“But that’s not real.”
“What is real? Was Rosie any less real than Eve?”
“Stop.” Jeff holds his hand up. “You’re confusing me.”
“I have to break the cycle of what you believe to be real. To move forward or to move back, either way you’re here now. The hour is upon you.”
Jeff’s mobile starts to ring. He looks to Casey for guidance, for permission. Casey’s face is sorrowful.
“You’re going to have to answer that call.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
A name is written across the screen.
“It’s Chloe.” Confusion. Why Chloe?
“Remember all I offer you is the truth.”
Jeff accepts the call, trembling as he raises the mobile to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Jeff?” A male voice wavers.
“Yes.” He recognizes this as Steve. “Is everything alright?”
“No, no it’s not Jeff.” The voice mechanical, and cold. “I’m sorry to be the one who breaks this to you.”
“Go on.” Bracing himself for bad news.
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.” He snaps the word, fear making him brusque.
“Jessica was killed earlier today in a traffic accident.” Jeff hears nothing more. Stumbling to his feet, the phone tumbling out of his hand to the ground in slow motion. Looking at Casey, who looks away. No eye contact. Pain grips his chest. He goes down. Darkness. He feels the beating, shearing pain of his heart twisting, and then everything stops. Like a touch from God, a thousand volts explode inside him. Muscles convulse, then become still.
“Charging, one thousand, clear. Nurse, ignore that readout, there's a malfunction in the machine.”
Jeff writhes. His heart twists like it’s in someone’s grip. A contraction, a surge of adrenalin, and from a static piece of meat, a heartbeat. Lungs exhale dead air. A crackling moan through dry lips, and his eyes slowly flutter open. Tiny red capillaries overlay his vision.
“He’s back.”
Jeff can make out dark shadow like figures standing around him. He senses that he’s being discussed. Hushed voices that he can’t make out. Darkness turns to a white fog, his vision slowly clearing. White ceiling tiles. Is he still in the prison? Curtains like a cloak are drawn around him. A heart monitor. The squeeze of someone holding his hand.
“Jeff.” It’s Eve, it’s her voice.
A face leans over. Reality returns. His life flashes by him. Lecturer, writer, philosopher, poet and scientist. Every single detail. Trying to talk, to tell her, but not enough energy to form the words.
“Rest, don’t try to speak.” She strokes his forehead.
After all these years, every line on her face is beautiful. Hair may be grey and thin, the hand he holds as wrinkled as his, but her beautiful tearful eyes hold the magic and memory of their years together. His beautiful daughter Louise stands by his bedside a grown woman, as does Jason, Jeff and Eve’s son. Jason smiles through tears at his dad.
The adrenalin that momentarily woke Jeff fades. He can't fight; he doesn't have the strength.
“Jeff.” Jeff looks up. He’s sitting opposite Casey again. “Now do you understand?”
“I think so. Give me a moment, it’s not every day that…” His voice trails off.
“You don’t have to explain.” He can see the realization, the pain.
“I’m dying aren’t I?”
“Yes.” He waits for a reaction.
“It was a theory of mine.”
“Does life continue in the dying brain?”
“Yes. Then my theory is correct?”
“In your dying moments endorphins, and a neurotransmitter called glutamate flood the brain. When that happens, the internal clock slows down, time simply stops. Outside the body it remains constant: a millisecond out there is limitless lifetimes played back in real-time here.”
“Eternal life.”
“In every detail. Your own virtual reality environment. Every memory stored for playback, time and time again.”
“So what’s gone wrong?” He recognizes the madness of his concern even as he asks.
“Nothing. Your higher self wanted you to know the truth. I came into being to guide you. You fought the neurological program, and I was the virus.”
“So what happens now?” He doesn’t feel like he’s dying.
“That’s for you to decide. You can move to the light, whatever that may be. Or continue to live your life over and over again.”
“Will I get to see Eve?” He didn’t get to say goodbye.
“Yes, but you have to go through everything that leads up to that moment again.”
“That’s the only way I’ll get to see her?”
“Yes.” He nods and smiles. “You will experience déjà vu, but you can always tell yourself that you don’t believe in such matters, it’s impossible, a life must already have been lived.”
“Can I have a moment to myself?”
“Of course. Tell me what you decide.”
It’s Jeff’s third birthday party. He remembers excitement; he’s pulled the colorful wrapping paper off the trolley that contains hand painted wood bricks. This is the first memory that he’ll retain throughout the rest of his life. Instinctively he knows what to do. Hands reach out to the bar; pushing the trolley across the room as fast as his legs can take him. His proud parents stand and watch over him.
Thank you for reading!
I hope you enjoyed reading Of That Day and Hour, as much as I did in writing it.
I love feedback, so tell me what you liked, what you loved, even what you hated. I’d love to hear from you. Contact me at: [email protected]
Finally, I need to ask a favor. If you’re so inclined. I’d love a review on Amazon for Of That Day and Hour. Loved it, hated it – I’d just enjoy your feedback. Reviews can be tough to come by these days, and you the reader have the power to make or break a book.
Thank you for reading Of That Day and Hour, and for spending time with me.
In gratitude,
A.J. O’Brien
Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller Page 27