Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Five

In Chapter Five, we meet Jessica. But how long before the lights go out?

5

Jessica Young didn't know if it was the cold sweat or the sunlight bursting into the room that woke her up. Probably it was a combination of the both but mostly it was just the nightmare she'd managed to escape from and no more. Sitting up, she looked into the body length mirror in the corner of the room and saw that she looked whiter than a ghost and wetter than someone who'd just swam the Pacific. It had been the strangest dream yet, and the most clear. The circular room, the empty tanks and the people in white coats, including someone called Dr. Wyatt. The name rang a bell, but at the moment she couldn't place it. What made the dream stranger still was the fact that it was the same one she'd been having for the past couple of nights now and each time with a little bit more information than the last. But last night's, the most peculiar thing happened. She was walking through a dimly lit room. It was a chrome covered circle with a ceiling so high it felt like she was inside a telescope while the smell of Listerine and wet soil stung her nostrils as it always did in these dreams. Some of the other neighbours from Fredrick Street were there too. There was Old Man Albert, Sarah the Sunrise Jogger and the dreamy Dr. Fleming, all of them. A woman, this Dr. Wyatt, was leading them all into the room. But toward the end of the dream, she and Albert had met eyes, and she had the strangest feeling that this was his dream too. That was what clung to her most this morning, more than her clothes or the stench due to the inordinate amount of sweat she'd produced throughout the night. Nothing spectacular had happened during the dream; it was just strange, yet familiar. Perhaps this due to the fact she kept having it, but most likely it was something more. She just couldn't quite put her finger on it. Not yet at least. 

Peeling herself out of her covers, she headed over to the window and drew back the curtains. It was just before 9.00am and she didn't start University for another four weeks. Looking out on Fredrick Street from her bedroom window, she saw Sarah bundling the kids into the car with her husband following closely behind with the packed lunches. It was moments like this that she felt the absolute blissful freedom of being a young student without the responsibilities of having a family, although she did have enough responsibilities herself to be getting on with. Whether it was her volunteering initiatives or charity work, she made sure her days were busy either advancing her career or bettering the lives of others. With that in mind, she opened the window and called down to Sarah. 

"Morning Mrs. Barr! Do you guys need a hand?"

Sarah waved her away with a smile. "Not at all, thank you Jessica. You're time will come for the school run, enjoy the lie-in while you can!" 

"Well you know where I am if you need me." She closed the window, feeling lighter. There was nothing like starting the day with offering help to others. 

Turning to her room (tidy, it was always tidy) she thought about the day ahead. She supposed she could study; get a headstart on the learning so that she could hit the ground running before her classes started. After all, she'd already spent money on all the books. Plus, Dr. Fleming had given her some articles he thought she ought to read to help her in her pursuit of a career in medicine. But she didn't feel like playing at being Doctor today (which was strange because she always loved having her nose stuck in a textbook). She didn't feel like anything other than thinking about that dream some more but, as her Grandfather used to tell her, "What good is dwelling on the dream if it's something we can only see with our eyes shut."Truthfully, she didn't know all that well what he meant by it, but he had white hair and he always told her that was an automatic passage to the Hall of Wisdom. That was before he downed half a quarter of whisky whilst toasting to white haired fools, so it may just have been the amber liquid talking.

Maybe the whole thing with the dream and Dr. Wyatt was her brain telling her to go round a visit the neighbours. After all, they were in the dream too and there was some of the neighbours that hadn't been seen in a while, which had her worried. Jessica always worried about others and wanted to do what she could to help. This would probably take her mind off the strangeness of the dream. She nodded, to the empty room, her resolve strengthened. That's exactly what she would do. She'd go round and check the houses to see if anyone needed a helping hand with anything. Almost immediately, the dream started to disappear and she felt back to normal. Throwing on her jeans and a baggy t-shirt, she headed downstairs and into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal and see what messages (if any) her parents had left her on the fridge. 

