Dark Light Book Three (Dark Light Anthology)

by Larsen, Christian A.

  But observing them together had erased that theory. Her love and devotion to her husband was at least as consuming as his for her.

  Max had been careless. He’d been behind schedule all day and had not cleared off his desk before John was shown in. He had never seen one of these transformations, and though he accepted them as fact, he could not emotionally appreciate what they meant to anything or anyone in John’s vicinity.

  [flip]

  John glanced casually at Max’s desk. A letter opener lay within easy reach. Metal it was, as sharp of point and edge as any assassin’s dagger.

  “John, I’m sorry to say it, but I was thinking the same thing.” He opened a side drawer in his desk and started searching through papers. John reached over and took the weapon in his hand as he stood and walked around the desk and behind Max’s chair.

  “It will only be temporary, of course, but it will keep your family safe. I realize how hard it will be for Tammy and your children, for you to be in Hastings and not working, but the state has financial relief programs for cases like yours...”

  John studied the length of the wonderful thing in his hand. He wondered if he could force it through Max’s ear on one side and see the point come out the other. He looked at the back of Max’s head, which was still bent over the drawer, totally fixated on finding the commitment form that seemed to be purposely frustrating his search and decided it was just possible.

  “In one ear and out the other,” he giggled.

  “What was that?” Max raised his head up.

  Without hesitation or compunction, and with all his strength, John impaled Max’s right ear with the point of the letter opener and jammed it through, his left hand against Max’s other ear to hold the head steady.

  Max Lovell died instantly, without a sound.

  John Fuller was disappointed. The wider base of the makeshift dagger could not be forced through the small cranial opening of the ear and stopped with the handle and over an inch of blade still exposed. He took it well, shrugged, and let the head collapse back into the drawer. His mind worked with the speed and clarity of strobe lighting. Calmly, he unplugged the phone at both ends and took the cord in his hands.

  He hurried to the closed office door and opened it, catching the attention of the doctor’s receptionist...and wife though John did not know that.

  “Something’s wrong with Max! He’s collapsed behind his desk!”

  She was past him and rushed to the desk in seconds. He closed and locked the door behind them, then strode quickly behind her as she made the horrible discovery and before she could scream the phone cord was around her throat and cutting off her wind. He did not kill her. What fun would that be? When she was a mere gasp from passing out, he eased up the constriction. He grabbed a couple of sheets of paper, crumpled them up into a ball, and shoved them into her open gasping mouth.

  He was aware of his straining erection.

  He had wanted to fuck this big-breasted little blonde since the first time he’d seen her. He quickly tied her hands behind her with the phone cord and lifted her easily onto the desk. He pulled her skirt and panties down past her feet and off. He paid no attention to her wide wet eyes and gagged whimpers.

  He lowered his pants and underwear. His erection jutted forward like a moray eel. He was huge! Bigger and harder than he’d ever been for the slut he lived with. He thrust himself hard into her vagina, pulled out completely, and then thrust again. He raped her and raped her and raped her. He backed out from between her legs and turned her over on her belly.

  He sodomized her. Yes! Another first! He fucked her that way until he ejaculated.

  Then, he was finished. He pulled his pants up and walked out the door past the young couple and their child, not even glancing in their direction.

  This fantastic freedom had never lasted this long before! It was glorious! He climbed into his car and wondered for a second what he should do next. Then, he knew…that little brat at home. He had not yet taught her a lesson, and it was long overdue. He put the car in gear, backed out of the parking space, and

  [flip]

  The revolting horror of what he had done sickened him suddenly and he barely managed to get the door open before he heaved his guts out onto the pavement. Then, he hurried. The police would be after him, and he was determined to get one thing done first...before he was lost to himself forever. He drove to the courthouse, but parked across the street, to the line of stores and offices sheltering jewelers, real estate agents, insurance agents, and lawyers. “The thieves market”, he called it, which always got a laugh from Tammy.

