Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (20 page)

With a pounding head, and
through the flicker of his eyes it takes a moment of adjustment for Jeff to
realize that he’s face down in the dirt. Rolling onto his back, he permits his
arm to flop down by the side of his head and lets out a sigh. Three oil lamps
illuminate colorful walls: red with black crosses and symbols, and blue with
white. The paint has been rapidly applied, stabbed onto the walls, and appears
to be alive with the dance of the surrounding light. What at first seem to be
snakes hanging above clay bowls are in fact unbleached braided rope. Feathers
are woven in. Bolting upright, Jeff’s memories flood back. Casey’s ever
widening smile. He looks up. There’s no hole in the timbered ceiling, and no
sign of his friends. An unfamiliar voice speaks out from behind.

“Awake at last.”

“Shit!”

He spins round, recoiling
back through fear. The Voodoo Queen of Black Top City sits facing him, with
immense presence. Her colorful headwrap is pieced together from dyed red yellow
and purple rags flowing with nobility from the back of her head, over one
shoulder to cover her left breast. She wears a white blouse with a blue shawl.
Jeff notices that the bangles around her wrists are the ones the murderer wore
as she slit the man’s throat upstairs. She possesses such beauty. Her skin as
dark as chocolate, lips as full as plums, eyes that melt opposition away. Jeff
breaks his gaze; frightened she will not only see his fear, but his vulnerability
to her charms. For a moment, silence.

“Where am I?”

“My home and my prison.” She
studies his face. “I was told you have the heart of a lion and the soul of one
worth saving.”

“You were told?” Is this a
dream or reality?

“I know all there is to know
about you, Jefferson Davies.”

“You know my name?”

“Yes. You may call me
Belle.”

“Belle.” He nods. “A nice
name.”

“I’m not going to harm you,
if that’s your fear. You chose to be here. My kin informs me that you wish to
gain forbidden knowledge.”

“Your kin?”

“Brother Casey came to me
and begged me to help you. You’ve spent your life searching for the truth.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Why do you search for what
our creator would deny us?”

“It’s the ultimate question,
is it not?”

“And if you find the truth
is not to your liking, then what?”

“Then I’ll have no one but
myself to blame.”

“I will only offer you
knowledge on the understanding of freedom. My gift has always been my
curse.
 
Time and my master became my
enslavement.”

“Your master?”

“Sonny Malloy.” Her eyebrows
raise, and her eyes look to Jeff. He already knows the name. “As long as I
worked the forces in his favor then no harm would befall my daughter. I worked
unspeakable deeds to protect her, and then he sold her into slavery.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As a river flows so does
our fate. It was I who betrayed him. The posse that hanged him was my doing,
and my downfall. When they arrived I was already bound here in this place. You
will know what to do when the time comes.”

Reaching to her side Belle
lifts up the woven basket and places it on the table. She reaches for the
chicken inside. Her fingers firmly grip the legs to pull it out, and then tips
the bird upside down. Wings flap meaninglessly in the air.

“Hold this.”

Jeff takes hold of the
chicken. The moment disturbs him.

“There’s no distinction
between the physical and spiritual realms. Voodoo spirits have guided you thus
far, and will continue to do so.” Jeff watches as the blade in her hand severs
the chicken’s throat, and the aftermath of blood as it falls into the bowl
below.

“The blood is used to
appease the Gods.” She looks to the bird in Jeff’s hand. “Throw that away.”
Jeff swings the bird still bleeding, twitching and flapping to the floor. Belle
offers the bowl up for him to drink.

“Now drink.”

“Drink?” Jeff’s horrified!

“It’s your only way out of
here.”

He’s no option. There’s no
chicken and no Belle; this is all an illusion, isn’t it? The blood’s warm as it
touches his lips and Belle aids him by tipping the bowl up with her hand.

“Good. Now lie down.”

“Lie down?” Jeff fears her
hand and blade.

“Trust.”

Jeff lies down but wants to
sit straight back up. Belle places her hand firmly on his chest.

“Relax.” She strokes his
cheek. “This is your only way out of here.”

She sits by his side
rhythmically chanting. He feels himself drifting and hears Belle’s last words.

“I can only show you a piece
of the jigsaw, you have to put the puzzle together for yourself. It’s time to
sleep, to forget who you are. Remember, when you awake from your dream, your
promise is to set me free, Jefferson Davies.”

