Dark Corners - Twelve Tales of Terror (17 page)

He wanted
to tell her, to explain he had put the money away with only the best
intentions; so they could have a fine wedding someday, so he could
buy her the house that she deserved, so they could focus on raising a
family instead of worrying about money. But of course, he couldn’t.

Her hand
came into view and his first thought was that she was going to hit
him, but then he realized she was merely holding something out to
him. A small vial containing a yellow liquid.

“I
got the idea from the Discovery Channel. There was a documentary on
about zombies, about how in Haiti they believe in all that stuff. Not
like TV zombies, not like Dawn of the Dead shit. I’m talking
about the real deal. The Haitian Sorcerers, or Bokors as their tribes
know them, claim that their resurrection powers come from their
ability to capture a fragment of their intended victim’s
Ti
bon ange
, or soul. But they don’t
actually have supernatural powers, of course.”

She
smiled at him with a dreamy glow that made him wonder exactly when
she had lost her mind. She continued—

“Instead
they use this.” She shook the vial in front of his eyes, the
liquid swishing around inside.

“You
have no idea what lengths we had to go to in order to get this stuff.
But if you know the right people, you can get just about anything. We
gave you the liquid form, but the traditional method of the Bokors
used a powder. They would combine it with a mixture of ground plants
and animals… It comes down to neurotoxins, Danny. The powdered
version was created to break and irritate the skin, allowing the
neurotoxin to enter the bloodstream. But for our purpose, you got the
more direct, more potent liquid version. I’m sure you’ve
realized by now that you are in a state of total paralysis. In
Haitian folklore the victim would then be buried, and later, when the
effects wore off, they would rise and believe themselves to be
reincarnated from the dead.”

She
leaned close, the smell of mint and coffee on her breath.

“Of
course, only the first part will apply for you.”

She
brought the vial closer to his eyes, turning it slowly. It reminded
him of one of those late-night TV shopping ads that air when nobody
is awake to watch.

GOT
THAT GNAWING FEELING? THEN GET THIS EXCLUSIVE AUTHENTIC BOKOR ZOMBIE
SERUM!!!

TIRED
OF THE WELL MEANING, HARD WORKING BOYFRIEND?

INJECT
HIM WITH THIS AND VOODOO ALL YOUR TROUBLES AWAY!!!

ORDER
NOW AND WE’LL THROW IN THE TRAITOROUS BEST FRIEND TO HELP WITH
YOUR WICKED SCHEME!!!

ORDER
NOW FOR JUST TWO MILLION U.S. DOLLARS!!!

BETTER
HURRY, ONLY SEVEN LEFT IN STOCK!!!

He
was losing it, and tried desperately to regain control of his mind.
He had to keep it together until he could figure a way out of this
mess. He watched Sarah as she put the vial back in her purse.

“
It
slows the heart and respiratory systems down to almost a complete
stop. Essentially, you
are
dead. But here’s the best part. Tonight, we’re going out
to a special place in the woods. I sent Jim out there this morning to
dig a hole. That’s where you’ll live out your final
hours, alone in the dark. You’ll eventually regain control of
your body, but by then it won’t matter.”

Buried
alive.

He
gazed into the monstrous eyes of his former partner and wondered when
the idea had begun to form in her mind; how long she had sat on it,
mulling it over. When had she realized she would need Jim’s
help?

“
I
know this must seem overly cruel, and you’re probably wondering
why. The truth is I don’t have a straight answer for you, baby.
But it sure feels good.”

The
conversational tone of her voice astonished him, as if killing
another human being was on par with running to the supermarket.

“
They’ll
look for you, I suppose. You may even make the news. I’ll play
the grieving girlfriend, supported by the loyal best friend. We’ll
say how it’s uncharacteristic of you, how you are usually so
responsible. No, you have no enemies, nor do we know of anyone who
meant you harm. Soon enough there will be some other story, maybe a
terrorist attack or a squabble in some backwards little country that
will take center stage, and you will be forgotten. When you’re
declared dead, the money you inherited will be mine.”

Danny
realized then that she was totally insane. It was a combination of
things: the tone of her voice, the wild-eyed stare as she rambled on,
pointing at him all the time. The way she was wearing that smile,
that awful smile…

“
I
know what you’re thinking—that I have no right to that
money if you die. Well think again. Jim pulled some strings, greased
a few palms, and made sure the right papers found their way to the
right people. I get everything, you son of a bitch.”

“
That’s
enough!” came Jim’s voice from somewhere to Danny’s
right. “Go down to the car and make sure we have everything we
need. I want to get this over with before I lose my nerve.”

Jim
drifted into Danny’s field of vision and handed the keys to
Sarah, who stood and walked away. He listened as she went down the
hall and the door opened and closed, then pulled up a chair from the
dining table and sat beside Danny. Unlike Sarah, who appeared to be
untroubled by the murder they were about to commit, he looked like
hell—pale and antsy.

Good.
Fuck him.

Jim
lit a cigarette with shaking hands, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

“
Hey,
pal. I uh… Just wanted to talk to you in private one last
time.”

Forgive
me if I don’t answer, Jimbo, but I’m a little dead here.
I’m sure you understand. You go ahead and talk though, if it
will make you feel better.

“
Look,
Sarah and I… I tried to resist her, ok? I mean, I really
tried. But the three of us living together, it just—well, she
always gets what she wants, doesn’t she? We’ve joked
about that before.”

We
have Jim, but there is one hell of a difference between dominating
the TV remote and killing off your boyfriend for his inheritance.

“
I
mean, I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I? In the
past I mean… I even kinda got the two of you together in the
first place, didn’t I?”

