Chapter eight: The call of the house
Puffs of cigarette smoke escaped my lungs and mingled with the air, clouding my view. Elizabeth began to sway in front of me, partly concealed by the billowing clouds. We had been silent for a while, her eyes remained fixed on the table in front of her. I could tell she was trying to digest everything that Malcolm had just told us.
While smoking Malcolm’s cigarette, I tried to understand more about my past through the details that my visions had given me.
I thought that the town might only recall bad memories to torture me, to make me believe I was just a monster deserving of this town and its hellish residents. But, on the other hand, what was I doing in this afterlife if I had been a good person back in the real world?
Every single one of us has some sort of stain from the life we have lived; everyone has lived in the wrong way at some point in their lives. People are selfish; they torture others and do many other questionable things, so in other words they sin.
A human’s past obviously can’t be changed, but I could change the future. I still had a chance to reach my body, regain life on Earth and start everything anew–a new life with new aspirations for becoming a good man. But first I had to get out of this town.
A rush of inhuman power proceeded pumping through my veins, almost as if I could feel the blood throbbing inside of me like after you had run half a mile non-stop at great speed. Malcolm had been right; the power was continuing to increase.
Malcolm remained cagey, sitting somewhere behind me in one of the corners of the cafe. I hadn’t paid any more attention to him; I never even turned around to look at him. I was too busy smoking and musing, my mind wandering elsewhere. My eyes followed only the clouds of smoke that wafted about lazily in front of my face. I was in a world of my own.
“This fuckin’ sleeplessness,” Malcolm muttered. “I’ve missed dreams, the real ones,” he went on muttering to himself.
His words made me think about sleep. With everything frozen in time, I had lost my desire to sleep, eat or drink. I could exist without food and water. A soul didn’t need those things to survive.
“It’s torturous, you know, having no sleep at all.”
I swiveled around on my chair. He was sitting on the floor in a corner leaning against the wall with his coat wrapped snuggly around him. He gave me a half smile as our eyes met. “At least the drinks help me to abate the pain of sleeplessness. They are like alcohol. They turn your brain off and disconnect you from reality.”
“They summon visions,” I reminded.
“Visions come regardless of drinks or no drinks, Jonathan. Thinking like you’re doing now will lead you to having more visions, and you’ll never realize quite how you find yourself amidst them. They just come, and they’ll always come, as long as you’re here.”
I blinked my eyes and lowered them for a short time. Finally, when I looked back at Elizabeth, she was watching me meditatively, listening to us in silence.
“What are we going to do, Jonathan?” she hissed, her throat hardly letting her speak. “Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah, sure. We’re going to the light and getting out of this godforsaken place forever,” I said forcefully.
“We?” Malcolm broke into the conversation. “There is no we, Jonathan, there is only you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as both Elizabeth’s and my gazes turned towards him inquisitively.
Malcolm heaved a silent sigh, took out his right hand from under his coat and stretched it out towards me, “Give me the pack.”
I tossed the pack of cigarettes to him. He lit one, looked from Elizabeth to me mournfully and blew smoke out through his nostrils again.
“Malcolm, why only him?” Elizabeth was running out of patience.
“For starters my dear, you’ve already entered your house,” he began explaining airily. “You’re the prisoner of the town now–it won’t show you the exit.”
“But I’ll be able to see, I’ll lead her,” I cut him off arching my eyebrows in frustration.
“You might,” Malcolm agreed as he inhaled the cigarette smoke. “But you have to admit that she’s too weak to make this trip, Jonathan. If you hadn’t broken into her house and helped her get out, she would’ve still been sitting in her house with her torturous dreams and visions, her mind trapped in blackness and disconnected from reality.”
“Or that monster would have already torn me into little pieces, hah?” Elizabeth added. I saw her eyes welling up.
“I doubt it,” Malcolm said. “That powerful monster likes to visit young girls and ladies. I guess you understand why.”
“Great. Sex is everywhere, even in hell,” I answered back sardonically.
“It’s not like the sex you were used to on Earth. The monster likes the softness of women, sexual games, and, in the main, sucking their strength.”
