Note: This is a present-day event, (continuation of odd-numbered chapters time span evennts: 1,3,5, etc.)
It is Friday morning, the day after Greg’s disappearance. The television in the hangout blurs in the hangout. Something about Avian influenza that caused two deaths in England is being broadcast. I am bewildered about the fact as to how the Avian flu has its origin in Hong Kong but had spread rapidly toward the West: The Middle East, Italy, Frans, and England. Even parts of North Africa have been affected, and case there has been detected as well.
Gradually the sound of the television fades as the voices in the hostel hallway amplify. It appears as if it is the voices of teachers. Some of the seniors gather in small groups in the hallway.
“What the heck is going on?” I ask one of the guys that are in reach.
“Gregory has not yet returned,” he said.
“Mr Steward, along with a couple of other teachers are in his room.”
“Sorry guys,” I say as I forcefully try to get through the crowd that has gathered in the hallway, trying to make my way to Gregory’s room. At that moment, Mr Dali Freedman, the hostel administrator and a few teachers came barging out the door. They make sure to close the door of the dorm room behind them.
“Gentlemen,” said Mr Stanford, the maths. “Would you be so kind as to follow me to the hangout? We need to talk.”
Like a bundle of sheep, we follow him eagerly. Questions are being thrown around in whispers amongst the guys. There is a feeling of excitement in the air, something happened, almost close enough for us to turn the day around.
But somehow, the feeling of excitement is not apparent to me. I feel like it has a dark side. Something like fear.
Someone in the hangout switches off the TV. Mr Stanford had to silence us first before Mr Steward could speak. “We need to start combing the school grounds,” he said. He rolls the sleeves of his suit up. “We will divide into groups. The teacher, here will take you to the areas we want you to go and search.”
“What are we looking for, sir,” someone asks.
The response is most likely obvious, but perhaps not.
“Will be searching for Gregory Stevens. Or anything that might look out of the ordinary. Anything that may lay around. Clothing for example.”
There is a moment of silence. Then suddenly Steward add: “Dr Paterson is not in the office today, but I will try to keep him posted about what is going on here. As per his request, the rest of the school will operate as per usual. I request that you do not speak to the other students about this, do you guys hear me? I am counting on your integrity, gentlemen.”
Mr Stanford whispers something in Mr Steward’s ear. Mr Steward nods. “Another thing. Do not mention this to your parents. Well, at least not yet. We want to be certain of any declaration about what has happened for sure. Keep in mind that Blackwood International College is a school with a proud reputation. We cannot afford for it to suffer just for the mere fact that the one or the other…”
Mr Stanford places his hand on Steward’s shoulder and he stops talking in the middle of his sentence. His eyes shift from across the room gliding over one guy after the other, as if he is trying to read us. His eyes land on me for a moment, which I am openly comfortable with. “Go on and get dressed. Eat something. I will wait for you all on the plain within an hour.”
***********************************
And so, the search for Gregory began. Where there the rumours started, God knows. But until such time that we stood on the plain, divided into groups, everyone speaks about a letter that was found. A suicide letter.
We start walking. I am completely discombobulated. Someone tries to make small talk with me, but I do not answer him, cause dude, buried emotions come to show face again. Ghosts from the past.
***********************************
Daniel Wilson was my brother. The girls were crazy about him. Blond hair and a friendly, shy smile that went along with it. The two of us could talk for hours on end, sometimes until late in the evenings. Sometimes just about a lot of rubbish. He used to enjoy the extreme sport. Mountain climbing, mountain bike riding, white water rafting, and stuff like that. Once we went together to go bungee jump. The adrenaline rush made me a danger junkie as well, so all that was a dangerous thing I started to do alongside him.
You know you get those types of guys that are just naturally talented. They are best at everything they take on. Daniel was one of those guys. School, sport, you name it. I would think on some level he was my hero, but also my best buddy. I would have done anything for him. But he had never seemed to ask anything of me. I suppose I always thought that it was because he had everything he needed. But I was for sure wrong. Something was missing.
Then he went ahead and go and do something stupid.
Curtains tightly drawn
Pills on the bedside closet
“Good God Daniel!” did my mum shout.
Ambulance doors opened up slowly at the hospital
Emergency personnel on site.
Over.
***********************************
Now there are rumours. Gregory might have committed suicide. It feels like a blockbuster that you have already seen. Why the fuck would it happen again? And why with Gregory of all people? The night he looked at me with the eighth graders’ initiation at the tunnel… It was almost as if Daniel was looking at me through Gregory’s eyes.
History repeats itself. That’s what people say. Well, they also say that you are on this earth to learn lessons. And if you fail to learn the first time around, then they will cross your path again. You cannot sidewalk it like in a rugby game.
I just cried when Daniel died.
“You will not!” my dad ordered me, his entire attitude nonchalant as if nothing had happened, as if it was someone else’s child that had died. Not his own. Not the son from whom he had expected so much.
And now, between the trees and the school border on the school terrain, I wonder: is this the lesson I was supposed to have learnt? How to act and behave as if I am human, to live life without needing to feel as if I am ‘solid’ all the time that prevents me from showing any emotion.
As far as possible, I try to walk away from the other guys.
Our eyes scan the floor. Looking up at the branches. Searching for a person.
The day passes by painstakingly slowly. By the evening there is still no sight of Gregory. Some of the teachers were out and about to go and search in the nearby towns. They were searching in the streets.
