The Wicked

by James Newman

  They sat there for several more minutes without saying anything.

  Finally, though, both men jerked to attention as the grandfather clock in the corner bonged loudly, announcing it was six in the morning.

  “I should go,” David said, standing, “try and get some sleep before the kids are up and running for the day.”

  “Sounds good,” George said. “I’d like to do that myself, but I know it ain’t gonna happen. Probably do a little work around the yard, catch a few Zs after lunch. Helps the nightmares, sleeping in the middle of the day like that.” As an afterthought, George added, “Sometimes.”

  David nodded, offered the old man a nervous smile before turning and heading for the door.

  “Watch your wife, David. Don’t let your guard down.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m sorry I have to say that.”

  David cleared his throat. “So...what now, George?”

  “I’m gonna continue to ride by the church every so often until we can come up with a definite plan of action,” George said. “Sit tight, cover your ass, and I’ll let you know when I can come up with something tangible.”

  “Gotcha,” David said.

  “So you’re not ready to have me committed now?”

  “No,” David said. “Anything but.”

  And then David left, leaving George standing in the doorway. Heatherly’s face was a wrinkled mask of worry as he watched his neighbor go. The old man wondered if he had just alienated his only friend in the world.

  CHAPTER 61

  David watched from his place at the kitchen table as Kate slid a fried egg out of the pan and onto Becca’s plate. Outside the window above the sink, a bird chirped merrily. David contemplated walking outside to strangle the thing, the mood he was in.

  “Yummy,” Kate said. “Looks good, doesn’t it, baby?”

  “You’re the greatest cook in the world, Mommy!” Becca exclaimed.

  “Well, I don’t know about that.”

  “Can I have some more bacon?”

  “Finish what’s on your plate. After that, you can have all you want.”

  Across the table, little Christopher stared at his father from his vibrating bassinet. David rubbed at his tired eyes, groaned beneath the pain of a dawning headache, but stuck out his tongue, made a face at his son. The baby smiled, or at least seemed to, waving his tiny hands at David as if he understood such a gesture. David laughed tiredly, turned back toward Kate.

  He’d been watching his wife’s every move all morning, ever since she got up and came into the living room where he sat—wide awake, thinking—before a television that had been busy with static snow for hours.

  “Thanks, Mommy,” Becca said, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Done with that, she picked up her plate from the table and headed toward the hallway. “I’m going to watch Fairly OddParents.”

  “No, you’re not,” David said from the table. “Pull up a chair.”

  Kate turned, looked at her husband, but said nothing. Becca eyed him with a look of exaggerated confusion.

  “But, Daddy—”

  “Sit.”

  “You always let me watch cartoons while I eat.”

  “Not anymore,” David said. “New rule. The family eats together, at the table. No one is dismissed until we’ve all finished eating.”

  “Daddy—”

  “Sit. Now.”

  Becca pulled up a chair next to her little brother, pooched out her lower lip. “I wanna watch TV.”

  “Don’t pout,” David said. “You know I hate that.”

  “Grumpy this morning?” Kate asked as she set David’s plate down in front of him. She took a seat at the table beside baby Christopher, across from Becca.

  David said, “I think we need to start spending more time together as a family, that’s all.”

  “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “Nope.” David took a sip of his orange juice. “This is what the table’s for. We’ve barely lived here a month, and have you seen the carpet in there? It’s ruined.”

  “Jeez,” said Kate. “Oscar the Grouch.”

  Becca giggled. “Daddy’s Oscar the Grouch. But you’re not green, Daddy!”

  “Blagggh,” Christopher added his own two cents from his bassinet.

  “Something’s on your mind, hon,” Kate said to her husband. “What is it?”

  Bacon crunched loudly between David’s teeth. Kate had never known how to make bacon without burning it. He smirked, took another sip of orange juice to wash it down. He wasn’t sure why, but her saccharine tone and use of the word “hon” made his stomach churn. He thought of his conversation with George the night before, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore.

  He propped his elbows up on the table, stared at his wife and daughter sternly. “I need to know who’s been messing around in my studio.”

  Becca was trying to hold Christopher’s bottle up for him as he fed and didn’t even hear the question. Kate just stared at her husband, confused. The baby drooled milky spit down his chin, onto his bib. Becca giggled.

  “Pay attention, Becca,” David said. “Playing in Daddy’s studio is a no-no. You know that. That’s not a new rule.”

  Becca laid Christopher’s bottle down beside him in bassinet, looked at her father with wide, innocent eyes. “I don’t play in there, Daddy,” she said. “I know I’m not supposed to.”

  “You haven’t been in there at all?” David asked, pointing his fork at her. “Specifically, I want to know if you were messing around in there yesterday. Last night.”

  “No. Really, Daddy. I haven’t been in there. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Becca—”

  “For God’s sake, David,” Kate said. “She told you she hadn’t been in there. What’s wrong with you?”

  David glared at his wife, and she glared back. Her eyebrows rose, as if challenging him.

  “She told you she hasn’t been in your studio,” Kate said. “So stop interrogating her.”

