Winner Round 9
Mrs. Whitman
Title: Here be Dragons.
Paring: ML, MM.
Rating: AU with aliens, Adult.
Summary: Maria gets lost on a car journey and ends up in the mysterious town of Roswell where she makes an amazing discovery - the journal of a girl who had been brought back from the dead by an alien three hundred years ago.
A/N Before the discovery of America, it was believed that if you sailed too far into the unknown territory at the edge of the world you would meet huge sea monsters, large enough to devour whole ships. Mapmakers labelled the ends of the world with the simple, ominous warning - Here be Dragons.
In this fic, the town of Roswell has been moved from New Mexico to Massachusetts for reasons that should become clear in the next few chapters.
Thanks To Islandgirl5, my beta. And to Amara for my beautiful banner
For xmag for encouraging me to write this – I hope you like it.
<center>
</center>One
“You’re listening to KROZ, your local radio for all the latest news, gossip and music. It’s 9.0. We’re going to play some soul classics for you this evening, but first a weather update. A surprise rainstorm has left many roads impassable and Highway Patrol are urging motorists to stay off the roads. If you have to drive, drive carefully. Roads are extremely slippery and visibility is very poor….be warned that Route….is…zzz….and if you’re heading….sss…..also…..zzzz…..”
“Shit.”
With one eye on the road, Maria twiddled the tuner button backwards and forwards but all she got was static and white noise. Until in frustration, she snapped the radio off. Without the radio the car was filled with an eerie silence that made Maria feel uncomfortable. Not for the first time, she regretted not forking out the extra $80 to have her CD player fixed.
She had been trying to save money and at the time had been proud of herself for not spending the cash on the CD player in her car. She had reasoned that she could always find something to listen to on the radio and a CD player would be superfluous. Of course two days later she had bought a great pair of boots with the money she saved on the car.
And that was her problem, she was always full of great plans but when it came time to act on them she suddenly found herself lacking the dedication or will power to see them through. Like this trip, last weekend she had spent two hours pouring over maps and looking up routes online to draw up an itinerary. She had gone to bed last night fully intending to get up at 6am and be on the road by 7.
But this morning, the bed had been too comfortable, she had spent too long in the shower, she couldn’t get her hair right, she found some clothes in her closest that she just had to bring on the trip which meant she had to repack. By then it was almost midday so she had to get lunch. So by the time she actually got underway it was well past one.
“If you’d stuck to the plan Maria, you’d be in a nice warm bed in some Travel Lodge instead of lost in the middle of no where.” She spoke aloud, her voice barely audible even to her own ears over the din of the raindrops pelting the roof of the car.
The storm outside showed no signs of abating, in fact it was getting worse. The wipers were pushing sheets of water off the window with every swish. Maria had to sit hunched over the wheel, her nose almost pressed to the glass to see outside. And even so, she could see very little apart from the huge drops of rain, silver in the light of her headlights.
It felt like hours since she had passed another car or any sign of civilisation. The last human she had seen was a policeman at a roadblock telling her to take a different route because the road she was on was completely flooded. With a sigh, Maria realised that she should have gone back to the previous town then and bedded down for the night instead of wandering around roads she didn’t know in the pitch dark.
She had been trying to reach the next town, which according to her map was only forty miles away, but somewhere along the route she must have taken the wrong turn or missed her exit. And now she hadn’t a damn clue where on earth she was.
There were no lights anywhere along the road, not from streetlights or houses or gas stations. Which left only two conclusions. She was either in the middle of nowhere or there was a power cut.
Maria glanced at the clock and made a decision. If she didn’t find a town or at least pass a house in the next ten miles, she would pull the car into the side of the road and sleep in it until morning.
“I really wish I hadn’t had that big gulp.” She groaned. She desperately needed to go to the toilet. Soon her only option would be to go at the side of the road. And she knew that if she climbed out of the car even for a couple of seconds she would get soaked, which would leave her damp, cold and uncomfortable for the night.
