Invitation To Evil: A Max MacAulay Novel

by Sandler L Bryson

  ​“Well, looks like I won’t be sleeping anytime soon,” Max said.

  ​He shook his head as he shifted the Fiero into drive.

  ​The steady drizzle had increased. Max turned on the windshield wipers. The satellite radio in his car was playing a song. Max turned up the volume as he drove away. The song playing was Mike and The Mechanic’s “Silent Running.”

  * * *

  Part I

  A House in Order

  Matthew Chalmers laughed as he sprang into the air. Most of the other boys his age seemed to like spending time with each other playing video games or facing each other in sports like basketball, but in all of his eleven years, Matthew (or “Mattie” as his mother called him) had shown no interests in sports. He also spent little time with other kids his age. Max didn’t like the way the other kids made fun of him because of how he talked.

  Mattie had talked later than his peers. When he had started speaking he stuttered or slur his words together. Due to the way he talked, the other children often teased him or called him dumb. Mattie knew differently. His mother told him the way he talked was just because his brain was so smart it was thinking too fast for his mouth. This made his words come out wrong. She said he just needed to slow down and focus on what he wanted to say when talking. The speech doctor she had taken him to had told him the same thing.

  Mattie knew his parents worried about him being alone so much and not having friends, but Mattie really didn’t mind being alone. Besides comic book posters, his room had everything he needed to keep himself happy: a computer, a television, a PlayStation, his action figures, his comic books, and of course, his favorite toy, his Pogo Ball. Mattie loved to play in his room jumping up and down on the Pogo Ball while listening to music. He was jumping now while the speakers attached to his computer played “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince.

  Before the family had moved into this house, they had lived in an apartment. The apartment had been on the top floor, and his parents told him not to jump around. Now there was no one living underneath them so he could jump and play as much as he wanted to. Matthew laughed as he leapt into the air, his head coming equal to the top of his bedroom window.

  There was a knock at the door. Matthew looked over as his mother entered the room.

  ​Lindsey Chalmers stood in the doorway, looking at her son. She was a short woman with midnight-colored hair and eyes that matched.

  ​“Mattie, it’s getting late. It is time for you to stop hopping around and get in bed.”

  ​Lindsey placed her right hand on her hip for emphasis.

  ​“But, MOM!”

  ​Before Matthew could go any further, Lindsey cut him off.

  ​“No ‘but Mom’ right now. I let you stay up past your bedtime already. Your father will be home soon. You know he wants you in bed.”

  ​Lindsey lowered her head. Her dark eyes peered meaningfully over the top of her wire-framed glasses.

  A rumbling noise somewhere in the house was followed by a brief tremor.

  Matthew’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ​“Mom, what was that!”

  ​The voice that spoke came from Leslie Chalmers. She was Matthew’s older sister. She had come darting out of her bedroom at the disturbance.

  ​“It---It was nothing,” Lindsey said. “It was probably just thunder or something.”

  ​“B-B-B-But I-I-I-I don’t see any lightning or anything, Mommy,” Mattie said.

  His stuttered words blurred together so fast another person would have had a hard time understanding him, but Lindsey knew her son well enough to understand what he was saying.

  ​“Well, then it was the sonic boom of a jet going over,” Lindsay said.

  ​There was a hint of irritation in his mother’s voice.

  ​“At any rate, that has nothing to do with you getting ready for bed, Matthew Chalmers. And Leslie, I know you have some studying you can be doing. Your father will be home soon. Mattie, you need to be in bed, and Les, you need to be finished up with any chores when he gets here.”

  Lindsey stared into Leslie’s eyes. She felt like she was staring at a younger version of herself.

  Leslie rolled her eyes. She put her headphones back in and went back to her room. The sound of her door slamming followed. Lindsey shook her head then turned to look at Matthew.

  Matthew had already climbed in bed.

  “Good night, Mattie,” Lindsey said.

  She went to close his bedroom door, but Matthew stopped her.

  “M-MOM!”

  Lindsey sighed.

  “What is it, Mattie?”

  “Can you please turn on my night light?”

  “Mattie. Honey, we talked about this. Your father thinks you are getting too old for the night light.”

  “But the light helps keep the monster out!”

  “Mattie.”

  “M-m-m-m-Mom I-I- I’m serious! It-It fights the monsters!”

  “Okay, Mattie! First, you need to take a deep breath and slow down,” Lindsey said.

  She stepped into the room and quickly switched on the little night light plugged into a socket near the door. A soft yellow glow flooded the room. The night light itself was shaped in a miniature bust of one of Matthew’s favorite action figures, a robot that could turn into an 18 wheeler.

  “There you go, Mattie. Now, I have a few things to finish up before your father gets here. You be a good boy and get some rest.”

  “Y-Y-Yes ma’am,” Matthew said.

  Lindsey started to shut the door as she exited but stopped.

  “Here. I am going to leave the door cracked just a hair. Okay, Mattie?”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  Lindsey smiled.

  “Good night, sweetie.”

  Lindsey left the room.

  In the near dark, Mattie pulled his Masters of The Universe themed bed sheets up over his head. Even under the covers, he felt like eyes were watching him.

