Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

by Adam Nicholls

  On many occasions, she hadn’t worn shoes in the forest. She knew there were bugs and sharp sticks, but something inside her needed the feel of the earth between her toes. She loved to touch the rough bark and break leaves in her hands to smell them. Ignoring time, she’d walk for ages and stop to look up at the leaves, which were glowing as the light passed through them.

  She sighed in comfort and questioned why they’d never thought about leaving the Big Apple earlier. The grime, pollution, traffic, and people racing around at speed like robots on autopilot. Lori and Sam had been the same. New York life had been frenetic, a wild roller coaster with no start and definitely no end. Their lives had been a mixture of moments stolen for a quick coffee and bagel, rapid-fire texts, and a once-a-week date night. How life had changed, she mused, as her eyes tracked the landscape as it sailed by.

  “At least we came out here good and early,” Sam said.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Lori told him, but really she’d been thinking about the Dodge RAM and how deadly it looked with the sun bouncing off its shiny steel. Of their own volition, her eyes kept flicking to the mirror, as if they were expecting the truck to come back.

  “You can relax,” Sam said. “Vehicles like that swing through here from time to time. It’s just a smoother ride through to the next town, so folks tend to make use of that shortcut.”

  “It’s not the car I’m worried about. It’s the driver that freaked me out.”

  Sam nodded.

  “I’m not being crazy, am I? He was staring at us?”

  “You’re going crazy, yeah, but he was staring.” Sam looked her way for only a second, his deep blue eyes smiling just as much as his mouth. He was a looker all right, if you liked pretty boys. Lori sure did.

  “Thought so.” Lori forced a smile and returned her gaze to the side mirror. Her smile dropped at what she saw. “Sam.”

  “Yeah?”

  Lori said no more, twisting in her seat to glance over the headrest at the approaching vehicle. It was bulky, black, and shiny, speeding toward them from a half mile behind. The engine screamed within earshot. The exhaust fired like a shotgun blast. It grew larger from the distance as it sped toward them, catching up to them in an instant.

  “Punch it,” she said.

  “With the love of my life in the car? No chance.” He squeezed her thigh to reassure her.

  “But it’s coming our way.” Lori felt a thread of sweat draw across her forehead. Her cold, hard stare fixed on the car until it was easy to read the fear-inducing five-letter word glistening on the front in metallic capitals: DODGE.

  “Maybe you’re overreacting.” Sam checked his mirror. “But he is driving like a jerk. He’s probably wasting gas driving around, being a pain in the ass.”

  “Right?” Lori turned around and double-checked her seat belt was fastened. The Dodge was anything but subtle as it invaded the proximity of their rear bumper. She clutched the armrest with one hand and reached for the dashboard with the other, her heart in her throat. “Do you think we should do something?”

  “Like what?” Sam yelled, while rolling down his window and reaching an arm out. “Go around us, jackass!”

  The driver must have caught sight of Sam’s hand signal, as he swerved around the Mercedes at frightening speed. It hurtled past and overtook them, leaving Lori and Sam in the shadow of the black steel beast as it grunted with raw power.

  “Asshole,” Lori muttered, her heart racing.

  But the Dodge just lingered there, maintaining its speed right ahead of them. It slowed down again, forcing Sam into doing the only thing he could do: swerve around it. Lori’s shoulder was flung into the door, and she cried out in pain, watching with rigid fear as the Dodge swung their way, its rear bumper kissing their front panel with a deafening clang.

  “Look out!”

  It was all Lori could scream before they lost control. The Mercedes bucked like a bronco, its back end spinning violently as the car flipped over several times. Time seemed to slow down while Lori watched the world tumble through the smashing windshield. Her elbows bumped and banged inside the car. The seat belt tightened across her chest. Her ankles smashed against the inside of the foot well, and she screamed. Her bones, muscles, joints, and organs felt like they were being crumbled and smashed into a tiny box. Her lungs contracted with such force that she was afraid they would fold into themselves. Her arms and legs flailed, searching for somewhere to hold and stop her body being thrust forward.