  Luck was with him one final time. He picked a lawyer’s office at random. “Sue Larson, Attorney at Law”, it read. He staggered in. The horrors inside him were apparently reflected on the outside. The plain brunette behind the front desk glanced up at him. Then, her eyes widened, and she recoiled slightly.

  “I need to sign a paper granting my wife a divorce. Right this second, before it’s too late.” His voice was tired and lifeless. When the woman did not respond at once, he shouted. “Now, dammit! If I change again, I’ll never do it!”

  The shout summoned a woman in her late forties from the back office. Sue Larson was capable of ripping the heart out of an opponent, in the courtroom or at a poker table, and yet treating her client with the utmost sympathy and support, and all in the same minute. Her face and voice and whole demeanor reflected that quality.

  “Quickly, Pam. Give him the form.”

  She indicated where he should sign on each of three copies, and had him date them. Pam notarized them. Only then, did she ask him for details.

  First, he insisted they call the police and tell them to hurry. Only when that was done, he told her everything.

  Sue Larson was lucky too, but she never knew it. He lost himself for the very last time just as the police arrived and they had him handcuffed before he could act on his new intentions.

  IV

  One year after John Fuller was institutionalized

  Tammy was aware of his presence before she saw him. Even though she’d never seen him before, nor seen him in a dream, he was unmistakably familiar.

  It was not quite the same for Frank Jameson. He had no sixth sense of her, but he did know her immediately. He had seen her before, many many times. Over a year ago, when, somehow, spontaneously, he began to change, he had often seen her face. Brief second-long flashes they had been, but her image was imprinted on the mental bulletin board of his visual memories.

  She had tried to stay in Dillon, but it was really impossible. There had been cruel taunts and outright abuse of Steven and Amy by other children, some of it inspired no doubt by their parents.

  Her bedroom presented a haunting place filled with happy sexy memories and horrible nightmares.

  Her company had a branch in Hastings and had been happy to transfer her there, and pay all her moving expenses, as well. John had been their employee, too, and the family-like regard by the company officers had helped Tammy preserve her own sanity. It had made it easier to visit John for those first couple of months. Then, she’d had to stop. The man she visited was no longer in any way the man she’d loved her whole life. In his own words, all that was left was a monster.

  As for Frank, it had been only half a year since his release. At random intervals, he had shown signs of complete normalcy. The incidents progressed, each one lasting longer than the one before and coming more quickly. Then one day, he had a long session of sanity, a short session of his own private “normal,” and then a final reacquisition of his sanity.

  For six months, he had been completely and undeniably sane. Yet, understandably, they’d been cautious. There was no reason for his spontaneous change, so they did not trust it. The tests they administered were both obvious and subtle. Often, they contrived to let their own hands or fingers rest briefly within reach of his teeth, but he never bit. Never even had the urge to do so, and he told them this. Eventually, they had no justification to keep him. Bes
ides, they were bored with him. The new patient, committed by the courts and with symptoms strangely similar to Frank’s, was much more interesting.

  Since he’d been committed, he had to go through the courts to be released, but the process had been surprisingly simple. His family was delighted, but restrained in their welcome. They did not offer to let him stay with them, and he did not ask.

  Frank had hoped, and intended, to establish social contacts and maybe even get a girlfriend. Yet, no romantic connection had come about. His short black hair only accentuated his uncommonly pale complexion, and the perpetual look of past torments in his eyes spooked most women. And, despite his resolve, he was almost cripplingly shy.

  Tammy wasn’t spooked. She was enthralled. This stranger somehow registered on her psyche in a way she had never expected to experience again. Despite his looks being so much the opposite, he felt like John.

  She could not help herself. If the children had been with her, perhaps. Once a week, she managed to get some time to herself, even if she spent it just shopping for groceries as she was this time. She contrived to move near him, faking casual indifference. Eventually, he saw her and she saw the look of shocked recognition. She feigned exaggerated recoil, then smiled and gave that short little laugh John had always found so incredibly sexy.

