Sand

by JD Jones

Chapter Eight

  Paul got up early and went into the store. He went to his office in the back and stayed there. His manager could open and run things without him. He had designed it that way. His office was the one place he could go and get away from everyone and think. No on ever bothered him in his office. It was a rule. Every employee knew that no one was allowed back to his office except him. Even if he met with people, they would be shown into the office up front or the conference room. He could meet with them there. No one was allowed in his office except him. Even Rita had never been in there.

  Pail was concerned about the events of the previous evening. He had not planned on killing the woman at the bar. The paper had reported a woman's body was discovered behind the bar and not much else. The police apparently knew nothing at the moment. He hoped it stayed that way. He might have to cultivate a few police sources in the future.

  More pressing was the feeling of guilt that stormed his senses. The more he thought about it the more he was sorry for going so far and killing the woman. He tried to remember the point at which he lost control. He thought it was when he saw how excited she became as he drew himself deeper into her flesh. But then there was his own erection and ejaculation thing, too. Even as he considered the situation he sensed his own arousal again. It was embarrassing to think he could not control himself with this thing. Apparently he was so excited by the experience of taking her life in such a manner that his body automatically responded to the very thought of doing it again. That made him upset.

  He could not go through life with a problem like that. He had to get it under control. He had gained so much control lately, he was unprepared to deal with something that did not respond to his control. But a part of his life was getting outside his ability to control it.

  “You've tasted the dark side.” Kul broke into Paul's thoughts.

  “Dark side?” Paul asked.

  “Yes. Just as there is a plane of Sand, there is also a plane of Dark. What you did last night felt so good because you loved it enough to cross over into the Dark plane.” Kul explained.

  “Cross over?”

  “Yes. Love is a powerful thing.” Kul started. “When you truly love something, you embrace the power of that thing. The deeper you allow yourself to experience that power the more you open up your love connection across the universe. It's that opening up of the connection that allowed you to cross over into the plane of Dark. Once there, you gave into the experience of Dark, taking a life and enjoying the power of releasing that energy into the Dark. The Sand partook of the blood energy and you spilled your own fluid energy also. But the Dark came along and absorbed the woman's spirit energy as you released it for them.”

  “I did all that?” Paul was incredulous. There was certainly a lot to this other plane thing.

  “Yes, you did. You opened up yourself to let the true Paul out. Once you did that, you were vulnerable to experiencing the true joys of the universe and sharing them with that woman. Believe me, she died in this plane because her physical body was drained of its blood but she experienced a release in her spirit that rivaled the best sexual release this world has ever produced.

  You may have killed the physical woman, but the place she went to received her blood and water and spirit energy with a wonderful welcome. She is happier knowing the truth of the planes than she ever was knowing the struggles of life in the human plane. You have to believe that. Don't feel guilty about what you did. She gave herself to you willingly. Her great excitement, which you saw, went beyond the trance you induced. She experienced something beyond her plane of understanding that drew her deeper into real life than she had ever gone before. You did that for her. Get your emotions under control. That's a good thing. Don't give yourself away. But do not feel guilty about releasing her spirit because she is grateful to you for the opportunity you afforded her.”

  “Seems kind of strange to be thinking that she was glad I killed her, though.” Paul tried to smile. He wanted to believe Kul. Badly wanted to. But he had heard a lot of used car pitches lately from desperate salespeople. The number one ingredient was how much what they were selling was right in line with whatever he was doing.

  “Believe it. If you had beaten her or strangled her or performed some other equally violent action, she might not have enjoyed the experience as much. That's true. But because you entered her on a level so deeply connected to her essence, she was overcome with the emotion and passion of releasing herself to you. That release culminated in the total release of her spirit, which was like icing on the cake to the perfect experience of passion.” Kul explained further.

  “How do I control the physical reaction my body has to the experience, though?” Paul asked.

  “Get used to it.” Kul offered. “Just like when you were a teenager. It popped up at bad times and you hid it for the most part. Now, because this is a new and fuller experience with a whole new set of stimuli, it is similar to your first time as a juvenile. Work it out. Get the poisons out of the building, so to speak.” Kul suggested. “Whatever you do, don't walk around like you're horny all the time. Even your stare won't keep the ladies attention if they are scared off by a perverted sense of arousal.”

  “So, I got to work off my tensions, so to speak.” Paul tried to make sure he understood what Kul was telling him.

  “Correct. Rita is a healthy woman. Go home and give her some attention.” Kul always seemed to be reminding him that Rita was still his wife. Paul didn't know why but that reminder was becoming more and more irritating lately.

  “I'm not sure she is that into me any more.” Paul admitted, his own sense of failure showing through his words.

