This time, the hotel was nice, and far from the airport in Nice, where we had landed. We were finally here, after much mind control and persuasion to let us go in for free, as we were completely broke, and couldn’t draw from our accounts.
We had gotten a suite, with two rooms separated by a bathroom. Caitlin and I slept in one room, with Marc in the other.
I was ready to drop into bed, but I tried to stay awake, as it was early afternoon in France.
I looked out the balcony in my room to the beach just across the street.
The edge of it was jam packed with restaurants, all in a jumble of color and noise. The beach started as small smooth rocks about the size of my fist, and then gradually went down to fine sand and water, in which tourists and residents alike swam, shouting and laughing.
Not far to the side, a dock stretched out, and teenagers were diving off it into the water. On the other side, a big sign in English and in French read ‘Tubing, Water Skiing, & More’, and people stood in line, defying the sun, which could have fried an egg.
The crisp salty air was refreshing, and despite everything, I felt calm.
Caitlin was sleeping, and Marc was outside of my room, talking to some member of the staff in rapid French. Then he came in quietly and stood on the balcony with me.
I looked out, and then finally said to him. “I’m going down to those shops to get a change of clothes for both me and Caitlin.” He nodded, and I left.
I walked down the stairs, out onto the patio, and across the street. Though I could feel Marc watching me, I didn’t look up, and instead walked to a stall where bags were on saIe, and got two black backpacks for free, thanks to my power.
I was beginning to feel bad, but I knew I had no choice. In the next store, I got a change of clothes for myself, and then one for Caitlin. as I had noticed that in his satchel Marc carried a change of clothes, among other things.
I also got a hairbrush as an indulgence. Then I went back to the hotel and walked up the broad stairs.
Walking into the suite that we had gotten, I opened the adjoining door to the bathroom and called out to Marc, who was still on the balcony.
“I’m taking a shower. Don’t come in.”
Marc responded with a sarcastic, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
I closed the door, and turned on the shower, letting the warm water run over me, at the same time washing away the events of the last couple of days.
After I came out of the shower, I felt like a completely different person. I was clean, my hair was brushed and dried, and I looked once again like the Juliana Antoinette who had left home a week ago.
I slipped on my sneakers and walked out onto the balcony.
Marc looked up from his laptop, which he had on his knees, and said sarcastically, “So, you’re finally out? What happened to your tan?”
I ignored him, and sat down on one of the lawn chairs next to Caitlin, who had apparently woken up.
“Shut up,” I said amiably. “Lets see how much of your tan comes off when you take your shower, hmmm?” I laughed, for what seemed like the first time in days, and probably was.
“Caitlin, if you want to take a shower, I got you some clothes, so you can give me the ones you’re wearing. Does this place have a washing room?.”
Marc nodded, and I got up, and grabbed my dirty clothes. “Give me your dirty clothes so I can drop them off at once.” He got them, and I walked down to the machine and put our clothes in.
I sat and grabbed a French magazine, looking through the pictures of celebrities, and trying to decipher what was written while I waited for the clothes. I was done with three magazines when the machine beeped, and then I brought the clothes up to our rooms.
When I got to my room, Caitlin was on her bed brushing her hair.
“Marc’s in his room.” She said when she saw me. “Thanks for the clothes. They fit perfectly.”
I smiled. “No problem.” Then I headed towards Marc’s room.
Marc was out of the shower, and he looked much less stressed and cleaner as well. He was looking out the window of his room, hands braced against the bottom sill.
Without turning around to look at me he said quietly, “Every time I come here, I see how beautiful it is. After all these years, it still takes my breath away. And for a minute, I can forget that behind even the most beautiful facades evil thrives.” Marc looked so open that I ventured to ask him a question.
“You lived here?”
“Yep. I was born in a small town not far from here, called Biot. Then we moved here, and I lived here with my parents until I was 17. Then I moved to America, but kept in contact with them, and the French government.”
He turned around, his black hair glinting in the setting sun. “But you should never judge a book by its cover.” His eyes were expressionless.
I wondered sadly how many hidden scars the man in front of me had. I came to stand beside him, and looked out at the view. It was truly gorgeous, and I couldn’t see how evil could exist in a place like this.