***

The ear splitting crack of
the solid door, like a bullwhip, gives Sonny Malloy an unexpected jolt as he
lies alongside the women in his bed. His gun is just out of arms reach. Up
until this moment Sonny regarded this day as triumphant, having already
embalmed, using an arsenic preparation, the notorious outlaw and his sworn
enemy. Johnny Texas, his corpse sold as a sideshow curiosity for a traveling
carnival. However as three men have now forcibly entered the room, neither
Texas nor the girls in his bed occupy his mind anymore.

“Sonny Malloy?” The hefty
man growls through his extensive beard. His shotgun points towards the bed.

“No.” Malloy knows; he can’t
make a move for his gun, nor can he run.

“That’s him alright.” The
dirty blonde haired man walks towards Malloy; his rotten teeth are shown with a
grin.

Sonny smiles and stands with
his hands held out in a passive gesture. In return for his efforts he receives
a rifle butt to the temple and goes down with the screams of prostitutes
ringing beside his ear. He’s out cold for the rest of the evening.

Through blurry eyes Sonny
realizes that he’s gagged and bound to a chair. His head hurts, he’s alone and
for once afraid. Is this retribution for his slaying of Texas? Or for one of
the many men he’s had to retire to maintain his own position? He’s unsure, but
either way he’s left in the dark with only the calculations of his own
schizophrenic mind. He betrayed the one person who could foresee this. She
would have warned him, but he sold her twelve year old daughter to her new and
eagerly awaiting master, and left Belle bound and gagged in the cellar. Her
hauntingly beautiful eyes pleaded to him as he personally placed the last
brick, entombing her forever. Sonny reconciles himself: he did what he had to
do; she would have summoned up the forces of darkness against him. Under the
circumstances he did the right thing.

A sentry stands outside the
door. The boots shuffle, creating a pacing vibration that shimmers through the timbers
of the floor. A tap from a rifle butt and the occasional cough. The whiff of a
cheroot drifts by; what he would do for freedom, a cigar and a whiskey at the
saloon right now. Where are his men? The darkness brings past deeds to the
forefront of his mind. He waits for the comfort of daylight to creep from under
the door. He hears footsteps, then muffled words. The rattle of keys and the
turning of the handle; his captors walk in. Sonny tries to read their faces and
their intent as they surround him. Indistinguishable from the many, they don’t
speak a word as they blindfold him. The release of the rope as it uncoils
permits his body to relax and sag. Then he’s hoisted onto his feet.

“Walk slowly and as
directed. Give us any trouble or try to run and we’ll shoot the legs from under
you. Do you understand?”

Sonny nods in compliance. He
feels lightheaded and weak from restraint. The gift of sight is withheld; he
walks steered by men. Stepping out of the building he stumbles on the steps:
supported, he does not fall. He senses the long walk. The town’s as silent as
his captors; where is everyone? Then a faint murmuring from the crowd is
distantly heard, yet as he approaches so too does a hushed silence. He feels
many eyes upon him, hears a cough, a shuffle, smells the stench of horse manure
and that of the crowd, but hauntingly there’s still silence.

“Stop.”

His blindfold is taken off,
and the daylight instantly blinds him. As the pain subsides, he can see that
before him stands the town. No one can look him in the eye.

“Sonny Malloy, you stand
here guilty of crimes against the state. Murder, corruption, and the
production, transportation and sale of alcohol. You are sentenced to hang.” He
feels two men support him either side, insurance against his legs giving way.
They turn him round so he can see the tree, a makeshift gallows, and his loyal
men, now sitting astride horses with a noose around each of their necks.
They’ve been gagged; their eyes hold such torment and rage. A spectacle for
Sonny and the townsfolk as the whip cracks and instantly the horses bolt. The
ones without a clean break choke as the noose tightens and their legs kick out,
looking for a foothold that isn’t there. Sonny is walked up the creaking
gallows, hastily and poorly prepared earlier that morning. It serves only one
purpose. Positioned over the trapdoor, the noose around his neck, only then is
the gag removed and he’s permitted to speak.

“Do you have any last
words?”

It’s too late to plead, to
beg for his life, after all a man has his pride in these situations. Yet the
townsfolk? He made the town, and supported them; not one has lifted a finger or
a gun in his cause.

“I curse this town, I curse
this land, and I curse you all. Your heads, face, mouth, nose, tongue, hair,
brain, hearts and wombs. I curse your kin, I curse you standing, sitting,
riding, drinking, eating and sleeping. I curse every part of your body, both
inside and out. I curse your cattle, horses and food. May all the curses from
the beginning of time to this hour, and all the plagues and pestilence known to
man fall upon you the very moment I drop.”

