mewn panig!

    Rwyf eisoes yn mygu

    ac yn teimlo dan orthrwm

    mae'n achosi i mi fynd yn isel fy ysbryd

Leaving the Dungeons (e.d.jmmusechron noir ….to be continued)

I stand by the keyboard waiting, watching bigger and bigger pieces of wall crash onto the floor and crumble in a deafening level of noise. Holding my breath, I have to lean against the wall behind me as a dizziness begins to sweep over me, and inch myself closer to the keyboard until the length of it is parallel to my legs and then lean to prepare to grab it in both hands as I watch from my wall as the rubble tumbles in with white dust and then the noise of the drill stops, giving way to voices

At first it is several voices all shouting over each other. It is hard to distinguish any recognition to them, but I hear one of them say,

“How do we know it’s not a trap?” with an American accent

“There could be a bomb!” another American shouts

And then,

“she’s in there, we saw it on the monitor!”

And this voice I recognize 

It is Willem

I let out my breath and breathe in with relief, letting go of the keyboard I began to grip. And when I feel able I call out,

“Willem! I’m here!” and fall back against the wall suddenly feeling even more dizzy

I watch as the familiar outline of Willem steps through the rubble of wall and in the dimness of the room, glowing from the other side, comes streaming rays of light all around him as he steps in and faces me

He looks around at the room which has been both my asylum and dungeon and now having taken it all in, he gives me an ironic half smirk as he shakes his head, with a friendly chuckle,

“dus, hoe is het weer, Dusk?”

It takes a moment for his meaning to come to me ....and when it does it makes me laugh

But I look down and put my face into my hands, still leaning on the wall

“Come,” I hear him say as I hear his footsteps walking towards me but his voice is softened

I shake my head, and after another breath I say,

“I was afraid it was Retnuh ....” and carefully I look up into his familiar face. Now aged over the years since I first saw him that day in the Dutch bar, the first time he approached me…. that day…. handing me his card and telling me he knew about my father. The same face with those distinctive features of nose and broad bones so characteristic of his country’s natives physical features. I find it a comfort to see in this moment as I search the bright blue of his blood shot eyes and whisper, cautiously, “Jörn?”

And when I see his eyes now they are veiled as he shakes his head and reaches for me

“So, it’s true? He’s gone?!” I ask him angrily

“Hey, Dusk, we can’t talk here—“ he says now and with his hand on my shoulder he turns to look behind him then looks back at me, “not here, you understand?”

“I don’t want to know! I don’t care! I don’t want to know anything! I never want to hear his name mentioned again, do you hear? He left me there, I hate him! Do you understand?”

Again, Willem looks over his shoulder than back at me,

“not here— come, let’s go— we have procedures and— you must be hungry, let’s get going,” and he urges me away from the wall and I let him pull me with him, glad of the support as the dizziness seems to give way to spots of dots, speckled black and shots of light. 

we stumble through towards the broken wall, over the heaps of crumbled concrete

And once through I find that we have stepped into the part of the dungeon behind the cage, the furthest wall that faces in the direction of the bat stairwell 

****

When we pass the cage, I glance over in its direction. I think how strange it is to see it now, it is like surveying, once again, another past life; it seems I have lived so many life times.... and so many in just this one.... and I notice how now without the computers and without those things I had associated with— but no, I will not let myself think about that, I will not let my mind even tip toe there.... but how void of connection I now feel to it as I look at it passing, wishing now only to quit myself of it, like the rest of my life here.... I don’t want to ever look at this place again

We go up the stairs that leads through to that faux cupboard with the guillotine door, now raised, and as the crew of troopers dressed all in black file through, Willem and I follow last into the old gutted farmhouse I have not walked through in months. And now I glance around and see it too has been cleared of all personal things, even my make shift studio. On the floor, as we walk through, I notice that it is littered liberally in cigarette butts, and notice too there is in the air and the walls, the smell of stale smoke that lingers and along with these unpleasant observations I see on the floor and surfaces of counters and shelving, discarded empty bottles, cans of beer, wrappers and left overs of packages of junk food, all clearly left behind by the visitors who had been living in the barnhouse as our unwelcome guests. 

