As he stared, another drop of water from her hair and onto the floor leaving a familiar, dark stain. And now, Wells began to feel afraid again. Staring at her face he cringed, her eyes were the same ones that had been staring at him from the slide and the jar.
Before he could cry out the doors burst open behind her.
Wells gasped as he saw that the brackish water had filled the entire room. But in spite of the doors standing wide open, the liquid did not come rushing out. Instead it stayed put, as if held in place by a clear barrier, like at an aquarium. But he knew there was no glass to keeping it in place.
As he stood there paralyzed with terror, black tendrils shot out from the wall of dark water and grabbed him. In the blink of an eye he was yanked back into the room and the doors slammed shut.
The sound of the doors shutting was still echoing in Alex’s head as his eyes shot open and he looked around. He was leaning up against the railing of the stone bridge and staring down at him with a face full of concern was Jason Cloudfoot.
“Are you all right?” the older man asked gently.
“I think so.” breathed Alex and looked around, “What happened to the girl?”
An odd look crossed the groundskeeper’s face before he answered, “She told me what had happened. I was just coming to look for you when I heard you cry out.”
“I cried out?” Alex frowned. “No, there was a scream… it was everywhere… Then I was in a hallway, heading for the doors of the Morg…”
“Where are you Youngster?” a voice called from the darkness.
It was Chief Peterson.
“Alex?” called Cassandra from somewhere even nearer.
Jason helped him to his feet and said, “If you will listen to me, say very little. Tell only what happened up to the moment you heard the scream and no more. Don’t even mention that I was here with you. We’ll talk again soon.” Then he headed back to his cottage on the other side of the bridge.
“There you are,” cried Cassandra appearing out of the dark a moment later. “Where have you been all this time?”
“What do you mean? Have I been gone long?” he frowned.
Before she could answer, Roy joined them. “You’ve been gone almost an hour. Now do you mind telling me what you’ve been up to… Where’s your jacket?”
Remembering Jason’s warning, Alex replied, “I was helping this girl I found standing in the water. I thought she’d fallen in. So I put my jacket around her and was taking her back to her friends when I had another episode, like the one I had at the Morgue.”
“Are you okay now?” asked Roy.
“I think so,” Alex replied, “but I have no idea of what happened to the girl.”
“I think I do,” remarked Cassandra wandering over to the far end of the bridge. Once there she knelt down and picked up what had to be his missing jacket. It was soaking wet and badly stained. Holding it out like a dead fish she brought it back to him saying, “The girl probably dropped it when you collapsed.”
“She probably got frightened and ran back to her friends,” Roy agreed, “Oh well, let’s get you back to the party. Do you need help, Youngster?”
Alex shook his head, but still walked carefully.
“I’ll get this cleaned for you,” Cassandra offered, still holding the jacket at arm’s length. It smelled awful.
“Thanks,” he replied absently. The terrible cold was still lingering inside him, only it was much worse than when he encountered it at the Morgue.
The Morgue… those things he’d seen during his blackout, had any of it been real? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did a man lie dead in the basement level of the hospital not far from here?
Turning to Roy he said casually, “Must be quiet at the station. I figured you’re cell phone would’ve gone off about four or five times by now.”
His friend grunted. “The Missus made me turn it off while we were inside. But since we’re out here I can check it quick,” he said pulling it out and turning it on. Almost immediately it beeped, and he began checking his messages.
As he watched his friend, Alex silently prayed his suspicions were wrong. But then he saw Roy suddenly stiffen and then quickly dial a number. But apparently there was no answer, because he tried several more times before putting the device away and excusing himself.
“Alex, has something happened?” asked Cassie, eying him curiously.
“I can’t say,” he replied absently, “I’ll know for sure if he gets in his car and makes a left turn when he reaches the end of the driveway.”
Together they watched as Roy headed straight for his vehicle. A moment later he raced down the driveway and turned left at the gates.
seEds of doubt
“Same as the others,” murmured Chief Peterson, staring at the body of the Medical Examiner.
“He looks like he fell in a pond or something,” remarked Ryan O’Connor, from nearby. “And there’s not a drop of water anywhere. No puddles, no wet footprints leading to or from the body.”
“Make a complete sweep the room,” his boss instructed. “Check the doors and every smooth surface for fingerprints. And keep an eye out for any notes he was taking, and check the corridor too. Maybe we’ll find footprints or something.”
“Yes sir,” the patrolman nodded and then frowned. “Did you notice the smell Chief?”
Roy nodded, “Yeah, same as what we found at the Impound Lot. Which means the same kind of water was probably used.”
Ryan nodded, “Funny how it’s still hanging around. The fans are going full blast. Were they on when you got here?”
“Yeah, they were,” Roy told him and began to wander around the room. He noted two places where the stench seemed much stronger.
One was the body itself, which made sense. The other was an empty jar on the table. There was a label on it, indicating that it had come from the Graham estate.
