ratman's blog: "Rick's Writings"

He pulled the hood over his head, as the tower burned behind him. The noon day sun glinted off the medallion he wore around his neck. Feeling the heat from the burning tower behind him, he walked up the dusty street, as crowds ran toward the burning tower; some where, church bells began to toll. Running his hand on his little beard, he observed the people in the street, that stared at the raging fire of the tower, hearing their excited shouts. First the devastating plague was gripping the country, as it swept from place to place, as people fled; now their city was threatening to be consumed. "Juniper," he said softly, her name tasted sweet on his lips as he stepped over the body that laid in the street; black spots covered its arms and chest, marking the passage of the black death. The funeral cart driver would soon be by to collect it, his cart already perhaps heaping. The man had witnessed this same scene, plenty over the last couple of days, in almost every town that he passed through; the passage of the plague. A couple of towns he was in, foxes nested on peoples porches, and oxen roamed the countryside, as no one was there to put them in the pasture, as most had perished, or fled. A strong wind blew against his cloak, carrying with it the stink of smoke and of death; a smell he was all to familiar with. He pushed on; Juniper was waiting for him. Juniper laid in the bed, the last in the row of the beds in the room. Even with the noon sun shining in the room; it had a dark, gloomy look. Sweat beaded her forehead, the Nun that attended her bed side, took the cloth out of the basin of cool water. Wringing it out, she wiped her forehead and then placed the towel across her head. "He's coming," she said in a soft whisper. "Hush, child," said the Nun, as she squeezed her hands. Juniper coughed and blood ran out the side of her mouth. The Nun reached over and picked up another cloth, dipping it into the other bowl, which held Luke warm water and rung out the cloth, and then she wiped the blood from her lips and face. Rinsing the cloth again, she wiped the dark patches on her arms, and then returned the cloth to the water. "I'll be back, child," she said, patting Juniper's arms, and then she left the girls bedside, going to check on other patients. The man was near a cemetery in another small town and saw one of the funeral cart drivers pulling bodies into a mass grave. The man wiped his sweaty brow and saw him on the crest of the cemetery. "Ho there!" he called too him. He stopped and looked down at the man. The man waved his arm at him, motioning for him to come down to the grave. He looked at the sky, it wouldn't be dark for a few hours; still she would wait. He headed for the man at the grave side. "Hello," the man smiled at him. "Could use a little help, there's a lot today," he said, as he picked one of the bodies up under the arms. Smiling and saying not a word, the man picked up the feet and together they put the body into the grave, as the wind whispered sadly through the trees and around the stones. Juniper sat in the chair back in her room at home. He sat on the couch looking at her, not saying a word. "Why do you always just set and stair at me?" she asked. "Juniper," he said. She could not see his expression from the hood over his face. Juniper awoke from the feverish dream; outside night had fallen. She watched as the Nun and the Doctor covered the people in the beds. She sat up and began coughing, feeling the blood run down her face and chin. The Nun came to her bedside as she laid back down and removed the cloth from her forehead, putting it back in the basin of cool water and ringing it out, she wiped her forehead. Juniper's dark hair was matted against her head with perspiration. Wiping her brow, the Nun placed the cool cloth on her forehead and wiped the blood from her face and wiped the black sores on her arms. It was night when he arrived at the plague hospital and stars were shining down their light on the windows and steps; a crescent moon hung in the sky. He ascended the steps and entered the building, touching the medallion that he wore around his neck. The hospital was bleak and filled with the moans of the infected and the scent of sickness and death. He walked down the corridors, passed Doctors and Nuns, glancing in the wards at the infected. Some had been covered; as their time had passed. He moved on passed other wards as he proceeded down the hall. Juniper looked out the window at the night sky and the stars and then she turned to look at the door. He stepped in. Juniper looked at the Nun that was attending her. "He's here," she said. "Quiet child calm yourself." He moved along the ward, stopping at beds, as he made his way to hers. Stopping at her bed, he looked down at her and she looked at him, the shadows standing behind him. "He is here," she said coughing, blood running out of her mouth. "Calm child," said the Nun, wiping her dark sores. He held out his hand to her and she stepped out of bed and approached him. He removed the hood from his face; smiling at her. "Do I frighten you?" he asked. She shook her head. "Not now." The Nun covered Juniper's face and sadly shook her head. Juniper looked down at her body in the bed, and then back at him. Taking her by the hand, he lead her over to the window and the curtains blew out behind them, as they disappeared into the night.