  The world must have kept flickering its figurative light switch because her vision kept flashing from bitter darkness to blinding white light. The only sound that filled her ears was the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackle of bones. Her neck whipped from one side to the other as the car rolled to a final stop, and glass rained onto the dashboard in a thousand tiny fragments.

  For a brief moment, Lori’s eyes flickered. Suspended upside down by her seat belt, her body felt numb. Her head spun like a vortex and pounded like a bass drum. The car had flipped so many times that Lori had become disorientated before she even sustained the concussion that had her drifting in and out of consciousness. She was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in her mouth, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

  Willing her eyes to focus, silence scared Lori more than the pain. Shouldn’t Sam be moaning or calling out? She tried to move, but she was pinned by the collapsed roof and the dashboard. Her neck was too fragile to move.

  “Sam?” she fought to say, but it came out in a croak, drowned out by the hissing of the engine and the smoke trailing from it. “Sam, are you…”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t crane her neck. All she could see from the corner of her eye was the bloodied hand of the man she loved, hanging without movement. Above him, the Mickey Mouse key ring she’d bought him swung from the ignition, rocking back and forth like everything was okay. Like they hadn’t just been in a car wreck at the fault of a careless shit-kicker who just happened to pass through town. Her fearful, hopeful brain worked while she stared with tired eyes at the key ring, frozen and terrified as it swung back and forth, back and forth, like a hypnotic pendulum, telling her everything would be just fine.

  It was all she could think of as her eyes closed and the world became quiet.

  Chapter Three

  It was like she was in a dream that she couldn’t escape from. The sounds of doors slamming and people chatting were a little louder than usual. Her world was spinning, and she just wanted to sit down. It felt like she was in a pool of daggers, each razor-sharp blade tearing at her flesh with every writhe and squirm. There was something soft below her, but somehow it was hard at the same time. It was flat against her back, pressing against her sore spine and sending a rivulet of pain through her entire body. Her face was no better—agony spread across her cheek like a wildfire. Lori tried to sit up, desperate to relieve some of the torment from her back, but she found herself unable to move at all.

  The pain had an unpleasant warmth to it, eating at her insides. Nausea gripped her, just enough to make her grasp the bedsheet for support and breathe slow. She’d often prized her ability to ignore pain and just rock on regardless, but that just wasn’t possible right now. It owned her, dominated her every thought, and controlled her every action.

  There was nothing she could do but accept the world of pain she was living in and let a thousand questions circle her mind.

  In a failed attempt to figure out what happened, Lori pried open an eye, only to find it was stiff and restricted in its movement. The fluid act of opening an eyelid now struck a harsh pain that seared across her entire face. At least the left one opened, if only a little, revealing a dull gray room with a light at the far end. Was she dead? Were these the gates of heaven? Considering the sorry state of her body, she doubted it.

  There was a voice then, gentle and angelic, but the words were a muddle. Something about relaxing? Hard to do when every sound felt like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Lori focus
ed on the source of the sound and finally saw movement in front of her. As a reflex, she tried to sit up but suffered only more pain as a consequence.

  “Please” was all she could say, as images of Sam flickered through her mind. Her memories took her back to that good place in the past, where they ate ice cream and watched movies, where they had fights and resolved them by making love. “Sam.”

  The voice nurtured her again.

  Lori saw a figure drift across the room and seized up. When the figure glided past, she relaxed again, thinking only of Sam and how she could reach him. She wasn’t in the car anymore; that much was clear.

  So then, where was she?

  A creaking sound sang out from her left, and then the scurry of footsteps hurried to her side. Lori craned her stiff neck and pressed a cheek against the cool pillow. That was nice, she thought, letting the cotton caress her battered skin. She could stay here for a while.

