Lorrieann’s World

Gabriel stood unmoved by the astonished faces of his guests. He had expected this reaction—skeptical, suspicious. How to proceed was a bit of a dilemma. How much should he reveal? How little? Do they understand where they are? How they arrived? He wasn’t even certain of those details himself. So little of his task had been left to his own control. He chewed the inner part of his lip, mulling his situation, surveying each of the faces of those who sat before him. Which one? Milord, which one? Surely there has been a mistake. Surely they are the wrong lot . . . How can I choose from . . . the barrier, milord, have you forgotten the barrier? What is to happen . . . oh, what have I . . . ?

“Master,” Malus whispered, leaning close to Gabriel. “Faintheartedness will not serve you, now,” he said quietly, a stern lift to his brow.

Gabriel turned from his guests, and replying solely to Malus, “Does my face betray me? How did you know of my thoughts?”

“Your hands, sir. You worry them together so as to rub off the flesh.”

Gabriel glanced to the knot of his hands realizing that Malus was correct. “‘Tis an odd thing, this . . . humanity. The body seems to have a will of its own, you see. One is never completely aware of what one limb may be doing of its own accord.”

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice interrupted from behind, “Mr. Gabriel?”

Gabriel affected a careful smile, forced his hands to relax, then turned to face the one who had spoken. Janie stood next her bench, worrying her hands in much the same manner Gabriel had.

“Gabriel if you please. Just Gabriel.”

She smiled timidly. “Gabriel . . . I have been trying to recall . . . but I’m a bit muddled. It’s just . . . you seem familiar, though I don’t think we’ve met.” She looked to the others, seated around the pavilion. “You all seem . . . oddly familiar.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth spoke up, before Gabriel had a chance to answer. “Yes! I know you, too, you were standing . . . somewhere.” She laughed a bit, then sipped some more of her drink. “Hell, this is just a dream, anyway.” She swept her eyes around taking it all in. “More vivid than most . . . but still a dream. I’ll just sit here and watch it go by.”

Spenser clapped his hands together suddenly, startling the others with the sharp smacking sound. “No, this isn’t your dream. It’s mine.” He patted his arms and legs as further proof. “Yes, mine. I feel me.” He stood and held out a hand to Elizabeth. “May I feel you?”

“I beg your pardon?” She glared up under a brow, then burst out laughing and took his hand. “Must admit . . . you do feel real to me, too. Freud would be all over this one like red on blood.”

“Yes, indeed!” Spenser agreed, giving Elizabeth’s hand a gentle squeeze. “He would at that!”

“No!” Maggie was on her feet, waving her hands. Her coffee cup toppled off the bench, crashing to the brick. “No, no, no, no, no! You’re not dreaming, and neither are you, or you or me or any of us . . . don’t you see? This is real!” She wheeled to face Gabriel. “And this creep has kidnapped us!”

“Kidnapped?” Kohler was on his feet with that. “Is that your game? The Gabriel? Extortion? You won’t get away with it! I’ve got important contacts . . . congressmen and senators at my beck and call! My people are probably already hot on your trail—”

“What? Kidnapped?” Janie cried out, also leaping to her feet. “But I have nothing . . . ” She crumbled to her knees, burying her face in hands, dissolving into disconsolate sobs.

Elizabeth was on her feet as well, and ran to Janie’s side. “Easy, ma’am, they’re wrong, this has to be a mistake . . . ” She shot an angry glare to Gabriel, “Ok, so explain it!”

“Yes, yes, please do!” Spenser implored, more excited than angry, rushing to take Gabriel’s hand. Maggie and Kohler rushed up as well, each shouting demands for explanations, while Janie’s sobbing and Elizabeth’s cooing consolations grew louder still. Gabriel backed away, raising his hands to ward them off.

“Please . . . ”

“Tell us!”

“Peace, please . . . ”

“Where are we?!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please . . . All will be made clear.”

“What is this place! Tell us!”

“I know where we are.”

The mêlée silenced at once as all heads turned to face the young man who had spoken last. He sat peacefully, a sad half-smile on his face, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. “We’re dead,” he said simply.

Gabriel shot a look to Malus. “Oh dear,” the servant whispered.

The guests stood silent, looking from one to another for a moment, then back to Seth.

“Dead.” Seth whispered again, then lowered his head.

“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie said, the angry edge to her voice faltering a bit. “You’re a little confused, kid, that’s all. He’s tricked us all . . . we’re not dead.”

Seth looked up to each of the gaping faces, turning his palms up with a shrug. “What else could it be? The last thing I remember is—”

“What? What do you remember?” Gabriel asked quickly, stepping through the crowd, rushing toward Seth. “Tell me. It could make all the difference, and make this ever so much easier for everyone. You must tell—”

“Gently, master,” Malus cautioned, placing a hand on Gabriel’s arm.

