Methods of Madness

by Ray Garton

  Along with that, she was afraid—terrified—of what Dr. Krusadian was going to do.

  “It is time, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, to face what you have done to your boy.”

  “Dr. Krusadian,” Dani said, “if you’ll just listen to me for a—”

  “There will be plenty of time for listening afterward.”

  Dani flinched. “After… ward? After what?”

  He simply looked at her with a gentle smile.

  Richard sat at the table with his face in his hands, looking at neither of them. He jerked to attention when Dr. Krusadian spoke to him.

  “I’m curious, Mr. Campbell. Can you explain this? Your wife’s face? The cuts and bruises?”

  No reply.

  “Teaching her a lesson, were you?”

  “We… had… an argument. That’s all.” His hands trembled noisily against the tabletop.

  “Ah, an argument. You enjoy them, don’t you? These arguments.”

  “It was just an argument. Everybody has arguments.”

  “Then you don’t think this is a problem?”

  Richard steeled himself, stopped the trembling and leveled an icy glare at the doctor.

  “Only because you’re making it a problem. We were fine. Before.”

  “We were not fine,” Dani hissed. “We’ve never been fine.”

  Dr. Krusadian asked, “When was the last time you two had sex? Together?”

  They turned to him, but neither spoke.

  “I say together because it’s quite obvious that Mr. Campbell has been sexually active for some time on his own. Not what most would think of as sex, but it’s sex to you, isn’t it?” He turned to Richard, still wearing that smile. “You drink heavily, so I would imagine you’re impotent. Alcohol does that, you know. But you have found something else. Haven’t you?”

  Richard’s face turned crimson, twisted painfully, and he turned away.

  “And you,” Krusadian went on, looking at Dani, “have closed your eyes to it all. Even joined in the fun.”

  “Wait, wait just a sec—”

  “Do you still use a curling iron, Mrs. Campbell?”

  She gasped and, seconds later, tears followed.

  “I know what I’ve done,” she sobbed. “At least I admit it! And I’m going to stop! Right now. Please. Let me go. I’ll take Jason. I’ll never let him near Richard again. I’ll—”

  “Like hell you will,” Richard growled.

  Dr. Krusadian lifted a hand. “Please. Let’s not do this. Now, I believe, Mrs. Campbell, that you are aware of what you’ve done. I think both of you are, although one of you won’t admit it. But I don’t think either of you truly know what you’ve done.” He pushed his chair back and stood, taking a key from his pocket. “Do you remember what I said earlier about removing the demons you have inflicted upon your son?”

  Dani wanted to scream. She had never in her life wanted so desperately to empty her lungs into the air and run as fast and far as she could.

  “Dr. Krusadian, puh-puh-please… “

  He ignored her. “Well, I have done that. Even from you, Mrs. Campbell. You had a demon of your own that needed release.”

  “Please, duh-doctor, I-I-I don’t… want to… duh-do this… “

  “But you, Mr. Campbell, are a rock.”

  Richard did not even look at him.

  “You refuse to let go of whatever monsters you have locked inside. And I know you have them. Your life, I suspect, has been a tragic one. Your father was a hard, cruel man, am I right?”

  Richard’s teeth crunched together dryly and tears sparkled in his eyes, unfallen.

  “Your childhood was violent and cold. Did your mother look away, too? I suspect. Surely there had to be one moment in your life—one isolated redeeming moment—when you vowed that your children would never have to endure such cruelty. Hm?”

  Richard clenched and released his fists between his knees again and again.

  “I suspect. But you let it pass unheeded. Instead, you went on to kick and beat your son through the same hell from which you’d come, denying it all the while. In fact, you’ve wallowed in denial. For the past several hours, you’ve had the opportunity to break, to cleanse yourself, but even now you remain unmovable. That is unfortunate, Mr. Campbell. For your family… and you.”

