The Wicked

by Dan Dillard

  “I see you, child. I feel your fear and drink deep from its well. I’ll hold you ‘til you’re in the ground, a rotten, stinking smell.”

  Charlie-Bear whimpered, then let out a piercing shriek that woke Sam. Wicked spun into a funnel cloud that disappeared into the baby’s nose and mouth. Faith opened the door at the same time.

  “I’m home!” she sang. “How are my men doing?”

  Sam sat up carefully and hugged Charlie-Bear to his chest, rocking and shushing.

  “In here,” he said.

  Faith hurried to the doorway. “I hear that,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t know,” Sam replied, handing the child to his mother. “He just woke up screaming.”

  Charlie-Bear calmed in his mother’s arms. He stared, wild-eyed, at the stuffed, yellow duck that lay on the floor.

  “I’m here. Mommy’s here now,” Faith said. “What happened to my little comedian, huh?”

  Sam rubbed his face and stood next to them, feeling helpless.

  “We were havin’ a great morning, weren’t we, little man?”

  He expected to see the thing in the baby’s eye again, but those eyes were clear and blue, slightly damp with tears. Charlie-Bear held his hands out for Sam.

  “Aww,” Faith said. “Daddy’s boy?”

  “Fine with me,” Sam said.

  He smiled as he held his son. Charlie-Bear continued to stare at the duck.

  “Maybe it was a bad dream?” Faith said.

  “Could be.”

  Sam looked at the duck on the floor.

  “Is that what you want? The duck?” he said.

  Faith leaned over and picked up the stuffed animal and held it up for Charlie-Bear, who screamed his disapproval and hid his head in the pocket of Sam’s shoulder.

  “Okay,” Faith said. “I guess duck-man is out this week.”

  “Yeah, go hide that somewhere,” Sam said.

  He walked over to the window and looked outside at the bright sun. Faith disappeared with the duck and came back a moment later empty-handed.

  “Maybe we should head outside and enjoy some of this fresh air?” Faith said.

  “I was thinking the exact same thing,” Sam said.

  SIX---

  A week had passed when Faith called Sam at work. He had just finished signing a stack of papers when the phone rang and looked at his clock. It was just after three.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said.

  “Hi. Whatcha doin?” she said.

  “I’m blindly signing documents without reading them.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No. It probably isn’t, but the paycheck is nice, and you’re worth it. What can I do for you? Charlie-Bear okay?”

  “He’s great. A whole week of great, actually. I thought we might celebrate tonight?”

  Sam smiled.

  “You call Charlotte?”

  “She’ll be here in two hours so I can get ready.”

  “I guess I’ll call and get reservations. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Seafood,” Faith said.

  “Sounds good.”

  “And dancing.”

  “Ewww,” Sam said.

  “Sam!”

  “Okay. Tell Charlotte to spend the night. We’ll make it a late night, just you and me.”

  “Already did. Love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  He lay the phone in its cradle and smiled, then pulled the lid to his laptop open to get the number to their favorite restaurant. Another quick phone call secured their reservation at seven, and at twenty minutes before five, he closed the door to his office and headed home.

  Charlotte burst in the door with a backpack and a tiny present wrapped in blue paper with cartoon trains on it.

  “Where’s my little bear?” she said and snuck past Faith into the living room.

  Charlie-Bear smiled and she picked him up and spun him around, his legs dangling.

  “Nice to see you too, sis,” Faith said.

  “Love you, but this guy is too cute, and we have a date tonight. Don’t you have a date too? You should go get ready, cause you...look...old.”

  Faith mouthed the word bitch at her and walked into the kitchen to check stock. She babbled about milk in the refrigerator and how to warm it. Charlotte rolled her eyes and danced Charlie-Bear around. He giggled. In the kitchen, Faith was setting out jars of baby food and some cookies that claimed to be for teething mouths. Charlotte hugged her.

  “Sis, I’ve got this. Go. Have a good time.”

