Hands of Lucifer

by John Tigges

  Fine. Now she needed an aspirin or two. Throwing back the covers, Nicole slipped from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom. Placing two of the white tablets on her tongue, she washed them down with half a glass of water and returned to bed.

  After she turned out the light, she lay there for several minutes, her eyes searching the darkness for some thread of the dream. Nothing materialized and she turned to one side. Perhaps in the morning she’d recall the details. Then she’d not be concerned. Concern? Why should she feel concern over a dream? A silly dream?

  She closed her eyes.

  In the bathroom, the faucet began turning by itself, breaking the seal from the pipe extending through the sink. Soundlessly moving, the mouth of the faucet pointed to one side, then straight up, to the other side, down at the wash bowl, to one side, straight up and then—the curved piece of chrome floated away to settle on a shelf while the heavy stream of water shot straight out, past the bowl, curving within a foot or two of the basin to the floor. Striking the rug, the water made no sound at first, and as it soaked the pink floor covering, the noise of splashing grew. The door moved gently shut. The water continued flowing.

  Tuesday, October 21, 1986 7:00 A.M.

  Nicole opened her eyes at the first sound of her alarm’s gentle ringing. Stretching, she sat up. She wanted to keep extra busy today and not even think of the day’s significance—her birthday. God, how awful to be alone! At least she had her new job to lose herself in, directing all of her energy toward the success of the public relations campaign. Slipping from bed, she screamed when her feet touched the icy water covering her bedroom floor.

  7:15 A.M.

  “I’m telling you I have no idea what happened,” she said nastily into the phone.

  “Things like that simply don’t happen, Miss Kilton.” The manager’s voice snapped sarcastically in her ear.

  How did he know? He wasn’t there. He hadn’t seen anything of the damage to her apartment or furniture. “Will you have someone come over and take care of it? Today?”

  “Of course I will. That’s my job, isn’t it? I’ll have a plumber there by nine at the latest. Do you have insurance?”

  “Yes, I have insurance. Don’t you remember it’s stipulated in my lease that I have it.”

  “Just checking. At any rate, you’d best call your agent. They should be willing to stand for the damages.”

  Fuming at the delay in leaving for work, Nicole then dialed her insurance agent, who assured her that her possessions were insured, but that the building’s owner was responsible for protection to the building itself. After receiving instructions to stay at a motel until the apartment was dried out and her damaged items replaced, she hung up and left for work.

  During the next four nights, she stayed at a nearby motel, and once she had received the check to replace her damaged furniture, she shopped for a new bedroom set. The kitchen had had water but nothing there had been damaged, while the rug in the living room had absorbed most of the water that had been on the floor there, leaving the furniture barely wet.

  Her first day back in her apartment, a Saturday, seemed endless as she looked forward to retiring for the night in her new water bed. She had thought of the irony of buying such a piece of furniture when it had been water damage that had led to her being able to purchase it in the first place. That night and the next she slept without apparently dreaming anything, something she had not anticipated. While at the motel, she had had dreams but not the strange one. Now that she had returned to her apartment she wondered if it would resume.

  Monday, October 27, 1986

  Completely refreshed on Monday morning, she showered and was on her way to work by eight fifteen. While waiting for the bus, she thought of Myles. She had hoped she would have heard from him by now. Certainly he should be sufficiently recovered from the trauma of Eunice’s death by this time. Perhaps he never would call. Maybe she should call him.

  Shaking her head, she stepped onto the bus when it pulled up. No. If he elected not to call her, then it was finished. Maybe she’d never see him again. Biting her tongue, she looked out the bus window at the flow of traffic, doing her best to dismiss Myles from her mind.

  8:30 A.M.

