Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (28 page)

“Agreed.”

Jessica feels special
climbing into the front of the limousine. She puts her seat belt on, but
doesn’t click it firmly in place. Joe has a sunshine stress ball in easy reach
on the glove box shelf.

“Can I look at that?”

“Sure go ahead.” Joe pulls
away from the sidewalk. “So when’s the show?”

“Four weeks.” She studies
the smiley face printed in black on the orange soft ball.

“Looking forward to it?”

“Yeah.” She wonders, would
Joe know? “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know when my dad’s
back in town?”

“I’m sorry, no.” It’s an
awkward question for him. He tries to make her feel special. “You’ll know
before me.”

“Oh.” She feels sad.

A large red truck is parked
on a steep hill. After years of faithful service, the handbrake holds only by a
few steel threads. Without warning they snap. The vehicle begins to roll;
accelerating, hurtling towards the freeway.

From out of nowhere the out
of control truck hurtles towards them. Joe sees it coming. No time to react;
nowhere to go. The front of his cab caves in. In the aftermath, Joe’s seated,
head resting on the steering wheel. Up ahead in the road, a bright orange
sunshine ball rolls to a standstill. The smile is upside down.

Stumbling out of the diner,
Jeff nearly faints: dizzy and weak, he reaches for support on the nearby bin.

“Are you alright?” Rosie’s
very concerned.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Just give
me a minute.”

Steadying himself, his heart
feels as if it's bursting, a piercing pulse.

“Breathe deep, Jeff.”
Rubbing his back. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

Rosie continues to offer words
of comfort as Jeff regains his composure.

“I’m okay now.” Taking a
deep breath, he straightens himself up, then exhales with relief. “Thanks,
Rosie.”

“Are you sure?” She stands
close. He wants to hold her. “Jeff?”

“I’m sure.”

They walk back to the truck.
Jeff sits with relief behind the wheel, in the plush comfort of the chair.

“I’m sorry.” Shaken, his
hand holds his forehead. “I don’t know what happened back there.”

“You’re alright now?” She
tries to look beyond his hand.

“Yeah.” He laughs and shrugs
it off. “I’m fine.”

Jeff starts the truck, a few
miles later; he’s back to his normal self.

“Jeff.” Rosie, for reasons
she can't explain, wants this man.
 

“Yeah.” It’s strange to hear
Eve’s voice, call his name, in these circumstances.

“You said that everybody you
know is here, but that they’re different. They might not know you, or they
might not be as you knew them. That reality has become twisted.”

“Yes.”

“Well, Eve might not exist
as you knew her.” She gauges his reaction.

“Maybe.”

“What if I’m Eve? You said
yourself I’m her double, and from the first moment I saw you, I felt that I
knew you.”

“It’s crossed my mind.” He’s
excited, somehow subconsciously, she remembers.

“There’s something inside
me, a gut feeling that I know you. Do you feel the same?”

“Yeah.” He can’t stop the
grin on his face, or the feeling of relief flowing through his veins. “Yeah I
do.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought
of not knowing if I’ve met my true love, knowing only that you’re out there
somewhere. This might be our only chance.”

For a while there’s silence.
Jeff aches to hold Rosie. Rosie wants to be held and to be kissed.

“Jeff, can you pull over.”

“Is everything okay?” He’s
worried; is she feeling sick?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Butterflies flutter in her tummy. “Just pull over.” She smiles.

He draws the vehicle off
road, the engine’s still running.

“What’s wrong?” There’s
concern in his voice.

“Nothing.” Her face is
serious. “Do you want to know if I’m Eve?”

“Of course.” He doesn’t know
what she has in mind.

“Kiss me.”

“Kiss you?” He didn’t expect
her to say this.

“Yes, kiss me.” Rosie
unbuckles her belt and confidently leans forward. “It’s the only way, then
we’ll both know.” Jeff hesitates. “Come on, honey.”

