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by Rich Lewis
***No portion of this text may be reproduced or copied without the expressed written permission of the author. If you have comment or questions please email the author. You may print a single copy of this novel for your personal enjoyment, which must be destroyed upon completion.***
CHAPTER 6
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I awoke about twenty minutes before the
plane was to land in London. The dreams I had been having were less than
comforting. Strange faces had me in a corner, and my life was about to end.
Carolyn had been there, as had the Scholten’s and Gary Nelson. They all seemed
to laughing at me, led on by Jack Mellor. My
awakening from the dream had startled my neighbor, who gave me a queer look. I
took out the handkerchief and wiped the sweat off my face, and leaned back in
the chair.
The
death of Gary Nelson was very hard for me to deal with. I had known Gary a long
time, and felt sick that I had been the cause of his death. I didn't know if I
would ever be able to forgive myself for what I had done. Worse yet was the
thought that I might make a similar mistake in the near future and cause someone
else to die, maybe even me.
Carolyn had given me a name of a friend of
hers in London to call once I got in. Diane Henry was an archeologist and
researcher like Carolyn and I who worked at the London Institute of History.
Diane Henry would get me into the archives. I worried. I didn’t want her to
end up dead as well. My thoughts returned to Carolyn as well.
My first priority was to be something
else. Before I continued with my investigation, I decided I had better get what
I now knew down on paper. Maybe no one would believe that people had been killed
over this, but if something did happen to me, and that seemed very possible at
the moment, I wanted some kind of record left behind. I really did not know if
it would really amount to anything, but I had it in my mind to do. I wanted to
leave someway to explain the death that seemed to be following my every step.
Putting everything in writing would also help me personally as well. If I was going to be successful doing this, I had to get organized. There couldn't be any wasted motion, or wasted time. Time was something I did not think I had a lot of. By writing down everything I new I could organize my thoughts better, and know what the next step was. I did not know exactly what I had, but someone thought it was important, worth killing for. I had to already have the pieces to the puzzle I needed, I just had to fit them together.
Jack Mellor had summed up my predicament
the best, saying I didn't have time to learn. I was going to have to have on the
job training. The only problem was that I was only going to be able to make one
mistake. One mistake and I would be dead; at least when they decided I was too
much trouble, whoever they were.
The
plane landed smoothly at Heathrow Airport in London, under somewhat cloudy
skies. It looked like it was planning to rain. Proceeding through the terminal I
picked up my bags, and stopped at a courtesy phone and called for a reservation
at a hotel. Knowing others would soon be looking for me I did not pick one of
the better-known hotels, just one that would offer the comforts I needed. Taking
a taxi, I arrived at a modest hotel. The rooms were plain and simple, no frills,
yet clean and roomy.
I unpacked just enough to get some fresh
clothes out, and took a shower. It was almost dinnertime here, and I decided to
start by getting some food. I had hardly touched the food on the airplane,
because I hadn't been feeling very well at the time.
The desk clerk told me of a small
restaurant down the street, so I set out for it. After a small meal, I headed
back to my room, where I watched some television, and made some notes about my
project so far. I thought it strange that I was now referring to this as my
project. I decided I'd call Diane Henry in the morning, discreetly, and find the
use of a computer, or typewriter to write out my notes. I thought a computer
would be better, because then I could make copies of the material as I had done
with the pictures. This time I would be more careful about where I sent things.
Although the clock in my head said it was not
time to sleep, I laid on the bed until I succumbed. My sleep was again filled
with strange dreams, so it was not a restful night. I awoke early the next
morning, around six a.m. London time, and began making plans for the day.
The first thing I did after a shower and
breakfast was phone Diane Henry. She said she would be more than happy to pick
me up and let me use her office. Any friend of Carolyn's was a friend of hers.
If she had known the trouble that was following me, I doubt if she would have
been so cheerful and generous.
Around eight-thirty she arrived at the
hotel to pick me up. I was waiting in lobby when she came in and asked the desk
clerk for me. I got up and walked over to greet her, putting my copy of the
London Times under my arm and picking up my briefcase.
