Sam

by Iain Rob Wright

Mike said, “Thanks,” and took a seat at the table. Graham said nothing and headed behind the shadow-drenched bar to fetch a drink.

  “I see Graham is as sociable as ever,” Angela commented, loud enough so that the man would hear.

  “What was that?” Graham asked from behind the bar. There was now a glass of gin in his hand.

  “Nothing,” said Angela. “It’s just delightful to have such charming company.”

  “Let me tell you something, lady.” Graham came over to the table and placed his glass down on the table more forcefully than he needed to. “You’re just a guest here. I have been here for over two years, so maybe you should show a little more respect.”

  “Of course,” said Angela. “My apologies. I didn’t realise that the respect of a stranger was so important to you.”

  Graham shook his head and swigged his gin. “You’ll end up walking home after all this is done if you’re not careful.”

  “I don’t think Jessica would appreciate you speaking to us like that,” said Tim.

  “Screw her.” Graham growled. “Woman’s a mess. She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on half the time.”

  “And alas, here I am now listening to you speak.” Jessica had appeared in the doorway, dressed smartly in trousers and an ivory blouse. She looked more in control of her wits than the previous times Angela had spent with the woman.

  Graham leapt up, flustered. “Jessica – I mean, Ms Raymeady – how are you doing this evening?”

  “I’m good, Graham. Thank you for asking. I would feel safer however if I knew you were outside in the car.”

  “But it’s freezing out there.”

  “Then I suggest you turn on the engine.”

  Graham walked off in a huff and Mike got up to go after him.

  “No, no,” said Jessica. “You’re quite welcome to stay, Michael.”

  Mike sat back down again, slowly, as if he were unsure. “Thank you, Ms Raymeady. Will you be joining us?”

  Jessica shook her head. “Perhaps later. I think I should probably keep a clear head from now on. I hear that Sammie had an accident today?”

  “Yes,” Tim admitted. “We’re not quite sure what happened.”

  “That’s quite alright,” said Jessica, “but let me assure you that I will not tolerate my son being hurt again. Next time there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” said Tim, sounding about five years old.

  “Good,” said Jessica. “I will be with Sammie if anyone needs me.”

  Everyone at the table nodded, but remained quiet. Jessica had gotten a hold of herself in a big way and was now unidentifiable as the drunken mess from that morning. Suddenly, Angela could see her as a wealthy and powerful woman. Jessica had given herself a reality check and was now back in control.

  Either that or the woman’s close to a break down. This could be the calm before the storm.

  Tim snapped shut the lid on his laptop. “So much for my equipment. Not much use with the power off.”

  “Frank will be looking into it,” said Mike. “Power’s been going off a lot lately.”

  “Doesn’t your laptop run off a battery,” Angela asked Tim.

  “Yeah, it does, but not my cameras. All the feeds have gone down.”

  “What feeds?” Mike asked.

  Angela poured herself another drink and explained. “Tim has video cameras set up in Sammie’s room. We were going to observe him this evening and try to figure out what’s going on with him.”

  Mike chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that. Jessica has had half the medical community through here the last few months. No one could figure it out. Most of them ran screaming from the building.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tim.

  “Sure you’ve seen by now, but Sammie has a bit of a temper. There was a psychiatrist that was here a few weeks ago that tried some behavioural adjustments – one of which was trying to take away Sammie’s crayons until he promised to only draw nice things. Next thing we know, Sammie attacks the guy, bites one of his ears clean-off. The doctor starts crawling around on his hands and knees, squealing like a pig, looking for his missing appendage – and then we realise. Sammie had swallowed the thing whole.”

  Tim’s face scrunched up with disgust. “Hell’s bells.”

  “Tell me about it. Jessica had to cut the guy a fat cheque just to keep him quiet about the whole thing.”

  Angela finished off her new whisky in a single gulp and quickly poured another. “How come you’ve hung around though all this, Mike? Frank told me that everybody else left.”

  “Me and Graham work outside. We have no contact with Sammie. I guess we feel safe enough.”

  “So you think Sammie is dangerous?”

  “I know he is. Whatever the reason for that, I can’t say, but you wouldn’t catch me alone in a room with him.”

  “He’s just a ten-year old boy,” said Angela.

  Mike shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean maybe you being here is exactly what is needed. Your exorcism kit is in your room. I think you may want to think about using it.”

  Angela cleared her throat and wondered if the man was serious. “You believe that’s what’s needed?”

  “I guess,” said Mike. “I’m not really much of a believer in God, but I’d like to see what happens. To be honest, every other option has been exhausted, so you’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “I agree,” said Tim. “I still believe that there’s a rational explanation for all this, but I’d like to dispel any notions of ‘possession’ as soon as possible. You’re the best person to do that.”

  Angela felt her eyelids getting heavy. The mere thought of performing The Rites drained away her energy. “I’m not sure I even remember what to do anymore,” she admitted.

  “It will come back to you,” said Mike. “I heard you were very good at it once.”

  Angela huffed. “Too bad I can’t put it on my resume as a useful job skill.”

  They all shared a laugh about that and sipped at their drinks. After a few moments had passed, Angela looked at Mike. “Tell me about Jessica,” she said.

