The Waiting Room

by Michael White

  I gasped and fell into my chair; though I must say that although I thought that I was now in a state where very little would surprise me at all, this definitely did somehow. Still, once Farrager had passed inside from just under the door came a fierce blaze of blood red light, flames licking under the gap at the bottom of the doors as if attempting to afford an escape, and I could hear that inside the room something battered against the door; it sounded as if it was a furnace, and there may just have been a scream contained in that outburst of noise too before the room fell silent once again.

  Apollyon grinned and sat himself back down at the table, regarding me as a predator must surely regard its prey.

  “Just the two of us left.” He smiled. He noted the way I looked at him now for I am sure as I have stated that he was aware that something had happened to me, but he was not sure quite what.

  “What have you been meddling with?” he smiled, but his eyes registered curiosity more than anything else.

  “Nothing at all.” I said as brightly I could muster given the circumstances. “What could I have been up to exactly?” I continued. “Nearly midnight?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Indeed.” Said Apollyon, as if assessing me at the same time. “Precisely in fact.” I looked about the room for a clock of some sort, but could not see one, yet I had no reason to doubt his words.

  “Shall we get on?” I enquired, for indeed it was getting late. “A gentleman of my quality has little time for delay if he is to advance through society. I feel that entrance to your club will be the defining moment of my career.” I smiled, and he returned the favour. “Once enrolled I feel that my life’s work will be within my grasp. No need have I for family or friends or lovers once I am a member of your fine and upstanding Earl of Ranleigh’s Gentleman’s Club.”

  “Precisely.” Said Apollyon, grinning from ear to ear. “And what is the title of your story that I alone am to judge?” he enquired, setting his boots up on the table once again in expectation.

  “Oh I have no story.” I smiled. “None whatsoever.”

  “No story?” he exclaimed, a frown appearing upon his face. “Why ever not?” I noticed he had a look of anger about him now.

  “Oh it is quite simple, your Lordship.” I said with a smile. “A gentleman such as I has no need for such trivialities or nonsense. I feel that my quality and upstanding, not to mention my bearing precedes me. Qualification to be a member of your club should be assured. I have no need for the relating of a simple story. Quite frankly, you need me more than I need you!”

  The Earl smiled at this and as he did so, the two double doors flew open. Within in the darkness I thought I could see flames, biding their time, waiting for me to enter.

  “Precisely.” Said Apollyon, standing and crossing the floor to the double doors. “Well said.” He stood and held his hand out to the open doors as if to usher me inside. “Please proceed within to become a member of my club.” He said invitingly. “You are quite correct, Jacob Ewan. Come. You are the last this evening. We shall enter together. There is no need for stories inside my club.”

  “Just one thing.” I said as I rose, and a look of doubt crossed the Earl’s face before he had a chance to hide it. “They are not stories, are they?”

  Pall Mall, London December 15th 1858 Midnight (An Epilogue)

  “I beg your pardon?” said Apollyon in an uncharacteristically pleasant manner. “What on Earth do you mean they are not stories?”

  “This sham you have held this evening.” I explained in an equally pleasant way. “They are not stories. They are real. All of the things that these gentlemen have related to us this night have really happened to them. They are not stories. I think you attempt to deceive me, your Lordship and I will not be taken in by you at all, sir!” Apollyon remained standing before the doors, a look of mock indignation upon his face. As I stared at him he seemed to accept that he no longer needed to maintain his charade, and his face relaxed. “Tell me the truth, Apollyon!” I demanded, dispensing with the niceties of his rank now. “Or I shall take my leave of this place!”

  Instantly the Earl began to laugh; a dark, deep resounding laughter that hinted at savagery and mockery.

  “Leave?” He finally smirked, chiding laughter not hidden in his voice.

  I stood rapidly from where I was seated and took the handle of the single door through which I had entered this room some five hours before. As I did this Apollyon began to smirk, finally catching my intention.