The kitchen was cold, the blinds drawn allowing no sunlight in. Opening the blinds and letting the light and warmth pour in, Jessica surveyed the room. There were a few dishes to be done and the breakfast bar in the middle of the room was stocked full with cereal boxes. Before doing anything, Jessica made sure to tidy the kitchen. She always liked to make sure the house was tidy for her parents when they came in. Do for others first before you do for yourself, she thought. Another saying her Grandfather used to say and it was a saying that she lived by. After a quick tidy, she again felt lighter and rewarded herself with a big bowl of chocolate cereal. She left no space at the top whatsoever, and causing what could be dangerous overspill. Sitting at the breakfast bar, she read the notes on the fridge. There was only one. "Have a good day, Love Mum and Dad." She smiled. It would be hard living without them, she knew, when she left to go to University. They had such a positive relationship and it made her sad to think of not seeing them everyday. Sometimes she thought it would be better if they didn't get on so well just so the transition would be easier. 

Jessica looked down at her bowl of cereal and stopped, putting the spoon down. Her chocolate cereal, had disappeared and was replaced by what looked like tiny white pills. Then, out of nowhere, she heard a voice. 

"Who fucked up, who changed the fucking cereal!? Do you want another disaster?" 

She staggered backward off the breakfast bar chair, dropping the bowl, it smashed and china flew everywhere cutting Jessica in the foot and spraying the cupboard with milk and chocolate cereal. "What the fuck was that?" she yelled. 

Looking around, she searched for the source of the sound. It was a voice she'd heard, like it was someone standing over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. Something about a disaster. Shaking a little, Jessica stood in silence, waiting for the sound again. 

"Hello? Is there someone there? Cos if there is, I just smashed a bowl so I have, like, a thousand little daggers lying around here and I'll fucking use them. Hello?"

Nothing. Not a sound from throughout the house. Just the drip-drip of milk onto the floor and nothing else. Jessica was sure she'd heard something. And the way the cereal had changed. She looked down now and the debris included her chocolate cereal. What were those pills? Had she accidently poured some vitamins in or something? Had the milk discoloured them? But then the voice – there was no explanation for that. Unless, of course, it was somebody outside, that was possible. She listened for a moment or two longer just for good measure then, satisfied there was no stranger wandering around the house, she started to tidy up her mess, putting the disembodied mystery voice to the back of her head. It was probably somebody outside. 

As she bent down to pick up the broken pieces of bowl, mop up the milk and examine the fresh cut on her foot a loud whine cut through the house and hurt her head. She grabbed her head and closed her eyes; it was like someone knocking the door but the door was inside her head. Over the sound of the whine (it was an alarm, she knew that now, a buzzing whine of an alarm) she could hear a rabble of voices shouting. 

She's starting to remember.

Shut it down, it's happening again, we can't lose another one.

Jessica held her head, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could. What was happening?

Dr. Wyatt, we're losing her!

Before Jessica could even contemplate how strange it was to hear that name again when she was no longer sleeping, everything was over as quickly as it had begun. Jessica opened her eyes to take in her house in Fredrick Street for one final time. When she did, she found a peculiar sight in front of her. The house was disappearing around her as she stood, being replaced with the circular room from her dream, with the white coats and the tanks. And she was no longer standing either; she was floating. Not only that, she felt wet as well, her skin wrinkly like she'd spent to long in a bath. 

The last thing Jessica Young would experience was this strange floating sensation and the concerned faces of the onlookers in the white coats below her. She sought one of the faces out. It was a woman, standing in the centre (she was in charge, you could tell) and Jessica locked eyes with her. Jessica could see the woman was scared and disappointed. But there was no surprise in her face, not the surprise that Jessica was experiencing. As the life faded from Jessica, she closed her eyes and remembered. She was not who she was, not the person on Fredrick Street. She remembered; the white pills, the money, the lives ruined, the people she mocked and teased, the failures, the loneliness. But she remembered the good also, the potential she had to be good. The mistakes she had made were there, but she was good also. She thought coming here (wherever here was) would allow her to erase the mistakes and just keep the good. 

