Читать книгу Billy. Going where darkness fears to tread… - Colin David Palmer - Страница 6

Peter Gordon MacIntosh was a sales rep. He had been a sales rep for over eight years and married to his childhood sweetheart Lynn for twelve years now. They were about to move into their new home in the next two weeks or so, weather permitting. Peter was also a fishing nut. Fishing mad. They lived at Hastings Point, a small village about thirty minutes south of the Gold Coast, so it was easy for Peter to indulge in his hobby as often as he wanted. He was also a sales rep for a fishing wholesale company, so he had the best of both worlds. Peter loved his wife, loved his job, and loved his fishing!

His work area encompassed the coastal areas from the Gold Coast right down to Grafton, about two hundred and fifty kilometers further south. He worked diligently, and fished even harder in his area of responsibility as often as he could. This meant that he spent at least a couple of nights a week away from home. He and Lynn had known each other since primary school, gone steady all during high school and as everybody predicted, they married immediately after graduation. In Peter’s eyes they had the perfect relationship, the perfect Life.

Lynn was lonely. Sure, she still had her friends but it was her husband she wanted. She and Peter hadn’t been able to conceive and this was a major disappointment to her, though Peter didn’t seem bothered by it at all. She had known of course, about Peter’s love of fishing, and had even tried to get into it herself just so that she could spend more time with him. It hadn’t taken long to realise that it wasn’t for her, noble as her intentions had been. So she resigned herself to becoming a fishing widow. It hadn’t been too bad when Peter was just working up the road at the electrical store, but now he was always off visiting clients or trying out some new product. Even when he wasn’t on the road he was out fishing. He would dash in from work, grab his gear, and be off again. Lynn missed her husband dearly.

Because he was away so much, the responsibility for their new home had fallen squarely onto her shoulders. She had looked around at blocks of land, Peter providing only approval and the appropriate signatures once she found one that he agreed to. And then it was traveling all over the area looking at the home displays, picking a builder, arranging the finance, picking a house plan, choosing the bricks, the tiles, the paint, the carpets, the tap ware and so on. It had been difficult for her, but if it wasn’t for the nice salesman at the display home she thought she would never have been able to do it. Such was her dependency on him, whenever he or she had a question about the house contract, he would jump in his car and pop around and see her! Naturally, she told him about her husband, it was a romantic story after all. But as she became comfortable with him she began to tell him more, how Peter was always away, work and fishing. She thought it was ironic that this salesman was so attentive to her needs when her husband, the salesman, chose to ignore her.

The first time that they touched had been an accident. He was passing her a pen and their fingers met fleetingly. Lynn was sure everybody in the room had felt the electric charge. Now that he visited her at home, they would sit a little closer. There were no prying eyes here! It started when their feet touched, again accidentally, but then their legs would rest against the others. One time he had even massaged her neck after she complained about feeling a bit stiff. This night, tonight though, they were sitting side by side at her dining room table and when she finished telling him that Peter was away until tomorrow night, he placed his hand onto her thigh, leaned over and kissed her. She sat stiffly, eyes wide open in surprise, but then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back hard. He slid a hand up under her dress, his other hand pulling at the shoulder straps. They ended up on the couch, her dress bunched around her waist, legs spread wantonly as the salesman thrust himself into her. Her eyes were tightly closed as she reveled in her orgasm, and then felt the approach of a second. She couldn’t remember ever having two orgasms! Then the phone rang.

“Keep going, keep going, don’t stop,” she told him, pulling at his hips harder.

Peter was driving back from the small fishing village of Wooli to Grafton. He was mostly only an hour or two from home but he had clients to see the next morning, so he had booked into a local Motel. He had chosen this timing as Lex, the proprietor of the local marine shop, had told him the recent rain had brought jewfish on the bite from the local break walls. He had no luck, though a young fella got an average sized fish while he was there, which Peter expertly gaffed for him. He was thinking of this now as he drove rather exuberantly back along the narrow road. He knew the road well after eight years plying his trade along this route, and this plus the familiarity with his vehicle exacerbated what happened next. He rounded one of the tighter bends and the driver’s side wheels slipped off the edge of the bitumen. The verges were soft and still damp, from those same rains that had brought the jewfish on the bite. As soon as the tyres hit the verge, the car screwed savagely to the right and plunged straight off the road into an ancient gum tree that barely registered the collision. The car though, concertinaed like a cardboard box, the engine, dash and steering wheel smashing backwards almost to the rear passenger compartment. Peter died instantly.

