The Face Stealer

by Robert Scott-Norton

  “You’re—kill—me—” She spat the syllables out, her face red.

  “Tell me what you did!” Max grunted. “Tell me!”

  Her hands had given up trying to pull his grip off, and were now just banging uselessly at his body. She didn’t have much fight left.

  A dull crunch landed on the back of Max’s neck. He fell to the side, his grip on Cindy gone. She gasped for air. Max’s vision flickered, and then he rolled on his back to see the stranger that he’d hit standing over him pointing the gun at his face, grinning.

  “If you’re the husband, the police are coming for you and are likely to be here soon. If you don’t want to be caught, you should probably get out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers. Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Thadeus. And I’m giving you a chance to get lost, forget about the mistress, and vanish.”

  “No chance. I want to know what you’re doing with my wife.” Max said.

  “We just need some time alone. Isn’t that right Cindy?” Thadeus said. And at that moment, he choose to look in her direction for the first time since pointing the gun at Max. Perhaps he’d thought she was incapacitated, but Max had grappled with her before and knew that she was strong, much stronger than she looked.

  The punch hit Thadeus on the side of his face, and he staggered backwards. Cindy moved like lightning, and followed up with another punch, this landing on his windpipe. Thadeus dropped to the ground. Cindy stood, at last holding the gun and pointing it in the direction of both the men.

  “You’re a wanted man Max. Maybe you should listen to Thadeus and get away.”

  “We need to talk. Come with me,” Max said.

  “Can’t do that Max. I need some time alone.”

  Max wanted to run but a look at the gun in Cindy’s hands convinced him to stay put. It looked mean and dangerous; as dangerous as the person holding it. Thadeus slowly got to his feet, rubbing his throat, his face thunderous.

  It seemed the three of them had reached stalemate.

  Thadeus coughed, a rasping noise from the back of his throat.

  “I hope for your sake there was just the one setting on this thing,” she said as she pulled the trigger. A bolt of blue light flashed from the muzzle but went wide and hit the side of the building where the blast dissipated harmlessly. Thadeus didn’t give her another chance and ran forward to grab her wrist, jerking her hand up even as she launched a second bolt into the sky. With his other hand he punched Cindy on the side of her head, where she fell to the ground, forgotten.

  Thadeus coughed again but reached into his mouth and, to Max’s horror, pulled out a silver object. The silver disc rapidly uncoiled in his fingers and twisted as if it wanted its freedom, almost alive. Repulsed Max took a step backwards. But, Thadeus was ready for this and he lunged towards him, slamming his hand onto the side of Max’s neck.

  Max recoiled and pulled away, but the cold pellet bit into his skin. Thadeus took a step back and chuckled. It slipped under Max’s fingers, and the pain intensified as Max realised with horror that it was burrowing under his skin.

  “Help me,” he pleaded, but Thadeus just watched, a thin grin on his face.

  Max made a last desperate effort to rip the creature from his neck, but with a sickening feeling, felt it slip away, under his skin.

  “Be seeing you soon Max,” Thadeus sneered, then turned on his heel as they both heard the van’s engine start up. They ducked out of the way as the van came speeding towards them. Max caught a glimpse of Cindy’s determined face over the top of the steering wheel as it sped past and then away towards the exit from the hospital grounds.

  When Max looked back, Thadeus was gone.

  Max knew he was taking a risk venturing inside the hospital after what he’d been involved with by the loading bay. Security would be all over the place soon enough, and the police would he here in minutes. But despite this, he needed to see what Thadeus had done to him so he ran farther around the perimeter until he found a quiet entrance. Once inside, he headed for the nearest toilet and stepped inside, before sliding the privacy bolt.

  He pulled his shirt off and stepped in front of the mirror above the sink, twisting his neck to catch a look at the site Thadeus had stabbed. The wound was clear with no blood, but leaning in he could see a puncture mark on the side of his neck, like a one-toothed vampire bite. Gingerly, he reached out a finger to touch the wound, and—“damn!” A stinging pain flashed across his muscles and made him wince.

  Something under his skin moved. A rippling under the skin. He hadn’t imagined it. Thadeus had—infected him with something. It's alive, he thought. It's reacting and it knows what it's doing. Max tried to wish these ideas away but once he'd said the words in his head, they became immutable.

  Max didn't believe—or didn't want to believe—what he'd just seen so he repeated the prodding, only this time he was ready for the pain and was bolder with his examination. The stinging lasted longer this time, needling further down his neck and reaching his chest. More rippling. He might have been imagining it, and under these lights it was hard to be sure, but he’d seen a shadow along with the rippling under his skin. He prodded the shadow.

  He gasped in shock, gripped the sides of the basin and dropped to the floor. He gritted his teeth but it wasn't enough to stop a yelp escape his lips.

  After a few minutes, the pain had subsided enough for him to pull himself slowly to his feet. Back at the mirror, Max thought he looked like shit. His pallor was cream and sickly. He was reminded of photos of his grandfather when he'd returned home after his internment in a Japanese POW camp.

