Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (2 page)

He grabs a bag of chips and a soda, not responding to me at first. "Is that a trick question?"

"What do you mean?"

"I figured Mom would want to ground me."

I look toward the living room and back to him, lowering my voice. "As far as Mom is concerned, you are. I just don't know if I'll feel like sitting around the house all day. What do you say?"

Rusty shakes his head and takes a long gulp of his drink. "I don't know. I'm gonna go back upstairs." He takes the stairs two at a time, disappearing behind his door again.

I finish off my wine and resist the urge to sit back down on the couch. My exhaustion is full force now and wherever I land will be where I know I'll sleep. "Hon, I'm gonna turn in. Wake me up before you leave for work in the morning." Leaning down, I kiss her. Her hand cups the back of my head, pulling me in for a deeper kiss. Her teeth nip at my lips and I run my hands through her long hair.

Pulling away, she says, "I'll be up in a few minutes. I'm gonna watch a little of the news. Love you."

"Love you too."

As I brush my teeth, I stare into the mirror. My two-day-old stubble is starting to grow in pretty dark and there are black rings under my eyes. Maybe I'm not getting as much sleep as I thought. Maybe I am sleep walking more than I realize. Ambling toward the bed, I burrow under the covers and bury my head into the soft pillows, taking in Rose's scent. Sure, I'm tired and need rest, but another part of me wants to find out if I really sleep walk. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.

Chapter Two

At around two in the morning something pulls me awake - something that sounds like a loud thump coming from downstairs. Sitting up, I feel the sweat on my brow as it drips down into my eyes. Swiping it away with my arm, I see Rose is now awake too, confused and pissed that I woke her up.

"Nathan? What the hell?"

"Did you hear that?" Kicking my legs off the side of the bed, I grab my Louisville Slugger from the closet.

"Hear what?"

"I think I heard someone downstairs. It was loud."

I keep my voice low as I edge out onto the landing, peering over the rail. The house is dark except for the low glow from the clock on the stove and coffee pot. I clench the bat so tight that my knuckles grow sore. Rose starts to follow me, but I put my hand up to stop her.

"No, stay here. I don't want you getting hurt."

She brushes some of her disheveled hair from her face, still looking apprehensive. I ignore it and slowly go down the stairs, my pulse thumping so hard that my brow aches. I hear another thump that sends my heart beat into overdrive.

"Who's there?" I ask, but get no response.

Flipping on all of the lights, an empty living room and kitchen is revealed. Everything is in place. I lower the bat and feel a flood of relief, but I am still not satisfied. I notice that Rose is halfway down the stairs and I ignore her. Instead, I check the pantry, the closets, and any place that someone might be hiding.

"Hon, I think you are hearing things. I didn't hear it and there's no one around. You sure you weren't dreaming? Maybe about to start sleep walking again?"

"I heard something, Rose." My throat burns and I drink almost a whole bottle of water.

"What did it sound like?"

I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the moisture on my skin. I am sweating like I have just got done running a marathon and if someone took my heart rate, they'd think the same thing. "Like, you know..." I try to put it into words. "Like when someone is walking through a dark room they're not familiar with and they bump into stuff. It happened twice, the second time I was fully awake."

Rose takes the bat from me. "I think you need to get some sleep, Nathan."

I notice Rusty at the top of the stairs, looking very annoyed. "What's going on?"

"Your dad thought he heard someone in the house." Rose's tone is condescending and I feel my cheeks warm up with embarrassment. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it was just something I was dreaming. Something tells me that isn’t the case.

"Rusty, did you hear anything?" I ask, hoping he can justify my case.

"No. You guys woke me up." He wastes no time and slams his door.

Rose stares at me, a look of disbelief on her face. "I've gotta be up in a few hours. I'm going back to bed."

"Would you rather me just ignore what I hear and let someone come in here and kill us? Better safe than sorry, right?" I do feel bad about waking them up, but how can I ignore the possibility of someone being in my house?

"You're sleep deprived. Come to bed, hon."

Something tells me to stay downstairs. With my erratic sleep patterns that have apparently been happening, it is best to keep her and Rusty out of it. "I'm gonna stay down here and sleep on the couch. I don't wanna wake you up again."

