Interlude #4
(It’s The End Of The Road.)
Ryan hit the brakes hard, and the truck’s cab shuddered under them so violently that Penny shrieked. The sound cut through the cab, changing into a fairground cackle before it died in the joy of a breathless sigh. Ryan twisted the wheel to the right and guided the vehicle through the gates and into the turning.
It was Penny who first noticed it in the dim light. The sporadic lights on the edge of town had veiled a forgotten spot in the darkness. Ryan glanced at the mirrors anchored to each door as he eased the trailer between the ornate stone posts. They had probably been grand in their day, but time had chipped away at them until very little of their grandeur remained. The trailer cleared them, and Ryan straightened up, pressing a little harder on the accelerator, but only a little. Trees lined each side of the narrow road, reducing his vision of what came ahead to a sliver. He was easing the truck around another turn, this one more gradual, when Penny spotted something and scampered across the seat to the far side window.
“Look at that thing,” Penny said. She had rolled down the window beside her and her head was pushed out. Ryan let his eyes move over the muscles of her thigh to the tightness of the denim covering her backside. He smiled at her comment.
“Look at it, it’s huge.” She added, and Ryan snorted a short burst of childish laughter before he craned his neck to see what had drawn her attention. The laughter died in his throat almost instantly.
“It’s a bloody monstrosity.” He said.
The building looked like a mausoleum. Four stories of black brick broken by dead black windows. On the ground floor was a single light behind glass, its entrance, and the rest was only fit for the dead.
Ryan eased his foot off the accelerator, slowing its progress to a crawl.
It was just a building. An ugly one, but nothing special, Ryan told himself. It was probably designed by someone who learned their skill in Russia when it was still under communist rule. It had that kind of austere presence, a huge marker erected to appease some ancient, long-dead god.
Two rows of windows ran up its length, but none were lit. Ryan felt a sudden, inescapable feeling of being watched.
“I think it’s looking at us, Penny.” He muttered to himself, and then added, inexplicably. “I can see the eyes.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He replied but could not help but wonder where the words had come from. What was this about eyes? Ryan pressed down a little harder on the accelerator and they pressed deeper into the seats.
“What’s a gatehouse?” Penny asked and Ryan glanced at her.
“Rich folk used to have them at the gate of their properties,” Ryan said, “You know… To keep people like us out. Why do you ask?”
“There was a sign back there,” She said, “By that… big… thing.”
The truck moved ahead a little faster than it should have in such poor visibility, but something made Ryan want to move away from that slab of darkness. Penny was right, it was a thing hunched by the side of the road readying to pounce. It was as if the very brick of the building had absorbed something that even his rotten soul tried to avoid.
“We’re almost there.” He said, glancing at the GPS screen set into the dashboard. The road curved to the left, then to the right. It weaved between trees that were a canopy between moonlight above and shadow beneath. He looked on ahead as Penny lay across the seat with her head on the bottom rim of her open window. Her short hair tousled in the wind, her t-shirt pulling against her. She turned her head to look down the length of the trailer. In the mirror, Ryan could see what she was seeing. The trailer wound back and forth across the narrow road as Ryan fought to keep it on track.
She turned her head the other way and then raised it abruptly. From where she was, she saw around the following bend a moment before Ryan.
“Wow.” She remarked in a whisper.
The mansion that greeted them as they navigated the final turn had lost none of its grandeur. It was old and weathered but easily put even JC’s home to shame.
The building was built between a trio of hexagonal towers, one constructed either side of the front of the building and a third built to its rear. The furthest tower was topped with a dome, while the other two, slightly shorter structures had a shallow triangular roof that echoed the roof of the main structure. The tallest tower was sixty feet, while the remaining two were only slightly taller than the four-story building they were attached to, the front of which stepped back in equal measure to a section that was probably no larger than a normal house.
It was an unusually complex construction, even for such a grand home. Ryan turned towards it and followed a grey gravel road to the left of the building where two men awaited him. One man waved him to a stop, then waved to a loading bay like one that could be seen at the back of a department store. It was part of a much more modern building built discretely behind the cover of a thick, high hedgerow. Ryan moved the truck around and backed the trailer up to the loading bay. He hadn’t performed such a manoeuvre in many years, but it was as if he had never been away.
He killed the engine and looked out over the small, enclosed compound. On either side they were closed off by the high thick hedges, in front of them a gate was drawn closed.