  A low growl rumbled through Nicole’s apartment, while the small red book bounced about on the shelf. Simultaneously, as though perpetrated by one unseen entity, one set of many hands, the drawers to her dresser flew open, while the closet door tore from its hinges and Nicole’s wardrobe floated about the bedroom, landing everywhere. The cabinets in the kitchen wrenched open, and the cans, cups, saucers, plates and everything else contained therein sailed about the kitchen, breaking as they hit the floor. Canned foods piled up in the sink, one on top of the next until a shaky thin tower reached the ceiling. The living room furniture ripped open, its cotton stuffing filling the air. All of the books on the shelf above the TV set fell to the floor—all except the red book. It stayed in its place. The chiming clock rocked in place, bobbing back and forth, until it took off, hurtling across the living room with a terrific velocity straight at the television set. The loud pop as the vacuum of the picture tube was broken filled the room and, as if punctuating the havoc wrought, the apartment fell silence except for the sound of heavy panting.

  3:00 P.M.

  Myles sat at his desk, fingering the key he had found in his desk drawer—Eunice’s key, the key to her apartment. Somehow he had forgotten about it and had not returned it to the apartment manager after Eunice’s death. He had thrown himself into work since returning to the station office the previous Monday and had not allowed himself much time to think about Eunice or Nicole or anything. Now, as if someone had opened a floodgate, the thoughts came pouring out. Eunice was gone. There was nothing he could do about that.

  On the other hand, Nicole had seemed genuinely interested in his welfare when she had come into the office the week before. At first he had found it difficult to face her. He had hurt her. He felt he knew her well enough to read her emotions, even though she had almost successfully hidden them behind her display of self-confidence. Had that been the reason he had taken on the role of martyr, saying that he was going to leave?

  Leave? Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He could …

  The pain struck instantly behind his ear. What was wrong with his ear? Or was there something wrong inside his head? What could be causing it?

  He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling while he massaged his ear. Little by little, the pain subsided. When had that happened last? He searched his memory. When Nicole had been here in his office. Last Monday. It probably wasn’t too serious if it came that infrequently.

  What had he been thinking about when the pain struck? Leaving?

  The pain came again and Myles froze, staring at the ceiling for a long minute before rubbing the affected ear again.

  6:00 P.M.

  “Is this just the way you found it, Miss Kilton?” the uniformed policeman asked.

  Nicole, her eyes reddened from crying, looked up at the young officer. “Yes.”

  “And you say the door was locked?”

  “That’s the strange part about it,” she said, dabbing at the corner of one eye. “The key worked normally. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the damage.”

  “You got any enemies? Anybody who might want to get even with you for something?”

  Nicole quickly shook her head. There was no one. There weren’t enough people in her life to include someone who could be so vindictive. The only person in her life who didn’t meet her personal criteria as a friend was Rose Tunic. But Rose was simply an unlikeable person. Nicole and she hardly had any dealings at work, and there was absolutely no reason why the office manager would want to destroy Nicole’s apartment. “There’s no one I can think of, Officer.”

  “Well, you’d best make certain that nothing is missing. You know—money, jewelry, other valuables.”

  Nicole shook her head. “There’s nothing. I never leave money
in the apartment and my jewelry is pretty pedestrian when it comes to value. In fact, there’s nothing of value in the apartment other than the TV, stereo and books. They’re all here. Or what’s left of them.”

  “I guess we’ll probably write it off to vandalism then. There’s no telling what some people will do today.”

  Nicole looked at him, her puzzled expression bringing a half smile to his face.

  “They probably broke in here,” he said, “looking for money or stuff they could hock. When they found nothing other than the TV and stereo, they probably went a little nuts and destroyed the place. Beats me why they didn’t take the boob tube and stereo and convert them into cash.”

  “Well, either way, I’m the loser, right?”

  He nodded, closing his notebook. “I guess so. You got insurance?”

  Nicole swallowed. “I hope so. I just turned in a sizable claim within the last week or so. My bedroom was flooded and the furniture ruined. I just moved back in yesterday.”

  “I’m sure you have, then,” he said kindly.

