Fan Fears: A collection of fear based stories (5 page)

FIVE

The hour hand on the clock made two more full rotations before either Ashba or Colleen spoke again. He had barricaded the back door where he had broken in and leaned the upturned kitchen table against it. The front door had been locked and the keys were in his pocket. Both of them sat in the kitchen watching the television coverage of the siege. For Colleen, it was surreal to see her own house from the outside illuminated by the flashing blue of the dozen police cars. The press too had increased its presence. The news report was replaying the footage of the moment Ashba had pulled Colleen back inside the house and they were now speculating on what would happen next. 

“They’ll kill you, you know,” Colleen said. Everything was harder now, breathing, thinking. Everything seemed slow and lethargic.

“Save your energy. You’ll need it.” Ashba snapped, still watching the television screen. He glanced over at her. “By now, you will feel like the equivalent of a mountaineer halfway up Everest. Breathing will be a struggle as your heart begins to slow. The natural response of the body is to slow down other motor functions. It won't be long now.”

She didn't answer him. She knew it was pointless to try and argue anymore. It was clear that the decision had been made and they were both tied to their fate. She looked at the TV screen, which was now an aerial shot from a helicopter of the house ringed by police cars, a growing crowd behind tape some distance away. The ticker at the bottom of the screen said armed police were making preparations to go in.

She knew she should save her energy, but could see the fear on Ashba's face as he watched the screen. “I hope you survive and they arrest you. I hope they hold you responsible for everything you’ve done.”

“They won't,” Ashba said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a gun. “This is my insurance policy.

“You could have used that on me at any time,” she gasped, struggling to breathe. “But you let me suffer.”

“I'm not proud of it,” Ashba said, glancing at her. “None of this is personal, you understand. It’s just necessary.”

“What if you don't see it coming? What if they take you down without you having the time to kill yourself? What If they take you out before I die? Won't that ruin this for you?”

Ashba considered. He looked at the gun, then at her. “You’re already dead. That’s irreversible now. I'm not worried about that, it’s just a case of when. As for the police, well, thanks to the media and the real-time coverage, I’ll know when they are coming.”

She again chose not to answer. It felt as if someone was sitting on her chest. Every breath was a huge effort, the spaces between them growing longer as her body systematically shut down. She thought about how cruel life was, how the botched operation back in ninety-eight resulted in her having to live life with a pacemaker. This would be her fourth and last one.

Whumph.

Still there, still ticking. Still fighting.

The power went out.

Ashba had already prepared for that, though, and the candles he had lit meant that it wasn't too much of a hindrance. He turned away from the now dead television screen and looked at her. “Won't be long now. They’ve cut the power.”

Whumph.

She drew in precious air and glared at the twisted, deranged man perched on the edge of the sofa. He had checked that the gun was loaded again, and flicked off the safety.

He caught her staring and locked eyes with her. “You don’t know how tempting it is to put an end to you now and avoid the pain of such a slow demise, but you know I can't do that. I have morals, principals.

  Shouting from outside, then an impact on the door as they started to force their way in. It was all real now, all actually happening. There was something surreal about it, something utterly unbelievable which almost detached her from the situation.

Whumph.

A beat, a whisper of spent breath which Colleen Cassidy thought might be her last. She was only forty-six, too young for this, too young to be staring down the grinning, twisted face of death as he waited for her.

Another beat, and with it another breath.

A reprieve, then, although who knows how long. She flicked her eyes towards Ashba, although he didn't much resemble a doctor anymore. He looked ghastly in the candlelight, a ghoul, a monster dressed in human flesh. His eyes were wild and flicking between her and the door. His hair was sticking up in the back and he had blood smeared on his face from where she’d punched him. The sounds at the door were becoming more and more urgent as the police tried to force their way in. Ashba grinned a yellow cheese wedge smile which scared her because there was no fear in it.

“There’s nothing they can do,” Ashba said, looking at the gun in his hand. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Your time is almost up.” He was psyching himself up, preparing to do what needed to be done.

Colleen would have answered, but she couldn’t move or breathe.

Whumph.

There it was. The pacemaker did its job, and for now, she took another precious breath.  “Why me?” she asked as she sat there waiting to die.

Ashba looked at her with something close to sympathy, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Please, Doctor Ashba....”

Whumph.

Another breath, the spaces between them growing more distant. “Please....” Colleen gasped.

“No. This is how it has to be. You brought this all on yourself. None of this is my fault.”

Colleen closed her eyes and waited to see if another breath would come. She thought back to when it began, surprised that it had only been a week. It felt like a lifetime ago, and now the hope for a future that she had been given had been snatched away by the very man who had given it to her.

