by Michael Bray
BOX OF TERROR
2
MICHAEL BRAY
Copyright © 2016 Michael Bray
http://www.michaelbrayauthor.com
The moral right of Michael Bray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Dark Corners
Whisper
Echoes (Whisper Trilogy book II)
Voices (Whisper Trilogy book III)
Funhouse
Forgotten Fears
From the Deep
Return to the Deep
Spawn of the Deep
The Island
Cody Rexell & the Death Worm
Project Apex
Eradication: Project Apex book II
The Last Mutation
Hope House Chronicles I: The Visit
Hope House Chronicles II: The Possession
Art (With Matt Shaw)
Monster (With Matt Shaw)
Home Video (With Matt Shaw)
Trapped (With Matt Shaw)
The House that Hell Built (With Matt Shaw & Stuart Keane)
Seat 6A
Cabin Fever
Shoebox
Scarecrows
Scratchers
Something in the Dark
BOX OF TERROR 1
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for purchasing this box set of my work, and the second in the box of terror series. As with the first set, I have tried to provide a cross section of titles to give an idea of the type of work I write. If you enjoy this book and want to learn more about my titles, please consider joining my mailing list over at www.michaelbrayauthor.com where I offer free titles regularly to members as part of my one time a month newsletter. I really appreciate you taking a chance on me and my work and hope that what you are about to read entertains you.
CONTENTS
VERTIGO
SCARECROWS
IMPLANTS
BURGER VAN
VERTIGO
Shawn lowered the newspaper and looked across the table to his wife. "Hey, Chrissy, you seen this?"
She put the half eaten toast back on her plate and took the paper from him.
"What am I looking at?" she asked.
"Bottom of the page, the ad," Shawn said, picking up his own toast and taking a bite.
The advertisement was discreetly placed in the middle of the classifieds and would have been easy to miss
CONQUER YOUR FEARS!
Are you afraid of Spiders? Heights? Enclosed spaces?
Free yourself from these limitations and live a free and happy life. Using our revolutionary new easy program, you can overcome those things that scare you. For more information email us at [email protected]
Chrissy lowered the newspaper and looked at her husband. "Seems a bit vague."
"Give it a try. You never know."
"I don't see the point."
"Don't you want to be able to ride a roller-coaster, or visit the Grand Canyon? Beating your fear of heights will open things up to you."
"I'm not so sure," she said, scanning the ad again.
"Just send them an email and see what they say. If it seems like a scam, then it's not cost you anything."
She set the paper down, having every intention of ignoring it, then realized Shawn was right. She was in her mid-thirties and being afraid of heights was silly. She did want to do those things like ride roller-coasters or go to the Grand Canyon, and as it seemed like it was important enough to Shawn to point it out to her, she would try it. She picked up the newspaper again and turned to the ad, then used her phone to compose a quick email asking for more information.
When she had finished, Shawn was looking at her across the table. "Have you sent them an email?"
"Yeah, no reason not to. It might help us."
"Exactly," Shawn said as he turned his attention back to his breakfast. As they sat, Chrissy's phone vibrated. She picked it up and opened the email that had arrived.
"It's from the phobia people," she said.
"That was quick."
She opened the email and read it. "It looks like one of those automated response emails."
"What does it say?"
"Thank you for your inquiry and for taking the first step in conquering your fear! Please fill in the questionnaire below and let us set you on the road to recovery."
"What sort of questions are they asking?" Shawn said.
"Nothing too intrusive. Name, age, address, marital status, the usual stuff."
"Any mention of how much it costs?"
"No, I don't think so," she said, scrolling through the rest of the email. "It just says more information will be provided on receipt of the questionnaire."
"Anywhere that doesn't give you the cost upfront always makes me wary."
"It's not like we're committing to anything, though. Besides, I'm quite curious now."
"May as well fill it in then, you never know," Shawn said. She loved that about him. He was always so supportive towards her; always there to help in whatever she chose to do. Even though until she had seen the ad it had never occurred to her, she now desperately wanted to beat her fear of heights so she could move on with her life and do the things Shawn had mentioned. Her breakfast forgotten, she filled in the questionnaire.
***
"What time is your appointment?" Keisha asked. They were in a coffee shop neither of them had been to before on the outskirts of the city.
Chrissy checked her watch. "Half an hour."
"You nervous?" Keisha asked. She and Chrissy had been best friends for years. Keisha had kind eyes and a bright smile and had agreed without question to accompany Chrissy to her first appointment for her phobia treatment.
"Yeah, I am a little. I still don't know what to expect. This has all happened so fast. It was only a week or so ago that I filled in the questionnaire. Now I'm here."
