Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (5 page)

“You're letting me go?”

“I’m sorry, Jeff. But you
did know it was only a term appointment. I will of course carefully pack up and
store your belongings, as I understand you’re indisposed at present.”

“I don’t know what to say.”
Jeff can’t believe what he’s hearing. “There has to be some mistake. I was
assured my position was safe, term appointment or not.”

“I’m afraid not. Austerity
requires difficult choices. I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Thank
you for informing me.” Automatically Jeff replies politely, although his mind
is in shock.

“I wish I had better news
for you.” Jeff thinks he hears genuine remorse in John's voice. “If there’s
anything I can do?”

“No don’t worry, I’ll see
you when I get back.”

“Okay. Take care, Jeff.”

“And you.”

The line goes dead. In his
office at Harvard, John Martin looks up at the government agents who’d walked
into his office not ten minutes earlier.

“We’ll take care of him from
now on, Mr. Martin. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The stillness of
the night is disturbed only by the occasional sound of the howling coyote. The
cool moonlit plains play host to the snake slithering through the sand in
search of the night’s prey. The ranch is still, quiet and dark. The silvery
moonlight reaches through the bedroom window, its outstretched hand casting its
spell over Jeff. The smoldering fire downstairs flames skywards; glowing embers
feed the fluttering flame of passion. Eve’s eyes flicker open with the promise
of love. Her lips swell and part. Her breathing is heavy, and she aches for the
touch of a man. Jeff watches as her breasts rise and fall; she tilts her head
back, and her fingers arouse as they slowly glide down her voluptuous body. Her
whispers are full of promise, with such precious little time; Jeff’s loneliness
and desire relinquish as he reaches out to touch. She whispers.

“Not you my love. He keeps
his eye on me when I’m all alone.”

Turning away from Jeff; her
hand rises up, and she slowly kisses another, deeper and deeper her want. Her
naked body writhes with anticipation and pleasure. Distraught; Jeff rises to
his weak knees in a bid to stop Eve climbing on top of her lover. Al’s big
strong tattooed arms stretch round her perfect naked body. Tortured, Jeff runs
from her screams of pleasure. Students laugh and point as he trips and falls to
the ground. Lifting his head from the coldness of the snow, he looks up to see
Casey Lee Jones pointing his gun towards him.

“Time to put you out of your
misery.”

He pulls the trigger; Jeff
feels his head explode as he bolts upright in bed. Catching his breath from
this grim nightmare, he looks out of the window to the cool moon that bathes
him. He feels the loneliness of having no one by his side to comfort him. The
air is cold and the night is still; darkness has betrayed him once again.

The warmth of the sun gives
comfort and new life to the day. Jeff stirs, finding that he still carries the
emotions of Eve’s betrayal last night. He tells himself it was only a dream. At
the breakfast table, a large mug of coffee is a welcome sight.

“How did you sleep last
night?”

“Okay, thanks.” Jeff tries
hard, to relax, smile, be friendly, to give nothing away.

“Were you warm enough? I
have an extra blanket if you need one?”

“Honestly I was fine.” He
looks to her, in emotional turmoil, and thinks to himself, if only you knew.
“And you?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

Eve covers her night well.
She was restless, staring out of her bedroom window towards the moon and the
silhouetted mountains. She remembered all the beauty, passion and pain of their
relationship. Eve knows the one person she can’t trust is herself. She may have
walked away, but she’s still in love with Jeff.

“Egg, sausage and beans?”

“Perfect, do you need a
hand?”

“I’ve got it covered.”
There’s something odd about Jeff this morning, and she can’t quite put her
finger on it. “You’re quiet this morning?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You’re a good lecturer;
there’s always other universities and teaching posts.”

Eve’s concern indicates that
she at least cares for his well-being, and he plays along.

“I try to be philosophical
about these things; nothing lasts forever.”

“Still, it’s a big blow.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“Casey said you would lose
your post at the university.”

