Esther’s Farm Again

Great North Woods. A minion of Stephen Báthory has arrived in Collinsport bearing with him an ancient contract signed by one of Esther Freidman’s ancestors, which enslaved not only himself but all those of his bloodline to the service of the King of Poland. Perhaps done so in the thought that it would never last more than a generation, ending with the death of a king, instead Stephen Báthory is a vampire – and he still seeks to uphold Moishie ben Aliyah’s contract. Nicole, having overheard a bit a conversation during their brief sojourn into the past regarding a old journal of Esther’s grandfather, hopes it can be recovered. Esther, unaware of such a journal, has told Nikki that if one does it exist then surely it must have been hidden away by her father somewhere in her old home, a farmhouse near the Canadian border. Esther, Sam and Nicole now travel north in the hopeful anticipation of finding the journal – and some clue as to how to break the insidious contract.

Esther silently watches the rain wet countryside passing beyond the window as the 1976 Miller-Meteor Cadillac endloader makes its way along Highway 201. The automatic transmission makes it much easier for Sam to drive than Nikki’s Ferrari, and the further they have ridden the better she has become at handling the long black hearse. When they had first started out of Collinsport Esther found it a bit disconcerting that the only licensed driver was lying in a coffin in the back of the old Miller-Meteor. A glance now from the grey, wet countryside to look at Sam and Nikki sitting in the front seat, it was odd to see Sam still driving – for when dusk had settled among the misty tree tops of the Great North Woods and the lid to the coffin opened, Nikki had gotten out but rather than take the wheel, she had continued to let Samantha drive.

“Practice,” She had said with a smile as she got into the passenger seat and closed the door.

Esther sits back, now leaning against the coffin – the coffin? As the hearse cruises along the narrow, two-lane chip-and-tar road, growing ever closer to the Canadian border, Esther is now struck by the irony – her parents having been murdered by vampires, she now sits in the back of a hearse, leaning against the coffin of her best friend – who is a vampire. How is that even possible? And yet, she would trust Nikki with her life even as Nikki trusts her . . . trusts her, every day, with her existence. She wishes there were actually some way she could understand how this whole vampire conversion, transformation, turning, whatever they call it, actually worked. In that Nikki says she is not dead, but undead – never allowed to die – infected with some alien virus or something . . . She reaches into her jacket pocket for the comfort of a cigarette, and then decides not, owing to the confines of the hearse. Most likely not the best place to light up a coffin nail – she thinks to herself with a slight smile.

This was not at all an easy trip for her – the trepidation, the anxiety growing as they travel deeper into the rainy, damp, verdant Great North Woods heading toward that which she has for so long sought to forget – her home, the abandoned house, the terrible memories she had hoped to leave behind but had not been able to completely forget. Memories that haunted her nightmares and now haunted her day, owing to some strange time/space anomaly, where she had not only been forced to go home again, but to relive those horrendous events. Back to her birthday and the sudden terror and helplessness of having to watch from her upper room the murder and mutilation of her mother and father. And now, the whirling tires upon the chip-and-tar road were carrying her back once again to that house of horror.

She recognized the landmarks now, knew that up ahead was the turn off to the old farmhouse. She sighed and leaned forward upon the front seat, “Ahead, take a right Sam.”

Nikki looks at her and gives her a reassuring smile.

Esther points now, “Ok Sam, turn here.’

Samantha turns the wheel and the heavy Cadillac drops a tire into a jarring pothole, rainwater turned grey splashing the black fender of the hearse, “Damnit! Did that take out the axle?” She asks.

But the old ’76 Miller-Meteor Cadillac continues up gulley marred gravel road, as the headlights now reveal a rusted, weather-beaten gate closed to bar the roadway.

“Here, stop. I’ll get the gate.” Esther says as she makes her way to the back of the hearse and opening the door. Her hand slips quickly into her jacket pocket to take out her pack of cigarette and quickly lights one.

The long drag of the Marlboro Red feels good as she walks along the headlight beams over to the gate, but when she arrives she finds she does not need the key she has taken out of her pocket for the padlock has been broken. She frowns – not a good sign.

