Sterling's Mansion V

	“Now the papers here say that the first people to come to this mansion on Mister Sterling’s behalf didn’t encounter Zachariah,” Amy said, marching along reading from the arranged pamphlets and reports as they wandered the home. They’d left the gymnasium behind long ago and were now wandering the maze-like remainder of the mansion, reaching vainly for any scrap of noise or sound that could guide them to their destination. Zachariah, unfortunately for them, had been silent.
	“Amy, do you have any idea what his deal’s gonna be,” asked Avery, a slight whistle ringing whenever she spoke. “Because judging by his kids he’s gonna be either normal or radically violent.”
	“Well, the Sinclair family were very active in local affairs,” Amy said still pacing ahead, checking her papers repeatedly, “and this property was just one of their homes, but it was their favored one.”
	“Well what does that actually mean,” Cassy chimed in.
	“It means… Well, you saw how reluctant they were to go! This was his home, he’s not leaving any easier than his kids!”
	“And his wife?” Amy’s face sunk as she anxiously fiddled with her booklets, aching over what to do. She silently slipped out a pair of newspaper clippings, one aged and wrinkled versus one modern and clipped from a National Geographic. The one extolled the virtues of the Sinclairs before spelling out their tragedy, the abrupt disappearance of the Missus Sinclair as she was due to return from the Pacific for her anniversary and the leaving of the three teenage Sinclair children and their father without a mother and a spouse. The second, though, was a morbid analysis and investigation of every facet of that decades old mystery with the ultimate conclusion, on the recovery of the wreckage of her plane, of her passing before she ever returned home. The Sinclairs had lived and died waiting on their missing mother, every day doting around the door, practicing their music, or boxing across the state in the hopes of sharing with her how much they’d changed since she left.
Avery and Cassy shrunk having read the pieces, their pair of wistful eyes returning the snippets to an again sniffling Amy. Clearing her throat she turned around on a dime, forging on ahead into the darkened halls of the home, desperately searching for some sign to bring them to their last ghost. As the triplet of robots advanced past the parlor where the twins had been they felt a subtle rise in the heat in the home, old, rusted vents still porting hot air around. The issue now was finding the source of that hot air as the other two nandroids rolled their sleeves up as well, trying to suppress the uncomfortable warming. Cassy stopped her partners, turning her head up to listen at the vents with more care.
	“It’s not them,” she said. “I’d have heard that if that were the case. This is coming from somewhere nearby.”
	“So just follow the hot?”
	“Yes, Amy, follow the hot.” Amy grinned and skipped ahead just as enthusiastic as before as she seamlessly eked out the source of the heat. As her partners chased after her Cassy called out directions, the crackle and snap of wood sounding through the halls and guiding them closer to the heart of the inferno. Amy stopped short of the corner, turning her backwards in fear as she started to retreat. Avery and Cassy sprinted still and the three nearly fell into a heap at the corner of the wide hall, another massive door and the wall it was in sheathed in luminescent blue flame. The heat was immense and unbearable but Amy, against all manner of warning both internal and from the other two, stuck her hand into the fire. In the place of the disappearing heat was a wet, impossible cold, the fire flowing like water around her hands. Cassy and Avery watched in awe as Amy continued, unharmed, into the flames and twisted the knob and swung the door open.
	More flame lashed out into the hall and the scorching heat repelled the other two, burn marks appearing on the cuffs of their suits as Amy walked effortlessly into the room before her, the door shutting behind her. The barely-singed pair stared wide eyed and shocked at the remaining flames and the closed door, shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes.
	“Well now what, Cassy?”
	“We can’t just leave her, I mean for all we know she’s… she’s gone, but...”
	“There’s not anything we can really do now but wait, at least she has the vacuum I suppose. It’s up to her now,” Avery said, throwing her hands up.
	Inside the room Amy stepped forward, slowly pacing into the freezing room. Even without breath bits of fog lifted from her warm interior as she tip-toed in. A master bed sat, rigid and draped in frost, in a corner of the room, the other walls lined by stuck-together books made into bricks by the cold. Tendrils of mist hung thick on the floor as she stepped deeper into the room, ringing her feet as she kicked little hurricanes of cloud as she moved. Passing the wall at her left she entered into the main space of the room, a massive study and living room centered around a roaring fireplace. The blue flame cast deep purple shadows where it didn’t strike true and froze, a pair of armchairs basking in the vacuum of heat. Amy approached the chairs slowly in the dim room, both of the chairs frozen solid and scintillating in the firelight as the ice crystals scattered each ray across the walls and ceiling.
As she neared the pair of seats she saw the emerging specter of Zachariah, staring still and wistful into the dancing flames. A board croaked as Amy stepped further ahead and the ghost’s head swiveled violently to his left.
