Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner

by Joshua Scribner

  And Peter would be fine. Dr. Porter knew this, because since he’d set up practice in Green Pastures, South Carolina, seventeen years ago, he’d seen such successes hundreds of times. In an ever-growing geographical area, he was the one other mental health professionals sent the cases they couldn’t help. There was a waiting list to be on Dr. Porter’s waiting list. But with all of his success, it wasn’t the improved clients that Dr. Porter dwelled on late at night when the workday was done. It was the few clients whom he had failed that stuck in his mind.

  ***

  Janet Pollard sat at the dinner table with her favorite three people in the world. Robert, her husband, a tall strong man, Superintendent of Pious Schools, alternated his attention between his plate and his two sons, one which he had conceived, one which he had inherited through marriage. Robert had been, and Janet was sure would always be, a good father to both the boys. Janet knew that wasn’t always easy. It was easy with the son he had brought into this world, 14-year-old Randy, a prize athlete, exceptional student, and a pretty damn good kid, the image of his father. It was somewhat more difficult with Toby, who, at 17-years old, was neither the image of his stepfather nor his biological father, whom died shortly after Toby’s birth. No, Toby stood in perfect contrast to both of those men. He was not strong and healthy like his stepfather, and he was not morbidly obese like his biological dad, whose 400-pound girth had contributed to the massive heart attack that killed him. Toby, at five-seven, weighed slightly over ninety pounds.

  Tonight, her husband held back his excitment. It was the first week in September. Tomorrow night would bring the first football game of the season. Randy, like his father, tall and strong, would be the first freshman ever to start at quarterback for the Pious Eagles. That was what they had expected to be the conversation piece at dinner tonight. But the excitement over Randy was held in check right now, because another drama played itself out at the table. Toby, who usually only brought vegetables to his plate, had, on this night, started out with a slab of meatloaf.

  Something bad must have happened today, because only after something bad happened—usually someone singling him out—did Toby make such a desperate attempt to overcome his aversion. Only after someone terrorized him about his small stature did he try to take upon himself what various professionals, medical and psychological, had not been able to help him with. More than Toby’s attempt at eating meat told Janet something was wrong. She had known as soon as they came home from practice, where Randy was a star, and Toby, who could never play but loved the game so much that he had to be close to it, was given the title of manager and allowed to tend to the water and equipment. She had known because Toby had come home quiet and Randy, trying to bring his brother out of himself, had tried hard to engage Toby.

  Janet, herself a healthy and attractive woman at forty-two, knew this was more than Toby’s battle. It was the whole family’s battle, because that was the way the four of them worked. Toby’s problem had always been there, and they had always combined against it, even after they had exhausted every resource of professional help and come to accept that the best they could do was offer moral support.

  Toby had finished half the slab of meat and then stopped. He then stared straight ahead as if trying to concentrate on his body’s reaction. Janet remembered his father and his reverse struggles. The man shunned about every piece of food but meat. And he ate voraciously, like a lion in the jungle, unable to control himself.

  Janet had seen Toby’s drama played out many times. Though she tried to maintain hope, she knew as well as the others at the table how this drama would end. She decided to try to lighten the mood.

  “So how was practice?” she asked.

  Both Robert and Randy looked at her, obviously surprised that the silence had been broken.

  “Good,” Randy said and then turned to his brother, who sat diagonally from him. “We ought to make a good show tomorrow, right Toby?”

  Toby didn’t answer, just stared ahead.

  “How are the older boys with you taking over the quarterback position?" Robert asked Randy, but looked at Janet. Robert, Janet knew, was a little confused now. He managed Pious schools, but the unspoken agreement was that Janet was number one in matters of family. Janet nodded at her husband to let him know it was all right to distract attention from the drama.

  “Well,” Randy responded. “They’ve all come around. We moved Matt over to tight end, and he seems to like it enough.”