There’s only silence before
someone shouts out.

“Hang him.”

In defiance the trap door
opens and Sonny falls. The snap of the rope, too thin, has the crowd gasping.
He feels only a breath-taking thud. He's unsure of where he is, face down in
the darkness, and then to his absolute horror all comes flooding back. In tears
Jeff scrambles to his feet below the foot of the tree. He was Sonny Malloy. How
could he experience his life and last moments? He looks towards the town, the
blackness of the buildings silhouetted against the night sky. Eve frantically
shouts his name, alongside Marcus and Sarah. Jeff runs towards their voices and
straight into the arms of his beloved.

Jeff spent the remainder of
the night, to the delight of Marcus and Sarah and to the horror of Eve,
reliving his nightmarish trip from beyond the grave. They wait until sunrise
before, and with conviction in his heart, Jeff leads them down to the cellar.

“That’s where Malloy sealed
it, look at the brickwork.” His finger traces an outline. “That’s where the
original door was.”

“I’m not sure we should be
knocking through walls, Jeff.” Marcus is concerned about safety. However, he
concedes, it does look like it’s been bricked up.

“Marcus, it’s not just
verification that what happened really happened. I made a promise.”

“Okay.” Marcus holds his
hands up, he can see Jeff’s determined. “I’m not going to stand in your way.”

With an old prospector pick
Jeff starts to hammer, tear and claw his way through the brick until he makes a
hole in the wall. This permits a beam of light to cut through the dust and into
the room. Jeff pauses and peers through the opening, straight to where he knew
she would be. Belle is tied and bound where Malloy left her all those years
ago. The wall Malloy built comes down easily. It’s difficult to breathe with
the dust, but Jeff has no qualms as he walks in, picks up and carries the
skeleton of Belle out in his arms. Away from her prison and torment. He would
have buried her under the tree yet for its connection to Malloy. The most
beautiful spot is by the river, and she’s laid to rest. Marking her grave with
two small pieces of timber bound together, he fulfills his promise, then reluctantly
turns and walks away.

Jeff’s exhausted,
drifting in and out of sleep during the return journey, resting his head
against the comforting vibration of the car window. The blurring grasslands
pass by. Eve’s tired, unable to think clearly. Marcus has the sense to drop a
few caffeine tablets; Sarah rests her feet on the dashboard. Upon their return
all agree the rest of the day is best spent in bed, and arrange to meet
downstairs at seven.

Jeff dreams. He is standing
on the spot on the river bank where he marked and left the grave earlier that
morning. Belle sits on the grass, cross legged, opposite her daughter. They’re
unaware of Jeff’s presence as they play the hand game. With a sense of
invisibility, he listens to hand claps and laughter. Jeff maintains his
distance for fear of intrusion. He needn’t have worried. Belle looks up, then
leans forward and whispers into her daughter’s ear. She looks at Jeff and
smiles before standing up and walking away. Belle taps the grass, inviting Jeff
to sit by her side; he walks over and sits beside her.

“Thank you.” Her eyes are
sincere.

“What for?”

“For keeping your promise.”

“That’s okay.” Jeff feels
coy. “How are you?”

“Free, as free as a bird to
sing and to fly. I have a curiosity though. Do you still see through the bars
without realizing that they’re there?”

“I didn’t know I was caged?”

“You are.” Belle reaches out
and holds his hand. “Did you have any new insights?”

“I sense something beyond
this darkness, but I just can’t reach it.” Jeff looks down and gives her hand a
gentle and affectionate squeeze, before looking back up. “Wouldn’t it be
simpler for you to tell me?”

Belle laughs as if catching
the punchline of a joke; she pulls her hand away.

“How do you tell a blind man
how to see, or a man who’s not yet opened his eyes to what lies beyond? This is
your discovery, not mine. It will all fall into place when the time comes.”

“Will I see you again?” He
fears this will be the last time.

“Only if your desire is
strong enough may we come round again.”

“Can I sit with you a while
longer?” He can see by her face he cannot. “Please.”

“I’m sorry.” Belle looks
momentarily down. “As precious as this moment is for both of us, you still have
to leave.” She pats the grass. “Lie beside me.”

Jeff reluctantly does as
he’s told. This time he doesn’t try to sit back up. He can smell the grass, see
the blue sky and hear the river flow. Belle’s hand draws across his brow. He
watches in silent anticipation as her beautiful face and luscious lips draw
ever closer.

