Dreadful Dark Tales of Horror 6, page 1
part #6 of Dreadful Dark Tales of Horror Series
DREADFUL DARK
Tales of Horror: Book 6
DEAN RASMUSSEN
Dreadful Dark: Tales of Horror: Book 6
Dean Rasmussen
Copyright © 2022 Dean Rasmussen
All rights reserved.
Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-951120-25-2
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent from the publisher is strictly prohibited, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For more information about this book, visit:
www.deanrasmussen.com
dean@deanrasmussen.com
Dreadful Dark: Tales of Horror: Book 6
Published by:
Dark Venture Press, 601 Central Ave W, Ste 103 #129, Saint Michael, MN 55376
Cover Art: Dark Venture Press and Deposit Photos
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Ice Cold
Birthday Girl
Sticky Fingers
More Frightful Fun!
FREE Short Story!
More Books by the Author
About the Author
ICE COLD
“Turn it up,” Mr. Clifton J. Albert grumbled and twisted in his recliner in the living room. “I’m freezing in here!”
Rebecca rolled her eyes, shifted in her chair and turned back to her phone. She had wrapped three blankets over the old man, for God’s sake. Three. She forced a smile and spoke as politely as she could. “I turned it up all the way.”
Mr. Albert scoffed. “It’s not enough.”
Rebecca slumped and continued texting with her boyfriend, Johnny, before ending their conversation with ‘Time to warm up Frosty the Snowman again.’
She wasn’t supposed to be on her phone, or do anything that might distract her from her job, which was to care for Mr. Albert’s basic needs, but it wasn’t like he was stuck in that leather recliner or anything. He could get up and walk if he really tried, especially if he needed something monumentally important like the TV remote. Sure, he would complain for a while, but eventually he would throw the blankets aside while bitching and moaning, and then waddle over just far enough to grab it. Sometimes, just for fun, she would intentionally place the remote out of his reach to watch him squirm and fuss. A petty delight, but it helped break up the drudgery of her job.
Mr. Albert faced the TV, with his drooping profile outlined against a dark background. Maybe he could see her from the corner of his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t take the chance to disturb the layers of blankets protecting him from the treacherously frigid eighty-two degree air. And if some part of a blanket did fall away from the old man’s cloth cocoon, a rising wave of complaints would give her plenty of time to put away her phone. It wasn’t like they paid her enough to really care about the old man anyway.
She walked over to Mr. Albert’s side and stared down at him with her arms folded across her chest. It was better to avoid seeing him directly, as she’d learned, since his gaze would lock onto her chest and remain there for the duration of their conversation.
“What would you like me to do now?” Rebecca asked him.
He turned his head slightly toward her. “Throw more wood in the fireplace.”
Two logs sat in the wood holder beside the fireplace. She tossed them into the blazing fire, on top of the other logs she had placed in there only an hour earlier, then stirred the charred wood with the fire poker.
At least Mr. Albert’s crabbiness level subsided when it was hot. The sauna-like atmosphere seemed to calm him to the point of delirium. And she’d found that was a good time to bring up any important topics she had on her mind. And really, there was only one topic that kept her coming back day after day and putting up with his endless demands that would drive any other nurse bat shit crazy. The hidden cash.
Somewhere in that house, there were stacks of hundred-dollar bills and a few bars of gold. Not the little ounce bars, but the big ones. Kilo bars. She had seen the stash by accident a few weeks earlier after arriving early one morning, and he had practically lost his voice screaming at her to stay outside until her shift started. Any normal person would have quit immediately after being treated so horribly, but she couldn’t shake the lingering image of what she had seen laid out on the old man’s bed. So much money. She’d shaken off his verbal abuse moments later without the slightest bit of anger and with a renewed interest in taking care of him. She knew he was rich, but… damn.
Rebecca scanned the living room, as she had so many times before. That cash stockpile was somewhere in the house. Mr. Albert wasn’t the type of person to take it to a bank. That wouldn’t have worked for Clifton J. Albert. The old man had expressed so many times about his distrust of banks. The money had to be in one of the bedrooms or in the basement or… maybe only a few feet away. But she had never seen any sign of the cash since that one shocking morning.
She narrowed her eyes. I will find it.
Just like that, the old man who could barely take a few steps at a time without running out of breath had managed to tuck it away somewhere. It had to be in his bedroom or in one of the adjacent rooms but after stealthily seeking out any sign of a hidden safe or a shoebox stashed away under a bed, she hadn’t located it.
But it was there somewhere, and she was sure as hell going to find it. It was the main motivator to continue working in that house, suffering through Mr. Albert’s incessant needs. Nobody else would put up with working in his sweat factory like that. But when it was warm, then he stopped complaining, and it was time to turn on the charm.