  Dr. Krusadian went to the basement door and slipped his key into the upper padlock, releasing it with a loud, solid… clitch. He unlocked the lower one and placed them both on the table, then faced them and said, “Come. I’ve something to show you.”

  Dani felt herself coming unraveled. She stood, but her knees threatened collapse, making her wobble rather than walk backward away from the door.

  “Please,” she whimpered, finding little voice in her throat, “don’t do this. I said I was sorry. I said I would stop. Please.”

  “Not now. It’s too late. Being sorry isn’t enough,” Dr. Krusadian said, offering his hand, “until you know precisely what you are sorry for. Come. I’ll hold your hand. It will be all right. I promise. You, too, Mr. Campbell. What have you to lose? If you are so certain there is no problem, you have no worries. Do you?”

  Richard looked around, blinking, as if coming awake, and sat up straight. Something dawned in his face as he turned to Dani. He seemed to be considering the possibility that her talk of punishment earlier had not been the ramblings of a drunk.

  “Dr. Krusadian,” Dani whispered, “please let me go. I-I’m sorry for what I’ve duh-done and I swear I’ll make it all up to Jason, but please for Christ’s sake let me—”

  “Enough!” the doctor roared, then said with quiet threat, “if you do not comply, your son will be taken from you and all of this will be made public. If that appeals to you, then so be it. If not… then come let me show you something.”

  Dani watched the familiar anger creep into Richard’s face, even into his posture. He stood, took a deep breath, and swallowed his fear.

  “All right. You son of a bitch, all right,” he whispered. “Come on, Dani, let’s get this over with.”

  “No. No. Please.”

  “Goddammit, Dani, come on. How bad can it be, for Christ’s sake? It’s our basement.”

  Dr. Krusadian nodded, smiling, and said, “That is precisely the attitude I expected from you, Mr. Campbell. Now come.” He pulled the door open and said, “After you.”

  Light from the kitchen spilled half way down the narrow wooden staircase, halting at a wall of darkness.

  “Dani,” Richard summoned.

  “No.”

  “Dammit—” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hard toward the open door, “—come on.”

  Dani shriveled up inside as he jerked her through the door, their feet clattering on the steps.

  “Wait,” she hissed, “wait, the light, it’s dark, please get the li—”

  The door slammed shut behind them.

  The upper lock fell into place heavily and clicked.

  Then the lower lock.

  Blackness.

  Dani screamed.

  When he heard his mom’s muffled scream, Jason hurried into the kitchen, frightened.

  “What’s-matter?”

  Dr. Krusadian held up his palms in reassurance and said, “Nothing to worry about, Jason.”

  “But I heard Mom—” He stopped and looked around the kitchen. “Where are they?”

  “They are in the basement.’’

  “The basement? Why?”

  Dr. Krusadian gently covered Jason’t back with one hand and led him from the kitchen. “Come to the living room and I’ll set up my camera, Jason. I want to take your picture. And don’t worry about your parents. They will be fine, just fine. They have a lot of thinking to do. And when they have finished, things will be much different in this house.” He patted Jason’s back. “And much better.”

  Jason left the kitchen with Dr. Krusadian and the fearful shouting voices of his parents faded behind him.

  26.

  Dani flipped the light
switch up and down a dozen times in rapid fire succession, sobbing uncontrollably, before she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that the light was not going to come on.

  Richard’s fists thundered uselessly against the door as he bellowed, “Open this fucking door, goddamn you, open it! This is kidnapping! I’ll send you to prison for the rest of your fucking life, you son of a bitch!”

  Pushing herself close to Richard, Dani clutched his arm and shook her whole body convulsively as if to toss the clinging darkness away from her.

  “Get us out, Richard, please, you’ve gotta get us out of here!”

  “Stop it, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Don’t you see why he put us down here? I tried to tell you he—”

  Something moved down in the dark.

  It was a wet sound. Bare feet stomping through a sewer. A silent baby crawling through pudding.

