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Chapter Nine:
Unable to sleep, Sam concentrated on questions for Patrick for hours, but formulated only four decent ones. Every moment that passed, he expected one of Zoey's demons to show up. Such expectation brought goose bumps to his arms, a tightening in his chest and sweat at his brow. If he hadn't before, he now clearly understood why horror authors prolonged anticipation before the monster jumped out of the closet (so to speak). Perhaps Zoey was baiting him in much the same way--let him know the attack was coming, but not when. Then as he began to believe, actually rationalize, that enough time had passed that there wouldn't be an attack, out a demon would jump with a "Boo!" so unexpected that the mere utterance of it would send poor Sam Beckett into shock.
"Get a hold of yourself," Sam muttered as he tightened his grip on the pen. He picked up his paper to reread his questions for at least the dozenth time, hoping they would influence new ones.
Just after midnight, a tap came at Sam's open door, and he looked up to see Raymond standing in the doorway. "I saw your light was still on when I got up to use the restroom, so I thought I'd check on you."
"I've been brainstorming about what to ask Patrick when we go into Levels again."
"And how many questions have you come up with?"
"Only four I'm afraid."
"I think you're going about it all wrong, Sam. You should let yourself relax for a while. Once you've cleared your head, the questions will come naturally."
"I'm too wide awake to sleep," Sam replied.
"Then I have the perfect solution. Do you like to play cards?
"It's been a long time, but I used to play with my roommates during my college years."
"That's fine. I won't mind winning for a change." With that, Raymond turned and headed back downstairs.
Raymond was right. After playing Gin for an hour (and losing miserably), Sam did begin to think more clearly. When he returned to his room, he was able to jot down three more questions to ask Patrick in a matter of only minutes. With his confidence boosted, Sam decided he would tell Al that he was ready to try Levels again just as soon as his holographic friend made another appearance. He finally felt less frightened of demons and drifted off to sleep for several hours.
He awoke to a loud crash in his room. Momentarily disoriented, he stumbled out of bed with the blanket still wrapped around him. Suddenly ornaments flew off a shelf from the other side of the room, one by one, zooming toward him. He ducked, barely avoiding a ceramic clown. Even as swiftly as he moved, Beckett caught sight of the huge grin on the clown's face and wondered oddly if it weren't laughing at him.
"Ben!" Sam tried to plead with the ghost, "you don't have to listen to these demons." Before he could say any more, the figurines became suspended in the air about a foot from him. They seemed to be staring at him, sad expressions on their faces. Even the clown, which only a moment ago seemed like evil incarnate, now seemed pathetic. Had he made the wrong assumption? "Karen, it's you, isn't it?"
As if in answer, the ceramic figures succumbed to gravity, crashing to the floor. Beckett knew she wanted him to reassure her that everything could be made right again with her husband. He couldn't even convince himself of that possibility, though. When he had leaped into Andrew Montgomery, he came to know Karen quite well, and even now through his swiss-cheesed brain, he recalled that Karen had loved Ben just as endearingly as Beth had loved Al. Both women had thought their husbands had died during combat in the Vietnam War, and both women had moved on to other relationships. Until--at least in Karen's case--Sam had intervened.
Sam bent down and began picking up the ceramic pieces and throwing them away, first the clown, then an owl, then--the white cat had broken at the neck. Sam paused with the two pieces of the ceramic feline in his palm.
I used to have a cat just like this one, he thought. She was killed by someone who didn't like cats. Someone twisted Snow's neck until it snapped. Sam remained in a daze for several seconds before remembering that he had never owned a white cat. He'd had tan cats, and black cats, and calicos, but never a purely white one. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding his white cat in his palm. Slowly, he managed to throw the pieces in the trash can. As soon as they hit the bottom of the can, whatever force that had protruded the memory into Sam's conscious dissolved. He realized quite clearly that somehow, maybe through a glitch in Project Quantum Leap or perhaps a psychic link with Patrick, he had just experienced one of Patrick's memories.
