by Mark Lumby
“No, that is what you’re going to do,” he assured. “Because I’m in your head, Dan. I have most of you. How much of Daniel do you think is inside of you now? The real Daniel, I mean, not this shell I see before me.”
I faltered, lowered the gun to waist height and processed what he was telling me. I said, “No! I will kill you!” I raise the gun, aimed it straight at his head. But he was still walking towards me as though death wasn’t as issue, and he stopped as the barrel of the gun prodded at his chest. “Its over Carl! Who or whatever you are, it’s all over!” And then I chuckled. I didn’t know why I found it so funny but it was uncontrollable. And it became painful, too. I stopped smiling but still laughing inside as if I had no choice but to do so. With my head burning hot and old, I could feel the muscles in my arms reacting without my control. Eventually, I turned the gun on myself, pointed it to my head, pressing hard against my right temple. “It’s going...to end...right...now,” I stammered.
“Yes, it is, Dan. It’s going to end for you.” He turned around and laboriously climbed the ladders. “And to think, if only we hadn’t come to Jacobs Woods all those years ago, we’d all be friends. Good careers, drinks at the weekend. Sharing the girls.” Carl reached the top of the ladder, brushed down his trousers. “If only you had come back for me, Dan. Why did you let me come in here?”
“What?” I said, battling to remove the pistol from my head. “But that was…not you.” I couldn’t understand what Carl was telling me. But also, this pain. I couldn’t control it; the impulse to jam a bullet into my skull was too strong. I was loosing. This is it. I thought. I’m going to pop the bullet reserved for Carl into my own frickin head, and there’s not a thing I can do about it! Absolutely Nothing! I am going to die! “What did you do with Jack?” I screamed.
I squeeze my eyes tight to shut out the pain. I can feel he is laughing, although I can’t hear him, but he is there, in my head. I fight against the gun pressed deeply into my against my skull, this hollow barrel that shouts death at me in such a ridiculing way. I fight against my body, my finger, but I really have no control. Against my will, my hand tightens around the guns’ handle, and my finger, steady and confident, awaits further instruction from its controller. But still, I wonder why he talked about Jack as if it was him. As though this man who controlled my every move wasn’t Carl Winters, my Grandfather, but Jack.
“I did nothing with him, Dan. But Carl Winters? The old man?” He grinned. “Well, he’s gone now. I killed your him a long time ago!”
“But…but how? I mean…” The words didn’t come from my mouth freely.
“He needed me, just as you thought I needed you.” He squatted, dangling his hands between his groin.
I said, “He wanted you to protect the mirror, didn’t he? And thats why you disappeared?”
He shot up, his body rigid, and he clapped the once. “Yes! And you didn’t God Damn come back for me, Dan!!!!” he blasted. “I was left here; left here for him!” His fist were clenched tight.
“No…no…no! The police checked out the house. They found nothing!” I shook my head. “You can’t be Jack. You just can’t be.”
“Oh…but I can.”
“We did everything we could. The police were here.”
“I was here!” He waved a single fist at me, and I could see the rage manifesting within the protruded veins in his neck.
“We came looking, Jack.” Or was this another trick? “I promise you,” I told him.
“But I was here. He put me in the walls. Locked me up. But he put something in my arm, and I think I fell asleep.” He wiped away tears from his cheeks and rubbed his eyes, rubbing with his palm like a child would.
“Why do you look like Carl if you’re not him?” I asked him.
“The mirror? The power I told you about? I changed the way I look. I needed to get you here, so I thought that if I pretend to be Carl, then you would come.”
“Can you change back?” Still, I struggled with the pain ripping through my blood, controlling my own actions. I had no idea how I was holding on for so long. I was paralysed. My only guess is that he was in control, and I would pull the trigger when he told me to.
Jack shook his head. “That body died when I killed Mr Winters.” He stood and started ascending the steps.
“He took your body, too?”
He confirmed with a nod, and glanced back.
“And you know that you killed him?”
