Unrelenting Terror

by P. S. Power

  It had to be.

  Honestly I didn’t know what to do for a while, so just sat on the sofa for hours, pretending to watch television while flipping mindlessly from one station to another, working my way through all the channels more times than I could count. I did it for hours without stopping, not moving or thinking too much. Just a single finger clicking on a button. I also noticed my breathing and a feeling of being watched. That was nearly constant now.

  After all, if Alex was trying to warn me of something, I had to listen, didn’t I? What if it wasn’t Alex that had died in the car accident... but me? Would I know that I was dead? Or maybe in a coma, just pretending that everything was OK? How would I tell myself to wake up if that was the case? Or let myself know if I was actually dead? Seeing ghosts might be a start. Even linking it to reading made sense for me. I trusted words so much more in print than coming from people directly. If I read the words, they’d mean a lot more, which would make it all real. Over time at least. It would take a while for me to realize that I was actually just imagining it all, making up the words in the book as I went along.

  I really needed help, I decided. It was a theory, but a more plausible one was that I heard a ghost and it was messing with my mind for some reason. Screwing with me. That or I’d really just gone over the deep end and lost it. That was possible after all.

  I shook myself out of it, literally shaking my head until I felt slightly dizzy and sick. Then I stood up and made myself move. It wasn’t that late, still light outside and no matter what was going on, I needed to examine it and not make judgments until I had more information. The first thing I needed to do then was write down everything that was happening. I moved to my computer and started to record everything that I’d done, starting with the first meeting with Dr. Milford. Then I reread the whole thing, trying to figure out if there was a trend or not. I found two. The first was the trigger word.

  “Eclipse.”

  It kept coming up and even thinking it caused me to sink into a very focused state. I lost myself in it for a moment, becoming one with the words I was reading. After a while I noticed that I was doing it and managed to let myself come up toward the surface just a little, taking several deep breaths, feeling my lungs fill the first time, then again. I yawned hugely, mouth going open wide, muscles in my throat stretching as I inhaled as hard as I could. As an afterthought, even though alone, I covered my mouth. I felt the urge to do it again, but fought against it.

  So there was the word first, and the second thing was what had happened several times when I read things from the mental book reader. It wasn’t just the clarity of the words, but that I felt myself actually sitting in a chair with the thing in my hand, not just when I was trying to imagine it either. It felt almost like I was one person in two places. The real me, who’d undergone everything that I had in the last days, and an observer, a reader, who was a part of me, but not directly involved in what I was doing. Not yet. That would come shortly. I didn't know why I felt that, but came to mind without hesitation.

  Both of us were alive though and not sleeping, so that was a good sign, as crazy as it sounded. It was probably just a mental image I’d developed to cope with things or something. Seeing ghosts was scary enough that I could see myself generating a mental safe place like that. The thing there was that I knew that the observer wasn’t safe. That part of me was seeing ghosts too and could feel everything closing in on them, at the same time I did. Everything I experienced in the real world, the person I was inside would too. I’d have to make a point of asking Dr. Milford about it the next day when we had our session after work. It was his area of expertise after all. That was why I was going to him in the first place.

  The thing with the German man was hard to understand. Had I somehow created him out of my own fear? Or maybe invited him in, if he was some kind of entity or energy being? I just didn’t know. It was all so confusing and what I really wanted was a glass of wine and some good music.

  Except that I hated wine as a rule. I liked music, but wine just wasn’t my thing. Was that the influence of whatever might be in me? Was that even really a thing? I didn’t want to believe it, the idea that I could be influenced and taken over so easily, but I made myself not just dismiss the idea out of hand. After all, I’d been poking around some pretty dangerous areas, searching for things I didn’t understand and it had been working pretty well so far.

  Maybe what the German had said was partially right? I could be carrying something that I didn’t understand and couldn't beat by any stretch of the imagination. If that was the case though, what could I do about it? If it was already in me, maybe it really was too late?

