August 3rd 12:33 PM
Two Weeks Ago
That day, the light didn’t cut through the dead air that occupied what was called my home. That day, seemingly nothing woke me up from my frenzied screaming at this menace that haunted my dreams. However, I woke still, the whistling fading from my ears to be replaced by eerie stillness. I let my eyes adjust through the darkness that plagued this place. The drapes were closed. She never left the drapes closed. The headache began pounding away again. God, I needed a drink! I forced myself out of bed and took a moment to marvel at the fact that I even found the strength to do that anymore. This man in the black trench coat was no longer the person that had the answers. He was no longer my only link to discovering why God allowed this to happen. As far as I was concerned God was dead to me and the man in the black trench coat was the demon sent to torment me as punishment. I led myself to the kitchen and flipped the light switch. A weak fluorescent light flickered on casting a dull gray glow across the kitchen. I walked past the refrigerator to go to the cabinet for a glass. I stopped. The room got stiller if that was possible. I slowly backed up to the refrigerator door to see the note magnetized to it. I couldn’t have even heard a pin drop.
I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Maybe I wasn’t breathing. I felt a dull pain around my knees. I must have collapsed to the floor. I don’t remember anything else.
War
The next week and a half flew by so fast I barely even remember them existing. I poured over her address books, maps, planners, brochures anything that would lead me back to my lost wife. I didn’t have a single drink the entire time. I was not going to let God take the only important thing I had left. This was war, me against The Almighty. I wasn’t going to let him win. The man in the black trench coat barely even made an appearance as if even he was afraid of my newfound determination. I sure as hell wasn’t allowing God to have one more ounce of control in my life and if he wanted it. He was going to have to fight me for it! I poured over everything Haylea had left behind to get some sort of clue as to where she’d be. I called everyone we knew with no luck or any leads. Exhaustion was settling in and I fought it off for as long as possible but to no avail. I ended up falling asleep face first on the desk and again I heard the whistling. There he was, standing dead still with a cold glare shooting me to a standstill. He wasn’t walking towards me but he kept getting closer. His eyes looked wary and alarmed as if he was trying to convey some urgent message of some kind. He moved closer and closer until he was right in my face. His eyes grew wider. He drew a breath and shrieked the word “GOOOOOOO!!!!!” right in to my face. My face lurched off of the desk and I banged my head on the top piece and flew back in to my seat with such force that I knocked a letter opener off of the top and it fell. Almost in slow motion it began to fall, finally piercing through its destination. I lean up to see that it had pierced through the city of ..Cottonwood.., ....Arizona..... I stumbled back and began to scan the room half expecting the man in the black trench coat to be lurking through the corners. I looked again at the map. The man in the black trench coat had finally given me an answer. I knew exactly where I needed to go.
----
I wake again to find myself in the, what I’ve now come to describe as quaint, diner. I grab the pitcher of water and down another few gulps. I heard the door to the front entrance open with a little jingle of the bell. But that wasn’t what grabbed my attention, for as soon as the bell was through with its chime, an infinitely colder and creepier sound took its place; whistling. The temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees as I swung my head ever so slightly to the door and I see the shadow of a tall man entering the restaurant. I pat my face to make sure I was awake. The awful dull thud of each boot hitting the ground one after the other in slow rhythmic cycles made the hair on my body stand on end. They come to a stop at the table across from me. I dare myself to look in to his face. I look and see that wide brimmed black cowboy hat, the transparent whit beard and those dark and scary eyes. I feel the color drain from my face. He carries with him a black guitar case and he sets it on the ground in front of his chair. I remain frozen in my seat. He takes one more glance at me and he sits down. He opens the case and reaches to pull out a bright milky black beautiful guitar. The first note he strums pierces directly in to the corner of my soul. With the whistling to accompany he begins to sing in a slow forbidding tone:
There once was a man who lost his way
He hid from the light and the bright of day
They looked at him, they wished out loud
He would come back to present and there he’d stay
They reached for him they plead and still
He would not heed the call from highest hill
With outstretched hands and burning hearts
They begged of him to “Please come back Will!”
Now he starts to realize it’s getting too late
To take back the moves he made in this game
He’ll curse the high heavens but all in vain
He’ll weep, he’ll gnash but his fate remains the same
He looks back at those who plead and still
Why did he not heed the call from that highest hill?
With outstretched hands he begs of them
But it’s way too late now to go back Will.
Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm.
As the last note resonates from his guitar, the whistling ceases with it as if I’d been hearing it for the last two years only so it could be a part of the song. Everything goes dead still and silent. I could swear it was below fifty degrees in the room. I try to find my voice to say something, anything. I try to swallow but it feels as though something is stuck in the caverns of my throat. With a grace and speed that could only belong to the man in the black trench coat he stands, puts the guitar away, and makes his way to the door. I manage to mutter one question, “Why are you?” He stops briefly, looks at me with those sad eyes and then walks out the door. I sit in a state of shock for what seems like days, and seconds. From another world these words come, “I’ve got the part.” He must’ve tried several times to get my attention because by the time I realize the kid was back with my part, he is yelling at me. A shake my head to get my bearings and try to smile a convincing smile, he wasn’t convinced. He instructs me on how to put the piece in my car, I pay him, and begin to walk back out in to the unforgiving sun. As I’m about to pull the door open he calls out, “Oh boy! That trip to Cottonwood took a lot out of me!” I turn in alarm, swallow hard and try to give him another convincing smile. Still didn’t seem to work. I pull the door open and venture in to the heat.
Providence
The drapes are open and sunlight makes great attempts to add life to the deadness of the house. Somewhere in the house a phone rings and rings and rings. After a little while a machine clicks on and records. The machine voice chimes in, “You’ve reached 206-576-2031 on August 15th, 2009. Please leave your message after the beep.” It beeps and there is no one there at first then a woman speaks, her reluctance is heavy. “Um, Will. It’s Haylea. Listen baby, I’m so sorry for leaving. I just freaked out you know?” She starts crying, “I shouldn’t have left you. It was wrong and selfish of me. Anything you need to get through I’ll help you get through it. We’ll do it together okay Baby? I love you and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” The machine beeps again and clicks off.
----
About a mile or so back to the car, I begin to feel it, a slight but sharp pain in my side. Exhaustion maybe, I shrug it off and trudge on. I begin to let my mind wander back to what happened in the diner. It was the most petrified I have ever been in my whole life. What did this man want with me? The pain in my side grows stronger. I slow my step; this is more than just exhaustion. With my free hand I clutch my right side. I begin to cough, nothing at first, but steadily more violent. I stop and collapse to the ground in my coughing fit. I pull back my hand and see blood on it. I’m in trouble. I try to push myself off of the ground to no avail. This is bad. I try harder to push myself up off the sandy gravel that lay beneath me and halfway up everything goes black. I collapse. I feel nothing but pain then I feel nothing. The last thing ever heard by Will was whistling.
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