"Mrs. Henry," I said extending my
hand, "I'm Jarrett Scott."
She reached out and shook my hand.
"It's Miss Henry I'm afraid Mr. Scott. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Somewhat embarrassed I smiled. Diane Henry
was in her late thirty's, and rather attractive looking. For some reason when I
had first seen her I pictured her as a loving wife with a couple of children. So
many in our profession lived full and exciting lives, yet virtually all alone.
"Carolyn told me a little about you
Mr. Scott."
"Jarrett," I interrupted her,
"just call me Jarrett."
"Okay Jarrett," she said.
"Well, we better be going. I have to be in by nine."
The drive to her office only took ten
minutes, and was somewhat peaceful. This part of London did not suffer the
traffic problems of New York City. Once there, we spent a few minutes wandering
the office as she introduced me to her co-workers, some of which gave her a big
wink, thinking I was some ex-boyfriend of hers.
After the introductions, she showed
me to her office. "You can use my computer Jarrett, I have some work out of
the office this morning."
"I'm not kicking you out am I? "
I asked.
"Oh no, I do have a few things to do.
You're more than welcome to use my office."
"Thanks," I said. "Um,
one more favor," I asked. "You wouldn't happen to have a couple of
blank disks would you?"
"Sure," she said smiling,
"third drawer down on the left."
I thanked her again, and she grabbed
a few papers off her desk and turned to leave. Stopping at the door she turned
back to me. "Would you like to have some lunch around one?" she asked.
"Sure," I said sitting down
in front of the computer.
"Great, I'll stop by and get
you. If you get finished early, feel free to look around."
"Thanks," I said again. She
turned and closed the door, and opened my briefcase to get my notes and get to
work.
Luckily the computers used by her
firm were the same as the ones from the Institute, so I didn't need long to get
started. As best I could I made a detailed description of what I knew so far,
and typed in as much of the other information from the photocopies I had from
the Institute. A secretary who asked if I’d like some coffee, which I politely
accepted, interrupted me once. I finished up around noon, and made a second copy
of the material onto another disk.
The information that I had found so far did
not seem so disastrous that people had to die for it. The early findings of
artifacts that contained Linear A symbols listed thirty-seven of them. The stone
tablet that had been found last year had added seven more symbols, and I had
spotted one more on the vase from Crete in the Cranston book. That brought the
total number of known symbols to exactly forty-five, all dating older than 1500
B.C. Of these forty-five, five had been found in the cave drawing from Tibet,
dating around 500 B.C., and seven more had been found in the cliff dwelling in
New Mexico. The New Mexico find was the newest of the discoveries, dating around
the year 500 A.D. None of the information had lead to any clue of deciphering
the Linear A language, at least not to my knowledge.
I decided to just sit back and take it easy
for a moment, and pulled out my newspaper to finished reading it. A few minutes
before one, Diane Henry reappeared. I was glad she had returned as I was
becoming bored sitting around her office. There really wasn't any way for me to
rush her into letting me into the archives, but I had to find a way. Time was
definitely not on my side, and I was anxious to resume the hunt.
We enjoyed a quiet lunch at a
small pub around the corner from her office, and engaged in some mindless
chitchat. It was nice having my mind taken off my problems for at least a few
moments. Slowly the conversation shifted towards the work I was currently doing.
Trying to downplay any huge discovery, I explained my work on the Linear A
project, and the possible link with the cave drawing in Tibet. Naturally I
failed to give any detailed explanations of what I had found.
At the conclusion of lunch, we
sat in the pub for a few more moments, and I brought up the subject of my
getting in to the archives to look at the picture of the cave drawing.
"So Diane," I began, trying
not to sound to pushy, "when do you think I'll be able to get a look at the
picture of the cave drawing?"
"Oh I'm so sorry," Diane
said. "I'll bet you're just chomping at the bit to get after it, aren't
you."
I smiled at Diane, and leaned back into my
chair. "I am rather anxious. I'm on a bit of a tight schedule," I
said, pronouncing schedule with an English accent.
