Dark Whispers 1: Invisible Friend

by Lily Taffel

  THE CANISTER OF loose tea leaves was fairly easy to find. Meg often had a cup during late nights and on nights where a child had a bad dream or, at times, a memory. It was good to have something soothing at those times.

  More than one night had been spent with her and a child sitting at the table as she drank her cup of Jasmine green tea and the child, oftentimes, hot chocolate.

  After setting up the dented metal tea pot, she took out her favorite purple mug and a less favorite mug with a picture of a cardinal painted on the side.

  Tony stepped into the kitchen, just as the tea was almost finished steeping.

  "Everything okay in there?" Meg asked.

  "Yeah. Bruce is whining a bit but he's fine," Tony said.

  He fell into a short silence before biting his lip slightly and asking a question.

  "You're okay with Bruce, right? You're not going to send him away?"

  The look of worry was etched deeply into Tony's face. Each of the creases was a picture of his fear-a picture that Meg did not want to see again if she could help it.

  "Bruce is fine," she said. He's very pleasant and I will certainly say he has a sense of humor."

  "Is he staying?" Tony pressed.

  "I don't see why he can't stay. As weird as it all is, I don't think sending him away will do any good. Besides, it's not like the neighbors can talk."

  Tony was smiling again, the relief he was feeling clear on his face. He hugged Meg quickly before running off to let Bruce know the good news.

  As she started to pour the tea into the mugs, she could hear the excited chatter from Tony in the living room, something she hadn't really heard much of from him before.

  That reason alone was enough to let Bruce stay.

  Chapter Four

  "SORRY. I'M NOT going to bring you the whole bottle of aspirin," Meg said, as she entered the living room with a tray carrying the tea and aspirin, along with a mug of hot chocolate for Tony she had made as an afterthought. "I don't feel like accidently killing anyone, imaginary friend or not."

  Bruce shrugged before taking the offered mug. "Fair enough," he said before taking a light sip of the tea to wash down the aspirin. "This is pretty good."

  "I thought you hated tea," Tony said.

  "Well, this tea doesn't taste like flavored water like it does when I make it," Bruce admitted. "I didn't think it would be that hard to make tea."

  Meg chuckled lightly at the comment. "It's not exactly as easy as boiling water and leaves. But I can show you how to make good tea if you like," she offered.

  Bruce sipped at the tea once more before answering. "If you can show me how to make it this good, we have a deal," Bruce said.

  Tony watched the scene silently now. The fact that Meg was more than accepting Bruce was great. Bruce getting along with Meg was just as good. As friendly as Bruce was, he could be picky about whom he actually liked as a person.

  Many times, Bruce had something sarcastic to say to people he didn't care for. The fact that he couldn't be heard was a shield for him. Now that someone else besides Tony could hear and see him, he had no shield to hide behind.

  But it appeared, in this case, he didn't need it.

  That alone made Tony curious.

  For once in a long time, he felt comfortable. He was safe and actually happy. Bruce was great by himself and Meg had been nice as well.

  Together, though, there was a new dynamic. One that got Tony thinking about something he had never thought possible until Meg was able to see Bruce.

  It would surprise Bruce that there was something Tony had kept secret from him all this time.

  There were times Tony thought of telling Bruce exactly what thoughts had been in his mind at the time he had read the poem. But in the back of his mind, there had always been the fear that, if Bruce knew, he would leave.

  It was a foolish thought perhaps but Tony didn't want to scare off the only friend he had in so many years, the one who covered his ears when his father went on one of his drunken rants. The one who made him laugh after a horrible day and the one who told him stories to help him sleep.

  To lose his friend would be to lose hope.

  So that was why Tony never told Bruce that he was what he had always wanted in a father. To Tony, Bruce had all the important aspects a father could have. He was friendly, full of humor, creative and protective. Even the librarian part of him had come from something in Tony's life that spoke of safety and contentment.