“How do you mean?” I continued to climb the step, but slower, listening.
“You know he’s dead?” I said.
“I put a knife through his heart, Dan. That pretty much confirms it to me.”
I sighed. “Well, I’m not so sure.”
“You’re an idiot, then,” Jack said.
“But why did you want me here?”
Jack said, “To kill you!” He watched and winked at me as if he was saying, ‘you’re mine now, Dan. You’re all mine’.
The loathing boiled through my blood like a surging river. But its all too late because my finger twitches over the trigger. My body isn’t mine anymore. My greatest fear has been realised. He doesn’t have most of me any more. He has all of me!
He turned away and I hear an eerie sickly sound. The mirror is still touching my heels, but this sound is from the moist walls around me. Something scurrying through the dirt, like rats!
No…not Rats. Something else.
The sound stops, suddenly.
Behind me, now.
In the wall. In the dirt.
But I couldn’t see it; unfortunately, I didn’t have the pleasure in turning my neck.
I closed my eyes, fearful of what I might capture in my thoughts, because I’m not dreaming now. I’m awake. And the nightmares will be real. What I see is, though, is blackness. But the smell of damp and dirt is strong, far more intense than the usual, as though I was swimming through the soil and was drowning in earth. I opened my eyes with a start and screamed.
Jack stopped at the summit of the steps. He pivoted near the basement door. I could see by the look on his face that he sensed an abnormality. His features looked grotesque and twisted with horror. And with the swinging light above his head, his face was distorted.
A hand pushed through the moist dirt and grabs my belt. I’m pulled backwards against the muddy wall, narrowly avoiding the mirror. Another hand grabbed my waist and thrust me deeper in the dirt. But then I start to sense my fingers. I look up at Jack, at his twisted face. I can feel the metal of the gun, the sweat flowing down my forehead. I can taste the salt on my lips. I can now squeeze the handle. I can pull the trigger...or I can choose not too. I can move my neck, and slowly, I check my waist and see the hand that holds me. I manage to take a step forward and look over my shoulder. But I know what I see, because I could smell the soil as I dragged myself through. I could feel the humidity of the air when I pushed my hands from the mud and grabbed the belt buckle of my older self. I was seeing from two pairs of eyes at the same time.
I looked down at myself, face pale and covered with dirt, but it was me, the other me, the boy from the window. It was the me that was lost in this house, trapped. But, I could feel my soul becoming one again; being reunited; being myself. And as I became an individual, my twin faded until I felt no hold on my belt and no grip around my waist.
Jack asks something, but I cared not to listen. Or couldn’t hear him over the whistling in my ears. I turn to him. He was coming back down the steps, and looked angry, but curious. He said, “Don’t you ignore me, Daniel! What’s happening? What are you doing?”
I say nothing, but grin. A smile of enlightenment. I still hold the gun to my head.
“Pull the god damn trigger!” he yelled, waving a hand at the pistol.
I tried to keep my eyes easy, unreadable, for I'm sure Jack can see into them. Can he?
He took another step closer, stopped, and looked uneasy. “What are you waiting for?” This sounds like a real question; there’s confusion in his v
oice, and I can tell that he’s feeling threatened.
I keep the gun to my head. And for a brief moment I imagine myself pulling the trigger. What must it feel like? I would have release. I could sleep without the nightmares. I could sleep!
My smile fades, suddenly.
“Yes! That’s it, Dan!” he breathes. “I see what you’re thinking and you will not feel a god damn thing. But if I reach you before you pull the trigger, I swear, you will feel more pain that you’ve ever felt in your sorry life. So use the damn gun!”
“I think I will.” I pulled the gun away from my head, my hand falling to my side.
Jacks’ eyes widen as he looked to my right, but not at the gun. He stared at the figure standing by my side. The figure of a boy with matted brown hair, long strands caked across his forehead and face. He was thick with dirt. But his pale blue eyes shone through. His head reached my shoulders, and he looked up at me with a glimmer of a smile.
It was Jack!
