by J. Thorn
He had to lean in close to convince himself that what he was seeing was real. The shot had been taken from within the same room, but the photographer was elevated. Frank recognized her hair, and the shot had her eyes open, those stunning, crystal-blue eyes. Kelly had used her elbows to push her naked breasts up as if she were an experienced porn star. The light was good, and Frank had no problem seeing where her lipstick had smeared on the man’s cock. Frank clicked on the thumbnail to bring up the full image.
Kelly came back on the screen, her form larger and more defined than on the thumbnail. But the canvas expanded on the full image, showing Frank the entire photograph. He stared at it and felt the coffee in his stomach turning it inside out. He leaned over and vomited into the garbage can full of junk mail and paid bills.
“No fucking way,” he muttered while wiping a line drool from his chin.
Frank blinked and looked closer at the photograph. The paunch was more extended, and he did not remember having his hands on the back of her head, but the look of forbidden ecstasy on his face was unmistakable. It was Kelly Swift having sex in his shower, the photograph capturing the moment Frank came in her mouth.
The phone rang, and Frank jumped. His second erection of the day was now a distant memory, and his insides churned over the cheap coffee and primal fear. So many questions ran through his head that he felt paralyzed. Frank stood and stumbled toward the old, white phone hanging on the wall next to the calendar and Gladys’s invitation to the craft fair down at the church.
He picked up the receiver and moved it to his right ear. “Hello?” Frank could hear only static on the other end. “Who the fuck is this?”
Again, just static.
As Frank was about to slam the phone down, he heard muffled laughter. “If you’re hacking my computer, I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you.”
“It wasn’t enough, was it?” the voice asked as if through a throat of gravel. “You were hungry for more and couldn’t stop yourself.”
Frank shook, glancing at the computer screen and then the phone in his hand.
“She’s gonna ruin you.”
“Please, I’ll do anything. Blackmail me, I don’t care. This would devastate Gladys. Please, just tell me what you want.”
Frank waited for a reply as the static on the other end crackled like fire.
“You know what has to happen, Frank. You know what needs done.”
***
Helen would make one more round and then head to the cafeteria for an early lunch. They were serving meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and she was not about to let the hairy apes in Shipping/Receiving have the last of it like they had last Thursday. She turned the corner and headed down toward the 5460s when she remembered that she had not seen Officer Jones come back through. There was no way she would have missed him. He was one of the few men who put a damp spot in her underwear. She had spent many nights alone in her bed, fantasizing about his gun. But she was too old, too fat, and he was too married. He didn’t look her way in high school, and she didn’t think he’d be doing so twenty-five years later, either.
She opened 5467 first and saw him on the floor. Helen pushed the button and ran over to his side. Peter was coming around, his eyes still tacked to the back of his head. He had a line of drool dangling from the side of his mouth, and garbled nonsense came off his tongue. Helen held his arms as he came back around. By the time the other nurses arrived, Peter was sitting upright on his own and shaking his head.
“I’m fine.”
Helen waved off the others, including the doctor on rounds. She understood how the policeman’s ego worked, and she felt obligated to protect him.
When the nurses left the room, Helen sat in the chair opposite of Peter. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“People who are fine don’t pass out.”
Jones rubbed his forehead, feeling like someone had hit him with a hammer. “I got lightheaded and I passed out. Happens all the time.”
“To you?” Helen asked.
“To people,” he replied.
“I’ve never passed out.”
Peter shot Helen an icy stare, and she decided that it was time to back off.
“If I don’t get downstairs soon, the goons on the dock are going to get the last of the meatloaf.”
“Is that a lunch invitation?”
Helen laughed and shook her head. “No. It’s a kind way of telling you that I’m leaving this room and you are, too. Would you let a doc take a quick look in your eyes, check your heart rate?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Wait at the station, and I’ll have one of the residents check your vitals.”
Peter nodded.
“It is damn good meatloaf. I’m just saying.”
“Helen,” Peter said as she walked toward the door. “Thanks for covering me.”
“Anytime,” she replied, excited about the new fantasy she would be playing out in her bed tonight.
***
Peter waited for Helen to leave before standing up and grabbing his cap. He felt a bit shaky, but a fall to the floor from six feet two inches up would do that. When he was sure that she was gone, and certain the resident had not yet been told to examine him, Peter slipped across the hallway into 5468. He had to make sure there was nothing unusual about either of these men before leaving the hospital, and if 68 was in as bad a shape as 67, they wouldn’t need a guard stationed in the hallway for a very long time.
He slid through the hallway and pushed through 5468 in one motion. The room had the same chill as 5467, and for a moment, Peter imagined himself blacking out again, this time bringing more attention than Helen’s passing curiosity.
Jones noticed the room was identical to the room he had just left, with the windows flipped to the opposite wall. He had been in this hospital hundreds, if not thousands of times, and yet he could not imagine what it looked like from the outside. This wing sat behind the main building, and he did not have much reason to drive around behind it. A short, shrill beep from the equipment tethered to the poor creature in the bed interrupted his internal dialog about hospital architecture.