  Frank’s shyness vanished like smoke in the wind. Later, neither could remember exactly what was said, but she readily gave him her number and urged him to call. They dated within the week.

  They could not help but fall in love quickly. Both were evasive about their pasts, and it seemed to satisfy them. The hidden hurts provided an additional bond.

  Steven and Amy even seemed, if not enthusiastic, then grudgingly accepting of their mother’s new interest. They, too, though less than she, felt the subtle similarity between this man and the father they remembered.

  Inevitably, Frank and Tammy made love. He was, of course, completely inexperienced, but Tammy did not mind. In fact, she found it delightful introducing him with good-natured humor and patience to the delights of sex. Rather than show him what she liked, she allowed him to discover for himself.

  The third time they found themselves in bed together, they were already able to expect the pleasures they would receive. She lay on her back, smiling, anticipating as he kissed her body. He had started at her knees and worked his way upward, admiring the flat smoothness of her stomach, and her breasts. He’d noticed the nasty scar on her foot, but was not yet secure enough to ask about it.

  He’d quickly discovered the orgasmic sensitivity of the tips of those enthralling mounds of soft flesh, and he quivered with delight in his ability to bring her to such heights of pleasure.

  [In Hastings, John Fuller lay on his bed, visions of recent triumphs dancing satisfactorily in his head. He relived the vicious biting into the bitch’s foot, again savoring the quivering vulnerability of the soft flesh.]

  Tammy lay with her eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his lips on her skin. This man’s touch, though still unfamiliar in small ways, was healing her heartbreak. The horrors of her memories of her husband were beginning, finally, to fade.

  [John Fuller relished the memory of raping the blonde receptionist. The recall inspired a straining erection.]

  Frank had his own erection as he took her left nipple carefully between his lips and sucked gently. Tammy’s back arched in response. His tongue tickled the tip.

  [John relived the marring of Steven’s leg. His fingers imitated the motion of stubbing out the cigarette.]

  He left it and turned his attention to her right side. He took the nipple delicately between his teeth and

  [flip]

  Enteric

  By W.B. Stickel

  The poster on the wall warned of cholesterol and heart disease. Daniel Sutton eyed it as he anxiously paced the small exam room and muttered that he should be so lucky.

  Beyond the room’s paper-thin door, voices chattered away. Nurses discussing lab results, debating who should be voted out of the Big Brother house. They sounded happy to Sutton. Cheerful. Healthy. Sutton hated all of them.

  Their chattering was soon interrupted by Sutton’s GP, Dr. Meloni, who politely inquired which patient was next.

  Not Sutton. Not yet. Some fuckwad named Hairston in the next room over. Lung problems by sounds of it. Hack, hack, hack. Probably a smoker. Probably deserved whatever he had. Most people did. Not all, but most. Sutton included.

  A long fifteen minutes later, the doctor finally came in with Sutton’s thick records in hand. “Danny, my friend,” he greeted in his typically casual manner, “just can’t stay away, can you?”

  “Afraid not,” Sutton said, remaining on his feet.

  Meloni set the records on the counter and gazed at Sutton. His face was youthful and kind, his hair black and full, traits that made him seem younger than his forty-three years. “BP is better than last time, and your labs look normal. The nurse says the cramping is back, and it’s much worse now?”

  Sutton, who sported an unkempt crop of thinning hair and a body wide gauntness that made him look much older than thirty-one, nodded. “I was doing okay for a few months there,” he said in reference to his ongoing battle with ulcerative colitis. “Felt pretty good. Better than I have in a while, anyway. Then, a couple weeks ago it came back. Now it’s on the warpath.”

  “Hmm. Any changes in diet or routine?”

  “No. Actually, been eating healthier than ever before. I did a Chinese buffet back in May, but only the once.”

