.
"She really doesn't remember, does she?" he asked their father in a low voice.
Wallace shook his head somberly.
"Two years is a long time, I suppose," Henry continued. "I don't remember much from before pre-k myself."
"A long time for what?" Connie asked.
Wallace cast a disapproving glance down at Henry, and the boy shrugged in a rather sheepish manner.
"Sorry," Henry muttered, suddenly finding the floor tiles at his feet much more interesting than he had a second before.
Connie watched over this near-silent exchange with surprise. Henry's reaction was a new one on her. He had always handled that look from their father with an apologetic smile and a kind of grace that Connie could never hope to match.
"What is it?" she asked again.
The question had obviously made her parents uncomfortable for some reason, as Susan shifted on her feet and Wallace thoughtfully scratched at his chin.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but..."
Connie grew concerned at the somber tone in her father's voice.
"But 'what' Daddy?"
Her father noticeably hesitated before finally replying.
"Two years. You've been gone two years."
"That went over better than I thought it would," Wallace was saying ten minutes later as he strode from the room into the brightly-lit corridor. Susan followed, carrying Richard in her arms, while Henry brought up the rear and pulled the door shut behind them.
Susan nodded in agreement. "But the poor girl was just so... confused."
"Makes perfect sense," Wallace said. "Two years. Two goddamned years. Whatever happened, it's more likely than not that she's completely suppressed all memory of it."
"Which means what, exactly?" Henry asked.
"That she likely doesn't remember anything from between whatever happened two years ago and when she woke up here today," his father replied.
"Thank God," Susan muttered.
But that still didn't appear to satisfy Henry. "Then why did she get stuff from before mixed up so badly?"
Wallace shrugged.
"And why would she think anything had happened to Richard?" Susan added.
"Like you said, Sus. She probably just had a nightmare."
"But the way that she talked about it," Susan said, "it was like she believed that it actually happened."
"For many people – and especially children – dreams can, in a fashion, seem just as real as the real world. Sometimes, they offer an escape from reality, and others – like nightmares – twist those dreams and turn reality on its' head."
Though still somewhat confused, Henry carefully mulled over what his father had said before asking a question of his own.
"Didn't Great-Uncle Michael drown a couple months before Conse disappeared?"
Wallace nodded tentatively.
"Maybe she remembered that, and, at some point, it got so jumbled around in her head that she somehow mixed that up with Richard."
"Could be," Wallace replied with an uncertain shrug.
With everything that'd happened in the past couple of years, he was surprised that they all hadn't lost their grip on reality.
The day of December 2, 1991 had forever been seared into the collective memory of the Evans family.
It had been another unusually warm day for that time of year in Maine, with temperatures hovering in the mid to upper fifties and a chance of rain later that afternoon. Connie had been quite adamant about finding and becoming the first to see a rainbow that year. For that specific reason, she had quite literally dragged Henry out to the park.
Harborwood Park was a beautiful area, nestled just within the nearby forest, and was the perfect spot for recreation, hiking, and the occasional fishing out on Miller Pond (though most never kept their catch, for obvious reasons). The green spaces there were large enough that Henry and his friends would sometimes hold an impromptu baseball game there on weekends, usually drawing quite the crowd of bystanders and even earning a weekly column in the local paper, The Harbor Examiner.
In fact, they'd just had one the previous day right after church, providing quite the entertainment for a group of Sunday picnickers in the process.
Because of those wide open fields, Connie seemed to think that they'd be the perfect spot to see a rainbow after it rained. Henry knew that, more likely than not, they wouldn't see anything, but he went along with it for his sister's sake.
In the hours before it was supposed to rain, they did everything from playing a back and forth game of tag and riding the merry go-round to Henry pushing Connie on the swings. At just under an hour to go, Connie had already gotten bored and moped around on a nearby bench until Henry suggested a quick hike up one of the main trails. With time to spare, she quickly perked up and eagerly agreed.
It had started out all right, with brother and sister walking hand-in-hand down the paved and heavily wooded trail. On occasion, a squirrel or chipmunk would dart across their path, or a bird would land in a nearby tree, and Connie would try to chase after them, apparently quite adamant about catching one and keeping it for a pet. Henry was barely able to keep his little sister in check each time.
