Chapter 10 – The weeping Song

Luke, the nameless man, sat on the floor his neck bleeding, bells ringing filling his head with sound and a daemon standing over him. He looked up at his attacker. His attacker looked back at him.

“Who are you?” Luke asked.

Anabellus reached down and picked Luke up by his shirt. He pulled Luke near to him so that he could smell the metallic taste of his own blood on Anabellus’ breath. Then he said quietly: “Do you believe in ghosts, Luke?”

Luke struggled to get free and kicked his legs wildly.

“You should do,” said Anabellus, “I died more than twelve years ago.”

The sound of sirens announced that the fire alarm had now called for assistance. Anabellus looked at Luke with a snarl, said: “Happy agony, ‘little man’” and threw him against the wall again.

Luke crumpled with to the floor with a grunt. The bells rang in his head like an omen of doom. He tried to move but only succeeded in sinking closer to the floor. Blood ran across his face and he felt to stunned to wipe it away.

Outside the sirens grew closer.

Luke lifted his head. His bag was only inches away from him. He pulled himself over to it and opened it. There were all the documents still there. The treasure, he was sent to collect.

“Collect what I send you for,” said the voices of memory, “but remember nothing, not even your own name. Just act for me.”

The nameless man stood up and shouldered the bag. His mind was filled with nothing but the sound of alarms. Outside was filled with sirens and flashing lights.

He staggered to the elevators then stooped. He turned and slowly made his way to the stair well. He walked doggedly up the stairs.

Below he could hear the sounds of radios and footsteps.

He reached the floor above. He opened the door the corridor was dark.

On the floor below, Fire Officials were moving about already. It would not be long before the law was inside the building too.

He walked steadily. He neck was bleeding less profusely now and his blood dripped less onto the floor. He pushed his way through double doors into an even darker corridor. Leaving behind bloody palm prints on a pristine white door.

Up ahead he could see the doorway to another stair well. It was dark as he approached; only the light spilling from windows illuminated his passage to the door.

The nameless man was sure he was alone. The Keeper of The Book watched with interest as he opened the door and staggered down the stairs.

The nameless man reached the floor he had so recently left when the lights came on.

He froze.

Footsteps echoed in the empty hallways.

Gradually he realised that he was now being tracked. The law wanted to talk to him and he had nothing to say in return.

He continued down the stairs and on to the ground floor. The lading was well decorated and contained many great looking plants.

The nameless man put his hand on the door into reception and then turned and reached up to break the neon strip light bulb with his hand. The glass cut his hand adding to the mess of glass from the neon strip bulb and blood still dripping a little from his face and neck.

Carefully the nameless man opened the fire door.

Breathing heavily, he put down his bag and pushed the door closed. It would not close properly but he hoped that it would maybe go unnoticed for a short while.

The nameless man picked up his bag and continued away from the building to the relative shelter of the shadows of the hedgerow.

Behind him, young office David Morgan came down the stairs. He had followed the only trail of blood that made any sense. Officer Morgan saw the broken glass first and then he saw the blood on the door shown up by the irregular light and shadows that the shining moon cast.

Office Morgan opened the door and followed the corridor. The corridor showed no sign of any disturbance, which struck him as a little strange. Ahead he saw an open pair of door he ran through them and found himself in the foyer again with a whole host of police and fire crews.

Jackson lit another cigarette. His lungs hurt a little from all the smoking he had done but he needed to do something to fend of the hunger pangs. Jackson regretted that he had not eaten since lunchtime and then only a sandwich.

“So why were you really walking out here?” asked Angelina as she repositioned the candle on the mantel peace.

“I was making sure that…” Jackson trailed off into silence. His story made as much sense as the early development of the queen during the open stages of a serious match.

He looked at her and reddened. He had only continued on with the simple guy with a day to waste because he thought he might get to meet Angelina.

