“Come on girls, less talk please.” She has a powerful voice. “Don’t forget to hang your costumes back on the rail, thank you.”
“She’s so bossy.” Anabel does not like her.
“I know.” Jessica agrees.
“Tell Louise I hope she’s feeling better.”
“I will.”
“I’ve got to go, dad’s waiting for me.”
“Okay.” She smiles. “See you next week.”
Jessica carries her costume over to the rail, hanging it up before leaving.
Stepping out of the building, a car horn sounds and she can see Joe’s waving. Jessica runs to the white limousine. Joe steps out and holds the door open.
“Hi Joe.”
“Hi Jess. Did it go well?”
“Yes.” She smiles and asks. ”Can I ride up front with you?”
“Well, you’re not supposed to.” He sighs. “Only this once, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Jessica feels special climbing into the front of the limousine. She puts her seat belt on, but doesn’t click it firmly in place. Joe has a sunshine stress ball in easy reach on the glove box shelf.
“Can I look at that?”
“Sure go ahead.” Joe pulls away from the sidewalk. “So when’s the show?”
“Four weeks.” She studies the smiley face printed in black on the orange soft ball.
“Looking forward to it?”
“Yeah.” She wonders, would Joe know? “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know when my dad’s back in town?”
“I’m sorry, no.” It’s an awkward question for him. He tries to make her feel special. “You’ll know before me.”
“Oh.” She feels sad.
A large red truck is parked on a steep hill. After years of faithful service, the handbrake holds only by a few steel threads. Without warning they snap. The vehicle begins to roll; accelerating, hurtling towards the freeway.
From out of nowhere the out of control truck hurtles towards them. Joe sees it coming. No time to react; nowhere to go. The front of his cab caves in. In the aftermath, Joe’s seated, head resting on the steering wheel. Up ahead in the road, a bright orange sunshine ball rolls to a standstill. The smile is upside down.
Stumbling out of the diner, Jeff nearly faints: dizzy and weak, he reaches for support on the nearby bin.
“Are you alright?” Rosie’s very concerned.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Just give me a minute.”
Steadying himself, his heart feels as if it's bursting, a piercing pulse.
“Breathe deep, Jeff.” Rubbing his back. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”
Rosie continues to offer words of comfort as Jeff regains his composure.
“I’m okay now.” Taking a deep breath, he straightens himself up, then exhales with relief. “Thanks, Rosie.”
“Are you sure?” She stands close. He wants to hold her. “Jeff?”
“I’m sure.”
They walk back to the truck. Jeff sits with relief behind the wheel, in the plush comfort of the chair.
“I’m sorry.” Shaken, his hand holds his forehead. “I don’t know what happened back there.”
“You’re alright now?” She tries to look beyond his hand.
“Yeah.” He laughs and shrugs it off. “I’m fine.”
Jeff starts the truck, a few miles later; he’s back to his normal self.
“Jeff.” Rosie, for reasons she can't explain, wants this man.
“Yeah.” It’s strange to hear Eve’s voice, call his name, in these circumstances.
“You said that everybody you know is here, but that they’re different. They might not know you, or they might not be as you knew them. That reality has become twisted.”
“Yes.”
“Well, Eve might not exist as you knew her.” She gauges his reaction.
“Maybe.”
“What if I’m Eve? You said yourself I’m her double, and from the first moment I saw you, I felt that I knew you.”
“It’s crossed my mind.” He’s excited, somehow subconsciously, she remembers.
“There’s something inside me, a gut feeling that I know you. Do you feel the same?”
“Yeah.” He can’t stop the grin on his face, or the feeling of relief flowing through his veins. “Yeah I do.”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing if I’ve met my true love, knowing only that you’re out there somewhere. This might be our only chance.”
For a while there’s silence. Jeff aches to hold Rosie. Rosie wants to be held and to be kissed.
“Jeff, can you pull over.”
