Messages, a Psychological Thriller

by Chris Dougherty

  So, he’s okay, then, Arch thinks, I saved him, saved his life. And for some reason, he laughs. It is a wild laugh, bordering on hysteria.

  Then he turns from the room and into the corridor.

  He has to find Henry and Lacey.

  Chapter 43

  When Lacey opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is a window heavily barred and shot through with chicken wire. She struggles to sit up, but her legs feel tied down, her arms heavy with padding, and she fancies she has lost her mind, been committed to spend the rest of her days with James in the mental hospital.

  Then her hands loose themselves from the blanket that she had twisted into disarray while she slept. It pulls up and away from her feet, and suddenly her limbs are free. Then a hand descends on her shoulder, and she tries to pull away as the hand grips her tighter, pulling her back the other way.

  She looks up in panic, and it is Henry, his face a grimacing mask of fear and fatigue. He is shaking his head, trying to pull her to him. His expression and silence coupled with her disorientation panics her, and she strikes out, not to hit him, but to break his hold on her shoulders.

  He grips her tighter, and his mouth works as he stares in alarm and frustration over her, past her, it seems to Lacey. Then a rough breath issues from his throat, a ragged whisper so like James’ breathy vowel sounds that Lacey’s stomach tightens into a knot as hot confusion whips through her. She has lost her mind.

  “Lace, please, your stitches…” he breathes out, barely audible, and as she deciphers his words a stinging wetness tickles down her forehead. She reaches a shaking hand to her forehead, and her fingers come away bright red. She lays back, all at once aware of the pain and the dizziness.

  Henry reaches past her and pushes a button on a cord hanging next to her. Then he grips a wad of tissue from the box on the table and presses them delicately to her forehead.

  “Henry?” Lacey says, grasping his wrist. “What happened? Are you okay? Your voice…”

  His hand stills and drops away, and he looks at her searchingly, his eyes scanning every part of her face, taking her in, drinking her in like nourishment. He smiles, and the smile serves to highlight new lines etched into his face, the deep black circles under his eyes.

  “Lacey,” he says, his voice cracking and breaking, and he winces and puts a hand to his throat, but his eyes never leave her face.

  “She awake?” comes from past him, and a nurse comes in. He sees the blood on Lacey’s forehead, and he frowns and tsks at her. “I hope you didn’t rip any of your stitches. Let me take a peek. This might hurt a little.” And he reaches for the bandage and begins to work at the taped edges. Lacey hisses in pain, and he grimaces in sympathy. “Sorry, hon, almost there.”

  Her hand is gripped warmly, and she cuts her eyes to Henry.

  “What happened to your voice?”

  He shakes his head, his hand going to his throat and chuffs out a painful laugh.

  “Big dummy strained his vocal cords, that’s what,” the nurse says, his eyes never leaving his work. “Just yelled and yelled, ‘Lacey! Lacey!’ like Rocky!” When he mimicked Henry’s voice, he made it strained and impassioned, a caricature, and Henry laughs again, shaking his head, red-faced with embarrassment.

  “I’m Angelo, by the way,” Angelo says. “I’m not the nurse for this floor, I just wanted to stop in and see you. How ya’ doin?”

  “I’m…I’m good. It’s nice to meet you, Angelo.” Lacey can’t shake the feeling of disorientation. She looks to Henry, and he smiles and grips her fingers again. She feels reassured by his smile, but his silence is still unnerving.

  “What day is it? Am I okay?” she addresses Henry, but Angelo answers.

  “It’s Saturday. You’re fine. You just got a bump on the head, and we wanted to watch you overnight. Most likely for insurance reasons, if you get me. Nora’s probably afraid you’re going to sue us for letting a crazy get you. But I hope you don’t because I think it was mostly my fault.” Angelo purses his lips, putting a fresh bandage on her cleaned-up wound. “You didn’t tear them. It’s mostly hidden by your hair…probably won’t be able to see a scar at all.

  “I didn’t know Red was as…frisky…as she ended up being. I thought the old thing was practically comatose, I mean, really! I’ve been here for more than twenty years, and I swear to God! She has never even moved out of her chair without assistance!”

