A man, tortured by the horrors of his mind, struggles with his unspeakable actions.
The Dead Call
Thayne stood on the shore of the lake taking in one last look at the spot he loved. The irony of the situation was never lost on him. One horrific crime had led him to eventual peace.
Though now, he wasn’t sure if it was Anchorage, Alaska that brought serenity to his mind or the decision he’d come to in the last few days. Maybe, subconsciously, Thayne knew all along that this was the end.
Dover, Ohio seemed a lifetime away. Not only had Thayne been born and raised in the small town, but also had met his girlfriend, Holly, there. Thayne assumed he would marry, raise a family, and die there too. But those were assumptions made before he and Holly went to work the summer at Collins Funeral Home.
Holly found the ad in the newspaper. Thayne objected. Holly persisted. "Come on Thayne! We have one more semester at college. This is the perfect summer job. Part-time work, decent pay and a free apartment to boot."
How could he possibly explain his grandmother’s funeral? Though young, he’d made quite a spectacle. Throwing himself on the coffin, screaming she wasn’t dead, insisting he could hear her pleading for help.
Holly pushed and then pushed some more. Thayne gave in to her. The only part of the job he was truly uncomfortable with was the ‘dead call.’ Every other weekend, they would be on call to pick-up any deceased people that the funeral home was handling the arrangements.
The first call came and went. It was creepy but uneventful. A month later, the second call came in. Halfway to the funeral home, Thayne first heard the voice. "Did you say something?" he’d asked Holly. She just frowned and shook her head. But he continued to hear the soft, whisper of a voice.
As they pulled into the funeral homes’ driveway, Thayne finally heard the words clearly. ‘Please, stop,’ the voice begged. He slammed on the brakes and Holly yelled at him for the sudden jolt. "Didn’t you hear that?". But Holly just looked peeved. "Hear what, Thayne?"
No time to explain. He jumped from the car, sprinted to the back, and unzipped the body bag.
"I don’t think this woman is dead."
Craig Collins, proprietor of the funeral home, finally pulled him out.
Both Collins and Holly wore the look he’d seen decades before on the mourners at his grandmother’s funeral. Slowly he backed up towards the door to the apartment, turned and went inside without another word.
From that point on, the voices were always there. Thayne heard them all. Some begged and some pleaded but each carried the same requests.
"Please take me home."
"I’m not ready to go."
Thayne ignored the cries as best he could. Fear of what Holly would think kept him silent. But it wasn’t long before he couldn’t deny their words. The comments became taunting. Innuendoes were slung in the air. Often snickering or laughter followed the words.
"Do you really trust her?"
"She spends a lot of time with your boss."
He desperately tried to brush them off. What would a bunch of dead people know anyway? But the thoughts had been planted. Thayne found himself watching Holly a little closer and questioned her a bit too much.
Then came the dead call on the Fourth of July. On returning, Thayne went to shower while Holly filed the paperwork. Laughter bombarded him. Shaking, he went to find Holly. She was still in the office and Mr. Collins had joined her.
Collins’ arms were around Holly and her face was buried in the side of his neck. He knew what had to be done. He would never have to hear the laughter again.
Thayne hid in a room opposite the office till the two parted. Collins turned to stare out the window and Thayne saw his opportunity. A heavy glass ashtray on a brass stand stood between to chairs. In one swift movement, Thayne was in the office, ashtray in one hand, stand in the other.
He wailed away until the old man’s features ran together. Thayne stood for a minute and made sure he wasn’t breathing. Dropping the stand, he went upstairs to find Holly. He found her in the tub surrounded by bubbles. She opened her eyes at the sound of his footstep and turned to look at him. The smile she wore faded when she saw him.
Frowning, she asked, "What’s all over you?"
He hadn’t even thought about the blood that must have covered him until that point. In two long strides, he was standing beside the tub. "Your boyfriend."
He bent down, wrapped his hands around her throat and pushed her under the water.
Thayne was free for three months. He thought he’d escaped the police, and more importantly, the voices. But October brought an unexpected problem. As he drove through town one morning in Illinois, he saw Holly standing at a bus stop.
He wasn’t completely sure it was her but Thayne took no chances. He packed his bags and left town. And that’s how his life went. Every time he caught a glimpse of Holly, no matter where he was, he’d pack up and move. But whether it was a major city or a one-horse-town, the ghost of Holly found him.
He was in Anchorage seven weeks before he finally saw Holly. That’s when he knew he would never escape her and his decision was made.
At the cabin he rented, sitting in the tub, Thayne slit his wrists. He hoped it would be slow. He wanted time to wait for Holly.
As the tub slowly filled with his blood, Holly finally came. Standing in the doorway, she smiled down at him and he waited for her to reach out to him and take him away.
Instead, the smile vanished from her face and her long, dark hair swayed as she shook her head. "Awfully poetic for you to kill yourself in a tub, don’t you think? If I weren’t so damn tired of following you, I’d call the police and make them save your sorry ass."
He didn’t understand and they both knew it. How could such a sweet person in life become so cruel in death?
"My God, Thayne. You just assumed I was dead."
A short, sarcastic chuckle passed her lips before she answered. "I didn’t die in that tub Thayne. You came close though. My windpipe was nearly crushed and I must have blacked out. As I was trying to crawl out of the tub, I heard the car start outside. I managed to get to the phone and dial 911. Though I couldn’t speak, the police knew where the call was coming from and sent a car over."
She stepped completely inside the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. "It took me two months to recover and then I hired a private investigator to find you. But every time I discovered your whereabouts and was ready to confront you, you’d packed up and leave. After a few times, I knew you had too have seen me. I always thought you figured I’d turn you in. I hadn’t realized you thought I was dead."
He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open now. He was so tired and he could hear the faint whispering of voices. "Close your eyes and sleep ", they said.
"Thayne!" She said his name with such force it startled him back to the land of the living.
"You should also know you didn’t kill Craig Collins either. He was in a coma for a month and a half but then he woke up. It’s been a long recovery for him. He never understood why but I think I do. You saw Craig and I hugging and assumed the worst, right?" She didn’t wait for a response. "You never knew the body we picked up on the fourth was that of a child. He was simply comforting me. All of this is because I was struck by the death of a child."
Holly stood up and looked at Thayne. "Craig wanted to be here for the end. I thought it was only fair since it’s his money I used to hire the investigator and live on all these months."
With his last ounce of life, Thayne raised his eyes to see the disfigured face of Craig Collins. He wished he could explain the voices but it was to late for that. Thayne didn’t have the energy to speak and Collins showed no intention of speaking to the man that tried to kill him. The last words Thayne heard though were from Holly.
She was talking very softly to him. "I hope you left a note Thayne telling the police the name of a funeral home. Someone will have to drive out here and make a dead call."
Impressive story you got there, scary as hell -- you knew how to build the suspense; there is a premise for a longer story. Play around with the piece to see if you can make it longer because this would make a hell of a novella. This is the kind of story that will stay with the reader a long time, and for as short as it is -- it held my attention.
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