  The library was where Tony would hang out for hours on end. From opening to closing, he liked to sit among the stacks. Reading a book and sketching in his sketch pad, he was temporarily safe from reality and from his father. Adding in the profession of librarian to his ideal imaginary father was only natural.

  Looking at them both now, he saw the only good remnant of his past life in Bruce and the shine of a bright future in Meg.

  And maybe it was foolish to think this but a part of him wondered if, maybe, there was a way to bring those two things together.

  Granted there were hurdles. Tony didn't know how either felt about the idea of romance. And yeah, the fact no one but he and Meg could see Bruce was a problem.

  But there had to be some way around it. People always said love would find a way.

  Tony watched Meg and Bruce talk.

  And he planned.

  Chapter Five

  BRUCE ENDED UP sleeping on the couch that night.

  He insisted on it, in fact. That way, he would be near Tony's room if there were any problems and he wouldn't have to sleep on the floor, something he had been doing since the beginning of his existence. So the couch was a nice change of pace.

  Even with the comfortable setup, Bruce didn't fall asleep until Tony drifted off. Meg had a harder time sleeping than Tony or Bruce. After all, it's not like she expected to process all this sudden oddness in her life so easily.

  A part of her wondered why in the world she had agreed to let Bruce stay. As harmless as he seemed, there was the element of the unknown in the home now. Meg was used to a bit of the unknown when she was fostering a new child. But this was more than she had ever handled.

  Despite the thoughts running through her head, sleep did come, eventually. And, though she preferred to be up before noon, it didn't hurt to sleep a few minutes past noon. Still, she felt a little guilty about it so, as soon as she got up, she started on breakfast even though it was technically lunch.

  As she got the milk from the fridge, she considered waking Tony and Bruce. They had slept enough for the day as well.

  "Good morning."

  Meg shrieked and nearly dropped the milk in the process. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to keep a tight enough grip on the handle. She was also thankful she realized it was Bruce who had greeted her. The man was apparently a silent walker.

  "Don't do that!" Meg shouted.

  Bruce put his hands up in a mock surrender pose. "Sorry. That wasn't on purpose. Please don't throw anything at me again."

  "I'm not living that down for a while, am I?" Meg asked.

  "Not for at least a week," Bruce said.

  Pulling out one of the kitchen table chairs, Bruce sat and leaned back. He considered putting his feet up on the table but he thought better of it. Tony had never cared about where he put his feet up, but something told him Meg wouldn't be the same way.

  "Did you sleep well?" Meg asked.

  "Yeah. Slept pretty good. Very comfortable couch, by the way," Bruce commented. "By the by, how long have you been foster parenting?" he asked.

  The question seemed a little out of the blue but it was an easy one to answer.

  "A little more than ten years," Meg answered.

  "Any complaints?" Bruce continued to question.

  Meg placed the cereal box down on the table before looking up at Bruce. "Is this an interrogation?" Meg asked.

  Bruce gave a small shrug. "Yes. I guess so. All I want to do is ease my mind a bit more."

  "I don't think I
'd be in the foster care system if I wasn't proven a good caretaker."

  "Well, systems make mistakes. Things slip their notice. Small things like bruises under shirt sleeves, dark circles under a kids eyes because the kid can't sleep well on some nights in fear of what can happen..."

  The humor was gone from Bruce's face and was replaced with a quiet rage. It was a look that unsettled Meg.

  She hoped that she would not have to see that look again. Or at the very least, be the one to cause him to have that expression.

  Chapter Six

  "I NEVER THOUGHT about it. But you witnessed all of it, didn't you?"

  Bruce gave a curt nod. "One of the worst feelings in the world is to be helpless when someone you care about is being hurt. Goodness knows I tried to hurt the creep more than once. So many punches I swung that just weren't felt... I knew it was useless each time. But I kept trying. What else could I do?"

  Meg let Bruce sit there in the silence that followed his frank admission.

  "Sorry," he said, after a few moments. "I just want to make sure that he'll be okay. It's nothing personal."

  "No offense taken. Ask me anything you want. If anything, maybe it'll help ease your mind."

