Faces of Beth, page 18
Alex glanced back at her for a second and passed her a little
girl’s wave and smile. “Hi Livia.”
“Hi, Alex. You wanna go have a seat in my chair and play your
game where it’s more comfortable?”
“Really?” Alex asked.
“You bet,” Olivia said. “Go ahead.”
Alex gasped, excited to sit in the big girl chair, and then ran to it,
plopped down, and gave it a couple of spins before settling back into
her video game.
“So weird,” Olivia whispered, her eyes still glued on Alex. Then
she leaned closer to Andrew and whispered, “I can’t believe you fuck
her. Do you guys play, like, hide the soldier or, like, peek-a-boo with
it?”
“Liv,” Andrew said, “that’s sick.”
“Seriously,” Olivia said. “You went from me to her? You kinky son
of a bitch.”
“You know I don’t when she’s like that.”
“Right, Ruby.”
“Exactly.”
Olivia shook her head and turned her attention back to Andrew.
She looked down at his arm and said, “Joking aside, she fucked you
up. This isn’t good, Drew. I don’t like it. I mean call it what you want,
but this is fucking spousal abuse.”
“It’s not.”
“Whatever. What happened?”
“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“Remember that priest personality of hers I told you about?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it attacked her and me.”
“You mean she attacked you?”
“No, like it was out of her body. Like its own entity.”
Olivia laughed. “That’s not possible, Drew.”
“I know. That’s what I said, but it happened.”
“No,” she insisted. “That’s not possible.”
“Liv, it threw me through a damn window. I’d say it’s pretty fucking
possible.”
“So, she threw you through a window. I mean they say
sometimes they can have superhuman strength and—”
“No, when I woke up, she was like she is now. She was Alex and
she was asleep on the floor. That priest was on top of her, like a
demon thing with a long tongue. It was licking her face. When I told it
to get off her, it pounced on me. It wasn’t her. It was something else.”
Olivia rubbed at her arms and pursed her lips.
“This isn’t funny,” she said. “I mean if this is your idea of a joke—”
“I promise it’s not.”
“I know I’ve been mean and I’ve said some mean things. I’ve
joked around. I’ve—”
“It’s not a joke. That’s why I brought her here. The other night Mr.
Grainger, The Quiet Man, he said something to me. Right after Old
Lynne did this,” he pointed at his bandaged ear, “to me, he warned
me. Told me it wanted her. I didn’t know what he meant at the time,
but I think he was talking about that priest.”
“So, you want to see The Quiet Man,” Olivia said.
“Will you go with me?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Drew.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah, this time I’m kind of scared.”
“Never thought I’d see the day Olivia was scared.”
She laughed. “Me neither.”
A few minutes later, Andrew and Olivia walked down the hall to
Mr. Grainger’s room with Alex walking behind them, still focused on
her video game. About halfway down the hall, Peter came out of his
room and tucked Alex away. He was now in control of Beth’s body. It
was evident by his footsteps. Where Alex’s sneakers had made
short, tiny squeaks against the tile floor, Peter’s were larger, harder
thuds.
“I told you this would suck,” he suddenly said from behind.
Andrew turned around and told him, “Keep playing your game
and we’ll find you something to do in a little while.”
“Any cute girls in here?” he asked.
“Play your game,” Andrew repeated.
Olivia looked left at Andrew out of the corner of her eye and softly
said, “Peter?”
Andrew nodded. “Yep.”
“Olivia would be cute if she wasn’t such a…” Peter let his words
trail off.
“Such a what?” Olivia asked, turning around to face the teenage
boy in Andrew’s wife’s body.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Finish what you were going to say,” Olivia demanded.
“Seriously,” Andrew said, “are you going to stand here right now
and argue with a teenager?”
Olivia turned around, laughed, and facepalmed herself. “You’re
right. I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Welcome to my world,” Andrew whispered. “That’s me. Literally.
Every. Single. Day.”
The hallway lights blinked. Andrew and Olivia stopped walking.
