Chapter 2

Rutland looked old and the part of town in which my business contact was located was an even older section. Compared to Danielsford, however, the part of town was, I thought, state-of-the art.

"Frank," Walt Arnold greeted me when I walked into his office. "Damned near on time for a change."

Walt was a big man of above average height with dark, unruly hair that never seemed combed, and he had bright, intelligent brown eyes. He was about my age and, like me carried a few more pounds than he should.

"I got sidetracked for a few minutes," I said and spent a few minutes recounting my experience as he led me to his office. He listened as we walked, brow furrowed, and shook his head.

"What did you say the name was?”

"Danielsford, founded in, I think it said, 1693."

"And it's close to here?" He settled behind his desk and played with a pencil, rolling it back and forth.

"On the road to Woodstock," I told him. "Where Sherburne Center is supposed to be."

"I have no idea where you're talking about. You didn't get lost?"

"Nope, no way," I said. "It's my regular route. I've traveled that road every week for years."

"Vermont was settled a lot later than 1693. Plus, I don’t think towns then put out signs like that.” He thought for a moment. “Can’t say that for sure.”

I mentioned the young woman and the people I saw and told him about the way they dressed, and her peculiar accent and the strange manner of her speech. I made a failed attempt at trying to mimic her dialect and the way she talked. In the end, I told him how the girl had warned me that I should leave while I could.

He shook his head again. "Vermonters might be fighting tooth and nail to stay out of the 21st Century, but we aren't that backward." He laughed and added, "Most places in the State, anyway."

I frowned, not knowing what else to say. I knew he was right. I knew, too, he was right about the town. It didn't belong. What I didn't know was what the hell I had driven into more than an hour earlier.

“It just seemed so … I don’t know … weird. It was out of place or, hell, out of time.”

He shrugged, losing interest. "I don't know what to tell you. Let's get these orders written up. Business has been better than good. I'm running low on everything." He pulled a sheet of paper from his desk. "You're staying overnight, aren't you?"

"I have stops in Burlington and a couple of other towns. I planned to go up in the morning."

"Good. We'll go get a cup of coffee when we're finished. You can tell me more about the town you found."

"Danielsford," I said. It was a place I would never forget.

“Whatever it's called,” he said. He pushed the sheet of paper across his desk. It contained the long list of supplies he was ordering. I took it and put it in the case I carried. Later in the evening, I would put it all on an order sheet to hand in when I was back in the office.

***

Later, we sat outside a little coffee shop close to his plumbing and electrical supply store. Walt slowly sipped the very good coffee. He lit a cigarette, much to the dismay and visible disgust of two patrons at a nearby table. He paid no attention to their whispered comments.

"We've been swamped lately," he said. "I don't know who's buying or where the stock is going, but I'm not complaining. It'll slow down come winter."

"I know," I said. "With this economy, I wouldn't bitch about being overworked."

"Tell me about that place again." He sat back and took a sip of coffee.

He listened again as I described the town in detail, trying to be as accurate as possible. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he let the smoke out slowly. "And you say the highway goes through it?"

"Right through it," I repeated. I was becoming frustrated. "You top the hill on the east side, drop down, and go through the middle of it."

"I've lived here all my life and never heard of the place. Can you find it again?"

"It's on the freaking highway, Walt, where Sherburne Center is supposed to be. There's no way you can miss it." I began doubting myself now. Had I really been in an old town called Danielsford, or did I daydream the entire thing?

No, I said to myself. I had been there. It was too damned real. The rutted dirt road and trails branching off it were real. I could feel my car jouncing through them. The young lady who warned me was there. The town existed. Yet, where did the traffic in front of and behind me go? The cars and trucks on the highway with me were real too.

"Sherburne Center," he mumbled. "You've got me curious. Right now, there's no way I can take off though. Maybe next time we can do it.”

He smoked, sipped his coffee and waved to the waitress for a refill. As she topped off his cup and then mine, he watched in silence.

“It's a deal,” I said.

“No other traffic?” he asked.

“Not during the few minutes I was there,” I said.

He nodded and lit another cigarette. The nearby patrons moved to a more distant table, grumbling about second-hand smoke. He didn't seem to notice or care.

“There's always traffic on that road,” he pointed out.

I agreed. “There were some cars behind me, three or four, when I got there. When I drove out, one was in front of me and at least one behind. I don’t know where they came from.”

“But not when you pulled into the town. Where did they go?”

“I don't know, Walt. All I know is they were there, then they weren't. When I left there was traffic again.” I said.

He took a drag and sipped his coffee. “Where did the other traffic go?”

“I don't know,” I said. Once again, I began to wonder if I had been in a town named Danielsford. “They were gone. No sound of them even.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

He fiddled with his cup and stared at the cigarette, held between the index and middle finger of his right hand.

“You're sure it really happened?” he asked.

I knew what he meant. He wasn't questioning my sanity, nor was he joking. I had asked the same question and had debated whether I was daydreaming during the event.

“I was there,” I said in a firm voice. “It was real.”

“Easy, Frank. I'm not saying you didn't experience something,” he replied. “All I'm asking is, where did the other cars go?”

I shook my head, sat back and stared at my coffee.

“Maybe it was all a dream.” I shook my head.

He had a point, though I hated admitting it. How could I be the only one to see the town? It wasn't something I could write off as an illusion. The sights and smells were real.

“You don't think so,” he said.

“I don't think so,” I replied.

“The girl. What about her?”

I told him again what she said and made another failed attempt at mimicking her accent.

“The one named Mary was condemned?” he repeated.

“Of sorcery and witchcraft, I think. And she said something about outsiders. She was hard to understand.”

“She warned you to leave.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I felt nothing bad but hell, I was someplace that shouldn't be. None of it made much sense.”

He checked his watch. “I gotta get back to the shop. I don't know what to tell you. You think something happened, and that's good enough for me.”

He dropped some bills on the table and motioned to the waitress. She nodded, and we started back to his store.

“Maybe when I finish my route, I'll go back and try to figure it out,” I said.

“When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow. The day after.”

Walt frowned. “I just can't take the time right now. We're too busy. Damn, I'd like to go with you. Let me know what happens.”

“I'll do that,” I said with a short nod.