But behind him, a crowd of hands made from dirt cling onto him like a chain. They hold his ankles and his wrists; they hold onto his waist and neck, too. Its as though he is attached to the soil that makes up the wall around us.
I raised the pistol towards the old man. “Have you checked the hourglass lately?” I asked him with a smirk. “You don’t have me anymore. You have no control.”
“You can’t be here. I killed you!” he told the young boy. “I made sure of it. I stabbed you in the heart and buried you down here. You can’t be alive. You’re a God Damn deadman!”
I glanced at the boy. “Carl? You’re Carl, aren’t you?” I gasped.
“Hello, Daniel. I’m sorry you’re here, but its all him, you understand.”
I said, “So, he takes your body, you take his.”
“Something like that.” He shrugged. “I woke up this way, Daniel. I was trapped, hiding in the walls, in the dirt. I listened to you, but I was too weak to do anything. I tried to warn you, though. The ghost at the top of the stairs? You remember that?”
“That was you?” I said.
Jack interrupted, “I can kill you again, Carl! Don’t forget that!”
Carl said, “Yes…you can try, but you will fail. You will always fail, Jack. Because you simply don’t understand.” He pulled at the hands, chains that had him locked to the foundations of the house, and he lifted them, showing them to Jack. “I am bound to this house; there is no release, neither in body nor mind. All that you have achieved is making me a prisoner of my own home, but you will not kill me.”
Jack said, “I will try.”
“But for what reason?” Carl asked. “You saw into the mirror. You have the power now, not I.”
“Because you brought me into this house. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve grown up. But, you made me curious!”
“I did no such thing!”
“You made me curious, old man; don’t deny it!” he yelled. “You made me come inside! It’s all your fault, so I will kill you, just as I killed that bastard of a brother of mine, and that bitch of a mother. Just as I’ll kill you, Daniel.” He was throwing his arms about, irritated, then he stopped and stared at me, and pointed with his long thin finger. “Just as I’ll kill you!” Jack turned and slowly walked away.
“Just as you murdered Father Thomas,” I put in.
Jack chuckled as though this amused him. He said, “I still have you old man.”
I suppose I was relieved. I knew I couldn’t have killed Ben and his Mother. And Jack had confirmed it.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I demanded, although I knew I was lying to myself. Jack couldn’t be saved; I feared he was too far gone.
“The gun, Daniel,” Carl reminded me through dirt filled teeth. “The gun…use it.”
“But…whats the point?” I asked in a low tone because I didn’t want Jack to hear.
Carl closed his eyes. He clung to my t-shirt; I felt it tear in his finger, but he held on. By the look on his face, something worried him. He jolted violently into the dirt wall, hitting his back against the mud and gave out an audible grunt. There was a real panic in his eyes, a dread that he was going back to the place where he loathed so much.
He said, “He’s got me. They’re taking me back, Daniel. Use the damn gun before its too late!”
I raised the pistol towards Jack.
When he was at the top on the stairs, he turned, the swinging light above his head giving the illusion that he was more gaunt than the truth told. He grinned at Carl. “Goodbye, old man,” Jack said.
The chains that bound Jack to the house were stealing him away, dragging him deeper in the mud.
“Use it!” Carl admonished. His arms extended from the dirt, reaching out for a rescue that would never happen. His body was gone and he struggled to keep his face from disappearing, too. He was fighting to keep his head above the water before drowning. He coughed and choked on the mud, spluttering again and again. Then he was gone.
“So…are you really going to use it, Dan? I don’t believe you will…do you? I think we’ve come to that conclusion now. I can feel that you’re stronger. You have yourself back. And I must admit, I didn’t see that one coming. But I will get you back; I will own you. I will have you!”
“Maybe so. The longer I stop in this house, the more of me you’ll take, feeding, making you stronger. But if I kill you now…”
Jack laughed. “Kill me? I can’t die?”
“Perhaps not, but maybe it’ll buy some time.”