Peter bumped into them from behind. The lights blinked again.
“They need to fix these lights,” Olivia said.
“That would be nice,” Andrew agreed.
The lights blinked a few more times and then stayed on. Andrew
felt his heartbeat speed up as they reached The Quiet Man’s room.
A quick glance through the small window in his door showed him
sitting on his bed, with perfect posture, staring straight at the wall
across from his bed.
Olivia opened his door. “Mr. Grainger, do you mind some
company?”
Silently, he turned his head to look over at them. His face
remained stoic as he nodded only once. Then he looked past
Andrew and Olivia and saw Peter. His eyes opened wider, and his
head jiggled from left to right in a frantic shaking of his head. He
raised one arm and pointed at Peter.
“Not her,” he said.
“Okay,” Olivia said, “calm down.”
“Not her,” he repeated.
“Okay, okay,” Olivia said, “Drew, want me to keep her in the
hallway.”
Andrew looked at Peter and said, “Hey, buddy, do you mind
hanging out in the hall with Olivia for a minute or two?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, “Whatever. Guess it
doesn’t really matter. Whatever gets us out of here quicker.”
“This will get us out of here quicker,” Andrew said.
“Then yeah,” Peter agreed.
Olivia put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and ushered him out of the
room.
“Okay, she’s gone,” Andrew said as he moved to stand in front of
The Quiet Man. “Why are you afraid of her?”
The Quiet Man didn’t answer at first. He simply craned his neck
as if making sure Peter was out of earshot.
“Mr. Grainger,” Andrew said. “What is it about my wife that scares
you?”
“He is with her,” The Quiet Man leaned forward and whispered,
glancing left and right as if afraid he might be heard.
“Who is he?”
“The priest, but he is not one.”
“Not what? Not a priest?”
He nodded.
“And you say he’s with her?” Andrew asked. “Like with her now?”
He nodded again. “Always with her. Always was. But… but it’s
different now.”
“Different how?”
“Before he only watched. He wanted her but he only watched. He
stood in the corner. Always standing. Always watching. In every
room she entered.”
“How do you know these things?”
“He told me. Like he told the old lady.”
“What lady?” Andrew asked.
The Quiet Man put his hands up over his head and threw them
back like a big whoosh of wind. Like wild hair.
“Old Lynne?” Andrew asked.
He nodded.
“The priest that isn’t a priest told us everything. He showed us
things he wanted to do to her. Sick, evil, vile things.” The Quiet Man
closed his eyes and his lips quivered. A tear ran from each of his
eyes as he suffered memories of what the evil priest showed him.
“He comes from a terrible place. A place of so much suffering. He
showed me things because of the man I used to be. Because of the
things I did. But I ain’t that man no more. I don’t do those bad things.
My killin’ is done.”
Andrew had never heard any stories about Mr. Grainger, The
Quiet Man, having a violent past, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t
one. It occurred to him that maybe he was quiet for a reason. His
silence might have been his own doing. He didn’t talk because he
didn’t want to. He suffered in silence because he felt he deserved to.
“The things he wants to do to her, Andrew,” The Quiet Man
continued, “nobody should have to see. Nobody should have to
endure. You have to save her.”
“Mr. Grainger—”
“The priest that isn’t a priest stood and watched always. He
watched you and her when you did things. Dirty things in beds and in
closets. He wants to hurt you for those things. She’s his and you
took her from him. And he’s going to hurt you for it.”
The thought of that creepy old priest standing in the corner or
squeezed into the janitor’s closet with them while he made love to
Beth in here – had sex with Ruby – it made him cringe, brought
goosebumps to his arms.
“Why would he want to hurt Beth?” Andrew asked. “There has to
be a reason.”
“He wants to hurt her for what was done to him,” The Quiet Man
added.
“What was done to him?” Andrew asked.
The lights in the room blinked.
Mr. Grainger’s eyes shot open wide. “Uh oh.”
“What is it?” Andrew asked.
