“Hi, could you give me directions please?” Jeff’s nervous, it’s the same cop that stopped Eve. He can see his own reflection in the mirrored sunglasses.
“Where’re you headed?” His manner is indifferent.
“Nearest gas station and place to eat?”
“Ten miles, there’s a truck stop, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
The cop taps the end of the cigarette on the packet and watches Jeff steps back into the truck. He lights the cigarette, turns his back to the highway, and looks out across the desert. The truck throws dust up as it re-joins the highway.
Ten miles on and the approaching sign catches Jeff’s eye. A red rectangle slashes through a white circle, stating ‘Truck Stop, Twenty Four Hours.’ Leaving the highway, he passes rows of trucks. Parks at the front of the building. Steps out to the sound of a passing motor growling. Air brakes hiss.
The stop offers food, a shop, washroom facilities, and to professional drivers, accommodation and a lounge. Inside the canteen is basic but clean. He fills the food tray: a stacked burger, fries, a large coffee and a slice of black forest cake.
At the till the cashier smiles. “Hi, is that everything?” Customer service here appears natural, not forced.
“Yeah.” He remembers his manners and quickly adds: “Thanks.”
Jeff doesn’t pay any attention to her colleague walking over.
“Take your break, I’ll cover here.” he hears. Jeff looks back.
“Angel?” Al’s daughter. He smiles.
“Hi, can I help you?” There’s no recognition in her eye.
“It’s Jeff.” Nothing. In despair he sighs. “Don’t you remember me?”
“I’m sorry, no.” She can see he’s confused. “Don’t take it personally. We have a lot of through traffic here.”
“It’s okay.” His voice wavers through restrained emotion. “Do you know where Eve is?”
“Eve?” She looks up, trying to recall. “No, I’m sorry.” She senses he hangs on to every word. “I don’t know anyone called Eve.”
“Okay.” His hands raise up, as much to comfort her as himself. Or is it surrender?
Bemused he sits at a table. He needs to eat, but has no appetite. Discreetly he keeps glancing over to Angel. Is fate mocking him?
Fate twists the screw a little further when he walks in the shop to pick up his essentials. Al sits behind the counter. No recognition in his face as Jeff hands the goods over. Does Al know where Eve is?
“Hey Al, how you keeping?” Jeff greets him with forced enthusiasm.
“Yeah, fine.” He looks to Jeff. “Where do I know you from?”
“Through Eve.”
“Eve?” Al pulls his face.
“Come on, you can’t have forgot us already?” He bluffs, but what else can he do? “Sexy chick, pierced lip, long braided hair. She runs a black Camaro.”
“You’ve lost me.” Al shakes his head. He still can’t place this guy.
On the way back to the ranch, Jeff looks beyond the highway to the mountains. Which direction is Eve in? This place isn’t home: home is where the heart is, and that’s wherever he finds her.
He unloads the supplies, then sits in the old rocking chair, cracking open a beer. The weathervane is motionless, the door’s still. No swirling dust, no distant yips from a coyote: nothing but time stood still. Abandoned and alone, he watches the beauty of distant mountains fade with the dark. The serenity of the full moon bathes the land in her silvery light.
He waits. Looks towards the old Ford truck and the barn. Wills them to step out: Casey’s mom, or Belle. Where are they? Only months ago he would called himself psychotic, living in a delusional world, wishing for spirits to come. That was then and this is now.
Movement and faint foot falls on the porch disturb his sleep. He stands. Eyes, those of a grey wolf, equally startled by his presence. Jeff shields behind the chair. The wolf turns, retreating, joining the five or six fleeting shadows below.
Jeff shivers. Did he really just see a wolf pack? Making his way to the door he locks himself in the house. Shaking with cold and fear he uses barbecue coal for the fire, wrapping a single blanket around him. He’s safe, in front of the fire for the night.
The wood floor is uncomfortable and cold to the bone. The embers give off little heat, and there’s no coal left to fuel the fire. He looks around for fuel. It would be a shame to break things up to burn. A place with so much time and history. He drifts in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the night.