“Like the barwoman?” Elizabeth asked.
“The demons suck your soul, that monster sucks power, it makes itself stronger,” Malcolm stubbed out his cigarette on the floor and hobbled up onto his feet. “I’ll be honest with you Elizabeth. You’re a nice woman, you have good manners and I have no clue what the hell you’re doing here. Yeah, I could admit you don’t belong here, but then, I don’t know what you did back in your life, why you were sent into this town. You can find the answer in your visions, but,” he raised his forefinger into the air, “One thing is more than clear–you made a big mistake going into your house,” as Malcolm talked, he limped up to the bar and took a hold of his bloody drink again. “Now your power is too weak. You’ll only slow Jonathan down,” he poured the drink into a tall glass as he talked. “There are a lot of things out there that aren’t going to let you pass easily.”
“I can handle the dogs and the monsters,” I butted in quickly.
“Those dogs are a piece of cake, Jonathan,” Malcolm lifted his glass and took a sip, then exclaimed “Tastes like a shit, but it’s a useful drink. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
What was so useful in that noxious drink? I wondered as I shook my head no; Elizabeth didn’t answer Malcolm, just remained still, staring at the old man who had been openly discussing her future.
“Okay,” Malcolm headed back to his corner, holding the glass in his right hand. “Jonathan, you’ve got a chance to find the way out, but only one chance. Think about it very carefully. Are you ready to run the risk and vouch for Elizabeth?” He was talking as if we were alone, he didn’t even acknowledge her presence. “If not, then it’s better that you make the trip alone, just you. Otherwise neither of you are going to leave this hell-hole. Mark my words.”
Malcolm’s one eye looked piercingly into mine. Somehow he was sure that I would leave Elizabeth behind. Somehow he could see through me and that I was ready to sacrifice her to get out of the town myself, alone. The question was whether I was such a heartless creature.
“You aren’t going to leave me here, are you?” Elizabeth’s whisper broke my eye contact with Malcolm.
I blinked nervously and looked up at her miserably. Her eyes saddened as she tried to read my expression.
“We’ll make it somehow,” I said with great uncertainty, my voice fading.
“Nobody has ever worked this out,” Malcolm put his two cents worth in as he got comfortable again on the floor. “As far as I can remember, it’s never been done. It’s impossible.”
He emptied his glass and lowered it to the floor and, then he took another cigarette and lit up. He threw the pack back towards me that I caught in mid-air with one hand.
“Of course, it’s not up to me to make the decision, it’s yours, Jonathan,” he said hardly rolling his tongue in his mouth. The drink had made him speak slower and he was slurring like he had been drinking heavily all night. “The rules here are different, you know, made by the devil, you can’t outsmart it; that’s indestructible. We’re like poor creatures–ants, seeking the hole that’ll lead us back to our nest, to our queen. For a lot of us, the w
inter has come, and the snow has covered the holes. The door’s been closed right under our noses. There’s only one open hole, Jonathan,” he paused and then quickly continued, “And only you know the way to it.” He began to stutter. His last few words were difficult to make out. He was losing control of his tongue.
Malcolm began to doze off. His head tilted while the cigarette still burned between his fingers. I knew he wasn’t asleep because there was no sleep here, it was more like a drunken slumber.
I looked at him and recalled when I had met Malcolm for the first time, and he had offered me that fucking drink. He was off his head, leaving me alone with Elizabeth.
I turned my gaze from him and looked cautiously into Elizabeth’s mournful eyes. Their natural sparkle had faded. It looked to me like her soul was close to dying, right in front of my very eyes.
I rose and walked across the café toward Malcolm.
“Hey,” my voice was barely whisper that wouldn’t work its way to Elizabeth and would be lost within the wailing of the storm. I knelt down in front of the old man and waved my hand before his eyes. He gave me no sign, his eyes glazed to the floor, his breath suspiciously calm, almost absented. But he couldn’t be dead, he was already dead.
“Is he asleep?” Elizabeth asked.
“Don’t know,” I shrugged and stood up slowly. “Rather feeble.”
