The Best New Horror 5

by Ramsay Campbell

  The day of the dawn that found you shivering on the garden bench saw a return to reality. That bizarre shifting of identities that occurred between you and your brother-in-law was gone as if it had never happened. You went into the house and up the stairs in time to see Neville emerging from the guest bedroom. He was opening the lavatory door when he saw you coming up the stairs.

  “Morning,” he leered. “I say, Ian. You really should get something done about the walls in this place.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, I mean they’re paper thin, old thing. I couldn’t help hearing you two last night. Hammer and tongs, eh? I almost came in to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping the racket down a bit.” He vanished into the bathroom, chuckling to himself. As you went into your bedroom, you could hear him urinating and emitting coarse grunts of relief as the pressure in his bladder was alleviated.

  “Where did you go?” Alison was sitting up in bed.

  “Just outside. I needed a breath of air.” You searched her face and saw that as far as she was concerned all was as it should be. Your memory of the awful chaos that had filled the preceding days was perfectly intact; but it seemed that Alison and Neville had different recollections. As far as they were concerned it had been you who shared the night with your wife.

  It is for the best, you decide, now as you walk into the house. Both Alison and her brother were born outside Galham: they know nothing of the two enormous creatures who dominate existence here. How could their sanity have survived intact if they had been forced to remember that perverted and impossible twisting of reality? Alison’s ignorance is in itself reason enough for you to feel grateful, despite the burden of your own memory.

  She is rearranging the coats on the rack in the hall as you go in, and she turns as you close the front door behind you. “I was thinking, perhaps – ” She stops in surprise as you put your arms around her. “What on earth’s the matter?”

  Your embrace tightens. “Nothing.”

  How could you have known there would be more to come?

  If only there had been some sign, some hint or warning, perhaps then you might have been prepared. Perhaps then you might not have lost everything. You remember the feeling of smugness you experienced when Neville left, when you thought your ordeal was over, and the memory is a bitter one.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said a few weeks later. Those were the two simple words that destroyed you.

  For the first time in your life you actually touched Bokovan’s rostrum. Your trembling hands pressed against the grey stone, as you turned your face upward to scream at the silent monster it supported. If you could have scaled the platform you would have done so, and you would have attacked Bokovan with all your puny human strength. And if your father was still alive you would have turned your wrath upon him also. He lied: he said that if you trusted in your patron everything would be all right. How could this ever be all right? How could anything ever be all right again?

  Bokovan did not so much as glance at you. He sat as unmoved as the stone beneath him, gazing serenely out over his domain. As you climbed, shattered and frustrated into your car, you paused and glanced at the far end of the village. Yusenoi’s eyes were upon you once more, and his face wore the familiar malicious, and now triumphant, smile.

  You drove for hours. The tears and curses subsided after the first few miles, and sanity began to filter back into the world. Your thoughts turned to Alison. Although you had managed to conceal and contain your distress until you were away from the house, she would be worried, so you decided to go home and salvage what you could of your life.

  You are still trying to go home. But now after months of trying, the attempt is little more than routine; the urgency has dissipated, and your search is as much habit as anything.

  The roads by which you left are still there. The neighbouring villages are still there, and the nearby towns, but Galham is gone. Not just the village, but also the space it should occupy: and the world has shrunk to absorb the void.

  In the beginning you asked directions from puzzled-looking locals who apologised most sincerely for never having heard of the place. You bought and searched maps which proved devoid of any mention of your home.

  This brief period of idleness upon Neighwick Down brings no feeling of comfort or rest. The grass waves gently in the wind as you gaze out across the valley that looks so much like your home. There is nothing left to try, but you’ll go on trying anyway. You have to. Somehow there must be a way back to Galham, to your wife, and to the child – as yet unborn – who you now know with heartbreaking certainty can only be your own.

  J. L. COMEAU

  The Owen Street Monster

  THE FOLLOWING STORY marks Judith Lynn Comeau’s third appearance in The Best New Horror. She has been writing and publishing stories since 1987, and her skilful short fiction has also appeared in such anthologies as The Year’s Best Horror Stories, The Women Who Walk Through Fire, Women of the West, Borderlands 2 and 3, Hottest Blood, Noctulpa 8: Eclipse of the Senses, Dark Voices 6: The Pan Book of Horror, Hot Blood 5 and the collection, Firebird and Other Stories, published in Finland.

  “This story is one of my particular favourites,” reveals the author. “I grew up in one of the locally infamous upper-middle-class Washington DC suburban neighbourhoods where the vast majority of the wives remained at home with their Boomer progeny and tended to pack together in terrifically vicious little cliques. They were a pretty scary bunch, as I recall . . .”

  (connect)

  “HI, ADDIE? IT’S Janine. I just wanted to call and tell you how sorry I am about your loss and let you know I’m here for you if you need anything. Anything at all. God, it’s difficult, I know, but really, Addie, you have to go on for the sake of the other children, and . . . Well . . .”

  Sigh. “Yes, Janine. Thank you so much. I saw you at the funeral yesterday, but I just couldn’t – ”

  “Oh, honey, I understand. We all assumed you’d been given a tranquilizer. You hardly seemed to know where you were. God, Addie, it was so terrible for you, I know.”

