Noir scenes of escape out of a mad world (withajmmuse)

 

Jörn says,

“....so, what I was asking— and was —in a round about way—was trying to say—”

but I interrupt him feeling a dread of unease, 

“look, Jörn, I know what this is about,” I say, but ....still, I see his expression is doubtful, as he tries to say something but I ignore this and just keep talking, “we don’t have to talk about this ok? I really have never assumed or expected anything from you—from—us—this.... I’ve had no expectations, so—whatever.... ok?” and not looking at him, in a rush of words say, “—so, look—once this is all over and the safe is —well—all sorted out—you don’t have to worry about me, all right? No obligations— no strings, so— you’re free, we can just go back to our lives, you know, as it was before we ever met. And I’ll be fine about it—don’t worry! So, don’t worry about me being difficult —I swear, I won’t still be hanging around cluttering up your precise and orderly life, if that’s what you’ve been so worried about; it won’t be messy, I’ll just disappear —so relax, you can go back to your family, which will please your mother —or you can do whatever. Ok? —you’re a free agent, it’s cool.”

Not once do I look at him. Even once I am done. 

But the silence that follows .... leaves me with such a painfully awkward feeling. And still I don’t look up. I seem to be glued to stare blindly at a spot on the floor 

but feel aware of such a long, sticky lapse of silence 

only, after such length and intensely schooled willpower of still not turning my head he says,

“what are you talking about?”

and as I try to decide how to reply to that, his phone alerts a call

“Fan....” with a note of annoyance, he says under his breath and answers, “Willem, what’s up? .... you’re kidding.... what-the-fuck, where are they? .... I thought they were together.... they don’t have a spare? .... that’s about an hour from here—why didn’t they just meet and all come together? ....I know where it is, it’s easier if I go.... ok, then you should watch the monitors and make a pot of coffee—and I think you’re right, it’s time to surface,” then Jörn ends the call 

Only now do I dare look at him

He just looks at me in that unreadable, enigmatic way and says to me,

“do you feel like getting out of here for awhile? I think you’ve been stuck in here too long as it’s obviously made you lose your senses, let’s go.”

“Go where? What’s going on?” I ask

But then, he tugs me towards the hobbit door by my hand, not bothering to say anything except, 

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

So down the tree trunk winding stairs, and through where we entered by the catacomb tunnels back and then up to the dungeon he says to Willem as we pass the cage,

“I’m taking her too, I think the air quality in here has fucked with her head.”

And I notice the look of surprise on Willem’s face but he just says,

“be careful. Don’t do anything crazy—I should ask you what your plan is but I’m afraid to ask....” as we head to the bat stairwell that I now know leads out to the storefront with the defunct fuel pumps 

“Oh, you’ll need these!” Willem says and tosses a set of keys at Jörn

Outside.... (actually stepping outside again) ....and after facing my hunters ....I feel extremely exposed out in the open again .... even as —before too—it felt so weird to be outside ....after being stuck inside for so long .... 

and only realize that I actually cling to his fingers in a tight grip after he unlocks the passenger door of the pick-up truck —as he nearly has to pry my fingers from their grip on his, terrified of being out in the open after months in a cave

I notice now that the sun has begun to set in the sky 

“Jörn....” I hesitate, somewhat shaky, before climbing to get in and look up at him and as I do I can see in his eyes that he wants to say something 

but instead he shakes his head and stares into my eyes, and in a low tone says, 

“get in....” but then taking my hand again, presses it to his mouth, “you really are obtuse.”

And then I am distracted, and somewhat occupied with finding how thrilling it is to be on the open road to leave what has been my prison. I hardly notice the quiet. So busy watching the scenery and the novelty of freedom.

After several minutes of this it occurs to me to finally ask,

“where are we going?”

“Lake Placid,” he says casually 

“Why?”

“You know, Willem’s guys—our back up. I guess they’re coming from different locations. The others we expect before midnight but—the ones stuck in Lake Placid, apparently, they got two flat tires —and the van only has one spare— so that’s why.”

“Wow, really? Two? That’s bad luck—It’s the rough gravel out here.”

“It’s also Deiter—he’s known for being a reckless driver.”

“So now you have to fix their flat?” 

