Destroyer of Worlds

by Daniel G. Keohane

  The loss of everyone he loved in such a horrific manner was enough to shatter any man’s mind. The constant hammering for interviews, flash photos of the devastated survivor assured he was never going to come back from the shock in any sane form. He was devoured by the public’s appetite for others’ misery. He drowned under their weight, all the while grasping for hope. But, truly, there was no hope. Corey Union had withdrawn into a fantasy world, bringing his family home to Hillcrest—most of them, at least. Always Abby, but never their second. Never the baby. In the new world, Samantha had miscarried.

  At least now, two years later, the world had moved on to whatever new sorrow was offered upon the news outlets’ teat, leaving Corey alone with the morsels that remained of his soul.

  Honesty was the only way to answer Chen now. “I’ve been living, so to speak, in Corey’s mind for the past year, Doctor Chen,” careful to keep everything formal, not giving any opening. “He’s haunted by a man whom, as you’ve pointed out, he barely knows except by consequence. In a way, Corey’s fantasy version is the only Hank Cowles I know. If I’m to help Corey, I needed to understand the real, flesh and blood monster.”

  Chen leaned back, an uncharacteristic—in her presence, at least—professionalism taking over. “Did you?”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t be able to avoid answering the next question. She’d allowed herself to be backed into a corner.

  “And how does he compare to the magical monster?” Chen reached out to the table beside him as he spoke, lifting Corey’s folder. He did not open it, only raised it up for dramatic effect. “How does the dream compare with reality?”

  She swallowed. “Perfectly.”

  There, she’d thrown him. Chen looked stunned, maybe a little concerned. “Perf… are you telling me that Hank Cowles is,” he flipped open the folder, turned pages looking for something, finally pointed at the fourth page. He paraphrased her own notes, “that Hank Cowles is most likely the angel of death, intent on using Corey to destroy the world? Is that what you are saying, Doctor Reilly?”

  She nodded her head, enjoying how this flustered the little man. “Yes. His personality, his voice, matches the one Corey imitates. If I didn’t know better—and of course, Doctor, I do, please don’t worry about that—I’d swear the Hank Cowles knew exactly who I was and why I was there, perhaps even what was going on in my patient’s mind back in Hillcrest.”

  Chen said, “I’m canceling your little experiment, Doctor Reilly, and having Mister Union returned to the hospital as soon as our meeting is done.” He tossed the folder onto the small table beside him and stood. “Which, I’m afraid, it is.”

  His statement was so sudden Vanessa could only stare at him from her chair. “I—excuse me?”

  He whirled, removing those damn glasses of his and pointed with them. “You’re much too close, both to your patient and his delusions. I’ve had enough patience with -”

  Vanessa practically leaped from her chair. “You promised me!" She was sick of the pretense, of this man pretending to be concerned about anyone but himself. "One week! What more do you want…” She stopped, not wanting to go there, wondering suddenly if she’d just been, in fact, led there.

  Chen straightened, displaying a tremor of a smile which he quickly suppressed. “You’ve spent nearly a week living in Union’s old house and aside from some brief lapses into reality, I don’t see - ”

  “One week. You promised. Saturday he can come back to the Glen. We had a deal. Don’t you dare go back on that now.”

  “We can’t afford a full-time orderly staying with you any longer. And you have other patients.”

  “I’ll do this alone, then. He’s not violent. And you know damn well the rest of my patients are covered for the week.”

  Chen crossed his arms, the spectacles dangling from his right hand. He began to speak, closed his mouth, looked towards the ceiling. Considering… something. He sighed, gestured to her chair. “Sit.”

  “I’d rather not.” Vanessa was trembling. Chen took a step closer. She didn’t want to notice his breathing had changed, was deeper now. The smile barely hidden under the mask of seriousness he was so adept at maintaining.

  “Fine. Perhaps. With a slight revision.”

  “What kind of revision?”

