Two Souls,
One Door
by
Christopher Goodrum
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the Publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published December 2016
Copyright 2016 ©, Christopher Goodrum
Ashelon Books
19920 67th Ave NE, Space 50
Arlington, WA 98223
www.kieltok.wix.com/ashelonbooks
[email protected]
Also by Christopher Goodrum
The Legend of the Dragonskinner
The Dragonskinner and the Hanging Stones of Wiltshire
The Dragonskinner and the Mirrors of Transparency
The Order
with Julianna Goodrum
The Leaping Lepre of Letterfrack
Short Stories
Addison Jane and the Christmas Chase
Alice’s Strange & Peculiar Easter
For Kevin Hauser…
One of the Best Doubles I Ever Had
Two Souls,
One Door
“What do you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?!”
“Absolutely nothing. Look, we have to accept the fact we are going to be here a while.”
“We already have been here for a while. It seems like forever.”
“It has been forever. Don’t forget where you are, friend.”
“I am not your friend.”
“You might as well be by now.”
It has been said that even nothing was something. That even complete and total darkness had depth, and a blank canvass could have meaning. Some people would say that was poetic; others would say that was nonsense.
Bilbee was quite beside himself. He was one of those people who thought nothing poetic about blackness and nothingness. A blank canvass, to him, was just a representation of the lack of work.
He disliked those who read too much into things. People who saw symbols and meaning in random, inconsequential things. But now, he was in the middle of a vast, black nothingness in wait.
His uninvited guest had been with him for as long as he could remember, which wasn’t much. There were fragments of memory slowing coming back to him while he was there. At first, it was unnerving to not know much of anything of where he was or how he got there. There was a good stretch of time where panic set in and he was absolutely frantic. That seemed like ages ago at this point. His guest, Joe, stared at him the entire time, watching him lose control and breakdown until Bilbee wore himself out, hyperventilating in a fetal position in the middle of the vastness of nothing.
Joe was calm the entire time. In fact, he never really showed any other form of emotion or expression. He was like a talking statue. Even his voice didn’t reflect any happiness, anger, or amusement in its tone. All Bilbee had to go by was the words that were coming out of his mouth.
“I don’t understand why…”
“You know the rules,” Joe stated, sharply.
“I know what you told me were the rules,” Bilbee shot back.
“I haven’t lied to you, yet.”
“That’s not exactly comforting.”
“Are you going to lay down a card?”
Bilbee looked down at the pile of playing cards in his hand. He still had a sizeable amount, although Joe had more. But this was a long game where the amount of cards each player had changed hands. Bilbee pulled a card off the top of his deck and laid it face up on the weathered, beaten down wooden table.
Without breaking a smile or even a twitch, Joe reached over and grabbed Bilbee’s card as well as his own, and added it to the bottom of his deck.
Bilbee grimaced.
“Do you think animals have spirit people?”
“What?!” Surprised by the unusual question, Bilbee nearly didn’t process it, at first.
“Some cultures, and some people outside of those cultures, believe they have a spirit animal. A bear, a coyote, a lizard…everything has a soul. Has a spirit. So I speculate that animals have spirit guides, too.”
“As people?”
“Sure,” Joe replied, placing down a card.
“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it, now? Look where you are, Bilbee.”
That was the problem, wasn’t it.? There was nothing to look at. Other than each other, the deck of cards, the old, splintering table, and the uncomfortable chairs they were sitting on, there was nothing to look at.
The room they occupied was immeasurable. In the vast blackness of nothing, determining the dimensions of the room was impossible. After snapping out of his panic attack, Bilbee searched for ways to leave, walking tirelessly for hours in every direction. No wall was found. No ceiling could be seen. But there was a floor. A smooth, cool floor that gave off a strange humming noise when he placed his ear to it. He noticed that during his panic attack, huddled into a ball. Other than the door they kept waiting for to open, there was no sign they were actually in a room.
“Is that what we’re doing here?”
Joe ignored the question.
Barely visible in the distance, the door glowed with a faint, pale yellow outline. Every time Bilbee tried to approach it, it seemed to move further back in the distance, maintaining its space in relation to him.
“Do you think animals just wander around the planet willy-nilly, acting on pure instinct hardwired into their brains? Do you think dogs and cats love people because evolution taught them that we won’t hunt them or eat them? No, something guides them. Someone guides them.”
“Like who,” Bilbee scoffed. “The ghost of George Washington? Cleopatra?”
“I’m not talking about ghosts, friend. Spirits.”
“What’s the difference,” Bilbee asked, quickly becoming uninterested.
“These would be spirits who were or never will be people. Are you going to put a card down?”
Bilbee laid down a ten of spades. It wasn’t good enough for him to beat Joe this hand.
Joe scooped up the cards and added to the bottom of his deck. Then, came down another card.