  “Be my guest.” He said, urging me to open the single door that led out of the room. I leaned forward and flung the door open as laughter began to rise from the Earl. I glanced through the doorway and marvelled at the sight at which I was looking for no longer was there a plain corridor on the other side of this door. That there had been once was without doubt, for I had entered this room through it earlier. Now there was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all except a sky full of stars. It was as if I looked into a dark night sky, with stars glittering all about in every direction you could see, but nothing else. It was breathtakingly beautiful, yet it also has a sense of stark and terrible danger

  “Go through there and you will fall forever.” Smiled Apollyon. “The only way out of this room is through these twin doors and into my club.” He gestured again and for certain I could see flames flickering within the room now. I released the handle on the single door and as I did so the door closed loudly, and then the framework vanished, and there was no longer a door there at all. Just a wall. The only way out now was to enter the club through the double doors in which flames now visibly licked across the room inside the entrance.

  I was determined to get the truth from him however.

  “They are not stories are they, Apollyon?” He began to look annoyed at my constant berating of him, a look of frustration seeming to rise from his form. Suddenly he snapped and ran at me, and grasping me by the throat he raised me against the wall where I stood, pressed up against the wooden panelling, flailing at his arm with my fists but to no avail.

  “Of course they are not stories, you fool!” he snarled at me, tightening his grip. I continued to beat at him with my fists but it made no difference. “Tell me you idiot when you received my invitation what were you expecting? Tales of the unexpected and supernatural from the Earl of Ranleigh’s Gentlemen's Club? Pathetic! This is a waiting room Jacob! A waiting room!” He released his grip on me and I more or less slid down the wall, though through some strange means I managed to remain on my feet. He leaned closer to me and spat in my face.

  “You are dead, Ewan!” he said simply, and at that point I wondered precisely what would have happened to me at that juncture if Gabriel Moon had not prepared me for this revelation. Still, Apollyon was not finished with me yet. “This is a waiting room or a weighting room” he laughed, putting a different slant on his pronunciation of the second word. “Here we shall see if you are a worthy member of my club.”

  “As were the other gentleman here tonight no doubt.” I said, gasping for breath as I did so. “Yet what of them? Most seemed at best foolish but hardly monsters or creatures of evil intent!” To my surprise Apollyon leaned away from me and began counting on his fingers.

  “Let me see, shall we? First a gentleman who is too self-involved with his own peace and quiet that a simple act of crockery being broken kills him.” He moved on to his second finger. “Then we have a foolish schoolboy who is essentially crucified as his lust overcomes his reason, as well as a man who tortures insects for his own gratification. Next a man boiled alive by the workforce he treats like dirt and a banker who is so involved with in his own sense of upbringing that he allows a monster into his house under the guise of drilling discipline into his own children! Add to that an ex-soldier who thinks it a good idea to train a house cat to hunt, but also during his army days was a bit over-fond of close bayonet work, a humourless engineer destroyed by a device that he is unable to fathom out is dangerous in the first place despite all of his supposed tra
ining, a man who seems to be intent on murdering his entire household and feeding them to the pigs, and then there is Farrager.” He paused slightly, as if considering the last man who had entered the club by walking through the closed doors. “Yet he does not count. Not really. He knew he was in a waiting room already of course. Had been for some time in fact.”

  “It seems an accurate summary.” I said, ignoring his grin.

  “Yes. A desperate bunch of that there is no doubt. Still, you need not fear for them. I have already put them in good stead as members of my club. They are more than busy I think you shall find.

  “And equally content?” I enquired, and Apollyon snorted with delight.

  “You could say that I would suppose.” He said, “Though I doubt if they would agree so themselves.”

  “How so?” I asked, and Apollyon raised his fingers to count again.

  “You must understand Ewan that they were of bad character to a man. They let their base lusts and desires lead them on, and for that if not for just that alone then I am forced to make them suffer.

  “Suffer?” I gasped, though I must say that Apollyon’s face did not seem to contain any signs of regret. In fact, he seemed to be quite enjoying himself.

