The House that Jack Built

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The House that Jack Built Page 44

by Malcolm James


  Look closely and you will see

  A gilded image of what once was me

  And while it will never let you be

  The truth will conspire to set me free

  Wherever he was, he was laughing.

  I replaced the sticky note, lit another cigarette and refilled my glass. Frowning, I looked at the snaky design of the house and had the same suspicion that I had when I first saw it. There was something familiar, as if I’d seen it before. Something just out of reach. I squinted and tried to figure out why the design was so recognizable. But it didn’t come to me and I almost folded the blueprint with the intent of returning it to the box.

  I held the Icarus Amulet in my hand and looked at the image that was engraved on it. It was so small, and yet so detailed. I looked back at the blueprint. I stared through the text, the gridlines and the symbols.

  Suddenly, something struck me. Like a lightning bolt that gave me back my vision. The detail on the blueprint had cluttered the page, and made it next to impossible to discern the pattern that the fine blue lines – the hallways – traced.

  Look closely and you will see

  I butted out my smoke. Anxiously, I jumped up and ran to a side table, fumbling through a drawer for a moment before I found a black magic marker. Returning to the table, I sat down and uncapped it.

  A gilded image of what once was me. Gilded image? What does that mean?

  I began to trace the lines of the hallways. I started with the upper left hand corner and slowly, I went around the periphery. My hand shook as it snaked across each thin blue line and replaced it with a distinct black one. Gilded. A shape – a very distinctive shape – began to form as I traced. And even though I knew what it was before I finished, I clenched my jaw and completed the job before I recapped the marker and sat back in my chair. The Scotch reassured me as I gulped the remnants of the glass.

  “Gilded wings…”

  What I saw was unbelievable. I shouldn’t have been surprised that I had missed it when I looked at the document before. There was so much information, in the form of symbols, outlines and text that they had all but obscured the shape that the hallways formed.

  But when I looked at my tracing, I saw Icarus.

  The house – its peripheral hallways anyway – was designed in the shape of Icarus. There was no denying it. I saw the outstretched wings, his long legs and the tips of his toes, and his head, looking up. As if he looked at a sun that threatened to destroy him. It was a rudimentary shape, but there was no mistaking it.

  I finally understood why there were odd, random protrusions on the sides of the house. One protrusion represented the tips of his toes, as they jutted out of the north face. Another was the top of his head, which jutted out of the south face – closest to the Sun. Other juts were the tips of wings or fingertips.

  Jutting out, as if trying to break free.

  Although I looked at the blueprint from top to bottom, north to south – standing in front of it – the house represented the top of Icarus’ head, with his feet falling toward the ocean. The back of the house. I rubbed my jaw and sat back.

  A gilded image of what once was me

  I rubbed my forehead and sighed. I looked at the clock. It was 9:48 PM – close to Eleven there – and I wondered if Fred and the workers were finished for the day. I picked up the phone and dialed his number, but an automated message told me that the cell phone user was out of the service area. He must have still been there. I slowly traced my finger around the black line. I was missing something. There was something else…

  And while it will never let you be

  The truth will conspire to set me free

  I leaned over and peered closely. I read Jack’s bizarre names for the rooms: ‘da Vinci’s Helicopter Room,’ ‘Plato’s Cave,’ ‘Picasso’s Eye’ and the main hallway, which Jack had humorously named ‘Dante’s Inferno.’ I laughed ironically. I hadn’t noticed that one before. After the humor wore off however, I clenched my jaw with grim understanding when I remembered the words. Dante’s words. The words which adorned the Gates of Hell.

  All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

  I held the blueprint up to the light, as if that would give me some kind of clue that was eluding me. Nothing. I placed it back on the table and smoothed it out with the palms of my hands.

  As my skin stroked the paper, I felt something.

