by Dave Norem
Now they were in back Virginia and planning to drive into Norfolk to visit the city and do some shopping. He had recently been contacted about a job that Cramer was not involved with. It was in Virginia Beach later in the year, so they had plenty of time.
They were staying in a rented apartment in Craddock, across the river from Norfolk, and on the other side of Portsmouth. Julie had taken a year’s leave of absence from her teaching job in Indiana, claiming that her husband had been temporarily transferred. Their house in Lafayette was intact with a neighbor’s adult daughter staying in it for the cost of utilities only.
He had called in to his answering service in case there were any updates on the job, or new opportunities, and was surprised to hear that there was a different message. It took two more calls to find out that he was to call Cramer. He had to leave the phone booth for more change before actually talking with him.
“What’s up Creamer?” he asked.
“Hey John, guess what? Wimpy’s old girlfriend Maude called me. She has a cousin in Belleville, Illinois who wants to make some money on the side. She works in a sewing factory.”
“I’m thinking so what, but I’ll bite.” John replied.
“They make shoulder patches and emblems for police uniforms.”
John waited, knowing there was more.
“For almost every police force east of the Mississippi,” Cramer laughed. “It’s an exclusive supply base and they can’t buy them just anywhere.”
John hesitated without responding.
“Well?” Cramer queried.
“I already know where there are police forces in several cities and towns that wear exactly the same uniform. Only the shoulder patches are different. I even know of a large dry-cleaner in one city that handles truckloads of them,” John stated.
“See, great minds think alike,” Cramer said.
John laughed, “Opportunities abound. Listen, why don’t you start working up a plan for this, and we’ll meet in a month. I’m into something else right now and this police uniform thing will take some time to set up anyway; or do you already have something in mind?”
“I’ve got something else going myself, besides it will take this gal some time to accumulate enough patches for us after we tell her what we want. It has to be done gradually,” Cramer replied.
“OK, I’ll call you in a month” John said.
“Sayonara Buddy.”
He had already started thinking about some new angles as he turned away from the phone. A passing bicyclist nearly hit him, and it brought his mind back to Julie, Norfolk and the upcoming job. The other would have to wait.
John and Julie were on a driving tour of old Norfolk and not far from downtown, when John spotted the book store at the corner of 19th and Granby. The store sold both new and used books and was in a building that had once held an automobile radio business. He saw an old sign - Auto Radio Center - painted over but still visible above the book store sign.
John had lengthy periods of time when he had nothing to do but read. Julie was an avid reader too, and wanted to stop at the book store as much as he did, so they parked in back and entered the store.
John was following Julie and slowly moving down the narrow aisles of books. He felt the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck stand on end. Goose bumps appeared on his arms too, giving him an eerie feeling. He turned his head to the left and was stunned by the picture he was facing.
He was staring directly into the eye sockets of a human skull with the flesh eaten away from the bone over more than half of it. The book had a very graphic bright-red soft-cover: the black background color fading away from the contour of the bright-red flesh and stark-white bone of the skull.
The title across the top of the cover proclaimed Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. Across the bottom was the author’s name, Ambrose Bierce. John was almost afraid to touch the book but was still compelled to buy it. Many years before he had read The Devil’s Dictionary, written by the same author. He had gotten it from a school library, but he couldn’t recall which school or what grade he’d been in at the time. Now he was experiencing an uncommon feeling of deja vu, mixed with both dread and compulsion.
After buying the book, John waited until he had time alone before beginning to read it. He searched for the meaning or a reference to the cover picture, but neither was to be found. He began reading the stories in sequence as time permitted. He had no feeling of familiarity with them, but did with the author and style. He liked Bierce’s dry, tragic humor.
One story in particular affixed in his mind to a point where he had to read it again before finishing the book. It was a chilling tale titled A Horseman in the Sky. In the story, a young Union soldier was compelled by duty to protect his fellow soldiers by startling the horse of his Confederate-Officer father into leaping from a high bluff: to the death of both horse and rider.
At the end of the book was a brief biography of Ambrose Bierce. The minute he started to read it, John broke into a cold sweat. Again, the goose-bumps appeared and the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck stood on end. He experienced a dizziness that washed over him in waves. It was like an OBE [out-of-body-experience] in which he was thrust—out, and then back, between reality and something he could not fathom.
The haunting of his recurrent nightmare floated in and out of his consciousness. He did not want to accept what he felt to be true: that at one time he had been this man, Ambrose Bierce. This defied all logical thinking and did not agree with anything he had previously learned—or had been taught—of life.
John put the book aside and left the apartment to escape the bonds of surrealism. Yes, there was a clear blue sky, houses, people, and modern vehicles on paved roads. This world knew nothing of what he had experienced.
Other than while sleeping—during the recurring nightmare, and vivid individual nightmares—he had never felt anything like this before.
“Could the dreams mean something,” He asked himself aloud? He had no answer.
