The Cursed Man (11 page)

Terry swung his feet off the desk, leaned forward and sneered.

“You need to understand that the answer you seek won't change no matter how many different ways you phrase your questions or how many people you try to interrogate. There is a curse that surrounds that man, and it's very real.”

Terry stood and pressed his palms on the tabletop.

“And this thing you are so brazenly seeking may not have a name, but it most certainly has a purpose. It kills and does so without prejudice or delay.”

Anna watched Terry sit. He was wide-eyed, and sweat soaked his forehead.

“If this conversation bothers you—”

He shook his head. “I'm completely amazed by your doubt and equally baffled as to why you're still alive.”

Anna suddenly felt isolated and alone; the long dark tunnel before her and the maze of pipes behind her made her feel vulnerable.

“Before Director Conroy came here, Director Lofton ran this facility,” Terry said. He wiped his brow. “The first day Alister arrived, Director Lofton had me summoned to his office. I can remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.”

 

 

The past.

 

Director Lofton sat behind his steel desk and clicked his pen. He breathed heavily out his crooked nose, and his mouth hung open. His tongue pushed his cheek out and his thoughts were far away.

“You wanted to see me?” Terry said.

“Have a seat,” Lofton said. His mouth clamped shut, and his eyes danced around the room. His pale face showed worry, and he continued to breathe heavily.

“What's wrong?”

The director dropped the pen on the desktop and yanked the top drawer open, making it squeal. He withdrew a folded piece of paper and tossed it at Terry. “Read it.”

Terry sat and watched the director with tightened brows. “This isn't like you. You OK?”

The director wiped sweat from his brow and looked away. “I need you to read it.”

Terry took the paper, unfolded it and read it.  He tried to make sense of it, but he couldn't. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to know what it says and that every word of it is true.”

Terry laughed. “You can't be serious.”

“Every word of it, Terry. I mean it.”

“What do I have to do with the ramblings of one of your patients?”

“That letter isn't ramblings.”

“This is insane.”

“It was written by a man who is cursed.”

“Cursed because some of his friends and family died?”

“No,” Lofton said, slapping the desktop. He sat back and ran stiff fingers through his gray hair. “It's because anyone that talks to him dies.”

Terry shifted in the seat.

“I spoke to him, and my time is near,” Lofton said.

Terry searched the director's face for something that might tell him this was all a joke. He couldn't find anything. “I don't understand. What's going on?”

“The police officer the letter mentioned died, and so have a dozen others along the way. He is here.”

Terry's body warmed and he stood.

“I'm the only one left alive that has said anything to him.”

Terry searched the empty desktop for the solution. “There's got to be some way to stop it.”

The director shook his head.

“But there's got to be.”

“Not that will help me.”

“But–”

“Make sure no one says a word to him ever again.”

Terry sunk into his chair. “This is beyond comprehension.”

“You have no idea,” the director said. He leaned his elbows on the desktop. “I've implemented a plan that will keep anyone from having to speak with him, and the details are written down. Make sure you pass them on to the next director and he understands them.”

“How long?”

The director shrugged. “Minutes, maybe a few hours. I don't know.”

 

 

Present day.

 

Anna took a drink from the warmed soda and fanned herself with her free hand. “I suppose I don't need to ask whether or not the director died that day.”

Terry shook his head and lowered his voice. “And the memories I'd just shared with you aren't pleasant ones.”

“I'm sure.”

Terry spoke up. “Are you…”

“Wait,” she said. “If I said something—”

“Are you capable of seeing what your coming here is doing?”

Anna remained unresponsive. The continued feeling of vulnerability and isolation kept her cautious.

“People are scared.”

“I don't want to upset you, but I find their fears to be unreasonable. I came here to help a man that suffers, and I am doing just that.”

“That man deserves no one's sympathy.” Terry's face reddened.

“It's not sympathy; it's my job.”

“What he suffers from is his own doing.  There are a lot of people that hold him responsible for the death of at least a dozen people that worked here, many of whom were personal friends of mine.”

Anna discretely removed her cell phone from her pocket and flipped it open. “Your finger-pointing suggests he doesn't deserve rehabilitation,” she said. “I respectfully disagree.” The phone had no service. The basement was like a dungeon.

Terry's stare hardened. “I find your defensive nature both misplaced and offensive. He's responsible for bringing whatever has followed him here, and it has infected all of our lives.”

She put her phone away. “I won't even attempt to defend something incidental, and I don't think it's necessary for you to raise your voice at me to try and get your point across.”

Terry shook his head. “I was probably expecting too much from you in hoping you'd understand Alister doesn't suffer from anything curable.”

Anna closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Your rhetoric sounds strangely similar to Director Conroy's.”

“Alister is a plague without a cure.”

“I appreciate your talking with me, Terry.”

“Less than an hour after I left the first director's office, he was found dead,” Terry said.

“I don't need to hear any more.”

“You need to know he was slumped over his desk, his face contorted with fear. Those last moments must have been terrible for him. A few days later, I discovered what he died from.”

Anna started to gather her belongings. “He drowned.”

Terry postured. “How could you know that?”

“Know what?”

“The way the director died,” Terry said. “How could you possibly know that?”

Anna hesitated. “I didn't; it was merely a guess.” She turned toward the exit.

“No,” Terry said. He jumped to his feet and kicked his chair over. “I know it wasn't a guess. No one could guess such a strange death. Besides, you said it as if you were certain.”

“The way I said what?”

“It was like you knew for sure. I'd like to know how that's possible when his cause of death was never released.”