“Uh oh,” he repeated.
The lights blinked again.
The Quiet Man pursed his lips and tears ran down his eyes. His
cheeks trembled. “I don’t wanna die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Andrew said.
“We’re all going to die,” he said. “He’s here.” His head jerked left,
and both his arms shot up as he grabbed hold of Andrew’s forearms
and dug his fingernails into them, locking eyes with him, and added,
“He’s here… and he’s not standing in the corner anymore.”
The lights flickered off and on, reminding Andrew of the strobe
light in the condo building the night before.
Out in the hall, the sound of all the rooms unlocking sounded off
one by one.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Lunatic laughter.
And screams.
Wails of agony.
Andrew raced for the door and as he reached to open it, he heard
what sounded like a punch to the gut and air leaving the mouth of
the man behind him. It was a long guttural sigh that seeped from
somewhere deep inside the old man.
When Andrew looked back, The Quiet Man’s stomach had
sunken in as if a giant weight bore down on it. The stomach popped
back out as if the weight was released but then sunk in again. In and
out, in and out, like a transparent beast was hopping up and down
on him or kicking him wildly in the gut.
The Quiet Man tried desperately to breathe, but he couldn’t grab
hold of a breath. His fingers went to his mouth and clawed at his lips
where he tried frantically to pull his tongue out of his way or anything
else that might be obstructing his airway, but nothing worked.
Andrew ran to him and tried to help. He thought he might be
seizing at first, so he pulled out his wallet and was about to stick it in
his mouth to keep his tongue down but suddenly blood shot from the
old man’s mouth. A geyser of blood. It spouted forth from his throat
as the invisible demon continued to shove inward on his gut, pushing
his innards out his mouth.
The Quiet Man coughed again, and more crimson liquid
splattered onto his lips and chin. His eyes went bloodshot, fully red,
like all his blood was boiling over and searching for ways to escape
his body. It trickled out his nose and leaked from the corners of his
eyes. He coughed blood once more and then pitched forward and
fell face first onto the floor.
Andrew backed away and stood staring at the man he’d been
talking to only moments before. An invisible culprit had murdered Mr.
Grainger right in front of him. Andrew’s mouth opened to call out, to
curse, to taunt the malevolent force in priest’s clothing, but fear
grabbed hold of his words. If it could do that to The Quiet Man, what
would stop it from doing the same to him?
Loud raspy breathing filled the air and the temperature dropped
suddenly. Andrew saw his own breath blowing out in gasps. He
wanted to turn and flee but he couldn’t get his feet to move. All he
could do was stare down at the lifeless, bloody body of Mr. Grainger.
It’s still in this room with me.
Andrew clenched his fists and trembled. Hairs on the back of his
neck stood up and he feared if he turned around now, he’d be face to
face with the priest. To stand here staring seemed like certain death,
but to turn around meant facing the unknown and he knew whatever
was in this room with him wouldn’t let him leave so easily. Not after
he’d come here seeking answers. Not when the one man to give him
the information he sought was now lying in a pool of blood.
These were his thoughts when his next breath exited his body
and his frosty billow of breath suddenly stopped and spread to the
sides as if blown against a presence standing only a few inches from
his face.
His response was immediate. Like a kneejerk reaction, he swung
out with his fist in a right hook meant to knock the head off whatever
invisible being was in front of him. His punch came with so much
force it would have buckled even the sturdiest of men, but it met
nothing but air and threw Andrew off balance, sending him into a
spin that nearly had him crashing to the floor.
Laughter filled the air, taunting him, and Andrew knew brawling
with an unseen force was going to get him nowhere but crumpled up
on the floor dead like The Quiet Man. He turned to flee, fearing he’d
feel a sudden jerk from a sharp claw ripping out his spine.
But no attack came.
He exited the room so fast he nearly barreled over Olivia. She
yelped and threw her arms up, startled by his sudden appearance.
Andrew kicked the door shut behind him.
“Don’t go in there!” he yelled.
“Andrew,” Olivia squeaked out.