After staying away from the book for days, it still lingered in the back of his mind. When he did pick it up he was drawn again to the story A Horseman in the Sky, and the biography at the end of the book. Again, he experienced the eerie sensation of self-possession. In the biography, Bierce was a writer of bitter character and a Civil War veteran. He had disappeared ‘late in life’ into Mexico during the early 1900’s.
John Luther now felt that he knew the fate of Ambrose Bierce, but not the reason for it. The second night after the second reading of the biography he was again catapulted from a sound sleep with the heart-pounding recurring nightmare. For days, he could not banish the link between the book and the dream of being buried alive from his thoughts. Only the resolve to act normal and not tell anyone kept him from constantly brooding about it. Still, he knew that it was more than just a dream: things far greater were involved.
Above all else as a hobby, John loved to explore on foot in seldom-traveled areas. The Tidewater area provided plenty of this with the Intra-coastal Waterway, wooded hills, miles of bay and oceanfront, and The Great Dismal Swamp. He was already familiar with the north and west sides of Dismal Swamp and occasionally wondered what had become of his boyhood friend, Burl Mullins. He wondered too, if Burl had become an attorney.
He had no desire to link his present life to the past though, and shied away from contact with anyone who might recognize him as someone other than who he presently claimed to be.
Julie did not enjoy all of his enthusiasms and he relished the time alone to fully absorb the environment. Over time, gone were both nightmare and thought of the book. It was time to get on with the job. Three nights before the job he had another, and completely different nightmare.
He is working the cats with Antonia, getting them accustomed to the new environment and limbered up from their long journey back across the Algerian Mountains. They had b
een confined to the caged wagons without exercise for far too long. Casablanca would be good for the cats and for themselves too. From here they would be performing in Rabat, and then across into Spain where they would spend longer tours at Gibraltar and Marbella.
He loved this part of the world with its excellent climate and miles of pristine beaches. He also loved all of the beautiful women. Of course, he loved Antonia most of all. Still, he was a tall handsome and vigorous man with his dark wavy hair, prominent moustache, muscular body and swarthy complexion. A man must be a man, and all women loved his mastery of the big cats; paying little attention to Antonia’s time with them. Only the men really watched the beautiful Antonia with her long almost-white hair and sky-blue eyes. The men seldom looked at the cats, for blonde women were rare in this part of the world. Antonia was taller than most women too, and had an exquisite physique.
Reyo, the largest of the male lions was acting aggressive, and for now, he had better keep his mind on his work. Working lions and tigers together demanded full attention. They were in a circular board enclosure of approximately twenty-five meters diameter. The sheer vertical-board walls were ten meters high: higher than any of the cats could leap.
Their five large-cat wagons were pulled into the center of the enclosure and parked. All twenty of the horses had been unharnessed and moved outside. Only after all of this was done and the gates secured, did they allow any of the cats outside of their cages.
Several ropes suspended from the walls at intervals, were the only means of exit for him and Antonia while any of the cats were loose in the enclosure. They scaled the walls with their feet while pulling themselves up the ropes. One must remain in robust condition for this, as well as for working the cats. Regardless, they never left the animals alone without securing them in their cages.
Scaffolds were spaced at intervals on the outside of the enclosure to cover most of the circumference. These were at a level one-and-a-half meters below the top of the walls. A ladder at each of the scaffolds provided access on the outside. Only circus members, and occasionally a visiting dignitary, were allowed on the scaffolds. The main audience was behind the scaffolds and higher up in arena seating.
Now after a vigorous workout, the cats were settled down in temperament and more docile. He signaled to Antonia that they should put the cats away and cool themselves. She shook her head no and worked her way around to him without taking her eyes from the cats.
“You may go after the others are secured, but I wish to work more with Felix and Samania,” she said.
Felix was a five-year-old male tiger and Samania was an older lioness. Antonia had worked each of them alone many times, and the two of them together more than once. He was confident of her abilities and nodded his acquiesce. Together they worked the other large cats into their cages and secured them. The two remaining cats were quietly padding around the arena, sniffing at the walls and ignoring each other.
Antonia began to work them alternately with her tripod in one hand and whip in the other. He scaled the wall and pulled himself over the top; then remained on the scaffold for a few minutes, observing the three of them.
“What magnificent animals they are,” he said aloud, but to himself. He laughed at his own inclusion of Antonia as a magnificent animal, and indeed she was. While climbing down the ladder he laughed again. He recalled the expression on her face the first time he had pissed in her boots, and asked her to piss in his. She was skeptical, even though he had explained that it was necessary to keep one’s feet healthy and free of fungus. Now she was a veteran pisser. He laughed again.
Before long, he was satisfied from a repast of meat and bread washed down with some Fermento supplied by friend Yohan. He was walking back to the enclosure, slightly irritated that Antonia had not yet appeared. As he reached the foot of the ladder, he heard a roar and the crack of a whip. While bounding up the ladder he heard several big-cat roars, and then a scream that made his blood run cold. Again, there was the crack of a whip, followed by another scream.
Reaching the top, he started to throw a leg over but realized that for some reason there was no rope here, and that he could not see Antonia or the cats. He raced the length of the scaffold and leaped the five-meter gap to the next. Now his heart was pounding as he saw Antonia on the ground; and not two, but three, large cats.
