999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [301]
Harlow grinned. “No trouble there. But, lord, all these lights. Can’t we turn some off?”
Maxon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. They are either all on or all off.”
Harlow cocked an eyebrow. “And this one switch, it controls them all?”
“Actually, every switch in the house does. As I understand it, each one feeds into a master control box, and the lights all go on and off together. Relay driven, I believe. There’s a remote somewhere that will do the same, control the lights, that is.”
“Like a TV remote?”
Maxon nodded. “Here, give me your parka and we’ll take a tour.”
Harlow peeled out of his coat and handed it to Maxon, the lawyer opening the door to a brightly lit foyer closet.
Harlow’s eyes widened. “Even the closets?”
“Even those,” replied Maxon, hanging both garments inside. He started to reach for the suitcase, but Harlow said, “No, no. Let me,” and set it in the closet himself. Maxon grinned at the vigorous young man and said, “Now for the tour.”
Every room, every chamber inside the house was illuminated by panels of light mounted on walls and ceilings. Each of the rooms was sparsely furnished, and of what furniture there was, much was made of molded glass or clear plastic or Lucite or some such, Harlow couldn’t tell which. And wherever furniture of a different sort sat, floor panels cast light in the space below. Even the tall, king-sized four-poster had light panels underneath. “No place for monsters,” said Harlow upon seeing this last. “Monsterless closets, too.”
As they walked down to the first floor Harlow asked, “Is the whole house this way?”
Maxon nodded and led him to the kitchen, where luminous panels lit the interiors of cabinets, even though the shelves and doors were made of clear glass, as were the dishes within. Many utensils were transparent, sitting in their illumined drawers. And all appliances were lighted inside and out.
“My, my,” said Harlow.
“Indeed,” replied Maxon, and opened the door to the brightly lit garage. Inside sat a large gasoline-powered, motor-driven generator—a Honda—its exhaust feeding through a clear plastic pipe vented to the outside, the machine sitting silent but ready. Inside as well sat a BMW, a heavy-duty power cord running to it from the wall, its interior glowing with light.
“Even the car?”
Again Maxon nodded. “In the trunk are a number of batteries—on a charger—to power the light panels within.”
Glove compartment, trunk, under the seats, inside the dash, under the hood: all were blazing.
Harlow frowned. “With all that light in the car, how did he see to drive at night?”
“He didn’t,” replied Maxon. “He didn’t go out at night; but he wanted to be ready, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
Maxon shrugged. “In case he had to, I suppose.”
“Was he always this way? I mean, I didn’t know anything about him—didn’t even know I had a great-uncle until you contacted me.”
“A good thing, that,” said Maxon. “Else Massachusetts would have gotten it all—but for me running you down.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. But again I ask: was he always this way?”
“No. When he was younger, much like your age, he traveled the world: Africa, India, Tibet, the Orient, the Outback, the Pampas, wherever: he saw them all. But rather suddenly, it seems, he stopped. Holed up in this house. Hired workers to make the changes to put light everywhere. A beacon in the dark, so to speak. The neighbors call this ‘the lighthouse.’ ”
As they stepped back into the kitchen, Harlow sighed. “Lighthouse it is; there’s not a shadow in this place. Was he afraid of the dark?”
“Perhaps,” replied