He kind of laughs and shrugs with a glance at me but then says nothing more about it and looks straight ahead at the road

Then after awhile suddenly says,

“look, I know you’re angry at me, and I really don’t blame you.... it was extremely bad judgement when I left you here....” and again falls back into silence 

After ....still more silence follows. 

Then, suddenly he says, 

“do you have any idea how much I have been regretting it?” then he looks at me and again turns to look back at the road, “you have no idea.... the whole time I was being held there —the whole time knowing that—you’re here ....with these five assassins —knowing while I’m all the way over there— it is only meters between you and them in the underground hiding .... fearing the worst things could happen— as I’m stuck over there and too far to .... I was losing my mind.... duva—if something happened .... and— it’s my fault .... I fucked up, I should know better —and —that was the reason I decided to break out of there and escape.... be the ‘vigilante’ as you called me —because I put you in danger and.... sorry, but—“ and here he pauses and scoffs, “I really have no idea what you were just going on about,” and shakes his head, “but what I was asking you back there was not what you jumped to conclusions about but....” and suddenly hits the breaks, slowing the car down, “oh, we have to stop here— they have an ATM machine,” and without warning, cutting short the conversation, suddenly turns off the road! (convenient excuse....) pulling up to some isolated, little general store boasting in big red letters that they have an ATM with a big sign on the building. 

He reaches inside the glove compartment to get a face mask and puts it on and hands me one,

“here, put it on —do you want anything?”

and as we walk in he says to me,

“don’t touch anything—which reminds me, I have your vaccines.”

As I know better than to ask questions, I only wonder over why he goes to get cash only to then use a card to buy random things 

When we get back in the truck I ask,

“did you really just go in there to get cash, and then go and buy water, an energy drink and chocolate —with your card?”

“The chocolate is for you. I know you prefer dark,” and he hands it to me with the water. “There’s hand sanitizer in the bag, use it.”

And only after a few more minutes of driving does he say,

“I used my card because I know it will draw the attention of the FBI to know where I am. They’ve been thinking I was somewhere more east since my escape.”

After a moment I ask, 

“why do you want them to know?” but then ....as I say it —I put it together ....then realize something else; I say,

“more east? —of where?? ....what?—like Moscow?”

Only he just looks straight ahead and doesn’t answer

Oh woe betide the redhead’s wrath/noir (jm muse)

“.... but you already knew they were after the code,” Jörn says

“I know, but.... I didn’t realize how close — I thought they— I didn’t realize how—near they ....believed—they think.... they are to .... Jörn....” I shudder, “so it’s just hit me— it seems to make it all so ....real now for me....” 

and yet as I say this....  it seems as if vaguely it connects with something ....so familiar....

but it seems as this is now so real.... I feel more conscious of something else.... 

this vague sense ....I can’t quite make sense of  —that seems to run so deep .... as if within my very soul, its very fiber....

And feel aware it seems to affect me even more so —now in this moment— 

as these things become apparent ....like being flung into the eye of a storm, as if shot from —out of time— by some catapult, a storm from long ago, 

and with it seems to bring and stir up something; some long forgotten ancient fear ....some terror 

of impending mortal doom

and I look again at the stack of white hides.... and can see them dripping red, covered in blood .... a dream? so tactile, it doesn’t seem —and yet feel.... far too real feel ....some deep pain 

....and horror of —intangible loss 

“....back before the midnight sun....” I blurt out and the words just spill off my tongue 

And then, startling me, Jörn’s phone alerts a message 

I watch him as he reads it —then reply before he puts his phone away,

But then he just turns to stare out the hide’s wall of window 

“Willem?”

and distracted, without turning from the view he looks out of, he says,

“ja —yes....”

and try to read his face with him silhouetted in profile

And suddenly, still without turning he strangely asks,

“why have you stayed?”

“Why have I stayed?” I ask repeating his question back confused, “what do you mean?” 

 “Why have you?” he asks and turning now to look at me, intently stares into my eyes, “why do you stay?”

“Why? .... what??? ....why-do-I stay?” stunned I repeat and shake my head, looking up at him —somewhat astounded, as I still don’t get his meaning

He stretches his arms out, holding out his hands as if to indicate, with a kind of wave with both hands, “I really don’t get it,” he says with a kind of incomprehensible calm and it is —something.... in his implication ....that suddenly ignites me like a fuse and —sets off 

And.... in a wild flash, I feel myself brewing to erupt, yet calmly enough I begin....