  “No one can know what it’s like until they’ve lost one of their own. I – it’s unnatural to bury a child. It should have been David burying me, don’t you see? He was only a baby. Six years old. Just six.”

  “Please don’t cry, Addie. You still have Sherman, Jr and little Melody. They need you to be strong now. Think of them.”

  “I know you’re right, Janine. Thank heaven school started last week. I don’t think I could have held out any longer. Poor little David . . . I, oh . . . God.”

  “Oh, Addie, Addie. You poor, poor darling. Try to be courageous for the others. They need your strength, and you’re a very strong woman; we all know you are. And remember, if there’s ever anything I or any of the other girls on Owen Street can do to help you through this terrible ordeal, we’re here for you. Do you hear me? We-are-here-for-you.”

  “God bless you, Janine. And thank you for all the food you and the girls brought over to the house. I don’t know what I would have done – ”

  “It was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. You just take good care of yourself, Addie. We love you. Remember that.”

  “Oh, Janine . . .”

  “Look, honey, I can tell you’re a wreck. Go ahead now, get yourself a nice glass of wine and settle down for Oprah. Today she’s having on women who’ve lost their limbs to accidents.”

  “Arms and legs, you mean?”

  “Yes. Can you imagine? Well, look, it’s almost four, so I’m going to let you go now.”

  “Janine?”

  “What, hon?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, hush. Bye now.”

  “Bye bye.”

  (disconnect)

  (connect)

  “Hello, Samantha?”

  “Yeah. Janine?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you see Oprah today? The one about women who’ve lost their limbs?”

  “Yes. Wasn’t that biza
rre? What are you making for dinner tonight? I can’t come up with a thing.”

  “Oh, Christ. I guess I’ll nuke some chicken and boil up some Rice-a-Roni. Maybe I’ll just call out for pizza. Tell you the truth, Janine, this maternity leave is about to kill me. I can’t wait to get back to work. The kid screams twenty-four hours a day, Jack’s whining for tail all the time, and I – ”

  “Listen, Sam. I talked to Addie Wilmer this afternoon.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get crazy. I just called her to see how she’s getting along.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, she’s grief-stricken, of course. Who wouldn’t be after losing a child?”

  “Janine, I think we ought to just leave Addie alone.”

  “Look, Sam, we all live on Owen Street. We’re going to be seeing Addie for a long time. She’s our neighbor, after all.”

  “Maybe if we just cut her off, you know, give her the cold shoulder, she’ll move away. We could – ”

  “No, no. That wouldn’t work. We don’t want to do that. Addie’s a good neighbor, Samantha.”

  “But that kid. That David.”

  “David’s gone, Samantha. He’s not a problem any more.”

  “Yeah. Okay, I guess you’re right, Janine. But I just feel so weird with Addie being right down the block. You know?”

  “I know, I know. But listen. That boy is gone, so try to be friendly to Addie and her other kids. Please. It means so much. You’re my very closest friend, Samantha. I know you can do it.”

  “Well . . . All right, Janine. I’ll try.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “So how’s your sex life, Sammy? Jack keeping you on your back?”

  Laugh. “Naw. I’m keeping him on his.”

  Laugh. “Good for you. Gotta go.”

  “Right. See ya.”

  “Bye.”

  (disconnect)

  (connect)

  “Nicole?”

  “Yes?”

  “Janine.”

  “Oh, hi, Janine. I was just thinking about you.”

  “We do seem to have some sort of mental connection, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we truly do. It’s uncanny, isn’t it? Sometimes I know exactly what you’re going to say just before you say it.”

  “It’s the most extraordinary thing. I’ve heard that best friends like us sometimes develop a kind of telepathy.”

  “Really? Where did you hear that?”

  “Donahue or Geraldo, I guess. I can’t remember. It’s a fact, though.”

  “Did you see Oprah yesterday? Women without limbs?”

  “Yes. Weird, huh? Today she’s having on people who mutilate themselves to relieve stress.”

  “You are kidding.”

  “Nope. Not to change the subject, Nicole, but I was talking to Samantha yesterday and she’s getting a little nuts about this Addie Wilmer thing.”

  “About the dead kid, you mean.”

  “Well, not so much that as she’s uncomfortable about facing Addie.”

  “Samantha is such a wimp.”

  “Really. But we’ve got to convince her that developing an attitude against Addie at this point would only be counter-productive and possibly detrimental to everyone concerned.”

  “Samantha is such a dumb bitch.”

  “Yes, I know, but I’m counting on you to help Sam through this, Nicole. We all have to help her. Remember, we’re only as strong as our weakest link.”

  “Yeah, I guess we’re stuck with her now.”

  “Yes, Nicole. We are.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her, but I’ve got to go now, Janine. The kids are raising red hell out in the back yard. Christ, I’ll be so glad when they’re old enough for school. Oh shit, I think one of them’s bleeding.”

  “Go ahead, then, Nicole. And remember, be nice to Samantha. We’ve all got to help her over the hump.”

  “I will, I will. Gotta go, Janine. Jason is beating Michelle to a pulp.”

