Countdown

Countdown

I couldn't see anything. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't actually
smell, feel or taste anything. All the same I was certain there was an
intruder in the room. The sensation was strong enough to penetrate my
admittedly fitful sleep. I sat up bolt upright, immediately wide awake.
And there in the corner a tall, thin, shadowy figure stood staring at
our bed.
"Oi!" I screamed, "what the hell&;#8230;"
"What's up love?" mumbled my wife.
"Look, there!" I pointed as I swung out of bed and advanced on the
figure.
"What is it?" sleepily.
"Just look!&;#8230;.oh..".
The figure was there one second but had disappeared the next. It hadn't
faded away, it had just gone.

I tried explaining it to my wife, but she insisted that it was a bad
dream, brought on by all the stress I was under. It was true I'd been
overworking but all the same, I knew what I'd seen. In the morning I
even checked for signs of how the bloke could have got in and out so
stealthily.

- *** -

"You'd better get a move on, don't forget the play starts at
7:30."
"Alright, alright, don't nag. I've got to finish this, there's bags of
time, it wont take me two minutes to get dressed."
Of course twenty minutes later I was still playing with some figures in
my study.
"Look, come on, we're going with out you."
"Okay, okay, give me some peace, I'm doing this for you lot
y'know."

We made the play - just. Quite a big production at a well known
provincial theatre. Our eldest had some minor part. I'm afraid the
first act sped by, I just didn't take it in. My mind was still teeming
away over business problems and particularly the latest (disastrous)
figures I'd seen from our North East subsidiary. It was clear that our
recovery plan wasn't working yet. Without really knowing how I got
there, I found myself in the bar and suddenly felt absolutely
exhausted. Thinking about it, I'd not stopped all day and had even
forgotten to have lunch - again. A large whisky hit the spot. As we
took our seats after the interval I could feel my self relaxing.
Relaxing&;#8230;

I jerked myself awake hoping no-one had noticed and that I hadn't been
snoring. I assumed I'd only nodded off briefly but a few minutes later
the play ended.

For years now I'd slept badly. After an hour or two I'd drop off into a
shallow sleep for may be two or three hours and then wake in the small
hours and spend two or three hours tossing and turning, nodding off to
sleep and promptly waking myself up, frightened that I was late for
something or that there was something that I'd forgotten to do. I'd
keep checking the clock. Consequently when I finally get up, I'd be
exhausted. My dreams would be complex and confused, even more so
because I'm sure I had them partly whilst I was asleep and partly
whilst I lay awake restless but drowsy and then drifting back into an
unrestful, light sleep. I kept having one recurring dream that was
particularly disturbing. I suppose it was actually part dream, part the
product of an over-wrought imagination distorted by my semi-conscious,
half-asleep. Half the time the setting was a desert and half the time
it was a run down inner city area. I'd be walking, walking..

&;#8230; And still I followed. Ever since I'd seen him, I followed.
Through section after section, following. I knew I was going to end up
like them, but still my feet moved in the same continues beat. Not
their own. You see, I never stopped my search, but if I just followed
him for a while longer ...
What was I looking for? Fulfilment. I'd long turned my back on this
entity called God - an 'efficient manifestation for everything we can
not explain.' I'd chosen this way. I was going to find the answer, and
to find the answer I had to follow. Our feet now moved in the same
sequences, him in front and I behind. We carried on - always. We never
stopped - ever. Always the same: Him in front and I behind,
following...
I didn't need anything. Things, material things. The thought of
reaching my goal fed my hunger, the continuous rhythm stopped my want
of sleep. I knew if I stopped, I'd lose my chance forever. I trusted
him, I'd follow him forever if he just led me to completion. If I just
got one glance at total happiness, I would be satisfied.
We never talked, he never turned to me, I never saw his face because
that would break the sequence and I would be lost, alone. If I saw him,
actually saw his face, his features, his humanity, would I stop? Would
I lose interest and faith and just stop right where I stood? I could
take no chance.
Then I looked behind me, a quick, one-second glance over my shoulder
and when I looked back he'd gone. I turned round and round looking for
him, but he was nowhere.
I had walked for years in vain, I had not rested, I had had total
dedication towards him. I looked for something to punch and kick and
throw myself against, but there was nothing. My anger tasted like
poison in my mouth, my body needed to rest, but I ran. As I ran
everything got further away from me until I hit something that wasn't
there.
'There are boundaries,' he said.
It was him, he who I'd followed. No! Please, not him, not here,
now.