 “and where would you have me go? Hitch hike back to the city?” 

then winding up,  

“....are you serious....? How can you even ask me this? Where do you expect me to go?” I repeat this question to him again, still stunned by his question to me

 and stare at him aware of the alarms in my head now sounding off,

And don’t draw breath for awhile,

 “—look where you brought me! —not exactly the most convenient location, out here in the scenic yet isolated mountains! oh, the Adirondaks that stretch for miles, shall I ski across the country, how’s that?—you fucking just left me here for months—why do I stay!? You fucking ask me that? And go where-where?—exactly? How? How!!? Just tip toe past that friendly guerrilla in a ski mask down there and his jolly merry men swinging rifles in the barn house, should I make them lemonade and tea? They won’t notice me—I’ve been trapped in that demon dungeon for how many weeks?—thanks to you!—and never mind that there has been ten feet of snow or more out there since last October. How ‘bout I just call an Uber, then? Or ask our Amish neighbors for a ride in one of their wagons back to the penthouse in Manhattan? They’re so friendly! Gosh, why didn’t I think of that before?!” my pulse pounding wildly in my head by now as I rage on at him, “here’s a question for you, Jörn: why the fuck did you just leave me here and go sky-diving no doubt from helicopters around the world playing your spy games and behaving like some one man show deranged Scandi-noir vigilante Batman! How fucking dare you ask me that! —you shouldn’t have left me here!” and in my rage kick a pile of blankets across the floor at him stomping past him seething rage and mumbling, “mutha-fukka!” at no one in particular 

and by the silence that follows, I start to suspect I must have shocked him. Well, he’s never seen my rage

I turn now to look at him waiting for his response 

“I know....” he says rather quietly somewhat subdued and with trepidation seems to hesitate. 

He walks across the floor, first in the opposite direction from me and stops to think then turns to look at me thoughtfully,

“....I know you have been stuck here and it’s my fault—believe me, I know....”

“Why would you ask me that? How dare you! I swear to god, Jörn!—really?!—fuck you!—who needs you! ‘Why do you stay’” I repeat this still amazed, “Where would I go?—there’s a great question for you, Jörn— I’d love to hear your suggestions and —how—I’d get to anywhere from here—oh, yeah! —maybe I can charge up that little rover!— now that I know how it works! Wow! —what about that!?”

“If you just calm down a minute, long enough— I can explain that is not what I was asking you,” he finally says now 

I go over to the cot that faces towards the space heater and sit down,

“pray elaborate, as I am not sure how to interpret your original question to soften the blow of your meaning behind ‘why do you stay?’”

“That was not what I meant,” he lets out a heavy sigh and draws his fingers through his hair making it fall free of its tie, “that was not even where I meant this conversation to go....” he walks over to me and looks at me,

“if you can listen to me now....?”

Catacombs & noir double agents (jm muse)

And as I am pulled along by the wrist, I expect to be going back up through to the dungeon, but instead, Jörn pulls me into another direction that is towards the gym. But then he stops at where the corridor winds and then he hits the wall with his fist

“What are you doing?” I ask because I wonder if he’s gone half-mad 

Jörn just raises one brow and inclines his head so I look

I realize that his punching the wall in that way has triggered a release to one of the hidden doorways,

“it’s your birthday but all backwards,” he tells me as he shows me the keypad that is now exposed by the impact of his fist, “year first, month and day. You do it.”

“Where does this lead?” I hesitate 

“It transverses the catacombs but then leads to the hide,” he says and then nods to the keypad for me to put the numbers in

“You put this in then?”

“I added the coded lock, which is also an alarm that gets set off if it’s the wrong set of numbers so be careful.... but the architect designed all this, it was all here,” he says

“Did Lisa know about all this?” still hesitating, I ask searching his eyes

Jörn smiles again in that way that reminds me of a vampire who’s hungry to feed,

“what do you think?” and like tasers, the kryptonite charges through me 

“I—I think...” and it is not the vodka that heats my skin —like a reminder of how long it has been and have trouble loading a thought, 

“Well, that maybe ....and have thought for awhile, honestly .... that—you perhaps likely set it all up,” I say, now turning my head up at him

“Is that what you think, duva?” then, says into my ear, “put in the numbers....”

but as I start to, have to stop to think as how it is all backwards—and then purposely, he sabotages me as he sinks his teeth into my neck

“Do you want me to set off the alarm?” I ask him

He laughs at me and then puts the numbers in himself. Once having done, the door releases as if spring-loaded. He shuts the way behind us after we go through and now I see we are in a different part of the catacombs I don’t know

“So is this like a bird-hide that this leads to?” I ask him as he takes my hand and leads the way

“In a way. That is the idea. It is built in the trees,” he says, “and very clever as it cannot be seen unless you know what to look for.”