Splintering wood, more shouting. Torches, harsh white lights coming through into the living room. She looked at Ashba, who was breathing quickly, puffing his cheeks and psyching himself up to end his own life. She could finally see the real him, the one behind the anger and the bravado.

He was scared. She watched as he put the gun to his head, then changed his mind and put it under his chin instead, then settled for in the mouth, clamping his teeth around it. He was paying her no attention now. He had his wallet on his knee open to the photograph of his family.

He was going to get away with it.

The thought became the only one that mattered. It was the only thing she could think about, even more than the death which was coming to her.

Whumph.

One more breath, one more chance to take action.

With the last of her energy, she lurched for Ashba, grabbing his gun arm and pulling it away from his mouth. At the same time, the armed officers burst into the room. Gunfire exploded from Ashba’s weapon, so loud next to her head. She felt warm blood land on her, then was on the floor. She couldn't see Ashba or the police, but she could hear them shouting. She was face down on the floor, head to one side. In front of her, Ashba’s wallet lay open, the photograph of his wife and children spattered with tiny droplets of blood. She waited for her heart to beat again, but it didn't come. Darkness swallowed her, and with it came silence. Colleen Cassidy had taken her final breath.

SIX

She felt the warmth on her cheeks and opened her eyes.

She was in a hospital bed hooked up to an army of machines which were monitoring her vital functions. Colleen looked around and saw the face of Naomi swimming into focus.

“What happened?” she asked, struggling to recall.

“You’re a fighter, what more can I say?” Naomi said, wiping a tear from her face.

“Ashba...” as she said it she could see him, gun in his mouth, psyching himself up to put that last few pounds of pressure onto the trigger.

“Relax, you’re safe. In the hospital in case you didn't guess.”

“What happened to him? What happened to Ashba?” She was desperate to know, had to be certain he was dealt with.

“Also in the hospital. Not this one, though.”

“He survived?”

“Thanks to you. He lost some teeth and has a shattered jaw. He also badly damaged his tongue so we don't know if he will be able to talk again, but he lived. He’s under armed guard now. He’ll go to jail for what he did. It was attempted murder.”

“How did I survive, I mean my pacemaker....”

Naomi nodded and held her hand. “It’s fine, it’s been removed. The paramedics had to open you up and give you heart massage to keep you going until a repair could be made. You’re going to be alright.”

“How long has it been?”

“A few days. The police have been hovering around. They want to talk to you about Ashba, but you wait until you feel ready, got it?”

She nodded, unsure what she was feeling. It was relief, happiness, sadness and yes, still a little fear. Although she was glad she had helped to stop Ashba from taking the easy way out and ensuring he would pay for his crimes, there was a part of her that wished she had let him die. The world was a much better place without people like Ashba in it, and she supposed one day he might be free to walk the streets again. What would happen then? Would he come for her? Would he try to finish what he started? A facially deformed mute, hell bent on vengeance?

“Hey,” Naomi said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Things are going to be fine. Things will work out now. If you can survive through this, you can survive anything.”

Colleen didn't speak. She turned her head towards the window and looked out at the cloudless blue sky. She wouldn't close her eyes. She knew she would see him if she did; that haggard, leering face of a man who blamed her for everything he was and for everything he had lost. She knew she would never again sleep with a light off, or hear a sound in the empty house without thinking it was him, her disfigured former doctor lurking in the dark and waiting to get his revenge. Although Naomi didn't see it, a single tear rolled down her cheek and kissed the pillow where she lay. The nightmare for her wasn’t over. It was just about to begin.

FEAR SUBMITTED: Faulty pacemaker / Evil Cardiologist

FAN FEAR THREE:

CRAWL

(Submitted by Becky Narron Heath)

****

This was one of those submissions where I was given mostly free reign to write whatever I wanted. When Becky stated her fears, she was quite happy for me to do my own thing with it. I thought about it for a while and devised this story. This one was really good fun to write, especially trying to work within the claustrophobic nature of the story itself, which was a bit of a challenge, to say the least.

***

She remembered the explosion, and then there was silence. For a while, she was sure she was dead, and her mind was only changed when she felt the pain in her legs and chest. She tried to recall what had happened, but her memory was fuzzy and her ears were ringing. She could taste dust and blood in her throat and wasn't sure why. Above her, a tiny pinprick of light illuminated her surroundings just enough for her to see. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she remembered what had happened. They had been visiting the museum, and were on the third floor when they heard the rattle of gunfire from outside followed by screaming, and then....nothing. She looked around her surroundings, trying to piece it all together. There was an explosion, then the floor fell from under them, the walls and ceiling coming down too, then silence. A bomb. Surely it had to be a bomb that had brought the building down around them.

Kevin.

