Things We Fear

by Glenn Rolfe

  * * * * *

  The elevator stopped. A bing sounded. The door slid open. Matt strode out and followed the signs to the right for rooms 501-515. Room 506 sat on a bend that led farther down the curved corridor. He needed to get inside. He backtracked to the elevator. A phone was on the wall next to the mirror that hung over the long, marble-topped stand, and it beckoned him.

  Feeling time was of the essence, he picked up the black phone. It rang twice.

  “Guest services, this is Heather, how can I be of assistance?”

  “Hey, Heather, it’s Matt, Emily Young’s stepbrother?”

  “Hi.”

  “Do you think you could do me another huge favor?”

  “I can try.”

  “Great. I would like to purchase the best bottle of wine you guys have down there in your shop and have it placed in her room before she gets back. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great. You can charge the wine to my room, 627, Matthew Holmes.”

  “I’ll get that right up to her, Matthew.”

  “You can call me Matt.”

  “Okay, Matt. I’m on it.”

  “Thank you so very much, Heather. You are an absolute doll.”

  He hung up and went to wait down the hall, around the bend and out of sight.

  * * * * *

  Thank you, Matt Holmes, for not being the creep of the week. Heather put the Serving Guest—Be Right Back sign up and went over to the shop for a bottle of wine. She knew nothing about what made a good wine or a bad wine, but knew Bill prided himself on having high-quality items in the hotel’s shop. She grabbed a Merlot and hurried over to the closed-up hallway that led to the hotel’s kitchen. She bent down and grabbed two wineglasses out from under the cupboard on the far wall. She came back out into the lobby and checked the desk to make sure no one was waiting. It was clear. She turned and headed for the elevators. She could have Ally or Jason do this—they were here to run things to rooms—but she thought about what a shining note from Emily Young or Matt Holmes could do for her. Another notch in her cap and Bill would be forced to see how much she rocked this fucking job.

  Matt heard the elevator bing. The hallway was clear. He’d only seen one person. A rugged-looking woman in a blue minidress. She’d smiled at him as she passed down the hall. For some reason he couldn’t pin down, her smile disgusted him. He didn’t like muscled women. He preferred them soft, dainty, weak.

  He peeked around the corner and saw Heather at the door to 506. She fumbled with the key and had to set down the bottle of wine and the two wineglasses. The door opened. She gathered the items and dipped inside. Matt checked the hall for other guests or employees, and then stepped over to the door and waited for Heather to reappear.

  After a few seconds, the door opened. Matt slammed his fist into Heather’s face. The girl flew backward into the room and fell. Her head thumped on the carpet. She reached up to her face and moaned. Matt stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Sorry about this, pretty eyes.” Her eyes went wide as they met his. She opened her mouth to plead for mercy or understanding. He didn’t give her a chance for either. He kneeled down, grabbed the hair atop her head and yanked her face forward into his fist.

  “Out, out, go the lights,” he said.

  * * * * *

  “Go get some rest, dear. We’ll see you in the morning,” Mary said.

  “I will.” Emily doubted she’d be able to sleep without the help of some alcohol. She remembered the Heineken Light that waited in the cold comfort of silence up in her room.

  “He’s going to pull through just fine. Aaron’s a strong-minded man.”

  She nodded.

  “Good night, dear.”

  Gil waved before turning his attention to the city street. The Oldsmobile pulled out and away.

  Emily took a deep breath, sighed and fought the urge to cry again. She stood just where she had the night before when Aaron waited to make sure she made it inside all right. She shook the image from her mind before it could hit her full-on.

  She was glad Mary had convinced her to call the hotel and extend her stay. A tall, thin woman in a white blouse and white slacks stood, tapping her foot and looking annoyed, at the desk. There was a sign on the desk, but no desk clerk. Emily crossed the lobby toward the elevators.

  The tall, thin woman made eye contact with her.

  “Can you believe this? I’ve been waiting her for almost ten minutes. Is there anyone working here?”

  Emily was about to reply when a short guy with a neatly trimmed beard joined the woman at the desk.

  “Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

  “Yes. Yes, I certainly hope so…”

  Emily joined an elderly gentleman with a bandaged hand in the elevator.

  “What floor?” he said.

  “Ah, fifth, please.”

  She watched him struggle to hit the number five. Only the tips of two of his fingers extended from the bandages. He managed, folded his hands over his potbelly and leaned back. He didn’t look at her.

  “Thank you,” she said as they reached her floor. He nodded.

  She pulled her key from her purse and slipped it into the slot. She opened her door. The room sat in darkness, except for the light coming from the bathroom. She didn’t remember leaving it on or why she would have needed it this morning, but figured she must have. She threw her purse on the bed and grabbed one of her cold beers from the minifridge. Her eyes focused on the bottle of wine poking out from beneath the bed skirt. Two glasses sat on the TV stand. Then she saw the blood speckled on the otherwise smooth, tan wall. Her heart raced. Someone had been in her room. Maybe they were still here.

  She turned the beer bottle in her hand and held it up over her shoulder as she took a step toward the lit bathroom.

