Chapter Four - Denial
If anyone happened to read this prior to November 1st, I suggest reading it again. This story underwent a rewrite and I've made some small but significant changes.
Also, "Tu" is pronounced "two." Apparently there was a bit of confusion over that.
Simon rolled over in his bed. He now looked directly into the clock on his nightstand. The clock beamed back at him with big, green glowing Roman numerals. The hands on the clock were also glowing and, through the darkness, indicated three O'clock. Simon rolled back to face the ceiling while trying to let his frustration out through a heavy sigh. He stared up at the fan again, remembering how this had once reflected the pattern of his thoughts: circular, redundant and pointless. Now, lying awake at three in the morning in the dark, his thoughts felt sharp and jagged. His vague confusion had solidified into one specific thought: "I do not belong here."
He threw off his covers and leapt out of bed. Simon clumsily felt over his nightstand for his glasses and the blue sweatshirt he had set out for himself. He grabbed hold of the sweatshirt, tossed his pajama shirt over his bed and resumed his search for his glasses. With both his blurry vision and the crushing darkness of the room, Simon couldn't see a thing. He slid his free hand carefully across the table, back and forth, moving further inwards with each sweep. During his search, his hand struck the clock, turning it so that it faced him. Through his unclear vision, he saw only a green disk of light. Staring directly into it, he thrust his hand behind the clock and grasped his glasses.
With his glasses finally back over his eyes and his sweatshirt back on, Simon turned and walked slowly in the direction of the door, holding his hand out in front of him as he went. He reached the far wall and began sliding to his left until he reached the familiar wooden frame of the door. He pushed it open.
Simon entered the adjacent green room. Low light shone in from the window, making the walls of the room just light enough to see. At first, he intended to make it through this room without looking over at the barred-off library. He still harbored a twisting feeling of uneasiness when thinking about the hallucination involving Jeanette, and part of him wanted nothing to do with that library ever again.
But another, quieter part wanted only to confront this irrational fear.
"It's just a library…" he thought. "… and I apparently live here. I can't hide from this forever." Simon inhaled deeply and turned to face the barred-off room, but to his surprise the iron bars were gone. They had been replaced by brick.
Simon cautiously walked closer to the newly installed wall. He reached a hand out and touched it.
Cold. It was cold brick. He slid his hand over slightly and felt that the mortar was completely dry, as well. It certainly didn't feel like it had recently been built, but Simon knew that he had been inside that room just the previous afternoon.
"How long have I been asleep?" Simon whispered to the near absolute darkness.
He stood for a few seconds, shrouded in darkness, silence and unanswered questions. But again he shook himself back to the present situation and proceeded out the door of the green room.
The living room had not changed, except for the lighting, of course. Dim fixtures beamed down just enough light for Simon to clearly see his surroundings without straining his eyes. In this light, the cream color of the Estate's living room looked orange. The chaise lounge at the bottom of the staircase still looked black. Simon stared at it, wondering for the first time about its purpose. It didn't fit. Nothing really fit. The whole Estate seemed artificial, like a transparent lie. Yet, Simon felt very comfortable there.
He noticed then that the unseen speakers in the living room were now softly playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. Simon stood with his eyes closed, trying to absorb every note of the quiet music. His mind followed every pitch. Up, down. D, E, F sharp, G, A. His heart tied into the music. He felt every note send a ripple through his soul.
"Sounds like my iPod back h…" Simon opened his eyes. The warm feeling of contentment melted away from his mind and pooled into a puddle of burning bewilderment. "Back home," he thought to himself. "Back. Home." His eyes began to dart about the room when he noticed a light down the hallway to his right.
Simon walked slowly down the hall. He breathed deeply but quietly. The light appeared to be coming from the kitchen. He tentatively peeked past the door frame, half expecting to see Tulig waiting for him there.
Instead, he was met by the tired eyes of his butler, Alden.
"Good morning, sir," the butler said in his quasi-cheerful voice. "I'm afraid breakfast won't be ready for another few hours."
"What? Oh, never mind about breakfast."
Alden tilted his head slightly. His dark brown eyes seemed to fill with concern. "Is something troubling you, sir?"
Simon simply stared past the butler into the wall behind him. After a moment, he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Alden…" he said, barely above a whisper. "Alden. I… I feel like I trust you. Even though I've never met you. Wh…"
"Is there something you wish to say to me?"
