All in Due Time
The steel bars shook as the cell door slammed shut. They rang with a promise of absolute incarceration with no hope of escape. The unornamented room sat at the top of a tall spire, its floor was a patchwork of mortar and stone, the walls thick, unadulterated, level concrete. In the corner of the dank chamber a small window hung, secured by seven iron bars and far below the elevated spire swirled a choppy ocean.
In the room’s center a peculiar prisoner in a sukhasana pose, studied his surroundings, then closed his eyes and whispered, ‘Emit eud ni lla’.
Christopher rushed to his desk to silence the pager’s incessant vibrating. A four word phrase filled the screen, ‘The belfry is aflame’. He picked up his phone and texted the phrase to a second number, and waited, then his phone pinged, Drop A. He hopped into his car and fifteen minutes later he was clearing the dead drop.
Meticulously, he searched through the cache of documents, taking photos of a 20 year old case file and some disturbing photos as he went, everything else he burned. The attached case file made reference to ‘The Spire’, which he knew was an oft used off-the-books prison that closed years ago. The photos were of a grotesque scene, but that didn’t bother Christopher, he squinted and enlarged the edge of the photo; something blood smeared covered the wall ‘Emit eud ni lla, si yadot’.
He sped off to the direction of the tall white structure which appeared luminescent in the moonlight. He parked outside of the spire and tried to see the top, but quit when the height-vertigo became too intense. He approached the building and cracked open the boarded, weathered wood door, and slowly pushed it open. Cobwebs coated every rafter and dust particles danced in the beam of his phone’s flashlight. He panned to the right and saw a flight of stairs that ascended farther than he could see.
The cell’s silence was obliterated by the sound of Christopher’s labored breath. The simple room contained only a cot, its bed sheets still laid fitted in their place. Christopher illuminated the small room once over, then assumed a prone position and peered under the thin-mattressed cot. When his head went beneath the bed he coughed and his rasp disturbed an unfathomable amount of fine dust. Intrigued, he wiped the floor and found a thin layer of finely ground and evenly distributed concrete.
Christopher regained his feet and forcefully shoved the bunk out of the way. There, obscured from sight, four words were chiseled into the wall, “all in due time”. Christopher photographed the wall’s tattoo, then pressed the speed dial as he sprinted down the stairs, “did you figure it out?” the operator asked.
“Whatever this is, it isn’t over…Who was the last person you held in the spire?” Christopher huffed.
“That is no concern of yours”, the voice said dismissively. Then “ No!..How?! Sto…”
“Hel-lo who is this?”, Christopher whispered haltingly.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep