“I’m not Patricia,” I stuttered. “That’s not my name. You got the wrong person.”
They laughed at me as I fled.
* * *
I found an all-night diner and stood outside, looking in at the light and the people. The activity made me feel less alone. I fumbled for my cell phone and tried to call Will. It didn’t occur to me to call my friend and tell her I wouldn’t be making our coffee date in a different part of the city. For a moment, I couldn’t figure out what buttons to push. I finally succeeded, only to get his voice mail. I told him where I was and asked him to come pick me up, since I still had no idea how to get to the subway.
The diner seemed like a safe place to wait. It was crowded with late-night customers, many of them laughing as they relived their nights out on the town. They ignored me as I walked past on my way toward the one empty booth in the back. I sat down and cradled my pounding head in my hands.
“Well, are you going to just sit there? I don’t have all day. What can I get you?”
I looked up to see an older woman, with curly red hair and flaming lipstick to match. Her face was lined with what I was sure were her own heartaches as well as the weary work of tending to hungry drunks on the night shift. I asked for strong coffee and a menu in what I thought was a polite manner. She did not.
“One strong cup of piss and find me a menu,” she yelled toward the kitchen. “We got a prima donna on our hands.”
She stomped off, and I headed for the bathroom to wash up. I shouldn’t have bothered. The place reeked, and since there were no paper towels, I ended up wiping my hands on my own shirt. Still rubbing them dry, I walked back to my booth to find someone sitting there, his back to me.
“Excuse me, this is my seat, and I’m waiting for someone,” I said.
It was the tall man in black, immaculately dressed in a suit. He sipped a cup of coffee and told me to sit down.
He smiled at me. A perfect smile. “Come on, Jackie. Look around. This is New York City, the city that never sleeps.” He gestured around him. “I know what you’re thinking. What am I doing in a dump like this?” I didn’t take my eyes off him. “It takes all walks of life. Some I know, some I’m waiting to be acquainted with. You know, Jackie, when they cross my path I’ll be there for them. No sir, I will not let them down.”
I stared at his face. This was the first time we had sat and had an actual conversation, so I took advantage of the opportunity to look at him without fearing for my life. His eyes were dark and intense and seemed to collect suffering. He reached over the table and grabbed my hand. I barely noticed the waitress bring my coffee.
“Jackie, I’m everywhere. I made history many times. I collect what is left over . . . Look at it like this. Credit me for your existence.”
What?
He tilted his head as if he were examining me for a crack he could use to get in. “Why, if it wasn’t for me, who would you be? I made you who you are. I put you on the map . . . Oh, Jackie, don’t look so confused. If evil didn’t exist, how would the honorable become honorable?”
He pulled my hand closer to him, forcing me to look even more closely at him. I felt myself going into his world, being pulled into my psychic realm. I felt the change. Loud noise pierced my ears, and words started to echo in my skull.
“Jackie, look back over the counter at those cooks,” he ordered me. I turned, and instead of the two ordinary men sweating behind the grill I had noticed earlier, I saw a large man in a clown suit throwing together a ham sandwich. His stained gloves slapped down each slice of meat with a thump. He was standing next to a well-groomed, handsome man with dark hair. They were comparing notes.
The clown bragged—he’d strangled, mutilated, tortured. The other one grinned. “At least I wasn’t a faggot, getting off on handcuffed guys.”
“Yeah, well, I fooled everyone,” the clown said. “I had them all under my own house. Their own little graveyard. I was a well-respected part of society. I had them all fooled.”
“Well, I had the brains,” said the handsome one. “I became that lawyer, even representing myself. I got up in court and stood near that jury and questioned that pig of a detective, made him even explain in detail what he saw—not leaving anything out. I was hungry for the kill, and it got me off. Better than sex!”
