Falling

by Mark Z. Kammell

  I’m sitting down, in one of the comfortable armchairs, when the secured door hisses, before sliding open. Quickly, self consciously, I brush my hair back, wipe the sweat off my face and turn to face what’s coming. She enters first, and her picture doesn’t cut it, she really is take-your-breath-away beautiful, even as she walks in and her eyes capture mine I am sure I will have lost, that she can see right through me already and see that I have seen things that have scarred me, and she knows who’s done this, but I can’t lose, I have to win. Her smile stops me, as Babybro walks in, he looks small, broken, dirty, dark, next to her, and his crooked smile makes me want to break his neck, to crush his skull, and at least I feel some peace realising that I am, thank goodness, not a romantic, just dark, violent and insensitive.

  “Hey man, Sharllen is so happy to meet you” he starts in his biggest voice, and he comes over to me, slaps me on the back, like we’re best mates, “you can tell her man, tell her what I’m like, I’m not evil man, hey look at you, you look so well, man, ain’t I been looking after you, don’t you see, darlin’…”

  A single movement from her shuts him up, she says quietly “leave us” and he stops, catches his breath, and says “yeah, whatever, man, be back in five”. As he leaves, she comes to me and sits next to me, and touches my forehead. “Don’t speak” she whispers, and I’m so relieved, I have no energy left, “just listen” she whispers, and I allow my head to sink back and feel the pain subside just a little, and she smiles. “You don’t need to tell me anything. Don’t tell me anything about Derek. I know what he does, I can see what he’s done to you, there’s no need to lie. I am going to allow you to leave, but you must trust me and take this.” She reaches into her handbag and removes a package, which she hands to me. I sit there, staring at it, sitting in my hands, I don’t know what to do with it, should l open it, what’s inside it, why’s she giving it to me.

  “Please don’t open it yet, open it when you are far away from here. I’m going now, you know what to do” and before I can protest, she’s gone, leaving me alone. The door remains open and I walk to it, look outside at the brown earth and the green sky, a single road leading away, and I step back inside, sit back on the armchair and wait.

  He strolls back in, cocky, chilled, smoking a cigarette. He comes up to me and blows smoke in my face, and then he grins, a huge, demented grin. “You were so fucking perfect man. Man, that was the best shag I’ve ever had” and I have to wipe his spit off my face, before he continues, “but business is business, right, my friend?” and before I can protest I feel the blow of his hand against my temple, and I can feel what’s happening, I’m being dragged back, I’m back in the chair, the straps come down and he’s back. “Now” he whispers, “where were we?"

  “Aaaah! Aaah fuck! No!” he screams, as the straps over my hands suddenly spring open and I see his eyes, his demented eyes turn black in pain, now it’s my turn to rise slowly and walk over to where he is and peer at him, and though I know he can’t see me I do know he can, somewhere in the depth of his tortured brain, hear me, as I lean forward so my lips almost touch his ear, “feel what it does to you now, feel it rip your heart out, you sick, demented bastard. I hope she comes back for you, I hope she eats your heart while you watch.”

  I walk away from him, twisting and turning, writhing on the floor, I walk out, through the open door and stand on the road, I feel the sun beat on me, I know he’ll be back for me, I know that something is out there somewhere but for now I’m free.

  Chapter 31

  (There’s a room somewhere that I need to find.)

  The sun’s blazing now, but that’s OK because I have a cold beer that tastes wonderful. The barman doesn’t speak a word of English, in fact I’ve no idea what language he does speak, or what country I’m in, but it doesn’t really matter, because I’ve got a cold beer that tastes wonderful, washes my pain away, and the barman is the best stereotype I can imagine, big and friendly, with a huge moustache, plastered back hair and a trampoline belly. I’m sitting on a broken stool in front of a broken table in front of his bar, a falling apart wooden hut with straw for a roof, in the middle of a dusty clearing just off the bare, deserted road. Just me and him. I raise my glass to him again, and he waves in a friendly way, then carries on polishing the filthy bar with a filthy rag. He points to his gleaming new watch, and smiles broadly. I have no money, so it’s what I had to pay for a seemingly infinite amount of alcohol. I hope he realises what it’s worth, and doesn’t sell it on to some hooker for some quick pleasure on a starry night. “It’s a Bernstein” I kept repeating, “a Jim Bernstein, very valuable”, rubbing my fingers together, but he would just nod and smile and point at me and say “Jim, beer!” so now he thinks my name is Jim and I love beer. Both of those, strictly speaking, are wrong, but I am not going to argue right now.

  Now he’s over here, with another full glass, and he sits with me, lights a cigarette and starts gabbling in his godawful language. I have no idea what he’s saying but he seems to be happy so I join in, laughing with him. I can feel my skin start to tingle, start to stretch under the sun and I know what this means, good news too, my protection is starting to reassert itself. Maybe another few hours and then we’ll be back.