“It’s behind the farmhouse?”

“You’ll see,” he says

I see one of the golf carts as we follow the bend and notice it’s being charged with a cord plugged into the catacomb wall

“Is there electricity down here?”

“It’s solar like everything else he built here— and hydropower from under the pond; the pond which is above that ceiling window—over—you know where I mean?— over where the round bed is up there,”  Jörn says now with thoughtful admiration, “the architect was quite a genius,”

and it is this which makes me say,

“he wasn’t just an architect was he?” 

“Hmm....” Jörn smiles, “so, you’ve worked that out too, I guess.”

“So all this wasn’t just a fall-out shelter?”

“Well, I’m sure that had something to do with it as he was privy to inside information,” he stands by the golf cart and unplugs it, “get in, I’ll show you how to use it.”

“I don’t think I should drive, I’ve been drinking,” I tell him

“I won’t tell.”

“Ok....” 

but not realizing the pedal requires only a tap, I hit the wall 

he says,

“it’s not a carnival bumper-car—never mind, move over.”

I climb over him and he slides over. He puts the lights on and the catacombs light up,

“it’s not a golf cart exactly either. It’s like a rover.”

As he drives around awhile I look around, we maneuver through the long, yet narrow passages. I start to realize how complex it all is down here, and feel it would be so easy to get lost

After awhile he says pointing,

“where that glowing bulb is—there is another doorway. That one leads to a passage right under the sauna,” he says, “and, so you know, not that I think you’ll ever need it, but they all have the same number codes down here.”

“Um—where exactly are we going?”

“I just took you in a circle. We’re back where the car was plugged in. Ready?” he asks and parks. “Let’s go,” and gets off and walks towards a spot along the wall where he points to where the way starts to bend again, “right there, under that light. Hit it right here,” and points, “this time you put in the code.”

“So all the doorways are under the lights?”

“Yes,” he says, “each light marks a doorway. They all have this small impression here, that’s where you hit.”

This time when we go through, the next corridor is different. This is more like a tunnel and is narrow. It is noticeably warmer and the walls seem more like stucco or clay. The way leads to a very narrow winding staircase 

“The hide is actually built from a very big, old, dead tree. We’re climbing up through what was once the trunk of the tree,” Jörn says as we climb up

“Ok, so—when you said it is built in the trees you meant it is built in a tree,” I say

“Both. This is surrounded by all those tall trees you can see from our bedroom back at the barn house. You can’t see the hide at all because of all the trees— and the outside walls are mirrored so.... it’s practically invisible.”

“So it’s like a treehouse? —a hide treehouse....”

“Precisely,” he stops at the top where there’s an odd round door, like a hobbit house, “you first,” he says and pushes the door open. He finds the light and flips a switch

Inside seems more like a yurt, as it is all circular, and as I get used to the light, I can see that the walls are clear like a continual window or giant aquarium on this side, and this way, we are able to see outside. Mostly just trees with thick branches, but some daylight comes through them

“Wow.... it really is a hide. You can see all the birds and squirrels....” I notice

“And foxes. I’ve seen a few bears from up here,” and as he says this, his phone alerts, “it’s Willem....” and walks a few steps away as he answers the call, and then after a long pause of listening to Willem, he says into the phone,

 “.... I think they’re taking turns watching out for agents —your distraction bought us time ....ok.... when do you think they’ll get here? .... that’s about eight hours from here....”

