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"Why the long face, Paul?"
Paul looked up from his newspaper to see Georgia strolling into the SQ office. After two years of him working there, even she felt comfortable enough to treat the place like his second home. "Oh, we have a breakfast date, don't we?"
"It's about to become a brunch date if we don't get going." She glanced down at the paper in his hands. "You're so old fashioned, still reading actual newspapers. What's in here that's got you looking so serious?"
Paul considered this for a moment and then showed her the article that had stolen his attention for the entire morning. "It's about a woman I once met. Karen Longview."
"Oh? Was it a case?" Being that Georgia had been the focus of one of SQ's cases herself in the past, she was always willing to listen to Paul's crazy stories. Some of them she even believed.
"Yeah." Paul's eyes took on a far off look, as if he was seeing the events of that day at Logan Airport again, instead of the drab walls of the SQ office. "An airplane disappeared from radar for 64 seconds. When the passengers deboarded, they all had experienced something different during the time the plane was gone." He looked at Georgia briefly, flashing an embarrassed smile. "This is going to sound insane."
"Like a hitman going into a trance and writing letters from the people he murdered?"
Paul had to laugh. "Yeah, about that insane. Uh, it seems that these people had passed through another dimension where consciousness determines reality. Basically, whatever they were thinking about at the time really happened to them."
Georgia's eyebrows dipped in the middle. "You're kidding."
"No. I'm really not. Like, a little girl was thinking about what she was going to do when she grew up, and she saw her future. A woman who was terrified of flying imagined the plane crashing and burning and her body, well, burned up in the airplane bathroom."
"Oh... I remember that story. All the passengers were detained for hours because one woman had burned to death in the lavatory. They determined it wasn't terrorism." She nudged Paul's arm. "That's what really happened? Another dimension?"
Paul nodded.
Sighing, Georgia said, "You're right. This is the craziest story yet."
"I told you."
"So how was Karen Longview involved?" She gestured to the newspaper.
Paul's long face came back. His eyes growing morose and soulful, he explained, "Karen had a profound brain injury. She couldn't move or speak at all. When I entered that room where she was, Karen was scurrying around with such energy I thought she might start dancing."
Georgia rubbed sympathetically at his arm. "Is that what she saw while the plane was gone? Her, able to move her own body?"
Paul nodded again. "She had been dreaming about being able to walk and talk and ski and swim in the ocean, just like she'd been able to do before the accident. Karen told me that's what she always dreamed about. And it happened." Letting out a heavy breath, he leaned on the table, dropping his head. "Georgia, it wore off. Within hours, Karen was back in that wheelchair, completely unable to move." Paul looked over at his childhood friend, shaking his head. "I haven't thought about it in a long time, but when I saw this article, all those feelings came back. Feelings of... utter defeat... at not being able to do a damn thing about it. She never even had the chance to give her husband a hug or a kiss. Just to talk to him."
Rubbing his arm some more, Georgia nodded and said, "I can imagine it would be a horrible thing to watch. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be trapped in my own body, able to see the world passing around me but unable to be a part of it." She indicated the article again. "What happened to her?"
"She's dying."
Georgia almost gasped, face falling. "Oh God."
Paul, taking one side of the paper in his hand, scanned the article although he'd already read it ten times over. "Cervical cancer. The people from her church took up a collection to send Karen and her husband to the Swiss Alps one last time before she... the doctor has given her one more month to live. Maybe two." He shrugged. "That's what the article is about, how nice it was of her fellow parishioners to collect all that money for her. It was, really, but I can't stop thinking about how this poor woman has spent the last twenty-three years unable to move, and this is how her life ends. With such... indignity." His voice broke with emotion. Paul put a hand over his eyes, rubbing them.
"God, Paul..." Reaching out, Georgia swept him up in a hug. He accepted it, trying to get control of his emotions. "Cancer really sucks."
"Yeah." That at least got a small laugh out of him. "Traumatic brain injuries aren't much better. Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it, can we? I just wish... I don't know, I feel like I should go over there and help out somehow. But we're not even supposed to be talking about this." Trying to lighten the mood, Paul stepped back and said, "The case is top secret. We've just committed treason."
"Treason?" Georgia laughed.
"Yup. The NSA, the military, they were all there, and I was supposed to keep my mouth shut."
