Most of Me (9 page)

The Pacemaker shuffled closer; there was no haste about it. It was sluggish in its movement. The cloth that shrouded it was soaked with the blood of Father Thomas. I could hear its laboured breathing. The foul odour it emitted was filling the church. Damp earth, burning, and rotten flesh was becoming unbearable now. It was getting close and the spell increasingly pungent.

“Stop! Wait!” I screamed at it, raising my hands in surrender. But it ignored my plea and continued to approached.

I shouted, “
Carl! Carl Winters! If you can hear this, stop him now!
” I waited, but there was nothing. Still it came closer, and I’m sure that if it stretched out with its long arm, it could reach me. “
Carl!
” I screamed again, my voice crumbling. “
Grandad! Please, I’m coming back! This doesn’t have to happen! I’m your grandson! I’ll do as you ask! I’ll do my duty! I’ll come home!
” I rattled the doors one more time, pushing at them will all the strength and desperation I had; they opened with no effort at all and I fell through. I must have hit my head hard because when I awoke, it was dark. How no one noticed that I was spread across the steps was a mystery. I pushed myself to my feet, nursing my head and checking my finger tips for blood. I was unsteady on my feet, but managed to make my way into the church. I searched around for it. There was nothing but an old smell, of stone and wood and dust. The Pacemaker had gone. Father Thomas was slumped behind a church bench, his throat cut. I was holding the knife and had dried blood on my hands and clothes.

It’s happening all over again.

***

I spent the night in the car looking over the sea. I removed the slip of paper Father Thomas had written. I wondered if I
had
killed him; I wondered if I had killed Ben and his Mom, too. But then I told myself that it was just another one of Carl Winters tricks. He was making sure I had know where else to turn. And in truth, I hadn’t. I opened the note. It wasn’t a letter, just a list of notes that Father Thomas had scribbled down. A collection of numbered lines.

1: God cast Lucifer from heaven to Earth and below. There is only above and below,

Heaven and Hell. Perhaps hell is Earth and there is no below.

2: Daniel must go back to the house and confront his demons. And then what?

3: Demons? Is Carl Winters a demon? Is he dead? His power comes from the mirror.

4: Should the mirror be destroyed?

5: The Pacemaker? Is it real?

6: The mirror? 7 years of hell on Earth? I think hell is already here.

7: The mirror is the keys. Daniel should destroy the mirror.

8: Can Carl Winters be stopped? I really don’t know.

9: Is Daniel lying? Did he kill those people?

10: Is Daniel a demon? Is he evil and should I trust him?

11: The mirror should definitely be destroyed, but will Daniel have the courage? Will he

weaken to its powers? He might not be strong enough. He might absorb it.

I folded the paper and returned it into my jacket pocket. “Just his thoughts,” I reminded myself. I couldn’t judge Father Thomas just as he can’t judge me, so I can’t allow myself to be hurt by his thoughts. It was only ink and paper. He didn’t really know me, but he could be right. I could be a murderer…a liar. If I didn’t know, then I suppose he’s entitled to speculate. But my heart tells me that he’s wrong, and thats enough. I trust myself and so I know that I must go back to that house and, whether Carl is there or not, I need to break the mirror. I need to end this curse or whatever it is that consumes that house.

This ends. It ends now.

I slide down the window and peer over the sea. The moon is high and shines a welcome light onto its twin that swims in the water. The stars flicker. I can feel the suns heat dying on my face, cooled by a breeze that speaks soft words. I’m sure I can hear Moms voice through the wind. It’s her tone, but I can’t make out what she's saying. It’s hypnotic and comforting, and my eyes begin to lower.

I’m exhausted.

***

I park at the side of the house and I climb out of the car. The roads are clear. There is a slight smokey smell in the air - I guess the remnants of a dying camp fire from Jacobs wood - but its still and humid. I check my watch. It reads 4:27 am.

I walk around to the front of the house, slowly, and running over in my head what I was going to do once I knocked on the door. The windows had been fixed, no smashed glass, the lawn had been freshly trimmed, and a pile of grass had been swept into a small mound. There was a gas lamp that swung above the rocking chair, and dead moths beneath where they had flown into the light.