  It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Fine lines that lightly caressed the palm of my right hand. I slowly lifted it and looked at the drawing. Carefully, I ran the tip of my forefinger over the cause of my sensation, and that confirmed a tiny impression, as if something was placed there in raised print.

  Intentionally.

  I peered down my fingertip at the drawing. A small symbol was imprinted there, one that I’d missed before. When I first saw the blueprint, the symbol was foreign to me, and it was buried amongst computer-generated measurements, architectural symbols and gridlines. Almost invisible, but not quite.

  Look closely and you will see

  I recognized it instantly.

  Feverishly, I grabbed the box on the floor and rummaged through it until I found the key. I compared the symbol on the head of the key with the symbol on the blueprint. There was no mistaking it. They were one and the same.

  As I looked at the symbol on the blueprint however, something else began to appear. As if my sudden revelation caused it to appear. I’m sure that it was just an optical illusion. That the small lines of text that presented themselves were made clear to me only because I focused out the other symbols and graphics on the page.

  ‘Hall of Trophies.’

  The truth will conspire to set me free

  “Oh God! Ohmigod!” The words escaped my mouth with a hiss and I jumped up and grabbed the phone. I dialed Fred’s cell number again. It rang several times, in synch with my pounding heart.

  “C’mon, c’mon, answer!” I muttered as I paced the room. I cursed and was about to press ‘end’ when Fred picked up.

  “Fred!” I didn’t even give him a chance to speak. “Where are you?”

  “I’m heading back to Halifax. We finished for the day. About a half-hour ago. Why?” I sighed and swallowed. I couldn’t think what to say, but I desperately needed him not to talk.

  “Nevermind. Are you done? Did you find any locked doors? Fuck!”

  “No. We’re about halfway through. There’s a lot of shit in that place. It got dark and the generators ran out of juice. What’s wrong? Locked doors? What do you mean? What kind of doors?”

  “When are you going back?”

  “We’re starting tomorrow. First thing. Why?”

  “I’m coming down. I’ll catch the earliest flight that I can.” I hung up before he had a chance to say anything else.

  I sat back in the chair and looked at the symbol and writing on the blueprint. It was situated exactly where the tip of Icarus’ erect penis was – for Astrid had designed an anatomically correct Icarus.

  Under normal circumstances I would have smiled. Wherever he was, Jack still had a sense of humor. But I couldn’t smile, and I couldn’t stand the fact that I had to wait until tomorrow to get down there. The mere idea that I was anxious to go was a bitter insult, in and of itself. But I hoped that I could catch an early flight out.

  No way was I spending another night in that place.

  Easy, mate. This can only be touched by me.

  Chapter 66

  This is the horse and the hound and the horn,

  That belonged to the farmer sowing his corn

  My plans were thwarted the next day when I couldn’t get a flight until 2 PM.

  As I boarded the plane I shivered and fondled the Icarus amulet that hung round my neck – oddly enough, I found it somewhat comforting to do so. When I arrived in Halifax, I rented a car and drove directly to St. Margaret’s Bay.

  I arrived at the house around Six, and my eyes were greeted by a dozen moving trucks and Fred’s car. I stared at the sullen
grey walls as they glared at me. I could see Icarus. The juts on the front of the house were bits of the outline of his head.

  Dozens of movers scurried about, checking clipboards and loading items onto trucks. Fred stood outside with a stack of papers in his hands and was talking to one of them.

  “Hey, what’s going on? You didn’t have to come all the way down. I’d let you know if we found anything odd.” I ignored his words and showed him the key.

  “Listen to me. Have you found any doors that have this symbol on it?” He peered closely at the key for a minute and shook his head.

  “No, why? What’s this about?” I ignored him and stormed the house. My body trembled with every step. I’d never wanted to return, but I suppose it was always in Jack’s master plan to bring me here for this ‘special occasion.’ As I walked inside, I wondered what the Hell I was going to do with the house. I couldn’t imagine selling it and I certainly couldn’t imagine living in it. The mere thought turned my stomach.