A car came by five minutes later and discovered the grisly scene. Emergency services were notified and dispatched. Probationary Constable Ivan Phillips was on his first posting, and was given the gruesome task of removing any and all identification from the car, and what was left of the body. The registration papers were prised from the glove box, which was fortunate, as Peter’s drivers license was imbedded with his wallet somewhere near his left lung. Back at the station, Phillips rang the home number. There was no answer.

“Try again in fifteen minutes,” the Sergeant told him. “If you don’t get an answer then, ring the Tweed and have them dispatch a vehicle.”

Peter opened his eyes and saw that he was standing beside a mountain stream in a small clearing lit by the moon. Thick rainforest on the opposite side prevented him from seeing further and that same rainforest surrounded the clearing. His surprise at his location made him overbalance, and he fell into the stream, laughing as he surfaced and dragged himself back up onto the bank. All Peter could remember was seeing the tree coming at him in the headlights of the car. And then he was here! He leaned down to see his reflection in the water. Lynn, he thought suddenly!

Once again he overbalanced, and found himself miraculously standing in his own living room. He straightened and his eyes widened when he saw his wife, legs spread-eagled, lying back on the couch, their couch, and some half naked stranger pumping his penis into her. He shook his head, and screamed “Noooo…”

He fell into the stream again. He was back, wherever it was. He dragged himself up the bank without laughter this time, and the fleeting thought that he was dead made him frown. It had to be. He wished he could cry, at both the thought and at seeing Lynn. He sat down on the bank and a hand came down and rested on his shoulder, startling him, making him jump, and fall into the stream for a third time! He swiveled around quickly in the thigh deep water and focused on the kindly old face that was now extending a helping hand. He rose from the stream yet again, and this time noticed that he was dry. Totally dry. He looked at the man.

“Am I dead? Am I really dead?” The old man replied with a nod only. “But, but Lynn? Lynn!”

He surveyed his own lounge room again. I’ll never get used to this, he thought. Lynn was in the throes of an orgasm, that he knew, and the phone was ringing. He watched as she pushed the stranger off and got up, stomping toward the phone, breasts and buttocks jiggling with each stomp.

“What is it?”

“Is that Mrs Macintosh? Mrs Macintosh this is Constable Phillips from the Grafton Police.”

Peter watched as his wife was advised of his death. Her tears began to flow as she backed up against the wall to support herself. Then the man raced over to her to hold her up. Peter leapt at him.

“Leave her alone you barstard, aaargh!” He fell into the creek again! The old man was still there but he allowed Peter to get out unaided this time. Peter slumped onto the bank trying desperately to cry. He didn’t jump this time when that same hand came down on his shoulder. He just wanted to cry. When he looked up at the kindly face he saw the sympathy, and nodded at his futile position. “What, happens now? What do I do?”

The old man looked at him and smiled. It was a warm encouraging smile. “You follow me.”

The old man spoke with a thick accent that Peter thought might have been German. He pronounced “follow” as “vollow.” “What? Yes, follow. I get it. Where?”

“Like wit your wife, think ov following me.”

“Yes, okay.”

Peter stood at the summit looking in awe at the vista in front of him, the lights of the Gold Coast to the north, coastal villages including his home to the east, and the sweep of the Cape Byron lighthouse coming from the south. He knew where he was now, having used this very summit as a marker point when he went out to sea. He turned looking for the old man and was surprised to see a number of others, all of them old. He saw about twelve of them, some together in small groups, others sitting peacefully on their own – and the general feeling was exactly that – peaceful. He saw the old man, the one with the beard, further up the slope sitting on a rock, picking his teeth with a piece of grass. As Peter passed some of the others gave him a smile, some a nod of acknowledgment. The overall aura of peacefulness was affirmed. He approached and the old man looked up, and also nodded.