She seemed to shrink back a bit after he told her that some of them might have rabies. Realizing that his sister didn't quite know what rabies was, exactly, Henry just told her that it was a very bad sickness you got when a wild animal bit you.
That had put a quick end to that argument.
Up until that day, Henry had prided himself on keeping a watchful eye on his siblings and paying attention to their activities.
All it took was a single rock.
They were about three-quarters' of the way up the trail when Henry happened upon a cool-looking red and black-spotted rock for his collection back home. Naturally, he stooped down to pocket it, and, for a split second, forgot that he was holding Connie's hand. When Henry looked back, his sister was gone.
In a panic, he had raced back along the trail the way they had come, hoping to find some trace of her. But there was none. Not so much as a single broken twig or crushed leaf.
The only luck he'd had that day was remembering to bring his cellphone.
At first, both Susan and Wallace had been livid that he'd let her out of his sight, and immediately called in the police to perform a thorough search of the park. Henry would also recall that he'd seen a strange woman out of the corner of his eye, right as they started down the trail.
With Henry's testimony, in less than two days, the FBI was on the scene and had a sketch artist sit down with the boy to try and identify this unknown woman. But the details had seemed to vanish from his head, like a morning fog before the sun. Consequently, his description was rather vague and could have applied to almost any younger middle-aged woman, even his own mother.
As the days, and then the weeks slowly crept by with no sign of Connie, Henry had fallen into a deep depression, exacerbated by the anger his parents directed at him for her disappearance and possible abduction. It didn't help at all that Susan had started to drink excessive amounts of wine.
Christmas that year was noticeably subdued, and Henry refused to so much as open any of his presents, or even eat the breakfast his mother had prepared. Instead, he ate cold cereal and promptly locked himself up in his room for the rest of the day, absorbing himself in reading through his Hardy Boys collection, and only coming down to heat up a TV dinner in the microwave later that evening.
For several months this went on, with Henry largely ignoring his parents and riding the bus to school every weekday. The only times he ever had any real fun was his extracurricular activities, namely baseball and basketball, during which he got some much needed support from his friends. Dylan Conners and Eli Matheson, especially. Aside from Richard, those two were as close to brothers as Henry could get, and he could always count on them to put a smile on his face.
The joint sleepovers he had at both of their houses on alternating weekends were some of Henry's fondest memories from this period.
As for Richard, who was nearly two by then, Henry would still take the time to entertain his little brother and see to helping with his care on a daily basis. In fact, he would sometimes do more to take care of Richard than their own mother, who took to skulking in the cellar whenever the feeling arose.
Susan's depression, on the other hand, had been far more alcohol-related than anything else. She seemed to blame herself for even letting Henry take Connie out to the park in the first place. And while it may have been a mistake on Henry's part for turning his back, he was only human, and it was the kind of mistake that almost anyone could have made.
Fortunately, Wallace was able to realize this on his own, and used that to get back on somewhat more amicable terms with his older son.
As the months went by, the media and the general public inevitably began drawing parallels to the Bishop abduction from '85. Though the circumstances were entirely different, the disappearance of young Peter Bishop, son of Walter Bishop – America's national defense 'czar', architect of the 'Star Wars' satellite defense system, and owner/founder of the multi-billion dollar Bishop Dynamic – had been just as inexplicable.
Eventually, the strain in the Evans household finally came to a head on May 16, 1992 – Henry's eleventh birthday.
Unlike every year past, he didn't want any presents this time around.
All he asked was for his mother to stop drinking, and pleaded for both of his parents' forgiveness.
Ultimately, his pleas had melted Susan's heart, and brought them back together as a family.
Susan still took anger management classes on occasion, but she had come a long way since then.
The past year and a half had been well-spent, and they had all done their dead-level best to put the past behind them and resume a semblance of a normal life. But now Connie was back, just suddenly as she had disappeared, and Wallace hoped that she wouldn't unknowingly reopen old wounds in the process.
"We should probably get going," he finally said. "She's going to need her rest."
