ON THE VERGE

ON THE VERGE

A Story of Possession unlike anything you’ve ever imaged

by

DAN R. FOWLER

For

Mary

Book Summary:

Jackson is sitting in a hospital treatment room. His life is hopeless memories and whispers full of shadows, until death comes to visit. This story is based on some truth about personality disorders, suicide and dysfunctional demons. Ben, Carl, Denny, Darrell, Johnny, and Randy, the “others,” share the same body, but each has a different life. Things are out of control. Dr. Alfred Fine “Jake” tries to help Jackson come to terms with his friends. A traumatic climax ensues with the introduction of Januari Winters. There seems to be nowhere to turn, but the answer comes very unexpectedly.

ONE

What the hell? Jackson thought.

He sit in a small, alcohol-smelling secluded hospital room reserved for those who had attempted a different way out of this world other than the nature course appointed to all people. The doctors and nurses told him it would be for observation and everyone goes to the waiting room for initial medical review.

Jackson sit bewildered and couldn’t remember how or why he had been brought to this tiny room with its sterile furnishings and medical utensils all in disarray. He squirmed on the cot in confusion.

“It’s not very neat here,” he said.

This comment could have only come from one of his personalities who dwelt in the Inner-room. Friends. Oh, Ben would readily have jumped to the occasion to straighten up and make things tidy. His compulsive need to make things perfect often drove his host into uncomfortable positions at work and at home.

Standing beyond the small window that faced the Admissions Office was Mary, his wife. She shuffled her feet left then right and made unseen designs in the dust that had settled on the counter in front of the receptionist. She watched the people milling in and out of the office area, those with impersonal glances, uncaring, but pretending to care. She had been waiting for about twenty minutes and her patience’s had all but been exhausted.

“Excuse me. I was supposed to see Dr. Fine, a Dr. Alfred Fine. Can you tell me if he’s here or will I have to stand here all night waiting?” she asked as she exhaled and shifted her attention down the hall to the small room where Jackson had been escorted by the military police earlier that evening. He was placed there under guard awaiting consultation.

Mary glanced down a pastel-colored corridor that now was mired with fingerprints from children wishing to find something to do or perhaps leaving an initial of a friend. She followed the lines on the wallpaper that led to the room and to Jackson.

Anger and disgust swelled within her as she thought of the time and life she had given away to him. Recounting the memories, times together, she thought it had meant something to him. Wonderful things had been accomplished by both of them, or so she thought. Where had this stranger entered into their life? This picture once painted by a hand that had painted thousands of others who were happy. Their painting had become awash in the backlash of disappointment and failure. Their brush strokes on the canvas had once been laden with colors of good, but now had all run together into a medley of confusion. Why should her life, her colors become so translucent that the dreams were now all but gone?

Angry tears ripped at her eyes. She wondered how he could have done such a thing. There was no reason to change, no reason to become what he was now. She had raised their son; she thought she had done her best. Besides, he wanted this child, he begged for a son. She kept up the house, perhaps not a spotless one, but livable and comfortable. Life wasn’t that bad, really. What had gone wrong?” she asked herself over and over as she waited for the next change in this kaleidoscope of confusion.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no response to Dr. Fine’s overhead-page. I’ll continue to page him until we get an answer.” said the evening clerk.

She was polite enough but conveyed no sense of empathy in her voice as she turned away from Mary and walked back to her routine duties.

Looking around the room, Jackson saw cotton balls, needles and a folded sheet; it all seemed to be in a jumbled mess. Flickers of light bounced in the air like fireflies in a summer’s evening dusk. Reflected in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall was a man Jackson didn’t know. He thought he had seen him somewhere, but for a moment there was no recognition of the face looking back at him.

“This is just what we need!” echoed a voice from the moving lips in the mirror.

Jackson looked around the cubicle but saw no one there.

Then again the voice resounded.

“Why are we here? This will stop everything we’ve planned. We can’t allow this, you know. And we won’t.” The room fell silent.

“Who’s there?” asked Jackson as he moved his head from side to side looking into each dark recesses of the small room.

“What do you want?” he asked and waited, but there was no answer, not for now.

As Mary stepped through the door, she looked speechlessly at Jackson. She wanted to say, “How could you do such a thing to yourself-to us?” Nevertheless, she kept it all inside except for the tears.

All she did was work and live like any normal person. But that’s not what you saw was it Jackson? She thought. She wondered why he said the things he did to her. But for now her thoughts were the only solace she had.

The moments ticked lazily by as if someone had forgotten to wind the clock of time. Nothing was spoken as silence captured their thoughts.

“Hello,” a voice sliced through the thick air. “I’m Dr. Alfred Fine. “The desk clerk said you’ve been asking for me. I apologize for my tardiness but there are so many people here this evening. I’m sure you understand.” He made his way through the doorway into the cubical where life was sequestered for the two occupants. He reviewed the medical record bound within a small tan folder, like it was just another case and not someone’s life.

“From what I’ve read of this problem, like many others, is that it has a solution. We’ll take this one step at a time and see what happens. These things happen, granted not to everyone, but they happen. And to those involved, such as you two, they are very real; they're your life. I’ll talk to the doctor assigned to your case initially upon intake and work out the areas we’ll cover in this session and those to come. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve discussed my findings with the doctor.”

With that introduction and short soliloquy, Dr. Fine turned and walked out the door and to the desk where he whispered to the clerk something that Mary couldn’t catch.

Frustrated, Mary turned to Jackson and said, “I don’t get it, do you hear me?” She glared at him as she walked off down the hall.

“What’s with her?” Jackson wondered. “I don’t need this kind of attitude, not now. I want someone to act as if they care. I want to be loved, to be first in someone’s life. Please allow me to walk a path that means something and get rid of the weights that have held me back for so long. Can’t people see that? The crap I’ve put up with has got to go. I want out.”

Jackson shifted restlessly on the cot. The sheets bunched under him as he tried to get comfortable meanwhile contending with the rage swelling within. There within was another war happening as it had hundreds of times before. It had been a war that had gone on but leaving Jackson unaware of its existence for sometime.

“Oh well,” a voice resounded from the depths of Jackson’s soul. “We don’t always get what we want. Seems you would have learned that by now. You’re such a fool, Jackson. Get your head out of your behind. Hey! I’m talking to you.”

The cubicle’s mirrors fluttered in the dusty alcove of the room as an image took form that changed continually for two to three minutes and a face formed on the surface.

“Hello Jackson, its Carl,” as he smirked an evil grin.

“And who are you?” asked Jackson as he tried to understand.

“Well, well. It looks as if you’re going to find out who’s running the show. This picture, a reflection you might call it, is going to change again—you can count on that. You can bet the s--- about her will too. I’ll see to it. You hear me, shouted Carl.

Jackson turned away trying to figure the situation out. Who was this person and where did he come from?

The door stirred open. “I’m Dr. Cantrell,” said a smooth voice from the doorway. Dominating the entrance with his stature, he spoke softly yet pointedly to Jackson.

“I know you don’t understand what’s going on now, but we’ll work it out. Your wife is outside. I won’t call her back here for now. It’s better to leave her out of this discussion for now. You’re the one I want to take some time with. Can you tell me what happened to bring you to this place today?” He gently moved through the doorway and into the room. Taking a seat directly across from Jackson facing the table. He waited and watched for some signs of understanding. He examined the chart that he had picked up from the desk down the hall and waited in the stillness for a dialogue to begin. There was silence as he read the lab results.

“No, I can’t tell you anything,” replied Jackson after a long silence. “Right now, the whole complex matter is too confusing to say the least.”

“I thought so,” responded Dr. Cantrell. “Don’t let that worry you. We’ll get to the heart of the issue. I’ve asked Dr. Fine, a friend and fellow Doctor here, to help. He’s one of the best and I’ve asked him to be available to help in your case. You’ll find him very helpful if you’re willing to help yourself.”

Taking a ballpoint pen from his pocket, Dr. Cantrell scribbled something in the folder, looked up at Jackson then turned and left the room.

Dr. Fine walked to the counter of the small rest area of the hospital.

“A cup of coffee?” he asked as he gestured toward the machine while looking at Mary.

“Yes, black,” responded Mary.

He took the cups, his and hers and walked over to the seat across from Mary. After placing the cup of coffee in her hand, he took a seat.

“Can you tell me anything about what went on this evening that led to this incident with Jackson?” quizzed Dr. Fine. He shifted slightly in the plastic hospital seat.

“I just don’t understand,” started Mary. “Jackson was fuming when I came home from work. I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything different today than I have done in the past. He was okay at lunch, he called, and everything seemed normal. After I arrived home from work and walked into the house, he jumped up from the sofa and told me he knew just what to do.”

Air vortexes formed in the room from the smoke from the other guests. They lifted high into the air and created faint but discernible patterns, then disappeared.

Mary continued, “He said he’d get out. After walking to the cabinet in the kitchen where we keep our medication, he took all of the pill bottles out, opened the lids, poured them into his hands and swallowed them. All the while, he looked at me with a curtain satisfaction, or maybe it was panic. I couldn’t tell. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what to do myself.”

Turning away from Dr. Fine, Mary wiped a tear away that had found its way through the hardness of her face to a small wrinkle where it slid down her cheek.

“He went upstairs into the bathroom, and vomited some of the pills into the commode. At this point I called the police, the ambulance and the military base where he worked. Fury flashed across Jackson’s face as he came downstairs and realized what I had done. He looked at me as if I had done him an injustice by saving him. He tried to take the receiver from my hand, but by that time I had already finished making the calls and the police were on their way. He was enraged, snatched the receiver from me and dashed it against the wall.”

Trying not to show too much fascination for the turn of events, Dr. Fine jotted down the story for later reference.

“He asked me why, then turned to the door and waited in a daze for the events that followed and that’s about it,” said Mary. Needless to say, her face reflected the stress of the prior evening’s events. Then she looked away from Dr. Fine and focused down the hallway to the small room where Jackson was waiting. She blurted out her own personal feelings and said, “I’m sick of this.”

*******************************

“Jackson, it’s Ben.” What are we doing here?” From the mirrors that had earlier reflected the face of Carl now held the reflection of someone new, Ben.

“I don’t know,” Jackson answered. “I’m sure I’ll find out pretty soon.

“I’ll hang around because I think you might need me,” said Ben. As in the past, Ben had been the one true friend in whom Jackson could depend on in times of crisis.

Ben raised his eyebrows, expressed a puzzled look and said, “I’m here with you, and it’ll be okay.” And as before, the figure faded into the mirrored reflection of Jackson.

“Jackson,” said Dr. Cantrell, as he entered the room. “Dr. Fine is with your wife now. He wants to talk to you.” Motioning Jackson to follow him, he left the remote room and headed down the hall to the small rest area where Dr. Fine and Mary awaited his arrival. As they walked, Dr. Cantrell placed his hand on Jackson’s shoulder as if to offer some reassurance that everything would be all right.

Robotically, Jackson moved into the rest area and took a seat opposite Mary.

Mary’s eyes bore into him like a drill press into a piece of metal.

Jackson glanced away.

“Jackson, I’m Dr. Fine. Mary says we need to talk. Maybe we can get some answers for both of you.

Dr. Cantrell looked at Dr. Fine, then turned and walked into the darkness of the long hallway and to his other patients.

“Jackson,” Dr. Fine continued, “Your wife says we need to find out what happened earlier today. I might be able to help you, given the chance. What do you say? Do you think we can talk about this?”

Jackson felt attacked by his words. He fidgeted in his chair turning first to one side, then to the other. He looked at Mary, then at the room, the other people, then at Dr. Fine.

“Maybe,” he muttered then turned away.

“Jackson,” started Dr. Fine, “if we give this a little time we can come to an acceptable understanding that will help everyone. We can find out how this happens to people like you. You have a lot of living yet to do, life is worth keeping. Do you want to help me find out how much life is worth for you?” With that entry, Dr. Fine opened his note pad and waited for a response.

“I don’t know if I do or not.” Jackson replied, acting secretive. He wasn’t sure he trusted Dr. Fine. He might be like all the rest, the ones he talked to only to feel invisible hands around his throat when he tried to tell his story.

“Jackson, let’s see if we can get started,” said Dr. Fine. He got up from the table turned and asked Jackson if he’d like a cup of coffee first. He motioned towards the coffeepot where an attendant stood.

“Yes,” replied Jackson.

“Black?” asked Dr. Fine.

“Sure,” answered Jackson.

“What are you doing?” screamed a voice from within Jackson’s head.

“Who’s that?” asked Jackson. He turned around in his chair and looked behind him to see if there was someone standing there. But no one was there.

“It’s Randy. Who the hell are you telling this s--- to? You know how it’ll sound to this man. This man you don’t know or trust. You’re going to spill the beans, Jackson. And what do you think they’ll do to you? They’ll lock you up. You just wait and see. They’ll lock you up and where will we be?”

Dr. Fine returned to the sitting area where Mary and Jackson were waiting. Placing the coffee before Jackson, Dr. Fine took his seat. “Now let’s continue,” he said.

From the coffee surface, the lights bounced and reflections were forming. There too, was a reflection looking up at Jackson and it wasn’t of anyone he knew.

Randy, thought Jackson as he moved back from the small table where the coffee was setting.

Go away, thought Jackson. It’s past time for us to stop this madness. Leave me alone for God’s sake!

With that, Jackson’s mind wheeled back through the years, through the personal hell he had endured. I need an escape, he thought, as he felt the room closing in on him as it had so many times before. A dim but true flashback filled Jackson’s mind. It took him back.

Captured and placed in a small dark and damp room, Jackson cried to himself.

“Help me, I can’t get out. Please, I’m stuck in here. Is anybody out there?”

Tears traced the same tracks they had each time he’d been put in this pit.

“Please, I promise to be a good boy, Daddy. I’m sorry. I promise not to yell again. You’ll see, this time I’ll be good.”

“You’re a little bastard, you little s---!” a voice growled.

“I hate you. The next time you see daylight I promise you’ll be different. You can count on that.” Then the top fell on the pit and everything was dark.

Footsteps fell away from the door, the same door that was locked countless times before. Jackson was trapped in the prison once again. On one cared. His father sent notes to Jackson’s teachers saying he was ill. The bruises were never seen by anyone, except Jackson. He once told Jackson that if he told anyone, he’d kill him. That’s what he said. This was their secret and no one had to know.

The situation got worse after Jackson’s mother died. Not only did his father lock him there, but also he urinated through the ceiling of the pit on Jackson for kicks. Just to let him know who was boss. Crying didn’t help. There was no one there to listen.

“Please, Daddy,” Jackson would plead. “I promise to be good. I’m sorry.” His tears were useless. He pulled his torn collar up around his ears to get warmer and keep the rain off while he waited for a rescue that would never come.

“I promise to be good.”

“I promise to be good.”

“I promise to be good.”

His singsong went on for hours. It was his refuge, his mantra.

Minutes turned into hours. The last words he had heard were, “No food until you get out.”

He had wet in his pants again. He couldn’t help it. He had no toys; he had nothing to put his arms around in his own private little hell.

“I promise to be good,” echoed up through the small door in the ground, but no one was there to hear, no one.

Finally, not because he wanted to, his father unlocked the door and dragged Jackson to the back of the house. He slapped him several times and shouted, “I’ll teach you boy that you’re not the boss here, I am. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot this wad in the bucket and forget it.

After entering the house, he walked to the sink and grabbed a knife.

Jackson feared for his life each time.

“Come here, boy. Now!” his father shouted.

Jackson’s pants were pulled down and his butt fondled with until he was finished.

“Don’t you dare cry!" I’ll kill you if you do. Now stop that. Real men don’t cry. Do you hear me?” he would scream.

After the game was over, Jackson lay on his bed and imagined how it would feel if this monster was dead, you known, like in your dreams, after all, he deserved it.

“Jackson,” said Dr. Fine as he shook his arm. “Does this happen often?’ he quizzed Mary, then he turned and looked at Jackson.

“Does he seem engaged in another world, other conversations when he’s with you? Does he get lost in his thoughts?” asked Dr. Fine.

“At times,” remarked Mary. “There are times when I can’t make much sense of the things he does or says.”

Jackson didn’t hear much of their exchange. He was with Randy and Ben. There was no need for Randy, Ben, or the others while his mother was alive. Things were different now though.

TWO

It’s 1955 and Jackson is two years old. His house with 6 rooms was nothing very large nor much to look at compared to houses found in big cities or homes owned by high society, but it was clean. His mother saw to that.

The view from the large front porch, a porch that stretched the full length of the house, seldom changed. There was a company store made of red brick, one of the largest buildings in the community that jutted up out of the ground to a height of four stories. Large windows lined its front, reflected sunlight in the early morning hours, boasted of clothes, household goods, and during the Holidays, held the best things of all-toys.

Bare patches of land and spruce-dotted mountains filled the scenery. This made up the landscape that Jackson drank in from day-to-day. It was home at least for a short period of time. I became a regular event to move about every two years with Jackson’s family. So when the scenery became home, Jackson and his family would move.

Jackson remembered that day and longed to see those same mountains.

It’s January. Light filtered through the living room window and penetrated corners that had once been lost in the darkness of the night. Jackson and Dave, his older brother, knew something was up when Mom and Dad left them at Grandmother’s house. The days there were long, nights even longer. The turn of the century bedroom settings, newsprint showed through thin layers of whitewash paint. Wires hung from small clamps overhead. Tracing the wires lead to small 20-watt bulbs that provided little light, not much more that candles. Bedposts loomed overhead. They were handcrafted works of art.

Nestled in bed with pillows pulled tightly around one’s head, Jackson tried to sleep.

“Jackson, are you there?” a voice boomed

Jackson was jolted back into the present. The confrontations between him and Mary made his trips to the past more inviting each time. Each one recalls some good times; times he wished had never ended.

“Yes,” said Jackson as he leaned forward and sipped his coffee. Placing the coffee cup on the table and looking up as attentive as possible, he gazed down the hall at the nurse hoping to regain some sense of place.

“We’ll keep this simple for now, Jackson.”

“You seem very angry, but you don’t know how to let it out. Are you afraid to talk to Mary? She’s here to help and try to understand?” said Dr. Fine.

He looked into Jackson’s dazed eyes.

“Is there a problem, however small, that you could start and talk to Mary about? Let’s start and break the ice, okay?”

“No!” said Jackson. “You’re a stranger and I don’t know if I want to say anything in front of you. I don’t know if I can trust you. If you were in my place, would you want to spill your guts out to someone you don’t know such as yourself?”

Jackson glanced down at his cup of coffee and there on the glistening surface was the face of Randy winking at him.

“Jackson,” said Dr. Fine, “we can’t continue until you feel more at ease and until then we can’t come to a closure. We won’t get any answers if we can’t trust one another.”

Having said this, Dr. Fine slipped out of his chair and went to refill his coffee cup. Returning to his chair, cup in hand, he began again.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” he asked settling back into his comfortable approach. He watched for any trace of change in Jackson’s attitude, but saw only pain in his expression as well as fear.

“Well, yes,” replied Jackson reluctantly. “But I’m afraid. No, that’s not it; I can’t put my finger on the starting point. Everything’s just swimming in my head, racing thoughts.”

Why don’t you start where you think you can Jackson,” prompted Dr. Fine.

“If there’s a problem with the story, we’ll take a break and reconsider where we are at that time. That’s the best we can do right now. If you feel there’s a problem answering some of the questions, we’ll put them aside and come back to them at a later time in future sessions.”

Dr. Fine had found a way at least to put Jackson at ease for now.

“I don’t know where the beginning was,” Jackson said cautiously, “but I’ll try to fix a point and go from there.” He glanced briefly at Mary before mentally reaching for a string that might be clinging from the fabric of the life he used to know.

“Let me see…”

Moments passed. Jackson gulped more coffee, and then he set his cup back down on the table.

“Okay, you want to know why? It won’t be easy for me, but I’ll try. I’m sick of this situation and of her. I’m sick of life. This is why.”

Clouds formed in the lazy night sky overhead. The few stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, held little luster and unwillingly went to sleep in the evening sky.

THREE

“At last,” Jackson said, “life seems normal.”

It’s 1953; bitter cold winter air swirled at the feet of the courageous ones who ventured out into the frozen Christmas-like panorama. Red cheeks and covered noses, Santa-like, except they were only the people down the street hurrying to their jobs. They walked cautiously on sidewalks some handyman cleared before dawn, just as he had done the previous day.

The sidewalks were cracked with age and with the freezing cold, but the contractor’s initials, or some person's moment of vanity, were still visible after all the years of use. No one remembered whom it was who took the time to engrave such works of art. Whoever it was took a moment to make them timeless. Not just anyone could construct something so lasting.

Snow was scraped from the sidewalks year after year. Not to mention the countless gobs of gum life had left behind by the hundreds who walked there on their way to the hospital.

Bill pushed his way through the crowd. His thoughts centered on his wife and son. He thought little about the cracks or gum or initials. A nurse called to inform him his wife had delivered and a new son awaited him.

The entry door handle was cold. His fingers would stick to the metal if they were the least bit damp, subsequently he had wiped them as dry as possible with a handkerchief he had in his pocket. It had happened before on the car door and the doorknob at home. He didn’t relish the thought of it happening again, especially not today.

He already had a child, a son named Dave. He thought of Davie as he walked the icy sidewalks and headed up the steps leading to the hospital’s reception area. He had two sons now – who could ask for more?

Gripping the handle carefully, he looked through the glass doors. A steady stream of employees dressed in hospital attire scurried by. Nurses in white, office personnel in blue and executives in white all headed in different directions, each with different jobs to do. They were enveloped in their own world but brought back to reality only when stopped by a patient to ask a question or to get directions to the next destination. After their encounter with reality, they faded back into their own plans forgetting the brief contact with this specter from another walk of life.

Bill wondered about those people and their lives. He wondered if they felt as satisfied as he did just now. Some appeared to be, while others were only role-playing. Regardless of the appearances, life had been kind to him.

He stepped into the lobby. It was like opening an oven door and feeling the warmth rush against his face. His eyes felt suddenly warm and dried out. Walking across freshly waxed green and white tiled floors; he hurried toward the counter to ask directions.

Bill folded his collar down and brushed the few remaining snowflakes off his shoulders, then spoke to the woman seated like a sentinel behind the information desk.

“Hello, I’m Bill Stafford. Someone from the hospital called about my wife. She’s just had our second son. Her name’s Jessica. They said she came in about an hour ago. Could you tell me which room she would be in after delivery?”

“Calm down Mr. Stafford,” rebuked a nurse who had stopped to pick up a record. She turned a Rolodex and watched the cards flop over and over.

“Here, she’s in room twelve-C. That’s our post-labor ward. We place all the new ones there. It’s on the sixth floor. Turn left after you get off the elevator; stop at the desk upstairs if you need further assistance.” The nurse looked down at the record and the away quickly forgetting all about him and his new son.

Bill noticed her name tag read, Cindy Wilson. He supposed he was just another face in the crowd to her.

The contractors who built the hospital installed long, drafty windows that had become the bane of the hospital. They allowed wind from outside a chance to slip in. A breeze swept by Bill’s face as he waited at the elevator door.

A once polished steel door that was intended to add a glow to the waiting are now marred from top to bottom with scratches. A reflection could almost be seen if one looked hard enough. In the middle of the door and down next to the floor, the stainless steel had faded over the years, years of neglect.

Ping!

The elevator shuttered to a soft stop. The light that had blinded a soft white and indicated the floor numbers was now burned out causing the passengers to rely on the sound of the bell to announce the arrival. The doors slid open hesitantly. Bill hesitated too. He hated enclosed places. It reminded him of the mines where he worked for so many years.

The light inside the elevator glowed yellow. The plastic overhead coverings were dirty, walls were gray, and the floor was scuffed. Bill stepped inside with the other occupants and waited. Standing in the rear and looking past a redhead and two brunettes, he noticed a bald man. The man resembled his father who had been bald. Perfume filled the small cubicle. Raising his hands to his face and covering his nose, he tried to block the smell, but with little success. Feeling dizzy and a vomiting sensation in the pit of his stomach, he leaned against the back wall.

With a small but evident jolt, the elevator started on its way. The redhead and the bald man talked the entire trip. Someone’s daughter was seriously ill, cancer he thought he heard them say. The discussion soon brought tears to the lady’s eyes. As the elevator made its way up its familiar trek, Bill could not help but be thankful for his life. Slowing to a stop, doors sliding open, and people escaping the cubicle, it was a ritual. New groups stood waiting the chance to catch a trip to the floors of their destiny, while some, like the children, just rode for fun.

The sixth floor had pale blue wallpaper that stretched the length of the hall. Small flowers accented the decor, delicately placed in irregular patterns that filled the upper half of the hallway. Each hall on the floor was narrower than the lobby, but there was adequate room for the wash of traffic. A waiting room that occupied an alcove directly in front of the nurses’ desk, was large enough to accommodate a dozen people, but was rarely accustomed to this size of crowd. Three modern pecan tables, each piled with magazines, books and periodicals, provided some distraction for those seeking it. Local newspapers fought for occupancy room. Bibles, of course, were a common addition.

Slumped in one of the two plaid chairs was a young man, perhaps twenty-five or thirty. He thoroughly read an excerpt from a newspaper; he read it from end to end. Then he read it again. Fumbling through it, at times impatiently, as if searching for some morsel that he had missed earlier, he paused momentarily, seemed to lose his train of thought, fumbled again and focused. Perhaps during the deluge of newsprint images emerged reminding him of the patient he had stopped to visit. A wife, lover, a friend, whomever it was, he became sequestered in deep contemplation, pinched his shoulders together, then relaxed and he slid deeper into the chair.

Bill didn’t ask anything or speak to this person. He just watched. He wore a wedding band on his ring finger. Bill took this to mean he was married and that the person he was there to see was his wife, but not necessarily. He wore his ring proudly and didn’t try to hide it the way some do. He toyed with it, twisted it, then looked down at it, but said nothing.

Once he glanced up in Bill’s direction, but seemed unable to see him. Bill experienced the same sensation when he was preoccupied by more pressing matters. Dressed in Levi’s and a plaid shirt, this young man clashed with the chair where he was sitting. Winter boots, loosely laced and drying rapidly, showed tale-tale signs of color metamorphosis from shiny black to dull gray.

Lighted enough for reading, the room offered a degree of comfort to those needing a recluse, a haven, from the weather outside.

Ten feet away and to the left of Bill was a counter like the one in the lobby on the ground floor. He saw two nurses busily placing papers in folders. Before he could get their attention, they got up and disappeared into the room across the hall from the elevator. The door shut with a muffled thud. Voices could be heard behind the door, but the conversation was indiscriminate.

Windows, four of them, each symmetrically placed invited sunlight into the hallway. Each one had been constructed with small ledges on the exterior of the building. There little piles of snow lay nestled against frosted panes. Beyond the frosted panes of glass lay a snow covered coal town with smoking chimneys. White roof tops, ice coated wires, cars with steaming tailpipes, sidewalks piled high with snow, and ice patches on the creek painted the wintry landscape. Adjacent buildings held niches and ledges where wayward pigeons huddled like refugees from an onslaught being delivered from an uninvited intruder. They appeared lost in the snow with nowhere to go, no escape.

Reality drew Bill’s thought to the matter at hand. He walked to the counter that had been newly occupied by the next shift employee. Her name tag read, Mrs. Rice. This woman seemed struggling to catch up on the amount of paperwork that had been left behind by the two previous attendants.

“Mrs. Rice?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a proud dutiful voice, the kind hospitals liked to use when wishing to appear too busy to talk.

“Cindy Wilson at the front counter said you could direct me to room twelve C.”

“It’s down the hall to the left, past the elevator,” she barked. Turning her attention to the crisis on the desk, she forgot Bill was standing there.

He walked down the hall toward the room. His heart pounding, he placed his hand on the metal plate and pushed open the door. The room was large, in fact too large, it could’ve held six beds easily, but the ward was being renovated and this bed was the last to go.

Jessica was the only patient and she was asleep. The strong medication had worked its spell and she was deeply under its influence. Bill walked in under dim lights and still air.

She looked drained. Her face held stress lines, lines of pain that traced small wrinkles that were already doing their work on the face of his twenty-two year old wife. But, he admired her, adored her.

He sat in a chair on the right side of the bed, folded his arms methodically, and waited. Having seen that she was relaxed, he let his mind wonder. He had worried about the pregnancy from the moment they knew of it. He would’ve loved to have had a daughter, but was proud to have another son. Centering this thought on Jessica and looking at her, he couldn’t help but to recall the memories they had built together, good and bad. He rubbed his hands and placed them back on his thighs. Sterile smells, ammonia and alcohol, those synonymous with healing centers drifted under the door and filled the room.

His heart swelled with love that was shared by both of them. Love that had been nurtured in sunlight and sang in babbling brooks now said nothing. It sang of unity. They had often played games while on picnics, adult games that heightened their love. Those memories lingered specter-like in the mist of this dimly lit room.

Davie was one year and ten months old. He was a good boy, but reluctant to speak, somewhat reminiscent of his grandfather. Would the new baby carry the same traits?

This pregnancy hadn’t been as hard on Jessica as anticipated. But regardless of the smooth gestation period, delivery is no picnic.

Just beyond the window a car honked. Snowflakes caught lights reflection of the streetlights below as evening’s cloak folded over the town.

Dr. Fine listened intently to Jackson’s words, clinging to them like icicles clinging to a downspout in the middle of winter. He watched for signs pointing to early dysfunctional development in Jackson’s nurturing patterns and his parents that might have been connected to the events that had unfolded this afternoon. He hadn’t noticed anything that might suggest such a connection. But it was early in the investigation and many things could happen.

At one thirty in the morning, Dr. Fine brought the discussion to a close and stipulated to both Jackson and Mary that the sessions would continue in his office. He thumbed through his appointment book, marked a date and instructed them of their first appointment. Concluding the initial meeting, he encouraged Jackson and Mary to find a baby sitter for their son. He knew a couple’s secrets and their secret lives were, at times, neither pleasant nor appropriate for children’s ears. There was enough contamination coming at the family from the outside as it was.

Jackson agreed, as indicated by a shrug and a nod. Dr. Fine thanked Jackson for his attention, turned and left.

Dr. Cantrell came into the area, gave Mary the release papers and some prescriptions for Jackson, and then dismissed them to go home.

At home they slept restlessly without discussing any of the events of the evening before.

FOUR

The military called repeatedly asking about Jackson’s condition. He was ordered to report to the administration office the next morning. Mary bore the brunt of the inquiries over the telephone. Angry, Jackson called the base for additional information.

“Jackson,” said Windy, “what’s going on?” Her kind voice over the phone was a welcomed relief to him. Jackson had worked for Windy for sometime and if there was anyone he respected it was she.

Silence blanketed the room like the Black Death that once crept through England’s cobbled-stoned streets.

“I’m severely depressed,” said Jackson as he cleared his throat and held back the tears.

“It’s hard to talk about it right now. I’ll call tomorrow or see you at work. I hope I can lay it all out for you then. Thanks, but I’ve got to go.”

With that, Jackson hung the phone up and walked to the window. He stared at the sky trying to make some sense of the mess. He didn’t have much to work with, and really didn’t care if things made sense or not that this point.

The crowd at work lifted their eyes slowly as Jackson walked in, and then went back to their usual assignments. The government had an obligation to protect its people and sometimes this meant keeping things quiet. After consulting with the legal division’s officer, Jackson was fully aware of the ramifications of his acts and that he was going to be held accountable for them. He was overwhelmed by the paperwork involved, and he didn’t want to think beyond the scope of one day at a time.

His Chief spoke with him privately, extended every courtesy to him, and provided Jackson understanding while making a complete confession.

“I don’t know,” he said. “The whole thing blew up in my face, almost like a volcano. When things get too heated and I can’t handle it anymore, it’s like the top of my head blows off. I can’t say I remember what happened exactly, but from the stories I’ve heard from Mary, well the grap hit the fan.”