  “Ohhh…” she screamed in a hard exhale of breath. There was a girl in her bathtub, her blood-covered forehead visible just over the white side of the tub. The girl’s eyebrow looked as though it was caved in.

  Emily went to step back. Something cold and sharp pressed against the flesh of her throat.

  “Shh, shh,” the voice of the man behind her whispered. “Drop the bottle.”

  She did. “Whatever you want, take it.”

  His other hand slid around her ribs and clutched her left breast. “Oh, I intend to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aaron watched his friend Bobby Ross run and jump for the rope. Somehow Bobby always made his turns the most dramatic, nail-biting events of the day. Kacey Becker and her brother, Brian, cheered as they treaded water. Bobby on as he did his best Tarzan and swung over their heads and above the river. Aaron raised a triumphant fist. The girl to his right came into view. In slow motion, he glanced over. Emily Young, as his mind dreamt her to be at fifteen, waved to him. He lowered his fist. Bobby let go of the rope and began his descent to the suddenly darkening water. Aaron waved to Emily, but her attention was on Bobby. Or the river.

  Aaron followed her gaze. Bobby’s eyes were wide. His scream filled the air and cut through the muggy afternoon haze. The tentacles of the pig-nosed creature reached for Bobby. Emily was up and perched at the riverbank. Aaron knew her intentions, but couldn’t stop her. Bobby hit the ink-blotted river and disappeared below the water with the creature. Emily placed her palms together and dived in. Kacey and Brian’s arms flew up as they were suddenly pulled under.

  “Noooo!”

  Aaron threw his towel down and jumped in after Emily, chasing her feet into the black pool.

  There was nothing below. No friends. No monster. No light.

  Emily?

  The river of ink opened before him; Aaron stroked and kicked his way into the depths. He couldn’t make out a thing, but pushed on. He had to save her.

  Something
grasped his wrist. A murky light traced a path like a flashlight’s beam through the darkness. Particles of dirt spit up from the river’s bottom floated by his stinging eyes. A hand held his wrist. Bobby. He looked into Bobby’s pale and lifeless face. Bobby’s eyes were black marbles. Aaron tried to shake the boy’s hand free and saw that Bobby’s body was missing below his ribs. The particles floating by his eyes were not dirt—they were shredded pieces of his best friend. The light moved. He didn’t want to follow it, but he didn’t want to be left in the black of the water again. Kacey’s head floated up to the light and disappeared past him. Brian smiled up at Aaron. He had a pig’s snout. His normally blue eyes were shrunk into the same black marbles he’d seen in Bobby’s face. The arm that reached for him morphed into the pig-nosed creature’s tentacle. Aaron knew it was a mistake, but he opened his mouth and screamed anyway.

  His leg was caught in the monster’s grasp. Then it grabbed his other leg. He tried to will his arms the strength to pull him up and away from the nightmare below, but his lungs were empty. He had nothing left. The ray of light swung toward the surface, farther and farther away. He felt his ankle break in the mouth of the pig-nosed creature as it began to devour him.

  Emily swam, unharmed as far as he could tell, far above him. She disappeared with the light.

  Aaron felt his calf, then his knee, crunch and rip in the creature’s mouth. Out of breath, out of luck and out of light, Aaron Jackson was slowly swallowed by the fear that had plagued him his entire life.

  * * * * *

  Mary sat at the kitchen table. Gil had just sauntered off to bed. She needed her tea while trying to distract her troubled mind with one of the books Aaron had brought for her. Mary’s heart went cold as the Frank Sinatra song her niece, Claire, had helped her pick out for her TracFone’s ringtone blared to life. Her sagging flesh crawled with goose bumps.

  “Oh no,” she said.

  She reached across the flower-patterned, vinyl tablecloth. Her hands trembled. She clasped the vibrating phone that blurted on about love and marriage. Her thoughts were taken hostage by death and sorrow.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Hersom.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Doctor Eule. I’m sorry to have to tell you this—your grandson passed away. His heart just stopped. I’m so terribly sorry.”

  The little gray phone slipped from her hand.

  “What? What is it?” Gil said from the hallway.

  She looked up, barely able to see through the tears about to burst from her eyes. “He’s gone.”

  After a few moments to compose herself, Gil at her side, Mary fumbled through her purse for the number Emily had given her to the hotel. She dialed. The phone rang on and on.

  “No one’s answering. Why aren’t they answering?”

  “Try it again,” Gil said.

  She did. Same thing.

  “We have to go over there. She has to know.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  Gil nodded. “I’ll get the car and pull it around.”

  * * * * *

  Neither Gil nor Mary spoke on the ride over. A few sniffles and the soft drone of the Oldsmobile’s quiet engine were the only sounds. The night sky was bright, lit by the beautiful full moon above. A perfect June night. Mary clutched the hardcover book in her arms. She hadn’t realized she’d brought it with her. She hugged it close.

  They stepped into the air-conditioned lobby of Emily’s hotel and went straight to the desk.

  “Excuse me, sir, but a friend of mine is staying here… I just received word that a mutual friend has passed away.”

  The rigid-looking man behind the desk softened. His pinned back shoulders dropped. His eyebrows lifted. “I’m so sorry to hear that, madam. May I have the guest’s name?”