The last thing Jessica Young would do, would be to cry, a tear rolling down her cheek, lost in the water she was drowning in.

From the outside though, Jessica's house was still standing to the rest of those people who lived on Fredrick Street. Nothing had changed. 

Except for the lights. The lights on the house had gone out. 

Transcript of Interview with Sarah Barr. August 25, 2015. Conducted by J.P. McNair.

I stop. I can see that Sarah has become upset, recalling the story of what happened to Jessica. In all honestly, I'm a little shaken myself. This is the first time I've heard, in this detail, about what happened.

Do you want to take a break?

"No, I want to continue. If I stop, I might not start again."

I check the batteries of the microphone, which I'm using to record the interview, along with taking notes of my own. I swap the batteries out and push record again. 

When did you know Jessica was gone?

"I didn't – even though I'd seen her that day I didn't even notice that she was no longer there. That she never turned up to the BBQ. It wasn't until after that I found out. But whatever happened to Jessica, I think, had a domino effect. Because that's when things started happening to all of us."

I continued writing.

Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Four

In Chapter Four, we meet Albert and Betty. Albert’s having trouble sleeping - the dream he keeps having, is it a dream at all?

4

Albert Molineaux slept like a baby usually. He would sleep a dreamless sleep and always woke to face the day with a clear head on his shoulders and a spring in his step. This morning, however, a Wednesday (or Hump Day as the youth of today called it, a term he found uncouth and harsh on the ears besides) he felt a touch more lethargic than he ought to. Maybe he'd had a bad dream or perhaps it was that extra glass of whiskey he'd afforded himself last night taking its toll. In fact, the more he thought about it he realised it couldn't have been whisky on the account that he never touched a drop. Perhaps it was because he'd cut himself a slice of Edam at twenty past the midnight hour and fell asleep in front of the TV. Yes, that'll be it, he thought, as he ground the coffee beans into the machine. His mind raced with more potential reasons why he wasn't his usual sprightly self just as Betty walked into the kitchen, lighting up the room and pushing all the worrisome thoughts aside, as she always did. Albert smiled at his wife as she practically glided over to him and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek and a gentle squeeze on the arm. She had always held such grace, which was why for the first 2 or 3 years of their courting he did nothing but question why she had deigned to fall in love with such an uptight rogue like him. When he asked her one day, she just laughed and said, "Somebody's got to do the devil's work, it may as well be me. Besides, it's not so bad." Albert laughed when she said that, he would ask her again every so often just to hear the response. Watching as she skipped around the kitchen, making herself a pot of coffee, he found her to look just as young as she did when they first met and he couldn't help but smile.

"Did you get the paper yet?" she asked.

"It's just there on the counter. Throw me out the sports pages and you can take the rest love."

"You don't want to keep up with what's going on in the world?"

Albert shrugged. "I don't like finding out about problems I can't fix. Besides, if it's need to know then I'm sure you'll tell me, won't you?"

Betty raised an eyebrow. "Sure I will. But what are you going to do when I'm not here to tell you?"

Albert thought for a moment before replying. "Well Betty, I guess when you do go, I'm just going to be a guy who knows a whole lot of nothing other than what's in front of him."

Laughing Betty hit him with the paper and passed him out the sports pages. Albert poured the freshly made coffee, the smell filling the room and unfolded the sports pages out in front of him. "Besides Betty, you're not the only one who has a deal with the devil. I've got that pact I made when we first started seeing so you aren't going anywhere less the devil's not a man true to his word."

"I knew you'd done some sort of black magic to keep me around this long." She smiled and took his hand. "You alright this morning?"

Albert plastered a reassuring smile on his face (all his own teeth despite being 70) and squeezed his wife's hand. "I'm good like a kid on Christmas morning. What makes you ask?"

Betty's brow wrinkled in concern, seeing right through the smile. "You were tossing in your sleep last night, muttering away to yourself."

