Blood Trance

by R. D. Zimmerman

  “Of course I can.”

  “I mean, none of this quickie stuff, right?”

  “Just get comfortable, Alex. Breathe in… and out. In… and out.”

  Without even thinking, my breathing began to pattern Maddy's. I was like a trained dog. I just did it automatically, not questioning, not knowing why, but not caring either. In… and out. I lay there with my eyes shut, the rhythm of my body taking its cues from my sister, and I thought, I love hypnosis. I love letting go. And it struck me that this was why it was working between us. Maddy loved control, while I loved giving over. Was I sick?

  “Maddy, do we like this too much?”

  “Just relax and clear your mind.”

  I did as she commanded, following the orders of my gurulike sister. Suddenly I sensed previously unnoticed clots of tension in my forehead, in my neck. They were there, all tied up, but the very act of noticing them caused them to begin to melt.

  “Okay, Alex,” began my sister. “You're going to enter a deep state of hypnosis. You want to and you can. It's just a matter of sitting back and relaxing. If you do that, if you calm your mind, a door will open and you'll be able to step through and into that world. There's nothing to worry about, Alex. I'm here. No matter how far away you go, I'll be right here by your side, and whenever you want, I'll bring you back.”

  Her great disclaimer, I thought. She'd be right with me. How godly of her.

  “Good. Now, you've been resisting a bit because you are afraid.”

  Yes, I was, but knowing Maddy sensed this somehow comforted me and that in turn enabled me to go deeper.

  I said, “After what I went through and what happened to Helen, wouldn't you be a little nervous, too?”

  “Absolutely, but you're no longer in Chicago. You're here at my house. It's safe now.” Gently, Maddy said, “Alex, I want you to go into a trance and use your imaginal unconscious to try to describe the person who tried to kill you.”

  “But I didn't see much, hardly anything.”

  “You saw something, though. You know how a police artist conjures up a sketch of a suspect?”

  Eyebrow here, nose there. I'd witnessed the process on television, had seen a number of crime-alert posters in my old neighborhood.

  “Sure.”

  “What I want you to do is stretch that concept a little further. I want you to slip into a deep trance, but instead of doing a sketch, something that's flat and one-dimensional, I want you to conjure up a three-dimensional image.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all. You know something about that person. You saw something. It's time to acknowledge that.”

  “I am the camera?”

  “Exactly. You've just got to let yourself see what you know.” Greasing my mind with propaganda, Maddy added, “Alex, you're one of the best hypnotic subjects I've ever seen.”

  My big sister's praise flattered me, but should I let it? Was this simply more of her subtle manipulation, her way of getting what she wanted?

  “Are you just saying that to promote a good trance, or do you really think so?”

  “It's the truth, Alex.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Good. I always wanted to excel at something. Who would have guessed it would be hypnosis; who would have known my mind would have run freest and wildest in such an odd state?

  “So I'm going to count to three.”

  Just the thought of it pushed all the buttons, sent me rushing ahead of her. I let go and opened my veins, my being, to a flood of tranquillity, which came madly rushing in.

  “One, roll up your eyes and take a deep breath.” My dear sister paused, then preached the litany of the trance, commanding: “Hold it. Now two, keep your eyes up and slowly close your eyelids. Concentrate on the two separate acts. Eyes up, lids slowly, slowly closing. Okay, let them close. And three… relax your eyes and exhale.”

  It was the same method I used in self-hypnosis, but for some reason Maddy could do it so much better, just as I could make a perfectly decent ham sandwich, but my mother had been able to take the same ingredients and make the perfect one. So now Maddy said three, and it was like a trapdoor opened beneath me and I went tumbling down, tumbling in. Lead on, O Wise One, I thought. It was like I was a scuba diver, swimming through my mind, and most of the time I was up above on the surface. But then I could don hypnosis and dive below, and what was down there in the depths was incredible. Or was I rising off the recliner, ascending into the dark universe?

