Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (3 page)

“You were telling something to go away. Like an argument with someone. At first I thought maybe Mom was home early, but when I came out of my room it was just you on the landing, staring off in the same direction you were the first time I saw you. At one point you looked scared shitless, Dad. Like you were completely unable to move. That’s the part that freaked me out.”

I nod my head, unsure of how to respond. Truth be told, it’s freaking me out too. I’m just glad I don’t remember whatever it is that Rusty is describing. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

I walk back to my room and slam the door behind me before Rusty can even respond. I check out my reflection in the mirror and am shocked at what I see. I’ve been exhausted like this before from work, but not once have I ever felt like I could just sleep for days. Even after drinking, I usually am able to get up and function after a few hours.

My posture is slumped, my green eyes seem dark, and since I haven’t even showered yet, my five o’clock shadow is coming in pretty good. I’m embarrassed that Rusty has witnessed what he has, though I can’t explain it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I fall backward into the mattress and stare at the wall. I can only imagine what Rose will say when she gets home from work because I have no intention of moving from this bed for the next several hours.

Chapter Three

“Are you okay, Nathan?

A wet washrag runs down my face and I open my eyes to see Rose standing over me, a smile parting her lips. Grabbing her hand, I try to gain my composure. I’m disoriented and I can’t even tell what time it is.

“Rose?” My voice is so raspy that it’s almost inaudible.

Sitting down beside me, she runs her fingers through my hair, sending a chill through my body. It’s comforting with her there, and I feel one hundred times better than before.

“You okay, babe?”

I prop myself up on my pillows and force a smile. Aside from the fact that I’m completely freaked out, at least my physical health is getting better. “I’m okay. What time is it?”

“It’s a little after six. Is this all from drinking so much last night? Or are you sick?”

“I don’t know, hon. I’m feeling better now though.”

Leaning down, she kisses me on my forehead and her lips trail down the bridge of my nose and to my mouth. The embrace deepens and her hands run through my hair as she lies beside me on the bed. Between kisses she nips at my lips, and I pull away.

“Where’s Rusty?”

Her hand trails down the front of my shirt and slips underneath, resting on the waistband of my sweats. She buries her face in my neck. “He’s in his room, I guess. I can hear the music thumping.” Getting up, she saunters to the door and shuts it, assuring that it is locked. A playful smile flashes across her face and she seductively walks back toward me, and as she gets closer, she pulls her scrub pants off, revealing her lacy panties. “I think he’s occupied for now, babe.”

Pulling her in, I ignore the dull ache in my head. It isn’t near as bad as earlier and maybe making love to my wife will be the remedy I need. With both of our work schedules, it feels like the last time we had any intimacy was months ago. Pulling her on top of me, I feel my arousal as she straddles me. She grinds her hips, heightening my excitement as the friction between us continues.

Without wasting any more time, I pull her scrub top over her head. Her bra matches her panties and I unsnap it, taking her in my hand. A deep moan escapes from her throat and before I know it, she’s working on my sweat pants, freeing me from my clothing. I lose all sense of what is around me as I watch her above me, enjoying the skin on skin contact. I take a second to admire my beautiful wife. Pushing all of our recent problems aside, I let go. This is helping my current situation and maybe it will help me sleep better tonight.

Just as things get going, I hear the same tinny voice whisper in my ear. It says the same thing as it has the first two times. It calls me by my formal name – Lieutenant Gallagher. I try to ignore it, but when I see the image peer around the corner at me, I can’t help but divert my attention to it. Rose doesn’t notice – she’s busy doing her thing. I try so hard to fight it off and focus back on the sex, but the TV on the other side of the bedroom flickers. The same creepy image of the stringy hair and razor teeth of what appears to be a woman reaches out, its smile enough to make me push Rose off and let out a yell of my own.

“What in the hell, Nathan?” Rose is on the floor, confused and pissed as I finally pull my attention from the TV. The creepy figure is gone.

Looking down, I feel guilty for pushing her. “Rose, I’m so sorry.”

Grabbing a blanket, she covers herself and shakes her head. “What in the hell happened?”

How am I going to explain this one? I was making incredible love to my wife and then it’s over and she’s on the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull my boxers back on and rake my hand through my sweaty hair. I can’t help but continuously look back at the TV, fearing that the eerie woman would be back.

