by A. I. Nasser
Ivan pushed through the large metal door and quickly turned to the right, his feet barely audible as he strolled at a leisurely pace down the west wing of the floor. Although he had been given precise directions as to where his target would be, that hadn’t stopped him from doing his own research to confirm the information.
The nurse’s station was empty, something he knew was common practice around this time of the night. The psych wing usually closed shop early in the evening, and only a sudden, unexpected emergency would rouse the orderlies from their slumber. Ivan also knew that a single nurse checked in on the patients once every two hours to make sure all was well, and he had timed his arrival a good fifteen minutes after the last tour.
It would be a while before anyone realized something was amiss.
Making another turn, Ivan dug his hand into his scrubs and pulled out a vial and syringe, quickly filling the latter and pocketing everything again. He needed to be quick, and there was no reason to spend more time in his target’s room than was necessary. When he reached room 801, he turned the knob and quickly slid inside, closing the door behind him softly.
Daniel Cole sat in his usual position, staring out the window at nothing in particular, still as any other piece of furniture in the room. If not for the gentle wheeze of his breathing, he could have easily passed unnoticed in the dark. Ivan switched on the small fluorescent light and quickly scanned the hospital room before stopping in front of the former Chairman.
He had been given very little information on Daniel Cole, but the look on Elizabeth Gardiner’s face had betrayed her uneasiness towards the man. There had been a slight hint of fear in her eyes as she talked about him, and looking at the elder Cole now, Ivan could not see why. The white hair, the wrinkled skin, and the eyes that were fixated on some point far away. The old man looked harmless and quite pathetic.
Ivan felt like he was doing the world a favor.
He pulled the syringe from his pocket, undid the cap and gently pulled at Daniel Cole’s arm, pressing for a vein. The man’s skin was dry and cold to the touch, and Ivan wondered what would have become of the elder Cole had he not come to put him out of his misery. From what he knew, the man’s wife hadn’t been to see him since he had been brought in, and his son was missing. Daniel Cole had nobody left who cared whether he died or not.
“Sorry about this, old man,” Ivan whispered, “but it’s for the best.”
“Says who?”
Ivan felt his heart stop in his chest as his eyes snapped up and gazed directly into the cold blues of Daniel Cole. The man stared at him dangerously, frowning in rage as he suddenly grabbed Ivan’s arm and clenched tight. Ivan felt the fingers dig into his arm, and he forcefully pulled back, ready to strike at the old man.
But Daniel Cole had gone cold again, completely still in his chair, eyes staring straight ahead as if he had not moved just a few seconds before.
Ivan felt a chill race through him, and before he could give it more thought, he quickly plunged his syringe into the old man’s arm and pressed down. He waited to see if Daniel Cole would move again, and when it was clear the old man would not, Ivan pocketed the syringe, adjusted his scrubs and quickly stepped out of the room. He didn’t look back, fearing that if he did, he might see Daniel Cole staring after him with a grisly smile on his face.
Ivan Pullman raced down the hall and towards the emergency exit, praying he would never have to see Daniel Cole again.
***
David Whelm was the man of the hour.
Stepping off the elevator after a long night of interviews and press conferences, he felt like he could crumble into bed despite his elated mood. His agent was keeping him busy, had been for a few weeks now, and he was slowly feeling the stresses of fame. Still, it beat writing fluff pieces for the Bulletin, and David knew that if given the choice, he’d choose the stress over that in an instant.
He pulled out his cellphone and brought up the notes app, stopping in the hall for an instant to write down a reminder. The last interview, however, had been quite hostile, and the man who had interviewed him was definitely going to try and turn his words around. It was the price of fame, he knew, but that didn’t mean he had to be eaten up alive by a bunch of jealous journalists.
David froze when something cold pressed against his back, pushing against him and forcing him to straighten up. He knew what it was before he heard the click, and for an instant cursed the fact that after living his entire life in New York, he still couldn’t see a mugging coming from a mile away.
“Hello, superstar!”
David immediately recognized Fiona Bright’s voice and felt his body tighten up. He hadn’t expected to see the woman again except when she was caught and tried for the riots. He had always intended to book a front row seat to that hearing, often dreaming how he would smile and wave at the Sheriff as they escorted her away. Now, she was in his apartment building pressing a gun to his back, and David couldn’t bring up a smile to save his life.
“Sheriff Bright,” he said, trying to sound calm. “What a surprise.”
“Is it?” Fiona sneered. “I just heard you on TV saying people shouldn’t put anything past me, that I was as cold as they came. Isn’t that right?”
“Sheriff, you can’t truly believe all of that wasn’t scripted,” David tried to find a way out. “They tell me what to say. Surely you know that.”
“All I know is right now, I’m a wanted woman,” Fiona said, pressing her gun harder against David’s back, “and I have you to thank for that.”
“Me?” David scoffed. “Come on, Sheriff, we both know Stanley Turk was the mind behind everything. I was simply reporting.”
Fiona tapped the back of David’s head with her gun. “Apartment, superstar,” she said. “Now.”
