The Mountain - IV

IV.

Having sufficiently pulled Thorne in, Cairn having little to no resistance from the younger man, set about another set of experiments. Thorne was sure, upon meeting with him, that Cairn would want to head back out on the streets, but Cairn dissuaded him from that style of information gathering.

                “There is much to learn within one’s head, much more than can be discerned from the outside world.” Cairn had said to Thorne’s confusion. But after a few more terse words about intellectual endeavors, speaking of the merit of introspection, and a brief explanation of Solipsism, Thorne was ready and willing to do Cairn’s bidding. The doctor, glad to have the help, set up a short series of tests. The first being on Throne himself.

                He laid out the texts and the notes, the first of which he had read, and instructed Thorne simply to read. That first day would comprise of nothing but that. Cairn went about continuing his own readings but kept a close eye on the detective, discouraging him from asking too many questions outright and simply digesting as much as he could in one sitting. Though Thorne seemed less than excited to read he was willing to oblige the doctor in his requests. After six hours of semi-continuous reading, peppered with a short meal and a brisk walk around the block to keep the blood pumping, Cairn set up the living room chair for his experiment.

                “Sleep?”

                “Yes.”

                “You want me to take a nap.”

                “Precisely.”

                “I don’t understand doctor.”

                “Have you heard of hypnosis?”

                “Psychic mumbo-jumbo.”

                “I see. Well while it does have a strong home in the circus crowd it does indeed have some scientific basis. I have worked with hypnotherapists in wards, when it was used on patients. It’s very fruitful as a device.”

                “Why are you testing it on me then?”

                “I’m simply testing a hypothesis. What your read today…”

                “Crazy shit.”

                “Indeed. What you read today entails very esoteric and occult endeavors. I’m simply testing if by simply reading them it has altered your mind state.”

                “I’ll say. I can’t make heads or tails of that stuff. Symbology, rituals, cults, sacrifices. What is all this about doctor?”

                “I understand your concern, but I’m curious if it has affected your unconscious mental states as well. I’m trying to find a link between these texts and a man’s dreams.”

                “Seems simple enough. So if I have a bad dream, then we know the killer read something similar to this? Is that what you’re getting at?”

                “Precisely.”

                “Despite the dry reading you had me do, I’m not actually that tired.”

                “That’s where the hypnosis comes in. Just sit back, relax and listen to my voice.”

                Cairn dimmed the lights in the room and spoke softly to Thorne lulling him deeper and deeper into a hypnotic state. After a few short minutes Cairn snapped his fingers and Thorne was fast asleep.

                “I’ll let you sleep for an hour and half, let you hit a full cycle before I wake you.” Cairn said adjusting the man’s hat to cover his eyes.

                “In the meantime I have some writing to do.” Cairn whispered as he slinked away to his study. Atop his desk were new manuscript sheets for his forthcoming book detailing his research into the occult, his own dreams, and what this ethereal realm can have on a man’s psyche. Having Thorne corroborate the information would be a boon and he was eager to hear what the man had to say.

                When the interval had passed and Cairn had added sheets to his manuscript he returned to Throne sleeping soundly in the chair. With a soft word and the snap of his fingers he whisked Thorne from sleep to greet him in the dimly lit living room once again.

                “How did you sleep detective?”

                “Huh?”

                “I’m sorry, I’ll give you a second to shake away the grogginess, but I can’t wait long. It seems most dreams disappear with in the first thirty seconds of waking.”

                “Oh, my dream.”

                “Yes,” Cairn loomed, “what did you dream?”

                “I saw someone.”

                “Yes? Go on!”

                “A woman, she was naked.”

                “Oh?” Carin raised an eyebrow.

                “She was coming onto me strong. In fact she reminds me of the date I went on a few weeks ago. Yeah that’s it, Gertrude, it was her. Freckles, bangs, and huge…”

                “That’s enough.” Cairn said standing.

                “What is it doc? Did I pass?”

                “Did you recall a twilight plane? Shadows moving about? A mountain?”