The man had a chart like the patient across the hall, and from Peter’s perspective, he appeared to be hooked up to the same bevy of machines, cables, and tubes that hissed and pulsed while keeping him alive. However, this one did not have bandages across his face. It appeared as though they had been pulled down to expose the man’s eyes. Officer Jones felt a sweat breaking on his upper lip again and sat down in a chair next to the bed before the vertigo kicked in. The resident would be looking for him soon, and probably force him to go to the lounge to rest. He was not sure why, but Peter felt he had to be here and examine the survivors. Something deep inside told him it was extremely important, and he would not be able to explain that to a twenty-five-year-old resident on the last hour of a two-day shift.
Jones looked at the man’s face from his chair. The eyes were closed, eyelids intact but charred black like the rest of his exposed skin.
I can’t look away, he thought.
Peter stood and placed both hands on the railing of the bed, hovering over the man. He watched as pinkish fluids left one tube and clear fluids came from another. He was not a doctor, but Jones believed neither man would pull through this. He knew how fire damaged tissue, and the shock to the body was more than most could handle. And yet, there was something about the men in 67 and 68 that made him think otherwise. His intuition had served him well at traffic stops and domestic disputes, and it was ringing again inside his head.
He heard footsteps in the hall, followed by the question, “Officer?”
The resident.
Peter did not have much time. He thrust a hand into his pocket and held his phone up in front of the man lying in the bed. He thumbed through the icons with a clumsy hand and hit the camera icon. The phone simulated the closing of the shutter with an audible click, storing the image on the memory card.
“Officer, are you in her
e?”
Jones managed to put his phone back into his pocket before the resident stepped into the room. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and plastered a weak smile on his face. “Yes,” he replied, stepping out from behind the door to face the young doctor.
“Nurse said that you passed out. Are you okay?”
“Helen said that? I didn’t pass out. Got a quick case of the shakes, had too much coffee this morning. I’m fine, really.”
“She said you would say you were fine and that if you did, it means you’re not.”
Officer Jones sighed, irritated with Helen and yet flattered at the same time. “She’s not my wife. I’m fine. You can continue on your rounds.”
The young man in blue garb shrugged and turned to leave the room. “Are you almost done in here? The burn specialist flying in from the Cleveland Clinic is going to be here soon. I need to get both John Does ready for the examination.”
“Five minutes. I need to check for personal belongings.”
“The men had their clothes melted to their skin.”
“I said five minutes,” Peter responded with the authority of a beat cop with decades of experience on the street.
The resident left, pulling the door shut.
Jones turned back and could have sworn he saw the man’s fingers twitch. He’s not dead, asshole. It wouldn’t be unusual for his muscles to twitch. Jones laughed at himself. The entire situation had him spooked, and that was not something he wanted to admit to anyone, especially himself. He would go out into that bright, morning sunshine, file the report, and go on with the day. If only the feeling inside would let him.
“Can you hear me?” he asked.
No answer.
Peter glanced at his notebook, jotting down the day and time. He would fill in the other information back at the station. The longer he stayed in the room, the more uncomfortable he became.
“Last chance, man. Can you hear my voice?”
The man lay still while the machines hummed around him. Peter had turned to leave when he heard a muffled sound. He stopped and waited for two seconds, holding his breath. His heart raced in his chest, and the queasy feeling was coming back.
“Did you say something?” You sound like an idiot, asking that same question, he thought.
No answer.
He turned again, and this time the sound was unmistakable. It had come from the dying human lying in the bed. Peter walked up to the side and squatted down until his face was even with the patient. Jones waited, knowing it was not his imagination.
“What are you trying to tell me? C’mon, I can help.”
Officer Jones heard more footsteps in the hallway and knew he had to leave. Whatever the injured man was trying to communicate would have to wait for the specialist flying in from Toledo or Columbus, or wherever the fuck he was coming from. Peter stood, and the man’s eyes flew wide open. They looked at Peter, red and bloodshot, freezing him to the floor. The bandages near his mouth moved, and Peter finally heard words.
“So hungry.”
“Don’t worry, pal. We’re going to get you fixed up and get you something to eat. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Alarms on the bed sounded, and a flurry of blue hospital smocks burst through the door, pushing Peter to the side and working on the man going into cardiac arrest on the bed. Peter shook his head and left the room. He had to leave the hospital as soon as possible and shake that voice from inside his head.
###
Eternal: Blood Curse (Book 3 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy), available now.
Acknowledgements
Thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with me. If you enjoyed the book please leave a review on Amazon. It can be brief (20 words) and written in a few minutes. Authors depend on reviews from readers like you. And if you really enjoy my work, send me an email at [email protected] and I will reply with a free copy of a J. Thorn title of your choosing.
