Unknown, p.7
Unknown, page 7
The windowless walls were padded everywhere from floor to ceiling and so was the door. The padding was seamless so it couldn't be torn or pried away. Even the floor was padded, except for a ten-inch square at the left far corner which was supposed to serve as a toilet facility.
Above him a tiny light bulb burned dimly behind its meshed enclosure, safely beyond reach from the floor below. The ceiling around it was padded too, probably to deaden sound.
Restraint room, that's what they said it was, but it used to be called a padded cell. Rubber room was just popular slang. And maybe the slang wouldn't be so popular if more people were exposed to the reality.
Before he knew what he was doing, Emery found himself pacing back and forth. Six paces forward, six paces back, over and over again, like an animal in a cage.
That's what this was, actually-not a room, just a cage. And if you stayed in a cage long enough you turned into an animal. Ripping and clawing and smashing your head against the walls, howling for release.
If you weren't crazy when you came in you'd go crazy before you got out.
The trick, of course, was not to stay here too long.
But how long was too long? How long would it be before the lawyer arrived?
Six paces forward, six paces back. Grey spongy padding muffled his footsteps on the floor and absorbed the light from above, leaving the walls in shadow. Shadows could drive you crazy too. So could the silence, and being alone. Alone in shadows and silence, like he'd been when they found him there in the room-the other room, the one in the house.
It was like a bad dream. Maybe that's the way it feels when you're crazy, and if so he must have been crazy when it happened.
But Emery wasn't crazy now. He was perfectly sane, completely under control. And there was nothing here that could harm him. Silence can't harm you. What was the old saying? Violence is golden.
No, not violence. Where had that come from? Freudian slip. To hell with Freud, what did he know? Nobody knew. And if he kept silent nobody ever would. Even though they'd found him they couldn't prove anything. Not if he kept silent, let his lawyer do the talking.
Silence was his friend. And the shadows were his friends too. Shadows hid everything. There had been shadows in the other room and no one could have seen clearly when they found him. You just thought you saw it, he'd tell them.
No, he'd forgotten-he mustn't tell them, just let the lawyer talk.
What was the matter with him, was he going crazy here after all?
Six paces forward, six paces back Keep walking, keep silent. Keep away from those shadows in the corners. They were getting darker now. Darker and thicker. Something seemed to be moving there in the far corner to the right.
Emery felt the muscles tightening in his throat and he couldn't control them; he knew that in a moment he was going to scream.
Then the door opened behind him and in the light from the corridor the shadow disappeared.
It was a good thing he hadn't screamed. They would have been sure he was crazy then, and that would spoil everything.
But now that the shadow was gone Emery relaxed. By the time they took him down the hall and into the visitors' room he was quite calm again.
His lawyer waited for him there, sitting on the other side of the grille barrier, and nobody was listening.
That's what the lawyer said. Nobody's listening, you can tell me all about it.
Emery shook his head and smiled because he knew better. Violence is golden and even the walls have ears. He wanted to warn his lawyer that they were spying on him but that would sound crazy. The sane thing to do was not to mention it, just be careful and say the right things instead.
He told the lawyer what everybody knew about himself. He was a decent man, he had a steady job, paid his bills, didn't smoke or drink or get out of line. Hardworking, dependable, neat, clean, no police record, not a troublemaker. Mother was always proud of her boy and she'd be proud of him today if she were still alive. He'd always looked after her and when she died he still looked after the house, kept it up, kept himself up, just the way she'd taught him to. So what was all this fuss about?
Suppose you tell me, the lawyer said.
That was the hard part, making him understand, but Emery knew everything depended on it. So he talked very slowly, choosing his words carefully, sticking to the facts.
World War II had happened before he'd been born, but that was a fact.
Emery knew a lot of facts about World War II because he used to read library books when Mother was alive. Improve your mind, she said.
Reading is better than watching all that violence on the television, she said.
So at night when he couldn't sleep he read for hours sitting up in his room. People he worked with down at the shop called him a bookworm but he didn't care. There was no such thing as a bookworm, he knew that. There were worms that are microorganisms in the soil and birds that ate worms and animals that ate birds and people who ate animals and microorganisms that ate people-like the ones that ate Mother until they killed her.
Au Everything-germs, plants, animals, people-kills other things to stay alive. This is a fact, a cruel fact. He could still remember the way Mother screamed.
After she died he read more. That's when he really got into history.
The Greeks killed the Persians and the Romans killed the Greeks and the barbarians killed the Romans and the Christians killed the barbarians and the Moslems killed the Christians and the Hindus killed the Moslems.
Blacks killed whites, whites killed Indians, Indians killed other Indians, orientals killed other orientals, Protestants killed Catholics, Catholics killed Jews, Jews killed Our Saviour on the Cross.
Love one another, Jesus said, and they killed him for it. If Our Saviour had lived, the gospel would have spread around the world and there'd be no violence. But the Jews killed Our Lord.