"Mr. Marland," a barely audible voice said.
Sam could not see anyone in the room with him, but knew Karen had spoken.
"Please, you got to help me."
Sam glanced around the room, trying to pinpoint Karen Simms' location. Seconds later, a figure began materializing next to the shelf. After only a moment, Sam recognized Karen's features--at least what he could see of her.
"He doesn't believe me," she said. "I love Ben so much, but he thinks I betrayed him. I see hatred in his eyes. He wants to kill you."
"Why does he want to kill me?"
"I don't know. He sees you as a threat of some kind. You're here in our home, and he thinks you're trying to force us to go away. He doesn't want to leave--not until he has his vengeance!"
"Against Andrew Montgomery?"
"Yes. He thinks I had an affair with Andrew. He won't believe me when I tell him nothing happened! I thought Ben had died over in Vietnam, but I still did not have an affair with another man!" Her image flickered for a moment.
"Karen, how is it that you can come to me now and have this conversation? You've never spoken with anyone before."
She shrugged. "You've changed somehow. I was able to latch onto you stronger than I could anyone before."
I've had a good teacher, Sam mused, thinking of both Patrick and Raymond at that moment. "Do you trust me?"
She contemplated the question fully before answering. "I think I do. If you didn't want to help me, you would have left by now."
"Good. I don't know why Ben won't believe you. I think maybe it has something to do with what he went through over in Vietnam. He finds it very hard to trust anyone."
"How will you convince him if I can't? I'm his wife. He loves me--or at least he did once, and I can't even have a rational conversation with him anymore. He'll go to Hell if he kills someone. Oh, please help me! I don't want to lose my husband."
"I will try," Sam promised.
Sam wished he could comfort her, but he couldn't hug her, pat her on the back, or squeeze her hand.
"Karen, are either you or Ben capable of leaving this house?"
"No--at least I don't think so. My memory of the accident and the funeral is so fuzzy." She began to fade, and her words grew faint. Sam strained to hear what she was saying. "I remember being there, but shortly after we drifted back toward this house, and we have remained here ever since."
"Then your husband isn't thinking logically. If Ben is so intent on seeking revenge on Andrew Montgomery, how does he expect to accomplish it from here? What reason would Montgomery have for come back here after twenty years?"
"He's never had a reason, but Ben refuses to give up. I think he believes he can use you to lure Andrew into the house." Her image came back into full focus. " I fear it's because he's listening to the others--I think they're corrupted spirits, maybe even demons. They've tried speaking to me. I've done my best to ignore them, but they are powerful persuaders. They seem to know what I want and try to use it against me. I'm so afraid that they have succeeded with Ben!"
"Okay, Karen, try to calm down. I have considered the possibility that demons are involved here." Sam contemplated over whether or not he should tell Karen who he really was. He needed to decide quickly before Karen phased out of this dimension. There was no way of telling when she would be able to return. "I'm not really Patrick Marland," he told her. "I may look like the man, but that is because I have Quantum Leaped into him."
"What! How?"
"I'm from nearly a decade into the future. I devised what I call the 'string theory' when I was in college, and I spent many years working on a project called Quantum Leap in an attempt to prove my theory. I believed that our lives are like a string, and if you take that string and role it up into a ball, all points of your life touch each other and that it should be possible to leap back and forth within one's lifetime."
"And you're saying that you've accomplished that?"
"Yes. When I made my first leap attempt, I didn't realize I'd be leaping inside of other people, but that's the way it's worked out. Now every time, I leap to a new place and time, I become a new person. This time, I'm Patrick Marland."
"Could you leap back to 1970?"
Sam was taken aback by the question. Why hadn't he considered that she would ask such a thing? Of course, she would want him to go back twenty years--before her death; before Ben accused her of having an affair!
"I wish I had control of when and where I leap. I'm sorry that I can't promise to do that for you, Karen."