  “Not a big deal,” Meloni said. “I assume you’re still taking all your meds.”

  “Religiously,” Sutton replied. “Maybe that’s the problem though. I’m an atheist.”

  The doctor cracked a smile at that. “Any blood?”

  Between the ulcerations and anal fissures from constipation, there was always a little blood in the toilet. Lately, though, he’d been seeing more and more. He relayed this to the doctor.

  “All right,” Meloni said. “You know the drill. I’ll set you up with Brenman again to get the Roto-Rooter scheduled.”

  Sutton shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “We, uh, might want to hold off on that.”

  Meloni raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

  Sutton leaned against the wall. Despite having rehearsed what he had to say several times over, he now had trouble finding the right words. “There’s something I…just this little thing…I don’t know—”

  “Just spit it out, Danny,” Meloni told him. “I’ve heard it all.”

  Sutton cleared his throat and took a breath. “I, um, discovered something new the other day. After going number two.”

  Meloni nodded, encouraging more.

  “It was right after work on Tuesday. I’d finished going and went to wipe when I felt something sort of, um, plop out of me and hit the water. At first I thought I’d just gone a little more, but then I felt the cold water and had the weird sense that part of me was submerged.”

  Meloni frowned. “You felt something distend from you while defecating?”

  “Yeah. And when I looked between my legs to see what had happened, I saw a pinkish, snakelike thing drooping from my anus down into the water. I made a noise—a gasp, I guess—and it shot back up. I swear, when it did, I felt a suction-type pop as it snapped back into place.”

  “Has it happened since then?”

  “This morning too,” Sutton said.

  “What happened this morning?”

  “Well, last night I screwed up and ate Taco Bell. Gorditas, chalupas…the works. Of course, I had problems when I woke up. When I finally got rid of the last of it, I went to wipe, and it shot out again. Only…” He trailed off.

  “Only what?”

  Sutton exhaled uneasily. “It didn’t go all the way back up.”

  The doctor squinted. “How much stayed out?”

  “About four, five inches. I don’t know, I didn’t measure,” Sutton told him. “It’s been terrible, doc. I mean
, getting dressed was a nightmare, and I had to lean on my side the whole way driving here.”

  Meloni rose from the stool and put on a pair of exam gloves. “Why don’t you drop your drawers and hop up on the table? Lie on your side facing the wall and bring your knees close to your chest. Let’s have a look.”

  Timidly, Sutton did as the doctor instructed. When he pulled his underwear down, he felt the protrusion move. It didn’t exactly hurt, but there was discomfort. When he climbed on the table, it dropped limply against his butt cheek. It was wet and warm and pulsed softly.

  Meloni approached the table. Though Sutton couldn’t see the man’s face, he knew the doctor was studying the thing closely. After a few seconds, Meloni reached over Sutton and plucked the otoscope from the wall. He made curious little sounds as he shined the instrument’s light and looked through the magnifying lens. When he was done, he put it back and touched the protrusion with his hands, prodding it and turning it ever so gently.

  “Does any of this hurt?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” Sutton replied. “Just makes me a little nauseous.”

  He heard the doctor sit on the stool and wheel up close, then pick felt him the protrusion up again. “Not sure what to think,” Meloni announced. “This doesn’t appear to be normal rectal or bowel tissue. To be honest, it looks more like the outer skin of a nematode. Perhaps Ascaris or...” The doctor paused. “Oh my.”

  “What?” Sutton asked.

  “Hang on, Mr. Sutton,” Meloni replied. “Let me jot down some notes, and I’ll explain.”

  The chair moved away from the table, and Sutton heard frenetic scribbling behind him. After about a minute, the chair swung back to the table. “Okay, Danny,” Meloni said. “Listen. We’ve got something here. Something big. Big enough to put us in the history books, I’m thinking. From what I can tell, it looks like this worm has somehow taken over your digestive—“ He paused again.