  “I know, but we’ve been together since he was conceived.”

  “All the more reason. Hey, what’s he doing up there? Didn’t Aunt Charlotte get that for you?”

  Faith turned around to see the stuffed duck but it was too late. Charlotte was already reaching for it, and Charlie-Bear screamed as soon as he saw it. Faith grabbed it from her and tucked it behind her back.

  “What the?” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t know, just console him while I get rid of this thing,” Faith said.

  She patted her son on the back and backed out of the kitchen, keeping the duck behind her.

  “Who is afraid of a stuffed yellow ducky?” Charlotte said.

  She made faces at Charlie-Bear and got his attention back on giggling and flying around in her arms. Faith opened the rolling trash bin and tossed the duck inside. Back in the kitchen, she smiled at her son and her sister.

  “I guess you’re right. I should relax and let you do your thing.”

  “Yep. Spoiling him until you have another one.”

  “Or you have one of your own,” Faith said.

  “Oh, nope. No time soon. Besides, I’ve got this little guy and I can give him back to his mommy when he acts like all those babies I’ve been dating lately.”

  “He’s not like them,” Faith said.

  “You’re right,” Charlotte replied. “Charlie-Bear is a perfect gentleman.”

  She held him up and kissed him on the chubby part of his cheek, gobbling at his neck and being generally silly. The boy chuckled and ate the attention up. He seemed to have forgotten the duck, although something—his scream, perhaps—had aroused the monster inside him, and his eyes were slightly glazed over. Then, like a camera shutter, something flickered in them.

  “Hello ladies,” Sam said, walking in the door.

  His suit jacket and tie were slung over one arm.

  “So?” Faith said.

  “So, go get dressed. Reservation’s at seven.”

  Faith kissed the baby, then her sister on the cheek. She disappeared with a grin.

  “Nice to see you Charlotte,” Sam said.

  “You too, bro. I guess she’s excited?”

  Charlotte was still holding Charlie-Bear, looking in the direction that Faith had left.

  “I guess so. Hope I don’t let her down.”

  “Just fill her full of wine and she’ll be happy. You guys haven’t been out in a while, I take it?”

  “Not without this guy.”

  Sam took his son and hugged him and stroked the thin hairs on his head. He quickly checked the boy’s eyes. They weren’t as clear as he’d hoped, but nothing looked back, and nothing moved, and the boy was happily teething on a plastic ring, tiny teeth clicking and clacking. He held it up for his father to see.

  “I see that, buddy. Can I have some?”

  Charlie-Bear giggled and put the ring back in his own mouth.

  It wants him to become a wicked too. A demon.

  There was no demon in there, and his boy was no demon either.

  “Okay, then,” Sam said. “Save me a bite for later.”

  Sam gave the boy back to his aunt.

  “Charlotte,” he said.

  She looked up at him.

  “No smoking in the house, okay?”

  “Nope. I quit. Well, I have an emergency pack, but definitely not around the kiddo.”

  “Good enough,” Sam said.
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  He went up the stairs to freshen up and change clothes. In forty-five minutes, Faith was ready to go, and Sam was impressed.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Not old?”

  “Hell no,” he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

  “Why, thank you, sir.”

  They left after making sure their phone numbers were in Charlotte’s cell, as well as written and posted in the kitchen. Charlotte held up Charlie-Bear’s hand so he looked like he was waving goodbye. He was still in a good mood.

  SEVEN---

  Charlotte sat on the floor, bouncing a plush toy that looked like either a pig or a hippo in front of her nephew. He giggled and grabbed at it. That game worked much longer than she’d expected. Every so often, she’d let Charlie-Bear get ahold of the critter so he could also bounce it around. He squealed with delight.

  “Now it’s my turn,” she said and took the pig-hippo and wiggled it for his amusement.

  When the phone rang, it startled them both.

  “Hello, sis,” Charlotte said.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  “Psychic sister power...and caller ID. Plus, I was just expecting you to call. We’re fine, everything is okay.”