'They are holding you back.'

I turned slowly, not wanting to see what was there. A sea of faces.
Every face I'd ever known, staring back at me - reaching towards me. I
saw my next door neighbour, my parents, my cousins, the lass I'd sat
next to in high school. Everyone. There was no emotion written on their
faces. They were holding onto a glittering silver thread, stretched to
my back and they were pulling.

'Cut the cord. It is I you have searched for.'
What did he mean? I could not take my eyes off the people; What I heard
should've been a murmur, but I could hear each voice as loud and clear
as if it was just I and them. But they were stopping me, preventing me
from finding him, finding The way. I tried to pull it away from them,
but they held on tighter.

'It is you holding on to them,' he spoke slowly. 'They are in your
mind, they are not real. Let go.'

I can't, I can not do it! I strained my mind, trying to forget them and
then they were gone. He turned and walked on. The barrier that had been
there had only been a barrier in my head, and I followed him once
more.

Always the same, him in front and I behind following...
And then we came to a wall. He turned, doubled back on himself and we
walked, back the way we came. Always the same, him in front, and I
behind, following ...

-***-

Although this shattering sleep pattern continued, it hadn't been on
account of our mystery visitor, who I'd really not given much thought
to, but then it happened again. I got up in the early hours and went to
the loo. As I came back in the room I noticed the sinister figure in
the corner of the room just standing and staring at our bed. Although
there was definitely a threatening air about the figure, this time I
didn't call out, something made me stop and held my attention. Slowly I
started to make out the all too familiar details - the hooded black
robe and even the scythe, which he was leaning on. My throat felt dry
and tight, my stomach began to knot. Suddenly the grim reaper looked up
and stared straight in to my eyes and held my gaze for a few awful
moments. But then he seemed to grin strangely and half nodded before
vanishing.

I wasn't going to talk to anyone about this but it totally pre-occupied
me for days. In the end I decided that either my time was up or else,
and I convinced myself that this was surely more likely, it was a
warning. A warning that if I didn't slow down I would kill myself. A
warning that these days I wasn't living but merely existing, I had to
get more out of life because too soon it would all be over.

I resolved to make a new start. I knew that I'd got more and more
distant from my wife and hardly ever spoke to the kids unless it was to
yell at them. They'd certainly been getting me down, but thinking about
it now, they were just normal, selfish, surly teenagers. I also started
to think about the last time I'd really had any fun, the last time I'd
done any sport. I used to do a lot and still held a membership to our
local tennis club although I hadn't been there for at least two years.
Yes, that was it, I had to get my life together and everything would be
okay. That seemed logical. At the same time a less rational but equally
persuasive thought kept raising itself in my mind - was it possible to
cheat death, when your number was up that was surely it, no escaping,
no second chance, no going back to try again, just millions of "if
onlys".

Nevertheless I embarked on the new me, my new life. I stunned the
family by booking for us to all go out to dinner one Saturday night.
And I'd bought myself some new and smart-but-not-quite-trendy clothes
which met with general approval. We had a very pleasant drink at a
lovely riverside pub and an excellent meal in quite a decent
restaurant, not the plasticky almost fast-food pub franchise that I
think they'd all expected. Well at least I made the effort and I think
they all appreciated it. But there was no fooling anyone that there was
still a long way to go. It was obvious that as the evening wore on, I
became more and more pre-occupied. Still, it was a start.