Diane Henry found it amusing.
"Well I suppose we could get you in
this afternoon. It's really not that big of deal to let you in. You must promise
though," she said rather seriously, leaning forward, "that you don't
try to walk off with any British treasures."
We both had a short laugh and then Diane
rose to leave. Reaching for her purse I told her to put her money away, and I
paid for the lunch. We continued to talk as we walked back to her office.
"I was hoping you would be
able to stay until tomorrow Mr. Scott," she said, then correcting herself,
"I mean Jarrett. I had a bit of a surprise for you."
"A surprise," I said,
thinking that was the last thing I wanted at this point in time. "There's
really no need for surprises."
"Oh, oh well," she said, somewhat
disappointed. "Do you know who Dr. Kelly Jamieson is?"
My interest perked up immediately. Dr.
Jamieson had been an archeologist working on Crete when the new tablet had been
found last year. It would probably help me a lot in my investigation if I had
time to speak with him. I would have planned to see him, but the last I had
heard he was still in Crete, and I said as much to Diane.
"Yes, he was in Crete," she
said. "He returned yesterday. I spoke with him this morning and he said he
could meet with you tomorrow. I just presumed you'd want to speak with
him."
"Yes I would," I replied, bright
eyed like a boy on Christmas morning. "It would probably help me a great
deal on my project, not to mention just the honor to talk with him."
"It’s really no problem," she
said as we reached the office building. "Make sure you don't mention
anything about being honored, or anything like that, he really can't stand
it."
"Sure,” I said, following her into the
office. Maybe lady luck was finally on my side. Getting to see Jamieson was more
than I had hoped for in coming to London.
"Would you like to see the archives now
Jarrett?" she asked.
Naturally I replied that I would, and she led me
off towards the back of the office building. Just as in our building in New
York, the archives were located in the basement. The conditions there were not
quite as nice as those Carolyn and I shared however. There were no offices here,
the lighting was rather poor, and the ventilation was not very good either.
Diane took me past the desk at the entrance of the elevator, quickly clearing my
arrival with the desk clerk, and showed me to the book.
"I have some calls to make, and a few
errands to run," she said. "I'll leave you here, you can feel free to
look around. Do you think you can find your way back to my office?" she
asked.
"Oh sure," I replied. "I won't be
too long," I stated, already engrossed in the book she had pointed out to
me.
"Fine, fine," she said, heading back
for the elevator. "Just make sure you don't try to take anything," she
said, laughing again. I gave a half-hearted chuckle in reply, but for the most
part I had heard very little Diane had said since she had pointed out the book.
For the next hour and a half I was
completely absorbed by the London archives. The picture in the old book I was
looking at had a much clearer, although much older, photograph of the Tibet cave
drawing. I could clearly identify the five symbols I had recognized from the
picture in New York, as well as what I though was a sixth one. I had left my
briefcase up in Diane Henry's office, so I borrowed some paper from the desk
clerk, who gave me an annoying look for interrupting him.
I copied down all the symbols and drawings
as best I could with my limited artistic ability, and replaced the book on the
shelf. I spent another half hour looking through some other books that the New
York archives did not contain, but did not find anything else that was of any
use. Around three-thirty I headed back towards Diane's office. My jet lag was
beginning to catch up with me, and I had thoughts about returning back to my
hotel for a nap. I also wanted to get the computer disks I had made into the
mail, just in case something happened.
I picked up my briefcase and paper at Diane
Henry's office, and thanked her for her help. She said she would phone me in the
morning, and would take me to see Jamieson. She offered to give me a lift back
to my motel, but I declined, feeling I had taken up enough of her time for one
day. She called a taxi, and by four-thirty I was back at my motel.
