Authors: Massimo Russo
“Look. He’s killed him! That man has killed him!”
He swiveled his head to see where the shout had come from, searching for words in his defense.
“But... I...”
But before he could explain, a crowd of people was pointing at him, confirming the accusation. Norman heaved himself from the ground as another voice yelled a lesser, but equally false, accusation.
“He’s stolen the case. Stop thief!”
“Murderer!” Yet another verdict.
His fear turned to horror. His legs trembled and his eyes sought a bolt-hole from what was becoming a hell on earth. He lurched to the left in the hope of forcing his way through the circle of street judges that was closing in to trap him. Luckily, there were too few to hold him and his survival instinct was swifter than their words. He turned to try and catch the lying traitors’ eyes. As he struggled, he could have sworn he saw the eyes of the man from the park and those of the woman who had murdered the two girls and then vanished. He felt black terror and thought he would faint. His legs began to sag with the strain and his brain gasped for the oxygen the flow of adrenalin had burnt up. His mind clouded over and dimmed the last image imprinted on his memory: the woman he had learnt to love and who he was trying in vain to forget.
Chapter 15
The instructions were clear. The subject had to be picked up, with or without consent. And, given the situation, it was far better to take all the family members. The two men stashed the bag in the trunk of their huge car and took out rifles. Pistols would have done just as well, but threats backed up by larger weapons would have a more immediate and direct impact.
They left the car doors open and marched towards the house they had just been thrown out of with radically different intentions this time. They stealthily jimmied open the front door and slipped inside. The older one headed for the living-room where the man of the house was still sitting in his armchair, blissfully unaware, reading a paper and listening to memories drifting on the notes of an almost melancholy harmony. As soon as he noticed the intruder, his face flushed with outrage at the invasion of his house by an uninvited stranger and then paled as he took in the rifle pointed remorselessly at him. He hardly had time to react before his assailant struck him with the butt of the weapon and he fell unconscious to the floor. As the soldiers had expected, the boy was completely oblivious and continued to read his book and eat his favorite meal. In the meantime, the second soldier had knocked out the woman in the kitchen and joined his colleague. They shouldered one parent each and carried them to the car that awaited with the indifference of a machine that is unable to distinguish between who wants to be transported and who does not. They placed the bodies inside carefully. The younger soldier returned to the house to collect the last hostage, who was still in the same position, with the same expression on his face. Unsure of how to deal with the situation, the soldier opted for the simplest solution: courtesy. He touched the boy on the arm to make him get up from the seat, and a shrill and deafening shriek shattered his eardrums and pierced his brain. He covered his ears and came to the conclusion that the nice way isn’t always the best. He punched the boy in the face and the screaming stopped sharp as if a disc had been ejected from a CD player. He draped the senseless body over his left shoulder and walked out.
“What happened?” asked his colleague.
“Didn’t know autistic kids were such songbirds. Anyone hear?”
“Not a soul in the neighboring houses.”
“Right. We’re done then.”
“Just a minute. We’ve got to stage their “exit”.”
“I’ll get their car from the garage. You follow me.”
“OK. Shut everything up as if they’ve gone away for a few days. Don’t want anybody nosing around.”
“Will do.”
They were completing their mission successfully and their bosses would be proud., They would be back at base within the hour. The two soldiers would be rewarded and granted the accolades due to those who were raising the world on the ladder of evolution. The hostages would meet a different fate, one that exists in a situation that has neither voice nor eyes to attract attention, let alone the power to alter it.
Chapter 16
The sea was calm that morning. The light of imminent dawn brought surprising and unexpected colors. Norman always rose early when he was at sea. He liked listening to the silence. He climbed up from the cabin and settled on the bridge with a cappuccino prepared with love and gratitude by his favorite appliance. The aroma reminded him of how the rooms in his house were permeated for hours by that unmistakable smell. He relaxed as his senses were lulled by the distant song of the seagulls that mirrored his own free spirit. He often imagined flying with them and observing the frenzy of humans fleeing from their fears, seeking refuge in something they don’t possess until the moment they attain it and then spurn it.
