The Man From Taured (31 page)

"Where was I?" Whitten/Void asked.

"Babbling," Noble said.

His eyes refused to settle, darting around the room, trying to find a weapon, a way out. The gun he had in his hand when he was outside was gone. He had no idea where it went, perhaps it was floating in the ether somewhere.

"Ah, yes, Noble," Whitten/Void said. "We have much to discuss before I bring the Void into this dimension. So many things. I have a surprise for you, for starters. Tarters. Taters. Spats. Spatulas. Hah Hah!"

Whitten raised his arms over his head like a game show hostess. He spun around in a circle and came to rest in front of a large shelf filled with equipment. With a flourish he pushed the shelf away and it rolled toward the wall.

Noble’s mouth fell open wide.

Olivia sat in a chair, her hair down over her face. Her arms were tied behind the chair. Duct tape wrapped around her chest, stomach, legs and arms. Whitten walked over and grabbed her head and lifted it. Her eyes were closed and blood trickled from her nose.

"You motherfucker!" Noble yelled and ran toward Olivia, his fists balled and ready to hit Whitten.

Whitten/Void laughed and he held out his hand, swatting Noble across the face once he was in range. The hand moved so fast that Noble wasn't even aware that he had been hit until he was sailing lengthwise across the room. His jaw felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer. He collided with more shelving and equipment and then he fell to the floor. Equipment, wiring, computer pieces, glass and debris rained down on his head.

"You need to be polite, Noble," Whitten/Void said in that mocking, laughing tone. "She has not been added to our number. 1. 2. 3. Number bumber."

There was a pause as Noble rubbed the side of his face and spat blood while slowly trying to push his way out of the pile of debris.

"Not yet," Whitten/Void added and then laughed.

Noble brushed the debris off of his body and slowly got to his knees and then pushed himself up onto his feet. His head was ringing and he felt blood running down the back of his neck and down his back. Noble reached up and touched the top of his head and his fingertips came away red. This was not the auspicious confrontation that he had been hoping for.

"If you hurt her," Noble said. "I swear to God, I am going to kill you."

"Your threats do not mean much," Whitten/Void said. "You seem to think you are in some position to do something. You are not. There is even more about you, Noble, than you realize. Shaw and his IDEA group, laughable as they are, have only told you part of the story of how you became to be. Your life was not an accident. No, no, no. Not just an accident. Dent. Rust. Car. Bumper."

Noble raised his head, his skull pounding. It was hard to stay standing. He must have hit his head really hard. He tasted copper in his mouth and he spat more blood on to the floor.

Whitten/Void stood next to Olivia. He had released her head and Olivia was once again sitting there with her head down. Noble remembered the blood from her nose and wondered what the monster had done to her. He wanted more than anything to wrap his hands around Whitten's throat and squeeze.

Whitten walked across the floor. The floor vanished and reappeared. Things moved in the shadows, too. People, animals, creatures. Outside the window it somehow seemed darker than it should have been, as if the shadows were growing and slowly swallowing the world. Time was feeling strange, warped, weird. Noble wondered if there were still men from IDEA out there fighting for their lives.

"What are you talking about?" Noble asked. There was something wrong with his head. It wasn't just the bump on his head. There was just something wrong with the air, with everything around them. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Whitten shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," Whitten/Void said. "Poor Noble Randle. Such a great name, but so unable to live up to it.
You don't even know what you were made for or what your purpose is. I can show you. Shoe. Do. Woo. Flu."

Noble saw that Whitten was getting closer, had seemed to cross the room in an instant. He could smell the man and he nearly gagged. It was the stench of unwashed bodies, rotting, death. It was like the man was a walking swamp. He backed away, but he was already at the room’s end and he felt the broken shelves against his back. Whitten stretched out his arm. Noble raised his hands weakly.

"No," Noble said, his voice so weak that it was barely audible. "No. Stay back."

"I am going to enlighten you," Whitten/Void said. Noble could not turn away and from the black eyes, swirling with red. "I am going to show you what you are and how you came to be."