*******************************************

Governmental agencies have a way of making things happen where there seems red tape would render everything null and void. Since there wasn’t a facility nearby, government facility that is, that could handle Jackson’s situation, a trip south to Oakland had to be arranged and transportation provided.

Jackson looked out the window of Jack’s van. Jack, a good friend, had volunteered to drive Jackson to the hospital for the necessary mental evaluations before reassignment.

The slopes leading down the hill from the military base there in Centerville Beach, California were as green as Ireland’s vales. The image made Jackson smile sadly. He saw the same smile on his grandmother’s face when she gave her last goodbye to her husband at the grave site. His consolation, as she put it, was she’d see him again.

The road led through a small town of Fortuna, onto an interstate highway, then eventually to San Francisco, CA. Wind whistled through the crack at the top of the window in the van. Jackson rolled the window up rather than listening to the hiss of the wind.

“I wanted to help,” said Jack as he flicked cigarette ashes out his window, turned off the radio and waited for Jackson to answer.

Jackson just stared out of his side window and said nothing.

“I talked with Officer Pesto,” said Jack, as he fumbled for the right words to say. “I, we couldn’t decide who was going to drive you today.” Jack muttered. “They always require it after a suicide attempt, you know? Sorry, I didn’t want to upset you anymore than you already are.” He switched on his turn signal and eased the van into the southbound traffic.

It moved slower during the afternoon hours, unlike the morning. Few words were exchanged during the five-hour drive. Jack, reluctant to interject and confused as to what to say, concentrated on the road and little else. Jackson, smothered by unwanted attention, volunteered little information.

“You know, Jackson,” started Jack nervously. “I feel that way too. Maybe everyone does. This world closes in on people; bills pile up, the wife nags, and then boom. We all think of it.” He pulled out another cigarette out of its pouch in his left shirt pocket and lit it.

“You know, Jackson, the whole thing is a mistake. That’s what I told them, a big mistake. When they called me at home with the news, I told them they were crazy. Not Jackson, no way!”

The one-way conversations bounced off Jackson like helium filled balloons. He watched the white line in the middle of the highway and said nothing. It lured him into another place.

The trees of the North coast region bent little in the gusty winds. It played havoc with the undergrowth though, but little other damage was ever seen. Jackson envied the trees. They made him think of strength and permanence. All he wanted was some stable home life, some strength. But, for now, he couldn’t have it, so he wanted to run and hide.

He did. He went into places that provided solace for his mind.

Out the window and out of reach, leaves rustled in freedom. Inside, Jackson drifted into another time.

It stood proudly, made by their hands. The boys felt like men as they admired their handiwork.

Feeling like kings of the mountain, they looked at this wagon as one of the best they had ever built. Their hands had fashioned it much like the honorable Henry Ford might have done. They carefully refined the lines of their newest creation until it was perfected.

Boards, axles, nails, hammers and old rope were all essential parts needed to forge a dream. Nothing could touch the speed they expected to reach in this modern day roadster. They pounded small, inadequate nails that later would prove to be their undoing into the frame of this their dream. After a few hours, they wiped the sweat from their foreheads, pushed ahead into the unknown areas of imagination and creativity as they finished their masterpiece.

Filled with excitement, they stood beside the new roadster. After that, they pushed it up a small knoll just out of mom’s all-seeing eye. A journey they had often taken with each new invention. Davie, the oldest, sat in front; he was the pilot. He would direct the other two in the road test. After instructing them to sit down and prepare to shove off, Davie selected his reluctant navigator, Scott, and Jackson became the brakeman.

Poised on the brink of an adventure that they would share for a lifetime, they held their breath and shoved off. The air was filled with electricity, fear and anticipation swept through their hair as they accelerated downhill. They prayed their roadster would perform as imagined.

Small billows of dust boomed up as the solid rubber tires twisted and wiggled like snakes, twisting this way and that. Maneuvering past the pits and holes was a challenge, one that was like no other encountered before.

Astronauts they weren’t, but the same pride would match that experienced by the future moonwalk participants. Bobbing up and down like popcorn in an air popper, they sped ever-faster hitting bumps more often than not.

Perhaps stranger things have happened, but they couldn’t fathom any experience as adventurous as this one.

From out of nowhere, straight in front of them a huge woolly caterpillar, multi-legged, green, creature crossed its path with the world-renowned roadster.

It was a short drop over the embankment to one side that was lined with barbed wire. Jackson didn’t understand what was going on in the mind of the pilot, but it soon became clear. Without warning, the boys were thrown over the embankment and into the barbed wire, into the fires of stinging hell.

Screams of agony echoed down the valley and reverberated on the adjacent mountaintops. The wind carried their cries of terror up into the living room where their mother was working.

It was a long trip to the dilapidated medical office ten miles away over rain-gutted dirt roads. Antiseptic stench filled the nostrils upon entering the neglected painted rooms of yesteryear medicine. All three shrieked with pain. As Jackson was lifted onto a sheet-covered table where white clad nurses were assisted to holding him while the needle did its work. Anesthetic was in short supply and for the difference it would have made, the doctor decided not to use it. Fire shot up Jackson’s leg as it sewed its way effortlessly in and out of the flesh. More howls of pain sounded as another cut was sutured together.

“Jackson, are you okay?” asked Jack as he made the turn into the parking lot of the Oakland Medical Center.

“I’m all right. Sometimes I get carried away with daydreams,” mumbled Jackson. Leaning against the door, Jackson pressed the handle down, opened the door and got out. Upon entering the lobby, he went up to the fourth floor accompanied by Jack. He’d be held for questioning, observation and evaluation.

FIVE

“Well, Big Boy, what the hell are we doing here?” asked Carl. He turned up the collar on the black coat Jackson had worn and looked up at the mirror that reflected the innocent expression of his host.

“Quite a show wasn’t it?” barked Carl. “I was satisfied with the theatrics, if I do say so myself. I was a star. This is a world filled with crap; but then again, you never did have much taste. We sure fooled Jack.

In the mirror Jackson’s face twisted and screwed itself up until it became unrecognizable.

“He’s a fool. He believes he knows a little about everything there is to know. One thing I can say about our buddy Ben, that bastard, he knows just what to say to soften a story. He fooled jack, but he never fools me. He’s a pussy.

With that, Carl walked to the door, looked up and down the corridor, cupped his hands around the backs of his ears and listened for the nurses. Moments later, Jackson looked back into the mirror where Carl’s reflection once dominated his countenance and saw Ben looking into his eyes.

“It’s Ben, Jackson,” said Ben in almost a whispering voice.

“Once again, you’re leaving me your problems to cope with.”

Ben went into his familiar soliloquy, the same one Jackson had heard time and time before.

“I don’t understand how you let Carl out to run the show,” said Ben with a sharp but proper tongue. “You know he’s trouble. Mom told us to watch out for him, but no, you just seem to lose control. Every time we turn our heads, he’s into things, pretending to do this, pretending to do that. If it wasn’t for me at the doctor’s office the other day with Dr. Fine, we’d be locked up by now,” mused Ben.

Turning to inspect what clothes Jackson had brought for the trip to the hospital and being recoiled by what he saw, Ben growled, “Keep calm and let me take care of this mess.”

The mirror rippled in front of Jackson and Ben was gone.

Jackson went to a chair positioned in the corner of the room and waited for whatever would come next.

Night draped the landscape filling valleys with its sleeping potion.

Gradually, the halls and rooms of the hospital became sedated and still.

At least there weren’t bars on the windows, but there were dead bolts on the doors that were locked from the outside. Soon another captive to sleep’s inoculation surrendered and he slept.

“Well, sailor, how do you feel this morning?” asked the Officer-in-Charge as he made his rounds.

“I see you were brought in late last night. Your vitals seem to be all right. That’s a good sign. How do you feel? Shaky, nervous or just don’t know this morning?” Moving his eyes quickly across the pages in front of him. The records had been sent from up north and the Doctor seemed unconcerned.

Jackson sensed he really couldn’t have cared less.

“Jackson,” Ben whispered from inside.

“I’ll handle this. You sit here and keep your mouth shut. Besides, I’m prepared for this type of thing more so than you.”

Jackson’s countenance changed ever so slightly, undetectable by someone as distracted as this man.

Ben fumbled with Jackson’s gown, noting the color wasn’t his choice. He moved Jackson closer to the doctor and used all his composure he had to convince this relic of medical practice that he was in complete control of his faculties and could be released to go home.

“Well, Sir,” started Ben.

“I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. This situation, the one that put me here, has little or nothing to do with the military, nothing at all, you see.”

The stories Ben told would have persuaded the coldest of the coldest that Jackson was ready to return to work.

Evidently, it worked because the Doctor, the Officer-in-Charge took Jackson at his word, forwarded the necessary paperwork to the base and instructed Jackson to follow up with his sessions with Dr. Fine.

Jackson was discharged to return to work.

When Jackson arrived back at work, his Chief took him aside and discussed management’s opinion of his actions. She told him what to expect in the coming days. Also, she agreed to keep him informed if any more decisions came in concerning his future at the command.

The Executive Officer for the command held a formal screening concerning Jackson’s case, questioned him about the issues, then without another word, discharged the case and cleared all the criminal offenses against him. It was as if nothing ever happened.

SIX

The first counseling session appointment arrived and Jackson and Mary dressed in separate rooms, headed for the office situated in the small town of Arcadia fifteen miles away, they spoke little about the incident. Rain struck their cheeks as it often did in the North coast area. It was cold. Stepping from their car and heading into the office, they never looked at one another.

The air was cool inside much to the displeasure of Ben. He panned the room and spotted the thermostat on the wall that was set at 65 degrees, far to cool for him. He rubbed Jackson’s arms briskly and folded them across his waist. Ben made no attempt to hide his preference for a warmer environment and made comments to Jackson on the inside of his head.

He sat on the leather sofa, one chosen for its usefulness, certainly not for its looks, and he waited. Voices filled the small hallway signaling the end of another poor souls unveiling.

Jackson watched as a plainly dressed couple emerged from the back room where secrets had been squeezed from trapped minds that couldn’t distinguish between reality and dreams. Dr. Fine thanked them and issued his instructions about their next appointment as they were leaving.

“Come this way,” motioned Dr. Fine towards Jackson and Mary.

The room was empty, except for the necessary items: chairs, pens and paper and recording device. The smell lingered, swirling like rain clouds over Kansas’ wheat fields. Secret sensations vibrated in the walls and settled nearby like ghosts disrobed by a magician.

“How has the week been for you both?” quizzed Dr. Fine.

He sat in his favorite chair across from Jackson and Mary. Sipping his coffee and looking at them as he crossed his legs – an unspoken signal that was to commence the session.

“Yes, this is my vice,” he said. “I need one, you know. It keeps me human,” said Dr. Fine as he gulped down the last drop of coffee.

Leaning forward and placing his cup on the table beside his chair, he began to take notes.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Directed Dr. Fine. It was clear there would be no monkey business in the presents of this man today, clean and concise discussion without confusion. He had made a practice over the years of cutting to the meat of the matter. This session would be no different.

“Have you bought the book I suggested? Have you read it?” he asked.

There was an awkward silence. Dr. Fine realized he would have to work a bit harder for a response.

“I’m sure the book will help you if you take the time to read it and do the exercises. By all means, take the time you need now and prevent future tragedies.” Silence again was the response.

Jackson looked through the windows behind Dr. Fine.

“I could be doing something else today, the thought. It is my day off.”

“This is Ben, Jackson. How’s it going?”

Ben looked around Dr. Fine’s shoulders and into Jackson’s eyes from the reflection in the window glass.

“They told me, you know the others, that you could use some help. It was suggested I step to the square for a while.” It was Ben to the rescue as usual. Times like these required a cool and calm character, not a confused one.

“They may not show it much, Jackson, but the whole gang’s concerned about you,” whispered Ben. What on earth are we doing here? We have nothing to say to this man. We’ve been doing okay lately, at least since we left the hospital in Oakland.

Ben looked around the room, then back at Jackson.

“This is the man we saw the first trip to the hospital. I remember. He’s the one who tried to stop things. I don’t like him much. Randy doesn’t trust him at all,”

Ben rebuked Jackson for falling so easily into the trap that he now was entangled.

“Besides,” he continued, “we’ve seen his type before, remember when we were little?”

Ben watched for a reply, some movement in the face of his host, but there wasn’t one this time. Jackson could only stare straight ahead. Transfixed in the moment, he felt unable to help himself.

“We can’t do this Jackson,” Ben pleaded. “We can’t tell him the things we saw, especially not about Yvonne. Carl wouldn’t approve of that at all.”

Ben looked down at Dr. Fine’s empty coffee cup, then up again, but still there was no response from Jackson. There just wasn’t any, not this time.

Jackson told Dr. Fine about the recent events, including the military, the charges against him and the outcome of the Executive Officer’s screening. Those were the lighter things that hadn’t caused a lot of problems, not since the charges had been dropped. But, nevertheless, Jackson felt alone. When things slowly became more personal, he felt even more along.

“Can we talk about your past?” asked Dr. Fine.

“I want you to tell me as much about yourself as you can. It’s important to know why things happen in people’s lives from year to year. The value they place on things has a way of molding them and their perceptions of reality. Raising a child well is very important to the welfare of that child when they become an adult those values make them who they are.” Said Dr. Fine.

Not sure he had made an impression on Jackson, Dr. Fine moved his chair closer to Jackson hoping to impress upon him how important this matter was to his successful conclusion to the case. He would request the most intimate details of Jackson’s life hoping to see the person more clearly. For some of the personalities held by the host, this would be too much.

“Hey, Bozo! Yeah, you! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” From the dark cavity of Jackson’s soul, Carl demanded an answer.

“This clown comes swinging in from nowhere with his smooth talk and you’re ready to tell it all for the sake of Ben!” Carl popped to the forefront astonishing everyone.

Jackson shivered and shook. Words formed in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. His lips twisted, jerked and formed letters resembling F this and F that.

“You stupid smuck,” said Carl. “Ben hates the F word, you know it, and it drives him crazy.”

Jackson recoiled. “I don’t care what he thinks. Implications for the outcome of this game are far too unbearable.” Said Jackson lunged forward in his chair.

Inside, Randy raced forward into the inner room and shoved Carl aside. He stood as rigid as an Oak and shouted warnings that Jackson’s parents had engraved over the years about trust and what it meant. But Jackson couldn’t understand him.

“I said you’d better listen,” Randy repeated. “You can’t imagine how this will affect us all. Do you want us to go away? Have you thought about that?” He turned and pointed to the others in the inner room.

“We’re your friends, your playmates, and your help. Think about it. Do you owe this man anything? Hell no! Get a grip on yourself. You’re being taken for a ride. You can’t trust him. He’s like all the others who we trusted, and then they used us for what they wanted. Do you remember that?” ask Randy. He had run out of words, but wished he had more. He moved off the square and into the darkness of the inner room.

Randy looked at Carl, then back at Jackson. There was disbelief in Randy’s face when he felt as if he had spoken his last words to Jackson.

“Screw you!” shouted Carl from the other corner of the room.

Ben lowered his head to pray. The others stood by waiting their turn or to watch for the outcome of this meeting of minds.

“Where would you like to start?” Dr. Fine asked.

“Anywhere you feel comfortable is probably the right place to begin.”

Dr. Fine reached for his pencil that was laying on an end table beside his chair. He turned several pages in his pad and readied himself for a voyage he thought would be a repeat of many he had taken before. The stories he’d gone to school to understand still intoxicated him. He loved transactional analysis and multiple personality disorders. Several of his patients were in bondage, much like Jackson, wrapped tighter than dried leather under a fiery western sun. His patients trusted him partly because of the plaques on the wall, partly because they had nowhere left to turn.

Many of the plaques were from local colleges, but some were from highly respected universities in the East. Nevertheless, Dr. Fine held almost every honor or degree that was offered in his field of expertise. His school years had been good and his future seemed destined for success.

Jackson thought about all the things he wanted to talk about. Over the years, from the time the others started talking to him, he had only wanted to be accepted. At first the others didn’t speak with him, they’d somehow put him asleep. He remembered pain, sorrow, loneliness and despair. He wanted to talk about the people who pretended to be friends, but used him to get things they wanted. The kind-heated fat boy – then they threw the rest of the crap in his face.

He just wanted to be loved.

From the dark corners of the inner room, Ben stepped forward and pushed Jackson from the square. It wasn’t as if it was unexpected, Ben held great power in the inner room.

“Well, Dr. Fine,” said Ben in his normal proper and somewhat arrogant demeanor.

“I feel perhaps I should stand in for Jackson during this discussion,” said Ben, turning slightly in the chair. Ben readied himself to compete intellectually with Dr. Fine.

In the meantime, Carl, standing near to Ben in the inner room, tugged on his coat. Ben abruptly stopped talking to Dr. Fine, turned and gave Carl a deliberate stare that Carl took to mean you better behave. Even Carl knew when to listen. He let go and returned to his chair near the wall of the inner room. He hated being told what to do and how to act. It was about time he showed this pompous ass who was in charge. Vapors swirled around the inner room and then dissipated near the back door.

“It’s hard for me to open up with Jackson’s story,” Ben continued. “We can’t be too careful with this. The whole thing, of which Mary isn’t acquainted, can’t be trusted to be common knowledge. He’s gone from one extreme to another over the past few years. We’re afraid; all of us, of what he might do, not to mention the most recent theatrical performance. Jackson, if allowed on the square and without my supervision, seems to be on a self-destructive course. That’s why we guard him.”

With that, Ben re positioned himself in the chair before continuing his introduction for the Dr. Fine.

“The values we all knew, you know those that are socially and politically viewed as correct by the “normal people,” well they have all slipped away, like sand through Jackson’s fingers,” said Ben as he moved his hands slowly trying to imitate the flow of sand being loosened and filtering into nothingness.

“Try as we may, there’s no way to hold onto even the simplest ones. Jackson, sensing the evaporation of values, thrust us into the present. His years of trying to deter the relinquishing of these values formed the foundation for our existence, so we help him. Especially me, they’re my stable,” said Ben with a smile.

Lowering his voice and sitting up straighter in his chair, Ben picked up the cup of coffee placed before him by Dr. Fine and took a sip.

Dr. Fine held Mary’s hand as layers of masks, once hidden from the casual onlooker began to crack and peel away. If possible, the personality or personalities would be put to rest somehow.

Hoping to relax after the initial introduction to Ben, Dr. Fine stood and poured himself another cup of coffee before returning to his chair.

“Jackson, don’t you feel you can trust me? I’m here to help,” assured Dr. Fine.

“If you must call me Jackson, go ahead, but my name’s Ben. Can you remember that? We can continue with the questions,” instructed Ben.

Grasping the upper hand, Ben took a deep breath, released it and composed himself like a poker player who held all the cards of a winning hand. He leaned down and picked a piece of lint from his pant leg. He hated imperfection.

******************************

“Hell no!” shouted Carl.

“I’ve got nothing to do with this Ben. You seemed to have all the answers, so if you’re expecting me to tell anything, I’m not,” screamed Carl from the inner room.

Carl turned furiously, pushed Ben from the square, took control of Jackson’s body and walked to the window in Dr. Fine’s office. It was as if an understudy had stepped into the role. The expression had suddenly changed and it wasn’t Jackson who Dr. Fine was working with anymore.

“Not much to see from here, Doc. Why the hell a person would buy a place like this is beyond me. Hey, they must’ve seen you coming and decided one idiot was as good as another, huh?” Carl stood at the window smirking.

Being caught off guard by the change of events, Dr. Fine no longer appeared to be relaxed. His brow became furrowed, a stressful expression.

This personality was definitely unusual, thought Dr. Fine. The voice is deeper; the lines on the face more erratic, but the clothes are the some.

“Yeah, I know. You’re wondering who this is, right? I’m the boss. I run the show, that is, except when Mr. Goody-Goody Ben pushes me off the square,” hissed Carl.

Walking back to the chair, Carl spoke directly to Dr. Fine.

“You’re a bigot, Doc. Jackson won’t get any better. You’re feeding him a line. Then again, you do have those degrees to impress poor bastards who don’t have the balls to handle their own affairs.”

Carl slid back into the chair and slumped forward clasping his hands together between his legs.

Ben, sensing the urgency of the situation, pushed Carl off the square.

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” mumbled Ben as he leaned back in the chair.

“Carl can be the worst little thing you ever saw if I didn’t keep him under control. Once, while Mother and Father were away shopping, this was before they were aware of him, he set the kitchen on fire. You see Carl was afraid they would find the dissected cat under the sink. Carl knew I had to tell them about the cat. I couldn’t let that go unpunished.”

Ben’s attitude was in direct opposition to that of Carl’s. It was as different as night and day.

“And his clothing, it’s right out of the dark ages, black and depressing. Oh, you haven't had the pleasure of seeing all that yet, but you will,” said Ben.

The inner room was a buzz with conversation, resounding whispers. Jackson looked at Ben and smiled as if they shared a common secret. There hadn’t been so much activity since the first day they all appeared there.

Figures dashed back and forth, each stopping momentarily to look through Jackson’s eyes into a world they’d not had an opportunity of experiencing. Some cried, some wrung their hands, two chattered like children, while others seemed dazed and afraid. The room was a conglomeration of colors, darkness, light, truth, and lies.

Dr. Fine watched and waited for whoever would emerge from Jackson. Hoping to relax Jackson, he said, “You can be free here Jackson. No one is here to judge you. You can show me and tell me the things you wouldn’t tell anyone else. Mary is here to support you. Let us do that for you, okay?”

He sounded sincere, but any recognition of the sincerity was sure to surface on Mary’s face.

Ben ran to the square of the inner room.

“I’m here, Jackson. I’m here. Let me out. You can count on me,” said Ben.

Jackson knew he would keep his word. In the inner room, Ben held credence as someone he could trust. Letting go of the square to Ben was easy. Jackson felt a glimmer of hope.

“First,” Ben said, “let’s get this straight. Jackson’s to be treated with respect. He deserves that much. I put him in my chair in the inner room. He’ll be safe there. He’s out of Carl’s reach for the time being.

“I’d like to start during the early years when secrets were kept like secrets were supposed to be kept, when family meant love and commitment. Those were the cornerstones of Jackson’s life before the mortar between the stones started to crack and fall away. Perhaps a clue to this mystery will be found there,” said Ben as he took the chair in Dr. Fine’s office again.

SEVEN

Ben remembered 1955 very well. Tears swelled over his eyelids. He wiped them away on his sleeve. Time had filed the scenes neatly away, but the feelings were as real today as the moment the events had occurred. Ben felt them and he allowed Jackson to feel them too.

Davie and Jackson were as close as brothers could be. They might as well have been twins. Their mother often made up games for them to play during the long hot summer days. They shared everything.

But, some games, not like those his mother made up, were hurtful. The neighbors hurt Jackson time and time again. Ben didn’t like those games either. They frightened him.

The house was situated in a row comprised of eight identically constructed two-story dwellings. The kitchen was sparsely furnished with a kitchen dinette set, electric stove, sink and a large coal-heating stove. It was like the rest of the kitchens in the row houses. Chrome legs supported the table and the tabletop was red. Old wood panels were used as wall coverings, clean and painted, they hid their age. The house, such as it was, was kept spotless.

Mining coal had begun during the turn of the twentieth century in the valley. These two-story houses were the duplexes of that era. Views from the porch that stretched the entire length of the house offered a panoramic view of the valley below. A Company store, the largest in the region, separated the houses from the main road. Constructed of red brick that had faded due to erosion over the years, the company store represented a central location to pass the time and have a cool drink.

Its front windows reflected sunlight, even though many months had passed since they had been last cleaned. Jackson looked over this terrain from the porch of this house everyday. Bare patches of land, towering mountains, and scented flowers all encompassed the landscape of this just-another-Coal Camp.

Looking east from the porch was a coal hopper; it loomed from the ground with the appearance of a giant cauldron. Huge coal trucks dumped ore in to it on a continual basis. Each time trucks started up the knoll leading to the hopper; the ground quaked from the noise of the engines. Once, one of the trucks with its dump bed in the upright position and fell backward into the hopper requiring a crane to rescue it. Feeling the ground shake and the porch tremble, Jackson cupped his hands as he shook from fear.

During January, light filtered through laced living room curtains. It penetrated the dark recesses of a room that had been furnished with antiques. Darkness and secrets were a way of life in this house. Secret conversations flowed from room to room, but without explanations of their content. Jackson heard the talking, leaned forward and stood as quietly as possible trying to hear what was said. Failing to understand even one word, he threw his legs over the top of the sofa and sat astride it like a cowboy on a horse.

He watched through the lace draperies as his father pulled away from the curb and drove off down the street. He and Davie had been left at Grandma’s house.

Days lasted forever and the nights were the darkest at Grandma’s house. I wasn’t like other houses. It loomed over the neighborhood like a castle above its moat, dark and foreboding. Upstairs in one of the many rooms, Jackson lay across a four-postered bed, nestled in between pillows. There he escaped into this fantasy world through sleep.

Within a week, Jackson’s parents were back carrying a bundle that screamed and wailed. When it did, Jackson saw how people rushed in from every room to protect it. Later, when no one was looking, Jackson leaned over the bundle to see what it was. He fumbled with blankets, tossed aside a milk bottle, and folded back the inner sheet to discover it was a new playmate, Scott.

The next two months passed uneventfully, except for the rushing around to take care of Scott’s needs. Spring arrived, a welcome relief from the harshness of winter. Meadows bloomed, rivers swelled with water from melting snow and sparrows and other migrating birds chirped their arrival.

Spring meant life outside the house. Jackson loved the idea and scampered through the screen door as often as possible to play in the backyard. Once while he was out, an older boy unfamiliar to Jackson, caught him in the tall grasses behind the house, threw him to the ground and molested him. Unable to speak of the incident, even though his parents encouraged him to tell them what was wrong, he withdrew into himself and refused to trust anyone enough to tell. As a result of the crimes against their son caused neighborhood discontent and the family moved.

It was a larger house with bigger secrets. It overlooked a large sunken valley. Seated like a sentinel on guard, the house held a certain majesty Jackson thought.

Grass as yellow as late July corn waved in the lazy summer breeze. Jackson watched as first one then another wave shook the tops of the seed-ladened grass. Up from the green fields, an unpaved road snaked around small knolls and ran beside the house. Rocky and eroded by rain, it was the only access road to the sparsely populated community.

Looking from the large front bedroom windows, Jackson could see the entire valley below. The windows into a sunlit world provided many sights. As Jackson’s private viewer, the windows had a constant companion. During the summer, work was needed to expand the backyard. Dirt piles spotted the landscape like prehistoric bird droppings. And, they made the most perfect place to play with miniature trucks and cars.

Dominating the backyard was a gigantic tree. Its shadow hung over most of the lawn. One of the many things Jackson remembers was how proud he was when Davie conquered this giant and climbed to the top. An unmatched courage, Jackson was unable to accomplish this feat, but he admired Davie for it.

Further around the end of the house, Jackson often saw things that he shouldn’t have. The scenes clutched his soul, heart and his life. He couldn’t speak to anyone about what he saw or who it was performing the unspeakable acts.

Dr. Fine moved his half-filled coffee cup from his left hand to his right as he watched and listened to Ben through Jackson’s body surrender the memories of years gone by. Mysteriously, unseen fingers lurking in the mists of time encircled around the host’s throat and choked the air passage. He began to gasp for air. Dr. Fine stood up, hurried to offer what aid he could, but failed to stop them. Within a few seconds, Jackson was back under control with Ben’s help and began to relax.

“Please continue if you can Ben,” said Dr. Fine.

As Jackson looked up, another personality that hadn’t shown itself began to emerge.

“Dr. Fine, Jackson can’t talk about sex and stuff like that. He told Ben to let me out to tell you.”

Jackson’s face twisted and ripped until another facial expression appeared on Jackson’s skull.

“That part of Jackson’s life is the most shattered,” said Darrell.

“Jackson’s family said nothing about the assaults on him during his early years. It wasn’t something people talked about during those times. They were frightened some one would find out and hurt the family image,” offered Darrell as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.

Once at the back of the big house, Jackson watched his neighbor rape a friend’s mother. It shocked him to say the least, but whom was he going to tell. He was just a child, a child seeing things children shouldn’t see.

Then again, he was again molested by two teenage men, each taking their time with him. They told him they would kill him if he told anyone,” said Darrell as he wiped his face with a handkerchief from Jackson’s shirt pocket.

“Darrell, get the hell out of here!”

Shouting at the top of Jackson’s voice another personality was fighting for the square. Deep within the inner room, Carl shouted again.

“Darrell, I said get the hell off!”

Ben glanced over at Randy.

“You better do something, now!”

Randy pulled Darrell from the square and the room fell silent.

Seeing control within the inner room was quickly diminishing, Ben took over the rest of the discussion. The rape was not mentioned for the remainder of the meeting. Ben knew of the rape, but he also knew such a thing would send you to hell, even if you just talked about it.

Mary, having remained still for the theatrics became furious with Jackson.

“This is all an elaborate trick. I tell you, that’s all it is.”

She stood and pointed her finger at Jackson. “It’s going to cost you more than you’ll ever know to settle this stupidity. Do you hear me, Jackson?”

For Jackson, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t have paid to cause things to be normal. But, as far as Ben, Mary was no better than those women his mom had warned him about. He couldn’t trust any of them or her either. In a moment of blindness, he had been seduced and now look what it has done to him.

He went to the restroom.

In the restroom, Jackson looked into the mirror and saw Randy winking back at him.

“We’ll help you through this, but be careful. Those people out there are not your friends. I told you that before you came here today,” said Randy as his image disappeared from the mirror.

Ben ended the day’s session abruptly and recounted the fact that maybe it would be better to start another day.

Another session was scheduled.

EIGHT

The room seemed smaller today, thought Jackson as he looked around for the new item that had been added to crowd things together. He knew that Dr. Fine had planned a trip to San Francisco over the weekend; maybe he had brought something back and placed it in the room hoping it would be unnoticed.

Dr. Fine adjusted his cushion, his favorite cushion, to a more comfortable position.

“Today, we’ll get to the heart of the matter if you’re willing to cooperate,” said Dr. Fine. He seemed a little irritated and spoke pointedly. This experiment with Jackson was being conducted much like the ones before, but it wasn’t moving as quickly as he had hoped. He had questioned by using mental probes to detect what was going on in Jackson’s head. The doctor liked to call them closets because everyone has hidden skeletons closed off from those around them.

“Today,” answered Ben, “I’ll show you something you wished you had left alone.”

Ben patted Jackson on the shoulder reassuringly and set about his plan from within the inner room.

“What’s going on today?” asked Dr. Fine as he looked across the room at Mary.

“He hasn’t talked much this week,” said Mary. Taking a sip of her tea and turning back to the doctor, she sat about her relentless onslaught of what she had seen over the years from her husband.

“This silent treatment is normal, though. I’ve seen it time and time again. I’m sick to death of all of it, the silence, the attitude, and the lies. Everything has peaked on my insides and now it’s spilling over. I’ve had just about enough,” she said as she pointed her finger in Jackson’s face.

She placed the hot cup of tea on the ledge just inside the window and tried to compose herself. She knew that her argumentative outbursts wouldn’t help the situation.

“I’m not feeling too talkative today, Doctor,” responded Jackson.

“I can’t seem to think straight, either. I don’t know if I’m coming down with something, but I feel a bit under the weather.”

Perhaps it was just a ploy being used by Ben to cause Jackson to lose control, but whatever it was; Jackson began to drift in and out of reality.

Ben walked to the square and took hold of Jackson’s arm. Leading Jackson to his chair, Ben returned to his rightful position of authority. He watched the other just in case there was a show of force, a challenge, and then began his dialogue.

“This is our secret,” Ben said. “We must keep it between ourselves.”

He stopped, watched for confirmation from the good Doctor and Mary before he continued.

The Doctor nodded slowly, as well as Mary, but neither spoke. They only noticed a slight attitude change in Jackson’s persona when Ben took control. Ben had a constant need for perfection, so when in control; he routinely adjusted Jackson’s clothes and sitting position.