She pulls the gate open so that Samantha can drive the hearse through the narrow opening and up the gravel road.

Esther walks along behind, silently watching the red reflective lights of the Caddy. She takes another long drag off the cigarette, listening to the drip of rain falling from the tall Douglas furs, as she begins to steel herself for having to enter the house again.

The clouds moved out from behind the moon now revealed the starkness of the house.

Nikki looks out the window at the overgrown yard, the years of neglect that has cumulated in the side yard, which has apparently become someone’s dumping grounds. As she looks at the abandoned farmhouse it was saddening to see how run down the place had become, when only a short time ago she had been transported back into time to see it as it had once been.

The interior light snaps on as Nikki opens the door and gets out of the car feeling the breeze tousling her hair. She turns at the sound of Esther’s boots on the gravel.

“And here we are. The ol’ farmstead.” Esther says as she strides past Nikki heading toward the front of the house – irritated to see some old machinery dumped in the side yard near where her old swing set is lying overturned.

“I am sorry Esther.” Nikki says looking at the state of the house – the trash and debris that has been dumped into the side yard.

Esther nods but doesn’t say anything as she proceeds closer toward the house.

She takes a drag from her cigarette, the red embers lighting her face as she takes a flashlight off of her belt and flips it on. The high beam cutting across the growing darkness to wash across the front of the abandoned building, “First time I’ve been here at night in a long time.”

Samantha scrambles out of the hearse and looks around before finding a good-sized rock, which she places behind one of the back tires – not trusting herself to have properly put the car into park.

Nikki walks over past the debris and sighs, “I am so sorry – it looks like the place has gotten really abused over the years.”

Esther looks back over her shoulder at Sam’s improvised parking brake, “I do think you’d better let Nikki do the driving from now on.” Then she looks back to Nikki, “And don’t worry about it Nik.”

Nikki removes a torch from her coat pocket and flips it on, the high beam washing over the front porch. Several windows have been broken; she can see old curtains swaying inside.

“I just couldn’t sell this place, and . . . I can’t live here.’ Esther says as she moves up the steps, quickly directing her flashlight downward “Hey, watch yourself, there’s broken glass all around here.”

Samantha scampers over to them, almost tripping twice – about to tell Esther, that letting Nikki drive home was certainly her idea . . . she barely could drive during the day.

“Oh be careful that old barrel looks as if it has some rough nails.” Nikki tells Samantha, who nearly trips over an old toilet that has been dumped on the lawn.

“I don’t even know where that barrel came from.” Esther says shining her flashlight beam on it. She fumbles with the key she has taken out to unlock the front door. “It and the other one showed up six years ago – when I was last here.”

Nikki shines the torch light through the window, “I think people have been using this house without your permission.”

Esther flicks ashes from her cigarettes, “Do you think?” The door opens without her having to turn the lock. It creaks on old hinges badly in need of oil. Cautiously, Esther steps inside.

“What’s in the barrel?” Samantha asks, trying to open it, her eyes adjusting to the moonlight,

Esther shines the light around the battered living room and then turns to look back out the front door, “Looks clear – come on in.”

Nikki steps across the threshold her torch light running along over broken furniture, old newspapers, terrible stains on the carpet, and shards of broken glass. The old faded drapes sway from the breeze entering through broken windowpanes. She feels heartsick seeing this house so badly run down—this, this was Esther home.

Samantha scoops up some of the papers on the floor and rifles through them – one of them has a headline about Hurricane Katrina.

Esther shines her high beam flashlight across the room, and sighs, “Well. If anything remains in this house from back then – then it probably is in the attic or the basement I would think.”

Nikki turns to Esther, “Where would you think your father would have kept important papers?”

Esther shrugs, finding herself taken aback at how run down the house has become.

“I would think, most likely the attic, less chance of dampness.” Nikki suggests looking down at the horrid stain on the carpet.