They went on, talking and laughing. My companion tugged at my hand to bring my attention back to him. He knew whom I had seen, since he was the one who showed them to me. He was making a point. Look at the soldiers in my army. Eddie isn’t the only one. “You can wipe them off the earth but never clean away the acts. They live in my world and yours. Times change and others are born, giving me great joy.” His grip tightened, and his feet curled around mine under the table. He knew I wanted to run. “I am the Zodiac. You looked for the truth and found me. How does it feel, Jackie, to be in my world?”
Sweat dripped down my face and stung my eyes. He noticed my untouched coffee and dumped sugar into it. Then he added cream. It hit the flat black surface and turned to blood. Red rippled through my cup. He stuck his finger in and slowly stirred. His booted foot rode up my leg and his eyes glinted with pleasure. He took his dripping finger out of the cup of gore and reached toward me, wiping it across my lips.
Unlike with some of his previous visits to me, this time I knew I was in full psychic mode, and that no one else could see this tall man in black, this devil twin of Eddie. It wasn’t real. But it was disgusting. I fought back the urge to gag.
“Take this, Jackie, and drink. This is my blood, the blood of sin and lust. The blood of evil. Be my Gemini. You will live forever in the heart and souls of the weak. You will finish my work of mass destruction, you have the unknown power. Lay with me by day and stalk by night. Look what God has put you through. Let me in . . .”
Enough. I jumped up, knocking over my coffee. There was no one across from me. The crowded babble of patrons returned to my ears. The cooks at the grill were two normal guys. The waitress stomped over with a soiled wet rag.
“What the hell does this look like, a fucking hotel? No sleeping in this joint. Come on, buy something or get going.”
“No, no . . .” I pleaded. I tossed six bucks on the table in the hope that would calm her down and shut her up. I needed to get home, and Will hadn’t come. I would have to find the subway on my own. Where was the R train? She laughed at me as I headed for the exit. “Looking for Bellevue, lady? Just keep going toward Broadway; you’ll run into it.”
Everyone heard that, and their stares followed me as I made my way awkwardly toward the door. As I opened it, I took a quick glance back. Were they still staring? Instead of a row of men at the counter, there now sat only a woman with a child—a little girl in a yellow raincoat. I looked at her, with her little legs dangling from the stool, and I remembered. I flashed back to when I was dragged away by a man. To choking for air as hands tightened around my neck.
I staggered outside, wheezing. I grabbed on to a pole just to stay upright. A man walked past, looking at me as if he thought I was just some common junkie in need of a fix. Then suddenly he stopped and came closer.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispered and then walked away. The devil had overtaken that ordinary man, just to show me how powerful he was. No matter where I went or how fast I ran away, the devil could enter anyone and find me at any time. I was never safe. I eventually made my way to the subway station, praying the whole way that I would wake up from this nightmare. Somehow, I made it home. Will, who had not gotten my message, was waiting for me outside.
“Where were you?” he said.
“Hell,” I yelled. “I was in hell!”
“Jackie, look at me,” he said. “You can’t take the sins away from the world. You’ll die.”
“I already did, and I came back.” I yelled, almost in spite of myself, as I raced into the house and up to the bathroom. All I wanted was to s
oak in a hot bath, to be one with myself, to not share my body with anything or anyone. I slid into the hot water and tried to wash away the filth. By the time I got out, Will was in bed, worn out from concern for me. All he could manage to say was good night. I slid into bed next to him and curled into a fetal position.
And then there was a hand over my mouth. My body was pulled by an invisible force. I felt his body next to mine and his arm around me. This tall man in black, the Zodiac.
“Come to me, Jackie. Listen to my voice. Feel me.”
And I fell, farther and farther, down into darkness. I couldn’t tell whether I was asleep, dying, or finally succumbing to his demands. And still I fell . . .
* * *
. . . I landed in what looked like the lobby of a hotel. A man rushed up and immediately shoved a small suitcase into my hands. He carried an identical one.
“Hurry, Patricia, no time to wait,” he said as he guided me to the elevator. We rode upward until he ushered me off and over to room 810. He hurriedly pushed open the door and told me to take off my own clothes and put on what was in the suitcase.
