Chapter Two.
Three months later, since the events in Chapter One…
“A ghost writer you say?” asked a man with a walrus
moustache, who went by the name of Hart Riley; an Investment banker, with what
seemed to be a never-ending stomach. This was going to hurt Rahul for sure.
“Yes” said Rob, as he ate his pasta. Including himself and
Rahul, there were eight people gathered around the table, in Rob’s room at a
rehabilitation center in the outskirts of Seattle.
The esteemed guests at the table, were the good friends of
the late Mike Harper. Some have been with him since high school and some were
his buddies from college. They all knew each other, which was a relief to Rob,
as the introductions would have been chaotic. Rob had initially spoken with
each of them individually before the dinner over the phone. These phone calls
lasted for more than 2 hours each.
The Dinner, however was Rahul’s idea; his argument was a sentimental one, which went something like- being among a group of friends always brings out memories, and there was a
chance there may be additional memories which might have gotten missed out in the
individual conversations that Rob conducted over the phone.
Seated around the table from Rob’s left were Rahul, Hart
Riley who is an investment banker, Dr. Frank Logan an accomplished
psychologist; Owen Bass, who is a fellow author; Matt Shepard another investment
banker; Dr. Joyce Haley, the only woman seated at the table was a psychiatrist
next to whom, was seated, Dr. Robert Bray, a physician. Out of these, Bray and
Haley have known Mike since high school.
“So, this ghost writer; what do they do?” asked Shepard
“Ah, we are the writers for those people who cannot write.’
Said Rob, to which most of them looked a bit confused; with the exception of
Bass, who chuckled.
“Lets’ take a politician” said Rahul “who want to write his
memoirs. Charming as he may have been in his life, he may not necessarily have
the right skills to charm his readers, or even if he could write, his work may
be amateur.”
“Ah. I get it” said Dr. Haley “So that’s where you guys come
in and write his book for him.”
“Exactly what I said” said Rob, to which a hearty laughter
broke out around the table.
“Was there not a film on this?” asked Riley “Just can’t remember
the actor… It was the bond guy—I cannot believe I’m forgetting this…”
“Which one is it? Daniel Craig?” Shepard offered.
“No. The other guy, you know the one that actually fitted
the Bond persona”
“Ah, it was Pierce Brosnan” said Dr. Haley
“Joyce, is that the guy whose posters you had in your room
during high school?” chuckled Dr. Bray as Dr. Haley’s cheeks turned red.
“Joyce, you should have told me that before, I had a chance
to meet him some time back. I could have introduced you.”
“So Rob, tell me how fares Mike’s last book?” asked Dr.
Logan.
“I have read his unfinished manuscript. And as you all may
be aware Mike was a bit strict when he came to his writing. No plot notebooks,
recordings, nothing. The only way I can finish that novel is by getting to know
more about the author, and try to find out his line of thought for the plot”
Rob explained “So, it would be better if you guys have anything further to add
to what you already told me over the phone.”
“It would have been great; if he went forward with medicine”
Bray went on “We could have opened a clinic, rather than sitting here relaying
events to a writer. No offense Rob.”
“None taken, Dr. Bray” Rob said, before he stuffed his mouth
with garlic bread.
“I know it must be painful for you, we are sorry; but any
small information could be useful to us” Rahul said.
“Don’t worry about it Rahul.” Rob interrupted “We have enough
data to add on to the Bio we initially had on Mike.
“Guys,” he said to the people seated “Just enjoy yourselves.
Here is to the late Mike Harper” and everyone raised their glasses with a
chorus of “To Mike Harper”.
“It was nice of you to invite us all together.” said Dr.
Haley, “It has been a while since we got together. It was fun thinking of old times” to which everyone murmured in agreement.
After finishing their dinner and, exchanging promises to get
together again, everyone left to their respective lives, content that they had
provided enough information for the completion of their friend’s last work. Dr.
Bray and Dr. Haley stayed back for a little while longer.
“Joyce, you go ahead. I will meet you by the car I just want to
have a word with Mr. Sen and Mr. Smith”
Dr. Haley thanked Rob and Rahul once again and stepped out.
“There is something which I haven’t mentioned on the phone
and at the dinner. Shortly after his book ‘Genjitsu’ was released, he called
me.”
“What did he say?” Rob asked.
“He asked if I knew any good psychiatrist that he could go
to.” Dr. Bray said, “I referred him to a psychiatrist I knew, back from the
early days where I used to work in a Hospital.”
“And you thought it odd that he did not speak to Dr. Haley”
Rob said nodding in agreement.
“If it was just for research it was fine; and even if he was
ill in some way or other, the doctor there would inform me; of course within
the boundaries of the confidentiality agreement. However, he never visited the
psychiatrist.”
“I see.”
“I do not know if this helps you in any way…” said Dr. Bray,
as he handed the business card of one Dr. Walter Crane.