"Are you going to have to kill me now?"
At that moment, Alva walked out of his office. "Who's killing who now?"
"I'm killing Georgia." Paul looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows.
"I hope it won't be painful." Alva spotted the newspaper on the table. "Paul, you're not still torturing yourself with that article, are you?"
Paul almost looked sheepish in reply. "I can't help it."
"Well..." Pushing the newspaper over to Georgia, Alva patted Paul on the shoulder with his other hand. "...I want you to put it out of your mind. You're supposed to go to breakfast with your friend now, aren't you? Try not to think about it for a while. Karen Longview wouldn't want you to get this upset over what's happened to her."
"Keel, you know it bugs me when you talk to me like I'm ten years old."
"And how am I doing that?"
Georgia didn't pay much attention to them, becoming engrossed in the newspaper article. She didn't even notice when someone knocked at the office door.
Paul had opened his mouth to retort, but closed it when he heard the knock.
"I'll get it," said Alva, and retreated to the door. Less than a minute later, he came back with a package in his hand. "What do we have here?"
"You didn't order anything?"
"No. Maybe Evie ordered it." He ripped into the brown paper wrapping.
Paul turned to Georgia. "I guess we better get going."
She didn't look up.
Opening the box, Alva took out a rounded purple stone. "Huh." He placed it on the table. "I feel like I should know what this is."
"Is there an invoice or something in the box that will tell us what we've got here?"
"Uh, let me see - "
As Alva peered into the box, the stone began to glow. It emitted a whine that grew in pitch with every passing second.
"Good God, what is that?!"
The noise made Georgia look up. "Jeez, that's loud!"
Alva reached for the stone. Thinking that touching the thing was a bad idea, Paul tried to stop him, but before he could even lay a hand on Alva, they all suddenly danced in place with a violent jerk. The whine calmed itself and the stone went dark again. Paul grabbed onto the side of the table, breathing heavy, while Georgia crumpled part of the newspaper in her hand as she tried to get her bearings. Alva started looking at his hands and then his arms like there was something there he didn't recognize.
"What the hell just happened?" Alva wondered. He spoke without a trace of accent.
Georgia looked up and examined her surroundings. She eventually laid eyes on Paul, who stared back at her with furrowed brow. "Hey, I know you," she said. "You're - " She stopped, eyes growing alarmed, and again looked all around her. "How'd I - " Georgia saw the newspaper article in her hand and her eyes opened even wider.
"Georgia, are you okay?" Alva asked.
"You don't look well," Paul added. The words were softly accented, as if Paul had suddenly remembered he was from a European country.
Georgia looked down at her clothes and held her arms out like she didn't recognize anything she was looking at. "Uh... I guess... I'm fine." She put her arms down, obviously trying to pretend that she wasn't completely disoriented. "I'm fine," she repeated, this time with more confidence. "It was just that... you know, that thing that happened."
"The stone glowing?"
She glanced at the stone. "Yeah. Yes, that. It was weird, wasn't it?" Georgia grabbed her purse. "I just remembered, I've, uh... I've got to go... to, um... Paul! Yes, you're Paul!"
Alva took a step forward. "George, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Paul." She said his name with great emphasis, like she wanted to prove how well she knew it. "I mean, you're Paul." Georgia pointed at Paul, who just looked at her with confusion. "My friend, Paul. Yes. But I'm sorry, I forgot, I have a thing, and I have to go now."
"I don't think that's a good idea." Alva started to reach for her arm.
Jerking back, Georgia scurried toward the door. "I'll call you, okay?" She pointed again at Paul. "Paul," she said one last time, and then she was gone.
Alva put a hand to his chest. "But I'm Paul."
Paul glared at him. "Why am I seeing myself when I look out of my own eyes?"
They stared at each other for a moment and then ran to Alva's office. Instead of Alva, it was Paul who dug in the drawers with great familiarity, finding a cracked hand mirror under a pile of papers. He looked at himself in the mirror. "What the hell is happening?"
Alva snatched the mirror out of his hand and also stared at himself in its reflective surface. "This doesn't make any sense. I see you when I look in the mirror."