  Lindsey Chalmers took a deep breath as she sat down on the couch in the family’s den. She pulled off her slippers and moaned with relief. She put her feet up on the couch and sank deep into the comfort of the maroon cushions. It had been a long day. A last-minute task had come up at work that had required her to stay late. She didn’t mind doing O.T. Every little bit of cash helped out a lot, but if she had to do overtime, she preferred to go in early rather than stay late. Staying late meant less time to cook dinner and take care of household tasks before Greg arrived

  She loved Greg dearly. They shared the same unique desires and complemented each other’s weaknesses. They had been sweethearts in high school and had gotten married shortly after graduating. Lindsey had thought about going to college, but then she had gotten pregnant with Leslie and things changed. Time had passed by so fast. She didn’t complain, though. She loved her family. Greg was a good husband and a hard worker. He normally worked swing shift and got home around 8:45 pm. Sometimes his job at the warehouse required him to work overtime. Those days he wouldn’t get home until after midnight. Greg was a decent man, but he was one that brooked no nonsense. Anything out of place or in discord when he got home could set him off. While he always seemed calm, Lindsey knew Greg could go from zero to one-hundred in a finger snap. That was something no one wanted to see.

  Lindsey reached for a stick of Spearmint as the overwhelming need for a cigarette sent a pang of pain racing through her head.

  “Let’s see what’s on TV,” Lindsey said.

  She popped the stick of Spearmint into her mouth. The minty sweetness of the gum did little for her headache but helped suppress the urge to strangle somebody for a cancer stick.

  The house was clean. Dinner had been cooked, and the kids at eaten. She had left the food out for so Greg could eat when he arrived. She had even checked her phone for any texts or messages and nothing was showing there. She hit the remote. She had recorded an episode of one of her favorite television shows, Night Court. Lindsey shifted to get more comfortable as she prep
ared to watch the sitcom. The opening chords of the show’s theme song had just started when loud crashes followed by the sound of breaking glass interrupted her rest. The commotion sounded like it came from the kitchen.

  “Oh! My God,” Lindsey cried.

  She jumped to her feet and ran towards the kitchen. Her mind ran with possibilities of what caused the crash. For a moment, she wondered if someone was breaking in. The thought sent a worm of fear slithering through her stomach.

  I don’t even have a weapon, she thought.

  When she entered the kitchen, she found her fears of an intruder were unwarranted. The front door was visible from the hallway. It was shut and locked. The backdoor in the kitchen was likewise undisturbed. What was not undisturbed was her dishes.

  “What the hell?” Lindsey said.

  The dishes in the cabinet, the few dishes that had been in the sink, even the dishes she had washed in the dishwasher were all scattered across the black and white tiled floor. Many of the glasses were broken. The only dishes not touched were the few pots that contained the dinner she had left out on the stove.

  Thank God for small miracles, Lindsey thought.

  She stared around the kitchen, her emotions a mix of shock, anger, and fright. Lindsey mulled over how the dishes could have fallen. All the cabinet doors were wide open. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she had left them open while cooking but quickly dismissed the idea. She knew she had closed the cabinets. Plus, even if she had left the cabinets open, that would not cause the dishes to just hop off the shelves and break themselves. Also, leaving the cabinets open didn’t explain how the dishwasher got opened and all the dishes within thrown out.

  “Holy crap, what happened?”

  The voice was Leslie’s

  Lindsey turned around to see both the children standing behind her. Their wide eyes glistened.

  “I am not sure. Nobody is inside the house. I checked. So there’s no danger here.”

  Lindsey added a level of confidence to her voice she did not feel.

  “I am going to need some help cleaning up. God knows how I am going to explain the loss of half of our dishes to your father.”

  “M-M-Mom. D-d-did the monster do it?” Matthew asked.

  The question, along with not knowing what happened coupled with the nagging need for a smoke, sent a streak of lava through Lindsey’s spine.

  “There are no damn monsters in this house!” Lindsey yelled.

  “Matthew Chalmers, your imagination is starting to get on my nerves. Now I have to get as much as this cleaned up as I can! Hopefully, before your father gets home and I don’t have time for your games.”

  “But Mom, if you didn’t do this and we didn’t do it, then who or what did?” Leslie asked.

  Lindsey’s face was turning red.

  “Leslie Chalmers, the last thing your brother needs is you feeding his imagination. He has enough to deal with already?”

  “But—"

  Lindsey cut her off before she could go any further.

  “But nothing! I don’t have time for this! Matthew Chalmers, you go to your room and get back in bed-PRONTO!”

  Lindsey put her right hand on her hip. Her left hand pointed at the kids.

  “Leslie, you are going to help me clean up this mess, and then you can go to your room and finish studying or doing whatever the hell it is you do in there. I am not in the mood for any backtalk, so let’s get to it! NOW!”

  Matthew ran back to his room, a crestfallen look on his face. Leslie’s face darkened with the fury of a teenager tired of being bossed around. A flushed face was the extent of her protest as she moved to help her mother clean up.

  Forty minutes later, the kitchen was again in presentable condition. Leslie had stormed to her room when the task was finished. Lindsey shook her head as she fathomed how she would explain all the broken dishes to Greg. She ran her hand across the back of her neck in a futile attempt to ease the tension of the day away.