She heard the sound; footsteps. Grabbing the pistol, she shined the flashlight in front of her. "Whoa there," Jack said. "It's just me. The storm's over and it's eight in the morning. I just wanted to see where that stairwell went to. After we ate some breakfast." Helen through the blanket off of her legs and stood up. Together they left the food locker and out into the diner. She grabbed some of the cans that were setting on the shelf in the little kitchen. Cold hash, a great way to start the day. Taking the can, she went out to join him at the counter. "There might be something we could use up those stairs that we could use," he said, spooning out some cold hash. She grimaced when the hash touched her tongue. She was never a big hash fan; cold, it was worse. He looked at her and smiled. "Your arms going to get pretty tired, holding that gun on me." He shoveled some more hash in his mouth. "Hash is one of my favorites." She took another bite, forcing herself to chew, and then swallow. Having enough to eat, he laid his spoon aside and stood up, looking down at her. "I'll go check it out." She pushed the hash away from her and stood up. "I'm coming with you." The stairwell was brightly lit from the sun. Clouds of dust rose as they walked. One of the windows was smashed out; those "Things" trying to get in. The glass crunched under his feet, as he stepped to the bottom of the staircase. Turning to look back at her, he started up. Holding the pistol and keeping alert, she followed him. He reached the top landing and found a door. Motioning for her too stay put, he placed his hand on the knob and gave it a turn; it was unlocked. He slowly opened the door. Sunlight spilled in through the windows into a small apartment kitchen. The kitchen was empty. Jack motioned for her to follow as he stepped inside. He looked around the room. He eyed a portable radio on the counter. Helen walked over and picked it up. "Well, this is totally useless. The world is gone. Madness and survivors roam the country side." "You never know," he said. "I'll go into one of the stores and find some batteries for it." He saw the brightly lit living room and walked into it. There was some furniture; a couch and a couple of chairs. He looked at Helen. "This might not be so bad. A food locker down stairs, an apartment upstairs. We could do well for awhile. We'll just have to reinforce the stairwell." She froze when she heard the noise down the small hallway. She handed him the gun. Taking it, he proceeded cautiously down the hall, the gun pointed in front of him. Hearing the noise outside of the room, he stopped. Taking the gun's safety off he slowly turned the door knob and pushed the door open. The "Thing" that once had been a young man, was banging around on the couch. His head and hands hitting the wall; knocking paintings to the floor. Seeing Jack, he got up off the couch and shambled toward him. Drool running from his mouth as he bared his teeth, making small guttural sounds. Keeping the gun trained on him, Jack backed up. It shambled on. Cocking the gun he hesitated, like someone that would hesitate putting down a beloved pet. He backed up, not wanting it to get closer. He squeezed the trigger. The explosive sound of the gun deafened him in the silence. A large hole was blown in the things chest, as the impact slammed it into the wall. It slid down, staining the dingy white red. His ears ringing he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Entering the living room, he found her staring in the direction of the hallway. "Just one here," he said, slipping the gun into his pocket. "But once we reinforce this place, it should be safe enough. Better than food the locker. A bit of home." Looking out the window at the daylight beyond, the bright afternoon sun glinting on the window. Then he looked back at her. "Plenty of daylight left. I'll raid some of the stores, get what we need." "I'm coming with you." "Let's go." Together they left the apartment, making their way to the empty street below.

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Once inside, they nailed the board back into place. Jack looked around the diner at the booths and stools. He looked at Helen. "It don't look that safe." "Not out here. In the back. I found a food locker. Stayed there the entire night." He picked up the lantern and held it out in front of him. "Let's go." He started to head toward the back and pointing the gun at him, she followed. He saw the door of the food locker and opened it. Shining the lantern light around in the doorway, he stepped in. Helen followed and bolted the door behind them. Holding up the light, he walked toward the back of the food locker. Seeing the other door, he looked back at her. "You check this out?" "It's a stairwell." Unlocking the door, he pulled it open. He saw the stairs and heard the strong rain pounding the windows and the wail of the gust. He stepped back into the locker, closing and bolting the door. He looked at her. "If its sunny tomorrow, we'll check it out. I don't want those things surprising me in here." He moved toward the back of the locker; spotting a can of peaches, he grabbed it. He looked at her. "Can opener?" "Yes." "Good." They moved to the very last row in between the wall and the shelf. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she handed him the can opener. Taking it, he opened the peaches. As he stuck his fingers in and pulled one out. "So, where were you, when this thing started?" He shoved a peach in his mouth. "I was a nurse. Got called in on my day off. When I got there, police in riot gear was trying to hold back what seemed like gangs of crazy people. They stopped my car. Seeing I was a nurse, they let me through." She sat quiet for a minute, then she resumed. "When I reached the hospital, I heard the police open fire." He held the can of peaches towards her and she took one. "When I got into the hospital; it was total chaos. Bloody people and screaming everywhere. Nobody knew just really what the hell was going on." She took a bite of the peach and chewed it thoughtfully. "The news was on. But, ideas and reports were scattered. Army Reserve and the National Guard were being mobilized. The E.R was a total mess that morning. Then those that had lost control with the infection, began to attack." He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he chewed. "Who would've thought that a mutated form of the rabies, would cause such pandemonium? Not to mention lay waste to the civilized world in a matter of weeks?" he opened his eyes and looked at her. "That was five months ago. Who knows, maybe six." "I know, it's hard to keep track of the days and time." He nodded. "You married?" he asked. "I was. He was a paramedic. I'd like to think he survived, but sometimes you have to face the facts." "Sorry." The wind blew across the roof, threatening to tear it off. They ate a little more in silence, then he spoke. "I was making a run in Houston. When I got downtown. I saw the same chaos that you had described. But, I saw the police out numbered by dozens of those things. Stepping on the gas, I maneuvered my rig close to the sidewalk, plowing into a group of those damn things that were advancing on my truck." He handed her the last of the can and closed it eyes. "If someone would have noticed that something wasn't right, three weeks earlier, maybe non of this would have happened." He was asleep before she could say anything. Finishing the peaches, she went down a couple of rows, taking one of the lanterns with her. Opening her duffel bag, she took out her blanket. Then, legs covered and her back to the wall; she fell asleep, as the storm raged outside.