“Ok,” Esther says suddenly putting aside the remorse for the destruction of her old farmhouse, “Sam, you check the third floor and the attic, I’ll start on the second floor, and Nik, if you could start on this floor . . . and lets see . . . if anythings survived.”

“Ummm. . . ok. . . .” Samantha nods.

Nikki shines the light on the stairs and slowly mounts them before she prepared to let either of them ascend, before she can assure they are safe. The steps creak badly, but they seen sturdy enough. “I think the stairs are safe, but be careful there is a lot of broken glass here.”

Samantha pulls out her lighter and heads upstairs past Nikki, “We got it Miss Nikki.” She looks down at the glass shards, “I’ve been cut by worse,” and she smiles softly.

Esther passes Nikki and follows Sam up the stairs.

Nikki listens to their shoes crunch the glass as she walks back down the stairs and through the living room into the dining room and kitchen. She heads to the cabinets and opens them, her fingers searching within for a hiding place.

Esther feels a sudden sadness as she walks along the second story, which is mostly abandoned, except for a filthy mattress on the floor of the master bedroom. Her parent’s bedroom: she can’t help feeling the sudden welling up of tears – and is glad that she is alone and no one can see her.

Samantha having reached the third floor pokes her head into a room and almost squeaks with delight as she finds an old sailor moon doll.

Nikki down in the abused kitchen finds some dusty, old dishes, a mason jar filled with bolts and screws.

Esther looks into the guestroom and shines her flashlight through the closets. She discovers some interesting specimens of mold.

Nikki opens one of the kitchen drawers and inside rolling free she finds several used syringes. She quickly closes the drawer and looks around behind her, as she does not want Esther to see what her house has been used for.

Samantha holding her lighter aloft moves about.

As she continues to poke around the attic, which apparently was used mostly as Esther’s old bedroom—she would have never suspected Esther was ever so cool as to have liked Sailor Moon! There is an old faded poster still on the wall.

Nikki steps back into the living room and lightly runs her fingers along the walls, rapping a knuckle on them as she begins to see if there is perhaps some hidden panel—there certainly was in every house a Collins would own.

Esther smiles as she finds one of her old, yellowing plastic Sailor Moon dolls leaning against the wall in her parents bathroom. She picks up the doll and holds it—hugs it close. She sighs. This was her home godd**m it!

Samantha looks out the attic window seeing the chimney and then turning, hurriedly rushes downstairs.

Nikki stands looking at the shattered television screen—the handle of a hammer still jutting out.

Why would anyone do that? She wonders as she turns to see Samantha hurrying down the stairs and into the living room.

Esther hearing Sam running down the hall and stairs, puts the doll down and goes to the top of the stairs to look down, “What?” She asks anxiously.

Samantha moves quickly past Nikki and begins trying to crawl up the fireplace.

“What is going on Sam?” Esther calls down the stairs. “Nik?”

Samantha turns to look at Nikki, “What if its in the chimney?”

Nikki steps over and touches Sam’s shoulder, “Sam?”

Esther hurries down and over to the fireplace and looks at it, “Interesting. Does it look like the chimney has been used lately?”

“Let me have a look,” Nikki smiles, “I have better vision in the dark.”

Samantha steps back out of the hearth to allow Nikki to step closer.

Nikki kneels down and looking up into the opening shines her torch into the dark cavity.

“Well are you covered in soot?” Esther asks Sam.

“I’m find.” She tells Esther watching Nikki at the fireplace.

Nikki reaches up and touches a few bricks, one of which is loose – and for a moment she thinks she might have found something—but it’s nothing more than a loose brick.

She rises and wipes her fingers, “Nothing.”

“We’ve got to think . . . “ Nikki says now running the flashlight around the room, “If it was of importance he would have kept it hidden.”

“Or like the purloined letter . . . maybe someplace obvious . . . right in plain sight.” Samantha counters.

“Under the carpet?” Esther asks.

Nikki seems now to be talking to herself as she moves around the living room, looking at the battered sofa, the television, imagining Esther’s father sitting there watching it, “Upstairs? No. Too far to reach, and if there was a fire . . . he would want to get to it quickly. “

She shines the light along the walls.

