Chapter 21

Darkness, then light. Wood and plaster. Window frames. Small twinkling lights. A distant piano sound. Light, then darkness.

* ~~ *

Witticker hurt. The room he had woken in lay shrouded in darkness and, being on his back, his thoughts were confined entirely to his newly acquired aches. The first pain made itself known within the walls of his head, throbbing about like a screaming pinball searching for its next bumper. Another pain, on his sternum, hurt less often, only surfacing during deep breaths. His shins emanated a general soreness, a minor tenderness that only seemed to serve as a background to the rest of the maladies. These, however, paled in comparison to the horrific evil burning a hole through his left arm. He had searched for the source of the wound only to find it inaccessible under several layers of tightly wrapped makeshift bandages. Finding that all of his bruises were hidden from him in the same way he turned his attention to the faint sound of a piano whispering about the room. The sound was clear and soothing as it drifted in and around the room.
Having seen enough of the darkness directly above him, Witticker slowly eased himself up into a sitting position to look out across the pitch black room. He found that he sat upon a small ledge next to an enormous window that extended up several stories high. The window looked out onto a dark landscape dotted with small flickering lights, blinking on and off in the distance. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness Witticker began to see out into the room for a few feet in most directions. The floor seemed to be constructed of a series of finely crafted wooden boards laid down in a criss-crossing pattern. The contents of the room remained a mystery, dark and stretching out into an unimaginable distance.
As he strained his eyes to see farther into the vast emptiness a very small light shimmered into existence. The light originated at an inexplicably far distance from Witticker and appeared to be moving from right to left. It bounced sporadically, up and down, while maintaining a steady speed horizontally. Without warning a voice sprang from the light, hollow and far-away as if from within a deep cave.
“Hello?”
Witticker weighed his possible responses quickly. His past interactions with people had not gone as well as anticipated and he was not terribly excited to start again so soon. However, the person or people who had delivered him to his current location were not the worst sort as evidenced by the bandage on his arm. Witticker nervously tapped his feet against the floor in his flurry of thought which, unexpectedly, echoed out quite loudly into the room.
“What the hell was that?” echoed the voice from the light, this time much closer. The light had been venturing nearer and seemed now to be headed directly towards Wittickers.
“Jesus! Bumbling thieves. Making all this noise. Stomping around like blind tap-dancing…Geez.”
The voice had begun speaking to itself in a rather irritated tone as the sound of one set of footsteps pattered around the floor near Witticker. The light, having come very far from its origin, had begun to illuminate its bearer which appeared to be a short hunched man in a long black robe. As soon as Witticker spotted the crooked figure it stopped and stared directly at the window under which he sat.
“Who the hell are you?” asked the anonymous hunched man.
Witticker had been toying around with that very idea for the past few days and decided it would be best to clarify rather than conceal at this point.
“Well, s...s...sir, my name is B…B…Brisby. Who…Who are you?”
While his delivery had been a bit shaky Witticker was happy to have gotten out the pertinent information at all.
“What kind of thief are you?” asked the man angrily, “Going around stealing things from other people and then asking for their names! And the stuttering! Not only a thief, but a liar! Not that I would believe anything you said anyway, filthy thief!”
During his rant the man had approached the window and now stood within reaching distance. His appearance was very old with wisps of white hair clinging to the sides of his head and skin that sagged from his aged skull. His hunched frame was supported by a wooden cane and he wore a black silk evening gown tied loosely at the hip. He stared menacingly at Witticker through a glass monocle attached to the lapel of his robe by a silver chain.
“So, thief, speak for yourself! Who are you? And don’t lie or I’ll whack you with the cane! You hear?”
Witticker glared back at the old man. He wished that he was a better liar. The old man had seen right through him and Witticker hated him for it. He wanted to retaliate. Witticker balled up his hate and began to stand when a sharp pain cracked on his head. Witticker looked up to see the old man repositioning himself with the cane.
“Don’t you move a muscle,” croaked the white-haired ancient, “or I’ll hit you again. Now, since you won’t comply, I guess I’ll have to resort to more…”
The old man was cut-off abruptly by another voice that echoed into the room as deeply as the one before it.
“Henry? Are you in here?”
The old man seized up and turned to look behind himself.
“Yes, I’m here. Come to the window, I’ve caught a thief. A stupid one, at that. He thinks he can lie his way out of being caught. Well, I showed him. Still some wit in this dusty old mind.”
Hurried footsteps echoed across the room and a dark silhouette appeared on the fringes of the circle light.
“Ah, Henry, this is no thief. This is the man I put in here earlier this evening after our cut and run from the distrip. Don’t you remember me telling you?”
Edward stepped into the light wearing the remains of a haggard tuxedo.
“Distrip? Cut and run? What are you talking about? This man’s a crook, Edward!”
The old man pointed his cane at Witticker as if to reaffirm the accusation.
“Nope, this guy’s square Henry. I checked his belongings and he’s as straight as an arrow. Just some binoculars and a plant, that’s all.”
Witticker stood swiftly, facing Edward.
“You looked through my briefcase? Who are you people?”
The old man quickly swung his cane at Witticker’s side. Edward quickly blocked the attempt and pushed Henry’s wooden weapon to the ground.
“Henry, stop that. He’s not a thief. Go back to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
Henry glared at Witticker and turned to walk away. The candle left with the old man and both men were left with the meager light glowing from the window.
“Sorry about him. He’s a little off, but he’s a good man. He’ll be much more congenial in the morning. You’ll see.”
Witticker wasn’t quite sure he wanted to see Henry ever again.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Edward. I brought you here after our scuffle in the distrip. We’re pretty far from there now, so no worries about that. You are currently in the home of Henry Q. Dodgson who had the pleasure of meeting just moments ago.”
Witticker returned to his seat on the ledge of the window. He put his head between his hands and stared at the ground.
“Please stop talking for a little while Edward. Thank you for all you’ve done, but I need a little bit to just…I mean…what the hell is going on? Someone shot me! I’m in a big room of echoes. An old man in a monocle hit me with a cane. And do you hear that piano or is that just me?”
The piano sounded prominently in the background and both men took a moment to organize their thoughts. The music echoed serenely throughout the room, filling all of the empty space with sound. The piece ebbed and flowed, climaxed and then, with a final cadence, subsided into nothing.
“The piano was a recording,” said Edward quietly. “We just listened to the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata in F.”
Witticker leaned against the edge of the window, staring out over the small lights in the darkness. He had enjoyed the piece, but was not in a state of mind to talk about it.
“Would you like to be alone?” asked Edward.
Witticker nodded in response.
“When morning comes you will find us breakfasting in the next room. It’s just down the hallway from here. I’ll see you then. Good evening.”
As Edward left his footsteps echoed throughout the cavernous room. The sounds eventually dwindled into nothing and Witticker was left alone. He expelled a sigh of relief and closed his eyes to the wondrous solitude. As he drifted to sleep his mind lingered upon the piano sounds that had once filled the room. The soft tones echoed in his mind and lulled the troubled man to rest.