  “With each beat of your heart, Alex, you fall deeper into hypnosis. You turn around, and there is an escalator. Which way is it going, up or down?”

  Maddy knew me, realized that some days I liked to ride up an escalator, getting lighter and lighter, and sometimes I liked to go deeper and deeper, my body growing heavier and heavier.

  “It's going down,” I said, clearly seeing the silvery steps and the moving black handle.

  “Good. Now step forward, Alex. Step onto that escalator. I'm going to count from one down to ten, and when I reach ten, you'll be at the bottom of the escalator and you'll be in an extremely deep trance. One.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was going to have to tell her to come up with a new one. The escalator bit was getting old. Nevertheless, I stepped onto it, held on to its rail, and let it carry me down.

  “Two. It's a relief to let go, to let yourself be carried deeper and deeper. And you can let go. As the steps move downward, you feel an amazing sense of calm sweep through your body. Three.”

  I just stood there, riding down into the black depths of hypnosis. And she was right; it was a relief to let go, be carried away. Warm waves of relaxation came billowing up from below, blowing over me, wrapping around, beckoning, pulling me downward.

  “Four. You're moving deeper with great ease, Alex, and your body is growing heavier with each moment.”

  My sister went on, sliding past the numbers five, six, seven. And I went deeper, just standing there on the escalator of my imagination and riding into what seemed a black hole.

  Behind me a faint voice called, “Eight.”

  I turned around as I descended. Looked up. My Maddy was still up there, droning on, her voice growing fainter and fainter as she massaged my mind, my arms, and my legs with her words. She told me how my entire body was overcome with relaxation, how my mind was open, my body light. And she was right on all that. I was drugged by her chant.

  “Nine. You feel so relaxed and your body seems so heavy because you're almost there. You can see it, feel it. You've almost reached the bottom. And ten…”

  The escalator suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Everything was quiet. No hum of machinery, no drone of my sister. I looked around. Oh, I was at the bottom. End of journey. Where was I? The escalator had indeed carried me very deep, and I was in some sort of buried cavern. No, I was down in some dark room, and I stepped off the last stair of the escalator. A ripple of puzzling thoughts ran through my mind—where was I, what was I doing down here, what was I supposed to be looking for? And just as quickly I knew; oh, yes, I was supposed to be looking for a face: nose here, eyes there, hair of that shade.

  The light was extremely faint, and I could see nothing except a door with a black handle. I stared at it, knew that the truth was behind there. If I went through, my imaginal whatever-it-was might very well show me that face I was searching for. I just had to open the door. But could I? Should I? I had an uneasy feeling, a queasy sense that while I might see something important inside, there was danger as well. Yes, perhaps even someone waiting to do me harm. Still, I had to go in there, so I crossed the dark space and went up to the door, put my hand on the handle, and twisted it. The door was supposed to be locked, wasn't it? Sure it was, but instead it was open. I pulled the door, and it gave easily. A flash of fear ripped up my spine. Turn away, Alex. Don't do this. Don't go in there. Get out of here. Yes, I had to leave, shouldn't, couldn't do this because whoever had attacked and nearly snuffed out my life was
in there.

  But then a phone in that room began to ring. I paused. Should I get it?

  “Go ahead, Alex, answer it.”

  Chapter 5

  Some big sister, some protector, I thought, my hand still on that black doorknob as the phone continued its ringing plea. Maddy had said she was going to watch out for me, and here she was encouraging me—no, egging me on—wanting me to enter that room so that I might see a face and learn a secret. I was now certain, however, that I shouldn't enter this next chamber because I knew someone was in there, waiting for me. Someone who'd once come after me. Oh, Christ, was this real or a dream or something else altogether?

  “If this is the way to what you've repressed, what difference does it make?” called a voice all the way from the top of the escalator. “We'll sort out what it means later.”