He had always thought that man was a hunter, whose sole purpose was to possess, without stopping to wonder why. Unlike himself. He flew far and wide, searching for the reason that always made him turn back, and at the same time studying himself from different perspectives. He never tired of solitude, because for him it was the best way of understanding himself completely. His real reason for traveling was to test himself, not to explore new places, though that was an undeniable, albeit secondary, pleasure. ‘Pleasure is inextricably linked to purpose’, he told himself. ‘Without pleasure, purpose is only a different way of passing time’. The company he frequented was another pleasure he allowed himself. After all, his money let him satisfy his body’s animal urges.
The sun was beginning to flood the day with the light it needed. The blue was mingling with an unexpected whiteness, showing its best side, the one that reminds the eyes that hope is, possibly, not merely an illusion. Sunbeams warmed skin that needed different ministrations from the night-time. He felt the magnificence of total freedom, and dreams were replaced by a better reality, to be lived to the full, yet again, as only the luckiest of men can afford to do.
“Norman, where are you?”
The voice floating up from the cabin reminded him that luck had certainly not dropped in his lap; he had created it in meters on paper. If paradise really existed, it could hardly be more beautiful than the place he now found himself. He was already savoring the moment the girl who called him would lie naked beside him, caressing him, telling him with her lips that her gratitude was absolute.
“Ah, here you are. You were up early this morning too.”
Norman closed his eyes. He liked receiving amorous attentions, but with his senses in check; eyes could lie, exchanging one emotion for an ambiguous truth. He felt her soft lips pressing against his own, and her voice reciting words he already knew off by heart.
Words shouted to the wind, like futile horizons with no view...
Words that know no consolation, like the broken wings of a dream to be captured...
Words that leave time for a better path, that leads to infinity...
Words of love that in the darkness glimpse those who hide to be seen...
Words that can’t be remembered, though memory paints them in indelible colors...
Words whispered to the desire to listen... as when life tells its tale... as when evening brings the gift of its silence...
Words I have decided to carve in rock, to leave the future something to recount...
“Ah. That’s what I call a good awakening.”
“Wait and see what I’ve prepared for you, honey.”
Curiously, her voice sounded discordant, as if it were coming from inside an iron box. He opened his eyes. Fear pierced him. It was like looking at death. The vision confirmed its scorn for the image reflected in its eyes. The woman before him had the face of a fiend that was murmuring all the things he wanted to hear while holding his heart and threatening to bite into it with sharp pointed teeth that deformed its mouth. He screamed with terror. The sun turned black, spitting clouds of fire that unfurled towards him. The voice that had been so sensual was now full of darkness like the evil it brought with it, releasing words devoid of the taste of life. He yelled for help so desperately he thought he would suffocate, until a voice in another part of his mind coaxed him to be calm.
“Norman! Hey, Norman! Wake up! Norman!”
He woke up at once. He immediately recognized the voice of the woman beside him.
Her words drowned out the actor on the television who was reciting the verses the fiend had spoken in his dream.
“Norman. Calm down. It was only a nightmare.”
“Julia! Darling!”
He hugged her more fiercely than he had ever done in all their years together.
“Norman. Come on, stop it. Let go of me!”
She jerked forcibly away from him. Her coldness stunned him and he felt, more than ever before, that he had lost her for ever.
“Julia? What’s going on? Where am I?”
The verses he had written in moments when life had made sense echoed around the room from the television set behind him.
I think. Locked in an undefined obstacle of endurance...
I recall the loveliest things, those that deserve protection... those to fight for... so that they are never erased... ever!
I sketch the idea of being heard, perhaps merely to feel alive...
So, in a moment of lucidity, I listen to my mind, before getting to the end...where the final words are worthy representatives of a higher order: “Welcome, this is a perfect world... choose what you want so that I can tell the angels”.
