The freedom and privacy of living alone provided the time and place where he could indulge his fantasies. Realistic portrayal of sadistic violence was the recurrent theme in movies he watched repeatedly, and he soon began dreaming about killing people. His most disturbing dream is one where he finds himself teaching in a first grade classroom. He must punish the children for not doing their homework and does so by slowly and methodically walking from desk to desk, and one by one strangles each child to death. Spencer Phillips has had this dream over a hundred times since he was fifteen. Psychotic, homicidal impulses became increasingly prevalent in the waking thoughts of this deeply disturbed young man.
After winning the lottery when he was twenty nine, he bought a house in the suburbs of Chicago and does his best to blend in with his neighbors. Today he's flying to Munich, Germany, and from there on to Milan, Italy hoping to find his next victim. His last nine trips abroad have been to Southeast Asia and to break the pattern he chose Italy this time trying to appear as just another tourist. Spencer enjoys the anticipation of killing someone almost as much as the act of murder itself. The moment he bought his airline ticket to Italy, he tacitly promised himself another victim, and he intends to keep that promise.
While Spencer Phillips readies himself for his flight, eight time zones away in a small mountain village near Varenna, Italy, twenty-three-year-old Maria Theresa Polomo is doing what she does most every afternoon, sitting before a canvas sketching out another landscape painting to be sold at her parents’ ‘Bed and Breakfast Inn’ or a nearby tourist shop on Lake Como. Maria's parents own a small hotel a few miles from Lake Como and cater to tourists who walk the hiking trails of Italy's northern mountains. The Polomo family has made a good living through the years on tourism and employ all their children in the family business. Maria's three brothers are all hiking guides and by day spend their time leading visitors on the many walking trails in the surrounding countryside. Because of Maria's love for painting and since her paintings consistently sell, she uses the afternoons to walk the beautiful mountain paths in search of a compelling view to render on canvas. Maria began painting when she was twelve years old and though she has undeniable difficulty drawing the human form, she excels at rendering images of the beautiful mountain scenery in her native Lombardy. Her parents hang her paintings prominently on the walls of their inn with their attached price tags. When several sold within three weeks for over two thousand dollars, the economic value of Maria's artistic talent became apparent. Her creative skill and youthful beauty make her the darling of the Polomo family.
Today she'll return to the secluded spot she's visited daily for the last few weeks. She's trying to capture certain highlights of light and shade the afternoon sun casts on her subject, a flower laden meadow with a distant background of snow-capped mountain tops etched against a deep blue sky. This particular work has extra meaning for Maria. The moment she first walked into the sunlit meadow three weeks ago and took in the picturesque view she knew it would be the subject of her next painting. The work has been sketched out completely. What remains is the meticulous process of coloring the image. Landscapes, particularly mountains are very difficult to replicate on canvas with oil based pigments. Maria knows it would be easier to use water colors to render her landscape images, but she's keenly aware of the enormous reputation and prestige associated with the history of Italian painting and so chooses the traditional medium of oil. Her resulting images are crisp, well delineated paintings that are visually appealing.
In this particular work Maria has omitted one specific detail she can't quite put out of her mind. The original view of the meadow and the mountains behind it clearly shows the image of a cross cut into an outcropping of rock on one of the mountain-sides in the distance. The choice to leave it out of the painting seems sensible. Religious imagery dominates classical Italian painting and for many this is enough reason to keep landscape images free of any association with religion. One of the tourist shop owners who purchased several of Maria's paintings recently expressed this opinion, telling her the tourist market for art is now much more diverse and includes a sizable non-Christian component. Though this rationale seems logical, Maria is ambivalent about the omission. An accurate and faithful depiction of that particular view would have included the image of the cross carved into the exposed rock clearly visible to any observer, but the safe choice would be to leave it out. Omitting the icon would preclude any possibility of alienating the sensibilities of a potential buyer. This would be the safe choice. That the work is sketched out completely makes it even more practical to just leave it as it is. The decision is for Maria, and only Maria to make. The easiest and simplest choice is to just move on to her next painting.
Back in Chicago Illinois, Spencer Phillips has boarded the flight that is now taking him to Munich, Germany. With a connecting flight to Milan, Italy he will arrive sometime this evening. After renting a car, tomorrow morning he'll drive to his intended destination near Varenna beside Lake Como for a putative hiking trip in the mountains.
Meanwhile Brianna and her apprentice Calvin, in their timeless otherworldly realm, where only departed souls inhabit, walk down a country path. A beautiful sunny sky hangs over them as they unhurriedly make their way. Calvin knows they will soon receive another arrival and this one is from a dark malefic world of human cruelty. He walks on in silence until his curiosity prompts him.
“Brianna?”
“Yes Calvin.”
“When is our next arrival coming?”
“Soon.”
“Has he done terrible things?”
“Yes he has, unspeakably terrible, he’s taken innocent life to gratify a psychotic addiction to killing. Children have fallen under his hand.”
“What will happen?”
“He like all others will be given what he wants.”
“Where are we?”
“You might also ask, when are we?”
“What do you mean?”
