Torment (3 page)

*****

Dolly woke when her husband’s alarm clock went off.
Mornings were a busy time for her. Make some breakfast, pack a lunch, feed
Julia, and finally, have some time to wash up.

The baby was being particularly difficult. She didn’t
want a bottle or to be moved from her crib. To boot, Julia had a loud, messy
bowel movement that required both parents to take care of the mess. It left all
three in a foul mood.

Her husband stomped off to work, hastily packed
luncheon in hand. Dolly plopped her sour tot into the playpen. Julia grumbled
unhappily at this, but soon laid over to sleep. Her mother was relieved. She
poured a second cup of tea and set about scrubbing the soiled nappy. Money was
tight. Salvaging the diaper was a daunting, but necessary task.

She put a large pot on the stove to boil, disgustedly
examining the clout closer. She hoped that Julia wasn’t ill. The witch woman
from the day before was very much still with her. An illness would mean a
continuation of the unpleasantness.

A thick grey splotch caught her eye. Something was
sticking out of the waste. Dolly held her breath against the stink, bringing
the nappy even closer.

It was fur.

******

Dr. Cort was the most experienced physician in the
district. As a result, the police always came round to rouse him or interrupt
his day whenever a death occurred. He didn’t really mind. Dealing with the
deceased was usually preferable to the woes of the living. Plus they paid him a
rather tidy sum for the duty.

This particular crime he’d have gladly traded for
fifty spoiled, colic ridden babbies.

A human skeleton sat on a dirty picnic blanket
surrounded by mutilated rat bodies. Piled to one side lay a ragged bobby’s
uniform. Blood was literally everywhere, caked to the walls and floor of the
alley, even dried on the gnawed bones.

While all these things were disturbing enough, it was
the fact revealed by his magnifying glass which was making Dr. Cort’s blood run
cold; a myriad of tiny, sharp tooth marks littered the skeleton. The same thing
showed on the rat’s bodies as well, though not as obvious.

“What’s the word, Doc?” A burly sergeant asked. He
sounded slightly sickened by the whole scene.

“Not entirely sure,” Cort answered, rising from his
crouched position stiffly. “Something with small, humanoid teeth ate both
rodent and the poor constable.”

“Humanoid? Do we have a band of pygmies running
about?”

“No clue. Maybe a ship from Africa smuggled some apes
back that got free. Maybe someone from the zoo can take a look.”

The sergeant whistled. “Will do. In the meantime, I’ve
some bad news to break to the constable’s family. Thank you for your time,
Doctor.”

Back in his office, Dr. Cort sipped tea and looked out
the window at the harbor. A strange crime. It made you wish for a simple
shooting. His monkey theory was farfetched, but some wild animal attack was the
likeliest cause. Sailors who travelled to exotic locations often collected
foreign creatures to sell to the wealthy or to the zoo itself. Why, just last
summer, an aspiring merchant had passed on after being bitten by a smuggled
cobra.

He couldn’t get the odd shape of the tooth marks out
of his head. Though he knew better, they were, well, more human than what he’d
wanted to admit to the police. Small, well, toddler sized. Cort made a note to
get impression of the marks from the sergeant.

Frantic voices broke into his musings. Dr. Cort
groaned. A small time of quiet, Lord, that’s all he wanted. He set down his cup
and walked out to the waiting room.

“Doctor!” Dolly screamed. She clutched a swaddled
Julia, who wailed like an air raid siren. “Oh thank Jesus! Something is very
wrong with her! That hag did something! I knew she had!”

“Calm down, Dolly!” Dr. Cort rolled his eyes
internally. “Come into the exam room and I’ll have a look.”

Julia immediately went silent placed her down on the
leather topped table. She shot a mistrustful look at the adults and hissed,
actually
hissed
at her terrified mother.

“
See!”
Dolly shrieked. “It’s like she’s gone
mad!”

Dr. Cort leaned in close to the tot, smiling
reassuringly. She withdrew to the table’s edge, whimpering. Julia’s eyes darted
left and right, looking for some avenue of escape.

“No need to fret,” Cort was thoroughly confused. Was
this the same child he’d examined yesterday? “It’s your old mate, Dr. Cort.
Let’s see what the problem is.”

Suddenly, the baby lunged forward at the doctor’s
outstretched hand. Julia bit deep into the webbing between thumb and
forefinger. He yelled out in pain, resisting the instinct to fling the baby
across the room.