  “That sounds good,” Robert said, more relaxed. “As burly as Matt is, I didn’t think he was mobile enough to be quarterback.”

  Randy nodded. “Yeah. And the upperclassmen like me well enough. But that’s just because most of them are good friends with my big brother.”

  It was a lie, a beautiful, sweet lie that almost brought tears to Janet’s eyes. Randy, who was just under six feet and still growing, handsome, with his father’s solid features and Janet’s wavy blonde hair, was miles away from where any other fourteen-year-old with his physical endowment would be. He didn’t prey on or ignore the meek, either of which he could have done without losing status amongst his peers. He was lying for his brother’s sake. Those older boys thought Toby nothing more than a mascot. What Randy had gained in a short time, respect and popularity, was due completely to his own charm and prowess.

  “Yeah, Big Bro paved the way for you,” Robert said, joining in the patronizing. Janet suspected the false flattery did nothing for Toby’s self-esteem. He appreciated it, because he knew it came from their affection for him, but he knew just as well that it was based on lies.

  And then the drama climaxed. Toby got up quickly and rushed to the hall. The bathroom door slammed shut, but even closed, did not completely drown out the terrible sounds of Toby’s vomiting spell. His stomach had forced up meat, which, for some reason that medical and psychological doctors could not explain, repulsed Toby. It was yet another failed attempt to overcome that repulsion.

  ***

  Dr. Porter came to from his self-initiated trance. He lay alone, in his dark office, on the inclined couch. Peter Harris, his last client of the day, had left about an hour ago. Alice, his secretary, had left shortly after that. He had locked the doors and turned out the lights.

  Dr. Porter never engaged in self-hypnosis experiments when someone else was nearby. He didn’t want others questioning his endeavors. That was his main impetus for coming to Green Pastures soon after receiving his PHD from Harvard. He didn’t want others questioning his work and clouding his mind with their skepticism and critical remarks. He didn’t want to engage in scholarly fellowship and be sucked into its intermingled politics, and he didn’t want his contemporaries questioning his choice not to share his research. So he came to Green Pastures from Cambridge, to a place far away from the Ivy League and anyone he knew. And in Green Pastures, as he practiced his art, he studied, a little in books, but mostly in the subconscious minds of others and himself. That was the best way to do it. The subconscious held all the answers.

  The trance had been exactly thirty minutes, because before he went under, Dr. Porter had set a part of his subconscious to monitor every tick of the clock on his office wall. That part was programmed to bring him up after 1800 ticks. This trick was relatively new in his self-hypnotic routine. He had brought it in about six weeks ago, when he first decided he would attempt to reach previously uncharted regions of trance. That way his mind would be free of angst about not being able to come back from the deepest levels of the subconscious, and he could relax enough to go there.

  For a few weeks, he had gone deeper and deeper, further away from his outside experience and further into the inside. Then he had reached what he thought was the bottom. He went there a few more times and saw the same thing as before. Then tonight, for the first time, he brought light to what he saw. And now he was far advanced beyond anyone in the history of hypnosis research. Hopefully, he’d soon be able to help anyone. The already rare client whom he couldn’t heal would become non
existent.

  Dr. Porter became very excited. But it wasn’t just that he wanted to help people. In fact, helping people wasn’t the main motivation for his work or his research. Helping people was a mere byproduct of his search for knowledge. For Dr. Porter, life had become like working a giant puzzle that no one else had ever been able to finish. And now, with where he had taken himself, he thought he was at least gathering up the last pieces. But it was still all very preliminary. He’d seen the deepest level of the subconscious, but he didn’t know if he could take others there. He needed his favorite guinea pig.

  ***

  On Thursday night, Dr. Porter had dinner with his favorite guinea pig. As a rule, though he frequently studied his clients, he was careful not to involve them in anything completely new, where he didn’t know all the dangers. Given time, he was sure he could undo any damage. But with clients, there was always a chance they would not show for the next session. With his favorite guinea pig, time and danger were of no real consequence.