I entered my room very carefully, not
wanting to find any rude surprises. A quick look around revealed that everything
was in order. The maid had come through and cleaned up as the bed was made, and
fresh towels replaced in the bathroom. I placed the computer disks in some
envelopes I had bought on the way back to the motel, and took them downstairs to
mail. The desk clerk smiled and took care of my request. I mailed one of the
computer disks directly to the bank and my safe deposit box. I sat and pondered
where to mail the second disk, and it came to me. I addressed the envelope to
Jack Mellor, the Cafe de Paris, New York City. I had no way to know if he would
actually get it, but after his choosing of the place to meet, and his quick
disappearing act afterwards, the establishment had to know who he was. Hopefully
the computer disks would find their way into Mellor's hands. At this point I
assumed he was on my side.
Feeling somewhat secure after mailing
the disks, I returned to my room and lay down on the bed. I turned on the
television and watched a little, but nothing seemed interesting. I had a brief
thought of calling Carolyn, and getting the news from her end, but quickly
decided against it. The more contact between us, the more danger she would be
in. I took a brief nap, and then went out for a walk, and had some dinner.
After eating, I again returned to my room. I
thought about switching motels, but decided I would probably be all right for
one more night. London was a big town, and I did not think my pursuers would be
able to locate me this quickly. I hoped anyway.
Still staring at the papers from the project, running the information
through my head again and again, I finally fell asleep.
I was awakened at six-thirty by the desk
clerk, calling in the wake up call I had left the night before when I had mailed
the computer disks. I was glad that I had left the wake up call, as I had been
soundly asleep. It was no wonder, I thought to myself, as this had been the
first night in quite a few that I'd had a decent nights sleep. It was mostly due
to the fact that I had been so exhausted.
Diane Henry called around eight, and said she would
pick me up around nine. Dr. Jamieson was expecting us around ten o'clock, and
his residence was some distance from the hotel. I gathered my materials into my
briefcase, packed up my bag, and went downstairs to check out. I decided if I
did stay in London, it would be wise to change addresses. At the moment, I
really didn't have any plans on what to do next, besides speaking with Dr.
Jamieson.
Diane Henry arrived right on time, smiling
and bustling about what a fine morning it was. Her cheerfulness was something I
was not accustomed to as of late. I thought about just how much I missed
Carolyn. I did not know if anything would develop between Carolyn and I, but if
I made it through what I was doing, it was going to be an additional challenge
for me to overcome. Maybe we were just caught up in the moment, the danger, and
our work and there really wasn't any kind of an attraction. Then again, maybe
there was. I would just have to wait and see, provided I lived long enough.
Diane brought me back to my senses as she
was rambling on about some London landmark we were passing. I tried to focus and
listen. Dr. Jamieson's house was located on the outskirts of London, and it was
a beautiful drive. Diane was explaining some of the little quirks about Dr.
Jamieson as we went.
Dr. Kelly Jamieson was a Cambridge
graduate, a doctorate in archeology and anthropology. He was in his late
fifties, and had an almost London playboy look. Diane had informed me that in
actuality, his personality was just the opposite. Never married, Jamieson was
obsessive with his work. He didn't like any of the publicity he received, and
just as soon remain an unknown, as to be greeted with fame and fortune.
Unfortunately for Jamieson, his discoveries and books had made him a celebrity
within the archeology profession. He had spent four years in Greece on various
projects, and was a renowned expert on Greek archeology. If I were really on to
a major discovery, Jamieson would have some kind of an idea of what it was.
Shortly after ten o’clock we arrived at
Jamieson's residence. It was everything an American would imagine an English
manor to be. We passed two large gates, and followed the driveway, which was
almost a quarter of a mile long, up to the main house. It was and old Victorian
house, decorated with an abundance of trees and shrubbery around it. I did not
know how large the place was, but it looked quite elegant. Dr. Jamieson had
definitely used his money wisely.
Dr.
Jamieson himself greeted us at the doorway when the car pulled up in front of
the house. For some reason I had expected a butler, and servants to be waiting
on him. He seemed energetic and cheerful, and ushered us quickly into the house.
"Good morning Diane," he said,
giving her a hug. "It's been a spell hasn't it, how are you?" His
affection for Diane seemed to be real, as he continued to hang on to her hand.
"Fine Dr. Jamieson," she answered,
"I'm just fine."