Again, they looked at each other and marveled over what they saw. Paul ran from the office to make sure the stone was still there, on the table. He didn't dare touch it, not just now. "It was the stone," he said, his speech still accented somewhere between Scottish and British, with the occasional French pronunciation of a word here and there. "It switched our bodies."
Alva stopped in his tracks, glaring at the stone. "It WHAT?"
*****
Out in the street, Georgia looked at herself in a puddle of rainwater gathered in a dip in the sidewalk. "How did this happen?" she said to herself.
She watched people walk by for a moment, trying to gather her racing thoughts. Walking slowly, Georgia couldn't help but stare at herself in the windows of the offices and shops she passed. She touched her own face like she didn't recognize it.
After taking a little more time to get used to what had just happened to her, Georgia went in her purse and took out her wallet. She checked the ID with the unfamiliar name and picture on it. "Georgia Wilson," she said, reading the name aloud.
Unable to help it, Georgia suddenly began to laugh and danced down the street, twirling herself around and around while people looked at her like she had gone crazy. "I can't believe this!" Georgia said to herself. "I'm free! I'm free, do you hear me, I'm free!"
*****
Alva-inside-Paul's-body rifled through boxes, looking for something that had suddenly become important. "Will you stop gawking at yourself in the window and help me?"
Paul-inside-Alva's-body couldn't stop examining his reflection in the office window, pushing at his now fuller cheeks. "This is impossible," he said over and over.
Alva walked over and took hold of Paul's shoulders, shaking what had once been his own body. "Get a hold of yourself! We've got to find that document!"
"What document?"
"I told you, the document about Pullman's Stone."
"Oh... like the invoice."
"Yes, like the invoice."
Paul went over to the table and picked up the paper that had been in the package, reading it again. "'You are now the proud owner of Pullman's Stone. Use it in good health. Every life can use a little chaos now and then. Yours truly, Friendly.'" Paul suddenly recognized that the last word on the invoice was a name. "Friendly," he repeated angrily.
"Yes, looks like our old nemesis from that hospital case has made another appearance. I know I've heard that name before. I've got all the details on Pullman's Stone around here somewhere." Alva clapped Paul on the back. "Help me."
Backing away from the table, his eyes on the stone, Paul grabbed a box and began to paw through it. "You know, this wouldn't be so hard if you'd develop an actual filing system."
"I have one, it's just too complicated for you to understand."
"You're too good for alphabetical order?"
Alva, straightening up to Paul's full height, fumed at him, holding up a dreamcatcher he'd just pulled from a box. "These things are in alphabetical order," he said, shaking the object in his hand. "I just group them by category first."
"So what's the category we're looking for?" Paul pulled a lizard skin from a box and promptly threw it across the room, repulsed.
"Documents," Alva replied. "And don't treat my things like that!"
"What are you two doing?"
They both looked toward the door. Father Calero had let himself in and was staring at them with amusement.
The two men realized they were standing among several overturned boxes and piles of papers. How this must look... "Poppi!" cried Alva's mouth, which promptly shut itself in regret. "I mean... hello, Father Calero."
Alva awkwardly tried to make everything seem normal. "Poppi," he said without much enthusiasm. Alva couldn't help it, he felt stupid calling the man such a term of endearment.
Father Calero knew something was off, he just didn't know what. "Are you two getting up to some sort of mischief?"
Alva and Paul started to laugh nervously. "No, no, we're just... reorganizing our files."
"Yeah, they're just a mess," said Paul, and pulled a dried bat carcass from the box he was holding. He promptly tossed that away from him too, wiping his hand on his pants in revulsion.
Father Calero shook his head. "You need that nice Puerto Rican woman you've got working for you to come back from vacation and set you two right again."
The two men laughed hard, overdoing it. "Yes, that's just what we need," Alva said.
Father Calero scrunched up his eyes in confusion. "Paul, why are you speaking with an accent?"
Alva froze. "Why am I...?" He tried to hide it; he was currently speaking with Paul's mouth, after all. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," Alva replied, trying too hard to speak like an American. He added, "...Pardner," as if he had suddenly become John Wayne.
Paul did a slow burn.
For the third time, Father Calero looked from one man to the other, wondering why they were acting so strange. "Uh... okay, then. I just wanted to remind you about the bake sale on Sunday." He looked at Paul.