Her husband's name exploded into her mind and she looked around, frantic, trying to see through the swirling dust. She was on a ledge of what used to be the floor, a huge concrete pillar across her legs. Below here, a further six feet below was more rubble. There were bodies, limbs poking out from under concrete, others speared with steel framework. Directly below her was Kevin. He was on his back, a giant section of concrete floor across his chest. His face was covered in blood and dust and he wasn't moving.

"Kevin! Kevin wake up," she shouted, her voice echoing around the tomb-like structure. And that is exactly what it was. Somehow, against all odds, as the building came down around them, the floors had pancaked down into the basement, the upper structures falling around them and burying them under tons of rubble, however somehow, by some miracle, an interior wall had fallen in and protected them from the certain death of being pulverized by falling steel and concrete. Instead, they were in an enclosed tomb of concrete. Above them, a tiny pinprick of light filtered through. It was a miracle.

"Is someone there?"

She looked around, searching for the source of the voice.

"Down here."

She looked beyond Kevin to another pile of rubble a few feet away. There was a man looking at her. He was face down on the floor, his back and legs covered in rubble. The man's legs were shattered and bloody, and twisted at an odd angle. His face was also bloody, his sandy hair stuck to his head. His eyes were alive, though, and he even managed a smile.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, then looked back at Kevin. "My husband, I think...I think he's dead." She couldn't believe the words as they came out. It all seemed so unreal, so incredibly surreal. She watched as the man looked at Kevin, who was just a few feet away.

"No, he's breathing. He's not dead." The man said. He looked at Becky as he peered over the ledge. "Can you move? We need some help."

She looked back at her legs and tried to move, then realized that the concrete that trapped her was a corner piece of wall. She turned back and looked back below. "No, I'm trapped. I can't move."

"Me either. I can't feel my legs. Can you see them? Do they look okay?"

She looked again at his mangled appendages and decided that keeping him calm was the best option. "They look fine. Don't worry."

"Alright, thanks. Do you see anyone else alive in here with us?"

She looked around the room again. There were other people in there with them, but there were no doubts about them being dead. She couldn't look anymore and turned back to the man. "I think it's just us."

He nodded. “What’s your name?"

"Becky."

"I'm Frank."

"Frank, can you see if my husband is okay? Can you reach him from there?"

"Hang on, give me a second."

She watched as Frank tried to reach Kevin, but even at full stretch there was at least, two feet between them. He looked up at her and shook his head. "Sorry, I can't get to him. He's breathing, though. I can see a cut on his head. Could be that he's just knocked silly. Were you here with anyone else?"

She shook her head. "No, just the two of us. You?"

He half laughed. "No, I work here. I'm a security guard. Wrong place at the wrong time I guess."

"Or right place," Becky said. "We're still alive after all."

Frank nodded. "I'm sure help will be coming. The whole damn building must have come down."

"Do you think it was a bomb?" Becky asked.

Frank looked away, then met her gaze. "We had a threat this morning but didn't take it seriously. We... looks like we were wrong."

"Do you think someone will come and help us?" Becky asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure they will, though it might take some time. We were lucky. Really lucky."

Becky was about to answer when she heard Kevin moan and open his eyes. He looked blankly at the collapsed roof.

"Kevin, Kevin, up here. Look up here."

He did as she asked, the relief she felt replaced by concern. "Something’s happened, we... the building collapsed. We think it was a bomb."

Kevin tried to shift, but his arms were pinned to his side under the rubble. "I can't move," he grunted. His nose was bloody and his eyes wide.

"Just stay still. Try not to move position until help comes."

"Are you okay?

"I'm fine. We'll all be fine. Help will be coming." Becky said.

"Not soon, though." Frank cut in.

"What do you mean?" Becky asked, not liking the tone in his voice.

"I mean we have to assume this whole building came down. That's nine floors worth of rubble on top of us. It could take a while to dig us out."

"But I can see the light," Becky said, staring at the pinprick of daylight filtering through from above.

"I get that, but that doesn't mean we're close to the surface. Like it or not, we're pretty much buried alive in here."

Kevin flicked his eyes towards his wife on the higher ledge.

"It's alright," Becky said, forcing a smile. "Don't panic."

"You okay man?" Frank said. Kevin, however, didn't answer. His eyes were flicking around their makeshift tomb, looking for a way out.

"One of his biggest fears is being buried alive," Becky said, hating that she was trapped and could do nothing to help."

"Hey man, don't worry," Frank said, managing a smile. “We should be dead already by now. The fact we survived this means someone is looking out for us. Just take it easy, we'll be fine as soon as they dig us out."

Kevin calmed a little, but still squirmed under the huge section of concrete that pinned him in place. "Are we the only ones alive?" he asked.

"In here, at least, buddy," Frank said, trying his best to see around the chamber. "Looks like we're in a little pocket of space. Actually, this looks like the basement."