  It was going to be a challenge to find the room. The way the hallways snaked on the drawing made it next to impossible to determine from which room the hallway – Icarus’ penis – originated. And while I had a general idea, even fully lit, navigating those hallways was maddeningly confusing.

  To make matters worse, my magic marker had traced over key pieces of evidence, such as the names of rooms and intersections which originated in the general vicinity of the hallway. Hell, even if I did know the names of the rooms, it wouldn’t matter. The actual rooms weren’t labelled.

  I showed the key to several movers but they shook their heads. They hadn’t found any unusual doors. I cursed silently and walked the hallways, trying as best I could to navigate toward the location marked on the blueprint. It was easier said than done, however. Up close and personal, everything looked different.

  Based on the rooms which surrounded it, I approximated where it was. When I thought I was close, I began to search, room after room. Most of them were empty and bare walls greeted me. But several were still quite full. I scoured them all, looking for a hidden seam or symbol that might reveal the entrance to the Hall of Trophies.

  With each new room, I felt intense hatred for the house. I wanted to hate Jack, but even then I was conflicted. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Yelling at her on the street and then serving me up to three beautiful hookers. All so he could hunt her down, rape her and cut off her head. And then deposit her naked, headless body for the world to see.

  I wanted to hate him – I needed to hate him – but the conflicts of a lifetime got in the way. I relied on him so many times that it made me want to puke. So I hated the house instead, for it represented everything that was distasteful and unsavory about the psychopath who changed my life.

  I found rooms with movers and watched as they crated and checked-off items. Lights powered by noisy generators cast bright beams throughout the hallways. If not for them, it would have been impossible to get any work done. The movers were creeped out by the place and I can’t say that I blame them. It was a haunted house, with rooms and hallways that snaked in frenetic twists and turns.

  I looked at my watch. It was after 7 PM and I shuddered. It was imperative that I found the room before dark. Feverishly, I pressed every mover I found, asking them if they had seen a door. At one point I ran into Fred. I barely noticed that he too was spooked. I didn’t have to remind myself why.

  Blood stains still spattered rooms, floors, walls and artwork. We had cautioned Christie’s that they would need professional cleaners – and we did stress professional – to clean several pieces of the art that they’d be selling. It was a nasty business. But they actually perked up when they heard the circumstances behind this particular sale. They felt that they could get more money for the items, due to the odd occurrences that surrounded them. Apparently, Jack wasn’t the only one who got enthralled over the story behind a piece of art.

  At 8:30, I despaired. It was Summer Solstice but the sun would be setting in about two hours. I asked Fred to help me find the room and we attempted to light a fire under the movers. But like it or not, they were working as fast as they could, under the circumstances. In many instances, the age and fragility of the pieces required special care. It took time to package them for transit. The day waned, and I thought about the prospect of conducting my search after nightfall.

  No Goddammed way.

  At one point I decided that if I didn’t find the room soon, I’d have to come back in the morning. I didn’t want that, but it was better than the alternative. At that point, one of the foremen approached me. It was close to 8:15, and he informed me that he found something. A long twisting hallway that led to a locked room.

  The hallway had been hiding behind a large tapestry in the Blake Solarium. I was fondling the Icarus amulet when he approached and informed me of the development. I looked around for Fred. He was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t want to do it alone, but I knew that I had to.

  “Take me there.” The foreman nodded and gestured for me to follow him. He guided me to the entrance of the Blake Solarium. The room still shimmered in a blue glow, but now it was a pale shadow of the day Jack proudly pointed to Blake’s poems on the wall. The room was stripped bare of any coverings. I grimaced at the blood spray that covered the walls, floors and ceiling. They only took a break when they found the shadow of a painting or a piece of furniture that had once been there.

  How much blood are we talking about?

  It was a large house, sir. We found substantial amounts in several rooms.