Peter stood next to her, also staring down the hall at the patients
who’d all left their rooms and spilled out into the hallway. All of them
clawed at their own faces. Their eyes, like The Quiet Man’s, were
completely red, filled with blood.
Bloody tears streamed down their cheeks and chin, ran over their
necks and onto their hospital uniforms. They bumped into each other
and ran into the walls and doors. So confused. So hurt.
Charlie Dap wore his pajamas and one of his spit-shined dress
shoes, like he’d been in the process of trying them on when his door
popped open and the pain kicked in. Now, he raked at his face and
stepped gingerly down the hallway in a lopsided fashion. Up on the
heel of his shoe. Down on the sock of the other foot. His moans
broke Andrew’s heart.
“What is happening?” the voice of an old lady begged to know.
“What is happening here? Why is this happening? What is
happening?”
It was Agatha Halstead, the romance reader. She sat on the floor
outside her room, hugging her legs with one arm and pulling at the
strands of hair that had fallen from her bun with her free hand. Blood
trickled down her cheeks and she continued asking why this was
happening.
Andrew knew all these people’s faces and all their names. They
were all innocent old men and women for the most part. So what if
Toad Phillips like to make ribbit sounds or if Adrian Lockheed liked to
eat with his toes? They didn’t deserve this.
“Please!” someone cried out from within the crowd of roaming
patients.
It’s my fault. I brought her here. He wants her. We should have
stayed home. We should have never come—
“What the fuck is going on?” Olivia asked, tearing Andrew from
his thoughts.
“It’s him,” Alex’s little voice announced.
No longer Peter, the teenager had hidden in his room, leaving his
little sister to come out and face the monster. Somehow, she seemed
bravest of all the personalities.
Hoarse laughter echoed down the length of the hallway.
Olivia grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Drew.”
Silence. Then more laughter. The lights blinked and then went
completely out.
Now, in pitch blackness, all they could hear was the screaming of
the patients and their cries for help.
Guards ran in from different areas. Their voices rang out and
girl’s wave and smile. “Hi Livia.”
“Hi, Alex. You wanna go have a seat in my chair and play your
game where it’s more comfortable?”
“Really?” Alex asked.
“You bet,” Olivia said. “Go ahead.”
Alex gasped, excited to sit in the big girl chair, and then ran to it,
plopped down, and gave it a couple of spins before settling back into
her video game.
“So weird,” Olivia whispered, her eyes still glued on Alex. Then
she leaned closer to Andrew and whispered, “I can’t believe you fuck
her. Do you guys play, like, hide the soldier or, like, peek-a-boo with
it?”
“Liv,” Andrew said, “that’s sick.”
“Seriously,” Olivia said. “You went from me to her? You kinky son
of a bitch.”
“You know I don’t when she’s like that.”
“Right, Ruby.”
“Exactly.”
Olivia shook her head and turned her attention back to Andrew.
She looked down at his arm and said, “Joking aside, she fucked you
up. This isn’t good, Drew. I don’t like it. I mean call it what you want,
but this is fucking spousal abuse.”
“It’s not.”
“Whatever. What happened?”
“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“Remember that priest personality of hers I told you about?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it attacked her and me.”
“You mean she attacked you?”
“No, like it was out of her body. Like its own entity.”
Olivia laughed. “That’s not possible, Drew.”
“I know. That’s what I said, but it happened.”
“No,” she insisted. “That’s not possible.”
“Liv, it threw me through a damn window. I’d say it’s pretty fucking
possible.”
“So, she threw you through a window. I mean they say
sometimes they can have superhuman strength and—”
“No, when I woke up, she was like she is now. She was Alex and
she was asleep on the floor. That priest was on top of her, like a
demon thing with a long tongue. It was licking her face. When I told it
to get off her, it pounced on me. It wasn’t her. It was something else.”
Olivia rubbed at her arms and pursed her lips.
“This isn’t funny,” she said. “I mean if this is your idea of a joke—”
“I promise it’s not.”