	“Judith,” he yelled, the hope in his voice rapidly disappearing as his eyes set on the little blonde robot behind him. “Oh. I figured the kids leaving the mansion meant she’d come back, but I suppose you’ve come to hunt us down. I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but I don’t think it's possible for me to leave.” Amy stepped wordlessly onward before settling herself in the second chair. The fire dashed upward and outward, crystals of ice thickening and advancing in an instant on the mantle.
	“OUT! Get out of that chair,” he howled in agony. “It’s for her only, that’s not your chair.” Still silent Amy sat back up and showed her hands in surrender.
	“Who are you waiting for, Mister Sinclair?”
	“You already know if you’re here to suck us up like those other folks tried, don’t be coy with me.”
	“Do you really think she’s coming back?” Amy was pressing him hard as his face contorted between mourning and anger, ready to lash out.
	“Of course I do, we’ve been waiting here for so long she… she wouldn’t have left us.”
	“Did you get to say goodbye, Mister Sinclair?”
	“Do we ever *really* get to say goodbye?”
	“Your kids did when they decided it was time to go, that I know.”
	“Well now they won’t be seeing Judith once she comes back, the kids really didn’t care for her as much as I did.”
	“Do you know how long it’s been, Mister Sinclair?” He took pause for a moment, scratching his chin as he stared deeper into the fire.
	“I can’t really remember, now that you ask. It’s not been long enough to make me give up, that’s for sure.” Amy ruffled through her papers and held the newer article pinched in her fingers, trying to decide when to hand it to the ghost hovering in the chair. “The kids didn’t really forgive her for just disappearing, and sometimes I can’t decide whether I’m angry or just confused. Wherever she is I just hope she’s okay, happy, taken care of.” Amy took a deep breath before handing the little slip of paper over.
	“She’s already somewhere better Mister Sinclair, and your kids are well on their way to join her. I think it’s your time too,” Amy continued, possessed by a diplomatic spirit she’d never really been aware of. His eyes pored over the little slip of paper over and over, each successive reading leading to him retracting into his seat as the room warmed and rivulets of water began to run into the fireplace where they steamed and spat. He doubled over with sobs, choking them back and coughing as he tried vainly to collect himself. Amy pressed a hand to the back of the cool ghost, hugging him from behind as he sobbed. As he finally quieted down he continued.
	“I can’t meet her looking like this, I-I,” he paused and thought. “I had a suit that was for our anniversary celebration, if you can get that for me from my closet I’ll be ready to go.” Amy set the vacuum down by the fire as the room still warmed, making her way back to the bed’s area and scouting around for a closet where, inside, she found an immaculate suit or, rather, the remains of it. It’s years derelict in the closet had rendered it tattered and worn, holes from generations of moths peking out from beneath the suit jacket. A deep, burning instinct sounded in Amy’s heart as she pulled the suit from the closet and produced her sewing kit which she had on herself wherever she went and tore curtains from the windows for their silk material. She returned to the fireplace and took to her work with intense rapidity and precision patching holes with the mismatched cloth. Each successive patch was a little garish spot in just the right place, making the suit into a faux-checkerboard of its original material and its patching. As she rose from her cross-legged spot by the fire she presented the full suit to the ghost before her who took it in his hands as new tears made little tracks at his cheeks.
	Outside the bedroom the walls of flame had been sputtering out but were finally receded, Avery and Cassy alerting each other awake as they bolted towards the door and burst in. Their attempts to circumnavigate the flames and find another route of ingress had failed and all they could do was sit and wait. But now, rushing in to save Amy, they watched her in a quiet embrace with the last ghost, his blue foggy shape gussied up in an immaculate, if patched and clashing, suit. After the embrace Amy turned and pointed to the other two nandroids, sharing a few unknown words with the man as he smiled and waved faintly. Amy hefted the vacuum back onto her shoulders and waved Cassy over with the flashlight. A tearful thanks and goodbye later and the ghost, and his suit, disappeared into the vacuum and into a world free of worry.
	The trio of nandroids began their long trek back to the front of the mansion, the front door easily and effortlessly opening back up. They all sat together on the porch as they waited for their ride to return, the dismal rain having given way to a clear night sky and a pale, massive Moon in the sky. They sat, huddled together, watching the stars scattered across the sky above, each pearlescent dot twinkling and winking in the just-moist air. Sitting there alone they chatted about their hopes and their possible futures, having earned the second chance Bradbury had dangled above them. A shooting star here and there timed out the hours as they looked out and into the road, waiting for the car that would bring them back home. As it pulled up, the three robots piled, exhausted, into the backseat once again, falling into their dream-filled sleep modes as they were driven one-way to taking care of a family of their own.