In midweek I had arranged to play tennis with an old pal who I hadn't
seen for too long. And I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately a
problem blew up at work. There was nothing for it but another trip up
North. I rang my pal and cried off. He was good about it and sounded
like he'd been half expecting me to cancel any way. Well these things
happen, turning over a new leaf isn't easy.

I'd been on the road at 4:30am so that I could get to our troublesome
affiliate for 9am. The journey had been hellish. The day had been
worse. My presence wasn't welcomed. Everyone I spoke to was evasive at
best and more often down right belligerent. I couldn't get any straight
answers. Time and again I thought I'd skilfully raised the level of
discussion so that we could look at the severe business issues
dispassionately and logically but every time things rapidly
deteriorated into emotional outbursts, confrontation and accusations.
We were nowhere near making any progress. Finally, at nearly seven that
evening I gave up and headed home.

I hit the motorway seething. In keeping with the trend for the day, the
traffic was unbelievable and the weather atrocious. I crawled along, my
temper getting worse and worse. Every half opportunity I had, I put my
foot down and would swerve in and out of traffic, accepting the
incessant insults and horn blasts and making comparatively little
progress. Okay the rain was still heavy but did the idiot in front
really have to drive quite so slowly, he was in the outside lane after
all. Spotting a gap on the inside, I dodged in and around him, it was
tight but I'd have been okay except that there was another tortoise
ahead just as I'd pulled over, I slammed on the brakes which caused the
car to go into a spin. This is it, I thought as the car careered
towards the central barrier, almost completely out of control.
Ironically it was seeing it again that probably saved me. I happened to
glance in the rear view mirror and just caught a glimpse of him sitting
in the back. It must have been just a fraction of a second and even
though the image was faint, like a murky reflection, it was clear
enough for me to make out the grey skin, the yellowish teeth and eyes.
It was all so real and frightening that I jolted, I must have jerked on
the steering wheel because instead of a head on smash, I hit the
barrier a glancing blow and bounced right across all three lanes before
coming to a standstill on the hard shoulder. Then it was all the
palaver of the police, breathalyser, the recovery service (a bit ironic
seeing that the car was a write off) and so on.

Once again the episode shook me into plans and intentions to change
things. One Sunday afternoon I went for a long walk with one of my
oldest friends. There had been times when this had been our regular
practice. Certainly the walk helped me unwind. We spoke about
lightweight things, day to day trivia and old times. As had been our
habit, after a couple of hours we arrived at a little country pub and
sat outside with our beers. Ben kept the conversation light and flowing
as we quaffed our first pint. When he came back with the second round
the tone changed.
"Look the truth is Emyr, you've become a bore. You used to be attentive
and fun. We all have to work hard at times but there's something almost
arrogant in the way you wont take the slightest help or advice, you
think it's entirely up to you to save the day. And how long is it going
to go on for? At the end of the day, and don't get offended mate, but
your lot will probably end up going down the pan any way. When's the
last time you took your team out for pizza, when did we last have a
beer, when did you last just sit down and talk to Jill?"
Ben was a true friend, he gave it to me straight but he also knew that
he wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know only too well, so
he didn't harp on. Nevertheless we hardly spoke during our taxi ride
back home.

Well this time I was determined to make a real effort even though,
underneath it all, the sense of foreboding kept growing and was
virtually tangible. I went out for a couple of early morning runs but
my mind would drift and I'd find myself going slower and slower until
finally I'd be overcome with a panicky feeling about wasting time and
the need to get back and get to work. I got out a video of one of my
wife's favourite old movies and took a takeaway home one night. It was
all very nice and for the first time in weeks we managed to have some
very ordinary and pleasant conversation. Half way through the film, I
remembered something critical and intended to just nip off to my study
to make a quick note, but as soon as I got there I forgot all about the
film and noticed that it was a good time to call an overseas colleague
about a pressing matter. Half an hour later I remembered the film and
traipsed back to the lounge, the film was still running but the mood
was ruined. Jill was sitting on the settee, back ramrod straight, arms
folded high across her chest and a scowl on her face. Shortly after
that she took the kids and spent a long week-end at her parents, I
couldn't even remember if she'd mentioned it in advance.