“I know I’ve been mean and I’ve said some mean things. I’ve
joked around. I’ve—”
“It’s not a joke. That’s why I brought her here. The other night Mr.
Grainger, The Quiet Man, he said something to me. Right after Old
Lynne did this,” he pointed at his bandaged ear, “to me, he warned
me. Told me it wanted her. I didn’t know what he meant at the time,
but I think he was talking about that priest.”
“So, you want to see The Quiet Man,” Olivia said.
“Will you go with me?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Drew.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah, this time I’m kind of scared.”
“Never thought I’d see the day Olivia was scared.”
She laughed. “Me neither.”
A few minutes later, Andrew and Olivia walked down the hall to
Mr. Grainger’s room with Alex walking behind them, still focused on
her video game. About halfway down the hall, Peter came out of his
room and tucked Alex away. He was now in control of Beth’s body. It
was evident by his footsteps. Where Alex’s sneakers had made
short, tiny squeaks against the tile floor, Peter’s were larger, harder
thuds.
“I told you this would suck,” he suddenly said from behind.
Andrew turned around and told him, “Keep playing your game
and we’ll find you something to do in a little while.”
“Any cute girls in here?” he asked.
“Play your game,” Andrew repeated.
Olivia looked left at Andrew out of the corner of her eye and softly
said, “Peter?”
Andrew nodded. “Yep.”
“Olivia would be cute if she wasn’t such a…” Peter let his words
trail off.
“Such a what?” Olivia asked, turning around to face the teenage
boy in Andrew’s wife’s body.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Finish what you were going to say,” Olivia demanded.
“Seriously,” Andrew said, “are you going to stand here right now
and argue with a teenager?”
Olivia turned around, laughed, and facepalmed herself. “You’re
right. I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Welcome to my world,” Andrew whispered. “That’s me. Literally.
Every. Single. Day.”
The hallway lights blinked. Andrew and Olivia stopped walking.
Peter bumped into them from behind. The lights blinked again.
“They need to fix these lights,” Olivia said.
“That would be nice,” Andrew agreed.
The lights blinked a few more times and then stayed on. Andrew
felt his heartbeat speed up as they reached The Quiet Man’s room.
A quick glance through the small window in his door showed him
sitting on his bed, with perfect posture, staring straight at the wall
across from his bed.
Olivia opened his door. “Mr. Grainger, do you mind some
company?”
Silently, he turned his head to look over at them. His face
remained stoic as he nodded only once. Then he looked past
Andrew and Olivia and saw Peter. His eyes opened wider, and his
head jiggled from left to right in a frantic shaking of his head. He
raised one arm and pointed at Peter.
“Not her,” he said.
“Okay,” Olivia said, “calm down.”
“Not her,” he repeated.
“Okay, okay,” Olivia said, “Drew, want me to keep her in the
hallway.”
Andrew looked at Peter and said, “Hey, buddy, do you mind
hanging out in the hall with Olivia for a minute or two?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, “Whatever. Guess it
doesn’t really matter. Whatever gets us out of here quicker.”
“This will get us out of here quicker,” Andrew said.
“Then yeah,” Peter agreed.
Olivia put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and ushered him out of the
room.
“Okay, she’s gone,” Andrew said as he moved to stand in front of
The Quiet Man. “Why are you afraid of her?”
The Quiet Man didn’t answer at first. He simply craned his neck
as if making sure Peter was out of earshot.
“Mr. Grainger,” Andrew said. “What is it about my wife that scares
you?”
“He is with her,” The Quiet Man leaned forward and whispered,
glancing left and right as if afraid he might be heard.
“Who is he?”
“The priest, but he is not one.”
“Not what? Not a priest?”
He nodded.
“And you say he’s with her?” Andrew asked. “Like with her now?”
He nodded again. “Always with her. Always was. But… but it’s
different now.”
“Different how?”
“Before he only watched. He wanted her but he only watched. He
stood in the corner. Always standing. Always watching. In every
room she entered.”
