Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (12 page)

“See.” Eve's angry. “That’s
why we don’t delete recordings.”

“I’m sorry.” Eve can see a
puzzled look in his eyes. “He suggested I use you as a psychiatrist. Does that
mean we’re all under surveillance?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Darkness,
solitude and silence. The dog-kennel entombment of cement walls, a
sound-proofed door, and a small painted over meshed window. The architecture of
nothingness incites segregation, disorientation; depression and suicide. The
system offers the inmate up as prey to terror. Look into the eyes of a hunted,
cornered animal, just before the slaughter. Upright on a cold slab of concrete,
his bed may as well be a sacrificial stone for the one who stands outside the
door. The mechanism breaks the silence; steel rolls across the floor, and a
silhouetted figure blocks the doorway. Light pierces the prisoner’s eyes;
footsteps surround him. Casey looks straight ahead. Glistening beads of sweat
trickle down his forehead.

“In theory you have been
waiting for me.” White walks slowly, studying his nemesis. His eyes pierce as a
lepidopterist would, before inserting the butterfly needle. “I have to ask
myself, did you know I was coming, or did you not know at all?”

“I could smell you outside
the door.” Casey’s eyes look dead, and show no emotion.

“The stench is inside, Mr.
Jones.”

“Touché.”

“Always the protagonist. Why
do you have to be so subversive?” White raises his voice in a bid to penetrate
Casey. “To fight for what?”

“Freedom.”

“Freedom is nothing but a word
in a system of control.”

“Your black-eyed prison?”
Casey speaks with authority; he’s no broken sinner. “What do you want?”

“To offer you a deal.” White
smiles and offers up a friendly tone. “A get-out clause for good behavior.”

“Good behavior?” he sarcastically
responds. “For a man who will try to exploit you in every manner. A convicted
killer, who has psychic abilities that he will misuse for his own
entertainment. Rumor has it that my only pleasure comes from the dismantling of
one’s mind, piece by piece.”

”You haven’t lost your
touch.” White walks a few steps towards the wall before turning back. “I seek
only your silence, that you cease what you have started. That is all we ask of
you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“My years will roll by,
whilst yours will remain eternal.”

“I see.”

“It’s all very simple.”

“The power of individual
choice. More than capable of destroying any collective that tries to destroy
it.”

“Then these four walls will
become your grave.”
 

“Along with the knowledge
your superiors wish to gain.” Casey remains firm.

“Be reasonable, Mr. Jones

“I’ll have to think about
it.”

“I understand your mother
recently passed.” White probes, matter-of-fact but with an implied threat.
“You’re the last one of your kind; we might decide to end it all here.”

“I understand that shortly,
I will be laid on this floor. I’ll give you the finger now while I still can.”
Casey raises his middle finger to White. “Fuck you!”

“Tut, tut, Mr. Jones. I
credited you with more intelligence.” White takes a few paces and turns. He
stares into Casey’s eyes, then addresses the guards surrounding him. “Boys,
think only of your fallen colleagues.” Then smiles.

A rain of blows hit Casey.
As he predicted moments earlier, he falls to the concrete floor. The numbing
pain fades as, in wonder, he takes comfort in the light of his mother. Aimee
smiles to him whilst holding him in her arms, telling him everything’s going to
be alright. Casey’s unconscious when White walks up to the offending finger,
bends it back and with the snap of gristle and bone breaks it, then casually
walks out of the cell, leaving darkness to surround Casey once again.

***

“Jeff.”

“Hmm.”

“Who’s Marcus?”

Jeff leans over and switches
the bedside light on. He sits up and raises his arms behind his head, then
sighs.

“An old friend.”

“You don’t sound keen?”
Eve’s curious. Who is he? Why hasn’t Jeff mentioned him before?

“I’m not.”

“Care to share?” She speaks
softly, and with concern.

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long night.”

“I guess so.” Jeff pauses to
collect his thoughts. “We lived opposite each other and grew up together as
best of friends. We were inseparable, and I thought nothing would ever come
between us.”

“So what went wrong?”

“He screwed my girlfriend at
university.” There’s no anger, only surviving bewilderment in his voice.

“Ah. A woman.” Eve shakes
her head in a knowing way. “That figures. I’m not surprised you’re reluctant to
contact him.”

“I thought we had each
other’s backs covered. How could he do that?”

“The world’s full of fuckers
like him. We’ve all been hurt, all you can do is pick yourself back up and get
on with it.”

“That’s what I did.”

 
“What hurt you most, his betrayal or hers?”

“Both.” Jeff casts his
memories back. He didn’t just lose his girlfriend, he also lost his best
friend. “His more I think.”

 
“So what happened between them?”

“They split up.” Jeff shrugs
his shoulders.

“And Marcus?”

“He tried to apologize but I
couldn’t accept it, so in the end we both went our separate ways. He sought to
prove the paranormal existed and I sought to disprove the notion.”

“Ah, rivalry. That explains
your reluctance to believe in the paranormal, and to invalidate any evidence
presented before you.”

“Possibly.”

“Are you going to contact
him?”

“I don’t know. It’s a
biggie.”

“Casey said it all ends if
you don’t.”

“I know what he said.” Jeff
snaps, then calms his voice down. “I’m going to have to sleep on it.”

“You do that, babes.” Eve
decides it’s best left for Jeff to work out.

Jeff turns the bedside light
out and Eve snuggles into his arms. Once she’s asleep he lies on his back and
looks up to the ceiling. He remembers the event only too well, and the pain of
betrayal for tonight at least still flickers deep inside.

