Apex Science Fiction and Horror Digest #9

by Apex Authors

  "But without Sanify? What'll happen?” she asked.

  "It's a cure,” Flip said. “Everyone knows that."

  "People can die when they stop taking it. All those papers we signed said so."

  "That's just the pharmaceutical company tricking us into taking it forever. We've both heard stories."

  "But it's not gone. I can feel the schizophrenia, not that far away. Can't you?” Allison stood up and began pacing. She hadn't meant to tell anyone that.

  "Our brain scans are normal, Allison. There's no more schizophrenia. It'll be fine if we stop taking Sanify."

  "Like all the times we stopped taking meds in the past? That was fine?"

  "This is different. Maybe we'll be better than fine. I've heard stories."

  "Crazy people always tell crazy stories. That's nothing new."

  The telephone rang. Paranoia coursed through Allison that their apartment was under surveillance.

  Flip answered it, spoke haltingly, and then hung up.

  "That was a social worker. She's going to stop by today."

  "Why? Does she know? You think this place is bugged?” she asked, hating herself for the question.

  "Probably,” Flip said.

  "No, that's paranoid,” Allison said. Her head hurt.

  "I think we should go.” Go. Flip said. Allison heard a faint echo to his words, even though his mouth wasn't moving.

  "Where?"

  "Remember that time, that old school?” School? his voice echoed again.

  "Not there. Anywhere but there.” They had been off their meds when they found the old school—lost in the darkness and lost in their heads. When the mental health counselors had found them, they were close to starvation.

  "It won't be like before. It can't be.” Can't be.

  A blip of a police car sounded outside.

  Cops: the blue Nazis who stick needles into you, Allison thought automatically. No. They're just cops. Don't think like that, she ordered herself.

  Flip went to the window and looked out. “They're coming inside. We've got to go, if we're going. Are we, Allison? It's your decision, but if we're going to, we should go now.” Now.

  The echo of his voice made Allison feel jumpy. There are hundreds of people in this building. The cops could be here for anyone, she thought. Another part of her—a part that felt like it was running downhill too fast and couldn't do anything but run faster to keep from falling—told her to go.

  "Okay, let's go,” Allison whispered. Electricity ran up and down her spine.

  Flip grabbed their cash and a big bag of potato chips. Allison threw some clothes for both of them into her backpack, all the while listening for a knock on the door. They left their apartment and walked down the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed and crackled overhead.

  A door opened and Allison stifled a cry. Old Maude stuck out her head and said, “Where you off to, Jane and Rock?” Maude had known them before Sanify, and could never remember their real names.

  Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester—the names burned through Allison. The paranoid, delusional woman with the depressed and suicidal boyfriend. That's who they had been. Who were they going to become? They ran down the urine-stained stairs. Their feet hit the concrete steps hard, and Allison was gasping for breath by the time they made it to the lobby.

  Two cops in blue stood in front of the elevator, pushing the up button and looking irritated.

  Don't turn around, don't notice us, Allison willed as she and Flip walked as quietly as they could toward the front door.

  One of their radios hissed and a male voice asked, “Have you secured the girl yet?” Yet?

  "Almost. We're in the building now,” Now, one of the cops said.

  They made it to the front door and pushed it open. A gust of cool air and rain hit them. Don't turn around, don't look to see if they are following, she ordered herself as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  Flip's hand slipped into Allison's and he squeezed hard. “Don't run, not yet,” Not yet, Flip whispered. They walked quickly to the corner, then turned and ran like kids playing tag—fast and hard. A couple of blocks later, they stopped and looked behind them. No one followed.

  Were the cops even there for us, or are we being delusional? Allison wondered.

  They took a bus, then walked to the abandoned school on the edge of the city just before sunset. Like she remembered, it was made from red bricks that looked like blood. Tall grass surrounded it beyond a chain link and razor-wire fence. Allison stood in front of the “No Trespassing” sign and wanted to be anywhere else.