Helen Ellsworth walked down the street; the buildings loomed up above her. The sky was growing dark, as dark as velvet. She would have to find someplace to get into soon; the dark streets were not safe. Reaching into her pocket, she felt the .45 automatic she carried with her. Feeling a little safe, she walked on under the darkening sky. The street lights no longer came on. Anyone out here alone had to fend for themselves. Unless someone came to their rescue, which was a blessing if that happened. Dark windows of the buildings that lined both sides of the street looked back at her as she walked. The wind picked up and blew an old news paper down the street, sticking against her legs; then it was gone. She spotted a diner and entered. Some of the windows were broken; but not dangerously. There was some old plywood stacked against the back wall, probably left over from when the place was built; whenever that was. It was probably not that long ago, it didn't look that old inside. Taking off her backpack, she stepped behind the counter and headed to the kitchen area. Finding a can full of nails and a hammer on a shelf, she went back to grab the plywood and reinforce the door and broken windows. Finishing before dark; Helen took a flashlight from her backpack and headed back to the kitchen area. There were some can goods on the shelf; large cans. Pork and Beans, Peaches and Sweet Peas; Peas were her favorite. Shining the light around the kitchen she found the can opener on the counter. Turning and going back to the shelf, she grabbed the large can of peas and opened them. She didn't locate any spoons, but that was okay, she'd use her hands. Helen had eaten until she was full, when she realized the gun was by the backpack. She'd have to make her way to the front of the diner in the dark; afraid that they might hear her. She'd have to proceed with caution. Grabbing the flashlight, she swept the beam along the floor; afraid that they might see it. Taking slow, deliberate steps, she moved behind the counter; stopping now and again to listen. Not a sound, just the wind. But, she knew that they were out there. Searching; waiting. Reaching the end of the counter, she ducked and went to grab her backpack and gun. She made it quickly back to the kitchen area. Shining the light around the small space; she decided that it was to open to stay in and proceeded to the back of the diner. She found a door in the back. Clutching her gun, she threw back the bolt and opened the door with caution. It was another storage room. She decided to stay the night in here. Shining the flashlight she entered, closing the door behind her. Latching the inside bolt; she turned and shined the flashlight in front of her as she proceeded to the back. The room was larger and held more cans. She would look at them in the morning. Sweeping the flashlight against the back wall, she the door. She hurried over to it. The latch wasn't fastened. She slowly opened the door and shined the beam around. She saw some stairs. "Shit!" Helen closed the door and locked it. Shining the light around the room; she decided to sleep in the back between the shelves tonight. Sleep? If one could call it sleeping at all. Since this waking delusion began, she slept like a cat; jumping at every noise. The beam shining in front of her, she proceeded to the back, taking her spot among the shelves. Opening her backpack, she took out her blanket, and then she put her back against the wall as she sat and covered her legs. Stretching out; she doused the flashlight and rested her head against the wall. Helen was starting to doze, when she heard the sound; a clinking sound. She cocked her gun and turned on the flashlight; expecting to see one of them. She saw nothing. She waited; listening. She heard the sound again. It was coming from the top shelf on the left. Shining the beam on the shelf, she saw the little gray mouse. "Hello my friend." The mouse only looked down at her; caught in the beam. She laid the gun down next to her. "There's plenty for both of us, little friend. Enjoy." She doused the flashlight once again and closed her eyes. The red orb of the rising sun splashed the windows of the city buildings blood red. A few stragglers that had not found shelter were forced into the darker recesses of the buildings. The sound of the approaching truck engine filled the silent street with the illusion of life. A Mack truck came driving up the street. The black smoke puffed out of its stack, belching into the air. It stopped in the center of town and the air brakes hissed as it came to a stop. The driver's side door opened and Jack Singleton stepped down from the cab. Scanning the street; he reached back up into the cab for his rifle. Putting his arm through the strap, he let it drop down his back. He was also wearing a .38 in the holster around his waist. Closing the door, he listened to the sound of the city. It was dead; only the wind blowing around the empty streets. A loose door on one of the buildings across the street, banged back and fourth in the strong morning wind; the sign of an approaching storm. Which meant darkness was going to fall early today. The crash of the can made him whirl around; placing his hand on the butt of the revolver in his holster. It was a dog. The dog let out a bark as it looked at him. He whistled. "Come here, boy." The dog looked at him and turning, it ran away. Jack watched it disappear. He was so lonely, he wanted some company; the company of any living soul. The banshee wind screamed through the city of the dead; blowing dust and papers down the street, past the empty store fronts. An old newspaper stuck fast against the front of his black leather boots. Looking down he read the headline: VIRUS SPREADS. NO END IN SITE. He kicked the paper away, sending the ghost down the dead street. Helen watched him through the hole in the plywood. She had her gun at her side. It might be dangerous to let him know she was here; but, she was sick of the loneliness. Lying the gun aside, she picked up the hammer and pried away the wood, just enough to slip out. The screaming wind kept him from hearing the sound. Finished, she picked up the gun and slipped