“Forgive me,” Gabriel sighed, seeing the panicked expression on the boy’s face. “It is not my intent to frighten you.”

Seth drew a long breath, relaxing a bit, but keeping his eyes wide and unblinking on his host. “I’m right, aren’t I? We’re all dead.”

Gabriel felt the others moving slowly toward him, though he did not turn around. He enclosed one of Seth’s hands in both of his own, and looked the boy in the eye. “Please. Tell me what you remember.”

“Why won’t you answer his question?” Kohler demanded, taking a step forward. Gabriel locked his jaw and kept his eyes only on Seth. But Kohler would not be ignored, and dropping a heavy hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, forcibly turned him around. “I said why—”

Gabriel lifted his arm quickly, flinging Kohler aside as easily as he would flick a crumb from his sleeve sending him hard to the ground next to his bench. “You son of a—”

“Do not do that again, sir!” Gabriel’s command was punctuated by a sudden rumbling in the ground—the first he was ever glad to hear as it silenced his unruly guest. He glared at each stunned face in turn, then nodded, satisfied that no one else seemed ready to advance on him. Slowly he turned back to Seth. “Now, please. Tell me what you remember.”

Seth drew in his bottom lip for a moment, then looked up to Gabriel and leaned forward. “I saw you on the stairs when I ran out of the school,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want the others to hear. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Gabriel lowered himself to one knee, bringing himself down to Seth’s eye level, never taking his gaze from the boy. “It was,” Gabriel admitted, quietly. “Anything more?”

Seth closed his eyes for a moment. “I saw you on the stairs . . . I was afraid I was going to knock you down, so I tried to avoid you . . . I fell.”

“Do you recall your arrival here?” Seth shook his head. Gabriel sighed, giving the boy’s hand a pat.

“Should I, remember?”

“Apparently, you should not,” Malus answered for Gabriel.

“The man in the ER,” Elizabeth whispered. Gabriel braced for the cacophony of questions to begin anew. When all was quiet for a moment, he turned to look to Elizabeth.

“Yes.”

“The man on the curb?” Janie asked quietly.

Gabriel nodded.

“Yes . . . in the foyer. You were standing by the door,” Spenser added excitedly, “just as I was going to my ten o’clock lecture . . . ”

“You were on the balcony!” Kohler took a step forward, immediately backing off when Gabriel shot him a warning glance.

“In the morgue?” Maggie asked softly. “Was that you, too?”

Gabriel took a long breath, and turned to Malus in a silent plea for guidance, but the servant would not meet his eyes.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen,” he began wearily, “there is much to tell, and little I may reveal. I know that sounds a contradiction, but it is as it is. But I will offer you this assurance: I have not . . . what was that word? Kidnapped? I have not kidnapped any of you. You are here by design, yes, but it is not my doing. There is a greater purpose at work, that I am not at liberty to explain—”

“Are we dead or not?” Kohler blurted. The others looked to Gabriel with anticipation for an answer, each drawing a step closer, closing in on him like an avalanche. Only Seth remained seated, his head bowed quietly over his folded hands, his shoulders quivering.

Gabriel placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving one more imploring glance to Malus. Malus nodded once, then busied himself at the table. “Not quite,” he answered simply.

Seth’s head snapped to look up to Gabriel, a hopeful, nervousness in his eyes. “What?”

“You are not dead. But,” Gabriel said, raising a hand to stave of another barrage of questions, “You are not quite . . . living, either.”

Janie swallowed a little gasp, clinging to Elizabeth’s hand. Elizabeth was shaking her head in disbelief, exchanging a questioning glance with Maggie. Maggie threw her hands in the air in frustration, dropping heavily down on her bench.

“What sort of answer is that?” Kohler huffed, voicing Maggie’s unspoken frustration.

“Logical,” Spenser offered, stroking his chin.

“Logical?” Maggie shouted, wheeling on Spenser. “There is nothing logical about any of this. We’re dead but we’re not, we’re alive but we’re not? He’s not kidnapped anyone but he took us here?” She spun on her heel and marched toward Gabriel, one hand closing into a ball the other pointing in his face. “I’m not some rookie you can just screw with!” She made to grab Gabriel’s collar, until Kohler jumped in, pulling her back. “Let me go, asshole!”

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” Kohler grumbled sarcastically, being sure to keep out of Gabriel’s reach.

“Let go!” She twisted, landing her heel on Kohler’s foot.

“Ouch! Fine! Let him toss you around, then. I think you broke my foot!”

“Serves you right!” She growled, grabbing for Kohler’s collar.