And I suppose at first, I was in no clear frame of mind so just now notice a certain two others of this group who lead the crowd of troopers out the door —and looking towards them, seeing only now, from out of the farmhouse kitchen window, as they are heading up the hill. Those two whom I am unfortunately more than a little familiar with, whom, I suppose, I should have expected; Smulligan and.... Stina—?

I glance sharply at Willem who presses his hand against my shoulder because my step falters and I stumble,

“Stina?” I ask Willem

He raises his brows and jerks his head towards the door,

“let’s go, Dusk, it’s going to be a long day, I’d like to get this part over as quickly as we can do it.”

I follow him outside and as we head up the hill, I feel such dread knowing we are now going to the barnhouse.... there is such a strange ache inside me at the thought of facing it now, a million mixed emotions .... one like a kind of violation— knowing that bunch of assassins were living there all this time. But it is coupled with another emotion that.... I am not ready to ....feel.... and so, it seems, that portcullis does for me, without much prompting to will it to —as it seems well-greased of late and hardly needs a nudge. 

So as we enter through the back deck sliding glass door, I feel nothing looking into .... what once had been the home I shared with Jörn 

....only.... this is what I tell myself. I say it to myself a thousand times as we go in and have to blink my eyes rapidly to keep them from letting the wet betray me

There are cold distractions to help me, though— on the walls in black spray paint are letters and numbers that make no sense to me.... the couches are covered in spills and stains and much of the furniture is broken. I think of the fight I witnessed on the monitors that day. And then, with a touch of absurdity, I think of what Lisa’s reaction would be if she saw what has happened to her hours labored over her interior design choices. But then, it must only be outright masochism that makes me actually walk right over to ....Jörn’s piano

.... but there I do actually sit down at it.... I stare at the keys in front of me. I think of his hands there. And I think of his touch. And all resolve is destroyed. I put my fingers on the keys remembering his notes.... notes to a stranger .... remember our hands there together 

“We need to do this....” it is Willem telling me this as my fingers play the chord. But the piano is out of tune

“Ok,” I say getting up and don’t look at him

At the dining table Smulligan and Stina have set up office with open laptops and documents neatly arranged and piles of equipment in black zippered bags

It is Stina who begins in a sharp, no nonsense business voice directing ice cold eyes at me,

“sit down, this will take awhile. There are things we need to know,” and she begins the interrogation right away

“Do you mind, Stina?” Willem interrupts, “she’s been under there almost three days, she must be starved.”

But continues anyway with her usual compulsion of arbitrary methods by what ever whim seems to suit her needs, heedless of others opinions and looks boldly  at me, and bluntly asks,

“where is Jörn?”

The shock of her question stuns me and I shake my head, 

“don’t you know?”

“Why would I be asking?” she asks with a sarcastic smile

I look at Smulligan who is also looking at me and waiting for an answer

“How should I know?” I shrug defensively, “you don’t think I’d like to know that too?”

“We think you know,” Stina stares me down

“Do one of those bags have lie detector equipment?” I start to feel angry

“That can be arranged,” Stina smiles, unfazed 

“Come on, she doesn’t know!” Willem protests

“And what authority do you have in this matter?” she looks at him, “I have more than enough reason to believe you know much more than you say yourself,” she says to Willem

“His story checks out,” Smulligan at last breaks his stone faced silence 

“Do you still deny you and he have been intimately involved?” 

I shake my head,

“me and Jörn or me and Willem? Didn’t we clear that question up a long time ago when you asked us?”

For an uncomfortable moment she studies me and then, point blank fires another question,

“where’s the safe?”

I rub my eyes feeling exhausted and now having enough of this line of questioning I say,

“really, go set up the lie detector because if you’re going to keep repeating these questions about things that I would like to know the answers to, then maybe we can save some time.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Smulligan says now

“And how would you know that?” Stina looks at him

“I got a nose for it, I know when people are lying,” he says

“Is that some play on words?” she snaps without humor and fires on, “do you know how serious it is to have that safe floating around out there? And our government does not feel comfortable with the American government getting their hands on that safe! —or anyone else’s!” she looks now at Willem

“I’m not one to quote the Bible, Stina, but maybe first, can I suggest— before your government go deciding what is best for the rest of the world maybe your government should, to borrow the quote, first ‘set their own house in order’ —before making claims of any semblance of law and order,” Willem chuckles and pushes back the chair he has been sitting in and stands up, “until then, I call this meeting closed. Let’s go, Dusk.”