  Angelo steps back and sits on the empty bed next to hers. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. “She must have been hiding her medication. I never would have guessed!” But even as he says it, he has a recollection of a day months ago when the two other day-room nurses had been discussing the new patient, the loony that killed that old couple. And they’d been marveling over what a crazy small world it is, Red’s son coming to this same hospital, thirty years after his crazy mom!

  And Angelo had seen something in Red’s eyes…some flicker of alarm? Recognition? But then it had gone, and she’d been her dim old self, so how was he to know? He dealt with a lot of loonies! Too many to keep an eagle eye on just one.

  He smiles at Lacey. “You’re lucky! This guy is crazy about you! Refused to go home, refused even to lay down and sleep.”

  Lacey smiles at Angelo and glances at Henry. His head is down, hiding his expression, but his fingers tighten on hers again. She squeezes back.

  “Thank you, Angelo,” she says. “I think I’m lucky, too.”

  “Nora wants the ward doc to check you out, and then we’ll let you go…sound good? All your stuff is over here, safe and sound. They aren’t going to charge you for anything, would be my guess. Want you to leave happy, right?”

  He stands and goes to a combination locker-closet and pulls her clothes out and lays them on the empty bed. He turns back to the closet to retrieve her purse. “That James is not doing well…am I talking out of turn telling you that? They’re not even sure why, I mean, he’s been stable for weeks. But sometimes it just happens like that. Especially with that amount of trauma. They don’t expect him to make it past the weekend. I didn’t know if you wanted to try and stop in again. If you had any unfinished business or whatever, since your original visit was so rudely interrupted.” He smiles.

  Lacey lowers her head. She feels Henry’s eyes on her. She’s not sure how she feels, would have thought she’d feel sadder, but she doesn’t feel very much at all. It is as though her James had gone long ago. She’s mourned and gotten over him. I am lucky, she thinks. Because I got to say goodbye to him. The real James.

  She smiles at Henry. Grips his hand tighter. Then she turns to Angelo.

  “When will that doctor be here? I want to leave.”

  Chapter 44

  Two months later, as winter turned to spring, Lacey had a big party to celebrate Henry’s 30th birthday. She held it at his mom and stepdad’s house at Mary Ellen’s request. Lacey had agreed with the request at once. It would be much easier to keep it a surprise that way.

  And he was surprised. Surprised by the amount of people that came, including Arch who made a special trip down from New Brunswick to be there. And Arch even brought his girlfriend, Talia–a tiny blonde who gazed at Arch adoringly. He’d ‘saved’ her one night on campus when the front wheel of her bike had gone flat and he’d walked her home, carrying it over his shoulder. Then he’d showed up the next day at her dorm with a patch kit. And they’d been inseparable since then.

  Mack from the shop is there with Bonnie, and they both take turns giving Henry bear hugs. He would swear Bonnie’s hug is almost as strong as Mack’s. Then Bonnie and Lacey disappear into the kitchen together, discussing something new Lacey was trying–a new spice for roasted vegetables. Lacey looks back as they turn into the kitchen and gives Henry a radiant smile–triumphant and teasing because she had pulled off this surprise, but also deep with uncomplicated love.

  Henry had watched her closely the first few weeks after they’d come home from the hospital. It was probably a good thing that he’d had to choose h
is words carefully in deference to his aching throat because they’d talked very little about why she’d gone there without telling him. And in the end, he decided it didn’t matter because the skittishness and nightmares that had developed after the first incident had disappeared entirely. And for that Henry was more grateful than he could have said.

  Mark shoves a Pepsi into Henry’s hand. “Drink up, man! Happy thirtieth!” Henry smiles at his friend, who’s got his arm around one of the girls Lacey works with.

  Mary Ellen hugs him, too. “Were you surprised, Henry?” she asks, her hands clasped under her chin. “Lacey is amazing! She had everything planned out to a T! She even made Chuck’s favorite, the little hot dogs in blankets! He loves that girl, you know.” Henry glances past his mom to Chuck, who is indeed swirling a little hot dog into a cup of mustard. He bites into it and closes his eyes, enraptured. Henry feels a laugh bubble up through his throat, but he squelches it and merely shakes his head. His mom is looking at him, a certain knowledge in her eyes. “He’s real glad you found her. He told me he thinks she’s good for you. I think so, too.”