A few moments later, Ryan appeared at his side holding a piece of paper. “Chief, we found this on the desk.”
Peterson looked down and read what was written on it. ‘Hill? Check with Sergeant Ross’. After a moment he said quietly and firmly, “I’ll handle it.”
The next morning, Veronica was silently studying her love from across the table. She was very worried about him. Just before she left the station last night, she’d heard about Dr. Wells’ murder in the Morgue. She’d offered to go and assist but had been told they already had enough people on hand. So she’d come home to find Alex already in bed and fast asleep.
A part of her thought he looked a little pale at the time, but thought nothing of it. Then this morning when the phone on the nightstand rang, she got to it before Alex even stirred. Normally he was the first one to answer when it rang.
Putting down her coffee she said, “You’re not looking too good.”
“The Open House got a little wild,” he joked. “But it was worth it. Cassie put a really big offer in. So unless someone wants to get into a pissing contest with her, she’ll get it. And I’m sure she’ll be willing keep people away from there until the all clear is given.”
Now she was sure something was up. He’d made a joke and then went off on a tangent. This was his typical M. O. for avoiding a question. “Alex?” she said gently, “What aren’t you telling me?”
This time his shoulders slumped and he sighed, “All right. I knew you’d find out eventually. I was the man on grassy knoll in Dallas back in ’63. I was also the flasher over at the library last week.”
“The flasher was a woman,” she pointed out.
“We British are famous for our cross-dressing,” he replied and went back to his tea.
She began to nod when it hit that flashers were usually naked under their coats. ‘Okay, he wants to play,’ she thought narrowing her eyes. Well, she knew how to deal with him when he got like this.
Suddenly, she was out of her seat and looming over him as if he were a suspect under interrogation. “All right you’ve had your fun. Now start talking,” s
he snapped, banging her fist on the table, “Tell me what happened last night? And I want details mister. I want time, place, and witnesses, everything!”
She could tell right away she’d caught him off guard. The look on his face read, ‘Bloody hell I’m in it now. I better start talking.’ And a moment later he did. After a while she almost wished he hadn’t. As soon as he told her about going down to the stream after what he thought was a guest gone astray, she had a bad feeling about what was to come.
At first she was proud of him for helping the girl he found in the water and putting his jacket around her. But then he told her what happened when he tried to escort his charge over the bridge, Veronica became alarmed. Hearing how he was hit by that intense cold and terrifying wail again was a real shock. But when he also described his dream in detail she was outright frightened for him.
Finally he finished up by saying, “The vision felt so real, I got Roy to check his voicemail messages. Next thing I knew he got into his car and headed off in the direction of the hospital. And that was it. I didn’t hear or see him again for the rest of the party. When things wrapped up there I came home and went to bed, because I was still feeling off.”
Veronica sat back down frowning. She didn’t like the sound of any of this. Not just because of what happened to him but where it had taken place. Finally she said aloud, “I really wish you hadn’t told Roy to check his messages.”
Alex gave her a shocked look, “Why not?”
He could be so naïve sometimes. “Because then he wouldn’t have been the one to find Wells’ body in the morgue last night,” she explained patiently.
“Damn,” Alex sighed, “so it was a vision.”
“Partly,” she nodded, “I sincerely doubt that it happened the way you saw it. But, he was drowned and the water used to kill him was the same as before. And unfortunately, YOU were found near the source of that water.”
“So?” Alex shrugged, “Doesn’t mean I did it.”
She gave him a look, “Alex the hospital is less than two miles from where you were last night. Plus, you were missing for an hour before Roy and Cassandra found you near the stream.”
Alex stared at her for a moment and said, “I now understand what people mean when they say the police have a very disturbing way of thinking.”
“Just pray that no one else at the station starts thinking along those same lines,” Ronnie sighed and started gathering her gear to go in to work. Hopefully, she’d be able to find out more about the case from her co-workers.
After Veronica left, Alex grabbed a random book off one of the shelves and ran a hot bath for himself. He had hoped a good read and a hot soak would take his mind of things.
Unfortunately, after settling into the tub, he discovered the book was one of H. P. Lovecraft’s. He quickly put it aside. As far as he was concerned, he’d had enough macabre in the last twelve hours. Though, now that he thought about it, not all of Lovecraft’s writings were works of horror.
A good deal of the things that appeared in the man’s works involved beings from other worlds. The “horror” in the stories came mainly from the narrators who had encountered these beings whose very appearances were so alien and terrifying to them.
“Right that’s enough of that,” he said aloud trying to dismiss the subject. It was time to try and let the bath do its job. His body ached something terrible. It always did when his visions were so intense. The strain was more than just mental; it also took a toll on him physically.
Of course there were other things, besides visions that could take their toll on him. Like back in Massachusetts…
‘No, I don’t want to think about that place,’ he told himself silently, but the faces of Dorothy, Chalmers, and his cousin Rick loomed large in his mind. He hadn’t been able to help or save any of them.