  “They’re not going to be too happy with this little turn of events, are they?” she asked, forcing a wry smile.

  “Hell, that’s what they’re in business for, Miss Kilton.”

  6:30 P.M.

  “That may be the reason we’re in business, Miss Kilton, but we would like to make a profit as well.”

  Nicole bit her lip. He was angry. The insurance agent might refuse to help her now that she had made him upset. At first he had thought she was being funny—playing a practical joke. Then, realizing that she was telling the truth, he began asking her pointed questions. When she thought that he was trying to renege on the claim, she had asked him what the purpose of his company was if not to make certain that she and people like her had insurance coverage on their possessions.

  “Look, Miss Kilton, I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad month, and another claim from someone, especially one who just had a sizable check handed to them, is not my idea of ending the day in a very good way.”

  “Just assure me that I am covered, Mr. Davis,” Nicole said.

  “Oh, you’re covered all right. Right down to your pajamas and the cat’s as well. You did call the police?”

  “Yes. They said you’d need the case number since there was a crime committed.”

  “That’s right. May I come over and look the damage over? I’m not that far away. I could be there within twenty minutes or so.”

  “Please, come ahead. The sooner this thing is settled, the quicker I can get on with it.”

  “No idea who might have done it?” Davis asked.

  “None. You sound like the police.”

  “I’ll probably be asking you a lot of the same questions, Miss Kilton.”

  Nicole hung up and waited for the insurance agent to arrive.

  Friday, October 31, 1986 7:00 P.M.

  Myles locked his car, walking around it toward the entrance of his apartment building.

  “Trick or treat,” a rough, little voice demanded.

  Myles stopped when the costumed child jumped out in front of him, blocking the way. “Well, now,” he said, “what do we have here?”

  The child, its features effectively hidden by the withered countenance of an old witch or troll, said nothing.

  “I don’t have any candy for you.”

  The child remained silent, holding out one hand, palm up.

  “Will you be satisfied with money?”

  Still, no response.

  Myles reached into his pants pocket, withdrawing a handful of change. Dropping a quarter into the small hand, he moved to step around the Halloween beggar. When he reached the doorway to the main entrance, he stopped before inserting his key and turned to look back at the child. There was no one in sight. Had he imagined it? He knew he was tired but … What he needed was a vacation. A rest. Get away from the station for a while. Maybe cast about for a new job.

  He turned the key and doubled over at the same time when the pain hit him. His ear again. Nothing had happened in the last four days. Now, all of a sudden, he was being afflicted again. At least Nicole had been sympathetic about it that day in his office.

  The pain eased, disappearing in a few moments.

  Riding up to his floor, Myles entertained the mental image of Nicole, smiling as he stepped off the elevator.

  Monday, November 3, 1986 6:30 P.M.

  Seven days after her apartment had been destroyed, Nicole, who had moved back into the same motel though a different room, hurried home to her newly redecorated rooms, anticipating a restful evening. After admiring her new furniture, she prepared a simple supper. When she finished her evening meal, she sat back on the kitchen chair and thought of Myles. She had not watched him on the late night news while staying at the motel, but tonight she would remedy that. She wondered if he still looked the same …

  She stopped. Taking a deep breath, she gagged. What in the world was that terrible stench? She hurried to the sink, first thinking that the odor was not unlike sewer gas, but sniffing around the drain, she found nothing out of the ordinary. Opening the doors below, she inhaled deeply but smelled nothing different. When she stood, the fetid stink still lingered in the air.

  Terrible. It was positively awful. Where could it be coming from? The bathroom? Hurrying there, she found nothing that indicated the strange smell emanated from that room.

  Could it be coming from her new furniture? She went to the living room. She found the rancid smell was there as well, just as strong as it had been in the kitchen and the bathroom.

  Bending down, she sniffed at the couch and the two small occasional chairs. Though they smelled normal, the stench hung in the air. The bedroom? She hurried there and found nothing.