Rose nods and doesn't contest the idea. "Suit yourself, Nate. Good night."

I grab a couch pillow and a throw blanket and curl up, staring off into the darkness. The house is so quiet that I can hear every creak in the wood, every second hand ticking, and my deep breathing as I try to relax. I'm wound up as tight as a drum and though my eyes burn and my body is spent, sleep won't come. Turning over, I face the TV, it's soft glow mesmerizing in the pitch black. I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to it, but it's almost hypnotizing.

After a few minutes I'm able to let my guard down and my body settles into the cushions. Just as I'm about to doze, I can swear I hear someone scurry across the laminate floor in the kitchen. Sitting up, I glance in that direction. In the corner of my eye, it feels like someone is peering at me from around the corner.

I start to stand up, but the once calming effect of the glow from the TV is gone, replaced by the most eerie thing I have ever seen on the screen. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I'm literally frozen, unable to take a step, unable to even breathe. The world around me freezes and I am finally able to put it together. A dark face is looking at me, its stringy hair and razor teeth like something out of a horror book, but I am unable to make out who it is. The TV static is loud, deafening me. The evil grin it wears is enough to make a grown man want to shit his own pants, and after finally coming to my senses, I fall back on the couch and pull the blanket over my face, scared to open my eyes. My body is shaking and I stay like that for what seems like several minutes.

I try to find courage, but it fails me. This is ridiculous. I'm a freaking firefighter for God's sake. Finally, I slowly pull the blanket off of my head. The TV is dark. The evil face I saw on the screen is not there. I rest my hands on the coffee table, trying to compose myself. What in the hell just happened? Am I dreaming? I lift my hands off of the wood, and my palms are so clammy that they leave an outline of sweat right on the surface. No, this isn't a dream. Everything I am feeling is all too real.

How in the hell do I calm myself after something like that? I turn on a lamp, suddenly experiencing a fear of the dark. Walking to the kitchen, I flip the light on. The hum of the fluorescent light is loud, or maybe my senses are just that sensitive right now. I rummage through the cabinet where we keep the liquor and grab a bottle of scotch. Drinking alcohol is probably not the best coping mechanism, but it's the only thing I can think to do after something like this.

I don't even mess with a glass. Tipping the bottle, I take a long pull, feeling the burn straight down to my stomach. The numbing effect works almost instantly, and I take another long swig before sliding the bottle across the counter top.

"Not a smart thing to do, Lieutenant Gallagher."
A tinny voice echoes and I turn on my heel to see who it is.

No one. Not a single person in the room with me. What in the hell is happening? Was there someone hiding and messing with my head? That still doesn’t explain what I saw on the TV. To hell with it. I finish off the bottle of booze and make my way back to the couch. I leave the kitchen light on, as well as the lamp. Great, I've become one of those people who have to leave lights on. I'm extremely drowsy now and the room spins as I slam my body back down into the cushions.

Staring up at the ceiling, I try again to make sense of what happened. First I hear someone. Then I swear I see someone staring at me. And the face in the TV. That's what makes me the most nervous. I'm just having a vivid dream. That's what it's gotta be. There's no other explanation. Rusty had seen me sleep walking. I haven't been getting a good night's rest. Yeah.

My eyelids grow heavy again and I don't fight it. At least the scotch is helping me. Drifting, I tell myself that things will make a lot more sense in the morning. Damn it, I hope so.

***

“Nathan? Wake up Nathan!”

I hear Rose’s voice, but it’s like she is in a far off tunnel that I can’t get to. Slowly opening my eyes, it feels like someone is driving a nail right through my forehead. Blinking, my vision finally clears and she is standing over me, dressed in her lime green scrubs, her hair pulled back. She looks great, aside from the fact that she seems completely pissed about something.

“Yeah?” The sound of my own voice echoes against my skull and I cringe at the sharp pain that shoots through my entire body.

“Explain this to me, would you?” Rose holds out the empty bottle of scotch, her jaw clenching as she waits on my answer.

Suddenly my memory comes back to me, and I remember the creepy ass night I had. The random voice, but most of all, the crazy image I saw flash right in front of me on the TV. No, I’m not going to tell her about that. She won’t believe it anyway, especially with the harsh evidence she has against me. A lot of it would be blamed on the alcohol, though I didn’t consume it until after I had experienced what I had.

