The Requiem
By
Stan Marshall

The sun peeked in and out from between high pillows of clouds lending a gauzy hue to the distant trees. Tom Hunt moved closer, trying to catch the words of the minister. He had stood in the back; away from the rest, hoping no one would recognize him. The newspaper photo had been grainy and the lighting dim. Otherwise, he would not have intruded on the Gilliam family's darkest hour.

''�good husband, loving father and faithful son. This kind and gentle man was chosen by God, on October 12th, to cross the fragile vale into everlasting life.'�

Chosen? Yes. By God? No. Tom's eyes were fixed on the family sitting on the front row of metal folding chairs. The chairs were covered with dark green velvet slipcovers. A young woman in a burgundy dress held a white handkerchief to her eyes while a small boy clung to her side. The wife, no doubt. The boy appeared more frightened than sad. He was crying. It was the sort of crying kids do when they are afraid without knowing why. The sobbing mother patted his back with a gloved hand.

An older woman, dressed entirely in black sat to the little boy's right. She stared blankly at the pewter colored casket, which was adorned with a small spray of yellow and white roses. Her eyes were red and puffy. Red, puffy, and sad.

Another older woman sat to her right nodding her agreement with the words of the minister. She sat erect with clear expressionless eyes and stern colorless lips. Tom could not help wondering whether she even knew Edwin Gilliam. Perhaps she knew him and never liked him. Tom had no way of knowing, of course, and he did not intend to stay in town long enough to find out.

He felt like an intruder. He was neither a friend of the deceased, nor a relative but he was drawn to the service. Drawn by the gnawing questions that taunted his mind and invaded his dreams.

He wanted to talk to Mrs. Gilliam. He wanted her to know how sorry he was and how badly he felt. He knew it would be impossible, or at least, improper and perhaps cruel. The burden was his. He had no right to share it with a grieving family. The nightmare was unbearable. He closed his eyes to sleep and the dream would creep in. The music would begin, softly at first, then louder and louder. Dr. Vamanyan called it para-audia psychosis. Tom found no solace in the psychologist's diagnosis or his prognosis. The doctor said it should go away in time but Tom wondered if the dream was only the beginning of his punishment. He didn't know if he had the right to rid himself of the nightmare.

Tom wished he had missed that shuttle and, sometimes, he wished he could go back and chose all over again. He could not go back of course. He had made his choice and now he must live with it.

He had never so much as laid eyes on Edwin until last Friday. Only four days? It seemed a lifetime. Four days, three hours and ten minutes ago, Tom Hunt chose to let Edwin Gilliam die.

Tom walked back to the waiting taxi and slid into the back seat. The driver asked something but Tom was not listening. He stared out the window at the procession. One by one, each guest filed by the family. Some paused to say a word or two before passing from the shade awning to their parked cars.

A few more silent moments passed before Tom asked the driver to take him to the airport. Tom hadn't slept more than three or four hour in four days. His head was heavy on his neck. He let it lean back and rest on the top of the seat. Something else was playing on the cabby's radio, but inside of Tom's head, the same old tune pounded its notes over and over. 'Dum dum dee-dum, dum dee-dum dee-dum dee-dum'� and the dream began.

******

It was a nice day in Chicago as Chicago days go. The mild wind carried only a hint of colder days to come and the sky was crystal clear. Maggie Hyatt emerged from Lowe's Pottery Barn and walked the two blocks to Rosedale Park. Tom Hunt switched off his rental car's engine and followed on foot, careful to hang far enough back to escape her notice.

Maggie had a fresh look about her today. She looked younger than Tom remembered. Her soft blonde hair bounced with each brisk step. She wore dark green slacks and a long white fuzzy sweater with a high loose collar. He could see the flash of white teeth as she smiled and waved to a young dark skinned woman waiting across the street.

Tom crossed the street in mid block and strode nonchalantly across the grass to a spot just past where a hotdog vender had set up his cart. Tom stood with the vendor between him and Maggie obscuring him from her view. She sat on a bench with the other woman and they were smiling and talking. Maggie had a nice smile, he thought, a kind and gentle smile. The darker woman took two bottles of soda from a small paper bag and offered one to Maggie. They ate their lunches, talked and laughed as Tom watched. Too soon the hour was up. They tossed their leftovers into a wire trash basket and headed off in separate directions. Tom moved behind a nearby tree until Maggie was safely down the street. He could never adequately explain his presence and any effort to do so would no doubt distress her. He did not want to involve her in his quest but he could not entirely dismiss her from it.

Tom Hunt left his spot behind the tree and spoke to the vendor. 'Nice enough day, isn't it?'�

'Nice enough.'� The vendor replied.

Tom bought a dog and Coke and sat on a nearby bench. He ate half the hot dog and tossed the rest on the ground. A gruff voice from behind him gave him a fright.

'You know, we have a strict litter law here in the park.'�

He turned to see a uniformed policeman over his shoulder. His first reaction was to retrieve the remnants but a large white and tan Collie beat him to it. He turned back to see the policeman laughing. The tall uniformed man said, 'It looks like your accomplice there ate the evidence.'�

Tom laughed with the cop. He hadn't laughed in a while. It felt good, even for a little while. When the dog's owner arrived, he was panting as much as the dog was. This too struck Tom as funny, funnier than it should have. He returned to his car, still smiling. The sun through the windshield felt warm against his face. He thought about what he had accomplished by seeing Edwin's family and by seeing Maggie again. Not much.

