Seeing Is Believing : The Whispering 1 (3 page)

As she got the milk from the fridge, she
considered waking Tony and Bruce. They had slept enough for the day
as well.

"Good morning."

Meg shrieked and nearly dropped the milk in the
process. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to keep a tight
enough grip on the handle. She was also thankful she realized it
was Bruce who had greeted her. The man was apparently a silent
walker.

"Don't do that!" Meg shouted.

Bruce put his hands up in a mock surrender pose.
"Sorry. That wasn't on purpose. Please don't throw anything at me
again."

"I'm not living that down for a while, am I?"
Meg asked.

"Not for at least a week," Bruce said.

Pulling out one of the kitchen table chairs,
Bruce sat and leaned back. He considered putting his feet up on the
table but he thought better of it. Tony had never cared about where
he put his feet up, but something told him Meg wouldn't be the same
way.

"Did you sleep well?" Meg asked.

"Yeah. Slept pretty good. Very comfortable
couch, by the way," Bruce commented. "By the by, how long have you
been foster parenting?" he asked.

The question seemed a little out of the blue but
it was an easy one to answer.

"A little more than ten years," Meg
answered.

"Any complaints?" Bruce continued to
question.

Meg placed the cereal box down on the table
before looking up at Bruce. "Is this an interrogation?" Meg
asked.

Bruce gave a small shrug. "Yes. I guess so. All
I want to do is ease my mind a bit more."

"I don't think I'd be in the foster care system
if I wasn't proven a good caretaker."

"Well, systems make mistakes. Things slip their
notice. Small things like bruises under shirt sleeves, dark circles
under a kids eyes because the kid can't sleep well on some nights
in fear of what can happen..."

The humor was gone from Bruce's face and was
replaced with a quiet rage. It was a look that unsettled Meg.

She hoped that she would not have to see that
look again. Or at the very least, be the one to cause him to have
that expression.

"I NEVER THOUGHT about it. But you witnessed all
of it, didn't you?"

Bruce gave a curt nod. "One of the worst
feelings in the world is to be helpless when someone you care about
is being hurt. Goodness knows I tried to hurt the creep more than
once. So many punches I swung that just weren't felt... I knew it
was useless each time. But I kept trying. What else could I
do?"

Meg let Bruce sit there in the silence that
followed his frank admission.

"Sorry," he said, after a few moments. "I just
want to make sure that he'll be okay. It's nothing personal."

"No offense taken. Ask me anything you want. If
anything, maybe it'll help ease your mind."

"That helps. It really does," Bruce said. He
paused a moment before picking up the cereal box and reading the
label. "Got any cereal with marshmallows in it? I love that
stuff."

Meg almost questioned the idea of Bruce being
able to even eat the cereal he requested. But then she recalled
last night's intake of aspirin and tea. She would have to ask Bruce
or Tony more about that subject.

"I might have something of that kind. Let me
look."

It turned out Meg did not have anything with
marshmallows in the house. Grocery shopping was a chore on the list
for the day, though. So cereals of the sweet variety were added to
the shopping list. Also on the to-do list was to go clothes
shopping for Tony.

THE TRIP TO the shopping district of the town
was teeming with activity when they arrived. That was normal for
the weekend. Meg was experienced enough in this event that she
found a parking place without too much difficultly.

Now that they were out and about on the street,
Bruce was a little overwhelmed. Every new sight and sound attracted
his attention. It was probably his protective streak over Tony that
prevented him from running off to take a closer look at everything.
This resulted in the surreal sight of people walking through Bruce
as if he were a ghost.

Tony wasn't bothered by the sight as he was used
to seeing it. But it didn't escape Meg's notice.

"Hasn't Bruce ever been outside before?" Meg
asked Tony.

"Of course he has. But the town we're from was
never this busy. And we never went very far from the house. So this
is new for the both of us," Tony explained.

"Is it me, or is there like an overabundance of
sidewalk trash cans in this district?" Bruce asked aloud.

"Nervous?" Meg asked Tony.

Tony shrugged slightly. "A little," Tony
admitted.

Meg put an arm around Tony and gave him a short
side hug. "You'll be okay. Anyone messes with you and I'll be the
first to punch them in the gut," Meg said.

"I believe that," Tony chuckled. "But thanks.
It's nice to know there's someone out there that will punch people
on my behalf."

"Hey! I would punch people, too, if I could,"
Bruce said.

Neither Meg nor Tony doubted that, but they let
that go without comment. Clothes shopping didn't take too long.
Tony wasn't fussy over clothing styles and his size was fairly
abundant in this store. He picked out what he wanted quickly and,
within the hour, they had left the store.