“I just wanted to say thank
you Jefferson Davies.”

Belle, with love, places a
kiss on his lips. Her touch is magical. As his eyes open, it’s Eve who pulls
away from him.

“Time to wake up, sleepy
head.” Jeff visibly jumps. “Sorry! Did I startle you?”

“No.” Realizing he must have
woke with a look of shock on his face, for one unforgivable moment his heart
drops. “Of course not.” He smiles, but did he just hear Belle’s faint laugh?

***

The door chime has Sarah up
off the sofa. Everyone’s hungry and fast food is the easiest choice this
evening. She returns with three large pizza boxes.

“Help yourselves.”

No one needs to be told
twice. Once they have eaten, and the table cleared, Marcus opens the discussion
on the events at Black Top City.

“Have you had time to
evaluate your experiences, Jeff?”

“I’ve no explanation other
than the paranormal to fall back on.”

“So you’re a firm believer?”

“I can’t deny my
experiences. Without prior knowledge, I couldn’t have known about the town or
characters who lived there. So how did I know the exact spot a female was entombed
a hundred plus years earlier? All of this is impossible without some form of
external contact.” He scratches his head. “Whatever that may have been.”

“And the technology?”

“Impressive, but as a
lecturer, I now feel fraudulent. My teachings were wrong.” He outwardly sighs.
“Years wasted.”

“No. You taught what you
believed to be the truth.” Marcus can see Jeff struggle with his own ethics.
“You’re a good, honest and reliable man.”

“Maybe.” Marcus’s words are
kind, but Jeff still feels he's betrayed his students, and has been betrayed by
the system he put his trust in.

“The technology would be put
to good use at a crime scene.” Eve tries to deflect the conversation into a
more positive vibe.

“Yes it would. However, this
knowledge would open up a can of worms so big it could disrupt our belief
systems and social order.” Marcus reaffirms the government line. “As a
psychiatrist I’m sure you’re fully aware of the dangers?”

“Of course. The human mind
works best within the confines of the box, and not outside.” She senses
Marcus’s apprehension.

“And with the lid firmly
shut.” Marcus looks to Jeff, who appears to be in a world of his own. Then back
to Eve. “I think Jeff got more than he bargained for, don’t you?”

“Yes, he has.”

“You must look after him.”
Marcus raises his voice. “Jeff.” This snaps him back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“What time are you leaving
tomorrow?”

“Hmm, early afternoon. Do
you have prior arrangements?”

“No, that’s perfect. If it’s
alright with you Eve, I would like to borrow Jeff for a few hours in the
morning.”

“Of course.” She’s curious.

“That’s settled then.” He
gleefully rubs his hands together. “There’s one more person I would like you to
meet, Jeff, before your return. No offense, Eve, but it’s wiser we go alone.
He’s illusive at the best of times, and might not show if there’s a crowd.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Eve.” Sarah interrupts.
“There’s a new shopping mall we can explore.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”
She smiles at Sarah, as she would a close friend.

“That’s all settled then.”
In celebration Marcus reaches for a beer.

“Who are we meeting?”

“To be honest Jeff, I’m not
really sure.” Marcus is telling the truth. This arcane and strange man, if
that’s what he is, has frustratingly run rings around him ever since their
first meeting. “He introduced himself to me. I assure you it’ll be worth your
time. If you’re lost in the woods and see an arrow, he most likely put it there
for you.”

“Are you hinting that I’m
lost?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“You’re talking in riddles?”

“It’s difficult not to. He certainly
will.”

The rest of the evening is
spent discussing the events surrounding Jeff. Marcus is insistent that he’s
kept updated, and discusses stories of his own encounters. The oldest and most
unanswered question of all crops up; why are we all here?

The following morning, the
gravel crunches underfoot as the men walk to the garage. Even before the doors
open, Jeff would place bets on a sports car being behind them. He isn’t
disappointed.

“You have a Lamborghini?”
The bright orange car makes no apologies for its flashness, nor the beautiful
symmetry it possesses. Jeff walks around in awe, as he would an object of
power, beauty or antiquity at a museum.

“I’ve not been in one of
these before.”

The scissor door opens on
the driver’s side. Encouraged by Marcus, Jeff slides in. Orange and black
leather interior; the steering wheel displaying the famous insignia. Marcus
hands the key over.

“Start her up.”

