For a moment, I forgot that she was dead. Forgot about the lifeless head that rested on a pedestal. Suddenly I remembered the wondrous things that we shared, even though our time was far too brief. And even though my wishes and dreams had always been to marry her and share with her until the day that I died, this sudden memory gave me a warmth and comfort that I’d never felt before. I nodded, as if giving silent thanks. I wondered if he left it for me because he knew that it would finally give me the peace I so desperately craved.
I took a deep breath and turned to the last item. Although it was enshrouded with a black silk cloth smothered with a thick layer of dust, I already knew what it was.
I recognized the shapes through the cloth. At the apex of the object, a single point reached upward, poking the cloth and forcing it up in a tent-like manner. A shudder traced my spine. I was about to look upon the thing which, in a most direct way, changed my life forever.
Dim bluish light shone on the covering and I gently tugged on one edge of the cloth. Knowing that I was about to yank off the black shroud and see something that I hadn’t seen since the night on his yacht. Something which Jack purposefully locked away from humanity. In my belly, I felt the same unreasoning lust that I felt when I first saw it in Montreal.
Easy, Mate. This can only be touched by me.
“Not anymore, Jack.”
I tugged it off slowly, careful not to touch the statue. I don’t know why. My stomach churned as the shroud slipped away. I thought about Jack, the horrible things he had done and the grief of knowledge. Of Elizabeth’s final demise. But I still had to know. I had to know why.
In my heart I knew that I’d never have the entire answer, but that didn’t alter my resolve. Maybe tonight I’ll find some kind of understanding. My breath trembled, heavily and uncontrollably. My heart rattled the bars of its cage. Every inch of motion resounded through my body as my hand slowly tugged at the shroud. Two agonizing seconds became an eternity. In a final determined tug, I pulled the cloth off.
Easy, Mate. This can only be touched by me.
It sat patiently, on the patient little table that stood in the middle of that patient little room. Patiently waiting for me for two agonizing years.
I let the cloth flutter to the floor. As light shone upon the tiny black statuette for the first time in two years, I despaired.
I truly believed that I’d see the maiden once again. Lying beside the unicorn, embellishing the beast's majesty with her beauty. I craved her beautiful face, the longing in her eyes and the voluptuous shape of her figure.
But I was disappointed and stunned. True, the beast’s long horn still pointed toward the sky like a lightning rod ready to capture all of heaven’s might and fury. But what I saw that night turned my blood to ice.
Look closely and you will see
A gilded image of what once was me
What once gleamed black was dull, as if it had been carbon-scored by intense flames. The creature was still there, unblemished by the dust of time, thanks to its protective shroud. He still stood majestically. His head reared, his mane waved in a long-since diminished wind. The maiden, however, was no longer the subject of this once idyllic scene.
Instead, she was replaced by a man.
He was caught in the throes of this mighty beast – gored through the chest and flailing on the unicorn's razor-sharp horn. His arms and legs were being wildly tossed about. And his hands were raised in supplication toward the heavens.
Impaled and screaming.
Ill realization gripped me as I leaned closer. I wanted a better look at the man who writhed in eternal agony. And as I examined it, there was no denying it.
The face – aghast but easily recognizable – was clearly Jack’s. His once boyish grin was frozen in permanent agony. The pain and anguish which surrounded his life had finally been consummated.
Crucified and alone.
I stood in silent incomprehension for several minutes, staring at the small black object which once represented something beautiful and desirable. Now it had a whole new meaning.
And while it will never let you be
The truth will conspire to set me free.
The light in the room flickered and my minded jolted into action as I looked at my watch. It was 9:37.
“Damn!” The sound of my voice was garish as it permeated the small room and seemed to bounce off the walls in a million haunting echoes. I picked up the book and the jade statue, cradling both under my arm.
Then I confronted the lone remaining object on the table.
Easy, mate. This can only be touched by me.
I had to take it. It was Jack’s final testament, and I’d be damned if I was going to leave it there to rot.
I grasped the base. The minute my fingertips touched it, sparks flew and an icy-cold pain shot up through my hand and arm. The cold turned to heat. White-hot to the touch.
“FUCK!”
As the sensation spread up my arm I trembled uncontrollably and felt an odd, pulsing sensation in my head. I cursed aloud and fell back as the small figure toppled onto its side with a dull thud. Da Vinci’s Autobiography and the jade statue fell out of my arms and onto the floor. Wildly, I waved my raging hand.
I leaned down to retrieve the book and the statue, and nearly tripped as I tried to nurse my scorched hand. I grabbed the statue of the man and woman, but it was too late for the Master’s book. The sparks found it. Brittle from 400 years of quiet aging, it ignited in one final burst of flame. I cursed and looked at the statue on the table.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but while I watched, the statue changed color and began to glow. Black stone changed before my eyes. It grew lighter, as if heating to an intolerable temperature.
Lights began to flicker wildly. Crackles and sizzles of electricity flew around the room. The statue glowed almost white-hot and flames shot out of the walls and began to consume the room.