I approached the house with caution. I knew he would be here; I would be expected. So, he would be waiting for me. I studied the red door, stepped back, let out a deep sigh, and rattled my fist against the wood. “It me!” I yelled, turning around to make sure know one had heard. “You know I’m coming! So don’t play games!” I wasn’t going to let myself in, not this time. Although, the damage may well have been done.

I heard faint footsteps from inside, a door close, and then silence. As I was about to rattle the door again, it opened and there was Carl Winters. He was cheerful, but I could detect a sinister emotion behind this defensive face. He
was
happy to see me. I knew that. Of course he was; he needed me.

He stepped aside, and after a few seconds of regret and a doubt that never left, I entered the house for what I hoped was my very last time. I followed him into the kitchen. The red door closed by itself.
Tick Tock Tick Tock!
I turned to the clock on the wall. The hourglass was two-thirds full.

Carl said, “not long now, Daniel. It’s filling nicely, don't you think?” He sounded very proud as he pointed gleefully at the ornament.

I held it in both hands. “Why is it filling up so fast?”

He chuckled, and shrugged. “It seems to do that; its quite fast when you’re dreaming for some reason, but I’m not complaining. Not long now.”

“I’m not dreaming,” I told him.

“Oh, but you are.”

I looked at the hourglass, then at Carl. I flipped it upside down, but the said still fell. “I’m dreaming,” I said.

“Yes…I know. That’s what I just said. Isn’t it nice that I’m thought of even in your dreams. You must love me, Daniel,” he jeered.

I still had hold of the hourglass, so I threw it at him, jolting his head back and cracking his skull like a china doll.

But it caused no damage to him. He picked up the hourglass; it was almost full. He grinned at me and whispered, “You best wake up, Daniel. Not long now.” And he laughed, and continued to laugh; the crack in his head suddenly started bleeding. He kept laughing. The blood cleansed his face and stained his shirt, and still he laughed.

I cracked my head on the window when I awoke in the car, angry with myself for closing my eyes. I struck out at the steering wheel until the part that should have held the air bag cracked. I stopped and sat in the quietness that early morning brings. It brought about calmness in most people. But I couldn’t feel calm right now. I felt anger. I wanted to
kill
him!

I started the car and pulled away.

***

I wasn’t going to turn up unprepared, and was reluctant to buy a fire arm because for all I knew, I was a wanted man. My name must be in the system. But I did need a gun.

I was outside Carl Winters house at 2 in the morning the very next day. I had my gun. I had asked a few people that looked as though they did stuff like that: sell drugs, guns, contraband cigarettes. I was told it was a .45 pistol, but as long as it put a hole in someones head, I didn’t care. It was hidden in the glove compartment, between the cd’s. I shut off the engine and stayed in the car for a further thirty minutes.

When it was time - and I don’t believe there ever was a time - I stepped out of the car, removed the pistol from the compartment and stored it behind my belt buckle. I then traced the steps I had taken in the dream. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I rattled the gruesome knocker. Again, the house was silent.

“Come on, you know I’m here,” I mumbled. I rattled the knocker again. I was reluctant to let myself in after what he had told me about free will, but it appeared I had little choice. I twisted the handle and the door clicked open. It was dark inside when I stepped in. I kept the door open, checking the stairs to make sure there was no surprises. I followed the hypnotic sound of the clock.

Tick Tock Tick Tock.

I entered the kitchen, flicking the light switch. The room was empty. The hourglass beneath the clock had only a few grains left. I knocked it of the shelf, smashing the glass and smothering the stone floor with the sand. “You’ll never have me, old man.”

“Don’t open doors you can’t close, Daniel,” Carl said. He was standing in the doorway behind me, holding onto the handle of the basement door.

“Did I have a choice? I mean, really?”

“Not really,” he confirmed. “So, what is it? I stopped the Pacemaker from killing you. The way I see it, you owe me.” He chuckled, rubbing his short grey stubble. “What is it going to be? Are you going to pledge your duty to me, or are you going to use that pistol of yours. I truly hope the safety
is
on, Daniel. It would be a shame for it to end so tragically,” he sneered.

