Dark Corners - Twelve Tales of Terror (16 page)

Her bottom lip trembling, she looked him in the eye—her
gaze clear and unclouded by her illness—and said:

“
He
took her. He came out of the floor and took her.”

She went on to explain how a tall man in crème
suit, with black eyes and pointed teeth, had climbed out of a fiery
hole in the floor to take Tina and their newborn child away.

Rhodes simply shook his head, and suddenly felt the need
to light up a cigarette, though he had quit more than ten years
before.

Danny
was dead. At least that was his first thought as the bomb in his
chest exploded and sent him tumbling to the floor. He thought he knew
pain—the double leg break he suffered as a student back in ‘94
was bad—but this was something else entirely. He was grateful
that he wasn’t alone. Sarah and Jim were with him in the
apartment the three of them shared. He hoped they had heard the
commotion as he fell, as he couldn’t speak to call to them, nor
could he move. It felt like a pickup truck was parked on his chest.

Sarah
was a nurse, and Jim—like Danny—was a doctor, fresh out
of medical school. He figured his chances of survival were decent as
long as they acted swiftly. Sarah came first, a blonde vision. She
crouched and grabbed the phone, which was still clutched in Danny’s
hand. He remembered that he had been about to call out for pizza when
it happened. She held it to her ear, then turned to Jim, nodded, and
placed the phone back in its cradle
.
There were a few tense seconds of silence as he watched them, and
they watched him.

What
are you doing? Call a damn ambulance!

His
eyes met Sarah’s, and despite the agony, her expression scared
him even more. She was smiling.

Why
is she smiling? Why aren’t they doing anything?

He’d
heard stories of people’s lives flashing before them as they
died, but for Danny this was not the case. The last coherent thought
he had was a simple question.

Why?....

White
light. As awareness crept back to him, he realized firstly, and with
some relief, that he was no longer in pain.

Was
this it? Was this death?

He
thought not. His instincts told him he was still alive. He wanted to
close his eyes against the harsh intensity of the light, which seemed
so incredibly bright, but couldn’t. As feeling came back, he
became more convinced that he was still a living, breathing being. He
felt gingerly outward with his senses, gently probing into the
unknown, and yes—he was definitely alive. He could feel the
floor beneath him. He wondered for a brief moment if he had been
saved after all, and was now in the hospital recovering. But no. As
he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that the bright
great-ever-after
light
was actually just the ceiling lamp in the lounge. They must have
brought him here to wait for the ambulance. Relief overcame him, but
as true as it was that he was no longer in pain, the artificial light
burning into his eyes was maddening. He tried to lift his head or at
least turn it to the side, but found that he couldn’t move. He
tried to close his eyes, to blink away the discomfort, but even that
small gesture, which takes only a tenth of a second to go from brain
to eyelid, was beyond his ability.

Terror
bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he systematically tried to move
any part of his body. To his horror, he found that he couldn’t
even manage a tic, a flick of a finger, a curl of a toe. He forced
himself to consider the possibility that he might actually be dead
after all.

Could
this be it? Could this be what death is? Trapped in a body that no
longer functions.

No,
it couldn’t be. He could still think. He could sense the world
around him. He could feel the plush carpet below his body, its fibers
tickling his neck and arms. He could feel the dull ache in his left
knee where it hit the kitchen cabinet as he fell to the ground. He
could even feel the light breeze coming in from the open lounge
window, which caressed and whispered against his skin. He could feel
himself breathing…couldn’t he?

Ok,
if not death, then what? Paralysis? Some incredibly vivid dream
situation?

Whatever
it was, he knew for certain that he wasn’t ready to die yet,
not at just twenty-seven and with a promising life ahead of him. The
next question was one that had been bothering him since he regained
consciousness, and one he had perhaps been putting off because he
feared the answer.

Where
are Jim and Sarah?

It
was a good question. They should have been here waiting with him,
making sure he remained stable until help arrived.

Jim
was Jim Cole, and Danny had known him for four years. They had been
paired up together in medical school, and found that even though they
were fundamentally different as people, they had a similar work
ethic, and quickly became friends. Jim always looked more suited for
sports than medicine. He was tall with broad shoulders, and because
he chose to unwind from the pressures of study by working out, he was
built like a Sherman tank. He was one of those friends it was easy to
be jealous of—naturally good looking and always sickeningly
popular with the opposite sex. Danny had met Sarah through a mutual
friend of Jim’s a couple of years before, and although she
wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for (he preferred
brunettes), their conversation wasn’t as awkward or as forced
as Danny was used to, and they started to see more and more of each
other. Jim used to tease Danny about moving so slow.

“
Why
don’t you make your move Danny? It’s obvious that the two
of you are into each other.”

Danny
would always shrug and say that he was waiting for the right
opportunity, but inside he didn’t know when that would ever be.
He was absolutely terrified. He desperately wanted to take things to
the next level, but was afraid he might ruin the relationship they
already had. He eventually plucked up the courage to broach the
subject at Jim’s twenty-fifth birthday party, and had
approached her as she sat outside on the short wall at the edge of
the driveway. It was a cool night in October, and as he looked at her
in the soft glow of the houselights, he almost didn’t go
through with it. The silence was awkward, which was rare and Sarah
eyed him curiously, her face difficult to read. He had taken her
hands and told her he thought of her as more than a friend, and
wanted to take things further. It was clumsy and cheesy and all the
things he didn’t want it to be, his cheeks growing red with
embarrassment. Sarah didn’t answer him at first. She only
looked at him, searching his eyes with her own. He was about to play
it off as a joke, when she kissed him. It was hard and passionate,
and when they pulled back, she simply pulled herself closer and
rested her head on his chest.