I made a few other attempts to start introducing some normality back
into my life. I tried to keep my temper under control. I tried to cut
back on the booze - I'd never been a big drinker but I was perfectly
aware that I was steadily drinking more and more and worse still, I was
drinking in search of some sort of relief, not for simple pleasure. I
dragged myself to play snooker with a neighbour one night but took no
interest in the proceedings. I didn't know or care whether I won, lost
played a blinder or had a real stinker. I can say that as soon as I got
back home, even though it was after 11pm, I couldn't wait to get to my
study and make a few notes and work through a few plans before my
concentration finally waned at about 2 am.

"This just isn't life love." Jill said with a resigned tone. "I know
you mean well but never mind us, what's all this, this&;#8230;this
madness doing to you?"
For a split second I looked at her, I mean I really saw her and noticed
not just how earnest she was but that clearly things were taking their
toll on her too. Her usual glow had gone and she looked rather strained
and peaky. For a second I was shocked, not by her demeanour but by the
realisation that I hadn't previously been aware of the change, so I
responded a little more gently than I might otherwise have -
"Yes but you don't understand, if we just get over this next tricky
period, I'm sure well start to grow again and things will become much
easier, and..."
"And, and, and. Heard it all before Em. Let's face it, it's been like
this for two or three years now. Once you get over this peak, there'll
be another and then another, there always is. It's what it's doing to
you love that I can't stand. You used to be such a good listener and
such a good father but now&;#8230;"
I didn't have anything to say, so she continued.
"Look, what's the worst that can really happen. The kids are older, I
can get a full time job now. You've got to get a new job."
God, did no-one realise? Given my age and the specialist role that had
developed around me, whilst I was very valuable to my company, I'd be
just about unemployable anywhere else. What was the point. If no-one
understood and the very people I was doing it all for didn't appreciate
it, then really I might just as well jack it all in. Christ I'd tried
to change things, I'd really made an effort but just at the moment, the
plain fact was that work had to be the priority.

A couple of nights later I was having my usual restless sleep.
Somewhere in the middle of the night as I tossed and turned I knew he
was there again. Sure enough I looked and saw him sitting at the end of
the bed. This time I started to reason with him. I can't honestly say
whether we spoke or whether we just sort of exchanged thoughts
telepathically. All I know is that the conversation, or whatever it
was, went on for hours. I tried to reason with him about the pressure I
was under because the company was in so much trouble, it really needed
a few key people like me to put in extraordinary effort so that we'd
all have a chance of surviving. I tried to point out how I'd made a big
effort with friends and family under difficult circumstances, I really
had. I explained how I loved life and would soon be in a position to
exploit it to the full again, having fun, looking after friends, doing
meaningful things and generally just being a broader and more amiable
human being. It seemed to me that whatever arguments I put forward were
met with just a stonewall rejection, as if death had no interest at all
in what I was saying and in what I was trying to do with my life. The
bargains I tried to strike were similarly ignored. My plans,
aspirations and ambitions seemed to be of absolutely no relevance. In
spite of it all, at some point I must have dropped off, exhausted. It
seemed to me that I'd barely got to sleep when the alarm went off and
it was time to get up again.

I stumbled to the shower more asleep than awake. But as I took my
shower a funny feeling came over me. I can't really explain it but I
was at the same time relieved and a bit guilty and confused, but
overall, as I went back to the bedroom I did feel a kind of optimism.
Well, may be not exactly optimism but I felt pretty sure that I really
was about to embark on a new beginning. I started to get change and had
to go around where Jill still slept soundly, to get a shirt from my
wardrobe. It was only when I went back round there a second time to get
a tie that I realised that it wasn't that she was still asleep, she
wasn't breathing any more.

? Martyn Jansen, 2001