That's what Emery told the lawyer, but it didn't go down. Get to the point, the lawyer said.
Emery was used to that kind of reaction. He'd heard it before when he tried to explain things to girls he met after Mother died.
Mother hadn't approved of him going with girls and he used to resent it.
After she was gone the fellows at work told him it would do him good.
Get out of your shell, they said. So he let them set up some double-dates and that's when he found out that Mother was right. The girls just laughed at him when he talked facts.
It was better to stay in his shell, like a snail. Snails knew how to protect themselves in a world where everyone kills to live, and the Jews killed Our Saviour.
Facts, the lawyer said. Give me some facts.
So Emery told him about World War II. That's when the real killing began. Jewish international bankers financed the Napoleonic wars and World War I, but these were nothing compared to World War II. Hitler knew what the Jews were planning and he tried to prevent it-that's why he invaded those other countries, to get rid of the Jews, just as he did in Germany. They were plotting a war to destroy the world, so they could take over. But no one understood and in the end the Jew-financed armies won the war. The Jews killed Hitler just like they killed Our Saviour. History repeats itself, and that's a fact too.
Emery explained all this very quietly, using nothing except facts, but from the way his lawyer looked at him he could see it was no use.
So Emery went back into his shell. But this time he took his lawyer with him.
He told him what it was like, living alone in his house, which was really a big shell that protected him. Too big at first, and too empty, until Emery began to fill it up with books. Books about World War II, because of the facts. Only the more he read the more he realized that most of them didn't contain facts. The victors wrote the histories and now that the Jews had won they wrote lies. They lied about Hitler, they lied about the Nazi Party and its ideals.
Emery was one of the few people who could read between the lies and see the truth. Reminders of the truth could be found outside of books, so now he turned to them and started to collect them. The trappings and the banners, the iron helmets and the iron medals. Iron crosses were reminders too-the Jews had destroyed Our Saviour on a cross and now they were trying to destroy the crosses themselves.
That's when he began to realize what was happening, when he went to the antique shops where such things were sold.
There would be other people in these shops and they stared at him.
Nobody said a word but they were watching. Sometimes he thought he could hear them whispering behind his back and he knew for a fact that they were taking notes.
It wasn't just his imagination because pretty soon some of the people down at work started asking him questions about his collection-the pictures of the party leaders and the swastika emblems and badges and the photographs of the little girls presenting flowers to the Fhrer at rallies and parades. Hard to believe these little girls were now fifty-year-old women. Sometimes he thought if he met one of those women he could settle down with her and be happy; at least she'd understand because she knew the facts. Once he almost decided to run an ad in the classified section, trying to locate such a woman, but then he realized it might be dangerous. Suppose the Jews were out to get her? They'd get him too. That was a fact.
Emery's lawyer shook his head. His face, behind the grille, was taking on an expression which Emery didn't like. It was the expression people wear when they're at the zoo, peering through the bars or the wire screens at the animals.
That's when Emery decided he'd have to tell his lawyer the rest. It was a risk, but if he wanted to be believed his lawyer must know all the facts.
So he told him about the conspiracy.
All these hijackings and kidnappings going on today were part of it. And these terrorists running around with ski-masks over their faces were part of the plan too.
In today's world, terror wears a ski-mask.
Sometimes they called themselves Arabs, but that was just to confuse people. They were the ones behind the bombings in Northern Ireland and the assassinations in South America. The international Jewish conspiracy was in back of it all and behind every ski-mask was a Jewish face.
They spread throughout the world, stirring up fear and confusion.
And they were here too, plotting and scheming and spying on their enemies. Mother knew.
When he was just a little boy and did something naughty Mother used to tell him to behave. Behave yourself or the Jew-man will get you, Mother said. He used to think she was just trying to frighten him but now he realized Mother was telling the truth. Like the time she caught him playing with himself and locked him in the closet. The Jew-man will get you, she said. And he was all alone in the dark and he could see the Jew-man coming through the walls and he screamed and she let him out just in time. Otherwise the Jew-man would have taken him. He knew now that this was the way they got their recruits-they took other peoples' children and brain-washed them, brought them up to be political terrorists in countries all over the world-Italy, Ireland, Indonesia, the Middle East-so that no one would suspect the real facts. The real facts, that the Jews were responsible, getting ready for another war.
And when the other nations had destroyed themselves, Israel would take over the world.
Emery was talking louder now but he didn't realize it until the lawyer told him to hold it down. What makes you think these terrorists are after you, he asked. Did you ever see one?
No, Emery told him, they're too clever for that. But they have their spies, their agents are everywhere.
The lawyer's face was getting red and Emery noticed it. He told him why it was getting so hot here in the visitors' room-their agents were at work again.
Those people who saw Emery buying the Rags and swastikas and iron crosses had been planted in the stores to spy on him. And the ones down at work who teased him about his collection, they were spies too, and they knew he'd found out the truth.