  Listening to the phone scream and scream again, I supposed there was no difference. Yet I sensed there was great danger in learning that truth, just as there'd been danger when I'd been followed that week prior to Helen's murder. And—

  The telephone continued its biting ring. I didn't hesitate a moment longer. I had to answer it, so I swung open the door, half expecting some sort of mad person to leap out at me. Instead, this next room was smaller, and right in the middle of the room, some twenty feet ahead of me, stood a small table. On that table sat the ringing phone, a big old black one. I charged in, rushing to the phone, rushing to pick it up, because I had to answer it. That was it. The phone would give me answers, so I had to hurry. There could be a person on the other end of that line wanting and needing to tell me something, and when I had that bit of information, the entire murder might make sense. I broke into a run, extended my right hand. I had to get there, answer it, and I was getting closer and closer. In one swoop, my hand reached down and scooped the receiver out of its cradle.

  “Hello?” I shouted. “Hello? Who is it? Who's there?”

  At first there was nothing, only a faint crackling over the line, but then a strange voice uttered that phrase, saying, “It's yours.”

  The next instant the line went dead, totally and absolutely. No static or anything.

  “Hello?” I hollered “What do you—”

  I heard quick steps behind me, but before I could turn around something was thrown over my head, then jerked back. I gasped as a cord was abruptly pulled against my throat, digging in, cutting off all my air. Jesus, someone was strangling me. I understood right then that death was to be mine, but I didn't want it and I dropped the phone, and my fingers clawed at my neck, trying desperately to pull the cord away. Whoever was behind me, however, was so strong, so powerful. As hard as I could, I jabbed my elbow back, hit a stomach, sent the person reeling backward and away. All at once the cord around my neck went flaccid.

  Gasping for air, I spun around. A large figure stood there, arms, legs, and face completely wrapped mummylike in dingy, white gauze. Oh, Jesus, this was exactly what I'd feared had been lurking in this room, but what was this? Fantasy or reality?

  Grabbing a large knife from the floor, the odd being said, “There are things you mustn't find out, things I won't let you find out.”

  As I stared at this unknown person, I realized I'd been absolutely right, that the reason I hadn't discovered any real truths or answers in Loretta's case was because deep within my subconscious I knew it was too dangerous for me to recall the real facts. I had simply blocked myself from finding the truth in order to protect myself. But were those fears legitimate or imaginary? Could there be real danger at this point in going back and unearthing the truth?

  “Yes, possibly so, but again, even if those fears are only imaginary, it's important to confront them. Don't worry, I'll be with you as you let things unfold. You don't have to decide at this time what's real and what's not.”

  The rational part of me, the conscious side, knew, however, that an irrational paranoia was substantially different from someone actually threatening to do physical harm. For instance, if Loretta hadn't killed Helen, then whoever had would be more than willing to come after me now. That was a very real possibility, something far worse than this shrouded thing here in this room. In any case, where did I go from here? I eyed the door behind me, which was still ajar. I could make a dash for it and fly out and back up that staircase, back up and out of this trance. A retreat to safety. Or I could take a stand.

  “That's right You've come here for a purpose. You need to uncover this person's true identity.”

  I had to discern the color of hair, the shape of brow, and to the cloaked thing I said, “I must find out who you are.”

  Whether it was male or female, I couldn't tell, and it laughed a worn rasp, said, “I won't let you.”

  “Do you mean you'll stop me out of concern for my well-being?”

  It shook its head. “No, I mean I'll kill you in order to keep my identity hidden.”

  This was too weird, too dreamlike, yet too real to be a dream or even a nightmare, and the thing raised one of its arms and a huge gust of wind came out, swirling and blowing all around me. All at once the door behind me blew shut, slamming with a loud bang, and the thing started coming forward. Knife in hand, it raised its arm. Oh, my God. I stepped back, realized there was no way out. Shit, this was way too much like a Bergman film for me.

  I hit the wall behind me, my back flat against it. There was nothing to do but run. Where, though? I dashed to the right. As soon as I did so, the thing let out this hideous shriek, came charging forward, and the knife came slashing through the air, certain to plunge deep into my heart. I ducked, spun behind this thing, this person or whatever it really was. I grabbed onto an arm, my fingers sinking through layers and layers to that mealy gauze, and twisted it back and around. The thing screamed like a baboon, heaved itself back, and I lost my grip and was hurled aside.