“Earth to Nathan?” She’s finally standing up again, grabbing her nearest article of clothing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She has no idea and I still can’t tell her. She’s already looking at me like I’m a damn psychopath. “I don’t know, Rose. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t get it. I’m not even sure what happened. One minute I have you right on the verge and the next I’m on the floor. It all happened too fast. Enlighten me, Nathan.”

I can’t stand the look she’s giving me. It’s almost equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. “Damn it, Rose, I told you I don’t know! What the hell do you want me to say?” I stand up and begin to pace, fighting the urge to throw something. “I’m sorry you ended up on the floor. That’s all I can say!” My voice raises and I shock myself at how angry I am.

A tear rolls down her cheek, smearing her mascara. “I wish I knew what was going on with you. Rusty sees you sleep walking. You swear you hear something that no one else does. You drink almost a whole bottle of scotch and you sleep all day. That’s not like you, Nathan.” Her voice shakes and more tears follow.

Sitting beside her, I pull her in for a hug. Her tears are warm against my chest and it breaks my heart to see her this way. Running my hands through her hair, I kiss the top of her head and sit in silence. I truly am at a loss for words. I’ve seen and heard the same things, now consistent and in different parts of the house. Something is going on, but I’m not quite ready to admit it. I have to chalk it up to my strange work schedule. People present differently when sleep deprived. Sleeping all day would also justify that reasoning, but I feel well rested. Why were the hallucinations still coming around?

Rose pushes away from me and walks to the closet. She dresses in jeans and a tank top, unable to make eye contact with me. Smoothing her hair down, she takes a long look in the mirror and finally glances back at me.

“I think the stress of your job is getting to you, Nathan. You need to tell someone.”

She’s right, but I still can’t admit it. What kind of firefighter would I look like if I went running to the department and told them I’m having issues? No one would want to work with me.

“I’m fine, Rose.” I know it’s a lie. She knows it’s a lie. Hell, even my son suspects something.

“You don’t look it. You aren’t acting it. What’s gonna happen when you spaz out in a fire and get your company killed? You want that on your conscience on top of everything else?”

She doesn’t give me a chance to answer her before she walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Leaving me alone on the bed, I stare at the TV again. It’s off with no signs that something had just come through. No static. No razor teeth. No voices. Suddenly, I’m scared to be alone. The mere thought makes my palms sweaty. Big bad Lieutenant Gallagher now scared of the dark and scared to be by himself. I’d never admit any of it out loud.

***

The next morning, I'm up early. I didn't sleep well the night before, and the fact that I have a tour today means that I'm even more anxious than normal. After seeing the creepy image in the TV, I don't even want to close my eyes. Rose doesn't talk to me much. In fact, she slept on the couch and hasn't spoken to me all morning. Rusty is still suspended from school, so we let him sleep. What else could we do with a teenager when we're not home to crack the whip at him? With all of my energy gone, it's the last thought on my mind.

I pass by Rose in the kitchen. She's quickly packing a lunch, but to my surprise, she has poured me a cup of coffee and set it next to the newspaper. She still stays silent and doesn't even make eye contact with me.

"Rose, I'm sorry about yesterday." I reach out to her, but she scoots out of my reach and throws her sandwich in her lunchbox. I notice her scrubs, and though they aren't the most flattering for a woman's figure, she still looks great in them. "You look beautiful, babe."

"I had a restful night on the couch." Her tone is sarcastic.

"I didn't tell you to do that."

"No, you didn't," she replies as she grabs her keys from the key rack. "It wasn't good sleep, but a hell of a lot better than if I would've gone upstairs with you. At least I didn't end up on the floor."

I go to take a sip of my coffee, but her comment stops me. "I said I was sorry about that. What else do you want me to do, Rose?"

My question stops her in her tracks, and she finally makes eye contact with me. Her glare burns a hole through me. "Talk to someone. Go to the doctor. Find out what in the hell is going on with you."

"I feel better," I lied. My head is still pounding and whatever I was hallucinating hasn’t let up. What Rose doesn’t know won’t kill her, at least I hope.

"You're full of shit, Nathan. The department has a psychologist, right?"