Tiredly I strip my clothes from my body that night. I tie a clean towel around my waist. Before I could walk out of my dorm room, my cell phone rang. It is my mum. We talk a lot of nonsense, but somewhere in the middle of the conversation she suddenly stops.
“Erik, what is the matter?” she asks.
“Nothing, mum.”
“I can discern from your voice that there is something…”
I cannot tell, I know this.
“Erick? What” she persists
I let off a sigh. “I was remembering Daniel today.”
Outside the car, the landscape glides by silently in the dark. Erick's cell phone breaks the silence. Private number, read the mobile screen."Erick, hello?" He listens. And then just push it to death."Who was that?" asked his mother tiredly."Someone from a newspaper."She sighed. Erick turned in his seat and looked at the car following them.His father. His face was barely visible in the dark. He turned back again. It is still a long way to Johannesburg. The car lights flow brightly across the tarmac.Lux est imago veritatisErick leaned his head against the passenger window. His tongue felt thick in his mouth."I'm not as solid or bullet-proof dead as I thought," he said softly.A hand on his shoulder. His mother's.Only now can he cry. For his father, and also for Daniel.The cell phone rings again. The journalist still hasn't gotten the message that he doesn't want to talk to her. "Just one thing please, Erick," he heard her say, "the guy the police are looking for—I have two na
Note: (odd & even-numbered chapters’ time spans – merge continue)This is the last I see of G-4ce. The panel van races down the street, around the square. Away!I walk slowly back to the guest house. Totally rattled. There are more people on the street now. They just look at me, at my broken face, and torn clothes. Blood. One woman wants to help, "Leave me!" I screamed, yanking my arm out of her hands.My mother is alone in the guest house room. She looked up from a magazine, and turned pale when she saw me, "Erick!""Where's dad?" I ask"What happened?""Dad. Where is he?" Harder."He went to look for cigarettes before he drove.""Row?""To Bergville. Doctor Paterson..."Of course. Suddenly I wonder if my father left all his business interests for my sake or if he came to help Doc."I have to go see him," I said and turned back to close the door."You can't! Not like that. My child, what is the matter with you?" Panic in my mother's eyes. Only now I think about it: how will mother ta
Note: (odd & even-numbered chapters’ time spans – merge continue)On Wednesday evening, about two weeks after Gregory and I were in the Blackwood memorial museum, I crack the online store's site, get the administrator password and penetrate their server. Client names, home addresses, telephone numbers, email addresses, login codes and passwords. And yes, credit card numbers.Gregory just smiled when I gave it to him. Quiet and withdrawn.I'm already in bed when I get a message on my cell phone. Probably Isabella again, I think. I limp across the cold floor to get the mobile phone on the desk and then quickly jump back into bed.It's an MMS then. And it comes from GregoryA picture of a white hat...It was the night before he disappeared.
Note: (odd & even-numbered chapters’ time spans – merge in this chapter)The reflection in the glass door of the gallery. "Gregory!""Didn't think you'd see me again, huh?"I swing around. Walk closer to grab him. Relief. "Is that genuinely you?"But Gregory only lifts one arm, presses against my chest, and pushes me away. a crooked smile drew around his mouth."Your hair...Blonde? And the goatee?" I want to take his hand away, but he pulls it back hard. "Where have you been? The whole world is looking for you!""Mmm... know, I saw my food on Police File. Never thought I'd end up there.""But if you saw it, why—""What's this? Twenty questions? Leave it. I'm in a hurry: just came to finish something.That's what fear feels like Fire flashes through your body, every nerve jolt awake, adrenaline throws your mind into overdrive, your eyes open, your breathing stops and your chest cavity squeezes. And you hear it - your own breathing stops and your sinuses squeeze. And you hear it - your
Note: This is a past-day event, (continuation of even-numbered chapters time span: 2,4,6, etc.)"I've never been here," said Gregory. It's a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of winter. The last bell rang. I'm in a hurry, want to get to the hostel. This afternoon there is another rugby practice.Gregory stopped me with his arm just as I was about to run. He looked up at the two-story building in front of us. We've walked past this a thousand times, but it's one of those places you never see again.It's right there. Just another college building."It's the Blackwood Memorial Museum," I said."Let's go in.""I have to get moving.""Come on, Erick," His eyes darkened. "We'll walk through soon."A hand wraps around my throat. I look at the museum. Maybe I overlooked it on purpose at other times, because the memories are waiting inside. Gregory is already up the stairs, looking back at me as he stands in the doorway. "Come now!"Daniel.I follow Entangled in my own thoughts.Step by step bac
Note: This is a present-day event, (continuation of odd-numbered time-span: 1,3, etc.)"Come along," said Sergeant McCallister."Where to?""The local precinct. The community service centre."I frown."The police station, Erick.""Are you arresting me?""No. You must come and make a statement." Sergeant McCallister was right, it was going to be a long day.A little while later I get into the back of the police car. The classes are changing. Curious eyes stare at me. They can think about what they want.The asphalt road on which we stop in front of the police station is crumbling against the curb. A fence about four meters high spans the building. Every few steps there is a lamppost that would illuminate the fence in the dark. On the pale winter grass in front of the sandstone building with the green are two flagpoles. On the left hangs the national flag, on the right the police flag.The police offices are clean, but the furniture is old. In the office where we sit, there is a single