"No," Noble repeated, but now he was pleading. Desperate.

Whitten just shook his head and that eerie smile crept across his face, twisting up the side of his face. Whitten reached out and touched the side of Noble's head.

He froze. His entire body was no longer in his control. All of the nerves were severed and he was entirely in the thrall of this creature before him. His brain felt like it was being electrocuted and he opened his mouth to scream, but nothing emerged. He tasted copper in his mouth, but it was like biting on copper wires. He felt hands inside his brain, tearing, forcing things into his thoughts.

"Relax," Whitten/Void said. "Let me show you."

Noble felt the world slip away from him. He was being force-fed memories from someone else. He was seeing things from long ago, the pictures and memories sepia-toned like old photos in an album. He could smell things and hear things. When he looked down his hands were not his own. It was like being forced into someone else's brain.

It took a moment for Noble to grow accustomed to the feeling of being in someone else. His hands, when he looked at them, had long fingernails painted red. He was a woman. Judging by the clothes it was the late 60s or early 70s. Then he heard the woman speak and Noble wanted to weep.

He was inside his mother's memories.

"No," Noble whispered again and then he was lost.

Mary Ann Noble is just twenty-three years old. She has been married to Nathan Noble for about two years. They live in a small apartment on the outskirts of Chicago with plans to buy a house soon. They also have plans to start a family in the near future.

Nathan has started working mostly nights at a factory down in the city. He’s driving switch engines, but
hopes to move into the factory soon. Mary Ann works at a company that makes boots, working as a bookkeeper. It's a good job and they are doing well for a young couple in love during uncertain times.

Mary Ann met Nathan when they were in college. She had plans to get some kind of degree, but at that time, it was not uncommon for girls to attend college with the idea of meeting a man who could become a husband. She does well at school, but all of that changes the night of the party when she meets Nathan.

Nathan is skinny, tall, with dark hair and wearing dark glasses. He has a great sense of humor, laughs a lot, hangs out with a lot of cool kids who tend to grease their hair back, and attends all of the big parties. Mary Ann fell hopelessly in love with the man and a couple of years after they met, they were married. Unlike so many of her friends, she has waited a few years before deciding it's time to have kids.

That night seemed particularly dark to Mary Ann. Nathan had left for work. There was no moon and the horizon showed flashes of lightning, indicating a storm was headed right for her. The television was full of static, the rabbit ears unable to punch through the clouds and the storm and electricity in the air to get a good signal. On the television was one of the sitcoms that seemed to dominate the airwaves. Mary Ann was not really paying attention. She was curled up on the sofa, reading.

The phone rang.

Mary Ann jumped. The jangling kitchen phone was so loud. That was to wake up Nathan if someone called during the day when he was asleep. She sometimes turned the volume down, but had forgotten that night. She put her book face-down on the sofa and the spine standing up in the air.

She padded into the kitchen, her stocking feet slipped a bit on the tile floor. She grabbed the phone and put it to her ear. There was a loud blast of static on the other end and she pulled it away until it ended.

"Hello?"

There was more static. It sounded like voices on the other end, perhaps a crossed line, talking, babbling, laughter. It was weird.

"Mary Ann?"

The voice was soft and very far away, as if she were getting a long distance call. She didn't know anyone traveling abroad, so that couldn't have been correct.

"Hello?" She called louder. "Hello, who's there?"

There was more static and a peal of thunder from outside. This time it was so loud it shook the entire apartment building, the windows rattling in their frames. More sounds of voices, talking, jabbering. Were there really people on the other end of the lines having conversations like that? How could anyone understand anything?

"Mary Ann, is that you?"

"Yes, this is Mary Ann," she said.

This time there was laughter. It was loud, deep, and menacing. Mary Ann felt her blood turn to ice and she nearly dropped the phone.

"Who is this?" She asked.

"Are you home alone?" The voice asked.