  It was coming toward the stairs.

  “Oh Guh-Guh-God,” Dani breathed, then began pounding on the door, too, her elbow clubbing Richard’s shoulder with each blow.

  He ordered her to stop, but some of the fierceness had left his voice.

  “The hell was that?” he muttered after a moment of still listening.

  “That thing—I tried to tell you, Richard—that thing!”

  It moved again.

  Closer.

  Richard took two steps down the stairs and Dani grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back and crying, “No, no, don’t go down there, Richard, don’t—”

  He shook her off and snapped, “Will you leave me alone?” Two more steps.

  Dani dug her fingernails into her palms and sucked her lips between her teeth, holding her breath.

  “Who’s there?” Richard shouted.

  Silence.

  Both were motionless for a moment and Dani found herself praying silently for the first time since she was a girl, when her grandmother told her again and again that Jesus was always waiting to help her whenever she needed him. Then Richard made a frustrated sound in his throat and muttered, “There’s a flashlight here, somewhere.”

  She remembered the long black flashlight hanging from a hook on the wall over the stairs; Richard had hung it there years ago after the first time a fuse blew and Richard had to find his way down to the breaker box in total darkness. The thought of being able to see whatever was slopping around below made her insides wither and, when she heard his hand whispering over the wall in search of the flashlight, she reached out for him, groping until she found the top of his head.

  “No, Richard, please.”

  He brushed her away, found the flashlight, and clicked it on.

  The beam sliced through darkness and fell on the cement floor below, passing over boxes and bags and a few pieces of old dusty furniture. But beyond the bar of light, the darkness remained, heavy and fat.

  “What’s he done?” Richard whispered, sounding interested, perhaps even fascinated by the doctor’s cleverness, then called, “Who’s there?”

  Dani clutched her own hair when he started down the stairs, unable to speak or even breathe.

  Richard stopped, looked over his shoulder and said, “Well? Come on.”

  “Richard, please, don’t make me—”

  His face stopped her; it curled into that mask of threat that had held her prisoner for so long.

  “If you don’t come down here right now,” he said, so quietly she barely heard, “I’m gonna come up there and drag you down here by your hair.”

  With her eyes only, she followed the beam of light downward again; she saw nothing, but she knew—as she knew the sun was coming up soon—that something awaited them down there, silent and with purpose.

  “I-I-I’ll just stay up here, Richard, really, I’m—”

  “Get down here!”

  Wiping a tear from her unswollen eye, Dani leaned heavily against the wooden handrail; she lowered her foot to the next step as if she were lowering it into boiling water. Then the next step… and the next… Then, under her feet, she felt something slick and sticky. She stopped, looked down at the step and, in the poor light, she saw a glistening strip of thick fluid that went all the way down the stairs, like the trail of a slug.

  A very big slug.

  With a dry, hoarse voice, she whispered, “Richard?”

  Something slashed in a far corner of the basement and a stack of boxes toppled over. One box spilled Christmas ornaments and a bundle of sparkling red and green garland over the concrete floor; some of the ornaments shattered and tossed freckles of reflected light over the walls.

  Richard hurried toward the corner muttering, “What the hell?” and kicked two boxes aside, searching for the cause of the disturbance.

  Dani quickened her pace down the stairs, reached the floor and called, “Richard, I don’t think you should do that.”

  He spun to her, holding the flashlight down at his side so it spilled a puddle of light around his feet, and barked, “Well, what the hell do you want me to—”

  Something rose quickly in the shadows behind him—something that looked like a hill of pus—then fell forward, wrapping itself around the lower half of his body.

  Richard dropped the flashlight and groped the air as he fell forward, sputtering helplessly.

  The light flickered as it rolled over the floor, finally holding on the thing that was engulfing Richard. It sloshed forward up his body, stopped, opened a black cavernous maw, then closed it with another quivering forward motion, like a snake devouring a kicking rat. One glaring eye bulged atop the creature, black, dead, and unblinking, like a shark’s; another was positioned lower and to the side.