out onto the sidewalk. He had his back to her, as she stepped behind him; pointing the gun. "Reach. Keep your hands away from the gun." Jack put his hands up in the air; a smile creeping across his lips. "Well, hello darlin'." She stepped forward and took the gun out of his holster, then she stepped back. "The name's Helen, not darlin'." He smiled. "Okay, Helen. Now normally, I would be a little worried of someone with a gun. Especially when they have it pointed at me." He whirled around to face her. "But, we're in the same boat here. Besides, I'd love some company. Haven't talked to anyone in the last couple of months. I'll take conversation over rape and murder any day." "Stay put." "Okay, no argument from me, you got the guns." "I'll take the rifle to. Give it here, nice and slow." Removing the rifle from his back, he dropped it on the sidewalk and kicked it over to her. The wind screamed around the buildings, as if trying to wake the things inside. The sky was growing dark fast to the north. He looked at the sky, then back at her. "Well, Helen. It's going to be quite dark and stormy pretty soon. I've got a couple of battery operated lamps in the truck cab, how about I get them?" "Back up." With his hands in the air, he backed up into the street and stopped. She walked toward him, then got behind him; pointing the gun. "Get them. Anything but lanterns, I'll blow your brains out." Jack walked to the truck and opened the door, just as the wind kicked up, blowing Helen's long red hair around her face. She quickly brushed it away, as he reached into the cab. He turned around, showing her the lanterns, then stepped down, closing the door. Thunder boomed in the distance as the sky got darker. She motioned toward the diner with the guns and he headed toward it carrying the lanterns.

Mindy Silsby sat on the couch reading a romance novel and listening to the storm rage like an angry God outside. She could hear the rain slashing at the windowpanes. Thunder exploded like a shell in the distance. Laying the book aside, she got up and walked over to the little curio in the corner, to make sure she had enough candles in case the power went out. He stepped in the shadows of the shed, pulling his dark hat down over his eyes, when he saw her silhouette move against the curtain. The howling wind pushed his black duster against him and a drop of the cold rain dripped down the back of his neck, tracing it like the icy cold finger of death. Lightening flashed out across the sea, tracing its spider webbed fingers down on the water's surface. He watched for her to sit back down. Checking his pocket to make sure the duct tape was there, a smile crept across his cold lips. Reaching down he picked up the covered box with the handle that sat next to him and headed around to the back door. Mindy turned the page of the book. Yawning she glanced at the clock. 9:30. A black gloved hand suddenly covered her mouth. "Hush." he said in a harsh whisper behind her. She nodded, frightened. Her arms were pulled behind her and duct taped. He came around the front, and knelt. Mindy couldn't see his face under the long brimmed black hat he was wearing. Finished he turned, standing. Then picking up the box, he walked over toward the chair that was near the fireplace. The dancing flames cast his shadow on the wall, giving it the illusion of its own life. Sitting down in the arm chair, he was cast in shadow from the dim light of the fireplace. He looked at her. "Mindy." His raspy voice frightened her. How did he know her name? Who was he? She tried to remain calm, trying not to let him see her fear. Sweat trickled down her back. Mindy wondered if a man like this could smell fear. "Who are you?" The man made no reply. She could see that he smiled, but with the flames dancing across his face and still slightly covered with that hat, she did not know. He tapped his fingers on the covered box that sat on his lap, and then uncovering it, he sat it down on the floor next to him. "Still making trouble?" It was more of a statement, then a question. She swallowed. The voice was raspy and harsh. But it was some what familiar. He sat back deeper into the chair. The wind screamed, rattling the windowpane. He just stared at her. "What do you want from me?" she was near tears now, as the fear gripped her like a vice. "People," he said. "Think that the brown or Norway rat is the most vicious in the rodent world." He folded his hands under his chin, staring into the fire. "That simply is not true. Sure, they'll bite if frightened, rabid, or they've been poisoned." His voice, she knew his voice. It was from some where out of her past. The name escaped her at the moment. He rubbed his hands together as if cold, and then he placed his fingers together forming an arch. "The rats carried the plague that spread through medieval Europe." "No. The Egyptian flea, X-Cheopis carried the bacteria. But, good guess. The rats are susceptible to the bacteria, the same as we are." He paused. "They were carried by the Black rat. The fleas preferred the silky hair of the black rat." He pulled a flute from his pocket. Mindy's arms were beginning to ache. She wiggled her fingers behind her. He laid the flute across his lamp. Taking off his hat, he smiled at her. The flames danced like a ghost across his face, and she could see the burning hatred in his eyes. Eric Dawson. "Remember me? Of course you do." The knot of fear tightened in her stomach. Eric. He had sworn years ago, he'd return and teach the "Little Bitch", not to ever threaten him. "You drove her away. You turned her against me." Removing his gloves, he cracked his knuckles. The hate, burning coals in his eyes. Mindy wanted to scream. But, the wind and the storm would only drive it away. "You drove her away yourself." He turned and spit in the fireplace, then turned to her. The anger and the hate, was now a burning fury in his face. Smiling, he tapped the flute on his knee. "The Norway rat," he began. "Can pretty much be made a pet. That's where the domesticated rat came from." He paused. A log in the fireplace popped, causing Mindy to jump. He smiled at her fear. "But, the Black rat, or ship rat has never been