Abra-Cadaver

by Matt Drabble

  “Damn you got old,” Tommy said teasingly.

  “Back at you!” PJ laughed.

  They held a grin between them and just for a second it felt like they had never been apart. Tommy felt the familiar tug of his youth; a best friend who always had an idea or a plan on boring rainy days.

  The grin faltered and fell from his face as the crushing reality of everything that they had all lost dawned on him. Whilst Tommy still felt the overwhelming weight of guilt from that 12th birthday party, it wasn’t like they hadn’t all paid a price in one way or another.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked casually.

  “I do maintenance on most of the houses on the street,” PJ replied thumbing towards a battered truck parked down the road a little ways. “My own business and everything,” he said proudly.

  “You still do my old man’s? Even after his death?”

  “Yeah, he was one of my first customers. It didn’t seem right just to leave it after he passed. I was sorry when he went, he was good man Tommy,” PJ said a little reproachfully. “I thought that I might see you at the funeral. Then I figured that you’d have to come back at some point to at least put the place on the market.”

  Tommy cringed with embarrassment at the fact that the man standing before him would have known his father at lot better than he ever had. It gave him a sinking feeling of failure and regret that could never be rectified. It was not an uncommon emotion given his own history.

  “So how long are you back for?” PJ enquired.

  “Uh, a few days I guess. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to sort out with the estate and all that.”

  “Maybe we can catch a beer or two whilst you’re in town?” PJ asked hopefully.

  “Yeah man, that’d be nice, real nice.”

  “Let me give you a card,” PJ said, pulling a battered business card out of his back pocket with dirty fingers stained with grass cuttings.

  Tommy took the card and ran his thumb over the indents whilst trying to articulate his thoughts. “Do you know what happened to the others after…, you know?”

  “Well I know that you were the only one lucky enough to get out and stay out,” PJ said without rancor and for that Tommy was glad. “McEwen went off to college like you. He tried his hand at being an artist from what I heard. Sold a few pieces and made some money, but he drifted back here like we all do I guess. He owns a small gallery on the far side of town, still paints a little.”

  “What about his partner in crime?” Tommy asked with a smile.

  “Dixon? Oh man, now there’s a bad penny that only got worse as he got older.”

  “Where’d he end up?”

  “He got his fingers burnt a few times; kicked out of school before he graduated, a few minor busts here and there but nothing major. Then all of a sudden he started driving around in a flash car and bought a big house out near the lake. A drinking buddy of mine Jimmy Cane handled the sale and told me that old Dixon paid for the place with cash. Just walked into Jimmy’s office with a carryall bag of bound notes, almost a mil if you please.”

  “How are they? Do you still see them?”

  “Ah you know in a town this small you can’t swing a cat without hitting someone that you know. McEwen grew a little bit up himself and Dixon just got meaner.”

  Tommy suddenly felt bad for PJ; he had always been the outsider with a face that just screamed for the attention of a fist. He had been a boy who had inspired bullying drawing the worst out of those around him. The only time that PJ had been protected was when Dixon and McEwen had grown into the muscle of the group. Nobody had ever messed with PJ back then. Both Dixon and McEwen could be merciless in their teasing of him, but PJ belonged, and woe was the outsider who tried to threaten any of them. Tommy had always known that he was the glue that held the group together. They’d had no leader as such, but it was to him that they always looked to for guidance. Whether it was harmless games or trouble, it was always his call.

  “What about Ally?” He said remembering that he’d seen her in the diner.

  “Another of our success stories despite auspicious beginnings. She went off the rails and almost didn’t make it back again,” PJ replied, “She got into drink and drugs and a whole bunch of bad guys. You know that she married Dixon right?”

  “What?” Tommy said incredulously.

  “Your old man never told you?”

  “No, we kind of…, kind of lost touch I guess,” Tommy answered sheepishly.