They spread to the table and quickly surrounded the statue. Searing heat scorched my face as everything went up in Hell’s fury. I took one last look at Jack’s impaled body through raging, swirling flames, and then feverishly ran from the room.
I stared at the Media Room with dismay. Wondering if I should grab any of the files or tapes. But the heat already licked my back with unnatural intensity and I was forced to stumble into the Hall of Trophies.
When I did so, my body landed with a crash against several pedestals. They went down and took a host of dead heads with them. They tumbled and bounced across the floor like pinballs.
Move.
I looked around and then back toward the Media Room. A wall of smoke and flames.
I shook it off. Urgency gripped me and I danced amongst the heads while they stared at me with dead eyes. As I stumbled through the ghastly display, I tried to avoid stepping on any of them. But in my terrified haste, I almost stepped on Heidi and unintentionally booted Anastasia like a soccer ball.
When I reached the door, I turned and looked back. One last time.
Elizabeth’s face. It glowed as flames quickly spread into the room.
“Goodbye, my love. I am so sorry that I couldn’t protect you from him.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, choked by tears and hushed by an army of screaming flames. They announced their coming with searing heat that blasted my face.
MOVE!
I nodded, one last time, at her vacant head. Then I bolted.
Clinging to the statue, I scrambled out the door and through the hallway. I felt odd, like I wasn’t alone. And though I didn’t know why, my legs found some kind of superhuman strength which allowed me to keep moving. The flames took on a determined life of their own as they licked the walls and grew in volume and force behind me. My body slammed into curves in the passage and I wondered if I was even going the right way.
God! I have to get out of here!
I emerged into the Blake Solarium like I’d been ejaculated from a cannon. Blue glow greeted me and I turned to look down the hallway. Yellowish-
red glow was coming, and it came with all the fury and might of Heaven and Hell.
The house is going to burn! I would’ve been overjoyed if I wasn’t so terrified for my life.
I fled into the main hallway, yelling at the movers to get the Hell out. I don’t know how I managed to navigate my way to the entrance, but with a final burst of speed I shot out the door and stumbled for twenty yards before I collapsed on hard earth. Only then did I release the jade statue.
Confused and frightened movers scurried out of the house as I struggled to breathe fresh air. I propped my body up and feverishly looked for Fred.
“Fred! Has anyone seen Fred?” I tried to yell at the movers nearest me. But they were confused and didn’t understand my question, since they didn’t even know who Fred was. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know his name, however. I could only choke out the words, and as my breath left me I collapsed to the ground.
I lay there, my head turned toward the house. I despaired as flames licked and shot out of the towering doorway. God, not Fred too.
In the oncoming darkness and warm summer mist, the unspeakable horror which I had seen that night resounded like an icy chill through my bones. Coughing and hacking, I lay sprawled on the ground for several minutes. Movers hovered over me and checked for burns while they administered First Aid as best they could.
I watched through hazy eyes as the eerie light of dusk bombarded the house with futility. It was now engulfed in a massive wall of flames, bright multicolored flames which licked the sky in an insatiable orgasm of evil.
Something tugged at me. Even though I felt horror and sadness over what I’d seen, I felt…different. As if I was suddenly proud of what I’d seen. Proud of what I’d done. I shook my head and thought – as best I could – that the trauma and smoke inhalation was affecting me.
Then, through dim stinging eyes, I saw a dark figure emerge from the blaze in the distance. It stumbled toward me and collapsed on the ground a few feet away. My enfeebled mind swelled with relief as I realized that Fred was okay. I swooned steadily and let my head drop to the ground.
Blinking and muttering, I espied more shadowed figures just before I passed out. Uniformed men stood over me.
The fire department is here.
As I passed out, my head tilted to look at the house. I had one cogent thought before I lost consciousness.
God, please don’t save it.
Chapter 69
When I came to, I was being propped up in a chair by a large man wearing a white outfit. It appeared to be a medical attendant’s uniform.
Dazedly, I looked around the room. White walls and a single door that had a tiny window on it. I shook my head and tried to focus on the surroundings. A strange wooziness swirled in my brain, best described as the worst hangover ever. A searing pain assaulted my right hand. It was bound in a tightly-wrapped bandage and I remembered the statue and the pain that shot up my arm. It was agonizing, but the pain in my skull was worse.
My head hurts. Where the Hell am I?
An obsequious-looking little man with a black notebook sat in front of me. He wore a white doctor’s coat and calmly watched me. He appeared to be quite short, but I wasn’t certain because he was sitting. His head was bald, and bright fluorescent lights cast a shiny reflection off of his cranium. It stung my eyes and I squinted. He wore dark horn-rimmed glasses and stared at me from behind them with a patronizing look. I hate being patronized.
He smiled through thick lips to reveal yellowish teeth which were more teeth than gum. His nose was bulbous and he had flushed cheeks, which were weathered by time. As evidenced by thin red veins which snaked under his skin.
“How are we feeling today?” He spoke cheerfully, but his voice was thin and lacked timbre. It sounded insincere. I rubbed the side of my head with my good hand. I looked at him and then at the large attendant who stood woodenly beside the door. I wondered how I could deal with this situation quickly. So I could get out of here and have a drink. Besides, I was horny as Hell and realized that it had been awhile since I’d been laid.