  Shortly after coming to Green Pastures, he had contracted with a cleaning service for his house. They sent him Tabitha. She was an attractive woman, seven years younger than he, and, more importantly, very agreeable. He began courting her immediately. Through careful indirect questioning and meticulous observation, he came to understand her. Tabitha did not want to think or work very hard, yet she wanted the things such labors would provide.

  Their marriage, not much later, was an unspoken agreement. Dr. Porter would provide the things Tabitha coveted. In exchange, Tabitha would be there for him and never question what he was doing. Both had lived up to their end of the bargain. Besides income from his practice, Dr. Porter had made many wise Stock Market investments. Tabitha had her nice things: a big house, a BMW, vacations, expensive clothing and jewelry. And by not having much pressure in her life, Tabitha had maintained a youthful appearance. At thirty-seven, with her hair still blonde, her face still smooth, and her body, which had never born a child, still slender and flawless, she was often mistaken for being much younger. In exchange, Tabitha took very good care of the house, and she was always a willing subject in any experiment he wanted to involve her subconscious in, while at the same time, never discussing the experiments with anyone and never questioning the experimenter.

  Near the end of dinner Thursday night, Dr. Porter told his wife that he needed her to help him the next day.

  “Okay,” she said with a Barbie Doll smile.

  Chapter 2

  Morgan’s Pub was dead on Thursday night. That came as no surprise to Celeste Sheever, who had been a server there for four years now. She didn’t fret that she would leave tonight with less than $50 in tips. Working the underpaying weeknights at this downtown pub was the dues she paid to work Friday and Saturday night, each of which would get her between $150 and $200. No, it wasn’t that she wasn’t making money that bothered her. It was the awkwardness.

  There were two servers Monday through Thursday. One side of the pub was sunk down below the bar and one side was slightly elevated. This strange architecture added to pub’s charm and provided a natural dividing point for the tables. Tonight, Celeste had the sunken section.

  The other server was Celeste’s best friend and the person she second most wanted to avoid. She wished it were Friday night, when the staff would be too busy to chat.

  As Celeste tended to her few customers, she tried to avoid Kendra, who she knew would be brimming with the inevitable questions. In the little bit of time Celeste had to interact with Scott, the new cook, the one she most wanted to avoid, she tried to pretend there was no weirdness between them.

  She was extra friendly with the regular customers tonight, striking up and maintaining long conversations, not giving Kendra the opening she needed. It worked until midnight, when the pub closed.

  Celeste was wiping down a table when Kendra came down to her section.

  “Wouldn’t it have been better to be vacuuming?” Kendra said. “Then you wouldn’t have been able to hear my questions.”

  “Damn!” Celeste replied. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Celeste stood up straight and looked at her friend, who smiled impishly. Kendra was short and small on top. She was cute, but in a pixie sort of way.

  Ironically, Kendra, who savored all the male attention she could get, was not the first one the men looked at. The first one they looked at was Celeste, who, in what seemed like a cruel joke from God, was blessed with the assets men generally looked for. She was slender, but with an ample chest and round hips. Her fiery red hair and rich brown eyes gave her a misleading wild look. She got way more male attention than she could ever want. At least, she got a lot of attention from the new ones, staff and customers, who hadn’t learned the rules.

  And how did they learn the rules? Not by what Celeste said. She didn’t like to have to explain it to people. It was easier to let the grapevine do that.

  “Well, you know we’re going to have to talk about this at some time,” Kendra said.

  “Oh really?” Celeste replied, though she knew Kendra was right. Now that no one else was around, she was secretly glad to talk about it. That way, the rules, the way things just were, would get back to Scott, and he wouldn’t have to take things personal. Through the other staff members, he would understand that it wasn’t about him; it was about Celeste.

  Kendra nodded confidently.

  Celeste said matter-of-factly, “Scott asked me out.”