“Yeah.” Jeff knows where
this is leading, and doesn’t want to hear 'I told you so'.

“What do you make of it?”

“He got lucky. We’re in the
age of austerity and mass unemployment.”

“I’m not so sure.” Eve can
feel a lecture coming on.

“Don’t read too much into
it. He’s dealing in probabilities, not absolute certainties. The conjurer uses
sleight of hand, and he uses sleight of mind. That’s why it’s one of the
hardest fields to investigate. Everything’s open to interpretation, and we
bring meaning to the table ourselves.”

“Do you think he’ll
co-operate?”

“He will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“His game ends if he
doesn’t.”

“Cat and mouse.”

“Yeah.” Jeff’s face appears
expressionless; he’s deep in thought. “And it looks like I’m the bait that will
end all of this.”

With breakfast over, they
leave the ranch behind. The Camaro roars into life. Eve drives up the dirt
track. Jeff still can’t shake the feelings of the night’s betrayal.
Academically he finds it fascinating that the brain can’t differentiate
feelings from a dream from those of waking reality. Today Eve ensures she’s at
the speed limit passing the billboard, before hitting the gas just for the hell
of it.

Casey patiently waits for
the steel door to slide open. He has the work of a shepherd ahead of him; one
who knows more about his flock than he’s permitted to say. His knowledge is
born from secrets, secrets that dare not be shared nor discussed. He must
remain wise to guide Jeff slowly through the labyrinth of his own mind. This
shepherd knows the terrain intimately. The steel door slides open and Jeff
walks into the room, casually smiling as he sits opposite a killer.

“Good morning Casey, and how
are you today?”

“As happy as an inmate can
be.”

“I see. If you have any
grievances you must let me know.”

“And bring trouble to my
door? There’s lots of noise inside the prison at night. To hear men scream and
have nightmares is a terrible thing, or at least that’s what I believe I hear.
How did you sleep last night?”

“I had a good night’s
sleep.” Jeff studies Casey’s face, then dismisses the notion; he can’t possibly
know.

“I find that interesting, no
screams or nightmares?”

“No.”

“And work?”

“Work’s fine.” This
bastard’s toying with him.

“I see.”

“I would like to ask you to
participate in a series of carefully designed tests.”

“Straight to business? I was
loving the politeness between us, there’s so little humanity in this place,
isn’t there?”

“I believe so.”

“And if I decline?”

“Then I walk back through
that door, you go to your cell and that will be the end of the matter, for the
rest of your life.”

“I see. That sounds more
like a threat than an opportunity. Hardly the best discourse, is it?”

“Yes.” Jeff sighs; that was
so unprofessional and out of character. He’s beginning to act more like a
correctional officer, than an academic. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 
“That’s better; I must warn you that once
we’ve started there will be no return, and I will open the doors that you have
fought against all your life.”

“And which doors are those?”
Jeff’s verging more on anger than assessment.

“The doors of reality and
those you seek to close.” Casey understands he’s got under Jeff’s skin. Which
is just where he wants to be. “Everything you believe is built upon a premise
that science equals truth.”

“There can be no other
truth. The premise, at the most basic level, is that we can see, smell, touch
and test what’s real and what’s not.”

“How can we be sure what’s
real and what’s not?” Casey is enjoying himself this morning. “What if the
dream’s so real you can’t tell the difference?”

“I don’t believe in the
mind-created universe.”

“Yet nothing may be truly
verified except the existence of your own mind. Hallucinogens will permit you
to have the most incredible illusions, where you may touch, test and feel.
Which reality is real? Everything we see around us are merely shadows and
imitations of the real world.”

“Philosophy is nothing more
than a question mark.”

“Yet science opposes all
that’s gone before. Great civilizations, religions, philosophers, writers and
artists, the greatest men that ever walked the Earth believed they had glimpses
into another reality, the real world. How can you be so sure?”

“My life experience.”

“Which may or may not be
real; it’s you alone who brings your reality into existence.”

