Phobias

by Ryan Horvath

  “My mom is dead,” Walt said flatly. Then, as if the burning building flared up again, an orange glow appeared in Walt’s eyes like the fires of hate. It was actually the rising sun peeking through from the edge of the storm, but it made Walt look powerful, vengeful, and god-like to the other three survivors. “And when I get my hands of the motherfucker who put all of this together, I’ll rip him to shreds.”

  Approaching sirens arose in the distance.

  The rain stopped.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  Chad, Holly, Walt, and Calvin were all thoroughly questioned on-site while paramedics worked on their injuries. Detectives Willis and Mahannah were methodical in their interrogation of the quartet.

  Forensic technicians and firemen worked through the wreckage and found the savagely ruined remains of four dead people: two adult men, an adult woman, and a young woman in her late teens. Aside from Detective Terry Calles, whose ID badge had mostly survived due to being in a cheap, flame-retardant wallet, none of the other victims’ identities were going to be easy to confirm. Holly found herself glad she wouldn’t be the one doing the post-mortem on those bodies.

  The morning was well over by the time the questioning was finished and Detectives Willis and Mahannah told the four survivors to stay close to home until all of this was resolved.

  The detectives stood side by side as they watched a uniformed officer leave with Chad, Holly, Walt, and Calvin in a squad car to take them home.

  “What do you think?” Mahannah asked.

  “A lot of dead bodies around these four,” Willis returned. “The story stinks to me.”

  “Me too,” Mahannah agreed.

  “But we are still gonna check out this Justin Andrews,” Willis summed.

  Mahannah nodded. “I’ll get the car,” he said and moved away.

  ~*~0~0~*~

  From the minute he left his property in exploded shambles, Miedo listened to the police scanner using an app on his tablet that played in his car through the Bluetooth. It was exciting to hear the flurry of calls that came in the seconds following the explosion. Then the fear of all the nearby residents, and even the first responders, gave him that intoxicated feeling he experienced when Heather squealed in her phobic dance. Miedo rubbed his swelling manhood through his pants, not desiring to achieve an orgasm, but instead savoring the strength and turgidity of it.

  But his hand instantly stopped when he learned that there were survivors.

  Four of them.

  Miedo did not like the sound of that.

  He didn’t like it, but he had at least prepared for the possibility. As soon as he learned which four survived, he would reassess but for now, Miedo had to make one extra stop before finishing this all up.

  He sped away from where he was parked no more than twenty minutes after the explosion. He had to act quickly. Forensics were good and always getting better, especially about narrowing down time of death, so he didn’t have time to waste.

  Just as dawn was winning the battle over the storm, he pulled up about half a block away from the house Walt and his mother shared.

  While Miedo had Calvin Vale in his possession, he hadn’t just poisoned his body with drugs to keep him in a dream state. During his years of practicing psychiatry, Miedo learned just how aroused men could become from violence, and even fear. Calvin Vale was no exception. While Calvin was trapped in his nightmare state, he still maintained the normal amount of erections a young man his age might get in an average night. On one of those occasions, Miedo manipulated Calvin to orgasm and collected his semen. In addition to that, he pulled some of Calvin’s head and pubic hair off and collected that. Also, when he brought Walt’s mother, Lisa, into captivity, Miedo extracted some of her blood.

  In the bedroom Lisa would never use again, Miedo took the DNA samples from both of those individuals. He splattered the blood and semen on the bed and around the room, and left enough of Calvin’s hair laying around the bed and bedroom to make any amateur detective believe that there was something going on. Even if it wasn’t foul play, it was definitely suspicious. Miedo was setting Calvin up for charges of rape and murder.

  When he was satisfied with the scene, Miedo slipped out of the house and back into his car. He checked the clock. He had to be swift on his next stop. The drunk ex-cop and the bitch medical examiner had been there probably seventy minutes prior, so Miedo was sure he could still make them look responsible for what he was about to do. It would also help that he’d been able to extract some of the drunk ex-cop’s blood one night when he’d gotten so obliterated on alcohol that a herd of brontosauruses couldn’t have awakened him.