  Dani stumbled backward, groping for the handrail, trying to scream, but unable to take in a breath; her lungs had turned to stone.

  The glistening shapeless mass bloated with each gulp until only Richard’s arms, shoulders and head were visible. His mouth opened and closed, his hands clawed the concrete, and when his helpless eyes finally met Dani’s, he screamed like a child.

  “Help meeee!”

  Her heel caught the bottom step and she fell back on the stairs and began scrabbling backward up the steps because—

  —the boxes in the corner were being pushed aside, scraping harshly over the floor, to make room for another, this one black, like a great clot of cancer dragging a tail of cheerful Christmas tree garland.

  “Dani! For Chri—Dan—elp meeee!”

  His arms waved and repeatedly slapped the floor until his hands left bloody smears on the concrete—

  —until his arms had been swallowed up—

  —until his head was gone.

  But she could still hear him.

  That was the worst of it—so far, anyway—hearing his muffled screams gargling from inside the creature as it bulged and constricted.

  Finally discovering her breath again, Dani screamed, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. The shrill cries came again and again, like unmanageable sobs convulsing her lungs, and she kept crawling backward up the stairs as—

  —the creature that had swallowed Richard began to… shrink. The viscous snot-like mass began to take on a shape. Richard’s shape. Even in her panic, Dani could make out the form of Richard’s arm reaching upward inside the creature as it tightened around him, clinging to his body. She saw the curve of his shoulder, the lump that was his head, and the round indentation of his screaming mouth. The black eyes began to dissolve, run down the creature’s sides like blood, and finally disappear as its size continued to decrease and Richard’s body became more and more visible, writhing and groping for escape.

  His clogged scream stopped.

  Skin and tattered clothes became visible as the creamy slime began to disappear, as if evaporating.

  Dani’s back slammed against the locked basement door as Richard lay on his back down below, the middle of his body thrusting upward again and again, back arched, hands clawed; he stared blindly at the darkness above him, mouth yawning in a silent scream.

  “
Richard? Ri-Richard?” Her voice was raw meat and her fingernails were breaking loudly as she clawed the door behind her, trying to pull herself up.

  With great effort, he rolled on his side toward her, the flashlight inches from his face, which was a deadly shade of gray and trying so hard to speak. He made only a rasping sound in his throat as he reached out a hand to her; his soggy, tattered shirtsleeve dangled in strips from his arm and his fingers quivered as they closed over nothing as—

  —the creature behind him drew nearer, slopping over the concrete as lumps rose from its black gelatinous surface and—

  —the lumps took the shapes of hands with four fingers and a thumb each and—

  —the hands closed into powerful fists that lifted and poised to strike as the thing closed the space between itself and Richard.

  “Get up, get up, Richard, for Christ’s sake, get up!”

  But he didn’t seem to hear her, only kept reaching out, mouth twisting, throat squeezing out small pathetic sounds, eyes rolling in his head like loose marbles.

  When the thing poured itself over Richard’s feet and began to make its way up his legs, he turned toward it, sucked in a loud breath that sounded like metal shavings filling his lungs, and found his voice in a long, bone-scraping cry as—

  —the darkness in the basement began to come alive with them and they moved forward slowly, wetly, different sizes, different shapes, but all moving in with steady, confident determination and—

  —Dani’s hand found the doorknob and clutched it, pulling until she was on her knees, turning toward the door and pounding desperately, pleading. Pleading…

  They were screaming in the Campbell house again. But unless one listened very closely for them, the screams could not be heard from outside. They came from below. Had anyone heard, he or she would have known things were more unright than usual with the Campbells because these were not the screams with which the neighbors had become familiar.

  But only Jason heard them.

  He was in the living room with Dr. Krusadian, who had just finished setting up a camera on a tripod when the screams became words.