“Then it’s up to you to
prove your statement is true.”

“I believe that’s your job,
isn’t it?”
  

“Yes, it is.” Jeff feels
he’s just lost the upper hand, and reasserts the balance of power back to
himself. “I would like to ask you some background questions.”

“You have my permission.”

“Can you recall the first
time you became aware of having psychic abilities?”

Casey relaxes into his
chair, and smiles; old memories of his childhood flooding back.

“I was five years old. I was
being looked after by my grandma whilst my mother went to work. She was inside
the house reading tea leaves for her friends. I was outside on the porch
playing with my wooden car. When she was done she joined me outside. I remember
her love, and the smell of blossom around her. She used to put flowers in oil
and make her own perfume. I sat on her knee and she gently rocked me.”

“You mentioned your mother,
may I ask about your father?”

“He was a player, played
around town.” Casey frowns. “I don’t remember him much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Masking his feelings
with a smile he continues. “Don’t miss what you haven’t got, what you don’t
know.”

“I guess so.”

“How are your daughters?”

“My daughters?”

“Yes, your daughters, Jeff.”

“How did you...?” Jeff’s
speechless; they have no place here! “What do you know of my daughters?”

“Nothing, I just know they
exist.”

“How?” Jeff’s pissed, and
has no fear of Casey in this moment.

“We have a connection.”

“A connection. Who told you
about them?”

“You did.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

“Don’t play games with me,
Casey.”

“I’m not. But don’t let it
concern you just yet, let’s get back to my story.” Jeff gives Casey a
look:
 
don’t mess with me. “Now where was
I? Oh yes, on this day I turned to her and asked why she didn’t wear her hair
up, with colorful bows, anymore? She looked puzzled and asked me questions;
questions with answers no one should know.”

“And you had the answers?”

“Yes, I had the answers, I
thought everyone knew the answers. She told me I had a gift, a gift from God.
But to hold it in close as some might scorn me, tell me it was wrong, or that
it was the Devil’s work. Then she comforted me; I was special, and one of the
chosen few. Everything would be alright because it’s all God’s will.”

“Do you believe in God?”

“We all have a purpose. I
believe in unseen hands at work, whether it be God’s will I know not. But I
sure remember the special bowl of strawberries and sugar she gave me that day.”

“She sounds a good woman.”

“Yes she was, and now
passed; yet she still comforts me.”

“Spiritually?”

“I smell blossom when she’s
around.” Casey can see that he’s captured Jeff’s interest.

“Do you believe in angels?”

“I’ve never seen one. It
doesn’t mean they don’t exist; there’s people in the same town, or fish at the
bottom of the ocean that I’ve never seen.”

“Fair comment.”

“Most children are psychic,
but around the age of seven or eight their intuition wanes, and they start to
fear death and separation. It’s replaced by the age of reason; an awareness of
the world and their place within. Don’t you remember?”

“Remember?” Jeff’s taken
back by this question. “Remember what?”

“Your grandma.”

“I didn’t know my
grandmother.”

“The shadowy figure who
scared you as a child. Her face distorted on the left side; she held her arm,
and walked with a limp. Watching: she watched you, at a distance in the street
or when you slept at night.”

“No, you can’t know that!”
Shocked, angry, a memory stolen! But no one knows; so how the hell can he?

“She left you when you asked
who the lady was in the photograph. It was your grandma, who died of a stroke
before you were born. But you listened to reason; you denied your very eyes,
and her existence. You were just a child with a vivid imagination, or so you
were told.”

It takes Jeff a few seconds
in this car-crash moment to compose himself, to find a professional response.
He can’t reach the words. Everything said to him regarding his grandmother is
true. Looking into Casey’s eyes, he sees they are not the crazed eyes of a
psychopath. Instead he sees warmth and depth of understanding, an all-knowing
smile. Jeff, shaken by the mention of his daughters, and his grandmother, is
unable to continue with the interview.