  Miedo made it to his next destination in just under ten minutes in the light, early-morning traffic. He surveyed the small bungalow. The windows were dark, so the resident must have gone back to sleep after his mid-night visitors left.

  Miedo looked at the neighboring houses. They were quiet. He saw no activity on the street either. He double-checked his coat pocket to make sure he still had what was stashed there. It was an unnecessary precaution as he could feel the weight of the silencer-equipped pistol.

  He strutted to the bungalow and pressed the doorbell three times.

  “Jesus!” he heard someone exclaim from inside. “Again? What the fuck?”

  Miedo smiled. He rocked in anticipation while he waited.

  The sound of locks being turned came through the front door and the door was yanked open. A young man with bed-tousled hair stood just inside the threshold wearing tight red skivvies. “Now what, Cha…?” the man started, and then cut off when he saw who had come to his door. His eyes widened in recognition. “Oh… fuck…,” he summed.

  Miedo took the pistol from his pocket and pointed it directly at the young man’s crotch. “Hi, Mitchell!” Miedo said. “Unless you want me to shoot your fucking balls off, you’d better invite me inside.”

  ~~31~~

  Chad felt uneasiness dancing behind his eyes as he leaned forward in the front seat of the squad car. His back was tender, but the paramedic who checked him over said he escaped without any third-degree burns. His torched shirt had been replaced with a thin Scrubs top from the ambulance. But it wasn’t the burning sensation that made Chad anxious. Nor was it the fact that his hair would look funny for a while unless he shaved his head. He caught his image in the side view mirror and tried to imagine himself bald. It came easily to him. But, burned and bald or not, a worried face stared back at him from the mirror. The questioning from the police felt weird.

  Chad knew there was a possibility that these two new detectives talked to the cops from Holly’s jurisdiction-the ones who were ready to hang Chad for his own wife’s homicide. It was possible they somehow got a view of the rape video Calvin was forced to make. Before Calvin was outfitted with his own set of Scrubs, Detective Mahannah looked surprised when he saw what the kid was sporting between his legs, but Detective Willis sure didn’t.

  Chad began to think about the events since Terry came knocking on his door. Being sober made a world of difference. Unfortunately, nothing made him feel any better. He turned and looked at the three in the back seat. None of them looked any better than Chad felt.

  The uniformed cop driving was supposed to take them all home. The thought of them splitting up suddenly felt very wrong to Chad. He began to scan the passing storefronts. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for-a neon “OPEN” sign on a restaurant.

  “You know?” he said to the uniformed cop. “I’m starving.” Chad looked back at the rear passengers. “You all must be famished too, right?” he added. Without waiting for any of them to answer, Chad went on, talking to the cop again. “Can you just let us out here? There’s a café right back there and I feel like I could eat everything on the menu.”

  “But… But my orders were to take each of you home,” the cop said.

  Chad looked back at the others and gave them a help me look.

  “I’m with Chad,” Calvin said, catching the look from the re
lative stranger and leaning forward. “I don’t remember the last time I had anything to eat,” he supplemented truthfully.

  “Yeah,” Holly agreed. “I guess now that this is all over, I could eat something.” She adjusted the arm that was now in a sling. The paramedic who examined her agreed that she probably just had a hairline fracture; nothing serious, but something she should still see a doctor about.

  “And it’s not like we’re criminals,” Chad said.

  “Yeah,” the cop said and smiled. “I guess that’s true.” He slowed the car, then brought it to a stop.

  “Let’s go,” Chad said to the others.

  They got out of the car and stepped onto the drying sidewalk. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  “Chad? What’s up?” Holly asked, putting a hand on his lower arm.

  “I don’t know,” Chad answered. “Something just doesn’t feel right. You said this was over in the cop car, but I don’t think it is.”

  “I don’t think so either,” Walt agreed. He’d been quiet for a while. “I think it’s a long way from being over.”