  Kendra laughed and shook her head. “I knew it. Rumor was going around that he would.”

  Celeste gave her friend a wicked look. “And nobody was kind enough to tell the poor guy about me before he asked me out?”

  “Hell no,” Kendra replied. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  At that, Celeste shook her head. It was fun and games to her coworkers. Celeste didn’t mind that, though. Having had her repulsion for so long, she herself had learned to make light of it. Making it a joke kept her from going crazy.

  Celeste went back to cleaning her tables. Kendra didn’t leave.

  “So what did you tell him?”

  Celeste laughed at the question.

  “What?” Kendra asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Kendra. I forgot that we just met yesterday. What do you think I told him?”

  Kendra, who Celeste had actually known for four years, put her hands up. “Okay. Okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad. I just thought you might be ready to try again.”

  “No, Kendra. I’m not ready to try again. I’ve given up on trying. It’s just the way I am. I’m repulsed by sex.”

  Even having to say the word grossed Celeste out a little. Kendra seemed to sense this was going beyond their usual bantering. She walked up and put a supportive hand on Celeste’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Kendra said. “It’s just that he seems really nice. And he’s mega-gorgeous. I just thought maybe he was the right one.”

  Celeste sighed, looking down at her friend. “Yeah, he’s great. But it isn’t about the right one. There is no right one. No perfect guy is going to come riding in and make me forget what I am. And no guy is going to want anything to do with a serious relationship that is completely celibate. I’m coming to accept that I’m destined to spend my life alone.”

  Kendra shook her head. “You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have me.”

  Celeste thought she could see just a bit of humor in Kendra’s expression. She was serious in that she would always be a friend to Celeste. But Celeste thought Kendra was thinking of something else at the same time.

  About two years ago, Kendra had approached Celeste with the idea. It was just an experiment. They would try it and see what happened. Celeste had ended up going further with Kendra than she’d ever gone with a man. And that wasn’t far. Though Celeste had tried to like it and then just tried not to be disgusted by it, they hadn’t even gotten their clothes off before Celeste realized that she wasn’t a lesbian and had to stop. For several weeks, she’d barely been able to look at
her friend without wanting to vomit.

  “I know you’ll always be there,” Celeste said. “And that makes it all the more scary.”

  “Well!” Kendra said playfully, as she put her hands on her hips. She then smiled and said, “So you told him no?”

  Celeste half-growled and then said, “Yes, you twit! I told him no!”

  Kendra ran away laughing.

  ***

  Dr. Porter had a break in clients after one o’clock on Friday. He had one more client to go for the week, later that evening. So at one, he went home, where Tabitha waited. They went into the bedroom, Tabitha’s favorite place, the place she was most able to relax. She lay on the baby blue spread on their king-sized bed. He sat off in an oak rocking chair.

  Tabitha’s favorite obsession, dolls, surrounded them. Little girls in petticoat dresses lined one shelf. Little girls in more casual play outfits filled another. On top of a long dresser sat sleeping babies wrapped in blankets, some in bassinets, a few in baskets.

  To Tabitha, the dolls were a simple hobby. To Dr. Porter, they represented so much more. They were Tabitha’s subconscious wish to always be a child and to be surrounded by a world of innocence.

  Many times, Dr. Porter had been inside his wife’s subconscious. He had changed things there, but always changed them back, keeping her a clean slate to work from. Of course, even after he changed things back, there were always traces of what he had done, but the subconscious would only access those traces if he told it to.

  Tabitha, her head propped on two pillows, listened as he talked soothingly to her. Going into a trance was like anything in that a person got better with practice. Tabitha, a trance veteran, was under in a matter of seconds.

  Dr. Porter said, “Now that you are deep within your subconscious mind, completely separated from the outside world except for hearing the sound of my voice, I want you to look at your history. But do not see it as it unfolds. See your entire history, everything you’ve sensed, learned, thought and felt, as one thing. Signal me when you are able to do this.”