  “Indeed.” He said and began to count on his fingers again. “I think you will find that I am rather creative when it comes to the art of suffering.” He gave me a wolfish grin and then commenced counting off on his fingers once more.

  “Mister Abraham Glackens I believe was the gentleman with the – what did he call it? Ah yes. The word cross. His desire for a quiet existence and solitude is at this precise moment being somewhat degraded by placing him in one of the noisiest places in my ah… club. I believe he is hardly enjoying it at all. Constant intrusions as it were. In fact, I would be rather disappointed if he was enjoying it, truth be told.” He counted off on his next finger. “Poor Elijah Farrer, with his antics with the scarecrow is unfortunately finding himself in precisely the same predicament. I believe the crows I have set about him are very happy with it however, for his eyes grow back every five minutes and then it all starts over again.” He smiled at me, noticing the horror rising on my face. “Imagine that for all millennia, Mister Ewan!” He seemed to shiver at the point in excitement, but then he was off counting again. “Zakariah Faulkner is finding currently that three pins stuck in your chest is no comparison to having hundreds stuck in you, and poor mister Seamus Flanagan is being boiled alive for all eternity. Just as one cycle ends, so another begins so to speak.”

  “You are a monster!” I exclaimed, but I held my anger in check for I knew there was no advantage to be taken for making sudden rash decisions.

  “Mister Geoffrey Berkley is currently up to his neck in soot. Literally. Whilst Mister Dickinson Evans finds himself falling off a roof onto a bed of upturned bayonets on a, shall we say, regular basis. Cornelius Radley, our poor engineering friend quite frequently finds himself shall we say falling to pieces on an ongoing timescale, whilst poor old Mister Byron Rothering is locked away for all eternity in quite a confined space with all of his endlessly chattering phantoms. No need for an ear trumpet there, I fear. His poor dead wife and accordant retinue do seem to be enjoying themselves though. Finally, Mister Jeptha Farrager is finding out the true dangers of possession but a little bit from another perspective shall we say, and leave it at that. To be frank, I am quite surprised myself at my ingenuity with Mister Farrager.” His hand fell to his side. “Then there is you.” He flashed a smile that was mostly teeth; raw and savage like some great beast of old.

  “What of me?” I smiled, and Apollyon licked his lips.

  “Let us just say that your desire to be top of the hill, the crème de la crème as they say will now be perfectly within your grasp.”

  I smiled back at him, for now I suspected that I was finally aware of the nature of the beast with which I was dealing. Yet I could not see any way out. None at all.

  “Why do you not just throw me through the doors and be done with it?” I asked plainly. “It would surely save a lot of time and trouble.” Apollyon looked visibly shaken by this.

  “No, No.” he shook his head violently. “It does not work like that. Surely you have to enter the doors to my club at some point, and believe me when I say I almost certainly have lots more patience than you have, but you must enter my club of your own volition you see. I cannot force you.” He gave a quick salute which I found a trifle odd. “Rules are rules you see, Mister Ewan. Rules are rules.” And he gave a broad smile.

  “So I have as much time as I want?” I said, moving around him and approaching the two double doors. Knowing now that he could not force me to step through them gave me a new air of bravado but as I approached the doorway that led into the darkened room I was sure I could hear screams from within; not just of one man or two, but of thousands, or perhaps millions wailing in the darkness; speaking of pain and loss and despair. I shook my head to clear it but despite this I could feel a fearsome heat rising from within the room, and as I watched flames began to lick about the walls and floor in there, and yet they brought no light; the darkness prevailed inside there.

  “All millennia if you want it.” Smiled Apollyon. “I have all the time in the world as they say.”

  “Do they?” I said, taking a step towards the open doors and seeing that Apollyon almost held his breath, his eyes never leaving me. I knew now his words were false, but for once he was powerless, for it seemed that the only truth that he had spoken was with regard to the fact that I had to enter of my own free will. That was a fact. The rest I presumed were lies. He would not wait forever. Not he. He had to get me through those damned doors this night.