“Dr. Fine, Jackson is sick. I guess you had come to this profound conclusion on your own, or you wouldn’t be the Doctor, right? He has carried our secrets for a long time. The fears of childhood and then marriage have taken their toll. If you’ll give me the time, I’ll be able to relate the incidents in their entirety. It’s not a pretty picture, and of course Carl, well, he wouldn’t allow this for one minute if he knew how much I intend on telling you. You see he was the instigator.”

With that beginning, the stage was set for a travel through uncharted depths of what appeared to be a normal man on the outside.

“What are you talking about?” asked Dr. Fine.

Ben got up and walked to the window. As he watched cars as they sped by, he wondered where the people could be going in such a hurry. Their lives seemed perfect and complete. No one could fathom the trouble his friend Jackson was in, but yet esoteric.

“What are you doing?” shouted Carl violently from his chair across the inner room.

“Do you believe for one minute that this man gives a crap about you or your little stories? He’s paid to sit there and talk. All he’s interested in is the dollar. You’re an ignorant fool, Ben, you always have been.”

Ben glanced in Carl’s direction, untainted by his slurs and confident in his decision to tell the story; he pointed his finger at Carl and demanded silence, but that wasn’t to be.

The expression on Jackson’s face changed without warning. Suddenly, like lightening, he whirled around and glared at Dr. Fine and Mary. He picked up a chair and threw it across the room splintering it against the wall.

“You son of a Bitch! Can’t you leave us alone?” shouted Carl as he lashed out at the two of them.

“Can’t you see what you’re doing to us? I don’t care what it takes; I’m going to stop you. I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, Doc. You got that?”

Looming over the chairs, ape-like in his stance, Carl jumped to the chair where Jackson had been sitting and threw himself into it.

There was a brief sweaty struggle that riveted Jackson’s body, and then Ben looked up at Dr. Fine.

“I don’t know why he does things like that. Carl usually can be controlled, but with all the excitement, he got the best of me. Funny, that hasn’t happened in sometime.”

Smoothing his black hair back into place, Ben said, “And mother would be so disappointed if she could see this mess. She wanted things to be kept in order.

“Ben, you know it’s about time you started divulging a few more things about your friend. The things going on inside, the secrets, they haven’t changed at all. When you open up, then I can help you and Jackson,” said Dr. Fine. Feeling he had made himself clear, Dr. Fine looked at Mary sensing commitment from her side of the affair.

Ben turned to look at Randy and the others. They neither agreed nor disagreed with the offer. The inner room was silent.

Then, Ben set about justifying why he should continue. “I can’t be a coward,” he said.

“This man is trained. He’s an expert. We have to give him a chance. It’s the least we can do for Jackson. If we don’t, there’s only one other way out, and we don’t want that, do we?’ Pleading for agreement and feeling there wasn’t any, Ben, being the authority in the inner room took ultimate control, made the decision himself.

“Well, Doctor, I can tell you something that might surprise you, but before I continue I’d like a cup of coffee.” He walked to the kitchen, filled his cup, and returned to his chair.

NINE

“Jackson was twelve when things started to happen. Twelve is a very impressionable age for a boy. With the family in an upheaval, shouting, screaming and hatred running unchecked, Darrell, John Jim, Carl and Denny rose to the occasion to protect Jackson,” said Ben.

He slid into the story with ease. He had lived with Jackson the longest and felt he had a clear picture of how things happened.

“Reality, as Jackson knew it, became all twisted,” said Ben. “He couldn’t understand why a mother, who taught forgiveness and the perfect way, hated her husband in whom she found no perfection. She told Jackson repeatedly how unholy this person was she had devoted her life and home to over the years. It was a mystery to me,” said Ben. “I mean why her husband stayed. Believe me, if I had been involved in an attitude like hers, Jackson wouldn’t put up with it, not for one minute.”

Ben gazed off into the past recanting the events before continuing.

“After that, Jackson gained weight, regressed and had few friends, if any. Oh, as I remember it, that was about the time Denny appeared in the inner room, found a chair and for a long period of time, pushed me off the square. He said it was his turn and food was his solace. He loved to eat.”

Ben filled the room with stories of Denny. Being fat repulsed Jackson, but Denny found a way of being accepted. Aromatic stimulation was Denny’s first reflex. While many people filled their mornings with exercise, Denny filled his with food.

Denny would lie still in the early morning hours while there was still steam on the windows waiting for breakfast. Setting at the kitchen table, he reached out his arms and swept platefuls of food in his direction. Soon the plates were empty. He ate frantically; feeling there wasn’t going to be enough. If anyone had leftovers, he ate them too.

Exercise was his enemy. The school gym class held three times a week was terror for Denny. Physical education became an opponent. Always being selected last, or not at all for the games only added further confirmation to his segregation. He was a trapped fat kid in a slim oriented world.

With each starting whistle, he decided that he’d fight this enemy who was infringing upon his solitude. Feeling larger than life each day, this little boy confronted with different roads, often found himself unable to choose, unable to fit in with the crowd.

He was embarrassed to undress in the locker room because of the rolls of fat that hung over his waist, around his neck and around he elbows. Flapping like a flag in a strong breeze, his double chin almost created a reverberation that was audible.

Accompanying his weight gain were the psychological misconceptions that he was an outcast from humanity. Those ideas tormented him. It would take years before the full extent of the damage reeked by Denny would be understood.

Reticence, a negative self-image, low self-esteem, and a lack of confidence took their toll. The only thing that was seen by Denny was deprivation, pain and despair. He was unacceptable in society, and he didn’t know if he could ever change.

Endless nights, Jackson lay in bed toying with thoughts that were in direct conflict with all of his teachings and morals. He wouldn’t get out of his fat body, so he had to try to accept it as best he could. He sought it through studies and imaginary friends. His private world slowly took shape. Ben helped Jackson with his imagination for the studies that allowed him to be accepted in a small way when he achieved the highest grades in class. Without that, Jackson would’ve surely failed.

Shortly after Jackson’s twelfth birthday, still at school, several boys assaulted him and almost beat him to death. He lost all of his upper teeth, that of course meant surgery, and his eyes were swollen for weeks.

As puberty approached, Jackson needed a new friend to help him cope. Ben was too righteous; Denny obsessed with food, so Darrell took over and guided Jackson through those special years.

After the interlude that placed Jackson in high school, Ben again picked up the story.

“During Darrell’s partial control of Jackson’s existence, it was my job to control the studious part and kept the grades where they belonged,” said Ben.

“His studies got him through that part of his life, and of course Darrell helped too.”

Finishing another episode for the Doctor, Ben turned to sip his coffee.

“Shut the hell up!” Carl shouted. Squirming in his chair in the inner room, Carl dashed his fists together and snorted like a tormented bull.

“Dr. Fine, you have no right to know this or anything else. These parts of Jackson’s life aren’t for public display. But, I’ve seen your type before, yeah,” shouted Carl. His throat grunted and whizzed, straining to be heard.

With that outburst, Carl jumped to the square, threw Ben backward into the corner and took his place. Feeling the blood rush through Jackson’s veins made Carl ecstatic. He threw the cup from which Ben had been drinking into the floor, crashing; it broke into a thousand pieces.

“Jackson has nothing else to tell you. I won’t let Ben say another word! Do you hear me, Doc?” screamed Carl as he jumped into the chair and screamed like a banshee.

Moments passed like hours before Ben mustered enough strength to climb to his feet and step forward toward the square.

“Carl,” Ben said in an even-toned voice hoping not to upset him anymore than he already was. Ben’s reflection appeared faintly in a mirror that hung directly across from where Carl’s chair was setting.

“You weren’t invited to speak, Carl. Just because I allowed you out a few times in the past, and even more recently to meet the Doctor, does not give you a license to show yourself like this. I’m ashamed of you. You sit in your seat and behave.”

As Ben spoke, his image became more enhanced, more real. It was evident that Carl was being persuaded to restrain his will and relinquish the square to Ben.

“I’m sorry,” said Ben. “That Carl, he’s such a character. You just have to know how to handle him.”

Ben tried to reassure the Doctor and Mary that Carl would no longer be allowed to come to the square. He talked very smoothly and softly as he belabored the fact that Carl wouldn’t interfere again.

Jake, subduing his own excitement and thrill of seeing the interaction between the personalities, was in awe of the whole ordeal. The exchange of thoughts, words, and facial expressions sent chills up his spine. Something like this seldom occurred with the majority of the cases filling his filing cabinets.

“I’d like to continue, if I may?” pleaded Ben.

“It’s okay now, I promise.”

He picked up the pieces of the shattered cup and apologized for the disturbance.

Motioning towards the recorder that was being used during his session, Jake asked, “I’d like to tape the rest of the sessions, if that’s okay.”

He rested his finger on the record button and waited for agreement from Ben.

“That would be to both of our best interests, won’t it?” smiled Ben.

“Besides, who would believe you anyway? Who would believe Jackson’s story? Only one thing, Randy disapproves with the taping bit, but then again, he finds it very difficult to take people at their word.”

Ben felt comfortable enough with the setup and commenced unraveling the threads of what some might call a ludicrous fairy tale.

TEN

“Schools days passed uneventful for the most part. Jackson was aware of my guiding hand in all of his affairs. But, there were times when I played a more important role than he was able to imagine,” said Ben as he took a deep breath and relaxed.

Jake and Mary felt as if Ben was the true personality by the way he told Jackson’s life. He seemed to know more about Jackson than Jackson himself.

“Since I am the intellect one behind Jackson’s life,” said Ben smugly. “And especially in English, Jackson felt he just didn’t have what it took to get through, but I showed them all. I stepped in and supplied all of the information that made Jackson shine. Without me he would have failed.”

Ben’s aloof attitude made Mary uneasy. She hated people who thought they were better the others. She had noticed his attitude before in Jackson, but played it off. Now, she could see for herself where it came from.

“But that Carl, he continually got Jackson into trouble,” anguished Ben. “That little devil just couldn’t leave things alone. If he had sat in his chair and done as he was told, things would’ve been different.”

Little cooperation existed between Carl and Ben, or between Carl and any of the others in the inner room. Constant bickering about the supremacy of the square sent an air of tension through each of its personalities.

Returning to the unraveling of Jackson’s life was old shoe for Ben. He had spent countless hours relating to the others events that had occurred prior to their appearance from outside the inner room. Often they would sit spellbound listening to Ben verbally tells tales of intrigue, all but Carl. He seldom included himself in the congregation. He preferred to be alone with his own menacing memories.

“Jackson’s room,” began Ben, “was finished with the darkest oak colors. Its furnishings, a dresser, chest of drawers and bed were all black enamel. As sinister as it may seem, the reflection of color was only a demonstration of the feelings of the inhabitant of this room.”

Jackson’s room, positioned directly over the main kitchen, windows facing north, provided an easy observation point for scenes he wished he could forget. Floor length drapes covered the windows, enhancing the darkened atmosphere and dampening dreams. Trips to this dismal room became more the norm than just out of necessity. But, one benefit was surrendered to this voyager within this room; fantasy and illusion played games that couldn’t be experienced anywhere else. It was during those lowest times, when solitude cloaked reality, that communion was the sweetest for him. Sitting at this typewriter, Jackson couldn’t find the precise words to express how he felt. Those invisible brushes filled with wash after wash of colorful metaphors and similes to release onto the white empty word-starved paper expressions that would tender some measure of relief.

Ben, dressed in his usual perfectionist facade, saw immediately the typical dilemma Jackson encountered and offered options of more superior quality. But, when a route had been planned for words to travel, roadblocks set up by Carl began to appear around each bend. Carl stepped forward, pushed Ben aside and stood on the square. What he was proposing was outlandish, abstract, but refreshing to the do-gooder. He proposed an idea that, until now, would have been unthinkable to Ben. It overwhelmed all of their imaginations, but whetted an appetite heretofore untried. He postulated a true story, a story that had been withheld from the rest of the personalities and from the host.

The day was like any other, dull and foreboding. As the children stood waiting on their familiar yellow school bus, there was one addition to the scene that lightened the moment. A new shelter had been constructed to tame the north wind that frequented the crooked fingers of the forest skyline.

As the bus came to a halt, brakes grabbing, windows shaking, the driver swung the partitioned door open inviting the crowed into the warmth of the closed compartment. Worn with age and constant picking from the fingers of riders, the seats stood as a reminder that things change as well as people. Worn and tattered, once new, the leather-covered seats now resembled cracked and dried skin.

Seven children had been waiting that morning. Jackson was only drawn to one. He stood fantasizing about her every morning as they waited.

What would it be like to kiss her? He wondered. Will I ever know?

With his imagination running wild, Jackson struggled to keep his composure. He wanted raw, uncontrolled, passionate sex; like he saw on those late night television shows. The girl hardly noticed him though. Seldom if ever a glance would find its way in his direction. Bret Simpson was the boy in her life. She thought of no one else. Jackson had been shunned so often he felt as transparent as glass.

Weeks passed before Carl decided how to do his dark deed. Fire from hell surrounded him, swirling and exploding. Seldom had he experienced his fullness as he felt it while planning his onslaught. Separated from the others by his lack of comprehension, Carl had been consumed by hatred and wanted revenge. Of the seven personalities, Carl excelled beyond the scope of mortal man, into supremacy. He was unmatched.

Everyone’s movements were common knowledge for the small community like Jackson’s. Church members gossiped, town folk spread the latest dirt and nothing was left to the imagination. As he thought of Yvonne’s plump breasts and body, he knew his dreams were being fed through invisible channels into the homes of the neighborhood. But, he couldn’t help how he felt. He watched her; he felt her warmth. Yvonne, give yourself to me. I can’t live without you, thought Jackson.

The Benson brothers were the most uncontrolled brood this side of the Mississippi. Their mother had died from cancer, leaving Mr. Benson to battle his way through parenthood. If possessing social graces would’ve purchased a new car, the Benson boys couldn’t afford a matchbox toy. Their lack of charm was just the ticket Carl had been looking for, perfect scapegoats. Using arguments that ranged from snarls to blood-chilling screams, Carl had almost convinced Jackson his plan would work. Naturally, Ben used his celestial approach to persuade Jackson to dismiss the whole scheme.

But Carl had other ideas that interested Jackson.

“Excuse me, Jackson, I mean Ben,” said Jake. “I need to change the tape. It’ll take just a moment.”

Jake walked over, found a blank tape; retrieved two additional sets from his supply shelve, started the machine and returned to his seat.

“Have you seen people like Jackson before?” asked Ben. “I’m a little curious about this whole thing. It would seem to me that with you recording, your display of special interest, that this must be an initial case for you. Is it?” Ben turned and faced the Jake.

“Just how many have you seen like my friend Jackson?” asked Ben.

When the answer was longer in coming than Ben had anticipated, he got up, walked into the small kitchenette, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and returned to his seat.

With an odd laugh, Ben asked, “What’s the total number of clients like Jackson that you’ve seen.”

It was a fair question, thought Jake. Usually, clients couldn’t think clearly enough to ask such questions.

Still not receiving an answer, Ben continued. “Jake, Jackson has others, more significant friends. Friends you might want to see and question. In the past, there was one particular friend who appeared only once. He was dark and mysterious, and preferred to remain to himself. He rarely discussed present world events, you know, life. He discussed past lives, history, and Jackson’s history. He drew similarities with the future. To be honest, he did something to Jackson that I held back from the others.

Ben shifted in his seat, winked a mischievous wink, then sipped his coffee and added, “I think you understand. Don’t you Jake?”

“This is interesting,” said Jake as he leaned forward in his chair. He still hadn’t answered the question about the number of cases. True, there had been a few before, but nothing like this.

As he reminisced over the cases, a familiar name arose, a friend, Januari Winters. Yes, he thought. She would like to meet this Jackson.

ELEVEN

The city skyline captivated her. It always did. Bright lights and glitter had long been a part of her life. It was her life. Slippery winter sidewalks tested the agility of those who ventured out; gallant warriors of the night, graceful pre-Madonna.

Januari Winters lived among the excitement and glamour of New York City. She embraced it with open arms. A life-long native of the city, she was street smart, but also an experienced parapsychologist. Her lean slender body, graceful falling black hair and perfect face often held her client’s attention, as least during the preliminary procedures.

She had known Jake for years. Having asked her for assistance a few years ago when he encountered a client most everyone else had given up hope for, he called. Januari had been extremely proficient at the job. That’s what made her priceless.

Her job separated her from the mainstream. It set her apart, a loner. But, through all the excitement and disappointments she had experienced she remained close to four people, her four best friends. As a child, Januari had often daydreamed about becoming successful. She thought of becoming a Queen. She’d stared for hours out of her tenth floor apartment and wonder to herself where the people were going on the street below. What did they think about? What were their dreams? The real world was not her friend; it had taken her father away from her. So, she created her own little world in which she escaped from time to time.

Intelligent and hard working, Januari adjusted her attitude, got enough money together to go to college, finished her studies at the Institute, specializing in parapsychology. Now renowned for her abilities, she prided herself on being able to solve even the most difficult cases.

Through it all, Darlene, her mother, remained jealous of her. She had been jealous of her affections for her father and now was jealous of her success. True, Januari was able to manipulate her father, like most little girls do a fact that Darlene was never able to accept.

After school, Januari forced her way into the reluctant high society scene, married too early and divorced too late. The union was regrettable but it happened.

“If you can do it on my lunch hour, okay!” shouted Januari. The clients shot a glance through the open door leading into her office.

“But, I love you,” resounded the voice on the phone. Roger had been seeing Januari for sometime and he was ready to make his move.

“I don’t love you,” echoed Januari as she fingered through a stack of files on her desk. “But, if this will shut you up for awhile,” her voice trailed off.

She hung the phone up in the middle of the conversation, and mumbled about meeting him near the elevator around noon. She sighed and returned to her work. She did care for him, but she didn’t love him.

The lights on the elevator flashed as it descended through the floors. Weary clients moved slowly through the doors at each stop. As she stepped from the elevator, Januari spotted Roger who was waiting, arms crossed.

Their wedding was rushed and short lived.

After the divorce, Januari left the ties that bound her and dismissed the whole thing as a lesson she wouldn’t forget. Her main objective was to make a name for herself in her chosen profession. She blended Western and Eastern cultures into a new form of practice, something different. It paid off. After achieving limited fame, it wasn’t unusual for Jake to call, if for nothing else to ask her opinion. Over time they became friends.

Leaving work late was normal for Januari, but having high heels that hurt her feet was not. She determined not to wear this pair again as she kicked them off and carried them out of the office. Walking home she couldn’t help but feel the city, its sounds, lights, and electricity. Shops glistened with artificial light. Reflections bounced on the waterfront. Rays darted through open spaces like slivers of glass. Soon, those spaces would be filled with late night shadows, people trying to hide their deeds.

Januari’s pleasant memories were disturbed by some not so pleasant.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” shouted Darlene as she folded towels that she took from a worn out laundry basket.

“I work and slave day in and day out, and for what? You’re out all hours of the night doing God knows what. Those friends of yours will be your downfall; just you wait and see. I may be old, but I’m no fool.”

It was the same story everyday. Words rolled from Darlene’s mouth like an avalanche. Familiar as an old song, Januari mouthed the words as she began.

“Do you think you’ll ever have a real job? This is the seventies, you know. Contrary to what your father said, you’re just another girl. Where do you think I’m going to get the money to send you to school? I’ve tried to make this a home, but that’s not what you want is it,” quacked Darlene.

“You want a motel where you and your friends can come when you need a place to hide form the law.”

She’s never short on words, thought Januari. But she did wish she’d change her tune.

In the lights of the shops, Januari’s reflection was one of success now. How wrong Darlene had been. She had really shown her a thing or two.

A light drizzle began to fall in the closing hours of the day. Januari pulled her fur collar up around her diamond earrings and walked home satisfied.

TWELVE

Jake, elated with the possibility of moving forward, jotted a few notes down and turned his attention to Jackson.

“Now, where were we?” he quizzed.

“We were talking about Yvonne,” Ben replied.

Suddenly, without warning, Jackson’s throat rumbled. Small red streaks appeared on his chest and moved up his neck. Then they heard it.

“So, Big Guy, you think you’re so hot!” shouted Carl.

“Where’s Ben!” asked Jake in a nervous voice. He didn’t like it when Carl came out. He caused the whole process to slow down, to stall.

“You see, Doc, it doesn’t matter where Ben is, or Jackson. You’re constantly causing us problems. Ben thinks he can come to this office, spill his guts about Jackson and everything’s going’ to be fine. He’s wrong, dead wrong. This story’s goin’ to be cut short,” snarled Carl. “You hear me?”

Fear fell upon the room and its occupants. As before, Carl had begun to weave a web of deception. A harbor for evil and vile intentions, he had no reservations about killing them all if that meant stopping the revelation. Life in its purest form is light and truth; Carl knew nothing of either. Pulsing with fire and quick to anger, those who chose to encounter him never lived to tell about it. Alone in the darkness, he grew strong on the weaknesses of his prey. Over the centuries, he had traveled countless roads and devastated many lives. Vapor of smoke and smell of sulfur were his companions. But, yet within him dwelled remnants of mankind and desires unspoken.

“No!”

A scream resounded through the room.

Mary let go a scream, lost her balance in her chair and fell onto the floor.

Jake immediately leaned over to assist her.

“What was that?” she asked, struggling to regain her composure.

“I don’t know, but I’m afraid this has gone over my head,” said Jake.

Mary trembled.

Silence owned the room. It settled over it like one of winter’s quilts. Minutes became hours. The room’s occupants remained motionless monuments in time.

Slowly, Jackson looked up. As Jake watched, Jackson appeared to be himself. He began to mutter something, but the others couldn’t make it out.

“I’m afraid, and not just a little afraid. Someone or something is in here with me. I can’t make it out,” said Jackson in a low yet audible voice.

Remaining still, Jackson closed his eyes and searched the inner room. Feeling with his extra senses, he felt it.

“Help me!” he shouted, it’s after me. Then he was gone again.

Jake stood on wobbly legs, hair standing on end. He approached Jackson. He wanted to discuss Yvonne, but he didn’t know how to call Ben. Carl was no help, but he might bring new information if questioned.

Then, without provocation, Ben emerged, but wasn’t ready to talk.

Jake’s mind swirled at the ease Jackson’s continence changed to accommodate Ben’s presence. Many times he had wanted to see someone like this. It was hard to believe it was actually happening.

Remembering Januari, he made a mental not to call her after the session was over.

“This may be a good point to reschedule,” said Jake.

“This session has been beneficial for us all, and all of us need some rest.” He took a few more notes and reminded Mary about the book that they were to read.

Nodding to indicate compliance to his wishes, Mary helped Jackson to his feet, turned and walked towards the door. She turned to give Jake one last glance. Maybe it was to say goodbye, maybe Carl would have time to kill her before the next session, and she wasn’t sure about anything. She pulled the door closed behind her and they left to go home.

Jackson felt dazed by the session’s events. The sessions moved slowly, more slowly than he had anticipated. Rest was an infrequent visitor to him, nevertheless, a welcomed one when it did visit. The inner room’s inhabitants played havoc with his mind and fear possessed him constantly. He never knew when he would be taken.

Hidden passageways in his mind drew him. Desire coursed through him. He’d never been so out of control, so helpless. As he slept, he felt himself traveling at light speed going where only Ben could take him. He sought his own special place, a hiding place for his soul.

THIRTEEN

Jake had been so engrossed with day’s events that he had forgotten to eat. As he fingered the remains of leftovers from the refrigerator, his stomach cramped up. Cold chicken was not his idea of dinner. He ate as much as he could, then took a book off of the shelve, a recent purchase from the local bookstore, to fall asleep with instead of her. Finding his favorite chair beside the fireplace, he opened the book and began to read. Genetic restructuring, a topic that had caught his attention many years before was still in its infancy. Although he elected psychology for his career, reading about molecular development was intriguing. Perhaps in the future molecular infusion could change the face of mankind.

He read a few chapters, turned to his tape of Jackson’s sessions and thought of Januari.

If anyone could help understand and help him analyze this case it would be her. She had definitely created a stir in her community; perhaps she could do some for his. It would be worth a try.

It may have seemed like a last-ditch effort to salvage something from what had happened today, but he promised her he would call if a case like this ever came up. He’d thought of her often within the last few days, incidentally, during breakfast this very morning in fact. His toast was burned; she burned his toast too. Ah, those mornings after, he thought. He remembered her jet-black hair as it swept over his face. Her smile was as radiant as a spring’s morning, and her happiness, well that was unmatched.

She wasn’t like other New Yorkers. Most of whom were in a downward spiral finding little satisfaction from the most momentous events; no she was different.

She wasn’t like them at all.

FOURTEEN

In the background easy-listening music composed by a friend softened the hard edges of the day. Januari had promised Jose’ she’d listen to his selections and offer some constructive criticism. She had had the tape for a month now.

Momentarily, Januari turned off the CD player and walked over to the bed. From the living room the sound of the telephone startled her. Picking up the receiver, she couldn’t believe whose the voice was on the other end.

“Well, Jake!” she said.

“What a pleasant surprise. It’s been a while hasn’t it? Who are you?” she asked.

Settling into her sofa, she waited for his response.

“You sound wonderful, Januari,” Jake said.

“You must be as exciting as ever. I can sense it. And you know I’m never wrong.” He said.

Jake had a way of getting to her, but this time it was not as sincere somehow. She knew there was something more to this conversation than just a hello. Something more than a reminder of what they had together.

“I have a situation, Januari, and I need your help,” said Jake.

He still loved her, but the intensity just wasn’t shared. She kept her memories private. She liked it that way.

The conversation turned more professional as they discussed Jackson.

The night slipped into early morning. But, before hanging up, she promised to catch the next available flight out to California. She wouldn’t commit herself to solving the case until she could confront the individual face to face.

“Goodbye, Jake. It was nice to hear from you again, and take care,” said Januari as she hung up the phone.

Jake, feeling a sense of hope slipped into a light sleep.

FIFTEEN

Procrastination wasn’t one of Jake’s traditional traits, but in view of Carl’s behavior during previous sessions, it seemed like the natural way to ease into today’s discussion. Jackson wasn’t the only person who was suffering from depression, it happens to many children; it’s just not reported. Battering of children became the past time of parents who had suffered themselves. Suggesting they see a specialist was often mistaken as a slap in the face and treatment was shunned.

“Let’s pick up where we left off during our last session,” suggested Jake with some ambivalence. He hoped Carl would behave today, yet wanted desperately to see more of him. At least Ben was the perfect counterpart, a Ying and Yang, as it were. Ben was also the one through whom Januari could reach the Lord that Ben had discussed in the first session.

Excited about the possibility he saw ahead, Jake hadn’t seen this much of a challenge in many years. It was nice to imagine Januari involved again, real nice. Their final times together hadn’t gone well. It was very difficult for Jake to let go. This case at least put them together again as friends.

“You were telling me about Bret and Yvonne,” Jake interjected.

“How were they involved?” he asked. “The story was progressing well, then that sound stopped it. Can you tell me about that person, Jackson?”

Hoping to pick up the pieces left from the last session, Jake decided to attack the unknown entity first rather than entice Carl out again. Jackson had been under when the sound emanated from his body, but Ben was awake. Ben was the key.

“Doctor,” Jackson replied, “I don’t understand what you’re asking. I know a little about Yvonne.” Lowering his eyes and placing his head in his hands, Jackson displayed a hidden grief about his girl. At times, the grief was more than he could handle; and during those times he retreated. Jackson seldom cried, but the emptiness he felt over Yvonne had never been filled. She was beautiful and inviting, but she belonged to someone else.

Finally, he raised his head, searched for the right words to answer Jake. He reluctantly gave control to Ben, his friend. He never had such a friend as Ben. He shared his sorrows, loneliness, and the loss of a dream. In the inner room, Jackson went to his friend, turned his back on the others, and stood alone.

The room was quiet today, except for sounds that filtered through cracks that traced their way down the walls. Cracks, strangers to the inner room, weren’t there until the session began. They appeared more predominant after the questioning started, much like sores festering. Some inhabitants of the room worried about them, others cried. Cracks meant destruction; they meant cutting short a life. It meant doom if Jake continued his inquisition. If he didn’t’ continue, Jackson was certain to try suicide again, subsequently killing them all.

Ben raised the cup of coffee and took a long slow drink. It was too sweet for his taste, must’ve been Randy’s doing. He likes his sugar with a little coffee. Excusing himself, Ben went to dump the coffee out and refill the cup before continuing.

Mary sipped her hot tea sweetened with Equal.

“Can we follow through with the Yvonne theme?” asked Jake.

“Would that be best?” he said.

Not only that, but his session had been extended to accommodate whatever time they needed. He tried not to let his excitement show. It wasn’t common for him to meet a client with such potential, especially for him and his future. His heart raced and tingles crawled up his back.

With Januari coming soon, he felt even more convinced that his personal agenda would be met.

“Bret and Yvonne were lovers,” Ben said. “Jackson knew it. He saw her through his bedroom window many times as she crossed the bridge down the street from his house. After crossing the bridge, a small one lane concrete structure, she walked to a row of rented garages where Bret waited for her. They met at least once a week. They’d caress one another, and then disappear into the darkness of one of the garages. Envisioning her as they lay together was often more than Jackson could stand. He would scream and dash himself against the walls and furniture in his room until he bled. Jackson wanted her more every time he saw her, but that was impossible. Even a moment with her would’ve been paradise.”

A secret light glistened in Ben’s eyes. It glimmered like a thin layer of thawing ice on an ice skating rink. He knew there were things he couldn’t do or say, and he stayed away from those things he had been taught were wrong.

At dawn, Jackson gets up to dress, have breakfast, and rush off to the bus stop. During each school day, when he could, Carl thought of nothing but his plan.

“You would have to know Carl to understand,” instructed Ben.

“I remember a certain conversation with him before he actually carried out the deed.”

“Carl, you know if this is what’s to occur, I have to stay off the square. I’ll have no part of it. Besides, this type of thing isn’t my forte,” pricked Ben in his self- righteousness.

“You do what you have to do,” snapped Carl. “I never asked for your help. You’d just get in the way.”

Carl turned away. His temper boiling he walked to other side of the inner room. He and Ben had debated this plan for hours, and they never fought more fiercely about anything before. Finally, Ben decided to allow Carl his release after much confrontation. Carl’s sinister looks, shouts, and cutting comments had taken their toll.

Carl watched them. They exchanged looks, the kind of looks that made Carl sick to his stomach.

Ben felt revolted. He wondered if her mother hadn’t taught her better. Randy envied the couple for their trust.

“I can’t live without you,” muttered Bret. Slim, the perfect picture of the all-American boy next door. Just past his 16th birthday, Bret looks forward to a new year of football, the games, and the parties. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the quarterback, for him the excitement of being in the game was enough. Longing for the spotlight wasn’t what he was look for to satisfy him. Sure, it would be nice to be mentioned in the papers, but it wasn’t the public’s approval he wanted, it was Yvonne’s. They had seen each other for about a year before things got serious. Now, it looked as if they would be spending their life together, but only after college. The sex was great, but they tried to be cautious. One thing they didn’t need was a pregnancy.

“Can’t you see we need the time together?’ asked Bret as he moved closer to her. He wasn’t the type to say a lot, not the way the romantics did on television, even though he felt many of the same emotions. He wanted to explain why the times they spent together were like something out of a dream. His nights alone could come to an end if he’d get her to agree to spend more time together, regardless of the cost.

The bell rang before Yvonne could answer. Biology class, one of those necessary evils in life where one could hide behind someone and daydream, was over. It was boring. Mr. Bledsoe was one of the most boring teachers at school. The students often bet he got his degree from a mail order school, if in fact he had one at all.

After class, students filed out, discarding notes and candy wrappers secretly exchanged during this non-productive period.

Carl had noticed Bret’s signature on a piece of paper that had been thrown into the wastebasket near the door.

“That’s just what I need,” he thought. After the room had cleared, he took the slip of paper and slid it into his breast pocket of this shirt.

Later, at home, Carl began to compose a letter to Yvonne. Bret and she exchanged many notes through the day; one more wouldn’t seem unusual. This would be just one more.

