Where Familiarity Forever Evades

The room is unfamiliar, I don't know how I got here. The shadow man, and his wide-brimmed hat resting above his smouldering ember eyes, chatters non-stop. It’s so dark. He skips about the room, up then down I can sense where he is from the malice which leaks from him like bad air out of a slow puncture.

Last I remember, I was standing amidst the dust on the small landing fields in Malta. We had to lug sacks of flour to the mess hall, it was 78 goddam degrees in the shade and I was in no mood.

The air was thick with memories, an oily grief we could only just breathe through. Letting our guard down meant it could be us next. Three of the guys I was drafted with, Jonny, Mike and Terry had been meals for whatever creatures lurk in the Meditteranean sea. The damn Nazi's had ambushed us, our intel said they had been one hundred and twenty miles northward, but they managed to come from North Africa now Mussolini and Hitler were bedfellows.

I pushed away the encroaching nausea, focussed on the grain, I could weep tonight into my balled-up sock and I'd be given the courtesy we all give each other when our sobs can't be stifled as well as we'd like. Sympathetic eyes behind the josh's and jibes were our language of care, no more, no less, but it's all we needed. We all knew the suffering of loss and all wondered if our own mothers would be the next one's going about their day with a carefree bounce, while a bullet flying across the Atalantic via telegram was levelled at their tender hearts.

Sergeant Percival was saying something. I can't remember what. We didn't like it though. The man was a shitheel. Arrogant and self-serving, he was second in command because his father was a big deal in the Tobacco industry and he got trained as an officer without having ever dived in the mud, dodged flak, or gotten so drunk they ended up naked wailing ‘9-5’ by Dolly Parton while being wrestled by five men I...I mean they...thought were just having a roughhouse but really were under order to subdue me. Ol' Percy as we knew him was not liked, but was tolerated as mutiny meant we'd face our own army.

He was going on, I think it was about someone selling the wrong kind of beer for such a high establishment. He was a pompous ass. Thankfully I had my girl on my arm. I was a whisky man anyway.  A good Woodford Reserve on the rocks, and my gal Hannah was all about the gin. She still dressed in the flapper style even though it was out of fashion. I remember that night well. Percival had been going on, drawling out his conquest of some emerging market or other, talking shop because the world of finance was a series of aisles for the rich man- and they never left the supermarket. 

I was on leave. Hadn’t even been shipped out. Me and Hannah had been hitched a month before. This gala we’d been invited to by Ol’ Percy was not fun at all, I preferred a baseball game, or a pitch’n’toss, maybe a nice romantic dinner for me and my lady. I glanced at her. Beautiful. Sharp as a tack and took no bother from no one. I was from Kentucky, she from Kansas. It was like Romeo and Juliette. Apart from they were teenagers, and we didn’t plan on no suicides. We had met, when was it…I can’t remember, but I remember she was beautiful. That was it! I met her at a Raise the Bar, a nightclub where the Lindy Hop was all the rage and which I had been learning so I might bag a girl who knew how to move.

I remember her that night. Amanda, she didn’t know she’d end up as my wife. She was there with her sister Hannah. Amanda was sharp as a tack and took no bother from no one, it’s why I fell for her. She loved the flapper style even though it was old hat. Her sister Hannah was a bit dull, one of those unhappy people who make a cow give sour milk a town over just by pointing her big ol’ frown at the horizon. Amanda and me, well, we danced the night away. She loved the gin, I was on the whisky, a Woodford Reserve – my favourite. I loved her like none before. It felt like we were lindy hopping on the clouds over golden prairies. We laughed, and squeezed each other, making love in my Cadillac and turning to watery dough each time we held our eye’s on each other’s too long. My Amanda. We always talked about having kids. Then I went to war, I wonder if I will ever see her again. 

