The Cursed Man (9 page)

“I won't give you any more bodies,” Alister said between clenched teeth. “Do you hear me?”

“Alister Kunkle, are you in here?” The man that summoned him approached, and Alister retreated to a sofa in the corner of the room. He listened to the voices of several men as they advanced. Their words were jumbled and too low to decipher.

Although the sofa Alister occupied was in the darkest part of the room, the absence of light wasn't enough to conceal a thick layer of haze that drifted and swirled about.

“I only want to speak to the person that started to speak to me,” Alister said.

“We just need to ask you a few questions.”

“No, not we. I will only speak to you.”

The officer's flashlight beams slashed the darkness and revealed many things that moved.

“I'm Sergeant—”

“I don't want to know your name,” Alister said, and he meant it. “I'm sorry; it's nothing personal.” He watched the bugs as they crawled and flew and wondered how he hadn't noticed them before.

Alister raised the brown paper bag over his head and stretched it flat.

The sergeant settled his light on Alister's sign and then on Alister's pale face. “Yes, I understand that you only want to talk to me. You can put it down now.”

Alister squinted and turned away from the light. He had become accustomed to living in the dark.

“I can't—at least not until you understand what it means. It is important that whoever is with you understands that they are not to try and communicate with me.”

“OK,” the sergeant said. “You have my word. No one but I will speak to you.”

“Please make sure they understand.”

The sergeant centered his light on his men.

“Not a word to him. Do you understand me?”

One of the men was bent over a pile of garbage. His eyes were bright red and filled with tears and he was gagging. A rat came into view, and it continued to pick through the waste without pause.

“Yes, sergeant,” the other officer said. His voice was weak and he looked pale.

“Why don't you both go outside?” the sergeant said. “I'll be out in a minute.”

Alister lowered the paper bag and watched the two officers retreat. He realized the grime that stained the walls and floor had also stained his clothing and skin.

“They're gone,” the sergeant said.

“Thank you.”

The sergeant nodded.

“I know how bad things must look in here,” Alister said.

“So you understand why I would like to go outside?”

“I do, but what have I done so wrong that you would break down my front door?”

“You stole food last night and threatened everyone inside the store. A witness followed you home.”

Alister scratched his head; his skin felt no different than the mound of trash that separated him from the sergeant. “I can't remember being in any store recently.”

“Does anyone else besides you live here?”

“No, not anymore.”

The sergeant scanned the room with his flashlight. “How long have you been living like this?”

“Ever since my wife drowned my daughter and then killed herself.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Me too.”

Alister stood, and the sergeant moved his hand to his weapon.

Alister paused. “I won't cause you any more trouble than I already have.” He placed the paper bag on the seat. “Can we go out back so we can talk?”

“We need to go out front for safety reasons.”

“It is important that you keep me away from other people.” Alister looked away. “I would like to tell you about the strange things that have happened to me. It might help you understand why I live like this.”

“I don't mind listening to what you have to say, but we should go out front where my partners are.”

“I beg you not to make me do that.”

“It's for safety reasons.”

“What I have to tell you…” Alister paused and drew a deep breath. “I'm sorry, this is hard to talk about, but it has to do with what made my wife kill our child.”

The sergeant sighed. “OK, we can go out back, but I'm going to have to place handcuffs on you. You do understand that what I see here makes me nervous, don't you?”

Alister stared at a pile of maggot-infested food. “Yes, I understand.”

Alister turned around and placed his hands behind his back. The sergeant bound his wrists with cuffs and clapped his shoulder. “You lead the way.” He held on to Alister's arm.

Alister maneuvered through the path, and the sergeant remained close. When they arrived at the back door, Alister stepped outside. He squinted against the raw sunlight and sat on the top step of the stoop.

 “I haven't seen daylight in weeks.” He hung his head between his knees and said, “I wish I had a free hand to shield my eyes.”

The sergeant stood in front of Alister, and his shadow blocked the sun.

“I've been living like this so long that I don't notice it anymore. It's probably the most repulsive thing you've ever seen, but you should know things weren't always like this. I had a good job and hope for my future.”

“There is still hope.”

Alister shook his head. “The hope that I have is very different from the hope you speak of.”

The sergeant stood still and without expression, but Alister could see the big question mark that hung over his head.

“I knew love,” Alister said. “I even celebrated it. But now I see no worth in it. Self-preservation is overrated.”  Alister laughed. “I used to fear death, but now that is all I ever hope for.”

“You don't need to worry anymore,” the sergeant said. “We are here to get you help.”

Alister knew those words came from a training manual. But he also knew that somewhere behind the badge and uniform was a man that genuinely cared for people.

“Thank you. You're a good man.”

The sergeant smiled. “I know that you just need someone to talk to so you can work on whatever happened to you.”

“It's not me that it happened to.” Alister looked away.  “Not directly anyway. I'm just an unwilling spectator.”

Alister leaned so that he was out of the sergeant's shadow. He raised his chin to the sun. It felt warm and inviting, and he returned to the shade.

“I don't deserve it.”

“Deserve what?”

“Anything good because of what I have done.”

The sergeant's silence forced Alister to look at him. The big question mark still lingered over his head.

“I am cursed with death and anyone that communicates with me dies. That is why it is so important that you and only you speak to me.”

Alister looked to his feet and flexed his toes. They were bare and dirt was caked between each toe and filled each nail bed.

“I invited this curse into my life, and it has made me endure so much tragedy that I am no longer alive inside.”

The sergeant shifted on his feet. “I'm sorry about the misfortune you've had in your life.”