I sighed sadly, then turned around and said, “I left your clothes on your bed. See you tomorrow. I’m gonna hit the sack.” Marc grunted in response, and I left.
In my room, I found that I was exhausted, and Caitlin was already asleep. I fell into a dream where there were no more problems, and everything was happily ever after all.
Just as I began to drift into deeper sleep, I heard something in the depths of my consciousness, a sort of moaning.
I jerked upright, and then sighed. I was never going to get a full night’s sleep, was I?
The sounds were coming from Marc’s room, and he sounded as though he might be in pain. I got up quietly, and Caitlin woke up.
”What is going on in there?” she asked groggily.
“I don’t know.” I whispered back, advancing towards the connecting door.
If someone was in there and hurting Marc, I didn’t know what I would do, but I had to do something.
So I took the desk lamp from the bedside table, and I opened the bathroom door, then the door to Marc’s room. I flicked on the lights quickly.
Marc was half on, half off his bed, flailing and moaning. I walked forward quickly, intending to wake him up.
But as soon as I touched him, Marc woke up and jumped on me. I fell to the ground, and his hands wrapped around my throat.
The scream that had been building in my throat stopped, blocked by the hand of memory.
Once again, Andreas bringing the iron pipe down again and again, then wrapping his hands around my throat.
Suddenly the hands currently around my throat released their grip, and I jerked back to this time. Marc was no longer on me, but next to me, and Caitlin peered worriedly down at me.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Marc wasted no time.
I jumped in to my defense. “I head you moaning and I came to see what was wrong. Then you jumped me, and…” I faltered.
Marc continued. “and you started whimpering the words ‘Andreas’ and ‘stop’ over and over. Which by the way, is the second time that happens. Want to explain?”
This time it was my turn to laugh sardonically. “And you could what, be my shrink? Sorry, I already tried that. It doesn’t work. But if you want to have my nightmare as well as yours, then fine.” Marc just looked at me, and said.
“Hey, I told you what happened to me. You have to carry my nightmare as well as yours. So I’m all ears.” Caitlin nodded in agreement.
What could I do? They weren’t going to leave me alone until they heard what was bugging me. In truth, I hadn’t told anyone about my dreams, because after the real thing and all the time in the hospital, or with shrinks, I had given up.
But now it felt good to talk. Marc and Caitlin didn’t make sympathetic comments, or tell me how I should feel or how to change what I felt.
They both just sat and listened. I didn’t leave out a single detail of the case, or the beating, or the horrible time in the hospital.
I told them about the dreams as well, and when I was done I felt cleansed.
Marc was silent, looking at me steadily with no expression on his face. Then he sighed and said. “I won’t say I’m sorry, because I hate it when people do that to me.” I nodded, and Marc continued.
“But I have no idea how you managed to go back to the same job in the same place after that. Didn’t you get these flashbacks when you were in your office?”
I shook my head. “I used to, but moving, or getting another job or building would be like saying to Andreas that he had won.”
Caitlin looked at me. “I heard you sometimes, moaning in your sleep, but I never was brave enough to see what was wrong. Sorry.”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry, the dreams have stopped since we left. I think I’m just to tired to have nightmares.”
I didn’t want to talk about me anymore, I was just tired, and I felt like going to bed. But I had to ask a question.
“Marc, do you always have dreams like that?”
Marc was silent for a second, and then he responded.
“Yep. Every night. I have dreams of fire and water and rivers of blood.” His tone was haunted, and his face was suddenly bleak.
“Isn’t there anything you can do to stop the dreams?” Caitlin asked, looking as horrified as I felt.
Marc raised his hand and swept it through his hair. “I don’t want to.” I gaped at him, shocked.
“I think of it as the legacy that the dead in that building gave to me. Everyone died but me in the end, because the plant exploded as soon as I was let out. That leaves only me to bring them down. The dreams, well, they fuel my hate, because I can never forget. Time doesn’t soften memories. Especially memories of fire and water and rivers of blood.”
His words rang in my head as I tried to go to sleep later. Fire and water and rivers of blood.
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