by Michael Bray
“I’ll call you when we get there.” She said as she climbed behind the wheel.
“I don’t have much charge on my phone, so I’ll make sure I don’t use it until I hear from you.”
She nodded, and he wanted to tell her he loved her until he thought of her writhing underneath that fat old man at the Christmas party, and the words wouldn’t come.
“I’ll call you as soon as the power company gets in touch. Have a safe trip.”
He closed the car door and watched as she pulled on her seat belt. Tyler was heavy eyed in his safety seat, so Billy decided it was best not to disturb him. Angeline gave him a last furtive look, then drove the car in a lazy circle, and headed slowly down the dusty road snaking away from the house. She waved as she went, and he responded in kind, ignoring the greasy roll of his stomach as his discomfort grew.
The first spot of rain touched his cheek and spotted his shirt as the thunderheads continued to build overhead. Not only was there going to be a storm, it looked like it might be a bad one. Billy sighed and walked back towards the house, hoping the time away from his wife might help him to make some sense of what he wanted from life, and more importantly, if Angeline was a part of it.
Chapter Two
~I~
The novelty of having the house to himself lasted for all of half an hour. At first, the lack of Tyler’s screaming and the whirlwind of chaos that went with him was bliss, but that quickly waned into boredom, and now, a little less than an hour after Angeline had driven away, he was feeling the effects of being alone. His isolation had been put to bed, for the time being at least, ideas of asking for a divorce. He walked through the house and out into the garden. The clouds seemed to have actually broken up a little, and although the sun was putting up a valiant fight, he suspected the thunderheads would eventually win. He held his breath and listened. Apart from the chatter of birdsong, there was silence. He watched as his shadow faded away as the clouds once again covered the sun, and another few drops of rain fell. He could taste the storm in the air, and suspected it could be a bitch. Struggling to shake off the feeling of isolation, he went back inside the house and walked through the rooms. Their wedding photograph was on the fireplace in the living room, and although he saw it every day, he picked it up and for the first time really looked at it.
It was plain to see they were both much happier. Angeline’s blue eyes bright and full of hope, her smile wide and natural. He stood beside her, proud in his suit, his hair back then showing less of the flecks of grey that now littered his sideburns. He compared the photograph to his reflection in the glass, and even in its murky half transparency saw the extra frown lines and tension in his face that were absent from his wedding picture. Although time had been kind to Angeline, it seemed to have kicked him squarely in the face.
He set the photo back on the mantle, disassembled Tyler’s cushion fort, and flopped down onto the sofa, lying across its full length. His eyes were heavy, and the silence which had bothered him so much earlier now soothed him. He glanced at the window, and could see a few streaks of rain were appearing on the glass. Stifling a yawn, he closed his eyes, only intending to rest them for a moment.
He was asleep within minutes.
~II~
Something pulled him out of his nightmare. He awoke with a start and for a moment, was unsure where he was. The rain drove against the window, and the room had grown murky. The ghost of his dream lingered in his mind as he rubbed his eyes.
In it, Angeline was with Tyler, driving towards her mother’s house. The storm that had been threatening was in full force, and the rain drove hard against the blacktop. He observed all of this from the passenger seat of the car and yet, he couldn’t move, nor did Angeline acknowledge his presence. She was driving too fast, squinting out of the window as she tried to navigate the vehicle. He wanted to call out to her, but he couldn’t open his mouth. When he looked in the wing mirror, he could see it was sewn shut with thick black cotton. Tyler started to cry, and already distressed, Angeline lost focus, passing his favourite toy between the seats to him in the back. Once again, Billy tried desperately to call out, but his stitched up lips would only let him murmur. Angeline veered into the opposite lane, not realising until she heard the desperate horn of the eighteen-wheeler, which was racing towards her head on. She had tried to swerve, but the road was wet, and the eighteen-wheeler smashed into the rear corner of the car at over sixty miles an hour, sending it flipping across the highway and into the ditch on the opposite side like paper caught in the wind. As was the way with dreams, Billy experienced the crash both from inside the car and out at the same time and now, to the backdrop of shattered glass and crumpled metal, he was free to scream.
The broken remains of the car came to rest on its roof in a ditch by the road, which was filling with water as the storm continued to rage. He could only watch on helplessly and unscathed as his bloody and bruised wife struggled to unpin herself from the wreckage. Her face was now only inches above the rising waterline. He was a disembodied passenger, part of the dream but at the same time not. His sons' name flashed in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to check the back seat, knowing he wouldn’t be able to cope with what he would see there. He watched as the water filled the car and covered Angeline’s face, sending her into spasms as she struggled to free herself. It was then he had been jarred awake.
His state of confusion was broken by another sound, this time, one in the real world, a sharp rat-a-tat-tat of someone knocking on the door. He realised as he stumbled to his feet that this was the sound which had initially pulled him out of his nightmare, and for that, he was grateful. Billy jogged to the door and swung it open.