domesticated. You know, they do become accustomed to people though. But, they only bond with one person only, unlike the Norway rat." Eric stared at her for a long moment. "I loved her." "You had a funny way of showing it." "Filthy bitch, you had no right to interfere!" Mindy grew silent watching the rage burn in his face, and his eyes become hate filled balls of fire. He reached down, bringing up the box that had been covered. She could see that it was not a box at all. But, that it was a cage. Black shapes moved around inside the box. Picking up the flute, he looked at her. "When the right frequency is heard," he said, holding up the flute. "Rats can understand what you're saying to them." Eric blew into the flute and the rats looked at him from inside the cage. He blew a couple more times and they braced up against the sides of the cage, falling in line. "When the tune is just right, you can get these Black rats to do what you wish, unlike a Norway." He looked at her. "Great pets, but not for what I have in mind." He smiled. "For you." Eric opened the door of the cage and raised the flute to his lips, giving her one last smile. The rats poised, sniffing the air, as if awaiting his command. He gave two quick notes on the flute; they walked out of the cage in a line. Then he gave three quick notes on the flute. Then she did scream, only to be lost in a blast of thunder. He began to play something like a waltz, and the rats ran toward her and up her legs. The claws felt sharp as glass on her legs and arms. She screamed when she felt their razor sharp teeth sink into her flesh. Mindy's screams were cut off, when three of the rats climbed on her mouth and nose. Still another jumped on her eyes. Eric looked at the dying fire. He covered his friends, taking one last look of Mindy. He would repay them all. But for tonight, he was satisfied. He left the living room, making his way out the back door and into the stormy night.

In Dreams Michael Talbot looked around the living room of the two room apartment. He had unpacked several boxes, but there was still plenty left to unpack. His back hurt, and his eyes burned. Running his hand through his graying black hair, he decided it could wait until tomorrow. After all, this was his new life. Monday morning, he would be starting a new job, in a new city. The price of lust of a one night stand. Damn, he threw away his wife and kids, for a few moments of pleasure. First he was mad at Irene for wanting the divorce. Screamed at her, threatened her. Deep down, he new he had committed the sin. The infidelity to the marriage vows. The little bald headed pug nose judge agreed. She got the house, the car, alimony and child support. To beat matters, he only gets to see his two kids, once a month. Mike moved into a motel in town. Finally, seeing an ad for an apartment, a forty minute drive from his current city, he called, seen the apartment, it was nice and in a nice enough building to, it even had a doorman. He decided to take it. He sighed, and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower. Stripping down to his underwear he adjusted the water, and then turned on the shower. Letting the water run, he stepped over to the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. Graying hair. Pushing forty-five. Starting a new life, in a new city, at a new job. He turned from the mirror, not wanting to look any more. Taking off his underwear, he stepped in the shower. She kissed him. He gently caressed her face, kissing her tenderly on the lips. Falling against him pushing him back against the bed pillows, her dark hair fanning around his face. She arched her back taking his face in both hands; she pressed her mouth tightly on top of his. He parted his lips, as her tongue found his mouth, sliding inside. Putting his arms around her, he ran his hands up her back, as they rolled over. He ran his hands up to her shoulders. Mike opened his eyes. The pretty face of the girl was covered in blood. It ran down her face, onto her night gown. She looked frightened. She ran her hands up her face and into her hair, making it a bloody mess. The blood was coming from her arms. Her wrists were bleeding. It was his own scream that had awakened him. His body was drenched in sweat. The bed clothes were in disarray. Running his hand though his sweat wet hair, he sat up. The gray light of dawn was coming in through the white curtains of the bedroom window. Throwing back the crumpled sheets, he climbed out of bed. His feet hitting the cold floor, as he went into the bathroom. The city was alive this Friday morning, as he made his way down the street. Horns honking. Kids yelling on their way to school. The food aromas were reaching his nose, making his stomach growl. Seeing the little all night diner, he stepped in. Coffee brewing hit his nose, along with the smell of cooking eggs and frying sausage and bacon. Spotting an empty booth at the back, he headed there and slid across the vinyl seat and picked up the grease and coffee stained menu. Taking the pack of Marlboro out of his coat pocket, he took one out and laid them on the table top. He took out his lighter and lit the cigarette as the older, skanky looking waitress walked over to his table. "What'll it be?" "I'll start with coffee." "You got it." She turned and left the table, as Mike turned his attention back to the menu. He decided on eggs over easy and a side of sausage. The waitress returned with his coffee, and he ordered the eggs. As he sat and sipped his coffee while he smoked, the dream was beginning to fade, unleashing its hold on his mind. The waitress returned with his breakfast. "Anything else?" "That's it for now." He picked up his toast, as the waitress left the table. Mike broke the yoke on his egg, with his toast, soaking up the yellow yoke with his toast. And took a bite. The eggs and toast were good. The cool air hit him as he left the diner. Foot traffic was heavy on the downtown side walks. He found himself remembering some old song. "Downtown." By Petula Clark, remembered dancing to it with Irene. Pushing the memory away, he wished he could spend some leisure time checking out the stores. But, he had unpacking to finish