  “Yeah, she went off and married that thug. I’m kind of guessing that it was his business dealings that got her into the harder stuff.”

  “Drugs?”

  “It’d make sense wouldn’t it? Lots of disposable income, buying houses in cash and all that?”

  “I suppose so. Are they still married?”

  “Hah, you still carrying around that torch are you? Even after all these years?” PJ laughed, “Well don’t you worry, our Ally got clean, got divorced and bought Nan’s Diner in town. She really turned that place around after it got in trouble.”

  “Man I guess I missed a lot,” Tommy sighed.

  “Well we’ll get a beer tonight and really catch up,” PJ grinned. “You remember where the Catfish Bar is?”

  “Yeah sure, that’d be great PJ, it really would,” Tommy said seriously. “I guess that we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  “Shit man, life’s too damn short for maudlin thoughts,” PJ said moving away towards his truck hastily. “We’ll just hoist a few to the good old days,” he said unsurely.

  “Later,” Tommy waved him off.

  As he watched his friend drive away he was struck by the toll that his birthday had taken on all of them and wondered if he had been wise in returning home at all. Perhaps stirring up ghosts best left buried was never a good idea.

  He watched as PJ pulled out a silver hip flask from the glove compartment. The container glinted in the sunlight and he gulped heavily from the contents. Working on the paper he had seen enough dependencies up close to worry about his old friend now. PJ had seemed a little jumpy and spoke with an anxious rush. Not to mention the fact that he smelled like throwing out time at the Catfish Bar despite it being barely 3pm.

  It was with a heavy sigh that he grabbed his bags from the car and walked into the house. He felt that he couldn’t put it off any longer; some ghosts were waiting, buried or not.

  3.

  wakey-wakey

  Joel Barnes walked the long lonely mile along the corridor of Blackwater Heights private hospital. Joel worked the night shift and his uneasiness grew with each echoing footstep. He normally walked his rounds alone. He was the only orderly that was particularly educated, and he often felt the outsider amongst the group who viewed him with suspicion and derision.

  He wore an all white uniform of trousers and shirt and a large key chain swung from his hip. He would have liked to have carried a weapon of sorts, especially when making the rounds of the lower levels, but such things were heavily discouraged. All he had for company was a heavy duty flashlight, one that he had selected for its size and weight as opposed to its lighting ability. They were permitted to carry torches, and most of the orderlies had used the opportunity to carry the largest and heaviest flashlights that they could find.

  Blackwater Heights held many residents who had checked into the hospital’s private facilities willingly, however, the lower levels were home to residents of a more compulsory nature. This was where the dangerously insane were housed in hopefully secure rooms.

  Joel wandered down the corridor on his rounds. He was an orderly entrusted with completing a regular sweep of the lower levels. It was a thankless and menial task that was more for show than anything of substance. The lower rooms were locked down tightly and the inmates were heavily sedated against night-time jaunts. The only problem of course was that he had to undertake these jaunts alone. Everyone joked about the scary lower levels with tales of ghosts and hauntings and it was easy to laugh and dismiss such tales in the c
onfines of the brightly lit staffroom. But when you actually had to wander the halls alone in the dead of night, it was all too easy to forget your smile.

  The building may have been old, but the hospital within the outer shell was pristine and new. There were no cobwebbed corners and rusty gurneys soundtracked by dripping pipes here. The tiles were new and always spotless. The linoleum flooring was immaculately washed and polished, and the lighting never flickered.

  He tried not to rush his duties as he passed by each door slowly in turn, checking handles and locks. He had deliberately tried but failed to stay away from learning any of the backgrounds of the hospital’s current guests. Their stories did not add to the current ambiance. He was, however, unable to stop himself from pausing outside of room 23.

  Of all the current residents, room 23 held the only real tale of interest for him. Whilst the other inhabitants may have been drooling empty shells of what had once been, the man behind this door was a real life celebrity.