  “It would appear to me then, Apollyon that we are at an impasse. You wish me to enter and yet I am not certain. That is the crux of it.” To my delight Apollyon snarled at me.

  “You are dead, you fool!” he spat. “You have nowhere else to go but through those two doors!” Yet I knew that he was not telling the truth; or more accurately he was not telling the whole truth. Gabriel Moon had guided me in the right direction, yet at the time I had not understood him at the time either.

  “You will be fine.” Gabriel Moon had said. “Be ready and remember that at the end you do have a choice!” I mulled on his words and smiled at Apollyon. He approached me carefully as I stood on the edge of the room. I could certainly hear screams from within the darkness now, and flames of bright red, as crimson as blood licked at my feet. The flickering flames shone in the dark like a beacon; waiting for me to enter and to be judged.

  “Yet these stories are also all about me.” I said simply and for once Apollyon seemed confused.

  “What do you mean?” he asked as I stood before the entrance to the room, flames now threatening to reach out and drag me in if they dared. I knew now that this they could not do.

  “These men that you claim to be torturing for all of eternity tell my tale.” I saw him raise an eyebrow. “You do not believe me?” I held up my hand for him and got ready to count. “Abraham Glackens to begin with. A man who desires solitude and is insular in his life. Such a person am I, for my determination to advance overwhelms all else. My solitude is absolute for all who really know me shirk my company.

  The Scarecrow tale relates the story of a man who is scared of real contact and so isolates himself in such a way that it causes his death. Again this can be described as myself, and the death of love in my life. I fear it is not an emotion that can be trifled with.

  The tale of the three butterflies describes three souls. My wife and children, Apollyon, my wife and children, abandoned by my aloofness and appalling state of ignorance of their loss of my love and attention.

  Mister Flanagan’s whiskey still contains details of a man burnt alive by his abuse of those below him. Again, I am guilty of this.

  Mister Berkley’s strange chimney sweeps and vicious nanny relates a story of a family tormented by a monster, and again that monster is I, though I am an abominatio
n more by inattention rather than malice. The result is the same.

  The cat tale plays to my love of animals which I have suppressed, and the single mindedness of Mister Evans has my traits written all over it.

  The engineer’s tale details the story of a man killed by his inability to understand a problem or in this case a device; old man Finch’s lockbox in particular. Again, I was not capable of recognising or indeed acting upon the problem of my isolation until I stepped into this room.

  Finally, Mister Rothering’s tale of phantoms and spectres seems to me to relate the position in which I now find myself, and Almanac, Mister Farrager’s tale seems to tell of what I shall become.”

  “Well done.” Clapped Apollyon slowly. “You have joined it all up.”

  “Indeed.” I smiled. “I said that I had no tale, and you did not seem to mind much, though now it would appear my tale has already been told by the other gentlemen about this table this evening.” I stared at him coldly. “Each tale is about me, Apollyon. They were all mine.”

  “If that is the case then your fate is already sealed, Mister Ewan.” Smiled the Earl and he gestured into the room in which darkness and flames danced eagerly as if awaiting, a dull red light throbbing inside the room now as if baying for my blood.

  “Absolutely.” I agreed, and I used his title for the final time, but I used it with sarcasm and a frown spread across his face as I spoke it. “It does seem to be the case, does it not your Lordship?”

  I smiled and stepped into the room.

  Instantly deep crimson flames leapt about me, tearing at my body. I could hear myself screaming as my flesh was burnt from me, and I could hear Apollyon laughing and gloating from the room outside this pit of fire.

  As the flames tormented me I continued to scream, but now the flames erupted into my mouth, my lungs. As the conflagration began to gather hold I considered my life. Everything was come to nothing. What use was my advancement to the heights of the elite of society to me now? I thought of my abandonment of love and my two children and dear wife I was leaving behind; the three souls who already probably despised my aloofness and puerile grand ideas. I deserved to die in torment! Let the flames have me! I sank to my knees and the flames followed me and I began to lose myself, melting into ash and death until all that would be left was a soul for Apollyon to harvest.