****

He walks me outside out the front door as he talks, 

“all your belongings here have already been packed up,” he is saying as I look around us at the commotion of activity all over the front lawn and in front of the house. There are SWAT team trucks everywhere and a helicopter landed in the middle of the property, which, this alone I find wildly unbelievable but to add to it, I realize he’s heading me right towards it

“Are we going in that thing?” I look up at him as we walk

He smiles,

“ever been in one? It’s fun, you’ll like it,” he says 

“No, I’m afraid of heights,” I am saying but he’s still pushing me towards it

“Duck down until we get up there, it’s rather noisy too so we’ll be shouting!” now already shouting as we get closer 

After Stina and everything else, what’s another hair raising experience, I decide as I’m forced to board the terrifying aircraft. And it must be the exhaustion of the past few days of events that I feel only somewhat dazed when we begin to take off.

I realize it is one of the bigger ones than those often shown on tv and after I’m fitted with headphones that has an attached microphone, making conversation possible on board, Willem explains that it is the kind the military use but this one belongs to the FBI

“I should update you on why this is necessary,” Willem says as we take off, “a few important things you need to know—“

“Ok, but first—where are we going?”

“We’re heading back to New York City— first I want to inform you, it’s all over the news there has been a shooting incident—not that’s exactly shocking these days, so— since the gun shots were heard by the neighbors down your hill, there were reports and you know the media, they couldn’t keep it from going slightly viral through the news sources —but what’s made it really big news is that somehow it got out it may have terrorist connections. So, there’s too much attention on this right now, we need to keep you out of sight, because…. the next thing you need to know is that ….it’s also everywhere —your— connection in this ….because you went missing. They posted your name and picture— because they were saying this was a suspected hostage situation and they were asking the public if you had been seen anywhere and for any information. So now we come to the real big problem: Retnuh and Deiter got away and are currently at large…. no one knows where they are, no one saw where they went—“

“Oh my god!” I let out an involuntary shriek that is a little too loud on the headphones, “he’s out there? I don’t understand, I thought I —“

Willem puts his hand on my arm to calm me,

“it was Deiter—we caught it on the cameras, well, some of it. He was busy knocking out all the surveillance cameras and knocking the system offline when he followed Retnuh after you ran. All we could track of what happened is that Deiter dragged him unconscious from the gym and we had no idea where you were. Maybe they had arranged a getaway car to be waiting nearby, who knows. They vanished….”

For a long moment Willem is quiet as this newsflash sinks into my sensibilities 

I look out through the chopper’s front window screen and then the window closer to me but only vaguely aware of the landscape I stare down at. All I see are tops of trees broken up by occasional rooftops, large bodies of water and mountain ranges outlined by winding roads but they could have been images on a computer screen for all the connection I felt to anything I looked at, far more blown away by what Willem has told me

After awhile Willem says,

“so now, you should realize—you are still in danger. I have arranged for twenty four hour protection and arranged a few other safety measures. When we reach New York, there will be a private car waiting and I will introduce you to your driver who is now assigned to you for your protection. There will be four others in shifts routinely posted outside. We’ll enter the penthouse through the underground parking garage and go straight up, no one will see you arrive or enter.”

“The penthouse?” I look dully at Willem

“Ilya has been informed,” Willem says now and then after a pause he says, “tonight you will sleep there but tomorrow we go to another safe house and again, no one will see you leave. We’ll go out through the underground garage. The windows are tinted, no one will see inside the car.”

“Where is the safe house? And why am I not just staying at the penthouse?”

“Too many risks and that would be the first place they would look for you. There you will pack what clothes and belongings to bring…. the safe house where you will be staying is in the Hamptons. The house is in South Hampton Long Island.”