Mary Ann had heard enough. She slammed the phone down and backed away from it as if it were a snake that might leap off the wall and bite her at any moment. Outside there was more lightning and then another blast of thunder. It was one of those frustratingly dry storms. No rain. As if nature itself were holding back, avoiding releasing the tension that had built up. She hated when the storms were like that. Why didn't it just rain?

The phone rang again.

Mary Ann looked around the kitchen. There was nothing there. White counter, white floor, white walls, white cabinets and appliances. Everything the same. The only thing that stood out was the yellow phone on the wall. Normally she thought it looked like bright sunlight amid white clouds. Now it was like a menacing yellow eye staring at her.

Should she answer it? What if it were Nathan calling from work? What if something had happened? What if it were her mother?

Mary Ann picked up the phone.

Another blast of static.

More babbling.

"Don't hang up on me," the voice said. "We have things to talk about, you and I, Mary Ann Noble. Or should I call you Mary Ann Hoeffner?"

Hoeffner was her maiden name. The voice was deep, but there was a strangeness to it. At times it slid up in register, as if the person speaking were having a hard time keeping their voice level. There were times when it was as if the person behind the voice were right behind her, and other times when it felt as if the voice were coming from a long dark tunnel.

"Who is this?" Mary Ann asked, her voice pleading. "Why are you doing this?"

"I have someone here who wants me to talk to you," the voice said. "It's your father."

"Mary Ann?"

Mary Ann felt tears spring to her eyes instantly and fall down her cheeks. Her father had died just over a year ago, passing away quietly in his sleep from a heart attack. That was his voice. From just those two words she knew it as she knew that she was standing right there in her kitchen.

"Daddy?" She asked. "Is that you?"

"Help me, Mary Ann!" The voice was now feared with terror, not like the voice of her father that she knew. "Get away! Get away from me and stay away from my daughter!"

"Daddy!" she screamed. Tears were falling down her face and spattering on the floor. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Just making sure you're paying attention, dear," the voice had returned. "Are you paying attention? I've known your father for some time now. He made a bargain with me, Mary Ann. I intend on making him uphold his end."

"What are you talking about?" Mary Ann cried. "Who is this?"

The line went dead. Mary Ann stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. She went back to the phone and hit the receiver several times, clicking fast, until there was a click on the phone and the voice of an operator came on the line.

"Operator, can I help you?"

"Can you tell me where the call that just came into this line came from?"

"One moment."

There was a long pause. Now the shadows all around her seemed like they were encroaching on her. Every sound, every flash of the lightning, made her jump. Was that shadow moving? Was that the sound of a footstep?

"I'm sorry ma'am, but there was no call placed to this number tonight."

Mary Ann felt the receiver get slick in her hand as she began to sweat. There was a rumble of thunder, again shaking the entire building. Still no rain.

"What do you mean?" Mary Ann said. "There were just two calls placed to this number. Creepy, scary calls."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't show any calls having been placed to this number. Would you like me to connect you to the police?"

Mary Ann thought about that for a moment. What would she tell them? That some weirdo had called her twice and made some creepy comments and then hung up? She had no idea how the phone company recorded records. Maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation for why there was no record. It was all too much and there were too many maybes.

"No," she said. "No thank you."

Mary Ann hung up the phone. More thunder. More lightning and then even more thunder.

She knew a few of her neighbors. There was the nice Mrs. Dennison just a floor down. Maybe she should go knock on her door and see if the old woman would like some company for the evening. Mary Ann looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 10, though, and it was likely that Mrs. Dennison was already asleep.

Who else did she know?

She was always the type to keep to herself. Her sister lived in the suburbs, but it was a least forty-five minutes away. Her sister was also likely getting ready for bed. Her mom? Her mom was closer, but she was an older woman now, and then she was back to the same dilemma as with Mrs. Dennison. Her mother would likely be asleep. Besides, did she really want to tell her mother the creepy and awful things the voice had said about her father?

No. No, she did not.