“Maybe you will. I’ll allow you that, at least, but it won’t be much. You’ll leave this house and I’ll still feed off your pain.”
He was right. I could kill him, put a bullet in the back of his head, and I could escape. But he’ll start to take from me again. He’ll begin all over again and steal away my soul. And pretty soon he’ll have most of me. When that day comes, I may as well be dead. Because they’ll be nothing left.
I shouted at him. “You can read my thoughts, Jack? You tell me what’s going to happen? If you feel so confident then surely you know how it’s going to end.”
He looked over his shoulder and gave a sinister grin. “I know you’ll finish here, in this house. And that tells me all I need to know.”
“And do you see yourself there, too?” I asked.
Jack opened his mouth, and was about to say something, but couldn’t. It was as though I had hurt him by what I had said. I wondered what he was hiding from me. There was something he wasn’t telling me. Perhaps he couldn’t say because he didn’t know for sure.
“Not that it matters, anyway. If I die, then I die. One way or another its got to come to an end.” I held up the gun, aimed it at the back of Jacks head.
“Do it!” He jeered. “It makes no god damn difference.” He continued walking, and was just about to leave the basement.
“Fuck you! And fuck this house! I’ll burn it to the ground before I’m done. Ashes and dust…thats all it’ll be.”
...it was his demise...
...his execution.
I can’t remember pulling the trigger, only that the sound whistled through my ears like a wet finger around the rim of a wine glass. The side of Jacks head exploded, spraying blood and brains over the basement door. It cracked as easily as a china doll. The hole in his head was scorched. I pulled the trigger several more times. On the fourth shot, his body slumped in the doorway. There was a damp patch forming around his groin. When the shot fire finally ceased, I found myself still squeezing the trigger. Click! Click! Click!
Eventually, my arm dropped and the ground claimed the gun. The room was silent, but in my head, the whistling penetrated my brain like nails on a chalk board. I looked down on the mirror, dropped to my knees and began wrapping up the relic in haste. I didn’t yet know what my intentions were. There was no plan, only instinct. I knew that I must leave this house immediately, and with the relic under arm.
I climbed the ladder, tossing the mirror onto the top and then followed it out of the hol
e. I looked down at the moist walls. I wondered what had happened to Carl.
I tested by whispering Carls name. Jack was dead, for now, so I didn’t want to wake him too early. This was my time now, however little advantage I had.
I climbed the stairs that lead out of the basement, stepping over Jacks body. It did resemble him now, his true self, his younger self. And for a brief moment, I actually had sympathy for him. Blood bubbled from the cavity in his head and emitted a peculiar sticky sound. It forced vomit to the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. The sympathy that I had for him soon faded as I reminded myself what he had done.
I peered into the hallway where I could feel a cool breeze. I was so used to smelling the damp of the basement that the outside freshness surprised me. It was like candy. That summed it up in a single word. A word where everything was good.
The red door was open. It was as if the house was letting me go, that I had won and it was conceding defeat. But before I stepped out, there was a creak from up the stairs. I took a peek and listened.
“Carl?” I called. “Is that you?” But there was no reply. I turned for the red door.
“Boy!” A voice said.
I stopped and looked around again, but saw nothing.
“I’m here, Daniel.”
I followed the sound to the wall at the foot of the stairs. I could hear deep breathing, heavy and strained. I looked at the red door. I was scratching the back of my head when a hand tugged at my belt. It was very gently as if it didn’t want to startle me. I walked forward and heaved Carl from the wall.
“Hello, son.”
I looked at him and he was old man Winters again. He was the man I feared and loathed and wanted to kill more than anything. But things had changed. I hated him know more. He wasn’t the person I thought him to be.
“How long have I got?” I asked him. There were other answers that I needed, but Jack was bleeding out at the basement door, and I knew that my time was limited.
“I’m not sure; hours, perhaps days.” He ruffled the back of his hair as if to release dried dirt that was matted to his scalp. “When he killed me, I wasn’t sure how much time had past before I woke in Jacks body.”