  At some point I should consider my options, work out what to do to get out of here, maybe get back to Simon and see what’s happening there, maybe talk him through what I saw, whether it’s relevant, but just thinking about it now darkens my mood so I move my mind swiftly on. I do have to get out of here though, I need more than just beer and a simple life, so I probably do need a phone.

  I start trying to explain this to my friend, holding my thumb to my ear and my little finger to my mouth, but I’m not really, still sure that he gets it, he starts laughing and picks up a glass, I get the feeling that he’s going to pour beer over my head when suddenly his eyes darken and he drops the glass, turning and looking down the road. I follow his gaze and see a tiny thing, a tiny cloud of smoke and dust and I turn to him, questioningly, surely it can’t be that unusual to have a car come down the road, but he’s up and he’s busy and he’s wiping at the table, he’s clearing up the glasses, and he’s pointing to me, and suddenly he can speak a little, “You…” he says, jabbing his finger at me, “you hide, you hide, come with me”. I stare at him, then turn again to see the dust cloud getting bigger, and though I can’t see anything I wonder, I feel a chill go through me, I go back to him and walk with him, walking quickly to his hut, he’s pointing inside, “under, you hide under” and he’s pushing me in, now, that we can hear the noise of the approaching vehicle. I get down on my hands and knees and crawl under his counter, my hands feel air and I fall forward, downwards and throw my hand out just in time to avoid smacking my head, but it still hurts. It’s dark and damp somehow and it takes a couple of seconds for me to readjust, to understand where I am, I pick myself up and find myself in a hollow just underneath his shack, a small window in front of me that gives me a view of what’s happening outside. I look up and see him pull something across, a sheet, a false floor so now I’m trapped in here, barely space to move, and I cough, the dust is thrown in as something stops outside followed by the bang of a car door shutting. There’s some shuffling and suddenly a heavy thud above me, some dust falls and lands in my hair, my friend is above me.

  “Hey man how’ya doin” the familiar scratch, scrawl of the voice fills my head. Quietly, carefully, I put my head to the grille and try to see what’s happening outside. I can see a set of legs approach, and behind it a massive truck, facing me. All I notice about the truck is that something’s pinned to the front of its bonnet. I rub the dust from my eyes and lean forward to get a better view, it appears to be, I shove my hand in my mouth to prevent myself from throwing up when I understand what I’m seeing.

  “Hey man” the voice isn’t friendly and the legs are right in front of me now, blocking my view. “Have you seen anyone come by here? I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine.”

 
; There’s some muffled sounds above me, it’s hard to understand exactly, I just catch bits and pieces, “saw your beer there….. someone must…. Hey man talk….. y’see that…” and some noises, some thudding, some scraping then a bang and… silence. I hold my breath.

  Then something different, like something I don’t quite recognise, almost like? A bird singing? Those sort of noises haven’t been around for a very long time. It’s still there, though, and it’s getting louder, and I screw up my eyes and concentrate and try to make out what it is, it’s humming, he’s humming, a tune. Above it there start to be a lot of other noises, large scrapes and bangs, like things being moved around, like he’s trying to find a hiding place. Instinctively I push myself back against the rough dirt wall, I am standing so still now, I am not breathing and I am not looking, my body starts to tingle and I can feel the sweat drip down from my hair onto my forehead, I dare not move, I dare not wipe it away, he has to find this place, it’s so easy. The noises are getting louder, I can’t help myself, I allow my eyes to glance up and feel the chill run through me as I see the roof sway, wobble and start to move back.

  I push myself further and further back into the wall but there’s nowhere to go, I want to avert my eyes but I can’t stop myself from looking upwards, I’m thinking of the pain and thinking of the monster and thinking that I can’t really go through it again as a wayward ray of sunlight catches my face and throws him into relief and I can see him, see the still red eyes of this man, this man who started out as some kind of joke and is now my capturer and my torturer, I see his eyes bore into me, drill into me and I’m waiting for it to be over.

  He stares for such a long time. The sunlight stains my face and I have to blink. I can feel my body fold, slacken as I accept the inevitable, my resistance won’t have built up and he can capture me easily.

  But he doesn’t.

  He continues to stare.

  And then he steps back.

  And he’s gone.

  My breath floods out. I have no idea why he left me but relief pours through me like a dam bursting. I want to scream, to shout, to start again, to forgive all those people and beg forgiveness from those who I’ve killed I want to.

  “Hey man” I stop, my blood freezes again, he’s just playing with me, he’s going to get me still.

  “Hey man, I’ll find you” but his voice is fading.

  Cautiously I turn back to the grille, and peer outside. I can see the legs walking away, the cowboy boots throwing up dust behind him as he walks past the truck to the other side of the clearing. Slowly it dawns on me that he hasn’t seen me, for whatever reason he hasn’t seen me down here in this hole, I can only imagine as to why and then I realise that it doesn’t matter why all that matters is that he hasn’t seen me and he’s given me a chance. I know it’s foolish but the only thing I can think of doing is escaping, of getting out and getting away.