Albert's smile faltered. This was perhaps why he didn't feel his usual self this morning. And, thinking on it now, he was restless during the night. He must have been in the grips of a nightmare but he couldn't think now what it was that'd shaken him up so bad. Something about a circular room and, yes, a few of the neighbours had been there too. But no Betty. There was no Betty in sight. 

"Albert? Are you OK?"

Bringing his mind back to the present, he squeezed Betty's shoulder and busied himself about the kitchen. "I'm fine, bad dream is all. And dare I say it was only bad because you weren't in it Betty Boo."

Unconvinced Betty rested a hand on Albert's chest, stopping from the kitchen tidying frenzy he was in the grips of, something he knew (and Betty knew) he only did when we was worried or stressed about something. 

"Albert Molineaux? Is there something you're not telling me? Cos you know I'll find out. It's a gift I have."

"One woman's gift is one man's curse," said Albert. 

"Less of the poetics. You got anything on that old mind of yours?" said Betty. 

Albert, doing his best to push the topic aside, took her hand off his chest and kissed it. "Betty, I can assure you there's nothing on this old mind but thoughts of you, a want to read the sports and the desire for a good cup of coffee and a plate of toast. I had a bad dream and it's gone now. If it happens again, you can lay me down on that couch there in the living room and go all manners of Freud on me. But believe me when I say I'm absolutely fine."

He placed Betty's hand back in her lap and took two slices of bread out of the packet and into the toaster. Well OK. But maybe you should speak to Dr. Fleming across the street if your restless nights keep up. I don't want to lose you before I'm ready." 

Albert laughed. Betty had one wicked sense of humour; she'd have done just fine on the gallows. "OK Betty. But I'm sure he doesn't want the worries of a couple of white haired fools who think anything out of the norm means Death's come a-knocking. I'm fine. Just shouldn't eat cheese so much before bed and watch so much TV." The toast popped. Albert took out the butter knife and started buttering, sliding the plate over to Betty. 

"Now drop this Florence Nightingale talk and have a slice of special Molineaux toast."

Taking the plate, Betty inspected the toast and looked up at Albert. "Albert?"

"Yes?"

"You afraid you're going to run out of butter or something?"

"I miss a bit?"

"More than a bit. Give me that butter knife. I'll show you how it's done."

And taking the knife out of Albert's hand, Betty carved out a chunk of the butter and started slavering it over the slice of toast. Watching her Albert couldn't help but think back to every breakfast they'd ever shared and smile. The thing he feared most was that she'd be the first one God would pick to join him upstairs. Not that he'd ever been a Godly man, but it was a nicer way to frame it than the alternative. 

Finishing her fix-up job, Betty slid the plate back, taking a slice for herself. 

"There, that's a proper piece of toast. Not a bit of the surface untouched."

Albert took a slice and bit into it, crumbs falling onto the counter. "Betty, I don't know how I ever took breakfast without you, do you know that?"

"Honey, I don't know how you did anything without me. Now go upstairs and look out your clothes for tonight."

Taking another slice, Albert raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Betty. "What's tonight?"

Rolling her eyes, Betty stood and took the plate to the sink and started on the dishes. "The BBQ Sarah's throwing for the street."

Albert nodded. "Sure, that's right. We got to stay long?"

Betty laughed. "Now Albert, be kind. It's a nice thing she's doing. But no, we don't. That's the great thing about growing old. We've got an automatic get out of jail free card."

Albert smiled and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."

"Good job I love you too. Now move and get ready. I have a list for you. And it's growing by the second. The quicker you get ready the shorter the list."

"Will you be coming with me on this shopping mission you've prepared for me?" 

"I've not decided yet. I think I want to play at being a kept woman with a house husband today."

Albert bowed "As you wish, Madam."

"Less of the Madam. It makes me feel old."

Albert bit his lip which Betty frowned at.

"Don't even think of making a single comment, buster."

"I wouldn't dream of it," smiled Albert. "Besides, I always find it painful pointing out the obvious."

