Dark Heart

-->

Dark Heart was originally published on the webzine Nocturnal Ooze in  August 2006.  As Nocturnal Ooze has ceased publication I am putting the story on this blog for you to read.

Dark Heart

Helen Marshall lit the blue touch paper of her life, and retreated to a safe distance.

#

Harry Marshall's eyes were on the still form of his wife as she lay in her hospital bed.  Helen was awake, or at least her eyes were open, and she had been like this for two days now.  The staff at the hospital had explained all sorts of things from catatonic schizophrenia to shock.  Now another doctor was in the room and pressing for a truth that Harry didn't want to reveal.

'I know you have been asked this before, but can I ask you again to think of anything that may have triggered this condition in your wife?'         

'I…' Harry caught himself and stopped speaking.  He looked at Dr. Susan Brent, and knew from the way her brown eyes narrowed that she suspected something.  'I don't know of anything.'

Susan nodded, disappointment evident upon her face.

'Is there any treatment you can give?' Harry asked, trying to steer the subject onto fresh ground.

'There are drug treatments for someone who regularly suffers from this state.  For your wife, at this stage, it is best we simply wait.'

'Thank you.'  All of a sudden Harry wanted to get out of the room.  The day through the hospital window was bright and warm.  He stood, wiping damp palms on his shirt as Susan said,

'If there's anything you may think of to help us, please call.'

'I will.'  Again, Harry avoided making eye contact.  He did the automatic husbandly duties; a touch to Helen's arm, a soft kiss on her cheek and a whispered goodbye as Susan watched from the doorway.  Helen didn't react.  Close up, Harry noticed a soft sound, he wasn't sure if it came from Helen or the equipment around her or the traffic outside.  When he saw the way the doctor was looking at him he decided just to get out.  Harry walked away without a backward glance, his senses telling him that Susan was still watching him all the way down the corridor.

Harry took the stairs down to ground level, ignored the restaurant signs and went out of the main entrance.  Harry turned left, walking downhill into the town.  He had parked here three hours earlier, using a car park attached to a shopping mall.  Inside the mall cool air circulated and fountains bubbled over stone waterfalls.  Harry took a glass elevator up to the third level.  He went into a coffee shop, the third he had passed on the way from the hospital.

At the counter he ordered a plain black coffee.  He looked round the shop.  It was post lunch busy, a few workers but mostly shoppers taking a break from their exertions.  In the furthest corner, sitting on her own, was a slim blonde woman nursing a tall espresso.  Harry went over her table and sat down.

'How is she?' the woman asked.

'No change,' Harry sipped his drink.  He noticed his hand shake as he put the cup back down.  'Still lying there.  Not moving.  Not talking.'

'She's doing it on purpose.'  Harry saw tears well in his companion's eyes.  He slid a hand across the table, not quite touching her hand, unable to go that extra centimetre.

'Lucy.'

'No,' Lucy shook her head.  'I know what she's doing.  So do you.'

'I can't be sure.'

'Of course you can.  The day you tell her about us, this happens.  Now you say you can't leave her.'

'I can't,' Harry spoke quickly, his voice low in the noise of the shop.

'Why?  If you could two days ago you can now.'

'I can't because people would see me, see us, as wicked.  Leaving Helen when she is this sick.'

'And when she recovers, and you tell her again, she'll have another attack.  And what if she never recovers?'

Harry didn't want to think about that.

'If this goes on,' he said, 'people will mostly understand if it looks as though we got together after Helen got sick.'

'So you don't mind lying about our relationship just to save face.'

Harry sighed.

'I didn't come here to argue.'

This time he thought Lucy really would cry.  She bit her bottom lip as her emotions wobbled. 

'Neither did I,' she said with a release of held breath.

This time it was her hand that moved, fingertips touching his.  He felt the spark, the same electric spark that had been between them for a year now.  Harry hadn't meant to have an affair.  Twelve years of marriage, no children, had become a simple routine.  He had first met Lucy at a Church meeting.  Where Helen was short, dark and plump, Lucy was tall, slim and blonde.  She had rapier blue eyes, and a personality that bubbled as if it were the source of a river.  Harry felt like a teenager, admiring her from a distance, careful not to smile too stupidly or laugh too loudly or stare too long when they had to talk or do committee work together.

It had been a chance meeting in a hardware store that hooked Harry.  Lucy was buying paints to decorate her kitchen.  Harry made the un-thought of offer to do the painting for her.  Lucy had looked at him across the aisle with an appraising gaze before saying yes.  Harry covered the time he took with Helen by saying it was Church work, which it was in some way.  He took four nights, twice as long as he should have done because most of the time was spent talking.  Lucy was divorced and had moved to the city to start over.  Harry was married to the routine, not to his wife.

When the painting was complete Lucy offered to take him out for a meal as a thank you.  Harry said no.  So Lucy said she would do the cooking and he could come to her, be the first guest in the kitchen.  Harry accepted.  By the end of the meal, across a candlelit table with two glasses of wine inside him Harry knew where he wanted to go.