“Think about it, Bilbee. When God created the earth, what did he make first? Man or animals?”
“Animals. What’s your point?”
“Who was instructed to tend to them? Care for them?”
“Man. But man was also instructed to eat them.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘instructed’, but certainly permitted. But that’s beside the point.”
“I’m still waiting for that point, friend.”
Something caught the corner of their eyes. They abruptly turned their heads toward the door. The pale yellow light glowed brighter, making the door’s appearance more pronounced in the empty space. The light pulsated for a few moments like a heartbeat, growing slightly in intensity until it suddenly stopped.
“What are we doing here, Joe?”
“You know what we are doing here,” he simply replied. “We wait for the door.”
Bilbee shook his head in frustration. “Do you remember anything?”
“I remember everything.”
“Like what?”
“That’s not for you to know.”
“I only get pieces. It’s like dumping a jigsaw puzzle on the table and you not allowed to turn the pieces over. They threw away the box
so you can’t tell what the picture is suppose to look like and only ones I can see is the few pieces that face up.”
“I’m not a big fan of metaphors, Bilbee.”
“But you’re fine with hypothetical animals having spirit guides,” he replied sarcastically.
“I’m not a big fan of sarcasm, either. Are you going…?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Bilbee interrupted, a bit flustered. “Put a card down. Here!” He slapped a card down, shaking the table. It was a nice high card. The king of spades. But Joe had an ace. Joe gathered both cards. “That’s ten in a row!”
“Fifteen, actually. You need to concentrate.”
“Concentrate?! This is ‘War’. What’s to concentrate about?”
“I told you, we don’t call it “War”. Not appropriate for the kids, remember?”
Bilbee did remember. One of the few things he did remember.
How strange was it to teach his 2-year-old daughter a simple card game called “War”? He wasn’t a “Crazy Eights” guy and never liked “Go Fish”. “War” seemed like a good way to teach her the value of numbers. Which numbers were greater and which were smaller. But “War” sounded too aggressive, and too…adult. He had to soften it up. Make it sound more pleasing and fun to a toddler. “Don’t lecture me. I was the one who renamed it.”
“’Crocodile’ is equally as aggressive, don’t you think?”
“Nonsense! Kids like animals. All kinds of animals. They don’t know any better. They don’t know to be afraid of one animal over another unless they were taught to think that, or if they happen to have an unfortunate experience with one.”
“Ever have a pleasant experience with a crocodile, Bilbee,” Joe challenged.
“You mistake my meaning.”
“It’s not your meaning. It’s what you say.”
“Remember that when you end up as some crocodile’s spirit human,” he smiled.
“Who’s to say that’s not why we are here?”
“You,” Bilbee replied. “You’ve been here longer than me. You seem to know everything. Remember everything. Do you really think that God or whoever put us in here is deciding which one of us gets to go through that door to be some sort of spirit guide to a ferret? That door could lead to reincarnation for all we know. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“No,” Joe simply replied. “No, it wouldn’t. One life was enough. Believe me.”
“If we had a choice, I rather return to my old life.”
Their attention, once again, was drawn to the door at the moment the light turned from pale yellow to violet. The light focused into a bulge near the top left corner before tracing around the edges like a blowtorch cutting its way through a steel door. When it completed its tour around the perimeter of the door, it stretched around it, creating a new violet colored outline.
“I’m a good person,” Bilbee began. “You know that, right?”
“I know you believe you are. Only one of us can go through that door.”
“And who gets to decide that?”
Joe stared blankly at Bilbee for a long moment. “You know who.”
“You keep saying ‘the door. The door does’. I don’t know what that’s suppose to mean.”
A few more cards were exchanged between them before either one of them spoke again. Joe focused on the cards, keeping one eye on the door; Bilbee cared less about the cards. Pulling from the top of the deck, it didn’t matter. The game didn’t call for concentration or strategy. It was the luck of the draw each and every time. It didn’t stop Joe from studying the card he placed down like it was a medical journal. Instead, Bilbee focused on the little bits of memory he had since arrived there.
He remembered his blue, two-door sedan with the broken air conditioner; he recalled his favorite cookie was the snickerdoodle; and he vaguely remembered watching old reruns of “The Rifleman” and “The Dick van Dyke Show” with his father. But the one memory he wished he could hang on to was that of his wife and daughter.
Jolene was a waitress when Bilbee met her, working the night shift at the local diner and earning her way through law school. She didn’t look attractive at all in her red and black uniform and yellow apron, and her hair thrown into a ponytail. But there was something about her brown eyes that he found mesmerizing. Those eyes were what kept him coming back every Wednesday night until he had the courage to ask her out.
They were married two years later in a small country church in a small town in Montana. Between her family and friends and his, the size of the church was just right.