Esther stands watching – this is Nikki now as Nancy Drew. What Nikki did best and she stepped back . . . letting her talk to herself.

“Fire? He would want to keep it safe – yes.”

Nikki turns around and looks at the room, “So – but very close to hand – always . . . close to hand—but then again – it has to be safe. They may be coming—”

Samantha looks at Esther. Esther shakes her head as if to say don’t interrupt her.

Nikki’s feet walking on glass that should be crunching but remains silent as she walks back toward the dining room and stops.

“He would want to – ”

Nikki turns.

She walks back.

She shines the light on the wall between the living room and the kitchen.

“Esther.”

“Yeah?” Esther steps over to stand beside her, “What Nik?”

“Why is that area much larger than the other section of the wall, to do you see.”

Esther looks now and notices that the wall between the foyer and the kitchen, there seems to be a section that is larger as if there would have been a coat closet – only there isn’t one, there had never been one, it had always just been the wall.

“Water heater? Maybe? I dunno.”

Nikki walks over and looks at the wall, and knocks on it. She raps in several locations and then turns with a wry smile. She looks over and sees she is in direct line of sight of the sofa. “Okay, then. We have had several of these—so, where is the . . .”

She shines the light of her torch now along the floor moulding, and then bends down.

Esther’s eyes notice now the hammer in the TV. She steps over to it and pulls it out.

To Nikki’s uncanny vision she notices a section that seems smaller. She bends down and rubs her fingers along it.

“Several what?’ Samantha asks, watching Nikki as she suddenly just plops down onto the broken sofa and then suddenly springs back up, a broke coil jabbing her.

Nikki pushes the smaller section of moulding to the left and suddenly there is the sound of a lock disengaging.

Esther steps over watches as a piece of the wall moves and Nikki places her fingers on the edge and gripping it pulls open a secret door. “Several secret rooms and passages – it’s a must in every Collins home,” Nikki says with a smile.

Nikki and Esther look inside the small room and see an old safe.

“Oooooohhh” Samantha says having watched as the wall moved, opened, while rubbing at her backside, “Yeah!”

Esther sets the hammer down, “I didn’t know we had that!”

“Sam? How good are you with locks?” Nikki asks.

Samantha grins and moves closer, “Okay—now it’s my turn. This is what I do best.” She steps inside and kneels down in front of the old safe, “Miss Nikki, can you shine the light on it so I can see the lock?

Esther steps forward and shines her high beam on it

Samantha looks up with a mischievous smile, “hmmmm,” and slaps the old dial sending it spinning.

Nikki looks at it, “Rather an old one”

Samantha leans forward, “shhhhhhhh,” she shushes her as she places a hand near the dial and sends it spinning the other way.

Samantha suddenly stops the dial and realigns it to zero, then adroitly turns it left and right a few times . . . the numbers start clicking and coming together. First a 1, then a 2, then another 1, another 2 – the numbers coming quickly as she listens to the tumblers, 1, 5, 8, 6 and then:

“Voila`” Samantha smiles with satisfaction as she steps back.

Esther shines the light on Samantha, “Sam – that – that was too quick. Remind me never to ask you how you learned to do that.” She then turns her light into the safe.

‘Thank you Sam.” Nikki says and Samantha grins. “Esther, seeing how whatever is in there it is yours, do have a look.”

Esther squeezes into the tight room and crouches next to the safe.

She starts going through the contents. “Old papers. Some insurance. What this? Oh, more insurance. Some of Mom’s jewelry,” She holds up a silver necklace for a moment, then slips it in her pocket. “Junk. Junk. And more junk. AH! What is this? Here we go.”

Esther pulls out of the back of the safe an old brown leather-bound journal with a clasp. There is a bit of water damage on the cover by the spine. She stands up and exits the tiny room.

Samantha smiles, “Yes!”

Nikki’s eyes brighten at the appearance of the journal.

