Part 19: Blevin

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Previously in the Vines Inquiry— Harlow rescued Frank was his family’s wire trap. Free, the pair was able to see what Richard Vines had hidden in his desk draw: an old film reel titled “Big Rick ‘77.” With no other leads into what Frank’s parents are doing, he and Harlow headed out into the blizzard to investigate further.

Bramford University’s campus was a burning village in the blizzard. Thousands of twinkling electric bulbs popping through the snowfall. Every lamppost, bannister and rain gutter was dotted with the soft embers of Christmas safety.

Just outside the grounds, past the brick walls and paths that implanted Bramford, off-campus student housing boasted more decorations. Multicolored lights and glowing mangers scavenged from the basements of these houses—all converted colonial mansions and single-family homes—had become tradition; passed down from one class to the next.

Harlow pointed to a Santa Claus with schmutz on his cheeks, glowing in a lawn across the road. “I found that in my house’s basement junior year.” 

“And you didn’t burn it, bury it and salt the Earth?” said Frank. “What? It’s too tall. Santa’s that are too tall to be toys but not tall enough to be the real him are creepy.”

“The real him?” said Harlow. 

“It feels like they’re hiding something. Or no, that they’re dissatisfied. Stuck in this awful in-between limbo where they’ll never feel at home, never be able to fulfill their life’s calling.” 

She pat him on the back and walked into campus proper. “How about we don’t project onto holiday decorations? Just for fun?”

“I’m just saying, if my parents are really doing something weird—”

“They are. Wire trap me once, shame on you…” 

“—And the world ends. Or the new one starts or whatever, that Santa decoration is at least partly responsible.” 

Frank slipped on icy walkways as they shuffled towards the library, open but abandoned during the university’s winter break. Harlow told him the HOA had cornered the school, forcing them to make the university’s vast knowledge stores available to the locals at no charge through some old town charter.

“You think they’ll have a projector?” Frank was still trying to stand up (failing), but he’d made it to all fours.

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Before they left the Big House, he’d raided his childhood bedroom for more new, old clothes.

“You didn’t realize those were Dick’s pants when you put them on, though?” Harlow had said. 

“We were in a rush! I’d almost just died for the second time in as many hours.” Frank slipped to his feet, flapping his arms as the old pair of sneakers clawed for purchase. 

“I am doing this. In heels.” 

“Those have to hurt,” he said, still flailing. Harlow nodded, but then stared at her waterproof suede Cuban’s. 

“Sometimes it’s worth it,” she said, dreamily. 

“Harlow… please,” he whispered into the night. She laughed, with him, and held out a steadying arm. “Want to see if we can find anything to get you out of the Tucker Reagan stuff while we’re here? Real estate loop holes or something. Maybe there’s a clause about not being able to change landlords when the bay is frozen.”

They both looked towards the docks farther down-island, wary of the roaring monster that had been encased in ice. It had happened before, but never in their lifetime. Even ignoring global warming, something about it felt off. Too sudden and harsh.

Harlow shook her head, as if to throw her mind off its spiraling rails. “You’re gonna do the talking, right? I’d still like to maintain some distance from all this.” She waved splayed fingers in front of Frank’s general form. “C’mon. Hotel manager them up.” 

“It’s not like I have free rooms for the night to give away.” Horror struck him. “Oh, Jesus. We’re doomed. I’m the bad guy in the Nativity play.” 

Harlow shrugged. “I’m not sure you should be saying ‘Jesus’ anymore either. Just in case. And sure ya do! Big ole house. Get creative. How about ‘first person to get me a film projector will survive the coming Armageddon?’ Or maybe just some of that fabulous inherited wealth?” 

“Is it really that much money?” said Frank.

“We’re about to walk into a building with your name on it.”