He remembered thestunning picturesque sky full of white, fluffy clouds and the sun beaming from behind, peaking out over the top. The field of yellow and red tulips along the left of the rock trail that led up to the wooden stoop.
Bilbee never felt such serenity, walking up the trail with his tuxedo in a garment bag draped over his arm. Jolene was already inside, preparing for the walk down the aisle in the back of the church with her sisters while her parents greeted the guests as they filed into the church.
How many years ago was that now? Fifteen? Twenty?
He wished he knew where Jolene and his daughter were; he wished he knew how they were; and he wished he was with them. There was so much he needed to tell them, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he never had the chance to.
“Say,” Joe continued. “Let’s try your hand on a different game. You don’t seem to be faring too well at this one.”
“You would quit right when I was on the verge of a comeback,” Bilbee smirked. He received no reaction from Joe. He never did. “No, this game is fine. Just put a card down.”
Joe did: six of hearts. It wasn’t low, but it wasn’t high, either. Bilbee had a good chance on this one. He laid down his card and much to his chagrin, he had a six of spades.
“Twin crocodiles,” Joe stated.
Just like in “War”, Bilbee and Joe had to lay down three cards, face down on the table, one at a time. Then, they had to place a fourth card face up while saying, “Here comes the mama.” Bilbee felt silly saying it while playing with another adult. This was meant for kids. He might as well have used words like “potty” and “binkie” instead of bathroom and pacifier. It was rather embarrassing, but Joe didn’t seem to care. Joe didn’t seem to care about anything.
The fourth card was a three of diamonds for Joe. Bilbee had a two of clubs. Bilbee removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration.
“What do you remember, Bilbee?”
Bilbee let out a sigh as he placed his glasses back on his face, then shrugged. “Bits and pieces. To tell you the truth…nothing important.”
“Everything is important. What do you remember?”
“This game for starters. I used to play this with my daughter when she was just a baby. But I told you that already.” Joe nodded. “She was the sweetest kid. Happy, too. Always happy. She had this stuffed rabbit. A white Easter bunny with a purple bow tie with a matching fedora. The fedora had a card in it, you know. Like what stock brokers used to do with cards on the trading floor back in the 1920’s, except the card was in the shape of a carrot. And she hated carrots. She preferred spinach. What crazy kid prefers spinach, anyway? But she was my crazy, happy spinach loving kid.”
“It’s funny how delusional people get with their memories. And your wife?”
Bilbee gave a weary smile despite the odd comment. “Jolene,” he said softly. “Her name was Jolene. She’s the only woman I ever loved, really. I fancied at lot of women in my time, you know. Beautiful, gorgeous women. Tall, short; smart, not-so smart. Jolene was different. She was honest and frank. Didn’t humor me by laughing at any of my bad jokes. Told me flat out if it was being a jerk. But never in front of company. Bonnets. She loved bonnets. Collected them. Never wanted to wear them, mind you. Just collect them.”
“Why?”
Bilbee shrugged. “I don’t know. Her ancestors were pioneers, I think. I never really paid much attention to those kind of things.�
�
“Maybe she liked ‘Little House on the Prairie’.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I never liked the things she liked. I could have been nicer. More attentive. I know that now.”
“It’s funny how there’s always ‘too late’ and ‘way too late’ for those kinds of things. Never ‘just in the nick of time’.”
“Hindsight, right,” Bilbee chuckled. “If I could do it all over again…”
“I wouldn’t recommend that. Not in your condition.”
“My condition?”
“Why do you always talk about her in the past tense?”
Abruptly, Bilbee stood up and stepped away from the table. The Joe watched curiously; more interested in his actions than his explanation. But Bilbee simply stood still for a long moment, mind frozen, and unable to process the question, let alone come up with an answer. He appeared dazed and disorientated for a moment, as if his thoughts were fogged.
The door reappeared, drawing their attention immediately. A blaring cyan light poured through around the edges like headlights forcing its way around an object blocking its path. Bilbee and Joe shielded their eyes, wincing away from the intensity. Warmth and electricity filled the space, charging the air until it slowly dissipated into a simmering glow. Like embers, it produced just enough light to make its presence known, but shrouded the door in shadow.
They waited. Maybe the door was going to open this time. Maybe the wait was over. Maybe one of them…
The light was quickly snuffed out.
The door hidden once again.
Hopes dashed.
Joe returned to his cards. “You were saying…”
Bilbee shook out of his daze, casually walking away, and distancing himself from Joe and the frustrating card game. “I was?”
Joe nodded. He laid down a card, reached over to Bilbee’s side of the table, grabbed one of Bilbee’s cards, and flipped it over. He claimed both cards.
“Your wife,” Joe said. “You were telling me about your wife.”
Two Souls, One Door (Into the Void Book 1) Page 1