"Good, good. Here, let me have your
coats." He took Diane's coat and turned and called for Henry, who was his
only servant in the house. "Henry please hang these for me," he said,
"and we'll take some tea in the library."
Turning back to me he spoke again. "So you
must be Mr. Scott? I’ve heard some good things about you."
I must have looked surprised by the way he
laughed to himself. It was hard to imagine that Dr. Jamieson would have even
heard of me. "Don't act so surprised. I read one of your papers on the
Greek acropolis last year. A good piece of work." I had almost forgotten
about writing that paper. It had only appeared in a few of the lesser-read
archeology magazines, and nothing had ever come of it.
Jamieson lead us off down the hall and into
the library. It was a large room, and was a well stocked library. There were
rows upon rows of archeology books, as well as many of the old classics, many of
which were 18th century additions. I stood admiring them as he sat at an old oak
desk in the room.
"I collect many old books Mr. Jarrett. It's kind of a hobby for me." He turned to face Diane, who sitting in one of the chairs opposite of him. "So, how is work at the Institute Diane? I haven't been down there in awhile. Kind of miss the old place.
"Oh it's still there," she replied.
Henry came in with a tray containing a silver teapot and some breakfast rolls.
"It doesn't seem quite as exciting without you there though," she
continued. Judging from what I had seen of Dr. Jamieson's energetic personality
since I had been here, I did not doubt Diane's comments to be true.
"Now, now," he said. "You
should be ready to start making some of your own excitement." He reached
for the teapot to pour, excusing Henry from the room. I moved over to a second
chair facing his desk and sat down as he handed me a cup.
"So Mr. Scott," he said.
"I'm told you're working on a project having to do with the Linear C
language. Have you had any luck?" He
leaned back in his chair and waited for me to speak.
I began to explain the researching I had
done, making sure to note Carolyn's involvement in the project. I left out all
of the other details, such as my trip to New Mexico, and my apartment. During
the time when I was speaking Dr. Jamieson showed a genuine interest in what I
was saying. When I finished speaking, he just sat in his chair thinking a
moment.
"Diane," he said, turning to face
her, "I do not wish to be rude, but I would like to speak with Mr. Scott
alone for a few moments." He got up and escorted Diane Henry from the room,
telling her to feel free to look around. Diane seemed somewhat confused, but
willing left us alone. Jamieson
returned to his desk and sat back down, facing me once again.
"So," he began, "when did
they close you down."
The
question caught me off balance, and I stammered for an answer. He got up, pacing
around the desk, waving his hand at me. "No need to explain Mr.
Scott," he said. "I did not know it for a fact until just now, but I
presumed it so." He stood in front of me, staring out the window.
"You see, I know several others,
as well as myself, who had thought we were making progress in deciphering the
Linear C language. Unfortunately, due to pressure from our superiors, we were
not allowed to continue." He walked behind the desk and sat back down.
"Let me tell you a little story," he began.
Dr. Kelly Jamieson was spending his
second summer on Crete in 1970, helping an archeology crew recheck some sites
that had been closed years earlier. Similar to Dr. Scholten's work in New
Mexico, they had made some discoveries, and then freak accidents began to
happen. Turkish terrorists captured one of the archeologists; supposedly,
another was involved in a car accident. The project was allowed to continue
until the end of summer, but certain sections of the site had been closed down,
and were even guarded. Jamieson himself had not been involved in digging in
those areas, so he did not know what had been found. At the end of the summer
the entire area had been closed down.
Last year Jamieson had returned to Crete,
on offers from the Greek government, to restart a digging project at the same
site. Although they were supposedly the first team to dig in the area since
1970, he said there were signs that excavation had taken place not too long
before they had arrived. In digging down past the level that the old project had
been investigating, they had found another house, dating around 1700 B.C. It was
from this house that the latest stone tablet had been found.
As soon as the discovery had been
made, he said there was a sudden order to close down. Within hours of the
discovery, there were Greek troops in the area, with reports of terrorist
threats on British and American workers in the area. Even though the troops
arrived, they allowed several of the crew to work a little longer. When the
commander of the area arrived, he was very upset with the soldiers there,
screaming that the work was to have been halted.