                “No, none of that. Should I have?”

                Cairn stepped away dejected.

                “Perhaps there is something else, some level of intellect needed.” Cairn said quietly, pacing.

                “I’m sorry doctor. We can try again.”

                “That’s not necessary. I need time to think. Feel free to stay if you like but it isn’t necessary. We can reconvene tomorrow.”

                Thorne looked at his watch.

                “Eight a.m. work for you doctor?”

                “Yes, yes. I’ll see you then.”

                Cairn waited for the detective to leave before settling down himself. He was so sure that simply exposing oneself to the texts would incite the same reaction he had had. Perhaps there was something else he was missing. Perhaps he was unique and it was related to intellect. To understand the unknown, to be touched by the realms beyond, you must have a higher brain function. That had to be it. Perhaps he’d have to find another method to test his hypothesis about the dreams he has.

                Laying down he set up a notebook and pen by his bedside to record his visions upon waking like he had done the past few days. Pages upon pages were scribbled across recounting his movements in the dream world. Like the first night that he could recall and all the nights since he was moving about without a sense of control. As if his legs and feet were moving of their own design outside his will. He yearned to get closer to the mountain, to scale the peak and look down upon the valley from where his nights began but he was unable to force his motions in that direction. No matter the exertion of his mental faculties his body would not heed his thoughts. He was set to bumble and stumble around in the dark as it were. Though his eyes were fixed on a destination it was as though his legs were their own master. Finding a way to alleviate that issue as well was at the top of his list. How can one steer themselves in a fluid they have no control over?

                Darkness overtook him and sleep once again carried him to the twilight plane. He was greeted by the shadows that still treated him like an aberration, leaving him be but swimming about like curious fish in a pond examining something large plopped into the water. And that’s how he felt. Plopped into a liquid without recourse to steady his motions. His head first felt the sickness of motion the first night, and he had to combat it each night since getting better or worse without warning. He had no bearing on that either. He was simply a victim of the world he had been thrust into but his willpower to overcome and seize control fought against the feeling night after night.

                In the twilight, as the silver light played upon the dunes and the shadows alike, Cairn set his eyes once again upon the mountain that loomed in the distance. A jutting up of land that beckoned him forward to explore. He felt a pull in his chest to get closer, explore farther but his legs would not obey. They seemed more fascinated with the shadows. Inching closer but failing to gain any ground as they scattered away. His body was pulled in different directions. Walking, grabbing, hearing, seeing, differing stimuli. He couldn’t focus. Until he heard it.

                A voice echoed over the cracked and vibrating ground. He recognized it but couldn’t place the sound. Turning his head, or perhaps it turned on its own, his ears picked up the sound better. It was indeed a voice calling out to him from leagues away. Cascading and bouncing off the shiny rock formations and ripping past the shadows to make a home in his muffled ears. Cairn wished to call back but was unable. The words caught in his throat.

                The voice returned, getting closer, clearer. They were calling his name.

                “Doctor…Cairn…doctor…are…you…there?”

                The vibrations of sound moved up his legs and through his body to meet at his ears. The voice grew closer and closer but was still muffled. Around him he saw no figures, no origin for the sound. The ground began to shake violently and the shadows dispersed like a mist in a strong wind. Cairn felt the world tumble as the voice pierced the wool and boomed.

                “Doctor, wake up.” Thorne said shaking the doctor.

                “What? What?” Cairn said being ripped from sleep. He pushed Throne aside and wrote hastily in his notebook.

                Thorne read the words over the doctor’s shoulder.

                “Lead me down the path?”

                “I have an idea for another experiment. And I need your help.”

                “I’m not going to sleep again am I? I already had my coffee.” Thorne asked with a huff.

                “No, I’ll be sleeping. You’ll simply be speaking.”