Noir room within—Part 4/crumbling walls

It is after quite awhile of searching all the walls for any other possible alternative out of here that I start to feel fatigued of this and the feeling of panic starts to take over. 

I think the worst thoughts now 

and I find I start to blame Jörn. I start to feel such anger about him the more I think. 

And out loud I start to yell at the walls:

“Where is he? Why has he not come for me? When it’s all his fault I’m here!” I get so angry that I kick the walls and I say things aloud in anger at him until in the end I am too tired to rage anymore and then in a feeling of defeat I say, “fuck you, Jörn….” 

but there is no more anger left. And I hear it in my voice…. the disappointment …. as it echoes through the empty room …. my voice cracks and without permission, I feel the tears come…. and right there in that empty square where the safe had been, I collapse into a heap and start to cry …. 

“you never came…. you just left me here…. you didn’t ….come for me….” 

and now think of that sky ….with the glowing sun along the horizon of the water; an empty sea and ….no boat came

and as I keep crying knowing my defeat, I think of the hides covered in blood….

“you did not come…. fuck you, Jörn….” repeating the words with that kind of shock of disbelief in a hopeless mumble, as there seems all I have left —is sorrow, “you did not come….” 

He took the safe and left with my codes —and left me with the monster 

and now ….to rot in another dungeon

“I hate you,” I whisper into my hands…. “why did I believe any of those things? He was only ever after the code….” and stretch across the floor within the square…. “I hate you…. for believing you…. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you….” and let my thoughts drift away in exhausted despair and I suppose I must have fallen asleep and maybe I dreamed

****

It is a high pitched sound that starts to invade my sleep, the kind of irritating sound that reaches within your eardrum to an almost painful level

“What is that?” I say to the empty room, forgetting where I am until I open my eyes. And then sharp pain comes when I attempt to move. Cement floors are not very comfortable to sleep on, and the position I chose was not beneficial, and find I quite regret it now as I force myself to move. My glasses are still on my face too which has only made the situation worse to my head where I can feel it has left an indentation above my right ear

but what is that horrible noise? 

I stand up with a sense of renewed panic of being trapped down here as I try to figure out what direction the sound is coming from, as my worst thought now is: whatever it is, there is no escaping what is coming if it is coming through one of these walls.... 

and so, why do I think of ‘The Poseidon Adventure’ just now? And with that, horror thoughts of a pipe bursting through the walls to drown me....

I run to the walls to listen at each one until I locate which one it is coming from. It is the wall adjacent to the lavatory on one side and the entrance I came through on the other just below where the blinking red light is positioned in the ceiling; I can feel the vibration when I flatten my hand up to it .... and I feel it get stronger 

Instinctively, I start to back away

There is a smell.... almost a kind of burning smell. Is it a chemical? It is almost familiar but I can’t really place it .... but I realize it’s not alarming, somehow. And after awhile the smell gets stronger and then I begin to recognize where I would have known it from. It is the kind of smell you associate with construction sites. And I realize, it is cement that is .... being drilled

And as I stand there watching the wall, I notice it starts to crack .... and while this may or may not be good, I look around the room wondering if I should hide somewhere only.... it might just be better to face whoever it is unless— well.... unless it is the person I closed myself in here to get away from

So I go towards the keyboard and move next to it deciding it would be the only defense weapon I have and put my hand on it as I wait, watching from this part of the room as pieces of wall starts to crumble in and fall onto the floor 

Noir room within/Part 3–surfacing (and still no sign)

….it is the recoiling reverberation, like a backward spring-load, resounding in slow motion; this exhausting mental fugue that tremors in waves like an earth quake and becomes a physical exhaustion …. and the next time I check the time on the platinum watch the small hand is at seven

seven what? …. I do not know

but find I don’t care

sunk deep in the morass far far away ….where nobody can reach. nobody can get through these walls

…. nothing comes in 

and they can’t hear the screams…. no, they can’t hear those …. nothing goes out 

we are far away, deep in the morass where it is safe

we have been here before. sunk so deep. and time does not matter at all. there is no interest at all of anything. not even physical needs seem to present any pressing importance …. and yes, there are terms they call this; those scientific labels; psycho-sociological words invented by behavioralists to define and refine what is normal; who play with rats and monkeys and the occasional dog in labs doing their torture games to study and decide for all of us exactly what is —normal 

what if you fling a normal person into an abnormal family in an abnormal society and then inflict a few freakish and violent events— and ask her: why can’t you just be normal? here, take a pill; be like us…. and pretend not to feel until you believe it. like we do. time heals they say. life times too?