“How do you know these things?”
“He told me. Like he told the old lady.”
“What lady?” Andrew asked.
The Quiet Man put his hands up over his head and threw them
back like a big whoosh of wind. Like wild hair.
“Old Lynne?” Andrew asked.
He nodded.
“The priest that isn’t a priest told us everything. He showed us
things he wanted to do to her. Sick, evil, vile things.” The Quiet Man
closed his eyes and his lips quivered. A tear ran from each of his
eyes as he suffered memories of what the evil priest showed him.
“He comes from a terrible place. A place of so much suffering. He
showed me things because of the man I used to be. Because of the
things I did. But I ain’t that man no more. I don’t do those bad things.
My killin’ is done.”
Andrew had never heard any stories about Mr. Grainger, The
Quiet Man, having a violent past, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t
one. It occurred to him that maybe he was quiet for a reason. His
silence might have been his own doing. He didn’t talk because he
didn’t want to. He suffered in silence because he felt he deserved to.
“The things he wants to do to her, Andrew,” The Quiet Man
continued, “nobody should have to see. Nobody should have to
endure. You have to save her.”
“Mr. Grainger—”
“The priest that isn’t a priest stood and watched always. He
watched you and her when you did things. Dirty things in beds and in
closets. He wants to hurt you for those things. She’s his and you
took her from him. And he’s going to hurt you for it.”
The thought of that creepy old priest standing in the corner or
squeezed into the janitor’s closet with them while he made love to
Beth in here – had sex with Ruby – it made him cringe, brought
goosebumps to his arms.
“Why would he want to hurt Beth?” Andrew asked. “There has to
be a reason.”
“He wants to hurt her for what was done to him,” The Quiet Man
added.
“What was done to him?” Andrew asked.
The lights in the room blinked.
Mr. Grainger’s eyes shot open wide. “Uh oh.”
“What is it?” Andrew asked.
“Uh oh,” he repeated.
The lights blinked again.
The Quiet Man pursed his lips and tears ran down his eyes. His
cheeks trembled. “I don’t wanna die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Andrew said.
“We’re all going to die,” he said. “He’s here.” His head jerked left,
and both his arms shot up as he grabbed hold of Andrew’s forearms
and dug his fingernails into them, locking eyes with him, and added,
“He’s here… and he’s not standing in the corner anymore.”
The lights flickered off and on, reminding Andrew of the strobe
light in the condo building the night before.
Out in the hall, the sound of all the rooms unlocking sounded off
one by one.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Lunatic laughter.
And screams.
Wails of agony.
Andrew raced for the door and as he reached to open it, he heard
what sounded like a punch to the gut and air leaving the mouth of
the man behind him. It was a long guttural sigh that seeped from
somewhere deep inside the old man.
When Andrew looked back, The Quiet Man’s stomach had
sunken in as if a giant weight bore down on it. The stomach popped
back out as if the weight was released but then sunk in again. In and
out, in and out, like a transparent beast was hopping up and down
on him or kicking him wildly in the gut.
The Quiet Man tried desperately to breathe, but he couldn’t grab
hold of a breath. His fingers went to his mouth and clawed at his lips
where he tried frantically to pull his tongue out of his way or anything
else that might be obstructing his airway, but nothing worked.
Andrew ran to him and tried to help. He thought he might be
seizing at first, so he pulled out his wallet and was about to stick it in
his mouth to keep his tongue down but suddenly blood shot from the
old man’s mouth. A geyser of blood. It spouted forth from his throat
as the invisible demon continued to shove inward on his gut, pushing
his innards out his mouth.
The Quiet Man coughed again, and more crimson liquid
splattered onto his lips and chin. His eyes went bloodshot, fully red,
like all his blood was boiling over and searching for ways to escape
his body. It trickled out his nose and leaked from the corners of his
eyes. He coughed blood once more and then pitched forward and
fell face first onto the floor.