“I quite like the hallway,” David said.
“Now!” Fiona hissed, pushing him forward with her gun.
David moved at a steady pace, trying to stay calm and not do anything rash that might upset the Sheriff. He reached for the keys in his pocket, slowly, pulling them out using only two fingers and holding them up for her to see. When he was satisfied she wasn’t going to shoot him, he unlocked his apartment door and led the woman inside, hearing the door close behind him.
“Keep moving,” Fiona ordered.
David complied, leading them both into his living room where he finally felt the weight of the gun against his back relieved and a hand push him forcefully towards the couch.
“So, let’s talk, shall we?” Fiona asked, her gun aimed at David as he slowly took a seat.
She took a quick look around the apartment, her nose scrunching at the underlying smell of leftovers and alcohol that seemed to blend in with an already dull furnished space. Apparently, the man of the hour hadn’t reaped the benefits of his sudden fame just yet, and Fiona couldn’t help but be amused at how much David Whelm’s apartment reflected the man himself.
David looked at her in anticipation, and when it was clear he didn’t have her full attention, he coughed into his fist and cleared his throat.
“This place is a dump,” Fiona said, eyeing the couch opposite to David before opting for a chair instead.
“I don’t spend a lot of time here anymore,” David explained. “As you know, I’ve been busy.”
Fiona nodded. “Right,” she said. “Selling the story of the year, one you helped create.”
“Okay, Sheriff, you really need to get this through your head,” David started. “I had no hand in anything that happened, alright? You could blame Stanley Turk and a bunch of drunk tourists for that.”
Fiona chuckled. “You might have convinced everyone else, Whelm, but not me,” she said. “I know what you did. The YouTube video, the meeting at the bar, the families all gathered together. That was all you. Stanley might have been a smart man, but he couldn’t have pulled all that off on his own.” Fiona gestured at David with her gun. “He had help.”
“You know what?” David started, raising his voice
in hopes that a sudden burst of anger might throw the former Sheriff off her game. “I don’t have to explain myself to a fugitive. You’re accused for almost a dozen deaths, not to mention covering up the Melington Kidnappings!”
“Oh, it has a name now?” Fiona asked, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.
“Oh yeah,” David smiled cunningly, “and your face plastered right next to every headline about it from here to Texas. A few more weeks and you’ll be public enemy number one, and I sure as hell won’t sit here and listen to you accuse me of some bogus conspiracy twisting and turning in that sick mind of yours.”
David never saw her coming. In an instant, Fiona was on her feet, crossing the short distance between them and slamming the butt of her gun against his jaw. David hollered in pain, instantly feeling the sharp scratch of a broken tooth against the inside of his cheek and the warm trickle of blood in his mouth.
“Are you done?” Fiona asked, pressing the muzzle of her gun against his temple, hard, forcing his head down. “Or do you have more bullshit to spew?”
David was about to say something along the lines of ‘you are going to pay for this’, or another dramatic comeback that would have only resulted in more pain. He decided to keep his mouth shut, relying on the angry look in his eyes to portray his feelings.
“Good,” Fiona said. “Now, since you’re well aware of my status as a fugitive, I’m going to need your help making sure I stay hidden.”
“Do you think no one will come looking for me if I don’t show my face in public?”
Fiona chuckled. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I have no intention on staying locked up in this shithole forever, and I certainly can’t trust you.” She tapped David’s head playfully with her gun, smiling as he flinched. “We’re going on a road trip, David. A nice long drive north across the border.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” David said, a final effort to get some control over the situation.
Fiona leaned in and grabbed him by the jaw. “Of course you are,” she smiled. “Besides, there’s someone who’s dying to meet you.”
***
The woman in red loved the night.
Ever since she was a child, she had relished the peaceful tranquility that came with the darkness, the only illumination provided by the moon and stars, an enchanting time full of mystery and excitement. Of course, when she was a child, the skies had been cleared and uninterrupted by the smog that now filled the air, but she was content in knowing there were still parts of the country where the constellations peeked through and smiled down at her.
She stood completely still in the shadows, a grin on her face as she gazed out at the house across the street. She could see the lights still on through the first floor windows, the curtains drawn to provide a warm glow across the house’s front lawn. It was a welcoming feeling, almost as if the inhabitants of the house were promising visitors a cozy night in with snacks and lazy conversation.
Victoria’s smile widened. It was exciting to know their world would soon be shattered.
She did not know when she had first felt the urge to wreak havoc upon the world around her. She had always been a loving child, and had grown up to become an even more peaceful woman. She believed it was her first marriage that had ruined her, the knowledge that she was barren and could not mother children of her own.
That was when her mind had snapped.
The woman in red turned to face her companion, the fat man standing quiet and motionless beside her, staring off into space. Peter Anderson was on cruise control, doing as he was told, content to serve and be rewarded in ways he had never thought possible. The woman in red knew he would do anything for her, a slave to her wishes and desires, and she loved the added power she had since she was free of the corridor.