“It does Dr. Bray. Thank you.”
Rob and Rahul escorted Dr. Bray to his car wherein Dr. Haley
was standing talking to one of the doctors. They bid them farewell and returned
to Rob’s room.
“Rahul, we proceed as planned, I will go to India after the
rehab, while you,” Rob said pointing to the business card, “investigate this
psychiatrist the good doctor has provided.”
“When are you getting out by the way?” Rahul asked “You have
already spent a little over two months here.”
“Mostly by this month end, I gather.”
A month later, Rob inhaled the crisp, cool air of the
Kodaikanal hills in Tamil Nadu, one of the southernmost states of India. He
rested atop a rock and ate some sandwiches he had packed, taking in the scenic
beauty of this remote landscape. Taking care not to spoil the environment
around him, he put the sandwich cover in a paper bag and, stuffed it into the
bottle-holder to the left of his backpack.
He had included some provisions for the trek, which would
last him till the village. The villagers trekking down had told him that the village was not
far and would take about twenty minutes. It had already been an hour, with no
sign of the village yet. It felt as if his calf muscles were on fire, his lower
back had started to ache.
I’m not made for this.
He thought as he moved on.
He looked at the map again, to ensure he was on the right
path. Satisfied that he was, he tightened the straps of his backpack and
started moving at a brisk pace. He met some more villagers trekking down; they
confirmed that he is but a few minutes away from the village.
Upon reaching the village, he went to a local tea stall and
ordered a steaming cup of tea. He sipped the tea, as he listened to a melodious
Tamil song that played on the radio. He watched as the tea maker was cooling a
cup of hot tea for a customer. He cooled it down by pouring the tea from one
cup to the other. After each exchange, the gap between the two cups widened. To
Rob’s astonishment, not a single drop fell to the ground. He sat there, sipping
his tea, watching the tea maker, mesmerized by his performance. That is when he
heard a barely audible whine somewhere near him. Something furry rubbed by his
legs.
Rob froze, as a stray dog walked past him to his neighbor at
the tea stall. The dog whined again, a sound that it makes when it is hungry.
The dog was a bit bigger compared to the other strays that he had seen in the
city. Rob found himself looking at the dog and, not the tea maker that had
mesmerized him a few moments ago; his eyes were fixed on the set of canines the
dog had, which would have no problem tearing his skin apart. The dog had light
brown fur, with black squiggly lines, as if a naughty kid had had sprayed graffiti on its back; it was missing some tufts of
fur further along the back, where its tail started.
Rob felt his hair stand on the base of his neck and, Goosebumps
appeared on his body; he felt a chill along his spine and, beads of
perspiration escaped from his skin. The dog had now started sniffing his neighbor’s
foot, as a predator would after killing its prey, to dig in to the more
delicious portion first. Rob felt his legs go numb, a sinking feeling in his
gut, if persisted, he would be at the midst of a public spectacle. He tried to
move himself farther; however he was unable to move an inch. He wished
someone to chase away the dog, make his life a bit easier; but no one seemed to
mind the dog sniffing near his neighbor’s feet. Everyone was minding their own
business. What if the stray lost interest in his neighbor and came to him? The thought
of it gave his body an involuntary twitch, as if Rob was doused with ice cold
water.
The dog, still sniffing near the man’s feet proceeded to
move to his toes, where it paused and turned its head to look straight at Rob. Their
eyes locked; tears leaked out of Rob’s eyes as slowly, very slowly, the dog’s
expression changed. Wrinkles appeared on the dog’s nose as it pulled back the
facial skin to better reveal, the long canines; it moved towards him one step
at a time…
“SIR!” yelled the air hostess, who was violently shaking
him. Her worried expression changed to one of relief and then shifted to
concern.
She could be a great
actress. Rob thought.
The travelers seated nearby, were looking at him as if he
had just shitted a golden egg.
“Sir” continued the air hostess, “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Rob adjusted in his seat. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.”
The air hostess then proceeded to whisper into Rob’s ear. “I
can bring you your bag to the washroom, if you’d like”
It was then Rob realized that, he had wet himself. He thanked
the air hostess and, proceeded towards the washroom at the back. He looked at
himself in the mirror as he washed his face and beard. His pale skin was in contrast
to his black hair and beard. There was a knock on the door; the air hostess had
brought his duffel bag from the overhead luggage compartment.
He changed and got back to his seat and, once again started
to go through Mike Harper’s life in his head. He had gotten all the aspects of his life memorized.
The data he gathered enabled him to act like Mike and to some extent think like
him. He was able to successfully write a small horror story, during his one
month sojourn in the Kodaikanal hills. It was just like Mike’s first two horror
novels; but it was nowhere near the horror and detail that was in Genjitsu or
Nested Dreams. It was as if the person writing those two novels was a whole new
person altogether.
It’s not working. Not working
at all. Rob thought, as the dull thrumming of the engines lulled him to
sleep.