Alister grimaced.

“I'm going to take you somewhere you can get some help,” the sergeant said.

“Maybe I read you all wrong.” He shook his head. “You're only appeasing me.”

“I'm trying to help you.”

A bird in a tree cawed and drew his attention. A big black crow looked down at him. It began to run back and forth on a tree branch and bob its head wildly.

Alister's gaze moved down the tree and swept through the yard. The grass was tall and brown, and he wondered what evil lurked in it. The trees were bare of leaves and everything around him looked dead. His gaze moved beyond his property, and everything bustled with color.

The crow cawed again, and Alister looked in time enough to watch it fall from the tree, dead. He stood and the sergeant reached for him.

“Take it easy.”

Alister barely felt the touch over the tingle that shot through his entire body. “It's here with us.”

“No one is here with us.”

Alister sat again and turned his eyes toward the sergeant. He waited, expecting to see him fall over dead.

“You OK?”

“I'll be fine,” Alister said.

“You're making me nervous.”

“I don't mean to. Can you give me a pen and paper for the ride in?”

The sergeant shook his head. “Why don't we wait until we get to the hospital before we do anything else?”

“Please!” Alister said. He wiped the tears running down his cheeks on his shoulder. “I'm not going to do anything stupid. I have a few things that need to be said, and that will be my only form of communication after you leave me. I've already told you I won't speak to anyone else but you.”

“Very well,” the sergeant said. “I will remove the cuffs when I get you into the back of my car. You can write what you need on the way. Don't make me regret this decision.”

“I won't, and thank you,” Alister said, and he smiled for the first time in months. “But please, don't let the other officers talk to me.”

“I won't,” the sergeant said, and he escorted Alister through the tall grass and to the back seat of his patrol car.

 

 

ANOTHER SLAUGHTER

 

 

“Please, slow down,” Alister said to the sergeant, but the landscape he saw whizzing by with his peripheral vision told him that the sergeant had no intention of listening. “I have a lot to tell people, and I don't think you're giving me enough time to write it.”

“I've given you plenty of time. Besides, I'm going as slow as possible.”

Alister sighed and pressed the pen onto the paper. The vehicle seemed to locate every pothole, and he struggled to write. He jotted down the words as quickly as possible and tried to keep his thoughts organized. One thing he knew he needed to request was a grace period where no one would talk to him after the sergeant left. He explained that if the sergeant lived longer than twenty-four hours, then anyone could talk to him because he had somehow outwaited the curse. But if the sergeant didn't survive the full duration, he forbade anyone else to speak to him, and he should be placed in isolation.

In conclusion, Alister went into as much detail as possible about the specifics of the curse and how he thought it functioned.

Satisfied that his message was clear and legible, he signed his name and folded the pages with care. “Thank you,” he said to the sergeant. “I've completed my message.”

“And just in time, too,” the sergeant said, and he turned the vehicle into the parking lot of a hospital.

“But please,” Alister said, “take a moment to read it over before you take me inside. I want to make sure my note is perfectly clear so that someone who knows nothing about it beforehand will be fully aware of what it is they are up against.”

“Why don't you just tell me what your message is?”

Alister sat motionless, dumbfounded. “It's everything I've told you, and it explains what people should do if something were to happen to you.”

The sergeant smirked and looked at Alister through his rearview mirror. “And what do you think is going to happen to me?”

“I hope nothing,” Alister said. He looked to his dirty bare feet. “But I'm certain you're going to die by the end of this day.”

 

 

Alister watched the sergeant's facial expression change in the reflection of the rearview mirror as he read through his letter. He scowled, raised a brow, curled his lip and mouthed each word.

“Is my handwriting legible?”

“I can read it just fine. What do you expect me to do with this?” the sergeant asked as he refolded the pages. He met Alister's gaze in the mirror.

Alister held back a sigh. “I would like you to give it to the physician that's going to be caring for me.”

The sergeant shook his head. “Once I get you inside, you can give it to him yourself.”

Alister closed his eyes and leaned back. “What will it take?” He pulled himself close to the cage that separated them. “I can't speak to anyone else but you, or more people will die. Remember? I've explained that in the note. Wasn't I clear enough?”

The sergeant nodded. “Yeah, your letter is clear enough, but you can't expect people to believe this.”

“I can and do because it is all true.” He settled into the seat. “I'm sorry I got you involved in this, sergeant. But as fate would have it, you were the one sent to my house. You seem like a nice guy who cares for people, and the world doesn't have many like you.”

“Thank you,” the sergeant said. He looked out the window and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I'll pass your note along,” he said, and he returned his gaze to the mirror. “But I can't make any promises as to how other people will respond to it.”

Alister looked out the window and watched a young mother pushing her baby in a stroller. He noticed the full head of blonde hair the young toddler had and thought of his precious Becca. Like that child, she was young and innocent and had nothing to do with whatever hell was on a rampage. He did not want to see that happen again.

Ever.

“The bad thing that is going to get you is my fault. If there were a way for me to get rid of it myself and change your fate, I would, but I've done everything to escape it, and nothing seems to work. I've tried locking myself away from the world so I would starve to death, but as you know by my being here with you today, that didn't work.”

“I understand your concern for me,” the sergeant said as he took his eyes away from the mirror. He opened his door. “But I'll be fine, and so will you.”

Alister shook his head and rested his forehead against the cage that separated them. “I don't think you understand the significance of what you've learned today. This thing that follows me does not discriminate, and you can't escape it. The only thing we can do is try and contain it. And please, whatever you do, don't make it angry by mocking it because it might make you suffer.”