Chapter Ten – Secrets

The hallway was dark and cold.

Two figures stared at each other in the hall.
One with a hood that concealed its face and the other was a brown-haired woman with long locks that covered hers.

The hooded figure looked behind itself and looked at the dead body of a young man. His blood seeped into the ice that hardened across the floor.

A frigid wind entered the hall and the hooded figure looked back at the brown-haired woman.
The long auburn locks began to part showing a soft, curved jaw and youthful lips.

The hooded figure took a step back, acknowledging the presence of the brown-haired woman. Its foot broke through the ice and landed on the other side of the dead man’s legs.

A shrill and broken voice spoke through the auburn locks. “Why? …. WHY?!”

The hooded figure burst forward and to the right to a closed wooden door at the end of the hall. It pulled on the handle and opened it. On the other side was only a gloomy black.

The brown-haired woman began to scream.

The hooded figure without hesitation plunged head first into the darkness.

A ringing entered Corbin’s ears as he awoke. He squinted his sensitive eyes as the bright morning light entered his window. It was Saturday, a day of relaxation, but not for the eager journalist. The snow continued to fall outside, marking yet another cold, wintry day. The winter didn’t seem to end.

Corbin touched his right temple. It was sore to the touch like a cramped muscle after stretching it. What a night! All the events from the previous twenty-four hours were vague and hazy. And what about this dream I keep having? Is it connected to the mirror?

Thoughts quickly unfolded in Corbin’s mind as if recollecting the events of a favorite book. He pondered on how he met Kate, but saw her even before he met her. Does the mirror truly show the future?... Was the old man right?

He needed answers.

Corbin shook his head, feeling the jumbled mess of thoughts shake about like the inside of a snow-globe.

I can’t keep getting distracted. I need to find the fifth missing page to his journal. I’ll have to check the Harrison home again. It may be there.

Corbin briskly dressed and hurried down the stairs. He nearly tripped on a loose piece of carpet by the front door, but was able to grab the door handle with incredible dexterity. He opened the front door and headed to the snow-covered sidewalk – distinguishable with a slight indentation. He looked to his left and saw the 68 Main Street parking lot. Five cars were currently parked in the designated spots. Half were covered with a wintry coat as the others have been swept clean and gathered a thin layer of snow. Corbin looked at his empty designated spot. Kate thought I was a fool for not owning a car. I know it. I guess I got too used to walking and not having a car to even ask myself why I didn’t drive.

In the bitter and long New England winters, a warm car ride would have been pleasant. The roads were a bit slippery, making Corbin be more attentive with his stepping on the thin walkways layered in black ice. The cold air biting at his ears and face.

After about forty-five minutes, he finally reached the old Victorian home of the once inventor. Corbin’s face was beet red and the moisture on his eyelashes froze in the blistering winds, making it hard to blink. He reentered through the front porch into the large foyer and looked down the back hallway. There was no significant welcoming warmth usually felt when one enters a home in the winter time.

No breathing hearth.

No blankets or beds for comfort.

Corbin shivered and rubbed his hands together, the friction the only thing keeping him warm.

Now with no time restriction, Corbin decided to explore the study. Corbin placed his hand on the handle and flinched to the touch of cold brass, exposed in the freezing temperatures of the broken home. He turned the frigid knob and opened the door. The study was the size of a large living room. Bookshelves lined the walls, their book collection nearly emptied. Fluffy remnants of an old fainting couch were strewn all over the floor. He turned on his detective brain. People must have taken the furniture and books to sell and it looks like this couch was caught in a struggle with nether side winning.

The room appeared to have no use in Corbin’s search for answers, but something suspicious caught his eye. On one of the bookshelves rested three books, three shelves down from the top. The grouping was odd. Two of the books lied on their sides, leaning against one that stood perfectly straight on its own in the middle of the shelf. There was no support beam or book-stop holding it up. The book was thin compared to the others and with a common-sense knowledge of physics it didn’t seem feasible to think that it could carry the weight of the other two books.

