The temperature inside was cool and Jonas surveyed the rows of wooden chairs, all facing forwards towards a small altar. The room was a brilliant white, and only the crimson red of the cloth on the altar, upon which stood two golden candelabra and an impressive cross, added any colour. A dark stained coffin in front of the altar dominated the whole room. The casket’s lid lay open.
Jonas stepped further into the room, walking down a small centre aisle between the rows of seats. As he approached the front of the room, Jonas could see something, someone inside the coffin. Through a window, Jonas could see the mourners still comforting each other around the fresh grave away in the distance outside. He waited for a second or two, hoping deep down that he would see them break and head back towards the car park, sparing him of an inherent morbid fascination which had suddenly gripped him. Looking back at the coffin he knew deep inside that he couldn’t just turn around and leave. He could just make out the protruding pale nose and chin of the tenant from his position and slowly he made his way to the coffin’s side.
The man resting in peace was a young looking gentleman, dressed up in a fine looking suit and not a single hair out of place. Jonas stared at the man, trying to picture him animated and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, enjoying a pint of beer and laughter in the local pub with his mates. There was no laughter left in this room where he now lay. This is where they all ended up, Jonas thought. The more he looked at the man, the more a feeling of repulsion swelled in his stomach.
He thought he would be fine when it was Jolene laying in her beautiful white gown. He imagined himself strong enough to walk up to her coffin and say goodbye when it had been time. But the coldness of her pallid forehead when he placed his lips gently upon it had almost made him retch. She had looked so peaceful and beautiful in her make-up and hair caught up in a bun on the crown of her head. Now here was handsome dead-guy, making Jonas look bad with his beaten-up face. Jonas felt an unwelcome urge to punch the corpse in front of him, and suddenly felt very weak inside.
The loud noise behind him startled him and he swung around from the coffin to see the small crowd of people hurry themselves into the room. Jonas looked quizzically at them as they all wore smiles on their faces, and the women’s black dresses had been replaced by floral designs and shimmering swatches of satin. There was an excited buzz in the air as the party took their seats, and the small leg-pulling child he’d seen by the graveside was suddenly all consumed by airs and graces in his miniature red velvet waistcoat. En-masse the crowd turned to face the door and stood up in perfect symmetry as the heavy doors of the room again swung open and in stepped the beautiful woman in startling ivory wedding gown. Jonas stared as the woman, who, with such grace, glided down the aisle towards the altar where he was waiting. Jolene was radiant, glowing in the same way she had done on their wedding day. He had to fight back a tear when he saw her approaching on that day too.
“Jolene?” Jonas croaked through a dry throat, unconvinced at what his eyes were relaying. But the vision that Jolene was, simply beamed a glossy smile and took her controlled small steps towards the altar.
“Jolene?” Jonas went to take a step forward to meet her, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He swung around, and let out a terrified yelp as the handsome man in the coffin was now sitting up, his cold hand of death gripping Jonas’s shoulder. Jonas wrenched himself away and stumbled backwards as he watched the man climb out of the casket. Dusting himself down, and brushing imaginary creases from his fine suit, the man held his hand out to greet Jolene. The bride took his hand in hers and they stood side-by-side before the cross.
“Jolene?” Jonas uttered again in disbelief. But neither she, nor anyone else in the room seemed to pay him any heed as the vicar, as if appearing from nowhere started his ceremonial wedding speech.
“Jolene!” Jonas now shouted, scampering across the room towards her, and pulling her roughly away from the altar. Mutterings of discontent filled the small chapel and seeing the dead groom start towards him, Jonas pointed a rigid, threatening finger at him. Jonas ignored the rest of them and looked into Jolene’s eyes. They were her eyes, as green and as beautiful as the day he’d first fell into them, but now there was something amiss with them. There appeared to be nothing behind them, no recognition of Jonas, no recollection of their marriage, their love, their life.
“Jolene, what is this? This isn’t right,” said Jonas, “this isn’t happening. Who is he? This is a Chapel of Rest. You shouldn’t be here, you should be….”