A little honesty goes a long way, he thought and said: “I don’t really know. The guy had been sitting outside the school all day. I was just being inquisitive. I guess I was on a logic high from playing chess all day, the guy seemed out of place and I wanted to know why.”

Angelina could relate to those sentiments. Her own reason for being out alone on that particular road had been equally pathetic sounding. He is just like, she thought.

“I bet you think I’m silly now,” said Jackson hoping that she would say that she did not think any such thing.

“No,” she said, “sounds like the sort of thing a brash young man might do on a whim.”

Jackson was unsure how to react to her answer.

Angelina looked at Jackson face, she had hurt his feelings she was sure, she added hastily: “but, you seem nice enough anyway.”

“Thanks,” said Jackson, “I like you too.”

Angelina smiled coyly.

Jackson blushed deeply, he had not meant to say that and now he had blurted it out.

“I think you are ok too.” Said Angelina trying not to notice his blushing face illuminated by the firelight.

Jackson felt both hot and cold at once. He was unsure what to say but he felt he should say something.

The back door slammed back with the wind as the nameless man returned from the night. He staggered into the front room, sank to his knees and folded over his bag.

“Dude, are you ok?” asked Jackson.

“He’s bleeding,” gulped Angelina, “Help me get him laying down.”

Jackson unclipped the strap of the bag and the two of them tugged the man into a lying position. The man’s face and hair were matted with blood.

“We’ve got to get him to a hospital.” Said Jackson.

“We got to think first,” said Angelina, she could feel her chance for a great news story slipping away.

“First we need to clean him up then,” said Jackson. Right now, he was willing to agree to anything that might win him the favours of this girl. Jackson opened the bag and pulled out papers and folders. “This is no good,” he muttered, “he’s got to have something else… aha!”

Jackson pulled a polo shirt from the bag. “Use this.” He said. He continued to rummage. Two cups, one with a broken handle were the next discovery closely followed by the discovery of the three bottles of vodka and another cup.

“Cool!” said Jackson and put them to one side close to hand.

He continued to rummage as Angelina wiped the face of the man on the floor. He found one more cup that was broken in to three pieces as he piled the paperwork out. He also found a towel, shower gel, a pair of shorts a pack of damp playing cards and some keys.

“What happened?” Asked Jackson.

The nameless man groaned but said nothing.

“I think this man needs to rest,” said Angelina although what she actually thought was: I wish I knew first aid; I do not want to call an ambulance.

Jackson searched the side pockets of the bag and found a bottle of aftershave and a wallet. He opened the wallet other than a healthy collection of ten-pound notes there was only a sports club ID card and some stamps inside.

Jackson slipped the wallet inside his pocket and said: “the dude’s probably cold we should put the blanket over him.

“Ok,” said Angelina reaching out for the blanket and pulling it over the man.

She looked at Jackson; he seemed so strong and confident in the light of the fire and the single candle. Inside Angelina felt small and useless. She was pleased that there was some one there to lean on as she had always done. Already she knew that she did not like being this far out of her depth but she refused to turn back. The man had taken papers from the lab-complex and she hoped that there was a story there that she could use to make her fame.

Jackson could feel her studying him and it made him feel uncomfortable. He had never been in a situation like this with a female before and he was completely lost as to what to do next. What would a great character do in one of the better movies? He would just kiss the girl and then she would be his. Things are always more difficult in real life, he thought.

“…believe in ghosts,” groaned the nameless man.

“Pardon, dude.” Said Jackson. He looked up at Angelina who was looking back at him.

“Does he know what he saying?” she asked, “I hope not.” She added.

“No, he’s just delirious,” said Jackson and he hoped like hell that he was right.

Angelina stood and moved to sit with Jackson. It was cold and dark and her confidence was gone. Right now just being close to another sane person was all she had to hold onto. Her grand adventure was turning sour and she no longer knew why she had even started out as she had.

“Do you want some Vodka,” asked Jackson.

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