Whispers From The Dark
Page 13
He nodded.
“Speak up, son. My ears don’ work like they ought to.”
“Yes. She’s…she’s sick. Something with her breathing; the doctors don’t know what it is. They put her on oxygen and all kinds of medicine, but it ain’t doing nothing. She can’t sleep, or eat, or nothing. They say she ain’t gonna live two years.”
“Maybe she ain’t.”
Tom looked at the woman dumbly. “Please…can you help her?”
The old woman leaned forward and gestured for Tom to come to her. “Hand her here.”
He did as she asked, placing Marie into her withered hands. The woman studied the child in silence, leaning in so close that her nose nearly touched Marie’s face. Tom watched as the baby’s eyes blinked open and found the old woman. Expecting Marie to cry, he reached for her, but the old woman threw up her hand to stop him.
Instead of breaking into tears, Marie simply stared at the woman’s face, her breath wheezing in her chest.
“She’s a good ’un, Tom. A real good ’un.”
“Thank you.”
“Whereabouts her mama at?”
“She died having her.”
The woman pursed her lips and nodded. “Pity.”
“Yes m’am.”
The old woman looked up at Tom. “I can help yer baby, Tom Sutton. But I’m old, an’ it ain’t easy fer me anymore to do things like this.”
“I can pay you.”
“Money ain’t nothin’ to me.”
He was silent, his eyes flitting back and forth between the old woman and his infant daughter.
“Yer daddy ever tell ye what he gimme to get rid ’a yer haint?”
Tom shook his head.
“Nothin’,” she responded. “’cause he ain’t never had nothin’ I needed. I don’t ask fer what I don’t need, and ain’t no man or woman e’er should. But now I need somethin’.”
“What?” Tom whispered. “Tell me and it’s yours.”
“Peace.”
Tom said nothing.
“I’ve lived longer than ye’d believe, Tom. An’ I’ve helped dozens of yer neighbors, dozens of yer kin without wantin’ anything from them.”
“I’ve heard the stories”
“I’m sure ye have. But I’m tired, an’ I can’t rest fer some reason.”
“I don’t understand, m’am.”
“Need somethin’ to help me along. I’ll help yer young ’un, but doin’ it’s gonna doom me.”
“M’am…I--”
She held up a hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m tired of this life. This body ain’t no count anymore. But somethin’ jus’ won’t let me go like most people. I’ve been waitin’ fer this day fer years.”
“Waiting to die?”
“Waitin’ fer someone to come along who could let me die. Yer baby’s that someone.”
“I don’t understand,” Tom repeated.
“Ye will.” She nodded and stared down at Marie in silence, a slight smile on the corner of her lips.
“So what do you want from me?”
“Nothin’ ye ain’t gonna gimme.”
“I’m sorry?”
She sighed, exasperation laced within the breath. “I wanna heal yer baby fer ye.”
“That’s what I wanted you to do.”
She nodded. “An’ I thank ye fer it.”
“M’am…”
“I know: Ye don’t understand. Jus’ wait here, Tom. It’ll be alright.”
The old woman turned her back to Tom and shuffled into the rear of the shack, near the cot. As she did, she leant her head close to Marie’s face, whispering to her.
Tom was rooted to the floor, watching as the woman paced around the room with his child. As she walked, she stroked the child’s face with her gnarled fingers. Steadily, the old woman’s whispering changed. The codling nature of her words was replaced with the steady rhythm of a chant, louder by a fraction and in a language Tom had never heard. There was a thin smile stretched across her cracked lips as she spoke.
Suddenly the woman pressed her mouth tight against Marie’s, her cheeks collapsing into her mouth as if she were sucking the very life from the infant. They remained locked in that strange kiss for several long moments until finally the old lady pulled her head away from the baby, coughing and gasping for air.
She stepped backwards, panting with each step, and collapsed onto her bed, cradling Marie close to her chest.
Tom rushed across the room, reaching for his child. The old woman relinquished the child to him and lay back on the ancient quilts.
The old woman’s breaths were like gravel, long rattling gasps sucked in from the world followed by short exhalations. Each labored breath seemed to do nothing except for make the next more difficult.
Tommy looked down at Marie. Her breathing was calm and quiet in the sudden stillness of the shack. The baby stared up at her father with bright eyes, smiling with the unfathomable happiness that only infants can know.
Story Debuts
"Puddles" First appeared online at Everyday Weirdness
"The Dark" First appeared in Night Chills Magazine, issue #1
"There's A Prize in the Box!" First appeared in Necrotic Tissue Magazine, July 2010
"Dirt Don't Hurt" and "Feeding the Flames" First appeared in "Elements of Horror"
"Vintage Sound" First appeared online at Static Movement
"Desperate Times" First appeared online at House of Horror
"The Swim" First appeared online at the Cynic Online Magazine
All other stories make their debut in this collection.