"It can't be. Kevin and I were on the third floor."

"I can't tell from here, but I think you still are," Frank said, twisting his head to get a better look. "Yeah, it looks like the third floor pancaked down into the second, then the middle of both floors broke through into the basement. We happened to be in the right place at the right time to live. It looks like you're essentially in the lobby but on the combined floors one and two. Your husband and me are in the basement."

"This is insane. The odds of surviving this...." Becky let her words trail off. Somehow she was calm, remarkably so. She supposed it was a combination of shock and adrenaline keeping her from experiencing the true extent of the terror she felt.

"It kinda makes sense," Frank said. "This whole building is old, sturdy. The upper levels had been extensively renovated and modernized in recent years, but the first few floors are the original building first put up in the late eighteen hundreds."

"Wouldn't that make it more fragile to something like this?"

Frank shook his head. "No, you'd be surprised how flimsy modern building materials are compared to the Victorian stuff. They used good quality stone and didn't cut corners in the building process. We survived only because of the quality of a hundred-plus-year-old construction."

"Are there any other ways in or out of the basement?" Kevin asked, lifting his head to try and see around the chamber.

"No, and even if there were, we're all pinned down pretty tight. Even if one of us could move, it would be too risky to start moving rubble around down here."

"Why?" Kevin asked.

"Think of it like Jenga. You pull the wrong piece out, and this whole thing could come falling in on us."

"Game over," Becky mumbled.

"Exactly. Game over."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Kevin said, the panic in his voice impossible to ignore.

"We wait," Frank said. "We lie here, be quiet and listen for the rescuers."

"Should we shout now or make noise?" Becky asked.

"I wouldn't yet. Save your energy for when it matters. Right now we could all scream our lungs out and nobody would hear a thing."

Becky let her head fall back against the floor as Kevin's words sank in. She wondered why she was so calm, and how long that feeling might last before panic set in.

TWO

The passage of time was impossible to gauge. Becky's wristwatch was smashed and not working. The hands had stopped at a little after ten in the morning. The only way to tell that time was actually moving was by watching the tiny shaft of light as it moved around the chamber. It had moved around half a foot across towards where Kevin and Frank were in the basement. They hadn't heard a single sound from outside in all the time they had been there. She looked down at Kevin, so close but impossibly out of reach. He had his eyes closed and was mouthing words under his breath. She knew how much he hated enclosed spaces. Like a lot of people, one of his biggest fears was of premature burial. She couldn't imagine the kind of hell he must be going through. She looked at the slab of concrete on his chest. Only his head and shoulders were exposed at one end, his legs from the knees down on the other. Somehow he had lost a shoe during the building collapse, and as a result, one dusty, bloody sock hung half off one foot. It would have been almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation. She wondered if he was badly hurt; if underneath the concrete slab he had internal injuries. Broken bones were a real possibility, as was internal bleeding. She looked at the concrete pillar across her own legs and had no doubt that they were broken. The agony throbbed like a dull toothache. She traced the pillar with her eyes where it disappeared into the rubble beside her. The other end was broken and hanging over the short drop to the basement levels. She tried to move, but the sharp jolt of agony that came with it encouraged her to hold still. For all the doubts about how injured Kevin may be, she was fairly certain that both her legs were broken.

She looked around at the expanse of pulverized concrete and realized that she couldn't recall the last time she had heard such utter silence. She was used to the noise of the world, the drone of traffic, the wind in the trees. Not such utter and complete silence. She held her breath and listened.  She couldn't even hear Kevin or Frank breathing from her position. She felt very alone, very isolated.

She caught Frank's eye as she scanned the room. "You doing okay?" she asked.

"It's cold. I can't feel anything below my chest. That can't be normal, can it?"

"Like you said, help will be coming. We just have to wait it out."

"I thought they would be here by now. How long do you think we've been down here?"

"I don't know. My watch is broken."

"Four hours," Kevin said. Both of them looked at him.

"How do you know that?" Becky asked.

Kevin nodded towards the top of the chamber. "Clock up there is still running."

"I can't see it," Frank said, unable to shift position enough to see. Becky followed Kevin's gaze, and wondered just how she had been able to miss seeing it. There above them, in what remained of the lobby, was a wall clock. Its face was covered in dust and it was cracked, but it was still working. She stared at it, unable to believe so little time had passed.

"We can't have only been here for a few hours, we can't," she said. "It feels like..."

"Forever," Kevin said. "I know. I'm trying not to look at it but I can't help it."

Becky wished she could hold him, or just be there to comfort him, but all she could do was watch him go through his private torture.

"I'll be fine, we'll be fine," he said, the words convincing nobody in the chamber. Once again, silence filled the chamber.