It took another fifteen minutes for his breathing to slow enough to where she felt comfortable stepping around in front of him to chat a little. Wandering eyes or not, she would turn up the charm this time and squeeze the information out of him one way or another. Every day she had taken a little time to extract a bit of information about the fortune’s location. Nothing that would give away her true motivation, but just enough to add another piece to the puzzle.
Now it was time to pry another puzzle piece out of the old buzzard.
She lingered by his side, then kneeled at his feet, reached her hands in under his blankets, and pampered him with a foot massage. Her gaze locked onto his eyes like a poker player waiting for a tell.
“How is that, Mr. Albert?” She asked in her sweetest voice. “All better now?”
He broke into a subtle, yet rare smile. “Better. For now.”
She glanced around at the walls and ceiling, feigning interest. “I bet there’s not much insulation in this house. Ever consider moving into a newer home?”
“Too expensive.”
“But you might be a lot happier in a smaller place where you wouldn’t need to heat so many rooms. I doubt you use them all.”
Mr. Albert followed her gaze to a wall. “No point in moving at my age. Too much work. Too much junk lying around.”
“Nothing really heavy though. Right?” She scrutinized his eyes.
His pupils shifted down. “Not worth the bother.”
The basement.
That made sense with all the cash in the house. Mr. Albert would almost certainly have stored it in a safe—a very heavy safe. Her heart quickened, and she tried to hold back her excitement at having narrowed down its location. Still, she hadn’t found it yet, but at least she was close.
“You know…” She squeezed his feet a little harder. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a full body massage, but that’s not part of my regular duties as a nurse. I would have to charge extra for that. Does that interest you?”
He stared at her with blank eyes for several seconds before glancing away. “Get my checkbook.”
“You know I can’t take a check from you. Someone would find out. Cash only. Say... a thousand dollars?”
He scoffed. “I don’t have that much.”
“Can you find it somewhere?” She glanced around the room.
He shook his head. “I’ll get it for you tomorrow.”
“You know I don’t work tomorrow. It’s the weekend, remember? And I need the money to pay the rent, so maybe we could help each other out. Can we do that?”
He sniffed and scanned her clothes from top to bottom, then glanced down at the floor. “You’ll need to leave the house for a while.”
“What for?”
“To get the cash.”
“How much time do you need?”
“An hour.”
“My shift ends in half an hour.”
He groaned. “It will take me too long to get it. Can’t you just wait a few days?”
She shook her head. “This is a one-time deal, because I’m a little… desperate. Do you have the money in a safe?”
He shook his head slowly, but watched her without blinking. “Did you see it down there? Is that how you know?”
“I didn’t see anything in the basement except the wood stove I keep running.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been snooping.”
“I don’t snoop, and you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but if it’s somewhere difficult for you to reach, I could help you get there. Of course, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it and you know I respect your privacy. If it’s down there, then we can go now before I leave.
Mr. Albert sighed. “I don’t want to get up.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I understand.” She squeezed his feet again and moved her hands up a little higher around his ankles. “But it’s for a good cause, right? And it’s time for your walk anyway.” She looked at her watch.
Now the bitching and moaning.
She stopped rubbing his feet and stood by his side again. “How about it? Might as well enjoy life and be happy.”
“I’m happy under here.”
She leaned in and tugged on his arm beneath the blankets. “When was the last time you went down there?”
“You know damn well the last time.” He grunted. “You saw the money. That’s what this is all about.”
She chuckled. “I’d like to earn a little extra. That’s all.”
He relented and sat up, unfurling the blankets covering his chest.
She helped him into a standing position, although his face was strained as if she were subjecting him to some horrible torture. Then he started shivering, as he always did when she pried him out of his cozy chair.
“You’re doing fine,” she said.
He clung to her as she led him over to the door to the basement and they stepped down the stairs carefully while he clutched the handrail as if his life depended on it.
“This won’t take long,” she said. “And the reward will be so worth it.”
“It better be, for a thousand bucks.”
She laughed. “You won’t regret it.”
Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, she led him out toward the wood stove in the corner that she had agreed to keep running as part of her duties in taking care of Mr. Albert.
A stack of firewood sat beside the stove with an axe propped up beside it. Clutter blocked any chance of reaching the far walls. She doubted many people had ventured into his basement in decades.
“Alright, now. Which direction?” She scanned the nearest walls looking through every corner and shelf stocked with debris and dusty antiques. Perhaps it was behind a stack of items.
“I can get it from here. Go upstairs.”
“But I should stay near you, at least. Look—” She turned away from him. “—I’ll turn my back.”
He grumbled. “If you turn around, you’re fired.”
“I promise I won’t look.” She laughed. “Let me know if you need help.”
“I don’t need help.”