Daylight creeps across the desolate plains. Nocturnal animals scurry for shelter. Light spreads under the door, and timbers stretch themselves out for the day in the returning heat. The warmth on his face is like reassurance. The moon may mother and comfort wild things and lovers, but it’s the sun, the father, so revered and so strong that calls to him now.
He steps out. The chair sits empty on the porch. Eve isn’t here, nor is she going to be. It’s time to find Marcus.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Jeff drives up the old dirt track, stopping on the brow of the hill. He looks back. Without the one he loves, the ranch feels soulless: desolate and empty. He understands why Eve would live here, isolated, hidden away from the madness of humanity. As a psychiatrist it was here that she found balance from the extremes of her life. In this moment of contemplation he has a deep feeling of loss; he’s sure he's seeing this view for the last time. He drives onto the highway. The atmospheric refraction makes the ranch appear wavy before fading away.
The morning is spent driving through the dusty plains. High noon, and a familiar white timber gas station approaches. He turns into the station forecourt. The red stripe stretches around the lower quarter of the building, matching the red sign above the apex. He fills the truck with fuel. The temperature drops as the wind picks up. He can see distant dark clouds. Inside the assistant who served Eve smiles as he walks in. Opening the refrigerator Jeff reaches inside for a sandwich. The smell of coffee from the vending machine entices him. He places a sandwich and a coffee on the service counter.
“That will be ninety eight dollars including gas.” Jeff hands his card over. “You got far to travel?”
“Kansas.” His answer’s short. He doesn’t have time for idle chit chat.
“There we are, sir.” The assistant hands the card back. “Have a safe journey.”
“Thanks.”
Walking out of the shop and onto the forecourt, he thinks back to the day they were both here. Sadly, and with anger in his heart, he parks away from the pumps. He sits, eats his sandwich, drinks his coffee.
Later in the day, spots of rain turn into torrential showers. The wipers struggle to keep the windshield clear. Through this diminished visibility, he approaches the grey outlined city of Kansas. Traffic congestion taunts him. An hour later he brings the vehicle to a halt on cool wet cobblestones. Two lions, towering on pedestals, cast their regal stone gaze down upon him. The surrounding tropical greenery bows under the weight of water.
Jeff doesn’t know, as he approaches the intercom if this house even belongs to Marcus, and if he’s not here, he’s no idea where to find him. It all rests on the single press of the button. The light dims, the intercom sounds; then he waits.
“The Pearson residence.” The voice sounds aloof.
“Hi.” The name Pearson gives Jeff hope. “Marcus?”
“Yes, and you are?”
“It’s Jefferson Davies.” Thank God it’s Marcus! “From the Willow Estate.” He waits, there’s an awful silence from the intercom. Jeff doesn’t know if anyone’s still there. “Marcus?”
“One moment, please.” Marcus turns to his partner.
“You’re going to have to let him in.” She raises an eyebrow.
“What’s the point?” He’d rather not see Jeff.
“He’s travelled a long way to speak with you.” She’s waiting for him to say okay.
“It can’t do us any good.”
�
�And it can’t do us any harm either.” Her patience is wearing thin.
“You just want to see him again.”
“Oh fuck off Marcus.” She snaps. “See what he wants, we owe him that much.”
“Jeff.” Marcus tries to act casual.
“Yes?” He holds his breath.
“I’ll open the gates, follow the drive and I'll meet you.”
“Thank you.”
With relief, Jeff steps back into the truck. Gates swing open, he drives through onto the landscaped driveway, permitting himself a nervous smile. The surrounding trees, dripping with rain, no longer cradle the drive but seem to fence it, casting it into shadow. Although he knows Marcus is here, something is off key. The drive opens out into the courtyard. This looks promising. The American Queen Anne style house stands as it did before, its palette still browns, greys and white. The tier fountain is still surrounded by prairie bloom and perennial flowers. Everything appears the same. Parking next to a black SUV, he steps out. Jeff spots the distinctive walk of his friend, under a black umbrella. The two men greet with a handshake.