  He fought against his natural instincts, but it was a lost cause. He walked up to the viewing slot and reached out with a trembling hand. The man beyond had not stirred for years, but Joel somehow knew that one day he would. One day he would roll back that viewing slot and find dark mad eyes pressed up against the other side. It was like watching a ventriloquist’s dummy; you just knew that the damn thing would move as soon as it thought that you weren’t looking.

  He started to pull back the metallic handle and held his breath in maddening anticipation. The metal squealed and he flinched, tightening his grip and squinting his eyes against the seemingly loud noise in the empty hallway.

  “Joel?”

  It took every ounce of restraint for him not to scream aloud. It was a close race, and he only just won it.

  “Jesus Christ!” He hissed as he turned around.

  Behind him stood the hapless face of Lewis Jared, the newest recruit to the staff. Lewis was grinning as usual; his happy face didn’t seem to register any other emotion.

  “What the hell are you doing down here?” Joel demanded, “Apart from giving me a heart attack that is.”

  “Just having a nose around.” Lewis shrugged.

  “A nose around? Down here?” Joel asked incredulously.

  Lewis only shrugged again. Apparently his imagination didn’t reach the top floor, and Joel failed to see how anyone could wander these particular halls without getting spooked.

  “Who’s in here?” Lewis asked leaning past and sliding the viewing slot across with interested eyes.

  “Arnold Trotter,” Joel replied.

  “Who?”

  “Also known as The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown.”

  “Oh shit, isn’t he the guy that chopped his wife’s head off in front of some poor kid’s birthday party?” Lewis asked excitedly.

  “That’s him alright.”

  “What’s he doing here? I thought he was locked away in a normal prison.”

  “He was. He claimed his innocence all the way through the trial, right up until they found him guilty and locked him away,” Joel said reciting his own well researched history. “When they found him guilty, apparently he promised bloody vengeance on everyone that locked him away, and they even had to drag him from the courtroom screaming. Over the next five years or so he went slowly mad inside; locked away for a crime that he claims he didn’t commit. Rumor has it that he was attacked in prison for some reason or another, got cut up pretty bad and almost died. After that he sank deeper into himself until he became practically catatonic.”

  “And they sent him here?”

  “Yep, he’s been here almost 20 years and as far as I can tell he’s never spoken a word.”

  “Is he any trouble?” Lewis asked.

  “Nope. He’s about as useful as a chocolate teapot. He lies on that bed of his and barely moves. As far as I know he’s only ever had one visitor since he’s been here.”

  “Who was that?” Lewis asked, conjuring images of Thomas Harris novels and the labyrinth mind of the criminally insane.

  “Some bloke a couple of days ago. Don’t ask me how he managed to get a pass in here, but he must know people in high circles.”

  “What did he want?”

  “No idea, I wasn’t on duty. But as far as Jones tells it, it was a private and one way conversation. The fella came in and talked to Trotter at length, but Trotter never so much as batted an eyelid.”

  “Creepy,” Lewis grinned.

  “You have no idea,” Joel agreed.

  Suddenly the hallway was plunged into complete darkness and Joel had to fight against the rising tide of panic. Much to his annoyance his younger companion showed no signs of distress.

  “What was that?” Lewis asked casually from somewhere in the darkness.

  “Power cut, they happen from time to time around here. The area is unstable and the weather often knocks out the electricity.”

  “What about the cells? Are they still locked? Don’t they run on electronic locks?” Lewis asked and Joel was happy to hear the first signs of stress in his voice.

  He happily left his flashlight tucked away, not wanting to allay the young orderly’s fears just yet.

  “No don’t worry, the power cuts are so common that all of the rooms are locked in the old fashioned way. The back-up generators will kick in soon. The Captivating Cosmo X is sedated, restrained, and safely locked away, not to mention the fact that he hasn’t moved in two decades.”