Rosie is inches away from
his lips. Jeff moves forward. Her lips part as they touch, she smells the same
and tastes the same. Arms wrap round her and pull her in. She’s Eve in every
way. The same kiss, the same ache of love burning deep inside. The tips of her
fingers brush across his face just as Eve’s did. Then she pulls away.

“Am I?” She looks to him.

“Yes.” He’s besotted, a
flurry of emotions.

She pushes her lips back
onto his. Jeff’s tongue reaches deep into her mouth, and with lovers' passion
they devour each other; reaching that beautifully erotic pain that only lovers
may bring. If they weren’t on the side of the highway, they would have ripped
each other’s clothes off and eased their need for each other on the spot. Rosie
pulls away, and looks to Jeff. He holds her hand, for fear of losing her.

“I think that answers the question?”
She’s pleased with herself.

“It does.” He knows the
feeling is mutual. “I’ve found you.”

They rejoin
the highway. Jeff questions her. Rosie has no memory of
being Eve. Lost in talk, reaching over to touch each other at every chance, it
doesn’t take long before they’re surrounded by beautiful hot Colorado plains.
Jeff still has to find Casey.

“When we get to the prison,
you don’t mind waiting in the truck, do you?”

“The prison?” Rosie’s finds
that for some reason she’s horrified.

“Yeah, it won’t take long.”

“But you’ve found your
destiny, it’s me.” She feels uncontrollable panic. She has to stop him. “I was
on the road; you've found your destiny. There’s nothing there for you, Jeff.”

“I still have to go.”

“No. You were only meant to
be on the highway for our paths to meet.” She insists. “Surely you realize
that?”

“Yes, but it’s only a few
miles away. It will take five minutes, then we’ll be on our way.” Puzzled he
looks to her. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m scared for you.” She
thinks fast. “You might get arrested for trespass. You could get killed for the
keys to the truck.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic.”
He can’t help but smile.

“I’m not.” She snaps back at
him.

Jeff’s senses that all’s not
well with Rosie. She appears desperate for him not to enter the prison. He
feels he has no choice, it will be demolished shortly and it’s his last chance
to see if Casey’s there. Her behavior over the matter is the first real
difference he’s witnessed between Rosie and Eve. The grey looming complex is in
the distance, and can see that demolition equipment has already been moved to
the site.

“Jeff, don’t do this.”
There’s real fear in her voice.

“Why not?”

“I have a bad feeling, I
don’t want you to.”

“I’ve been here before. It’s
derelict.”

“If you loved me you
wouldn’t.”

“No.” Eve never used
emotional blackmail. “If you love me you’d understand!”

Rosie goes quiet, her body
language has changed in such a way that Jeff can feel her anger. Eve would
never have behaved in this manner. In fact if he didn’t know any better he would
say that Rosie’s a diversion, to stop him from entering the prison. The truck
decelerates and Jeff turns off the highway.

“Please don’t.”

Ignoring Rosie’s plea, he
accelerates up to the concrete blocks that act as a barrier.

“Jeff, don’t go.” She holds
his hand, he pulls it away.

“Wait here, I won’t be
long.” His voice is stern.

Jeff retrieves his
flashlight from the back of the truck. Taking only a few paces in the direction
of the prison, he hears the passenger door open and close behind him.

“Jeff.”

“What?” She’s getting to be
a real pain.

Rosie walks up to Jeff and
places her arms around his waist.

“Please don’t go.” Her eyes
plead.

“I have to.” He softens. “I
promise I won’t be long.”

“For me?” She looks to see
if he loves her enough.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

“We have a life together.”

“We still do, don’t we?” Her
manipulation is perplexing.

“If you go in there, I won’t
be here when you get back.”

“That’s your choice.” Now
he’s angry. “But using emotional blackmail won’t wash with me.”

“I’ll disappear.”

“Look, what the fuck is
this?”

Rosie’s arms slip away from
his waist, and she takes a step back.

“Last chance, please walk
away.”

“No.” She appears to be a
different character than the one who’s journeyed with him.