“Let’s get inside and we can talk.” Marcus addresses Jeff, quite firmly.
By the look of concern in Marcus’s eyes, and with the way he just spoke to him, Jeff’s worst fears have been realized. Marcus isn't the same man he left behind. This is confirmed the moment he walks past the oak front door and into the entrance hall. The ethnic tapestries, wall hangings and Sarah’s paintings have all been replaced. Contemporary paintings adorn pure white walls; below stand abstract white stone sculptures on black plinths. High heels tap on the wood floor, and a voice speaks.
“Welcome to our home.”
Softly spoken, calm and eloquent, but creating turmoil as he turns and looks into her face.
“Jane?” He squints. A heartbeat. It can’t be, here?
Jane is the girl Marcus betrayed him for all those years ago at university. She possesses the same beautiful smile, the same eyes so blue that left that bitter sweet stain on his heart. Jeff looks to Marcus.
“Where’s Sarah?” He asks without thinking.
“Have you been fucking that whore again?” Jane’s furious, he promised, he wouldn’t, not again!
“No.” Marcus is incensed, and looks angrily at Jeff. “Did she send you here?”
“No, no wait.” Hands raise in panic. They both stare at him. “It’s a long story, and it will sound crazy. Please, give me five minutes.” Marcus and Jane look to each other. Jeff pleads. “I need your help.”
“Okay.” Marcus sighs. “I’ll hear you out.” With a feigned smile he asks: “Would you like a coffee?”
“Yes, please, if it’s no trouble?” For a second, he thought he’d blown it.
“Jane, would you bring coffee through, please.” She gives Marcus the look that’s intended to kill.
Marcus leads the way through to the living room. It retains the Greek gold border pattern on the wood floor, but that’s all that resembles the living room Jeff remembers.
“Please sit down.”
Jeff sits on the black leather sofa. The television on the wall promises a cinematic experience.
“Before Jane gets here.” The coffee for Marcus was a diversion. “How do you know Sarah?”
“It’s complicated.” How does he explain to someone who clearly has no understanding, of Jeff’s experiences? “Do you still believe in the paranormal?”
“No.” Marcus laughs. “I gave that shit up years ago.” He looks quickly to the door. “Jane will be here in a minute. Did Sarah give you a message?”
“No.” His body sags in despair. Marcus was his last hope. “And you can’t help me.”
“Who says I can’t?” If Jeff’s not here to give him a message, then what’s he doing here? “Try me.”
“I know Sarah because last time I was here.” He pauses, knowing Marcus will not, cannot believe him. “You were living here with her.”
“What?” He laughs. “Sarah’s nothing more than an on-off mistress.”
“That figures.” He’s fucked. Game over.
“Why did you ask about the paranormal?” He looks accusingly at Jeff. “You were always so against it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Not anymore.”
“You’re not making any sense, Jeff.”
“What if I told you that through there -” his finger points to a white six paneled door, “Is another room that contains Palladian windows that look out across the garden. The marble fireplace features a dried rose relief carving, and the opposite door leads to a small room where cherubs are ceiling decorations.”
“But anyone can find that information easily.” Does Jeff think him a fool? “This property is on the market.” He has to be more direct. “What do you really want, Jeff?”
“Answers.” It’s pointless opening up. “I’m sorry; coming here was a mistake. I’ll have my coffee and I’ll be on my way.”
Jane walks into the room carrying a tray with three cups of coffee, and places it on the marble table. She’s managed to calm down, but the question regarding Sarah is still on the tip of her tongue.
“Here we are, help yourself to sugar.”
“Thank you.” Reaching for coffee, Jeff feels awkward. He knows Jane will want answers.
“So how are you, Jeff?”
“Fine.” It seems appropriate to lie. “And yourself?”
“As you can see we’re doing well.” In case Jeff is Sarah’s messenger, she sending one back. “We’re both very happy, aren’t we darling?”
“Yes.” Marcus nods appropriately. “We are.”
“We didn’t expect to see you again.” She weighs him up and down. “I hope you’re not in any trouble?”