Simon broke his aimless gaze and focused on the butler's face. "Alden, can you keep a secret?"
"I'd rather not, sir."
"Can you?"
Alden, while clearly distressed, slowly nodded.
"I've been feeling very strange lately. I've been hallucinating, and I just feel like… like I don't belong here. I feel like I should try to… run." Simon paused for a moment before speaking again. "Alden, how did I get here? Who runs this place?"
"That would be Tu."
"Tu?" Simon let his confusion show through his eyes. "Tulig? He brought me here?"
The butler nodded again.
"Wait. You mean… You mean he's real?"
"Oh, yes. Tu is very much a real person. And he keeps everything here in check."
"How?"
"Oh, I don't ask questions."
"How?" Simon shouted.
Alden said nothing but looked nervously to his right.
Immediately, Simon knew what he meant. He turned and strode out of the kitchen.
He walked hurriedly down the hallway, followed closely by Alden. The both of them kept in stride until Simon reached a door with an engraved metal panel on it reading: SHORT TERM. Simon pressed his palm against the door and pushed it open.
The nine video panels in the otherwise pristine, white room all displayed the same image of Simon and Alden standing in the doorway. Simon walked slowly into the room, toward the glass desk in front of the far wall. He leapt up onto the desk.
"Sir," Alden desperately requested from the hallway. "We don't need to see what's in here. Please. Just go back upstairs and go to sleep."
Simon replied without looking at him. "Alden, you're free to go. I don't need you right now. I just need to know what is going on here."
Alden bowed and moved away from the door. As the butler quickly walked back down the hallway, Simon continued to examine what appeared to be a laptop which was sitting on the desk. The laptop's screen was made of the same clear material as the television monitors hanging from the wall. And as far as he could tell, the computer had no keys. The entirety of the laptop, other than the display panel, was a thin black block. Simon reached down and put a hand where the keyboard should have been.
Immediately, the plastic block lit up with the pattern of a keyboard. It was some sort of touch-panel. Each letter, number and symbol had suddenly shone through the black plastic on the laptop. Simon looked up at the screen and saw five words displayed on the clear display: Press Any Key to Continue.
Simon reached a hand out and tapped the number six. As soon as he did, the image on the screen changed to a grid displaying what appeared to be surveillance recordings. It showed footage of Simon walking down the hallway, footage of Simon and Alden talking in the kitchen, and night-vision footage of Simon searching for his glasses in the darkness of his room.
"He watches us."
"We can see everyone and everything in the Estate from here, Simon." Tulig had entered the room and was standing in the doorway. He began walking confidently, almost arrogantly, toward the glass desk.
Simon quickly remarked to himself that he no longer felt surprise at the appearance of this mysterious chipmunk.
"Surveillance?"
"Constant and unwavering. Day in and day out. Twenty-four/seven."
"Why?"
"Oh, well we need to keep an eye on you. Otherwise these... trifling thoughts about escape may grow into something more persuasive. We can't have you running off and hurting yourself, now can we?"
Simon tried desperately to untangle Tulig's web of double-talk. He couldn't tell if he was telling the truth, blatantly lying to him, or trying to draw him into some sort of elegant trap. He wasn't even sure that Tulig was real until a few minutes ago.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"People assume they are being watched. Doesn't it make them feel better to know that they are?"
Simon straightened up. His eyes began darting about the room as he tried to process Tulig's words.
"And unfortunately, in a place like this, paranoia has a tendency to run rampant. Bars have such a negative connotation."
"For good reason," Simon retorted. "Bars are typically found in prisons."
Tulig leapt onto the glass desk. He stood for a moment, face to face with Simon. The two sets of blue eyes remained locked as Tulig continued. "But aren't prisons safe places?"
Simon blinked hard. Tulig simply stood in front of him, wearing his characteristic smile as he slid a foot over the 'escape' key on the laptop and tapped down on it.
The image on the screen in front of Simon vanished and was replaced with static. The laptop's keyboard again went dark.
"You'll learn to sleep well here. Someday."
Tulig turned, leapt down onto the lighted plastic floor and proceeded to the door.
"Tu." Simon spoke loudly from the desk. Tulig stopped and turned to face him. "You won't hold me."
"Won't we?" Tulig smiled and turned again, continuing out the door.
