within Cathy. But then it grew, like an air raid siren begins as a whine and ends as a screech. She howled, an ungodly, animalistic howl of pain and abject terror. He watched her as she fell backwards, away from Jason’s lifeless body—though her eyes never left it—until her back slammed against the wall, unable to go any farther. And then she merely slid down, her legs collapsing beneath her.
Nathan walked towards her and joined her on the floor, putting his arm around her neck and pulling her sobbing face into his chest. As he did, Jake faced the mirror.
“Please,” he said, whimpering, crying. “I have a granddaughter. Just let me see her again. One last time. You can have me then. You can take me then.”
There was no response.
“I have money. A car,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “It’s a nice car. I could sell it and give you the money,” he added with that nervous laugh that belies the utter terror beneath it. “My house! I can sell my house!”
“Jake,” Nathan said calmly. “Jake, I don’t think you have anything they want.”
“There must be something!” he said, turning to him. “This can’t be for nothing. They can’t be doing all this for no purpose.”
“I think this is their purpose,” Cathy said, not raising her head from Nathan’s chest, but not crying anymore either. “It’s a game. All a game. They just want to see what we will do.”
For a moment Jake said nothing, staring at Cathy like she had lost her mind. “What?” he finally replied, though without any expectation of reply. “No, no that can’t be it. They want something,” he continued, walking over to the mirror. “They want something and as soon as they say what it is, I’ll give it to them.”
Nothing else was said. Jake continued to stand there, staring into the mirror, as if looking into his own eyes would reveal the secret bargain that needed to be struck for their freedom. Nathan and Cathy sat next to each other, she having pulled herself up now. His arm was still around her neck, but he no longer felt as though she needed his strength to hold herself up. The room was still and quiet. The only sound was the synchronized tick...tick...tick... of five watches marching in time. It seemed like forever, and yet it seemed like an instant, but the third hour was at hand.
Once again, high above, came a boom. Nathan and Cathy looked at Jake, who spun on his heels to face them.
“I touched my granddaughter once,” he cried as the second boom sounded. “I didn’t mean too. I swear I didn’t! It was an accident! Oh please God I’m sorry!” Then the third boom, the whooshing puff of air, and Jake’s body crumpled to the ground.
For a moment they both looked at him, but then, almost as if on cue, they let there heads fall back against the wall. Cathy began to sob quietly, but not the panic sobs of before. No, this was of pure, hopeless, sadness. Nathan could deal with panic. But for this, there was no comfort.
“I don’t want to die Nathan,” she said pitifully. “Not yet at least.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing her shoulder.
“I mean everybody has to die right? So it’s not that big a deal? But I haven’t done anything. No one will miss me. No one. My boss maybe, if he even cares.”
“What about your family?” he asked, trying to comfort her.
“I don’t have one,” she said matter-of-factly. “My parents died when I was nineteen. I’m it. No brothers or sisters. I always meant to get married one day, have kids. You know, the American dream. But that was supposed to happen later. And now it won’t happen at all.”
He let her cry then. There was nothing more that could be done. She cried until he guessed she couldn’t cry anymore. They sat there like that until she spoke.
“What about you? What are you leaving behind?”
“The same, I guess,” he replied. “I had a family, once. But my wife and my little girl were killed in a car wreck about two years ago. I’ve got nothing left, so I guess I’ve got nothing to lose.”
She stared at him for a moment. Then she grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him to her. She kissed him then, a deep and desperate kiss.
“If we get out of here,” she said, still holding him close, “you’re taking me to dinner, alright?”
He smiled.
“It’s a deal,” he said, looking into her eyes. It was a lie of course. He knew it, and she knew it. But they let it go nonetheless.
He held her then, held her close until the time had ticked away, until one of them would have to leave the other.
“It’s time,” Cathy said.
Nathan looked down at his watch. Indeed, it was less than five minutes till the tolling of the hour. She looked at him, and he at her. She smiled brightly and took his hand in hers. She nodded, and he nodded back. They both leaned against the wall and closed their eyes. Then it began. Boom...Boom...Boom...he felt her hand tighten around his...Boom. Nathan heard the puff of air. For a moment nothing happened. But then Cathy’s grip on his hand slackened, and he heard and felt her body slide across the wall to the ground. He opened his eyes then, but he didn’t look at her. Instead he cried.
It was the first time he had cried in a long time, the first time since his wife and baby girl had been taken from him. He cried now for them. He cried for Cathy and for Jake. For Ashley, even for Jason. He also cried a little for himself. He didn’t know how long he cried, but at some point, he simply didn’t want to cry any more. He stood up then, stood up and walked to the center of the room. He pulled the gold chain from around his neck, the one with the cross that his mother had given him on his fifteenth birthday, the one that for the last two years he had worn only out of habit. He held the cross in his hand and took a knee.
“Dear Lord,” he said. But then he paused. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure he even remembered how. “Dear Lord,” he repeated, “it’s been a while. I know you probably don’t take too kindly to that, only showing up when things go bad and all. Well,” he said with a coughing laugh, “things are bad now.” He paused and took a breath. “I don’t understand why things happen the way they do,” he said, glancing briefly around at the room. “But right now I’m not really in a position to complain. I guess what I am trying to say is, there was a time when I was faithful. But my faith wasn’t strong enough to face it Lord. I just couldn’t see why it happened. But now,” he said with another deep breath, “I’m walking in the valley. I know they are with you now Lord. I know it. And if you can find the mercy, I hope you will forgive me for the failings of my past. I’m leaving this earth now, and I want see them again. I have to see them again.” He knelt there silently for a second, but there was nothing left to say. He nodded once and said, “Amen.”
He stood then, with his eyes closed and his hands to his sides. He stood as the first bell tolled. Didn’t move for the second. Then on the third, he felt a calm feeling fall over him. On the fourth toll he smiled, and as the fifth bell boomed, he started to laugh. As his laughter filled the room, as it echoed from the walls and the floors, as it reached even the men who sat behind the mirror, he felt the darkness take him.
He awoke standing in a field. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky, and the breeze was blowing through his hair. A small child, his daughter, was running towards him, while his wife watched from behind, her hands on her hips, grinning. He smiled. This was no dream.
###
Thank you so much for reading my short story, “The Chamber.” If you enjoyed it, visit me at https://www.brettjtalley.com/ or follow me on twitter at https://twitter.com/brettjtalley.
A native of Alabama, I received a philosophy and history degree from the University of Alabama before moving to witch-haunted Massachusetts to attend Harvard Law School. I am the author of That Which Should Not Be, winner of JournalStone's 2011 novel contest. I have been published in several mediums, including the Absent Willow Review and the Lovecraft eZine, and
my short story, "The Substance of Shadow," won the 2011 Absent Willow Review short story contest.
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