  They all were quiet while they felt the weight of Walt’s last statement.

  Finally, Chad said, “But I wasn’t kidding before. I really am starving. Let’s go inside and get something to eat.” He paused and added, “And make the most of it. It might be the last time we get to eat for a while.”

  No one made a reply and they entered the café.

  They sat across from each other in a booth in the corner. Holly was next to Walt and Calvin and Chad were on the other bench. The ordered heavily. Pancakes, sausage, eggs, fruit plates, bacon, biscuits and gravy, grits, and home fries all came in oversized portions, and the four of them ate family-style. They took their time and savored syrups and seasonings. Even though the four of them barely knew each other, they felt bonded.

  Chad paid the tab with a credit card he hadn’t used in years. As they were finishing up the last of their beverages, a distinct car pulled up outside. Two familiar men exited the car. Chad recognized them and his heart sank.

  “Here we go,” Chad said, nodding to the windows and the approaching men.

  “What? What is it?” Holly and Calvin said together.

  “That’s the start of the lynch mob isn’t it?” Walt asked Chad.

  Chad simply nodded.

  Detectives Willis and Mahannah opened the door to the café. They quickly scanned the patrons, found this quartet, and approached them. Apparently the uniformed cop told these two where he’d left them when he didn’t take them home.

  “Mr. Dean. Ms. Nabors. Boys,” Willis said icily. “Glad you’re all still together. Say. Walt? How come you didn’t go home?”

  “We were hungry,” Walt returned.

  “Where’s you mom?” Mahannah asked.

  “I… I … I told you back there,” Walt said. He started to tremble and it sent pain radiating out from his ribs. “She’s in that bombed-out shithole!” Walt said loud enough that some of the other patrons quieted and looked their way.

  “Walt,” Chad said commandingly. “Calm down.” He addressed the detectives. “What is this about? What did you find on Justin Andrews?”

  Ignoring his question, Mahannah said, “Where were you earlier this morning? Say the hour or so prior to the storm.”

  “I… I… we went to see an old friend,” Chad answered. He really didn’t like where this was going.

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Willis retorted.

  “Holly and me,” Chad said softly.

  “Is this the old friend you went to visit?” Mahannah asked and produced a photo.

  Chad peered at the image. It was Mitchell. The smiling kid looked back at Chad with eyes that were too smart for his own good. This time Chad was silent.

  “Name’s Mitchell Brady, right?” Willis said. When Chad still didn’t say anything Willis added, “We got a call from the FBI… can you believe that? The fucking FBI calls our shit-little precinct about twenty minutes after you leave the most explosive crime scene I’ve ever been to. Turns out someone in our area hacked into their system and they want us to be first responders since we’re the closest.”

  “So then we go and check out Mitchell’s place,” Mahannah continued. “Well!”

  Chad felt sweat bead up under his arms and run down the small of his back between the scald marks. He got young Mitchell killed. He knew that much at least, but he had no idea about any hacking that got the federal government involved.

  “What did you find out about Justin Andrews?” Holly interrupted.

  “Funny thing about that,” Willis answered. “Our guys are still looking, but we’ve only found two guys named Justin Andrews so far. Neither’s in Minnesota and they’re both toddlers.” He paused and looked at his partner. “I don’t think a toddler did what happened to Mr. Brady.”

  “No sir, it sure didn’t,” Mahannah said smiling. “So after we got the privilege of being first on the scene… and it was quite a scene… at Brady’s place, we took some statements from the neighbors. One of them described you two right down to the shirt you were wearing before. She said the two of you were on Mitchell’s porch carrying on at all hours until the young man answered his door.”

  Holly didn’t need them to go on. “We’re being set up,” she gasped. “By Justin Andrews.”

  “Lady,” Mahannah said loudly. Most all of the other patrons were watching the scene now. “There is no Justin Andrews. Our people have been through a lot of databases and no one by that name has ever owned property, practiced psychiatry or any other medicine, paid taxes, or any other such shit that the rest of us do. This Justin Andrews you keep babbling on about is just digging your hole deeper. Forensics found some prints and hair there. My guess is they’re yours. And the bad thing about being in a government job, your prints end up in the database. We’re expecting a call confirming that the prints are yours any second now.”

