They Kill, page 16
Without thinking about it, she took hold of the knob, pressed her shoulder to the door, and shoved. There was a groan of metal as the lock began to give, and then a snap as it broke. The door swung open and Mandy grinned. Evidently, she was stronger now. Much.
She turned on the light, stepped into the empty office, and closed the door behind her. Now that the lock was broken, the door didn’t close fully, but that was all right. She didn’t need to be in here very long. She’d been in the office before and knew which cubicle was Sierra’s. It looked exactly as you’d expect from an art teacher. A poster of Monet’s Water Lilies tacked to one wall, a poster of Norman Rockwell’s famous self-portrait in which he sat at an easel looking into a mirror as he painted an image of himself, a wall calendar that displayed paintings by Georgia O’Keefe. She had a Bob Ross Funko Pop! figure on her desk next to the computer, along with a ceramic pencil-and-pen holder she’d made in college as an undergrad. It wasn’t very good, and Mandy thought Sierra had made a wise decision in deciding to devote herself to watercolors as her chosen medium. There were a number of portfolio cases stored next to the chair, but those belonged to students and didn’t concern her.
Acting on instinct once more, she bent her face to the computer keyboard and sniffed, drinking in the scent of Sierra’s fingers. She then lifted the phone receiver and smelled it. She replaced it, then got down on her knees in front of Sierra’s office chair and pressed her nose against the fabric. She inhaled deeply this time, pulling in every bit of Sierra’s scent that clung to the seat. The combined smell of Sierra’s cunt and ass was like the aroma of fine wine to her, and she could’ve remained here for hours, breathing it in and becoming increasingly intoxicated. But that’s not why she’d come here. She understood that now. When she was finished, she stood, closed her eyes, and once more inhaled through her nostrils. In her mind, she envisioned a golden thread that wound through the cubicles to the office door. She followed this trail, still keeping her eyes closed. When she reached the door, she opened it and stepped into the hall, eyes still shut. The golden thread continued on down the hall to the stairs, where she could no longer see it. She then opened her eyes. The golden thread that indicated Sierra’s scent trail was no longer visible to her, but she could feel it, and she knew she could find Sierra wherever she went.
Mandy smiled.
“I’m coming for you, sweet thing. And when I find you, you’ll come for me.”
She started down the hallway, following the golden thread of Sierra’s scent and imagining all the things she’d command the woman to do to her once she had her in thrall.
Afternoon delight, indeed.
Chapter Nine
Jeffrey was enjoying himself. He couldn’t feel the sun or the breeze on his skin, which admittedly was disappointing, but from all appearances, it was a thoroughly pleasant fall day. He’d been walking for a while now, he wasn’t sure how long, but he’d covered a lot of ground and wasn’t tired in the slightest. He felt as if he could keep on wandering like this forever, stopping only to greet people and bestow upon them the great gift he had to offer. He wished his thoughts weren’t so jumbled, though. He had difficulty focusing on one thing for more than a few seconds before his brain moved on to something else. It was like he had a world-class case of ADD, his thoughts sliding away from him like quicksilver. His memory wasn’t any better. He couldn’t recall what he’d been doing this morning before walking into town. Worse, he couldn’t remember anything farther back than that. Whenever he tried, his head hurt, and if he persisted, the pain intensified to the point where it became unbearable. So naturally, he’d stopped trying.
Flashes of memory came to him unbidden at times, though, scraps of sights and sounds that made little sense. Kissing a man he loved. Laughing with a woman who he also loved, but in a different way, deeper, as if she were part of him. There were moments when his memories became clearer – like when he’d seen the woman – Sierra? – through the window at the art place and left her a message etched in brick, and when the man – Marc? – approached him as he was giving his gift to the woman and her dog. These moments didn’t last, though, and his thoughts devolved into a disordered mess once more. It was frustrating, but it was also nice in a Zen kind of way. It kept him living in the now, and if he just relaxed and went with it, it was as if he existed in a state of grace, a peacefulness that he hadn’t known since his time in the womb.
He hadn’t consciously chosen his route all morning, had been content to wander and allow impulse and circumstance to choose for him. But that didn’t mean his subconscious didn’t give him a nudge in one direction or another at times. That was how he’d come to pass by ArtWorks, and why’d he’d ended up walking around shopping centers where he and Marc used to go. And it was also why he now found himself standing outside the three-story office building that housed Reliant Financial, the place where he’d worked. He didn’t recognize it as such, of course, but he felt compelled to stop and stare at it.
There were no signs outside to say what businesses leased space inside the building. The only identifier was the street number – 683 – indicated by large metal numerals bolted to the brick above the glass-door entrance. It was a professional building, a place where physicians, lawyers, psychologists, accountants, and financial advisors like Jeffrey once was plied their trades. The parking lot was testament to this, as it was filled with new – or relatively new – vehicles that were quite expensive. Jeffrey’s pickup, nice as it was, had been seriously out of place here, and he’d gotten a kick out of that. He’d never been the kind of person to put much stock in appearances.
If he remembered any of these details now, they were like faint, distant echoes spoken in a language he only half understood. Still, he felt compelled to enter the building, so that’s what he did.