My Darling,

I can’t go another moment without seeing you alone.

Meet me at our place Friday at our usual time.

I’m on fire.

Love, Bret

SIXTEEN

Januari stepped from the taxi, paid the driver, and entered the airport. The scene hadn’t changed one bit regardless of how much modern technology had been put in place. Mosaic bags cluttered the walkways and frowning passengers cursed the flight schedules. What a mess, she thought. And it made getting to her gate almost impossible. Very few things had stood in her way over the years; this wouldn’t either.

Checking the monitors, Januari found her flight wouldn’t be leaving until four o’clock, that's thirty-five minutes just enough time for a gin and tonic to give her fortitude for the long journey to California. She hadn’t been thrilled about flying, but time schedules hadn’t left her much recourse. Airline flight safety records reminded her of a phase: We might be the wings of man, but sometimes we get clipped. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Her feet hurt. “Those damn shoes,” she muttered to herself.

Her shoes looked very stylish, that’s what they’re designed for, not comfort. It was a shame they were so expensive and she regretted buying them.

Travelers like herself stood or sat by the bar with their fingers curled around a glass of supernatural power. Some had tears; some were blank without expression. Watching the bar attendant, several hands would wave indicating the need for another. Anything to pass the time before their flights were called, anything to dull the senses was done.

Januari wasn’t impressed by solicitous looks she received from any of those who spotted her from the bar. She walked in the opposite direction to a more solitude corner. One of that devilish looks-she’d seen better on wanted posters at the Post Office, shot a glance in her direction. She ignored it.

Where do these people come from? She wondered.

Having ordered her drink, she sat alone. Anyway, if she had wanted attention there was enough to go around in this place. The drink wasn’t too bad. She sipped it, slid it back across the table, and walked out. It wasn’t unusual for her. She liked the attention she received when she appeared to be dissatisfied and aloof. Walking past one young man she winked then laughed.

Loudspeakers announced flight numbers and departures rang out through the terminal building. She would’ve moved faster, but those damn shoes were creating havoc and it wasn’t funny.

SEVENTEEN

“It was early spring,” Ben continued.

“It had been a hard winter. The stream had frozen over more than once. Despite warnings from their parents, children played on the thin ice down by the Richardson’s farm. It was their favorite spot and the smell of spring was in the air. With the onset of spring, their winter wonderland would cease to be.”

Robins and sparrows sang spring’s song of promise.

“Jackson was well liked by many of the elderly people of the community. More times than not, he was on hand when widow Wilson needed someone to carry a bag of groceries, or when Mr. Vangold, a lifetime resident, needed his grass mowed or leaves raked. It wouldn’t be all but impossible to imagine Jackson would do anything to anyone. No one had a harsh word to say about good ole Jackson. Little did they know what hidden secrets Jackson possessed.

“Ben!” shouted Carl. “This has gone far enough, you son of a bitch. Jackson wanted it done. You’ve played it up that the whole thing was all my doing, but what about the others? What about the lies to his parents? Who told those? I’ll get even with you for this, Mr. Perfect!”

Carl was furious. He spun like a top in front of the chair and bit Jackson’s lip until it bled. The copper smell of blood reached Jake’s nostrils about the time Mary leaped from her chair and slid into the security of a far corner. Putting her hand to her ears, she couldn’t believe what was happening.

The shouts were as loud as trumpets. Carl screamed at the top of his voice.

“No guilt!” he shouted repeatedly. And the struggle pursued between Ben and Carl. Finally, Ben regained control.

“Carl has convinced himself he knows no right or wrong. He feels no guilt or blame. The portion of Jackson is evil.” Ben said in a voice just above a whisper.

“As you know Doctor, Carl is special above and beyond anyone you’ve met before. His continual conversion from one person to another over the years has paved the way for the strengths only he possesses. Multiple exercises over and over again grooved pathways through which liquid evil flows.”

This interpersonal relationship between Ben and Carl was unique. If Ben breathed, Carl felt the wind, the life. When Carl ventures beyond limits set by Ben’s morality, Ben feels the pain that is reflected in shame.

At night when life settles down to a low hum, warm winds gently sway branches dressed with variegated decorations. Those are the times Carl is allowed to venture out. Like a prisoner who rushes through open prison gates if left unattended, Carl breaks into a wild run into Honeysuckle filled streets looking for victims. Victims caught in the wrong place at the right time. Wrong places where shadows reshape images with pointed hoods and long fingers, those that possess eyes that cut into the darkness of the soul. This liberty seldom experienced vaulted Carl into heights few could find.

Sitting in the darkness, he let himself expand into his fullness. Unleashing what eons of time had created. Stretching forth into the earth, his father, seeking renewed knowledge of the ages in which he had found himself. It was an era where law and order meant havoc. It was an era where life with all its excitement could not match his culminated lifetimes. He caressed his children who lie within his life force. Those souls were his and he’d never release them.

As he swished the small puddles of water with his feet as he walked deeper into the night, thoughts of another kill, the thrill, teased him. Lovers had their tease; he had his.

Anticipation quickened his step. He broke into a run. Saliva pulsed from his mouth and ran over his lips and down his chin.

The house was selected mainly for its location. It lay on the outskirts of town with windows dark and lifeless. As he stepped onto the porch and it popped and cracked like an aging monument to idols long gone and forgotten.

Several decades had passed since it had been built; yet, all of the others on the street yielded the honor to its construction. Vines climbed the outside stucco walls and went through the eaves about the porch. It resembled a Currier and Ives’ setting.

“Jackson’s family was away for the evening,” said Ben. “I didn’t like the situation, not one bit. But what did I have to do with the carnage, this savagery?”

Carl’s reflection in the door’s full-length glass enticed him. He waited and watched. It was Jackson’s sixteenth birthday and this was Carl’s gift to him.

The neighbor’s television was on. Where Carl stood he could see the lights stretching across the ceiling. The volume was loud enough to camouflage whatever he was going to do to the lucky victim within

“If only this had been Jackson going up to Yvonne’ house, if only this had been a dream from within Jackson’s mind, perhaps things would’ve been different,” said Ben. “But it wasn’t a dream, nor was it Yvonne’s house.”

Carl had planned this outing with all the cunning a hunter would have planned if they were on their way to a Safari. The tools of the trade were hid away in his coat. He laughed softly with satisfaction as he eased through the door, closing it behind him.

“I asked him how he was going to remove the body,” said Ben. “But the only response I got was that he was hungry and he’d handle it.”

Through the darkness of the foyer, Carl caught glimpses of himself in mirrors that hung along the side of the spiral staircase that lead to the bedrooms upstairs. It couldn’t have been more natural for him. This ecstasy, this joy beyond words rushed through him. Soundless, he slipped through the hallway until he reached the bedroom. With door ajar, a warm glow radiated from a large clock on the headboard.

Entering, Carl crept soundlessly up to the bed. The smell of human flesh pleased him. This was another prize he couldn’t afford to let slip away. Withdrawing his knife with his right hand and extending his right arm to its full extent, he thrust it downward into the chest of his victim. Blood spurt upwards, then a brief struggle with death, and then it was over.

He had won. Another prize entered his chest, and another meal for his taking.

“Am I proud of him, you ask?’ quizzed Ben. Of course not, don’t be stupid. But what am I to do with this thing? What can I do with the son of death, a walking horror?”

It wasn’t ever enough for Carl. There would be more; it was a matter of time. Yvonne was still there for the hunt.

“I wasn’t thrilled with the idea that she was to be next,” said Ben. “But, I was out of the picture by then, as far as Carl was concerned. His temper, his rage sustained him.”

His eyes bulged as his heart pulsed so hard it could be seen through the thin shirt he wore.

“He looked at me wildly. He said, “Remember, you said not to talk to you about it when I brought it up.”

“He glared, and then slipped into his shoes and coat, those that had served him over the last three slayings. He rarely smiled, but his smile was hideous,” said Ben.

“I asked him to reconsider. I begged him. Yvonne was just a young girl. She was someone with her whole life in front of her. Jackson wasn’t involved with any of this, nor could he stop a plan that was destined to unfold. He watched from the chair in the inner room, speechless,” remarked Ben.

Jake’s office was completely silent. Mary lowered her head. Jake twitched uneasily. The tape recorder hummed softly. Ben rubbed his hands together and placed them on his lap.

Several of the others in the inner room watched as cracks, now a permanent adornment, crept slowly down what were once solid walls. The cracks flowed down until they neared John’s seat on the opposite side of the room near Jackson’s chair. Such a thing had never happened in the inner room before.

Two of the others ran to their chairs and waited to see what would happen next. Beyond the boundaries of the inner room, crackling sounds could be heard. Many inside the room screamed and shouted as they awaited the destruction.

EIGHTEEN

Januari presented her ticket at the desk to the clerk, and then walked down the ramp toward the awaiting plane. She felt a feeling, somewhat familiar, something that started deep within her and ate at her insides. Once when studying a case, intense gloom washed over her and remained for two weeks.

The gloom didn’t lift until the case was solved.

Once, on another case, this same gloom remained for almost a month. Januari concluded negative ions from her patients had almost materialized.

After showing her boarding pass, she took her seat. She enjoyed flying First Class. She traveled coach once, and it had been a nightmare. A boy sitting beside her almost drove her crazy. He reminded her of Bobby, her boyfriend from long ago.

Rain fell in torrents. Waves of wind-blown water slapped Bobby’s face. He cursed, but that was normal for him. He loved her and no amount of bad weather would keep him from her.

Water splashed onto his shoes. He wondered why she couldn’t see his love. Perhaps she was blinded by another or maybe she felt he wasn’t good enough. It was true that her heart belonged to herself and she wouldn’t take the chance of it being used again.

All Januari’s life, she got everything she ever wanted. He father had died leaving Darlene a substantial amount for Januari. It wasn’t like Darlene didn’t try, but it just wasn’t the same anymore after the father was gone.

“Like is hell,” she’d shout from one room to another. “Get use to it,” she’d say.

Another car sped by. Bobby didn’t care what it too; he’d show her how much he cared. He knew he was good enough for her. All she wanted was someone who loved her, to take care of her. He could do it. He could take what he had and make the best of it.

Streetlights glowed like shrouded suns beneath a mask of galaxy dust. The mad streets and wild crowds were Bobby’s comrades. He hadn’t planned it that way, it just happened. No, if he had planned things he’d been a lawyer or maybe a doctor-someone rich. He disliked the smell of the sewers that seeped through the manhole covers. Surrounded by flashing lights and railings, the manhole covers couldn’t trap the smell that escaped assaulting people as they past.

Shoving gloves stolen from a department store two weeks earlier into his pockets, Bobby walked through less than tranquil streets. Wet and uncomfortable, he felt ill. He frequently felt ill.

If he could win Januari’s affection things would be different. She was beautiful to him.

He reached down and adjusted his crouch. His memories of their first night together felt as real now and it did then. The candles were lightly scented and the wine carefully selected and poured. He was never sure about her or what she wanted. She toyed with him, never letting him command her. No one ever led her around or made her do anything she didn’t want to do.

Januari shrugged off the memories. That boy’s hair must’ve been what reminded her of Bobby. She wondered whatever happened to him.

After buckling herself in, and preparing for departure, she ordered a cocktail and tried to relax.

NINETEEN

Carl looked at Ben’s image in the mirror with disgust.

“You’re a fool, Ben. You have always have been. If you want anything out of life you have to take it,” snarled Carl.

He turned from the mirror and opened the bedroom door, slipped up the stars that led to the attic and opened the door. Collecting knives had been a passion of Jackson’s father. Over the years he had collect many different and interesting specimens. From a Boy Scouts’ familiar friend to a daring hunter’s prized possession, he had all makes and sizes. His father stored them in the attic to keep anyone from prying into his hobby and from stealing them. But for Carl, who saw them during his many ventures up the neglected stairwell, they represented tools of the trade.

He loved the touch of steel against his fingers. As he moved the knives against his palm, he imagined how well they would perform for him. He moved the blade from the end of his fingers to the ball of his palm. His manhood swelled as he rubbed it with satisfaction.

Slashing and cutting, releasing himself, Carl was in control, the master. He could almost smell the copper taste and scent of blood rushing from his victims. With each memory he relived with excitement, he relived the thrill of the hunt.

As well as a knife collector, Jackson’s father had an impressive collection of tools. He worked with his hands masterfully. Like other fathers, Jackson’s dad tinkered around the house, the family car, or anything else that needed his attention. Hammers, saws, screwdrivers, and other tools lined the tool room near the neighbor’s backyard just inside the slatted fence.

Moving his hand gracefully over each blade, Carl hesitated momentarily to choose the right one. Finally selecting a ten-inch hunting knife with a stainless steel blade, Carl had picked one that was honed to perfection. Carl’s eyes lighted up with fire. He was the ultimate hunter, stalker of mankind. His rage came from his inner most soul. Wild hunger flashed through him.

For actors, not every night was the right night, but for Carl, the right night had to smell right, a seductive allure of the damned.

It could have been predicted by soothsayers from years gone by, times past when darkness was revered as a god. Darkness walked the streets claiming its victims wherever it found them. The right combination of elements came together that night for Carl. Streetlights dimmed, a slight drizzle washed down parked car’s windshields as the creature made its way through the night. He could see her through the fog. She crossed the railroad tracks, having escaped from her home and its watchful eyes. Usually Yvonne found it easy to get away from her house. Her younger brothers, three of them, provided all the distraction she needed. She would stand on the porch pretending to have gone out for some air. The porch overlooked a low valley to the left of their garage. Warm, happy thoughts radiated over her. She loved him. Not to death like Romeo and Juliet, but she longed to give herself to him. They used each other until each was satisfied, then, as each time before; they went their separate ways for a while. They would eventually marry, or maybe not, but not until school and college was behind them.

A loud cry from inside the house interrupted her thoughts. She descended the steps and walked out onto the cobblestone streets in front of the house. Immigrants from distant lands had built cobblestone streets decades before. Each stone was cemented in place with sweat and mortar.

She moved quickly to their meeting place, maneuvering through the shadows, careful to avoid the watchful eyes of the nosy neighbors. Bret was a tender lover. She needed him.

Having established this meeting, Carl placed himself at the scene many days before to prepare for their coming. Like many of the small wooden garage units along the street that were riddled with age, their rendezvous hide-away was in decay. Decaying from neglect and the elements, the wood had become soft and easily to mutilate. He had made a hole in the board facing the south side away from the railroad tracks. This would provide an excellent vantage point to watch.

Mouth watering, saliva dripping down his chin, Carl watched Yvonne glide over familiar terrain. This was the night.

Fire filled him, furnace fire, and hell fire. Stepping back away from the shards of light that flickered through the mist, he imagined his deed, his destiny. This release would be special, far above all the rest, and a masterpiece. He prided himself on his work; each perfectly planned to the last detail.

She’s at the door, now, she’s her

It wasn’t easy keeping the scenes straight. Many were being told at such speed that Jake’s notes were no more than scribbles across a landscape of predetermined lines. But, he listened, confident that the recorder would pick up all the details that might elude him during the sessions. He sipped his coffee as he watched Jackson, seemingly an ordinary man, but in reality a one of a kind. He felt grateful for the chance to help him, yet in helping him he had chosen to terminate lives that were more than just a family. This task meant that his talents were to be used to perfection

Caution in speaking, listening and questioning were foremost. And he must be clever.

How had he gone unnoticed for so long? The question, among many, constantly flooded Jake’s mind. Those of us who have walked the city’s’ streets glancing into the faces of the on-coming people see little more than just another citizen. To look beyond the facial features and into the soul is out of our reach. Had there been times when Jackson’s friends were visible? Could someone somewhere have seen Ben or Carl or Denny? If they had, why wasn’t someone told about them? Ben had done an excellent job of hiding the brood. Much to Jackson’s surprise, Ben had exercised powers that restrained the others from being noticed, from being recognized. Had his mother not seen them? Surely, a mother, more than anyone else, could have detected this change, the mutation. But, over the years Ben had been sure to shield the characters, all of them, with his special spell and his confidence. During his lifetime with Jackson, Ben wanted more than all the others to be remembered as the golden child, the clever adolescent, and the adored friend. Accomplishing this task would be a momentous event, and to a degree, he had been successful. Memories spread across the horizon of Jackson’s mind of the times when Ben stepped into the limelight to carry him across to the other side where hands were clapping. He couldn’t count the times his friend had saved him. Surely, Ben had been this golden friend.

Jake had to admit he had finally met someone trapped between reality and fantasy. Jackson truly couldn’t tell the difference. His dream state was so real to him that the intertwined scenes couldn’t be distinguished one from the other. Often, in the movies, actors too become so immersed in a character that they too seek consulting to help release the role that bound them. In Jackson’s case, the spider’s web that holds him is tighter and more convincing than those roles that possess the actors. Confusion at its utmost encircles Jackson and his friends. His inner core personality cries and before the tear can be wiped away a friend is there to dry it for him. What an inner solidarity had been formed. What a puzzle had been constructed.

Jackson was caught in a trap; locked in a room where he traded souls with others like himself, time travelers all of them, conscience brokers bartering for time. Those souls long for a chance to see reality, mannequins wanting life time after time struggling to escape beyond the window where they stand wanting to escape into the world just on the other side.

Jake had only scratched the surface of Jackson’s psyche. The total fabric of the personality cloak is more than he could have imagined, if only he could find the small hidden thread that would cause the unraveling to accelerate.

“Excuse me,” Mary said as she stood and went to the restroom. She leaned over the sink in the restroom and wondered where her husband had gone to in such a short period of time. She turned the water on, dipped her hands deep into the bowl, and splashed water onto her face hoping to bring some relief. She patted her face dry and returned to the small consultation room where Jake and Jackson were waiting. She was frightened. Jackson had such a sweet smile years ago when they first met. He had been so special and kind trying to please her, to win her, to make her happy. Those times since have faded into yesterday where they can’t be retrieved. Wishing can’t bring them back. She had wanted to recapture just a few of them. She wanted things to be different. But today someone else was looking out of those kind eyes that first caught her off guard. Eyes that had lost their luster now resembled a dead man’s eyes. She had no idea who looked through them now. She wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.

When she got back, she saw Jackson’s face shifting, moving bone structure, wrinkling the lines on his face. First Ben, then Carl fought for control.

“Carl, you can’t do this,” shouted Ben. “I have to tell someone. Poor Jackson’s had enough. Get away from the square and take you seat. You must realize this is the only way."

The inner room rippled and several of the occupants walked around as if they were lost with nowhere to go. Ben tore himself away from Carl and turned back into the room. Outside the red door of the inner room and several parallel layers above, Ben saw the others. They were caught between lives, stopping at the cracks in the walls of the inner room to peek in. They dreamed of a life they couldn’t have anymore. Though walls of impregnable lifetimes that stood for eons, many of the immortal figures peered into the real world. Ben wondered where they came from and where they would find peace. Not with Jackson, he was already taken.

TWENTY

“Bret,” called Yvonne. “It’s me. Are you there?”

“I’m here,” said Carl in his lowest voice. He created a voice that would imitate Bret.

The Ten-Fifty express traveled through the valley every night. Deep and low the whistle would sound sending its familiar announcement through out the homes of the residents. This announcement was expected, nothing new. The Ten-Fifty pulled 150 boxcars, modular cars, and car-carriers with each passing. Tracks clicky-clacking under the weight of the oncoming train made pinging noises as the pressure of the train approached. The passing noise was deafening and this was just what Carl had ordered.

He smiled at his genius. Standing half-erect in the shadows at the rear of the garage, he slipped Jackson’s dad’s knife out of its sheath and poised it for the blow. Inner activity heightened, blood pulsed hot with furry. His thrill was all too real. It was Diabolical. All of the other times were just child’s play, like using building blocks to practice for the final construction. Jackson had provided just the right environment, the right atmosphere for Carl to grow, to expand. All that he wanted was just one more time to see death in the eyes of his victim.

She was ten feet away now silhouetted against the rotten wood by yellow rays of light from the streetlight on the corner. Carl felt strength surge through him and it filled his hands. He waited.

“Honey, I can’t see you,” said Yvonne as she peered into the darkness for her lover. Feeling a little apprehensive, Yvonne moved slowly. Bret had not done this before, but then again he enjoyed surprises. It’s just one of those little things she loved about him.

The Ten-Fifty freight snaked through the valley ever closer. Thunder grew toward a climax as the train neared the crossing just a hundred feet from Yvonne’s rendezvous.

Thunder grew louder crushing the evening.

Thunder grew louder.

Yvonne stepped closer.

In the darkness Carl slashed downward with all his might.

Blood gushed from Yvonne’s sternum. Crushed like a ripe melon, fountains of life erupted. Having worn a raincoat and gloves, Carl was protected from most of life’s liquid. He laughed as his second slash slid across her skull.

“You’ll never have him again,” he whispered.

Her skin peeled back like an orange exposing her skull down to the base of her right ear.

Screams blanketed by the Ten-Fifty’s whistle were hardly audible by Carl much less anyone else. She slumped into a pool of red life that had poured onto the dirt floor.

Having finished his best work, Carl set about cutting the body into pieces that could be buried and more easily hid. He would bury them in separate graves; spread them out over several miles. Smiling as he placed her head and hands in their respective graves, Carl couldn’t have been happier. The rest he would distribute the other parts to predetermined shallow graves that he had selected over the weeks of planning.

“The head goes here, hands here, and all the rest of you beauties, well, I have a place for you too,” said Carl. His groin swelled with excitement. Yvonne finally belonged to Jackson and no one could take her away ever again.

Outside, misty shapes cascaded over evergreen meadows caressing evening’s last kiss of dew. Yellowish capes wrapped around country homes, softening shadows, lengthening the night.

It had been a perfect end to a perfect evening.

TWENTY-ONE

Jake was ecstatic. His friends were blowing Jackson’s case.

Behind him the recorder spun around and around documenting the full story. Two tapes had finished and a new one just added. Jake’s pencil jiggled back and forth, a manual recorder as he took notes for Januari. He’d show the notes to her when she arrived. He couldn’t believe his luck. Mary hadn’t been aware that Jake considered this case one of these greatest challenges. His smooth voice, convincing mannerisms and doctoral soliloquies had won her over. If she had known she would have ran out as fast as possible to seek someone else, someone who really cared about her Jackson.

“May we discuss this candidly laying aside all the idioms and theories that surround Jackson and his friends?” asked Jake. Patiently waiting Mary’s answer, he turned to watch the activity on Jackson’s face. The constant rolling of the flesh from one feature to another fascinated him above all other occurrences seen through out the therapy. Faces replacing another, a constant stream accompanied by voices and tones unique to each one. He possessed a virtual waterfall of personalities.

“Are you sure you didn’t suspect something? I mean, surely you could tell,” asked Jake. As with any family, or every couple, special moments were shared that allowed the real person to exhibit their true self. Moments stolen in the night that striped the facade away revealing the inner nurturing spirit was being revealed, but not with Jackson. Ben had seen to that. He kept the guard up, the shield of resistance to questions, opportunities he felt unsafe for his host.

It took a few minutes to respond, but for Mary it was a soul-wrenching ordeal.

“Doctor, if I had recognized these things, do you think for a minute I would’ve stayed around? You must be kidding, right?” questioned Mary.

“This is all new to me. You must see that, don’t you?” she asked.

Twisting her hands as if they were dishrags, until bulbous veins swelled ready to burst, she continued.

“I gave of myself. I gave all I had. For God’s sake, I gave him a son. He was my life,” she said with tears in her eyes.

Silence swelled in the room until heartbeats could be heard.

“Surely, if you can’t help him then let us go. Let us find someone who can,” pleased Mary.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t help Jackson, I just wanted to know how the years had past without you recognizing these different personalities,” answered Jake.

“I didn’t know any of this until your sessions.”

“What should I do?”

“God, help me, help me.”

“You must know how unreal this whole thing seems to me?” said Mary.

Tears swept over her eyelids and slide down powdered cheeks and fell onto the floor. Love drops for Jackson shed for his life.

“It seems a bit far fetched for me. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, with my own eyes…” Mary slumped low in her seat searching for answers within, but there weren’t any.

“Hey, Doc!”

“Hey, stupid!”

“I’m talking to you!”

“Pencil geek, you want to know something else? You’ll never know the thrill I had. It’s like, well like orgasms. Oh, I’m sorry, maybe you can’t do that either.

From a slumped position in his chair, Jackson’s body became erect, tense and full of fire.

It would be very easy to ignite the embers that lay within, thought Jake. He’s on the verge of exploding. The words will have to be chosen carefully. One thing they didn’t need at this point was a crazed Carl shouting and screaming and running around the office knocking over things, and upsetting the atmosphere that had been a result of a lot of effort.

“All my dreams can true that night,” Carl said as he breathed deeply, tested the air and smelled the sweat that rolled down Jake’s forehead.

“My life’s purpose, its meaning became reality. I was glad to see I could do something for stupid Jackson.

Jackson jerked as Carl released his body.

TWENTY-TWO

A trembling voice slid across Jackson’s dry lips. It was Ben taking control and starting the story again for Jake. With tapes running and silence returning to the room, Jake hoped Ben could finish.

“Carl finished his chose, and then escaped to sanctuary secluded in the darkness over the kitchen in Jackson’s house,” said Ben

Sheets twisted from the wrenching and turning lay in disarray.

Fever rose and fell during the night. Fires rose and consumed his thoughts.

A proud moment, the prize was gone. The earth had claimed it at last.

He rolled over on the bed and pulled his Levis down. Dropping them to the floor he leaned back on the bed.

“Carl!”

“Carl! Don’t pretend you don’t hear me. I’m talking to you. Turn around and look at me!” demanded Ben.

“What?” shouted Carl.

“What now? Can’t you see I’m busy? When I get done with this, as tired as I am, I don’t want any crap from you about anything. Is that clear?” growled Carl.

“But, Carl, did you consider how Jackson would feel about it?” pleased Ben.

“Yes, I felt his foulness and odor in my deed. He wanted to do it himself, but the little ass was a chicken. Now, get the hell out of my face!”

Slowly Carl relived his trek. Taking long deep breaths of death, chest swelling with excitement, it was complete satisfaction. Caressing his chest and holding his shoulders tightly as if it were Yvonne, he twisted and snaked on the bed until slept released him from the square.

TWENTY-THREE

Police cars patrolled the streets and turned onto the land where Yvonne’s house was located. Shrubbery manicured to perfection lined the perimeter of the neighbor’s yards. Morning fog lay low casting a haunted blanket over lawns and swirled about the walkways. Spider webs spun the day before lay empty of live prey from the night’s feeding.

Morning Glories opened to the sun’s brilliance.

Jack, Yvonne’s father had called Sergeant Matthews, a trusted friend at the police department when he had discovered Yvonne hadn’t returned or slept in her bed. Sergeant Matthews was a hulk of a man. Six-four frame, broad shoulders, olive complexion, Sergeant Matthews resembled the terminator, except he was older.

It wasn’t the first time Yvonne hadn’t returned home, but she always called to let them know she was staying with a friend. Jack and Mary didn’t seem concerned until after calling Yvonne’s friends and none of them had seen her the night before.

After taking notes, Sergeant Matthews went outside to take a look around.

Carl watched from his window. He reviewed the last evening’s events making sure nothing had been left to chance. Confident the deed would go undiscovered long enough to place the blame on some one else; he closed the curtain, sat on the bed, turned to the mirror and left the square.

Several weeks passed with no leads. Rumors raced through the community smacking of insanity. With killers running wild, citizens were urged to lock doors and windows and not venture out after dark. At school, students were dazed from the impact that the killing had had on them. Yvonne had been an integral part, drama plays, memberships in clubs, taking trips with the gang and she was smart, too. She’ll be missed.

When Jackson came home with his new year book, he went to his room to look through it for her picture. Then suddenly, Carl took over. He grabbed the book ripping pages out and flinging them to the floor.

...

Sergeant Matthews, pressured by his superiors, increased the investigations. There were elections to think of, certain officials didn’t want the case to go unsolved any longer. How would that look?

At the office phone rang all day.

“I don’t have any leads, Sir,” said Sergeant Matthews.

“What do you mean any leads?” the voice on the other end shouted.

“I mean the trail has cooled off, you know how it is?” answered Sergeant Matthews.

“No, I don’t know how it is,” answered the disturbed voice.

Sergeant Matthews spoke with his captain.

“I promise to put every available investigator on it, Sir.”

“Yes Sir, I understand. You can count on us.”

He held the receiver away as he mouthed obscenities at the phone.

“You’d better get something done down there!” sounded his superior.

“It’s been four weeks and your people have been sitting on their behinds while a murdered runs free. He’s probably watching you, laughing at the stupidity. I’m beginning to believe he has a right to. Get off your behinds and get me some results.” A loud clank ended the conversation.

No, it hadn’t been the first time, but Sergeant Matthews didn’t appreciate being called stupid.

Pressing a pad of buttons located on his desk, heads jerked up from desks located through out the open work area beyond double swinging doors.

“Attention, as of this moment, all vacations are canceled until further notice,” shouted the Sergeant.

Deathly silence halted all work.

“Sir?”

Milly, his secretary of fifteen years moved towards his cubicle.

“I planned next week off for a reunion, sir.” She said.

She spoke as if her fifteen years had earned some merit with the Sergeant.

“I don’t give a rat’s behind about a reunion,” shouted Matthews.

“Until we get some concrete leads on this case, there will be no time off for anyone. Is that understood?”

It appeared the only thing that was taking time off was understanding. Muffled in the small cubicles were the sounds of an occasional beep from the computer system.

TWENTY-FOUR

The old familiar sound of the bus, children screaming at one another, a secret conversation in the rear and rustling of brown lunch bags were gone. Yvonne was gone too.

“Carl?” Jackson asked in an inaudible voice as he looked out of the side window of his house before going out to catch the bus.

“What is it this time?” responded Carl in an uninterested tone. He was tired of Jackson and his insistent whining.

“Don’t you see what’s happening?” asked Jackson.

“Are you going to give me a hard time about this again? You’re the one who wanted it done in the first place, but you didn’t have the balls to do it. Get the hell out of my face with your guilt trips. Besides, I know Ben put you up to this,” admonished Carl.

With that, Jackson kept quiet and looked at the scenery.

Winters cold fingers of fate had played yet another trick on the small countryside. A late spring snow squall deposited the last snow for the year. As Jackson waited for the bus, he thought of Yvonne. Her long, flowing hair fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were as green as that of a jungle panther, and they warmed a man’s heart no matter how chilly the wind blew.

If only things had been different, if only he’d been her type, that special love, then he could’ve fulfilled her dreams, those that Bret had tried to make come true. Jackson examined himself with his mind. He found few differences between himself and the type who seemed to get the best girls. I was the one who stood out in the crowd. It was the weight. She had looked at him once over her shoulder, and spoke to him twice. Jackson had wished it had been more.

Jackson wanted to give her things and not just flowers, jewelry or cards, but his life. It didn’t seem to matter that he needed those things too. It didn’t matter that he was like other young men who needed to be loved.

The snow and better last winds of the winter bit at Jackson, but he was colder on the inside. The coldness grew each day until what little warmth he had was forced deep within, forced into Ben, his friend.

Jackson looked around the bus stop where the children had waited for the bus. The spot where Yvonne usually stood was now covered in white.

His despair filled him. Carl hadn’t let him understand at first, but after seeing the vacant spot day after day, the true lose had finally come home to stay.

Jackson lost the only thing he wanted in his life. It would not be back.

TWENTY-FIVE

The Boeing jets are, especially the jumbo jets, are one of the world’s greatest accomplishments in aviation history. The jumbo jet could move more people to more places than any of its predecessors. Januari adjusted her seat into a more comfortable position and looked out at the sun as it coated the horizon with pale silver light. It reminded her of glittering diamonds that she had worn once to a gala affair.

She had taken a much-needed vacation to Hawaii. The waters surrounding the islands caressed each cove and bay like an old friend. The warm inviting waters touched her like nothing she had felt before.