The red rim of the morning
sun pushes over mountains, dispersing shadows with the flow of light like blood
giving life and warmth to the new day. A time to feel, to pray to the angels of
dawn, and plead to God for help. Jeff takes his leave of the bed, waiting for a
whisper in his ear; lonely, feeling disconnected, he watches the light creep round
the barn door and onto the baked earth and stone. Yet even in this moment of
glory he still holds onto the pain of the past. Eve walks around the corner to
discover Jeff sitting on an old wooden box.

“There you are!” Relieved
that he’s okay, she smiles.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out
here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought
the fresh air would do me good.”

“Do you want to be alone?”

“No.” That’s the last thing
he needs.

Eve walks up and places her
arms around him. Jeff places his head into her bosom; they caress.

“If Marcus troubles you this
much, maybe your journey should end here.” Eve comforts him by stroking his
hair.

“Maybe.”

“But then you will never
know, will you?”

“I would always wonder.” He
knows she’s right. Eve’s always the voice of reason.

“Are you going to allow past
events to control your life?”

“I’ve not come this far for
nothing.”

“Then you have your answer.”
Eve’s relieved; finally she’s getting somewhere with him.

“I have to contact him.”

“It’s the only realistic
option.” She bends down and looks him in the eye. “I promise it won’t be as bad
as your fears.” Then gives him a kiss. “In fact you have nothing to lose and
everything to gain.”

“I know.”

“It takes a real man to
swallow his pride.”

“That doesn’t make it any
easier.”

“No it doesn’t.” Eve’s
swayed Jeff in the right direction. Now it’s time to get him back onto his
feet, before he changes his mind. “But I tell you what might.”

“What?”

“Starting the day with
pancakes?”

“I believe it will.” Jeff
smiles, one thing he loves is being pampered.

“Come on then. You’ll feel
better with something inside you.”

***

In a strange twist of fate,
Marcus is sprawled out in bed. His partner of many years, Sarah, lays beside
him. Her dyed flame red hair intermingles with his dark curly locks. She’s
curious as to what he’s experiencing as he sleeps. He murmurs, his legs twitch
and his eyelids flutter.

Marcus is walking on a
trail, high up on the hillside. This path delves deep into his psyche. Animal
runs like this were followed by hunters, hunters became soldiers, soldiers
became settlers, and the paths turned from soil, to stone, to concrete. He’s
accompanied by Jeff. Marcus can’t remember the conversation of this recurring
dream, yet he always remembers the horror of Jeff losing his footing. He slips
and scrambles for his life on a fingertip ledge. Marcus holds onto Jeff for as
long as he can, trying in desperation to stop him falling into the chasm below.

“Marcus don’t let go!”

Yet he feels Jeff’s hands
slip through his; has to watch in horror as he plunges. Jeff still reaches out
to him. Marcus wakes, breathless.

“Back in the land of the
living?” Sarah tickles the bearded stubble on his chin.

“Yeah.” Marcus pulls his
chin away; he’s not in the mood.

“So who was she this time,
honey?” Sarah enjoys the tease.

“You’re not funny!”

“I wasn’t trying to be. We
both know what a horny boy you can be.” Sarah’s hand trickles down between his
legs. “You’re not hard?”

“Not now, Sarah.”

“What’s up with you?” Marcus
sits up whilst Sarah follows him and places her hand on his shoulder. She gives
him a gentle kiss on the neck. “What’s wrong babe?”

“I keep having the same
dream.”

“Do tell.” Sarah speaks with
excitement.

“I’m walking on a hillside
with an old friend. There’s a ravine to our side, he trips and falls, yet manages
to hold onto the ledge. I reach for his arms and he pleads for me not to let
go. But he always slips through my hands and the dream always ends in his
death.”

“Your higher self is telling
you that your old friend needs your help.”

“Yes I know. But.”

“But what?” Marcus looks
shifty. Sarah knows something isn’t right.

“It’s not that simple.” He
feels like a worm dangling on the hook.

“Why not?”

“We parted on bad terms.”

“You never told me?” Her
eyebrows raise in curiosity.

“It’s in the past.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Spit it out, Marcus.” Sarah
has a special tone of voice that she uses when she wants to prize information
out of him. It always works.

“Well, we were childhood
friends, and room-mates at university.”

“So what did you do?”

“I...hmm.” Sarah knows
what’s coming even before he says the words. “I slept with his girlfriend.”

“I should have guessed.” She
pulls her hands away from him.

“I fell in love.”

“Love?” One thing she knows
about Marcus is that when cornered, he’s full of it.

“She came on to me.”

“You’re a shit.”

“Look, it’s in the past.
Anyway you can’t judge me!”

“Stop right there.” Now
she’s pissed. “You said that wasn’t being brought up again.”

“There’s no difference.”
He’s smug, and he knows it.

“Don’t turn it onto me, Marcus.”

“Well don’t judge me.”

“I’m not.” She takes a deep
breath to calm down. “So what do you plan to do now?”

“I’m not sure.”

***

One week later. Suburbia is
filled with the leafy greenness of familiar trees and sacred places. Jeff
excitedly points out to Eve his old high school, bike paths, houses once
occupied by friends. Willow Woods is where the boys built dens, played soldier,
and later, as teenagers, took girls. He knows these roads and curbs like the
back of his hand. The houses, garages, backyards and alleyways haven’t changed.
There’s a longing here, a passing of life, a community lost where once he
belonged. In later years friends moved away, married or simply lost touch. Jeff
loved his childhood; he blossomed so much that one day he was being nurtured
and the next, with confidence, he flew. Over time the news he naively thought
he wouldn’t have to face came twice: first his father, then his mother passed.
Taking along with them a part of him, and leaving behind the ache that would
always be, to be back in the innocent loving past of his childhood home once
again.