“You’re going to ruin
everything. You don’t know what waits for you in there.”

“You’re not, Eve.” Shaking
his head. “She wouldn’t behave this way.”

Rosie’s face drops in
sadness, she shakes her head in pity before turning round and starts to walk
away. In Jeff's shocked eyes, she becomes transparent and fades away. All
that’s left is sand without footprints and highway.

Disbelief.
Horror. And betrayal. Jeff raises his hand to his head in confusion. “No, no,
no, no, no, no.”
 
Screams. “Rosie!”

The only response is
silence. This woman, scorned, leaves nothing behind but desert and highway.
Only her essence on the wind. He’s made his choice. Time to face the
consequences.

The prison complex mocks
him. He defiantly pushes forward past the guard house. The temperature’s
dropping. The sky is orange; it won’t be long before sunset.

The perimeter gates are
locked. Empty gun-towers create long shadows, shifting, menacing. High voltage
signs threaten. A lizard sits on a rock, its eyes watch as Jeff edges closer, fighting
paranoia.

Heavy machinery stands
unguarded, left safe in its isolation. Part of the perimeter fence has been
torn down, discarded. Razor wire rips a man to pieces, but is no match for
hydraulic arms. Jeff walks amongst the caterpillar tracks, buckets of iron and
steel. Looking both ways, along tracks where guards with dogs once paced.
Security cameras, non-operational, remain. He steps forward. A startled hawk
takes flight into silence. The last, diminishing daylight reaches buildings,
fences and empty cages.

Life already in pieces,
nothing left to lose; discarding the initial nerves of trespass, walking
defiantly towards his nemesis. His savior or his undoing? As it was for the
prisoners it once housed. Either way better than purgatory. Steel railings with
chicken mesh shadows. Reaching out to a steel door that permits entry.

“No regrets.”
  

Light floods the corridor.
Flashlight on, he steps inside. Steel on steel, the door slams behind. No
electricity: the demolition crew ensured that. All the light there is in his
hand. Footsteps echo, repeat; he’s not alone? The beam from the flashlight
scans like a warship at night. Movement: rats and shadows scuttle. Whistles and
voices test sanity. Turquoise steel doors, open, flank him. Each door possesses
with its own white stenciled number. Glimpses of wash basins, concrete beds;
will someone or something step out?

Jeff's sanity is fleeing
down some ancient tunnel. He's trapped, and entombed. He forces one more step
forward. The corridor opens out. The flashlight illuminates the central control
tower, flashing off windows. He's in the central coliseum, a rising circle of
cells. An architecture of surveillance and control. Regime. Isolated here; Jeff
feels many eyes are upon him. Never been so afraid in his life.

The interview room isn’t
far. Just a few more steps to the door that will lead him to his redemption.
The flashlight reaches into the room first. Office furniture covered in plaster
dust. Holes in the wall where electrical and surveillance equipment have been
stripped out. Disorganized, scattered piles of paper. Classified documents,
left unshredded! He picks one up, then another. His face distorts. These
discarded papers document … his life!

Quickly spreading papers
over the desk. Why? He’s a lecturer, not a terrorist, not an enemy of the
state! He turns to face the open steel door. He’s afraid. Through that door
resides a darkness that his flashlight does not penetrate. Adrenalin shakes his
arms and legs. No point in turning back; no reality that he recognizes waits
there. He walks forward. The room does not illuminate. He pauses. Silence.
Forces himself to shout.

“You have me, I’m here, now
show yourself!”

A lamp blazes, blinding him.
But there is still no room, nothing but a dark mass surrounding the light. No
walls and no ceiling; even the door Jeff just walked through has disappeared. A
shadowy muscular figure appears.

“Don’t be frightened, I’m
not here to harm you in any way.”

“Casey?” Breathless, heart
racing. What has he done coming here?

“Yes.” His tone of voice
whispers, I’ve got you.

Eyes focus on a familiar
face. Casey smiles and sits back casually. One arm rests on the table, the
other gestures to the empty chair. There's no barrier between them at this
table.