Pale grey overalls filled his field of vision. It was only when he craned his neck that he saw the full scale of the man from Trans Energy. Rain dripped off his black hair, and his piggy eyes were harsh and staring, his skin waxy and pocked with old acne scars. The man was huge, at least six and a half feet tall and well over three hundred pounds. He filled the entire door frame. As Billy gawped, the man removed the red pencil he had been chewing on from the corner of his mouth.
“Name’s Grant.” He said, pointing to his chest, where, indeed, his name was embroidered in a tatty red font. “Power Company sent me. You need a fix, right?”
He had a southern drawl, Texas maybe, and something inside Billy told him to be cautious.
“Uh yeah.” He mumbled, still trying to rid the vivid dream from his memory. “Come in.”
The man nodded and entered, ducking under the door frame. He looked even more immense now he was inside the house. The man slipped the chewed up pencil back into his mouth and looked around the house.
“Breakers in the basement?” He asked, staring at Billy with those harsh, probing eyes.
“Yeah, it’s this way,” Billy said as he led the way to the kitchen. The man followed, the sound of his heavy work boots echoing on the wooden floor.
The basement was accessed through the kitchen, and Billy stood aside and showed the man the door.
“There it is. You want a torch?”
The man shook his head.
“I sniffed a cunts bicycle seat.” He said in reply as he unclipped his own much bigger, much more sturdy torch from his belt and opened the basement door.
Billy could only stare and try to figure out if he had either misheard or imagined what Grant from Trans Energy had just said.
The man went on as normal, as if the profanity had never left his lips, and contented himself with rolling the pencil to the opposite side of his mouth as he flicked the flashlight on and shined the beam down the steps.
“Okay, sir.” He said. “I’ll go check things out and see if I can get you back up and running.”
He did not refer to the other thing he had said, and Billy was beginning to wonder if he had perhaps misheard, or even imagined it. He had, after all, been shocked out of his sleep and what had been a very vivid, and disturbing dream. His brain could be confused. S
till, as he watched the hulking engineer duck his head under the door frame and descend into the basement, he couldn’t think of anything else he could have actually said.
I sniffed a cunts bicycle seat
It was pretty cut and dry, and that greasy rolling in his stomach returned. He crossed the kitchen and filled the kettle, placing it on the hob of the cooker, and lit the gas with a match. They had invested in an old-fashioned steel kettle after the first couple of power outages, which had been a semi regular occurrence. It was one of those which whistled when the water was boiled, and although Angeline laughed every time he said it, Billy truly believed his drinks tasted better when made in this more traditional way. He flicked his eyes towards the open cellar door, which resembled a gaping mouth, and endured another roll of the stomach.
“Hey, uh, can I get you a drink or anything?” Billy called into the dark. He half expected some kind of twisted reply, perhaps a repeat of what had been said when he offered his torch, but the response that came back was perfectly normal.
“I would love a coffee if that’s okay sir?”
“No problem,” Billy replied, feeling stupid at his own paranoia. The man was perfectly safe, and maybe the only reason for Billy’s discomfort was just his unusual size. That combined with the dream and the infidelity of his wife had made him paranoid. As for what he thought he had heard, he was willing to dismiss it as a mistake on his part. He heard the heavy boots ascending the steps, and turned towards the door.
He had intended to ask the man if he wanted milk or sugar with his drink and froze, watching in sheer disbelief at the sight in front of him.
The man from Trans Energy was naked. He was still wearing his boots and tool belt, but that was all. It was akin to brain freeze, because Billy couldn’t move, or think or do anything. The man strode across the room, unconscious of his exposed body, and sat at the kitchen table, the wooden chair groaning in protest.
“I can’t fix it from here.” He said pleasantly, flashing a broad smile. “I’ll need to go pick up some parts and repair it at the generator. Is it out back there?”
Billy nodded, still unable to speak. The man either had no idea, or didn’t care he was naked, and either option not only disgusted Billy, it frightened him. He would have stood there forever, frozen by fear and repulsion were it not for the whistle of the kettle.
“Uh, I think that’s done, sir.” The man said.
“Yeah, yeah of course,” Billy replied. His tongue felt too big for his throat, the words seeming to take an age to form. Thankfully, he went into some kind of autopilot, preparing the drinks as his naked house guest waited. Billy set the cup in front of the man, along with the milk and sugar without dropping anything, even though his hands were shaking. All the while, his guest waited obliviously and in complete disregard for his nakedness. Billy sat on the seat opposite, his eyes flicking to the door and escape.
“Thanks for the drink, friend.” The man said as he began spooning sugar into his cup. Billy watched as he tipped spoonful after spoonful into his coffee. He counted thirteen before the man eventually stopped stirring and took a slurping sip.
“Ahh, that’s good. Thanks.”
Billy wanted to demand the man leave. There was obviously something wrong with him mentally, and he didn’t want to trigger any kind of reaction.
“How is it looking down there?” Billy said, forcing himself to look his house guest in the eye and ignore his hairy, fleshy body.
“I can fix it. I need to kill some sluts and Gibberbombs and get a couple of new components for the generator. It’s a straightforward fix.”
Billy felt the hairs on his arms stand up on end. This time, there was no mistake, no chance he had misheard. The man he had let into his house was obviously mentally ill, and potentially dangerous. They sipped their drinks in silence.