“No.” He quickly diverts the conversation. “I was just saying to Marcus I’ll have my coffee and be on my way.”
Jane looks puzzled and turns to Marcus.
“What’s going on?” They’re both, in her eyes, acting strange.
“Nothing.” Knowing he’s in trouble, Marcus tries to explain. “Jeff believes he’s been here before in some form of parallel universe. He remembers us as different people.”
“I see.” She’s heard many stories from Marcus, but this one beats them all. “And who was I?”
“You weren’t here.” Jeff looks into her eyes, how does she not know? “You and Marcus split up at university.”
“But you know we didn’t.” Her face distorts. “We even sent you an invitation to the wedding.”
“Did I go?” He doesn’t even know why he asked.
“No. You refused.”
“I’m sorry, this isn’t right.” Jeff stands to his feet. “I have to leave. I’m sorry to put you both out.”
“At least finish your coffee with us.” Jeff starts walking across the room. Jane turns to Marcus. “You’d better see him out.”
Marcus quickly gets up. Jane decides to follow. They catch up with Jeff, but he’s already out the front door.
“Jeff.” Jane shouts, standing on the door step. She doesn’t want to see him walk away like this.
“Leave him.” Marcus is glad to see the back of him.
“What do you think’s wrong?”
“He must be having a breakdown.”
“Poor thing.” Her look is thoughtful, and sad.
Jeff walks away. The rain’s heavy, disguising the tears on his cheeks. Marcus and Jane wave as he drives away; he becomes their last memory of an old friend.
The wiper blades rock back and forth as Jeff drives through stripped back plains, passing dead towns, old tracks, abandoned red oxide freight cars. In his mind, if Marcus hasn’t founded the Pearson Institute, then Black Top City is waiting unexplored. Belle will be entombed and bound in darkness. Jeff heads off road at an approximation of where the old track is, thankful he’s in the right vehicle for the terrain. He travels between mountains, over rock and a river bed. His first sight is the old tired wagon, then dark timber built building
s. He’s not going mad!
Driving past the hanging tree, he can see no tire tracks along the strip, just smooth soil, unmolested by man. Passing old signage, open doors and windows; no one looks or steps out. A Black-tailed Prairie Dog scurries away from the hotel as the truck approaches. Jeff takes a deep breath, steps out and retrieves his lamp. The hotel looms over him, a dark malevolent shadow. The old prospector's pick lies where it was left in the dirt; the wood shank is as he remembers, strong. Timber steps strain underfoot. The hinges on the door are corroded together. Through force on debased steel, the door finally submits.
Disturbed dust swirls in the light of his lamp; plaster walls crumble from warped wood slats. Shoes crunch the matter beneath his feet. The air is musty, heavy, but breathable. He needs to be careful walking down these timber steps; loose plaster crumbles beneath his feet. Reaching the hard packed dirt floor, he walks just a few steps. His fingers trace the brick outline of Belle’s tomb. Anger erupts as he takes the pick and swings, hammering and clawing through the brick. Choking on airborne dust, he spits out the taste. Entering the room, with its stagnant, decayed air, he can see Belle bound where Malloy left her, all those years ago.
“Bastard!” He’s beyond angry, imagining her life, torment and dying moments, here! Rope braided with feathers hangs. The woven basket sits empty on the table, ancient chicken bones hinting at its true purpose. Jeff walks over to kneel beside her.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
He sighs. He can still see her beauty through cloth and bone. The once colorful headwrap has faded, yet flows with nobility down the back of her head. The leather beaded bangles sit around bones. Her white blouse and blue shawl are dusty decaying cloth. Respectfully bundling her up into his arms, Jeff carries Belle out of her imprisonment and up the stairs. A strange moment of triumph, freedom, and despair, as light falls upon the remains of her face.
A solitary man, lost in a world where he doesn’t fit, walks along the strip. On the banks by the water’s edge he once again lays Belle to rest. Marking her grave with the pick, with timber and rocks. Placing his coat on the ground, he sits beside her.
Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller Page 24