“Sit down.” Nervously Jeff
does as he’s told. “Are you alright, Jeff?”

“I hope so.” He covers, he
lies, anything to hold onto, because this isn’t reality.

“I’m sure you have
questions?” Jeff nods. Casey understands why his lips don’t move. “This isn’t
going to be easy to explain or to accept.” Casey sighs, looking into a man’s
eyes, once tamed, now, through fear wildly alive. “Know this, you are here only
because you choose to be.”

“Yeah.” His breath shudders,
he wheezes. “Do you know where Eve is?”

“Yes.”

“Is she here?” His whisper,
hope.

“Figuratively speaking.” He
has the foresight and understanding of a sage, and the harrowing
responsibility.

“You haven’t harmed her?”
His fist clenches.

Casey laughs, shakes his
head and leans forwards.

“I’m not the Devil. Nor am I
a killer.” Then relaxes back into his chair. “Although a good analogy. As a
child you questioned the story of Adam and Eve.”

“Yes.” Frowning.

“Curious even then. Why
create the garden full of trees and wholesome fruit, but one promising
forbidden knowledge? You were scolded, told not to question in church, to be
seen in front of your peers siding with the Devil. But what you understood is
that knowledge is power.”

“They didn’t have the
answers.”

“And you’ve been questioning
ever since.”

“It’s my nature to question
the world around me.” Raising his eyebrows. “That’s what intelligent people
do.”

“Even when it leads you into
muddy waters?”

“I don’t mind getting my
feet dirty.”

“You perceived me as a
demonic force, a psychotic cop killer.” Pausing in sorrow. “The Devil, the tree
in the Garden of Eden, and the giver of knowledge. What’s going to confuse you
the most, Jeff, is that it’s you who brought me into existence.”

“That’s not possible.” He
grasps onto his version of reality.

“Where do you suppose we are
now?” Leaning forward. “Do you still believe you’re in a Colorado prison?”

“Yes.” Denial is his last
bastion.

“Does this room appear
normal? Does this lamp in a building without electricity seem real?”

“It has to be.” The words
are uttered firmly.

 
“Why? When you’ve studied so many religious
leaders, politicians, scientists, not to mention artists, writers and poets.
All these great minds, who have suggested that reality’s a false display.”

“Many of their ideas are
ridiculed.”

“Reality isn’t what it
appears to be. We see the movie, yet we’re not in the studio that produced it.”
Casey cannot gauge if Jeff appreciates his predicament. “Where are you sitting
now? Where have you been? What have you experienced? Do you still disbelieve
your own eyes?”

“I’m here for answers.”
Although he’s not sure he wants to hear what’s coming.

“Precisely. As a man who
spent his life disproving such notions as déjà vu, the paranormal, the
inexplicable, do you not think that if you knew the truth, you would somehow
enlighten yourself?”

“I believe I would.” He’s
unsure what Casey is trying to explain.

“
I
have the task of preparing you.” He sighs. “Imagine life as a constant circle,
birth, life, death and rebirth, over and over. Many theoretical physicists
believe the world splits itself into millions of copies every second. Is
reality a hologram, a mind-created universe, an illusion? If so, wouldn't then
the world become what we make it? What we believe we deserve we receive, a
constant re-run, a repeat over and over. Occasionally we would get a blip, a
memory, a
déjà vu
, a hunch, an instinct, something’s about to happen,
something isn’t right. The mind forgets nothing, not the smell of the rose on a
midsummer’s day, or that first kiss. Everything is stored, recorded and ready
for playback.”

“But that’s not real.”

“What is real? Was Rosie any
less real than Eve?”

“Stop.” Jeff holds his hand
up. “You’re confusing me.”

“I have to break the cycle
of what you believe to be real. To move forward or to move back, either way
you’re here now. The hour is upon you.”

Jeff’s mobile starts to
ring. He looks to Casey for guidance, for permission. Casey’s face is
sorrowful.
  