“Where Jonas? Lying in the ground, alone?” replied Jolene.
“What is this? Is this what happens? You forget me, just like that and run off and marry the first handsome dead guy you come across? This can’t be right, Jolene. I haven’t forgotten you, I never will. I can’t.”
Jolene looked back over her shoulder towards her new groom. Jonas felt a mixture of jealousy and ire coursing through his veins.
“Look at me Jolene,” he said unforgiving. “Look at me. Look at my face, look at what a hopeless mess I am and you’ve only been buried a few hours. You can’t do this to me. You can’t…..” Jonas let his sentence trail away.
“Can’t what, Jonas? Abandon me?”
“I didn’t abandon you. I…I just couldn’t get back in time. You went so suddenly I never had time to say goodbye and I’ve hated myself every second of every day since that moment.”
Jonas saw the groom edge towards them over Jolene’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare come anywhere near me or my wife. You have no right to her. You take one more step and I’ll wipe those goddamn good looks off your face, because now I’ve been in a fight already today and I for one, don’t think I care about pain anymore. You think anything, anything, could be worse than seeing the love of your life die and then come back and be about to spend the rest of eternity with someone else?”
“Maybe this isn’t a good time to mention that she’s having my baby then,” said the groom smugly.
Jonas’s eyes fell down towards Jolene’s stomach and the small bump forming low under her dress. He thought of all the tears that Jolene had shed over their failed attempts, the tortuous sleepless nights of a life unfulfilled. Jonas shook his head and stepped away from Jolene. He let his face fall into his hands, hiding the horrors of the scene that lay before him. This couldn’t be. Losing Jolene completely. The wedding. The baby.
Grief unbound.
Jonas exploded across the room, knocking Jolene aside and fist swinging hard at the handsome, dead groom’s face. His hand however, only connected with thin air as the man stepped deftly aside, and Jonas’s momentum sent him crashing off-balance into the coffin. Jonas lay panting hard, chest hurting, sprawled on top of the coffin at the head of the altar. Lying there Jonas simply didn’t want to open his eyes anymore, having closed them in a barrier against more pain. But when he did open them, he looked around at the deserted Chapel of Rest, at the peacefully resting man in the coffin beneath him. Away across the grounds, through the window, the recent mourners had departed and the cemetery stood as empty as his soul.
Jonas looked down at himself, trying not to let pity for himself prey upon his soul any further. Grief unbound. It had taken a grip of him, dragging his mind into a panicked despair. Hanging his head in shame, not wanting to let his eyes fall upon and taint Jolene’s grave, he stepped from the Chapel of Rest, broke the walled perimeter and headed back into the forest. Suddenly not trying to save Sam at all was more hurtful to Jonas than the actual futility of his quest.
Before long Jonas heard the faint sounds of trickling water by his side. Straying from the main forest track, he explored through the thickets away to his left and saw a welcoming site of fresh clear water forcing its way through a narrow brook over glistening stones. Jonas pondered for a moment. The water was flowing in the same direction that the forest path was already taking him, but Jonas wondered where the small stream would lead. Ultimately to a larger body of water no doubt, but could he find salvati
on there or would he be better served staying on the track?
Jonas squat down at the edge of the water and let his fingers dip freely into the coldness. The chilling sensation he felt in his fingertips washed over his entire body and he lost himself for a moment as he enjoyed a fresh respite from the burning aches Mark had left him with. Splashing some water up onto his face, Jonas recoiled a little as the cold water bit into his injuries. As he removed his wet hands he could see traces of red tainting the pure water. Embittered, Jonas leant forward to wash the blood from his palms, but his sudden forward movement brought on a dizzying head-rush which he was unprepared for. Losing his balance, Jonas fought a hopeless battle against gravity and toppled into the stream, managing to twist his body sideways at the last moment to break his fall.