The brass snaps on the suitcase popped as I opened it. I pulled out a drab-green hospital gown designed to tie in the back. He shook his head at me. “Tsk, tsk. Put it on open in the front,” he said as he scurried around, getting things ready. I felt like I was late for a very important date.
He opened his own suitcase and began putting on medical scrubs and a cap. I followed his orders and pulled the gown’s edges together, embarrassed.
“Nonsense,” he chided. “The body is not the body; it’s a learning tool.”
He snapped on a pair of long black gloves. I could smell the heavy rubber. He impatiently turned down the bed and waved me toward it. I climbed in. The sun was so strong I could barely open my eyes. Instead, I used my ears and heard the sounds of metal objects clanging against one another. A microphone came on and amplified the man as he introduced himself to what sounded like a group of students. He explained what everyone was about to witness. And then I understood.
The sun was a large overhead lamp. The bed was a metal autopsy table with a drain. The pillow was a rubber block with a cutout to hold my neck in place.
“What we have here is a cadaver. A murder victim,” the man intoned into the microphone. My robe was pulled open. I no longer cared. Modesty was no longer a virtue.
I lay there as he cut into me. His voice started to float away and other things started to float in. Bits and pieces. Numbers. Room numbers. Room 810. 8-10. The eighth month and the tenth day. August tenth, the date of my death.
“Cause of death—two gunshots and over a hundred stab wounds.” He stuck his hands inside my opened body. I felt nothing. I was nothing but a slab of meat. My mind drifted away, back to times when I was happy. I had to go way, way back, that’s for sure. Maybe when I was a teenager, when I would laugh as I ran around with my friends. I tried even further back, and earlier memories came closer, but the man’s voice interrupted. He was still talking to his audience, and I could see him above me, pulling me apart.
He stopped talking and moved closer, staring at my face. Did he know I was still inside? That I was this corpse? Is this all there was? I felt tears fill my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks, one at a time. They were warm on my ice-cold skin. Did I get shock treatment and now was hallucinating? It could be. I could be alive. Or was that wishful thinking? The table was cold, and my life was oozing down its drain.
The man kept staring at my face. He grabbed the mic and told his students that it was only leftover fluid escaping from the tear ducts. But his look said something different. He knew. He put a damp cloth over my eyes. Was it because he knew I was still in here and he felt guilty about it? Or was it for me, so I wouldn’t see my body getting carved up—again—and could go back to thinking about times when I was loved? Did he know how to move the soul out? Where would I go?
Time passed—I didn’t know how much. Finally, I heard the metal table bang and tools being put back into place. I opened my eyes to find myself standing outside the same elevator, dressed in unfamiliar clothes. A child in a yellow raincoat stood next to me. She seemed very anxious to get where she was going.
When the elevator got there, she jumped on and waved me in with a smile. She knew more than I did. She’d done this before. I got on and looked at the buttons. As I moved to push one, she touched my arm.
“We don’t have to do that. It knows where to take us. Just watch.”
I looked down at her pure little face. Her eyes seemed to hold years of wisdom. Can an angel be this tiny and wear a yellow raincoat?
“Is it raining out?” I asked.
She looked down at herself. “No. I had this on when that bad man killed me. It doesn’t rain anymore.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Jane,” she replied, and then bounced up and down on her little tiptoes. “I know your name.”
“You do?” I said. Her tiny hand covered her mouth in delight. “Well, my name is Patricia, but all my friends call me Trish,” I said.
She stared at me. “No . . . no. Your name is Jackie.” She looked as though she had just spilled a secret. I couldn’t think of what to say.
“No . . . my name is Patricia,” I finally managed.
She kept looking at me, and I turned, looking everywhere but at her. I could see the sky through the vent in the ceiling. The buttons on the panel were all flashing. I punched one to stop the elevator.
“Don’t do that. It’s not going to stop until we’re there,” Jane said.
We rode in silence and then the elevator slammed to a halt. I grabbed on to her, trying to protect this kid as the elevator began to bend and turn like a Rubik’s Cube. One twist. Two twists. Done. It was now a seat for two. A bar came down over our laps and locked into place.