Beyond the wagons, Reyo was holding Antonia down with one large front paw, claws distended, in a face-off with Felix. Samania had the lower part of one of Antonia’s legs in her mouth. She was trying to drag her away from the two males.
He slid down the rope at a speed only slightly less than a free-fall, his hands rope-burned in the process. He continued without noticing and uncoiled the whip at his waist as he raced to her aid.
Felix was first in his range and his whip cracked, cutting the beast on the hindquarters. The tiger leaped away at an angle—twisting in midair—seeking its attacker; and then bounded off to the side.
He was already cracking his whip over Reyo’s head, commanding him to retreat. The big male lion ignored him, turning his attention to Samania-the lioness, who released her grip on Antonia’s leg.
“Run for the wall Antonia!” He screamed as he cracked the tip of the whip directly into Reyo’s eye.
The big male screamed in pain and abandoned his captive, closing half the distance to the man in one bound. Antonia leaped to her feet as he cracked the whip again, trying for the huge cat’s other eye. He missed the eye but cut him enough to make him retreat.
Antonia and Samania were facing each other as Antonia was working her way to the wall. Her whip was on the ground, nearer to Reyo, and out of her reach. Her tripod was smashed and out of reach as well. Belatedly, he recalled leaving his own, larger, tripod at the base of the wall where he’d made his ascent.
He advanced toward the lioness and lanced her on the tip of the nose; causing her to leap into the air, front paws spread, and tumble over backwards.
“Run to the rope!” He screamed as he turned back to Reyo, who was again advancing toward him.
Another crack of the whip halted Reyo, and then he was hit hard from behind with the force of an avalanche. He had forgotten the tiger!
The two lions rushed in to his prostrate form, and the two male cats collided above him. Rear claws from both sunk into his flesh as they reared up in the deafening, thunderous and ferocious rage-of-battle that only the largest of feline males can achieve.
The man raised his head looking for Antonia and saw her beginning her ascent of the rope on the near side. “Go!” he screamed.
Samania was looking for an opening. She seized his uplifted face, trying for the lion’s chokehold of death. He pulled his dagger and drove it upward into her neck as he felt part of his face tear away. She leapt away circling, taking a piece of him with her, exposing jawbone and teeth. The tiger swiped out at her in his rage and she bit at his hip, dropping the human flesh. Reyo seized the opening and clamped down on the throat of the tiger with his massive jaws. Both males fell away from the man.
He staggered to his feet, but in a moment the lioness was upon him again. Once more she met his dagger. He stabbed at her eye but missed, penetrating her scalp and striking bone above it. This distracted her slightly, but enraged her more. She was upon him in a frontal attack, seeking flesh already exposed; and he fell to his back. The battle between the males again raged over him, their hind claws tearing at his prostrate form as the lioness scrambled aside.
The two males separated, with the tiger having the most grievous wound at his throat. He retreated and Reyo displayed his dominance over the lioness, clamping down on the face of the fallen man, who gasped his last breath. His last sight—beyond the jaws of the lion—was of Antonia’s booted ankle disappearing over the wall.
John awoke in a sweat to find himself lying on his back with a pillow pushed up over his face: then sat up with fragments of the dream still vivid. He c
ould almost smell the fetid breath of both lions and hear the roaring of the huge males. He touched his face and felt a crease where the sheet had been pulled tight across it. Later, Julie accused him of stealing all the blankets and rolling up in them. She said that she had to put her foot against his back to pull them free.
The dream made no sense to him. It depicted scenes from a hundred or more years ago, in a part of the world he knew nothing about. He had no experience with animals other than the snakes in Dismal Swamp years before, and he did not hunt. He liked to shoot but there had been no firearms in the dream. For that matter, there had been no motorized vehicles either.
He also awoke with the feeling that the man may have been himself, but shrugged it off as part of his unexplained nonsensical nightmare history. He had recollections of many different nightmares. After having them, his thoughts invariably returned to the recurrence of the Indians, the burial and the ants. This latest was the first from such a long-ago era, and the first involving wild animals.
The job was in Virginia Beach and required two men on the inside and a wheelman outside. The target was a ‘Giant’ twenty-four-hour grocery store. The plan was for them to hide in the back office of the store where there was a walk-in vault; and catch the supervisors one at a time as they came back with cash overflow from the registers.
The store was very large, and they should be able to catch and contain several before they were missed. This was a lengthy process and required a lot of nerve and faith on both of their parts, as well as faith in their driver, Lonnie Adams, waiting outside.
Things were going as planned. They had five captives and were ready to quit with the next one, or in five more minutes.
The door burst open and a heavy-set, balding, pink-faced security guard in uniform stood there, gun in hand. Without saying a word, he shot at John from no more than ten feet——and missed. All of the employees had been lying on the floor, but with the sound of the shot still echoing, a middle-aged woman jumped up screaming as the guard fired his second shot. It struck her in the forehead, knocking her over on top of the others. He dropped his gun arm to his side, his mouth wide open.