The Somnibus: Book I - Finding the Mark (A Paranormal Thriller) (4 page)

A
fter Mort left me to ponder his parting words, I
realized what he’d meant about protecting himself. If I had chained myself up the
other night, I might not have ended up in the middle of the interstate in my
underwear.

Someone had bridged me that night. I thought I’d
been sleepwalking, but for whatever reason, they released me at the last
second. That semi almost killed me. Why let me go? Why go through the trouble
of bridging me, taking me on a little field trip, and scaring the shit out of
me just to let me go?

My mind had had enough over the last couple of
hours. I headed upstairs to check on Mort and go to bed. When I passed by his
room I stopped, and pressed my ear to the door.

“You need anything?”

“No thanks, Michael. I’ll talk to you in the
morning,” his muffled voice broke through the silence.

The rattling of his security chains clinked and
clanked as he settled in for the night, and I walked down the hall to my room.

I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth.
I hadn’t been scared of the dark since I was a kid, not until that night. My
stomach turned on itself when I thought about what Mort told me.
What if
he
came for me?

Climbing into bed my eyes immediately grew heavy.
I decided to just give in to my lids and take my chances. After all, I’d have
to sleep at some point.

My eyes opened to the ceiling fan spinning
overhead. I remained motionless until my body involuntarily sat up and slid
from my bed. My feet paused when they hit the floor. Opening the bedroom door,
I realized I
’d been bridged
again, and I had no
control. I turned the knob, and walked into the hallway. I stood there, as if
confused, for what seemed like an eternity. Before padding my way down the
hall, I knew I was going to Mort’s room.

The knob to Mort’s door wouldn’t open but my grip
strengthened and I shook the handle.

“Michael? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Can I come in for a second?”

The rattling of his bindings preceded his voice
from the other side of the door. “Are you okay, Michael? It’s three in the
morning.”

My head had no clear direction. I wanted to yell
out that it was
me
, yet it wasn’t
me,
but my
brain held my mouth hostage, and nothing escaped my lips.

“Everything’s fine. I just want to talk. I can’t
sleep.” The words came out distorted as I struggled to keep my lips from
allowing them to escape. The base of my skull ached as I tried to regain
control of my body. The intensity increased like a vise cranking shut.

“Give me a second. I’ll be right there.” The sound
of the chains piling up broke through the door.

My skin bristled with rage. Blood pumped through
my veins in eager anticipation of what I wanted to do to Mort. Oh how I wanted
my hands wrapped around his throat.

The grip tightened on my skull as I tried to force
my way back into the driver’s seat of my brain.
I’d almost
gained control as the bolts on Mort’s door unlatched one by one, and took my
hand off the handle.
Taking a step back, the vise tightened further and
forced my hand back to the door handle. Stepping in front of the door, I
squeezed the knob. I battled myself for control of my actions, fighting whoever
or whatever had taken over my mind.

Click.

Pushing back against the vise, the door unlocked.

Slide.
Click.

The grip loosened.

The final lock clicked open, and Mort opened the
door. My head hung when I walked into the room, brushing past him.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

I wanted to scream that everything was definitely
not all right but couldn’t. Standing with my back to him as the door closed, I
turned around and cleared my throat. “Yeah, I just wanted to know something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

I raised my head to answer and his eyes swelled
with fear. I rushed at him but he sidestepped out of the way. I crashed into
the door, my nose crunching against the doorframe. I almost charged him again
when Mort yelled, “Fight it. You can stop this!”

The pain clamped the back of my skull, but I
continued to try to push my way back into control of my brain. My attack
stopped, and my body froze in place. I was winning the struggle. I concentrated
on forcing the invader from my mind and body while Mort stood in the corner,
waiting for my next move.

“You are strong. Shut.
Him.
Down!”

His words gave me the strength I needed to force
myself back into control. Hatred dissipated from my skin, replaced by a
coolness settling onto my body. The room spun as my legs liquefied beneath me.

I melted to the floor and watched from the carpet
through fuzzy eyes as Mort made his way to me. The warm, tinny taste filling my
throat confirmed that I’d broken my nose when I’d smashed into the door. I lay
half-conscious on the floor, bleeding. Mort’s knees cracked as he squatted down
to me.

“You want me to help you set up a harness in your
room tomorrow?”

Mort helped me up and into the bathroom. I stood
in front of the mirror with my chin pointed up, pinching my nose with a
washcloth. Mort sat on the edge of the tub and remained silent while I tried to
process what had happened. Well, I knew what had happened, but I didn’t know
how or why.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You did it. I know he left under strong protest,
but how did you make him leave?” Mort’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward
when he asked. “That doesn’t happen too often, you know. Not everyone can do
that.”

“What do you mean? You told me I could do it,” I
adjusted the blood-soaked washcloth.

“Well, that was more of a last ditch effort on my part.
I know it can be done, but I’ve never actually known someone to fight their way
out of a bridge.”

