by Tim Sabados
Charlie reached through the window with a coin pinched between his fingers. “Give this to your mom.”
Mackenzie took it. “I will.”
Charlie gave another coin to Mackenzie and then one to Zoe. “One for each of you.”
“Thank you,” Mackenzie said gratefully. “Mom says so too, even though she won’t believe us.”
“That’s okay,” Aryssa said. “Adults are like that sometimes.”
“I’m not going to be like that,” Mackenzie added.
“Me neither,” Zoe said.
“Is your mom using them like I told you?”
Mackenzie nodded. “I don’t get it. She doesn’t believe, but she goes to that place and gets money for them.”
“As long as she is doing that, that’s all that matters,” Charlie said.
“Money for the house and our…our…” Zoe yawned.
“Our college,” Mackenzie interjected. “Mom says it’ll be for our college.”
Zoe rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired.”
“Me too,” Mackenzie said.
“It’s late,” Aryssa chimed. “You two need to get to bed.”
Mackenzie yawned. “That means you’re leaving.”
“We’ll be back,” Aryssa said.
“When?” Zoe asked.
“Sooner than you think.” Aryssa grabbed Charlie’s hand. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
Visiting Mackenzie and Zoe had brightened the candle of Aryssa’s affection. They were two kids who made her feel happy. Reaffirmed the joy in the work she had been doing all along. But now there was someone who stoked the fires of her passion. Made her feel incredibly alive. She kissed Charlie on the cheek.
Zoe gagged playfully.
“Ewww,” Mackenzie spewed.
Aryssa whispered into Charlie’s ear. “I have a little surprise for you when we get back. A little something before the sun rises.”
Charlie smiled. Tightly embraced Aryssa with his muscular arms. “Nothing would please me more than to be with you.”
THE END
Thank you for reading Enamel. Please consider leaving a quick review to let me know what you thought. If you enjoy gripping, psychological thrillers keep reading for a special preview of Chain of Salt and Water, Book 1 in my A Cure to Kill for series.
The Chain of Salt and Water
1
Anthony forced his mouth open to scream, but the sound struggled to make its way from an area deep between his shoulder blades. Like a weighted bubble, it travelled the curve of his back and wedged itself in his throat. He gagged on the fear that clogged the passage leading to his lungs. He coughed. Retched. Sucked for air. Any air. His throat spasmed. The electric shiver of panic rode the nerves from his neck out into his arms. His fingertips went numb. If only he could get his ribs to expand. His lungs to inflate. Even a tiny bit.
He thought of a balloon inflating. Imagined it as if his life depended on it. The rubber growing thin and taught. A small intake of air. He managed another. The next was a little deeper. He exhaled. The whimper of air that escaped his lips fell listlessly into the darkness.
From deep inside his head the ringing started. It was faint, distant. It grew louder. And louder. Pushed outward on his ears. Sharp as a steel razor. A harsh-pitched vibration like the tips of a cold tuning fork. His eardrums quivered with pinpoint precision. And louder. Sharper. The pain was unbearable. Anthony tried to grab his ears. To shut it off. Block it. It only got louder. If only his ears would explode and make the torture end.
Again he tried to lift his arms. They wouldn’t move. His legs were stuck, too. Not even a twitch. Something pinned them with the force of a two-ton robot. Shackled like a prisoner to his own bed. A giant specter had climbed on top of him and held him down. It tightened its frigid grasp on his arms. Sank its weight onto his chest. Brushed its arctic-frost breath across his cheek. Was this the end? Was death claiming dominance over him?
If only he could open his eyes, then maybe—just maybe—it would all go away. They were glued shut. Sutured closed. He forced his right eye partially open. His left eye wouldn’t budge. The tension in his chest, his throat, his head, was excruciating. The ringing in his ears was unforgiving. It was all ready to burst like a valve pushed beyond its limit.
Pop! The sound was abrupt. Brief. It was as if his soul had ripped itself from his body. The blockage in his throat was gone. So was the pressure on his chest. And the ringing in his ears. His head was clear. He could open his eyes. He could breathe. His arms and legs moved freely. Nothing weighed them down. Is this what death feels like?
