The Unseen
Brian Harmon
Rushed
The Unseen
by Brian Harmon
Rushed: The Unseen
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 by Brian Harmon
Published by Brian Harmon
Cover Image and Design by Brian Harmon
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places and events are entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Also by Brian Harmon:
Rushed
The Box
Gilbert House
The Temple of the Blind
Road Beneath the Wood
Secret of the Labyrinth
The Judgment of the Sentinels (The Temple of the Blind #6)
Buried in the Basement (A Gathering of Dark Tales)
For more about this author, visit
www.HarmonUniverse.com
Chapter One
Two dozen pink Gerbera daisies. Hailey’s favorite.
The girl at the flower shop smiled too much. Eric found it distracting.
It wasn’t an unkind smile. It wasn’t even that there was nothing to smile about. It wasn’t a solemn occasion. The flowers weren’t for a funeral. Precisely the opposite, as a matter of fact. They were for a baby shower. A celebration of happy expectations. The joyfully imminent arrival of a beautiful, baby girl. There was no reason not to smile, really…but it felt a little bit like she was laughing at him.
As she swiped his card, he eyed the bouquet. It was bigger than he’d expected. And so brightly colored… He might as well walk out of the store with an armload of lit sparklers.
It was a silly thing, really. Stupid, even. Just some childish streak of macho pride nagging at him, asking him if he really intended to be seen in broad daylight cradling this big, pink bouquet of daisies.
It didn’t help that the girl was so young. She looked about the same age as his high school students, barely old enough to drive a car. And it never failed to impress him how cruel kids could be at that age, how easy it was for them to ridicule others. And they could be especially mean-spirited toward adults. At that age, looking out at the world, you knew everything. Looking back from that world, from the other side of Eric’s thirty-two years, it was obvious that you really didn’t know anything. Those differing perceptions, from two completely opposing perspectives, sometimes made it difficult to communicate. It created a gap between them, a fissure of sorts.
Eric knew a thing or two about fissures.
His phone came to life in his pocket, buzzing urgently against his thigh. That would be Karen. Again. Begrudgingly, he fished the annoying device from the depths of his front jeans pocket and answered it: “Hello?”
“Did you get the flowers?”
“Paying for them now.”
“How do they look?”
“Very pink.”
The girl’s smile broadened. It looked warmer now, friendlier, less mocking. Perhaps it really had all been in his imagination.
“Hailey’ll love them. Don’t you think?”
“Definitely. Nothing celebrates a new life like decapitating some pretty plants.”
The girl giggled a little at this as she handed him back his debit card.
“Out with the old, in with the new,” declared Karen.
“One way of putting it, I guess.” Eric punched in his PIN number and asked, “How are the cupcakes coming?”
“First batch is done.”
“Awesome. You girls having fun?”
“Yes, we are.”
“That’s good.”
Eric returned his card to his wallet and lifted the bouquet off the counter. How was he supposed to even hold this stupid thing? They looked so delicate, yet they were heavy enough to demand a firm grip. And while he was talking on the phone, he couldn’t even handle them with both hands. He’d never really developed that knack for holding the phone in the crook of his neck like other people. He always dropped the damned thing.
Maybe he had an abnormal neck.
He hated cell phones. He hated the way people were always talking on them, as if everything they had to say was far too important to wait until they returned home. Talking and talking and talking, in their cars, at restaurants, while checking out in stores…like he was doing now… But Karen insisted he carry one. She was a firm believer that everyone should have one on them at all times. In case of emergency. Or, you know, in case she just wanted to talk to her husband right now.
Personally, he’d rather just ignore the stupid thing. But if there was one thing he’d learned as Karen’s loving and devoted husband, it was that she hated for her calls to be ignored.
“Diane keeps asking me to have you bring home tequila, though.”
“That doesn’t seem like a good idea. Won’t the cupcakes get more lopsided as you go?”
“That’s what I keep telling her.”
From the background, Eric heard Diane say, “Everything’s more fun with margaritas.”
Eric smiled at this. “She does have a point.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
Karen met Diane Shucker at college, where they were roommates. They’d been best friends ever since. Today, Diane was helping prepare for the shower. Although Eric had noticed on previous occasions like this one that “helping” usually meant little more than keeping her company. Karen always did the vast majority of the work. Diane would hand her things and help keep the kitchen tidy, but she would mostly just sit with her, the two of them gossiping and giggling like schoolgirls.
Karen earned a fair amount of spending money as a freelance cake decorator and caterer. Her cakes, pies and cookies had won awards at every county fair for the past six years. As a result, she spent most Fridays and Saturdays in the kitchen, preparing for one gathering or another.
Eric thought she should just open a business and hire some real help, but she didn’t care at all for the idea of turning her hobby into a career. She was convinced it would take all the fun out of it, and he supposed she might be right about that.