  "That helps. It really does," Bruce said. He paused a moment before picking up the cereal box and reading the label. "Got any cereal with marshmallows in it? I love that stuff."

  Meg almost questioned the idea of Bruce being able to even eat the cereal he requested. But then she recalled last night's intake of aspirin and tea. She would have to ask Bruce or Tony more about that subject.

  "I might have something of that kind. Let me look."

  It turned out Meg did not have anything with marshmallows in the house. Grocery shopping was a chore on the list for the day, though. So cereals of the sweet variety were added to the shopping list. Also on the to-do list was to go clothes shopping for Tony.

  THE TRIP TO the shopping district of the town was teeming with activity when they arrived. That was normal for the weekend. Meg was experienced enough in this event that she found a parking place without too much difficultly.

  Now that they were out and about on the street, Bruce was a little overwhelmed. Every new sight and sound attracted his attention. It was probably his protective streak over Tony that prevented him from running off to take a closer look at everything. This resulted in the surreal sight of people walking through Bruce as if he were a ghost.

  Tony wasn't bothered by the sight as he was used to seeing it. But it didn't escape Meg's notice.

  "Hasn't Bruce ever been outside before?" Meg asked Tony.

  "Of course he has. But the town we're from was never this busy. And we never went very far from the house. So this is new for the both of us," Tony explained.

  "Is it me, or is there like an overabundance of sidewalk trash cans in this district?" Bruce asked aloud.

  "Nervous?" Meg asked Tony.

  Tony shrugged slightly. "A little," Tony admitted.

  Meg put an arm around Tony and gave him a short side hug. "You'll be okay. Anyone messes with you and I'll be the first to punch them in the gut," Meg said.

  "I believe that," Tony chuckled. "But thanks. It's nice to know there's someone out there that will punch people on my behalf."

  "Hey! I would punch people, too, if I could," Bruce said.

  Neither Meg nor Tony doubted that, but they let that go without comment. Clothes shopping didn't take too long. Tony wasn't fussy over clothing styles and his size was fairly abundant in this store. He picked out what he wanted quickly and, within the hour, they had left the store.

  Somewhere between one of the many clothes store and a toy store was something that finally interested Tony.

  The town library stood out between the other buildings due to the fact that it was rather plain compared to them. Where the stores had large windows with colorful displays, the library was a simple, white painted building with nothing to display. It had caught Tony's eye immediately.

  "Hey, Meg," Tony said, "can I go hang out in the library while you do the grocery shopping? I won't go anywhere else."

  "Well... I guess that can't hurt. But if there are any problems, you use the front desk's phone and call my cell, okay?"

  "I will. I promise."

  "Okay, then. We'll be back to pick you up in about an hour."

  With that Tony scampered off into the library, leaving Bruce and Meg alone. Meg smiled at Bruce before adjusting the strap on her purse.

  "What say we get to the grocery store?"

  "Sounds good to me."

  THE GROCERY STORE trip took a bit longer than the clothes shopping because Bruce had an opinion on everything on the shopping list. Mainly on the healthier of the foods Meg picked up.

  "Okra? I thought people were making that word up when it was mentioned."

  Ignoring the commentary, Meg put the okra into the shopping cart. "It's really good in soup," she said.

  "It also looks like it's more for feeding a pet rabbit than humans," Bruce said.

  "And what do you feel is human food?"

  A young couple glanced over in Meg's direction with a frown. Meg reminded herself she was going to have to be more careful when she was talking to Bruce in public.

  She waited for the couple to move away before continuing the conversation. They did so at a quick pace so she didn't need to wait long.

  "If you must ask, I say things like burgers, fries, and the occasional pie sounds good," Bruce answered.

  Meg hardly was able to keep from rolling her eyes at the short and unhealthy list. She checked over a bag of baby carrots as she replied to Bruce. "I've noticed your taste leans to sugar and grease," Meg said.

  "Top of the food pyramid," Bruce said.

  "That's not true and you know it," Meg said.