“Here, bring some light over. Lets see what’s in it.” Esther says excitedly.

Nikki steps over beside Esther, and shines her torch’s light upon it, “Have we found it?”

“Well it’s either his journal of a leather-bound playboy collection . . . “ Samantha laughs.

Nikki looks up, a sparkle in her eye, “Too small, for that, I would think.”

Esther undoes the belt-like clasp and opens the journal, looking at the first page, ‘It’s in Hebrew or Yiddish.”

“Can you translate it?” Nikki asks. “I am sorry, Latin, French, German, and Russian, I can read, but not Hebrew”

Esther nods as she flips through the pages, “Some. I mean it could take a while. How about you Sam?

“Ummm I used to be able to. . . but I cant read in this light.”

“Well not right here. “ Esther says and finds a page subtitled “22 Oktober 1939, “But—hey now this is different.”

Esther turns the book to show the others, å hjelpe praktisere min norsk, vil jeg starte innspillingen disse i norsk. Det er en vakker dag. . .

“This is not Hebrew or Yiddish. What even is this?” Esther looks over to Nikki, “Is it German? French? Latin? Russian? Any of them?

Nikki looks at the journal page, “Good Lord, I think—I think this is Norwegian!”

“Nor-norwegian!?” Esther says bewildered, “Why on earth is it in Norwegian!?”

Nikki looks at her, “I-I don’t know. Your family—did anyone ever say they came from Norway?” She remembers now the conversation she had overheard between the vampires and Esther’s parents.

Samantha looks over at Esther and whispers in awe, “You’re a Viking?”

“No. No one ever mentioned Norway.” She then turns to look at Sam with a frown, ‘Yes, Yes I’m a Viking. What, it was the horns that gave it away isn’t it.”

Nikki scans the page, “I am certain that it is—I have seen some Norwegian, but of course I can’t read any of it, but this does looks very much as if it is.”

“Well who do we know that can read Norwegian?”

Nikki sighs and runs her fingers back through her hair, “A very good question. You think Dr. Artemis or Dr. Praetorius, might. I know Praetorius is Swiss—but Norwegian?”

Samantha looks at them, “Google?”

Nikki looks up suddenly — “Oh my, I just remembered. Samantha the other night, when she was at the offices, before she went to work at the Blue Whale, didn’t she mentioned, Hallie Stokes—David’s childhood friend, she was coming back into town.”

Esther shakes her head, “NO! I am not trusting either of those Doctors with this – I wouldn’t trust either one of them with a beer.”

Samantha Brook bristles slightly at the memory of Samantha Collins.

“I think she said she was a professor from the University of Oslo.”

“Hallie Stokes?” Esther asks, looking at the strange writing on the pages, “Nik, just who the h**l is she to us? I mean, some random professor?

“Well, actually, I knew her uncle,” Nikki says fingers still combing back through her hair, “Professor Stokes, he was a good friend of my guardian. In fact, he helped Dr. Hoffman when I was turned. He came from Amsterdam to take care of me. Of course, he was an even greater friend of my father . . . in fact, Hallie meet my father as a young girl.”

“So . . . she’s someone . . . that you would trust?”

“Well—I would want to speak to her first, get a feel—for her— but yes, I would think she is someone I would trust—more than the others.” Nikki says, remembering now how she has already misplaced her trust.

“Professor T. Eliot Stokes,” Nikki says with a fond memory of the elderly gentleman she used to sit next to at her father’s desk in London, “It was he who taught me Latin.”

“Ok then.’ Esther closes the leather-bound volume, “Sam, when we get back, lets start on the translation of the first part, and Nik, you can meet with this Stokes.”

“Yes. “ Nikki nods.

Samantha looks excited, “Okies—this will be fun.”

“Good!” Esther latches it shut, “Well then. Lets get going before it rains again. This is not a good shelter from such things.”

“Yes,” Nikki says. “And before anyone that has used this place recently returns.”

“Right.” Esther nods in agreement.

Nikki steps over and bends down to push the moulding back into place and the panel slides back and locks.