Simon stood on the desk in disbelief. His confusion, or at least part of it, had been brought into focus. He now knew who the enemy was, at least.
As he stood thinking, he found himself interrupted again by the sound of a car engine. Simon stayed still as he heard the automatic front door click open and closed once again, followed by light footsteps approaching the room labeled SHORT TERM. Alvin, still wearing a sport coat and red tie, walked in.
"Simon," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. "How've you been? Still think I'm a doctor?"
Simon laughed to himself. "I…" He thought about his response for a moment. The truth was that he still wanted to think of Alvin as a doctor, even though he knew that this was impossible. But, despite his reasoning, something inside him compelled him to believe that Alvin was a trained, medical doctor.
"You barely stayed awake in Biology last semester," Simon finally said with a slight laugh. "There's no way you could ever sit through four years of med-school."
A smile grew on Alvin's face. "Good. He said you might start fighting what they tell you." He took a step forward. "He also said that this is going to be pretty… intense."
"What is? Who are you talking about?"
"Simon, I just need to ask you something." He took a few steps forward and was now close enough to look directly into Simon's eyes. "Simon, please admit what happened. If you admit it, you can leave."
"What are you talking about? Admit what?" Simon's eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of Alvin's request. He truly had no idea what his brother was talking about.
Alvin looked down on the floor and sighed. A glitter of light reflected in his eyes. He then raised his arm and put a finger to his ear. "Alright. Go ahead, doctor."
"Doctor?"
"Sorry, Simon."
"What did you do?"
"My best advice is to relax."
"What did you do?"
Alvin did not respond. He simply turned out into the hallway, leaving Simon alone in the surveillance room, and returned to his car out in the driveway. Simon listened as he heard the engine fire up again and slowly fade away.
Silence crept back into the Estate. A powerful silence that pounded at Simon's ears as they strained to pick up even the faintest vibration. But there was nothing to be heard. His ears began to ring in the inescapable quiet.
Simon was completely alone when the laptop flickered back on. The static on the display vanished to reveal a single surveillance grid. Simon moved closer to get a better look, and as he did he recognized the image being displayed: Jeanette, asleep in a hospital bed. Her breathing was shallow, but the heart monitor she was wired to persisted. Simon stared into the screen, his blue eyes welling with tears. He reached a hand out to the screen and placed it on the image of Jeanette's head.
As soon as he did, the image changed. Simon was now staring into a video of Jeanette and himself walking hand in hand down a sidewalk. He looked up and saw that all the other screens in the room were cycling through different images of Jeanette and himself. Images which were puzzling. Images which couldn't have all been taken by a family member or friend. His eyes shot around the room, taking in images of birthdays, Christmases, days of school.
The onslaught began to make Simon dizzy. His eyes flashed with white light a few times. He put a hand against the laptop's screen to steady himself.
These pictures filled him with nothing but pain. He didn't know where he was, how he had gotten there or how to escape. And, on top of everything, he was now being reminded that the only person he had ever loved was in the hospital.
"And it's all my fault," something inside him whispered.
Simon blinked. "What?" he said out loud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
He stared back into the images of Jeanette which were now cycling faster and faster. His expression hardened into a scowl.
"That's enough."
The images continued.
"That's enough!"
Every screen in the room started showing the same set of images. And, somewhere off in the distance, Simon could hear the roar of water.
"That's quite enough!" Simon yelled at the top of his lungs as he punched the center of the plastic screen.
Simultaneously, all the displays in the room switched back to static. Simon looked at the laptop and saw a crack running through the clear panel. He looked down at his hand and saw a small cut on his knuckle. He looked back at the screen, half hoping that the images of Jeanette would return.
Everything was quiet again.
Everything except the distinct sound of water.
Then Simon felt an odd shift in the Estate. From somewhere in the mansion's foundation, he heard the deep creaking and twisting of metal.
He quickly leapt down from the desk and on to the illuminated floor. He hurried out into the hallway.
"Alvin?" he called. "Alden."
The sound of the Ocean grew louder, along with the sound of metal strain below the house. Simon scanned the hallway, but saw no one.
"Tu!"
With that, Simon heard a loud snap from underneath the Estate. The house began to list. Without sufficient time to think, Simon simply ran forward, trying to reach the front door. As he ran, it became harder for his feet to maintain a grip on the carpeted floor.