Alva just stared back at him. "The what?"
Paul resisted the urge to throw the dried bat carcass at his boss's head. "You remember, Paul. The bake sale for the orphanage fund." When Alva just stared at him too, Paul almost growled, "You do it every year to raise money for the kids to go to the zoo."
"I do? Oh! Yes." Alva smiled at Father Calero. "I do. I'll definitely be there, Pard - uh... Poppi."
Father Calero thought about asking Paul what was up, but changed his mind. He must've caught them doing something weird, which wasn't so strange with this group, what with all the odd things they investigated on a daily basis. "Wonderful. See you Sunday at noon."
"Okay."
With a thin smile, Father Calero left, shaking his head.
As soon as he was gone, Paul turned to Alva and said, "Pardner?"
"I panicked!" Alva lamented.
Paul rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's find that document."
"These are the wrong boxes. These are magickal objects and articles. My boxes of documents start over there." He gestured toward another set of files in a dark corner. On the way over, Alva stopped and pointed at the dried bat carcass discarded on the floor. He said through gritted teeth, "Pick that up."
*****
As she stood on the front doorstep, Georgia debated over whether or not she should knock or just walk in. After all, technically, this was her house. But at the present time, her husband wouldn't see things that way.
She knocked.
Mark came to the door. Mark, the most wonderful, loving man she had ever known. He didn't recognize her. She could see it in his face. Somehow, she had hoped he would be able to look into her eyes and intuitively know it was her. Damn. She was going to have to go ahead with the insane-sounding explanation she had come up with on the walk over.
"Yes? Can I help you?" He was drying his hands on a dishtowel.
"Hey, handsome," she said, hoping to jog his memory. It was a term of endearment she had used for him, back when she could speak. Please remember, please remember...
A flash of recognition in his eyes turned to suspicion. "Excuse me?"
She couldn't help it anymore. Georgia leaped forward and threw her arms around Mark's neck, kissing him desperately on the mouth. He recoiled in shock, took hold of her arms, and pried her off him. "What the hell are you doing?" he cried.
"Mark, please, say you recognize me. Say you know it's me in here!" She stroked the sides of his face.
"What?!"
Georgia clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. "Please, I can prove who I am. Don't shut me out."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Who the hell are you?" he asked.
With a deep breath, she launched into the explanation she had practiced, hoping he would at least listen before throwing her out. Listen, and understand. "Mark, it's me. It's Karen."
*****
Alva let out a whoop of triumph when he took the file folder from the latest box he'd been going through. "Pullman's Stone! Paul, I found the file!"
Paul had turned Alva's shirt into a dusty mess while searching through his share of the boxes. Now he straightened up and patted at it, sending up puffs of grey clouds. "Finally!"
"Come here, listen to this." Alva thumbed through the papers and eventually began to read. "'Harry Pullman was an alchemist and member of the fabled Illuminati who went on a quest to create a completely different type of magickal object than his contemporaries in the field. Not at all interested in turning base metals into gold, he claimed he was successful at making a stone that could switch a person's personality with another's, essentially switching their bodies. This was accomplished by pure thought, aided by the stone. In the presence of the stone, one would think of who they wanted to switch bodies with and it would happen. The stone could also be used to remove the personality from a person and trap it in a jar or other such vessel, then their body was free for the use of the alchemist responsible. Unfortunately for Pullman, the stone often worked haphazardly, resulting in involuntary switches. People within close proximity to the stone found themselves switching with the last person they were thinking about against their will. Pullman had no choice but to hide the stone away. Its whereabouts remain unknown.
"Recent theories abound that Pullman may not have been human, but instead a creature from another dimension where thought determines one's reality.' So that's it, then."
"Is that how we'll be able to switch back?" Paul asked. "Just concentrate on the stone and think about each other?"
"Sounds like it would work." Alva headed for the table where the stone could be found.
A sudden thought sent chills up Paul's spine. "After this happened, did it seem like Georgia was acting funny?"
"As a matter of fact..."
Paul looked at the newspaper, and then at the empty space where Georgia had been standing. "Oh my God... Georgia!"
Taking the stone out of the box, Alva said, "What is it?"
"We've got to find her. People switch with the last person they were thinking about!" He ran over to the table and snatched up the newspaper, pointing to the article. "Karen Longview!"