And as he talks, I walk around the circular interior, noticing piles of blankets and rugs and .... hides.... 

and even as I don’t like animal skins, there is something about them that draws me closer .... 

white hides .... 

like the dreams .... piled up in the same way as .... the smeden’s hut. The same way. Just like how he arranged things in the sauna, the way it looked just like the dreams 

I kneel in front of the pile of hides and get that same chill. Like the first time I saw him .... that day in the lobby ....that chill .... I reach to touch the hides with my fingers .... remembering ..... his scent.... on the hides ....

my thoughts go in all directions; overwhelmed —by all things.... the catacombs, the concern about the man in the ski mask, the hunters with rifles after me.... the safe, and

 ....Jörn and with him emotions that I have learned to push away and avoid, not knowing what to really put my faith into 

but now .... as I am reminded of these memories ....all. ....connected to the dreams .... the dreams I have had all my life way before Jörn and I ever met.... that .... I feel and felt from the beginning; from that first glimpse of him .... all are connected —like that day too— the time in his kitchen with the cup, the touch of his hand and how.... how all are.... connected —connected to him 

And all this overwhelms. 

Somehow, though, being here.... this enclosed space that feels so familiar for its resemblance .... even the placement of the space heater sat at the proximity and angles of the piled hides and the bench-like pallet; like a cot or couch to the left of the hides and facing the heater, so like the fire pit; the forge where the image seems burned forever.... like the clang of metal that beat in time by the motion of long, strong arms, the slick muscles of his back, the gold of his hair in the firelight 

“Duva....”

He makes me start as I didn’t hear him walk over

“I was just talking to you, didn’t you hear me?” he asks me kneeling down to me

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.... Jörn—did you put all these things in here?” 

He looks around,

“it gets cold in here. I thought they’d be necessary if we had to ever come up here. Those trunks over there have some basics like emergency supplies and basic survival rations. Outside the door where we came in there’s a unit that has running water and a lavatory—“

I interrupt him,

“there’s something that’s been bothering me. I need to ask you this....”

“Ok....”

“About the safe.”

“What about it?”

“Well.... why....? I mean—why would you need me to tell you the code? Those things inside it. Why should anyone have to open it? Those things .... are horrible,” I say

“No, it is concern of having the weapons in the wrong hands that is more the issue —so it is with the intent to dispose of them— but besides this, there’s something potentially almost more threatening, which is why it is necessary to learn the key names involved— that is in all those documents ....in files; paperwork, the old microfilm. Lists of the names of organizations.  Who was working for who—“

“But aren’t they all dead by now? I mean, this is old news, Jörn, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“No— not really because —you have to realize, the organizations go back to those old organizations—the moguls; through the families, it gets passed down— they are all connected with the money; the wealth, all involved— so exposing the names.... that is what we’ve been after—details of dates that coincide with archived events we have records of; so, what is in there, those documents in the safe are records and invoices of accounts, detailed instructions with letterheads of all the key players that for decades we have suspected and been after, just never had any actual evidence to go by ....we had part of the information already on file —but this— links it all ....to how major events occurred —like, for example, what happened twenty years ago. You know it is about big control and world power. Just consider back then you know —where was the power?—oil. Oil.... the wealth behind it all — so it goes back to the connections with the families. Who do you think hired those people after you? People like ....Nevik Retnuh....”

and just that name is enough to make it all real. Real enough to fill me with terror

I rub my eyes behind my glasses,

“he’s still —? do you know where he is ....?” and I feel Jörn’s touch on my shoulder

But instead of answering that, Jörn says something else,

“there’s more I haven’t told you ....that you should know at this point.... about the safe—“

“Oh no! If it’s any worse than nuclear bombs and viruses I don’t want to know!” I nearly shriek this, interrupting him and half begging, pleading now 

“No—no, listen— it’s something else.... the reason my government was holding me .... duva, you see—it is because they know I took the safe back but —they think I gave it to ..... them....”

“Them? Who’s them?”

“Duva— who do you think?”

“You mean.... no— wait, back up—what??? ....No— they think....? Jörn are you saying.... so—they think you’re a double agent....? —so....” I look at him as it starts to make sense, “so you mean—“

“And while they’re busy chasing me, they’re not watching what these guys are doing. So — maybe you see why I had to break out of there —you understand?— to get to the evidence. Right now those guys down there are not after that safe you saw next to the gym. Because they think they already have it,” Jörn says

“Why do they think that?” I ask 

“Because— well....” here he actually laughs, “because I had a fake made. They have the fake and —my— government think I’m working with —them—”

“So if they think they already have the safe then.... why are they here?”

He looks at me

It takes awhile to understand why he is looking at me that way. 