  “Doesn't matter. She's the wife. Use her as a receptacle for your … uh … tensions.” Kul tried to make it sound acceptable. “All the better if she doesn't add her own excitement to yours at this point anyway. You are excited enough for ten people. Let her lay there for all you care. As long as she let's you work it out so that you can function properly when you need to.”

  “Okay.” Paul agreed to the plan.

  “Oh, by the way. Now that you have connected with the Dark plane, you may notice an increase in your … uh ...tensions. It may be better to keep Rita close. Even on trips. Might be wise to take her with you from now on. You may never know when you need her to help.”

  “Okay.”

  Paul was still not happy that he could not control this thing himself. He had just about convinced himself that he didn't need Rita any more. He believed her presence was becoming unnecessary. Having to use her felt unacceptable. Wrong. But it was a plan until he could think of something better. And he would think of something better. He would control this thing himself. Somehow.

  John took Kathy's advice. He did want to love more. He loved his father. It was just that he still felt a bitterness deep inside him towards the ministry that kept him from being a real dad. He had always tried to separate the man from the job and just hate the job. But he could see Kathy's point. He had to flush out all the emotional hate. Hating the act of murder was a choice. Hating something because he didn't like it was an act of emotion. He needed to choose to love even that which emotionally he wanted to hate. Separate the emotion from the choice. Not the easiest of things to do.

  Kathy's love had opened him up to a world far beyond anything he had ever imagined for himself. Love on the level of the Creator of Life had to be a step above that at least. He wasn't sure how much he could open himself up to. Maybe more than he thought. He had certainly come further than he thought he would have. He had convinced himself that the only way to find out would be to give it a try.

  Kathy had suggested he start out trying to remember all the people he had ever had good feelings towards and letting himself imagine what it would be like to love them at a higher and higher level. From deeper and deeper places within himself. She said he should listen for sounds and watch for visions and accept the unknown in a way that allowed him to explore whatever came his way, rather than trying
to control it. She said that at first, it might seem like something was trying to invade his mind but to let his heart guide him. That was why she suggested thinking about people he had loved in his life. She joked that maybe old girlfriends would be a good place to start. She even suggested that some of them might still be available.

  Lying on his bed he tried to think back to an old girlfriend. There had not been any, really. Girls he had talked to were plentiful to remember. But being a preacher's kid, he hadn't dated in high school. In college, he had been too busy for girls. The only one he could even think about really as a friend was Rita. She wasn't a girlfriend. He thought she wanted to be his girlfriend at one time, but he had no time for such things then. He had introduced her to Paul and she had never looked back. At least he had never noticed her looking back. But no one else came to mind. Besides, Kathy had said it was not about who loved him but who he loved. He felt that maybe he could have loved Rita. Not that he would ever admit that to Kathy. Not out loud. He had never really admitted it to himself.

  John tried to picture Rita. She was beautiful as he remembered her. Her beauty would give Kathy a run for her money. Where Kathy was blond, blue eyed and had a creamy complexion, Rita was black haired, brown eyed and looked more exotic with her well tanned, angular features. But both women had shapely bodies, proportional measurements and fantastic personalities that tended to draw him out of his own reticence to mingle with others. He prized that in both women.

  Kathy had not been a replacement for the loss of Rita, who he never actually tried to date. But if such a scenario had existed, Kathy would have been the perfect replacement for Rita. The thought entered his head that maybe now that he had lost Kathy, Rita should be thought of as the perfect replacement for Kathy. He shook the thought as soon as he had it. No woman could replace another woman. They were whoever they were. Each one was different. Still, he could not shake the thought that the two women were so strikingly similar in many things. He chocked it up to his own likes and dislikes.

  Picturing Rita was easy. Loving her would have been easy too, if he had taken the time. She made him feel good when she was around. Made him feel lost when she was not around. That was what had scared him back then. He did not want to love someone and feel that loss when they were not around. He had had enough of that with his dad.

  John was surprised how easily he could conjure up good thoughts and memories of Rita. Although it had not been so long since she was in his life, his experiences over the past year or so had made him feel as though centuries had passed. After all, his girlfriend in the Mist was over a hundred and thirty, wasn't she? Even the way he could joke with himself about such things made him feel even further away from the world he had left behind such a short time ago.

  Rita had made a deep impression on him. As he laid there thinking about her, he admitted to himself that she would have been someone he could have loved if he had not been so intent of pushing people away back then. He tried to imagine what it would be like if she had chosen to marry him instead of Paul. He remembered being happy for Paul at the time. They had married a few months after school ended while John was starting up his campground. He had been invited to the wedding but could not attend because of his duties and time constraints. At least that was the excuse he used. He had not admitted to himself that as happy as he was that they were moving on with their lives, he felt like a part of him was stuck in the past, waiting. Now he understood that what he was stuck in was his own choice to hate his father's job.