  I made myself skip the wine, even though I had some in the cupboard, in case friends came over. Instead I just waited with the lights off until I felt tired enough to go to sleep. It was hours later and I couldn’t help but try to feel for Alex with my mind again, casting out my thoughts and searching, hoping something good would happen. Nothing did, except a lot of bad TV.

  It took a long time for me to drift off after I crawled into bed. It wasn’t that hot, but I hadn’t changed the comforter for the summer yet, which meant kicking it off if things got to warm. I liked the scent of it, since it reminded me of Alex. For a moment, as I drifted off, I hoped that would be enough to get things going, to make good things happen, that scent, but then I fell asleep. I didn’t wake for hours, sleeping on my stomach like normal for me. It was just a habit I’d learned as a child. Go to sleep on my back, wake up on my tummy. I noticed a friendly hand on my lower back before anything else, my mind not really stirring at first, thinking only of Alex and how this was a bit out of character. Not totally, but enough to be a little odd.

  It stroked gently, the warm and gentle hand, lifting my shirt just a few inches, the slightly cool flesh of it on my skin. Then, slowly, almost playfully I felt my underwear starting to move down, my hips being lifted just enough for them to slide without a lot of resistance. I’d lost weight, which meant a lot of my clothing was more than a little loose now. As they rested just below my buttock and I felt hands start to pry my cheeks apart my eyes shot open. I was alone.

  Or I should have been. Besides, there was no way that Alex, even as a ghost, would have done that to me while I was sleeping. Panic didn’t bother to work itself into existence this time, it just showered forth, my breath coming in sudden gasps as I tried to roll over and move away from whoever was behind me. On top of me. Except I couldn’t move at all. It felt like someone was trying to choke me from behind and had moved on top of me, pinning me in place. Then I felt the hand that was holding me down find my ass again. Whoever it was moved my butt cheeks apart without ceremony and started to poke something hard into me when I managed to move, finally able to do something, no matter how feeble it was. I couldn’t breathe and didn’t think I’d last long trying to fight, but I sure as hell wasn’t having my ass raped without doing everything I could to stop it.

  I broke free, rolling and fell off the bed, sweat having collected under my arms, underwear down to my knees as I scrambled toward the wall turning in the relative dark of the room to fight. I wasn’t the world’s best fighter, but that didn’t matter in the moment. I’d do whatever I could. First, without even thinking about it I tried to correct my clothing. The underwear came up, but the shorts I’d been wearing were gone somehow. Then, steeling myself I ran across the room to the light switch, not knowing where the freak was in my room, fearing we'd collide in the dark. The door was still closed and hadn’t opened. That meant it was still in there with me. He was still there, whoever it was definitely had man parts. I hit the light and spun in place, ready to do whatever I had to in order to survive.

  There was nothing there.

  No man looking to do things to me like it was some kind of B-prison movie. No ghostly black form or giant German. Nothing at all. The bedspread was on the floor and my red sleeping shorts were across the room in a wad that I nearly didn't notice at first. The sheets were ha
lf off the bed, but other than that, nothing seemed out of place at all.

  “What the hell was that?” I spoke out loud, not wanting there to be silence anymore. The clock said it was four in the morning, so I’d gotten some sleep at least before the nightmare woke me up. I hadn't been prone to them before, but it didn't surprise me that I'd have them now. Not with everything that had been happening in the last few days. I wanted to tell myself that it was just a dream, even though it had seemed real at the time. Thankfully it was all over now, whatever it was.

  I went to get my clothing from the mess on the floor, bending over cautiously as I did, heart still pounding. As dreams went it was now my least favorite. The whole mess was too solid and I felt edgy, like something was still there with me, behind me. As I bent over to grab the shorts I felt myself pushed from behind something hitting my butt without ceremony. Hard, into the wall nearly five feet away.

  “I didn’t say we were done yet, did I?” The voice sounded like Alex, only not. Angry and bitter, not gentle and relaxed like I remembered. There was nothing there when I turned.