I carry her picture, before we got to Malta, or was it Pianosa? I can’t remember. Where am I? I was somewhere. I’m not sure where this room is. It’s dark. I can hear murmurs from another room. I think I just woke up. I’m sure there is something under my cot. I think the shadow man, a dark viscous man with orange eyes burning like hateful embers, is slinking about the shadows. I can feel his malice. His ill intent is there. I think I’m a prisoner. He chatters like the sound of wind through hundreds of tin cans. Something is strange. The room is musty and smells like stale urine. Where was I yesterday? What day was yesterday? 

My head hurts. I have been taken captive! Drugged probably and tied up.  My arms are sore, actually, all my muscles are sore. I must have been beaten. Why can't I remember? Is that chattering? In the corner of my eye there is a shadow man with orange fiery eyes and a large hat. I think I’ve been drugged. That would explain the horrible shadow man. Remember your training…breathe. Those damn Nazi scum have got me.  Wait a minute, I can move. That’s it I’m out of here.

I managed to scoot to the edge of the bed, but I'm catching my breath like I've run a marathon. Feels like molten lead is coursing through my muscles. All I did was sit up and get my feet to the floor. I don’t think I can stand! I’m so heavy. The rushing of throbs through me is agony. The drugs are wearing off, but I can hardly move. Feels like there is acid and crushed glass in my joints.  What the hell did they do to me? I need to get out of here. “WHO THE HELL HAS ME LOCKED IN HERE!”

I hear footsteps. Slow and methodical. These guys are pros. “WHO ARE YOU, YOU SON’S OF BITCHES!” There’s a crack of light. The shadow man still chuckling at me from the corner of my vision.

My back feels like I’ve ridden through the seven circles of hell on bed of nails. “HEY! HEY GET ME OUT OF HERE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME! WHERE AM I!”

I hear something. Footsteps coming to the door. I may be weak but I’m ready. I’m ready to go. I’ll fight this Nazi scumbag. I need something to fight with but it’s too dark.

Someone’s coming in. She’s young. A young woman. She can only be twenty. She looks at me with a big smile. What the hell?

“Did you have a nightmare Mr. Wallace?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“It’s me, Esme. Remember, we went for a walk yesterday, and I even had your wife and her sister come in yesterday.”

“My wife? Amanda?”

“No Hannah, her sister is Amanda, she also came last week.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s ok. I think you’ve just had a bad dream.”

“I’ve been captured!”

I realised I couldn’t see so reached for my glasses to a strange bedside table, like that in a hospital. My hands. Oh lord, what happened to my hands! My hands are…are...old! So old! Liver spots all over and my skin looks like it was pulled from cooling chowder and draped over blue cheese. What is going on? I’m breathing hard now. It’s like I’m in hospital. I have no strength, who is this woman? Why is everything hurting? Why am I old! “I want my wife!”

“It’s 5 A.M. As soon as we can after we’ve given you a shower tomorrow we’ll get in touch with her. OK? It’s pancakes tomorrow, your favourite.”

Pancakes. I do like pancakes. I can talk to Amanda. What was the problem? There was something concerning me. I’m all agitated and stressed. This room is strange, I don’t belong here. “What time is it?”

“5 A.M.” she said with the sweet and lyrical tone saved for the child and the senile.

I’m so tired. So sleepy. I’ll figure it out tomorrow and this strange woman can give me pancakes. It is very early. So tired. I was angry. Was I? About what? Who knows. The bed is comfy. 

“Are you ok my Wallace.”

“Yes. Fine.”

She kindly gave me a hand back into bed. I’m sure I am forgetting something. The pain of movement has subsided. Where is Hannah? I’m sure she is as beautiful as when I first met her.

The shadow man is chattering to me from under the bed, skittering about the room with his large, brimmed hat and ember eyes. I’m so tired, I wish he’d stop his snickering through his malevolent whispers. This room is unfamiliar and I don’t know where I am. The last thing I remember was lugging sand in Pianosa.  It was the landing fields. Ol' Percy. So sleepy. Hannah. I hope…I miss…I wish…I’m…....I’m…......I was....