  Another sweep of his hand, slight. “You’re sure you won’t sit?” When she didn’t answer, he nodded and said, “You can finish out your precious week, but you do it alone. I will notify Robert Schard that he’s not to report to you tonight, but return for his normal shift at the hospital. When you arrive at the Union house, you will tell,” he turned, wandered to his desk, ran his finger over the planning blotter he kept in the center, “Andrew Booth before he leaves that he is to do the same tomorrow.” He paused. Vanessa tried to maintain her angry stare, not let on how much she actually preferred this.

  “From the time you return there tonight until I send the van Saturday morning to collect the patient and return him to Pine Glen, you have him all to yourself.”

  She blushed, cursed herself for it.

  Chen did smile this time, and that damned breathing of his was getting worse. There had to be a price to pay. But assuming the man was looking at her in any way but professional was childish musing on her part, nothing else. She couldn’t imagine any of it was true. She looked away from him. For his part, he remained a little too close, watching her. What if it was true? What if she only needed to—

  He continued, “If I agree to this, I would require an email status sent every two hours. You are responsible, and if anyone asks about this new set-up, it was your idea, done at your insistence.“ He stepped close enough for her to catch the barest whiff of cologne, faded from the day. “I could lose my job for letting you do this, you understand.”

  She clenched her fists, wanting to turn from the lust which now wafted off the man. It had to be that. But to vocalize such a thought and be wrong, would end everything, maybe her career. Still with her back to him, needing to be sure, Vanessa whispered, “If I agree to this, what do you get in return?” Don’t answer that, she thought; don’t say anything. Just let me take care of Corey and don’t make me choose.

  She sensed him approach, close enough to touch her, though he did not. He was being careful, as careful as she. He’s not going to say it. You’re being a fool. “I think I’ve communicated clearly enough what it is I would like, Doctor Reilly.” Closer, his breath gently stroking her hair. “And if I did not believe you would be willing to pay, I would not have given you such a lucrative deal. If you wish to finish this experiment of yours,” her shoulders tightened, her entire body trying to curl away from him, from the truth, “if you truly want this one final chance to help Corey Union…”

  Bastard, she thought. Fucking bastard. Damn you damn you damn you!

  She’d already gone too far, though, stepped over too many lines in the sand with Corey. Chen must have known this. Maybe Schard reported her going into Corey’s room, and Chen held onto the information. His Ace. Not that it mattered. In the end, it was just one final line to cross, if it helped Corey. She could be alone with him, all night, all day tomorrow.

  You’re no better than Chen, she thought. Maybe you’re worse.

  Vanessa nodded, hardly moving her head. It was enough. While he wandered to the office door and turned the lock, she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. She turned her back to him and let the shirt drop to the floor to the sound of his belt coming undone behind her. Vanessa closed her eyes while she finished undressing.

  XIV

  Corey

  In the distance, thunder rumbled, each time startling Abby awake. She pulled the blanket close to her chin and waited. No flashes, yet. The room glowed in the night light, but there were shadows in the corners. None of them moved, not yet. She waited for the flash so she could count until the boom. Daddy had taught her the trick to see how far away the storm was. He knew things like that. Abby curled tighter under the blankets. It was hot. She was sweating, but the
layers offered comfort. Helped her feel safe.

  No new flashes, but another distant rumble. Was the storm coming towards them, or going away? If it came, it would be loud and scary. Abby waited for the next boom, trying to fall back asleep but anxious, certain it would come. If it was louder, it was coming towards their house. Then the flashes, the lightning, would return. The more she thought of this, the more frightened she became. Tossing the sheets and blanket aside she slipped out of bed, bare feet on the warm floor, and tiptoed into the hall.

  The door to her parents’ bedroom was open. She looked behind her. The lamp in the living room was still on. That meant Mom and Dad were awake. A rush of joy. She could sit with them on the couch for a while. She turned back, stopped at the edge of the hallway. The kitchen was dark. In the living room, her mother knelt on the floor in front of the ugly old clock with the shiny boy who looked like a girl with so much pink skin. In the glow of the lamp beside the couch, the figure seemed to move, dance. She didn’t like the clock. It scared her sometimes, though she didn’t know why.

