Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

CHAPTER 1

  She knew what would be there, even before her trembling hand reached out and drew back the curtain.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ I wanted to say, ‘We both know what’s there, just don’t open the damn curtain and it will go away. Alright?’

  But I didn’t say it; rules and regulations. Instead all I could do was watch as with bulging eyes and trembling hand she tore aside the curtains, revealing the view out onto the front garden. And, twenty meters away, past the wooden picket fence; that god damned black horse. Its body shone in the moonlight and mane lay flat across its neck.

  It looked like a black horse. More then a dozen times I had witnessed similar scenes, and on every occasion the creature had made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. Its nature was completely absent of horse-like characteristics; no whinnying, no tail flicking, no twitching ears. And it stood rigid to the point it could be mistook for a statue, with only heaving flanks betraying the illusion.

  But it was the eyes that froze my blood. Like two smooth pale stones, too alert and calculating for an animal, never blinking and never straying from the girl. My brain screamed.

  And the girl had a similar reaction. She backed away with knuckles pressed against mouth. A muffled squawk escaped her.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she muttered, thrusting the curtains closed, “Oh God, why won’t it go away? Please go away, please go away.”

  But her eyes were already darting to the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

  ‘Yes, it will be there,’ I wanted to say, ‘Just don’t open the curtains. Don’t look, ignore it.’

  Slowly, head shaking and breath hissing between teeth, she staggered to the rear curtains and ripped them open. The black horse looked at her, head framed by the window and white eyes unblinking.

  And then the screaming started. Her mouth popped open and she wailed a piercing shriek so unchained it made me flinch every time. An expression of terror, so raw it trumped every horror movie in history, stamped itself on her face and would not depart till the scene concluded.

  “Oh God! Go away! Go Away!”

  She turned and lunged for the corridor. And now the voice made its appearance. A little late this time, the hissing, whispering voice, and vaguer then it had been previously, sounding more like the static of a dead radio frequency on this occasion.

  She stumbling, sending a decorative table crashing, but regained her footing and tore up the narrow corridor. I moved to follow; watching as she rounded a corner and flew into the bathroom, slamming the door in my face. I eased through it to again bear witness to the inevitable conclusion.

  The voice was starting to clarify. She cringed away from it, huddling her trembling body beside the toilet and drawing up both knees.

  ‘…mommy doesn’t want to ride baby… mommy doesn’t want to ride…’

  “Oh God go away!” she shrieked, hands clamping over ears, “Go away leave me alone! Leave me alone!”

  And then; the first clomp of hoof on tiled floor, from beyond the bathroom door. Her face froze in a mask of dread.

  Clop.

  Another one.

  Clop. Clop.

  The sound was drawing nearer, advancing across the living room.

  Clop. Clop. Clop.

  Her eyes widened with each hoof beat, mouth gaping so wide it took on the appearance of a wet tomb.

  Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.

  Just beyond the door now. She gaped, eyes locked on the door handle. Above us the yellow bulb flickered and grew dimmer.

  There was pause, then the handle turned and door swung open. Behind it the black horse was waiting. White eyes in a coal black face. Her piercing screech nearly drowned out the voice. But not quite.

  ‘…mommy doesn’t want to ride baby… mommy doesn’t want to ride…’

  “Alright, Clarence?” my examiner, Gibson, asked, “Bit of a rough one?’

  I blinked, trying to dispel the images. “It’s always a bit rough frankly, sir.”

  “Yes, indeed,” he chuckled, “Ready to proceed?”

  It should have been a relief to be back in reality, but the enormous hall was only marginally less disturbing then the horror in the girl’s head. My heart settled and I nodded.

  “I’m ready, sir. Go ahead.”

  “Excellent.” He adjusted his bifocals and referred to the clipboard. “What animal is the demon of Judy Carlson?”

  “A horse.”

  A mark was made on the clipboard. “And what colour was the animal?”

  “Black.”

  Another mark made.

  Just then Judy lurched on the bed beside me. I jumped, eyes fixing on her and heart cranking back up into overdrive. In my head the warning buzz sounded.

  “Sir..?”

  “What is it, Clarence?”

  Her body went rigid and jaw clenched, contracting muscles in her neck stood out like rope. And, dumping a bucket of ice water down into my loins, her eyes sprang open. I was sure she would scream, and even braced in anticipation. But no sounds emerged. Instead, sightless eyes stared at the ceiling, her cavernous mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish breathing air, then she was limp again.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, “Sir…”

  “What is it, Clarence?” Gibson repeated, looking up.

  “The girl…”

  He glanced at her. “She moved?”

  My head flapped up and down. But already the warning buzz was fading.

  “A bit startling isn’t it?” he said, smiling. But “reassured” was the last thing I felt. “Don’t be alarmed, Clarence. It happens from time to time after a session. Nearly jumped out of my shorts the first time I saw it.”

  “That’s normal?”

  “Yes, it happens. But I assure you she is in no physical pain.” His eyes hardened. “You didn’t interact with the projections, did you?”

  “No sir.”

  “Good. And that also happens to be the next question, so I’ll just put a tick here.” He paused and studied me, pen poised above clipboard. “You’re a little shaken, Clarence, aren’t you?”

  “A bit, sir.”

  “Yes I can see that. Why don’t we call it a day?”

  “Alright. Thank you, sir.”

  He put the clipboard aside and his bushy grey eyebrows merged. “Look Clarence, I know it can all be a bit troubling, but do try to understand the circumstances. Nobody likes what goes on in here, it’s just necessary. And somebody has to do it. Understand?”

  “I guess so, sir.”

  “If I can be honest I really rather hoped you would specialise with us. You are a true natural, there is no question. And we do so need you. But then other Heads of Department have said likewise, I assume?”

  “Some have, sir.”

  “Indeed. Well, don’t let me keep you, Clarence. Another excellent performance. Well done.”

  As I exited the hall, my hollow footsteps clicking on tiled floor, I recognised what I had just seen as among the most disturbing situations of my life. I had no idea who Judy Carlson was. Or, rather, who she had been. But the living nightmare that was her life clutched at my heart with such bottomless horror I would certainly never forget her face.

  Then again, I thought as I weaved between the beds, perhaps it was not her that was the most troubling thing I had ever witnessed, but the entire Godforsaken hall. Its row upon row of beds would put anybody at disquiet. A hundred of them, stretching off to the hall’s extremities. More?

  “Hello, Clarence,” a nurse said, pausing in her task of administering drugs, “Another good evaluation?”

  “Yes,” I replied, attempting to return the smile and failing.

  I had thought after the first visit it would get easier, that I would find the environment more bearable. On the contrary, it had been getting harder with every visit.

  And it was not the first time I had felt a bit shaken. Twice during recent visits I had had to fight off a creeping sensation that the terrible hall was somehow alive.
/>
  ‘Nerves,’ I told myself, ‘Just a few more weeks and you’re done.’

  But if I had bothered to stop and talk to the nurse, she might have told me that a peculiar thing had been happening in the hall. Judy Carlson was not the only restless sleeper.