“Please let me find a town.” Maria begged the night. Her back and shoulders ached from hunching so far forward all night. Her head was throbbing in pain and she really, really wanted to lie down.
Suddenly out of the darkness, Maria saw a small figure dressed in white standing in the middle of the road, directly in front of her car, and it wasn’t moving. Acting instinctively, she pressed her foot down hard on the brakes and spun the wheel in an attempt not to hit the person. On the slippery surface of the road, the wheels slipped and slid, causing the car to swerve and spin before coming to a bumpy rest on the grassy verge.
“Oh my god.” Maria gasped, checking her head and chest to make sure she was alright. Her heart was thumping madly against her ribcage. She grabbed her flashlight from the glove compartment and quickly climbed out of the car. Within seconds she was soaked and shivering, the raindrops fell so hard and fast they stung her skin.
“Hello, is someone there?” Maria called out, shining the light around. “Hello?”
Nobody answered her call and she could see nothing by the light of her flashlight.
“Hello?”
After walking several yards in both directions, Maria came to the conclusion that she had imagined the figure in white. “You’re overtired Maria. It’s time to call it a night and get some sleep.” She told herself unhappily, knowing that she would have to spend the night in the car with no way of drying off.
She had noticed some trees up ahead during her search and decided to pull the car under them in the hope of some shelter. Maria climbed back into the car and turned the key. Nothing happened. She tried again, it gave a slight jerk and then nothing. The clock on the dashboard faded and the lights went out.
“Sonuvabitch.” Maria shouted, thumping the wheel hard. “No, I’m sorry Baby, I didn’t mean that. Please start for me baby, please.” Maria pleaded. She took a deep breath and turned the key again. But it was useless, the car was dead. “You bitch. As soon as we get home I’m getting a new car and you’re going straight to the scrapheap.”
She thumped the wheel and sat back in the seat. She was pissed, cold, wet, hungry, needed a restroom and wanted to cry. And then she saw the lights.
At first they didn’t even register with her but suddenly she jumped up and cried out in relief. She grabbed her purse and keys and got out of the car again, so happy to have a place to go that she didn’t even notice the rain. With the feeble light of her flashlight and the bright light of the building ahead she managed to find a path through the bushes and trees at the side of the road. When she emerged at the other side she was shocked to find that there were several buildings grouped together. Most looked like homes but one had a neon sign shinning brightly.
“A bar. Alcohol.” Maria squealed in delight almost skipping towards the door, wondering how she had missed the town when she had been searching along the side of the road earlier.
The bar was dimly lit but warm and welcoming. A real log fire blazed in the fireplace and a man sat a piano playing, the keys tinkling beneath his touch. There was only a handful of people in the bar, gathered in groups around the fire. They stopped talking and turned to stare at Maria when she entered. She gave them a small smile, knowing that she must look a real state.
As she walked to the counter, Maria was aware of a loud squelching sound she made with every step and a trail of water left in her wake.
“Good evening Miss.” The bar tender greeted. “How can I help you?”
“My car broke down outside, I was wondering if you could call a garage for me.” She paused when she realised that there was absolute silence from all the other patrons and a glance over her shoulder told her they were watching her intently. They looked away when they spotted her watching them, but nobody said a word. She turned back to the man behind the counter. “And I need a motel or an inn for the night, can you recommend one for me?”
“There’s a good motel in Safehaven, about forty five minute drive from here. Kyle here will have your car going in a couple of minutes.”
Maria turned to look at the man in the mechanic uniform who had approached the bar when he heard her car had broken down.
She shook her head. “I’m wouldn’t dream of asking you to go out on a night like this, it can wait until the morning. I just need a place to stay the night, with a bed.”
“There’s no motels in this town.” The bar tender told her.
“An inn then or a B&B, anywhere I can sleep because I can’t get back into the car and drive tonight, even if Kyle here…. Where did he go?” Maria asked, noticing that he had disappeared.