Victoria leaned in and gave her companion a soft kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be long,” she promised, and was pleased when Peter simply nodded in understanding and stepped back, deeper into the shadows where she knew he would wait for her return.
The woman in red fluttered across the street, the soft breeze against her dress a beautiful reminder of the freedom she now enjoyed. She would have to thank Alan Carter for this opportunity, although she was sure he knew nothing of what he had done. Besides, she was still chained to the monster of the corridor, still enslaved to his will, and she needed Carter to keep searching for a way to break that.
She suddenly imagined Alan as her own, much like her current human toy. She felt a shudder race through her at the mere thought of it. Oh, the things she would do to him!
Victoria pushed through the picket fence encompassing the front lawn and gracefully walked up the porch and to the front door. Her bare feet were tickled by the grass and wood, the sensations of things other than cold stone a welcoming relief. She would enjoy the outside world; she knew that with every inch of her being.
She knocked on the front door and waited, the sounds of soft classical music echoing through the house as she heard footsteps approach. The man who opened the door was a typical Gardiner, his red locks accentuating the greens of his eyes and the soft freckles on his cheeks. She smiled as he stared at her in surprise.
“Hi,” Victoria smiled. “My car broke down, and I was wondering if maybe you could help me figure out what’s wrong with it.”
The man hesitated before looking over his shoulder and then back at her. “I’m not much of a mechanic,” he said, “but you could use the phone to call Triple A.”
“That would be wonderful,” Victoria smiled sweetly.
***
Nancy Gardiner woke up with a start.
There was a knocking on her bedroom door, and although the sound of her father’s classical music echoed through the house, it didn’t drown out the soft, methodical rapping.
Nancy sat up in bed, her fingers reaching for the Minnie Mouse lamp by her bed. She flicked the switch on, and frowned in confusion when she was rewarded with nothing but darkness.
The knocking came again, but this time she was wide awake, and she instantly realized the sound was not coming from her bedroom door at all. Nancy felt a shiver race through her as her head snapped towards the closet to her left, her eyes growing wide as she watched the door slowly creak open. She tried to call out for her father, but for some inexplicable reason, her voice caught in her throat, and all she could manage was a hoarse cry for help.
The closet door continued to open, the hinges scratching at the inside of her head like nails across a blackboard, and Nancy felt tears collect in her eyes as her body locked up and froze. A foul smell escaped from inside the darkness, diffusing through the room quickly, forcing her to gag and belch.
Go, a small voice in her head screamed. Go now!
Nancy suddenly felt a jolt of adrenaline burst through her, and with desperation she broke through her fear and quickly jumped out of bed. Driven by an instinctive urge for survival, she forced herself not to look back and made straight for her bedroom door, hoping she could escape whatever was coming for her through the closet door.
A hand suddenly burst out from under her bed and grabbed her by the ankle, a cold grasp that dug deep into her skin. Nancy fell hard, her head slamming against the floor, and the world around her swam dangerously out of focus.
“Where are you going?”
The raspy voice broke through her mind like nails, shattering her sanity. Nancy struggled weakly against the hand holding her, trying desperately to scream, her voice still failing her. She felt herself being pulled back forcefully into the darkness beneath the bed as a chuckle echoed through her room. A cold hand clasped over her mouth and she could smell the rot race through her sinuses and blur her vision with tears.
“We’re going to have so much fun,” a voice whispered in her ear as Nancy Gardiner disappeared under the bed.
In the emptiness of the eight-year-old’s room, a chuckle echoed from far away and the closet door closed.
FBI Report
Peter Anderson
&nbs
p; Peter Anderson, 11 Summit Drive, New Haven, Connecticut
I work for Lexley and Sons. I drive the delivery trucks.
Once or twice a week, usually across to Massachusetts, sometimes to Vermont. Haven’t been outside New England in ten years.
Melington is a common stop, sure. Our routes always pass through there, and I usually stop at the diner for a coffee and a cheese cake. Amber makes the best cheesecake ever.
No, I ain’t never seen her there before.
I’m not sure. One minute, she was all red dress flailin’ and sweet talkin’, and the next thing you know, she got me drivin’ her all around the state.
I don’t know, man, I told you. I was on cruise control for most of it. It was like I couldn’t control what I was doin’. I was there alright, I saw everythin’ that I needed to see and ain’t needed to, but there wasn’t a thin’ I could do about it.
Of course not. I’m married.
Don’t put words in my mouth. I just said I was drivin’ her around. I never said anythin’ more. That’s all you speculatin’ and crap.
Hey, I try to make a livin’, workin’ a decent job. I don’t need none of you micks tellin’ me what I should and shouldn’t have done. I already told you, I don’t know how she did it.
Sure, I was there. It was the last stop before the bitch ditched me and left me for dead. Can’t really say I was surprised, though. I was only a ride.
No, I ain’t never heard the name before.
No, not that one either. Was she the FBI woman who shot me? No? Then no, I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about.
Here, let me take a look at that. Sure, yeah, I saw him before. He was there when I was shot, made the woman I was drivin’ around mighty angry, too. She said he was tryin’ to kill her.