Much to his dismay, the stone tablet
had already been exhumed and cleaned up. A reporter who had been working on a
story with archeology team had taken pictures, and already left to file his
story on the stone tablet. Reluctantly the commander allowed the tablet to be
removed, and then quickly closed down the site.
Dr. Jamieson remained leaning back in
his chair, still lost in his thoughts, not speaking for a moment. He leaned
forward and his eyes met mine.
"I am firmly convinced," he said,
"that we were not suppose to remove that tablet. The orders had come to
close us down, and the commander had been very upset with the fact that we had
continued, and that the reporter had left the area already, with pictures of the
stone tablet. We were quickly ushered to the airport, and put on a flight to
Athens. Once there, the tablet was removed by the Greek authorities, and were
not allowed near it again."
The story had a familiar ring
to it, as I thought about the story Dr. Scholten had told me about the New
Mexico project. I remained sitting
there, looking at Jamieson, who was sitting back in his chair, organizing his
thoughts.
"I was very suspicious of the Greek
government. I tried to raise a fuss about it, but was quietly told to stop. That
was why I returned to London. Still, I returned with several unanswered
questions."
"Such as?" I asked.
He leaned forward again, looking right at me.
"What had been removed from the site before we had returned for one.
Someone had been working there between the time the first project had been
closed in 1970, and the second project. Second, why had they allowed us to dig
there if they didn't want anything found, unless they thought there was nothing
else there. Finally, why did the Greek government downplay the find so much?
They only let a handful of us work with the stone tablet, and only for a very
short time."
He sat back again, waiting for a
response from me. I was sure he suspected there was more to my story than I had
told him. Finding no reason to hold back anything, I gave him all the details,
opening my briefcase, and showing him everything I had.
It had been over an hour since Diane had
left the room, and we were still engaged in conversation. Dr. Jamieson could
come up with no theories or conclusions as to why it seemed someone wanted all
this kept under wraps, and reached many of the same conclusions as I had about
what had so far been discovered. Why anyone wanted this to remain a mystery was
something he could not understand either. The thought that the symbols from
Crete could actually tie in with the drawings from Tibet and New Mexico
intrigued him.
We were interrupted by a knock on the door,
and Diane peered in. Jamieson expressed his apology for the two of us forgetting
all about her and invited her back in. Henry, Jamieson's house servant, came in
shortly after her and asked about lunch. Diane and I politely refused, as I
needed to make plans for what to do next, and I sensed Diane had some previous
engagement to attend to.
Dr. Jamieson walked us to the door, and
issued an open welcome for me to drop by at any time, for which I gratefully
thanked him. He had also given me a copy of all of his notes from the two
projects on Crete he had worked on. Telling
him I would let him know if I found anything else, he wished us luck, and we
left.
Diane dropped me off at another small
hotel, giving me a curious look, and asking if the last hotel had been to my
disliking. I made the excuse that they had been booked solid for the next few
nights, and I went in to see about a room. After waiting to make sure I got a
room, she told me to call if I needed anything else. As soon as she had driven
away I thought I should have had her call Carolyn and see how she was doing. I
decided I would wait until tonight and call her for the favor.
At the moment, I wanted to go up to
my new room and read through Dr. Jamieson's notes. There were over a hundred
pages of material, and I wanted to get started on it right away. Perhaps there
would be something in the notes to give me a clue as to what to do next. It took
me about three hours to wade through Dr. Jamieson's notes, and they had not
given me much hope. I had a few questions that I wanted to ask him, but the
hunger in my stomach persuaded me to take care of that first. By the time I had
eaten and returned to my room it was almost seven o'clock.
I called Diane Henry, and asked her to place the
phone call to Carolyn for me. She said it would be no problem and promised to do
so first thing in the morning. She ended our conversation asking me if I was
missing her. I did not admit to it, but I was. I was wondering just what Carolyn
had told her about the two of us.
After talking to Diane, I called Dr.