  Chuck comes over, wiping mustard from his chin, and claps Henry on the back. “Happy birthday, Henry.” Henry nods and smiles, shakes Chuck’s hand, and then moves past him, deeper into the party.

  Arch stands in the backyard in the cool dusk. He is facing the Simonellis’ house. Of course, it isn’t the Simonellis’ house anymore. A young couple bought it. His mom said they seemed nice, two little kids and another on the way.

  That’s good, Arch thinks, I’ll have to tell Bill. He’d like that.

  Then he turns back to his own house. He can see the people that have spilled from the kitchen onto the back porch; the windows glow with light and life. They are milling around, clapping each other on the shoulder and back, laughing, drinking, and eating…enjoying the party. Arch watches as Henry comes from the kitchen and sees Lacey on the porch and grabs her up in a hug. Lacey laughs and kisses Henry on the lips.

  Then Arch sees the bright blonde head of Talia, obviously searching for him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, grinning.

  He will go in to her in a minute.

  He just wants to watch the crowd for a little while longer.

  ~The End~

  If you enjoyed Messages, please consider leaving me a review on Amazon. I would greatly appreciate it. ~ Best Regards, Christine

  ***

  The Following is the beginning of:

  The Boat

  By Christine Dougherty

  Excerpt from The Boat

  Chapter One

  August 6, 2011

  Randy leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the tip of the fishing pole dip almost to the water. The yellow bobbin bobbed obediently, riding the gentle waves. The sun was warm and the steady lapping of water against the little rowboat was relaxing. He didn’t get much time to relax anymore and wanted to make the most of this small window.

  It was very quiet; a steady breeze made the trees on the banks seem to whisper a sweet song of rest. The sunlight off the water dappled strange but soothing shapes across his eyelids. He felt himself sinking into a comfortable abyss. The pole slipped from his loosening hands.

  “Randy, Jesus, will you please pay attention to what you’re doing? You’ve got something on the line!”

  Bonnie. He’d almost forgotten all about her. He glanced back at his wife of forty-some years, taking in the lines of varicose veins, the pudgy way her thighs pushed at the edges of her Bermudas. Her stomach was pooching out under the life vest she wore. Life vest. Jesus jumped up. In the bay?

  “Bonnie, you don’t need a damn vest in the bay. What do you think is going to happen? Whale gonna sink us?”

  You’re the only whale around here, he thought and then felt bad about it. He was for sure no skinny Minnie, himself. And the reality was they’d both lost quite a bit of weight in the last two months. Not much choice in it.

  He felt a tug on the line and started cranking the reel. He cranked slowly, more preoccupied with Bonnie than he was with the line because chances were better he’d snagged a bunch of debris rather than anything edible.

  He turned, straining, to see her better. She was sitting bolt upright in the seat behind his, her hands clutching the sides of the little boat. Her teeth were clenched and thinly veiled panic danced in her tired eyes. The life vest pushed up against the underside of her jaw, doubling her chin, giving her a childlike, vulnerable look. Randy felt the familiar give and take of his feelings: irritation at her constant nagging overtaken by the desire to protect her from anyone or anything. Even if that meant protection from his own unkind thoughts.

  “Honey,” he said, still absently cranking the reel. “Just relax. Isn’t it nice out here? Isn’t it pretty in the bay?”

  Her gaze slid left and right and then back to him. She shook her head and tears slid into the deep pouches under her eyes. Her chin trembled. She had never gone fishing with him before all this happened. She preferred lunch with the ladies and then a refreshing trip to the mall for more scarves…he would swear she had more than a hundred. So, he’d always fished by himself. Back then, though, it had been mostly freshwater fishing and he’d done it from the safety of a collapsible chair on the bank.

  Everything had changed now, though.

  Boy, had it ever.