  Flip kicked at the fence as they circled the hill. He found a place where it was loose enough to crawl under. All the doors were padlocked with heavy silver locks, except for one in the back. Flip tried to turn the handle, but it was locked from the inside. He hit it twice with his open palm.

  "We can sleep out in the grass,” Allison said. “I'd like that."

  The door popped open a few inches and a white girl—chubby, pierced eyebrow, probably about twenty—looked out behind a chain lock.

  "Hey, can we crash here?” Flip asked. Crash here.

  Allison heard the echo again.

  "What's the magic word?” Word? the girl said. Her eyes scanned the grasses behind them, then she looked at Flip. “Hey, what are you?” Are you?

  "Native.” Native.

  "Cool. Power to your people. I'm Veronica. I'm totally into Indian rights.” Rights. She unchained the door and let them into a wide, dark hallway with ceilings obliterated by darkness. Allison had a memory of being chased, of being lost here.

  Veronica bolted the door behind them. It took Allison a moment for her eyes to adjust and see the gray forms in the hallway. They walked into an old schoolroom. Fingers of sunlight reached through the gaps in the boarded up windows.

  "Mi escuela es tu escuela. How'd you hear about us?” Us? Veronica asked.

  "We were here before. Seven years ago,” Ago, Flip said.

  "We've been here six months,” the girl said. “We love it, and the cops have no idea we're here.” We're here.

  "Good,” Allison said.

  Along one wall of the schoolroom was a gas camping stove, an ice cooler, and some jugs of water. Dirty kids, just past adolescence, sat on the ground in a circle.

  "This is Spaz, Makeshift, Kendra, Tony the Tiger, Ali, and Blunt.” Blunt.

  "Hi, I'm—"

  "She's Jane, I'm Rock,” Rock, Flip said.

  Allison shivered all over. She felt like everything bad was coming back towards them, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  "You hungry? We've got spaghetti.” Spaghetti.

  Allison and Flip sat down on the floor as Veronica brought them food. The kids told funny stories with a gentleness that seemed too sweet for their age, like maybe they'd had bad childhoods, and were making up for it now.

  After dinner, Veronica grabbed a flashlight and a bunch of blankets. She took them up a wide creaky staircase and down a dark hallway to an empty schoolroom. There were holes in the floor where wood had rotted through—dark pocks that looked like wounds as the flashlight bounced over them.

  "Thank you,” Allison said. It was the first time she could remember someone being nice to her without being paid for it.

  "No worries.” Worries.

  "You okay?” Okay? Flip asked when they were alone.

  "I don't know. We can't go back, can we? This is the only decision, isn't it? For the baby?” Allison said. “We didn't just leave because we're mentally ill, did we?"

  "Nope,” Flip rubbed his warm hand over her flat belly. “Our baby's going to be so beautiful, and we're never going to let anything bad happen to her.” To her.

  The next day was Allison's third day of missing Sanify, and Flip's second. It felt like walking over a cliff. Falling and where would they land?

  There were changes for both of them in the following weeks. The echoes of people's words grew more and more tangled up with their spoken words, and All
ison felt confused most of the time. At first just the end of sentences were garbled, then the middle, then all the way through. She had to listen very carefully to catch what they were saying. Flip's body was hot all the time, like he had a fever. They both felt clearer, less in a haze than they had been. “Like clouds lifting off my soul,” Flip said.

  The changes worried Allison and excited Flip.

  What was strangest of all to Allison was that the kids befriended her and Flip. They fed them with their dumpster food and didn't ask why Flip and Allison never left the school. They would play cards, or read books out loud on the roof, or talk politics and never think to exclude Allison and Flip. It made Allison think that someday she and Flip could leave the school and no one would know they were formerly mentally ill. Allison felt herself relaxing as days passed and nothing bad happened. It seemed like Flip was right—schizophrenia was over, and they were becoming free.

  On a sunny day Flip and Allison laid out on the wide flat roof of the school—all the kids were at an immigrant-rights protest—and stared up at the puffy white cotton ball clouds overhead.

  Allison wore an old, soft sweatshirt that Veronica had given her. She held Flip's hand and traced patterns on his palm with her ring finger.

