The Ferryman (31 page)

Janine shook her head. She looked to David for support. “I'm not making any sense.”

“No, you are,” David insisted. “Okay, none of us has ever gone through what you did, but we all know what it's like to have a dream. I've had dreams where I consciously knew I was dreaming, and still didn't wake up right away.”

Somewhere far off a phone began to ring.

“Yes,” Janine said, as she turned her attention back to Father Jessup. “It was a little like that. But I didn't wake up at all. It seemed to last forever.”

The old priest settled back in his chair and gazed at her expectantly. Father Charles watched her with almost paternal concern.

Janine closed her eyes and remembered. A muscle in her shoulder twitched and started her shivering. Eyes closed, only the scents of the room and the silent knowledge of the presence of the three men to comfort her, she brought herself back to that horrible day.

Though she sensed much of that, even while unconscious, she did not really know it until she finally came around. It was what happened during the procedure, while her baby was dying . . . while she was dying ... that Father Charles wanted to hear about.

“They lost me,” Janine whispered, her eyes still closed. Vaguely, she felt David's hand cover her own, there on the arm of the chair. But she was lost in the past now, in the memory of something she had been trying so very hard to forget.

“One minute I could sort of hear voices, and the machines, and I could smell that awful ammonia smell in hospitals, where it's meant to be clean but it's really just them trying to cover up the smell of sickness and dying.

“Then I was awake. I ... I was in this place. A very dark place with trees all around. The ground was soft and damp and there was a river, and the sound of it was so loud in my ears. There were stars in the sky, but they were red, like blood, and the sky seemed too close to me, too low. That's what I meant, I guess. It was like the sky was a prop and I was on some stage somewhere.

“But the river ... the river was real. I knew I was lost. I wasn't supposed to be there, but more than that, no one was supposed to stay on the riverbank. Like the water was magnetic, dragging me in. But I didn't want to go. All I wanted was to find my way home, and I kept trying to get away from the river and I'd just come back to it.”

Eyes still tightly closed, Janine paused a moment. She realized that her breathing had changed. Now her chest rose and fell with the dread that filled her. The picture was so clear in her mind it was almost as though she were there again in her mind.

“I can almost smell the river, even now,” she whispered. “The water.”

At that sound, a jolt of fear shot through her and her eyes snapped open. Then she saw that it had been nothing but Father Jessup setting his glasses on the table, and she felt foolish.

“Janine?” Father Charles ventured.

“I'm all right. Just ... nothing. Never mind.” She closed her eyes again. It was as though she slid back into that death-dream, as though with her eyes closed, darkness inside her mind, she could paint on the canvas of her conscious mind the things she dredged up from her subconscious.

Janine was cold all over. Her hands were damp. She could almost feel the weight of the silver coins in her pocket, the ones with which she was meant to pay the Ferryman.

“Through the mist on the river, I could see the light from his lantern across the water. I heard it kind of banging against the wood as the current rocked the boat. The sound echoed. I fell in the water, or stepped out too deep from the riverbank—even though I was moving away from it.The water pulled at me, like it was trying to drag me in. I felt so heavy ... so cold ... and when I looked up, the boat was there. And so was he. He had a dark red robe on, with a hood, but then he took it down and he was just as I described him.Those eyes ...”

Her voice failed her a moment. She felt small and afraid, a little girl again. It was a feeling she hated, a helplessness she had made up her mind she would escape.

Janine cleared her throat. “He wanted the coins. I knew who he was. Somehow I just knew. He asked for the coins, the fare for me to cross. But I refused. I ... I took the coins out of my pocket and I threw them into the water.”

David clutched her hand a bit more tightly, but she went on without responding.

“I ran. It felt as though, having thrown those coins, I was free. I turned away from the river and took off. Then I tripped and fell facedown in mud and I couldn't breathe. I thought for sure I was dead. And then, all of a sudden, I tasted air. It rushed into my lungs and it burned and my eyes hurt 'cause of the bright lights....

“And I was in the hospital again. And they told me my baby was dead.”

 
While she waited for Jill to arrive, Annette picked up in the living room and made her bed. Even as she did so, she knew it was a bit silly, given that the bed was likely to be a mess again shortly. But there was something about mussing a made bed that was alluring to her.

With that little bit of neatening done she resisted the urge to continue onto a full-scale assault against her imperfect living space and drifted into the kitchen. Her anticipation of Jill's arrival had taken the edge off her hunger, but she was still aware that she had eaten nothing since that morning, and her stomach rumbled the minute she opened the refrigerator. Since she was not sure how long it would take Jill to get there, she decided against making a sandwich and instead opted for a yogurt with granola sprinkled on top.

Jill had not arrived by the time she tossed the empty yogurt cup into the garbage, so she grazed about the kitchen.A handful of Cheerios. A banana. Lipton chicken noodle Cup-a-Soup.

As she sipped from the mug full of soup, the doorbell rang.

From the moment she had hung up the phone, Annette's skin had prickled with excitement. A cynical thought about Pavlov's dog went through her head as the buzz from the door echoed and died, for that crackle of sexual energy that seemed to course through her immediately increased in intensity.A delicious thrill made her quiver a bit, and as a wanton smile creased her lips, she uttered a tiny chirp of pleasure.

Then she laughed at herself. “Jesus, Elf,” she whispered aloud. “Rein it in.”

But, though the words registered in her mind, her body did not heed them. No one had ever had this effect on her before. Quickly, almost shivering, she went to the door and pressed the buzzer next to the intercom.Then she opened the door and waited.