  The worm, for that's what he found himself thinking of this thing, swelled up like a small air bladder had inflated behind the skin and when the swelling went down, it was obvious to Max that it had spread. A centimetre, maybe two. But it had moved further along his neck and was touching his collar bone.

  “What have you done to me you bastard?”

  14

  The blackout in Ainsdale had been quick but far reaching. The first call to the police station came at 11:20 from a pedestrian who’d thought he’d been knocked out when he came to lying on the floor, his nose broken from the pavement that had broken his fall. Dozens of calls came in after that and didn’t stop until the paramedics arrived in full force. Payne counted four ambulances by the time he arrived outside the church on the main shopping street. One of the phone calls had been direct to Payne’s mobile from his sister-in-law, Carol. She’d been so distraught and her account of what had happened so vague but terrifying that Payne agreed to meet her in person.

  The main road, normally so quiet during the week, had gathered pockets of onlookers especially close to the emergency vehicles, waiting for answers from the people they’d called on to help them. On the actual road, firefighters and uniformed police were trying to retrieve two people from a car that had veered off the tarmac and crashed into a row of parked cars.

  He found Carol in the gardens of the United Reform church where his niece was attending pre-school. Carol was sat on one of the new benches watching a gang of children run around, weaving in and out of the trellised arches and generally just having fun. For a moment, Payne hesitated, enjoying watching Rebecca, his niece, having fun with her friends. It was a long term regret that he’d never had children with Anne. For many years, it was a subject they rarely brought up, having thrown their opinions into the pot when they’d first met. Children were for the dull unoriginal slice of the population; those that felt compelled to follow the pack. By the time they’d realised they’d made a mistake and started trying for a baby, they found out how difficult it was going to be. A lack of fertility on both sides meant that the only sensible way was for fertility treatment. But for whatever reason, it never worked out. After several failed attempts they looked again at their decision and agreed that it just wasn’t to be.

  Carol was his window into the world of what might have been and much as he would h
ave loved to be a bigger part of his niece’s life, with all that had happened, it again was looking to be a missed opportunity.

  The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the gardens, and when he called Carol’s name, she had to put a hand over her eyes to produce shade so she could see who was calling her.

  “I came as soon as I could,” Payne said as he plonked himself beside her.

  She put her arm around him and squeezed his shoulder tightly, resting her head for a moment on his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me. I know how busy you are.”

  “Busier than normal.”

  “I saw the paper. I can’t believe it. What’s happening to this town? It was never like this when we were young.”

  “The world changes. People change.”

  “It’s not the right kind of progress though. It makes my skin crawl knowing that there’s a—”, she whispered the next work, “murderer, out there.”

  “He won’t be out there for very long.”

  “I know. Not with you on his tail,” she smiled.

  Rebecca broke off from the rest of the kids and hurried over. “Uncle Spencer!” She squeezed him in a bear hug and kissed his cheek.

  “How you doing, trouble?”

  “I’m not trouble,” she giggled. “Guess what happened to us today? You won’t guess.”

  Payne pretended to look puzzled, like he was thinking on a solution to a most taxing crossword clue. Eventually, he gave in, shook his head and asked, “What?”

  Rebecca was delighted to have won against her uncle. She looked him steely in the eye, then said slowly, enunciating every syllable. “We all fell asleep.”

  Payne feigned surprise by clasping a hand in front of his mouth. “You little lazy bones.” He tousled her hair.

  “Mummy, can we play a bit longer?”

  “If you stay where I can see you,” Carol said, leaning to give her daughter a kiss on the top of her head, before Rebecca ran back to her friends.

  “So, what do you think happened?” Payne asked.

  “She doesn’t really remember much. The teachers have filled us all in, and the rest we’ve pieced together from what the kids have been saying. It seems that just shortly before 11:15, every single person in that church hall passed out. Teachers and children alike. A minute later, they were awake again, not knowing why they were lying on the floor.”

  “Any of them hurt?”

  “Luckily not. It was story time so they were sitting on the floor anyway. A couple have bumped their heads on the mats when they landed but it’s nothing to worry about. What’s worrying us is why it happened at all.”

  “It wasn’t just the church hall. It seems to have been for quite some way along the main road.”

  “I know. One of the paramedics came by to check on the kids but when he saw them all running around, he was more concerned with looking after those that had fallen on the street.”

  “We’ve got policeman going door to door as well. Some people are answering their doors and are generally OK. We’ve got one seriously injured woman who fell down her stairs. Some aren’t answering at all.”

  “Oh my God,” Carol said. “I didn’t even think.”

  “There were six road traffic accidents along this stretch of road. The drivers all spontaneously fell asleep at the wheel, lost control of their cars.”

  “Jesus wept. Is anyone—” Carol couldn’t quite bring herself to finish the question.

  “Not yet. Although one of the drivers was an old chap in his seventies. He wouldn’t have made it if he’d been going any faster than the fifteen miles an hour he dawdles around the village in. We have two things to be grateful for. Firstly, the barriers were down at the level crossing. The queue of traffic meant that no cars were moving west at all. The only incidents were cars going east, away from the station.”

  “And secondly?”