  "It's like an invisible pain is gone. I was so used to it, but now it's gone ... I feel good, normal,” Allison said. She pointed at a cloud and said, “Wolves."

  The cloud twisted and turned into a more definite shape of wolves. She pointed at another one, “Baby."

  Flip laughed as the cloud grew more distinctly baby-like. Our baby will be just as fat. “Our baby will be just as fat."

  That was new—hearing the words before he said them. Weird, but not schizophrenia weird.

  We should talk. A beat later, Flip said, “We should talk."

  "About what?” She didn't want to.

  Our future. “Our future."

  "I want to talk about names. I want you to give our baby a real Indian name. Something with a lot of syllables."

  Flip put his hand on her belly. We need to have some kind of plan. We need to leave Seattle, I think. They'll be looking for us. Allison had a moment to think before Flip spoke the words out loud.

  "I need to rest. Maybe we can stay here until the baby comes, then head up to Canada? We can cross the border in the woods.” The second after the words left her mouth, Allison wished she had not mentioned the woods, the place of her hallucinations. A cloud—the wolf cloud—settled across the sun and it grew colder.

  Okay, but we should plan for our future, Flip said, only his words didn't repeat out loud. A deep male voice laughed instead. Allison looked around, but there was no one there.

  "Did you hear that?” she asked.

  Yes. Again, there was no repeat. Allison looked at Flip. Blood poured from his nose all over his face. His eyes moved back and forth, watching something dart across the sky that Allison couldn't see. The wolf cloud slowly seemed to be moving toward them.

  "Flip! Get up, come on!” She dragged him to his feet, then took him down the staircase, down and down, running in dim light, their feet squeaking against the worn wooden steps. Above them she heard footsteps clunk on the roof. Clean him up in the bathroom, nose bleeds always look bad, it's nothing, it's fine, she told herself. We're both fine.

  Flip's hand grew slippery in hers, and he had trouble keeping up. He stumbled and almost fell down the stairs before catching himself.

  "Flip?” In the dimness she saw he was bleeding from cuts up and down his arms.

  When had that happened? “Flip, you can't start cutting on yourself again.” Allison tried to not scream at him.

  I didn't, he thought. From above them Allison heard laughter and a pounding of footsteps. They ran down the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Allison left Flip in a schoolroom as she ran to the bathroom for toilet paper. As soon as she let go of him, he started screaming—a double scream with his echo and voice combined.

  It made it hard to think. Is this real? Allison wondered, as she grabbed a roll of toilet paper and turned back for him.

  "Run! Hide!” A little girl suddenly standing in the bathroom's doorway yelled. The child had long black hair and moon eyes. “Mom, they're coming for us, run!"

  Allison felt herself collapsing inward. I know what this is, Allison thought. Psychosis. It did nothing to shake off her growing terror.

  She pushed passed the unreal girl and ran back into the hallway. Someone cruel—someone not there—laughed. The sound echoed and bounced off the walls. Allison waited for the laughing man to show himself.

  Allison? Flip called from down the hallway, fear and pain laced into his thoughts. Allison, please?

  She ran toward him. Three thwumps came from his schoolroom, and flames flickered out of the doorway. A writhing figure in flames danced out of the room, and Flip's thoughts filled her. Help me! Help me! I'm burning!

  The figure fell, and Flip screamed. The cruel laughter grew closer. She couldn't see anyone, but Allison knew who it was—a blue Nazi.

  The little girl ran at her and said, “Run! They'll find us, Mom. Come on!"

  Allison turned from Flip's burning form. She scooped the girl into her arms and ran into the dark cavern of the old school. She ran and ran, but didn't come to any walls. Of course not, this isn't real, she thought. Flip's fine. I'm fine. The darkness around her went from grey to complete blackness. Flip's screams died behind her. The ground she walked on grew softer, and the air around her colder and cleaner. Allison held the unreal girl tight to her body and was glad she was not alone. The girl breathed onto her neck and it was calming.