and he did not like to put things off. Lighting another cigarette, he headed back to his apartment. He had unpacked a good share of the boxes. There weren't a lot of them. Not much too really show of his life, and 17 year marriage. But of course, the little bald judge had seen to that. Remember? His own fault, he reminded himself. Outside, night had fallen, and the apartment had taken on a chill. Picking the matches up off the fireplace mantel, he struck a match and lit the fire in the fireplace. As the fire caught, he stood with his back to it, feeling the heat. It seemed the apartment was growing colder. Turning from the fireplace he went to sit in his easy chair. She stepped out of the bedroom, going to stand by the fireplace. Running her hand over the mahogany mantel, she looked at him. He smiled at her. Tonight she was dressed in a short negligee, which hung above her knees. The legs smooth and shiny, as if she had just shaved them. "Darling." She said, removing her hand from the mantel, she slowly walked across the room to him. As she walked, the dim light in the living room, shown through her see through garment. How tempting her body looked. He ached for her. She slid onto his lap, bending down to put her lips on his. As she did, he noticed the sweet smell of her perfume. He slid his hands under her negligee, running his hands up her back. The phone began to ring. Mike opened his eyes, finding himself alone in the apartment, with a few boxes scattered around the room. The phone continued ringing. Getting up, he went into the kitchen to get the phone. "Hello?" he said, grabbing the receiver. "Karen?" "Do I sound like Karen?" "Sorry, wrong number." Mike replaced the receiver. Then looking around the kitchen, he grabbed the number for the pizza restaurant off the counter and picked up the receiver. "Dominique's." "I'd like to order a pepperoni pizza. Large." "Okay. Pick up, or delivery?" "Ah, delivery." "Okay. Address?" "557 Broaden Street, apartment 825." "Phone number?" "555-9087" "Okay, that'll be 30 minutes." Replacing the receiver he went back into the living room. The blazing fire in the hearth had knocked the chill off in the living room. The girl again came to his dream. Thinking of the dream, he felt her kiss still on his lips. Thinking of it, she filled him with longing and desire. At the same time, a feeling of dread and horror. Pushing the dream from his mind, he looked around the living room. Only a few boxes remained. Just odds and ends. He had unpacked most of the major things and put them away. Looking at the clock on the mantel, he saw that it was a quarter after nine. The unpacking was done for the night, he would finish tomorrow. Soon, there was a knock on the door. Good, his dinner had arrived. She stepped out of the shower; he wrapped the towel around her. Her hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, and onto the towel. Mike caressed her shoulders, feeling her soft smooth skin under his hands. Bending down he softly kissed her shoulders, then moved up to her neck. She moaned, as he continued, his desire for her filling his being with passion. The scent of the strawberry passion shampoo she had used on her hair, excited his senses even more. Moving to her lips, he grabbed her wet hair, letting it slide through his fingers. On the stereo in the living room, Petula Clark sang "Downtown," as their passions stirred. Her tender lips found his, as she slid her tongue into his mouth. They moved around in the bathroom, falling against the sink. As he pulled her tightly to him, she was a bloody mess. Blood dripped from her arms. Ruining her hands over her face, she left bloody smears and running her hands and wrists through her hair. Blood streaked her pretty dark hair. He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. His hair was matted with it. The bed clothes were in disarray. Getting up, he hurried into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was in need of a shave, but he just wanted to be out of the apartment and down in the street. The dream had really unnerved him. More than the first one had. Three dreams of this girl. When he thought about her, his desire for her sickened him. Who was she? Why was he dreaming of her? It was somebody he had never met before. Not important, he just wanted to leave the apartment. Maybe go back to the diner, get some breakfast. It was already five in the morning. Turning from the mirror, he stepped out into the bedroom to get dressed. He stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the lobby. As the doors began to close, an old woman tried to get into the elevator, Mike held the doors. The old woman stepped in. Her head was covered in a black cloth. Her bony fingers pushed the button for the fifth floor. He smiled at her, but didn't know if she smiled back at him, as her head was covered. The doors closed and Mike felt the elevator begin to move. The old woman was silent as she looked up at the floor numbers. "Been getting some cold nights," he said. The old woman made no response. Soon, they came to the 5th floor, and as the doors slid open the old woman stepped through them. Stopping she turned around. "What did you dream about, last night?" She asked, in a little whisper. Then she turned and got out of the elevator, and stepped down the hall. Mike caught the doors as they began to close and quickly stepped into the hall. She was gone. He moved down the hall where he seen her go. The floor looked like in was under renovation. Plastic sheets hung down in front of doors and paint buckets sat on tarps. "Hello?" he said as he moved down the hallway. "Where'd you go?" One of the covered apartment doors opened, and a maintenance man stepped out into the hall, looking at him. "Help you?" "I'm looking for a little old lady; she just got out on this floor." The man looked down the hall and back at him. "That's odd if she did. There are no tenants on this floor, at the present. I didn't see anyone but you today." A numb horror gripped him, and turned in his stomach like a writhing snake. He turned and headed back down the hall in the direction of the elevators, as fast as his legs would carry him. Reaching the