  “I wasn’t interrogating her.” David stared down at his plate, started picking at his food.

  “What’s the big deal, anyway?” Kate asked. “Is something missing?”

  David took a deep breath, exhaled loudly. Slowly, as if talking to a child, he explained, “The ‘big deal’ is, someone was messing around in my studio. Everybody knows that room is off-limits. Last night someone took a book off of my bookshelf and cut it up. One of the first covers I ever painted, and the book is ruined now.”

  “That’s weird,” Kate said.

  “Yeah,” David agreed. “Very weird. The damn thing didn’t just fly off the shelf by itself. It sure as hell didn’t cut itself up. So who did it?”

  Kate said nothing. But David couldn’t help but notice how she would not meet his eyes.

  “Moloch,” David whispered suddenly. He wanted to gauge his wife’s reaction. See if she acted any differently when he said that word, or if she recognized it. Crazy, but worth a shot.

  He said it again, under his breath: “Moloch.”

  “I haven’t stepped foot in that room since we moved in,” Kate said. “You know that.”

  She slid her plate aside then, stood, and removed Christopher from his bassinet. The baby started whining softly. With her one free hand, Kate picked up her plate again and turned to leave the kitchen.

  “Come on, Becca. We’re eating in the living room.”

  David clenched his fists, scowled at his wife, but said nothing.

  CHAPTER 62

  “Christopher and I are going to take a bath,” Kate said. “Will you keep an eye on the lasagna?”

  David looked up from the Elmore Leonard novel he was reading and nodded. Clad in a soft pink bathrobe, Kate stood in the hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen. Baby Christopher, barely two weeks old, squirmed in her arms, staring at David with eyes like two pools of clear ocean water. The smell of lasagna, David’s favorite dish, drifted in from the kitchen. He
inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma.

  “Sure,” David said. “If I can keep from scarfing it down while you’re in there.”

  “Don’t let it stay in the oven too long. It only needs another ten minutes or so.”

  “Gotcha. And make sure you don’t stay in the bath too long.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I don’t fancy being married to a walking prune.”

  Kate smiled, shook her head. She moved on toward the bathroom, baby Christopher in her arms, and within minutes David heard the sound of water running in the bathtub.

  He closed his book, placed it on the arm of his recliner, and sat back, his hands behind his head. Becca sat on the floor in front of him, watching Tom and Jerry on TV.

  David closed his eyes, smiled. Wondered how a levelheaded fellow like himself could have ever allowed George Heatherly’s delusions to infect him.

  It was crazy. Too crazy.

  He sighed.

  Maybe things would end up okay after all.

  Kate tested the water with her toe, hissed through her teeth. She rocked little Christopher gently upon her shoulder as she leaned over to add some cold water to what was already in the tub. She eased the lid of the toilet down and sat. Bounced Christopher up and down on her knee while she waited, holding him by the arms.

  “My little sweetheart. You like to ride the horsey?”

  Christopher smiled up at her.

  “Mommy wouldn’t want to burn her baby,” she told him. “We have to wait a minute, let the water cool down. Okay?”

  She hugged him to her chest, tenderly kissed his forehead.

  “You look just like your daddy, you know that?”

  Christopher smiled at her, wider than ever, as if he understood and was indeed proud of this fact.

  “That’s a very good thing, you know. Your father’s one handsome devil.”

  Christopher seemed to purr.

  “If a bit moody at times.”

  The baby seemed to nod. Agreeing with that.

  “Let’s try the water now,” Kate said. She eased the baby back up to her shoulder, stuck her foot into the tub once again. A little warm, but she supposed it would be okay. With Christopher nestled in the crook of one arm, she allowed her bathrobe to slip off her shoulder.

  She eased into the tub, wincing as the warm water lapped at her sore vagina, against the stitches from her episiotomy.

  “Ouch.”

  She propped Christopher up between her legs, holding his stubby arms so he would not go under. With one hand, she slid the shower curtain halfway closed.

  “Splish-splash, we were takin’ a bath,” Kate sang, giggling when the baby stared at her as if she had gone mad.

  And then she heard the whisper, in the room with her. On the other side of the shower curtain.

  “Kate...”

  She sat up with a start, the water splashing around her. Christopher bobbed up and down like a fleshy buoy against her legs.

  “David?”

  She pulled back the curtain.

  And she saw the thing called Moloch, in the mirror above the sink.

  David sprang from his chair at the sound of Kate’s muffled shriek in the bathroom.

  “What the hell?”

  “Mommy?” Becca looked up at David. She looked as if she might start crying.

  “It’s okay, baby. Watch your cartoons.” David ran to the bathroom. “Kate?”

  He tried to enter, but the door was locked.

  “Kate, what’s the matter? Unlock the door.”

  He heard nothing from the other side of the door now. Only the gentle sloshing of water.

  “Kate? Open the door!”

  A mottled visage leered at her from the mirror. It was the most grotesque thing Kate had ever seen.