  “Just breathe.” This voice was different. A man’s voice, calm and soothing in its nature but not by effect. There was nothing this voice could to do make her feel better, unless it could somehow take the pain away. “Everything’s all right.”

  Lori focused on the sound, trying to make it clearer. The more she tried, the less it sounded like it was underwater as the muffled echo passed like a sweeping cloud. She squinted her eyes and saw two figures: one farther back and the other by her side in a white coat. It came at her in a rush—the sudden realization of where she was. Her eyes darted in random directions around the room. An old TV set hung from the ceiling. A window giving her a view of the world was just beneath the screen. In the corner she noticed two gray chairs, frayed with wear and tear. Yes, it was a typical hospital room, sparse and functional.

  “What happened?” she asked, her blood racing through her broken body.

  “You were in a very serious car accident.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  Lori winced at the feeling against her skin, pressure placed where the seat belt had been yanked taut against her chest. The sensation fused with the words, and the awful memory of being upside down brought a tear to her eye. Her heart rate accelerated as her mind replayed the crash on a short loop. Her heart twisted and sunk with nerves as she lay there. The white light enveloped her coldly as she shook. Her breaths came in sharp pants as she tried to gain control, but nothing was working. It hurt. “Am I okay?”

  The moments between the question and the answer felt like a lifetime. Her deepest fear of long-term paralysis opened up as a possibility in her mind, and the machine beside her beeped in tune with her quickening heartbeat.

  “It’s hard to say at this point. I mean, you’re lucky enough to be alive, but without breaking anything? It’s nothing short of a miracle. Now, I know it might not feel like it right now, but I think you’re going to have a speedy recovery. We’ll enroll you in a physiotherapy program and have you on your feet in no time. So to speak.”

  Lori rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. She would be okay and that was great, but what about the hopeless feeling in the depths of her heart? What about the horrid emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She was too scared to ask, but she had to.

  “My husband,” she said, summoning every bit of energy to speak.

  The doctor turned in his seat and whispered something to the nearby figure—probably a nurse—and she disappeared from the room in an instant. Lori sat tight, waiting for Sam to be wheeled in with little more than a broken arm. But as the quiet, uncomfortable seconds dragged by, it seemed less and less likely.

  “My husband,” she said again, pressing for the answer she didn’t want to hear.

  The doctor sighed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Turner. Your husband didn’t make it.”

  The feeling that came over her next wasn’t what she’d expected. In all the movies she’d seen and the books she’d read, characters laid back their heads and howled at the ceiling, screaming at the news of their loss. But Lori felt none of that—no temptation to scream or shout or point the finger. All she could see was Sam’s perfect smile as he held open the car door, and then the Mickey Mouse key ring swinging by the steering wheel. There was no in-between and no explanation. Nobody was to blame, and there was nowhere to point the finger. At least, not as far as she could remember.

  Lori lay still, staring at the shadows cast on the ceiling by the leaves outside the nearby window. Two of them fell from their branch and drifted out of sight on the breeze. She watched them, numb with the sting of depression brought on by the news.

  The news.

  She’d been so excited to tell him, and now she couldn’t. The car flipping over—that was what she remembered, and then Sam’s unmoving hand. He’d wanted to be a father for so long, and when she finally got the chance to see his expression change at the news of her pregnancy, that gift had been ripped from her.

  Lori’s hand went to her stomach. In an instant, her heart rate doubled. Her brain had shut down. She was clammy, and a cold sweat broke out on her brow. Her eyes were as wide as if someone was coming to deliver the fatal blow. Yet what she saw, no one else could see. Trapped in her own psychosis, a living nightmare for one, tailor-made by her own brain to play on her deepest fears. She fought back the urge to cry, knowing damn well what was about to happen, and all she could do was accept it.

  “My baby?”

  The doctor cleared his throat but said nothing.

  “What happened to my baby?” Lori pressed.