“Is everything okay?” He’s worried; is she feeling sick?
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Butterflies flutter in her tummy. “Just pull over.” She smiles.
He draws the vehicle off road, the engine’s still running.
“What’s wrong?” There’s concern in his voice.
“Nothing.” Her face is serious. “Do you want to know if I’m Eve?”
“Of course.” He doesn’t know what she has in mind.
“Kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” He didn’t expect her to say this.
“Yes, kiss me.” Rosie unbuckles her belt and confidently leans forward. “It’s the only way, then we’ll both know.” Jeff hesitates. “Come on, honey.”
Rosie is inches away from his lips. Jeff moves forward. Her lips part as they touch, she smells the same and tastes the same. Arms wrap round her and pull her in. She’s Eve in every way. The same kiss, the same ache of love burning deep inside. The tips of her fingers brush across his face just as Eve’s did. Then she pulls away.
“Am I?” She looks to him.
“Yes.” He’s besotted, a flurry of emotions.
She pushes her lips back onto his. Jeff’s tongue reaches deep into her mouth, and with lovers' passion they devour each other; reaching that beautifully erotic pain that only lovers may bring. If they weren’t on the side of the highway, they would have ripped each other’s clothes off and eased their need for each other on the spot. Rosie pulls away, and looks to Jeff. He holds her hand, for fear of losing her.
“I think that answers the question?” She’s pleased with herself.
“It does.” He knows the feeling is mutual. “I’ve found you.”
They rejoin the highway. Jeff questions her. Rosie has no memory of being Eve. Lost in talk, reaching over to touch each other at every chance, it doesn’t take long before they’re surrounded by beautiful hot Colorado plains. Jeff still has to find Casey.
“When we get to the prison, you don’t mind waiting in the truck, do you?”
“The prison?” Rosie’s finds that for some reason she’s horrified.
“Yeah, it won’t take long.”
“But you’ve found your destiny, it’s me.” She feels uncontrollable panic. She has to stop him. “I was on the road; you've found your destiny. There’s nothing there for you, Jeff.”
“I still have to go.”
“No. You were only meant to be on the highway for our paths to meet.” She insists. “Surely you realize that?”
“Yes, but it’s only a few miles away. It will take five minutes, then we’ll be on our way.” Puzzled he looks to her. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m scared for you.” She thinks fast. “You might get arrested for trespass. You could get killed for the keys to the truck.”
“Don’t be so overdramatic.” He can’t help but smile.
“I’m not.” She snaps back at him.
Jeff’s senses that all’s not well with Rosie. She appears desperate for him not to enter the prison. He feels he has no choice, it will be demolished shortly and it’s his last chance to see if Casey’s there. Her behavior over the matter is the first real difference he’s witnessed between Rosie and Eve. The grey looming complex is in the distance, and can see that demolition equipment has already been moved to the site.
&nbs
p; “Jeff, don’t do this.” There’s real fear in her voice.
“Why not?”
“I have a bad feeling, I don’t want you to.”
“I’ve been here before. It’s derelict.”
“If you loved me you wouldn’t.”
“No.” Eve never used emotional blackmail. “If you love me you’d understand!”
Rosie goes quiet, her body language has changed in such a way that Jeff can feel her anger. Eve would never have behaved in this manner. In fact if he didn’t know any better he would say that Rosie’s a diversion, to stop him from entering the prison. The truck decelerates and Jeff turns off the highway.
“Please don’t.”
Ignoring Rosie’s plea, he accelerates up to the concrete blocks that act as a barrier.
“Jeff, don’t go.” She holds his hand, he pulls it away.
“Wait here, I won’t be long.” His voice is stern.
Jeff retrieves his flashlight from the back of the truck. Taking only a few paces in the direction of the prison, he hears the passenger door open and close behind him.
“Jeff.”
“What?” She’s getting to be a real pain.
Rosie walks up to Jeff and places her arms around his waist.