  It took all my strength to avoid looking what was left of Jack, but it was impossible. It was everywhere. I shivered and impatiently prodded the foreman to show me the entrance. He gestured toward a gaping black hole where a large tapestry once covered it. I looked at the angry, beckoning, pitch-black entrance, and then at him.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t see anything in there!” He shot me a frustrated look and handed me his flashlight. I took it and slowly walked toward the entrance. As I turned on the flashlight and pointed it down the hallway, trepidation and terror welled inside me. A cool, damp breeze chilled my face. It came from the end of the hallway. From the place that I reluctantly had to go. I gritted my teeth and entered.

  A paralyzing fear gripped my soul as I wandered down the empty, barren hall. I walked for five minutes; it curved in strange directions and I began to wonder if I was going in circles. As I began to have second thoughts and considered turning back, I came around a curve and the hallway grew straighter, but curved slightly. I picked up my pace and then I saw it. Obscured by dark shadows and the dim glow of my flashlight stood a door.

  I waved my flashlight over it, from top to bottom. The door was simple in its design. But the flashlight revealed milky-white globs painted on the door in a three-dimensional portrayal. I had no doubt what it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like droplets of ejaculate would, sprayed all over a door. I was in the tip of Icarus’ penis.

  “Cute Jack. Really cute.” I muttered and for a brief moment a wry smile formed on my face. But it quickly disappeared when the sound of my grim humor echoed through the hallway in haunting ululations. I gasped and caught my breath, as if the beast from my dreams could hear me. I dropped the flashlight and it landed on the floor with a resounding clatter. I wished that I hadn’t spoken. Biting my lip, I bent down to pick it up and pointed it back at the door.

  It had a single symbol etched in the middle of it. Right over the droplets of cum. The same symbol from the blueprint and the key. I pointed the flashlight upward and espied words. They were inscribed above the frame in ornate lettering. ‘Hall of Trophies.’

  I gritted my teeth and reached into my pocket, producing the key that Jack sent me. I looked at it and then back at the door. My hand trembled as I struggled to fit the tiny thing into the lock. The flashlight wavered and it took several attempts before I finally managed to unlock the door.

  I took a deep breath and turned the ornately-deco
rated knob. The door swung inward. An unfamiliar stench assaulted my senses. I gagged and covered my mouth and nose with a hand.

  Slowly, I walked in and waved the flashlight around. But it was weak, and I was unable to discern anything just by pointing it at things for which I had no frame of reference.

  About twenty feet away. Vague objects. Oval and familiar, but I couldn’t effectively process their relevance. But as I pointed the flashlight at the ceiling, light bulbs appeared in the darkness.

  To answer your question, yes, I do have electricity. In the kitchen, the Media Room, and one or two other strategic locations. Only where necessary.

  I turned around and peered through the darkness, moving the flashlight up and down the walls. Finally, I saw it. A light switch. I reached out, flicked it on and turned off the flashlight. I turned back and what I saw sickened me, more so than the stench, which suddenly became familiar.

  Just as the room’s name indicated. Trophies.

  Trophies of human heads.

  They adorned either side of a narrow hallway. Propped in their respective positions as if they proudly announced some great triumph or victory. In fact, they were garish masks. Masks of faces that once lived. Posing on podiums, staring across at each other through lifeless, decaying eyes.

  They were side-by-side, and guarded the narrow hallway – as if sharing close quarters together would give them some sense of companionship, some sense of camaraderie. I gagged when I realized what I looked at, but as I looked closer, I became truly horrified.

  Slowly, I walked down the narrow aisle. It was so narrow that there were only a few inches on either side separating me from Jack’s ‘trophies.’ They glared at me suspiciously as I breathed through my hand and carefully pointed the flashlight from one side to the other. I passed the narrow white beam back and forth. Across each face. I held my breath and kept my arms close to my sides. Claustrophobia gripped me and I feared that I might actually make contact with one of the horrendous faces. Faces with recognizable features.

 

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