“I’m Peter.”

“Albert. You sit down now.”

Seeing no other rocks nearby, Peter remained standing instead. “All these guys. They, you know, dead? And you too?”

Albert looked at him, and Peter saw a fleeting glimpse of sadness before the smile returned. He nodded again. Peter saw another man, much younger than the others, more his own age, standing a bit further down the slope. This man waved at him as well as smiled. Peter walked toward him hearing Albert’s voice as he set off but not understanding him through the heavy accent. “Be careful, be very careful.”

“Hi Peter,” the new man said as he approached. “Welcome. The old farts up there don’t talk much. Lucky I saw you or they’d have bored you to death within an hour,” and he laughed at his own joke.

“You, everybody here has died?” Peter ignored the joke.

“Yep. You got it. Ask me anything man, anything. You must have a thousand questions going ‘round in your head?”

“How, what happened? I saw my wife. The old guy, Albert, said I just had to think..”

“Yes, that’s right. But don’t listen to them. What you gonna do about her?”

“Who? Lynn? What d’ya mean?”

The man’s smile seemed a permanent fixture, and Peter thought that maybe he wasn’t as sincere as he first appeared, but at least he was talking with him. “I mean, what are you gonna do about it? You seen her man, fucking that other guy, and you not even in the ground yet!”

Peter’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t need reminding. “But it was my fault. I know that. Always leaving her alone. No wonder!”

“Fucking crap man. You were married. Did you ever cheat on her man? Bet ya didn’t, in fact, I know ya didn’t, did you?”

“No. But then I was doing what I wanted to do. And I was so happy when I went home and saw her, you know. But she didn’t like fishing.”

“That’s right, she didn’t like fishing. What else didn’t she like Peter? I bet before tonight you thought that you’d been the only man she’d ever had, right? And she was the only woman you ever had, true? So what d’ya think now man?”

“Nothing. It hurts. And now there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Smiley mans smile broadened even more. “Yeah, I bet it hurts Peter.” He put his arm around Peter’s shoulder and spoke confidentially into his ear. “But you can do something about it.”

Peter looked up him, eyes wide in surprise. “What? Tell me? What can I do from here?”

“You can go back and fix her man,” his smile so wide it seemed to spill off the side of his face.

“No, I don’t want to see her, see that again.”

“What, and let her get away with it? No way man, you gotta strike. Strike while the irons hot you hear me?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“I mean, you don’t wait until they go cold, until they’ve forgotten about you. You hit “em hard as soon as you can, while their grief for you is still uppermost. For the maximum effect you understand!”

“What, haunt them or something? You’re kidding?”

“No, no, haunt them! That’s movie Life crap! I mean hurt the bitch,” the smile turned into a malevolent grin.

“What, hurt her? Lynn? Why? No! No way!”

“So you gonna let the cheatin’ bitch get away with it, eh?”

“Get away with what? That was my fault. My fault I tell you!”

“Crap Peter. Absolute crap! Tell me, do you think that guy has been the only one? Is that what you think? Do you want me to tell you about the others then?”

“No, I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t she? Come with me Peter.” Peters lounge room materialised in front of him yet again. Smiley was right behind him but there was no Lynn, and no stranger. He heard voices from the bathroom and found himself at the doorway, looking at his wife and the man sitting on the side of the bath. Lynn had at least readjusted her dress, but the man sat with his hand on her thigh, his other arm around her shoulder. Lynn was still sobbing and holding a tissue to her face. “See what I mean,” smiley mans voice came from behind.

“You barstard, get your hands off her,” Peter yelled, leaping at them, and somewhere in the back of his mind he prepared to land in the creek again. Instead, he passed straight through the man, straight through the bath and the wall, and rolled onto his side lawn outside. He was seething, even through his surprise. He jumped back at the exterior wall, and passed through both the man and Lynn this time, before standing and looking at smiley man who was leaning with his shoulder against the doorframe. “What, how then?” he said frustrated.

Smiley man stood upright, and the smile disappeared. “You wanna get the bitch now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must do what I tell you Peter.”

“No, no I don’t think so anymore. She’s crying, for me!”

