Jack of Diamonds

CHAPTER 18: When You’re Shivering in the Grave…

i

Nigel woke up with a chill running through his body that reminded him of France. He was just a boy then; he knew that now. Still, he’d been cold that first winter. It was so cold your bones ached.

That’s how I feel now. Then? I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.

He could see his breath by blowing in the morning cold, wondering why he should even be seeing it in the first place. He’d never had problems with the heat before. The curtains were partially open and he watched dust motes floating in the morning light, dancing, and at that moment wondered where he was.

Everything about the place is wrong. The light shouldn’t be coming in through that window because—

And then he remembered.

I’m going to need more blankets.

He knew he was going to have to force himself out of bed. He could already see it was going to be a problem. His muscles were beyond aching; he hurt all over. He could feel the beginning of a cramp setting up in his calf and forced himself out of the bed, cursing. The pain was excruciating; it took everything he had not to cry—every ounce of energy he had, not to fall on the floor writhing in agony. When he had it under control again, he bent down and massaged his calf, looking around the room. He needed to drink something. He knew that. A part of him told himself that he should’ve prepared things in advance. I should’ve at least filled up the water jug, he told himself, and when he noticed that he had, gratefully poured himself a drink, gurgling it down and almost choking on it in his haste.

“God!” he cried out when the cold water hit his empty stomach. For a moment, it felt as if someone grabbed his stomach and twisted it into a knot. He doubled over and felt himself spewing out the water he’d just drank, onto the floor.

He couldn’t remember eating last night, but knew he did. He knew that now because he remembered throwing up as he climbed the stairs. And he remembered Sonia beside him—almost carrying him up the narrow stairway. She was strong, he’d have to give that to her, or it may have been technique for all he knew. She was a nurse, after all.

They probably teach you how to help a person who’s infirm. And I certainly was infirm last night, wasn’t I?

He was having a difficult time remembering the details, but it was starting to come back. They’d gone to Cromwell’s Ball to watch Artie. He was the only suspect they had and Nigel was happy to remember that Artie had not disappointed them. He remembered that much, at least. Artie had run up the stairs, leaping onto the bannister and using it to propel himself out onto the chandelier. From there, he’d been able to snatch the skull from its hiding place and use the pendulum action of the lights to launch himself to the other side of the balcony. Swinging as if he were once a trapeze artist. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Nigel would’ve never believed such a thing was possible.

The one thing that caught his imagination about the whole escapade—for that’s what it was—but it was the fact that Artie didn’t even hesitate. Not even for a moment. And he did it as if it was something he’d done before. Who wouldn’t believe a man capable of doing that, couldn’t climb the outside of a building?

Where does someone learn to do that? Rock climbing, I imagine.

He was certain something like that couldn’t be taught. It was something a man did to test himself; to see how far he’s willing to go. If the man was a gymnast, or an acrobat, he might be capable of something like that; maybe if he’d been in a circus? But a man like Artie, where would he learn those skills?

Would he have used it when he was in the War? I’ll have to remember to ask about that.

He saw a pencil on the stand, and began searching for a scrap of paper. He found something, but then he forgot what he was supposed to write and ended up throwing the pencil across the room in frustration.

“Fuck!” he called out, remembering what he wanted to write after throwing the pencil. He looked at the door, slowly forcing himself to stand, and tried crossing the room.

His legs began to cramp and he fell to the floor in agony.

He crawled to the door, opened it, and cried her name.

His voice was a whisper.

“Sonia!”