In addition, visit http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/JThorn_ where I will personalize and autograph your digital book for free. Please do not hesitate to get in touch. I respond personally to every message. My phone number is 216.245.8476 or if you appreciate creativity on the dial pad, 216.24J.THRN. Seriously, that’s my phone number. Call and leave me a voicemail with your name and number and I promise to call you back. Did a scene in the book trouble you? Call me. Did you love the book and want to shower me with praise? Call me. Do you want advice on writing or publishing your own book? Call me. Do you want to order a large pepperoni with mushrooms and cheese? Can’t help you there. I want you to have the best reading experience possible because we all have limited time on this planet. If you weren’t completely satisfied with my book, or if you loved it, or if you simply want help; please call me. I would love to hear from you.
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http://jthornwriter.blogspot.com/p/the-keepers.html
I am humbled and grateful for the support of The Keepers and know that we're only getting started. Special thanks to Rob, Morgan, Katy, Carol, Kelly, Bryden, Cheryl, Elizabeth, Angus, Becki, ML, Hunter, Laurie, Art, and Angela. Editors Talia Leduc, Katy Sozaeva, and Laurie Love worked their magic on the manuscript. I could not have published this novel without these three incredible women. Roy has infused energy into this series with his stunning cover art. I'm always grateful for the support of you, dear reader. The Evil will be revealed one last time in 2013.
Other works from J. Thorn
* * *
If you enjoyed this title, you'll love J. Thorn's new twist on a classic theme. Find out why readers that enjoy the edgy horror of Stephen King are discovering The Hidden Evil.
Praise for The Hidden Evil Trilogy...
"Best one yet - chilling, horrific. There were aspects of this story that reminded me somewhat of The Shining...a sort of creeping horror that was very effective."
K. Sozaeva, Amazon Vine Voice, Top 500 Reviewer
"...grabs you by the throat and does not let go. Incredibly graphic it had me screwing my face up in horror at many of the scenes, yet eagerly clicking for the next page just to see what would happen next."
Bernadette Davies, Amazon reviewer
"...Preta's Realm is a fine example of character building done right. Mr. Thorn does an excellent job of crafting the characters and making sure that you can identify with them. He does a better job than some of the heavy hitters in the horror realm, actually."
Bryan Hall, Author of Containment Room Seven
Preta's Realm: The Haunting (Book 1 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Drew works hard, pays his taxes, and loves his family. But when a visit from the spirit of his deceased grandfather coincides with the violent murder of two co-workers, Drew falls into a desperate spiral of delusion and betrayal until he finally faces the demons of the past, which threaten to drag him deeper into Preta's Realm.
Demons Within: Unholy Fire (Book 2 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Ravna thought his ordeal with the hungry ghost was over. However, when a road trip takes him on an unexpected detour, Preta resurfaces, threatening to tear apart Ravna and his new love. Ravna must again battle the hidden evil, though he now faces a choice that could destroy everything, including the Demons Within.
Eternal: Blood Curse (Book 3 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Doug believes Ravna has the power to defeat the hungry ghost once and for all. But he soon realizes that the final battle with the malevolent creature has yet to begin. Doug must combine forces with another Hunter in a race against demons and apparitions, hoping he isn't already too late. If they cannot close the portal in time, Gaki will call forth the hidden evil and the darkness shall be Eternal.
* * *
If you enjoyed this title, you'll love Reversion: The Inevitable Horror (The Portal Arcane Series -
Book I). Find out why readers that enjoy the creeping doom of Stephen King's Langoliers are diving into the engaging world of the Portal Arcane series.
Praise for the Portal Arcane Series...
"This is a great start for what promises to be an engaging, intense series."
Scott Nicholson, Author of the #1 Amazon Best Selling Horror Novel, The Home
"It's all about the journey, about the creeping horror of individual moments, the long wait, the brief moments of terror, and then more waiting. It was... a fascinating read, and I will definitely be interested in following this series.."
K. Sozaeva, Amazon Vine Voice, Top 500 Reviewer
Reversion: The Inevitable Horror (The Portal Arcane Series - Book I)
With a noose around his neck, Samuel arrives in a forest littered with caution tape and artifacts of the deceased. He struggles to regain his memory while fending off a pack of wolves and the mysterious visitors who seem to know more about this dying world than he does. Major, Kole, and Mara, new companions also trapped in the strange locality, realize they must outrun the ominous cloud eating away at reality. As their world collapses upon itself, Samuel must find a way to escape the Reversion.
The Law of Three: A New Wasteland (The Portal Arcane Series - Book II)
The Reversion plucks Samuel from a dying world and drops him into another, a decaying desert wasteland of darkness and peril. As his memories return, Samuel finds himself in another cycle of destruction, and he leads newcomers Jack and Lindsay towards redemption in the mountain stronghold of the mysterious one known as Deva. Finally, as the locality collapses behind him, Samuel realizes his only escape from the Reversion will be putting his faith in The Law of Three.