“I don't know what you're getting so excited about. What I said was a simple guess. And you're acting as though I was the one responsible for your friend's death.”

“You dare!” Terry rounded the table, his eyes trained on Anna.

“That certainly seems to be a possibility.”

“This has become pointless,” Anna said as she started to walk away.

Terry latched onto her arm and pulled her close.

“You need to stay away from him before someone else gets killed.”

“You're hurting me,” Anna said. She tried to free herself from Terry's grasp.

“It can get worse.”

“Let go of me,” Anna said. Her voice echoed down the tunnel. She yanked her arm away and rubbed the sting left where he had grabbed her. “I refuse to give up on him like everyone else has because they were bullied into believing in this curse.”

Terry reached for Anna again, but she pulled away.

“Keep your damn hands off of me!”

Terry smiled.

“You're crazy, you know that? You and everyone else that has mistreated that man because of some mad idea about a curse.”

“How dare you!”

Terry clenched his fists and kicked the table, breaking it apart with a loud crash. He stepped forward, but the doctor was already running up the stairs. He plopped himself into the lawn chair and the straps gave a little more under his weight.

“Stupid bitch. What is it going to take to get you to understand?”

The sound of the compressors were the only thing that answered him. He rubbed his eye and let out a nervous laugh.

“What will it take?”

 

 

ATTEMPTED MURDER

 

 

The past.

 

“Come with me,” a nurse that stood over Alister said. “Let me help you up.” He extended a hand.

“No! You shouldn't talk to him!” the sergeant said. He was on all fours and blood dripped from his mouth. “Please, don't let anyone talk to him.”

The nurse helped Alister to his feet and turned his attention to the sergeant. “Please, lie down and try not to move. The doctor is coming for you.”

“Oh, no,” the sergeant said. He wiped his mouth with his hand, rolled over on his back and brought his knees up to his chest. “Now you're doing it.” He tried to look around, but a surge of pain stiffened his body. He gasped. “When will it end?”

“You'll be all right,” the nurse said to the sergeant. He took Alister by the arm. “Come inside with me.”

“You've got to listen to me,” the sergeant said. He wanted to stand up on something tall and tell everyone that they were in danger by talking to that man and that it wasn't safe. But he couldn't. He didn't have the strength.

“Why didn't I listen?”

Now the sergeant experienced what Alister had gone through while he tried to warn him of the curse and its dangers, and he felt helpless and alone.

“Damn it.” The sergeant drew a deep breath. “Everybody listen to me!” The sound of his voice barely carried beyond his lips. A crowd that had formed looked at his friend's corpse and exclaimed their revulsion, their words a blended chorus of chatter.

“I'm a fool,” the sergeant said. He could taste blood, and a chill rocked his body. He looked to the left and right. His heart raced and his eyes widened as he searched the area.

He couldn't see what he had been looking for, but it was there. He could feel it. It made his skin crawl, and he wanted to be far away from it.

He dug inside his pocket and removed the note Alister had given him. He struggled to his feet and staggered to the doctor that declared his fellow officer dead and held the note out.

“Please, take this and pass it on to whoever is going to care for the man I brought here.”

The doctor reluctantly took the folded paper. “What is it?”

“It's a truth that is unbelievable, but you need to know it is a truth.”

The sergeant flinched at something he saw move behind the doctor. It was dark and fast.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“It's behind you!” All color rushed out of his face and his eyes were wide. He backed away and pointed.

The doctor looked. “There's nothing there. Please, you need to sit down.”

“It's there,” the sergeant said. He licked his lips. His mouth was dry, and his tongue tasted like metal. “Please, make sure you pass along that note. Everything it says is exactly what happened to me.”

“You really need to sit.”

The sergeant grabbed the doctor's hand and fixed his eyes on the doctor's in a hardened stare. “Make sure that note makes it into the right hands.” The sergeant grabbed the doctor by his collar and pulled him close. “Promise me you'll do that.”

“Yeah, sure,” the doctor said as he resisted the sergeant's grasp. “I can do that.”

The sergeant's eyes grew wide and he gasped. He staggered backward with his focus fixated on the dark figure that stood behind the doctor and flicked its blood red tongue at his neck. Its eyes glowed yellow and it sniffed and growled.

“No!”

“What is it?” the doctor asked.

The sergeant fell and pointed at what he saw. “Can't you see it? It's right behind you.”

The doctor turned around and there was nothing there. He looked back to the sergeant, who was stiff with fear.

“Tell them I heard its approach and have seen its face. It is something out of a nightmare.”

The dark figure laughed and rubbed its hands together. It stepped toward the sergeant, its movement slow and tormenting.

“I won't let it get me.”

The sergeant drew his weapon from its holster and placed it inside his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Blam.

 

 

Ten feet before the entrance of the hospital, a loud bang followed by a chorus of screams chilled Alister and stopped his progress.

“What in the hell was that?” the nurse that escorted him asked.

Alister started to look toward the commotion but stopped himself. He knew it was the sounds of the sergeant dying and the witnesses gripped by the brutality and shock of his death.

Alister hurried toward the door. He believed if he were to get inside the hospital, he would somehow be safe from the growing wake of tragedy. But the nurse grabbed Alister by the arm.

“Hold on.”

The nurse tried to sort through the confusion.

“Please, let me get inside,” Alister said.

The nurse stood on his toes, bobbing and weaving as he tried to see what had happened.

“The cops that brought me here are dead,” Alister said. “He warned you not to talk to me because bad things happen to anyone that does.”

The nurse paid Alister no mind and looked back at the stunned crowd.

“Have you been given the note I wrote?” Alister said.