I know their words, I studied them and got their degree; their handy DSM, I am more than familiar. 

they decide  

normal …. what is that? who is that? who’d want to be ….? so overrated …. I don’t care for it, I never believed in their conclusions to want a vocation for a field that could not even understand me ….could not even place me in their —statistics …. trail blazing indeed— Dr. Rothschild …. another way to say, you’re on your own, and good luck with that, with a smile of sympathy so they can sleep at night —keep your useless sympathy for those who want it and swallow self pity pills; a mad prescription to normal behavior

Oh Lady MacBeth, scrub it off!

….no, I’m not angry. there is no one to be angry at. I’m not angry. and why be angry when the world is busy shooting everyone up. Left, right, the republic of democracy …. what does it all mean? just delusions and ego over illusions of power but over what? over cheating death? Cheating the living. It’s so boring 

and unkind….

so label me, I don’t care ….PTSD…. fuck all —and the next time I look at the face of the watch it says one

I must have slept and only now do I feel the pressure of my bladder for the first time ….I must be surfacing 

….yet I don’t get up right way from where I’m sat on the floor. where I seem to have found comfort against the wall with the hoodie I’ve taken off, used to soften the corner of the wall and floor. I find my glasses nearby and put them on after rubbing my eyes. I try to clear the cobwebs from my head

and do a perfunctory inventory review of events —but robotically omitting emotion. just thought; think …. but it seems finally my bladder reminds me I’m human after all and in the end makes the exercise increasingly difficult to continue 

I get up and stumble at first as it slowly dawns —realizing I have become weak— my head is weird; and decide I had better remind myself I am still alive. And carefully walk to the lavatory to perform a confirmation of the fact ….that so strangely— is propitious to support evidence of ….

and having done so, go about washing —first hands, face, using my fingers to scrub my teeth…. then stripping down to scrub just using the liquid soap in the dispenser and my hands, standing over the sink ….and then leaning over, wash my hair too. 

the need to wash it all away; to own myself like a kind of baptism

I get dressed again. 

There is no mirror so I use my fingers to feel and sort my hair, pulling some behind my ears and twisting the length of it into a coil and squeeze the excess water out into the sink, then pull the damp weight to one side over my left shoulder to dry and consciously make myself drink two cup fulls of water before I walk back out into the secret room 

and straightening my spine, consciously lift up my chin and look into the room then walk back over to my spot on the floor to sit down soberly to think. and now as I sit there this time, when I look up, I notice a light I hadn’t seen…. that is, I don’t recall —unless I just was too distracted to be aware of it …. red and blinking up in the corner. where the wall meets the ceiling…. it might have been all along…. and escaped my notice

but after a moment I disregard it and stand back up and move to the doorway where I came through. I try to hear through it. But as before, I hear nothing through. I look to the latch and decide to test it —carefully fiddle with what seemed was the latch ….

Only now do I realize it does not open from this side and there is no keypad …. no actual door knob or latch…. and realize there is no way to open it…. and Jörn never mentioned this, and ….the secret wall had never shut with me 

and for the next several moves of the small hand of the watch ….I try every possible way to find some key, some sign …. tapping the locket key to the back of the watch 

but still there is no sign

in search of dharma in the Adirondaks

 

 

Unsafe Broken Codes/Noir room within, Part 2

Even as I know I cannot stay forever…. I realize that I do not want to leave. I am filled with terror at the thought.

these walls that are sound proof they keep the world away. I do not want to leave 

……

I slide down the wall until the ground stops me. Here no one can get in…. unless they know the code …. the locks are on the inside 

safe

no knot is tight enough to pull myself into to keep the memory out and the fear never goes away. I press into the wall and cover my eyes …. the smell is on me …. with all the others …. all my enemies who put me here …. I don’t want to leave here …. why must I go? for more? and the shallow reassurance…. they mean no harm when they know what happened but use their traps not hearing anything I’ve said 

and it is awhile that I stay like that ….confusing where I am 

and time and place; strange and unfamiliar. I feel disoriented 

I look around me. It is only when I see the electric piano keyboard leaning against the wall that I start to place myself back into the present 

In an empty spot on the floor I see a kind of square. Like the kind when something is moved and it shows the dust around it.