Once inside the lobby, he turned to look at the directory attached to the wall near the building’s sole elevator. He gazed upon the names without recognition until he came to Reliant Financial, second floor. The words didn’t mean much to him in and of themselves. His reading comprehension skills were spotty at best now. But a word did enter his mind then, a simple concept that brought with it a strong sense of belonging.
Work.
Jeffrey stepped to the elevator, pushed the button to summon the car, and waited. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone, but it felt like it had been a while. He was going to have a lot of catching up to do, but that was okay. He’d never been afraid of a little hard work, and it would be good to see everyone again, even if he couldn’t quite remember who everyone was.
The elevator dinged as it arrived, and the door slid open. Smiling, Jeffrey stepped inside and pushed the button for the second floor. As the door slid shut, he thought, I wonder if they’ll be glad to see me.
* * *
“I saw him with my own eyes this morning, and I still can’t believe it,” Sierra said.
“Right? It’s insane!”
Marc drove while Sierra held his phone and watched a video a friend had sent him. The friend worked at Reliant Financial, and was in fact the guy who’d thrown the barbecue party where Jeffrey and Marc had met. The video wasn’t very long, less than thirty seconds, and it showed Jeffrey standing in the office, looking around, his mouth set in a dreamy smile, as if he was drunk or high on some really good shit. On the video, the friend said, “That looks like Jeffrey, doesn’t it? I mean exactly like him. But that’s impossible!”
Yes, it is, Sierra thought. But just because something was impossible, didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.
She played the video three times. The image was often blurry and the phone shook in the man’s hand, but the picture was clear enough for her to be sure it was Jeffrey she was looking at. When she was finished watching the video, she put Marc’s phone down between them on the seat.
Marc had called her after her encounter with Mandy, before she could call him. He’d received the video in the middle of the meeting with his client, and he’d been so freaked out that he cut the meeting short, got in his car, and called her while he was hauling ass toward the college. He picked her up outside the faculty parking lot, and now they were heading for Reliant Financial where, it seemed, her brother had returned to work after having been dead for a year.
“Do you think he’s hurt anyone?” Marc asked. He was driving too fast and too recklessly, especially for an insurance professional, but Sierra wasn’t about to tell him to slow down.
“Not before the video was taken. If Jeffrey had hurt anyone, there’d be screaming and running.”
Of course, that didn’t mean Jeffrey hadn’t decided to give his ‘gift’ to someone after the video had been recorded, but she didn’t say this aloud. She didn’t need to. Marc was as aware of the possibility as she was.
“I texted him immediately and told him everyone needed to evacuate the office. He didn’t text me back, though, so I don’t know if he got the message. Or if he did….”
“It was too late,” Sierra finished.
“Yeah.”
They continued driving in silence after that. Sierra had no idea what Marc was thinking, but she was desperately trying to come up with some way they could help Jeffrey and prevent him from hurting anyone else. She was glad that seeing the video had motivated Marc to get past his initial shock at seeing Jeffrey alive – or maybe a better word would be not-dead. They might not like each other, but she thought it would take both of them to get through to Jeffrey. If that was even possible. So far, her plan consisted of Marc and her confronting Jeffrey, talking to him, and hoping they could reason with him. But if they couldn’t, if his mind was too far gone, what could they do to stop a living ghost who could kill with a single touch? What could anyone do?
She hadn’t come up with anything better by the time they reached the building that housed Reliant, and she decided Marc and she would have to pray that Jeffrey responded to them. And if he didn’t, they’d have to improvise. She didn’t think much of her plan when it came to their prospects for long-term survival, but it was the best she had.
Marc pulled into the building’s lot, found an empty space, and parked. Sierra looked at Marc and he at her, as if each was hoping to borrow a measure of courage from the other. But neither had any to spare, so they got out of the car and started walking toward the building’s entrance. Sierra experienced an impulse to reach out and take Marc’s hand for support, but she resisted the urge. Just because they were temporarily allies, didn’t make them friends. She kept her eyes on the entrance, expecting a mass of people to come running out of the building any second, shouting and screaming. But no one did.
Not a good sign, she thought.
There was a dreamlike quality to their short trip across the parking lot. Everything seemed to take longer than it should, like time had slowed, and she felt disconnected from her own body, an outside observer watching a pair of morons marching to their deaths.
They entered the lobby and found it empty and silent. The quiet was eerie, as disturbing in its own way as a chorus of throat-tearing screams. Maybe more so. A sweet-rank odor of rot hung in the air, telling Sierra that her brother had passed this way.
Marc pushed the button for the elevator, and they stepped back as it descended, instinctively giving themselves room in case someone should rush out at them when the door opened. But the car was empty. They stepped inside, Marc pressed the button for the second floor, the door closed, and with a slight judder they began to ascend. Jeffrey’s rank scent filled the elevator car, so thick Sierra had to breathe through her mouth, as did Marc. She didn’t like the idea of drawing the stench into her lungs, feared some portion of Jeffrey’s deathtouch might cling to his stink and infect them. She imagined her lungs decaying until she could no longer breathe, imagined the rot sweeping through her body like a virulent fire, devouring her from the inside out as it spread. Her heart sped up and sweat broke out on her brow, but otherwise, nothing happened. It seemed however the deathtouch worked, whether Jeffrey controlled it or not, his flesh had to be in contact with another’s for it to activate.