Jonas splashed in the shallow water and quickly corrected himself, sitting up with legs outstretched in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to laugh or cry so instead just sat there. Jonas felt a new stinging sensation on his right thigh. Looking down he saw a large tear in his trouser leg and wisps of blood seeping out from the opening into the water. Jonas investigated further and pulling back the material saw the deep gash on his outer thigh from the fall. As he felt a numbing sensation begin to set in around this new wound, he let his hands fall back into the water limply and stared ahead of him bewailing his misfortunes. Poor Sam was way back there in the forest, probably dreaming of water whilst here he was foolishly frolicking around in it. Jonas slowly scooped a small stone out of the water and tossed it angrily downstream. It landed with a skip and a splash, and bounced forward a metre or so before disappearing into the water.
As he stared ahead he saw a small fish in the clear water struggling to find a way past his left foot. Jonas watched the little creature struggle and bump into his shoe, testing out the obstruction for a route around it.
“Sorry little fish,” said Jonas shifting his foot to allow clear passage through. The fish jumped at the opportunity and wriggled its way on downstream. Suddenly Jonas imagined thousands of fishes all queued up behind him, annoyed at the catastrophic nuisance he was causing on their route. He imagined them all hungry, tired and desperate to get around him, eager to get home to some big lake where they would have all the room and food in the world and could live like kings.
He could picture Sam swimming in that lake instead of lying suffocating in the middle of this forest. He imagined himself and Jolene sitting on the side of that lake watching Sam play. He thought of Jolene in her cold grave and how disappointed she must feel looking down on him. Steeled with new reserve not to let anyone down again, Jonas struggled to his feet, finding a solid base to stand on in the middle of the stream. He looked back towards the thickets, beyond which the path lay, but instead gingerly took a step forwards and started to make his way downstream.
His knee still sore from tripping over Sam, his face hurting still from his beating, his thigh screaming at him with every motion, his feet numb and cold from the water which was getting ever deeper around his shins, Jonas plodded on. Finally the relentless scenery of trees broke apart just ahead for Jonas, and he crawled his way from the stream onto the side of the bank. As the heavy pounding of his heart subsided he could hear the louder sounds of water rippling gently, accented by the occasional plop of something breaking its surface. Jonas stumbled his way into a clearing, where a large lake revealed itself to him. Jonas was momentarily taken aback by the beauty of the setting and how much like the lake in his imagination it appeared to be.
Jonas made his way to a man-made clearing next to the lake. A car was parked up there and he looked beyond it to see an exit road disappearing back into the forest. A road that must lead to a town, thought Jonas excitedly, momentarily forgetting his woes.
Looking out over the glistening blue lake, surrounded on all sides by trees that bled away into the skyline, Jonas again began to feel the full force of despair over Sam’s situation. Here was a body of water, but he had no way to get Sam to it, nor it to Sam. It began to hurt inside the more that Jonas stood there and the gravity of the situation grasped him. When he’d started his quest it had all seemed so easy. Run for help and watch Sam revel in being rescued from death’s doorstep. Now the logistics of the scenario were more real and much harsher.
Jonas looked across the way at an angler baiting his line. Associating the angler with the car, Jonas limped over in his sodden shoes, nursing his thigh more than his knee.
“Hello there,” said Jonas, trying to sound as genial as possible.
The angler, a middle-aged man in jeans and a T-shirt looked up at Jonas from underneath the rim of his green angler’s hat. He didn’t reply in words, only nodded in the general direction of Jonas. For a second Jonas was annoyed, but put himself in the angler’s position. Here he was, limping, cut and bruised and for the most part soaking wet disrupting the fisherman’s tranquillity in his sport.
“I was wondering if I could get some help,” asked Jonas.
The angler cast his line out into the lake. “What can I do for you?” he asked, almost with disdain for Jonas’s presence.
“I know I look a mess alright. I’ve been traipsing through the forest trying to find help for my friend Sam,” said Jonas, still hesitant to mention the fact that there was a dolphin in the middle of the forest. If only he could get someone just to come with him to his location they could see for themselves.
“Who’s Sam?”
“My friend. Look, it’s not important. Do you have a cell phone, or maybe I could get a lift into town to get help? It’s pretty serious,” pleaded Jonas.