A vast expanse of pitch-black nothingness greeted him. The world was plugged to a deadened silence. There was no sound except for the static vibration of his consciousness grazing the tips of the hairs inside his ears. He reached out in the murky soup, not sure which way was up or down. Forward or back. The blackness was absolute. His eyes were open but registered nothing. He couldn’t see his hands in front of him.
An invisible web of loneliness hung in the air. It clung to his body. Draped itself over his head. It wrapped him tighter and tighter. Pressed him on all sides like a vice. The vampire sadness burrowed through his skin and fed on the life force within his being.
Anthony shook his arms. Ran his hands across his neck. Twisted his torso side to side—all to rid himself of the draining sensation. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His legs were as heavy as anvils. Thump. Thump. His feet fell roughly on the ground. Lumbered. It was like he was wearing flat-soled boots filled with lead. He extended his hands out in front of him and blindly felt his way through the velveteen darkness. Time passed, or so it seemed. There was no way of telling how long.
A concrete step materialized before his feet. His toes grazed its edge. Another step appeared, then another, and another after that, until a complete spiraling staircase descended into the dimly lit depths. The musty smell of decaying grime oozed from the damp, haunting gray walls. It all looked familiar. Had he been here before? A stagnant breath of air rose from the unseen depths and stroked the back of his neck, making his hairs cower in fright.
Someone spoke. Then someone else. A deep male voice in a tone so thick that his throat must be coated in years of layered soot. The garbled speech of the two men rode the moribund currents from somewhere deep below. Anthony stood frozen in place. His arms hung like icicles. The voices were too far away to make any clear sense. He needed to get closer. Who were they? Was it safe to go down there? Before he realized it, he had already taken his first step into the unknown depths.
Anthony carefully placed his foot on the next step and slowly crept down into the abyss with leopard-like stealth. The conversation grew louder, but it was still a jumbled mess. Another step. He tried to make out their words. Step. His ankle buckled. He yelped. A burning pain shot along the outside of his shin. The conversation stopped. Anthony flattened himself against the wall, trying to shield his vulnerability. He covered his mouth, attempting to mute the panic that filled his rapid breaths.
Thump…thump, thump. The clatter of footsteps echoed off the concrete walls. It fell like rain from somewhere above him. Thump. They grew closer. Louder.
He hobbled down a few more steps and stopped. There were two or three people waiting somewhere at the bottom. Behind him several more were coming. A nervous perspiration beaded on his forehead. A trickle of sweat scurried down his cheek. He was stuck. Exposed and out of place. He ran his hand over the top of his head and looked down into the pit. Then up toward the approaching footsteps. Trapped. Nowhere to hide.
Anthony threw himself against the gray wall and wrapped his arms across his chest. He cowered in the faint shadows that lay between the aura cast by the pale lights. Sliding his back down the wall, he came to rest with his knees crammed into his chest.
“Come, come…we’re getting closer,” the voice hissed. Chugging like a diesel engine, the approaching stranger inhaled and exhaled several times before he spoke again. “No need to w
orry; this is where you want to be. You’ve made the right decision…I can see it on your faces.”
From around the bend three silhouettes emerged in the grainy light. A man of hulking proportions led the group. He was larger than an offensive lineman. No neck. Arms that couldn’t rest at his sides. His black suit fit snugly against his body. The blood-red tie followed the curve of his barrel chest. Anthony squeezed his knees tighter.
The leader’s words crackled in the air like a dry log on a fire. “You’ll be more than glad you chose this path. More than glad…you’ll see.” The man smiled, exposing his bone-white teeth. Valley-deep furrows crinkled across his bald forehead and around the sides of his mouth. They were getting closer. Anthony was trapped. He pushed harder against the wall. Squeezed his legs tighter into his chest, hoping he could just disappear. The dampening chill of fright seeped into his skin and sent shards of icicles piercing the matrix of his bones.
Anthony wanted to bury his head in his arms. If he didn’t look up, maybe the man wouldn’t look down. But he couldn’t stop himself. Some unseen force yanked his gaze toward the approaching trio.