The elevator dinged when it reached the second floor, and even though Sierra was expecting it, the sound made her jump. The door opened, and after a moment’s hesitation, the two of them stepped out. The hallway was as quiet and empty as the lobby, but if anything, the silence was more disturbing. It felt heavier somehow, more oppressive. And the smell of rot filled the air, so thick it almost felt like something solid. Reliant Financial’s offices were located to the left of the elevator, and Sierra and Marc started toward them. They passed a periodontist’s office and a bankruptcy lawyer’s before coming to Reliant. There were no windows in the hall, just heavy wooden doors with the names of businesses displayed on the wall next to them. So Sierra and Marc would get no advance warning about what waited for them inside.
“I have an absurd impulse to knock first,” Marc whispered.
Sierra ignored him. She took hold of the doorknob, turned it, and slowly pushed the door open. She entered the office, Marc following close behind.
It had been a long time since Sierra had last visited Jeffrey at work, but the office layout was the same as she remembered. There was a large open space in the middle with four desks pushed up against one another, two on each side. There were three individual offices with their own desks and chairs sitting in front of them. The desks in the middle were where the financial advisors did their work, and the individual offices were where they met with clients. A lot of the advisors’ work was done online or over the phone, so a larger overall space wasn’t necessary. Even so, Reliant’s owner kept promising her employees that they’d move to nicer digs, but it hadn’t happened yet. Sierra wished it had, because Jeffrey wouldn’t have been able to find them then.
There was no one in the outer office. Computers were booted up and running. Coffee mugs and a soft drink bottle sat on desks, alongside a half-empty snack bag of peanuts and a candy bar wrapper no one had gotten around to throwing away yet. Piles of gray dust rested on the carpeted floor near the desks – four of them. A cell phone lay next to one of the piles, which Sierra guessed were the remains of the man who’d sent Marc the video of Jeffrey. The stink of rot suffused the room, so thick it made her eyes water.
She heard the sound of typing and saw that Jeffrey was seated at a desk in one of the individual offices, fingers moving across a computer keyboard, as if he was pretending to work. He looked worse than he had when she’d seen him earlier at ArtWorks. His skin was gray and shot through with thin black veins. His eyes were covered with a milky cast, and Sierra wondered how he could see through them.
He noticed Sierra and Marc watching him, looked up, and smiled.
“It had been a long time since I’d seen them,” he said, “so I just had to give them all hugs.”
Her stomach lurched, and she swayed, suddenly dizzy. They were too late.
“It’s also been a while since I’ve seen you two, hasn’t it?” Jeffrey frowned. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite remember….” He trailed off, eyes widening in recognition. “Sierra! Marc!”
At that moment, Sierra forgot four people had recently died here. She felt a flush of emotion upon hearing Jeffrey say her name, so strong she felt like laughing and crying at the same time. But then Jeffrey stood and came walking toward them, arms outstretched.
Sierra held up her hand to stop him.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said.
Jeffrey looked confused and more than a little hurt, but he halted and dropped his arms to his sides.
“Are you mad that I didn’t go into ArtWorks to talk to you this morning? My memory’s been messed up lately. I recognized you as someone I knew, someone I thought was named Sis, but that was all.” He smiled. “It sounds dumb now that I’ve said it, but it’s true.” He looked at Marc. “My memory was working better when I saw you, hon. Not perfectly, but enough so that I knew who you were and what we meant to each other.” His expression softened, and sorrow came into his eyes. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re doing a damn good job of it now too.” Marc gestured to the nearest pile of gray dust. “Did you have to kill them?”
Jeffrey looked shocked.
“I didn’t kill them. I freed them!”
“They don’t look very free to me,” Marc said. “Unless your idea of freedom is to end up stored in an urn on somebody’s mantle and getting dusted once a week.”
“What you’re looking at is only the residue of their physical bodies. The people aren’t there. As I said, they’ve been released.”
“Released to what?” Sierra asked. “To where?”
Jeffrey opened his mouth to answer, but then he frowned. After a moment, he continued, but with less confidence than before. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I just know that it’s somewhere better than here.”
“Just about any place is better than Bishop Hill,” Marc said, “although I’m partial to Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to learn to surf. Or maybe parasail. That looks like it would be fun too.”
The man was babbling, and Sierra wondered if it was a nervous habit or if Marc had experienced his fill of weirdness for one day and was on the verge of mentally shutting down. She couldn’t afford to lose him now, so she punched his arm as hard as she could.
“Ow!” Marc turned toward her. “Why did you do that?”
“To help you stay focused, dumbass.” She turned her attention back to Jeffrey. “Do you know what happened, how you…came back?”
Jeffrey cocked his head to the side, clearly puzzled. “Back? Was I gone?”
She didn’t want to tell him. How could you inform your only sibling that he was supposed to be several miles from here, buried in Woodlawn Cemetery? But as it turned out, she didn’t have to.