Somewhere between one of the many clothes store
and a toy store was something that finally interested Tony.

The town library stood out between the other
buildings due to the fact that it was rather plain compared to
them. Where the stores had large windows with colorful displays,
the library was a simple, white painted building with nothing to
display. It had caught Tony's eye immediately.

"Hey, Meg," Tony said, "can I go hang out in the
library while you do the grocery shopping? I won't go anywhere
else."

"Well... I guess that can't hurt. But if there
are any problems, you use the front desk's phone and call my cell,
okay?"

"I will. I promise."

"Okay, then. We'll be back to pick you up in
about an hour."

With that Tony scampered off into the library,
leaving Bruce and Meg alone. Meg smiled at Bruce before adjusting
the strap on her purse.

"What say we get to the grocery store?"

"Sounds good to me."

THE GROCERY STORE trip took a bit longer than
the clothes shopping because Bruce had an opinion on everything on
the shopping list. Mainly on the healthier of the foods Meg picked
up.

"Okra? I thought people were making that word up
when it was mentioned."

Ignoring the commentary, Meg put the okra into
the shopping cart. "It's really good in soup," she said.

"It also looks like it's more for feeding a pet
rabbit than humans," Bruce said.

"And what do you feel is human food?"

A young couple glanced over in Meg's direction
with a frown. Meg reminded herself she was going to have to be more
careful when she was talking to Bruce in public.

She waited for the couple to move away before
continuing the conversation. They did so at a quick pace so she
didn't need to wait long.

"If you must ask, I say things like burgers,
fries, and the occasional pie sounds good," Bruce answered.

Meg hardly was able to keep from rolling her
eyes at the short and unhealthy list. She checked over a bag of
baby carrots as she replied to Bruce. "I've noticed your taste
leans to sugar and grease," Meg said.

"Top of the food pyramid," Bruce said.

"That's not true and you know it," Meg said.

"Okay. More like the top of my personal food
pyramid."

"Time to add some new layers to your pyramid,"
Meg said, as she picked the bag of carrots she wanted and moved on
to the celery.

Bruce made a face in reply to that, which Meg
ignored as well.

"Tell me. Do you have commentary with your
boyfriend's diet habits as well?"

"Don't have one," Meg replied.

Leaning against the pickles display stand, Bruce
looked Meg up and down curiously. A short silence followed
afterwards before he spoke in a surprised voice.

"You're kidding me? You don't have a boyfriend
or any significant other? I find that hard to believe," Bruce
said.

Meg gave a small rueful smile. "Not everyone
wants to date a woman who already has a child. It's even harder for
someone with foster children. So it's harder to find a date than
you might think. Besides, dating isn't my main goal in life at this
moment," Meg explained.

"Oh," Bruce said. "Well, their loss then. And if
they can't handle what's important to you, they're not worth your
time."

"Exactly. And I know that, of course. But it's
nice to hear someone else say it."

"I only say what I think to be true."

It was a little thing for Bruce to say. But Meg
had to admit to herself that Bruce's words actually made her
day.

There was a smile on her face as she made her
way to the cereal aisle.

"WARDEN, THERE'S ANOTHER dead prisoner."

Warden Eli Griffin looked up from his paper work
immediately. It was a concerned look tinged with annoyance. He had
perfected this look since he became warden of this little prison on
Maine. It worked not just on prisoners but on guards and
bureaucrats alike. More often, on the bureaucrats as he was forever
asking for funds to improve the prison. He got mixed results on
that.

People died in prison. Certainly it happened
more than people thought it did. Old age or prison violence was the
cause for the most part.

But the deaths in cell block twelve were
bizarre-five men dead within two weeks. Each of them was found with
the same agonized look on his face.

Whatever had killed them had obviously caused
great pain.

Then there was the odd hue of color to their
skin. It certainly was not a normal coloring at all. Each of the
dead men's faces had a hue of toxic green. It was as if they were
looking into a puddle of toxic waste.

Of course, toxicity checks were done all around
the area. But the results of these tests did not suggest that there
was anything that could cause death on this level.

Even with no proof of any toxic leaks, Eli made
sure to grab a breathing mask before following the guard to the
cell block.

He did not want to take any chances.

STEPPING INTO THE cell block in question was
like stepping into a new world.

Where the rest of the prison had some buzz of
activity, the cell block where the men had died was silent-silent
to the point where people would think they were hearing voices in
the void. Eli would think them insane if he had not heard whispers
himself.

The voices had whispered of darker thoughts and
experiences-memories of childhood laughter overshadowed by the
sound of gunfire, a mental image of the funeral that followed and
the mournful expression on a broken mother's face.