It was another two weeks before he plucked up the courage to kiss Lucy.  Once done, a dam broke.  He got home past midnight.  From then on it became their custom.  Wednesday night was Church committee; Thursday night was at Lucy's.  They had one stolen weekend when Helen went to visit her mother.  This last week had been their anniversary.  They had agreed this would be when Harry told Helen he was leaving.  Harry had already seen a divorce lawyer.  It was all systems go until Helen pulled the plug, literally, and now Harry was back to square one.  Unable to leave and unable to walk hand in hand in public with the woman he loved.

'Will I see you tonight?' Lucy asked as a waitress came round to collect their cups.

'Yes,' Harry gave her a smile, 'I can't get round until after ten.  Helen's brother will be phoning from Australia for an update.  I'll have to be there to talk to him.'

'You see?  That's what I meant when I said she's doing this on purpose.  She is pinning you down.  Not letting go.  She never will.'

Harry almost couldn't argue.  He managed a shrug.  Lucy picked her bag up and stood.

'Ten?' she asked.

'Ten,' he promised, and then added. 'I love you.'

That made Lucy smile.  She leant forward, filling the air with perfume, and kissed his cheek.

'Don't be late,' she said.

#

Harry was late.  Helen's brother kept him talking, asking over and over about the medical staff.  Are they any good?  Do we need a second opinion?  Should we consult with private nursing homes?  Harry finally got away from his house and across to Lucy's by twenty to eleven.  The streets were silent; suburban lives hidden behind curtains and manicured lawns.  He parked down the road from Lucy's and walked to her house.  The air had cooled from the daytime heat, and he felt the chill as a prickling on his skin.  His footsteps echoed from the gardens around him, shadows rolled with the streetlights.  From somewhere, a dog barked.  From somewhere else, a woman hummed a tune.

Harry stopped.  He looked around.  The leaves of a bush rustled, despite the still night air, and Harry shivered for no reason.  The garden shadows edged closer.  Harry waited.  The woman had stopped humming, if there had ever been one.  Maybe it was a trick of the night air.  He walked on to Lucy's.  She had given him a key last Christmas, and he kept it separate from his others.  He let himself in.

Lucy was still up.  She wore a pink cotton nightdress with a cat motif on the front.  Harry had bought it for Valentine's Day.  He had walked the sales floor of a department store as if her were a stalked deer, eyes flicking wildly about, heart racing, until he was sure there was no-one around who knew him.  He had paid cash and almost run from the store.  Harry smiled at the memory and the sight of Lucy.

'You're late.'  She didn't smile.

'I know.  I'm sorry.'

'You should have called.'

'I know,' Harry felt the weight of the last few days pulling him down.  'Helen's brother wouldn't stop talking.  I just came as soon as I could.'

Lucy waited, standing in the doorway.

'You look beat,' she said.

'I feel it.'

Harry's gaze was caught by a subtle shift in the shadows behind Lucy.  A darkening, almost a coalescence, before the spill of light from the living room grew back in strength.

'What is it?'  Lucy had taken a step forward and stopped when she saw the look on his face.

'Nothing,' Harry smiled.  'Just tired I guess.  Seeing things that aren’t there.'

'Do you want to eat?'

Harry shook his head.  Lucy, close enough to embrace him, sighed and said.

'We should be happy right now.'

Harry hugged her tight.  He felt his energy levels rise simply from being close to her.

'Come on,' Lucy took his hand. 'We both need sleep.'

Harry lay in his boxer shorts, curled up alongside Lucy.  It wasn't a restful sleep.  His dreams were torn by images of the hospital.  Corridors, lit by blinding white lights, echoed to his footsteps.  He caught the sound of voices but could not make out any words.  He knew he was walking, pulled along as if he were a fish on a hook, trying to resist but reeled in by an unseen force.  Twice Harry woke, sweat cold on his skin, and twice sleep reclaimed him and took him back to the hospital with its never-ending corridors.

Harry knew where he was going as the air grew colder.  He could hear Helen humming a tune and was drawn to her room.  The lights were off, almost a blessing, and he tried to make out Helen's form in the darkness.  The shadows claimed her.  In his dream Harry reached out for the light switch.  He touched the smooth, painted wall.  Searched blindly for the switch as his heart rate began to rise.  Helen was still humming, the air was growing colder, his skin was crawling and Harry's hand began to slap the wall in fear and frustration.  Then his fingers clamped onto the unit and snapped the light on.

Helen's bed was empty.  Helen's room was empty.

Harry woke with a half shout of shock as Lucy clutched at his shoulder.

'Harry!' her voice was a hoarse whisper in the dark.  'Harry, I think there's someone in the house.'

Harry was still disoriented by his dream.  He sat up, wiping sweat from his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart.

'Harry?'  Lucy turned on the bedside lamp.

'I was dreaming.'  Harry pushed the duvet back and swung his legs out of the bed.  'What makes you think there's someone here?'

'I thought I heard a noise.  Then I'm sure I heard something.  Like someone talking.'

Harry got his sweatshirt and trousers on.

'Wait here,' he said.

'Should I call the police?'  Lucy had a telephone beside the bed.

'Not yet.'