The leader’s body practically filled the corridor. His reptilian eyes were devoid of any twinkle. Empty of emotion. Solid and black. Lifeless. If he had a soul, it was lost behind those inert visual organs. Two people blindly followed him. One male and one female.
The college-age woman’s feet slapped against the concrete steps. There was no spring, no grace to her gait. Paleness dabbed her cheeks and left her lips as blue as death. Somberness weighed the corners of her mouth. Greasy strands of hair fell over her face. She blankly stared at the ground. Her arms fell limply from the slack of her shoulders. Splat. Blood trickled across her palm and dripped from the tips of her two middle fingers. Splat. It fell on the steps in a gentle rhythm. Splat. The blotches of blood struck the ground and boiled. They evaporated into a red-tinted wisp of smoke, leaving no trace of its presence.
Older by at least a couple of decades, an air of confidence spilled from the man behind the woman. He stood tall and stared straight forward without as much as a hint of worry on his face. He held a briefcase so tightly that his knuckles and fingers had turned white. Then again, his entire being was bathed in a sheen of whiteness.
Anthony blinked. He could see the wall and the steps as if the man were transparent—a mere ghost. His lungs, liver, stomach and intestines glowed like a hologram from inside his body.
The man’s heart contracted. An organ as purple as necrotic meat. Shriveled like a decayed apple. It hung from a blackened web of arteries and vessels. It contracted again and then quivered in its rotting web of decay.
The group drew closer. Their steps louder. Anthony held his breath. He dared not breathe. Not make a sound. The leader’s hissing voice sizzled like electricity. The heat of the man’s breath skimmed over Anthony’s neck. A trickle of sweat dribbled down his back. Would they notice? If they did, would he be forced to follow?
The leader was directly in front of him. Anthony could reach out and touch him. He tightened his grip on his knees. The reptilian guide didn’t look down. A silent breath trickled past Anthony’s trembling lips. If only the other two wouldn’t notice. The college girl followed close behind. Splat…sizzle.
She was about to pass without as much as a tip of her chin when she snapped her head. Her eyes sprang wide open. Anthony’s stomach knotted. He swallowed hard. A bitter numbness slid over his arms and legs.
Dread clung to her face. Her eyes pleaded for help. She looked at the leader and then back at Anthony. Her pale hand reached out. He started to reach for her blood-drenched fingers, but stopped. Where would he take her? Her lips fell open…
“Come now, this way. Nothing important for you to see.” the leader said. The woman’s head whipped forward. “Didn’t your momma tell you not to talk with strangers?” Her solemn expression returned. Her gaze fell to the floor as she continued to systematically trudge down the steps. Splat…sizzle.
“No need to be scared. You should be proud of yourselves…proud to have chosen this direction.”
The group descended the steps, slowly rounded the bend and disappeared. All that remained was their lengthening shadows. The seconds ticked by and even those shadows were eventually consumed by the daunting gray walls. The leader’s voice faded deeper and deeper into the unknown depths until it became a garbled hiss. The type of hiss that escapes a steaming pipe. Silence followed. A deafening silence. So deafening that the loneliness returned and squeezed even tighter.
Anthony shimmied his back up the wall. He looked up the steps. It wasn’t too far to the top. But then where? He gazed down into the abyss. What was down there? What if she truly did need help?
He cautiously snaked his way downward and tried to remain as silent as he could. Sudden laughter pierced the still air. It wasn’t joyous laughter. It was a mocking laughter. A laughter that says things aren’t what they seem. One that says there is no escape. The scalpel-sliced glee cradled a dread so cold that Anthony’s joints stiffened. The sweat that had trickled down his back froze. Fright-filled frost crackled across his spine. He placed his hand on the cool wall to steady himself.
As quickly as it came the laughter died. No one was talking. Not even a hint of a voice. It was as if a mute button had been pressed, returning him to total quietness. Anthony’s legs grew rock hard. His shoes slapped against the steps. He tried to move slower so as not to make any noise. It was no use. The sound of his leaden feet echoed off the walls and fell into the depths below. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway, his scampering breath would make sure he was heard.