  “Whatever it was, it only affected people along that stretch of road. Maybe about three hundred foot or so. We’ve got witnesses who must have been at the edge of the disturbance, describing people falling down. One of them just avoided an out of control car heading his way. Everyone was incredibly lucky today.”

  “Someone’s watching over us,” Carol said and smiled as she looked at the church.

  “Well, possibly.” Payne shifted on his seat. “I need to go. See if I can help.” Rebecca saw him stand, raced over, and hugged his leg.

  “Where are you going? You haven’t seen me do my trick yet?”

  “Show me later sweetheart. I’ve got to go back to work.”

  “Are you going to catch any naughty men?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Then you can come back and watch my trick?”

  “Not today, soon. I promise,” he said, and bent down to give her a squeeze.

  Carol stood up as well. “Come round for dinner. We’d love to have you round.”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to be busy. This is going to be stretching the team as it is.”

  “You’re allowed time off to eat.” Carol said with a determined look in her eye. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  15

  Max held his breath. His back was beginning to complain about the strain he was putting it under by crouching in this awkward position, but someone was coming along the footpath not twelve metres from his hiding place in the undergrowth, and he needed to stay concealed. He felt a moment’s panic when he heard a dog padding along beside them and prayed that they’d keep it on a lead. If it was given free roam, there was no chance he’d stay undiscovered.

  The walker’s footsteps got louder, and Max could definitely hear the dog panting, but they passed and started to recede. He dared to move, and shifted a few branches from the tree he’d ended up behind. Yes, he was safe—for now at least.

  He turned to look back at the fence he’d hidden against and rubbed his hands. They were itchy after pulling aside tall prickly bushes and stinging nettles. He was desperately trying not to think of the thing under his skin, and so far, since leaving the hospital grounds, he’d been careful not to touch it again. The decision to leave the hospital, with a foreign body in his system had been tortuous knowing that there would be doctors who could examine him, but he couldn’t risk being detained again by the police. He needed to find Cindy, or Thadeus, before he had any more interaction with anyone in authority.

  He was behind a row of houses, separated from a thin strip of woodland that acted as a barrier to a busy main road. A path running alongside this road was popular with the public as it offered a long straight path for runners and, as he’d just witnessed, dog walkers. Some of the house owners had installed gates into their fences for quick access to the woodland, but the house he wanted had no such gate: he was going to have to go over the top.

  His thoughts raced. If Cindy really was hiding here at her mother’s house, and he found her, he didn’t know what he’d do to her. Cindy could help piece together the night that Heather had been murdered but how was he going to get her talking?

  He peeked over the top of the fence again but couldn’t see anyone moving around in the back of the house. He glanced to the left and right, checking for more walkers, then satisfied the coast was clear, he dug his hands into the top of the fence and pulled himself over. He fell gracelessly into a weedy flower bed overgrown with mint and nettles. A dog started barking and Max hesitated, getting ready to clamber back over the fence, but then he heard a lady shouting at the dog a few houses down and as the dog quietened, he relaxed.

  The house belonged to Cindy’s mum and felt totally unfamiliar. He’d never even been inside the house let alone be allowed around the back. Cindy’s mum didn’t like Max despite never meeting him. Max had had it relayed to him that he wasn’t good enough for her daughter and Cindy’s mother refused flat out to come to their wedding. According to Cindy, her mother was something of a recluse and rarely left the house. Max suspected there was an underlying mental health problem that neither Cindy nor her mother were ready
to acknowledge.

  Max ran to the side of the house and pressed his back into the wall by the side of the kitchen door. He risked a glance through the glass panels, but the room was empty. The door at the far end of the kitchen was open and he couldn’t see any sign of movement in the room beyond. Max tried the handle but it was locked. Grabbing a smallish rock from the overgrown rock garden, he returned to the kitchen door, and before he could talk himself out of it, smashed it through one of the panels of glass closest to the lock. The glass sounded incredibly loud and he braced himself in case he needed to make a run from it. But there was no sound of hurried footsteps from inside the house, nor any indication from the neighbour’s house that they’d heard either.

  Carefully, trying to avoid the sharp edges of the frame, Max felt inside for the key, relieved that it was still in the lock, and turned it and let himself into the house.

  The kitchen smelt stale, like the inside of a fridge that hasn’t been cleaned out in years. It was strange being inside someone’s house without their permission and Max felt charged, like every muscle was tensed, every instinct honed. His ears strained, listening for the slightest noise that meant he wasn’t alone.

  In the kitchen sink, a pile of grimy plates were stacked. Blooms of blue mould were evident. A fly buzzed around the sink with its friends hovering over a half-eaten plate of beans on toast.

  He crossed the kitchen, his shoes sticking to the lino, and peeked around the door into the hallway. The smell was here too but no sign of anyone else. A load of mail was waiting to be picked up on the mat. A bin bag had been crudely taped to the glass in the bottom half of the front door. A cheap method of stopping anyone seeing the mail build up?

  More confident, Max checked the other two rooms on the ground floor. The dining room had a large table, but was covered in editions of the local newspaper and other bits of junk mail. He picked up a copy at random and checked the date. It was five years old.