“It’s the end of the road.” He said. It was meant to be flippant, but instead, it felt final. As he watched the gates close it was as though an escape route was being barred to him. They rumbled closer on tracks embedded in the concrete under the decorative layer of gravel. The gates looked ornate, and their complex construction meant they could fold in on themselves with little space wasted.
Ryan watched the gates meet and one of the men fumbled with a large ring of keys before finding one and locking it.
Penny looked around wide-eyed, slowly drawing on her leather jacket, an arm at a time.
“Have you been here before?” She asked, hopefully.
“Nope,” Ryan replied, his voice subdued. He watched the men moving around the truck. There were six of them, two at the gates and four who had moved to unload his cargo. They were all dressed in similar black clothing, and Ryan knew he would never pick out any of them in a lineup.
“Best we get out.” He said but didn’t move. He didn’t relish the idea of leaving the confines of the cab. It had become home to him in the last few hours, reminding him of familiar times, better times. He didn’t admit that it had also come to represent safety to him. He heard the passenger door click open and felt a cool air drift in as Penny slid from her seat. Reluctantly, he followed her. The air hit him like a solid slab of ice. His back ached. He had noticed the pain in the cab, but the movement had brought the pain back with a vengeance. He could hear the men calling to each other near the truck’s rear. Ryan stretched, moving his shoulder in a slow arc to try to alleviate its discomfort.
He looked up at the huge building. The loading bay and small warehouse connected to it were dwarfed by the towering structure of brick and glass. The movement to his right caught his eye. It was Penny, she seemed smaller than he’d remembered. The top of her head reached no further than his breastbone. She moved in close and placed a hand gently on his forearm.
“So, what now?” She asked, but Ryan didn’t get a chance to answer her.
“Mr Grey has not yet risen for the day.” The woman’s voice held unmistakable authority, with no discernible accent that Ryan could detect. The words were punctuated with hard heels crunching through the gravel as she approached.
Ryan turned, but Penny saw the approaching woman first.
She was taller than Ryan, and probably broader at the shoulders. She reminded Penny of a professional wrestler. Her hair was so dark it faded into the gloom around her. It fell over her shoulders past her waist. Bangs fell over her face, partially hiding her features from view. She wore simple black trousers and a white blouse, nothing special, but Penny thought she looked spectacular.
“He has instructed me to arrange rooms and accept you as guests.” She said. “If you would follow me.” She indicated with a flat palm and immediately walked towards the grand old building.
Ryan felt Penny’s hands tighten over his forearm, unconsciously pulling so tightly she made it hurt all the more. He could see the same concern in her eyes that he was sure she could see in his own. He wasn’t sure if she moved forward or whether he led her, but they followed the strange woman as one through an archway cut into the high hedge. On the other side was a small courtyard with the hedge forming three walls, and the wall of the house the fourth. Near the wall was a short series of steps that led down. It looked like an old-fashioned service entrance, and Ryan smiled, thinking it fitting. The doorway looked like something rescued from the ruins of a castle. Metal studs held thick planks of wood together, its hinges were as thick as Ryan’s wrist.
Penny’s eyes widened as they walked along one of the mansions service corridors. They were likely walking along the least impressive part of the building, but it was still an eye-opener. The ceilings were high, bordered with elaborate coving that led to walls painted with delicate colours that defied description. Ryan would have been awed if he had not spent the last few days with JC. The decor here was similar, ostentatious without succumbing to tastelessness, and Ryan thought, if anything, it was a little less overwhelming than JC’s home.
The tall lady led them silently to two doors facing each other on either side of the short corridor. She opened the door to the right, revealing a room that would not be out of place in a hotel that the likes of which Ryan would never be able to afford.
“And this is for the young lady.” The woman said and opened the door opposite.
Ryan felt Penny’s fingers press into his arm briefly. The woman’s eyes moved from Penny to Ryan, and Ryan didn’t like what he saw in them. The woman had blue eyes, almost white. They were cold as cold could be, like eyes fashioned from arctic ice.
“I expect you would want to sleep in after a tiring day.” The woman said. “You’ll find a phone beside the bed, just pick it up and someone will answer. We have someone here all night,” she said with an ice-edged smile. “I know Mr Grey would like to thank you personally, and has asked if you might want to join him for dinner?”
“Thank you,” Ryan said. The response was automatic. The truth was that he just wanted to close the door between her and himself.