The man slurped down the rest of his drink, set his cup on the table, and wiped his chin with the back of his forearm.
“That hit the spot. Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem.” A numb Billy replied.
“This is a nice place. Seems quiet way out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yeah, we like it.”
“I bet those Squeakers and Moonglobbers don’t bother you out here do they?”
Billy shook his head, having no idea what Squeakers or Moonglobbers were. All he knew was that he wanted to get as far away from this horrible man as he could. Until then, he would play the game.
“Looks like it’s almost over.” The man said with an ugly grin, interrupting Billy’s thoughts.
“What do you mean?” Billy said, gripping the arms of the chair as panic surged through him.
“The rain, it’s just about done.” The man replied as he pointed a grubby finger towards the window.
Billy followed his gaze to see the rain had indeed slowed to a gentle drizzle and dusk was coming. The thought of being alone in the house under any circumstances with this deranged man was enough. To think about it after dark was something else entirely.
The naked man broke wind.
The sound was sharp and disgustingly loud against the bare wood of the seat. He didn’t acknowledge it at all, and it took all of Billy’s will to fight off his repulsion and keep a neutral expression as the awful stench reached him.
“It’s getting dark,” Billy said, choosing his words carefully. “Will the power be on before then?”
“Oh, it will all be over by then, don’t you worry.”
There was nothing sinister in the way he said it, but Billy was horrified by the predatory way in which he smiled as the words left his mouth. There was silence as they stared at each other, which was broken by the vibration of Billy’s phone on the kitchen table. He looked at it, then at the man.
“Mind if I get that?”
“It’s your phone and your house chief. I’m just the repair guy.” He replied, standing up and giving Billy a view which would have made him bring up his breakfast if he had eaten any.
“I’ll grab my stuff and get right to work.” he added, then headed back into the basement.
Billy answered the phone, the motion of doing so left him feeling lethargic and detached.
“Hey buddy, what’s going on?” The voice on the other end of the line said.
He had expected it to be Angeline telling him she had arrived safely. Instead, it was his friend Alex. They had known each other for seven years, and it was actually Alex who had suggested to Billy about making a move out to the country to start afresh.
Billy hadn’t taken much convincing the change in scenery was what the two of them had needed in order to try to fix their splintered marriage, and as it was a problem he had the power to fix, he had made moving his sole obsession.
“Hey man, you there?” Alex repeated, pulling Billy’s attention back to the present.
“Yeah... yeah, sorry, I’m here.”
Alex started to talk, just shooting the shit, completely oblivious to what was going on. Billy interjected with the occasional response. A yes. A no. A murmur of agreement. All the while, he kept his eyes on the open basement door.
As soon as he leaves, call the police.
Billy didn’t often agree with his inner voice, however on this occasion, they were both on the same page. No matter how he tried to justify it, the strange man in his cellar clearly had issues, and Billy certainly had no intention of confronting him. That, after all, was a job for the local law enforcement. He conceded, however, having someone like Alex around couldn’t harm. He half tuned back into what his friend was saying, then drifted off again when he heard it was some small talk about a fishing trip he and his brother had recently been on. Billy instead watched the basement door and waited for his unwanted guest to emerge and leave, so he could alert the authorities and get his home back. Already it felt tainted and violated, and he had decided no matter what happened, he would throw the chair the man’s naked body had been in contact with away long before Angeline and Tyler came back home.
“Hey, man.” Billy interrupted, realising it was the first thing he had said during the entire conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you could come over? I could use your help with something here.”
“Uh, I guess, what do you need?”
“I think I have a problem here that I could use your help with.”
“What kind of problem?” Alex asked, sensing the tension in Billy’s voice.
“I can’t talk about it on the phone. Can you come over?”
“I’ll be there in twenty. I’m on the bike, though, the damn car blew a gasket.”
“Yeah, no problem just put it around the side of the house when you get here.”
“What’s going on over there pal?”
Billy was about to give him the short version of what had happened so far when the man from Trans Energy re-emerged from the basement. He was thankfully dressed, and could almost be a normal, if oversized person. Billy, of course, knew different. He had witnessed it for himself. The man hovered, waiting patiently to get Billy’s attention.
“Just a second buddy,” Billy said, covering the receiver with his palm and looking at the hulking man by the cellar door. Now he was dressed, he immediately seemed less frightening and intimidating, and Billy was beginning to feel stupid that the man had spooked him so much.
“I need to head out and get those parts to fix the generator.” He said as he took the chewed up pencil out of the breast pocket of his overalls and slipped it into the corner of his mouth. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“No problem, thanks again.” Billy heard himself say, still struggling to deal with the situation. “I’ll show you out.” He added, trying not to sound too keen or eager.
“Oh, that’s okay sir. I’ll show myself out. You go ahead and finish your call.”
Billy nodded, noting even despite the nakedness and speaking gibberish, ‘Grant’ from Trans Energy had impeccable manners.
Billy exhaled as the man walked down the hallway, his boots echoing through the empty house. His relief didn’t last for long, as he heard the man turn and walk back towards the kitchen. He popped his head around the corner of the door and smiled.