Chapter Nineteen

Enigma

"Where are you?"

"Campus Library," Petra replied to her laptop screen, in a whisper.

"You look sick. Are you okay?" Olivia asked, her voice deep into Petra's ears thanks to the phones she was wearing. Petra nodded in response. She wasn't surprised at Olivia's remark. After falling asleep on a cold park's bench the night before, it was natural that she looked even paler and more tired than usual.

Olivia hadn't commented on her hair and Petra was still trying to decide if that was a good thing.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" her friend asked, now sporting her own hair in a dark blue shade.

"Remember when I first got here, you told me those things about people disappearing?"

"Yeah..."

"How did you know that?" Petra asked. "Did you do any research?"

"Yes, I searched for news related to your address. I ended up reading about its history, too, because it is actually kind of interesting. Hold on... I'll send you the links."

Petra nodded again. "Thanks."

"At your service," Olivia said, with a smile and a playful wink. "There you go."

In Petra's laptop screen there were now several links at her disposal, all entitled Jackson Building.

"Jackson Building?" she asked, out loud.

"Yeah, that's the name of your building," Olivia said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You didn't know that?"

"Didn't really know it had a name, no," Petra admitted. "It's not exactly written on it." She took another look at the links her friend sent her. "So these are all news of missing people?"

"There's a little bit of everything, honestly. People disappearing on the neighborhood, ancient inhabitants missing, others found dead, a few institutionalized, later found dead as well, suicides... But you shouldn't read them. I didn't read all of them. Those stories will make anyone paranoid. Besides, it's natural that the building has so much history, I mean, it's really old."

"How old?" Petra asked, opening a link to an article that spoke of the building's origins.

"Really old," Olivia answered while lighting a cigarette. "It was built in 1931, if I'm not mistaken, by order of Kwame Jackson, a jazz singer that was really famous and rich at the time."

"Kwame Jackson? I don't think I ever heard of him."

"His career hit its prime in 1925, I think. It was during the Golden Era of Jazz, many others were stealing the spotlight, it's natural that we don't know of him," Olivia explained. "Anyway, so he got the Jackson Building built, probably as an investment or something, since it was supposed to be a grand, luxurious hotel."

"So what happened?" Petra asked, skimming through the article.

"No one knows," Olivia replied, with a shrug. "He changed his mind, I guess. It's pretty odd, actually, because he spent all this money on it and then did nothing with it. That's why the building got famous at the time, actually. First, because it was so ugly, it would never make it as a Grand Hotel and second, because Kwame refused to live in it or let anyone get inside it."

"That is weird," Petra agreed, wondering if Kwame already knew something was wrong with the place and tried to protect people from it.

"For years, decades even, no one lived on the Jackson Building. You'd think that, once he passed away, someone would make something of it, but no," Olivia continued. "For years and years, generations of Jacksons owned the building and continued Kwame's tradition of keeping it locked and inhabited. Then, the last surviving Jackson family member died in a car crash, left no one to inherit it and the City took over. Eventually, it was bought, renovated - and I use the term lightly - and rented for people like you to live in it. And that's where the story got depressing."

"People started missing and killing themselves?"

"When they're not killing each other... But no, they were doing that before, already," Olivia corrected, looking too nonchalant considering they were discussing something so tragic. "Teens and kids would go inside and then never come out, homeless people committing suicide inside some of the rooms... People said the building was haunted, authorities said the building was a hazard due to lack of security and maintenance and, as such, accidents were to be expected or that criminals, drug addicts, prostitutes probably lived there, which would make it dangerous... I don't know. I stopped reading, it was all either too dramatic and ridiculous or depressing and sad."

Olivia was silent for a moment and seemed to be mentally struggling with something. Petra recognized the look immediately.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Liv..."

"Oh, alright," Olivia caved, sighing. "There were also a few sites and forums where people talked about the Jackson Curse-"

"Curse?"

"It's stupid, Petra, don't take it seriously. I shouldn't even bother telling you this..."

But Petra was more than willing to take anything seriously at that point. "Why? What is it? Tell me."

Olivia rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she was about to tell a fairytale she found boring.

"Some people say that Kwame landed all his fame and fortune way too quickly and suddenly," she told Petra, in a very disdainful tone, "and so there's a theory, no, a legend, that says he made a deal with the Devil to get it."

Petra frowned and then thought about it out loud. "But what would that have to do with the building?"

"Absolutely nothing. It's rubbish, Petra. Honestly, not even worth mentioning. Even if we forget the obvious, which is that the devil and making deals and curses and whatever is all bullshit to begin with, this type of particular legend exist for a lot of famous artists, especially for Jazz musicians of the time. It's a common legend that far precedes Kwame and a ridiculous one at that."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Petra recognized with a smile.

"Well buddy, I have to go. I have classes in half an hour and still have to drive there," Olivia said, checking her wristwatch. "Talk to you soon, right?"

Petra's smile widened. "Of course. Thanks, Liv."

"Alright. Don't obsess over this, please."

"Don't worry."

They waved each other goodbye and Olivia logged off of their call.

Absent mindedly, Petra continued to skim through the article, barely even reading. It was an old piece and she assumed it said basically what Olivia had just told her. Her mind was racing though, repeating the building's story and the legend in her head over and over.

While she was obviously and rationally inclined to agree with Olivia that the "Curse" was ludicrous, there was no denying there was something about the history of the Jackson Building that didn't seem right, starting with Kwame himself.

Why waste his money in a building he refused to use in any way? Why make it so ugly and unappealing? Because it had to be on purpose. Could it simply be bad financial management and lack of good judgement?

All these thoughts vanished as soon as her sight landed on the photograph at the end of the article. It was fairly ancient, black and white, and starred what seemed to be the freshly built Jackson Building on what was once a thriving town, instead of the big city it was now.

In front of the new building stood a young black man, dressed impeccably, his eyes and small smile laced with genuine kindness and, could be her imagination, but she could swear he looked concerned, as if the smile, although kind, was forced.

At his side stood a gorgeous young black woman, her demeanor more timid, her clothing more humble. She wore a very simple plain dress that was easily outshined by her immense beauty. She had long, dark, braided hair that looked voluptuous and strong. Though her demeanor felt shy, she also felt strong, powerful, unshakable. Her smile looked like a grin, which Petra noted, looked very familiar. Her eyes... the way she looked at the camera... it felt like the same kind of look she'd seen before, not long ago. She could swear those eyes were clear, even though the photograph was in black and white.

Those eyes were haunting. And Petra could easily imagine them in green.

Could it possibly be?

The man himself looked extremely familiar. She was sure she'd seen him before.

And then it hit her.

In one of her nightmares, when she looked in the mirror... was that the face she'd seen in her reflection?

Petra read the photo's description.

1931 - Kwame Jackson (left) stands proudly at the inauguration of the Jackson Building. By his side (right) stands his sister, Naima Jackson.

But it couldn't be.

Could it?

Had she dreamt she was Kwame?

She was almost certain of it... But how? How could've she known how he looked like? She hadn't even known he existed until a few minutes ago.

And Naima... Her grin, her haunting eyes... But no. It was impossible. There was no way the old lady could be Naima Jackson. That would mean she had to be over a hundred years old! And the old lady, though old, couldn't possibly be that elderly. No, it couldn't be. Wildest case and the old lady could be related to them, that would explain the incredible resemblance and her uncanny obsession with the building, but it was still wild, since history said the Jacksons had all perished, hence the building's passage to the City.

And yet, there was no denying... Those eyes... They'd been haunting her since her arrival.