  “Okay, go ahead. Bye.”

  (disconnect)

  (connect)

  “Janine?”

  “Hilary?”

  “Janine, I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter? Are you kidding?”

  “Hilary, you sound terrible.”

  “I’m scared, Janine. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I – ”

  “Hilary. Honey. I’m surprised at you. You were the one who started this whole thing in the first place, remember? You were the one who convinced us all that we had to do it. And you were right, Hilary. One hundred percent right. What’s going on?”

  “Jesus, I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I read all the wrong conclusions into totally innocent behavior. Maybe – ”

  “Maybe nothing. You were right. You just have a case of the jitters. It’ll pass. I promise. Be strong. Just be strong for a little while and it’ll pass.”

  “I don’t know, Janine. I’m losing it. I’m really losing it.”

  “That child was a monster, Hilary. David Wilmer was a monster. Every one of us saw the signs. All the newspapers and magazines confirmed our suspicions, remember?”

  “But those newspapers were tabloids, not the Washington Post or New York Times.”

  “It was in black and white, Hilary: craves attention, unaffected by punishment, cruelty to animals, setting fires, vivid fantasies. David displayed all those deviations.”

  “I don’t know, Janine, thinking about it now, I don’t think any of us ever saw David harm an animal.”

  “He was scared to death of animals; it’s the same damn thing. It’s not natural for a little boy. Remember when Nicole’s collie tried to play with David?”

  “Lamby knocked David down.”

  “The dog was just playing, for Christ’s sake. Boys are supposed to love dogs. David hated animals, you could tell. He would have hurt one if he’d gotten the chance.”

  “How about setting fires? We were never entirely sure he caused the Lovett’s fire. The firemen said faulty wiring.”

  “You saw the look on that kid’s face as the Lovett house went up. Total fascination. Enchantment. He was a firebug, all right. Funny how he was right there to witness the fire.”

  “We were all there, Janine.”

  “Hilary, listen. How would you have felt if six or seven years down the road they found your precious little Sarah dumped out in the woods somewhere, raped and mutilated? Torn to pieces?”

  “Oh, God, Janine. Don’t say that. Don’t breathe it.”

  “That might have happened, Hilary. We heard what can happen with children like David on all the talk shows. He was a killer in the making. We had to do it.”

  “Jesus, I can still hear David screaming. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “Get hold of yourself, Hilary. We’re all having a hard time with this. Don’t forget, we each took an equal hand in it. Samantha poured the gas, Nicole lured David into the shed, I locked the door, and you threw the lit cigarette in through the window. You started the fire, Hilary. You’re the one who actually killed David Wilmer. You. There’s a death penalty in this state for murder. You’d be the one to die, Hilary. Just you. The rest of us would probably get off with probation. And think of your family. The publicity would ruin their lives forever. They’d all despise you if they found out.”

  “Oh, God. What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to quit blubbering and pull yourself together, that’s what. It’s a bit late for tears.”

  “Janine, I’ve got to go. I can’t talk anymore.”

  “Please don’t do anything stupid, Hilary. For your kids’ sake. For Harold. Think about your parents. This would kill them.”

  “I’m going now, Janine. I can’t live with this anymore.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to take a little trip to the stars. I’m going to stop this pain once and for all
.”

  “Hilary, calm down. Take some Valium. Have a Seconal.”

  “That’s just what I intend to do.”

  (disconnect)

  (connect)

  “Nicole? Janine.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Hilary. She’s falling apart. Having second thoughts, a guilt attack.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Don’t get excited yet. I think she’s planning to commit suicide. I just talked to her a minute ago, and I swear I think she’s planning to overdose on pills.”

  “What should we do? Should we call an ambulance?”

  Pause. “I don’t think so, Nicole. I think we ought to let her go ahead and do it.”

  “What?”

  “Listen to me. Samantha we can handle. She’s just a little nervous. She’ll be okay. But Hilary . . . I think she’d eventually go to the police.”

  “Yes. I think we should just bide our time for now. Lay low. Stay cool.”

  “What if she changes her mind and doesn’t take the pills?”

  “We’ll keep an eye on her house. If either one of us sees her leaving, we’ll intercept her. If you see her first, bring her to my house. If I see her first, I’ll bring her to yours.”

  “What then?”

  “We’ll discuss that when we need to.”

  Sigh. “Janine, this is getting sticky. I didn’t think it would get so complicated.”

  “Relax, Nicole. Nothing’s happened yet. Probably nothing will. Don’t worry. Best friends like us, we can handle anything.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. We can handle Samantha and Hilary. We’re an invincible duo.” Laugh.

  “Best friends to the end. And Nicole?”

  “What, hon?”

  “Keep your eye on that Frazier kid down the street at 510. He seems a little odd.”

  “Will do. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye bye.”

  “Bye.”

  (disconnect)

  T.E.D. KLEIN

  One Size Eats All

  T.E.D. KLEIN is a native New Yorker who has been described as “one of the finest stylists among modern horror writers.” After discovering the works of H.P. Lovecraft while studying at Brown University, his acclaimed story “The Events at Poroth Farm” appeared in The Year’s Best Horror Stories: Series II in 1974.