And with that Albert took his leave, skipping as quick as his hips would allow out of reach of her magazine. Heading up stairs, laughing all the way to the bedroom to get ready, Albert thought about just how dull his life would have been if he didn't have Betty along for the ride the whole time. He didn't know what he'd do without her and, praying to whatever God was listening, he would never have too.

Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Two

In Chapter Two, we travel to Fredrick Street to meet the residents and their perfect life. But is all as it seems?

2

Sarah's feet crunched the soft gravel as she jogged gently into the drive, finishing her morning run. Leaning forward, palms resting on her thighs, she started to feel the thin blanket of sweat that the morning run had wove on her back; like the foil for the runner who had just finished the marathon. Glancing down at her watch, she smiled. It was 7:45 and she'd just smashed her personal best. Not a bad start to the morning. Maybe even a perfect one.  Unclasping her sports bottle from her running belt, Sarah drank, the liquid was like a mini-waterfall wetting the dry rocks at the back of her throat. She felt good, like she did every morning. This was pretty much her routine every day (except a Sunday which was sacred for a quick morning cupcake before a walk with the dogs) but it never got old how good she felt. Looking around the street, each house semi-identical save the few personality flourishes from their individual owner, she could feel the calm of the early morning just on the brink of disturbance. It was one of the reasons she liked to get up so early; she liked rising with the morning and feeling the first weak rays of light struggle to conjure up a little warmth. That, and she had always found that when you woke up before everyone else there was a smaller chance that they could ruin your day from the start. It was something her father used to say. 

"Get up before the world honey. Because by 11 O'clock, chances are strong that somebody will have ruined your day." She liked to heed her father's advice and it hadn't steered her wrong yet. 

Letting her earplugs dangle and pump the surrounding air with a little music from her running playlist, she took in Fredrick Street. She breathed in the white picket fences and the front lawns as smooth as the icing on a wedding cake. The road looked fresh and free of cracks, as if it had only been laid this week. There was a cloudless sky overhead and the sun shone down, as it did most days, on the rows of houses like a family would their properties on a Monopoly board. It was, quite simply put, sheer perfection. Dreamland 101.

It was just over a year since they'd moved in, Morgan, her and the girls, but some days it felt just like yesterday. Today was no different. It had been a no-brainer really, the house had come on the market at a cut-price & they'd always dreamed of growing up in a little cul-de-sac where the kids could play in the garden, ride their bikes down the street and everyone waved at them in the morning. Regular house dinner parties, book clubs and civilised living with a civilised neighbourhood. Most times, when people came to live out in one of these little pockets of Suburbanity, away from all their family and friends and the memories of their past it was because they were running from something. But for them it wasn't the case. Moving to Fredrick Street, they were running toward something. A brighter future, the one they had dreamed of, complete with their picket fences and BBQ's on a Sunday. It was perfect.

Her jog down memory lane was just about complete when she saw one of the neighbours from across the street (you could see them all really, there only was the 12 rows of houses in this little slice of Suburban Solitude). It was Kim. She was taking out the bins. Sarah waved and Kim flashed a smile before making her way toward her. Watching Kim cross the street, Sarah noticed the slight sashay in the way her body led her forward, still looking so glamorous without a dot of make-up and her morning sweats on. She had the looks a movie star would most likely kill for and, being that Kim was a movie star, she half wondered if this wasn't the case. In a past life, Sarah was sure she would have been hit with that sickening and unpleasant rush of jealously, followed by a crippling guilt and anxiety about judging another human. Jealousy was nothing but an ugly shade on a person, even on the nicest of people, which Sarah considered herself to be. She was sure that jealously would grip the nicest person tighter because they don't know what to do with it and don't understand what it is. It was nothing but the mind playing tricks on you, because it doesn't understand life (and love) the way the heart does. Sad really. But it was OK, because Sarah wasn't the jealous type.

"Morning Sarah. Day and a half am I right?" said Kim.

There was a twang to the way Kim spoke, like she was trying out all the accents she'd acquired at acting school all at once. Sarah, still a little breathless, opened up her arms and breathed in. 