  After opening the windows, she got out a can of air freshener, spraying each room. Nothing helped.

  Then, it was gone. One second she could smell it and the next it was gone. Well, whatever it was, she would not miss it. Putting the spray can away, she went to the living room, freezing in the doorway.

  The stereo was playing, classical music softly filling the air in competition with the TV set, which also was on. She hadn’t turned them on when she was in the living room checking the furniture. She had been too upset to have done that. Nor had she done it when she returned to open the windows.

  “What’s going on?” she asked aloud. “Come on. What’s happening? Why are all these things happening to me? Well, there’s one way to fix that.” She crossed the room and pulled each plug out of its socket. “Let’s see you work now!”

  As if to mock her, the television set stared at her blankly with its blinded eye while the stereo sat mute.

  Later that night, she plugged in the TV set to watch Myles, and when he signed off, she undid the electrical connection once more.

  After she had retired for the night, she lay on her back staring into the void. She wanted Myles. She needed him. Tomorrow, she’d call him. Rolling over on her side, she prepared to go to sleep but suddenly sat up.

  Through the bedroom door, she could see the glow of the TV set and hear the muted voices of a late night talk show. When she hurried to the living room, she found the stereo playing soft, dreamy music as well.

  Biting her knuckle she turned all the lights on in the apartment and pulled the plugs again. Something weird—something out of the ordinary—was going on. But what? Or had she only thought that she had pulled the plugs?

  For the next three hours she lay on her back, the lights in the apartment blazing brightly. Finally she dropped off to sleep.

  Tuesday, November 4, 1986 8:00 A.M.

  Several days after his encounter with the Halloween witch, Myles had decided to take things a bit more easy due to his recurring earache. Instead of leaping from bed and jumping into the shower first thing in the morning, he elected to take it slower. Getting up in a leisurely manner, he enjoyed a long, hot shower before indulging himself in several cups of coffee and the morning newspaper once he was dressed. Th
e first few mornings totally agreed with him, and the last time he had had the pain became a dim memory.

  The hot water flowed over him, washing away the night’s sleep, invigorating his body as he soaped all over. One thing he definitely knew. If slowing down this way made him feel that much better, what would a full blown vacation feel like? He’d have to discuss the possibilities with the station manager and find out if he could take a week off. Perhaps he’d apply for a few positions he knew were about to be available.

  Instantly, the pain pierced his mastoid area and he grabbed at his ear. What the hell? Rubbing vigorously, the discomfort diminished, leaving in a few seconds.

  If he did go, he might entertain the thought of taking Nicole with him, if she would consider it.

  The sound of the water rose until it sounded like a self-satisfied sigh.

  10:00 A.M.

  When Nicole called KSLL-TV the next morning, Myles wasn’t in yet and she had no another opportunity to try the remainder of the day. After her luncheon break, she sat behind her desk, staring into space. The loss of sleep the night before had done nothing to enhance her daytime energy, and she felt sluggish and sleepy.

  “You’d best try going to bed at night and you won’t be falling asleep on the job,” Rose Tunic said, standing framed in the doorway to Nicole’s office.

  Nicole snapped out of her funk, staring at the overweight woman. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she lied. But had she been sleeping? Actually sleeping on the job? No. She had just reacted slowly when Rose looked in and stopped to drop her nasty little jibe. “If you must know, I didn’t get much sleep last night but I wasn’t trying to make up for it on company time, if that’s what you were hinting at.”

  “I wasn’t hinting at anything. If the shoe fits, wear it,” Rose said, a smug look of self-satisfaction crossing her corpulent features. Without another word, she turned and left.

  Nicole smiled. How like Rose to use a timeworn cliché to make her point. She wondered when the office manager had had her last original thought. From what she had seen, the woman acted almost entirely on instinct and not intellect. How could someone exist like that? Well, Nicole would be damned if someone like Rose Tunic could get her upset.