After I replied, I asked him his name: “Desire”, that’s what mankind calls me...
“Why are my poems on television? Why is all this happening to me? Why did you kiss that man?”
“Oh Norman! Are you still on about that? You must really have bashed your head hard! What were you doing there anyway? You were following me, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was following you. I remember I was trying to escape. They were accusing me of terrible things... but ... hang on! I had a briefcase with me! Where’s my case?!”
“Keep your hair on! It’s over there on the table. Tell me why you were following me.”
“Julia ... I ... know I’ve neglected you lately...”
“Stop right there! I don’t intend to discuss this. I brought you here simply because you’d fallen and hit your head. But now, if it’s all the same to you, I’ve got better things to do. I have a job and customers to satisfy. So, if you don’t mind ...”
The door bell interrupted their conversation. Julia made a move to answer it, clearly expecting her guest to get up and leave. Norman suddenly realized that she was not wearing “normal” women’s clothes.
“I’m coming, honey! Norman, you have to go. Get up.”
“What does all this mean? Who’s at the door? Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s none of your business any more. It’s my life.”
The bell chimed again. Julia opened the door to a tall, rough-looking man holding a bunch of flowers.
“Where’s my lovely little tart? Hey,” he said to Norman, “it’s my turn now. Who’s he? This hour is mine!”
There was no answering his firm, blunt tone. He was so massive he could have snapped a man in two without breaking out in a sweat.
“Who are you? How dare you speak to Julia like that? If you don’t get out, you’ll have me to answer to.”
“Who the fuck are you? I’ll speak to her any way I like. Get the hell out of here. This is my hour. I’ve bought it and if I can’t have it, there’ll be hell to pay!”
“Cool it, Charlie! Don’t worry. This gentleman is leaving. Norman, please, go now.”
“Did you hear the lady? Now piss off, prick!”
Norman stared into the woman’s eyes as if he wanted to stop time. An undefined time that took him back, re-awakening memories buried by those moments in which a man thinks he can do without. He remembered understanding just by looking at her the difference between happiness and life: one is forever; the other has an ending that leads to a dimension where happiness fuels the spirit. In that instant, he glimpsed in her eyes the sadness locked in her soul, a soul destroyed by events that had wrenched it from its rails. There was nothing further to add, not right now. He knew Julia’s character and obstinacy only too well. He picked up the case, the only companion left to him, and with another look into the eyes of the woman he had spent moments of pure joy with, he left. He had no choice but to go, heartbroken like a dog abandoned by its owner, searching for the affection that had once been a sanctuary, for an answer to the many questions tossed vainly into the air, free to remain unheard, perhaps for a time too long to be forgotten.
Chapter 17
The seasonal chill grew colder than ever. Norman felt his heart turn to ice, but not because of the weather. He had walked out of Julia’s room knowing that he had left a piece of his life there, but without understanding why. He contemplated the playfulness of fate, and suddenly realized that he had achieved his goal via a completely different route from the one he had decided to take when he had speculated about leaving Julia and disappearing with the money. Right, the money... he hadn’t noticed that he had stopped thinking about it. He was so distraught by what he had seen that the distraction had turned him round to face a different direction. There was no answer to the questions his reason asked, not even a stupid one. What had happened to Julia? Why was she a prostitute? The word made him shudder. It couldn’t be true. She was the woman he had loved more than anything.
Time seemed to have come to a standstill and question marks marched past him disguised as faceless people. All but one. Standing in front of him in the nonchalent way that singled her out, was a woman dressed in black, smiling at him as if to say that none of his worries made any sense and to let them die a death right where he had found them. Amazement filled him as he confronted the impossible. Daisy greeted him, risen from the depths of a world he had left her in a few hours earlier. He was too exhausted to talk to his mind, deflected as it was by something greater than a mere sensation. As the woman drew near, a ray of sun decided it was time to remind the world that light was still a feature of their lives.