Chapter 5

Walking through a thick, blue fog hanging above the ground, he gazed at his strange surroundings. He stood alone in a corridor that seemed to twist into a spiral shape as he walked forward. Still dressed in his tightly wrapped trench coat with a low hanging fedora, he focused his eyes on the long corridor ahead of him. He wondered to himself, Am I dead?

On each side of him, he noticed multiple doors that seemed to stretch infinitely. Straining his vision to look forward, he could only see a blackness directly ahead at the end of the winding corridor. Pausing at the first door to his right, he overheard voices speaking loudly that sounded like arguing from a small child.

The boy complained, "Aunt Charity, I can't get the steps just right; it's too hard. Do we have to keep doing this old song? I hate it!"

A woman's thick southern accent echoed beyond the door. "You'll not stop until I tell you to, eh? Now, straighten up, Jerry, dear, and place your hands in mine and follow my lead. Just listen to the music while I sing along:

"I wanna dance with you, Wanna dance my cares away..."

He paused and found himself unable to speak. However, he remembered the next verse and mumbled it as he heard the woman continuing her singing:

"It's always been said that life is a song, so why don't we both just dance along?"

I know this song, those voices—Aunt Charity? he leaned back from the door. I had an Aunt Charity. She used to make me sing and dance to this same song over and over. Jerry...that name. Was that me?

His thoughts began to race as he walked on, trying his best to remember.

Walking ahead to the next door on his left, he leaned forward and listened again.

"Father O'Brien, forgive me. Mother Superior sent me to you for being late for class again. I try to be on time, Father, I really do! Please, don't punish me!" a young boy whimpered.

"Why have you been late, Jerry?" the man sternly asked.

"I-I'm sorry." The boy reluctantly pulled a folded stack of newspaper printed comics and pointed to one in particular called Dick Tracy. "I love reading these, Father O'Brien. I get up and read them in the mornings and between classes. It's all that Aunt Charity left me before I was brought here. Mother Superior said that I needed to give them to you and not read rubbish like this. Please don't take them away! I love them! I want to be a detective and get the bad guys like he does and solve crimes and help people."

Father O'Brien got up from his desk and looked out the doorway. He walked back to where the boy was sitting. "Jerry, no matter what the excuse, there's no reason for being late. You're going to have to pay attention to the time and put more important things first. You can't let things like these comics keep you from your studies, right?"

Jerry nodded. "Yes, Father."

Looking down at the floor, Jerry frowned and placed the comic strips on the reverend's desk.

Father O'Brien followed up with his stern discipline. "What kind of detective would you be if you were late and let everything in the world distract you? What if you were on an important case and missed something important because you were being lazy and running late? What would Dick Tracy do?"

Jerry looked up, surprised by the reverend's half-hearted stern demeanor. "He would figure out where the bad guys were gonna go and always be there early because he's smarter than anyone!" he replied excitedly.

"Exactly," Father O'Brien nodded. Reaching into his desk and pulling out a scrapbook, he placed it flat on his desk. "The Bible says there's a time and a season for everything. Now, if you will be smart like Tracy is, you'll know next time that before class and before your homework is not the right time to read your comics...or these here." He slid a scrapbook toward Jerry. "This is every single Dick Tracy newspaper comic since the first one came to the Collinsport Star. Now, I'll make a deal with you. These are yours if you do what I say and put your studies ahead of everything else. If you're late one more time or your grades start to slip, I'm taking them back because I'll know that you don't want to be a serious detective like Tracy. Have we got a deal?"

Jerry stood up quickly from his chair. "Oh, boy, do we ever!" he paused. "I mean, yes, Father O'Brien. I'll do my best, sir."

Father O'Brien replied loudly and firmly so that others outside the office would hear him. "Now don't you let me catch you down here again, young man! You will be severely punished if you are late for class again. Go back to your class."

With a quick salute, Jerry called his bluff and played along. "Yes, sir!"

Leaning back from the door, he grinned as he found himself able to reminisce slightly, Father O'Brien. I remember that guy. He was a good pal to everyone and we all liked him. He was like a big brother to me.

His grin was short-lived, however, as his focus returned to these strange surroundings. Am I dreaming? How do I remember these things? Is this my past? Is that me? Jerry...?

He spoke the name repeatedly. "Jerry...Jerry...Jerry Trask? Jerry Trask! That's it! My name is Jerry Trask!"

Overcome with joy, he felt his memories flooding back. Digging into his pockets, he ruffled through them and grabbed the gun. "This isn't mine! Someone must have put it on me! I'm a private eye, just like Dick Tracy was! I was working on a case for someone...some lady named Stoddard."

He grabbed his wallet and looked at the cash and the IOU. "This isn't my handwriting either. I never owed this person any money," he puzzled. This money, however, was something that had really struck a nerve with him all night long. There was a vague memory that he had recalled earlier about this cash when he was inside that parked sedan. His memories were returning quickly as the conversations from his past echoed behind the doors as he passed by each one.

As the many voices and memories of the past became more familiar as he passed each door, he stopped dead in his tracks as he passed by a woman's voice speaking to him:

"Mr. Trask, you know why you're here. I don't trust many people, and I was afraid to involve more of the experienced private eyes because they would want to bring unwanted attention to my family. As we discussed, I'm paying your fee first with a little extra. As soon as you come back when the job is completed, I'll reward you with a generous bonus. Don't come back here until it's done. I don't want to arouse any suspicion. You will speak with me and only me," the woman's earnest voice demanded.

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Stoddard. I'll let you know and keep it quiet, ma'am." Jerry nodded and tipped his hat. "Now where's this dame stayin' that you suspect he's foolin' around, where do you suppose she's stayin', Mrs. Stoddard?"

"I'm not sure who she is, but my husband left in the car nearly an hour ago. He's already left once today, and he left again in a hurry without saying a word to me," Mrs. Stoddard replied grimly. "Now I told you about the vehicle, and I want you to go out there and find him. Then, you are to come back to me first before going to anyone else or the police when you find out what he's doing. No matter what you find out, my life depends on your coming to me first. There are many legal matters to take care of that will affect this whole town if anyone else finds out what is going on before I do."

Trask nodded. "I understand, Mrs. Stoddard. I'll start searchin' for him right away."

"Hurry, Mr. Trask. I fear something terrible is going to happen if you don't find him quickly." Elizabeth pleaded.

He stood still in the hallway as the fog began to recede. A flicker of light became visible at the end of the hall, and he felt compelled to run towards it. Without warning, a rumbling sound shook the ground beneath him, nearly knocking him off-balance. The walls around him began to close in and the light at the hallway's end grew brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding.

Panting and running as fast as he could, he made it to the corridor's end just in time. Closing his eyes, he leaped forward into the bright light of the open doorway.

(DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Dark Shadows. This story is a creation of my own within the universe of Dark Shadows with the sole intention of entertaining the reader. I do not profit or receive any royalties from the owners of the property, Dan Curtis Productions)