  The more he played with the memories and the what ifs, the more he allowed himself to relax with the warm memory of what she had been like. What started out as a silly and uncomfortable experiment became relaxing and comforting. Rita would not object to being thought of in a respectful, loving way. She always enjoyed others being around. He could easily imagine her now with loads of friends and parties and the love of her husband shoring up her life. She was probably doing some important job in some big company somewhere.

  He wondered if she ever thought of him in this way and dismissed the thought as easily as he had thought it. Why would she think about him? He had pushed her away. He had refused her attentions. She was probably the life of the party and more beautiful than ever, fighting off all those men that wanted to win her away from her husband. She had always run with the fast crowd at school. But she seemed the type of girl that enjoyed quiet, peaceful men. That was why he introduced her to Paul. He thought Paul might fit her bill better than he ever could. It struck him as funny that even when he was pushing her away, he was still trying to help her move along in life. The perfect preacher's kid. That was him. Self sacrificing all the way.

  John dozed as he thought of Rita and she was, understandably, in his dream. He saw her running past him and looking his way. Someone was chasing her. He could not quite make the chaser out. His focus was more on Rita. Where was she running? Why was she looking at him? Suddenly she yelled out.

  “Help me, John!”

  Her shout woke John up. He bolted upright in his bed, breathing hard and shaking. The dream had been so real. Rita's voice still echoed in his head. He could remember hearing her footfalls as they pounded the ground, trying to escape the clutches of whoever was chasing her. There was the hint of a recent rain in the air that he could remember smelling. He could never remember a dream being so real before.

  John looked down at the socks on his feet and felt the dampness that had soaked into the material from the ground in the dream. It had to have been real. How else could he have gotten wet feet? Rita was real. Was she really being chased? He laid back on the bed and tried to think it through. What did it all mean?

  Rita was thrashing wildly in the bed as her dream fell upon her yet again, waking in a smothering sweat with ragged, labored breathing heaving her chest. Paul was closer this time, chasing her harder and shouting for her to stop running. She had felt a greater urgency to get away than ever before. This time, when she looked to the mysterious stranger watching her, she had seen his face. It was John Corwin. The familiarity made sense. John was a familiar figure. He was someone she knew. She had no idea what he was doing in her dream, but whatever the reason, she reached out to him and shouted for him to help her. He had just stood there, letting Paul chase her.

  Sitting up, she worked first to bring her breathing under control. The memory of John in her dream was a new addition to her contemplation of what the dream meant. Somehow he must figure into the scheme of things. She had no idea what the dream meant so she also had no idea what his presence meant. But at least she had another piece of the puzzle. It was better than not getting another piece of the puzzle.

  She breathed a long, easy breath and felt her control come back. Her adrenaline level was subsiding and she felt able to get up. She slipped out from under the tossed blankets and padded softly across the floor to the bathroom. She washed her face and checked her face and then turned on the hot water. She thought she heard a noise in the house and turned off the water to listen closer. She heard footsteps approaching the bedroom.

  “Paul?” She yelled out the bathroom door.

  “It's me, Babe.” Paul replied. “I realized I've been ignoring you too much lately. I came home to surprise you with a little good morning loving.”

  Rita was surprised, too. She stepped from the bathroom and found Paul already disrobing in the bedroom a few feet from her. He was leering at her like he had so many times before, with that boyish smile creating the impression they were sneaking away from the rest of the world. He was an insatiable partner in bed when he was hungry for such things. It had been a while since she had felt that hunger from him. But there it was again. She thought maybe she had been silly trying to assign to Paul some evil influence since the attack. Here he was, his old self again, just a man trying to squeeze some of his old life into his new life. She felt bad for the way she had been feeling toward him.

  Then Paul advanced on her and roughly ripped the nightie from her shoulders. She saw that
he was already fully aroused but also in a hurry, not pausing for any foreplay. This was not the old Paul. This was some new version with a decidedly more volatile exterior. His unfamiliar approach to her startled her and made her wonder what his full intentions toward her were at the moment.

  “Paul!” She shouted loudly enough to be above her normal speaking voice but not so as to alert any nosy neighbors.

  He pushed her to the bed as he tore her bikini panties away from her body. The stretching tear of the silky material and the loud snap with which they tore apart mimicked the same stretching and tearing Rita's mind was going through. This was not the man she had married. This was some animal version with no conscience and a drive to conquer everyone and everything around him. Now, he had chosen to conquer her like she was some new acquisition to his herd and he was going to put his mark on her.

  “Don't be an animal!”

  She increased the volume of her voice. She could not keep the fear from coming through. She saw the wicked gleam in his eye. He looked like Paul on the outside, but inside he was a totally different man. His eyes told that story. They did not see her. They were looking past her to some goal he had already set and achieved in his mind.

  “You want animal?” Paul bellowed the question not waiting for an answer. He sensed her fear. It enraged him to think she thought of him in a manner that caused her fear. He had never hurt her. He knew that she didn't think of her dream stranger with fear.

