threads

7 | the scientist

She recognizes the red brick building, the vines slowly creeping up the sides. She makes her way up to the door, knocking frantically until someone finally opened it.

The man who opened the door stood there, shaggy brown hair falling over his face. He had thick black glasses, and eyebags that looked so deep you couldn't be sure when he last slept. He appeared as if he had witnessed unspeakable horrors despite only being a mere four years older than Cassie.

The two had met a few times prior, and Cassie considered him a sort of acquaintance. Still, it felt odd to be here. She had no time to waste, so she jumped right in.

"Henry, what were my parents researching?"

"I don't know."

"Henry!"

"Just... come in," he stepped back and waved his hand as way of invitation.

Once she was sitting in his living room with a cup of water in front of her, he finally slowed down and offered up what he could.

"Look, they were very secretive about their research. All I know is they had a keen interest in space."

"Like Mars?"

"Yeah, sure. Why?" Henry had this odd sort of look in his eyes. Cassie didn't know what to make of it, what to make of any of this. Still, she decided to trust him. What else could she do?

She handed over the postcard, watched him absorb the coordinates.

"Cassie, what the hell is this?"

"It's a long story. Just, I need your help. It's from my parents. They hid their research somewhere, and I need to find it!"

He handed the card back over to her, sighing like an eighty-year-old who had too much weight on his shoulders.

Cassie was starting to regret coming here. Her questions felt bigger somehow, like she had been propelled even further away from the truth. It felt the same as being a kid, being thrust into the deep end of the pool, trying to differ up from down when your head is underwater. But then, Henry stood and gestured for her to follow.

He stopped in his kitchen, crouching down to one of his bottom cabinets and pulled out a battered shoebox.

"Your dad told me if something went wrong, to give this to you. I didn't understand what he meant, but I do now. I should have come to you sooner. I just..."

And Cassie realized, for the first time, that her parents had known other people. Other people were just as upset as she was. She wasn't the only one struggling in the matter.

Henry had graduated from MIT four years ago, had gotten a job with her parents pretty much right off the bat, and had been working with them since. They talked about him so fondly he might have been their son, and Cassie figured he might be feeling the exact same loss as her.

"It's okay." She told him. "You didn't know." And really, there was nothing else to say.

He extended the box to her. Taking it from his hands, Cassie opened the lid just enough to peer inside at its contents.

Tapes. Eight stacks, each one four tapes high. Her heart was pounding so hard she could almost feel it in her head.

"Thank you." Cassie managed to say, exerting everything she had left. "I have to go."

"Cassie, wait!" He stopped her dead in her tracks. "He told me it was dangerous. You have to be careful where you go, what you do."

As usual, Cassie didn't listen.