  She turned to look at the child, who was sitting up watching her, still holding the pig-hippo in his chubby, pink hands.

  “Great. I just wanted to check in. Dinner was fabulous, wine is fabulous, Sam is fabulous,” Faith gushed.

  “Okay, okay. Go be fabulous,” Charlotte said.

  “Thanks again, sis. Don’t wait up!”

  “I won’t.”

  The line disconnected and Charlotte sat back down on the floor with the little one. He rubbed a balled-up fist in his eye. She scooped him up and danced him around and he settled into her chest with a yawn.

  “Looks like someone’s sleepy. Maybe a little milk before you go to bed, huh party animal?”

  She held him and prepared a bottle and then they headed up the stairs for some rocking and if all went well, Charlotte thought, some restful sleep.

  “If you go to bed, Aunt Charlotte can watch her favorite show,” she said.

  Charlie-Bear yawned in response. They sat in the rocking chair that was next to his crib. The overhead light was off and the room was lit in the cool green of his night-light. A squeak in the rockers gave a nice rhythm to the movement. It made Charlotte long for a child of her own, but only briefly. Charlie-Bear yawned, spitting out the nipple of the bottle, only halfway finished with his milk.

  “You full?” she asked, yawning herself.

  A few pats on his back caused a tiny burp, and then he was out cold in her arms. The cutest thing she had ever seen. He grumbled a little when she laid him in the crib, but that quickly faded into an easy snore.

  Charlotte tiptoed back down to the living room and sat on the couch. It had only been a few hours, and though she was smiling, Charlotte had to admit he had given her a workout. She picked up her phone and texted Faith.

  BEAR IS ASLEEP. DO NOT DISTURB.

  *****

  “Aw, I’m so glad he’s finally feeling better,” Faith said, showing the text to Sam.

  He smiled and put his arm around her as they walked from the restaurant to a jazz bar just a few blocks away. She tucked the phone into her purse and kissed him.

  “Thanks for the date, Mister.”

  Her eyes were glossy with love for her husband, and the warm glow from most of a bottle of red wine. He looked back at her with equal admiration.

  “You sure you want to stay out late, dance, drink, and act silly?”

  “I do. You?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do, too.”

  “You guess?”

  He shuffled his feet and acted embarrassed.

  “I suppose I miss the little guy.”

  “Me too. That’s why I need another glass of wine.”

  They turned into the club’s entrance and walked through the door. It was decorated in a sleek, black-and-white style with a live brass ensemble playing something smooth. Sam found a secluded table and ordered a pair of drinks. She sat across from him and held his hand while the band switched to a tune with a little more spunk.

  “Shall we?” Faith asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask,” she said.

  *****

  Charlotte found the channel with her favorite show. It was a guilty-pleasure reality show where people she would never socialize with did things she would never do. She kept the volume on low so she could hear the baby if he woke up. A small, battery-powered monitor sat next to the couch on an end table and over it, she could hear the soft sounds of his easy breathing.

  On screen, two girls in revealing clothes and bad hair argued and pointed fake nails at each other. Charlotte sipped from her bottle of water and smirked at the absurdity.

  She yawned and checked her cell phone to find it was after eleven. On TV, the same two girls were hugging. Charlotte stood up for a good, long stretch and then placed her phone on the table next to the baby monitor.

  “So much drama,” she whispered.

  Charlie-Bear’s breathing was still steady, still sweet. It had a hum to it that made her smile, the content sounds of a happy baby.

  “I wish I could sleep like that.”

  Looking at the couch, she shook her head.

  “Not tonight.”

  Grabbing the blanket that was draped across the back of the couch, Charlotte lay down and covered herself. She turned the volume down on the television until it was hardly audible, and closed her eyes. The light from the television kept the room alive.

  *****

  Lights flickered off of the trumpets, trombones and saxophones as the band swung to their own music. Sam and Faith laughed at his clumsiness, but he was a good sport and kept trying. When the song ended, both were winded.