His footsteps scraped over the cement floor and she carefully plotted out in her mind where he was headed. He moved away, shuffling his feet and pausing every few seconds. No doubt, to look back and see if she had broken her word. An object scraped across the floor and he gasped twice.
“You okay over there?” she asked.
“Don’t you worry about me. If I see even a glance back here…”
“I understand.” She slipped her phone from her pocket and lifted it pressed against her chest, then switched on the camera to record the video. Maneuvering it over her right shoulder and filming in reverse with her hand cupped over the screen to block the light, she raised it just far enough to see Mr. Albert across the room. His back was turned away as she zoomed in on him, lowering it twice when it looked like he might suddenly turn and catch her cheating.
The old man removed a cheap brown section of wood paneling and spotted a massive black safe set into the wall. His fingers trembled as he pushed the numeric keypad to open the safe. She couldn’t see the numbers from that far away but the pattern of his finger movements was clear. Something like… zero… six… one… nine… four… three.
The safe clicked open, and she lowered her phone with the numbers stuck in her mind. She held back a laugh. Yes, that was it. So simple and foolish since many people used the month and year of birth as their passwords. He wasn’t so bright after all. June, 1943.
Her heart beat faster while dreaming of all the money that was now available to her.
She stealthily returned her phone to her pocket and listened as the crisp crinkling of dollar bills broke the silence. A moment later, the metal safe’s door snapped shut and Mr. Albert replaced the wood paneling.
“Would you like me to load some wood into the stove while I’m down here?” she asked.
“That’s your job, isn’t it?” His footsteps shuffled closer toward her. “You can turn around now.”
She faced him with a smile and stepped toward him. The money was in his hand, although it didn’t matter. She would have all of it soon. After loading two logs into the wood stove, she led Mr. Albert toward the stairs. He grumbled while clutching the cash. “I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get back up those stairs.”
“That’s my job, remember?”
“It is, but it’s not as easy getting back up, and it’s freezing down here.”
While stepping toward him to assist him up the stairs, someone knocked at the front door. Rebecca looked at Mr. Albert. “Expecting someone today?”
“No.” He groaned and shivered. “Not today. Get up there and tell them to go away, then get back down here. Probably one of those damn marketers.”
Rebecca hurried up the stairs and rushed to open the door. She hoped her boyfriend hadn’t stopped by unexpectedly, but was relieved to see a gangly old woman standing in a beige dress on the steps. She peered inside over Rebecca’s shoulder. “Where is Robert?”
“He’s doing well.”
“Where is he? I have something for him.” She held out a pan of freshly baked bread covered in a thin, clear plastic. The sweet smell filled the air.
Rebecca grabbed it. “I can give it to him.”
The old woman didn’t let go. “No, thank you. I’d like to give it to him myself.” She glared at Rebecca. “Where is he?”
“Downstairs.”
The old woman formed an alarmed expression. “Downstairs? What on earth is he doing in the basement? You shouldn’t have left him alone down there. What kind of nurse are you? He can barely walk.”
“He’s fine.”
The old woman pushed her way past Rebecca. “Why isn’t he in his chair? This is unacceptable.”
“You don’t have permission to come in,” Rebecca said.
The old woman sneered. “Excuse me? I’ve known Clifton most of my life.” The old woman stepped down the basement stairs, mumbling all the way. “You shouldn’t let that nurse leave you like this.”
Rebecca followed her down and came up behind Mr. Albert. “I left him to answer the door.”
“Dolores,” Mr. Albert said harshly, “we can talk about this another time.”
Dolores looked around the basement. “What on earth are you up to in the basement, anyway?”
“It’s not a good time,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“But I baked you some bread.” She extended it toward him, but he didn’t accept it.
Rebecca pushed past the old woman and helped Mr. Albert up the stairs. Dolores held out her arm toward him along the way, but he didn’t take it. Within minutes, the old man was back in his recliner with a thick pile of blankets covering him.
“You just rest.” Rebecca tucked him in like a child at bedtime.
Dolores grumbled and stood by Mr. Albert’s side the whole time, scrutinizing everything Rebecca did.
“I’ll take that.” Rebecca pulled the pan of baked bread from Dolores’s hands.
“He’d probably like some of this now.”
Mr. Albert shook his head and closed his eyes.
Rebecca stepped over toward the front door although the old woman didn’t leave Mr. Albert’s side. Instead, she insisted the old man take a sip of water from a cup beside his chair, then stroked his hair before stepping over to Rebecca on the way out. The old woman moved in close to her and whispered, “You’re not doing your job.”
Rebecca swung the door open wide and the icy chill of the winter day rushed in. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Close the door!” Mr. Albert yelled.
Dolores frowned. “Are you? I think I will suggest he get a different nurse.”