He sat in the car for more than an hour, thinking, trying to sort it all out. On one hand, after seeing Maggie again, he was glad he had chosen to let her live, but, on the other, sad that he had chosen to let Edwin die. He thought back to early Friday morning and the bridge.

He had almost missed the airport shuttle van. He had slept through the wake-up call from the front desk. The hotel's staff was more attentive than most and had sent someone to knock on the door when he did not answer the phone. Had he missed the shuttle, he would not now be tormented by the questions. The questions and the funeral dirge with the nightmare that always accompanied them. 'Did you make the right choice? Did Maggie deserve to live? Did Edwin deserve to die?'�

Edwin Gilliam was in route from home to Denver for a machine tools convention. According to the newspaper, he was looking forward to seeing all of the latest innovations. Maggie was returning home to Chicago from a visit with her sister in New York.

Fate had placed Tom Hunt in that particular shuttle van at that particular time. Tom was on the last leg of a two-week sales trip. He did not need to be at LaGuardia until eight but he was almost panicky about missing appointments. He always took an earlier plane in case there was a delay. He prided himself on his 'no excuses'� approach to work.

He realized immediately a tire had blown. He remembered distinctly the crash through the bridge's guardrail but, strangely, he did not remember crashing into the water. He did remember the water. It was cold, bone jarring cold. He also couldn't remember how he had gotten out of the van. He found himself bobbing up and down in the river trying to get his bearings. Tom was an excellent swimmer but the cold water was sapping his strength and causing every muscle in his body to ache. He looked for the shortest distance to land. It was then he heard Edwin's cry, somewhere out to his right. The nearest bank was behind him. He had to decide whether to swim to the shore and be certain to save himself or to risk swimming farther out to try to save the drowning man.

'Help me, help me. Somebody, please.'�

Tom kicked off his shoes. He thought he had heard somewhere it was the thing to do in these situations. He had decided to swim out to the man when he heard another cry off to his left. 'Please, Please. Help me.'�

He paddled his body around to face the newest cry. He could see it was a woman. Her dress formed a perfect circle around her for a moment before she went under. With the cries of the man still in his ears, he lunged forward and swam toward the woman. He raised his head as far as he could as he swam trying to catch a glimpse of her or her white dress. She re-emerged waving her arms franticly in the air. Tom kicked harder, ignoring the growing pain in his legs. He reached the woman as she submerged again. He dove down to her and pushed her to the surface. Tom gasped for air as he re-surfaced and latched onto the woman from the back. The young man's cries had ceased. Tom strained to hear, but, nothing.

The woman offered no resistance although they say that drowning people often do. She tried to kick her feet as Tom had yelled for her to do. His own limbs were weakening more by the moment. Her assistance likely saved both their lives.

Tom looked back to the river once he had pulled Maggie onto the muddy bank. She coughed and spat but Tom thought she would be all right. He scanned the river for the young man but did not see him. He ran two hundred yards or more along the rivers edge before collapsing on the ground. 'There is a man out there,'� he told an older man in a rain slicker. 'We have to find him.'� Tom tried to stand but his legs were limp. He pushed the man toward the river but it was much too late.

Edwin Gilliam's body was found four miles down stream tangled in some brush on the edge of the water. Maggie and Tom were treated for hypothermia at St. Joseph's Hospital and released.

Tom was left with doubts and question. Haunted by the same nightmare every night since the accident. He would here the dirge in the distance black. A small boat would appear from the fog. It would carry a black casket and be rowed by two faceless men in yellow slickers. The dirge would grow louder and a procession of small boats would appear, all lined up in a long single file.

The two men would dump the casket overboard and the procession would disappear. Tom would pear down into the dark water and watch the small white bubbles rise to the surface. Suddenly a hideous figure would emerge from the water and hover above him. It's long fang like teeth and huge hawkish talons would reach out toward Tom. He would then wake, sweaty, chilled and shaken, remnants of the funeral dirge ringing in his ears. Each time was the same.

Tom hoped seeing Maggie and seeing Edwin's family would bring an end to the nightmares. He did not know how or if it would help, but he hoped. Over and over he reasoned with himself. Saying, 'It was only natural to try to save the woman instead of the man. It was, after all, 'Women and children first' wasn't it? Women were the weaker sex, right? Men should protect the women. Shouldn't they?'�

Tom found no answers to truly satisfy him. For every answer he found a dozen more questions would arise. Who is to say that a woman's life is worth more than a man's life is worth? Who makes those rules? And, who was Tom Hunt to choose that Maggie Hyatt should live and Edwin Gilliam should die?

Weeks and month passed. Winter came and went and came again. The nightmares became less frequent and the dirge became fainter. Hopefully, for Tom's sake, time really does heal all wounds. As it stands, Tom's life has changed, some parts for better and some parts for worse. Tom started a college fund for Brian Gilliam, Edwin's son. He isn't sure how he will get the money to the Gilliams but he has a few years before he must worry about that.

Now, Tom mostly works, reads and watches television. He doesn't travel anymore. He doesn't go out much but he has started going to church more, and each night, he hopes Maggie Hyatt cherishes each and every breath she breathes.

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