“I feel like shit. I have no idea how you feel.” He continued to smile, but I rightly concluded that it had nothing to do with my sarcasm.
“That’s just a reaction to the medication and the state that you’ve been in. You’ve had quite a spell.” I was massaging the muscles at the back of my neck when he said this, and I looked up at him.
“Yeah? Well, that’s just great. But would you mind telling me where the FUCK I am?” The agony in my head admonished me. Stop Screaming! He wrote something on the notebook in front of him and nodded reassuringly. I glared past him and straight at the attendant.
“Yes, yes, all in good time.” He nodded, but then stopped and seemed to change his mind about his answer.
“Why don’t you tell me where you are?” I tried to think. Something was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. As if it were a dream and I had little bits and pieces of it, but couldn’t recall the whole thing. After several moments I shook my head and he made another note in his book. Then he looked directly at me and placed his pen in his mouth. He sucked on it, as if it helped him think, and then he removed it.
“That’s alright. It’ll come back to you. It’s not uncommon in cases like yours, to experience short-term memory loss.” He paused, put the pen back in his mouth and gnawed on the top. This time, when he spoke he didn’t remove it.
“What’s the last thing that you do remember?”
I thought very hard for several moments, and although I couldn’t shake the dream that gripped my skull like claws, I nodded triumphantly.
“Jack’s house. I remember Jack’s house.” Without expression, he made another note. When he finished, he put the pen back in his mouth and stared at me. I shook my head and tried to focus my eyes.
“Jack’s house. I was standing there watching it burn when the fire department arrived.” I wondered why I couldn’t remember what happened after that. But before I had a chance to think any further, he nodded and twirled the pen between his teeth.
“Alright, So you remember being at the site of Jack’s house and the night of the fire.” I was getting fed up. Irritation and the need for a drink and a snort of coke possessed me. A good aggressive fuck would have been good too. This man made me want to retch and I scowled at him.
“Look, before I say anything else, why don’t you tell me why the fuck I’m here? And who the Hell are you? And who the fuck is he?” I gestured at the attendant, who tensed as if he were ready to spring into action. But I didn’t care. I hoped that he’d come over, so I’d have a chance to deal with him. What the Hell is going on here? The little man in front of me didn’t react, but he jotted something down and then leaned over the table.
“We’ve been through this before.” Stunned confusion coated my face. Before? What was he talking about?
“What do you mean ‘before?’ I’ve never seen you. Where is this?” I looked around while he lifted his arm to look at his watch.
“Actually, we saw each other seventeen hours ago. And the day before that too.” I peered in disbelief. My indignation turned into hatred and rage. But I suppressed it, the same way I’d suppressed it before.
“Look, I don’t know who the Hell you think I am, fella. But you’ve got the wrong guy.” He made a note and looked at me.
“Why were you at the house on the night of the fire?” This felt like an interrogation, and my entire body trembled as I glared with utter indignation. I clenched my jaw and wondered why I felt so much hatred for this man.
“We went there to finalize the shipment of Jack’s artwork. I’m the executor to his estate.”
“And who is ‘we?’”
“Me and Fred, dammit. And the movers.”
“That would be Fred…” He flipped back a couple of pages. “Fred Phillips?” I sneered at him.
“Yes. Phillips. Fred fucking Phillips. Godammit!” The little man leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at me
as if he was contemplating whether to tell me something. Finally he nodded.
“They found Mr. Phillips’ body in the remains of the house. He burned in the fire.”
“What…no! I saw him. He made it out!” The little man shook his head.
“No. He didn’t.” I shook my head and stared down the pack of cigarettes that sat on the table. He saw me watching them and pushed the package toward me. I nodded eagerly.
“Thanks.” I took one with my good hand and then waited while he leaned over to light it. I puffed on it and scowled when I tasted it. This isn’t right. I should’ve been in flavor country. It should have calmed me. But for some reason it tasted like crap. I butted it out and coughed violently. He seemed interested by this and wrote something on the notepad.
“That’s impossible. Fred’s not dead. I’m telling you, I saw him pass out beside me.” This time, the little man ignored my protestations and instead resumed his original line of questioning.
“So you were at the house to remove Jack’s personal effects. Were you successful?” When he asked me the question, it brought back memories of what I saw in the house. Scowling angrily, I shook my head.
“No. I didn’t get everything. Some of it went up in the fire.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t FUCKING want to talk about it!” The attendant moved toward me, but the little man raised his hand and stopped him in his tracks. Damn, I thought. Bring it on.
“Alright, we don’t have to talk about that. Let’s talk about the front lawn, when you passed out. You say that you saw the house go up in flames?” Wearily, I nodded. God, I’m so tired.
“Yes. I was lying on the lawn. I saw the movers and…Fred, I guess…I don’t know. Then I saw the firefighters, just before I passed out.” He frantically wrote something down, as if what I had just said was significant. Then he looked at me in a matter-of-factly way.
The House that Jack Built Page 46