“We're in Italy, in the time of the Roman Empire.”
“How is this possible?”
“After all you've seen Calvin, how can you think it's not possible? We're in a realm that's not bound by linear time.”
“Why are we in Roman times?”
“We are to witness an execution Calvin and I must in person offer testimony. The intended victim is a woman of Italian descent. It's fitting that the fiend be condemned by Roman law. In their jurisdiction the crime was planned and so by their authority, it will be answered. The symbolism is apt. Roman law, the mother of civilizations, lawfully sanctions this action and warrants the fall of Spencer Phillips.”
“I thought nobody could die in this place since they're already dead to their earthly body.”
“That's right. The execution we will witness is symbolic, and spiritual but the results for Mr Phillips will be frightfully real.”
“What do you mean?”
“Observe Calvin. Observe in silence and surmise.”
Calvin takes his cue to be patient and walks on in silence with Brianna.
Back in the temporal world of life and the living, another busy day of tourist activity is underway in Varenna, Italy. A beautiful afternoon of sunshine and blue sky finds Maria Theresa Polomo again walking the hiking trails near her home searching for another inspiring view. She always carries a sketch pad and a digital camera with her to capture any interesting scenes she might want to render later on canvas. As she walks Maria occasionally passes others hiking the same trail and always offers a cordial greeting. In groups, pairs or singly, people come from a number of countries to experience the historical charm and natural beauty of Northern Italy, and now is the peak season for it. Hikers are a common sight in the mountains at this time of the year. Solitary hikers are also not an uncommon sight, like the one Maria saw earlier from a distance walking the same trail she's on.
All seems normal as Maria continues
her deliberate pace along the trail. She's going back to a secluded meadow to take a picture of the scene she's just finished painting. After thinking it over, Maria has decided to include the image of the cross in her painting just as it appears, and so she's returning to the secluded meadow this morning for a quick photo of the terrain. She'll use this for reference when she adds the cross to her finished canvas later tonight. The path to get there lies off the main walking trail and is seldom found by any who trek that way.
As Maria walks on she sees a solitary hiker in the distance walking her way. As they pass, a terse hello is exchanged and they continue in different directions. Seconds later they're yards apart, but the man slows down and looks back at the young woman moving away from him. He advances a little further and again turns to see the woman's receding figure. This hiker looks like any other with his backpack, binoculars, and hiking shoes. He carries with him items common to most trail hikers and also something very uncommon, something that most would consider strangely out of place. It's a baker's oven timer. Spencer Phillips has arrived at his destination, and he believes he's just found what he's looking for. He stoops and pretends to tie his shoes as he watches Maria. After he's convinced she suspects nothing, he follows her, and sees her veer off the main path and make her way up a rocky slope strewn with boulders. He watches furtively as she finally passes over the ridge and disappears from view.
Spencer Phillips immediately, and correctly senses she knows where she's going and when she gets there she'll most likely be alone and isolated. He feels a surge of anticipatory excitement, and carefully begins stalking Maria from a distance taking care to remain unnoticed. After reaching the crest of the ridge, he sees her enter a narrow passage through what looks like two large rock walls. The pathway leading to the passage comes very close to a steeply graded, downward sloping section of the mountain that requires cautious footing. One misplaced step could result in a dangerous fall. After carefully negotiating the hazardous section of the path. He comes to the narrow passage-way that Maria passed through minutes before. Then, after passing through himself, he sees something very enticing.
The young woman he has followed is seated on a portable folding chair with her back turned to him. His pulse quickens as he sees her preoccupied with her camera. It's a perfect opportunity to kill. Watching her in silence, he knows he'll be able to spend time with her. This is why he came to Italy. This secluded meadow seems tailored exactly for his purpose. Spencer Phillips is sure this encounter will be thrilling. All he has to do now is make a casual approach. As he observes his next victim, she suddenly looks to the side for some reason, and Spencer Phillips quickly conceals himself behind a large rock. With his attention focused still on his unsuspecting victim, he doesn't see the well camouflaged viper sunning himself on the sun-warmed rock only inches away. As he stretches his head forward to view his victim again, he places his hand on the animal and the poisonous snake instantly strikes, and strikes in the worst possible place, very close to the carotid artery in the right side of his neck.
Mr Phillips looks over to see his nemesis, and gets an ‘up-close and personal’ look at ‘Vipera Ammodytes', commonly called the ‘Horn Nosed Viper', who has just discharged a full dose of his venom. Any hope that he might have received a dry bite is dispelled as he feels the haemotoxic poison entering his bloodstream. Trying to reason through his panicked thoughts, he knows he must get to a hospital as soon as possible, and makes his way back the way he came. He knows a racing heart will only spread the poison through his body more quickly. When he touches his neck, he feels the swelling has already started. He must hurry.