I didn’t confirm I had a gun, but he knew I did. I said, “I’m giving in to you. I know I can’t run. I know I can’t hide.”

“No, you can’t. You can stand with me, or you can die.” He shrugged. “It’s not a hard choice to make. Protecting the mirror has its advantages; use its power, embrace it, as I did. But, you can still leave this house, not for long, and not by the front door. You never leave through the front door, or any door. You live as a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

He nodded. “You will be alive.”

“Okay…So, what now?” I asked.

“Now, you follow me.” He opened the basement door and pulled on the light chord. He looked over his shoulder. “I hope you’re ready, Daniel. This is no game.”

I followed him, holding onto the pistol through my jacket. I was ready.

“And don’t forget to bring the hourglass!” he told me.

“The glass broke,” I said.

“No, it isn’t.”

I went back into the kitchen. The hourglass was on its shelf. I reached out and took it in both hands. The grains were falling slowly. It was nearly full.

Carl hadn’t waited; he was already in the basement.

I took my time, though. I cautiously descended the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Carl was in the hole unwrapping the mirror.

He looked up and said, “The hourglass! Give it to me!” His voice was husky and irritable.

I let it go like it was a football.

He fumbled to catch the glass. “Be careful, lad! I fixed it once; I might not be able to do it again.”

I said, “I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t. I wanted it broke. And I think Carl knew that, too. I wonder if he knew everything.

He stared at me cruelly. “Its fine…everything’s fine,” and shook his head. He looked back at the mirror and uncovered the last section. “Come on down, Daniel. Don’t just stand there. The sooner we do this, the better it will be.”

I climbed down ladder, jumping the last couple of rungs. I adjusted the pistol behind my belt buckle, but left it there. Carl didn’t see me. He turned around and took my hand.

“Lower,” he said, beckoning me down with his hands.

I fell to my knees. I watched him, not what he was doing, but watched
him
. I hated him. I touched the pistol. I wanted to take it out and use it. I had to dispose of all the anger to remove my hand from the pistol.

He swept away dirt from the frame with a handkerchief he had pulled from his back pocket. He withdrew himself and marvelled at the relic. “The mirror is a very powerful tool. It can control you; it can absorb you; it will if you allow it to.
Don’t!
” he said. His eyes looked sunken more than usual. “Small doses, absolutely fine. But it
will
change you; the man you are will be no more. And it will make clear to you your dedications to guard the mirror. Allow it to break and you will open the gates of hell. Stay with it; protect it with your life, but use it to gain back your life in some other way, like I did.” He reached for my hand and squeezed, then took the other and did the same. “This is no game, Daniel. You will take my place; you will be here to protect it, as I once did.”

“And what comes of you?” I wondered.

“Everyone retires, son. Your day will come, too. Just make sure you have a replacement, someone who appreciates what it is we do.” He smiled. “I’m proud of you, Daniel. You’ve made the right choice; the sensible choice.”

I put in, “the only choice?” My tone was low and bitter. I briefly looked at the mirror, although I could see nothing.

“Free will, Daniel,” I was reminded. “You had a choice; you always had, so if there is blame to place upon someone, don’t put that on me!”

The silence was awkward. Carl looked into my eyes as though he was invading my soul, trying to see what was hiding beneath flesh and blood. He let go of my hands and caressed his thumb over the ornate frame of the mirror.

Should I pull out the pistol while he was distracted, aim it at Carls head and squeeze the trigger? If I don’t kill him now, it may be too late. I will need to stare into the mirror to convince him. I cannot allow myself to look. I cannot. I pressed my palm against the pistol. Slowly, I began lifting my jacket and reached under to touch the bare metal.

He sighed and said, “I will miss you.” There was a touch of rare emotion in his voice. Before I could remove the gun, though, he turned to me and said, “I told them to leave, you know, your Mother and your Grandma. I regret that I was cruel in doing so. A bastard, in fact, but I had to get them out of this house, get them safe. I told them things, things that weren't true anyway, bad things that I’d done. They were lies, all lies just to make them leave.”