Satisfied that the bouquet wasn’t going to topple out of his grip, Eric nodded goodbye to the overly-smiley, too-young florist and quickly made for the door.
“I just got off the phone with Hailey, actually,” Karen informed him.
“Oh yeah? How is she today?”
“Good. Her family got here last night.” Hailey was his and Karen’s sister-in-law. Her husband, Andrew, was Karen’s baby brother. This would be their first child, and the first grandchild for Hailey’s parents. It was a big event for the entire family. They drove all the way down from Northern Minnesota for this shower.
“That’s good.”
“It is. But they all showed up.”
“Uh oh.” Eric stepped out into the warm sunshine and squinted at the surrounding street. He didn’t see anyone staring at him with one of those stupid smiles, but there was plenty of ground to cover between him and his silver PT Cruiser.
“Uh huh.” They’d only been expecting Hailey’s parents and maybe an aunt or two. “So I’m going to need you to bring home some more sparkling juice.”
“Sounds like a wild time. Red or white?”
“Both. About four more bottles, I think.”
“E
ach?”
“No. Four total. Two of each should do it.”
“That going to be enough?”
“I think so. Sounds like her dad and uncles brought down enough beer to show the whole town a good time.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Right.” He knew she was rolling her eyes. It was a baby shower, not a wedding reception. She hadn’t planned on having any alcohol. She stood firmly by her assertion that it simply wouldn’t be fair to the expectant mother. And he certainly couldn’t argue with that. He wouldn’t want to be thrown a party where he was the only one not allowed to drink.
Eric made it to the PT Cruiser without attracting a crowd and stopped as he realized that he now had no idea how he was going to dig the keys out of his pocket to unlock it.
So close to sanctuary…
“Anything else?”
Karen took a moment to think it over. Eric wondered if she was doing it on purpose. “I don’t think so,” she decided at last.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit, then.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
Eric said goodbye and hung up. He shoved the phone back into his left, front pocket and then awkwardly shifted the bouquet to his left hand so he could retrieve the keys from his right, front pocket. A light breeze blew past him, threatening to unbalance the daisies, and he had to rest them gently against the side of the vehicle to keep from dropping them.
Once the keys were in his hand, he unlocked the PT Cruiser and glanced around one last time. Still, nobody seemed to be staring at him. Nobody he could see, at least. That silly part of his brain was convinced that there were dozens of laughing eyes hidden behind all those store windows. But the only person he saw was a man in a navy blue hoodie hurrying across the street with a paper grocery sack in his arms.
Something about this man seemed curious. Perhaps it was the hoodie. It wasn’t sweltering out, but it was early June and plenty warm enough for shorts and tee shirts.
Eric watched this man as he hurried into a narrow alley between two buildings. There, just beyond the sidewalk, he turned to look back the way he came, pulling down his hood as he did, allowing an unobstructed view of his face.
Immediately, the big, pink bouquet was forgotten. Here, right before his eyes, was a face he hadn’t seen in over six years. In fact, as far as he knew, no one had seen this face in over six years.
Aiden…?
The young man turned and scanned the street and sidewalk until his eyes met Eric’s. Instantly, surprise washed over him. Then panic. He turned and bolted deeper into the alley and out of sight.
Eric hurried after him, but by the time he entered the alley, Aiden (if it really was Aiden) was gone.
A high, chain link fence blocked the back of the alley. It was old and flimsy and didn’t look like it would stop anyone sufficiently determined to pass through it, but it should have been enough to slow someone down. And Aiden hadn’t been out of sight for more than a few seconds.
On the left side of the alley, between him and the fence, a door stood ajar. It was much more likely that he’d gone in there.
Cradling the flowers in his arms, Eric walked to this door and opened it wide. It didn’t close. There was no latch and no lock. It swung freely on its creaky hinges, practically useless. Inside was darkness and silence. A shadowy set of stairs led up to a second floor landing.
He hesitated. He didn’t like this. He felt like a child standing at the front gate of a haunted house. And he had every reason to be apprehensive. He’d done this sort of thing before. And unlike when he was a child, he knew first-hand that monsters were real.
He glanced around once more, but this seemed to be the only place the mysterious young man could have gone.
He didn’t have to do this. He could walk away. He could just go home. But… What if it really was Aiden?
Was it possible? After all this time?
If it was him, he couldn’t just leave. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. Aiden Chadwick was one of this city’s greatest unsolved mysteries.
He looked back up into the shadows at the top of the steps and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry,” he said to himself. “You brought flowers. What could go wrong?”
But that was a poor choice of words. He’d always possessed a very vivid imagination and it was quick to bring to mind several ghoulish examples of how things could go very, very wrong.
Mentally bracing himself, he stepped through the doorway and began to climb the stairs. It was dusty in here. The paint was peeling from the walls. The handrail was coming loose.