  It turned, raised the knife, laughed, and said, “There's no escaping me.”

  I started backing toward the door. Perhaps it wasn't locked. Perhaps I could get out of here. I made a dash, racing for the door, grabbing on to the black handle, twisting, pulling. It was no use, though. It was bolt-tight. I turned, saw the thing stomping toward me, ready to slash and gouge me, stab me over and over and over. Oh, Jesus, this wasn't my own fear now stalking me. I realized this was the mysterious killer, the very one who'd murdered Helen, the one who'd plunged that knife into her so very many times. Pressing myself against the locked door, I realized I was cornered, that I was next. How could I escape? What about my Sorceress of the Trance? Where was my Higher Power when I needed her?

  Suddenly there was pounding. Someone was banging on the door, hitting it forcefully. Oh, no. Was that another one of these things coming at me from behind?

  “No. Just stand aside, Alex.”

  I moved to the side as the pounding grew louder and stronger, and I glanced into the room, saw that creature continue to stalk me, knife again raised. Hurry, Maddy, I thought. There are only seconds, moments. It was now only some ten feet away, moving in on me, one slow step after another. I had dodged it once, could I again? The thing was so incredibly strong. I had felt its strength, its raw power. There was no way I could battle it.

  All of a sudden there was a huge explosion. Splinters of piercing wood shot everywhere, and I covered my face, my body. I heard the creature cry out, saw that it had been stabbed with a multitude of wooden shards. The center of the door had been blown open as if blasted by some huge gun. Light was pouring through from the other side.

  And a voice said, “Hurry, Alex!”

  I leapt forward, scrambled to squeeze through the blown-apart door.

  “No!” shouted the creature, lunging after me.

  I had one foot through the opening, and was soon halfway through the gash, pushing madly to get to the other side. My fingers clawed at the spikes of wood, pushed them aside. I looked over my shoulder, saw this hideous person racing closer and closer. In desperation I pulled myself through until my pant leg got hung up on a spear of wood. I reac
hed down, ripped my pants free. And the thing was diving forward, making a last attempt to grab me by the ankle, smiling because it knew it was going to succeed. In one last effort, I jerked myself free and then fell through the door, tumbling down on the floor on the other side.

  I sat there, my breath coming in terrified gasps. The person cloaked in gauze was too big; it couldn't get through the hole in the door and chase after me. It struggled and pushed, then realized it was futile and stood there staring at me. I was safe, I realized, and I pushed myself up, came to my feet.

  My hypnotic chauffeur said, “Take a good look at that thing, Alex, The face beneath the gauze is what you need to visualize. This is what you're up against. Do you want to continue?”

  To my left I heard the escalator click on, and saw that the stairs were moving upward, that if I stepped on I would now be carried up and out of this trance. That was the easy way out, the return to the so-called real world. But did I actually have a choice? Not really. If I ignored that creature back there, if I retreated from this trance, I'd never discover the truth and that thing would never be purged from me. The fear, real or imaginary, would always be lurking within the shadows of my subconscious. I would carry it with me for the rest of my life. I had to go on.

  Magically, another door appeared. I knew what was behind that one. Loretta. Her story. The murder of Helen. It was all back there waiting to be revisited.

  “That's right.”

  Impulsively, I went over and reached for the knob of this other door, knowing I had to enter and not come out until I had the truth. My fingers twisted the handle and began to pull.

  “No!” ordered the creature behind me, standing in the doorway. “If you go through that door, I'll pursue you. I'll come after you, I'll kill you.”

  I hesitated, wondered if I should abandon this trance, return to it another time when I was perhaps stronger, more cunning. That would be the wise thing, but just then I heard the scream of a woman. It rose from the other side of this door, called to the heavens in pain. I knew that voice; I knew who was in trouble and who needed help. Loretta.