The child’s jaws were ratcheting down harder with each
passing second. Cort pleaded for Julia to release him. Dolly was no help. Her
hands were plastered to her face. She screamed shrilly, mercifully passing out
before the wailing split his head wide open.

Loathe as he was to do so, he drew a hand back to
strike the child. Julia, perhaps sensing what was coming, abruptly let go with
a final shake. Her last wrenching maneuver rewarded the tot with a mouthful of
flesh.

Dr. Cort wrapped his handkerchief around his bleeding
hand clumsily. The baby sat with her head cocked, noisily chewing the meat. She
looked like the dog on the RCA records gone crazy. What was she listening for?

“Mrs. Root!” Cort called, stumbling out to the waiting
room. “Please call for an ambulance!”

His secretary was slumped over her desk, large bruise
forming on her exposed cheek. A tall, beautiful woman, wearing a dark green
cloak and holding a blackthorn walking stick stood over Mrs. Root. Three other
babies sat at her feet.

“Wh-who are you?” Dr. Cort whispered, intimidated by
the regal lady’s stature. His wound was nearly forgotten.

“A lonely old mother,” the woman croaked mockingly.
“Come to claim a few children as my own.”

“You…”

“Yes, I was the one who kissed them. I fed them. Now
they’ll come with me. First though, we need strength for our journey. Provide
us with some nourishment, good physician.”

Julia grabbed his left leg from behind. The others
converged on him, the fiery beauty pulling Dr. Cort’s tongue from his mouth in
a final gruesome kiss.

Even with the truck mounted wench, bringing up the
coffin was nerve wracking. It groaned, creaked, bumping gently against the
grave’s sides. Each time the latter occurred, Elise’s breath caught briefly in
her throat. Jones was experienced though. He carefully monitored the casket’s
progress, stopping frequently to shine a bright light on the muddy box and
checking for cracks or leaks.

If water had broken through the seal, no one made any
money. Their buyers didn’t want moldy bones and tarnished jewelry.

“So far, so good,” Jones muttered. Elise knew from
years of working with the man that her de facto boss was talking to himself.
“Yup. Nice, tight, and all right.”

Bushes parted, making Elise jump. Mikey, the junior
member of the crew, emerged, zipping up his fly. He was twenty, freckle faced,
and had a perpetually tousled head of bright red hair, making him look like an overgrown
Chuckie doll. Though she’d been skeptical at first on working with someone so
young, the kid had won them both over by being an extremely good digger.

Unfortunately, Mikey also had a significant crush on
Elise. It was annoying, but she tolerated it. She was thirty, too thin, and had
no other romantic prospects. Compliments were few and far between. Being
treated to a meal was an even rarer occurrence. She was very careful not to
lead the boy on. Breaking hearts wasn’t something she liked to do.

A snort of laughter escaped her. It was a bad joke.
Did
you hear the one about the grave robber with a heart? She got it from the widow
Perkins last night!!! Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!

The coffin finally cleared the hole. Jones expertly
manipulated the crane’s controls. Soon it was sitting on the grass beside the
grave. Elise and Mikey undid the heavy duty cargo straps.

“Okay,” Jones removed a scrap of paper from his breast
pocket. “We have one Miss Liv Marius. Died 2002 at the ripe old age of 38. Our
interested party believes that she practiced witchcraft, which makes this
somehow valuable to our client. We are to collect the skull, spinal column, and
both hands, all finger bones. Everything else we find belongs to us. Clear?”

“Cool with me,” Mikey smiled a bit. “Who wants to
crack it open?”

“I will.” Elise flicked her head lamp on, examining
the seal on the coffin. Cheap silicone stuff. She clucked her tongue
disapprovingly. “Undertaker was a corner cutter. Lucky for us.”

From a shoulder bag of tools she selected protective
gear and a spray can labelled “Dissolve-Ex.” Crab walking, fully aware Mikey
was probably ogling her butt, Elise squirted a generous coat of the noxious
substance around the lid. Goop ran, making thick streaks through the mud caked
onto the sides.

Jones seated a crowbar into a crack. He grunted. The
concrete protested, but slowly came open. A fetid wave of air rushed out to
greet them.

“Oh man!” Mikey groaned, waving a hand around to
disburse the smell. “Do you ever get used to that stink?”

“Nope,” Jones began working on the other side of the
coffin’s lid. “It’s a dead body. It’s going to stink. All you can do is work
through it.”

“Or wear a mask,” Elise gestured to her respirator.
“Like I keep telling you to.”

“Jones doesn’t,” Mikey’s brow furrowed. “What’s the
trick?”