*****
"...and just before I went skiing, we went to a clog dancing show. A little girl threw a tantrum and cried almost the whole way through. Remember, you thought she looked like the Swiss Miss girl with her blonde braids?"
Although Mark shifted in his seat every few minutes like he was uncomfortable, he was listening. "What was special about what you were wearing that day?"
"Oh, I was wearing the purple knit cap you'd bought me in the resort gift shop. It had a crazy face embroidered on it, like a silly-looking monster." Karen, in Georgia's body, imitated the monster face by sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth and crossing her eyes.
Mark shook his head. "This is insane. How do you know these things? Who are you?"
Exasperated, Karen stomped her foot and growled. "Mark, you know it's me! No one else knows all these things but you and me!"
"So I'm supposed to accept that my wife's personality has been transported into the body of another woman, a stranger?"
Karen pointed at him. "You remember that man that brought you the tape, the tape of me moving and talking after the plane trip two years ago? He was involved."
Trying to recall his name, Mark said, "Paul, uh, Callahan?"
"No! No, his name is Paul Callan. I've wanted to tell you that all this time and I couldn't. He was there that day, when the miracle happened. He was there again, when I switched with this woman. I don't know why, but he's surrounded by this kind of stuff. These strange miracles." Karen stood and crossed the room, putting a hand on the shoulder of her true body. It sat motionless in the wheelchair, wasting away, hooked up to an IV on a pole attached to the chair. "This woman... she's a friend of his. She must be..."
He gestured to his wife's body. "This woman is in there."
Karen nodded.
"How?"
Speaking with her hands, Karen formed an oval-shaped object with her palms and fingers. "There was a stone on the table. Some weird, glowing stone. I saw it after I switched with Paul's friend."
"A glowing stone?" Mark couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know what to believe." Thinking a moment, he posed another question to test her. "What did we have for breakfast this morning?"
Karen grinned. "Chocolate chip waffles with bacon-flavored maple syrup."
"My God," Mark replied, shaking his head again. "How can this be? You're Karen. Jesus Christ, you're Karen. There's no other way you could know that. Unless... this man, Paul Callan... maybe he's some sort of psychic. Maybe he knows things."
Frustrated, Karen approached him again, tentatively taking his face in her hands. "Mark, can't you just accept it? What would Paul Callan have to gain from doing something so cruel?"
For a few unsure moments, Mark began to accept it, putting his hands over hers and holding them, then kissing them. But he ultimately shook his head again. "We need to contact this man. If Paul Callan was involved in both of these odd occurrences, then he can explain them. I need him to explain what happened."
"But Mark..." She searched for the right words to say. "...if we get him involved, then he'll make me switch back. There's no way he will let me keep his friend's body, not if there's a way to switch back." Suddenly hopeful, Karen added, "Maybe I don't have to worry about it. Maybe this is permanent!"
"What are you saying?" He walked over to the body Georgia now inhabited, touching her shoulders protectively. "Do you really think I could just accept you in a strange body, that I could do that so easily, after living with my wife for more than twenty years? Is it really supposed to be that easy?"
"But Mark, I can move and speak in this body!" To punctuate her words, she twirled around, spinning her skirt around in a graceful arc. "This body isn't dying!"
"But it's not right!" Mark stroked his wife's hair. "You can't just steal this woman's body."
"In that body, I'm dying, Mark! Are you ready to lose me?! Because I'm not ready to die! I'm not! Even if I have to sit in that goddamn chair for the next fifty years, I will not go so easily!" Karen rushed to him, trying to hold him to her. Mark struggled with her, conflicted, torn. "You'll get used to this body. It's me in here. Isn't it my personality you were in love with anyway, when I had a personality?"
"That's not all there is to a relationship and you know it, Karen. This is what my wife looks like." He stroked the still, blonde head again. "I just... this can't be right."
Suddenly furious, Karen rushed forward and began to beat on his chest. "Damn you! You would let me die just so you could hold on to a shell? We have the chance to be together again, really together, and you would pass it up because it's not right? What about me? What about what I want?!"
"I know exactly what you want, Karen, and I know why you want it, but we can't do this." He paused to take a deep breath. "I can't do this."