“Bullshit Peter. She’s putting on an act for him,” he pointed to the salesman. “You gotta do it now Peter. Or never.”

“Why?”

“Because Peter, it’s all in the timing. It will mean nothing if you don’t do it NOW!”

“I don’t want to. I don’t understand. I wish I could cry. I can’t cry.”

Smiley man softened a little, and his smile returned. “Turn around Peter. Look at her.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Turn around Peter. Do it,” he commanded. Peter turned slowly and obediently lifted his head to see what he no longer wanted to see. The man was now caressing her thigh and Lynn had dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Peter, I’ll give you a little analogy that will help you understand. When you hear the jewfish are biting, off the break wall, and they are all a hundred pounders, what do you do? Do you wait until tomorrow night? No way man, you go out straight away, while they’re still there. You understand me now? It’s gotta be now Peter.”

“Yeah, okay, but what about him. I want to kill the barstard.”

“No you don’t. He’s just a pawn. What you gonna do, kill every man that comes along and looks at her sideways? Why kill a hundred when you only have to deal with one? You can do it Pete. You gotta stop it at the source.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Just help me get this barstards hands off her, will ya?”

“Okay, now do exactly what I tell you.”

Peter nodded.

“Raise your arm, hold out your hand to her.”

Peter frowned and looked around at smiley man. The response was another order but his voice was much stronger, booming off the walls.

“DO IT! RAISE YOUR HAND!”

Peter watched as his arm rose almost of its own accord. His hand reached out toward Lynn.

“Move forward, let your hand feel her heart. DO IT!”

Peter watched, transfixed, as his hand passed through the mans arm, then his wife’s dress and her left breast, yet he could still see it clearly.

“NOW, CUP HER HEART. PUT HER HEART IN YOUR HAND.”

Peter’s eyes widened when he saw Lynn’s heart appear in his hand, pumping its rhythm of Life.

“SQUEEZE!”

“What, I, I…”

“SQUEEZE! SQUEEZE IT NOW! FEEL ITS POWER THROUGH YOUR PALM! SQUEEZE!”

Peter squeezed, softly at first, and he saw Lynn give a little start. But then he did feel it, he felt the hearts rhythm transferring through his hand and began to time his squeezes to match. Each time he did so he began to feel the strength, its strength, traveling up his arm and into his body. He began to feel again, the floor under his feet firstly and a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

“Can I stop, now?”

“NO. SQUEEZE,” the voice so loud it hurt his ears.

He looked at Lynn and almost felt she was looking at him. She was very ashen faced, and the salesman was panicking around her now. Her eyes were still looking at Peter, and he realised suddenly that she was seeing him.

“SQUEEZE!” the voice continued to command.

Peter gritted his teeth, reveling in the feel of his tongue against the roof of his mouth again. He stared into his widows’ eyes, seeing her Life fading.

“Peter!” she gasped.

“Damn you, you cheated on me,” he yelled back at her, and squeezed tighter.

And then her heart stopped in his hand. Peter squeezed. He squeezed harder. She was still looking at him but with unseeing eyes.

“Noooo,” he yelled, and turned to face the smiley man. “What have you made me do?”

Smiley man was no longer there. Instead, the room was shimmering like a heat haze on a hot day, and then it rotated, slowly at first but gathering speed rapidly until Peter felt giddy. He looked down at his feet and could see nothing under them as everything seemed to get sucked backwards as if in a giant vacuum. Except Peter stood firmly and when everything had disappeared, he was left in absolute darkness. He spun around looking, desperately searching for any sort of comforting light. And saw it! Off, so far in the distance that he had to squint to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, was a small pinprick of light.

“Is that you?” he screamed again.

The light moved toward him at incredible speed and as it closed Peter prepared to duck. He could see now that it was many light sources, not just one, and as they ascended his eyes widened in fear. They tore into him like sharks, their fang like teeth and serrated claws removing immense chunks of his flesh with each pass. They tore around his body like mosquitoes. When he opened his mouth to scream some of them immediately dove into his mouth, removing his tongue and even consuming his teeth as they worked, eating their way into his body. Peter heard that voice, the smiley mans voice, just one last time.

“My name is Duran. Welcome!”