But it eventually dawns

and I say, 

“....because they want the code.”

Thoughts and some hide-and-seek (jm muse)

Because Willem requires Jörn for something, he leaves me when he gets Willem’s text from up in the cage and goes back up to the dungeon saying,

“I’ll be right back.”

“You have said that before,” I say to him as he goes, “but then you did not return till months later.”

I watch him as he hesitates at the doorway. He stops and turns to look at me. But then he just looks at me with some expression that I cannot read 

and it occurs to me that it seems he tries to read me.... the slight crease between his pale brows and his set jaw. And then with a slight shake of his head he says again,

“I’ll be right back.”

and goes

I get up from the retro diner booth and walk through to the other part that I think of as the mini-grocer and go right up to the isle with the vodka. and sit down on the slick-gray painted floor with it. and break the seal, opening it.... 

this tension I feel.... 

when did I get to be like this....? 

this impatience

 ....it must be

 ....anger? 

I never was like this, I don’t like it.... 

this isn’t me, not how I ever was. 

So, what is it.... unless it is only just surfacing now. Suppressed anger. Could I have buried it all this time ....? 

I think it is disillusion

how dreadful. how miserably dreadful ....

And as I think this, I take a long swig —forgetting, for that moment, it is alcohol and drink too much. It goes right to my head as the fumes burn through my sinus and I gasp from the shock of it breathing in more of the fumes 

“Shit....” I say out loud and close the cap setting it down, and again speak aloud to myself as I tend to in such states, “that was stupid....” 

and lean back to lay flat on the floor.

I look up at the curvaceous ceiling as the dulling sensation sweeps through me along with that sick feeling between head and stomach 

but even that dulls 

....it was much easier before —much more possible before ....

when it seemed one could renew the soul by escaping crowds in some wilderness, take a trip, have a spontaneous adventure — or even just to simply have the freedom to commune quietly with nature and seek peace

and be able to just think.... clear the mind.... to get out of the negativity of one’s own head— and .... to be able to do what I always do ....just impulsively take off somewhere .... a train, a plane, a bus —or just a long drive somewhere far ....just to run away ....somewhere.... somewhere new; another city or country —escape out of my present deadwood life; the go-to reaction I’ve relied upon so often that is not possible now.... just start anew. start over fresh, shed a skin. How many times have I done that? 

but look at this world now .... it is not possible to,

 it feels so confining as there is no escape.... 

and this must be why I feel this way .... and not familiar with what this is —and so too, feel so guilty to feel it —too—

because I know what is out there, going on everywhere in the world. It reminds me of the same ugly strip malls I found going from the east coast to the west coast...

The trap of a plague, the unrest in the world, coming to blows .... 

what is happiness? 

is it possible to find this I wonder 

Especially when this is everywhere? 

What if this is really the summit of this search for enlightenment....? —whether or not the search is consciously pursued by this world, it may be having this forced upon it. all forced to, in some conscious or unconscious way; to struggle with and determine some elusive essential meaning within these suffocating current realities presented by what is exposed during these confines of life as it is 

So what difference does any of this make .... the injustices .... as I struggle with my own .... ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ ? ....that line from the US Declaration of Independence—why does it sound so naïve .... these days? 

I sit up to take another swig 

but I know .... everything matters

even as we doubt it

it does .... 

it is only that sometimes ....

 it is hard to see the light; hard to find it....

why do I think of Jung again saying how we become our names .... or is it the other way around .... I wonder.... it seems I have always been in search for the light ....  reaching blindly from the darkness .... and such darkness 

reaching for something 

....that may be inside me 

and still seems to elude me.... 

I take another swig

****

Jörn comes back .... he calls for me from the kitchen area 

and only now I realize how the alcohol has gone to my head when I move to get up from lying on the floor

He calls again 

And because I am delayed I have to call back from the floor,

“I’m in here!” and sit up

I hear his footsteps before he appears and think to right myself, shaking out my hair as I stand up, gripping the shelving as he comes in

“Hej,” I say 

but he gives me an odd look noticing the bottle

“Hej,” he repeats and walks over to take it from me. Then opens it and takes a swig too and closes it with a smile as he looks at me then puts the bottle back on the shelf, “what is going on with you?” he says. But it does not come out like a question

“While you have gone across the ocean a few times, I haven’t even left this dungeon ....” I say “I can’t exactly be —enterprising!” and the last part comes out more suddenly than I meant it to as I lose my balance from the alcohol; his hand comes out to grab me before I crash into the rows of vodka on the shelf 

When I look up expecting him to be disapproving, I find he is holding back a laugh at my expense and still gripping me, now with both hands 

but recklessly I say,

“and who knows what —you—have been up to.... who—not that I’ll ask you, it’s not my business....”