  “Stop that!” I yelled the words, trying not to sound as scared as I felt.

  “You aren’t Alex. Alex would never do this. Couldn't do it. You can’t fool me.” Not that easily.

  There was a dark laughter in the room, a deep thing, distinctly so, far more booming than anything that Alex had ever produced. After a few seconds it seemed to move closer to me, so close that I could feel the things breath on my face. It smelled fetid and like mildew. It was a subtle thing, not a powerful wave at all, but I could tell that’s what it was. That and a hint of rot thrown in at the edges, a thing I could just make out. It seemed larger than me, the warm air coming from above me, not hitting me in the face evenly. I didn’t move, even though I wanted to run away. The door was closed and I couldn’t get it opened in time, even if I could physically outrun the thing at all. I wasn't counting on it.

  “Oh, you can’t. Nothing can outrun me. Especially you. Now get back into bed. I like you better when you’re sleeping. Sweet and tender, backside in the air, ready and waiting for me.” There was more laughter then, but the thing moved away from me, leaving me covered in sweat and panting like I’d been running, shaking in fear. Where it went baffled me, but I could tell it wasn't there anymore.

  I knew one thing. I was never sleeping easily again. I looked at the bed and shook my head slowly, wanting a shower and not feeling safe enough yet to risk taking my clothes off, even there. Finally, after half an hour in the kitchen, looking behind me every few seconds and clutching the largest knife I owned, I made myself get up and do it… shower.

  Still holding the knife.

  That didn’t make the process easier and I knew it was probably stupid anyway, but it made me feel better somehow, as if it could keep that… thing off of me. It was too early to do anything about what had happened, and I didn’t have an appointment until six that evening with the doctor. Until then I had nothing to do but work.

  It was funny, but no one was in the office when I got there at five-thirty, a box of donuts in hand from the local bakery. They were fresh, just being gotten ready for the morning rush when I'd stuck my head in the bakery door. I didn’t normally like sweets for breakfast, but I ate one anyway. Then had a lemon filled one as I worked on the project I was supposed to. It was just an advertising campaign, but a national one, so a big deal for the firm. We’d already pitched it and gotten the contract, but that didn’t mean the work was done. It was my job to set everything up and bring it all in on, or under, budget.

  I just worked, not bothering to move out of my office all day, not talking to anyone except Jill, the shared receptionist that worked outside my door. She was a sweet woman, younger than I was by a few years and already had two kids. She wasn’t great looking, but other than Howard, the guy with the office next to mine, I’d never heard anyone complain about her work. Even those weren't really about how she did things.

  He pretty much just thought that Jill should put out, as if it were in her job description. From what I could see she probably would have, if Howard hadn’t been such a constant pain in the behind about it. It wasn't like she was picky when it came to men and he was single and had a good job. Still, it was hard to look past the part where he was a giant tool. That made me remember what had happened a few hours before, bringing back the scent of the things breath and the terror that I’d felt. It wasn’t fair, but I started shaking just a little, even as I made myself work. It didn’t look professional shaking like a scared little dog, but I had a physical office with an actual door, so no one could see me.

  Thank god the company didn’t believe in cubicles.

  No one came through my door until nearly five, and then it was just Jill, holding a small pile of papers. She didn’t say anything, since I was buried behind my computer, typing away at what was a lightning speed for me, so something about twenty words per minute. It wasn’t creative gold coming out, but for a beer commercial it didn’t really have to be. The only new thing here was that my boss had promised to bring in six new and interesting television commercials for the price of two. That wasn’t my problem though; I just had to write the scripts and make sure they could be done cheaply enough on paper. I had twenty of them ready to go. It always made people feel better when they thought they had options.