elevators, he pushed the button and waited. Soon the doors dinged open, and he stepped inside. His heart did a flip in his chest. The girl was standing in the back of the elevator. "Hello, darling." She said, smiling at him. Mike blinked, but she was gone. He stepped into the elevator; his nerves were a jumble of electric wires. He pushed the button for the lobby. He really had to get the hell out of this building. Get out with the people. Away from here. The doors closed, and he was relieved to feel the elevator begin slipping between floors. Outside the red ball of the rising sun was lighting up the cold October morning, as he stepped out of the building. The sounds of the traffic were very light today. Of course, it was Sunday. A lot of people would be up later, going to church. Breakfast with their family. It wouldn't get really busy probably until the afternoon. He headed in the direction of the diner. Mike felt like he was the only one up at this early hour. The sidewalks were empty. He reached the diner and stepped inside. The warm air and the smell of coffee and cooking eggs greeted him warmly. The sounds and sight of the other diners relaxed him a little, as he found a booth and slid in. After eating his breakfast and stepping back out into the chilly city, he headed back toward his apartment to finish up with the unpacking. Over the next couple of days, he would take a little walk downtown, and check out some of the stores. Reaching his apartment, he stepped inside. Addison the door man smiled at him. "Hello, sir." "Hello. Addison, isn't it?" "Ah yes. You do have a mind for faces." "Hey Addison, I was wondering. Did you see a little old lady earlier? Dressed in black, and with her face covered?" Addison smiled at him, as he crossed his hands in front of his waist. "No. Can't say that I did." He smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Like them older, do ya?" he smiled more, showing his chicklet teeth, raising his eyebrows up and down. "Huh? Huh?" "Ah, no. She had asked me a question earlier, and I thought that I could talk to her." "Oh I see. Well, if I see anyone like that, I'll let them know that you're looking for them." The lobby doors opened and an older couple entered, Addison turned to greet them. Mike turned and went to the elevators. He pushed the button and waited. Soon, one of the doors dinged open. Getting in he pushed the button for the 8th floor. The doors closed and he felt the elevator jerk into life and begin its climb. The elevator soon stopped on the 8th floor, and the doors dinged open. He stepped out into the red carpeted hallway. It was empty. Walking in the direction of his apartment, he could hear some one's T.V. Reaching his door, he took his keys out and unlocked his apartment and entered. Looking around the living room, he looked at the few boxes that remained. Not many, so it shouldn't take long. Just some things that could be stored in the closet, and put away on shelves. It was still early in the afternoon. When he got done, he might have time to take a little walk downtown. Humming to himself, he went and got started. Opening the first box which was kitchen utensils, he took it into the kitchen. He set it down on the counter, and then opened the drawers near the sink, putting the things away. That done he went back to the other boxes. The next box was just some knickknacks' that he and Irene had collected over the years. Closing the lid, he thought about tossing them out. He decided to just put them in the closet instead. Carrying the box over to the closet, he sat it down and opened the sliding door. Setting the box down on the floor, he noticed a picture frame pushed up against the wall. Pushing the box to the back of the closet, he picked up the frame. Closing the closet door, he turned the frame over and looked at it and froze. Staring back at him from the black and white shot, was the young woman that has been invading his dreams. Taking the frame over to his desk and sitting down, he removed the back of the frame. The name on the back of the picture, written in ink read: Elizabeth Barker. The year under the name had faded. Lying the picture down, he turned back to look at the boxes. They would have to wait. He turned on his laptop and picked up the picture. Once the laptop was ready, he clicked the internet icon, and typed in Elizabeth Barker in the search box. Pages of things came up. Names of web sites, ancestors searches. Scrolling he found the name archived in the local paper. He clicked on it, bringing up the article. From 1965. The young woman had been found dead in her apartment in the bath tub. Her wrists had been cut. First police ruled a suicide. But with the insistent pressure from her mother, they did a small investigation. Still ruling suicide in the young woman's death. The woman's elderly mother that had discovered her daughter's body had also passed away. A chill ran down his back. The girl's elderly mother. The old woman in the elevator. "Get a hold of yourself." He said. "They're just dreams. The woman was someone else." "What did you dream about last night?" her whisper ran through his mind. Closing the lid on the laptop, he got up from his desk. Feeling foolish over his fear, he returned to his boxes. He turned his thoughts to the boxes and to his new job that he would be starting in the morning. Hearing the water running in the bathroom he got out of bed. Stopping outside of the bathroom door, he listened. He heard the bath tub filling and some splashing. He opened the door and stepped in. She looked at him. He smiled. She raised her arm, bringing up the razor blade. Before he could react, she dug deep into her wrist. Coming out of his daze, he reached her, but not in time to stop her from cutting her other wrist. She stepped out of the bloody tub as blood ran down her arms and dripped from her beautiful wet body. She smiled at him. "Why do you haunt my dreams?" "Dreams? You're not dreaming." She smiled, walking towards him. He backed into the door. "Join me darling." She brought the razor up and into his throat. Smiling as he slid to the floor struggling, she knelt in front of him. "Now, we'll always be together my love."