Elizabeth let out a mournful sigh. “You think he can hear us?”
“No. At least I didn’t when I had the drink.”
“Should we trust him? You know, he doesn’t look right in his mind and he may have made up this entire story about, you know, being in coma back on Earth and the light and the hell.”
“Why would he?” I asked rather myself than Elizabeth.
“Just look at him,” she narrowed her eyes. “He’s a junkie. You say you lost your consciousness after having a glass of one of these drinks.” I nodded obediently. “Think about it, maybe he and that woman just drugged you. You don’t know how long Malcolm has been here and used these drinks. He may have been drugging himself all the while and have had hallucinations which led him believe in his crazy made-up story.”
“We both saw the dogs and the monster in your house,” I said padding toward the nearest window. My back to her I went on in a hushed voice, “And the soul-eaters.”
“They still can be a part of an experiment,” Elizabeth pressed on.
“Maybe,” I muttered under my breath. I placed my hand on the window, bent forward and pressed my forehead against the glass trying to see anything moving in the storm.
“Look,” Elizabeth spoke again. “We feel pain, we breathe, we have heart beat. Why does soul need all these?”
“We don’t eat and don’t drink,” I reminded.
“Maybe we will,” she said hopefully.
“Okay,” I gave up looking out as I could see nothing but tons of sand hovering in my sight. “Dead or not, we can’t go back to the entrance. There is no way, only the desert. So we have to head for the light. Malcolm may be right about the passage.”
“You’re just saying that. You do believe we’re dead,” Elizabeth realized. I did, being dead answered many questions. “So, if that’s what you think, the light is our only salvation. Through the town and through the monsters we have to work our way to it.” Having no answer from me she looked at me solemnly. “There are no we anymore, aren’t there?”
I expected her to look off, but she pierced her eyes in mine. Malcolm had been clear–with her I had no chance to reach the light and get out of the town, go back to life. I couldn’t say that to her straight away.
Why had she been sent here? I wondered. It just didn’t add up. Or maybe she could have been someone else and had been acting sweetly to deceive me. Oh, yes, we all know such women; they can be great actresses sometimes. What if she uses me to find her way out? Unreasonable thoughts and ideas were swimming about in my mind, but in a place like this you really do begin to think the unthinkable.
I moved off the window and approached her, sitting on the chair next to her, and took her hand in mine.
“What do you dream about?” I asked my voice low and weak. “The visions, I mean.”
She sighed. “The same bathroom, blooded water streaming toward me.”
“That’s all?”
“Once or twice I happened to be in a glade nothing but endless grass in my sight. The sky is dark, cloudy and I stand there clad in black dress watching the dream through black veil on my face.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” as she said the corner of her mouth twitched, and she pulled off her hand. Then she asked, “What is your story?”
I told her about the gloomy alley and the running man, leaving out the black-haired woman who named me ‘Jonathan’.
“You think you killed that man. That’s why you’ve been sent to here?” she said.
“If I killed him, I sinned,” I took a deep breath. “But you see nobody, you’re alone in that glade. It’s kind of confusing.”
“Maybe I didn’t kill anybody, but I could sin anyway. I could be a bad wife, a bad mother, anything.”
She didn’t look me neither of them. But still it might be a very clever act of her. Leave her or hold her close? Wondering my eyes traveled over the café and rested on the door behind the counter.
“I wonder where that door leads to.” I thought aloud.
Elizabeth seemed to come back from her thoughts and looked to the counter.
“Sure you wouldn’t want to know,” she murmured.
“Why? Maybe that’s where we should go.”
“Go after a demon?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “According to Malcolm’s saying she’s a soul-sucking-demon. I doubt you find the way out of here behind that door, rather you find something like morgue for souls where she keeps her dinner,” she chortled saying that. “It might lead directly to hell. You enter and it’s all over, your body is dead back on Earth, your soul is sucked up into the hell forever.”
I looked in awe at her. Where did such ideas enter her head from?
“And you tell me we aren’t dead,” I smirked.