  The demon’s beard was matted and crawling with vermin. Flies swarmed about his huge, misshapen head like a halo of pestilence. The creature’s eyes were black as coal, yet at the same time they seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. His nose was long, sharp, and bird-like, his teeth crooked and stained with something that looked like mossy green fungus.

  He smiled at her, told her his name.

  “Moloch...”

  His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. From all around Kate, from beneath the house, from the toilet and from the drain in the sink. It filled her head and seemed to echo in her bones.

  Her ears rang, her temples throbbed.

  Kate could not move as she sat there in the tub, staring at the man in the mirror. She felt frozen, barely even aware of little Christopher slipping into the water between her legs. Her arms and legs refused to obey the commands given by her brain to get out of here, now!

  “Kate Little,” said the man in the mirror.

  He stuck his tongue out at her. Waggled it like some fat black worm trying to push its way out from between the burrow of his cracked gray lips. His grin seemed so perverse...so wrong. Flames danced in the mirror behind him now, flames that grew so bright Kate could not look directly into them.

  She stared into Moloch’s eyes instead, letting out a soft little moan.

  She barely even heard David in the background, pounding at the door. His frantic knocks were little more than distant echoes of her own thudding heartbeat, and his voice was distorted, muffled, as if it came to her through water: “Kate, open the door! Open the door!”

  “Who...are you?” Kate said to the man in the mirror, and a single salty tear trailed down her cheek.

  He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  “Kate!” David shouted again.

  Still nothing, from behind the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Godammit, Kate, open the door! I heard a scream! Is the baby okay?”

  Nothing.

  He kicked at the door, but only succeeded in stubbing his own bare toes.

  “Shit!”

  He glanced toward Becca, who stood in the middle of the living room, sucking at her thumb.

  “Daddy, I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay, baby. Watch your cartoons. Daddy’s got everything under control.”

  Becca sat cross-legged on the carpet, but continued to stare at her father, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

  “Kate!” David shouted again.

  He turned and rammed his right shoulder into the door. He heard the wood crack, but only slightly. He gnashed his teeth, rammed it again. Again.

  “Kate!”

  Once more, he slammed into the door.

  Finally, it crashed inward beneath his weight.

  “Kate, what’s the mat—”

  David gasped as he stumbled into the bathroom.

  And saw his wife and son.

  CHAPTER 63

  Kate blinked several times fast as David barged into the bathroom, but she did not turn to her husband. She just kept staring toward the mirror.

  One hand cupped her left breast. Her nipples were hard, harder than David thought he had ever seen them before. Her other hand lay in the patch of hair at her crotch, a single finger extended inside. Her vagina was wet not only with bathwater but also, David recognized, the glistening juices of arousal. She moaned softly before looking up at her husband. A tear ran down her cheek, clung for a second to her jawline, then dripped into the soapy bathwater.

  “Kate, are you okay?” David asked. He glanced toward the mirror, where she stared so longingly.

  “Kate?”

  David took a couple more steps forward, into the bathroom.

  “Oh, my God, Kate—the baby!”

  In her strange trance-like state, Kate had allowed little Christopher to slide away from her in the tub. The infant’s butt squealed against the porcelain, as he slowly slid under...and then went sloshing down into the water.

  Kate blinked several more times, looked first at David—through him—and then down at the baby.

  She seemed to stare right through the child, not really seeing him at all.

&n
bsp; “Christopher!” David cried, running to the tub. He leaned down, grabbed the baby’s arms and pulled him from the water.

  Kate watched, still seemingly unaware of where she was and what was going on.

  David frowned at her as he pulled the baby from the tub, and Christopher began to bawl.

  “What the hell were you doing, Kate?”

  “I...I don’t know...”

  David grabbed a towel from the narrow closet behind the tub and wrapped it around the baby. He held Christopher to his chest until his wailing finally stopped. The baby coughed several times, tiny high-pitched chuffing noises, but otherwise seemed uninjured.

  David glared at Kate. “You almost let him drown, dammit.”

  Kate shook her head slowly and met his eyes at last. She licked her lips as she stared up at him.

  “I...”

  “Kate, what’s with you?”

  “Have you checked the lasagna, David?” she asked. “You didn’t let it burn, did you?”

  “What?” David’s mouth hung open.

  “I hope you’ve been checking the lasagna...‘cause I thought I smelled something burning.”

  “Jesus, woman!” With Christopher still on his shoulder, David left the bathroom, shaking his head furiously as he went. “Fuck the lasagna!”

  “Language,” Kate said behind him, groggily, but David did not hear her.

  CHAPTER 64

  The phone rang shortly after eight-thirty p.m. the following evening. David sat there staring at the All in the Family rerun on the television before him—watching it but not really seeing it.

  “David, can you get that?” Kate called from the bathroom. “I’m trying to give Christopher a bath.”

  “Hopefully you can do it without drowning the kid this time,” he said.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  The phone continued to ring.

  “The phone!” Kate shouted. “Please?”

  “Okay, okay.”

  David stood, walked down the hall to the kitchen and answered the phone. “What.”