"Yes, but usually for firefighters who lose a victim or someone in their house. I don't think I need to talk to a psychologist." Truth be told, they are available for anything, but it goes in your personnel file. I don't want that red mark on my reputation.

She looks down at her watch. "Damn it, I'm gonna be late. I'll see you tonight." Rose goes through the back door, slamming it behind her.

Finally taking my first sip of caffeine, I feel it flow through my body, instantly helping my headache. "I love you too, Rose," I say to myself as I gather up my gear.

The probie is busy mopping the kitchen when I arrive. It's seven forty-five and I make sure the captain sees that I arrived earlier than last tour. After the reaming I got for setting an example, I smirk and give a nod as I pull open the newspaper for my first scan of the news.

"Hey Lieu, anything interesting going on in our fair city?" Firefighter Gonzales opens the refrigerator and pulls out a Coke.

"No," I reply, and leave it at that. Aside from being interrupted, I just don't feel like socializing. My headache is getting worse, I'm exhausted, and there are things on my mind that I can't discuss with anyone. I'm not a guy who expresses my thoughts too much, but I like to vent with the best of them. Keeping this bottled up is killing me, and I want to tell it to someone. I can't even tell Rose. How would they react if I say I'm seeing ghosts? Are they ghosts? Is it my imagination? Hell, even I think I'm crazy and I'm really experiencing it. How would it be if the tables were turned and one of my men came to me with this? I'd pull them off the truck in a heartbeat.

The alarm sounds, dispatching us to an apartment fire a few blocks from here. Closing the newspaper, I slide down the fire pole behind two other men and pull my turnouts on. Climbing into the passenger seat of the truck, we merge out into traffic. Shocker. No one moves out of our way or yields to the big ass red truck with lights and sirens going.

Looking over my shoulder, I check on the probie. He looks like he's about to puke up his breakfast. It's the standard response, especially since this is his first live fire. I'd worry if he were acting any other way.

We pull up to the scene. Flames are billowing out of a third story window. Bystanders are all around, pointing and taking pictures with those damn cell phone cameras. I grab the probie's arm.

"Follow me. This is the real deal."

He nods and tries hard to hide the fact that he's about to shit his pants. I remember my first fire, even after all of these years, and I don't envy the kid. The men stand around, waiting on orders.

"There's no report of any victims inside. We'll run the hose up. Gonzales and Jones, you go in first and sweep the place. I'll keep the probie with me. You run into anything, radio it in. I want complete contact!" I yell over the roar of the fire and the men move into action, all scattering to their appropriate places.

I feel the probie right beside me. We, along with my hose man, walk to the main point of entry. I fight off the horrible headache and we move in, taking the steps two at a time before we reach the third floor. The smoke is thick, and we put our masks on, already needing fresh oxygen. Kneeling, we stay as low to the floor as we can.

My radio crackles and it's the captain. "There's a victim in apartment thirty-five! Gallagher, take the probie and do a sweep! Search and rescue is looking for another victim on the fourth!"

I look over at the probie and nod. "You ready for this?"

He shakes his head. He isn't ready, but it's time. The visibility is practically zero and I squint to make out the numbers on each door. Thirty-three, thirty-four, finally, thirty-five. We stop right at the threshold and I hold my hand up. "What's the first rule for opening a door, probie?"

It takes him a second, but he says, "Check it for heat."

"Right." We run our hands down it. "What do you think?"

He double checks. "We're good. We can open it."

I check the doorknob. It's unlocked, thank God. I don't think I have the energy to bust a door down right now. The door flies open and aside from some smoke, it appears that the fire hasn't made it down to this unit yet. Still, we keep to the floor. Yelling out, we identify ourselves and listen for any response. Nothing. I round the corner, checking closets and doors.

Queuing my radio, I say, "Captain, is it a child or an adult?"

"I don't have that information, Lieutenant."

Of course he doesn't. Finally, I see a leg sticking out from under a wall that looks to have collapsed. It's the wall right next door to where the fire had spread, so flames are licking the ceiling and room, and moving fast. Crawling, I double check to make sure the probie is still with me. He's right behind me, and I reach out, pulling on the leg. It is a young female, about ten years old.