Corbin walked over the couch stuffing and dust covered floor. He noticed that a coat of frost lingered on the bookshelves and got the chilling feeling he was standing in a freezer. He looked over at the thin, standing book and read its binding:

In corpus avis

In corpus avis?.... What is that? He reached out his hand to pull out the book. He felt a tension along his fingers as he pulled the cover toward him. The frost along its cover melted with the heat of his fingers and made the book slippery to the touch. He got a good grasp on the cover this time and pulled slightly harder until the book gave way. He staggered backward as a cloud of dust burst through tiny pockets along one edge of the bookcase. He coughed out the congested air and looked at the shelf. The In corpus avis title leaned over the edge of the shelf somehow being held up by some unseen force. He regained his balance and motioned over toward the bookshelf. He saw what held the book up. A two-inch-wide rope attached to its interior. He felt the top of the book’s spine and noticed that its innards were not filled with pages but a wooden box glued to the inside of the leather book cover. The rope was bound around a metal loop that was screwed into the wooden box. The clickity- clack of gears entered the silent, desolate room, making Corbin start. A section of the bookcase, swung backwards a few inches on a hinge until a dark entryway was revealed. Trapped air and dust escaped out of the hollow darkness hidden from behind the bookshelves.

Corbin took out his camera from his bag and advanced into the void using the glow from the LCD screen as a guiding light. Cobwebs, exposed rafters and holes filled the narrow hall that delved deep into the Harrison home. A secret passage?!...What more can I expect from Phineas Harrison? Corbin continued for another twenty feet until the hall opened into a small circular room. At one end was a miniature desk, its tabletop as big as one may see used by a student in a class room. On top of its dusty surface, Corbin saw a small box. All of its side panels were made of steel, but two were different from the rest. On one panel the metal bent inwards to form a two-inch wide circular hole with two prongs sticking upward like sharpened wooden spikes in an old hunter’s trap. This looks more like a modern electrical outlet. On the other panel was a small plate of transparent glass. It acted as a window to the cloudy interior which consisted of a funneled piece of metal that narrowed toward a small flash bulb held into the center by a metal bracket. Could this be the oculus? He held the cryptic box in his hands, gauging its dense weight. He rolled it across his fingers, feeling the distinct surface of glass and cold steel. Corbin’s eyes started to search for a button or some sort of plug to start the device, trying to understand how it works. Maybe there’s something on the torn-out pages that would tell me how to use this. He put the box into his camera bag and looked around. There were only exposed wooden beams and cobwebs that littered the area around the small desk. Maybe there’s something inside the desk that can help me. Corbin started to pull out the desk’s few drawers and then sifted through loose blank papers and old pens.

There was nothing.

No more notes or books, just nothing.

Corbin rose onto his feet and growled. What happened to you, Harrison? … and, What the hell is Oculus?! He was now incredibly impatient as his deadline was growing closer, and was stuck on the letter “H” in his list of famous persons.

He couldn’t move on.

His whole being needed to figure out the mystery for he felt his sane mind slowly slipping away from him like a rock after being beating by a series of waves.

Corbin searched once more around at the apparently empty nook. He looked up at the domed ceiling and saw a box shaped hole at the apex. He recalled the fourth definition to oculus. The box must be light through the apex of the dome. He pulled the now antique desk over to the center of the room and stood on the desktop to reach the hole in the ceiling. He took the metal box out of his bag and reached out his hand to the rectangular hole. He pushed the box in with the glass and bulb facing him until he heard a click.

The box fit perfectly into the spot and was held up in the ceiling.

Corbin stepped down onto the floor and noticed the room was flickering in and out of focus. He looked up at the ceiling and saw that the bulb within the box was flashing for a few moments until its light was steady.

The light revealed etchings made in the wooden walls that Corbin couldn’t see with the glow of his camera. The light then took on a bluish hue.

Corbin took a step back and a deep breath as highlighted numbers were revealed on the walls. It must be like that blue light marker stuff, but was that around a hundred years ago? On each section of wall was a different number.

7– 0 – 4 – 2 – 0 – 1 – 8

The light changed its hue back to a bright yellow, but it left Corbin’s mind in the dark. He didn’t think that he would have more questions.

More mysteries to solve.
He felt like he was being dragged down the rabbit hole – like in one of his favorite novels.

The numbers disappeared.

The light gave off a welcoming heat.
Corbin had started to sweat under his coat.

Why put those numbers on the wall?

How does this all connect?

His patience had gone thin. He desperately needed answers. Anxiety turned into anger as he kicked the side of the desk.

Another freaking brick wall!

In another angered outburst, he pushed the desk against the far wall. The aged wood splintered and cracked.

Corbin was breathing deeply as he calmed down.

What were you trying to hide?

The light returned to blue and the room grew darker.

Corbin felt the cold air chill the sweat along his neck and forehead.