Andrew backed away and stood staring at the man he’d been
talking to only moments before. An invisible culprit had murdered Mr.
Grainger right in front of him. Andrew’s mouth opened to call out, to
curse, to taunt the malevolent force in priest’s clothing, but fear
grabbed hold of his words. If it could do that to The Quiet Man, what
would stop it from doing the same to him?
Loud raspy breathing filled the air and the temperature dropped
suddenly. Andrew saw his own breath blowing out in gasps. He
wanted to turn and flee but he couldn’t get his feet to move. All he
could do was stare down at the lifeless, bloody body of Mr. Grainger.
It’s still in this room with me.
Andrew clenched his fists and trembled. Hairs on the back of his
neck stood up and he feared if he turned around now, he’d be face to
face with the priest. To stand here staring seemed like certain death,
but to turn around meant facing the unknown and he knew whatever
was in this room with him wouldn’t let him leave so easily. Not after
he’d come here seeking answers. Not when the one man to give him
the information he sought was now lying in a pool of blood.
These were his thoughts when his next breath exited his body
and his frosty billow of breath suddenly stopped and spread to the
sides as if blown against a presence standing only a few inches from
his face.
His response was immediate. Like a kneejerk reaction, he swung
out with his fist in a right hook meant to knock the head off whatever
invisible being was in front of him. His punch came with so much
force it would have buckled even the sturdiest of men, but it met
nothing but air and threw Andrew off balance, sending him into a
spin that nearly had him crashing to the floor.
Laughter filled the air, taunting him, and Andrew knew brawling
with an unseen force was going to get him nowhere but crumpled up
on the floor dead like The Quiet Man. He turned to flee, fearing he’d
feel a sudden jerk from a sharp claw ripping out his spine.
But no attack came.
He exited the room so fast he nearly barreled over Olivia. She
yelped and threw her arms up, startled by his sudden appearance.
Andrew kicked the door shut behind him.
“Don’t go in there!” he yelled.
“Andrew,” Olivia squeaked out.
Peter stood next to her, also staring down the hall at the patients
who’d all left their rooms and spilled out into the hallway. All of them
clawed at their own faces. Their eyes, like The Quiet Man’s, were
completely red, filled with blood.
Bloody tears streamed down their cheeks and chin, ran over their
necks and onto their hospital uniforms. They bumped into each other
and ran into the walls and doors. So confused. So hurt.
Charlie Dap wore his pajamas and one of his spit-shined dress
shoes, like he’d been in the process of trying them on when his door
popped open and the pain kicked in. Now, he raked at his face and
stepped gingerly down the hallway in a lopsided fashion. Up on the
heel of his shoe. Down on the sock of the other foot. His moans
broke Andrew’s heart.
“What is happening?” the voice of an old lady begged to know.
“What is happening here? Why is this happening? What is
happening?”
It was Agatha Halstead, the romance reader. She sat on the floor
outside her room, hugging her legs with one arm and pulling at the
strands of hair that had fallen from her bun with her free hand. Blood
trickled down her cheeks and she continued asking why this was
happening.
Andrew knew all these people’s faces and all their names. They
were all innocent old men and women for the most part. So what if
Toad Phillips like to make ribbit sounds or if Adrian Lockheed liked to
eat with his toes? They didn’t deserve this.
“Please!” someone cried out from within the crowd of roaming
patients.
It’s my fault. I brought her here. He wants her. We should have
stayed home. We should have never come—
“What the fuck is going on?” Olivia asked, tearing Andrew from
his thoughts.
“It’s him,” Alex’s little voice announced.
No longer Peter, the teenager had hidden in his room, leaving his
little sister to come out and face the monster. Somehow, she seemed
bravest of all the personalities.
Hoarse laughter echoed down the length of the hallway.
Olivia grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Drew.”
Silence. Then more laughter. The lights blinked and then went
completely out.
Now, in pitch blackness, all they could hear was the screaming of
the patients and their cries for help.
Guards ran in from different areas. Their voices rang out and