  “Mrs. Turner, I’m so, so sorry, but the baby didn’t survive. The accident, it wasn’t—”

  Lori croaked, the flood of tears finally breaking the dam.

  She raised a hand to her eyes, wiping away the teardrops only to feel more appear. Everything she ever wanted—all she ever had—was gone. Now, as she lay in the hospital bed in God-knew-what town, all she could think about was the day she’d taken the test. It’d been encouraged by Sam’s mother, who was like a mother of her own. The sheer joy of having a grandchild had pressed her to take care of Lori, and who was Lori to argue? It wasn’t like her own parents were around.

  “If you need anything,” the doctor said, “I’m Dr. Stanton.”

  Lori remained speechless. What could she possibly say? The idea of thanking him occurred to her. He had, after all, saved her life. But thanking him would be like showing her gratitude for letting her husband and child die. With that in mind, she bit her tongue and turned away, her shoulder shooting a wave of pain through her body. The nausea swirled unrestrained in her empty stomach. Her head filled with half-formed regrets at not saying something sooner. Lori’s heart felt as if her blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Dr. Stanton persisted. “We’re going to take good care of you. We have a physiotherapy course to strengthen your body, and we’ll arrange for a counselor to see you. Anything we can do to get you back to feeling some sense of normality.”

  “Back to normal?” Lori ground her teeth, a brief image of shiny black steel flickering in her mind. “How the hell am I supposed to go back to normal after this? My husband is gone, Doc. My baby is gone, so how dare you sit there and make empty promises?”

  “They’re not empty promises, Mrs. Turner. We—”

  “They’re not? So, what, are you going to give my life back?”

  Dr. Stanton sat still, stunned, and silent.

  “That’s what I thought. Close the door behind you.” Lori exhaled in a steady gust as she stared out of the window. There was a pang of guilt stealing over her as she spat the words at him. In her heart of hearts, she knew it wasn’t his fault. It all came down to a dumb accident. Besides, this guy was only trying to help.

  Dr. Stanton stood up. “There’s a button by your bed if you need anything.”

  “I want to be left alone.”

  But the nurse came anyway, closing the door behind the doctor. She moved around the bed with a rattling tray of medicines, adjusting a machine by Lori’s head and then tucki
ng the bedsheet back under the mattress.

  Lori barely looked at her, focusing her attention on the world outside the window and wondering how she was supposed to get back out there and act like a normal person. The town would talk about what had happened, and Castleford was just too small to avoid everyone. If she ever got out of here, she’d have to spend the rest of her life curled up in a ball, locked behind a door where nobody could enter. Did such a room exist? She hoped so.

  The nurse pressed a button and inclined the bed. Lori’s back felt like it was on fire as she rose to an upright position and noticed for the first time the IV drip by her bed.

  “How long was I out?” Lori asked, finally looking up at the nurse. She was older than expected, with dark skin and a sympathetic smile that wasn’t at all condescending. In other circumstances, Lori might’ve liked her.

  “Five days,” the nurse said.

  “And nobody’s come for me?”

  The nurse lowered her head. “No, ma’am. Is there someone I could call?”

  Lori’s heart sank further, making an empty shell of her beaten body. Lori shook her head mutely. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bear the thought of speaking to Sam’s mom. There was too much to take in, and she wasn’t ready. She needed some time. She struggled to believe she’d already been here for so long. Was this some freakish nightmare? She breathed. It wasn’t real. How could it be?

  The darkness swirled around her battered form like inky, bleak reminders of her isolation. The silence echoing in her ears was the constant white noise that never shut up. Her head swam in the raging fire that consumed it, the only smoldering embers of a time where there had been other presences with her, around her, in her. But now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling, bitter storm of fear that refused to let up. She was completely and utterly alone in her mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the world. Fighting back more tears, she turned her head back to the window, watching the leaves fall to the ground again. “No. Not someone I want to talk to right now, anyway.”