I must stop this. I am going crazy. I just need to work on the next few people on my list and I’m sure to get it published in the Gazette. Although, this room is quite intriguing.

The illuminated numbers returned with a portion of the number 4 cut off by the desk.
He walked over and moved the desk back to the middle of the room and noticed some illuminated letters on the floor. He moved the desk to the far wall and read the messaged that formed a circle in the middle of the floor.

Aperire Oculus

Oculus! There it is again, but what does aperire mean?

He walked back into the study and ripped a page out of one of the books leaning on, ‘In Corpus Avis’. He took out a pencil from his pocket – just like a professional journalist ready to write something down. He walked back through the narrow hall and noticed the blue light touched upon illuminated letters in a straight line written in the same secret ink.

UT in PraeTeritis

What the hell is this?

He wrote down the other passage and felt the insatiable urge consume him. He knew even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. He had to press on and find out what all of this meant.

I need to go back home and think this all over. He moved the desk over to the middle of the small room and stood on its surface. He pulled the box out from the ceiling and placed it into his bag. He walked over to the foyer and reached out his hand to an empty space near the wall opposite the door. His hand curled into a fist as if he was trying to grab hold of something up on the wall. He slid his arm down slightly and then adjusted his coat over his shoulders. The odd gesture didn’t seem to have caught Corbin’s attention, but a passerby would have seen a bizarre man reach for an invisible object. Maybe his mind was truly slipping. The effects of the car accident were beginning to surface.

The cold air was growing ever closer to sub-zero temperatures. When is this winter ever going to be over with?

He exited the main foyer to the snow-covered porch.

Corbin yawned. He could sense his body was getting weaker every day. His sensitive eyes were painfully reminded of the bright sunlight that reflected off the white snow. He squinted his eyes and looked away for a moment. He pondered on his find. This changing blue light and the messages on the wall should be enough proof to make this story gain some footing, but I need to solve the puzzle. Aperire Oculus. I need to figure out what that means.

He returned home and placed his things in his bedroom. He slunk into his armchair and relaxed. The day took its toll on him and he wouldn’t be surprised if he caught a cold. He sniffled his runny nose as he stretched out his back and then sunk into the comfy cushions.

Corbin rested for an hour in the chair. He awoke groggy, but it was a nice dreamless nap. Okay, now to look up the words. He went into his bedroom to his nightstand and pulled out a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica that William lent to him when he first moved into the apartment. He flipped through the index in the letter A column. Aperire … where are you? His finger slid down the Ap words such as Ape, Apennine, Aper until he found Aperire, but it didn’t have its own definition. The text in the index stated to go see the definition for April. April? Does it mean April?

He went to the page that displayed most of the Ap words he had spotted in the index. He found the definition, “fourth month of the Gregorian calendar. Its name probably derives from the Latin aperire (“to open”), a possible reference to plant buds opening at this time of year in Rome.”

To open. Aperire Oculus means, “to open the window”?

He put the first volume of the Encyclopedia back into the nook under his nightstand and pulled out the one that was for the letters P and Q. He placed the volume on his bed and pulled out the torn out page from Harrison’s study. He furrowed his brow as he tried to pronounce the word from the hallway. “Pray-et-tor-it – ees?” He searched the index of the dictionary, but couldn’t find much of anything.

Corbin stood stiff as a knock came to the door.

“Hello?” came a muffled voice from the hall.

Corbin didn’t instantly recognize it, but it sounded familiar. He carefully put the page with the message into his pant’s pocket.

“Be right there,” he replied.

He closed up the encyclopedia and placed it back by the nightstand. Who could that be?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Standing in the hall was Mrs. Church, fixing her lopsided glasses. She was wearing a long red sweater, which Corbin though was her husband’s, and faded jeans. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail to accentuate her large spectacles. “
“Hi, Corbin,” she said in a warm voice.

Corbin cleared his throat. “Hello, Mrs. Church, how are you?”

She smiled and nodded her head. “I’m well, thank you. I wanted to invite you to our place for a little belated holiday get together. Phil and I usually do this sooner, but this year was so busy we just couldn’t set anything up.”

Corbin smiled. “That would be nice. I could use a little break.”

Mrs. Church was overjoyed and had excitement in her voice. “Excellent, we have a few other tenants downstairs already. Feel free to walk inside and help yourself to the food and drinks. I’m just going to go ask the others down the hall. I’ll see you there.” She whisked away down the old corridor.

Corbin closed his door. Well that was nice.

Next Chapter: 11 - Party