Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner (48 page)

Janet was not totally sure what that
meant. But it still brought tears to her eyes.

***

Saturday had left Celeste
disappointed. While under, she had been a simple searching being.
She hadn’t known herself or her environment. She was like a charged
presence looking for something to connect to, something to bring
equilibrium to her being, to cancel her charge out. While she was
under, deep in a trance, she hadn’t known the meaning of what was
going on, but when she came to and reflected on it, she had an idea
what it meant. She had been searching for something to help her,
and she hadn’t found it. She suspected the boy, Toby, hadn’t found
it either, but the man, James, had. That was why Dr. Porter had
stuck around with James.

Suddenly, Dr. Porter’s guarantee had
seemed less real. Maybe she couldn’t find what she was looking for.
Maybe it didn’t exist. She was afraid to dream. Her friend, the one
she had imagined, got pushed back again. Even in her fantasy life,
she was alone.

She used the tape on Monday, and it
was more of the same. She came to, knowing that she had been
searching again and found nothing. She was glad to have to work
that night, to get into her job routines, so she could forget about
it all. But she was off Tuesday, which made it very hard. Dr.
Porter had said to space the three taped practices out during the
week, but she was very tempted to disregard that. The natural day
to listen to the tape again would be Wednesday. Would it be harmful
to do it early, to disobey what Dr. Porter said about spacing the
tapes? She didn’t know. But she wouldn’t risk it. So she spent
Tuesday with the thoughts spinning in her head. The fantasy was
there. The question of whether she could find what she needed was
there. But she did not attend to these thoughts. She just let them
stir, let them tempt her, without bringing them to the front of her
mind for examination.

Wednesday, she went under again. This
time she found something. She came to knowing what that something
was. It was a simple pickaxe, a wooden handle, a blade on the end.
Her grip had not been good, but it hadn’t been like a grip in
normal life. It was more that it was just hard to keep it there. It
kept disappearing and reappearing in her hand. But it was enough.
Celeste allowed herself to fantasize again.

Friday, before going to work, she went
under and found the pickaxe very quickly. And this time, it was a
solid thing that was there continuously. When she came to, she
thought of how that was all it was, a pickaxe. It was not a pickaxe
in motion. She had no way to tell herself to use it. She couldn’t
give her subconscious the command to swing the axe, like she
suspected Dr. Porter would give her tomorrow.

Because of that, she couldn’t sleep.
She lay in bed and finally just gave up. She talked to her imagined
person. With her voice, she made that person respond to her. Was it
crazy? She didn’t think so. It wasn’t crazy, because she knew it
was all in her head. Talking out loud just made it a little more
real-like, but not real. Celeste finally did go to sleep. She
dreamt of her friend.

Chapter 8

Toby and Celeste looked as if they
would explode with anticipation if they were not put under soon.
But they were stalled by James. “I made progress this week,” he
commented. “After the two of you left, Dr. Porter put me back under
and had me chip away at the barrier. And I’m better. I was able to
spend most of the week upstairs.”

Dr. Porter had told them a little
about James’s condition. He’d had to in order to justify having the
sessions in the basement where James stayed. So both Celeste and
Toby knew the significance of James spending a lot of time
upstairs.

They didn’t seem upset that James had
gotten more than them. They seemed more affected by his reports of
the good things that might await them. The anticipation on their
faces actually seemed to increase.

“All right,” Dr. Porter said. “Let’s
get started.”

Dr. Porter put them under and led them
all through the same instructions. James, of course, signaled that
he was able to go right to work. Celeste and Toby, having practiced
with their tapes, followed suit within five minutes. A little while
later, Dr. Porter told the three people in a trance, “Signal me if
your progress in removing the barrier comes to a halt.” Within ten
minutes, all three signaled that their progress had stopped. Dr.
Porter brought them up.

James was a little panicked. “What
happened? Why did it not continue to break?”

Dr. Porter held up a hand and nodded
his head, trying to reflect relaxed confidence. He answered the
questions with a question. “Did you all make progress?”

“Yes,” James said, calmed
somewhat.

“I broke through,” Celeste said. “I
broke through and there was the gust of heat.”

“I didn’t break through,” Toby said,
the person with the least progress, but still having an optimistic
tone. “But I got close before it stopped working.”

“And you should not worry,” Dr. Porter
said. “I had fully expected that your progress would stop.” And he
had too, after reflecting on it during the course of the week. “The
barrier is bound to tighten once it is compromised.”

None of them asked about why the
barrier had tightened. He doubted at this point in their lives that
they would question it. All they wanted to know was if it would
break.

“Is there something we can do?” James
questioned. His voice had lost its anxiety. Dr. Porter suspected
James had sensed the answer to this question in Dr. Porter’s calm.
Now, he just needed the last bit of reassurance.

“Yes,” Dr. Porter replied.
“Absolutely.” He paused to look around at the excited faces. “This
week, you will all need to make progress on your problems. It
doesn’t have to be great progress, just progress. Like James, who
though he is still not ready to leave the house, was able to stay
upstairs.”

James was looking toward the
stairwell, already, no doubt wondering what he was now capable
of.

“Do not try anything today,” Dr.
Porter said. “Just rest. There’s no need to rush. You can start
tomorrow. When you make a little progress, it should cause your
barrier to weaken. But you should not overdue it. That might cause
the barrier to tighten further. Make just a little progress. Then
next week, you can break it down some more.”

They still had time left over, but Dr.
Porter ended the session early. He knew that they would follow his
directions.

***

Tuesday night was as slow as usual at
Morgan’s Pub, slow enough that Tiffany told Paul he could go at
eight if he wanted and she would manage the bar. Paul didn’t argue
with her. He had hinted around earlier about wanting to see a movie
that had just come out.