Susan nodded in agreement, and with that, the family started down the hall toward the elevator bank. When they finally stopped in front of the stainless-steel doors, Richard had gotten too heavy for Susan to carry for the moment, so she passed him off to Henry, who promptly gave the little boy a ride on his shoulders, eliciting a squeal of delight from the four year-old.
Henry grinned like a million bucks, and his mother returned the smile. He was in such a good mood that he let Richard have the dubious honor of pressing the 'down' button on the elevator and selecting the first floor when the car finally arrived.
When they finally exited into the bustling, squeaky-clean first-floor lobby, a sudden beep sounded from Wallace's touchphone and he reached into his pocket to retrieve it. When he looked at the automated text message, he audibly sighed.
"What is it?" Susan asked, sounding concerned. "Is it Connie?"
Wallace shook his head. "No, no. It's nothing to do with Connie."
"Then what?"
"I'm needed over in the clinic. Dr. Warren called in sick, and they need me to sub for her 'till six-thirty tonight."
Susan nodded. "Okay. Do you just want me to come get you then?"
"Is Daddy coming home with us?" Richard asked from atop Henry's shoulders.
"No, sweetie. Daddy has to work now, but we'll see him again real soon," Susan replied.
With that, she went up to Wallace and gave him a kiss.
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Sus."
Wallace then laid a hand on Henry's shoulder and ruffled Richard's shaggy blond hair.
"I love you, too, guys."
"I know you do, Dad," Henry replied, smiling. "We both do."
Richard gave an affirmative and emphatic nod.
With one final glance at his family, Wallace Evans reluctantly turned on his heels and went the opposite way.
Henry took Susan's hand in his, and carefully balancing Richard on his shoulders, led her through the automated front doors and into the unusually warm winter air of Maine.
Jacksonville, East Florida
Brandon hurried down the steel and glass corridor, the windows currently tinted a familiar dark hue to block the sunlight from outside. Of course, with all the time he and most of his fellow employees spent inside, the light would more than likely be blinding, which was probably why the windows were tinted in the first place.
He had been hired on as a tech assistant only three months ago, and already he had attracted the attention of 'the Big Boss' – the Man himself. Brandon had been surprised to learn of how similar their approaches to science were.
No limitations.
No regulations.
There was simply no reason for them, not if mankind were to progress in any meaningful way.
Brandon rounded one final corner, to discover that His door was open.
That was never a good sign when the Boss's door was open.
Never.
He stepped up and looked in.
The Man was sitting behind his huge, polished cherry wood desk, and seemed deep in thought, with his head in his hands.
Brandon took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
The Man's head shot up, and he stared at Brandon for just a moment before motioning him forward.
"Come in, Brandon, come in."
Brandon took a few steps inside, completely masking his unease with outward confidence and professionalism.
"What is it, son?" He asked.
Brandon handed him a tablet, the necessary data already displayed.
"Sir, it appears that we may have had another incursion event."
The Man's face went dead serious as he scanned through the initial data logs on the device in his hands.
"When?" He asked.
"Yesterday, sir."
The Man's voice became incredulous and livid. "Yesterday?! And just why wasn't I alerted to it until now?"
Brandon did his utmost to keep his composure.
"Sir, DoD satellites did record the event, but it was automatically classified Top Secret and kept under tight scrutiny. I had to do some pretty fancy footwork hacking into their servers just to get this much."
The Man nodded, and his demeanor quickly became a bit less threatening.
"Where did this event take place?" He asked quietly.
"A mid-size town, on the coast of Waldo County, Maine," Brandon replied.
The Man nodded quietly and seemed to mull over the information before finally replying.
"Get someone up there right away," He said. "We must be certain that this event won't repeat itself. I don't want another Harvard on my hands, Brandon."
"Yes, sir."
A/N: This is the first chapter to take place fully within the alternate universe. For those of you familiar with my work, the Henry of this universe is more or less like the one from Something About Mark. The tech in this universe is also identical to that in SAM, which is about twenty years ahead of our universe (in fact, the tech in SAM was inspired by 'the Other Side' from Fringe).
I think I did a pretty good job portraying Connie's POV. Do you agree?
