Newborn

Chapter 41: The Call

 Anne Halton 

Tucked away in a penthouse apartment in the clouds, a little boy slept.  He thought he was safe because he had always been told that he was.  There were doormen and security guards, cameras throughout the halls, and alarms that would ring when Mrs. Stevenson on the fifth floor would make pizza on Tuesdays.  Most important for the boy, of course, was the little light at the end of his bed.

In spite of all of the technology and alarms and precautions that adults put so much faith in, the truth that all children know is that nothing can truly keep out the dark, and there are terrible things in darkness.

The boy’s sister was gone, staying with a friend to help distract her from all the problems the family was facing.  Maybe it was just to make things easier for the boy’s mother.

In other circumstances, the children might have stayed with their aunt, but she was gone now.  Their father was in the hospital and their aunt was gone.  The boy didn’t understand it all, but he couldn’t sleep because of it.

He visited his father in the hospital the day before.  At first his Dad seemed fine, sitting there with his eyes open.  But then the boy came close.  His father didn’t say anything.  He didn’t over, not at all.  He was frozen like a mannequin. 

The boy tried to talk to his father to get his Dad to say something.  His father didn’t answer.

The boy started to cry.  His mother wanted to take him home.  She said it was a mistake bringing him.  The boy was stubborn.  He wanted to stay.  He wanted to talk to his Dad.

The boy thought about his father’s voice and his laugh.  His Dad would sometimes pick him up and carry him to breakfast when the boy was being stubborn in the morning.  Now the father was still and the boy was already starting to have trouble remembering things like the way his father’s hair looked when he woke up, before he had a chance to fix it. 

The boy ran up to his father to see if he was breathing.  He had to know if his Dad was alive.  The boy could feel the movements of the chest and hear the faint breaths in and out.  It made it all so much worse.

The tears were streaming faster now.

“What’s wrong Daddy?” the boy pleaded.  “Why won’t you talk to me?”

The man in the bed wanted with all his will to hug his son and tell him everything would be alright.  But it wouldn’t.  The man was frozen.  He couldn’t hug his son.  He couldn’t do anything.  He couldn’t warn them.

Algea had been visiting the man at night to taunt him.  Algea always had new ways to torment the politician.  The night after Algea killed the man’s sister, Algea brought the politician a part of his sister and put slices of her organs into his mouth and his feeding tube.  He was shown pictures and told stories.  The politician wished that he could die.

Then Algea said something else.  “Soon you’ll drink your wife’s blood while your children watch.”

As his son climbed all over him, the politician wished that he could warn his family to run and hide.  But, as hard as the politician willed it, he couldn’t do anything.  He couldn’t even blink. 

And so, the boy laid in bed, thinking about his frozen father, terrified that one day he would be frozen like that too.  He was oblivious to the danger in the next room.

Algea had invited himself over.  He told the politician’s wife that he had some forms that needed to be signed. 

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” Algea said.  “I just wanted to get this matter solved as fast as possible.  You know how paper work can get tangled when you leave it too long.”

“Of course,” Heather said.  “Thank you.” 

“If there’s anything I can do for you, just tell me.”

“You were with him, right?” Heather asked.  She was hesitant to ask too many questions.  She knew enough about the business her husband had been sorting out with Algea to know that she didn’t want to know any more.  “When it happened, you were there, right?”

“Yes,” Algea said, sipping out of the glass of scotch the woman had served him.

“What did he say?” Heather asked.  That shell of a man in the hospital could never give her the closure she needed.

“We talked about business mostly,” Algea said.  “I’m sure he filled you in on that messy situation.”

Heather half nodded.  She didn’t want to know much about that.  “Was there anything else?”

“He mentioned your children,” Algea said.  “He sounded very proud of them.”

Heather smiled.  Her husband had always been a loving father.  Whatever else he had been, he had always been that.

Algea showed the woman the forms she needed to sign.  He was waving his fees in order to help relieve some of the financial burden on the family.  Many of the husband’s business associates were doing likewise.

“But this situation is resolved, right?” Heather asked.  As much as she didn’t want to know about it, she needed to know that it was finished.

“Are you asking if you need to worry about your husband’s bastards anymore?” Algea asked.

Heather acted offended, but the answer was simple. “Yes,” Heather said.  She was never a weak woman.  Being the wife of a politician had made her strong.

“Dead,” Algea said.

Heather was horrified.  She knew enough to be scared.  People don’t confess murder when they think there’s something you can do about it.

Heather’s mind started to race.  Did her husband pay to have them killed?  Did she just sign forms taking responsibility for the murders?

Heather couldn’t believe her husband intended for anyone to die.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Heather asked indignantly.

“More of a game,” Algea said with a laugh.

The little boy didn’t know what was happening.  He heard a bang and then his mother screamed.  The boy was afraid.  He didn’t know what to do.  He lay there frozen in the silence.  He couldn’t hear anything else.  Eventually, he gathered up all of his bravery and went out into the hall.

He saw a man in black tying up his mother and shrieked.

The man in black looked over and smiled.  Algea was happy.  He could sense that the boy was perfect.  His plan would work just as he intended.

The boy felt himself being pulled by an invisible force into the kitchen.  The boy was frozen, like he imagined his father had been. 

His mother was tied up on the ground, her clothes had been ripped off, and Algea was video-taping it all.

The boy understood enough to be angry.  He tried to fight, but he was frozen.  And so his anger grew and it called out to me.

I wasn’t close.  I just felt a little buzz.  It was the worst moment of that boys life, and I ate a breadstick.  I didn’t know what was happening.  I didn’t understand it.

But now I’m on my way.  Now, I’m going to fight Algea.