After negotiating the narrow passage-way, he quickens his gait, and makes a fatal mistake. He loses his footing at the very point on the path overlooking the steeply graded downward slope and falls. After blindly tumbling several times he feels a crushing pain in his back, and after another jarring impact he loses consciousness. When his dangerous fall finally ends his body is lying precariously inverted with his feet higher than his head. His foot is lodged between two rocks and that has prevented him from falling to his death. The empty backpack he is still wearing was scant protection from the fall. Besides having the venom of a poisonous viper in his blood stream, his back is now broken. Sealing his fate is the fact that Maria is still unaware of his presence. Unconscious, with life threatening injuries, the life of Spencer hangs in the balance. His doom is sealed with fitting irony. If Maria, the person he intended to kill, knew he was there she would immediately get help, and even more ironic is the fact that she always carries an antivenin kit in her backpack.
The bite from a Horned Nosed Viper isn't usually fatal, and a broken back can heal, but only if aid and medical care are quickly given. That will not happen for Spencer Phillips. One hour later Maria starts hiking back home. Preoccupied with her own careful descent, she doesn't notice the human figure still lying silently over a hundred feet away on the slope below her. All seems normal as she returns home, and several hours later she's back with her family eating dinner. She'll spend the evening retouching the painting she thought was completed. Using the photo she's taken, Maria will repaint her work, adding the image of the cross, and as the sun goes down, she retires to her room and prepares. After positioning the canvas, and setting up her paints and brushes, she begins.
In the same moment when Maria's brush touches the canvas, Spencer Phillips opens his eyes. The swollen mass on his neck is agonizingly painful, and his breathing is slow and labored. The blood poisoning effect of haemotoxic snake venom has done its damage, but what frightens him even more is that he finds it impossible to move his legs. His excruciating back pain is unmistakable. Spencer Phillips knows his back is broken and in knowing that, he also knows he's going to die tonight. Apart from each other, neither the fall nor the snake bite would've been enough to kill him, but together they insure a slow, searingly painful ordeal that will last nearly eight hours before it ends.
Meanwhile, a few miles away, Maria is still working alone in her room. She feels a mild chill in the air and gets up to close the window. As she does, she sees the approaching thunderstorm that's been predicted to move through the area tonight. After stretching for a few minutes, she sits down to continue her work. She intends to finish retouching the painting tonight even though it could mean another six hours of work. She starts again and hears thunder in the distance. Minutes later the rain begins and as she works on she says to herself, “It's a good night for painting.”
It might be a good night for painting, but it's not a good night to be stranded on a mountain paralyzed, snake bitten, and waiting to die. Now cold and shivering from the soaking storm, Spencer Phillips is enduring the last few painful hours of his life. The slow agony of his ordeal is intensely painful. Minutes later the rain stops and the skies clear. A full moon illuminates the surrounding landscape. Spencer Phillips, still hanging with his feet above his head sees an inverted image of the surrounding mountains, and because of the moon's radiance, he sees something else: the unmistakable image of a cross carved into the side of an adjacent mountain, but from his perspective the cross is upside down. As minutes pass, he stares at the cross and thinks about his life and the people he's harmed. One by one he remembers each of his twenty-six victims. He remembers the eight children he murdered. He remembers the pregnant woman he strangled in the outskirts of Manila three years ago. One by one in sequence they appear in his memory. As it gets darker, the bright moonlight illuminates the cross in the distance even more clearly. It seems to beckon the tortured soul of Spencer Phillips. In his mind he sees a single collective image of all the twenty-six faces of his victims. With their unblinking eyes staring back at him, they seem like witnesses in a jury trial patiently waiting to give their damning testimony. Moment by moment his agony continues.
Several miles away, Maria has worked for nearly six hours on her painting. All that remains is the final insertion of the cross, and it will be complete. As she touch
es the canvas for the last series of brush strokes Spencer Phillips feels a spasm of intense pain. It's been almost eleven hours since he broke his back, and for the last six hours he's been fully conscious. The excruciating ordeal is about to end. He looks again at the upside down cross, and in the brilliant light of the full moon it appears almost luminous in its intensity.
Spencer Phillips senses the end is near. He pauses for a moment and looks once more at the cross, and in a weak fading voice asks a question.
“Do you want me to say I'm sorry? Well I'm not. I'm not sorry.”
Back in her room, Maria is about to complete her work. Both Maria Theresa Polomo and Spencer Phillips are only a moment away from delivering a last finishing touch; one to a painted canvas and the other to a corrupted earthly life. Maria touches the painting for the last time with a final detail to the image of the cross she decided to include in her painting and as she does, Spencer Phillips looks one last time at the inverted cross in the distance and spitefully utters his blasphemy.
“You think I'm sorry? I'm not sorry ... Fuck you God! ... Fuck you.”
Spencer Phillips curses God for the third time, but as Maria lifts the very tip of the brush from the canvas, he's consumed by an agonizing spasm of convulsive pain. A moment later he expels his last living breath. All motion is stilled and then, oblivion.
Spencer Phillips wakes within his soul's journey and discovers himself walking down a road in an unfamiliar landscape. He remembers his earthly life as if it were a dream, but this place where he now finds himself seems far more real than the world he just exited. He walks along and observes his surroundings. It's a sunny day in the country. The road stretching on before him contains no signs of human activity with no buildings or streets to be seen.
A Journey of Souls Page 10