Although Karen couldn't move in her true body, she could still see, and she knew this house. Behind Mark was a door that locked from the outside. It lead to their basement, and Mark had put the lock in after someone had broken into their home seven years ago, through a window in the basement. If they kept that door locked when they weren't using the room, then no one could enter the house through the basement again.
She hated to do this to him, but it was the only way.
"Well, that's too bad." Karen opened the basement door.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to take care of things." Surprising him, Karen grabbed Mark's wrist and yanked him stumbling through the open doorway. She slammed the door shut behind him and locked it just as Mark threw himself against the other side of the door. "I'm sorry, Mark," she called as he began to yell. "I can't go back in that useless, dying shell."
"Karen, what are you going to do?! Think of what you're doing!" His voice came through the door muffled, but she could still make out what he was saying.
Trying to ignore his words, Karen took hold of the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it, along with her body, toward the front door. "Come on. We've got to hurry," she said.
The body could not move, could do nothing to stop this. Helpless fear plainly showed in Georgia's eyes.
*****
Alva and Paul, now back in their own bodies, ran up to the front door of the Longview home and rang the doorbell. "You're sure this is the house?"
"Yeah, this is the address. I've been here before, remember?" When no one answered the door, Paul pressed the doorbell again. He tried to peer through the faceted window in the door, but could see nothing inside, no one moving around. Raising his eyebrows, Paul listened at the door. "Do you hear someone yelling?"
Alva listened closely. "I do. Someone inside the house is screaming and banging against something."
Desperate, Paul tried the doorknob. It turned easily in his hand. "It's not locked. Come on," he said, and stepped inside the house.
They instantly heard Mark Longview shouting for help and throwing himself against the basement door, and ran in that direction. Paul called, "Hold on, I'm letting you out!" and unlocked the door.
Mark came rushing out, surprised that anyone was in his house, especially Paul Callan. "Oh my God, you're that guy. The one who brought me the tape. Paul Callan. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that you're here, after what my wife told me."
"Your wife spoke to you?" There may not be time for long explanations; Paul tried to work it out for himself. "My friend Georgia was here, wasn't she? Black hair, freckles, long skirt and a brown coat?"
"Yes. But she wasn't Georgia."
"Oh, God."
"She said a flashing stone allowed her to switch bodies with your friend. Is that really what happened?"
"Yes," Alva replied. No reason to mince words.
"Where are they?"
Trying to reign in the panic that threatened to overtake him, Mark said, "I'm not sure. All I know is that my wife locked me in the basement because I wouldn't go along with what she wanted to do. She... Mr. Callan, I'm sorry, my wife is just out of her mind. She's desperate. I had no idea she felt this way."
Now Paul began to panic. "What has she done?"
"I don't know if she's done anything yet; I was only locked in there for a short time. But Karen, she... she doesn't want to die. I thought maybe death would be a relief for her. Who would think a person who can't move or speak would want to live, year after year, unable to lead a normal life? But she wants to live, Mr. Callan.
"Now that Karen's had another taste of actual living, she doesn't want to give it up. She doesn't want to give your friend her body back."
Paul ran his hands through his hair. "Oh God... oh God. Where are they now? Where are Georgia and Karen?"
"I think..." Mark said the next part apologetically, knowing it would be tough to hear. "I think Karen means to get rid of her original body. So there's no way to make her switch back."
Eyes wide, Paul paced a line up and down the room. "Mr. Longview, where would Karen go in a situation like this? Where could she have taken her body?" Her body, which had Georgia in it. Georgia, sister of his heart.
"I'm not sure - "
"Well think," Alva commanded.
It didn't take Mark long to come up with an answer. "There's a duck pond a couple blocks from here. Karen loves to sit by the shore and admire it several times a week. At least, I assume she does." He laughed nervously with how absurd this all was. How could he have assumed all this time that he knew what his wife was thinking? "The water, it's..." Oh God, is that what Karen planned to do? "...about ten feet deep."
The same thoughts cut deeply into Paul's mind. Karen was going to drown her own body and keep Georgia's. "Take us there," he said, and hurried toward the front door.
*****
A wooden platform extended about six feet over the water of Karen's favorite pond. On this platform she now stood, holding onto the handles of the wheelchair. She was holding onto these handles so hard that her hands had begun to shake.