Annette heard Jill's footsteps on the stairs. She knew that she was getting carried away, both physically and emotionally. The long-term prospects of a relationship with a twenty-two-year-old were dim.With that in mind, Annette was at last able to rein herself in.

This isn't love,
she told herself.

Then Jill crested the landing, and Annette's throat went dry. Jill wore soft, black, calves'-leather pants and a matching jacket that hung to her thighs, her blond hair fanning out over her shoulders in a cascade of silk. Beneath it she wore a blue T-shirt with Superman's trademark
S
stretched across her breasts.The shirt was cut off above her newly pierced belly button. A mischievous smile played at the edges of her lips.

Annette stepped out onto the landing and grabbed for her. She pulled Jill into her arms and kissed her long and deep. Jill responded hungrily, and their hands roamed over one another. When the kiss ended, Jill giggled softly.

“You ready to get wet?” she asked, a bit breathless.

A small chuckle escaped Annette's lips and she smiled shyly. “I've been wet since I hung up the phone.”

Jill gently pushed her back into the apartment and closed the door.

 
Janine kept her eyes closed. Her lips were dry and she darted her tongue out to dampen them, and only when she tasted salt did she realize that she was crying. Her eyes fluttered open and she wiped warm tears from her cold cheeks.

Beside her, David crouched and held on to her hand. He had moved closer while her eyes were closed. Father Charles leaned over in his chair and regarded her closely. Father Jessup studied her, an expression of fascination on his face, as though she were some sort of laboratory experiment. Then the old priest blew out a long breath and reached out to pat her other hand.

“I'm so sorry for your loss, Janine. I know the wound is still very fresh for you.”

She nodded.

“Please, Father,” David said, almost curtly. “I know it all sounds insane, but if there's anything you can tell us, we'd be grateful.”

There was something strange in David's voice, Janine thought. Something other than just his sympathy for her and the stress and fear that had been building in both of them. Janine turned to him, but David's eyes were on the two priests who sat across the table.

“Father Jessup has already said he believes you,” Father Charles said. “So do I.”

David's hands flew into the air. “I don't get it, Hugh. I really don't. I've seen this stuff, and so has Janine. But you're both just taking our word for it. How can you do that?”

Father Charles raised an eyebrow at the outburst.

“Sorry,” David muttered. “I just don't get it. I mean, you said you saw a ghost one time, and Father Jessup saw some other things, but—”

“I saw an angel,” the priest said abruptly.

Janine blinked. “I'm sorry, what?”

Father Charles laughed. “With what you're telling me, you find
that
hard to believe? It's true, though. When I was twelve years old, I saw an angel, standing right in front of me, no farther away than you are now. I've always hoped to see another one, but never have. It's why I became a priest, to be perfectly honest.”

Fascinated, and filled with hope, Janine stared at him. “Would you tell us about it?”

“Sometime, I will,” Father Charles replied. “When this is over.” He smiled as though recalling some distant memory. “Back to the business at hand, though. Father Jessup?”

The old priest was watching his former student with a benevolent warmth that Janine envied. But then he glanced at her, and she felt as though a portion of it had been transferred to her. It felt like a gift.

“I believe that during your near-death experience, you confronted Charon, a creature from ancient Greek mythology,” Father Jessup said. “And I believe that he is somehow here, in our world, haunting both of you.”

Janine could only stare at him. It was true. She had no doubt of that. She had been living the truth of it for weeks. But like her brush with death, it seemed more frightening and also somehow more incredible to have it said aloud.

“How can that be?” David asked.

Father Jessup glanced at the younger priest a moment. He seemed to hesitate, as if what he had to say was even more difficult to believe than what they had told him.After a moment he smiled sheepishly and turned his attention to them again.

His smile was unnerving.

“I've been tarred and feathered a dozen times over for discussing my theories, and according to the archdiocese, I'm not to speak to anyone about them. So much for that,” the old priest said with a smoky chuckle. He toyed with the cigar on the table in front of him a moment before sliding it back inside his sweater.

“I believe that all religions spring from the same source, that God, or what you and I would call God, is the collective spiritual energy that not only began but that now powers this universe. That same school of thought suggests that human beliefs actually mold God to fit our faith and perceptions. God remains a constant, but how we see Him defines ... well, how we see Him. The trappings and manifestations of His power are malleable, possibly even
sculpted
by faith.

“Once upon a time humans believed in many gods. According to this theory, that would have meant that though they were all in some way part of a greater whole, there
were
many gods at that time. Some mythological creatures may also have actually existed as a manifestation of that omnipotent god-power here on Earth.

“It's a paradox of the highest order, you see. God is eternal and constant in purpose, yet fluid and ever-changing in presentation. In that sense, it may be that all religions are in some way true.”

At his first pause, Janine and David both glanced over at Father Charles to see his reaction to all this. It was clear from his expression that he had heard it all before, and that if he did not believe it, he was at least not prepared to disbelieve it.

“Angels. Demons.The deities of ancient Rome, Egypt, China, and Greece. Everything,” Father Jessup added.

“So ... this Charon is ... part of God?” Janine asked.

The old priest shook his head. He looked almost angry. “It's just a theory. If it's true, then this creature is a manifestation of God's power. Part of what I'll call god-energy, but not in a way that implies that the Almighty is responsible for or even aware of this being's actions. For all intents and purposes, whatever the fabric of his being, whatever he's made of, Charon exists, and obviously has both a function and a will of his own.”

Janine shuddered.

“I'm confused,” she admitted. “If all this is true ... Jesus, I can't even believe I'm saying that. But I guess if
you
can, then so can I. So let's say it is. Wouldn't Charon have been ... outmoded a long time ago? Wouldn't he have gone the way of Bast and Odin?”