“
What
took you so long?” she asked softly as she wrapped her arms
around him. He held her, relieved and happy. As happy as he thought
he could ever be. He realized now, as he lay paralyzed on the floor,
that he had so much to live for and was determined to survive.

He
sat up—or at least in his mind he did. In reality, his body
remained as motionless as when he awoke, and he felt a hopeless
frustration that made him want to scream.

But
even in this general state of panic, a singular concern seemed to
rise above all else. It was the reaction of his friends. The look on
their faces when they found him… as if they had
expected
to find him like that. There was no look of surprise. No shock. Sarah
had even smiled as she took the phone from him, putting it back in
its cradle.

Why
would she smile? Why did she check the phone? Was she checking to see
if he had managed to call an ambulance or…

His
stomach churned as considered the alternative.

Or
was she checking to make sure that he hadn’t?

And
Jim. Why would Jim just stand there and watch as his best friend had
a heart attack, or whatever it was? He knew what to do, what he
should have done, but he didn’t react at all; all he did was
stand there with his hands in his pockets, looking on indifferently.
None of it made sense unless…

Unless
they knew it was going to happen?

He
balked at the idea as soon as it processed. It was preposterous. It
couldn’t be…

The
front door swung open and Danny turned his head towards the sound, or
at least in his mind he did, his unblinking eyes still fixed on the
sickening light. He heard voices as they came into the apartment from
outside. It was them! Jim and Sarah! Of course! They had gone
downstairs to let the ambulance crew in! He chastised himself for
letting his imagination get the better of him. Surely they were
just—he froze mid-thought. The door closed and he heard the
lock slide into place. No paramedics. No hurried conversations. No
racing footsteps. He could hear hushed voices outside the adjoining
door to the hallway, but there was no rescue. No attempt to help.
Again he felt an awful churning in his stomach, a horrible, gnawing
feeling. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, the closed
door muffling the words, but he could tell they were in intense
conversation. He tried desperately to move, to turn his head or roll
his eyeballs towards the door. To do anything. But his body,
stubbornly uncooperative, ignored his commands. The door to the
sitting room opened, and he could see shadowy figures on the edge of
his peripheral vision. Sarah spoke, and with the seven words that
drifted unseen towards him, his world and everything that he knew to
be normal imploded.

“
My
God. He really does look dead.”

There
was such coldness in her voice, and suddenly she came into view,
leaning over him with a neutral, unconcerned expression on her face.
Her blonde hair hung over her narrow face as her blue eyes scanned
his features. Her lips curled into a cruel smile.

“
It
really is remarkable, Jim. Are you sure he isn’t actually dead?
You didn’t give him too much, did you?”

Too
much? What did they do? What have they done to me?

Then
Jim came into view, his black hair slicked back as he always wore it,
his small eyes peering expressionlessly down his hooked nose. He was
standing behind Sarah, massaging her shoulders. He bent forward and
kissed her neck.

“
Don’t
worry, he’s still alive. Plenty of time to get everything
done.”

“
But
what if he dies before then?”

“
What
does it matter? You got what you wanted. You win Sarah.”

“
I
don’t want him to get off so easy, Jimmy. I want him to
suffer.”

“
You
really are a cold bitch.”

“
But you still love me, don’t you?”
she asked with a hint of desperation. Without waiting for him to
respond, she turned and kissed him passionately, watching Danny out
of the corner of her eye. The show was obviously for his benefit, and
although abject terror still held the forefront of his mind, he found
himself sickly jealous as he watched them, literally unable to avert
his gaze. She broke away and turned towards Danny, looking at him
with a smug smile. There was no love, no sorrow, no remorse in her
face—just hate. Hate for him. And he couldn’t begin to
fathom why.

“
Do
you think he can hear us, or see us?” she asked without looking
away.

“
You
know perfectly well that he can… Quit playing around, Sarah.
He was my best friend… I can’t be as cold as you can.”

Jim
walked away, leaving Sarah and Danny alone.

Ah,
the happy couple.

She knelt
beside him, filling his field of vision. He could smell her perfume
mingled with a slight undercurrent of perspiration. He didn’t
want to look at her, but under the circumstances he had no choice.
She whispered in his ear, her hot breath reviving memories of
passionate night spent entwined together.

“I
suppose you at least deserve and explanation,” she began as she
pushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ears. He could see as
she leaned back that she was still smiling that spiteful, self-amused
smile.

I’m
sorry it had to come to this, Danny, but let’s be honest—you
and I have been growing apart for some time now… This is
actually your own fault, you know. I was going to leave you. I even
had a suitcase packed on that day you called and told me about your
damn inheritance.

The
money. Of course.

“We
could have had a great life, Danny. We could have lived overseas or
travelled the world, but no—you wanted to bank it. Who the hell
banks two million and keeps going to work every day?”

She shook
her head, the smile melting away from her face as her eyes darted
restlessly around the room.

“Maybe
it’s ok for you. You’re a doctor, you’re shown some
respect. But what about me? Did you ever think about me? I was out
there day and night running myself into the ground, taking shit from
this way and that. It’s hard on the wards, Danny… You
could have taken care of me. You could have taken care of us, but you
didn’t. So I had to take matters into my own hands.”