He looks at the bottle as if judging how much I’ve had and looks at me thoughtfully,

“ahhh— is that what it is? Even after Willem explained to you about Stina and how I was being held there—“

“Not the whole time!” I say, and am more shocked than he is for snapping at him 

Only he laughs,

“is that why you won’t let me near you? You think I have had time for sporting activities? Stina’s not my type!” he corners me to the shelf and traps me there, leaning over me with his arms and putting his booted feet so I can’t move

“Well, Lisa then, she’s back there in Sweden where you obviously were —not that it’s my business—“

“Oh no,” and mocks me, “of course not,” while still laughing at me, “I see vodka is your truth serum, duva —I didn’t know you were the jealous type! You don’t usually show this to me. You really think I get around —and with my ex? What an imagination you have— double-O-seven,” and still he is laughing with too much enthusiasm at my expense, “yes,” he says now more thoughtfully, “I think you do need to get out of here. Come on— let me show you something—“ and moves to pull me from there, now grabbing hold of me by my wrist

“Where?”

“To the hide,” he says

“We’re going to hide?” 

“No, to-the-hide— that’s where we’re going, come on.”

memory of a summer’s day

 

she stepped out one fine day to while

and found a pest annoy, “I know what makes your secret smile,” (as she met conceit there on the lane),“so don’t be so coy.”

And in reply with curtsy, she did sweetly say,

“I am sure I am not so urbane”

Because, we must confess, something he would never know 

  in truth it was the silkiness of freedom that did lay

with nothing beneath her skirt that fine day

Electra’s dictionary & Film Noir/a ravishing touch on the man with the vampire eyes; a short (edjmmusechron)

 

it seems now they wait for others to show ....I leave the cage to be alone while Jörn and Willem stand there watching the monitors as they discuss.... going over details about everyone in the barn house

hatching their strategy  

.... but I’m just no good with anxiety ....

I think to find calm 

I go down to the underground to the kitchen area. I go to sit at the table which is attached to the booth that looks as though it was salvaged from an old diner coffee shop from the 1940’s; the strange shade of orange upholstery and the table framed in chrome 

I pull up my legs to sit sideways and lean against the inner wall.... thinking to distract myself with some illusion of normalcy ....by looking at what is going on in the world via my phone apps. But ....it seems to only make it all worse, 

but then, is this so surprising....no, not at all.... 

besides the usual 2020 sick hangover, how’s some new threats of war, shootings, ugly and bitter global politicians cooking up cocktails of poisons to keep future films and video games of war and true crimes fully supplied 

....Oh that bruised emptiness that comes when something within you so desperately needs something so .... so.... intangible and obscure. but so necessary. too necessary to be able to ignore ....nor deny. because it presses so real and so heavy. it chokes

so I remove from all this ....remove .... to the place separate within ....where nothing bad can come inside it; nothing goes in, nothing goes out; this place inside, my own underground bunker with its own encoded lock that never lets. anything. in. unseen and invincible because nothing reveals it is there at all. Invisible....invincible 

wrapped neatly in words 

throwing out meaning. in messages; throwing out messages in its own Morse codes ....and write into my phone, lose myself for hours in my words ....until I forget the fear that threatens to overwhelm me

And so it is only the sound, that deliberate sound of a scrape of a boot sole that pulls me free of my thoughts and I look up and see Jörn standing in the doorway leading into the room I sit in ....and sense he has been there awhile

At first he does nothing. He just stands there watching me. The baseball cap now gone and perhaps it is just the way his sleeves are pulled up past his forearms and how the jeans he still wears now rest lower on his hips that causes me to see him as himself again

 ....and glad of this .... as the ice that has clung to me for so long now seems to melt away by just this sight of him now like this and the way his eyes look at me. that way. And then without a word, he walks over and sits down at the table facing me

for awhile we just sit there and just look at each other and don’t say anything. we don’t say anything. but it feels like we say so many things.... 