“You’re going to have to
answer that call.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

A name is written across the
screen.

“It’s Chloe.” Confusion. Why
Chloe?

“Remember all I offer you is
the truth.”

Jeff accepts the call,
trembling as he raises the mobile to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Jeff?” A male voice wavers.

“Yes.” He recognizes this as
Steve. “Is everything alright?”

“No, no it’s not Jeff.” The
voice mechanical, and cold. “I’m sorry to be the one who breaks this to you.”

“Go on.” Bracing himself for
bad news.

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yes.” He snaps the word,
fear making him brusque.

“Jessica was killed earlier
today in a traffic accident.” Jeff hears nothing more. Stumbling to his feet,
the phone tumbling out of his hand to the ground in slow motion. Looking at
Casey, who looks away. No eye contact. Pain grips his chest. He goes down.
Darkness. He feels the beating, shearing pain of his heart twisting, and then
everything stops. Like a touch from God, a thousand volts explode inside him.
Muscles convulse, then become still.

“Charging, one thousand,
clear. Nurse, ignore that readout, there's a malfunction in the machine.”

Jeff writhes. His heart
twists like it’s in someone’s grip. A contraction, a surge of adrenalin, and
from a static piece of meat, a heartbeat. Lungs exhale dead air. A crackling
moan through dry lips, and his eyes slowly flutter open. Tiny red capillaries
overlay his vision.

“He’s back.”

Jeff can make out dark
shadow like figures standing around him. He senses that he’s being discussed.
Hushed voices that he can’t make out. Darkness turns to a white fog, his vision
slowly clearing. White ceiling tiles. Is he still in the prison? Curtains like
a cloak are drawn around him. A heart monitor. The squeeze of someone holding
his hand.

“Jeff.” It’s Eve, it’s her
voice.

A face leans over. Reality
returns. His life flashes by him. Lecturer, writer, philosopher, poet and
scientist. Every single detail. Trying to talk, to tell her, but not enough
energy to form the words.

“Rest, don’t try to speak.”
She strokes his forehead.

After all these years, every
line on her face is beautiful. Hair may be grey and thin, the hand he holds as
wrinkled as his, but her beautiful tearful eyes hold the magic and memory of
their years together. His beautiful daughter Louise stands by his bedside a
grown woman, as does Jason, Jeff and Eve’s son. Jason smiles through tears at
his dad.

The adrenalin that
momentarily woke Jeff fades. He can't fight; he doesn't have the strength.

“Jeff.” Jeff looks up. He’s
sitting opposite Casey again. “Now do you understand?”

“I think so. Give me a
moment, it’s not every day that…” His voice trails off.

“You don’t have to explain.”
He can see the realization, the pain.

“I’m dying aren’t I?”

“Yes.” He waits for a
reaction.

“It was a theory of mine.”

“Does life continue in the
dying brain?”

 
“Yes. Then my theory is correct?”

“In your dying moments
endorphins, and a neurotransmitter called glutamate flood the brain. When that
happens, the internal clock slows down, time simply stops. Outside the body it
remains constant: a millisecond out there is limitless lifetimes played back in
real-time here.”

“Eternal life.”

“In every detail. Your own
virtual reality environment. Every memory stored for playback, time and time
again.”

“So what’s gone wrong?” He
recognizes the madness of his concern even as he asks.

“Nothing. Your higher self
wanted you to know the truth. I came into being to guide you. You fought the neurological
program, and I was the virus.”

“So what happens now?” He
doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

“That’s for you to decide.
You can move to the light, whatever that may be. Or continue to live your life
over and over again.”

“Will I get to see Eve?” He didn’t
get to say goodbye.

“Yes, but you have to go
through everything that leads up to that moment again.”

“That’s the only way I’ll
get to see her?”

“Yes.” He nods and smiles.
“You will experience
déjà vu
, but you can always tell yourself that you
don’t believe in such matters, it’s impossible, a life must already have been
lived.”