What building was this? The bakery was next to the florist. Then that little pet grooming shop, Sheltie’s. Was that where he was? Or was this the next one over? He couldn’t quite recall how Main Street was laid out. He didn’t frequent the shops here that often. Many of them he’d never set foot in. He didn’t have reason to. He didn’t own a pet, for instance.
From this perspective, the building appeared to be deserted, except for the footprints in the dust. Those were fresh. Someone had been using these steps very recently. And frequently. A great many footprints had merged into a path up the middle.
At the top was another door, this one unbroken and properly latched. He paused here and listened. Everything was quiet. He reached for the knob, but stopped himself. He had no idea what was on the other side of this door. Most of these old Main Street shops had apartments over them. What if this was someone’s home? He couldn’t simply start rattling the knob, trying to break in. Best case scenario, someone would call the police. Worst case scenario, he’d find himself answering to a big, angry property owner with a big, angry gun aimed at his face.
Again.
No, the stealthy approach was simply a bad idea. This was Aiden, not Hannibal Lecter. He closed his open hand, took a calming breath and rapped his knuckles firmly against the door.
No one answered. He wasn’t surprised. Aiden hadn’t looked overly happy to see him, after all.
He knocked again. “Aiden?”
Not a sound.
“Is that you, Aiden? It’s Eric Fortrell. Do you remember me?”
Still nothing.
Eric tried the knob. The door was unlocked. It creaked open, an eerie sound in the silence. “Hello? Anybody home?”
A narrow hallway stood before him. Shadowy, dusty, with cobwebs in every corner. A kitchen was to his right, a cramped bathroom to his left. He could see a table in the dining room ahead of him. An apartment, just as he’d predicted. But it looked as decrepit and poorly kept as the stairs that brought him here. The paint was faded, peeling. There was water damage on the ceiling tiles over the sink. There was no furniture except an old gas stove and dated refrigerator. It was hot and stuffy. And it smelled bad, like overflowing trash cans and dirty public restrooms.
Aiden was nowhere to be seen.
Eric felt his stomach sink a little as he recalled a similar deserted home, a farm house with the same kind of empty rooms. Like this time, he’d even followed someone right through the door, someone who vanished before he could catch up.
He could even remember a similar, narrow hallway. A bathroom. A bedroom. An old wardrobe…
Eric shuddered at the memory.
He forced himself to relax. This was different. That place was far away, unfamiliar, threatening. This was Creek Bend, Wisconsin. His hometown.
And this place was far from deserted. Someone had been here. It was a mess.
“Hello?” he called again. “Aiden? Is that you?”
Still cradling the daisies in his arms, Eric stepped into the apartment and looked around. Garbage was strewn across the kitchen counter tops and now that he was inside, he could hear the buzzing of flies. Standing there with the daisies in his arms, he felt a strong urge to turn and flee back down the steps.
“Please, God,” he muttered under his breath, “don’t let there be any dead bodies in here…”
On the counter, next to the sink, surrounded by crumpled
soda cans, warm bottles of Aquafina water, snack food wrappers and empty tequila bottles sat the paper bag Aiden had been carrying when he entered the alley. Eric walked over and peered inside. It was filled with junk food. Snack cakes, mini-donuts, pretzels, some cereal bars… He was reminded of long nights cramming for exams in college. The only things missing were the Hot Pockets and microwave burritos.
Clearly, this was where Aiden went after he vanished from the alley. But where was he now?
Eric left the kitchen without searching it. It was obvious that no one was here. And he had no desire to check the fridge for human heads. He returned to the hallway instead.
The bathroom reeked. It smelled as if no one had ever flushed the toilet. Covering his mouth and nose against the stench, he leaned through the door and looked around. There was no shower curtain and a sizeable pile of dirty clothes lay in the bottom of the bathtub. A large package of toilet paper stood open and half-empty on the floor within reach of the toilet. Beside this was an empty five-gallon bucket. A toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, deodorant and a comb lay scattered on the counter around the sink basin along with several empty bottles of water and one half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.
He reached out and twisted the knob on the sink, but no water came out. Clearly, the bottles of water were for brushing teeth while the bucket served to manually flush the toilet. But only occasionally, by the smell of it.
The rum, Eric could only speculate, was the all-in-one medicine cabinet, good for whatever ailed.
In need of fresher air, Eric withdrew from the smelly bathroom and moved on.
Next door was a small bedroom. A pile of old blankets were arranged into a makeshift bed surrounded by flashlights, empty soda cans, more water bottles and even more empty liquor bottles. There were junk food wrappers, fast food bags, napkins and other trash, as well as more dirty laundry.
His eyes washed over these clothes, examining them. Pants and shirts, socks, briefs… No women’s clothing.