  Randy shook his head, thinking. The line was getting heavier by the second. He hoped it wasn’t a tree, all waterlogged with tangly branches.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him, her voice edged with panic. “Why are you shaking your head?”

  “Bonnie, please. Nothing is wrong. Would you just try and relax? Haven’t I told you a million times that attitude is everything? If you would just try–”

  He’d turned to face her again as he reeled, straining against the weight on the line–something heavy coming up. Her eyes went past him and her mouth dropped open in horror. Randy squinted at her and started to ask what was wrong but before he could say anything, she whooped out a scream loud enough to send birds flying in a panic from the trees along the shoreline.

  He turned forward to where her gaze was directed. The line had cleared the water. He’d hooked a man right through the eye socket.

  The man’s skin was almost entirely eaten away–by fish or by time or by a combination of the two…it was hard to tell. The one eye he had left was a bleached out blue and the retina was floating sleepily off to the side. It looked like he was trying to see back into the water he’d just been hooked from. His tongue was a spongy mass filling the cavity of his mouth, surrounded by white, split lips.

  The man on the line groaned. He pulled a waterlogged arm from the water and flailed at the side of the boat. Randy thought it sounded like someone hitting the boat with a baked ham. He felt a little ill and then became aware of Bonnie’s scream going on and on behind him. Then he saw why. A small water snake had curled itself into the hole where the man’s other eye should have been.

  Bonnie hated snakes.

  “It’s okay, honey, it’s all right. That snake doesn’t want you,” he said and turned to try and catch her eye. “He’s content where he’s at.”

  The man on the line moaned and the sound had a choking, burbling quality. A thick rope of mucous and water was draining steadily from a hole in his cheek. His arm flailed again but this time, his hand banged over the side of the boat. Three of his fingers disengaged from the pulpy hand and splatted onto the floor where they rolled to and fro.

  “Gross,” Randy said, looking at the fingers at his feet. As he watched, one of the fingers began to scrabble in a half-circle, trying to gain traction, then it lay still.

  Bonnie screamed on and on.

  “I don’t care I don’t care Randy just for God’s sake get that thing off the line so I don’t have to see that snake anymore oooooh I hate snakes!”

  She had squeezed her eyes closed and her mouth had squinched up and she was shaking her head like a little girl who has tasted something awfu
l.

  “Okay, okay, hold on, Bonnie, just hang on, honey bunny.” Randy dug a knife from his pocket and flipped open the blade. He took one more look at the sinker he’d hooked and regretted the lure he was about to lose. But there was no helping it. He couldn’t put his hand that close to the thing’s mouth. It would bite him for sure and then he’d most likely get the sickness, too. And God knows Bonnie would never be able to get the little boat back to the big boat, so then what? Then Bonnie would end up as a sinker, too.

  Nope; definitely not worth the lure.

  He cut the line.

  The sinker did what all the sinkers do: it sank.

  Roger sat back and sighed. They still had a few good hours left in the day, but the fun had gone out of it. If only they hadn’t come across that snake.

  But they had, so.

  “It’s okay, Bonnie, no snake. All gone, see?”

  She cracked an eye open and looked. Then she opened her other eye. She smiled shakily at Randy. “Oh, thank you, honey bunny,” she said. “Ooh, I really do hate snakes. I just…they scare me half to death. I’m so sorry, Randy.”

  She smiled and under the weight of years he saw the pretty young girl he’d married. He smiled back and then gave her soft knee a squeeze. “No problem, honey, I didn’t feel like fishing anymore, anyway. Those idiots on Flyboy don’t know what they’re talking about half the time; I don’t know what they were thinking sending us out here. It’s a terrible spot to fish.”

  Because now the fish had plenty to snack on…it was hard to get them to bite at lures anymore, especially in the bay.

  Randy socketed the oars into the oarlocks and began the long pulls that would take them back to Barbra’s Bay Breeze. Bonnie tickled his ears and neck each time the rowing motion put him back in her reach. She’d got to giggling. Randy laughed and swatted at her darting, tickling fingers. Then he settled more seriously into the job of rowing. Maybe he could think of a good way to round out the afternoon, after all.