Januari seldom feared flying, but this day she felt a twinge just as the jet moved away from its terminal at the John F. Kennedy airport in New York. I taxied onto the runway in readiness for takeoff. She knew it wasn’t the flying, but she couldn’t quiet put her finger on it.

She reached under the seat in front of her, removed her black briefcase, and placed it on her lap. Unlocking the case and opening it, she took out her book on Hypnosis she took from her personal library. She placed the briefcase back in its safe position and opened the book. There might be an opportunity to share her last case with Jake. He asked her to bring her files, too. Hypnosis served her many times in the past; this encounter might serve as a testing ground for a new procedure.

An attendant nudged her on the shoulder, almost startling her.

“Is there anything you need before we take off?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” replied Januari and resumed her reading.

As the plane took off and leveled out at its cruising altitude of 30,000 feet, the seat belt light winked off, she tried not to think of the height and concentrate on enjoying her trip and her book.

TWENTY-SIX

Cid, a middle-aged, sandy colored hair sanitation worker drove his truck down the street and stopped in front of Jackson’s house on Hazard Avenue every Tuesday. He parked at the curb as he had done very week for fourteen years. His job wasn’t his idea of a successful career choice, but after the first six years and the five children and all, he needed the job too desperately to seek another. There was a pension and benefits from the city that helped some, though they weren’t much to talk about.

This day was like all the hundreds before, picking up trash and moving along to the next stop. Cid had developed a habit of taking a few minutes to go through the garbage after he emptied it into the truck’s receiving bin. Sometimes he found useful items like clothes or kitchen pots that had been thrown out, but more often than not, he only found stuff fit for the landfill.

He climbed from the cab and held his nose because the exhaust fumes from the engine made his eyes and throat hurt.

“Let’s see what we have today,” he said to himself as he untied the trash bags and went through each one using a technique that cut his time in half.

Cid had a child-like complexion and erratic reactions. He didn’t look his age, but few people had noticed that over the years. Everyone just assumed he’d always be there, a trusted friend. He was an unknown that picked up the garbage, a lost soul. One thing Cid had though was an uncanny memory.

He sifted through the bags in front of Bill Stafford’s house, Jackson’s dad. The envelope Cid found didn’t look important, so he tossed it aside. Then, a folded piece of paper caught his eye. He picked it up, unfolded it and discovered it was a picture of Yvonne that Jackson had thrown out. It was the page from Jackson’s yearbook.

“I remember her,” said Cid rubbing his chin.

“Looks like her all right. I wonder if the police have found out anything about her. It’s been a while since she disappeared.” Cid commented to himself.

“She sure was a pretty young thing.”

He folded the picture and put it in his pocket, then shuffled through the remaining trash until he found an old pair of cuff links that were still in pretty good condition, even though they were out of style.

“I think I’ll keep these.” He said turning away from the empty container.

He slipped the cuff links into his coat pocket, placed the remaining trash back into the bags and dumped them in the back of his truck.

The day didn’t seem to be anymore eventful than the previous day.

He drove off to his next stop.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ben replayed the scenes of Yvonne a thousand times inside of Jackson’s head searching for a reason, but he couldn’t find one. There wasn’t any excuse for what Carl had done. It was just sin, just plain sin.

“Jackson?” Ben asked. “Are you there? I know how you felt about her. Remember the times we talked about her, you and me? She brought us some happiness, didn’t she? She was a real nice girl. You and I could have…...”

“Jackson,” Carl shouted, “don’t you see what Ben’s trying to do here? Don’t you see?”

Carl stood before the square in Jackson’s inner room and took a stance like a proud stallion.

“He’s trying to take you on guilt trip. He’s good at that you know.”

Carl watched smugly as Ben moved closer to the square.

“Don’t start this again, Carl.” Ben said.

“I’m not trying to do anything. I know how Jackson feels, that’s all. That’s something you can’t understand.”

“You want him to give himself up!” rattled Carl. “We can’t do that! We won’t as long as I have access to the square!”

Jake’s office was filled with voices again today. He watched as the two personalities fought. There seemed to be no shortage of conversation between them.

“If we’re going to get through this – all of us- we’d better come up with a plan to get Ben off of the square,” said Carl. “That son of a bitch will create more trouble than we can handle.”

“Carl,” Jackson said, “Ben isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you. None of us are going anywhere. We’d better think of some other way to handle this,” said Jackson rubbing his forehead and looking confused.

Mary watched, waiting for Jake to regain control of the situation.

This session had taken a bad turn in the last hour. From what Mary saw, it wasn’t going to get any better anytime soon.

“I’ve got an idea, Jackson,” said another voice.

“Who are you?” asked Jackson.

The voice was higher in pitch and possessed accents of a more northern individual’ accent.

Jake watched, wondering who this new person would be and what they would do. He felt as if another door in Jackson’s psyche was about to open.

TWENTY-EIGHT

It wasn’t the first time Januari had used her psychic powers. In fact, each case she treated involved some degree of her psychic ability. Many skeptics called them psychic powers, even though in reality, they were much more that just a technique. She used that name on occasion because it was convenient, but the name didn’t reveal the full ability behind the powers she possessed.

She had settled herself in, adjusting the back of the seat, shifting left then right on the cushion as the as the movie started. She didn’t particularly enjoy movies shown during the flights, except those where the hero didn’t become the hero, but received a dose of what it meant to be the underdog. When that happened, it allowed her to question herself, her feelings and motives for her own life’s experiences.

In the meantime, dinner was being served. Today in First class it would be salmon, vegetables, and a white wine that tingled the taste buds.

The plane rose slightly to adjust the course, and then leveled off again.

TWENTY-NINE

“I’m Randy,” said a small audible voice in an even mellow tone.

“I don’t get to come out very much. I don’t like many people; I don’t trust them. Ben says I can’t stay on the square very long. I had a plan, though, if you’re interested in hearing it.” Randy stood and moved about the room examining the documents that hung on the wall. He turned and reclaimed his chair in front of Jake and Mary.

“Can’t trust Carl. He’s mean to me. He hits me and knocks me about the inner room sometimes.”

“He does things to me that Ben doesn’t know,” said Randy. “I never tell Ben about the times he shows me his secrets.”

Jake listened and leaned forward. The voice was childish and full of fear. Each syllable was voiced with guarded anticipation of being cut off.

“He hits me hard too,” admitted Randy.

“Do you think Ben can keep him away from me?” asked Randy through a pinched drawn face that changed from Ben to Jackson to Randy to Carl.

“Ben helps me in the inner room. He lets me get to the square from time to time when Carl isn’t looking. Carl goes into a jealous rage if he thinks someone else is going to get out other than himself,” said Randy as he lowered his head.

Raising the coffee cup to Jackson’s lips, Randy sipped the warm liquid.

Jackson’s face changed as Ben appeared on the scene.

“Jackson, you have to understand,” said Ben. “Randy is here to help. If he has something that might work, some simple plan, let’s listen to it. What else can we do? Those bad feelings were from Carl and he has spent his time on the square twisting our dreams. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ben turned to Jake and Mary expecting to see a nod.

In the inner room, Ben, Randy and Jackson discussed the matter.

On rare occasions the inner room seemed almost vacant. Ben knew this couldn’t be true, but he couldn’t place his finger on where the others had gone. The chairs were pushed to the back wall of the outer circle. Shards of light sliced through the oval openings behind the openings of Jackson’s eyes, but the others weren’t there.

After surveying the room, judging it safe enough to react without being seen Ben propelled Randy out of the darkness and into the presence of Jake and Mary. Then, Ben took his seat and watched.

Randy was simple, young and his ideas were single in focus.

“Why not just plant some of Yvonne’s things outside of the Benson’s house,” he said. It was a simple plan and Jake waited to hear how it turned out.

The tale continued to twist and turn from the memories of the personalities.

“Those little monsters are into everything. Who is to know the difference? That’s what I would do. I’d get Yvonne’s locket, the one she wore to school and plant it at the Benson’s house,” said Randy.

“She put it in her locker. I saw it there the last day she was in school. And, the locker has not been cleaned out yet. I told them I’d look for it the next day,” said Randy.

Randy scratched his head, and then pointed to Jake and Mary with a crooked little finger. “Carl would kill both of you, you know,” he said.

“Randy, quizzed Jackson. “Where have I seen you before?”

Like a flood after a downpour, memories swept in from all sides. Stained by years of trying to forget, Randy had been squeezed aside for more interesting ones to take his place. But, through the haze, Jackson recalled him from a small party. He stood alone in one corner of the room that was filled with smiling faces, but not his.

Blake, a friend from school accompanied him to a party once. She was about the only friend Jackson had, but Randy didn’t trust her either. He should have treated her better. The memory was only there for a moment, and then it disappeared.

Randy envisioned his plan. He could plant clues without anyone noticing. After he retrieved the locket from the locker, he would plant it at the Benson’s house. It seemed simple enough.

A red sun set in the west as Jackson and his personalities prepared for the deception.

One after another the streetlights flickered on as the sun settled below the horizon.

“Okay guys,” Randy said, “let’s go.”

He left the house through the back entrance that led to an overgrown path leading beside the railroad tracks.

“Just be quiet until I’m done,” he ordered. “I won’t be long.”

The large draping hat was pulled down over Jackson’s ears, his collar raised to help hide his face.

Maneuvering through the knee-high grasses that had almost grown over the path was not difficult; besides, he had done it many times before.

The neighbor’s homes were constructed of various materials, some old, some new. Planks dating back to the turn of the century were used instead of the more modern sidings but many needed painting. Occasionally, a light sprang to life in one of the rooms of some of the homes causing Randy to stop, but he paused only momentarily, the pressed on.

After arriving at the Benson’s house, Randy touched the locket in his breast pocket and smiled.

“They’re a bunch of fools and besides who cares?” he said to the others.

Crouched low to the ground, Randy rounded the house looking for a good place to deposit the evidence.

He stopped near an open window. Bellows of obscenities from inside signaled him he had the right place. Jeff and Bob, the older boys, were up to their usual games. Randy took the locket out of its hiding place and placed it under the window in the tall grasses.

“Now for the rest of the plan,” mused Randy. Having worn old shoes he had found in the trash the previous day, ones much larger than his normal size, he stamped the grasses to leave footprints. Even though it had been some time since Yvonne’s disappearance, no lead had surfaced. Knowing the locket would be found, either sooner or later, he had carefully scratched the back and twisted the chain to make it appear that it had been ripped form Yvonne’s neck in a struggle.

Having finished the trek, Randy went home retracing his steps soundlessly through the grass, into the house, and finally into his bedroom. He felt good about the plan, all had gone well. Still, there was the telephone call to the police that was still to be made. He wanted to wait a few more days before making that call. For now, sleep had priority.

Jackson twisted uncomfortably in Jake’s office. Many other people, tortured and possessed, had sat in the same seat telling their own dark tales from their own-sorted pasts. Jackson’s story, sorted as it was, was his own private hell. This room held thousands of stories, but Jackson’s were different and warranted deeper probing.

Jake wanted to help. He had researched many cases like Jackson’s and discovered only a limited number of people who could offer anything in the way of cures. He wondered how he was going to extract the horrible memories from Jackson. He wondered how he was going to integrate the experiences into some logical and acceptable form.

Slowly, Ben took over and continued the story while Randy went to his chair in the inner room and listened.

“Randy went to the telephone booth on the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Vine. It was one of the busiest intersections in town,” continued Ben.

“You’re crazy if you think this will fool the police,” Ben said to Randy as he looked around for any possible witnesses. Jackson never went anywhere without someone seeing him, especially the Faulkner sisters, two old spinsters who spent their days spinning tales about the neighborhood. Truth didn’t’ matter to them, it was a matter of a game of nonsense.

“You keep still and let me handle this, Ben.” Said Randy.

He unfolded a towel he had removed from the kitchen drawer before leaving the house, placed it over the mouthpiece of the receiver and dialed the police station.

Ben started to mutter something, but Randy cut him short.

“Shut up, let’s finish this now. I came prepared,” said Randy.

Randy slid a pair of goulashes out from under his long coat and slipped them on. He remembered seeing this on television many times. He liked the technique and the look.

“Hello, this is the Gainsville Police Department, Milly speaking. May I help you?”

Randy felt Milly would be a pushover.

“That girl,” he said.

“You know, Yvonne, the one you’ve been looking for. I know who might be involved,” said Randy as he watched Ben’s reflection in the glass.

Ben squirmed and flinched with each lie. He was stupid to think Randy could pull off such a thing. Randy wasn’t the type for cunning deception.

Randy was proud of himself. He was delighted to think the top officer of the police department would fall into the web he had spun.

“Where are you calling from?” asked Milly. She, like many of the others had been through all the training given by the police department to handle crank calls. She scored top in her class in voice detection. Milly moved her notepad closer, jotting down the conversation. She hoped to gain a tidbit of information that might yield evidence for the detectives investigating the case. It was also the first time such a call had been made to the station that she was able to get involved.

“Listen, Lady, do you want the information or not?” asked Randy.

He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Satisfied he was alone, he kept talking.

Milly jerked the telephone away when Randy shouted.

Feeling offended, she mustered her most polite voice to continue and said, “Go ahead please.”

Sergeant Matthews paced the floor. He’d worked as a policeman almost as long as the building had been standing in Gainsville. It seemed like home to him. He didn’t have a home in the sense most other people did. He wasn’t married or dating anyone. He didn’t have time.

His work was his life. The city decorated him more than once for his outstanding performance. Those decorations held an important place in his life.

He paced and waited for the telephone call to be traced.

Randy knew from watching many police shows that the police would try to trace the call, so he spoke faster.

“The Benson boys have always been a sore thumb in our community. Revenge would be right up their alley. If I were you, I’d take a close look at that family. You never know what you might find out. Those boys are into just about everything. I wouldn’t put this passed them,” said Randy as he finished his conversation.

He hung up.

The telephone went dead in Milly’s ear.

“Sergeant, he hung up,” she said turning to face Matthews.

“Crap! The only lead we’ve had in weeks and we can’t keep them on the line long enough to trace the call. What did he sound like? Was he old or young? Sergeant Matthews bit down on his cigar and looked out of the window in disgust.

“He sounded old, maybe middle-aged,” said Milly as she stood and handed him her notes from the conversation. She waited, hoping he’d show some sign of satisfaction.

Sergeant Matthews looked out the window after reading the notes.

“Get all the information we’ve got on this case and have the detectives in my office in ten minutes,” barked the Sergeant.

He walked into this office and slammed the door hard enough to rattle windows through out the building.

THIRTY

“Was that so hard?” asked Randy beaming with delight. He folded the towel and placed it in the overcoat’s right pocket. His gloves were placed in the left side. He felt like a man in a detective show. His face flushed with excitement.

“We’ll show them, along with those other idiots.” Said Randy as he opened the telephone booth doors and stepped out into the sunlight.

“Randy,” Ben said, “they could’ve traced the call. If they did, we’re in trouble.”

Randy stood proudly just outside the booth.

“So what?” it’s a pay phone. I didn’t leave any fingerprints and no one saw me. As far as I’m concerned, it was a complete success,” recoiled Randy.

Randy walked home down the street making several changes in his route. Even Mrs. Boomer’s cat was there to witness his normal routine. Once he got home, Randy met the housekeeper who was cleaning the living room carpet in the normal manner, not to raise suspension. Randy’s father hired Rose five years before when Jackson’s mother had died. Randy said hello and went upstairs to his room. He smiled in the mirror, then turned and left the square.

Jake talked to Mary. He offered comfort, but she felt uncomforted. She wondered who she could’ve been so blind. Jackson’s insanity was there all along if only she had looked.

Jackson raised his shoulders, and then let them drop slowly. He took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled.

Ben took over again.

“The call spurred a meeting of a special group of investigators.”

“Gentlemen and Ladies,” said Sergeant Matthews, “we just had a call from someone who might be connected with the recent murder we’ve been working on. We’re not sure if we should take the clue seriously, but we will at least look into it.”

He wedged his thumbs into his pockets and tried to guide the conversation toward finding out the caller’s location and identity.

The investigators took their seats and prepared to take notes.

THIRTY-ONE

Suzanne and Bradley Nelson’s eyes were filled with promise as they drove to Gainsville. Bradley had got a job in the steel plant as a supervisor. Both were glad-he’d been out of work for six months and needed a break. Sue was a schoolteacher and transferred to the Gainsville High for next semester.

Rain pounded on the windshield like hail as they drove up the street to the Barclay house where a Sold sign had replaced a For Sale sign just a few days earlier. Sue was overwhelmed with the possibilities of redecorating her new house. She had applied for the loan with in her name because Bradley was unable to qualify due to his erratic work history.

Even though the house had only been described to her over the phone and she had looked at it only once during a brief visit, she had made a monumental decision to buy it. It was larger than they presently needed, but they had planned to have children and the extra room would be more than enough for a family of five.

Bradley wanted children for a long time, but Sue wanted to wait until they had saved enough money and secured better jobs. Things had been rough for the last three years, but Sue had gone to night school on a grant so she could compete her Masters Degree in Education. She was proud of the money that managed to save by working odd jobs. Bradley had done his part and they’d saved a small nest egg.

Their car rolled to a stop on the street in front of the house. Brad got out, went to Sue’s side of the car and opened the door for her.

“It’s perfect, Honey,” Sue said and sprang from the car.

“Yes, Babe,” said Brad as he reached to hug her.

“There’s so much I want to do,” said Sue as she left his arms and rushed up the wet sidewalk to the front porch.

“Let’s take this one day at a time,” said Brad. “We’ll have lots of time for changes after we get settled in.”

“Do you have the keys?” asked Sue.

“No, you do. I put them in your purse yesterday after we stopped at the Realtor’s office. You know, after we left the motel,” answered Brad.

“Here they are,” said Sue after rummaging through her purse. Her hands shook with excitement as she fumbled with the set of keys to find the key for the front door.

“I’m so excited. After all those apartments, this seems like a mansion,” laughed Sue.

The huge front door opened onto a tiled foyer. It looked larger than it was due to the fact that the furniture hadn’t arrived yet.

“We’ll have our things here soon,” said Sue. “Then this will look more like a home.” She kissed Brad’s cheek and entered the door.

The staircase leading to the second floor was carpeted and was finished with hard Oak railings. The agent handling the sale told them the Oak came from the far Northeast coast, a real find in today’s market. Regardless of where the Oak came from, the wood added the right touch.

The fireplace in the living room had been constructed with hand cut stones. Each stone had been carefully placed with just the right care by professional masons. Behind the fireplace, the study joined a studio and was framed by French doors. The kitchen was at the rear of the house and was the largest room on the main floor, except for the family room. Ceramic tiles lined the counter tops and went halfway up the wall. The last resident for convenience had installed kitchen racks, a pantry, and cabinets.

“Isn’t this the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen?” ask Sue as she enter the kitchen. “What will I do with all this space?”

“You won’t have any problem,” said Brad. “You’ve never had a problem filling every space with something.”

They climbed the stairs to take a look at the bedrooms. Sue had been raised in a large family, and she never got to pick out her own room before.

“Will the moving van be here today?” asked Sue as she walked the upper balcony that overlooked the foyer.

“They’re supposed to arrive today or tomorrow. In the meantime, why don’t we check into those rental garages we passed and see if there are any spaces left? There was a sign with a telephone number I think,” said Brad.

They finished looking at the bedrooms and picked the ones for the children and for themselves.

After locking the front door, they walked down the street to see if they could locate the garages. It may not be used for the car, but it could be used to store things they weren’t going to use right away in the house.

The Wellington home was in the center of the town. Mr. Wellington had invested in the late thirties and bought many of the houses vacated during the depression, including the garage units. He was retired and enjoyed a good income from his properties.

“Mr. Wellington?” asked Brad as he approached the elderly man relaxing on a large veranda of the white turn of the century estate home.

“Yes,” he answered as he moved his cane closer.

“How can I help you young man?” he asked. The man had to be a newcomer to town; people rarely visited the Wellingtons.

“My wife and I just arrived here in Gainsville and we noticed a rental sign on some of the garage unit as we drove into town. We were wondering if all of the units have been rented,” quizzed Brad.

“Not yet,” answered Mr. Wellington.

“Are they very expensive?” asked Brad.

“They’re seventy-five dollars a month,” said Mr. Wellington in a deep voice that meant business.

“That’s reasonable. Are they equipped with electricity?” asked Brad.

“No, but you can use the wire I bought. I had planned on installing electricity, but haven’t had the time or the contractors were too expensive,” said Mr. Willington.

“That’s good. I’d be more than happy to do that for you if we can make a deal for our first month’s rental charge. I tinker on cars from time to time and would like to have electricity if I need it to run some of my equipment,” said Brad.

“The wires in the basement,” Mr. Wellington said as he motioned toward the side of house where the entry door was. “I’ll have my man leave it at rental number four; it’s available, in an hour or so. You can pay me the first fee next month, just bring it by.”

“The moving van is supposed to be here today or tomorrow. If your man could drop it off late tomorrow evening that would be better,” said Brad.

“That’ll be fine,” answered Mr. Wellington.

“Do you want our address?” asked Brad.

“No. When you’ve been around here as long as I have, you know just about all this is to know,” continued Mr. Wellington.

After exchanging parting comments, Sue and Brad walked off the estate and down the road to their new home.

THIRTY-TWO

Brad watched the blue and white moving van pull up their circular driveway and come to a slow stop.

“I was beginning to think they got lost or had a wreck,” said Brad as he turned to Sue.

He looked relieved as Sue took his hand and walked toward the truck.

The two movers climbed from the cab and went to the back of the truck to unlock the doors. When they swung the door open, they exposed a five-year collection of furniture from Brad and Sue’s three prior apartments. Boxes were stacked everywhere, lamps, desks, chairs and who knows what else was piled high into the back of the van.

Sue bought each piece for a particular quality it added to the home. She and Brad helped unload the small things, and by the end of the day both were tired.

Sue directed the movers as they brought things in through the French doors. She loved those doors and as she had anticipated pastel stitching embroidered on her dining room chairs went well with the stained glass of the doors.

The sitting room felt warm and inviting after being filled with furniture. Sue knew that the room would hold romantic times. She took care to color coordinate her furniture just waiting for the day when she and Brad would own their first home.

“How does this look, Honey?” asked Sue as she held up an original painting against the dining room wallpaper.

“Do you think it’s too small for the space? Does it go well with the colors?”

“It looks fine, Dear,” replied Brad. He watched as Sue rearranged things as she unpacked several boxes. A knock on the front door gave a welcomed break from the decorating.

“Brad,” said Sue as she walked back into the room after answering the door.

“Mr. Wellington’s man is here. He has the wire for the garage. Where do you want it?” she questioned.

Brad went to direct the gentleman where in the garage he wanted it placed and thanked him as he left. Brad returned reluctantly to the house and the decorating.

“After we get settled in,” he added, “I want to get those lights up. Maybe I’ll paint the walls too. The wood is old and a little paint won’t hurt. It might brighten it up a bit.”

Brad helped Sue all day. They hung and re-hung several things until everything looked just right. After several hours, Sue took a break and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea. Moving wore her out. It wasn’t one of her favorite things to do. They sat and admired how the house was shaping up, how it was looking like a home.

THIRTY-THREE

The day after the telephone call had been made; Jackson lay across his bed discussing the situation with the others.

“This is just great,” he muttered.

“Everything’s working out fine,” Carl told Ben.

“Not fine-it’s wonderful.”

Carl felt proud for stepping forward to do the things Jackson was too frightened to do himself.

“We’ll see about how wonder that was.” Ben looked at Carl and said, “I’d be ashamed of myself if I were you. You know how God feels about this. We’ve killed a helpless girl and accused innocent people. It’s a shame.” Ben was good at pointing his finger in Carl’s face.

“Shut up!” shouted Carl. “No one asked for your comments. Who cares what you think? You sit there in your suit and shiny shoes and tell us about your perfect ideas and how humanity is all good. Let me tell you something about those ideas. The world is made up of murderers, liars and cheats. You stand there and cast stones at the thing you’ve become. You can’t see it, but it’s true. You wanted to kiss her. Whether you’ll admitted it or not, you wanted to screw her brains out. You’re too high and mighty to say it. To hear you tell it, something’s wrong with everyone but you.”

Carl paced, glancing up once to see if anyone was watching in the inner room.

Ben cringed. Carl’s statements struck him like bullets, each piercing deeper than the one before.

“People don’t go around killing others, much less cutting them up. God and I both hate this more than you know. I’m praying for you Carl. Do you hear me?”

Ben adjusted his collar. He said it all before and it never changes anything. He closed his eyes and moved his lips in silent prayer.

“Besides,” he added, “this time I have a secret.”

Carl hated the way Ben dressed. Ben always wore suites, while Carl preferred jeans and a T-shirt. The things Ben said burned Carl’s soul.

“So what is it?” questioned Carl.

Carl doubted Ben knew anything or even had a secret. He rarely believed Ben. His life revolved around the struggle to grasp moments on the square that would sustain him until his next opportunity to kill. He only felt alive when he was in control. He became more than a man when in control.

“You think I’d tell you? You’re sadly mistaken,” answered Ben as he rubbed his hands together and sat in front of the window. He pondered the results of exposing Jackson any further to the others in the inner room. Time would tell if he was right. Then everyone would see he knew everything there was to know about Jackson.

THIRTY-FOUR

Three months past since Yvonne disappeared. The local newspapers ran the story on the front page, but as the weeks slipped away, the follow-ups were on page five. The children at school whispered about her, but not as often or in as much detail.

Bret’s days became dull and lifeless. He was the only one who thought about Yvonne. The memorial service had been held in the school gym. Students walked there from the library in the routine way. Each held a memory from the times he or she had spoken to Yvonne. They remembered the parties she attended, a glance, and a smile.

The Principal walked to the podium and turned to address the assembly. He saw tears in almost every eye while statements were read; bringing the tragedy closer to the hearts of those special to Yvonne. She would be missed.

Two weeks later, the service was a memory for most, but Bret still cried when he thought of her. He replayed the scenes when they made love. They showed their true love to each other. He remembered her eyes, hair, and fingers. Those special touches she gave him would never be replaced. He filed the tender moments away in his mind only to be recalled when he needed comforting.

Life became empty for Bret. He had no plans left. The possibility of marriage and children were only a memory now. When he heard laughter from the others, he wondered how they could be happy while he was so sad.

“Going to the game Friday?” asked one of the students. “It should be a good one. All the guys are going.”

“I don’t know yet,” replied Bret. But he knew he had no intentions of going to the game. He wondered where his life was headed without Yvonne.

“There’s college, of course, but even that seems empty.

He looked through his biology book noting the pages were worn and ripped where previous students had handled them roughly. That book provided some with the information they needed to make the grade, but for Bret it meant nothing.

Memories flooded through him of happier days as he and Yvonne walked beside streams and smelled the wind laden with fragrances in the forest. Yvonne loved the forest with its colors and life.

He slammed the book shut with a bang. Students jumped in their seats and the teacher scolded them into silence.

After the bell rang, students ran down the halls and out to the waiting buses.

Another day for Bret had ended.

THIRTY-FIVE

Yvonne’s family sat around the kitchen table waiting for dinner. Sharon, Yvonne’s mother, looked older now because of the stress she had been under. The whole affair took its toll on her. Wrinkles replaced the laugh lines on her cheeks and she cried often.

The whipped potatoes steamed as she set the bowl on the table before them. She always set a place for Yvonne, although she didn’t know why. She never offered an explanation. It was false hope, but it was all she had.

She tried to pull herself out of the depression during the weeks that passed after the murder, but she hadn’t had much success. She bought new drapes, had several rooms repainted, and ordered some new cosmetics, but none of it helped.

Suddenly and without notice, she ran from the table in tears. She went up to Yvonne’s room, the one she helped Yvonne decorate in soft pink pastels. It was her little girl’s room and she’d never change it.

She sat on the bed with her head in her hands and cried. She reached for a tissue, but the box was empty.

“Oh, God,” chanted Sharon. “I can’t stand not knowing where my baby is. Please help me.”

“Honey,” said Jack as he entered the room. “Try to be strong. I know it’s hard.”

He went to the side of the bed to stand beside her as she wept.

Sharon slid over and made room for both of them to sit on the bed together.

“It’s hard for me, too.” He said as he kissed her cheek and held her hand. They’d been married for twenty-five years. Now they sat together as fellow travelers and cried for their daughter.

THIRTY-SIX

“Mr. Benson?” asked Sergeant Matthews in his police voice.

“Can I help you, officer?” replied Mr. Benson.

“We have reason to believe your boys may know something about Yvonne, the missing girl. May I come in?” inquired the Sergeant and he looked through the doorway into the house.

“Of course, officer, come in.,” said Mr. Benson as he glanced suspiciously at Bob and Jeff, the two oldest of the five brothers.

“We received a telephone call,” Sergeant Matthews explained.

“From what we could gather, there exists some evidence implicating your boys might have been involved in this murder.”

Sergeant Matthews walked to the sofa and sat down. He noticed a collection of photographs on a bookcase to his left. Several were of a woman, probably Mrs. Benson.

“You have five boys, don’t you?” quizzed Sergeant Matthews.

“Yes,” said Mr. Benson.

“You’re the only parent?”

“Yes.”

“One of your boys has a record of theft, doesn’t he?” ask Matthews.

Mr. Benson seemed lost in thought for a moment.

“Pardon me. What was the question?” asked Mr. Benson.

Sergeant Matthews repeated to him.

“Yes, but that was several years ago. I assure you that nothing has happened since,” said Mr. Benson.

Sergeant Matthew pulled a packet from his coat, unwrapped a yellow envelope and read the contents.

Mr. Benson turned off the television set to be more attentive to the questions. Sergeant Matthews noted Mr. Benson’s discomfort.

“I’m not saying there’s any problem about the past record,” replied the Sergeant. “There exists the possibility of continued crime in such cases. I’d like to ask your boys a few questions.”

He took out his pad and pencil and glanced at Bob and Jeff.

“Were you two home on March twelfth? Were you here alone?” he asked.

“No,” Bob said. “We weren’t here, but Dad was. We went to a game at the school with our friends.”

Mr. Benson nodded. Jeff and Bob looked uncomfortable and shifted their feet.

“That’s right,” Jeff said. “We went to see the county championships that night. We took Dad’s car-that was one of the few times he allowed us to have it.

“Mr. Benson,” Sergeant Matthews said, “I have two detectives waiting outside. They’ll check the boy’s alibi with the other kids at school. We have to follow leads we get, you know that. We also have a search warrant.”

“Is that necessary,” interjected Mr. Benson.

The Sergeant went to the door and motioned the men inside.

Detectives Dalton and Williams started the search. Sergeant Matthews started in the kitchen stopping only briefly to eat a cookie from the cookie jar. Much to his dissatisfaction, the search turned up nothing.

Sergeant Matthews thanked Mr. Benson for his time.

“We’ll contact you if the boy’s story isn’t validated or has a hole in it or if we need anything more.” With that, the policemen returned to their car and drove away.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Light patterns of many kinds caressed the inner room. Never before had they appeared with such consistency. Convulsively changing and ripping at the structure of what had been an environment that hardly ever changed. The existence of God was enough to cast a translucent glow on the crowd in the room.

He walked upright and stately. His form wasn’t like that of any of the others. His vision transcended eras. He walked into the present from periods of time that cradled mankind in the womb of creation.

With cracks appearing and splinters falling, secrets were about to be revealed. The veil of darkness between the real and the unreal had been rent. God arrived in the present, a time he visited before. That time was when Jackson was young. Open-minded and alive to everything, God’s presence wasn’t considered treachery or an invasion. He brought light and life, a life none had ever seen before.

God watched and waited, mentally asking those around him about the nature of the one in the chair, the one who was being held in the inner room. They, in turn, wondered what creature had the right to enter the inner room without being invited.

Thoughts swirled in random circles. The inhabitants of the inner room could hear shouts from the upper levels. Many languages spilled over the balcony and through the door where Ben stood hours before looking out. Protesters came. There were many who would’ve gladly torn the whole thing apart, especially Carl.

God wouldn’t allow that to happen. Each of the inner room dwellers cast accusations and threats at him. They were from the other side.