“I’m just saying,” a slight smile appeared on her face. “If she’s really demon that’s exactly what you’re going to find out behind the door.”
“And if she isn’t? I asked.
She thought for a moment. “It may be just another room, that’s all. You saw her flaming hand. We’d rather not to push her.” She trailed off, putting her hand on her chest.
“What is it?” I ask worriedly.
She looked at me with her eyes magnified, fear twinkling in them. I asked her again what was wrong.
“I can feel it, Jonathan,” she said with mysterious voice.
“Feel what?”
“My house,” she paused to look at me again then tilted her head. “It’s calling me.”
“I don’t follow–” I was interrupted by Elizabeth weak and short squeak. Her mouth open, she looked at me in horror, the muscles of her neck wrinkling in agony. “What is it? Elizabeth!” I held her by shoulders and shook her. A moment ago I had wanted her away, alone I’d reach the light easier, but, you know how human reaction works, you see someone in trouble and you hurry to hold out a helping hand. Wouldn’t you do that? I did. I shook her body while she was staring through me at the empty spot, her breath stopped in her throat.
“Elizabeth,” I repeated her name. “Can you hear me?” Then I glanced at Malcolm hoping to have his help, but the old man was still on the floor motionless.
Then, all of a sudden, Elizabeth sucked a huge gulp of the air, and I knew she was back.
“What did you see?” I asked. “Elizabeth, what did happen?”
“Jonathan,” she whispered her voice barely audible. She blinked, her eyes were darker than usual.
“I’m here, I’m with you,” I said exhaling in relief. “What did you see?” I asked again. I knew her vision may be useful.
“The same gla
de,” she answered this time her voice clearer. “I was engulfed in green again, alone. I don’t want to go back to my house. I hate loneliness. Why does it keep calling me, Jonathan?” As she said she rested her head on my chest, and her scent vaporized filling my nose. I inhaled deeply enjoying her sweet smell as I closed my eyes. For a split second, I felt alive again, but just for a second. “I dread staying alone again,” she murmured desperately. “I might survive here if you were with me, but you’ve got a chance, and you have to leave.” I had no words to reply; I was holding her in my arms, my chin resting on her head. “I just… I don’t know, Jonathan. This is unjust, this place is very wrong. Why me? What have I done, tell me?”
Yes, really, what could she have done wrong in real life? Elizabeth was different from Malcolm and I; she was a warm and sensitive woman and didn’t fit in this town. She definitely wasn’t a remorseless and rigid person like Malcolm, or even me.
I winced at those thoughts trying desperately to push them away from my head. You don’t know who she is, my mind told me.
Elizabeth detached herself from me, her face appearing right in front of mine, and she looked at me affectionately, tracing her finger over my cheek and lips.
I realized she didn’t need any words from me. She didn’t urge me to answer as she realized that a part of me–the one that reasoned wisely–was going to leave her in the town and find his way out of here. But still her that look–it didn’t blame me for what I was going to do. Her eyes watched me affectionately.
What had she found in me? Now she definitely knew what kind of person I was, so what could it be that attracted her to me? Was it only my power, my ability to find the exit?
Elizabeth leant in closely, her trembling lips brushing upon mine. That kiss wasn’t a kiss that normal humans experienced. No, it was a kiss between our souls.
Every single feeling she possessed was transmitted to me. I felt her fear wash over me; her fear of losing me; her fear of staying alone in her ghostly home; her fear of being stuck here, held prisoner in this damned town.
When we kissed, I saw a little girl. It wasn’t Melissa, but the girl I had seen in the photo album lying open on the coffee table in Elizabeth’s house. She was there, defenseless as a leaf against high wind.
Blackness entered my mind; the girl disappeared into the darkness leaving me utterly alone in nothingness.
I let go of Elizabeth and stood up looking out at nothing, all my feelings leaving me. For a moment or two it felt like the world was against me.
For some time I remained gazing into blank space; the smoky clouds obscuring my view. I was still perplexed and paralyzed, watching the smoke grow, and then found myself staring out the café window without focusing my gaze anywhere in particular.
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