"I understand."
"I'm working with Patrick now, though, to help you with your current situation. We've spoken through a technique called Levels. He's explained to me some psychic techniques that I can use to help me prevent Ben from carrying out his plan to destroy Andrew. Hopefully, I will be able to convince him that he's wrong about the affair and coax him away from the demons' influence."
"This thing called Levels--is it possible that I could speak with your psychic friend this way?"
Sam ruminated over the question for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "It might be possible, but I would have to ask Patrick's for his permission first. I'm planning to meet him during a second Levels session today. If he agrees, we could conduct a third Levels with you later."
Karen smiled, but it quickly turned to alarm. "Ben's calling me," she said. "I have to go." She took two steps away from the bookshelf, and disappeared.
Sam went downstairs to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. Al popped in a few minutes later, wearing a long bright-red cardigan. Sam suspected that he would never get used to the strange clothes his friend wore. They studied one another solemnly as if caught in a rapport common to people who just watched a sad movie together. Somehow, Sam suspected that Al understood his mood completely.
"Patrick had a white cat when he was a boy," Sam said, looking away from the hologram. "I'm not sure why I know, but I'm as sure of it as I am that my name is Dr. Sam Beckett." He turned back toward his friend as Al nodded.
"Patrick just told me all about Snow White--that's what he called her. He said that he was very attached to her and when he was twelve, someone--"
"broke her neck," Sam interjected.
"You had another vision?"
"Not exactly. Karen sent these figurines flying across the room and then let them crash to the floor. When I went to pick up the ceramic cat, I suddenly just knew about the cat. The memory was so strong that at first I thought Snow White was my cat."
"I don't like the sound of that Sam," Al said. "What if Ben was trying to use Patrick's memories to confuse you, so--"
"No! It wasn't Ben. Karen appeared in my room after getting my attention."
"Sam!"
"She's worried, Al, and she can't rest until this conflict is resolved. She says that demons are trying to persuade her to join them and that she thinks they're already influencing Ben. She wants to enter Levels with Patrick and I. I think that's a good idea, so I'm going to ask Patrick about it when we enter into today's Levels session."
"Don't you think that's just a bit too dangerous? If you start inviting Karen in on Levels, what's to prevent Ben or the demons from trying to invade your Levels session?"
"I'm not sure, but I don't think that's possible. It has something to do with something Patrick explained to me about cosmic agreements with God. HE gives everyone of my leap hosts a choice before I leap into their lives, and I think Levels would work the same way. God wouldn't allow someone else to invade like that. I'm almost positive that Patrick and I are completely safe when we conduct a Levels session. No one can join us unless we invite them."
Al sighed, resigned to accept Sam's conviction.
"Ask Ziggy how long she thinks it'll be before Ben--or that corrupted spirit--shows up again," Sam said.
Playing the handlink like a musical instrument, the project observer wheedled an opinion out of Ziggy. "Ziggy believes that the spirit was weakened during your confrontation and probably won't reappear for another thirty-six to forty-eight hours. Sam you need to spend that time working on strategies that will increase your odds. I'm afraid of what might happen during the next confrontation. He nearly killed you during the last!"
"I know that, a-and I'm as concerned as you are."
"Were you able to think of anything to ask Patrick?"
"I came up with seven questions."
"Sam, I don't think you should wait any longer to go back into Levels."
Reluctantly, Beckett sighed. "I agree."
"Talking to Al?"
Sam turned to see Meg in her jogging suit, standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard her arrive. "We've decided that I should go back into Levels again--after breakfast."
He could not tell by Meg's reaction whether she was surprised by this news or not. "I wish you luck, then. Do you think you'll uncover something new this time? Of course, you do," she added quickly before Sam had a time to answer. "Otherwise, you wouldn't bother. I'm exhausted from my run. I think I'll take a long bath. If you need my help with anything, I'll be upstairs."