The terrorists had been after him for months now, planning to kill him.
They tried to run him down with their cars when he crossed the street but he got away. Two weeks ago when he turned on the television there was an explosion. It seemed like a short-circuit but he knew better; they wanted to electrocute him only it didn't work. He was too smart to call a repairman because that's what they wanted-they'd send one of their assassins instead. The only people who still make house-calls today are the murderers.
So for two weeks he'd managed without electricity. That's when they must have put the machines in the walls. The terrorists had machines to make things heat up and at night he could hear a humming sound in the dark. He'd searched around, tapping the walls, and he couldn't find anything, but he knew the machines were there. Sometimes it got so hot he was soaked with sweat, but he didn't try to turn down the furnace.
He'd show them he could take it. And he wasn't about to go out of the house because he knew that's what they wanted.
That was their plan, to force him out so they could get at him and kill him.
Emery was too smart for that. He had enough canned goods and stuff to get by and it was safer to stay put. When the phone rang he didn't answer; probably someone at the shop was calling to ask him why he didn't come to work. That's all he needed-come back to work so they could murder him on the way.
It was better to hole up right there in his bedroom with the iron crosses and the swastikas on the walls. The swastika is a very ancient symbola sacred symbol, and it protected him. So did the big picture of the Fhrer. Just knowing it was there was protection enough, even in the dark. Emery couldn't sleep anymore because of the sounds in the walls-at first it had been humming, but gradually he could make out voices. He didn't understand Hebrew, and it was only gradually that he knew what they were saying. Come on out, you dirty Aryan, come out and be killed.
Every night they came, like vampires, wearing ski-masks to hide their faces. They came and they whispered, come out, come out, where'overyou are. But he didn't come out.
Some history books said Hitler was crazy, and maybe that part was true.
If so, Emery knew why. It was because he must have heard the voices too and known they were after him. No wonder he kept talking about the answer to the Jewish question. They were polluting the human race and he had to stop them. But they burned him in a bunker instead. They killed Our Saviour. Can't you understand that?
The lawyer said he couldn't understand and maybe Emery should talk to a doctor instead. But Emery didn't want to talk to a doctor.
Those Jew doctors were part of the conspiracy. What he had to say now was in the strictest confidence.
Then for Christ's sake tell me, the lawyer said.
And Emery said yes, he'd tell him. For Christ's sake, for the sake of Our Lord.
Two days ago he'd run out of canned goods. He was hungry, very hungry, and if he didn't eat he'd die. The terrorists wanted to starve him to death but he was too smart for that.
So he decided to go to the store.
He peeked through all the windows first but he couldn't see anyone in a ski-mask. That didn't mean it was safe, of course, because they used ordinary people too. The only thing he could do was take a chance. And before he left he put one of the iron crosses around his neck on a chain. That would help protect him.
Then, at twilight, he went to the supermarket down the street. No sense trying to drive, because the terrorists might have planted a bomb in his car, so he walked all the way. it felt strange being outside again and though Emery saw nothing suspicious he was shaking all over by the time he got to the store.
The supermarket had those big fluorescent lights and there were no shadows. He didn't see any of their spies or agents around either, but of course they'd be too clever to show themselves. Emery just hoped he could get back home before they made their move.
The customers in the store looked like ordinary people; the thing is, you can never be sure nowadays. Emery picked out his canned goods as fast as possible and he was glad to get through the line at the checkout counter without any trouble. The clerk gave him a funny look but maybe it was just because he hadn't shaved or changed clothes for so long.
Anyway he managed, even though his head was starting to hurt.
It was dark when he came out of the store with his bag of groceries, and there was nobody on the street. That's another thing the Jew terrorists have done-made us afraid to walk on the street alone. See what it's come to? Everyone's scared being out at night!
That's what the little girl told him.
She was standing there on the corner of the block when he saw her-cute little thing, maybe five years old, with big brown eyes and curly hair.
And she was crying, scared to death.
I'm lost, she said. I'm lost, I want my Mommy.
Emery could understand that. Everybody's lost nowadays, wants someone to protect them. Only there's no protection anymore, not with those terrorists around waiting for their chance, lurking in the shadows.
And there were shadows on the street, shadows outside his house.
He wanted to help but he couldn't risk standing out here talking.
So he just went on, up the porch steps, and it wasn't until he opened the front door that he realized she had followed him. Little girl crying, saying please Mister, take me to my Mommy.
He wanted to go in and shut the door but he knew he had to do something.
How did you get lost, he asked.
She said she was waiting in the car outside the market while Mommy shopped but when Mommy didn't come back she got out to look for her in the store and she was gone. Then she thought she saw her down the street and she ran after her only it turned out to be another lady. Now she didn't know where she was and would he please take her home?
Emery knew he couldn't do that, but she was crying again, crying loud.
If they were anywhere around they'd heard her, so he told her to come in.