He reached the archway leading to the living room. He looked at the front door, which was about twenty feet away from him up a steep slope. Simon turned his head and looked down at the bank of windows. He saw that only the house seemed to be tilting; the grounds of the Estate were still level.
However, the grounds were rapidly being flooded with water.
At this point, Simon thought the best course of action would be to run for the door and try to get on top of the capsizing mansion. He slid one foot onto the marble floor of the living room, and then another. He had to lean forward to keep his balance, but his feet were still gripping the floor.
Simon crept closer and closer to the door. The sound of water and creaking metal was thundering in his ears. One foot, followed by another. The house had stopped moving for the moment and he was now only about ten feet from the door. His feet were keeping a good grip.
He inched closer to the entrance. With only about seven feet left, the automatic door clicked and swung open. Simon looked on in horror as he saw heavy raindrops begin trickling down through the opening and onto the marble floor. His pulse quickened.
His feet began moving faster, trying desperately to avoid the small streaks of water that flowed toward him. He was now only about three feet from the entrance. From there, he could feel the wind blowing outside, as well as the cold air falling down into the house.
Suddenly, he felt one of his feet slide. Simon froze, clinging with both hands to the marble floor. He didn't dare breathe. He only moved his eyes to see more raindrops falling toward him. Slowly, water crept underneath his palms, down again, and over his dry foot.
Simon felt another slip. He had slid about four inches. He looked back up at the door and saw that the entire floor glistened with a layer of water.
Still, the door was his only chance. He carefully lifted one hand away from the marble.
Immediately, he heard a sickening squeak as his small body slid down another five feet until he reached a portion of the floor that had not been covered by water yet. Simon looked down at the windows and the deep body of water that had grown beyond them. He then turned his head upward to see the door swing closed.
Water continued to trickle down the living room's floor until it reached him. Cool water soaked into the fur on his palms and feet, as well as the cloth of his sweatshirt.
With the added weight of the water, Simon felt himself barely able to hold on. Any additional movement would cause him to fall.
Then, as if it was listening to his thoughts, the Estate listed further. Simon slid down the marble floor, past the elevator shaft, past the chaise lounge in the middle of the room, and towards the stairway. Intuitively, he reached a hand out and grasped the last banister. The house continued to tilt until it had reached a perfect ninety-degree angle.
Simon held on tightly as he dangled from the staircase. He looked down at the flood just below the wall of windows; it had grown worse. Powerful waves reached up and smashed against the glass.
"It doesn't look that bad, sir," a voice said.
Simon looked over to see Alden hanging from a banister on the other staircase.
"Alden!" Simon yelled over the sound of waves and rain outside. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know, sir. I… I…" He looked deeply into the crashing waves below. The frigid water and the thin glass would mean certain death if either one of them were to fall. The butler looked back at Simon and a perverse smile flashed across his face light a bolt of lightning.
"I don't believe it," he said peacefully over the waves and wind. He looked down at the water again.
"I don't believe it."
Alden closed his eyes and let go of the banister. Simon's eyes widened as the elderly butler fell through the glass and into the water below, vanishing below the waves.
"Alden!" There was nothing Simon could do. He simply hung there, dangling by both hands, looking down into the darkening water below him.
Simon's eyes widened further as he saw that the water was not only darkening, but rising as well. A whirlpool had begun to form where Alden's body had landed. The water level shot up, threatening to envelop Simon in a matter of seconds. He craned his neck, looking for some way out of this. But there was nothing.
And, despite the prospect of his imminent death, the only thing he could think of was Jeanette and the thought he had earlier.
"All my fault," he repeated as he closed his eyes. The water below surged and pulled him under.
Simon snapped his eyes open to the sight of his ceiling fan. He sat up quickly in his bed and looked around. To his right, he saw the side of his clock. On his sheets, he saw the blurry outline of a pajama shirt. He looked down at his lap and saw the metal frames of his glasses. He reached out with his right hand, only to realize that it had been covered in a bandage. He put the glasses on with his left hand.
As his vision adjusted, he looked to his right to see a small figure sitting on a chair next to his bed. The blur gradually came into focus.
"Good morning," Tulig said. "Sleep well?" He took a sip from a cup of tea and smiled.
First, please don't kill me. Everything above happened in one way or another.
Second, if you've made it this far, a review would be greatly appreciated.