“He’s gone to have a look at your car.” The bar tender told her. “I’m really sorry Miss, but there’s no place here that rents out rooms for the night.”
“Ugh.” Maria moaned and let her head fall onto the counter, the tears that had been threatening earlier were now flowing down her cheeks.
“You poor dear.” A sympathetic voice said softly into her ear and Maria felt a gentle hand rubbing her back. “You’re soaked through and you’re shivering. I have a spare room at my house, it’s not the Ritz but it’s warm and dry and the bed’s quite comfortable. How does that sound?”
Maria looked up at the elderly woman who had taken pity on her and smiled. “That sounds like heaven.”
“There’s no need to put yourself to all the trouble Mrs. Whitman. Kyle will have the car fixed in no time and the lady here can find a room in Safehaven.” The bar tender said.
Mrs. Whitman tutted her disapproval. “Now Jack, that’s no way to treat a visitor in our town. She’s obviously in no fit state to be out driving, especially not on a night like this. She’s coming home with me and that’s final.”
The door burst open and Kyle the mechanic came rushing in, shaking himself like a dog to get rid of the excess water. Like Maria, he was drenched.
“Now see, here’s Kyle. She can be on her way again in a couple of minutes.” Jack said, sounding relieved.
“Actually I couldn’t get it started.” Kyle said as he joined them. “I’ll tow it to the garage tonight and work on it in the morning. Are you staying with Mrs. Whitman?”
“Yes she is. Bring her bags to my house please, good boy.” Mrs. Whitman answered, she patted him fondly on the cheek then gestured to Maria. “Come on my dear, let’s get you warm and dry.”
<center>~*~</center>
Mrs. Whitman’s home was a beautiful colonial house a couple of minutes walk from the bar. It smelled of home baking and beeswax furniture polish. Maria had felt at home in it almost at once.
Mrs. Whitman had ushered her up the narrow stair into a small room at the top. A big brass bed took up most of the room, at its foot lay an old carved chest. A lamp on the desk bathed the room in a soft glow, making it look and feel very cosy. There were two windows, so low down that Maria had to bend at the waist to look through them. There was a small private bathroom for her to use.
“There’s plenty of hot water so have a nice long shower and when you’re done come back downstairs and I’ll have a lovely bowl of soup ready for you. Here’s some towels and I’ll get you some dry clothes.” As she spoke, Mrs. Whitman peeled Maria’s dripping wet clothes off her and bundled them up.
“Thank you Mrs. Whitman, you’re an angel.” Maria said.
“I’m just a good neighbor.” She smiled kindly at Maria and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Maria stood under the steaming hot water for ages, letting it warm her skin and wash away the pains and aches of the day. Mrs. Whitman had supplied old-fashioned shampoo and soaps and Maria applied them liberally.
When she finally emerged, her skin was pink and wrinkled and she smelled of flowers. She found a large T-shirt, sweater and a pair of sweatpants and a handknitted pair of socks waiting for her on the bed, obviously belonging to a man. The outfit was several sizes to big for her and she looked slightly silly in them but they were warm and soft. She dried off her hair and brushed it out, letting it fall over her shoulders in curls.
She picked up her watch from the desk and grimaced when she saw that it was almost 11pm. She had never called her mother, who no doubt would be frantic about her. She rummaged through her purse to find her cellphone. “Crap, no signal.”
As Maria climbed down the stairs, she was sure she heard a man’s voice arguing. Maria presumed that they were in the kitchen on the other side of the closed door. She stood on the stairs wondering if she should go in or wait until they were finished arguing.
“…Should have sent her to Safehaven.” The man’s voice said, clearly he was annoyed.
“How? By broomstick? Her car wouldn’t start.” Mrs. Whitman’s voice answered. She sounded cheerful and friendly and either didn’t hear the man’s annoyance or chose to ignore it.