“Yes.” Said Penny. “That would be lovely.” But Ryan didn’t think that she thought that at all. The woman seemed to hear what she wanted, smiled again, and left. Penny watched the woman walk away, only speaking when she disappeared around the corner.
“Tell me you think that woman is weird,” Penny said. Ryan’s eyes moved over his room. It was similar to the one he had taken at JC’s place. The large ornate bed was covered in sheets with a silken sheen. The walls were bare except for a large lone mirror hung directly opposite a doorway. Ryan tried the door and looked in. It was a bathroom. Ryan looked around the room, the bathroom, and the closet. There were bathrobes, toiletries, and towels.
“Ryan?” Penny called. She stood beside the open door, looking even smaller and more vulnerable.
Ryan paused.
“That woman was weird, wasn’t she?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah, Penny. I thought she was very weird.” He replied. “Penny, I have to have a shower and get some sleep. I’ve been all night driving.”
Penny hovered around the door a moment longer then moved over to her room, a mirror to Ryan’s. She was reluctant to close the door between them.
“Penny?”
She looked over, at the two open doorways and a corridor that separated her from Ryan. She knew that the nervousness was etched into her face, she could feel it. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t feel fear but as she looked over the ornate room and fine fittings, she realised she was intimidated. She had stepped into another world that she wasn’t prepared to navigate.
“Penny?”
Ryan was speaking, but her mind had wondered. She blinked and applied a smile as easily as she would apply lipstick, for a moment she hadn’t recognised the name she had taken for herself. For a moment she was Greta Muller once more.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
She nodded, but she wasn’t.
“Take a shower, then get some sleep,” Ryan said. His words were firm, but not unkind, as though he was talking to a child.
Penny felt herself again, this her, not the old her, and rather than take offence at his sternness she felt comforted by it.
“Go on.” He said, and Penny smiled, this time it was real.
“Night Ryan.” She said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” And closed the door.
Ryan followed suit. A pain shot through his back as his shoulder popped. He looked for a lock on the door and found none, then considered jamming a chair under the handle, but realised there were no chairs in the room.
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t even think why he would be concerned. It wasn’t as if the tall woman would want to creep into his room while he was sleeping and if he thought that was the case, he might leave the door wide open.
He smiled to himself, then moved into the bathroom.
The shower was too hot, and he couldn’t regulate it to a reasonable temperature, but as the water hit his shoulder the heat banished the pain almost immediately. The steaming water nearly burned, but he didn’t care about this either. A part of him liked it. Deep down in his mind, he knew something within him wanted it. He was tempted to turn the temperature higher, as high as he could stand, and a little more. Perhaps the pain would drive it all out of him, the boiling anger that ran through him like a slow lava flow, the need to do something, to hurt something to make his presence known.
He left the shower when he thought that fatigue would overtake him. He dried and dropped the towel where he had used it alongside his discarded clothes. He walked back into the bedroom naked and wearily climbed into bed. He was asleep within moments, but just like the night before, and the night before that, it was not a restful sleep.
He would not remember it when he awoke. He never remembered his dreams. But they remembered him. As soon as the waking world left him he was plunged into the midst of it. Hands grasped at him as he fought through to the other side. The fingers sometimes caught hold and he would struggle with them. He would break some free as others would find purchase. He would worm away from those, but more found him in the sea of bodies.
The fingers would sometimes burst as he fought with them. The bone underneath might turn to dust. Other times the skin was as thick as elephant hide. The coarseness of it scratching furrows into his flesh.
Ahead there was a clearing. The hands dragged him back as he fought his way forward.
Signs and symbols, he heard someone scream, symbols and signs.
We all serve, he screamed back, but not all know we serve.
He broke free from the horde and fell into the clearing. The earth was hard. It looked like dried clay. Cracks decorated it. The crevices were deep. He would not step on them. Ahead was a throne that looked like an ebony gravestone. It was constructed of bone that had borne the weight of ages. It was black bone. It was petrified by pressure. Not the pressure of the earth. But the pressure of pain.
“Who does Ryan serve?” The figure on the throne called out to him. Its voice was old. Its speech was slow. Ryan did not answer and the figure called to him again. “Who does Ryan serve?”
“He serves himself.” Another voice called. A woman’s voice. Familiar. Welcome.
Ryan turned and saw its owner.
She moved closer, standing before him. The top of her head came to his breastbone. She wore a cloak of feathers. As she moved white flesh flashed.
“He serves himself!” She screamed, and the dream ended, but Ryan did not wake.