  “What I wouldn’t give for just one cigarette right now,” she said.

  Saying it out loud didn’t ease the itch for a smoke, but it helped waylay some of her frustrations. She sighed as she headed back to the den. She resumed her position on the couch.

  A lot of strange things had been happening in the house as of late; strange noises at night, items being misplaced and then reappearing, but nothing like this had happened before. Lindsey considered herself to be a rational person. She didn’t believe in ghosts or aliens or Big Foot or the supernatural in general. Still, the words of her daughter echoed in her mind: “But Mom, if you didn’t do this and we didn’t do it, then who or what did?”

  A bang caused Lindsey to jump. She quickly realized it was just the neighbor slamming the door of his pickup truck.

  Lindsey closed her eyes.

  Okay, this is ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this house.

  Lindsey popped a fresh stick of Spearmint into her mouth. She felt stupid for allowing her children’s inquiries about monsters to spook her. Lindsey quoted a line from a song she had heard.

  Lindsey turned up the volume as she resumed watching television. She left all the lights on.

  * * *

  Part II

  No Sleep Till Sahalish

  Despite his weariness, Max had managed to wake up early and get in a decent workout. Then he headed to the hospital for his monthly infusion. His workout had consisted of some lightweight resistance training on his arms, legs, and abdominals. He had even got in a brisk amount of cardio burning over three-hundred calories on the elliptical machine. Max figured he probably could have done some more intense lifting. He knew he definitely could have tried to run longer. Getting on the elliptical machines and listening to music while he exercised was something he considered more of a cathartic release versus a workout, but part of managing MS was knowing when not to push your body too far, especially if he had been feeling wobbly like yesterday or was extremely fatigued.

  “Are you still doing okay, Mr. MacAulay?”

  The question came from Nicole Waters. She had been a nurse at C.T. Harrison hospital since Max had been coming here infusions. She was young (in her mid-twenties) and had come to the hospital straight from nursing school. She was beautiful with light brown eyes and short, neatly cut black hair. Max and she enjoyed flirting with each other had never taken it any further. One, Max didn’t know if Nicole would have taken it even farther even if they both desired it. Two, and more importantly now that he was in a committed relationship with Jen, he wouldn’t have gone there even if Nicole was willing to. Jen was all the woman he needed and more.

  “How can any man not be doing okay with you taking care of them?” Max said.

  Nicole laughed. A smile lit up her face showing perfect white teeth.

  Max returned the smile

  “If only that were true,” Nicole said. “There are some patients in ICU that might disagree with you.”

  Max chuckled. “Well, you know there are some people that if one day they suddenly sat down and shat out a gold brick they would do nothing but complain about hemorrhoids. That sounds like these patients you are talking about.”

  This brought a short burst of laughter from the nurse.

  Max leaned back in his chair. “I am all good right now.”

  “Well, if you need anything, just let me know,” she said.

  “Anything, huh?”

  Nicole chuckled. It was deep and genuine. It was one thing Max liked about her.

  “Anything related to this infusion,” Nicole added.

  Max feigned a sigh of disappointment.

  “I have to handle some other stuff. You are not the only patient in this hospital but if you need something just let me or one of the other nurses know,” Nicole said

  “Yes, Ma’am. Will do.”

  Max watched as Nicole walked away. His eyes lingered on her form. For a moment, he thought about Jen and felt guilty.

  What the hell? Max thought. I’m en
gaged, not dead. I may not be able to touch but damn if I can’t look.

  Once Nicole was gone, Max’s attention returned to his immediate surroundings. The outpatient infusion room of C.T. Harris hospital was nice, complete with recliner chairs and two fifty-inch flat-screen televisions for patients to watch while they waited. A song was playing at low volume over the speaker system. Max recognized the song as Head Over Heels by Tears for Fear. The amenities, coupled with the cordiality of the staff, helped to make his monthly visits easier.

  The only other person in the infusion room today was a young woman who looked to be in her late teens to very early twenties. The girl was wearing faded jeans, a black t-shirt that said I (heart) Nerds written in bright pink letters, and black combat-style boots. She had thick black glasses. On her left arm, neon glow bracelets (hot pink, lime green, and sunburst yellow) completed her outfit. The girl’s hair was dyed bright purple and half of her head was shaved bald. What condition the girl was getting treated for Max did not know. Normally if he came across another MS patient being treated, they would talk about their experiences. As it was, the girl’s attention was focused on her iPad with a devotion that was unwavering.

  Not wanting to interrupt the girl, Max scanned the overhead TV sets. The sound was turned off on both the TVs, but the captions were on so the viewer could tell what was being said. One screen was showing the details on a football player that Max didn’t recognize that was in some sort of legal trouble. The other TV showed show two political pundits debating. Neither topic held his interest. Max turned his attention back to the novel on poltergeist he had downloaded to his phone. Besides his phone, the only thing he had brought with him was an Adidas parka. He tolerated the infusions fine. The only thing is sometimes he got a chill while infusing. When that happened, he would wrap the parka around him like a blanket.