Keisha looked across the road to the featureless building down the street. "It doesn't look like much, their office I mean."
"That was definitely the address they gave me. Thanks for coming with me. I appreciate it. Shawn would have come, but he's working."
"You know I don't mind. This is a big step for you though. How do these people help you beat the phobia?"
"I don't know. Today is just an initial consultation with a specialist. A guy called Reeves."
"Like Superman?" Keisha asked, unable to help but grin.
"No, not like Superman," Chrissy said, put at ease and smiling herself.
"And how much is this costing?"
Chrissy sipped her coffee. "Free consultation. You know as much as I do. I just hope they can help."
"I bet it's some kind of hypnosis thing. A girl I knew once managed to stop smoking by just listening to these special recordings as she slept, of this guy talking telling her she didn't want to smoke anymore."
"Did it work?"
"For a month or two. She's back to a twenty a day habit."
"Great," Chrissy said as she finished her coffee.
"Just don't get your hopes up until you know all the info. There are a lot of scammers out there looking to make money from people in any way they can, phobias included."
"That's why I brought you. You're my bullshit filter."<
br />
Keisha grinned. "Damn right I am. First sniff of a scam and we leave. Got it?"
"Absolutely."
"Then finish your coffee and we'll head over and see what they say."
TWO
The building was unremarkable. There was no buzzer, no signage for the company of any kind. They pushed the door open and entered a murky foyer with dark brown carpets. An air conditioning unit growled on the wall. There was a fire escape door and a single narrow staircase in the same brown carpet which climbed out of sight. On the wall beside the steps, was a small card sign taped to the wall with an arrow pointing to the steps. Above it, in large block text was a single word:
PHOBIAS
"Classy place," Keisha said, looking around the small deserted space. "I'm not holding out much hope for this being the miracle cure you want it to be."
"Me either, but we're here now so we may as well take a look," Chrissy said. She looked around the foyer again then at the staircase. "Looks like this is us."
"After you," Keisha said. "You're the one with the appointment after all."
The two friends grinned at each other then began to ascend the steps, the tired floorboards creaking as they walked. At the top, they turned onto an equally dark corridor and through a fire door. Beyond, there was a waiting area and reception desk behinds which a frizzy haired woman typed at a computer, her headset perched on her perm. It was a brighter space, the windows on one side of the room letting in the warmth of the sun. Beyond the woman was another closed door. To their right, a waiting area with grubby sofas and a coffee table filled with magazines. Chrissy and Keisha shared a quick glance, both fighting off the urge to smile, then approached the desk.
"Hi, I have an appointment to see a Mr. Reeves," Chrissy said.
The frizzy haired receptionist looked at the two women then back at her computer. "Can I take your name, please?"
"Sandoval. Christina Sandoval."
The receptionist typed something on her keyboard and then smiled. "Please go on through, Mr. Reeves had a cancellation, so can see you straight away. Your friend can wait here in reception."
"Can't I go in with her?" Keisha asked.
"I'm afraid not. The free consultation is for one person only. You are welcome to help yourself to coffee whilst you wait, though."
Keisha was frowning, and looked at Chrissy.
"It's alright, it's just a consultation," Chrissy said.
"Yeah, well remember, don't buy anything today. Don't let them pressure you into it, got it?"
"I hear you."
"I'll be right out here."
"Stop fussing. I'll be fine, okay?" Chrissy smiled and then turned back to the receptionist. "Through that door?"
"Just go right in. Mr. Reeves is expecting you."
Christina walked up to the door, knocked once then went inside the room.
THREE
The office was small and as dull as the rest of the building. A rotating fan hummed in the corner, pushing the sticky air around the small space. A desk was in the middle of the room, behind it, a small balding man in glasses sat, hands palms down on the table.
"Mrs. Sandoval?" He said, motioning to the tatty blue chair opposite him. "Please, take a seat."
Christina sat down, wondering why she had been so worried. Reeves was flabby and had old acne scars dotted over his skin. She watched as he picked up his glasses from the desk, put them on, then picked up a blue folder and looked inside.
"Alright, Mrs. Sandoval, let's see what we have. It says here your phobia is of heights."
"That's right," Chrissy said, meeting Reeves’ eyes for a second before he turned them back to the folder.
"Is that a medical condition?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean do you suffer from such things as vertigo?"
Christina shook her head. "No, I just... I don't like heights."
"I see, and how serious are you about overcoming your fears?"
"I'm just here for the consultation. I'm not committing to anything yet." Christina said.
"Which is why I'm asking you this question. Neither of us wants to waste our valuable time today I'm sure. Some people come here and say they want to conquer their fears and then when we start the program, they find that they are not as sure as they first thought."