Anthony pulled his shirt over his mouth hoping to deaden the sound. He leaned against the wall and used it to steady his weight as he descended the steps. One step, then another. It wasn’t becoming any easier. Down several more. His lungs seared like burning embers. He stopped to catch his breath. Only a few more to the bottom.
He finally reached it. The air was warm. Stuffy. Heavy with the stench of untold years of grime and a faint undertone of decaying flesh. The corridor shot straight forward and forked at the far end. A rusted red metal door sat in the middle of the hallway. Embedded in the wall to his immediate left was a large window. Someone was talking from the other side. Anthony crouched low and peeked through the bottom corner of the window.
Dressed in matching blue uniforms, two men moved back and forth as if pacing.
“Didn’t I tell you he manages to get ’em here quicker than some of the others,” the taller of the two men said.
The shorter, more broad-shouldered man nodded. “You’re right. He’s one of the better ones.”
“Just watch.” The taller man motioned with his hand. “By day’s end he’ll be back with a couple more.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” the tall man said. “When he converts, he’s like an animal on the hunt.”
“That’s fine by me. The more the merrier.” The shorter man chuckled. “Did you see that look in her eyes?”
The taller man moved toward the window. “You mean when she found out where she was?”
“That was priceless.” The shorter man paused. “That look never grows old.”
The tall man stopped inches from the window. “It never does.” He smiled exposing his fang-like molars. “I don’t know how he gets ’em, but he captures ’em like he was shooting something in a…how does that saying go?” He snapped his fingers as if trying to jar his memory. “You know what I’m talking about?”
“Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
The tall man laughed. “That’s it. Like fish in a barrel.” He laughed even harder. “The secret is to feed ’em lies and empty promises and then when they get here…”
“Welcome them to the abyss they never believed existed.” The shorter man laughed so hard that he began to cough.
“How dumb can these people be? You’d think they’d catch on once they started coming down the steps.” The tall man tapped on the w
indow. Anthony crouched tighter into the corner of the window. “That smell.” He crunched his face. “Damn, it’s horrible.” He paused. “And then there’s the heat.” He looked at the shorter man. “You and I are in this shit every day. We’re used to it.” He shook his head. “How they don’t notice it is beyond me.”
The shorter man scoffed. “It’s because they’re too self-absorbed.” He pointed outside the window. “Once we tell them though, they feel it, all right.”
“Amongst other things.”
Anthony looked up at the gray walls. The putrid odor of moldy flesh and dank mildew grew stronger. The heat singed the hairs on his arms. Was this place really…?
Anthony lost his balance. He fell hard against the wall and grunted. A gust of air was knocked out of his lungs.
“What was that?”
“I heard it, too.”
Anthony’s heart knocked against his chest like a battered piston. His legs prickled with fear. He fell forward and stumbled on his hands and knees toward the steps.
“Who’s there?”
He crawled faster. The jagged concrete dug into the soft flesh of his knees. A pinpoint pain slivered into his palms.
The footsteps were rushing toward the door. Bang. It smashed against the wall.
“Who the hell are you?”
“You’re not supposed to be here!”
Anthony slammed his hand on the step and tried to stand. Something claw-like gripped his flanks. A hook pierced his back and into his stomach. He panted in pain. He lifted his arm to turn, but the pain forced him back. It couldn’t be the two men; their footsteps were still rushing toward him.
“Oh no you don’t!”
“Grab him before he…”
Whatever it was that hooked him yanked him backward. The air rushed by his head. The world went dark. A hoarse cry leaped from the depths of his lungs.
Anthony gasped. He sat up. Daylight sprang through the blinds, ricocheted off the white walls, and pierced his eyes. Beads of perspiration clung to his arms and dribbled over his legs. He flung the blanket off his body. Waves of heat tumbled skyward. The cool air of the room plunged over his skin. A welcome relief. The chill that soon followed in its wake made him shiver. Anthony’s head swam in a soupy fog. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his clock. Eleven thirty-five. He shook the cobwebs from his brain.