Ben left the square to greet God. He spoke with him. He thought of God as a friend, not a threat. He was a learned companion, a fellow traveler. He had visited Ben before and took him on several trips into realms of existence beyond the mortal. Sleep released Ben to take God’s hand. It allowed him to travel with God.

Ben walked back to the square, and then God motioned that he would return another time. He floated away, while arms reached for him for the life-filling, white-hot garment he wore. His power filled the room with love and experiences of hope.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The loudspeaker came on and the pilot announced they were on their final approach to the airport. The landing gear descended and locked into place with a clank.

Januari looked out the window at San Francisco. She was tired from her long flight, but looked forward to learning about Jake’s case. He assured her the person she’d meet was one of those special cases. Her next book might be about this man, his life and the intricate twists and turns of his mind. The last case that came close had been in Chicago. She investigated a degenerate man who strangled seven old ladies to death on a subway car. It was interesting, but didn’t have book value.

She checked her seat belt just before the plane dropped through an air pocket. She hated that sinking feeling. That’s one of the reasons she didn’t fly that often. She noticed that the no-smoking lights had been removed from the plane’s overhead panels. Since the non-smoking campaign had started, smoking had been banned on flights. She was glad she gave it up a long time ago. The last time she had smoked was during a camping trip with Jake to a ski lodge in the mountains.

The last snowfall fell locking them in the cabin for the evening. Bird songs echoed from the lake, the trees, and the bushes. The evening was filled with calls of birds ending a day of life and feeding.

The cares of yesterday floated away. Januari and Jake were close then, as close as they’d ever be. They wanted togetherness, something new and exciting, and they spent hours talking, caressing, and planning by the lake.

Jake had rented a small cabin on the North Slope where few travelers ever ventured. It was just the right place for them to spend the needed time and speculate about their lives and make love.

Firewood was stacked near the chimney outside, more than enough for a chilly night’s passing. Chimneys on the south slope were already smoking. The smoke spiraled upwards in the gray overcast sky.

Inside the cabin, flames leaped from the burning logs. The scent of hickory, pine, and chestnut filled the room. The lower level was equipped with modern appliances, while the upstairs held feather beds, maple dressers, and accessories welcoming the visitor with open arms of warmth.

Januari enjoyed herself. A lazy night before the fire provided the setting for smooth conversation and sensuous lovemaking. It was the kind of love she longed for and seldom encountered. She gave herself to him and begged for more. His touch filled her as no other had in quiet some time.

The night crawled slowly by. Januari desperately wanted to relive that night. She often smoked after sex, but since health programs became more popular and more articles appeared about the risks of smoking, she gave it up. She had given Jake up too for the sake of her career.

***************************************

The plane touched down and taxied to the terminal. Januari transferred to a smaller plane, a twin-engine prop-jet for the final leg of her journey. In forty-five minutes she’d be at the airport where her rental car was waiting.

Januari tried to make herself as comfortable as possible in the cramped cabinet of the plane and waited for take off.

THIRTY-NINE

Jake was beginning to have doubts about the outcome of Jackson’s case. He had wanted the case as soon as Dr. Cantbey called and told him about Jackson, but now wondered if it had been the right thing to do.

Jackson cried a lot between the times Ben told the story and Carl or someone else took control of his body. Jackson vacillated from reality to fantasy without control now. He mumbled things about why he felt the way he did. But they didn’t make much sense. He spoke of telephone calls at work and the girl on the other line. He mentioned hours in the office restroom where he vomited repeatedly. He spoke of Denny and his eating binges and how everything he touched went into his mouth. He ate like a wild animal, and he wondered if Denny would be forever inflecting him with a curse.

He mentioned Carl, Darrell, John, Randy and God. If it hadn’t been for Ben, Jackson would never have been able to survive. Even at that, Jackson couldn’t keep up the pretenses Ben suggested. The standards preached to Jackson over the years were as unattainable as the reaching the stars in the night’s sky.

Ben never told Jackson he couldn’t be perfect. For years, Ben reminded him of the superhuman standards he needed to maintain.

Jackson didn’t know where to turn. The cracks in his inner room make him realize he was just a man, nothing more, nothing less. Ben, the one with all his lies, formulated a plan that was right for him, but it meant death for Jackson.

Ben fed him continual quotes, stories and misinterpreted data to convince him he could be perfect. Jackson became confused and frustrated. He wondered who God was, an incubus, specter or was he someone real.

Jake explored Jackson’s mind more deeply than his other clients. He did it partly because of Mary. He felt she deserved an explanation for Jackson’s behavior and his desperate act of suicide.

He glanced at his watch. Januari should be arriving within the hour. She’d be a welcomed sight.

Mary turned to Jake and let out a hopeless sigh. She didn’t know whom to believe anymore. The faces Jackson was showing were new to her, and they weren’t the one she had married. She wanted Jackson back. She wanted her life back.

Ben took control and began the story where he had left off.

FORTY

The bus made its final stop before arriving at school. Jackson got on and looked for a seat. As usual, none of the others made room for him. After he found a place, a somewhat secluded one at the rear of the bus, the conversations arose between the students again.

Jackson listened as several children discussed the police going to the Benson’s house, but Jeff and Bob denied they were accused of any wrongdoing. They made their usual boasts that the police couldn’t do anything with them. They were at the ball game that night.

Randy hadn’t thought of that.

“Now what?” asked Ben.

“I told you God would stop you. He hates people like you. If you’ll bother to remember, I told you this would happen. You’ll get us thrown into prison. I’m not responsible for this mess, and I won’t be put on the spot for it either. I had no part in it.” Shouted Ben as he pulled his collar up over his ears and looked away from the others.

“Shut up,” said Randy. “I’ll think of something.”

He pondered often during the day while Jackson was off daydreaming. Later, when they were all home, Randy paced the floor trying to come up with something.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” announced Randy. “We’ll call the police again, that’s all. No big thing, right?”

Randy took over and went to the door to listen. Nothing was stirring in the house, everyone had gone out. He dressed hurriedly, and then moved cautiously down stairs carefully avoiding the creaking boards.

Once outside, the sidewalks stretched out like pale ribbons from old prom dresses, worn and tattered. Busy with riders, shops buzzed with chatter, music, and the clinking of coins. Randy didn’t bother with Jackson’s familiar stops for doughnuts or sandwiches to appease Denny. Randy felt wonderful and alive. He loved freedom as much as the others did. He wanted to live, to feel the blood rush through his veins. Jackson didn’t know how far his inner friends would go to reach the real world. They felt Jackson owed them that much since they had protected him from his enemies.

The phone booth was just ahead. Randy wore the same clothes he did the time before. If confronted, Jackson would have to explain why he was wearing his father’s overcoat and hat.

Ben was mad about it, but there was little he could do. Randy maneuvered into the booth and prepared to make the call.

Clouds billowed overhead promising rain. Wind rushed through the cracks in the door. The interior of the booth was spotted with dust and spider webs. The sounds of cars echoed from outside.

Randy watched as the cars drove by. They resembled little eggs. Some, for those who could afford them, were pieces of art.

Randy lifted the receiver and dialed the number. Ben was uneasy as he watched from the reflection of the booth.

“Gainsville Police Department, Milly speaking. May I help you?”

Milly's voice was one of the most pleasant in town. She made her telephone personality a hobby, refining her tone and pitch until she sounded like a real Hollywood star.

“Listen, Bitch,” said Randy; “I told you before that the Benson boys have the evidence-a locket. You guys are so stupid that if the murdered walked into your office, you wouldn’t even know it.”

Ben tried not to listen and covered his ears.

Milly signaled Sergeant Matthews to pick up the extension.

“We told you before,” Randy said. “You’re a bunch of idiots who couldn’t find your behinds if they weren’t attached. You get my drift? I you look in the grass or near the house, you’ll find what you’re looking for. Do I have to do it for you?” shouted Randy as he slammed the phone down.

The booth shook with the force of the blow. Randy was shaken, too. Not from fear, but from the thrill he got thinking about what he just did.

“That’ll get them started,” he mumbled.

“Milly, what do you think?” asked Sergeant Matthews.

“It sounds like a young man, Sir. There was something different about this caller, a tone in his voice.” She replied.

“So do I, but what?” Sergeant Matthews brushed his few remaining hairs back from his forehead and walked to the window. He watched children playing ring toss in the adjacent schoolyard. They loved the game because they played it everyday.

He loved children. He thought when he first dated Donna in high school they’d get married and have children of their own, but like other things, it hadn’t worked out. He remembered sitting with her in the backyard making plans that seemed so certain.

America felt like the playground of the world and he was a player in it. It was a place where things would turn out the way they should. Donna eventually found someone else, someone more business minded and left him.

Milly’s voice brought him back into their conversation. They disappeared into his office to discuss the call.

A battle of words was being fought between Randy and Ben.

“Randy,” Ben said, “you forgot the towel this time. They’ll recognize the voice this time.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Randy replied. “They’ll find the locket and it just won’t matter.

FORTY-ONE

Brad made the last connection and stood back to admire his work. Even though he wasn’t an electrician, he felt he had done a good job.

Two months had passed since he rented the garage. His job was going well, and the already had a raise. He wanted a new car, something big enough for a family. Sue was three months pregnant and a new car would keep him from worrying if he would be able to get her to the hospital for her checkups.

When it rained, the garage floor got wet, and mud stuck to Brad’s shoes and the tires of his car. He made an arrangement with Mr. Wellington to pour concrete on the floor of the garage to keep his new car’s tires and his feet out of the mud.

Mr. Wellington asked Brad to remove some old pipes from the garage floor before pouring the concrete. They reached an agreement about additional months being rent-free and Brad bought the materials he needed to complete the job.

The first day, Brad cleaned the front of the garage facing the highway and started digging through the first layer of soil.

When Sue appeared in the doorway, Brad smiled and stretched his sore shoulders. She was a welcomed sight and he good company.

“I thought you’d like some company,” she said. “It’s lunch time and I was about to make myself a sandwich. Would you like one too?” she asked.

“You must’ve read my mind,” said Brad. “This manual labor is hard on my shoulders.”

After a quick kiss, Sue disappeared for a short time, went into the house and prepared a couple of tuna sandwiches. Returning to the garage, she handed them to Brad. He drank from the soda Sue brought and stood beside her to survey his progress while eating his sandwiches.

“How’s it going, Hun?” questioned Sue as she tried to imagine what the finished product would look like.

“Okay, the dirt’s not too hard, but my back hurts a bit and my arms. You think I’m too old for this kind of thing?” Brad asked.

Finishing his sandwiches and setting the drink can aside; he grabbed his pick again and started where he had left off. He pounded the ground repeatedly, and then reached for his shovel. Moving slowly back into the back of the garage went rather smoothly, but cost a lot of sweat.

The shovel got stuck in the dirt.

“What’s this?” He heaved as hard as he could until the ground around the tip of the shovel separated and rose up.

“Oh, my God!” said Brad as he fell back against the wall of the garage.

FORTY-TWO

Sergeant Matthews dispatched Detective Dalton and Williams to search the grounds around the Benson house.

During their absence, Matthews directed two other detectives to take statements from students at the school. The men drove off in a hurry. The entire department would be in trouble if the case couldn’t be solved.

When the men questioned the students about Bob and Jeff’s whereabouts the evening of the murder, both boys’ alibis were strong and on point.

Dalton and Williams searched the grounds around the Benson house for hours. Finally, they found the locket under the window. They immediately called Sergeant Matthews and told him of the discovery.

Mr. Benson and his sons were taken into custody and driven to the station for questioning. After the taking their statements and informing them of the rights, they were appointed legal counsel.

“You don’t have a thing on my boys!” shouted Mr. Benson.

“We aren’t saying they’re guilty,” replied Sergeant Matthews.

“We found a locket, though, and the grass had soil residue from around the place where the body might be found. Yvonne’s mother has already identified the locket as being her daughter’s.

Detective Sodoski walked to the Coke machine and made her selection. The can rolled out the bottom and dropped onto the floor.

“Crap, that one will spurt from here to kingdom come.” She said. She picked up the can and placed it on the desk, then took her chair.

“I don’t give a damn what was said out there,” she began.

“While I’m in here, I’ll go over everything there is to say all over again. Get to the point and won’t waste my time. What were your boys doing the night of the murder? We have a statement from the other kids at school, but I want to hear it from you. Tell me all you know about Yvonne, her locket, and your boys,” quizzed Detective Sodoski.

FORTY-THREE

“Brad, what is it?”

Sue walked to the front of the garage after hearing Brad through the kitchen window

“You don’t want to see this,” said Brad.

“Go call the police,” he instructed.

Sue stepped into the garage.

“Stop, call the police immediately! Tell them to get here as fast as they can. There’s something they have to see.”

Brad leaned against the wall and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

Sue didn’t ask any questions, but she wondered what had Brad so unnerved.

Once inside, she called the police department and gave Milly the information. Milly told her a car was on its way and to remain calm. Sue finished the call and went back out to the garage to check on Brad.

“Don’t come any closer!” yelled Brad. “You stay right where you are!”

He never yelled at her.

“Get back in the house right now. I’ll be there after the police arrive. Go now and stay there!” said Brad in a demanding voice.

Brad walked back to the shovel and its contents.

He held his stomach and hoped his sandwich would stay down. He stepped to the doorway of the garage and waited until the police arrived.

“What’s the problem here?” asked Sergeant Matthews as he got out of his car.

Brad just pointed.

Sergeant Matthew walked to the spot where the shovel was laying and viewed its contents.

“God. This must be the girl we’ve been looking for.” Sergeant Matthews said in a low voice. As he looked closer, bits of soil lay in the eye sockets. The gaping slash wound was ugly, full of maggots, and lay open. It had been about two months since Yvonne had disappeared and the body was still decomposing.

Sergeant Matthews shook his head and walked to his car where he called Milly.

“Milly, Sergeant Matthews, get the coroner’s office on the phone and tell them to send an ambulance. I think we’ve found our girl.” He said.

Brad slumped onto the ground outside the garage.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Mr. Nelson,” said Sergeant Matthews, “a young girl was reported missing in town a few months ago. In such a small town, it’s highly unusual for anyone to go anywhere or do anything without others knowing. This is one of the common problems we have here in Gainsville. Until today, know one had any idea as to where this girl had slipped off to or what had happened to her.”

Sergeant Matthews went in and removed more of the remains. The pieces came out of the ground with a wet sucking sound. He worked the ground in several places and found nothing more.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said the Sergeant. “The bastard cut her up. There are some sick people in this world, you know.”

“You’d better go lie down,” said the Sergeant as he directed Brad to his house.

“Are you okay, Brad?” asked Sue as she helped Brad to the sofa.

“Just let me sit for a minute. I don’t want to talk about it yet. Give me a couple hours to get my strength back.” Replied Brad as he lay back and tried to make sense of it all.

Confused, Sue went into the kitchen and reluctantly allowed Brad a few minutes alone. She looked out the window to watch the turn of events at the garage.

After the police finished their investigation and Sergeant Matthews sent someone to check on the coroner, the Sergeant walked slowly back to his car.

FORTY-FOUR

Forensic medicine was never the talk at a social gathering or party, but for Sam Gilford, it was his life. He was a lean, thirty-year old, hard workingman with a short temper. Sam was one of the pillars of the community. Since Kathy, his ex-wife, left him he had little else to occupy his time. Most of his life was spent examining the remains of other people’s bodies. It wasn’t something to write home about, but it paid the bills.

He quickly learned how to handle even the worst murders, mutilations or natural death cases. Sam worked meticulously and soon was the best in the business.

******************************************

Sam’s telephone rang.

“Hello,” answered Sam.

“This is Jeff Brooks at the police department. Sergeant Matthews requests a forensic team at twelve twenty-one Magnolia Street. It’s an emergency,” said the officer.

Sam just finished one case and had another waiting.

“Tell him we’ll be right there as soon as I ready here,” replied Sam.

He hung up the phone, turned to Jayson, his assistant who was busy completing the paperwork on the current case and instructed him to prepare to leave.

“You’d think this was New Year’s Eve the way bodies are turning up,” said Sam.

Jayson was an up and coming forensic specialist. He recently graduated from college and got a job with Sam.

“Yes sir, we’ll be ready to go in a minute. I’ll bring the van around and make sure everything’s ready,” stated Jayson as he hurried to finish the papers in front of him.

After placing the papers in a file cabinet, Jayson slipped on his nylon jacket, took out the keys, and left to drive the van to the front.

It was a strange time for such a call, but as Jayson walked to the van, he imagined all the things that might have happened. He remembered when a body had been totally crushed between two large pieces of metal at the factory. The company involved paid a lot for that accident, but the widow never got over the loss.

Jayson pushed his glasses up onto this nose and rubbed the perspiration from his forehead as he hurried to get the van.

“Remember to check the gas,” shouted Sam from the window.

Jayson forgot that once and has never lived it down.

“Sometimes, he grates on me,” muttered Jayson as he turned the corner and entered the street next to the forensic office.

“If he thinks I’m so forgetful, why doesn’t he just do it himself?” he said to himself.

Inside, Sam gathered the necessary supplies for the task that lay ahead. It wasn’t the most exciting thing to be doing on a Friday evening, but he never planned for his nights anymore. He moved like a machine, logically placing tools in his bag, and then he set them beside the door and put on this coat. He walked outside expecting to see the van waiting.

“Did you check everything?” asked Sam.

“Yes, I did,” answered Jayson as he looked out the opposite window and away from Sam.

Sam placed his bags inside and got in.

Jayson used his turn signal and pulled into the traffic.

“How serious do you think this one is?” asked Jayson.

“I didn’t get much of the phone, but form the sound of officer’s voice, it’s important. Sergeant Matthews has been a friend for some time now. If he wanted the town to know what he was doing, he would’ve had the man tell me. I’m betting they found the missing girl’s body,” Sam said.

Sam settled back for the thirty-minute drive through town. Jayson took them down Bush Street, through the old business district, and then onto Magnolia.

Sam took a cigarette from his pack and lit it. He rolled down the window, leaned back and blew smoke rings until the cigarette was finished.

FORTY-FIVE

Jake was stunned by the story as it continued to unfold in his hands. All his previous cases seemed like child’s play compared to this one. Sweat beaded on his forehead; he wiped it off with a tissue.

“Hey, Doc. Guess who?”

Carl liked teasing Jake. He stood and paced across the office as he spoke to them both.

“Doc, you aren’t going to hear anymore today, you son of a bitch. You sit in this room everyday making people like Jackson feel like crap. Why do you think you’re better than they are? You have things you don’t want people to know about yourself. What about the skeletons in your closet?” asked Carl?

Jake sat and watched. He was engrossed by the changing personalities he saw.

“Can I ask you something, Carl?” said Jake.

“Why not? You don’t seem to have a problem asking all the others everything there is to know,” said Carl as he paced back and forth.

“You want to help Jackson, don’t you? You feel you’re an outlet for Jackson’s anger. Do you feel that you’re part of the problem or part of the answer?” quizzed Jake.

“Doc, let me tell you this. Jackson’s the problem. He always has been and he always will be. If it weren’t for me, he’d never be anything. I bring him to peaks of excitement that no one else can. I allow him, in a small way to be that hero, the beast we all have inside. He wants and needs me. There are times when I don’t feel needed, especially when Ben’s around. He causes more problems than he realizes,” said Carl.

“Ben’s the one you should concentrate on, Doc, not me! I’m here to help Jackson accept things the way they are. The world isn’t friendly or good. For years, Ben’s been feeding Jackson lies. He tells him I’m out to get him, when all I ever wanted for Jackson was the chance to be what he wanted to be. Ben stands in my way telling me how wrong everything is, but those are things the human race does all the time. I give Jackson a sense of satisfaction. If there aren’t little vices, then there has to be big ones. The big ones cause a lot of pain. People smirk at them, like murder for example. If they only knew the rush I got from that, they’d understand the need for more like me. I’m Jackson’s friend, not his enemy. I want free him from the guilt Ben puts on him,” Carl proudly says.

Carl looked at the glass figurines in the window, and then he turned towards Jake.

“You believe that, don’t you?” Dr. Fine asked.

“You really think Ben’s the one I should work on, not you. You think he’s evil, not you,” said Jake.

Carl’s appearance changed from the face he normally wore when coming out to one Jake had never seen before, a more primeval one.

His eyes shrank back into their sockets, and the color of his irises changed from brown to deep yellow. The hairline receded causing the skull to bulge forward leaving the forehead’s bones fully exposed. Carl’s hand extended and became hairier. Nails the size of claws protruded from the each of the fingertips. His chest swelled until the shirt ripped open.

“Do you really want to see me?” asked Carl.

“Do you really want to see me?”

“Do you really want to see me?”

“Or do you think you’ve seen enough?”

Carl stared at the pulse in Jake’s throat. He could smell the blood. He wanted to take him.

“Carl, let me see Ben. I must see him again.” Jake said sternly. Jake was frightened and the fear showed on his face.

“Why?” asked Carl as saliva dripped from his mouth.

“You can’t see him just yet. He’s outside the inner room, near the end of eternity. He’s watching for God. Only he can free Jackson and all of his friends. Only the God can save Jackson. Do I make myself clear? If I have anything to do with it, you never see Ben again,” said Carl.

The air in the office reeked of sweat and fear. Carl’s presence placed everyone in jeopardy – Jake, Mary, and Jackson. If Jackson ever slipped under Carl’s control completely, Jake would never be able to help him. If Carl decided not to let Ben take over again, Jake wouldn’t be able to judge how he’d act or what he’d do.

The secret had to be finished. Ben had to find God and Carl had to be vanquished forever.

Mary stared in disbelief and horror. For the first time in her life she regretted marrying Jackson. If she survived this she’d divorce him and never look back.

FORTY-SIX

Ben sat near the edge of eternity. He went there only twice before. Once it was by mistake, and the other time he’d been summoned by a power greater than his. He sat on a chair formed by his thoughts. He was determined to find a way to invite God back to help Jackson.

Eternity gave Ben the feeling and power he needed to finish the job. There he could watch worlds unfold, become new, reshape, and repopulate with souls. Souls of every shape, size, color, and level of light illuminated the darkness. They were trapped like he was, in places they hadn’t chosen to be in, but had a part to play. Ben saw thousands of yesterdays swirling and pulsing as they formed a life.

Time stood still there because there was no time. Ben wondered what time meant. It was something that was measured by those affected by it. To Ben, time meant nothing, to Jackson, time as a taskmaster.

Ben thought about Jackson. He wondered why he was sent to be one of Jackson’s friends and the leader of his life. Ben watched others being given to new ones, but that wasn’t the case for him. He didn’t mind though. The others were the problem, not him.

Light moved in parallel lines from the far sides of the imaginary screen that resembled a wide screen television. To Ben, life was a multifaceted screen with many levels of existence proven by the soul each time it entered. The lives Ben saw consisted of different times, things to do, and places in which to travel, to help someone.

Ben remembered the first time Jackson was a part of him. It was an old life, but it was filled with places, faces and experiences. Wine was the major product, that along with sheep. For him, it was his life. Ben watched from the inner room then with little interaction with the host. There was no need to help at the time. He made decisions about his own interactions and waited for Jackson to call him for help. Nevertheless, he lived that life, and then he passed into another. There, Ben watched as Jackson worked long and hard, somewhat like Carl. He was cruel then, and he didn’t change until he passed into another life.

Ben remembered a fantasy time near the end of the last life where he was caught between lives. He waited and watched, expecting to be called for a more important job. As he waited, the key to Jackson’s inner room door was sent to him. At the time, Ben wondered what he was wanted for and what he could do to help this person.

Love was evident in eternity-it was light blue in color. It was elastic, and it stretched wherever it needed to go with ease. It meant everything to Ben. It was the way to help and hold Jackson in a place where God could talk with him. Through love, God could elevate the human mind into total awareness. Through love, God could call scenes from anywhere in the universe into Jackson’s mind.

Ben searched the sky for the point from which God came, but for now it was hidden from view without an explanation.

FORTY-SEVEN

The pilot of the small twin-engine plane announced they were descending into Arcadia. Januari watched the clouds outside the window. Each pillow of white and silver rose and fell with grace. She loved them. Watching clouds had been the best thing she had experienced since she left home.

Air from the vent overhead blew against her. She didn’t mind, especially since the new look was whatever a person wore at the moment. That was the most interesting thing about the modern age-anything goes. It reminded her of her youth. She liked part of it, while other parts she could’ve done without. She blushed slightly as she thought of those unique times.

She tightened her belt around her. Landing was the most dangerous part of any flight. Januari remembered hearing that somewhere. It came on the news after another DC-10 had crashed killing everyone on board. She couldn’t imagine a plane crash and hundreds of people dying. Still, she wondered about it each time she got on board and headed to a destination.

She looked at the smiling faces around her, wondering how they’d feel if the plane broke into pieces during the final approach, bursting into flames as it spiraled downward. It would blow up upon impact, leaving maybe a few survivors. Januari always imagined herself as one of the lucky ones.

She thought about that, and then dismissing the thought, she sat upright in her seat, clutched the armrest and prepared for the landing.

The airplane settled onto the small runway without any problems at all. It glided to a stop in front of the ramp. The telescopic ramp connected to allow the passengers inside the plane to debark.

Januari went to the rental desk.

“I’m Januari Winters,” she said. “I called ahead and reserved a Lincoln Town car. Is it ready?”

“Yes, Ms. Winters. It’s parked outside. An attendant will bring your luggage to the car and assist you with any heavy items. I’m sure the car will be more than adequate while you’re here. If there’s anything else we can do for you, please call us,” said the clerk.

An attendant retrieved her luggage from baggage claim, and then carried it outside to the waiting car.

“Please,” Januari said, “be careful with that plaid case. I have some important things inside and I don’t want them broken.” She signed the papers for the rental and waited for the attendant to finish.

She thought of Jake.

Suddenly, her nipples were tingling, her heart was racing, and she felt flushed with fever. Even after so many years, he still affected her in a special way.

She went outside to the waiting car.

“Young man, you’ve been more than kind. I’ll handle the rest myself. This is for all the trouble,” she said as she handed him a white envelope with a ten- dollar tip inside.

The gentleman thanked her and went in to assist the next customer.

The car was new, white in color with a maroon interior. Januari liked the rich leather seats accented with mahogany inlays. The car was equipped with a cellular phone that she immediately picked up and punched in the number to Jake’s office.

Traffic seemed to flow well in his small mountainous town nestled in the foothills of the Redwood Wood Forest.

“Hello, I’m here,” said Januari. “With the help of modern technology, we’ll get together again after all these years.

“Wonderful,” replied Jake on the other end of the line. “I look forward to seeing you. You do have the address to the office?” he asked. “I’m in the middle of something unlike anything I’ve ever seen in all of my years of personality manifestations. So, hurry as quickly as you can. I can’t wait to see you.”

Januari sensed Jake needed help. She wondered what could’ve unsettled him so.

“I hope you’re here to work, Januari,” he said. “Believe me; you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you.” With that introduction, he hung up the phone.

“Now what on earth is going on up here in this little town?” mumbled Januari.

She buckled her seat belt, lowered the steering wheel, and started the engine. As she drove off, her imagination went to work.

Overhead, the previously warm bright clouds had turned a dismal gray.

FORTY-EIGHT

The air in the lab swirled and the smell and fumes of the chemicals Sam and Jayson used during their search for the answers to the puzzle that lay before them were almost more than they could stand. More often than not, the bodies were torn, cut, or smashed almost beyond recognition. This one was no exception.

Sam examined Yvonne’s remains meticulously. He studied the pieces lying on the slab before him with care. All the remains had been found and brought to the lab.

“The first blow was to the chest. That separated the sternum. The second was to the skull and in combination to the rupture of the sternum resulted in death,” Sam pointed out to Jayson.

He folded the flesh back from the skull and showed Sergeant Matthews where the knife had initially struck the victim.

“You see?” asked Sam.

“Whoever did this is a beast. Who’d do such a thing to an innocent and attractive girl?” quizzed Sam.

“That depends on the killer’s state of mind and what drove him to do this. I’ve seen worse. There are some people who are capable of anything when driven by the right stimuli,” answered Sergeant Matthews.

Sam walked to the sink, removed his gloves and washed his hand in alcohol. He dried them on a paper towel before turning back to Sergeant Matthews.

“The instrument used was a large knife. The killer also had an ax or hatchet, maybe a hammer too,” said Sam.

Jayson stood near the telephone waiting for any further calls from the police department about the investigation. The police get impatient for details. That’s their job. At least Sergeant Matthews was there on hand to get the news first.

“Sam,” Sergeant Matthews said, “The parents are pillars of the community. They’re very distressed. I haven’t called them, but I have to tell them something. You know how the papers will be all over this the moment they get wind of our discovery. They’ll blow it out of proportion as they always do. I know it’s important to report all we can to them, but let’s keep this quiet for a little while. Let me at least call the parents first.”

Sergeant Matthews reluctantly walked into Sam’s office and dialed Yvonne’ home. He dreaded this part of his job.

FORTY-NINE

“You stay here, Honey,” said Jack as he looked for his jacket.

“I’ll go,” he said as he slipped on the jacket and took the car keys from the wall holder.

“I’m not staying here!” shouted Sharon as she walked to the closet and pulled her coat from the hanger. She walked passed Jack and out the door to the car.

“I won’t have you any more upset than you are already. What if it’s not Yvonne? This could be a mistake. It would be too much after all that’s happened,” said Jack as he tried to persuade Sharon to stay at home.

“I don’t intend on sitting here when Yvonne might be waiting for me, you know how she gets when she has to wait,” Sharon said as she got in the car and closed the door behind her.

They rode to the office in silence.

Rain struck the windshield and slid down the side windows. Jack and Sharon didn’t feel much like talking. It was just not the time for it.

Jack parked the car and begged Sharon to stay outside until he was finished, but she refused. She walked up the steps without speaking a word.

Jack hurried to catch up. After entering the front office, they walked down the long hallway and into Sam’s office.

“Please stay here, Sharon,” Sam said. “Jack can make the identification.”

Sharon reluctantly agreed and sat in the office awaiting the final news about her baby.

Jack followed Sam down the corridor as memories flooded through his mind.

He remembered Yvonne speaking her first words. It wasn’t Daddy, but he always enjoyed it when she called for him. I almost broke his heart to discipline her, even when she needed it. He remembered having to correct her sternly only once; then he went to his room out of her sight and cried.

As the smell of alcohol struck his nose, he regretted every harsh thing he had ever said to her and tried to push the memories out of his head to prepare for the task before him.

Sam stepped to the table and asked Jack if he was ready.

With a nod, Jack signaled to go ahead and uncover her.

“Oh, God!” was all Jack could say after seeing his little girl mangled and half-eaten.

Jack covered his face with his hands and cried bitterly. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. His heart ached down to his soul and grief filled him.

Sam and Sergeant Matthews helped Jack back to Sam’s office.

Sharon looked up and recognized the look on Jack’s face. It was Yvonne. They huddled in a corner together trying to gain some level of comfort, a comfort that was not there to find.

Sam finished the paperwork and pushed it to the corner of his desk. Sergeant Matthews left the office feeling almost as grief-stricken as Jack and Sharon. He was no closer to finding the killer today than he was yesterday.

As soon as Jack could talk, he gave Sam the answers needed for the arrangements to move the body to the funeral home.

Jack and Sharon helped each other to the car and drove home without a word.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Much to Jake’s relief, Ben regained control in the inner room. He knew Carl would be back and he didn’t relish seeing another display of his lawlessness.

Jake listened to Ben explain the comings and goings of the personalities he lived with for eighteen years. Some he knew longer, but the ones that lived with Jackson were different. Ben longed for the moment when he could take complete control. He wanted to be the perfect man with all the answers. He imagined what he’d be able to do and the way that could make changes in the world.

The world needed changing. It was the most corrupt thing he’d ever seen since he first was introduced to those living with Jackson.

“Dr. Fine,” said Ben. “You’d be surprised to know that once in Jackson’s life he was a teacher of the faith. He chose, without knowing it, part of the secrets of the universe that were little known to this world. He enlightened a small corner of a very dark world.”