There was something in Reeves' voice. Pride, or maybe a very lightly veiled threat. Christina wasn't about to be pushed around by a little man in a shitty office, though. She leaned across the table, smiling slightly. "I was told this was just a friendly, no obligation consultation."
"It is," Reeves said.
"You're being a little pushy, Mr. Reeves. I don't even know what it is you do here."
Reeves closed the folder and smiled. "You're right. I do apologize. I have a passion for the job, that’s all. I get quite carried away. The joy of helping someone overcome their deepest fears is unrivalled. The gratitude they have at the conclusion of the program is incredibly rewarding."
"I'm sure it is," Christina said. She had already made up her mind not to proceed and was just humouring Reeves until she could make her escape.
"The reason I was asking about your commitment, was that we currently have an exemplary success rate amongst those who complete the program in full."
"That’s good. It shows that whatever it is you're doing, works."
Reeves grinned and set the folder down on his desk. "It does more than work, Mrs. Sandoval. It's flawless."
"Nothing is one hundred percent perfect."
Reeves opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He set it on the surface and slid it towards her, his gold wedding ring catching the sun. Absently, she thought that he didn't seem the marrying type.
"See for yourself, Mrs. Sandoval. The statistics don't lie."
She picked up the sheet and looked at them, then across the table at Reeves, for the first time taking it seriously. "Is this real?"
"Absolutely. We are proud of our program. It works."
She looked at the sheet again and was less inclined to leave. "A one hundred percent success rate?"
"Yes," Reeves said, grinning with pride.
"You're telling me that everyone who has taken part in your program has been one hundred percent cured of their phobia?"
"Not everyone who takes part, Mrs. Sandoval. Everyone who completes the process. A very clear difference, which again brings me back to my questioning of your commitment. I wasn't at all trying to be rude or seem forward. I'm sure you can appreciate that we devote a lot of time and resources into each individual client to ensure we can give them our full attention and tailor the program to their exact needs. Without a full commitment from both parties, we would all be wasting our time, which is what I was trying to get across earlier rather less eloquently I'm afraid." He smiled again, and Chrissy returned the gesture.
"Let’s just say I was interested, what do I do? How much does it cost?"
"The program is quite simple. Phobias and fears are in the mind. The brain processes reactions in different ways in different people. That’s why some people are scared or rats and spiders, others enclosed spaces or drowning, and some in your case are afraid of heights. Our program essentially reconditions the brain not to be afraid of such things. Have you ever heard of the rule of ten thousand, Mrs. Sandoval?"
Chrissy shook her head.
"It's essentially the idea that in order to be a master at a given vocation, be it a businessman, policeman, artist or writer, that an individual has to devote around ten thousand hours to a given subject. The idea being that many of the functions of the said task, those which require thought and specific application, become automated to a degree, allowing the individual to do those tasks automatically without thinking. Our program uses those same principles in a greatly condensed manner. We retrain that area of the mind to eliminate that particular fear forever. Think of it in the same way a magician performs his illusions. Smoke and mirrors for the brain. We change its perceptio
n."
"That's some guarantee."
"The figures don't lie, Mrs. Sandoval. Everything now depends on you and if you want to beat this fear and move on with your life."
"Which brings me back to my second question. How much?"
Reeves folded his hands on the table top. "This is where our service is unique."
"Why do I get the feeling this is going to be expensive?"
"I will be straight with you, Mrs. Sandoval. Our program is fifteen thousand dollars, all in. That gets you our tailored unique one to one service and a guarantee of a result."
"Forget it. That’s too much. Sorry to have wasted your time." She was about to stand when Reeves held out a hand to stop her.
"Wait a moment please, Mrs. Sandoval. I didn't tell you the best part."
"Go on."
"We are so confident that we can cure your fear completely, that we will put you through the program without charging you anything until it is complete. What I'm saying is that if we don't fully cure your fear of heights, if we fail in any way, then you pay nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing," Reeves repeated.
"Even so, that's a lot of money."
"It is. Which is why we also provide an easy monthly payment plan after successful completion of the program."
Her instincts told her to forget it, to walk away. The commitment was huge and there were no guarantees. The only thing that stopped her was remembering Shawn, and the things he mentioned that they could do together if she were no longer afraid. She asked herself if that was worth fifteen grand, and decided that it was.
"How would we proceed if I decided to go ahead?"
Reeves opened another drawer in his desk and slid a document to her. "Simple contract, Mrs. Sandoval. As you will see it is written in plain English and without jargon. Please take as long as you need to review it."
She had no intention of signing anything but decided a look couldn't cause any harm. Just a peek and nothing else. She picked up the contract and began to read.