Sitting up, it takes me a second to completely come to and in the meantime, Rose is pacing, her hands on her hips as she tries to wait patiently for my answer. I have no idea what to say. The truth is always the best bet, but I wasn’t sure what to believe, and all the shit happened to me personally.

“Nathan? This bottle was almost completely full. By the way you look, I’d say you’re the guilty party.”

“Yeah, I drank it, Rose.” Even nodding my head proves to be painful, so I try to sit as still as possible.

“Why in the hell did you drink so much?”

“I needed to relax.” There, I don’t lie.

“After hearing someone in the house that wasn’t really here?” Rose stops pacing and folds her arms over her chest. Damn it, if she only knew the whole story. “I understand a shot or two, but the whole bottle? I’m amazed I was even able to wake you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Rose shakes her head and grabs the bottle again, walking to the kitchen. Standing up, I go against my body’s warnings to stay still and follow her. Tossing the bottle into the trash, she stays facing away from me, and by the way her shoulders slump I can tell that she’s on the verge of crying. Standing right behind her, I wrap my arm around her waist but she pushes away.

“You’re not gonna use your charm to get out of this, Nathan. You know how I feel about too much drinking. Your father is an alcoholic. You know how mean he gets and how crappy he treats you.”

Her words hit hard but she is right. “I know, hon. That’s always something I think about.”

“Did it cross your mind last night when you decided to drain the liquor cabinet?”

I grab her hand but she is still resistant to my attempts. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m not sure what else you want me to say.” I’ve got tons to say, but she’s already looking at me like I should be in an insane asylum, so some things are best left buried.

“I just don’t want our marriage to end up like your parent’s. I don’t want Rusty growing up with the same feelings you feel toward your father. Just think about that.” She grabs her lunchbox and looks at her watch. “I gotta get going. I’m gonna be cutting it close and we’re already short one nurse this week.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

I want to pull her in for a kiss, but she’s out the door before I can even attempt it. Sitting at the kitchen table, her comments about my family make me think long and hard. She’s absolutely right. I don’t want to end up like my father. It pains me to think about it, but proves to be good inspiration to not get that way.

“I told you, Lieutenant Gallagher. Not a good idea.”

The same tinny voice I heard last night whispers nearby. Turning around, there is no one else in the kitchen. Rusty is still in bed and probably will be in bed until afternoon. I’m not going to buy into it. I’m exhausted, hung over, and confused, and I don’t want to deal with it right now.

Ambling up the stairs, I fight off the pounding headache and collapse into our bed. Hell, with the way the room is spinning, I’m probably still somewhat drunk. My eyes burn and within a matter of seconds, I’m drifting off into oblivion.

***

“Dad! You’re doing it again, Dad!”

My son is yelling at me, and I’m having a hard time responding. Coming to, I realize I’m standing on the landing and he’s near his bedroom door, pointing at me. What is going on and why am I here? I can’t even remember getting here.

“What?” I ask, the hung over feeling from earlier still present.

“You’re sleep walking! I’ve been trying to wake you up for like five minutes. What the hell?”

“What time is it?” I remember the argument with Rose and going upstairs after, but past that, it’s all a blur.

“It’s twelve-thirty.” Rusty looks anything but thrilled. “You’re really freaking me out.”

Stepping toward him, I realize I still feel like complete shit. A combination of not sleeping well and scotch will do that to a person, and I make a mental note to not do that again. “I’m not feeling well, Son.”

“Frankly Dad, you look like shit.”

Leaning on the railing next to the stairs, it’s as if some kind of flu bug has gotten me, but I know better. “I know I said we were gonna try to do something today, but I don’t think I can, Rus.”

He holds his hand up. “I think it’s a good idea we stay home. You’re sick and I don’t think Mom would be okay with me going out and doing something since I’m suspended. Just go to bed. And please, try not to sleep walk again.”

Walking closer, I wobble on my legs but am able to keep my balance. “Can you tell me something, Rusty?”

“What?”

“What exactly do I look like whenever you see me sleep walking?” I’m not sure I want to know, but my curiosity is running wild.

Rusty thinks about the question for a second. “This time you woke me up because you were saying something. You even yelled.”

“What did I say?”