  Her mother was staring at it, sometimes looking up at the fireplace. Abby took a tentative step into the room, looked around to see if Daddy was there. No. Maybe he was asleep. He’d been sick today.

  “Mommy?”

  Her mother looked up quickly, turned her head and smiled when she saw Abby. That smile said everything was all right. Her mother reached out a hand. “Come here, Baby.” Abby walked to her, knelt in the same manner as her mother in front of the clock. Samantha put an arm around her in a short, pulling hug. “How come you’re awake, Sweetie? Have a bad dream?”

  Abby leaned in. “I heard thunder.”

  A gentle shake. “It’s OK. Far, far away. It won’t bother us.”

  “Maybe it’s coming towards us. Maybe it’s going to get loud.”

  Another rumble, not really louder, but exposed in the room like this it sounded scarier. Abby climbed onto Samantha’s lap. That was when she noticed the time on the clock. Two hands, straight up. That meant midnight. “How come you’re awake, Mommy?”

  Both arms around her now, chin resting atop Abby’s head. She could feel her mother’s mouth moving when she spoke. “I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

  The girl leaned back, wanting to feel as much of her mother against her as possible, get far from the creepy boy-girl statue. “I don’t like that clock,” she said, warm in the embrace.

  “I don’t much like it either, but it’s special.”

  “Why is it special?”

  A shrug. “I’m not sure. It’s your father’s, so that makes it pretty special. Do you hear it ticking?”

  Abby did. The sound was quiet, steady. She nodded.

  “It hasn’t worked in a long, long time,” Sam said. “Daddy’s excited to have it going again.”

  “With the key he found?”

  “Yes.” Her mother sounded like she did when she was writing in her book, dreamy. “He found a key, wound the clock.”

  Another rumble, not closer, not further away. Just the same.

  “Daddy’s scared of the news.”

  “I know. He’s had some bad things happen a long time ago. Doesn’t think the world is a very nice place anymore.”

  “Is it bad? The world?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Not always. Daddy thinks so. But we’re here to help make him better.”

  Abby managed a quiet giggle. “We live here.”

  The hug tightened, pulling her closer. She liked that. “Yes,” her mother said, “we do.”

  “I don’t ever want to leave. It’s nice. And I get to play with Honey tomorrow, right?”

  A long silence, long enough that Abby began to worry that she’d changed her mind, wouldn’t let her go. She said again, “Right?”

  A kiss atop her head. “Right. You get to play with Honey.”

  “Are you going to be there, too?”

  “No, I’ll stay here. But I’ll pick you up, any time you want.”

  “Will you be lonely?”

  “I’ll definitely miss you, my cute, darling little girl.” Another squeeze.

  “Maybe the lady that lives in the woods can visit.”

  Another hesitation, then, “Maybe.”

  “Miss Charles, too.”

  The hug tightened, softened again. “We’ll see.”

  Abby wanted to talk some more, squeeze the moment, enjoy this special time. She was sleepy, though, leaning more and more against her mother. Samantha was silent, holding her daughter, looking at the ugly clock, listening to the time ticking away. Not understanding why she was up so late, not remembering how she came to be here in the first place. She’d gone to bed after the weather report, must have fallen asleep. Now she was on the floor in the living room, in a nightgown she didn’t remember putting on, holding her daughter in the middle of the night.

  Thunder rumbled, keeping its distance, circling like a shark.

  “Come on; let’s get you back to bed.”

  Abby was already half asleep. “Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”

  She almost said no, then decided against it. Samantha wanted Abby with her, with them. Tonight, at least. She got up, lifted her daughter, carried her into the bed. Abby wriggled to the center of the mattress. Sam was relieved to notice her own pillow had an indentation where her head had rested recently. She hadn’t imagined going to bed, at least. She left her nightgown on and joined her daughter under the sheet.

  Thunder growled like a panther in the brush, waiting to pounce.