The angler turned his gaze to his float and his eyes widened. Ignoring Jonas, he started working at his reel. Jonas looked out to the lake and the struggle the float was having staying on the surface of the water. It started ducking and diving, lurching across the surface, rapidly changing direction. The angler worried over his line and worked his rod into a set position. “Come on,” the angler uttered to himself, his tongue darting over his lips.
Jonas impatiently watched on, unable to hold his tongue. “You see, my friend Sam. He’s in a desperate situation and needs immediate help.”
“Quiet!” said the man through gritted teeth. “I’ve got a big one.”
“If I could just perhaps get a lift? Do you have a phone?”
“What? No? Look, I’m not going to lose this one, ok.” With seasoned, forceful arms, the angler worked at his equipment, and all Jonas could do was stand and watch. As the angler wound in his reel, Jonas could see a large fish being dragged across the water. He caught glimpses of the hook protruding through its mouth and looked over at the angler who appeared to have victory painted all over his face.
“Damn,” cursed Jonas becoming enraged. “You know that hardly seems fair.”
“What?” shouted the man, triumph ringing in his voice.
“How’d you like someone to stick a hook through your mouth and drag you along? Let it go. It’s cruel…” Jonas hesitated as he pictured Sam being pulled through the water with a larger, more evil looking hook embedded in his mouth. “Look, stop it, you’re hurting it.”
The angler landed, unhooked and netted his catch in one swift movement. He stood up and stepped nose to nose with Jonas. Up close, the angler appeared to be a good few years older than him, Jonas noticed, judging by the lines on his face and liver spots on his hands. He also became fully aware of the angler’s towering height and substantially muscled arms.
“Look, I don’t know who you think you are speaking to me like that,” said the fisherman. “Look at the state of you! Standing there in a suit like some pretentious lord. Who wears a suit into the forest anyway? Are you drunk? High? What is it? Looking to steal something from me to get your next hit? Get the Hell out of here.”
Jonas stood his ground, despite feeling the angler’s stale breath on his face. “Look, my friend is out there. I just need some help. The fish, it looked in pain that’s all. I’ve never seen it before, just thrashi
ng around for its life like that. I just….I just. I don’t know, look, I just want some help! That’s all I want.”
The angler shook his head and walked back to his equipment. Jonas watched as the man reached down inside his keep net and pulled out the large fish which he’d just caught. “So it’s cruel is it?” the angler said weighing up the fish in the palm of his hands. “I came out here for some quiet sport, just to get away from all the stress out there and you come along and bemoan everything that I’m doing. Well, I’m sorry. For one it’s not cruel, the fish can’t really feel it and besides I will throw them back at the end of the day. I’m not taking them home to have for my lunch at work tomorrow. It’s just sport. Secondly? Secondly, get the Hell away from here before I kick your ass to the other side of the lake.”
Jonas ducked the fish that came flying towards him as the angler finished his remonstration and hurled the unfortunate creature in Jonas’s direction. Jonas backed away, looking for the nearest cover. He saw the exit road from the clearing and headed towards it. He looked back at the thrown fish flapping around on the ground by the edge of the lake, it was still alive and jerking wildly on the mulch ground. Jonas looked over at the angler who was on his knees scooping out another fish from his keep-net. Jonas found himself caught between a decision to bolt for safety and helping the fish on the ground.
Taking one step backwards first, he suddenly lurched forward, not sure of his own intentions and went to bend down to pick up the fish. But the fish, flapping on its side, its wide, staring eyes made Jonas recoil at the sight of it. He looked up at the angler who now had his loaded arm drawn back, ready in his aim to launch another fish. Jonas prodded at the fish with his foot, praying silently that he wasn’t hurting it, and flipped and rolled it back towards the water.
Urging the fish on, it took a couple more well-placed prods before the fish touched the edge of the lake, flipped and submerged itself in safety. “That’s for Sam,” shouted Jonas, taking one last look at the angler who had stopped and was now fervently pointing at him. Jonas turned and hobbled away as quickly as he could.