  Slowly, so slowly, I lift myself out of the hole, into the small work area in the shack, right next to my friend the barman’s lifeless body. I touch his forehead in a meaningless gesture and crawl towards the exit, trying to make no noise, trying to keep the beating of my heart down to a minimum. I poke my head out and I can see him, at the far end of the clearing, standing still, staring at the trees that start the forest. His truck’s very close, even crawling it should take me only a few seconds to get there, but I have no technology. What if his keys aren’t in it? What if it’s keyless? I have no choice, though, and so I start before I can let the fear take hold of me, moving into the open on my hands and knees, and crawling towards the machine. It’s between us now so I can’t see him, but I’m sure he’s still where he was, he’s still staring into the distance trying to sense me. The sun is so strong, so powerful on my back, it’s slowing down my movements, slowing down time as I cover the distance, like a snail, like an ant to be crushed if I fail.

  And I’m there, I’m there, and the door is actually open, not just unlocked but ajar letting me slip through it without noise and the keys are there, left there for me, and I could cry with relief as I carefully pull the heavy door shut and wipe my sweaty hands on my bloody shirt. I’m sitting in the drivers seat, I can see him in the mirror, still standing motionless. One hand’s on the key, the other on the steering wheel. Three, two, one, I turn the key and the engine roars to life, he turns in slow motion as I engage reverse and stamp on the pedal. The truck lurches backwards towards him and for a split second we stare at each other through the mirror, our eyes connecting before he springs out of the way and the truck slams back into a tree. He’s in front of me now and I shift gears quickly, moving forward at speed and again he jumps out of the way and suddenly I hear a soft bang, and the truck starts to spin and I realise he’s remotely detonated the tyres and I’m just on the metal now but hey it’s not my truck, I pull hard on the wheel and get control and then face forward and go as fast as I can, away from him, away from there until he’s nothing but a speck on the horizon, until the sky darkens and the rain comes lashing down.

  ***

  (Hey man I’ll find you. Don’t think it’s over yet)

  (There’s a room somewhere that I need to find)

  I am in a room of some sad, dank hotel whose name I can’t pronounce. There are two things on the soft, squalid bed, one is a phone that I took from the truck, the other is the package that the now deceased Sharllen left for me. I considered taking her severed head from it’s trophy spot on the bonnet of the truck when I abandoned it, but decided against it. Too many dark creatures in that forest for me to be carrying fresh meat.

  First the phone. One call. I dial the number that I know by heart. It rings 3 times.

  “Yeah?”

  “Simon”

  “Who’s this?” He always says that because he wants to be sure he doesn’t trap himself into admitting he is who he is.

  “Simon. It’s me. John.”

  Silence.

  “Simon – are you there?”

  His voice is cold and harsh. “What do you want?”. OK, this isn’t good, and I’m caught off guard, I don’t really know how to respond.

  “Erm, Simon, it’s me. Erm, look, I need your help. I was kidnapped, for Gods sake. Ruth, I mean, Ruth, she’s not who she said she was, she was a…”

  “That much is obvious, though that situation is now resolved. What do you want?”

  “I need your help, Simon, I’ve been tortured, I was caught by the Chinese, but I’ve managed to escape, I’m holed up somewhere, I don’t know where, I don’t know how to get out of it, it’s cold and it’s dark and Simon, I need your help, for Christ’s sake, Simon…”

  “You deserted me.”

  “What?” My voice is shrill, high, worried.

  “You deserted me. I specifically told you to stay, it was critically important, and you left. Fortunately we put the situation back under control, but you let me down.” He’s speaking slowly and mechanically now.

  “No, listen, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I just made a mistake, Simon, sorry, but I”

  “You’re out.”

  “What?”

  “You’re out. You’re out of the organisation. You’re removed from the partnership. I’ve taken back your assets. You’re on your own.”

  I can feel the panic rising through my chest, the sickness in my stomach and in my mouth, I am feeling so out of control, I can’t deal with this, I am in so much trouble, I just need him.

  “Simon, listen, please, I am in so much trouble, he’s after me, he wants to destroy me. Simon please” I shout, my voice rising with each word.

  “Goodbye John.”

  “Simon, I know, I know about Elvira, I’ve seen it! Please!” But he’s already hung up.

  I fall to my hands and knees, and I throw up, on the broken wooden floor. What has happened here, how did I get here, two days ago I was taking the most powerful drug in the world, having sex with beautiful women, had everything that I needed. Now what? I have nothing. Everyone has left me
. The closest thing to a girlfriend that I had is a traitor. I have been tortured and seen visions so intense as to destroy my mind. I’m being hunted by an insane, unstable assassin, I think, and I can’t even pay for a night’s stay in this sorry excuse for a hotel. I stare at the sick on the floor, at the grey mess, I can feel my head swimming and swirling and it takes all my concentration and effort not to allow my hands to slip away and fall into it, a final insult for the cleaning lady to find me here in the morning, dead, drowned in the sad, despairing pits of my own stomach.