  “Emily Young.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Heather heard the man’s voice. Her head pounded like someone had cracked her in the skull with a hammer. Something was broken. She opened her left eye, the right one refused. She tried to tilt her head to see into the other room. She tried to hear what the man was saying. Something warm drooled from her throbbing eye to her ear.

  “I’ve known plenty of bitches like you. Too nice to get naughty, too pristine to get their ass dirty with a real man.”

  “Please, Matt, just let me go. Think about your life. Your job, your…whatever you care about.”

  “Shh…”

  The blade pressed hard against Emily’s flesh. The sharp blade pinched her neck. Blood dripped down her throat to her chest.

  “Now, I tried to do this the nice way—your way—but you decided to come down here and fuck that pencil-dick faggot Jackson.”

  “We just went out—”

  “Ah, ah, ah.”

  She stopped. There was no use trying talk sense into him. He was too far gone. His hand moved up and down her body—touching, prodding, squeezing.

  “Mmm. I bet your body looks amazing.”

  He ran his hand around the waistband and undid her shorts. He tugged them free from her hips and let them drop to her feet.

  “Come on. Step out of those.”

  She did as she was told. She was too frightened, too emotionally drained to be humiliated. She was numb.

  “I’m not surprised you didn’t let him in here.”

  She felt his fingers crawl over the front of her panties. His hand slipped over her waistband and began to sneak behind the silky underwear.

  “He’s more of a man than you’d ever have a chance of being.” She knew she should just shut up, but it slipped out.

  His hand withdrew and came down like a club just behind her ear. “You fucking bitch.”

  The blade moved away, but not before it sliced farther into her throat. She fell forward, grabbed for the cut on her throat and tumbled to the floor. She wondered if the blade had hit anything vital. She pressed hard with her palm and tried to think of something to do to stand a chance at getting out of the room alive.

  “You fucking scream and I’ll gut you right here.”

  She didn’t doubt him.

  He set the knife down on the TV stand behind him and undid his shorts. “I heard your little queer-bait boyfriend went for a dip in the ocean.”

  How could he know? Had he followed them from the mall?

  “Yeah, I might have overheard him crying about being afraid of the water. What kind of asshole is afraid of drowning but lives on the fucking beach? I mean, what the fuck? Come on.”

  Emily knew she should shut up and let him go on, maybe buy herself some time, but she couldn’t. “Some people, strong people, face their fears. Aaron’s not a pussy like you.”

  Matt kicked his shorts to the side, jumped forward and straddled her on the floor in his boxer briefs. He grabbed her hair at the temples and slammed her head into the floor. “You got a big fucking mouth.” He slammed her head again.

  Emily watched a series of dots trace through her vision.

  “You remember that little ginger-headed fuck that asked you for money?”

  Emily saw the boy’s face. Freckles, blue-green eyes, carrot-top mop of hair.

  Matt put his face an inch from hers.

  “I paid the little shit to distract you.”

  It dawned like the ugliest sun on the worst day of her life. “You…you…”

  “That’s right, Em, baby. I shoved your little boyfriend off the pier.”

  Heather pulled herself to a sitting position. The room tilted from one side to the other. She waited for the vertigo to pass, afraid that it wouldn’t or that she wasn’t going to be able to try and help the girl in the other room. She had to. She had let this happen. She let this fucking psycho in.

  After a moment, the swaying settled. She knew she had to be quiet, she just wasn’t sure she could. She wa
sn’t even sure whether or not she could stand, let alone try and help. She pulled her knees beneath her, used the little bar against the shower’s wall, made to hold a washcloth, and very slowly pulled herself up. It felt like someone was running a chainsaw into the center of her forehead.

  Her knees buckled. She whimpered and wrapped both hands around the little bar. The pain lessened, or she acclimated to it, but either way she got her legs back beneath her and waited to see if she’d been heard. The guy was too busy swearing. She placed one foot out of the tub onto the cool tiled floor. The dizziness hit again. She gave it a second, placed a bloody palm on the wall and brought the other foot down. The ruined eye continued to throb.

  Emily couldn’t believe it. “How…how…”

  “We’re better off without him, baby.”

  How had nobody seen him do it? How had nobody witnessed Matt shove Aaron over the pier railing? There were so many people. She saw the bribed kid’s stupid eyes again. The two forty-somethings with their matching bleached mullets and their hands on the backs of each other’s jean pockets. Duke’s smile. Aaron tumbling down, cartwheeling and smacking into his greatest fear. Then he disappeared. She was too concerned for him in that moment to try to figure out how it happened. Like everyone else on the pier, she was looking for Aaron.

  “Wipe that dumb look off that pretty face. I’m going to make everything all right. You’ll see.” Matt reached down, grabbed her silky blue panties and tore them off.

  Emily squeaked. Matt drove his fist into her stomach and knocked the wind out of her.

  He stood up and put his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs.

  Emily gasped for air. She had one arm clutching at her stomach and the other wedged between her legs to protect her from what Matt had in mind. That’s when she saw the girl from the bathtub.