  With a deft sweep of his arm and a quick turning of her body, he whirled her around and pushed her face down onto the bed. Her smaller body offered little resistance to her husband's strength both because he was bigger than her and because he acted in such swift fashion. She fell to the bed with little struggle not realizing until after landing that he fully intended to take what he wanted.

  When he mounted her from behind, a rage filled her mind and blossomed into a speed and strength she had never needed before. She twisted and turned her body under him. He fought to pull her back where he wanted her and she used the momentum of his turn to go fully the other way and defeat his efforts once again. This second turn brought her legs between his legs and she never gave it a thought as her knee drove up into Paul's groin aiming for that sweet spot that puts all men back into their cages.

  Paul was not doing this with her. She had never thought about rape before. Never been in that situation. Not even close. But as she felt her husband's animalistic attentions towards herself, she knew she was not going to give in to him that easily. He was not making love to her. He just wanted to use her and that was unacceptable.

  She felt him cease his attack, at least momentarily. He did not move away but he did not move closer, either. She could sense his muscles bunching and protecting him as he assessed the damage she had already done.

  “Happy now?” She could not resist the jibe as she faced her attacker.

  “Finally found something that you are good for.” Paul laughed, looking down at her. He waved her comment away as though he was waving away the pain, too.

  “You'll have to stay ready from now on. If I have to rip too many articles of clothing off you, it could hurt.” Paul pretended that she had never resisted him and went ahead with his explanation of the way things were going to be.

  “So, you think you can come and do this whenever you want?” Rita was getting mad.

  Using the momentary lapse in his attentions as he tended to his injured privates, Rita launched herself from the bed and ran for the bedroom door. Paul was not as hurt as she had hoped. She did not have time to consider why. He caught her by the arm after only three steps. She swung wildly back into the room, half from his strength and half from her own desire to use whatever strength he applied against him to allow her to break free. The effort landed her three feet from him and staring straight into those heartless eyes. He had always had dark eyes. Now she saw a blackness that offered to suck her inside and swallow her whole. She turned her eyes away and considered her options. Run. Fight. Give in. All bad.

  Rita was not an athlete even if her body tended to look like she worked out a lot. Even this little bit of exertion was making her breathe hard. Add her adrenaline rush at the closeness of danger and her legs felt like they were made of water. She wondered how she was still standing. She had never known such fear in her life. Her mind was going numb from the realization of what was happening to her. Paul was blocking the door. She felt trapped. Facing a physical confrontation, the adrenaline was not only running through her extremities but her entire body. Her mind felt fuzzy. She was considering giving in and letting him do whatever he wanted to her. She couldn't stop him anyway.

  He smiled at her as he saw her shoulders slumping. She knew he knew she was giving up. She was not a fighter. He knew that. She only wondered why he had waited so long to show his true colors to her. She had watched as he tore up the lives of others lately. Why not her, too?

  Then he laughed. She couldn't explain it but his laughing at her made her mad. Rita had always tried to forgive and forget. That was her motto. But she had a feeling this day was not to be forgotten and certainly she would have difficulty forgiving what Paul was intending.

  He laughed again as she stood there staring up at him.

  “Ready, Sweetie?” He smirked and moved towards her. She grimaced under his advance.

  She feinted left and drove forward knocking him backwards before he got a grip on her. As he stepped backwards under her blow, he swung his arms to grab at her. She had expected that and ducked, spinning right and thrusting her left leg outward in a fast push to propel her toward the door. She made three steps again and he caught her with one arm, flinging her light body sideways at least the three steps she had advanced toward the door. Unfortunately, the wall was only two steps away.

  She hit the wall with the side of her body in mid air. Her head snapped hard against the picture and frame hanging there, smashing it and sending shards of glass raining down on the carpet. The picture had been hung on a stud behind the sheetrock. The force of the blow caused a concussive force of her moving energy against an immoveable wall to drive the light from her eyes and make the world spin.

  Slowly, Rita slid down on legs no longer answering to her brain's signals to run. She tried focusing her eyes but no light entered in. She wondered if the blow to her head had made her blind as she felt Paul's hands dragging her away from the wall. Roughly he pulled and pushed until she was lying on something soft. The carpet? The bed? She was losing all perspective of sensation as she felt him rolling her onto her stomach. She could not tell what was happening. Her world was dark and without sensation. Like she was floating. She was floating. But it was dark. Pitch dark. She knew she had given in to him. She knew he would never quit until he got exactly what he wanted. But she could not feel a thing. She was no longer able to sense anything except blackness. No sound. No touch. No sight. No smells. But she could taste something. It tasted metallic. Metal. Funny. In what she considered her final moments of life, she could only taste metal. This was not at all how she expected it would be when she died.