Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (11 page)

Angela
considered the answer.  Sammie was sitting in the middle of his bedroom floor, staring
into space.  “I don’t know what he’s thinking,” she said.  “But I don’t imagine
it’s anything good.”

“Well,
tomorrow we’ll start trying to make some sense of everything.  Until then,
bottoms up.”

Tim
raised his glass and Angela finished off her whisky. She quickly poured another
from the bottle on the table.  She poured Tim another too.  Then she shivered.

“Cold?”
he asked her.

Angela
rubbed at her shoulders.  “Yeah, it’s getting a bit chilly.”

“Guess
it is.  I imagine it’s pretty hard to heat a place this size.”

The
patter of rain started up and Angela looked across the room to the French doors
that lined the far wall behind the lounge’s grand piano.  Pebble-sized splashes
appeared on the windows as the downpour beat against the glass.

“Well,
I wouldn’t bank on it getting any warmer,” said Tim.  “Looks like we’re in for
a dreary evening.”

Suddenly
the lights in the room went out, leaving them in moonlit darkness.

“Oh,
great,” said Angela.  “If I wasn’t cold before, I’m definitely going to freeze
with the power off.”

“I’m
sure it will come back on in a minute.  Maybe there’s a storm coming.”

“As
if this night couldn’t get any more cliché.  It’s a dark, stormy night at an
old English manor and the power just went out. Are you kidding me?”

Tim
giggled.  “All we need now is an axe-wielding maniac.”

The
doors to the lounge shot open.

It
was Mike and Graham, and they were smiling.  “Mind if we join you?” Mike asked. 
“It’s a little too nippy to sit around in the car all night.  I brought your
things, Angela.  I placed them in your room.”

“Fantastic,”
Angela said.  “And, yes, you are welcome to join us.  I think we were just
about to freak ourselves out, anyway, what with the power being off. The more
the merrier, I say.”

Mike
said, “Thanks,” and took a seat at the table.  Graham said nothing and headed
behind the shadow-drenched bar to fetch a drink.

“I
see Graham is as sociable as ever,” Angela commented, loud enough so that the
man would hear.

“What
was that?” Graham asked from behind the bar.  There was now a glass of gin in
his hand.

“Nothing,”
said Angela.  “It’s just delightful to have such charming company.”

“Let
me tell you something, lady.”  Graham came over to the table and placed his
glass down on the table more forcefully than he needed to. “You’re just a guest
here.  I have been here for over two years, so maybe you should show a little
more respect.”

“Of
course,” said Angela.  “My apologies.  I didn’t realise that the respect of a
stranger was so important to you.”

Graham
shook his head and swigged his gin.  “You’ll end up walking home after all this
is done if you’re not careful.”

“I
don’t think Jessica would appreciate you speaking to us like that,” said Tim.

“Screw
her.”  Graham growled.  “Woman’s a mess.  She doesn’t have a clue
what’s
going on half the time.”

“And
alas, here I am now listening to you speak.”  Jessica had appeared in the
doorway, dressed smartly in trousers and an ivory blouse.  She looked more in
control of her wits than the previous times Angela had spent with the woman.

Graham
leapt up, flustered.  “Jessica – I mean, Ms Raymeady – how are you doing this
evening?”

“I’m
good, Graham.  Thank you for asking.  I would feel safer however if I knew you
were outside in the car.”

“But
it’s freezing out there.”

“Then
I suggest you turn on the engine.”

Graham
walked off in a huff and Mike got up to go after him.

“No,
no,” said Jessica.  “You’re quite welcome to stay, Michael.”

Mike
sat back down again, slowly, as if he were unsure.  “Thank you, Ms Raymeady. 
Will you be joining us?”

Jessica
shook her head.  “Perhaps later.  I think I should probably keep a clear head
from now on.  I hear that Sammie had an accident today?”

“Yes,”
Tim admitted.  “We’re not quite sure what happened.”

“That’s
quite alright,” said Jessica, “but let me assure you that I will not tolerate
my son being hurt again.  Next time there will be consequences.  Do you
understand me?”