Ben faced Mary. She was in a daze after seeing all the changes, but she had loved Jackson for more than half her life. She couldn’t give up on him entirely.

“The world was one of the darkest retreats for unwanted souls came to live, but given the opportunity, they fled to the inner rooms of thousands of people and settled there for the chance of seeing real life just once. It wasn’t easy, but they succeeded in finding a person in which to live. Jackson knew this. He wanted to remove them from the face of the earth. He wanted to remove his own, too, but he failed. The thing that made it impossible was that some of the others were stronger than he had expected. When he tried to expel them, they revolted. War broke out within Jackson. I fought for Jackson. He needed me more than he could understand. The only way to help Jackson was for me to ask God to take him out of the problem he was in for a while so he could heal. With time, Jackson would be able to cope with us all,” continued Ben.

Ben’s story took another twist, a memory of a solitary time for healing for Jackson. He thought the Doc should know about how they allowed Jackson the time to change for them.

It was summer in the valley, and songs of God’s love echoed in the air. The cares of yesterday drifted into a time of abandoned desires and disappeared. God and Jackson were close then, unified in thought and deed, or as close as possible for a human Jackson thought. Hours of singing helped introduce them and words became a past time when Jackson had no one else to talk with.

Each person added his part to the unseen tapestry formed from the unseen energies of higher spheres of existence. Life emerged from the desire to know the truth. Angels came, citizens and messengers from another plane to spend endless days with him.

Mornings were spent in deep thought. Feeling good and light, Jackson walked home from his secluded hideaway in the forest. When he entered the living room, he lay across the sofa. His mind was full of plans and celestial thoughts. Words to familiar songs formed on his lips and in his heart. He sluggishly mouthed the words and phrases, singing several verses and adding new ones.

“What does it all mean?” he asked.

“Where am I going?” he continued to query.

Outside, time flowed on. He heard children outside laughing and others talking. Summer sounds engulfed the room.

Accompanied only by a friend at first, Jackson took God’s hand and drifted into timeless space. Periodically, as if called by one specter or another, Jackson recognized each individual who had entered the room where he stood having communion with God.

Nearly incapacitated, he willingly surrendered to the unseen invitation to accompany God on a voyage that would reshape his life. It would form part of his belief, offer interpretation and alter his conception of life from that day forward.

Jackson ventured forward. He opened his mind’s eyes and saw a speeding car on an unknown course traveling from his home. Geometric designs glistened on the back window of the light blue automobile. He saw several individuals through the rear window and he knew them by sight.

Tires whined against black macadam as the car sped south. The black ribbon of highway sandwiched between fields of ripening watermelons, stretched for endless miles ahead.

“Do you hear me, Dr. Fine?” asked Ben as he waved his hand in front of Jake's face.

Jake was aware of the change in Ben’s personality. He wondered what Ben was doing.

“I know what happened to Jackson. I didn’t at the time, but now as I experience it as he did, I understand,” said Ben.

Ben seemed in a trance. He slowly slipped into the realm Jackson visited during his first experience with God. Just as Ben was completely in trenched, the doorbell rang.

It was Januari.

.

Fingerprints appeared on Jackson’s throat. They tightened restricting the flow of blood and cutting off his attempts to speak. He became weak and helpless, and then fell onto the floor.

Januari opened the door and entered the room when no one had answered the door. From the sounds that were being emitted from the session room, she gathered there was a serious problem. She went to the door and opened it only to be confronted by intense vibrations slicing through the air. She felt them in every corner of the room.

“Jake! What’s happening? What have you done? Couldn’t you see this was more than you could handle? You should’ve called for me long before now!” shouted Januari as she made her way through the forces in the room and found a chair next to Jake.

“I’m sorry, Januari, but his force, his life, his personalities were toying with me. Now they’re doing more than playing. They seem ready to kill Jackson,” said Jake. He searched for a pen he lost during the last session, but decided to forget about writing anything down and depend on the recorder to capture the whole chain of events.

“Mary, his poor wife, is horrified,” said Jake. “She swears she won’t go home with Jackson under any circumstances. I can’t say I blame her.”

He held out the notes for Januari to read, then got up and went over to Jackson.

“Ben!” he shouted. “You must gain some kind of control.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Doctor, I’m Tom. You don’t know me, but I can release Jackson from Carl. Carl plans to kill Jackson. He has planned to do it if God allowed the revelation to be told.

Jake listened to Tom’s deep southern drawl. It sounded like he was from the Carolinas or Georgia.

“If you can help, please do,” instructed Jake. “Carl’s going to do something and we are helpless to stop him. You must help,” pleased Jake.

Tom walked to his chair in the inner room, took a seat and waited.

First there were more marks on Jackson’s throat, then less, then came the sounds of struggle from within. Guttural sounds escaped from Jackson’s throat. Then the red marks disappeared and the silence.

“Januari, we should let Jackson rest before going forward with his treatment,” Jake said. “I hope you came prepared to deal with this, to help me.” He looked questioningly at Januari seeking a promise or chance of success.

Januari read the notes that Jake wrote during the weeks when Ben told about the murder. She read them carefully. After examining each story, she was sure it was a case of inner personality fragmentation. Not only that, but in several cases she had read and participated in, the fragmentation occurred many years before, that made unification much more difficult.

It wasn’t impossible, though. Nothing is impossible. The cases had to be handled delicately and each was different. Some of the personalities wouldn’t relinquish their part of the host. If that happened, death resulted.

“Jake,” said Januari. “It seems you should’ve known you wouldn’t have been able to handle this intense case, in light of the rate of decline and the uncontrollable patient.”

“You don’t understand, Januari. The personality I’ve been talking to has been in control, verbal and very understanding. There have only been a few episodes of belligerence. You speak as if I haven’t taken the other possibilities into account. I did. I assure you. This man has multiple problems, not just one or two. If we rescue him from this, we’ll be doing good. Do I make myself clear? You must think of something that insures us a victory,” said Jake.

“Jake, rest assured I’ll use everything in my power to retrieve your patient from the grip of the sinister creature that has him. Let’s get to work,” said Januari as she looked around the room.

“First, lower the lights. The personalities need a softer atmosphere in which to manifest themselves. Each will be present occasionally. We must try to make them as welcome as possible. I hope you have plenty of coffee because this is going to be a long night,” sighed Januari, as she pulled the drapes and turned the lights down.

With coffee brewing and lights lowered, Januari started her preparations for entering the inner room.

Mary watched without much faith in Januari. She’d been through enough already and felt the situation would be just one bad experience to keep her awake at night. She wanted peace away from this insanity.

They moved the chairs to the side of the office to allow more space in the center of the room. There the chant would begin and their spirits would materialize.

The inner room was the apex of all of Jackson’s lives. Januari wasn’t afraid. She’d done this many times before in other cities and other countries. She wouldn’t fail.

She drew circles around the outermost parts of the floor. Each was to be a different color for each of the different characters. She made eight circles of various sizes. The last two colors were the most important. A large white one was drawn near the center-that was for God-and a blue circle was for Jackson.

Januari went to the rest room and changed into a gold, one-piece suit that would allow her to venture in and out of the circles without being held by any of the inhabitants. They couldn’t see the gold color, even though they would be able to hear her when she spoke.

Jake watched Januari performed a ritual he’d only heard about in many of his classes at the university.

The outer circle represented the personalities who, at one point during Jackson’s life took up a small amount of his time. They only occupied the square for a few days or months. Those would be the first ones Januari would call out to the circles. If the extraction were successful, they’d come out and wait in their respective circles on the floor.

Orange was the first color. It was thinly drawn. The space between it and the next color was very narrow, but it would accommodate the short-lived personality in it. It would hold John.

Januari performed her part of the ritual as she moved about the floor. She spoke of times long past when such things held more power than they did now in the present. She called John and waited. After five minutes, she called again.

The heard John’s voice, low at first, but they heard it.

“What do you want of me?” asked John.

Mary curled up near the door in case she needed to run.

John wasn’t visible more than a few days during Jackson’s life. He only took the square a few times. He preferred to be left alone. He fulfilled the task he was assigned to early in Jackson’s life, the task of innocence.

“John!” called Januari.

Suddenly, they heard a sound of tearing fabric near the top of Jackson’s head.

“Do you hear it?” asked Januari. “There it is again.”

From a small point near Jackson’s head came a small, almost invisible stream of orange light. It moved to the outer circle and slowly took shape. In a few minutes a small timid boy stood looking at Jake, Januari, and Mary.

“I’m Johnny. Why have you called me out? I don’t have much to say after all of these years. How can I change his life now? I took my chances many years ago. Jackson was just a little boy then, much like me. He needed help and I gave it.

Johnny wore a T-shirt, knee socks, shorts, shoes, and a small brimmed cap. He resembled an elf. He watched Januari with wide oval eyes. His mind was sharp and inquisitive. He waited for her to ask the questions she needed answered.

“What happened to Jackson’s innocence?” asked Januari.

“What happened to shut off the time he was to be a child and forced him into another realm, a realm he wasn’t prepared for?” questioned Januari.

“He was raped by two adults,” said Johnny.

“He was almost beaten to death by his father after one of the assaults because his father told him it was his fault the men took advantage of him. Jackson’s father accused him of being the problem between him and his wife. Jackson’s wasn’t loved or wanted from the time the rapes occurred. That was when I left the square and Darrell took over. Darrell helped Jackson understand why his father hated him. Darrell used to draw pictures and explain why sex was so interesting and what to stay away from. He was Jackson’s friend longer than I was. You should call Darrell and let me go,” said Johnny.

The inner room vibrated as one of its members left to materialize on the outside. One of the chairs that were placed around the square in the inner room was now vacant and appeared translucent.

A different sound came from the square now and larger cracks appeared in the walls, shifting and stretching even larger. Ben wondered just how long the room could stand the stress before it collapsed.

Januari wasn’t just creating fractures; she was widening the ones already present in the walls.

Ben hurried to the rear door, opened it and walked to the edge. He scanned the surroundings for a sign of God.

Each time Ben went out there to the edge, voices from the vortex would become louder. He wondered what might help the situation. As he waited, he felt more alone than ever. Tears welled in his eyes and slid down over his cheeks. He knew Jackson was going to lose his friends. He would soon be rid of the room and his friends who had been his life for so long.

Ben was sad, but happy too. Januari would finally find the answers that were hidden for years and help Jackson too. Jackson would come to his own life, such as it was and he could make his own decisions. More than anyone else, Ben knew that was best for Jackson. He hated to say goodbye though. He waited, then returned to the inner room and took his chair.

FIFTY-ONE

“No,” said Januari, “I don’t want to talk to Darrell; I want to talk to you.” She walked toward the little boy.

“You’re part of Jackson’s life before the problems began. You can be one of the answers I’ve been looking for to help Jackson.” She said.

Johnny stuck his hands in his pockets, then took them out again and held his palms up as if to ask, “What can I do?” He paced with his circle. He wouldn’t look Januari directly in the face. She was in control.

Jake showed no sign of weakness as he stood and walked about in the outermost circle. He studied Johnny’s appearance. He was similar to all other children, but there was something unusual about him. He wobbled slightly, like Jell-O.

“What are you looking for, Sir?” asked Johnny.

“I’m no more an oddity than you. I loved Jackson when no one else cared. I felt his beatings and cried when no one else would. Those were the things that prompted the others. They led the way for them to travel from the rear door to the square and assume control. It’s not me you want to talk to anymore; it’s the others. May I leave now?” asked Johnny.

“You may not,” answered Januari.

“You must stay here and see the others. You’re part of them, even if in a small way. It wouldn’t be advisable to send you back without meeting them all.”

Januari drew another circle, a little closer to the center where Jackson stood. He was the sun in his solar system of personalities.

She moved around the room waving her arms and talking to the unseen personalities. She motioned for the next one to come, then waited to see.

Mary saw fatigue on Jackson’s face. She hoped she would be able to help him through his pain. To her disappointment, she could only watch and pray.

“Januari,” said Jake, “you could do better from this angle. Here at this point, you’d have the vantage for direct access.” He was worried. He’d never been confronted by such a treatment method. The case would set him and Januari apart as two of the most important people in treatment of those with personality disorders.

“I’ll stand here,” said Januari.

She closed her eyes as she chanted and called the next personality out.

Jackson groaned. He shuddered, bent over, and then stood erect. John floated a foot off of the floor as the next personality began to emerge from the top of Jackson’s skull.

“Look,” said Jake, “its coming.”

A darker vapor oozed from Jackson’s head from the same spot as Johnny had. It was Darrell, Jackson’s sexual nature. It was the part of him that held his fantasies and guarded the truth about the sexual assaults Jackson had suffered.

The circle drawn next to Johnny’s glowed light brown. The vapor floated to it and took shape.

Darrell looked eighteen. He wore contemporary clothing that fit the current styles. He was muscular and hairy for his age. His hands were powerful, like a wrestler’s and his shoulders were wider than most grown men’s were. Darrell was the man of any woman’s dreams. He would provide insight into the reasons Jackson chose not to be a lover. Jackson’s dreams of sexual fulfillment were just dreams and they include both sexes.

“Why are you looking for me?” asked Darrell.

“I knew you’d find a way to call. Few people possess the ability to call me out, that is, unless I want to come. The girls I met for Jackson were those I wanted. I gave them what they wanted. My sexual encounters were for Jackson’s benefit. He didn’t have it together to do the things I could. He could never be the lover Mary wanted him to be because he has hang ups. He couldn’t deal with assaults on his life, especially the sexual assaults he suffered as a boy. You know, Johnny told you. I didn’t understand why men liked to have sex with little boys, and for that reason, I took over to let Jackson have an outlet for his sexual desires. I wanted the women and girls for him. Some were exciting, giving all they had, but I wanted more. We liked to hear them scream. Hey, Doc, does this woman like it that way? She looks like a screamer to me.”

“You’ll be quiet until I need information from you,” instructed Januari.

“What can you tell me about Jackson?” she asked.

“Was he assaulted or is that just an excuse to please yourself?”

“Lady, he was beaten and sexually assaulted more than once. From that point on, life was filled with pain. He married Mary because he couldn’t control me. I took her for myself, and then he was left with the responsibility. You’d better stop this. If he realizes the jeopardy he’d be in from you intrusions, he might not be able to cope with it and tell you to leave,” said Darrell.

“You said you’d help him,” said Januari.

“You got him through the times of sexual frustration by taking over his life, doing what you wanted to do and leaving him with the troubles, right?” Januari asked.

“I did. I did all the work, the love and the giving. He wasn’t able to do that. What else do you want me to say?” asked Darrell.

Jackson listened, but he didn’t’ believe it. He remembered the assaults, but the pain was missing. He didn’t feel any anger or rejection. Darrell took it all with him, in that circle were all of the negative emotions that would’ve torn him apart during a tender age.

“I dealt with the struggle for Jackson,” said Darrell.

“It was his struggle for manhood. His feelings of inadequacy were the pivot point on which I worked. That allowed him to live. I have nothing else to say to you or anyone. Jackson has his own world now. You’ll see to that with this thing you’re doing. You’ll make him see us all. I hope he’s ready for it,” said Darrell.

Darrell was silent and motionless. His circle glowed brighter, like the brown color of Jackson’s eyes.

Jake and Januari walked to the restroom door and stood there for a moment. They stopped and conversed about Darrell’s significance. Jake took notes while Januari glared at Darrell.

FIFTY-TWO

Ben knew Januari would call him sometime, but he didn’t know if he’d be ready for the encounter.

The minutes passed as hours. The inner room was crumbling. Ben still caught glimpses of Jackson and he heard the entire story of what was going on outside.

Sharp splinters from the ceiling fell all around. Ben ran and dodged them, managing to escape with larger, more dangerous pieces. It was a battlefield in there. Ben walked to the out edge of the room, hoping not to get entangled with the others standing around. Randy called, but there was no answer. Ben couldn’t see him from where he stood.

Randy was afraid. He cringed and turned toward the wall, hiding his face from the disaster.

“How could you let this happen?” Randy asked.

“You’re the one they want. Go to them and leave us here. You’re the one who started this mess. I knew I should never have told them anything. Ever since I left this up to you, things have been falling apart. I never should’ve trusted you either. I knew it all along!” said Randy as he watched Ben slid along the inner room wall as he made his way to the outer edge.

“You listen to me, you ungrateful piece of mankind!” shouted Ben.

“If it wasn’t for me, none of you would’ve made it this far. Your ways and thinking have cast shadows over the room. Your thoughts about life, goodness, and people created more trouble than you know. From the onset of this plan, you tried to lay blame on innocent people. I knew it wouldn’t work. God won’t let any sin go unpunished. This one is no different from anything else. You’ll pay for the pain, grief, and hate you’ve created, not only here in the inner room, but on the outside too!”

Ben’s world was crumbling. It was the first time he ever felt such thoughts, thoughts that weren’t good. That was in opposition to all he had been taught. The times of perfection were over. Soon he’d be in one of those circles outside, just like the rest.

He still thought he was the best of the personalities-they were less than what Jackson’s parents wanted. Inside his heart of hearts, he felt a deep pain. He didn’t like the way it made him feel.

FIFTY-THREE

“Now we’ll see some real fireworks,” said Januari as she prepared for the next visitor. She slowly walked to the innermost circle where Jackson stood. She examined him for signs of distress, pain, and fatique. She soon felt confident he could withstand another extraction.

Jake watched and listened to Januari chant. She spoke in complete sentences formed from the diaphragm and expelled with sudden force. Each phrase was accompanied by a thrusting motion toward Jackson. Jake had seen that done once before, but he couldn’t perform the task himself.

“Are you all right, Januari?” asked Jake

He watched the culmination of her years of study and practice came to rest in his office. In his office, modern treatments were being dwarfed by an older and more effective method of treatment.

Soon, Januari got results. Jake waited and watched from the sidelines.

Januari couldn’t speak to answer him. Her chant consumed her entire attention. The circle beside Darrell’s began to glow and she watched the top of Jackson’s head for some evidence of an emergence. The next one would be more difficult to get out. She waved her hands, first to Jackson’s right, then to his left where Mary was seated.

Mary simply wished the matter would soon end. She hoped she could leave during the next pause. She didn’t want to see anymore. The whole thing frightened her. Each time she thought of giving up on Jackson, though, she remembered something kind he’d done to her in the past, and she cried for him.

Circles upon circles and wheels within wheels floated and spiraled upwards in the room. Thousands of spiraling vapors spun overhead. Januari noticed and enjoyed their presence. They were visitors watching her work. They pulsed from the spiritual realm where Januari got her strength. Januari had done such things before in places most people wouldn’t have believed. She often was called to the homes of the wealthy, powerful people, even presidents to help them. A President called for her once. He had been at a point of no return and she brought him.

Januari was proud of her abilities. She refined them every time she provided a treatment like this one.

From where Jake sat, the air seemed soupy. It was laden with mists, spirits, and vapors. He was excited. He wouldn’t use such a technique, but it seemed to work fine for Januari. He was a middle of the road-man. That usually caused less grief and took less time to explain to the clients. Januari had refined her technique from a crude piece of work to a shining example of disorder cures. She went where few could travel. From what Jake saw, spirits listened to what she had to say.

He remembered when Januari suffered form mental illness. Then the spirits would’ve attacked her and torn her to pieces. With years of practice and meditation, and success after success, she earned their respect and honor for her will and courage.

Someone screamed in the room. Mary heard a loud shouting noise, tugging, and ripping sounds.

Randy and Ben watched as Denny was ripped from the inner room. A large hole appeared in the ceiling through which he was pulled out of into the outside.

“Who’s that?” asked Jake as he scribbled notes.

The tape was still running, recording every sound for future reference. Jake watched the point of emergence. Something was coming; he just couldn’t tell what it was.

Shuddering, bending, and twisting, Jackson appeared to be coming apart. He moaned as a light flashed and perspiration formed on his forehead. He shouted. Whatever or whoever Januari called didn’t want to come out.

“Mary,” said Jake, “come over here and stand still.”

He wanted her close enough to protect her if necessary. Mary went to stand beside him and they waited together.

“Doctor, this time I’m frightened. That’s not to say I haven’t been afraid before now, but this time, I’m uneasy,” said Mary as she reached for his hand.

The room glowed with a light green color. Regardless of how he fought, Denny was out of control. He remembered all the time she took over and turned Jackson’s life upside down, causing fear and embarrassment in front of Jackson’s classmates. He thought it was funny.

The room was bathed in green light, making it seem like a greenhouse. A vapor came from the same point on Jackson’s head. It flowed out, streaming into the air, swelling and pulsing as it moved to the green circle, then it transformed.

Darrell watched from his circle, floating a foot off of the floor as Denny materialized.

Jake and Mary were astounded. Each circle of colored light was like a world unto itself. There was no intermingling between them. All the light from each circle was trapped within that circle.

Denny’s gross form bulged with rolls of fat. His arms were swollen and his eyes were pinched into little dots behind puffy cheeks. Over-sized clothes draped him like a bed covering. Januari watched and said nothing until his materialization was complete.

Even before the transformation was finished, Denny asked, “Why have you called me? I can’t tell you anything to help you. I don’t fit with the others here. Let me depart in peace,” he pleaded.

“What’s your name?” asked Januari.

“Denny,” he said. His face was as round as a watermelon.

“You’re one of the reasons Jackson is here. You helped bring him to this point. You see him, but you don’t know why he’s here,” replied Januari.

“Lady, you can’t see it, but Jackson was my friend a long time ago when his world was falling apart. Ben, the good guy, was one of the ones who introduced us. Ben took care of him at school and I took care of him at home. Jackson found solace in me. I supplied him with food. Food became his greatest friend. I became his greatest friend,” said Denny as he took a deep breath.

“You think you gave him a reason to live?” asked Januari as she walked closer.

“I did. If it weren’t for me, Jackson wouldn’t have had any friends. I was his friend. No one gave the fat kid what he wanted. I couldn’t deny him any small amount of happiness. I allowed him to have what he wanted. Unlike Yvonne and the others, I didn’t take anything back,” said Denny.

Jackson watched Denny and tried to imagine himself in that person. The eyes were the same, as were his actions and the smile. Jackson wondered how he ever sank into the depths of that personality. No wonder life held no meaning for him. He watched Denny struggle just to stay alive with all the weight he was carrying.

“Can I go?” asked Denny. He knew he’d never rule Jackson’s life again. He’d never sit at a table with him and stuff down everything he saw there to eat. He’d miss those times, but he knew he had to forget and let go.

Jackson watched as the third personality rose and slowly began to spin around in the circle that held him. He couldn’t understand the growing audience of what he called his life.

FIFTY-FOUR

Frantic and out of control, Ben ran to the rear door. Shadows split the eternal sky and spirits called asking for a reason for the convulsions in the inner room. Many vaulted forward held back only by small cords that fixed them to distant unseen objects, while others simply seemed emaciated with anger.

Ben prepared for the worst. The light-colored ones asked little, they just watched. They offered their disappointment and regret for the rifts. The stronger, older ones came as close as their cords allowed. They sneered and chanted with anger. Those voicing the most uncontrolled screams had been in a similar situation and understood what was happening. They had lost control too.

That wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. The plan had been an easy one to follow. Somewhere, perhaps during the visit of God, the plan fell apart. Ben wasn’t just disgusted with how things turned out; he suffered feelings of uselessness.

FIFTY-FIVE

Januari wasn’t sure how many personalities Jackson had, but the feeling she got from Jake was there were about six. She looked at the three floating before her and anticipated the arrival of the last three. They looked at her in jealousy, not hatred or envy. They were jealous of life and the feeling of being alive. John didn’t speak, but his expressions expressed his stress. Darrell was too different from John to even attempt to communication with him. They were all different.

“We must continue. The evening’s getting long and we have much to do,” said Januari as she prepared for the next attack. She began using long, slender seductive movements. The next materialization would be the turning point. If Jackson needed any help during the process, it would be now. Carl had been with Jackson a long time, playing the devil’s advocate against Ben.

“Jake, read me the notes on Carl,” instructed Januari. She paced as he read them out loud. She knew Carl would be very difficult, but she enjoyed the challenge greater than worrying about her own safety.

“Are you sure this is the time for Carl?” asked Jake.

Jake remembered meeting Carl. He was everything that was wrong, imperfect and evil about Jackson.

“I’m ready,” said Januari.

She stood near the outermost circle where Johnny spun slowly. His little face glowed in the darkness at the edge of the room. Darrell looked towards the blob of material called Denny.

“Before you go too far,” said Jake, “Please remember what might happen if you fail. I can’t caution you enough when it comes to handling Carl. He’s much more dangerous.” He warned.

“Let me handle this, Jake. I’ve confronted a lot of things over the years. Some of my most difficult cases were the pivot points of my career. How can you evaluate the success of a case if you’ve already accepted defeat? The case in Zimbabwe caught me off guard, but determination, persistence, and my need to win eventually carried me through. Today that person, much like Jackson, is free from pain and a torn life,” said Januari.

She looked at Jake and Mary and said, “Let’s begin.”

She was afraid, though. Januari would never admit it, but with each case she had worked on in the past, there was some degree of fear. Each case was more complex than the last. Some offered little interest, but he occasional ones, like this one, fired her will to survive.

Januari paced and spoke in low tones. Her chant shot into the inner room, vibrating every corner. Splinters fell from the ceiling as Carl felt a pull on his insides. It was so strong he was pulled forming his chair onto the floor. He’d never felt anything like it before. It was as if an invisible hand slid from the darkness and grabbed him. He waited a moment, and then it happened again. The words seemed almost familiar. He looked at Randy and Ben to see if they were affected too. They stood aside and watched. The next chant ripped a hole in the wall facing Carl. He wasn't afraid, simply guarded as to what might be happening.

Januari moved in seductive motions as if she were dancing. Jackson felt caught up in the ritual and was dizzy watching her. Januari’s looks and touches reassured him he’d be better soon.

Light glimmered in the circles. The occupied ones grew in brilliance as Januari’s words echoed in the inner room.

Randy and Ben watched helplessly as Carl groaned.

“Bitch!” called Carl from the inner room. He approached the slit in the wall that was filling with light.

“You’ll never win, not if there’s any chance I can beat you. I’ll slaughter you. You’ll find out this isn’t a game where you call the shots. You’ll see the full scope of my control you Bitch!” he shouted.

Ben cringed as Carl shouted more obscenities.

“I can’t help you this time.” He said.

Ben and Randy were caught by swirling vapors and clouded over. They’d never been so helpless.

Over the years, Ben came to accept Carl’s outrageous actions and appearance. Carl wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t able to feel, to love, or to understand why life was so precious. The light Ben felt in his he heart didn’t burn in the heart of Carl. Ben couldn’t understand why God allowed them to exist together.

God had a plan.

“You did this to me, you bastard!” shouted Carl as he looked across the room at Ben.

“How can you accuse me of your own imperfections?” replied Ben. “How can you not see your own evil appearance? Your life is filled with sin just like everybody. I’ve tried to tell you how to act for years, but you told me to mind my own business. You said you’d handle it. How will you handle this, Carl? Tell me again how wonderful you are and how strong you are. Boast of all the great things you’ve done to so many people. We’re supposed to help people like Jackson, not hurt them. You’re just getting what you deserve,” said Ben.

Ben walked toward the back door praying God would see him coming.

The shaking in the inner room became more violent.

Carl felt himself weakening as the call came again. He knew it was his time and he tried to prepare for the confrontation. He looked forward to the transformation. What little freedom he had would be welcomed.

“Hey, Ben!” he looked almost apologetic.

“Ben,” he shouted.

Ben turned from the rear door just to see the last of Carl slip through the crevice and leave the inner room forever.

The office felt damp and cold. The walls popped, shuddered, and shook. Droplets of water appeared on the windows and slid down to the windowsill. Everyone felt Carl coming.

Mary moved closer to Jake, as the moment grew closer. Jackson’s pleasant face slowly changed to one that dreaded the slightest sound. A crack appeared at the top of his skull and it traveled to the center of his face between his eyes. Jackson didn’t seem to feel anything, but the onlookers winched in sympathetic pain. Jackson swayed as a ripping sound burst from him. He looked at Januari as if begging for he comprehension of the terror he was suffering. Another life was coming to a close.

“Bitch!”

A mouth formed on Jackson’s cheek.

“Yes, you,” said Carl.

He fought to stay, but Januari was too strong.

“You want me? He said.

“You want the full force of my power? He questioned.

“Then, I’ll give it to you.”

Jackson popped up and stood rigid. Leaning forward he relinquished control of his body.

“Januari,” shouted Jake. “I’m telling you Carl is not a baby. Carl is no joke. He means business. He wants to keep control.

“I have control,” Januari said calmly. “This kind can be controlled. I can handle this creature,” she said as she took two steps closer to Jackson.

Jackson’s face turned red, then black. He seemed to be on fire on the inside. The crack split all the way down his chest and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. A hand appeared under the flesh of his left arm and worked its way down to his leg as if it were searching for a way out. When it found an outlet, it came through Jackson’s chest.

Januari gasped and stepped back. She’d never encountered anything like this before. Still, she conquered the reptile man in Russia and she felt confident she could control Carl.

“I’m coming to get you, you slut,” shouted Carl.

Jackson’s heart came out of his chest and was being held in Carl’s hand for all to see, but yet Jackson was still alive.

“You think you’ve seen the worst, don’t you?” asked Carl. I’m coming to get you. This little plan of yours will not only cost you your life, but every one in this room will die with you. I don’t have to stand in that circle or do anything else you command. I’m free now to show you the full strength I received from God. I know him, you see. Ben doesn’t know that, but I knew him ages ago in a different life.

“I’ll do something special for you. I’ll rip off your head and fill your body with acid, then suck your brains out. You deserve that much Miss Januari.

Carl’s left arm emerged, then his right arm, then his legs ripped their way through the thin flesh on Jackson’s body. He was taller than the others as he stood up and moved across the room towards Januari after he emerged.

Januari sequestered all of the power she could to tackle the first real threat she had encountered in some time. She chanted in soft, low tones. Darkness grew and fell and grew again in the room. Carl’s circle waited for him and she meant to put him in it.

He had a deep purple glow. Huge teeth protruded from his ever-changing face. His chest swelled with other faces and personalities all clamoring to get out, but he controlled them. They were souls he had conquered over the years.

His eyes burned yellow as he looked for a chance to touch Januari’s warm flesh. He wanted to taste her blood. Her scent excited him.

His circle grew wild as it anticipated his coming. He waited for her next move.

“You have no control here,” said Januari. “This is not your show. You can’t take advantage of helpless people here. This is the place where your fire can’t be felt and your evil can’t touch them. Your helpless here!” she said.

“I will have you, Bitch!” shouted Carl.

“Come to me and allow me to give you more than you ever have had before. Allow me to give you what makes you a woman.” He said.

His appearance changed to a man she always wanted to be with. He appealed to her inner desires and produced this figure before her. He knew exactly how to seduce her.

“No!” shouted Januari. “You won’t toy with me!”

Her chants grew louder.

An invisible hand clutched Carl’s arm and held him firmly. The invisible finger prints left deep grooves on his arm. It moved him closer to her so she could see him for what he really was. The faces in his chest cried and screamed to be freed. Carl pulled his arms and wrapped them around himself.

“You can’t have them, they’re mine!” he shouted.

The purple grew and filled the area between him and the others.

“No!” shouted Carl.

The purple color lifted him into the glowing circle that awaited him.

“You’ll be one of mine, just like these!” said Carl as he pointed to the screaming faces on his chest.

“Yvonne’s here, Doctor, see!” he said as he pointed to a small face just above his collarbone. The spot glowed black and cooled into a small face.

“I told you to leave us alone, but you wouldn’t. Now you’ll all be part of my collection.” He said.

Jake looked at his hands and saw blood spurt from his fingers. Spiders crawled out of his pant legs and out across the floor. He jumped up and ran to the mirror to pull his shirt off. There was nothing there. Carl was good at illusions.