Jamieson. Henry answered the phone and said that Jamieson had stepped out for
the moment, but would be returning within the hour. I asked if Dr. Jamieson
minded late visitors, and Henry said he had been left with instructions that
should I wish to see him I was welcome at anytime. I decided I would grab a taxi
and go over to see him. By the time I got there, Jamieson would have returned.
The taxi dropped me off at the front door,
and having collected his fare, he quickly left. Noting the dwindling reserve of
money in my wallet, I decided I was going to have to find somewhere to withdraw
some more money in the morning. I was going to be very poor, very soon. I had
been reluctant to withdraw more, because once I made a bank transferal, I would
be very easy to locate.
When I stepped up to the door, it was
partially open. I didn't think it would be like Dr. Jamieson or Henry to leave
the door opened, and immediately began to worry. I placed my briefcase in the
bushes next to the porch, and quietly entered the house. Most of the lights were
off, and the house was very dark. Quietly I began to move down the hall, trying
to watch every direction. I had the feeling that someone was in the house.
I don't know why I continued into the
house. I was not trained or equipped to deal with what I might find, especially
after what had happened to me at the Scholten's. Mellor's comments that I was an
amateur at this game kept popping into my head. Maybe I should leave the house?
I continued moving down the hall against my better judgment, and I noticed a
small desk lamp was on in Jamieson's library. I continued to creep down the hall
towards the room, listening. There was not a sound in the entire house.
When I entered the library, my heart
seemed to stop. There was someone on the floor, lying face down in a pool of
blood. "Oh god," I said quietly, and moved towards the body. I slowly
reached out and turned him over. It was Henry. Someone had strangled him from
behind, and it appeared he had not been dead for very long. I could feel the
panic begin to surge within me again, and I knew I had to get out of the house.
I didn't see him, but some sixth sense told me he was there. I released my hold on Henry and began to turn and get up, and he sprang from the darkness. His hands reached above my head, and came down around my neck, a wire wrapped around each of his hands. Instinctively I reached my hand up to protect myself, and he wrapped the wire around my neck, my hand locked underneath the wire. I struggled with my hand to keep the wire off my neck, and prevent him from strangling me.
I tried to rise, but his weight on my back
prevented me from getting up. Instead of trying to fight against him, the wire
cutting through my fingers, I rolled him over my back. He rolled out in front of
me, and the wire came free from my neck. Struggling to breath through my throat
I again, I jumped up and raced off down the hall.
Stumbling on the carpet still gasping for
air, he caught up to me again. Again his hands shot over me head and came down
around my neck. Panicking, I kicked back at him, and swung viciously at him with
my free hand. The wire was cutting my fingers again, and I could feel the blood
begin to flow down my hand from the wounds.
Thrusting myself backwards against the
wall, I struggled to free myself. The backward plunge had caught the attacker
off guard, and the wire slipped from one of his hands, allowing escape. I lashed out, a man gone insane. Hitting and kicking, panic
welling inside me, as he struggled to maintain his grip around my neck.
Thrashing sideways caught the attacker off guard again, and we ended almost
facing one another, and I drove my knee to his groin. I heard the air escape him
as his hold released, and I started down the hall. I could hear him behind me,
struggling through his pain to catch me again.
As I reached the front door I knew he was
about to close on me once again. My eyes searched the dark for something to use
as a weapon, anything. I grabbed the coat tree from the corner of the doorway
and swung it backwards towards the attacker with all the force I could muster.
Some how the coat tree came into contact with the attackers head, I could feel
his skull give way with the impact. The blow threw him violently into the wall,
and he slid in a heap to the floor.
I remained bent over, struggling for air,
trying to regain some control. I felt my stomach heave as I stared at the
crumpled man on the floor. My hands began to throb, pressure began to build in
my head. From the corner of my eye I caught another movement, a flicker of
light. My grip on the coat tree tightened and I began to swing once again.
“Stop”, a voice cried, “it’s me.” Something within recognized the voice, the swing was interrupted and I stood there bobbing for moment until the momentum stopped. I recognized the voice as Jamieson’s, he stood there with a horrific look on his face. Then I passed out.