Danny
could see Jim becoming unhinged. He was starting to babble, his eyes
shifting nervously about the room—a man trying to convince
himself of his actions.

“And
hey, at least you’ll be dead soon, right? I mean, I have to
live with this guilt for the rest of my life. So you see how it is,
don’t you Danny? Surely you do.”

Forgive
me for not being sympathetic to your plight, Jim, but your feelings
don’t really concern me too much right now.

Jim
leaned forward, his eyes darting nervously from the door to Danny and
back again.

“Look,
Danny, I’m too deep in this now to back out, she made sure of
that. I’m implicated and we both know she wouldn’t
hesitate to drop me in the shit if I didn’t go ahead.”

I
know what you’re saying, Jim, but think about this—no
harm no foul. Help me survive this and I’ll put it down to a
prank gone wrong. Please Jim, I need you to help me!

“I
will do something for you though, Danny. For old time’s sake.”

Jim
pulled out a hunting knife, sheathed in a brown leather scabbard.

“She
may want you to suffer, but I don’t… I sharpened it and
I’m going to slip it in the waistband of your jeans. When you
come around from the serum, use it to slit your wrists.”

Danny
felt the cold leather on his skin as Jim tucked the knife into his
jeans, and he flinched mentally as the metal of the hilt tip pressed
into his side.

“I
know this doesn’t make it right, but it might make it easier
for me to look in the mirror without feeling so fucking guilty. I
might even be able to sleep again. Damn it, Danny, I haven’t
slept for months.”

Months.

So
that’s
how long this had been in the works. He wondered how he could have
been so blind. How could he not have known? Nothing had alerted him,
nothing had seemed suspect or out of place. He never had any
suspicions, or that gnawing feeling. He certainly had it now though…
Jim finished his cigarette and walked out of Danny’s field of
vision. The door opened and he spoke again.

“Remember
to slit down the vein, not across it. You should bleed out pretty
fast…” He left, closing the door gently behind him.

Although
Danny knew it was pointless, he tried again to will himself to
move—start with a finger or a toe and go from there. Perhaps
Jim had made a mistake with the dosage and he would come around in
time to act. In truth, he knew it was unlikely. It was obvious how
meticulously they had planned it all, and to hope they had made such
a simple error was naïve at best. Suddenly they had returned,
and Jim stood with a roll of cheap looking carpet by Danny’s
feet. He turned to Sarah, his voice trembling.

“Can
I close his eyes? He’s freaking me out.”

“No,”
Sarah said calmly. “I want him to experience every second of
this.”

Jim shot
her a pained look as he put the roll of carpet down and spread it
out. Then Danny felt powerful hands roll him roughly across the
floor—a flash of knees, the television, and then nothing as his
face was mashed into the fabric. He began to panic, worrying that he
would suffocate. But then he remembered the situation, and amid the
horror, he laughed inside his head.

Ha!
Relax. It might be better to die here with your nose buried in a
cheap carpet, considering the alternative.

He could
visualize it in horrific detail. Slowly gaining control of his limbs
in the pitch dark, as seconds turned into hours and hours turned into
days. He found himself praying to a God he didn’t even believe
in. All he wanted was a chance—a fighting chance.

They
finished wrapping him in the carpet. The cheap fibers felt rough
against his cheeks, and the indistinct off-white color that filled
his entire field of view made any sense of direction hard to judge.
Although he could still hear them speaking, their words were muffled
and hard to make out. He was moving now, out of the apartment and
into the hallway, then to the left and through another door, this one
creaking loudly as it was opened.

They were
taking him out via the stairs.

Of course
they were, he thought to himself as he was jostled along, they
wouldn’t risk taking him in the lift. He counted the flights as
they descended: four, three, two, one. He felt the wind ruffle the
top of his hair and knew they had made it outside. Despite his
prayers, they were not stopped. Not challenged. Probably not even
seen. More muffled conversation as he was bundled into the back of a
car, most likely Jim’s SUV. The door was shut and for a few
precious seconds there was silence, before the twin sounds of the
front driver and passenger doors opened and closed. He heard Jim
speak, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Are
you sure this is what you want? This is the last chance to back out.”

“I
already told you this is what I want. This is what
we
want, Jim. Don’t pussy out on me now. Don’t be like him.”

“Fine,
but you can’t expect me to be happy about it. Danny and I have
been friends for years… I just think we could have gone about
this some other way.”

“Well,
you’ll just have to learn to live with it. I bet a couple
million in the bank will go a long way towards healing your
conscience.”

There was
a brief awkward silence.

“Did
you dig the grave where I told you to?”

“Done.
It’s not perfect, but it will do the job.”

Until
that point, Danny had held out some small hope of escape, but it was
now he realized that this was actually going to happen. They were
going to bury him alive.

“Good.
Come on, let’s get this over with. I want to be back in time
for American Idol.”

Choosing
not to respond, Jim started the car and put it into gear. They were
on their way.

Danny had
lost all sense of time and wasn’t sure how long they had been
driving. To him it felt like days, though in actuality they’d
only been in the car for about an hour. After a while, the smooth
ride of the road surface changed to the suspension-jolting ride of a
dirt trail. He tried to think of where he might be, but realized it
was pointless. He didn’t know the area well enough to even
hazard a guess.

The
car eventually came to a slow stop.

“
Is
this it?” asked Sarah excitedly.

“Yeah,
just a little way into the woods. Right where we planned.”

“And
you’re sure everything is ready?”

“Checked
and double-checked.”

“Ok,
let’s go then. Grab the head, I’ll get the feet.”