"I have to do this," Karen said. Her voice was shaking too. "You understand why I have to do this, don't you? I have no choice." Holding back tears, she lowered her head, beginning to breathe hard. Her chest heaved with the effort of containing her emotions. "Why are these the choices I have to make?"
Voices came from over the hill. Male voices. They seemed to be calling her name. "God, what good is it going to do if I do get rid of my body? Mark will never accept me. Not after what I'm about to do. He'll just have me arrested for murder." Karen had to laugh at the thought, bitterly. "This isn't fair." The flood of emotions overcame her, and Karen started to cry. "It's not FAIR!" she screamed.
Startled by the sound, Paul suddenly turned toward it, and took off at a run over the hill. Alva and Mark were close behind.
"I want to live!" Karen cried through her tears. Her body shook with sobs. "I want to live!"
Paul called to her as he got near. "Mrs. Longview, please, don't do this!"
She turned, looking on him with Georgia's eyes. "I can't do it. Mark was right, this isn't okay. But I can't go back in that body either." Karen stomped her feet in frustration. "I don't know what to do!"
"Bring the wheelchair toward me, Mrs. Longview." Paul inched closer to her. "You know this isn't the way."
Desperate, Karen backed into the wheelchair and held the handles behind her, pushing it a little more toward the water. "Don't come any closer!" she threatened.
"Karen, don't do it!" Mark said. He pleaded with his hands folded together. "Just come to me. I know you're suffering. I know you're not yourself right now."
A little hysterical, Karen laughed at what he'd said. "What an ironic thing to say. No, I'm not myself right now. I'm Georgia Wilson." She laughed some more.
"Karen, please - "
Karen noticed Alva carefully taking something out of his pocket. It was rounded and wrapped in a scarf. The stone! Just as Alva began to unwrap it, she rushed at him, grabbing for the stone. He had intended to try to switch her back into her own body, but Karen had surprised him. Paul and Mark moved toward her. At that moment, the stone whined and flashed, and both Alva and Georgia's bodies jerked violently. Then, with an angry look on his face, he turned and ran back up the hill.
"No!" Mark sprinted after him, knowing what must've happened from Karen's description. Paul rushed out onto the platform and got the wheelchair with Georgia in it back onto the shore.
"Are you okay?" he asked Georgia's body.
"This is very disorienting," she said, now with a European accent. "Let's get my body back."
Mark had tackled his wife, now in Alva's body, and wrestled with her to keep her from getting up and running away. "Where are you going to go, Karen? Huh? You think this is going to work in any way?"
She began to cry again, weakly batting at his hands. "I can't go back in there, Mark! My body is dying! I'm dying!"
Alva still had the stone in his hand. He held it up and concentrated, and they switched back with a flash and a whine. Karen, now in Georgia's body again, continued crying, finally collapsing to her knees.
Mark got up and went to her. Wiping the tears from his face, Alva stood with Paul's help, and they looked down on Mark as he took Karen in his arms and held her.
"I wanna live," she sobbed. Mark rocked her; Karen wrapped her arms around his neck, giving up the fight to keep a body that didn't belong to her. "I wanna live..."
*****
Holding her coat tight around her, Georgia looked at the still woman in the wheelchair one more time before retreating back up the hill. It was obvious from her body language that she could not wait to get away from here, to a place where she didn't have to worry about things as crazy as losing her body again.
Mark stroked his wife's hair. Was it perverse that he felt relieved things had been put back the right way? "I'm sorry, Mr. Callan. Will you tell your friend how sorry we are that this happened?"
"I will." Looking after Georgia, Paul sighed. "Georgia will be alright. I'm sure this was traumatic, but she'll be okay." He regarded Karen with sympathy. "It wasn't Karen's fault. The stone caught us off guard."
Mark eyed the object wrapped in the scarf, which Alva was just putting back in his pocket. "I didn't realize Karen wanted to live this badly. I didn't think she'd want to live at all. But now I know better." He massaged Karen's shoulders. Her tense expression relaxed ever so subtly. "Mr. Keel... there are so many people out there who don't want to live, who take every day living for granted. People who attempt suicide, who abuse their bodies with drugs or alcohol... is it really fair that they get to go on living while my wife dies?"