“Menthol rub,” Jones grinned as the other seal broke.
“Coat my upper lip with it.”

“Oh.”

Conversation stopped. The now exposed body was wrapped
head to toe in a dark purple shroud. Mikey pulled a pair of heavy duty shears
from his tool pouch and began to carefully cut through the thick fabric over
the corpse’s head. Jones did the same from the feet.

“Skull looks good,” Mikey reported. “Necklace here
too. Yellow gold with purple stones on the pendent.”

“Bangles on the left ankle,” Jones said. “Brass,
probably. Careful of that spine now, Mike. The buyer wants it intact. Elise,
get closer with your light. Keep young Michael on the straight and narrow.”

She crouched beside the boy, noting his slight flush of
pleasure, even in the shadows the head lamp cast over Mikey’s face. Kid had it
bad all right. Flattering, but she was going to have to put a stop to it. His
crush would eventually make for rougher working conditions and create friction
in the group.

Mikey was beginning to work through the ribcage to get
at the prized spine when something growled from the underbrush. Elise shone her
lamp at it, revealing a pair of bloodshot black eyes.

“What-“Jones began, straightening up. A small furry
creature burst from cover. Shiny teeth chomped down on Mikey’s wrist. He howled
in pain, flailing about wildly in an attempt to dislodge the monster grinding
its fangs through his skin to the bone.

“Hold still!” Jones thundered. It cut through the
confused, panicked haze enveloping Mikey’s mind. He instantly obeyed. One hard
swing of the crowbar later, the young man was free. The skittering beast rolled
about, squalling in rage and agony.

Elise had produced her reliable little .380 automatic.
She was drawing a bead on the twisting creature. Jones pushed the gun up and
simultaneously smashed his tool into the animal’s head. The fearsome noise
stopped.

“Holy crap!” Mikey gasped. “What the hell was that? My
arm hurts like a mothersucker!”

“Raccoon,” Jones was looking closely at the bludgeoned
body. “Rabid too. Bad luck for you, Mike.”

“Oh man!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital after we
finish up. Get you some shots and stitches.”

“Stitches!” Mikey almost wailed.

“Yup,” Jones walked back to the open casket. “Fifty-five
of them, at least.”

Elise tried to hide her smile. The kid was so darn
gullible. Mikey sat down heavily, one hand clamped to his wound. His blue eyes
were so big she was afraid they might topple out of his head.

Quickly and carefully, the duo removed the requested
components. Elise was carefully placing the finger bones in a small padded box.
Jones was nearby, examining some odd writing he’d found on the underside of the
coffin lid. He gasped. Began to hiccup. Stopped.

“What’s up Jones?” Elise asked quietly. “You okay?”

“Did you see this?” Jones’ voice was odd. He was
subdued, all his usual confidence gone. “It’s a warning.”

She looked. It was several lines of text written in
some language she didn’t recognize. “So what? We’ve seen stuff like this before.
Anyway, how do you know it’s a warning? You can’t read that any better than I
can.”

“No, no. This is different. This is serious. We should
put it all back.”

“Come on Jones! Snap out of it. We have what we need.
Let’s put the rest back and go.”

Mikey stood uneasily. “What’s wrong?”

Jones was transfixed by the script. His arms were
folded over his chest. He was rocking slightly, mouth working silently. Elise
was slightly disgusted as drool began to run slowly from the corner of his
mouth.

She exchanged a worried look with Mikey. He shrugged
slightly, moving away from Jones slowly. Dealing with one crazy animal was
enough.

“I’m sorry,” Jones said softly. “We’re all sorry.”

“Who are you talking to?” Mikey whispered.

“Her. She’s mad. We need to say sorry and put the
stuff back. Say you’re sorry, okay guys?”

“Who’s mad? Dammit, Jones, we paid off the people we
needed to,” Elisa was looking about, gun out and ready. “Is someone else
messing around here?”

“The lady’s very mad,” Jones voice was that of a
child. “We shouldn’t have defiled her. We have to put it back.
Gotta
put
it back and hope she won’t be mad anymore.”

“No,” Elise said firmly. “I don’t know what’s come
over you, but we’ve got what we need. Let’s go and get our fee. Just like
always, right Mikey?”

“Right,” Mikey said confidently. “Just like always.”

Violently shaking now, their boss was moaning. He
pointed into the forest beyond the weathered headstone. His normally olive skinned
complexion was draining away. The neat goatee he affected was whitening before
them. Dark blood began to run down one nostril.