  “Jessica? What’s to tell? She’s lived most of her life in the papers and most of it’s true. She met Joseph Raymeady at University. I’m not sure what she was studying; she never finished anyway. Joseph asked her to marry him right after he graduated and joined his father’s company. Eventually, both she and Joseph took a place on the Board of Directors. You’ve already witnessed the fruits of their labour. Jessica is one of the richest women in the world, but I don’t think she really knows what to do with it all without her husband. Things have been hard on her.”

  “How long has she been drinking?” Tim asked.

  “Not long, to be honest. The woman you just saw is more the real her. She is a kind soul, but very much in control of herself usually. The drinking and depression has been very unlike her, but who can blame her? In fact, I was pleased to see the way she just dealt with Graham. Perhaps she’s on the mend. I think she feels better with the two of you here. Let’s just hope you can help Sammie, or else I fear she’ll take another slide.”

  “We’ll do our best,” said Tim. “I don’t plan on leaving until we get to the bottom of-”

  The laptop on the table vibrated. The speakers emitted static.

  Angela thrust her chin at the computer. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know.” Tim put his hands on the laptop and slid it towards him. He hesitated for a moment, which made Angela think that something was amiss. Slowly, Tim raised the laptop’s monitor. His eyes immediately went wide.

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  Tim spun the laptop so that she and Mike could see the screen. “The feeds are back up,” he said. “I don’t know how.”

  Angela looked at the screen and had to squint to make sense of what she was seeing. On the regular HD feed Sammie’s room was dark except for
a candle burning beside the ten-year-old’s bed. It appeared that Jessica was reading to him while he slept.

  There was also a second feed being displayed. The infrared camera displayed multi-coloured blotches of heat on the screen. Jessica’s form glowed beside the prone form of Sammie beneath his covers. Angela didn’t know what it meant, but the heat register of Sammie seemed to be in constant flux, the reds and yellows pulsing and changing with every second.

  Angela continued to watch the screen, eyes glued to it as she noticed that Jessica was getting up out of her chair.

  “What’s she doing?” Mike asked.

  Angela shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s going over to Sammie’s bed. She’s…oh, God.”

  Angela watched Jessica pull a pillow from beneath Sammie’s sleeping head. She watched the woman holding it over her son’s face. Then Angela cried out in horror as Jessica forced the pillow down on Sammie’s face, smothering him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Angela galloped through the long hallways of the house, trying to navigate her way to Sammie’s room as quickly as she could. With every corner she took, she shouted out Jessica’s name at the top of her lungs. The woman had finally lost her sanity and was trying to eliminate the cause of all her stress – Sammie, her son. Angela knew it was a common defence mechanism for someone who was clinically depressed, but Jessica’s urge to kill her son was only a temporary madness that she would regret for the rest of her life. If Jessica managed to succeed in what she was doing, the woman would never forgive herself. Angela had to stop her before it was too late.

  Tim and Mike were right behind Angela and she wondered why the two younger men had not managed to overtake her. Were they scared?

  Sammie’s room was just up ahead. Even in the dark she could see the posters and signs that adorned the boy’s door. Angela wasted no time in barging into the bedroom.

  It was dark. Shadows seemed to shift and swirl all around her. Over in the depths of the room was the burning candle that Jessica had been reading by. A flickering cone of light surrounded the flame, but it was not wide enough to illuminate anything beyond half-a-foot.

  “Jessica! Whatever you are doing, you need to stop.”

  There was no answer. Angela took a step forward, cutting through the darkness. Sammie’s bed was ahead. The boy’s form rested beneath its covers.

  “Sammie? Sammie? Are you okay?” Angela took another step forward. She smelled sweat in the air, coming off the sheets. “Sammie, answer me.”

  Tim and Mike milled in the shadows behind her, but Angela felt as if they were a million miles away. It was just her and the bed and the grisly secrets it held. Angela took the final steps and reached out a hand, her fingertips searching. She dreaded what she was about to feel. Were her fingers about to connect with the soft flesh of a dead child? She edged forward, inch by inch, stretching on her tiptoes.

  Something wrapped around Angela’s wrist. She tried to leap back but whatever had her was too strong. She cried out for help, struggling to break free. Tim and Mike rushed up behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

  The power came back on with an audible click. The room flooded with light and Angela blinked as her retinas responded with pain. Sammie was lying on the bed in front of her. He looked at her through the narrow black slits of his eyes.

  It was Sammie’s hand that was wrapped around her wrist.

  “What are you doing, Angela? I was sleeping.”

  Angela found it hard to speak. Her lungs had seized up as if an invisible snake had roped itself around her chest. “Sammie, where is your mother? Where is Jessica?”

  Sammie’s grin grew wider. “Oh, I think she went up to her room to get some air. She was feeling rather unwell.”

  “Sammie? Has something happened? Did you mother do something to you with a pillow?”

  Sammie giggled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. As I explained, I was sleeping quite soundly until you woke me. Maybe you should go check on my mother – I would hate for anything to happen to her.”

  Angela leant closer to the boy. “What does that mean?”