Instead Mary Ann walked around the apartment and made sure the windows and doors were locked. She lived on the third floor, the top floor of the building, in a corner apartment. There was no fire escape, but there was a front and back door, both of which looked out on hallways. Mary Ann peeped through the hole in the door, seeing the fish-eyed view of the hallway. Nothing but carpeting, white painted walls and the doors to more apartments.

She walked back to the kitchen and found a large kitchen knife in the sink. She grabbed that and curled up on the sofa. Outside the world was lit up again and again from the storm and the thunder grew louder and closer together. She watched television through the static.

A loud blast of thunder awoke her.

She was still sitting curled up on the sofa, the television on and the sharp knife still held in her hand. Mary Ann hadn't even been aware that she had fallen asleep. Johnny Carson was on the television, wrapping up the show. Normally she would have been in bed by now.

She uncurled her legs and then stretched. Her neck and shoulders ached and popped as she did so.

There was rain pattering and spattering against the window. The wind was strong, shaking the building like the thunder had before. The storm seemed particularly fierce tonight, as it all of that rage outside was trying very hard to get inside.

Mary Ann got up and shuffled through the kitchen and then into the bedroom. Their comfortable queen-sized bed was waiting. She flopped into it, putting the knife on the bed-side table, wrapped the covers over her, and was soon sound asleep again. She barely noticed the storm as it raged outside.

It was a sound that woke her again that night. It wasn't the thunder this time.

This time it was someone in the room.

Mary Ann was confused. There was no light coming from the window to her left. It was pitch black. The storm had apparently abated. No more thunder and no more lightning. There was still the soft patter of rain, but no more raging storm. She looked at the clock and it was just after three in the morning.

"Who?" Mary Ann said.

"Shhhhh."

Mary Ann felt terror grip her heart.

There was someone in the corner of the room, hidden by shadows.

She reached toward the nightstand for the knife.

It was gone.

"I took that away," the voice said. "I didn't want you stabbing me on accident."

Mary Ann paused. The voice was familiar.

"Nathan?"

The figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Nathan. Still in his shirt from work, wearing his dark rimmed glasses and smiling. Mary Ann was confused. What was he doing home now? He wouldn't be home until later in the morning.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's the middle of the night."

"I dunno," Nathan said, stepping toward the bed. "I just got this feeling that something was wrong here. I asked to leave early. Are you OK?"

Mary Ann felt relief wash over her and she opened her arms to him. He came and knelt down beside the bed and embraced her. She smelled his smell, that of shaving cream and Old Spice, and breathed him in. She wept out of relief, the strange phone call already seeming like something out of a dream.

"Yes, I'm OK," she said, her head still full of sleep. "It's been a terrifying night, though."

Nathan stood up and walked toward the closet, removing his work shirt and then his pants. He turned back to her in his underwear and T-shirt. He came back over by her and knelt down again, hugging her.

"What happened?" He asked.

Mary Ann's brain was spinning. What was he doing home? That was so weird and so unlike him. He had gone to work when he was so sick that she was sure he was going to fall over. Him coming home just because he had a feeling that something was wrong was unlike him. Nathan was a wonderful man, but never particularly intuitive in that way.

"These odd phone calls," Mary Ann said. "Oh, they scared me, Nathan."

Nathan turned his head toward her and kissed her. She closed her eyes and felt her head swimming, her consciousness swimming away. It was like being on some kind of drug.

"You're OK now," Nathan said, breaking the kiss. "I'm here. I'm home."

Mary Ann put her hand to her head. It was suddenly so hard to think. Was the room darker?

"Wh-why are you home?" she asked. "I'm confused."

"Shhh," he replied, "just relax. Relax."

Nathan was pushing her softly down on the bed. His hands were wandering over her. It felt fantastic. His strong hands. The smell of his aftershave all over him and now all over her. He kissed her again.

"Wh-wait," Mary Ann said.

Mary Ann was so confused. None of this made sense. Nothing about this was like Nathan. Jesus, why couldn't she think? She had tried marijuana once when she was in high school, and had been a little drunk before, but she had not remembered feeling like this before. It was as if someone was inside her brain, telling her just to relax.