  “But we were there,” Holly said.

  “Holly!” Chad snapped.

  “Perfect,” Willis said. “That’s half the confession. That’s enough for me.” He took something out of his pocket. “Handcuff time!”

  The four in the booth appeared trapped. They were in a walled-in corner with nowhere to go but into the waiting detectives’ hands.

  Chad looked at Holly, Walt, and Calvin. They all knew Justin Andrew was a real person. Three of them had seen the asshole and the fourth knew his friend was a patient of the doctor. He could see Holly and Walt were willing to help, but their injuries limited their movements. But Calvin was relatively uninjured. Chad slid a hand across the bench and squeezed Calvin’s leg, which he found tense.

  Calvin got Chad’s signal and wasted no time. He thrust upward with all of his upper body strength and threw the table into Willis and Mahannah, slamming them with the dirty dishes and breaking glass and porcelain. The detectives were buried under the table and in a tangle of their own arms, legs, and clothes. Many of the patrons screamed at the sudden shift in the once-calm morning.

  “Let’s go!” Calvin said firmly. “Now!”

  They leapt into action. Chad grabbed a knife from the floor as they headed out. When they were outside, he used the knife to flatten the two nearest tires of the detectives’ car.

  Then they were on the move.

  ~~32~~

  “So now what?” Holly said when they stopped to catch their breath near a Dumpster. They’d run about a mile from the restaurant. With the sun up and cooking the moisture out of the sodden ground, the air was thick and wet.

  “I don’t understand,” Calvin said through deep breaths that showed he was an experienced runner. “How are we being set up? We haven’t done anything.”

  Chad was about to open his mouth to say something, but a phone chirped from someone’s pocket. Walt recognized his ring tone and pulled his phone out.

  “Unknown caller,” Walt said, looking from the phone to the other three.

  “It’s him,” Chad hissed and snatched the phon
e from Walt’s hand. He pushed the “accept” icon and turned on the speaker phone.

  “So… the four of you are still with us,” a voice they recognized said. “I didn’t expect that. But I wanted to let you know that it doesn’t matter. I’ve thought of everything.” Joy was in the voice they knew belonged to Justin Andrews.

  “What did you do?” Chad asked. He was all but certain he knew part of the answer.

  “Your friend, Mitchell was quite resourceful, drunk ex-cop…,” Justin began.

  “Not a drunk anymore,” Chad retorted.

  “We’ll see. We’ll see,” Justin went on without missing a beat. “Your fear is going to get the better of you again soon enough and you’ll be right back to bourbon for dinner and beers for dessert. And not long after that, you’ll release your phobia, pick up a gun, and blow your fucking brains out. Kill your pathetic self just like your pathetic dip-shit wife killed herself.” He sighed dramatically. “What a waste that dumb bitch was. But, boy, could I tell you some stories about her. She never held back in her sessions.”

  “You bastard,” Chad whispered, clearly stunned by the harsh words about his late wife. “I’ll k…k…kill…” He didn’t get to finish because Holly stepped to him and put two fingers over his lips.

  “Justin?” Holly said. “The police said you didn’t exist. They couldn’t find a record of you. If you’re trying to set us up, why are you calling? How do you know we’re not in a room full of cops right now?”

  “Well, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that I can track your phones with GPS, which, I suppose you could all turn off right now but that wouldn’t bother me because, after this moment, I no longer care where you are on this planet.” Justin paused. “But, as luck would have it, I can see you. You’ve got your finger on the drunk ex-cop’s lips and it sure looks like you’re giving him quite the boner!”

  Holly fell for the bait and yanked her hand away from Chad. She looked down between his legs expecting his manhood to jump out at her. When she saw he was under no visible state of arousal, she turned crimson. A look back at Chad saw he was equally red in the face.