There was a comfort in knowing that time was up. A strange cold comfort that Misty felt in her chest. There would be no more choices, no more mistakes, no more regrets. It would all end and she was starting to be okay with that. What she wasn’t okay with was her mind playing tricks on her. She wasn’t sure if it was the hunger or the cold or the fatigue but she was seeing her mother more and more in the shadows. She hadn’t seen her mother since she was a child but the image of her sad forlorn face was burned into her soul. She saw it now floating above the body half eaten and missing its head beside her. With no face to graft the image upon it just sat there bobbing up and down in the dark as Misty’s eyes wandered. It would bounce and it would speak.

                “You should have just stayed with your uncle.” The face of her mother said. Her lips didn’t move but the eyes looked her over and over again. Misty averted her own eyes but when the voice returned she was drawn back.

                “He’s not my uncle.”

                “He was just as good as any uncle you would have had. Better even.”

                “You don’t know what he did to me.”

                “I know that if you had stayed you wouldn’t be here right now.”

                “I’d be dead already.”

                “How can you say that?”

                “Like I said you don’t know what he did to me.”

                “I do know. And it’s not so bad.”

                “Not so bad?!” Misty was furious.

                “Not any worse than I had it.”

                “I’m not you. I didn’t want to live your life. I needed to get away, break free. And Nathaniel was my chance.”

                “A chance that led to this. To this dark hole. To your death.”

                “You don’t know how often I wanted to slip my wrists in that house. All the nights, soiled and left in the dark crying wishing to leave. Nathan came to me, he cried with me, he held me.”

                “But he turned out just like his father, didn’t he.”

                “I…” Misty couldn’t rebut that. It was true. Nathan came to her as a helping hand but used her just like her father had done, only when he was finished he threw her out onto the street.

                “Men are all the same Melissa. I wish you had learned that.”

                “You never taught me. You just cut and ran when you needed the money.”

                “If I didn’t do what I did we’d both be dead.”

                “Looks like that ticket is about to be punched.”

                “You always blame me but you never blame yourself.”

                “I always blame myself. Every mistake I’ve made. Every choice. There hasn’t been a day when I don’t think I deserve all that I’ve got.”

                “Then why do you hate me?”

                “Because you left me when I needed you most. Threw me to the dogs. Now I’m worn out, used up, and ready to die. Is that the life you wanted for your daughter?”

                “I wanted you to stay with your uncle.”

                “He’s not my uncle.”

                The face and voice faded away and Misty was left with a deep pain in her chest. Similar arguments grew in frequency as the time ticked away. She saw her mother the most but she also saw Nathan, the boy she loved who destroyed her, her ‘uncle’ the man who took her innocence, Alfons the man who tried to piece her back together but for his own needs not hers, and her younger self. That face gave her the most pain.

                Small footsteps accompanied her younger self. A child dressed in a used blue dress would emerge from the shadows and sit down next to her feet. She was blonde with dirt in her hair, a missing front tooth, and a smattering of freckles from the summer sun. Misty could make it all out perfectly in the darkness. She felt a longing for that youth and a sadness that it was destroyed not long after that image was created in her memory. She wouldn’t speak much, words would fail the small girl but Misty would plead with her and apologize profusely.

                “I’m sorry.” She’d gulp between dry tears. She had little liquid to spare from her organs for tears but the sensation would come with the lump in her throat.

                The little girl would play with the wood chips on the floor and look about at the rats giving almost no mind to Misty as she spoke.

                “Please forgive me, I never wanted this for you. I’m just a victim. We’re just a victim.”

                “I can’t forgive you.” The little girl said.

                Misty shut up fast, holding back her gulps for air.

                “I hate you.” The little girl looked up and her gaze pierced Misty to her soul. Small dark empty eyes stared at her. Misty screamed and the image was gone. She heard more footsteps, but they were louder this time. Not a phantom but a real person.

                “He’s here.” She whispered to the rats who kept feasting ripping all the flesh left off the bones. They had even stolen a few nibbles from her legs as she slept. She didn’t care now. In a few short moments she’d be dead and the images would be gone for good. She’d be free from this, one way or another. As the footsteps approached she closed her eyes and waited. Before long there was someone upon her and she as ready.

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