“Yes,”
said Tim, sounding about five years old.

“Good,”
said Jessica.  “I will be with Sammie if anyone needs me.”

Everyone
at the table nodded, but remained quiet.  Jessica had gotten a hold of herself
in a big way and was now unidentifiable as the drunken mess from that morning. 
Suddenly, Angela could see her as a wealthy and powerful woman.  Jessica had
given herself a reality check and was now back in control.

Either
that or the woman’s close to a break down.  This could be the calm before the
storm.

Tim
snapped shut the lid on his laptop.  “So much for my equipment.  Not much use
with the power off.”

“Frank
will be looking into it,” said Mike.  “Power’s been going off a lot lately.”

“Doesn’t
your laptop run off a battery,” Angela asked Tim.

“Yeah,
it does, but not my cameras.  All the feeds have gone down.”

“What
feeds?” Mike asked.

Angela
poured herself another drink and explained.  “Tim has video cameras set up in
Sammie’s room.  We were going to observe him this evening and try to figure out
what’s going on with him.”

Mike
chuckled.  “Yeah, good luck with that.  Jessica has had half the medical
community through here the last few months.  No one could figure it out.  Most
of them ran screaming from the building.”

“What
do you mean?” asked Tim.

“Sure
you’ve seen by now, but Sammie has a bit of a temper.  There was a psychiatrist
that was here a few weeks ago that tried some behavioural adjustments – one of
which was trying to take away Sammie’s crayons until he promised to only draw
nice things.  Next thing we know, Sammie attacks the guy, bites one of his ears
clean-off.  The doctor starts crawling around on his hands and knees, squealing
like a pig, looking for his missing appendage – and then we realise.  Sammie
had swallowed the thing whole.”

Tim’s
face scrunched up with disgust.  “Hell’s bells.”

“Tell
me about it.  Jessica had to cut the guy a fat cheque just to keep him quiet
about the whole thing.”

Angela
finished off her new whisky in a single gulp and quickly poured another.  “How
come you’ve hung around though all this, Mike?  Frank told me that everybody
else left.”

“Me
and Graham work outside.  We have no contact with Sammie.  I guess we feel safe
enough.”

“So
you think Sammie is dangerous?”

“I
know
he is.  Whatever the reason for that, I can’t say, but you wouldn’t
catch me alone in a room with him.”

“He’s
just a ten-year old boy,” said Angela.

Mike
shrugged.  “Yeah, maybe.  Maybe not.”

“What
do you mean?”

“I
mean maybe you being here is exactly what is needed.  Your exorcism kit is in
your room.  I think you may want to think about using it.”

Angela
cleared her throat and wondered if the man was serious.  “You believe that’s
what’s needed?”

“I
guess,” said Mike.  “I’m not really much of a believer in God, but I’d like to
see what happens.  To be honest, every other option has been exhausted, so
you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“I
agree,” said Tim.  “I still believe that there’s a rational explanation for all
this, but I’d like to dispel any notions of ‘possession’ as soon as possible. 
You’re the best person to do that.”

Angela
felt her eyelids getting heavy. The mere thought of performing The Rites drained
away her energy.  “I’m not sure I even remember what to do anymore,” she
admitted.

“It
will come back to you,” said Mike.  “I heard you were very good at it once.”

Angela
huffed.  “Too bad I can’t put it on my resume as a useful job skill.”

They
all shared a laugh about that and sipped at their drinks.  After a few moments had
passed, Angela looked at Mike.  “Tell me about Jessica,” she said.

“Jessica? 
What’s to tell?  She’s lived most of her life in the papers and most of it’s
true.  She met Joseph Raymeady at University.  I’m not sure what she was
studying; she never finished anyway.  Joseph asked her to marry him right after
he graduated and joined his father’s company.  Eventually, both she and Joseph
took a place on the Board of Directors.  You’ve already witnessed the fruits of
their labour.  Jessica is one of the richest women in the world, but I don’t
think she really knows what to do with it all without her husband.  Things have
been hard on her.”