“Please don’t go.” Her eyes plead.
“I have to.” He softens. “I promise I won’t be long.”
“For me?” She looks to see if he loves her enough.
“I’ll be back shortly.”
“We have a life together.”
“We still do, don’t we?” Her manipulation is perplexing.
“If you go in there, I won’t be here when you get back.”
“That’s your choice.” Now he’s angry. “But using emotional blackmail won’t wash with me.”
“I’ll disappear.”
“Look, what the fuck is this?”
Rosie’s arms slip away from his waist, and she takes a step back.
“Last chance, please walk away.”
“No.” She appears to be a different character than the one who’s journeyed with him.
“You’re going to ruin everything. You don’t know what waits for you in there.”
“You’re not, Eve.” Shaking his head. “She wouldn’t behave this way.”
Rosie’s face drops in sadness, she shakes her head in pity before turning round and starts to walk away. In Jeff's shocked eyes, she becomes transparent and fades away. All that’s left is sand without footprints and highway.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Disbelief. Horror. And betrayal. Jeff raises his hand to his head in confusion. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” Screams. “Rosie!”
The only response is silence. This woman, scorned, leaves nothing behind but desert and highway. Only her essence on the wind. He’s made his choice. Time to face the consequences.
The prison complex mocks him. He defiantly pushes forward past the guard house. The temperature’s dropping. The sky is orange; it won’t be long before sunset.
The perimeter gates are locked. Empty gun-towers create long shadows, shifting, menacing. High voltage signs threaten. A lizard sits on a rock, its eyes watch as Jeff edges closer, fighting paranoia.
Heavy machinery stands unguarded, left safe in its isolation. Part of the perimeter fence has been torn down, discarded. Razor wire rips a man to pieces, but is no match for hydraulic arms. Jeff walks amongst the caterpillar tracks, buckets of iron and steel. Looking both ways, along tracks where guards with dogs once paced. Security cameras, non-operational, remain. He steps forward. A startled hawk takes flight into silence. The last, diminishing daylight reaches buildings, fences and empty cages.
Life already in pieces, nothing left to lose; discarding the initial nerves of trespass, walking defiantly towards his nemesis. His savior or his undoing? As it was for the prisoners it once housed. Either way better than purgatory. Steel railings with chicken mesh shadows. Reaching out to a steel door that permits entry.
“No regrets.”
Light floods the corridor. Flashlight on, he steps inside. Steel on steel, the door slams behind. No electricity: the demolition crew ensured that. All the light there is in his hand. Footsteps echo, repeat; he’s not alone? The beam from the flashlight scans like a warship at night. Movement: rats and shadows scuttle. Whistles and voices test sanity. Turquoise steel doors, open, flank him. Each door possesses with its own white stenciled number. Glimpses of wash basins, concrete beds; will someone or something step out?
Jeff's sanity is fleeing down some ancient tunnel. He's trapped, and entombed. He forces one more step forward. The corridor opens out. The flashlight illuminates the central control tower, flashing off windows. He's in the central coliseum, a rising circle of cells. An architecture of surveillance and control. Regime. Isolated here; Jeff feels many eyes are upon him. Never been so afraid in his life.
The interview room isn’t far. Just a few more steps to the door that will lead him to his redemption. The flashlight reaches into the room first. Office furniture covered in plaster dust. Holes in the wall where electrical and surveillance equipment have been stripped out. Disorganized, scattered piles of paper. Classified documents, left unshredded! He picks one up, then another. His face distorts. These discarded papers document … his life!
Quickly spreading papers over the desk. Why? He’s a lecturer, not a terrorist, not an enemy of the state! He turns to face the open steel door. He’s afraid. Through that door resides a darkness that his flashlight does not penetrate. Adrenalin shakes his arms and legs. No point in turning back; no reality that he recognizes waits there. He walks forward. The room does not illuminate. He pauses. Silence. Forces himself to shout.
“You have me, I’m here, now show yourself!”