  "Okay. More like the top of my personal food pyramid."

  "Time to add some new layers to your pyramid," Meg said, as she picked the bag of carrots she wanted and moved on to the celery.

  Bruce made a face in reply to that, which Meg ignored as well.

  "Tell me. Do you have commentary with your boyfriend's diet habits as well?"

  "Don't have one," Meg replied.

  Leaning against the pickles display stand, Bruce looked Meg up and down curiously. A short silence followed afterwards before he spoke in a surprised voice.

  "You're kidding me? You don't have a boyfriend or any significant other? I find that hard to believe," Bruce said.

  Meg gave a small rueful smile. "Not everyone wants to date a woman who already has a child. It's even harder for someone with foster children. So it's harder to find a date than you might think. Besides, dating isn't my main goal in life at this moment," Meg explained.

  "Oh," Bruce said. "Well, their loss then. And if they can't handle what's important to you, they're not worth your time."

  "Exactly. And I know that, of course. But it's nice to hear someone else say it."

  "I only say what I think to be true."

  It was a little thing for Bruce to say. But Meg had to admit to herself that Bruce's words actually made her day.

  There was a smile on her face as she made her way to the cereal aisle.

  Chapter Seven

  "WARDEN, THERE'S ANOTHER dead prisoner."

  Warden Eli Griffin looked up from his paper work immediately. It was a concerned look tinged with annoyance. He had perfected this look since he became warden of this little prison on Maine. It worked not just on prisoners but on guards and bureaucrats alike. More often, on the bureaucrats as he was forever asking for funds to improve the prison. He got mixed results on that.

  People died in prison. Certainly it happened more than people thought it did. Old age or prison violence was the cause for the most part.

  But the deaths in cell block twelve were bizarre-five men dead within two weeks. Each of them was found with the same agonized look on his face.

  Whatever had killed them had obviously caused great pain.


  Then there was the odd hue of color to their skin. It certainly was not a normal coloring at all. Each of the dead men's faces had a hue of toxic green. It was as if they were looking into a puddle of toxic waste.

  Of course, toxicity checks were done all around the area. But the results of these tests did not suggest that there was anything that could cause death on this level.

  Even with no proof of any toxic leaks, Eli made sure to grab a breathing mask before following the guard to the cell block.

  He did not want to take any chances.

  STEPPING INTO THE cell block in question was like stepping into a new world.

  Where the rest of the prison had some buzz of activity, the cell block where the men had died was silent-silent to the point where people would think they were hearing voices in the void. Eli would think them insane if he had not heard whispers himself.

  The voices had whispered of darker thoughts and experiences-memories of childhood laughter overshadowed by the sound of gunfire, a mental image of the funeral that followed and the mournful expression on a broken mother's face.

  The voices dredged them up somehow.

  But as horrible as the memories could be, Eli was not going to let them keep him from doing his job.

  He steeled himself as he approached the cell and the whispers started. Ignoring them the best he could, he looked down at the body.

  "Same as the others," Eli said with a stony expression on his face.

  It was indeed like the others. James Harrifed, serving ten-to-twenty for insurance fraud lay dead, his skin the toxic green pallor and his arm outstretched in rigor mortis. He hadn't even gotten to serve a year of his sentence.

  "We need to figure out what is going on here," Eli said finally. "What is doing this and how we can we stop this."

  "There could be a snake loose in the prison," a guard suggested.

  "If it is a snake, it's one that hasn't been discovered yet. The lab called this morning. They're still trying to figure it all out. They do know it's a form of neurotoxin, possibly something from the mamba family."

  "Would that be normal?" the guard asked.

  "No. Mambas are native to Africa, not North America, and certainly not in Maine," Eli said. "So you see where the problem with that theory lies. Either way, we better start moving people out of the cell block. We can't put it off any longer."

  Chapter Eight

  IT DID NOT take long to gather up most of the prisoners in the block. They wanted out of that block just as much as the guards wanted them out. After all, they had complained of whispers as well.