“We were totally out of our league. What had we been thinking?” he muttered and stood up. Getting got out of the tub, he let the water drain, and dried off. Then he wandered into the bedroom and stared at the bed. Veronica had fixed it up so it was ready to receive him at any time.
God she was wonderful.
But he didn’t feel like lying down right now. Instead, he went over to a recliner chair near the window. He liked to sit there in the morning, or during the night, and watch his lady sleep sometimes. She looked so peaceful and beautiful. Even when she woke up he loved how she looked, pillow hair and all.
Things between them were almost perfect. The only problem was that she wouldn’t marry him. No matter how deeply they felt for each other, she couldn’t get over the difference in their ages. She seemed to forget the fact that he’d be getting older too. He didn’t have a portrait of himself hidden away somewhere that suffered the effects of aging, leaving him eternally young and handsome.
It was silly of her to think that he wouldn’t want her as she grew older. She was mature, exciting, intense, deep, passionate and sensual. Of course she’d tell him he could find those same qualities in any woman his own age, but he disagreed.
He’d been with women his own age and they’d been enjoyable. But they didn’t have the same feel that a few more years of living brings to a person.
Veronica had loads of experience with life. He’d recognized it as soon as he spotted her. He hadn’t realized just how much older she was at the time, but it didn’t matter. She possessed an aura and beauty he’d rarely encountered before.
And it had been obvious to him that she was a police officer. Her whole bearing pretty much announced it to the world.
He could sense she’d had a lot of experience with both the light and dark sides of life. And that she was determined to keep trying to work for the light. But he had also sensed something else, loneliness. A cop’s life was not something just anyone could share in. He’d learned that from friends who had gone into law enforcement. Many of them were divorced or separated, sometimes more than once.
The work could take a terrible toll on you and those around you. Sometimes you wanted someone to open up to who could help you forget. Then, other times you simply wanted to be alone. Not an easy thing to say to those closest to you, when they just wanted do was reach out to you.
Then there was fear that every day you walked out the door in uniform, that you may not come back. There were all kinds of dangers you faced; armed robbery, crazed drug addicts, domestic violence, drunken brawls or worse.
He hadn’t been sure how to approach her at first. The fact that he had been dancing with her boss’s wife had been pure chance, which convinced him that fate was giving him a nudge in her direction.
Without realizing it his eyelids began to droop, as his whole frame relaxed into the soft cushions of the chair. Now he was mentally wandering down other corridors from his past.
Of course there had to be a starting point to everything. And his interest in older women went back much farther than Veronica. He didn’t suffer from an Oedipus complex. He didn’t long for the mother he lost at such an early age.
Like any child or grown up who had lost a parent, he sometimes wished he could have another few moments with her. Sharing a cup of tea, having a nice conversation, or taking a long walk together... but that was all.
No, his interest in older women started later, when he was twelve.
Dorothy Waterman.
He began to drift off.
Dr. Dorothy Waterman, 35 years old and built like a brick privy. She had been his first when he was only twelve. Oh, the things she had shown and taught him in those few days.
Dorothy.
He could still taste her. How they kissed and pleased each other. It had made no sense to either of them at the time. But he knew now. The house had done it to them. Harlequin had gotten inside them and made them do those things to each other. But it had felt good, the panting, the moaning…
Then came the screaming…
Those had belonged to him mostly. And he hadn’t been able to stop.
Dorothy had gotten him free from those… things.
God what they had tried to do to him… He still felt violated by their touch.
Him and Dorothy… running along the third floor landing, when it warped itself and threw them over the railing. She had held onto him and twisted their bodies at the last moment…
Then only he was still screaming.
His lover lay broken on the marble floor beneath him. The place had taken her from him. Now it wanted him, and he couldn’t move. He was frozen in place by the presence invading his mind which threatened to swallow everything he was.
Then hands grabbed him and a voice said, “I’ll get us out, son. Hang in there.”
It had been Chalmers. Good old dying Chalmers… the lower half of one of his legs was missing. The trail of blood he left in their wake stretched across the marble floors to another door that led downstairs.
The man did his best to pull him to safety. Alex remembered looking up towards the balcony that had thrown him and seeing his cousin watching them.
Rick… You’re dead… This place killed you…
Chalmers continued to try and pull him out of there, in spite of his own injuries. The man had been determined not to let either of them die inside that place. Alex remembered thinking, but you’ve already lost so much blood, Chalmers…
Then there were more screams, but they weren’t his.
Several figures appeared at their side. The newcomers grabbed each of them and hurried them towards the great doors that three others were struggling to keep open.
He turned to look at Dorothy. Was it too late to save her?
The broken figure was already melding with the floor. Her red hair… wait Dorothy had been a blonde. The head lolled to one side and stared at him with green eyes…
“NOOOOO!!!!” he screamed and found himself safely back in his grandparent’s home. It took him a moment to remember, they were both gone. But they had been alive back then.
The Bridge (Para-Earth Series) Page 16