“And why’s that?” The man asked. He said something else that Maria didn’t catch so she took another step forward, standing on a loose floorboard as she did. It squeaked loudly, alerting them to her presence.
The door was flung open. “There you are dear, you look much better already. Come in here now and have a bowl of soup. She gently tugged Maria into the kitchen and pushed her into a seat at the table. There was nobody else in the room.
“It’s carrot and coriander. Help yourself to some bread.” Mrs. Whitman said, placing a bowl of piping hot soup in front of Maria.
Two delicious bowls and several slices of bread later Maria was full. She pushed her bowl away with a satisfied smile. “That was wonderful Mrs. Whitman. I never thought I’d say this, but that was even better than my mom’s.”
Mrs. Whitman glowed. “I won’t tell her you said that. If you like I’ll give you the recipe before you go home.”
“That would be great. Can I use your phone to call her and let her know I’m ok?” Maria asked.
“Of course dear, it’s in the parlor.” Mrs. Whitman told her guest.
Like the rest of her house, Mrs. Whitman’s parlor was spotlessly neat and tidy and furnished to match the period of the house. Maria felt like she was in an Antique shop or a living museum. The only apparent concession to modernity was a couple of lamps and a telephone that belonged to the 1950’s.
Maria dialled her mother’s number. It was answered on the first ring. “Maria?”
“Hi Mom, I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner. I had no signal on my cell.”
“Are you alright? Why didn’t you use a payphone? Have you any idea how worried I’ve been? Where have you been until now?” Amy Deluca asked rapidly.
“I’m fine, I got diverted because of the storm and I got a little lost and my car broke down but I’m fine now.” Maria assured her mother quickly. She bit her lip, this was going to require a lie. There was no way that her mother would sleep tonight if she knew that Maria was sleeping in a complete stranger’s house. Even if the stranger was a kind elderly woman. “I’ve checked into a motel in a place called… Safehaven.”
Amy was quite for a moment. “You’re making that up, there’s no such place as Safehaven.”
Maria laughed. “I swear, it’s a place. Listen, I haven’t a lot of change left so I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, love you.”
As Maria replaced the receiver, Mrs. Whitman came into the room carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. “Where am I anyway?”
“You’re in Roswell.” Mrs. Whitman said, handing her a cup and nodding for her to take a seat by the roaring fire. “Where are you from dear?”
“Oh, I’m from New Mexico originally but I’m living in New York now. I go to college there.”
Mrs. Whitman nodded. “What on earth were you doing driving around these roads so far from home on a night like tonight?”
“I’m heading to Salem to do research on my masters thesis. I left later than I had planned to this morning and then I got diverted because of the storm and I guess I took a wrong turn somewhere or missed the right turn and I ended up here.” Maria explained.
“Salem.” Mrs. Whitman repeated. “So you’re doing a project on witchcraft?”
“Actually my theory is that women who were accused of witchcraft were modern and progressive and were accused by men who wanted to keep them in their place. Witchcraft was only the excuse they used to exert their authority and make the women submit.”
“That sounds fascinating. You must be a very smart young lady.”
“Not smart enough to read a map.” Maria laughed.
They were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and heavy feet stomping on the floor. A moment later the door of the parlor opened and a young man stooped through.
“Hey Grandma.” He said, straightening up. Maria felt her pulse speed up as she took in his appearance. He was tall and lean, a damp T-shirt clung to his body showing off his well toned physique. He brushed back his shaggy wet hair and Maria had an urge to lick her lips. He was gorgeous.
Mrs. Whitman jumped up and pulled him closer to the fire. “This is my grandson Michael. He lives here with me. Michael this is Maria, she’s staying with us tonight.”
“I heard.” He said dryly.
Another man was standing in the doorway, covered from head to foot in bright yellow rain gear. It took Maria a second glance to identify him as the mechanic from the bar earlier. He nodded at her and Mrs. Whitman. “Your car’s in the garage, I’ll get to work on it first thing in the morning. Your bags are here in the hallway.”