  Is this my child? How did she get here? Allison wondered. She was heavy but Allison didn't put her down. The mindlessness of holding her and walking kept some of her fear away. Her eyes burned with the darkness, trying to see anything at all. There was nothing. It all felt so real.

  A twig snapped just behind her, then fingers grabbed onto her hair and pulled her backwards. Allison fell onto her back, and her girl was wrenched away from her.

  "Mommy?"

  A torch erupted in the darkness and Allison saw three blue Nazis standing over her. They were all the same height, wore the same police uniform, and had identical faces. They looked like her brother—fair skinned, straight nosed, and hard mouthed with blond hair poking out beneath their hats.

  It's not real.

  They tied her hands and legs to the ground, spread-eagling her with ropes and stakes. Allison saw one of them make faces at the girl he clutched in his hands. She squirmed and tried to get free. The smell of pine, wet earth, and her bitter body odor filled the air.

  None of this is real.

  One of the blue Nazis took out long silvery scissors from his holster and cut the clothes off her body. Allison shivered.

  Another pulled out a long syringe with a fat needle from his pocket and jabbed it into her breast. It sucked at her tissue and flesh, slowly filling with a thick orange-brown liquid. Allison screamed and tried to get free, but her bonds did not loosen, no matter how hard she pulled at them. Allison breathed in gulps of air as he pulled the syringe out of her. He put the syringe's tip near his lips and squirted the liquid into his mouth. Allison closed her eyes.

  Not real.

  "Delicious,” the blue Nazi murmured.

  She opened her eyes.

  Her liquid dribbled down his face. The other two laughed. Allison saw that the girl was gone.

  They stuck another syringe deep into her thigh. It sucked away her essence; sinew, nerves, muscle and marrow.

  Allison focused on the green branches that flickered with torch light above her. They stabbed her with the syringes up and down her body, arguing with soft grunty voices, “There? Delicious, painful, yes.” “No there, better, yes, hurt, hurt."

  It went on and on. Prick, suck, drink.

  A crow landed on the branches above her and stared at her with calculating eyes.

  Carnage? Not yet. Soon, she heard it think before it flew
away.

  A wolf lingered at the edge of the torch's light. Allison raised her head and watched him. He had no thoughts, only a deep hunger. Prick, suck, drink.

  "Her neck."

  "Her foot."

  "Her cheek. Yes, there."

  Hours and hours passed, but it stayed dark out. The torch did not burn down. Needles poked into her deeper and deeper, taking more of her away.

  Then she heard a voice cutting through the night. Jane? Allison? “Jane? Allison?” Flip said, then screamed.

  It was a trap. They wanted her to want him, so that they could take that away from her too. Except, the blue Nazi's looked worried as they drew near her with their syringe.

  Allison! Flip thought. She heard him groaning.

  Out of desperation to find Flip, she turned and faced the closest Nazi. She really looked at him. In all her years of hallucinating, Allison had never met their gaze. She'd never been able to stare down her worst fear. The Nazi's face was plain, blank, and held a hunger to hurt her.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Allison? Help me! Flip thought.

  The Nazi sneered and raised his syringe. Allison didn't look away, though she wanted to, and his face started to change. It began to grow fainter and transparent. Like wisps of smoke held together for a moment then dissipating, his face began unraveling. He sank to the ground and like some old melting witch, he collapsed into himself. Allison faced the next one, who was at her side instantly. He pulled out knives from his belt loop. Her gaze unmade him, and he squealed as he disappeared from her nightmare. The third blue Nazi turned and ran into the woods.

  Allison, please? It's so hot.

  She tried to go to Flip, to find him in the woods, but ropes still held her down.

  No, she thought, and focused her mind on them. They loosened, then dissolved away from her ankles and wrists. Everywhere she looked, the woods grew sparser, branches lost their leaves, and grass withered away into the ground. The torch flickered, then went out. Allison sat in complete blackness.

  Then, as her eyes adjusted, she saw a glow coming through a doorway. She sat up, naked and sore, and saw that she was in one of the classrooms. Her body oozed blood from all her sores. She touched one. It was real. The glow flickered in the doorway.