"Hell of a day to be alive Kim. Although every day is like that around here, am I right?" said Sarah. 

Kim nodded. "Better believe it. Think it'll hold for tonight?"

Sarah took a little glance skyward and squinted at the sun, more for show than any weather reading ability she had, and nodded. 

"I say it will, we've not had a bad day in a couple of weeks, Mother Nature's not let us down yet. You guys coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it. 7.30?"

Sarah nodded. "On the button." 

She paused, wanting to frame the question so as not to broadcast any party host insecurities, but Kim seemed to guess and gave her that movie star smile.

"Relax, Sarah. Everyone will turn up. It's a nice thing, celebrating us all moving in. And who doesn't love a free BBQ?"

"I've not seen The Hendricks or The Murphy's for a while. You heard from them?"

Kim shook her head. "Not seen either, but I'm sure they got your flyer. Just relax. It'll go swimmingly." 

Sarah smiled. "You've never seen Morgan try and cook a burger on the grill. If it's not tasty, it'll at least be entertaining."

Kim laughed and started to walk away. "I'm sure he'll do fine. See you tonight." And with that, she sauntered back across the street, her hips moving back and forward like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

Sarah almost regretted suggesting the idea of the BBQ now that the day was upon them. It was a year since the Fredrick Street housing estate had been finished and opened up for them all to move in. Well, all 12 of the finished houses anyway. There were still a large number of the secluded community homes to be built and the current inhabitants of Fredrick Street were anxious to meet their new neighbours, each and every one of them hoping the newbies wouldn't disturb their tranquil life. Although recently, it had seemed that all work on the unfinished houses had stopped and they were all now living a stones throw from a construction site. She had hoped that the houses would have been finished and tonight's anniversary celebrations would double-up as a welcome party. Regardless, Sarah thought it would be a nice thing for all the current residents to get together, raise a glass (for her a non-alcoholic cocktail – she wasn't putting on hold her clean living, not even for this) and celebrate the day they all met and started this chapter of their lives. So far, she'd only had RSVP's from 5 of the other residents. The Hendricks, The Murphys, the young newlyweds a few doors down (Pete and Liz Guthrie), Old Lady Charles from round the corner, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston and Gordon the Gopher (on account that he was the handy man of the neighbourhood) had all so far failed to get in touch. Perhaps they were too busy or not interested. Either way, Sarah was understandably anxious as to her hosting abilities and the lack of response for tonight wasn't doing much to fight her insecurities. First world problems she thought and shrugged the thoughts from her mind as easy as they'd come, replacing them with thoughts of how fantastic the night was going to go. 

Tearing away from the early morning calm, Sarah made her way back into the house ready for the chaos of the day to begin and into the kitchen to get the breakfast ready for the kids. The school run was a pain for some mothers, but not for Sarah, particularly today when it would take her mind off her worries for later on. It was the second reason she loved getting up so early. She got the chance to spend time with the kids before they went to school; kids incidentally that she never thought she would have. It's not that she felt like she loved her children more than the other mothers who griped at the school gates or was a better mother because she didn't use a nose peg to clean a shitty nappy but because she never felt the desire to moan about the things her kids made her do everyday. She never acted or felt like it was something she didn't want to be a part of. They were a gift as far she was concerned; a cheesy cliché but one she liked to roll out anyway. As Sarah prepared the lunches, she thought that some days she lived only for them. They were the centre of her little universe, and one of the main motivations behind her fitness regimes was the desire to be around long enough for them to grow up and start a family of their own. She smiled at the thought that in 10 or 20 years time, it might be the mother of their children doing what she was doing now; a thought that filled her with an enormous amount of hope and sunshine that shone stronger than the rays outside.

The breakfast bar armed and ready; Sarah retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and gave her kids a little shout as she went, smiling as she heard the familiar groans of people who'd fallen in love with their duvets over night and didn't want part from them. It was the same start to the day she always had and something she wouldn't change for the world.