“Witch! It’s the witch!” Jones screamed. “It’s too
late now! The witch is here!”

Following the pointing digit into the dark woods,
Elise and Mikey yelled in fear and surprise. Before them, trailing a long gown
behind her, a twistedly beautiful apparition floated towards the trio. She was
not pale, like a movie ghost, but glowed a light green. Her face was long,
flawlessly smooth. The eyes were hard, glittering diamonds. Two monstrous dogs
trailed behind her. Easily as tall as Elise herself, twice as broad. They each
wore wide collars of thick ebony leather. Bright tanzanite pendants hung from
the middle.

“My name is Liv Marius,” the apparition growled. “You
have violated my slumber. Why have you done this? Why have you defiled my
body?”

“We’re sorry!” Jones cried, falling to his knees on
the muddy ground. “Oh please, don’t hurt us! We’ll put it back! We promise!”

One hand raised. The man’s frantic apologies ceased.
He made a guttural whining sound. More blood began to flow, from both nostrils
now. Slow at first, the thick crimson picked up the pace. It positively dumped
out, punctuated here and there with some grey matter.

Elise’s throat convulsed, gulping in air. She loosed
an ear piercing wail. Her arm raised the small handgun. It seemed to weigh a
ton now, but she managed. She squeezed the trigger rapidly.

Liv’s shade barely noticed. She was completely focused
on watching the gory mess pour from Jones’ face. A beautiful smile was spread
across her plum colored lips. Perfectly straight, yet yellow stained teeth
appeared. Even the hounds began to grin in a doggy way, long violet tongues
lolling from their mouths. 

Mikey stood agape, rooted in place by the gruesome
sight. Silent tears poured down his cheeks. A rapid, disjointed prayer ran through
his mind. What was this? Why had no one bothered to tell him that these things
could happen?

Jones’ life ended in a final hiccupping belch. He
flopped down on his belly, head rebounding gently before coming to a final
stop. The ghost lady giggled. She clapped enthusiastically at the vile display.
Once her glee had passed, she turned to the pair standing nearby.

“Now,” Liv purred. “What shall I do with the two of
you?”

Unwilling to wait and find out, Elise took off. She
didn’t look back to see if Mikey would follow. The kid was old enough to take
care of himself. Though she would never admit to it, the thought occurred that
she might get away while the ghost was killing the boy.

The specter’s ethereal dress flowed out around the
still frozen form of Mikey. He did not protest as the white, flower specked
material wrapped itself around his arms and legs. Urine ran down his limbs. He
opened his mouth to plead with the evil spirit. Nothing came out except for a
flat croak.

“Shhh!”  Liv whispered, drawing close to the
terrified young man. She placed one hand on top of his head. An unsettling
warmth began to flow through Mikey. Intense pain followed it, mercifully
stopping at the base of his spine.

“A mânca cu poftă!”
She called to the hound on her right.

Ground shaking at its approach, the giant canine
stepped before Mikey. He tried not to cry anymore, tried to be brave in the
face of his certain doom, but the flashing jaws that closed around his entire
head were too terrifying for courage. A racking sob was the last sound he made.

The dog pulled Mikey’s head and spine off his
shoulders. It sucked the vertebrae down intact like a spaghetti noodle. Moments
later the hound began to heave. With a final deep huff, the ghostly animal
regurgitated the boney snack, sans meat and skin.

At Liv’s gesture, the cleaned skull rose to float in
the air. Mikey’s blue eyes peered lovingly up at his new mistress. She smiled
benevolently at him, placing one long fingered hand under his chin, stroking
lightly.

“Find the thieving bitch,” the ghost woman said.
“Bring her to me alive.”

Howling, the gristly seeker took off the way Elise had
fled. The dogs looked to their owner, who nodded approval. They returned the
cry and stormed off, flanking what remained of Mikey.

Their quarry was hiding in a mausoleum close to the
grave. A huge cramp had gripped the back of Elise’s right leg soon after she
sprinted for the exit. Knowing that the witch woman would be on the hunt, she
stifled a scream of frustration and denied the urge to give up. The lock on the
gated tomb door was easily picked, even with hands that quaked in terror.

Inside, breathing the dank, mildew-ridden air, Elise
clutched her reloaded firearm. She was trying to listen over the wild pounding
in her chest. The hamstring spasm was slowly going away. Stretching it as best
she could, Elise knew that running was going to be the only option for escape.
If she hid here for too long, they’d eventually find her.