Bonus excerpt fromContainment Room Seven
The halls of the ship were practically empty. It was far too early for most of the people on the ship to be awake. Normal shift hours didn’t start for almost three hours. Wilson passed a total of three people during the ten minute journey from his room to the morgue.
Billy stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall beside the morgue door.
“You look like shit, Billy.”
“Yeah, well, a murder yesterday and now missing corpses. It’s been a fucked up couple ofdays.”
“I won't argue with that,” Wilson said as he opened the door.
The ship’s morgue was small--about forty feet by forty feet. A desk holding a small computer sat in one corner. The center of the room held two steel tables, each paired with a steel cart holding surgery tools. A large stainless steel door was in the middle of one wall.. On the opposite wall was a doorway that led into a smaller room with a single table in the center.
A middle-aged man wearing a lab coat stood against the wall opposite the steel door, studying the room.
“Doctor Reynolds?” Wilson said.
The doctor didn’t even glance towards them. “I don’t understand who the hell would want to take the bodies.”
“Where were they when you left them?”
“On the tables. I was going to put them in the freezer this morning then head to the lab.”
“The freezer?” Billy asked.
“You never wondered what happened when somebody died in deep space?” Wilson said.
Billy shook his head. “I try not to think about stuff like that.”
The doctor took his cue. “We freeze them. Really, this room doesn’t see much use. A couple of accidents each trip out, maybe a heart attack. The rare occasion when somebody slips through a psych test and commits suicide.
“Usually we lose one or two people in the course of a mission.” He pointed to the large metal door. “There’s a cryogenics unit in that room. We freeze the bodies and keep them in there until we get back to Earth. Then we turn them over to their families.”
“What about that room?” Billy asked, gesturing through the open doorway.
“Autopsy room. If we need to do one, we do it in there. Then we prep them for the freeze here.”
“So why didn’t you just freeze them last night?”
“It’s a bigger process than just cramming t
hem in a freezer, kid. I didn’t get the bodies until after my shift in the medical bay ended. I came down here when I got the call, filled out the paperwork, and left. I was tired.”
“And now they’re gone.” Wilson said flatly.
“Yeah. Now they’re gone.”
“Any clue why somebody would want a dead body?”
“None that I’d want to think about for too long. It’s kind of bothering me, to be honest with you. When you find whoever did it, do me a favor and let me know.” The doctor headed for the door.
“You’re leaving?” Wilson asked.
“I’ve got a normal position on this ship, I’m only here when I need to be. I’m heading to the medical bay. I can get an early start today, now that I don’t have to run the cryo-freeze. And then there’s the fact that a fucking corpse thief on the ship is creeping me the hell out. There's not much more I can do for you, anyways.”
Heturned and passed through the door.
The door closed itself behind him, leaving Billy and Wilson alone in the morgue. Wilson knew as soon as Reynolds saw someone else, he’d share what he’d seen with them. The rumor mill would begin early today, and Wilson doubted he’d be able to slow it once it started.
“Any ideas, boss?” Billy said quietly.
Before Wilson had time to answer, Doctor Reynolds started to scream.
About the Author
Bryan Hall is a horror writer living deep in the mountains of North Carolina with his wife and children. An affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association, his work has appeared in numerous print and online magazines and anthologies.
His debut novel "Containment Room Seven" is a sci-fi/horror novel that will be released in late 2011 by Permuted Press.
If you'd like to communicate with Bryan you can do so through his official website or through Facebook or Google Plus.
Table of Contents
SECRETS BENEATH
PUDDLES
THE DARK
THERE'S A PRIZE IN THE BOX!
FEEDING THE FLAMES
VINTAGE SOUND
DESPERATE TIMES
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS
DIRT DON'T HURT
THROWING STONES
VALENCHENKO IN THE DEAD CITY
KUDZU
THE SWIM
GRANNY
Bonus Excerpt from Containment Room Seven
About the Author
Table of Contents
SECRETS BENEATH
PUDDLES
THE DARK
THERE'S A PRIZE IN THE BOX!
FEEDING THE FLAMES
VINTAGE SOUND
DESPERATE TIMES
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS
DIRT DON'T HURT
THROWING STONES
VALENCHENKO IN THE DEAD CITY
KUDZU
THE SWIM
GRANNY
Bonus Excerpt from Containment Room Seven
About the Author