“Where’re you going?” Celeste asked as
Paul came out from behind the bar.

“Terror Horizon opens tonight, and I’m
there.”

“Ohh,” Celeste said playfully, but
loud enough for Tiffany, who was behind the bar, to hear. “That
sounds fun. I sure wish I could go.”

Celeste looked at Tiffany, who smiled
back. Of course, she had no idea why Celeste wanted to go. Celeste
had been quiet about her progress in therapy so far, not wanting to
tell them how she was doing until she was positive that she would
make it. Besides, they’d all been to see movies with Paul before.
It was no big deal.

“Well,” Tiffany said. “I’m sure Kendra
can handle it. And I’m sure she doesn’t want to split what little
tables there are anyway.”

Celeste looked at Paul, who nodded,
almost indifferently.

“It starts at 9:20. You want me to
pick you up?”

“Sure,” Celeste replied.

Paul arrived at her apartment a little
before nine. They had time to get to the theater and get popcorn
and drinks. Then Celeste sat there in the dark theater and attended
very little to the movie.

Paul was safe. Though he was high on
sex drive, she knew he was a good guy and wouldn’t push her. She
could get a little contact out of him, the slight progress Dr.
Porter had recommended, without having to give up more than she was
comfortable with.

About half way through the movie, she
looked at Paul. The light from the screen reflected off his face
and showed how spellbound he was. He was into the movie and barely
even knew she was there. She felt a little offended by that, which
helped with the motivation.

Something a little scary happened on
that screen, and she gave a fake gasp, before leaning up against
his shoulder, gripping his arm with both hands. Paul seemed to not
really notice at first. Then after a few seconds of her gripping
him, he seemed to remember who he was with. He actually took his
eyes from the screen for a few seconds.

“Wow,” he whispered. “You must be
scared as hell.” He turned back to the screen. A little later he
said, “You want me to take you home? I can come back another
night.”

By the sound of his voice, Celeste
thought Paul was a little confused and felt a little guilty. When
they had first met, years ago, Celeste had been afraid of him.
Then, as he came to know her and her condition, he became very
respectful. That meant a lot to her, especially knowing how
sexualized he was. He became a male who she could trust. She
trusted him even more now. He was more concerned about what he
thought had driven her to the contact than maintaining that contact
or trying to escalate it.

“I’m fine,” Celeste said, releasing
her grip. “Just put your arm around me.”

Paul hesitated for a few seconds and
then reached around the back of her seat. He was barely in contact
with her, his arm across the back of her shoulders, his hand
hanging off to the side without touching her. They watched the
movie like that, Paul not pushing it, Celeste not pulling away.
Celeste was a little uncomfortable, and she was pretty sure that if
it had been anyone but Paul, or if Paul had tried to make more
contact—rub her shoulder, pull her more into him—she would have
stopped it. But still, it was progress. And she thought she could
feel something else besides the discomfort. It was a slight warmth.
It was kind of pleasant.

***

“Do you like those?” Janet asked her
son.

Toby looked up from his plate of green
beans, a little surprised by the question. Robert and Randy broke
from the conversation they’d been having. The undefeated Pious
Eagles would be facing their toughest opponent yet this week. The
newspapers picked them to lose. Randy had been saying he thought
the papers were wrong, and that, as long as the Eagles didn’t make
any big mistakes, they’d win for sure.

Toby scanned the faces around him.
After a few seconds, he smiled. “No, but they’re not as bad as
usual. I don’t think I’ll like anything until I break
through.”

For a few seconds, they were all
silent, hoping he would elaborate. It was his younger brother
Randy, who moments earlier had seemed focused on his toughest
athletic challenge to date, who couldn’t bear the
tension.

“What does that mean?” Randy
asked.

Again, Toby smiled. “You’ll see soon
enough. So just stop worrying about me and focus on how you’re
going to beat the Mustangs tomorrow.”

Randy smiled. “All right, Bro. And
don’t you worry about that.”

***

On Sunday, James made the pilgrimage
from the basement to the living room. He sat there all day with a
certain amount of anxiety. That anxiety dwindled down to a
manageable level and then held constant for the rest of the week,
as every day he spent most of his time in the living
room.

James would look out on the street at
the cars that passed by and the occasional person on foot. He
wondered how much longer it would be before he could go out there.
On Friday, though he held no delusions that he would make it
outside this week, James did decide to further his progress. He
gathered his parents in the living room. “Now just stand here,” he
said. “I doubt you’ll have to do anything, but I’ll feel better if
you’re here.”

His dad patted his back. “No
problem.”

His mom smiled and nodded
vigorously.

James approached the front door
slowly, feeling his anxiety rise fast. He stopped at the threshold.
He did one of his relaxation exercises, imagining himself made up
of jelly. Though he saw himself as loose and jiggly, he couldn’t
feel it. He played a song in his head and tried to focus on that,
away from his fear, but the song merely became annoying background
noise. If he was going to do this, he would have to take his
current anxiety level with him. Maybe this was a bit further than
Dr. Porter had recommended. Maybe being able to hang out in the
living room was enough. But James wasn’t satisfied. He wanted just
a little more. After forty years of failure, he wanted things to
move a little bit faster.

Without thinking anymore about it,
James whipped the front door open. His anxiety grew even more, but
he realized that he wasn’t going to faint. He was anxious but not
so bad that he was going to retreat into himself and forget about
this later. He thought that was probably what Dr. Porter had been
talking about when he said too much progress might cause the
barrier to tighten. If James passed out, it would be like a signal
to his subconscious that he was taking it too far, and it would
strengthen the barrier. But James didn’t pass out. And he was able
to close the door.