Harry went out onto the landing.  He waited at the top of the stairs, listening carefully.  He heard no sounds.   But there was something, like a half remembered thought, that teased the edge of his consciousness.  He took a step down and froze, wincing at the creak of a floorboard.  After a couple of seconds he started down again.  Each step took him closer to the dark of the hall.  Harry shivered.  The air cooled and then became frigid, just as his dream.  Harry stepped onto the laminate floor of the hall.  His breath misted the air.  Harry knew where the light switch was.  He flicked it on.  The bulb made a soft 'tink' noise as it blew.

In the dark, from the kitchen, he heard a humming.  A soft sound, almost as if it wasn't there.  Harry's mouth went dry.  He tried to think rationally.  Cold air.  A humming.  Maybe the air-con was broken?  The thermostat was in the hall.  He took a step towards it.  The humming stopped.  Harry stopped too.  He waited.

'Who's there?'  Harry took a slow, silent pace towards the kitchen door.  The room was in darkness.  The only light came from behind him, spilling down from upstairs, and filtering through the roller blind across the kitchen window.

Harry strained to see anything.  The shadows seemed densest in one corner.  Harry's eyes played tricks; he saw subtle shifts, as if a form was coalescing.  Harry took a pace back, then another.  He came up against the wall where the stairs reached ground floor at the same time that the light from upstairs went out and he was seized by total dark.

Harry half turned, groping for the start of the stairway.  A gossamer thread of cold stroked his cheek.  He felt a shift in the air as something moved past him.  At the top of the stairs a floorboard creaked.

'Lucy?'  He spoke quietly, almost fearing the sound of his own voice.  There was no reply.  His feet found the first step on the stairs and he started up.

Lucy screamed.

Harry felt his blood freeze.  Lucy screamed again, louder this time, and longer, kick-starting Harry into action.  He stumbled halfway up and got to the top of the stairs on his hands and knees.  He came to his feet at the top of the flight and then caught his hip on the turn of the banisters and fell, the carpet burning his elbow as he sprawled on his side.  He lay still for a moment, listening to the rush of blood in his veins and the choked whimpering coming from Lucy's bedroom.

Harry began to crawl forward.  His only touch on reality was the pile of the carpet against his hands and his knees.  Lucy was silent.  Harry didn't want to speak.  Whatever had caused her screams might still be in the room with her, and it took all his strength simply to go forward.  He stopped when the humming resumed.  This time it was louder, almost on top of him, and this time the subconscious recognition rose in his mind as if it were the curtain on the stage of a theatre.  It was the sound from the hospital.

'Helen?'  His own voice sounded empty and foreign.

The humming faded and he heard his wife laugh.  It was a cold and desolate sound.  It was the cry of a wolf on a moonless night or the wind on a moorland hill.  Harry reached out, his hand touching a doorframe.  He pulled himself upright at the same moment that the lights came back on.  In the moment before his eyes closed in reaction to the glare he saw Lucy huddled in one corner of her bedroom.  She had her knees up to her chest, hands clasped around them.  Lucy's eyes were wide and staring, her body rigid.  Harry saw all this and the glistening trail of saliva that ran from one corner of her mouth.  Harry went towards her.  He stopped three paces short as his legs buckled beneath him.  Lucy's eyes were empty; there was no life in them.  There was no life in Lucy.

 

Harry sensed movement behind him.  He turned and saw a shape, no more than a vague silhouette, cross his vision.  He knew who it was.

'Helen!'

Harry's own voice burst against his eardrums in the silence of the house.  He stumbled again as he chased the spirit-shadow down the stairs.

'Helen!'

She ignored him.  Harry got to the front door.  It was closed, locked and bolted.  He tore the skin off his fingers in his desperate hurry.  Out into the night, still calling his wife's name.  He ran across the lawn barefoot, and barely noticed the cold dew that covered every blade of grass.  Harry saw her again.  It was Helen and it wasn't Helen.  He screamed her name as he ran after her, out into the road.  Harry never registered the headlights of the car until they were on top of him, filling his vision as if they were the eyes of an owl falling upon its prey.

The front of the car hit his legs and threw him upwards.  The screech of the car tyres merged with his scream of shock.  In the moment before pain filled his mind Harry's head struck the windscreen and he tumbled across the roof before falling to the hard road surface in an impact that drove the last air from his lungs.  Harry lay half on his side.  A vision of Helen came to him.  The red taillights of the car gave her skin a demonic sheen.  She knelt beside him.  Harry tried to speak.  No sound came out.  Not now.  Not ever.

'Got you.'  Helen said.

Helen wasn't solid.  Harry could see the car through her.  Helen's form dissipated into the atmosphere as if it were smoke.  A fat guy with grey stubble and breath that smelt of beer replaced her. He was saying 'oh, Jesus' over and over. 

Harry clung to life until he saw Lucy standing at the roadside.  She was waiting for him.  Only then did Harry let go.

#

Helen Marshall woke at two-thirty in the morning.  She smiled in the dark of her room.

'Got you,' she whispered.

The End




Copyright: Neil Carstairs 2006