This time it was Seth who jumped in her way. “Can’t you see he’s trying to do you a favor? What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut up, kid,” she hissed, pushing Seth aside, renewing her march toward Gabriel. “Besides, it’s you I want answers from, anyway.”

“But, lady, geez—” Seth began, but was halted by Spenser, who was gently guiding him back to his bench.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman, lad . . . scorned or otherwise, it’s best to stay out of her way,” the professor said, with a wink.

“You got that right, old man,” Maggie growled, “let me the fuck at this guy!”

“Must you be so vulgar?” Elizabeth scolded, taking a step away from Janie, who was just standing silently, her head turning back and forth as if watching a tennis volley.

“Stay out of this!” Maggie yelled.

“No! I won’t! I’m standing here in this . . . wherever it is, with you, and I have just as many questions as you do. But I’m pretty sure that beating up on the man with the answers is not the way to get them!”

“Ladies, please . . . ” Spenser said waving his hands as he would to unruly students. It only served to fan the flames of the argument, and soon Kohler and even Seth were drawn into the riot.

As they argued and brawled amongst themselves, no one took notice of Gabriel as he slowly backed his way around the table to where Malus was calmly setting places with plates and flatware. “Malus . . . what are you doing?”

“I believe I am preparing the table, sir,” Malus remarked calmly, as he placed meat knives along side all of the plates.

“Are you mad?” Gabriel asked, incredulously, speaking in a low tone. “The last thing I want these silly creatures to have are blades. Look at them! They’re wild animals! Malus, where did I lose control?”

Malus looked up, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Forgive me, master, but in my observation . . . you never had it to begin with.”

Gabriel sighed in agreement, then made a sudden dive under the table to avoid being struck by the stray coffee cup that went flying past his head—flung by Maggie. “That one will be the very life of me!”

Malus chuckled, crouching down next to the table, peering under the cloth to where Gabriel sat, sulking. “You mean, death, master. She’ll be the death of you,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes . . . Malus, but if you had an ounce of compassion in that ancient heart of yours, you’d be helping me, instead of correcting my choice of words.” Gabriel flinched as another round of shouting erupted and cups crashed to the brick, broken handles and rims coming to rest under the table.

“Do you intend to stay under there?” Malus asked, ducking to avoid a flying goblet.

“Yes!” Gabriel snapped, drawing his knees to his chest. “What is the point of coming out? I’ve lost before I’ve begun. You were right, Malus, this lot is all wrong . . .” The ground began to tremble, rattling the dishes and cups set on the table above him. The combatant guests seemed not to notice as the table itself started shifting, its legs scrapping on the alabaster. Tiny cracks began to appear in the bricks, branching quickly along the walk. In the east beyond the valley, a low tympanic rumbling rocked the clouds. Still the guests fought and argued, some shouting obscenities while others called for peace, the thunder crescendoing in a maniacal accompaniment. The barrier! Please not now! I’m not ready! They’re not . . . 

“Dinner is ready.” Malus informed him, crouching, as if all were peaceful and it was the most normal thing in the universe for his master to be cowering under a table with his fingers jammed in his ears.

“Dinner?” Gabriel exclaimed incredulously. “Can you not hear the thunder?”

“Thunder?” Malus asked, a tilt to his head. “No, master. There is no thunder. Only this insufferable arguing going on. Unruly lot, no manners at all, it seems. This truly will be a most difficult—”

“You don’t hear it?”

Malus shook his head.

Gabriel tentatively pulled his hands away from his ears. The thunder had stopped—if it had been genuine at all. A quick glance to the ground and Gabriel could see that the bricks were still whole, no running cracks marring the pristine smoothness of the alabaster. Why must you play at tormenting me thus, milord . . . yes, yes . . . I understand . . . “Yes, Malus . . . dinner.”

“As you wish.” Malus rose to his feet, clapping his hands sharply. “Enough!” he shouted, his ancient voice echoing off the monoliths.

Instantly, all went silent, the guests ending their scuffling and pushing where they stood, all frozen into a near humorous tableau. Well, I could have done that! Gabriel thought, as he cautiously crawled out from his shelter under the table.

“That’s better!” Malus said, scowling at the tussled assembly. He gave a nod to his master, then extended his hand toward the table. “All is prepared, sir. I am ready to serve,” he said pleasantly.

Gabriel drew a breath and forced a smile, “Yes, thank you, Malus.” He turned to his guests, still standing frozen, staring. Thankfully, none of them had seemed to take notice of his flight under the table. “If you would all find a place that pleases you, I would like to invite you all to dine with me,” he said, offering a polite bow. After a moment, they relaxed, the tableau melting away, each stepping slowly toward the table.