“How
long has she been drinking?” Tim asked.

“Not
long, to be honest.  The woman you just saw is more the real her.  She is a
kind soul, but very much in control of herself usually.  The drinking and
depression has been very unlike her, but who can blame her?  In fact, I was
pleased to see the way she just dealt with Graham. Perhaps she’s on the mend. 
I think she feels better with the two of you here.  Let’s just hope you can
help Sammie, or else I fear she’ll take another slide.”

“We’ll
do our best,” said Tim.  “I don’t plan on leaving until we get to the bottom
of-”

The
laptop on the table vibrated.  The speakers emitted static.

Angela
thrust her chin at the computer.  “What’s happening?”

“I
don’t know.”  Tim put his hands on the laptop and slid it towards him.  He
hesitated for a moment, which made Angela think that something was amiss. 
Slowly, Tim raised the laptop’s monitor.  His eyes immediately went wide.

“What
is it?” Angela asked.

Tim
spun the laptop so that she and Mike could see the screen.  “The feeds are back
up,” he said.  “I don’t know how.”

Angela
looked at the screen and had to squint to make sense of what she was seeing. 
On the regular HD feed Sammie’s room was dark except for a candle burning
beside the ten-year-old’s bed.  It appeared that Jessica was reading to him
while he slept.

There
was also a second feed being displayed.  The infrared camera displayed
multi-coloured blotches of heat on the screen.  Jessica’s form glowed beside
the prone form of Sammie beneath his covers.  Angela didn’t know what it meant,
but the heat register of Sammie seemed to be in constant flux, the reds and
yellows pulsing and changing with every second.

Angela
continued to watch the screen, eyes glued to it as she noticed that Jessica was
getting up out of her chair.

“What’s
she doing?” Mike asked.

Angela
shook her head.  “I don’t know.  She’s going over to Sammie’s bed.  She’s…oh,
God.”

Angela
watched Jessica pull a pillow from beneath Sammie’s sleeping head.  She watched
the woman holding it over her son’s face.  Then Angela cried out in horror as
Jessica forced the pillow down on Sammie’s face, smothering him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Angela
galloped through the long hallways of the house, trying to navigate her way to
Sammie’s room as quickly as she could.  With every corner she took, she shouted
out Jessica’s name at the top of her lungs.  The woman had finally lost her
sanity and was trying to eliminate the cause of all her stress – Sammie, her
son.  Angela knew it was a common defence mechanism for someone who was
clinically depressed, but Jessica’s urge to kill her son was only a temporary
madness that she would regret for the rest of her life.  If Jessica managed to
succeed in what she was doing, the woman would never forgive herself.  Angela
had to stop her before it was too late.

Tim
and Mike were right behind Angela and she wondered why the two younger men had not
managed to overtake her.  Were they scared?

Sammie’s
room was just up ahead.  Even in the dark she could see the posters and signs
that adorned the boy’s door.  Angela wasted no time in barging into the bedroom.

It
was dark.  Shadows seemed to shift and swirl all around her.  Over in the
depths of the room was the burning candle that Jessica had been reading by.  A
flickering cone of light surrounded the flame, but it was not wide enough to illuminate
anything beyond half-a-foot.

“Jessica! 
Whatever you are doing, you need to stop.”

There
was no answer.  Angela took a step forward, cutting through the darkness. 
Sammie’s bed was ahead. The boy’s form rested beneath its covers.

“Sammie? 
Sammie?  Are you okay?”  Angela took another step forward.  She smelled sweat
in the air, coming off the sheets.  “Sammie, answer me.”

Tim
and Mike milled in the shadows behind her, but Angela felt as if they were a
million miles away.  It was just her and the bed and the grisly secrets it
held.  Angela took the final steps and reached out a hand, her fingertips
searching.  She dreaded what she was about to feel.  Were her fingers about to
connect with the soft flesh of a dead child?  She edged forward, inch by inch,
stretching on her tiptoes.