  “Er, Angela.” It was Tim’s voice, coming from behind her. “I think you should take a look at this.”

  Angela stepped away from Sammie and turned around. What she saw on the walls was impossible. More of the boy’s crayoned drawings had appeared, stuck into the plaster with push pins. They depicted the rain outside and the house without power, the windows shaded black to show the lack of light. Even more disturbing was a depiction of Angela, Tim, and Mike. The drawing showed them all sitting in the piano lounge huddling around a laptop on a table between them. Sammie had drawn them watching him. There was no way he could have known how they were sitting or what they were doing – it had happened only minutes ago.

  Tim placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder and turned her slightly to her right. He pointed at one of the pictures. “Look.”

  Angela looked at the artwork and felt like a heavy stone had rolled its way through her guts. Scrawled in harsh black pencil was a picture of Jessica. She was hanging by her neck from a rain-drenched balcony.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Angela and the others reached the penthouse floor, they could hear that Frank was already there. He was crying out for help in a way that made it very clear that something terrible had happened.

  Angela had never been on the penthouse floor and neither had Tim, so Mike led the way. The hallways of the fourth floor were wider than the others and the three of them were able to sprint side by side as if they were running down a track. Mike motioned to a doorway at the end of the hallway and told them it was Jessica’s bedroom. Frank’s voice was coming from inside.

  Angela grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. She rattled it back and forth, hoping it would turn, but it held tight. She bashed a fist against the wood. “Frank? Frank, let us in. What’s happening?”

  “I can’t,” came Frank’s muffled voice. “I can’t let go. Please help me. I can’t hold her much longer.”

  Angela looked at Tim and Mike and saw that they were as confused as she was. At least Mike seemed to have an idea. He shrugged his shoulders and then took a step backwards, before skipping forward and aiming a heavy kick at the door.

  The wood cracked.

  Mike kicked again and the door swung open. Angela rushed through into Jessica’s bedroom, dragging Tim along with her. She looked around for Frank, but the room was empty.

  “Frank!”

  “Over here, on the balcony.”

  Angela peered across the lavish bedroom and saw a pair of French doors at the far side. They were open. The wind and rain were blowing in. Angela wasted no time with standing around.

  Frank was outside on the rain-soaked balcony. Angela found him leaning over the cement railing, struggling with something unseen. The shirt on his back was sodden.

  “Frank, what’s going on?”

  The man strained to turn his head to look at her, the muscles bunching up in his neck. “Help me!”

  Angela hurried over to the railing and was glad that Tim and Mike did the same. Frank was tired and his body was starting to give out. Jessica’s limp form hung from his grasp, dangling four stories above the ground. She was unconscious. A thick noose cut into her throat, secured at the other end by one of the balcony’s cement balustrades.

  “Holy mama!” Tim cried out.

  Angela drove her upper body over the railing and grabbed a hold of Jessica’s wrist. Frank had the woman under the armpits, but she was gradually slipping from his grasp. Angela grabbed a handful of Jessica’s shirt and yanked. She almost ended up tumbling over the balcony herself, but Mike managed to wrap both his arms around her hips and anchor her down before she went hurtling over the railing. With Mike securing Angela, she managed to get both hands on Jessica’s clothing and pull with all her weight. She and Frank worked together and slowly, they managed to hoist Jessica back up towards the balcony’s railing. Once she was near the top,
Mike and Tim grabbed fistfuls of Jessica’s blouse and helped topple her back over to safety. The unconscious woman hit the floor with a thump!

  Frank dropped down to his knees beside her and clawed at the rope around her neck. He was frantic and almost crying. This was not the stone-faced control freak that Angela was used to seeing.

  “Frank?” She put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  Frank managed to loosen the rope around Jessica’s neck and sat back on his heels, relieved, shaken, and concerned. “I got here just as she was about to jump. I managed to catch her but her weight dragged me over the side. I couldn’t get her back up again. I think…I think she’ll be okay. She was never hanged by her neck.”

  Angela looked down at Jessica and saw that, physically, she was okay; breathing steadily as the rain fell down on her sprawled body. Emotionally, however, the woman looked severely injured. Her eyes were now open but merely stared into space, her focus aimed upwards at the faraway stars. Angela knew that Jessica’s mind was just as far away as those stars.

  “We need to call an ambulance.”

  Frank shook his head. “No!”

  Angela didn’t understand. “She just tried to kill herself!”

  “If word of this gets out, she’ll be removed from the board. All of Joseph’s work will be undone.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tim butted in. “Who gives a shit about business right now? She needs help.”

  Frank was still adamant and shaking his head. “We’ll keep her safe. She’ll be okay. No one can know about this. Mike, you go and get Graham. You can take turns keeping an eye on her until she’s better.”

  “This is insane,” Tim said, pulling at a clump of his ginger hair as if he were going mad. “Why did she even do this? She seemed perfectly fine earlier.”

  “No,” said Angela. “She wasn’t. People that commit suicide often seem okay right before they try to end it all. Killing yourself takes courage and also a certain amount of inner peace. The reason Jessica seemed stronger and more in control this evening was because she wanted to die with the dignity of being herself.”