and after a while of this he reaches for my hand but only speaks with his eyes ....and then closes both his hands around the one he holds, still watching me.... and because I feel the sweeping ache to grip him, slide my fingers through his and the warmth spreads into me.... and then he smiles and he presses his mouth to the back of my hand and says,

“I’ve missed your eyes.”

game noir for the cowboys

I wait inside the cage and watch the monitors— only the one I watch is the monitor that has the view of what is outside the stairwell where once I had to unlock Jörn from. I know that out that way is another path that reaches the highway. It is the way the delivery trucks come, but what I now know is what only now Jörn has bothered to explain. 

This side cannot be seen from the barn house because it lets out on another street which is the other side of the highway. The angle of how the farm house is situated distorts its visibility because there is another steep hill and a group of houses that cloaks any hint of presence that a road should lead to another address, which is the basement exit at the base of the stairwell. From the outside I can see from the monitor that it looks just like a long closed up general store attached to an abandoned gasoline station. 

There’s a hill and the wooden structure of what had once been the local pump; for historic purposes, it had never been knocked down as it was protected by some law and had once been owned by the farmer whose family built the original house, so remained on the property despite the alternate street and address. It seems the architect who enjoyed building follies and hidden bunkers had a pragmatic sense of humor. 

More and more it occurs to me that Lisa’s acquiring the place for us to rent was as much of an accident as Jörn ending up with all my mail at the penthouse. 

Not for the first time I begin to realize, Jörn ‘arranges’ events that simply appear like incidentally convenient occurrences. Yes, he does play his cards carefully, down to the last detail and keeps a straight face like a professional actor while keeping the most minimal of emotional expressions from crossing his face. He chooses what he lets you see .... doesn’t he? Why does this bother me as I think about this? 

I watch him now from the monitor as he waits for Willem outside. Watch him pace across the old wood porch in his American clothes disguise ... that I do not much like on him. Now with the added Mets baseball cap —which somehow irritates me even more, along with his affected swagger and American beer ....and then I think—he’s missed his calling, he seems to like playacting ....or maybe he just misses the stage 

But then something pulls my eyes away from that monitor and I glance over at the others as I see things happening in the barn house ....it looks like the men are arguing about something .... I move to enhance the focus 

There is something going on. They are fighting now—at first I see they are shouting —two men; the big guy who I had first spotted that day in the ski mask. I recognize his body type; the thick middle and the big shoulders— he grabs the man shouting at him and throws him across the top of Jörn’s piano.... shit.... not the piano ....I shudder as I watch it happen .... and then it is chaos as another guy pulls him off and takes a swing at the man shouting and pulls out a gun, then everyone seems to get involved 

I pick up my phone and text Jörn:

<something’s going on in the barn house, they’re fighting>

I look at the monitor where Jörn is but realize Willem has arrived and have to look closer as it seems Willem too has been creative with his own disguise in a fake dark beard and a deer hunter’s jacket. I notice a Ford pickup truck and almost want to laugh at their stereotypes but then, I can’t really argue their choices. 

I look back at the barn house monitors. They have stopped fighting and now seem to be standing around looking at something on the television screen—but then— the stairwell door bursts open and I jump as Jörn and Willem step into the dungeon 

“I thought you vere joking about de bats— zeems radder creepy don’t ya think wid all about de Wuhan— hey, look, it’s Dusk,” Willem looks at me, “hoe gaat het?”

“Dusk?—hoe gaat het, Rutger Hauer,” I say back, looking at his ridiculous disguise that actually looks more like De Niro. He laughs. I turn now to say, “Jörn, did you see my text? You just missed it actually—they were having some kind of huge brawl! One guy landed on your piano, by the way but, look!—now they’re all just staring at the TV.”

Jörn looks at my text and walks over glancing up at the monitors,

“oh— they must have gotten the update....”

“Update?” I ask and look from Jörn to Willem as they exchange glances 

“FBI....” Willem says looking at me to fill me in and then adds, “I have caused your house guests some trouble —they’ve put out an APB ....only I didn’t say exactly vere dey are ‘cause, vell, ve don’t need dem sniffing around our ‘safe problem’ just yet—zo, instead our inside boys will be joining us real soon....”