  She ignored the image, rolled over, draped her arm across her daughter and sleeping husband. Abby gently laid her own hand on top of Sam’s. It was warm; three bodies joined, the most wonderful place to be. As she drifted into sleep, Sam thought that something, someone, was missing. But no, just the three of them. Warm and loved and together in the night as the rumbling continued far away, where it could do no harm.

  XV

  Vanessa

  Andrew Booth sat in the chair, quiet as a mouse, listening to Samantha and Abby talk, the words barely audible from Corey’s lips. Conflicting emotions, watching the scene play out from the corner of the bedroom. It broke his heart to see a man so completely lost, whose world had been so horrifically destroyed. At the same time, it was oddly warming to see how much comfort Union’s wife and oldest child brought to him. They were real to him, so much so that he curled up in the bed and held close to his side an arm which was not there, yet which embraced him, kept him safe, reminded him he was loved.

  Andrew leaned forward, prayed silently—he’d already made the mistake once of speaking out loud in Corey’s presence. Since then, he’d become a part of his world, a co-worker. Best not speak aloud now, even in prayer, and risk having the fictitious Andrew Booth appear in the bedroom in the middle of the night. He thought, Lord, help this poor man, your wounded child. Lead him back to us from his darkness. Amen.

  He repeated this prayer at the end of every shift, for every patient he’d seen that day. This week, that meant only Corey Union. He and Robert had been assigned split shifts at the house as Vanessa surrounded the man with his old, familiar world. Andrew sat back in the chair in the corner of this bedroom which Corey and Samantha had once shared. The chair creaked, but Corey did not stir. The room was big, bright with sunshine slanting in at a steep angle through many windows. He could imagine they’d been very happy here.

  He got up from the chair, thinking how desolate it must have felt in the house after the murders. Thank God they hadn’t been killed here. How much worse would it have been if… no. It couldn’t be any worse.

  He wandered down the hall in his stocking feet, into the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the microwave. Six-thirty. Vanessa was a half-hour late. She’d called his cell to say Chen wanted to meet her before she returned to Hillcrest.

  He didn’t like where that took his thoughts. Had Robert told the chief about his suspicions? That was ridiculous. Schard could be a loudmouth sometimes but even t
hat would be too much for him. Besides, if he had said anything, the call Andrew had received on his cell phone ten minutes earlier would have been much different. The nursing supervisor, Betsy, said Chen wanted Andrew back at Pine Glen tomorrow. Robert wasn’t coming in tonight, either. No one was. But they were allowing Vanessa to finish up the week solo. That didn’t make sense, but at least the experiment wasn’t canceled. That said something, he supposed.

  Andrew opened the fridge and took out a Coke. He pressed the can against his belly to muffle the sound of the air escaping when he pulled the tab. It was too good of a buffer. He needed to start hitting the gym again, get back the shape he’d had ten years ago. Always more time when you’re young. Now… now he was sinking under thirty-two years’ worth of gravity.

  No wonder Vanessa didn’t seem interested in his offer.

  Don’t be a dick, he thought. She’s a little preoccupied at the moment.

  Preoccupied with… stop it! Just speculation, nothing more. Andrew had tried to keep his anger in check when Schard had called him earlier, filled him in on a couple of events he hadn’t put in the official log— specifically how Vanessa had gotten up in the middle of the night and wandered into Corey’s room. She’d come out later than she should have, had it been a simple night check. She must have assumed Robert was sleeping in the other room and not noticed.

  Robert Schard was a dickhead for even mentioning it. Andrew closed his eyes and took a swig of Coke. It was cold, gave him a twinge of a headache. Sorry, Lord, he thought. He was thinking this way a lot. Pissed off at everyone, overprotective of a doctor who was friendlier than most, close enough to consider a friend. She probably never gave him a second thought in any other way.

  Still, the idea of him and Vanessa someday, maybe being a couple, wasn’t impossible. It felt right when they were together. She talked to him, smiled when she saw him and seemed to enjoy his company.