  Then, still without doing more than waving at Jill and giving Howard a nod, I left, not wanting to be late to my appointment. It had shocked me to no end that I’d been able to work after that, but I’d done it, even as I still felt slightly apprehensive about the whole world. There was a tickle in my middle every time I heard a sound or thought I might have to talk to someone. A feeling of dread that just wouldn't go away. It was a relief to get out of the office, even though no one had troubled me there at all. They hadn’t since Alex had passed. It made things easier for me, but I figured it was really just that they didn’t know what to say.

  It took less time to drive to Milford’s office from work than it did from home, which meant that I got there nearly fifteen minutes early. I waited in the front office, finding a seat as Toni looked up and smiled over at me. I noticed that the chair I sat in was a lot lower than hers too. I’d noticed that in Milford’s office as well. It gave them a psychological advantage no doubt. Making them seem bigger than I was, if only by a bit. I didn’t care. I just needed answers and some help, so that I could sleep that night and not be attacked.

  The woman looked better today, dressed for work, wearing make-up and having changed her hair. It was a dye job, but not a subtle one. She’d gone from light colored hair to jet black since I’d last seen her. It worked on her, but made her look a bit like a teen girl trying to be Goth, rather than an adult woman hiding prematurely gray hair. Given her personality though, it might have really been a fashion statement for her. She just had that kind of energy around her.

  If she’d been alive back in the sixties she probably would have been a hippie. Different cultures, but the same basic idea at its core. Be as different as possible without truly risking anything.

  “Hi… Is everything alright?” Her words seemed genuine and she came around the counter without waiting for a response, leaning in to give me a bit of a hug. It wasn’t anything overdone, but the gesture was nice. Closer than I expected in a professional setting, but not too invasive.

  Apparently if you spent most of a night in a crypt with someone you actually counted as friends from then on. It was something I’d never thought of before, but that did sound about right once I considered the idea.

  “Um, rough night. I… I’m not even really sure what to call it. I should tell the doctor first, then, I don’t know, maybe we could chat sometime? I mean if you’d like to. I don’t know how much of this kind of thing…” I waved my hand toward Milford’s office in a general fashion, hoping she’d get the idea that I didn’t mean him specifically.

  “I mean, ghosts and stuff. Entities and strange German men in parking lots
you’ve experienced, but it can’t hurt to have someone else to talk to about it. If that isn’t against the rules.” It might be, she worked here after all, so maybe she wasn’t allowed to socialize with clients.

  “Not against the rules at all. I’d love to. Say tomorrow night? I get off work at seven. Just don’t insist I go to a crypt and I’ll be your new best friend. That was pretty wild last Saturday, but I like to keep at least a week between things like that. You know, just to keep the head clear.” She smiled which looked charming enough.

  I tried to return it, doubting I did nearly as well. My face felt flat and expressionless, forcing me to make the smile take place through an act of will. It would be good to have a friend to talk to. Right now I didn’t have anyone to confide in at all. Well, the Doctor, but that was professional. It didn’t count on certain levels.

  I had to wait for the top of the hour to begin my session, even though I didn’t think there was anyone else in the office with Dr. Milford. I was anxious about the whole thing, even seeing the man with his sinister pointy beard and devilish looking eyebrows, but I knew that I’d be going in anyway. The thing with Toni had pointed out something very real to me. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this kind of thing at all. Not even the people at work, at least not if I wanted to keep a job and not be sent to counseling. Besides, I’d agreed to let Milford be in charge, in exchange for gaining the abilities I wanted. He’d never claimed it wouldn’t be scary or uncomfortable. Exactly the opposite, in fact.

  As the clock on the wall clicked into place signaling it as six exactly, the door to the office opened. I was looking at the man when he waved to me, a smile on his face. It wasn’t fair of me to think such things, but the man really did cultivate a creepy look. That had to be on purpose too, what with the whole devil beard thing. He was pleasant enough, which had to count more than looks, didn’t it? There was a rule about not judging a book by its cover that I'd learned a long time ago and decided to try and use in his case. Besides, if nothing else he looked the part he was playing.