Swelling, pulsing, and vomiting, Carl paced his confinement. Fire rose when his feet touched the floor. He looked for a way out, but there was none.

“See, Carl,” said Januari.

“You’re not the true force and you have no power.

I can see how you fooled those little people for so long. You’re nothing but an illusion, a dream in Jackson’s mind. You’re not what you appear to be.

Januari walked into the circle with him and waited.

Carl swelled with pride as his prey came to him. He walked to her, growing larger as he moved to her. The longer he stood there, the bigger he became. Control was more important than fear at that moment. Januari knew Carl would strip the flesh from her bones if she showed any sign of fear. Complete control had to fill her and it did.

She waited.

Carl smiled.

He rubbed his inner thighs and licked his lips.

The other watched from their circles. They spun slowly as they orbited Jackson. They couldn’t see how Januari could possibly survive. They had never seen Carl so clearly before.

“I’ll have you now,” he said.

Pus dripped from slits in Carl’s fingers. Smoke rose where it struck the floor. He walked slowly towards Januari.

“You’ll never regret this, I promise,” he said as he rubbed his had together.

Januari wasn’t fooled. She saw the same thing four years ago in a case she had cured in India. There, a small creature of a different color caused havoc with a professor. She won that time, and she would win this time.

“Come to me, my pretty girl,” commanded Carl as he moved toward her. Fire shot from his eyes.

Januari dodged them but didn’t leave the circle.

“I’ll rape you, and then I’ll eat you and place you with the others,” he said.

He moved within reach.

Januari watched the faces as Carl’s chest screamed warnings at her. She leaned forward, not away and said, “Here I am.”

Carl almost lunged toward her. The other personalities screamed as Carl reached for her with both arms. Two more arms appeared, and then two more until he was ready to take her.

“Now you’re mine,” he said as he smiled.

FIFTY-SIX

“Where are you in my hour of greatest need?” questioned Ben as he stood on a smaller platform just outside the inner room’s rear door. Parallel lines of light ran from the far ends of the universe inviting Ben to join the, but he couldn’t. He wept.

“I need you now. My host is in trouble. You remember Jackson, don’t you? He’s come to the end, to the point of no return. Don’t you care? Are you there?” he said in a low voice.

Small flashes of light answered him. Voices called from the distance. Some were pleasant and others held secrets Ben didn’t understand. He saw various creatures of different sizes and colors as they flew by him on their way to their new hosts.

“Can you help me?” called Ben.

“Can’t you see I can’t hold on to life much longer?” said Ben.

He fell to his knees and cried. His tears dripped onto the platform and then into the void.

“The form you see before you is hopelessly lost without your guidance. The life you gave to me is coming to a close. I seldom ask for help, but I need it now. I must hear from you,” pleaded Ben.

Ben looked into the nothingness underneath him and all around. Swirling fires of unused lives rose and fell like ocean waves. Countless lights twinkled in the vortex as he beckoned for God to come.

Deep inside, he felt an answer.

God had heard him.

A surge of light burst from a far corner. As bright as an exploding solar system, it sent word that he was coming.

He was on his way. Dimensional travel would take only moments.

He would come, but only because he loved Jackson.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Januari wouldn’t sacrifice her life or that of her patient for anything. Carl closed in for the slaughter.

“You’ll be my ultimate prize,” he said.

“You’ll be a trophy for me to hang on my wall of flesh. You, with your life filled with misunderstood false teachings,” chanted Carl.

Januari suddenly quoted an old phrase she had read some time ago in one of the books of the living from the Middle East. It was short and filled with power. As she finished the quote she became transparent.

Carl lunged. His huge hands sliced the air and found nothing. Januari had won. She watched as he continued to assault her. Fire rippled down his face and hands until his entire body filled with hate and death.

The faces in Carl’s chest smiled as if relieved to know that at least one got away.

Carl was furious. Shooting vomit and pus from his mouth, he turned to her in his purple circle.

“You haven’t won, you bitch!” he shouted. “You think the likes of you can stop me? I’m death. I’m your nightmare!”

Eyes appeared over Carl’s head. He looked into the hearts of the others in the room and he preyed upon the illusions he created from their minds. He projected stories from Jake’s life on the wall. Sex, wild parties, beatings and hate were all there for viewing.

“How do you like that, Doc?” asked Carl.

“You’ve got nothing to fear form me. Your past controls you. You’ll be bound by your own lusts. You created that past, now you’ll die in it,” said Carl.

Incredible pain surged through Jake’s chest, but he knew Carl caused it. It wasn’t a heart attack. Carl rose a foot off the floor and spun.

“I have you now!” he shouted, “You’re mine.”

Jake’s chest crawled with insects. Millions of them were on him.

“This is an illusion,” he muttered. “Carl created this. I must stop it before he tries something else.” He thought of Januari and her freedom and everything disappeared.

Carl’s circle of purple slowly revolved around Jackson, just like the others. He was imprisoned there as long as Januari showed no fear. The faces of the little girls he had killed looked at Januari pleading for release. Each face added to Carl’s life.

“They’re mine,” said Carl as he caressed them with fiery glimmer in his eyes.

“You must let them go,” said Januari. “You can’t control them any longer. I have the ability to bring you to your knees.”

She left his circle untouched dressed in her gold suit that glowed more brightly than before.

“Now we’ll strip you Carl. Now we’ll begin to release the children you took from the world.” She said.

She chanted. Fire rose and smoke billowed from the floor. Lights appeared around Carl, and then vanished in puffs of smoke. His feet glowed red, then purple. He knew he was about to loose the one thing he struggle most to keep, his children.

Screams filled the air.

“Release us!” they all cried.

“Release us to life or to death!”

“Let’s do it now, Carl,” instructed Januari as she spoke above the groans and screams.

Carl stopped spinning. He knew the moment had finally arrived. Januari thought it wouldn’t be very important. She stood in front of Carl and watched him change different shades of red and black to purple. His face gradually became that of her father. From there, he leaned toward her, and then turned his back. Children’s hands pressed outward from his insides. They fought to get out. Fingerprints pressed against his skin.

Carl undressed. From huge rents in his skin poured something else other than blood. His bones protruded through the ridge from the bottom of his spine to the base of his skull. He refused to release any of his prisoners until Januari spoke the word.

Suddenly, Carl popped open like a nut ripe for cracking. Screams filled the office as girls fell into the purple circle. Each dressed in clothing from their particular age; each stood in a line in front of Januari and sang songs of thanks.

Fifteen girls eventually stood there. Finally released from the monster that took their lives, all were there except Yvonne. She stood to Januari’s right, whole once again.

Januari stepped back. She couldn’t imagine the lives that Carl had stripped away.

“You feel you’ve succeeded in freeing these children,” said Carl. “I took them, though and they’re mine. How do you think they feel when they realize I killed them to bring them to me?”

“You’ll stand here until I’m through with you and your true self,” said Januari. She walked over to see if Jackson was okay. Jackson motioned that he was fine and to continue. The colored circles orbited him slowly and he looked at each of the inhabitants. He saw himself in all of their eyes. Some he didn’t look too deeply into, while others he communed with.

“Jackson,” Januari said, “Look at the children. Do you recognize any of them?” she asked.

Jackson didn’t know any but Yvonne. He cried for her and his heart seemed to stop beating. He thought of what might have been.

“We must continue, Jackson,” said Januari as she took his hand.

“I’m ready,” said Jackson, “Let’s do it.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

Ben stepped back into the inner room. It was half its normal size now. Randy sat alone in the place where Carl left. The oval openings that usually gave light were closed. The remains of Jackson’s life were in that shrinking fortress. Ben and Randy sat across for each other in silence.

Randy felt things he didn’t understand because the room and everything in it was changing. He and Ben were both frightened. Ben told Randy about God’s coming. Still, Randy felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know if it was correct to trust anyone. Their world was coming apart and he didn’t think it was right to give their last precious moments to someone they didn’t know.

Pieces of each chair lay everywhere in the room. The previous occupants weren’t what Randy would’ve called friends, but they mattered to Jackson. He was there was only two answers-they would all die or Jackson would survive alone.

Randy thought back to the times Carl took it upon himself to go out. When that happened, Ben became irate. Ben spent most of his time trying to keep up with Carl’s escapes into various times and places. He shouted so many accusations at Carl that he soon forgot their original purpose. They were there to serve the overall good. It wasn’t up to Ben to come up with all the answers. All he could do was lay the foundation for final integration.

Ben lowered his head in prayer. He wondered how he’d survive. Life held many unanswerable questions and that was just one of them. Ben wondered if there would ever come a time when his life wouldn’t be cut short. God would probably destroy all the plans each of them had made.

Ben never did understand the mystery of life. He didn’t know why he was chosen for the final conflict when all he did was try to be the best he could.

Randy, bewildered and frightened, got up from his chair when a ray of light exploded through the ceiling destroying a nearby chair.

The ray of light was for Randy and he knew it. This powerful ribbon of white light reflected through out the room.

“Ben, can you help me?” asked Randy. He stood near the rear door frantically searching for a place to hide. The light nearly blinded him, but not Ben. Finally, thought Ben, his goodness had paid off. You see, I told you!”

Ben walked around the room smugly. He had no sympathy for Randy.

Randy screamed in pain as the light finished it’s searching and found him. It would take him to the others because the light meant truth.

“Ben!” shouted Randy; “Can’t you see what it’s doing to me? Don’t you care that I’m slipping out of the room forever?”

Ben motioned with an open hand. It might have been a wave good-bye.

FIFTY-NINE

“I have you now,” said Januari. “Just like the others, you’re not getting away from me ever.” She said as the next occupant from the inner room started to appear before them.

Vapor came easily from the crack in Jackson’s head. The crack was smaller than before. Randy played a smaller part in his life.

Januari sensed a kinship between Carl, Randy, and Ben. That union would help fulfill Jackson’s characters. He wouldn’t be left alone to die in the center of all of these personalities.

“I’m here,” said Randy as he reached the circle prepared for him. He was thin, with brown skin and light brown hair. His fingers were long and slender. He wore a black overcoat with the collar pulled up around his neck. He was shy.

“Why have you called me out? I don’t know you.”

His circle was yellow like Kansas corn. The color reflected in his face as he looked into Januari’s eyes.

“You don’t know me,” said Januari, “but you know Dr. Fine. He’s assisting me during the exchange between your inner room and the circle here. He told me about Jackson’s case. You’re the mistrustful one. Why don’t you trust me? I haven’t done anything to make you mistrust me have I? asked Januari. This encounter is for Jackson to become the full person that he was meant to be,” finished Januari.

“Lady, I trust no one. That’s my life. There in that realm we’re assigned a thread that binds us and separates us simultaneously. It’s the fine line of trust. Jackson trusted his relatives and they raped him, he trusted his family and they used him, he trusted the Doctor and now looks at him. Now he’s asked to trust you, and for what? You’ll use him too. You continually refer to your career and how this case will help you. How can I trust you enough to tell you the truth about Jackson if that’s the outcome of all of this? You need Ben. He knows the full story. He’s been there longer than any of us. He trusts, loves, sees, and believes. I don’t. Don’t ask me for anything, not even for air because won't give it to you. Call Ben. I have nothing else to say.”

Januari realized he meant it. She spoke with Jake as they walked to Jackson who was waiting.

Carl disagreed with the plan.

“You bunch of idiots! Can’t you see trust is the whole problem? Too many have trusted Ben. I’d love to kill the son of a bitch. He’s been the downfall of my plans for years. I can’t seem to get that boil off my behind. Besides, he’s just as guilty as Randy,” shouted Carl.

Jake and Januari ignored him and spoke softly with Jackson. The walked a few steps away so Januari would work while Jake returned to his chair. Mary had long since fainted and had been placed on the sofa in the room.

All of the circles moved clockwise in unison around Jackson except for Carl’s. He went counterclockwise. His cold heart, fearless desire and taste for blood separated him from the others.

Januari began to invoke the universal power that would allow her access to the inner room. She never tried that before but the need hadn’t been as great either. She smoothed her dress and stepped closer to Jackson.

“I feel I can trust you,” said Jackson.

“You can go as far as you think is necessary to help me. I’m at the point where I don’t have any options left.” stated Jackson as he looked into Januari’s eyes.

“Jackson, I assure you I’ll do everything I possibly can to retrieve the last one and stop this. You must give me the chance to help you,” she insisted.

The tones in the room became louder. Colors grew stronger and they moved more wildly. Januari thought they might collapse, but the truth held them together.

“Jackson, when I give the word, clear your mind of all thoughts that might stop the process. Clear you mind of anything you hear or see from the others. Allow me to connect with your mind in such a way that the two of us are suspended in time in your inner room,” said Januari.

Everyone in the office knew the coming scene would transform Jackson into something more unusual than anything else that had happened so far.

Tones rose and fell until the windows vibrated and the roof shook. Jake and Mary, having just awakened, stood by and watched.

“Now, Jackson!” shouted Januari over the roar. “Clear your mind and let me in.”

A clap of thunder crashed outside as Januari leaped through the oval openings that appeared before her and she was gone.

The room was totally silent.

The inner room was collapsing.

Where Januari stood, shards of glass had fallen and shattered across the floor. The floor, filled with holes, looked like a rug being folded. Alone, blameless, without guilt he waited his turn. He sat alone in his chair. He kept glancing toward the rear door, finding comfort in the sight of it. God would come there soon, and then he would travel to the outer room where the others were trapped. He would release them into their next life.

“Hello,” Januari said softly.

“Who are you?” said Ben as he turned in surprise.

“I don’t know you. Are you a demon sent to attack and kill me? You know I can release Jackson from all of this if I wanted to. I can give him the Yvonne he wanted,” said Ben as he tried to convince the visitor of his power.

“Let’s face it, Ben. You can’t give Jackson anything he doesn’t already have,” replied Januari. “You lied to him repeatedly about his life, his schooling, his appearance and his wife. How can you sit there in your perfect little world and accuse everyone else of the things you do yourself? How can you shout lies at him when you continually keep him asleep? You are Jackson’s main problem. I’ve come to get you,” she said.

Januari grabbed Ben by the arm and jumped out through the oval opening into the outside world.

Jake was quite started by what he saw. Two figures oozed from Jackson’s side. A split ran the length of his body and hands spread the gap wider until his insides were exposed. From that red bleeding pulp stepped Januari and Ben.

The distorted personalities all laughed as Januari escorted Ben to his circle.

“Hey, Mr. Goody-goody, you thought you had it made didn’t you?” shouted Carl. “You thought you’d be the only one to remain in there. I told you this would end all of us. You bastard! You’re the reason we’re in this mess! Can’t you see that? If I could, I’d come get you,” screamed Carl.

Carl laughed at seeing Ben captured like all the rest.

“Hey, Mr. Crap for Brains! You’re no better than we are. How about that?” he screamed. His appearance changed while he talked. First, he was a man, then a bear, and then a combination of animals.

“Carl,” said Ben, “get a hold on yourself. Look at yourself and what you’ve let this person do to you.”

“Screw you!” snapped Carl. “Screw you and that Bitch!”

Ben adjusted his clothes and his shoes laces.

“Januari you seem to have won this confrontation. You’ve got a power I haven’t seen nor expected. Are you the devil and do you belong to his kingdom? My parents warned me to keep Jackson away for that type of person. It just so happens that everyone I’ve seen has the same devil’s mark. I had to keep Jackson free from that. I couldn’t let the brethren down, could I?” said Ben.

He paced within his circle, in his ring glowing off white.

For once in his life, Jackson was able to think straight. He felt as if a burden had been removed from his shoulders. He cried with joy and freedom. He saw the others through his tears.

Even though he didn’t speak to them, he knew he was still bound to them until God released him.

“Januari,” Ben said, “May I continue the story that brought us here in the first place? Yvonne’s story isn’t finished.” He said.

Hisses and groans came from the others.

“Ben,” Januari said, “only you can create the best out of the situation. You’ve been given the task of the unveiling. Until you tell it all, Jackson can’t grow stronger or get better.”

“Okay,” said Ben. “I’ll finish the story.”

Mary watched without remorse as she stood in a far corner. She thought the whole thing would’ve ended hours ago. Suddenly, the situation had taken on a new angle, one she wasn’t sure she liked. She didn’t know if she should comfort Jackson or not. He wasn’t the husband she promised to help, the lover that shared her bed or the father of her child.

Carl hissed and urinated on the floor at the thought of finishing the story. Randy, thinking of the misconception about to be played out near the center of the room just waited to see what would happen.

Jackson was ready to experience whatever it took to be whole again. He’s dreams were shattered. They lay on the floor in the inner room.

Ben took a deep breath and began and again.

SIXTY

Sharon sat in the front pew facing the closed coffin. At least it was over. Her handkerchief was saturated with tears. She placed it on the seat beside her and looked up.

She whispered prayers and closed her swollen eyes. Every second seemed like hours. Several friends placed hands on her shoulders to give comfort.

Floral scents filled the sanctuary. Sharon smelled Mums, Roses and many other flowers. Friends, family, and schoolmates sent bouquets.

Silence filled the speechless moments between shared gestures of mourning. The family’s seats were full. Everyone sat with his or her head lowered sadly, wishing the tragedy hadn’t happened.

Several of Yvonne’s school friends stood at the rear of the church. They pretended Yvonne was just asleep, not dead. They remembered her in the school play the previous year. She played her part well and never complained of the long hours, difficult lines or uncomfortable costumes. She was dazzling and radiant.

The organist played a slow hymn. She placed her fingers on the keys gently as if anything else would be a mockery.

Outside, parking attendants tried to find spaces for those still arriving. The overflow area was full. A police signaled approaching cars to park along the street. Dressed in dark clothing, people walked toward the church down the same streets Yvonne once had known.

Yvonne was in the Senior Choir too. She loved to sing. She often sang solos capturing the audience with her ability.

Mr. Gilbert, the choir leader, chose Yvonne’s friends to prepare several pieces Yvonne always loved to perform. Some were apprehensive about doing the songs, but said they’d do their best.

The Choir wore maroon robes with white collars. They stood in a semicircle around the coffin. Some held handkerchiefs to their eyes as the waited for their cue.

Sunlight filtered in through the windows on angel’s wings. The world outside seemed unaffected by Yvonne’s passing. Other people died every day, but to Sharon, the world ended when they took Yvonne away. She had other children it was true, but Yvonne was her first.

Yvonne was the first to go to school and she tried to set the pace for the others. Sharon thought of a friend she knew in the past. That woman lost a baby to cancer. Sharon called her hoping to share some of the burden, but she never fully understood what her friend went through until now. She knew her words must’ve sounded empty.

“Are we really getting a puppy?” asked Yvonne.

“A puppy for me?” she said.

She was four years old and the excitement in her voice was unmistakable.

The past sixteen years passed before Sharon’s eyes. She wiped away another tear as guilt, blame, grief, and emptiness filled her.

“Oh, my baby,” she said.

Through her tears, she could see the birthday cake she had made for Yvonne’s fourteenth birthday. She remembered many wonderful things about her life.

Everyone in the church sat motionless not wanting to draw attention or disturb the scene. The room was silent except for an occasional sniffle or cough. Reverend Crouch, a big man in a dark suit walked slowly to the podium. And even Mr. Wellington, a rare visitor to any church, was in attendance.

Mr. Gilbert raised his hand to cue the choir to sing. Although many of the students cried, they managed to sing well.

Sharon wondered if angels had suddenly filled the choir. The student’s voices were inspiring. The choir sang two more songs, and then Mr. Gilbert played his selection of comforting songs he played at many of the appointments he had through out the city.

“God stands by us in our darkest hour,” said the Reverend.

“He opens His arms of comprehension and pulls us to Him. He reminds us that life is precious. Our days are few. We should enjoy them to the fullest. Yvonne did just that and she was happy. Isn’t that what life is all about-happiness?” he continued.

The Reverend ended his short sermon with a prayer for the family and friends of the departed.

“Ben,” Carl said, “You make me sick. You’re a pussy with a man’s face. How often have you played that story for us in the inner room? I’m sick to death of this mess. She took her chance and lost-so what? She screwed the guy to death, screwed the pants off who knows how many others and you make it sound as if she descended from heaven on virgin’s wings. Doc, if you believe that you’re as stupid as he is. Jackson wanted her dead-big deal. I gave him what he wanted. Give me a break.”

Carl spun in his circle pulsing with anger.

Ben didn’t understand him.

“Carl, this is my story, my life, my show. Keep your mouth shut or when God comes, I’ll let him have you first. Understand?” replied Ben.

Carl turned slowly and didn’t reply. He decided not to speak loud enough to be heard.

“Where was I?” asked Ben.

The funeral director motioned for the pallbearers to come forward and remove the coffin to the waiting limousine. Sharon and her family were escorted from the church and it the waiting cars. Jack held Sharon’s arm. They leaned on each other in their shared grief. They didn’t speak; they just looked at each other with tearful eyes. After Jack helped Sharon into the limousine, he with to the other side and got in.

“Well, Jackson,” Ben said from the square. “Your dream has come true. You, Carl, and Randy should be happy today. Carl removed the only person you felt anything for in years from you life.”

Jackson looked at Ben. “I’m sick inside. I’m so filled with pain I don’t want to even speak.

Jackson watched the limousine pull away and drive toward the burial grounds.

“She was nothing but scum!” shouted Carl. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. All those flower, those words of wisdom, and for what? Just for a two-bit slut who wouldn’t give you the time of day, and you sit here blubbering over it too, you fool! She wouldn’t have given you anything anyway.

“I want you to listen to me, Carl,” demanded Jackson. “It’s true we weren’t close friends, but she spoke to me occasionally. That meant something to me.”

“Oh, yeah? So she spoke to you, big shit. She spoke to lots of people. You forced her to speak to you. You’re not fooling me,” answered Carl.

“Carl, leave me alone!” ordered Jackson.

“I’ll be back, Jackson and so will the others,” said Carl.

The procession snaked its way up the mountainous terrain inching its way to the grave-site. Jackson and his family approached where the pallbearers were carrying the coffin down an embankment to the grave that had been prepared.

Sharon leaned heavily on Jack’s arm. She knew it was the final steps she’d take with Yvonne and the thoughts were overwhelming.

Southern winds blew through everyone’s hair. A woman grabbed at her scarf and tied it tighter.

The family is a strange institution. War, fire, starvation-regardless of the affliction there exists in a family a communion of mind and a spirit that makes the family stand together. A tender touch, a warm compassionate look can fill a vacant space of a missing family member.

Jackson never got over his feelings for Yvonne. As much as a year later he still longed for her untried love. Then Jackson’s family moved and he faced a new community and a new school.

He wondered if he’d meet a new Yvonne.

SIXTY-ONE

After Ben had finished talking, a deep cold settled in over the office. The guilt was more than Jackson could bear. The circle where he stood glowed white-hot. He bent over crying and sweating, wishing he could die.

Mary accepted the darkness, despair, and disappointment of the person she had married. She wondered how they could ever be a family again. She didn’t know how she could continue with her life. She wondered if there was a treatment Jake or Januari could prescribe that would enable her to walk with Jackson again.

“Doctor Fine,” said Ben, “You’re an intelligent man. You’ve come along way with us. Now the final curtain has fallen and the lights have been lowered on this life. What will you do? Will you wave one of your books or potions and make us all well? That’s not likely. You’re just as stumped as we are. Carl isn’t interested in helping Jackson, he never was. That’s nothing new. The others you see have come a long way to hold Jackson together until someone could do something. Can you give him a pill or quote to use that will integrate him? Can we ever be the people we were supposed to be? Can Jackson be the man he was destined to be? Can society accept him? I know Januari did her best, yet is it enough?” questioned Ben

In the middle of Ben’s soliloquy a low hum began. It sounded like something carried on the wind outside. As time passed and the tone increased all and the other personalities heard it.

“Jake,” said Januari, “Do you hear something?” I can’t make it out.” She said. “I haven’t heard such a sound before. In all of my travels and experiences, I’ve never heard anything like this before.”

“Lady,” said Carl, “you’re dreaming. I don’t know how you take one little sound and blow it out of proportion until you think the world’s ending. You’re such a stupid slut.”

Jake’s tapes were almost out. He glanced over his shoulder and tried to estimate the time left on his final one. It was an hour or less. With a little luck, the session would provide the necessary data to finalize Jackson’s treatment. Jake worked hard for that. Nothing would steal it form him. He’d worked for years to find something that would get him the picture in the magazine, something that was truly significant. Everywhere he turned for the past few years, he felt a door closing hi his face. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Januari watched the spinning figures. She loved to work with the unseen and she wanted to help more than ever, but she also wanted credit for it. She had flown hundreds of miles to get there and she felt she deserved at least a pat on the back.

Jackson waited for the final word to stop his pain. At that moment, all he saw were the personalities moving in circles around him. The room was ablaze with color.

John, the large-eyed child who saw more than any innocent child should see watched things he couldn’t grasp or understand take place in the room during this session. He knew it was for Jackson’s best.

Carl, filled with hell, shot globs of pus at everyone including the girls who still wanted their freedom. He gave them a devilish grin. Even though he couldn’t touch them anymore they were still bound in his circle. He knew nothing of the pure hearts of the girls, when flowers in the yards were the most important things to them. They remembered being held by a friend, kissed by a mother or being touched by a dewdrop, but Carl could never see the beauty in such things.

The girls remembered valleys filled with scents of spring-Jasmine, Honeysuckle, and Lilac. Their Holidays were gone but the thrill lingered long after the excitement of gifts and food. Carl would never know these.

Yvonne and the others looked at the beast that enslaved them in hell for so long. He would never know the passion of a first love and what it meant to give one’s heart away. He had taken that away from many of them. During the enslavement, Carl asked them repeatedly for the feeling of truth within the hearts. For him, there was no answer. All he knew was cold and black nights. He desired no end to his satisfaction.

Denny was in Carl’s thoughts, in his head as he removed the top of this skull, laid it on the floor beside him in a display of power. Red mucus slid around the edges and stopped at the bone’s edge. Thoughts pulsed black inside his exposed brain that lay exposed to everyone.

Every gasped at the sight.

Ben was lost in thought. He tried to reason away the sight of Carl. He tried to place some value on the characters he saw, wondering if he could ever all them to be what they were supposed to be. He wondered if he could allow the normal system of good and bad to take its place in Jackson’s life. Years of teaching, praying and trying to understand hadn’t produced the rationale he needed to accept them for what they were-each personality as a part of Jackson.

Try as he might, Ben couldn’t figure it out. His years of conditioning had led him to one conclusion-he was the only one who should stay with Jackson. He was the one who had the essence of Jackson’s soul. He could lead Jackson through the dark hours of neglect, filled with ideas and morals of righteousness. He couldn’t imagine anyone taking his task from him.

Jackson decided to look inside of himself.

Silence filled the room and it felt as if the entire universe agreed to be silent while Jackson looked for the final thread in his life that could mean life or death.

Januari, Jake and Mary watched as Jackson reached depths of despair no other human had ever reached. He waited for his answer.

Everyone held his or her breath. They waited; glancing at each other while their minds tried to find some understanding for this life.

Musical tones came again. Jackson heard them and smiled. It wasn’t a wide smile, but it was one the personalities knew. It was a smile of direction and purpose. There, on the face of the captured human spirit was a smile that would’ve brightened the coldest night in the world. It seemed strong enough to melt any cold heart.

The tones grew louder.

The circles holding the personalities spun and grew brighter as the figures waited.

Suddenly a small light appeared on the floor in front of Jackson. It moved in small patterns around his feet, and then it grew and expanded. It was silver and it worked its way up his legs and torso, finally it rose to his head. It intensified.

Without warning, the light exploded into a million slivers. The resulting ball of light filled the office, the outer office, the yard, and the house. The light penetrated every street of the neighborhood spreading in patterns as old as the universe. It rose and fell as it rushed ahead in long elastic bands.

The light extended for miles through out the valley giving the appearance of an atomic explosion. A warm envelope surrounded Jackson, protecting him. The colors around him were amplified until they formed a rainbow that went up through the ceiling and into the night’s sky. It was visible as far fifty miles away. It was as powerful as a supernova from the dawn of time.

Jackson smiled and stood perfectly still. Power flowed around the room, the house and the town. Jackson was being reintegrated.

From Jackson’s protective envelope came a voice that spoke with wisdom as if it belonged to someone older than the stars. He spoke of creations and souls and love.

Sounds filled the envelope taking on the silver color as it caressed Jackson. It held him in its arms in a way Carl would never understand. Even Ben couldn’t believe the warmth coming from the form that took shape around Jackson. It resembled a man, yet it wasn’t. It glowed in hues made of love-true love not the love Ben mentioned, but pure unadulterated love.

The creature spoke. Ben and the others strained to hear it, but Jackson heard it clearly.

“This is my friend Jackson. I am God. I’ve come to stop this insanity that is now out of control. You who call yourself Doctor have allows this to continue much too long. Stand back and see how it can be done. Watch how the winds of the universe stir the waiting soul. See how love can solidify these figures you see, the ones you planned to use for your own gain. Watch as they integrate into the person I want Jackson to be.”

The envelope swelled and grew. Power seemed to explode into life before their eyes. The circles of light slowed and stopped. One by one, each realigned itself in a straight line between Jackson and John. For the first time in ages they were in alignment. Their thoughts formed a connection between each of them, as they stood ready.

At the word from God, the personalities turned to face the power that had created them. The same power that was ready to transform them into the original shape and color they were intended to become.

Words were spoken again and the circles moved inward one on top of the next.

Januari and the others heard words that sounded as if visitors were giving their approval. Thousands of eyes appeared in the room and ear were in the ceiling to see and ear the voice. Thousands of hands came from the walls ready to assist with the transformation. Thought of creation and love smoothed the strained looks from the personalities as they moved toward Jackson.

The colors blended together as the power drew them. Even Carl wasn’t strong enough to withstand its strength. As he watched God, he too changed. His evil appearance including his sores and cuts fell from him onto the floor as his color mingled with God. The creature that attacked girls would never escape again.

John, Darrell and Denny moved closer toward Carl. The one they once hated would soon be a part of them. God wanted them to merge and form a new being.

Slowly and powerfully they meshed. There was some difficulty but it soon was finished. The moved toward Randy who stood helpless to resist.

Tiny stars appeared on the ceiling to witness the change. Jake and Januari realized it wouldn’t be the story of the century for them. It wouldn’t be their ticket to fame and wealth. Jackson’s healing would come at no cost to him. God worked for the cause of love-nothing more.

Randy was swallowed up in light. He couldn’t resist as the others approached nor did he try. Ben looked around wondering why he couldn’t be left behind in his current form. After all, he knew he was good and the others were bad.

“Ben,” said God, “You’re no better than they are. They’re the reflection of what you made them. You too must change.”

Within seconds, Ben was engulfed in the swirling colors.

Jackson was the only one left in the innermost circle. Seconds passed and nothing happened. He wondered what would happen to him. In the presence of God, he waited.

He thought of everything that had happened to him. He wondered if he had learned anything from the experience. Will Mary love him now that she knows the truth? Was she the vision he sought all of his life? Is she Yvonne, the girl he had lost so long ago?

The envelope of light grew and surrounded the blended personalities.

As it came closer to Jackson, God said, “I forgive you.”

He was immediately engulfed in light. Every pore on his body opened and he felt his molecules expanding. God allowed Jackson’s body to expand in the presence of a professional audience.

Moments later the room was still.

The stars slowly vanished.

The ears, eyes and hands had disappeared.

Jackson stood alone with eyes shut. He silently enjoyed a communion few humans had ever known.

God surrounded Jackson for a few extra moments before he departed leaving Jackson to stand-alone.

Mary rushed to the spot in front of Jackson where the mingled personalities had just stood moments earlier. She waited.

Jackson slowly raised his head and smiled a slow passionate smile.

It was over for now.

Dan R. Fowler.

Native West Virginian, McDowell County. Son of Billy and Bonnie Fowler. Honors graduate from Northfork HS, Northfork, WV. BA (Bluefield State college), MA (Hawaii Pacific Univ), Ph.D. on-line doctoral program. US Navy Decorated Veteran-IUSS undersea surveillance analyst.