Slowly it occurs to me that …. was where the safe was

was….

I look around the otherwise empty room now and see that besides the keyboard there is nothing else in it.

I look up at the light above …. and start to wonder what time it is

I reach for my phone now. But I realize after touching the screen and pressing the button ….it has gone dead…. 

it does not yet occur to me if I should worry about this …. instead I remember I still wear the platinum watch …. only—should I assume it is accurate? but knowing Jörn, as I do, I suspect it would be. It is analogue with hands and numbers and it says …. some time after eleven …. and find I don’t know if that means morning or night ….and try to remember 

we were outside and it was still early …. but how long was it that came after ….? 

And still it makes no sense to me.

But where is the safe? 

I stand up, having to use to wall to drag myself onto my feet as it seems every muscle in my body is screaming with pain…. oh there is pain in other places too …. but no…. I must not feel …. do not feel —the smell is on my skin; I intentionally refocus my thoughts away 

only now I think again about the safe. I walk to the spot where it was, where the dust did not go; the neat square it left behind. And then I look at the keyboard and wonder dully about this walking now over to it. It leans sideways on the wall. I kneel to touch the keys …. and remember Jörn’s hands just then

I straighten back up and now wonder about him …. 

And wonder now ….why has he not come? Yet, it seems, he took the safe…. 

And I think a new thought: he knows the code now…. 

he no longer needs me…. is this why he has not come?

I walk around the perimeter of the room that is somewhat dimly lit and go in a circle around searching for another hidden doorway that might not be easily visible as the walls are painted a dark tone that is almost black

when I reach the furthest wall where the light hardly reaches, I find a door with no codes and open it. But it is only a small lavatory with just a sink and a toilet. I look up to see if there are any vents that might lead to somewhere —but there is nothing. 

I look at the clinical looking sink that is clean. There is liquid soap in a dispenser beside it and a another dispenser that has paper cups. I reach for one right now and drink, realizing how thirsty I am. I find it hard to swallow ….and remember the hands …. on my throat. The memory makes me gag. 

I put down the cup and now reach for the soap dispenser and start to wash myself. I scrub the places where the smell seems all over me…. and scrub and scrub …. and I can still feel the hands on me and remember …. remember why the smell disturbs me…. how is it that a smell can immediately take you somewhere in an instant so sharply back? and I scrub some more and remember another memory attached to that very smell …. 

then feel the sick in my throat …. but my stomach is empty and I can only dry heave …. but keep heaving until the pain in my sore throat from those hands forces me to stop

I walk back out and walk back over to stare at that square on the floor 

But where is he? 

Where is ….Jörn? 

….did I only just imagine he ever cared? What if none of it was ever real?

what if it wasn’t …. and I was just a code ….to crack …. just something to add to his collection for his ego 

 



the Noir room within

but I do not look to see, I turn fast to where I know the hidden door is, hidden in a crack in the wall of the gym, releasing the catch of the platinum watch swiftly, ready with the other hand grasping the tiny key that dangles with the platinum safe locket, tap the tip of it against the indentation on the back of the watch’s face and magically it shows itself to where I last saw the real safe hidden, just codes away 

And once within its chamber I slam fast the secret door 

and once enclosed …. there is no sound at all. sealed, not even sound comes through

It is a long time that I stay there, leaning up against it, a long time after I’ve caught my breath and lean my head into the wall, eyes shut tight …. 

within another room ….

where nothing can get inside 

…. where nothing comes in

nothing comes in and nothing goes out …. where nobody can touch me, I belong to me; I am me, I am mine, I belong to me and I am fine. 

I am me I am mine, and nothing gets inside. I am me I am mine I belong to me…. and nothing gets inside