Alva wondered where he was going with this. "No, it's not fair at all, Mr. Longview."
"Why can't Karen switch with one of them? Then everyone could get what they want."
Raising his eyebrows, Paul said, "I'm not sure that would be right either. Many people who try to kill themselves or who take drugs or drink are just trying to make their pain stop. They don't really want to die."
"But, if someone agreed to it, someone who really wanted to die - "
Alva cut in with, "If you find someone like that, you call me, Mr. Longview. Okay? We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
This seemed to satisfy Mark, who smiled a little. "Thank you," he said, and pushed his wife up the hill.
Paul touched Alva's shoulder. "Keel, would you really do that? Would you allow Karen to switch with someone else?"
"I don't know, Paul." Alva sighed, beginning to walk back toward his car. "It's morally ambiguous at best. But is it better to just allow a good woman who's been trapped in her own body for over twenty years to die without having a chance to live again?"
Paul didn't have an answer for that. He remained silent all the way back to the car, where Georgia, really Georgia, waited for them.
*****
"I don't know how you deal with these kinds of things day after day," Georgia said to Paul. She was still holding her coat tight around her, as if she thought if she didn't, her soul would go flying out of her body again.
Now back at the SQ office, Paul shook his head, unsure of how he did it either. "I do it because I know I'm helping people. Maybe we didn't help Karen very much today, but at least now her husband knows how badly she wants to live. It might make him handle things differently, cherish the time they have left." The thought was at least a little comforting, if there was any comfort to be found here.
"Yeah, I guess. Still, I wish I hadn't been involved." Georgia looked at Paul almost apologetically. "It wasn't a nice feeling. None of it. I'm very grateful today to be able to just do the simple things for myself, to be able to move and to talk... and do this." Georgia gave Paul a big hug, which he returned without a second thought. "I love you, Paul, but I'm not sure I'm coming over here again anytime soon."
Paul chuckled. "Love you too, George. We can meet at the restaurant next time."
Alva had been lost in thought over Pullman's Stone, but now he spoke up. "I wonder if Pullman was from the same dimension that the plane passed through. The power of thought is very important to both that dimension and this stone."
"You really think someone could live in a dimension like that?"
"Who knows, Paul. There are things out there beyond our understanding." Wondering where would be the best, safest place to keep the stone, Alva repeated, "Who knows."
Like he had read Alva's mind, Paul headed for his office. "The lead box in the corner, with the lock on it... it'd be perfect for the stone."
"Good idea."
The door that led out to the alley opened and in came Evie and her son, Matty. "We're back!" she called.
"Hello Evie. Good to have you back," said Alva.
"Evelyn..." Georgia went to her and hugged her too, overwhelmed by the day's events. "I'm so glad to see you."
Brow furrowed, Evie asked, "Did something happen?"
"Sort of." Alva waited for Paul to bring the box back.
"Sort of?" Georgia rolled her eyes. "I'm almost pushed into a lake and he says 'Sort of.'"
"Wait, pushed into a lake?"
"I'll explain in a minute, I just want to get this put away first."
Matty ran over to the table. A little bit of the stone peeked out from under the scarf. "Mr. Keel, what's that?" The child touched it.
"No Matty, don't - "
The whine began and then the stone flashed.
"Oh crap!" Georgia braced for the switch, in case it was her again.
But it was not her. Matty and Alva both danced in place, jerking as if gripped by a seizure. Then the stone grew dark and quiet.
"What was that?" Evie asked. She immediately went to Matty, checking him over. "What the hell just happened?"
Paul came out of the office. "Did I just hear that thing go off again?!"
A look of great childlike glee came to Alva's face. "Paul! Paul! Piggyback ride!" he cried, and ran at Paul, catching him off guard. At the last second, Paul turned slightly, trying to deflect the blow, but he was too late. Alva grabbed hold of his shoulders and tried to jump up on his back like Matty had done a hundred times, but instead, he tackled Paul to the floor. Paul hit his head on the edge of the lead box, bringing up a rivulet of blood. He groaned.
Matty, or at least it appeared to be Matty, sighed and rolled his eyes with weariness far beyond his years. He said, "I'll get the first aid kit," and stalked off to get one of few things in the SQ office that was never allowed to collect dust.