“Thank you.” Maria smiled.
Kyle declined Mrs. Whitman’s offer of soup and said goodnight.
“I’ll fetch you some soup dear.” Mrs. Whitman told her grandson. She kissed his cheek affectionately as she passed him.
Michael sat back in his chair and regarded Maria. His look was so searing that Maria looked away and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Her cheeks were burning but it wasn’t from the heat of the fire.
“Nice outfit.” He commented eventually.
Maria pulled the sweater further over her knees. “Your grandmother gave it to me, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He smiled, his eyes still roaming over her body.
“Is it still bad out?” Maria asked conversationally, stifling a yawn.
He shrugged. “I think it’s dying down now. You look beat.”
She yawned again as she nodded. “I’m exhausted.”
Mrs. Whitman came back into the room as Maria yawned again. “You poor dear. Michael, take her bags up to her room will you. And show her where we keep the spare blankets in case she gets cold tonight.”
Maria rose to her feet. “Thank you so much for everything tonight Mrs. Whitman, I’m so grateful.”
“Not at all my dear, it’s a pleasure to have company. Goodnight, I hope you sleep well.”
<center>~*~</center>
“There are spare blankets are in the chest at the end of the bed if you need them.” Michael informed Maria.
“Thank you.” Maria said wearily, now that she was warm, dry and fed, all she wanted to do was sleep and her eyes were growing heavier by the second.
As Michael made his way out of the room, he had to brush past Maria who was still standing in the doorway. When his body brushed against hers, Maria felt a tingle of electricity course through her body.
He dipped his head closer to hers, so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. “I’m right next door if you need me for anything. Sweet dreams.”
She was too tired to even flirt back so Maria nodded and waited until he had gone before closing the door and flopping onto the bed. She was fast asleep within seconds.
<center>~*~</center>
“Maria.”
Sometime during the night, she woke up with a start and sat bolt upright in the bed. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She fumbled around on the nightstand until her hand found the light switch and she flicked on the lamp.
“You were just dreaming Maria.” She told herself. With a shiver she realised that the room was freezing and even though she was lying under two blankets and a heavy comforter she was still cold. Michael had said there were blankets in the chest. So she climbed out of the bed and opened the chest.
The chest was made from real solid oak wood and the beautifully carved lid was very heavy. Maria reckoned that it was at least two hundred years old.
“Maria.”
With a slight scream, Maria whirled around, dropping the heavy lid with a crash. “I did not imagine that.” She said to the empty room.
You must have imagined that. There’s no one here, she told herself. That voice had belonged to a young woman and as far as she knew she was the only young woman in the house. She listened carefully but heard no further sound. Not a creak of a floorboard, or a whisper of wind. Even the rain seemed to have stopped.
“Get a grip.” She commanded herself. She was too tired to go though her purse in search or her cypress oil right now. With a shiver she opened the lid of the chest again to get a blanket.
Her first thought was that she had broken the lid when she dropped it. The inside of the lid had fallen off and was lying on top of the blankets. Then she realised that it wasn’t broken but that there was a concealed compartment inside the lid, which had come loose, when she dropped it. “Cool.”
She slipped the piece back into place, it was stiff and tricky but she managed it. Then she saw the journal, nestled in the fold of the blanket. It was dirty and tattered, the pages yellow and stiff and it smelled strongly of must and age. She lifted it out delicately and opened it up. The spine cracked as she did.
“Oh my god.” Lying between the two pages lay a single white rose. Its petals were pure white and soft to the touch, fresh. When she lifted it to her nose she was hit with the soft, sweet fragrance of rose. Maria frowned, how did a fresh rose get inside a dusty old journal in the secret compartment of a dusty old chest?
But before she could give it any more thought, her attention was drawn to the words written on the page. Although the writing was faded, she could still make it out.
September 23rd, 1699.
My name is Elizabeth Parker and five days have passed since I died.
<center>~*~</center>