With a simple twist of the
key, the Lamborghini produces a spine tingling burst of harmony. The accelerator
produces a growl from the V12 engine, the sound of the race car on the grid.

“Draw her out.”

Jeff declines. This car can
hit sixty in a mere three seconds. Eve on the other hand would have jumped at
the chance. When she sees them cruising past a minute later, she gives Jeff an
excited wave, and this only encourages Marcus to put his foot down further. The
exhaust note is orgasmic, especially when they pass through the electric gates
and pull out onto the highway. A supercar in the hands of Marcus is certainly
an experience. The lines on the road are a mere blur in his sunglasses.

“What do you think?” Marcus
is showing off, he knows, but loves it.

“It’s a cool ride.”

Jeff forgot that Marcus was
always a bit of a head banger, and it all comes flooding back. At least he gets
to cruise suburbia in a Lamborghini, and for once the excitement is enjoyable.
The growl from the exhausts shatters the early Sunday morning peace, and the
lack of congestion eases them to their destination. Marcus pulls into a car park
surrounded by trees and gardens.

“Is this where we’re going
to meet him?”

“It’s where you’re going to
meet him.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Jeff’s
surprised, he at least expected an introduction.

“No, this is your meeting,
and as such you must go alone.”

“I see.” This doesn’t make
sense to him. “At what time?”

“Now is as good a time as
any.” Marcus understands that Jeff’s agitated by his lack of social etiquette,
but this is no normal meeting. “In front of us is the rose garden, walk through
and it will open out. Take a left; you will see a big oak tree that stands
alone, overlooking the lake. There will be a bench beneath the tree. Introduce
yourself and sit down. If he’s not there, wait.”

“What if someone’s already
sitting there?”

“There won’t be, go on.”

Jeff steps out of the car
and starts walking. He looks back to give Marcus a quick raise of his hand
before disappearing into the rose garden. The colors are wonderfully vibrant.
The centrally located waterfall has a statue of an angel that appears to smile
as he passes. The end of the path opens out to sloping grassland. He scans the
terrain, spots the solitary oak tree. There’s an empty bench beneath the
branches; as instructed he strolls over and takes a seat. With no one around
it’s a peaceful moment. He takes in the fresh air, and feels the first warm
rays of the day’s sun on his face, listens to the leaves rustle, as shifting
branch shadows dance on the floor.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jeff’s startled. He didn’t
see anyone walk over. Yet when he looks to his side, there’s an old man beside
him. This can't be his contact; this homeless man who has sneaked up on him.
Long matted hair sprouts from beneath a brown hoodie. The man’s unwashed face
is scarred with some of the deepest lines he’s ever seen, and the long white
beard trails over his dirty and torn overcoat.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
Jeff’s in a dilemma, how does he get rid of him? “I’m sorry I don’t mean to be
rude, but hmm, I’m waiting for someone.”

“That’s quite alright, you
can wait elsewhere if you like. It’s you who’s on my bench.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” This man
might be psychotic. Jeff stands up to leave. The hobo beside him bursts into
laughter.

“Sit back down, Jefferson
Davies.”

“You know my name?” This
doesn’t make any sense to Jeff…unless?

“Indeed I do.”

“Then you’re my contact?”
Jeff does as he’s told, and sits back down.

“The problem with you, is
that you only see what you wish to see.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I lived in India, a
homeless mystic or spiritual man will be bathed, fed, and respected in the
community.”

“I do apologize.” Now he’s
belittled by the hobo! Whatever next?

“Yes.” The man weighs Jeff
up and down. “At least you’re more polite than your friend was when I first
introduced myself.”

“Marcus?” Jeff can only
imagine what Marcus said to him. “Yes, he can be a bit, well you know.”

“I do.”

“Why am I here?” He’s
puzzled by the whole scenario.

“Because you choose to be.”
He points his finger to Jeff. “You create your own reality.”

“Yes.” Jeff frowns, and
thinks to himself: what’s that got to do with anything? But plays along. “I
have my own free will.”

“You also have an
entanglement with God.”

“And if I don’t believe in
God?”

“Then we shall take your
academic perspective and call God energy. You now have an entanglement with
energy.”

“You’re talking on a
sub-atomic level?”

“Through quantum physics,
science dictates that you yourself exist as energy. All energy operates and is
entangled within larger or smaller energies; including your thoughts.”

“Where are you going with
all of this?”

“It’s not I who’s going
somewhere with this, but you.”