The Wall - Part 5 - Complete

At least the sleeping pills and muscle relaxers helped. I slept like a baby. The downside to that, twenty hours of sleep. The sun was already beginning its transition from day to night as if the moon were saying, “You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn. You’re about excitement, but I’m all about passion, so move over and let me work my magic.”

Right now, I was feeling anything but excited and passionate. Getting up, I made my way to the kitchen to make coffee and while there had some toast and strawberry jam. I just didn’t feel all that hungry. Returning to my office, I noticed I did something I rarely do; the computer was still on.

Sitting down, I take a couple sips of coffee and look over where I left off. I finished the line and then followed Jazzie.

Luke stared through his windshield at her until the misty fog started to rise erased her from sight and with a light sigh, he put the car in reverse to his left then went forward in the direction he came from. Luke is in love with her but doesn’t know how to tell her since she’s changed.

Jazzie made her way past two lots before she spied the one she wanted. Four cars were parked out front and three men stood around in the semi-lit area smoking cigarettes and passing conversational banter to each other.

Finding a strategic spot unnoticed, Jazzie pulled out her specially made hand gun and carefully aimed at the men. Within the span of four seconds, four shots hit their mark, all the men fell to the ground.

When she rushed ahead, she looked to where they fell, and as she already knew it would be, all that lay on the ground were the clothes each man had been wearing.

Easing past the warehouse doors, she quietly walked around until she heard voices. Going to her right, she got a better look at what was going down. Two of the men were blocking a direct hit to King Dumango’ne’s head. He needed to be the first one taken out. The rest would be cake. King is far more powerful than what they know about him. One clear shot and and—

“Did you hear something,” said King. “It came from over there.” He pointed directly where Jazzie was kneeling. Pointing to two of the men flanking him, without a word said, he had them go check out the noise.

Shit, he has good hearing or just excellent perception to detail, thought Jazzie.

Jazzie knew if she stayed where she was, all hell would break fee in a heartbeat and her element of surprise would be gone. Rolling to her right, her shoulder hit a handle. She looked down and saw it was a floor-door. Opening it enough, she crawled in and quietly closed the door. Just as she did, she heard footsteps stop right on top of it.

“King says look, we look, but damned if I see anything. You?”

“Nothing. Maybe we try over there next to those stack of barrels.”

They walked away. Jazzie slowly lifted the floor-door and eased herself out like slow syrup out of a bottle. But now, her advantage had been jeopardized. Three men and King in one spot, and two others in another spot. She would still do what had to be done but it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Twisting her silver-chained necklace between her fingers for good luck, she made her next move.

Come. Come to me Andrew. You want me. You have always wanted me. I want you Andrew.

The coffee cup in my hand slipped from my fingers and hit the carpet. There would be a good stain left behind because right then, it didn’t matter. She was back again, just as I knew she would be. Still, her words still left a sweaty chill over my body.

“If I take your hand, will you be free to step out of the wall?”

Come. Take my hand Andrew. I love you. You love me. You have said so many times.

Now, I had to think. No I didn’t. Of four women I’ve been with in my life that I told I loved, they are still alive.

Loosing my control, my voice cranked higher.

“Look, I don’t know who or what you are but I’m tired of the games. I’m not who you think I’m supposed to be to you. Show yourself dammit, or just get the hell out of my life and out of my, my—wall!”

This time I could see the wall shaking and rippling, and even portions of the paint were cracking. Whoever this was, I just pissed it off.

This time the hand extended to the shoulder, but so did the other hand and arm. The lower portions of her legs were visible and then her face pressed outward even more. It was still shadowed from the walls contour, but I could make out a little bit, and what I saw made me tremble with surprise.

A portion of her neck came into view, and that’s what had me rooted to the floor. She’s wearing a necklace. The same kind I have written about many times in the series that Jazzie wears.

There is no way anyone is going to tell me that—that ….

The words came slowly out of my mouth though I couldn’t feel my lips move.

“Are. You. Jazzie?”

This time, a shrill laugh came and bounced off the walls, ceiling and floor. The lights flickered in and out of darkness. My computer inadvertently shut down. My first thought was that I hoped I hadn’t lost what I just typed.

Come Andrew. Take my hand. Together we can be happy. We can kill the demons together! You and I, forever!

This is like right out of a Stephen King book, The Dark Half. The writer wants to get away from the gruesome novels he had been writing under the name, George Stark. So he does a publicity stunt and pretends to bury Stark and embark on a different style of writing. Over time and out from the fake grave, comes a hand and a spree of murders take place as the dead and buried George Stark comes to life and in order for him to live, the real writer, Thad whatshisname has to die.

Is this what I have done, but in reverse? Have I created someone not real who wants to live? Who’s trapped in the in between life?

ANDREW!

Her yelling brought me back. She’s never yelled before.

Take my fucking hand so we can be together Andrew! We can finish your book together. Kill demons together. Have babies together and kill every freaked-out and fucked-up asshole on the face of the earth! ANDREW! You gave me life years ago! Then you stopped. But you must love me so much because you are writing about me again. ANDREW! Take my fucking hand!

Looking at the lips moving, I did not see teeth, nor could I see eyes. I wasn’t yet finished with the novel, but I was getting it now. As long as I wrote about her exploits she could, I guess materialize, but why not before? Maybe she tried, and I just never noticed. Hell, I really don’t have an answer, but I know I can’t do this. I can’t do what she wants.

I sat in front of my computer and hit the on button and waited for it to boot back up. Sweating like never before, I felt icy chills stab away at every inch of my being. My hands were shaking but I knew I had to do this.

While the computer was nearly finished booting, I looked at the grandfather clock. 11:59.

ANDREW! I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO! DON’T BE A FOOL! WE CAN LIVE FOREVER!

The words screamed from between her twisted lips. It didn’t matter. Booted up, the clock started the first of twelve bongs. By the third bong, I was at my documents. I highlighted Ride to Darkness: Ghost Goblin, by the fourth bong.

Jazzie, or whatever it really was, was struggling desperately not to be pulled back through the wall. She/it, screamed so loudly, the window behind me facing my backyard, vibrated and cracked.

NOOOOOO! DON’T DO THIS! I DONT WANT TO DIE AGAIN ANDREW! I LOVE YOU! COME! TAKE MY HAND!

Stopping only briefly, by the eleventh bong, waiting for that split second and with the final bong, my finger mashed down hard and hit delete. Of course all it did was go to my trash bin. And that was the next place I went and did the removal.

I heard no noises. No sounds. No harsh breathing. Jazzie was gone.

____________________________

It’s been four days since that night. Four of the absolute quietest four days I could ever remember. But during that time I made plans to move. Raleigh is a nice city, but after what I went through, I felt it was time to search out a place that would feel more comfortable. I had been thinking of Salem, Massachusetts. I still plan on writing and came up with a new anti-hero. I’m thinking about calling him Freddy. You know, like the Freddy on Elm Street guy, but he wouldn’t be like that Freddy. In more ways imaginable, he would be far worse.

Sandra Bacon wasn’t a happy camper with me. I opted out of purchasing the house, but I did appease her somewhat by giving her $5,000 for her troubles though I suspect by my changing my mind she probably lost a good twenty or thirty thousand in commission.

Honestly, I didn’t care.

One of the first things I did was take my computer and put it in a trash can and set it on the curb as today was trash day, but not before I took a hammer to the hard drive and other peripherals.

I called my agent and told him I couldn’t come up with a plausible ending and that I was returning the check. Of course he wasn’t too happy with that. It meant he would have to return his ten percent as well.

Hey, shit happens, right?