The Labyrinth of Blue Towers: The Disappearance of Jack Arneson, Chapter 7

The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:

The Disappearance of Jack Arneson

(A Sewing Box Mystery)

Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm

Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am

Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am

Chapter 4: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 7:46 pm

Chapter 5: Friday, June 29, 1984, 7:24 am

Chapter 6: Friday, June 29, 1984, 2:17 pm

Chapter 7: Wednesday, December 19, 1984, 6:03 am

The heater wasn’t kicking in. Jean had performed all her usual rituals; turning the thermostat all the way up, then turning it all the way down, messing with the gas valve on the side, and taking the cover off the unit to allow as much air flow as possible—but still, nothing. Now all she could do was pray. And if that didn’t work, then she’d break down and call Minnegasco - again. She hated the idea of having yet another bill to pay, especially with Christmas right around the corner, but what else could she do? She had no choice; they had to have heat. It was twenty below outside and running the oven full blast with the door open only kept a small part of the kitchen warm.

Fortunately Missy was still bundled up in her bed, asleep. Jean hoped to get this resolved before she woke up. 

Poor thing.

Christmas.

Jean still had so much shopping left to do and Missy’s list kept growing almost daily thanks to all the commercials that accompanied her favorite cartoons Rainbow Brite, Care Bears, and Pound Puppies; everything that girl saw was everything she wanted and needed. Jean kept trying to temper her expectations, explaining that Santa had lots of boys and girls who needed presents, but she was pretty sure the message wasn’t getting through. She hated to disappoint Missy, especially now that Dorie was going to be spending the holidays in the Bahamas with friends, but there were limits (most of which were financial in nature). It might be different if Dorie pitched in a little, but that wasn’t likely to happen

Jeanette, on the other hand, had surprised Jean lately. Ever since Thanksgiving she’d been stopping by unannounced several times a week. Usually it was to pick up some of her stuff, but Jean suspected that was merely more or less an excuse. Jeanette genuinely seemed concerned about Jean’s welfare and also appeared to be paying a bit more attention to her niece. Possibly just a phase, but Jean appreciated it none the less. It also probably had something to do with a certain deadbeat low life biker being pushed out of her daughter’s life. Thank, God! Jean wanted to know what had happened, but knew better than to pry.

As these thoughts raced through her head, Jean sat facing the open oven door, leaning in slightly to get the most out of the heat it offered. She stared at the bit of blue flame she could see, as if it held all the answers.

How long had it been now? Months and months. The dreams. They just kept coming. And last night? Last night was the worst.

Ever since that Arneson boy disappeared last summer, Jean had been dreaming about him almost nightly. In that time the dreams had changed, but only a bit. They always began the same. Each night she would find herself in front of the gigantic furnace before beginning her trip through the maze of blue towers to the room with the cot where Jack sat reading. Only now, Jean seemed to have a little more control - just enough to look around and notice more about her surroundings. Now, she was also able to keep up with Jack when he ran from the makeshift room. She'd walked through the maze of towers so often she felt she could do it blindfolded. This familiarity allowed her to follow the boy. He always led her back to the room with the smooth brick wall.

In that room, she eventually noticed a window; a small rectangle of light. Standing on her tip-toes, she was able to see out. It was winter outside, but there wasn’t enough snow to completely obscure her view. Right next to the window, there was a bush or shrub, it’s brittle, grey branches completely drained of life Just beyond the bush ran a sidewalk. It was always shoveled and salted. On several occasions Jean could see what appeared to be a woman wearing a long, heavy, brown skirt walking past the window. Whenever she tried to bang on the glass to get the woman's attention, the dream would end, so after a few failed attempts, she learned to resist that impulse. 

Past the sidewalk, there was a gravel path. Recently, on certain nights, she noticed some kind of white truck, like a delivery van, parked or idling there. She never saw anyone get in or out of the vehicle, and though she tried, could not see any of its license plate.

As she approached the window, she would find the boy standing there, looking up at it. It was too high for him to look out, though sometimes he tried. If she attempted to help him, he would melt in her arms and the dream would end, so, again, she learned not interfere.

Shortly after returning to the room with the tiny window, an adult hand would reach out of the shadows, offering itself, as if to lead them somewhere. Whenever Jean tried to take the hand. Jack’s hand would be there first. She would then follow, as the boy was led down a hallway. Sometimes the hall would lead to a set of wide stairs made of smooth cement. At the top of the stairs there was a blonde wooden door. The door would open and the boy would disappear on the other side. Jean was never allowed to follow or actually touch the door. Each time she reached for the copper knob, the room would spin and she would find herself alone, back in the room with the tiny window. The first time it happened, she woke up, but since that time, she had been allowed to remain and spend time studying the world on the other side of the small window.

Eventually, Jack would return. He usually had something with him to eat. Jean thought it was a piece of bread or a pastry of some kind. For some reason, this made Jean feel better. She also thought the boy seemed less anxious when he returned from the room with the blonde door.

Other times, a different hand would appear and lead Jack down the same hallway, though through a different door. There, they would find themselves in the maze of blue towers.

Jean would do her best to follow, but could never arrive in time to enter the makeshift room with the metal door at the same time Jack did. Instead, she would find herself locked out, unable to open or move through the door. Rather than wait for the door to open, Jean would turn around and try to make her way back through the maze of blue towers, but as familiar as she was with the layout, she always managed to get lost and would then wake up.

In the daytime, Jean felt haunted. The dreams left her exhausted, restless and out-of-sorts. Given their frequency, she was beginning to agree with Terri; perhaps there was something in them that might be useful to the police. Every morning Terri would call, asking for any new developments. She had become as hooked on Jean’s dreams as she was on her soaps. Terri offered all sorts of interpretations, none of which made any sense to Jean. For Jean, the dreams were very literal, save for a few of the odder elements, such as the giant eye and the maze of blue towers. Still, that didn’t prevent Terri from offering her two cents worth. She also kept prodding Jean to contact the police. So far Jean had resisted doing so, though, on occasion, she was tempted.

Around Thanksgiving, Jean happened to catch an interview with the boy’s mother on one of the local news programs. Her blonde hair was still cut in a blunt style that reminded Jean of skater Dorothy Hamill, but the rest of the woman was unrecognizable. Dressed in a sharp suit jacket, Jack’s mother appeared thinner in body and more severe about the face. Clearly the tragedy was taking a toll. She was talking about missing and exploited children.

Watching, it had torn Jean's heart out, moving her so much that she thought she should reach out to the authorities as Terri kept suggesting. But before doing so, she decided to run it past Dorie to see what she thought and... that was the end of it. Dorie listened intently as Jean shared her dream, but balked at the idea of her mother going to the police. Her daughter called the dreams nonsense and said the cops would treat Jean like a nut job. Besides, they had better things to do than waste their time listening to some old woman’s dreams. That had stung quite a bit. With that. Jean decided it was probably best to wait, until she had more information - something more concrete. That is, until last night...

Last night, her dream had begun as it always did, with her standing in front of the furnace before making her way through the maze to the metal door. The moment Jean moved through the metal door she knew something was different. Feeling along the wall, she could not find the eye. Where had it gone? Turning around, she felt a bit more assured, because the cot with the blanket was still there, but when she lifted the blanket - Jack was not there. 

He was gone!

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Dreams - Fleetwood Mac