  Joel was enjoying the feel of the younger man’s fear in the dark when he suddenly felt that they weren’t alone. He looked up the corridor but he could see nothing in the pitch blackness that had engulfed them. Perhaps one of the other orderlies had wandered down to try and spook them, or God forbid one of them had decided to get off their lazy asses and do their job.

  He stepped away from the door and towards the window side of the corridor, where at least there was a gloomy light of sorts. He squinted in the darkness and could just make out Lewis’ form waiting patiently for the lights to come back on again. He reached for the flashlight before stopping himself; he was damned if he was going to crack before Lewis did.

  He began to move up the corridor again towards the exit. It had been too long since the lights had gone out; the generators should have kicked in by now.

  His feet suddenly grew rooted to the spot as the unmistakable sound of a door lock tumbling echoed in the silence.

  “Dammit Lewis, what the hell are you doing?” He snapped, fearing that he might be on the end of yet another puerile practical joke at the hands of his so called colleagues.

  “Nothing, I thought that was you?” Lewis voice came from further down the corridor.

  “If you’re screwing around Lewis I’ll kick your bloody ass!” He shouted, more in fear than anger.

  “It wasn’t me,” Lewis pouted, “Anyway I thought that you said that the patients were sedated and restrained.”

  “Exactly, so how the hell is he going to untie himself, get up, and open a locked door? It’s not Harry bloody Houdini in there!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. No it wasn’t Harry Houdini locked away in room 23, but it was The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown.

  He was fumbling at his waist as he tried to free the heavy torch that swung on a strap when Lewis suddenly screamed in fear and pain. A choked sound gurgled from the younger man’s throat and something wet splattered on the linoleum floor. Joel’s feet stayed rooted to the spot and he found himself paralyzed with horror. Something was shuffling its way up the dark corridor towards him. Finally with a desperate lunge he wrenched the flashlight free from his waist, tearing a large strip of material with it. He groped for the button as his personal space was invaded and his bladder let loose a stream down his leg. The torch burst into life and the bright stream of light exploded upwards and illuminated an evil face. The figure took the flashlight with effortless ease as the strength drained from Joel’s very being. He surrendered before the dominanc
e like a dog that rolls on its back when confronted by superiority. He opened his mouth to scream, only to find the heavy metallic flashlight jammed into the hole. His front teeth shattered against the torch as it was forced in and down. His throat bulged and screamed in protest as the flashlight was jammed down further. The darkness invaded his vision as the world dimmed before him and he drifted away choking on the taste of metal and blood.

  ----------

  The fire began in the basement at Blackwater Heights. The flames leapt with grace and strength throughout the building as they licked hungrily at anything flammable. The dark screams rose and echoed through the black night sky as those unlucky enough not to be overwhelmed by poisonous fumes were roasted alive. The ancient internal wooden structure of the hospital acted like kindling and fuelled the blaze. The fire alarm measures failed catastrophically as the sirens remained silent and the water unspent. The fumes were carried along the air conditioning ducts and seeped through the spaces behind the walls and entered the cells. Residents continued to sleep through the night and then beyond their lives. The large petrol powered generators went up around 2am and neighboring houses up to 6 miles away heard the explosion and finally someone raised the alarm.

  4.

  reunion

  Tommy braced himself outside of the Catfish Bar. His stomach was rolling with nervous anticipation and waves of doubt. Inside were four people that he’d shared close childhood memories with. They were delicate formative years that shaped a person. Yet save for PJ this afternoon and a glance through a diner window, he had not seen any of his former friends for more years than he dared to count.

  He looked up at the neon sign that blazed and hummed into the night’s cool air. The buzzing grinning fish looked alien and judgmental to him as he stood underneath. He reached out to push the door open, when a very attractive thought suddenly popped into his head. He could just leave. Just turn around, pack up his bags and take off that very night. Sure PJ might be pissed and the others would think that he’d disappeared up his own backside, but what the hell, he’d never know because he’d never have to face them.