Susan sat at the desk in the little room, the afternoon sun cast cold shadows across the floor from the bars on the window. She opened her notebook and began to write. She wrote her little brother almost every day and would give the letter to the nurse that assured her she would mail it. But since she had been here, she had never gotten a letter from her brother. How long had Susan been here? She tried to think. She was sent here in the summer. Fall replaced summer, winter replaced fall. Two years she had been here. Susan laid down the dull pencil and stood up. She Walked over to the window. Outside it was summer again. She had not once been outside since she came here. Pressing her fingers against the window, she felt the warm summer sun on the glass and she longed to feel the breeze on her face and to walk barefoot in the grass. She wanted to feel the cool blades of grass under her feet and between her toes. The door opened behind her. Turning she saw the older, heavy set nurse. The nurse smiled pleasantly at her. "Dr. Hodges wants to see you, dear." Dear. Susan hated it when they called her that. Like they were addressing a child. She was no child. She was twenty-one. Susan twisted a strand of the blond hair that hung on her gown just above her shoulder, as she walked over to the nurse. The nurse stepped into the corridor and held the door for her. She stepped out into the corridor and walked with the nurse. Looking at her, the nurse smiled. "How are you today?" "Fine." Going to see Dr. Hodges for her weekly session. As he would always try to probe deeper into her head. Probe, probe, probe. On some occasions she would give him little tidbits. Things about her family, or her boy friend. He also seems to have abandoned her since she came to this place. 'This place.' That kept her locked up, like she was some kind of an animal. Doctors and nurses, giving you pills and sessions. The white uniformed orderlies that acted as policemen when you stepped out of line. Susan felt that she did not belong here. The nurse stopped outside of a door, with the name plate Dr. Hodges on the door. She knocked. "Yes." Came the reply from within. The voice sounding like it had resounded from the bottom of a tomb. The nurse pushed the door open and stuck her head inside. "Susan, doctor." She stepped aside letting Susan enter the office, then she closed the door behind her. Susan stood by the door, looking at the balding older man behind the desk. He smiled at her, she couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses that he wore. An open book laid in front of him on his desk. "Have a seat," he said as he stood up. Susan entered the room and slid over to the couch that was near the door. This is where she always sat during her sessions. He came around the desk, bringing the book with him. He sat down in the chair that fit his bulky form. He showed her the book. "Recognize it?" She looked at the book and nodded. It was one of hers. How did he get that? "Your parents brought it to me," he said, as if reading her mind. "Along with these." He opened her file and took out some photos, glancing at them as he handed them to her. Susan took the photos, and began looking at them. Dr. Hodges sat back in his chair, looking at Susan as she looked at the pictures. She looked at him. "Has my brother sent me any letters?" "No. Nothing." Finished looking at the pictures, she laid them down on the table in front of her. "Those are your brother's school pictures. Your parents thought that you might like them." He looked at her and smiled again. "Tell me about that night, Susan. The night with your brother." There it was. The night before she was brought here. Her mind reeled with the memory of 'that night'. The night she had finished reading that very book he now had in his possession. She closed her eyes. Susan was back in her room at home. She closed the cover of the book. She lay there looking at the ceiling thinking about the last page. Turning out the bedside lamp, she threw back her covers and got out of bed. She opened the bedroom door and listened. Not a sound; the house was quiet. Moonlight streamed gently into the hallway. Stepping out into the hall, she closed the door with a soft click and went down the hall to her little brother's room. Pushing open the door, she stepped quietly inside. Going to his bedside she looked down at him. The moonlight caressed his brow. How sweet he looked lying there. Sweet. Susan softly pulled back his covers. She climbed onto the bed with him. His eyes opened groggily, and he mumbled as he looked at her. "Susan?" Making no reply, she bent down and sank her teeth into his neck. Blood filled her mouth as he screamed. It ran out of his throat and into her blond hair. Splashing onto the bed clothes. The room filled with light and she heard her mother's screams, then her dad was pulling her off the bed. Blood ran down her chin. "He was so sweet," she said, as the life drained from her brother. Susan sat at the desk in the little room, writing a letter to her little brother. The End