Prologue

October 30, 1964

Scott stood overlooking the campus with the Toms River glaring at him from across the football field.  From fifty feet up, the moonlight glared into his eyes so brightly that he could barely see anything else.  This was the third night in the last week that Scott found himself here.  After evening inspection and lights out, he put his head down on the pillow and began his nightly ritual of counting backwards from 100 in French to fall asleep.  As usual, the last thing he remembered was reaching quarante cinq and then he fell into a deep sleep.  The next thing he knew he was standing in this spot at exactly the same time each night.

Scott Paulsen’s return to consciousness found him gazing out over the moonlit campus.  His eyes moved from port to starboard taking in Dodge Hall, the tennis courts, the football field and the finally he could see the gym through the towering pine trees.  With a startling suddenness the wind hit him hard in the face and he couldn’t breathe.  He blinked his eyes quickly; the wind died down and he was able to inhale deeply.  He looked up into the moonlight and stared for a long minute.  And then his eyes were inexplicably drawn down to the reflection of the moon on the Toms River.  Paulsen gazed into the blue-white coloring of the moon on the water as the waves moved slowly in and out of the light.  And then, just as it had done on the previous nights the placid water began to darken and turn red.  And just as the water had turned red as blood, the moon repeated the trick.  Paulsen looked quickly from the water to the moon and back.  He couldn’t believe it was happening again.

“Jump Scotty.”  The ethereal voice came to him from nowhere and everywhere all at once.  This was the third night in a row the voice came to him, but it had happened before his sleepwalking.  He had heard it in the firing range when it told him to put the barrel to his chin and then he heard it at the waterfront when it told him to jump in and stay under the water.

“Come on Scotty, jump.  You can do it.”

On the first night that he found himself on the roof of Reinhardt Hall, when the voice spoke to him he ran as quickly as his feet would take him.  He shot through the door and down the stairway, slamming into the wall at the landing and then burst through the door into the hallway.  When he slid to a stop in front of the door to room 501 he stopped himself.  Scott stood absolutely silent with his eyes pressed shut.  When he opened them he stared at the door for another long moment hoping no one had heard him making all that noise.  He slowly turned his head from side to side listening for any sounds.  He didn’t hear a thing, but as he reached to push the door open something shot down the hall out of the corner of his eye.  It startled him so much that he was frozen.  Scott couldn’t move.  He swallowed hard and turned his head to the left where he saw the movement, but there was nothing there.   Wit a quick push the door opened and being very careful not to wake his roommates he slipped into the room and into his bunk.  Lying in his bunk he turned his face into his pillow and realized that he was soaked with sweat.

Last night, the second night that he found himself on the roof of the old building the voice called to him again after a few minutes of staring over the edge.  This time he wasn’t as startled and turned quickly – hoping to find the culprit who had been harassing him over the past month… but there was no one there.   He walked slowly towards the large ventilation duct that sat in the middle of the roof.  Scott walked all the way around it but still could not find anyone.  Finally he had walked to each corner of the roof and looked down but did not see anyone before returning to his bunk.

But tonight was different.

“Do it.”
The moon was full and the entire landscape around him was awash in red.  That had not happened before.  He could feel the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and stopping at his eyebrows for just a moment in spite of the cool October air blowing up from the ground.

“You want to jump.”

The voice was being more persistent tonight.  It had not spoken to him repeatedly before.  Yes, tonight was different because Scott knew what the voice wanted him to do and he knew why.  He had found the picture left under his pillow.  He saw the words written on the back in nearly formed block letters.   He had looked in the 1945 yearbook and seen the dedication.  He understood when his dream last night had shown him.

“You must!” the voice hissed in his ear.

And now that he understood the entire story, Scott Paulsen knew that he could indeed help the voice.  He could stop it’s suffering and torment for these past forty years.  He also knew that was not the first one to have been chosen by the voice to help.  But he knew that he would be the last one to have to do it.

Tomorrow was October 31^st and the morning reveille would be met with a big Halloween surprise. 

Scott Paulsen thought he knew how to put an end to all the madness.  He thought he had to jump and that would end the vicious cycle.  But there was only one way to find out.

So he jumped.