[October 3rd] [Perry Mason] Do the Words I Say Ever Make It Through?, 2

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Do the Words I Say Ever Make It Through?, part 2
Day/Theme: October 3rd - Spanned by the flight of magpies
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Lieutenant Anderson, Lieutenant Tragg, unknown creep
Rating: T/PG-13

I knew Andy would be back some way or another, if I started an arc. But this way was a surprise on me.

References are made to previous stories, via the Forbidden Box.

Cross-posted to octoberwriting.


By Lucky_Ladybug

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

He squinted, frowning at the unfamiliar voice. “What is?”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead. You think you’re dead.”

He lay on his back in the thick piles of leaves, gazing up into the still-falling leaves overhead. In the tops of the trees, a magpie screeched. An answering screech came from a nearby tree. And the eerie voice whispered in his mind.

“Wake up, Lieutenant Anderson. You’re not dead. But will anyone believe you?”

“I’m awake.” Andy sat up, orange and golden leaves tumbling off of his hat and down his trenchcoat. His hands shaking, he pressed a finger to his wrist. His pulse was steady. He was breathing.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What have you done? Why does everyone think I’m dead?!”

“You don’t know? Look over there.”

Andy somehow knew the voice meant to look to the left. He did, and his eyes widened in his shock.

He was facing an onyx tombstone with his name on it.

“They believe you were killed in an explosion several weeks ago in front of the courthouse. You don’t remember any of it? Oh, that’s too bad. Lieutenant Tragg was absolutely heartbroken and devastated when he lifted your limp and lifeless body off the grass. He died with you that day. He’s never been the same since.”

“You said I’m not dead,” Andy retorted.

“You’re not. You can see that for youself. But Lieutenant Tragg doesn’t know it. No one knows it. Poor Lieutenant Anderson, killed in the line of duty, stopping a madman with a bomb.”

A chill ran up Andy’s spine. “You still haven’t told me why everyone thinks I’m dead when I’m not. What about when they got me to the hospital?! Didn’t they see I was still alive?!”

“You never made it to the hospital. You were taken away by my men. Meanwhile, everyone has been put under a hallucination that you made it there and were dead on arrival. They think they saw your body lying in the coffin. They think they buried you.”

“Then the grave is empty?” Andy shakily got to his feet. “There isn’t some double of mine in the casket instead?”

“No double. There might not even be a casket. It depends on how far the delusion went.”

Andy jerked, looking up at the sky in fury and anger. “Who are you?! Where are you?! How do I break this spell or whatever it is you’ve cast over everyone?!”

“Who I am isn’t important. You’ll never find where I am. And as for the other, well . . . just use your ingenuity. Let’s see how creative a fifteen-year veteran of the force really is against my magic.”

“You’re sick!” Andy snarled. “If everyone’s under a spell, how am I going to get through to them? They won’t hear me. If they do, they’ll think I’m a ghost!”

“That’s the beauty of it.”

Andy stumbled back, his vision spinning. He was staring at his own grave. Everyone he knew and loved believed him dead. And it wasn’t as simple as going to them and showing them he was really alive. If they were under a spell, they would probably be as hard to convince as they—including him—had been under Vivalene’s spell. In fact . . .

“Did you find the Forbidden Box?” Andy demanded now. “Is that how you’re doing this?!”

“How typical of you to remember it. That’s a good cop, Lieutenant Anderson. But the Forbidden Box is not the only way such dark arts are worked.”

“Dark arts . . .” Andy stiffened. “I’ll go to Mignon Germaine,” he threatened. “She knows white magic; maybe she can counteract whatever you’ve done.”

“If you think it’s that simple, by all means, go. But don’t forget how receptive she was to Hamilton Burger under Vivalene’s spell.”

Oh, Andy remembered, all too well. Hamilton had been crushed by how she had rejected him, believing their friendship severed. And after he had nearly been killed, Mignon had been the crushed one—even moreso after her memories had returned.

“Who are you really trying to torture?” Andy growled. “Me? Or is it Jimmy or Lieutenant Tragg? Or even Mama Norden?”

“Maybe I don’t care who gets hurt. Maybe I just like to torment everyone. Or maybe you’re right and I have a specific grudge against someone. You know, I don’t think I’ll tell you which.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Andy retorted. “I’ll stop you. I don’t quite know how yet, but I will.” He started to storm off but then paused. “Why did you wake me up now?”

“It’s only now, when you’ve recovered enough from your injuries in the explosion, that you’re of any real interest to me.”

“And you thought it would be hilarious to bring me here and lay me in the cemetery near my ‘grave’,” Andy snarled.

“Yes, I did. But that’s just me. I have very macabre delights.”

“I could think of other words for it,” Andy retorted.

“I’m sure you could. But instead of enlightening me, you’d better get going. You have so much to do. And incidentally, so little time to do it.”

Andy’s stomach dropped. “What?! What else do I have to worry about?!”

“There’s always the chance that if you can’t convince anyone you’re alive by All Hallow’s Eve, the spell will be sealed and you’ll be forced to wander in limbo for the rest of your life.”

“A chance,” Andy countered. “You won’t even tell me if it’s a bluff!”

“What fun would that be? I’ll let you worry about it for a while.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Andy started to turn to walk away, but stopped in sickened alarm. Lieutenant Tragg was trudging towards the grave, downcast and downtrodden.

Andy rushed to him, stumbling a bit from his lack of coordination after being in recovery from the explosion. “Lieutenant!” he cried. “Lieutenant, I’m here! I’m not in the ground. I’m not dead!”

Tragg walked on, never looking up.

“Can’t you see me?!” Andy exclaimed in despair. “Can’t you hear me at all?!”

Tragg went to stand wearily by the grave. For a moment he gazed at the stone with blank eyes. Then, slowly and sadly, he reached with a trembling hand to brush the collected leaves off of it.

“Oh, Andy,” he whispered. “It should have been me caught in that blast. Not you. You still had so many years left. If I’d acted quicker that day, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up sacrificing yourself.”

“. . . But I would have seen you die,” Andy responded. “You might not have survived. But I did, Lieutenant! I did.”

In desperation he reached out, grabbing for Tragg’s coat. Yet even though he took hold of it, it was as though he had done nothing at all. Tragg did not move or respond. Andy stared, his heart beating faster.

“I’m not dead,” he told himself. “I felt my pulse. I know I’m breathing. That . . . madman told me I’m alive.”

. . . But what if that was the lie? What if Andy was caught up in the delusion believing himself to be alive? What if the truth was that he really was dead, as everyone thought? He had heard stories about people who could not believe they were really dead. They lingered for years in limbo on Earth because they could not comprehend or accept that fact.

He took a shaking step back, releasing Tragg’s sleeve. “Dear God, no,” he rasped. “Please, no. I’m not dead. I’m not dead!”

Only the magpies were disturbed by his screams. They flew out from the trees, cawing, frightened.

Tragg glanced up, frowning in confusion at the display. “What the . . .” He shook his head. “Must’ve seen a ghost.” He was only half-sarcastic. After all, animals were supposed to be sensitive to that sort of thing, weren’t they?

Andy sank to his knees in the leaves. “I’m not a ghost,” he protested. “I’m not.”

In the distance, audible to his ears alone, a madman cackled.