“What is this?” I shouted. I felt our seat start moving down a track. “Let me out. Holy shit!”
Jane looked at me. “It’s okay, Jackie.”
My name was Patricia, but I didn’t want to fight her on the name thing anymore. Call me what you want. I was just terrified of the roller coaster. I always had been.
“Look, kid. I can’t do this. Don’t you understand? I’m scared. I can’t do this. I would rather chase the devil . . .” I said.
“You do, Jackie,” she laughed, then said, “I want to show you something.”
“Jesus Christ, kid, I don’t even know you,” I yelled as our seat picked up speed. I truly hated roller coasters. “Hello! Anyone out there? Get me off this ride, now!”
We looked at each other, and I saw her good, maybe for the first time. Real good. It was like looking in the mirror as a kid, a fast glance at myself. I heard what sounded like my dad call out, “Jackie.” I shook my head, trying to stop the sounds. That wasn’t my name.
Jane raised her arms. “Now, don’t forget to hold your arms up and wiggle your fingers like this,” she said.
I stared at her little face, all excited. My heart thumped like a bunny’s foot beating on the ground. Excitement and nerves at the same time. She laughed at me, at us. Our little seat coasted into a shed that had the controls. A man came out. He was dressed in old-fashioned suspenders hooked to worn pants. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was a top hat on his head. I could tell that his boots had seen a lot of miles. Kind of like me.
He smiled at us, and it warmed my whole cold body. I suddenly knew I was going to be okay.
“Jane,” he said to the little girl. “I should have known. You’re a real firecracker. All right, come on now; give us your tickets.”
“Jacob,” Jane said, all polite-like, “I’d like to introduce you. This is Jackie.”
He looked at her as he tore the tickets in half. “Yes, Jane, I know. Remember, it was my idea. You could have been a
nyone. It was my idea, Jane. I couldn’t take away what happened, but I know how to get vengeance.”
He tapped the brim of his top hat, and it sparkled as he touched it. Tiny twinkles and little stars bounced around, and microscopic golden butterflies danced in a halo around his head. Oh my. If there was really a Santa Claus, it would certainly be him, I thought. Even though he obviously had me confused with this Jackie person. My name was Patricia.
He knew what I was thinking, and a big smile crossed his face.
“Here you go,” he said, handing us back our halves of the tickets. “Now, off . . . off . . . off . . .”
We sailed up and into the sky. I felt my heart drop, but it was wonderful, not scary. Wheeeee!
“Hold your hands up. Do it like this!” Jane lifted her little arms into the sky, full of blue, purple, and pink clouds. Swooping up and down, we screamed with joy. The twists and turns, her little face shining in the sun, rays of warmth on us. Touching us.
I wasn’t cold anymore . . .
* * *
. . . Jane looked over at me and suddenly I felt like myself again. Like Jackie. Cold, cold Patricia was gone.
I turned toward Jane and the words came out before I knew I was going to say anything. “Your mother loved you, Jane. I’m sorry.” I stopped myself before I could say the rest—that I was sorry Jane had come back as me.
“I know,” she said and then turned and pointed over the side. “Look down, Jackie. Don’t be scared.”
As the roller coaster raced through the marshmallow clouds, I looked down and saw the big top of the circus. Thousands of children jumped and waved up at us. I heard the pipes of the organ. And then I saw a wolf, huge and gray, running on the ground below as though he were racing to meet us at the finish line.
We went through a tunnel so bright that it hurt my eyes, but it didn’t appear to harm Jane’s. She seemed to see perfectly. We came to a stop in the shed, and I saw that wolf guarding the entrance, to make sure I used the exit on the other side. I was not supposed to stay. The same man in the top hat was waiting for us. He smiled at Jane as if he had given her the gift of a lifetime. Or maybe two lifetimes. He took her hand and bowed, putting his top hat over his heart as he helped her out of our roller-coaster car. She looked back at me.
The Haunting of the Gemini Page 16