  “Wow. Not bad. I never met anyone so willing to dance so badly,” Faith said.

  The band started a slower tune, something heartfelt, and one of the players stepped forward to sing.

  “This is more my speed,” Sam said. “I’ll try not to step on you.”

  It was midnight, and there were two empty bottles of wine on their table. The club was busy, but not crowded, and they melted into each other as they slow-danced.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Faith pushed up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  *****

  Charlotte’s breathing matched Charlie-Bear’s and as the clock on the cable box read 1:00 am, the third episode of her ridiculous show, the one she loved, changed to an infomercial.

  EIGHT---

  Charlie-Bear’s face was bathed in that cool green glow when Wicked slipped out. Its misty form flowed through the bars to the crib and crept down the stairs to check the rest of the house. It stopped for a moment and hovered over Charlotte’s sleeping form long enough to register the stranger. She wrinkled her nose, detecting the monster’s stink and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  It was long enough for the creature to make its escape, back into the darkness and up the stairs.

  “Ugh, what is that?” she said and followed it with a cough.

  Charlotte took a second to realize where she was, then listened to the monitor until she was satisfied Charlie-Bear was still sleeping. As the stench faded, she rolled, trying to find a more comfortable position on the sofa. She was back asleep in a minute.

  Wicked danced in the boy’s room, casting shadows of his own in the night-light’s glow. It jumped from the floor to the top of the dresser, and hung from the blades of the ceiling fan which was turned off. It leapt to the floor and peeked out into the hallway, checking the bathroom and Faith and Sam’s room to find them empty. Finally, it slinked back to the crib where it perched like a vulture over the baby.

  “Wicked likes the things he sees, likes the fear, likes disease, wants to bring you to your knees. To eat your soul, would Wicked please.”

  It stepped into the crib and licked
its bloodshot eyes, then caressed the baby’s cheek with a clawed hand, black and scaly. The claw on its index finger left a white scrape as it dragged along the baby’s skin. The scratch turned red and raised up, but didn’t wake the child.

  “Precious child, dreams go wild. Always Wicked, never mild,” it said.

  In a swirl of fog, it was around the boy, suffocating him with the horrid smell, and when the baby gasped, coughing for clean air, Wicked was swallowed in a gulp. Visions of black, spindly-legged things with glowing eyes and long tusks crawled through Charlie-Bear’s brain. Deep pitched laughing and pained screams filled his tiny ears from the inside, and he tossed and turned. He bunched his fingers into fists and pounded on the small mattress inside his crib, then he sat up, panting, eyes watery and wide, searching for the monsters he had just dreamed...and then, Charlie-Bear screamed.

  *****

  The sound was deafening, a high-pitched squeal with so much emotion, mothers ten blocks away must’ve sat up in their beds. Charlotte’s eyes batted and opened. For a moment, she thought it might be a tea kettle, or some sort of whistle, but the scream paused and then restarted, the undeniable sound of a baby catching its breath for another round of tantrum. She threw the blanket off of herself and the couch, grabbed her cell phone, and rushed up the stairs.

  “Charlie, what’s wrong?” she said as she reached the second floor. “What is it, baby?”

  He screamed again. As Wicked danced through his head, Charlie-Bear held onto the rails of his crib with one hand, and slugged himself with his other fist. Smashing blows to the head, one after another, like he was trying to knock the alien thing out of his ear or his mouth or wherever it was hiding.

  “Stop that. Charlie-Bear, you’ll hurt yourself!”

  Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to grasp the boy and hold his hand so he couldn’t strike himself anymore. Red patches bloomed on his delicate skin, and one red-lined scratch stood out across his cheek. Wicked peered out at Aunt Charlotte through the baby’s left eye, then he darted away and appeared in the right eye.

  Holding Charlie-Bear’s hand against his side, she pulled the boy up to her chest and held him close, rocking and bouncing and saying, “Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shh. Aunt Charlotte is here.”