A lamp blazes, blinding him. But there is still no room, nothing but a dark mass surrounding the light. No walls and no ceiling; even the door Jeff just walked through has disappeared. A shadowy muscular figure appears.
“Don’t be frightened, I’m not here to harm you in any way.”
“Casey?” Breathless, heart racing. What has he done coming here?
“Yes.” His tone of voice whispers, I’ve got you.
Eyes focus on a familiar face. Casey smiles and sits back casually. One arm rests on the table, the other gestures to the empty chair. There's no barrier between them at this table.
“Sit down.” Nervously Jeff does as he’s told. “Are you alright, Jeff?”
“I hope so.” He covers, he lies, anything to hold onto, because this isn’t reality.
“I’m sure you have questions?” Jeff nods. Casey understands why his lips don’t move. “This isn’t going to be easy to explain or to accept.” Casey sighs, looking into a man’s eyes, once tamed, now, through fear wildly alive. “Know this, you are here only because you choose to be.”
“Yeah.” His breath shudders, he wheezes. “Do you know where Eve is?”
“Yes.”
“Is she here?” His whisper, hope.
“Figuratively speaking.” He has the foresight and understanding of a sage, and the harrowing responsibility.
“You haven’t harmed her?” His fist clenches.
Casey laughs, shakes his head and leans forwards.
“I’m not the Devil. Nor am I a killer.” Then relaxes back into his chair. “Although a good analogy. As a child you questioned the story of Adam and Eve.”
“Yes.” Frowning.
“Curious even then. Why create the garden full of trees and wholesome fruit, but one promising forbidden knowledge? You were scolded, told not to question in church, to be seen in front of your peers siding with the Devil. But what you understood is that knowledge is power.”
“They didn’t have the answers.”
“And you’ve been questioning ever since.”
“It’s my nature to question the world around me.” Raising his eyebrows. “That’s what intelligent people do.”
“Even when it leads you into muddy waters?”
“You perceived me as a demonic force, a psychotic cop killer.” Pausing in sorrow. “The Devil, the tree in the Garden of Eden, and the giver of knowledge. What’s going to confuse you the most, Jeff, is that it’s you who brought me into existence.”
“That’s not possible.” He grasps onto his version of reality.
“Where do you suppose we are now?” Leaning forward. “Do you still believe you’re in a Colorado prison?”
“Yes.” Denial is his last bastion.
“Does this room appear normal? Does this lamp in a building without electricity seem real?”
“It has to be.” The words are uttered firmly.
“Why? When you’ve studied so many religious leaders, politicians, scientists, not to mention artists, writers and poets. All these great minds, who have suggested that reality’s a false display.”
“Many of their ideas are ridiculed.”
“Reality isn’t what it appears to be. We see the movie, yet we’re not in the studio that produced it.” Casey cannot gauge if Jeff appreciates his predicament. “Where are you sitting now? Where have you been? What have you experienced? Do you still disbelieve your own eyes?”
“I’m here for answers.” Although he’s not sure he wants to hear what’s coming.
“Precisely. As a man who spent his life disproving such notions as déjà vu, the paranormal, the inexplicable, do you not think that if you knew the truth, you would somehow enlighten yourself?”
“I believe I would.” He’s unsure what Casey is trying to explain.
“I have the task of preparing you.” He sighs. “Imagine life as a constant circle, birth, life, death and rebirth, over and over. Many theoretical physicists believe the world splits itself into millions of copies every second. Is reality a hologram, a mind-created universe, an illusion? If so, wouldn't then the world become what we make it? What we believe we deserve we receive, a constant re-run, a repeat over and over. Occasionally we would get a blip, a memory, a déjà vu, a hunch, an instinct, something’s about to happen, something isn’t right. The mind forgets nothing, not the smell of the rose on a midsummer’s day, or that first kiss. Everything is stored, recorded and ready for playback.”
Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller Page 26