My eyes rolled and I flashed a half grin at my
reflection in the mirror.

“How did it start? How did you know you had been
bridged?”

“I couldn’t stop myself at first. I felt his
feelings, his hatred. I knew
I
didn’t have those feelings toward you. I
got angry when I knew I couldn’t control my own actions. I didn’t want to come
into your room, but I had no choice. I felt violated. A part of my mind told me
to force my way back in to control. I focused hard and my head hurt, but I also
regained access to my mind. The more I focused, the worse it hurt but the more
I gained control. Finally, when you yelled at me, my mind surged, and the pain
vanished. My legs went weak, and that’s when I fell to the floor.” I adjusted
the washcloth again. “I don’t know why, but he truly hates you. He had bad
intentions if he had gotten to you.” I reached for a new towel.

The room fell silent for a few seconds before he
finally responded.

“Mallen.
That’s his name. Let’s just say we have a
history. I’ve tried to…eliminate him on several occasions, but it hasn’t
worked.”

The river of blood had become a trickling stream,
and I lowered my chin. “So, he’s coming after both of us now?”

“He’s been trying to get to me for years. We have
a
thing
that we haven’t resolved. Now he has you to go after, too. I
knew you would be in danger after your parents died. I’m here to help you.”

I let his words sink in before responding.

“What can we do about it? I can’t spend the rest
of my life worrying if that thing will leave me stranded in the middle of the
highway again, or make me go ape shit crazy and kill people.”

He sat motionless, pondering my words before
answering.

“It’s dangerous, but we can do it.”

“Dangerous for who,
me
or
you?”

“Both of us.”

Mort’s squinted eyes held mine. Then as if
planned, we flashed a smile that we both understood. We had to get rid of
Mallen.

We went downstairs to the kitchen and put on a pot
of coffee. I poured each of us a cup and cut through the silence.

“What do we have to do?”

Mort sat across from me with his gaze locked on
mine.

“First of all, we need to get a harness for you. I
don’t think I can rest knowing you may get the urge to kill me in my sleep.” He
grinned. “We need a plan. I’m sure you pissed Mallen off when you gave him the
boot last time, and he won’t be as easy to get rid of now that he knows what
he’s up against.”

“How do we get rid of him, or it, whatever? Do we
kill it, or what? How the hell would you kill it if it’s inside me?”

I grew more concerned having said that last
statement aloud.

“Don’t worry, Michael. Don’t get me wrong, it’s
not going to be pleasant for either one of us, but it won’t kill you.” He
raised an eyebrow.

T
he next afternoon, we installed my harness. It
felt like a flesh and blood entry into an abused child’s journal. My right foot
continued to twitch back and forth while I allowed him to chain me to the wall.
The leather wrist straps were snug but not too tight. My eyes dropped to my
waist where he reached around to secure the belt part of the harness to the
I-bolt in the wall. He cinched it down on my waist.

“Well, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, are
you?” He stepped back to admire his work.

Panic rushed inside me. I had never been
claustrophobic, but the room closed in around me, and I panted.

“Whoa, whoa.
Relax.”

My wrists pulled away from the wall, and the
chains became taut.

“I’ll undo it, calm down.” Mort stepped toward me.

“Hurry up!” Beads of sweat dripped from my brow.

I stood up and backed away from the bed. I saw it
in a different light, a dangerous light.

“So how do we do it?”

“Well, first we get you tucked in comfy and safe,
and then we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Mallen.”

“How the hell do you expect me to fall asleep
knowing I’m doing it with the intention of making myself bait for that
foul-smelling thing to come and get me?”

“Listen to me. Mallen will come for you whether
you like it or not. We might as well even the playing field a little so we have
some control over things when he gets inside that head of yours.”

I stood with my back pressed to the wall while my
mind wrestled with my situation.

“What are you going to do? Where will you be?”

“Don’t worry. You will know when it’s time. You
need to trust me. You do trust me, right?”

The moment the words left his lips, my stomach
rolled on itself. I had only met the man a few days ago and I now found myself
living under the same roof as him, allowing him to chain me to the wall. He’d
known mom and dad, so I’d allowed him into my life like few others.

Having no choice, I answered honestly. “What
choice do I have?”

“Let’s go grab something to eat before we do this
tonight. I want to show you something. I’ll drive.”

Mort continued with small talk as we took
Interstate 95 and drove for about 20 minutes before he took the off ramp to
Brookesville. I’d never been there, but based on what I’d heard my hand
instinctively reached toward the door to make sure it
was
locked
.

“Why are we here?”

“You asked about Somnibus here, in our world. I
want to show you something.” He swiveled his head from street corner to street
corner.

The sun had only set
  an
hour before and already the streets were alive with dealings in the shadows.

“The Somnibus are mostly active in the weak, the
vulnerable. The people who have given up on life and turn to drugs to help
escape their miserable realities. The Somnibus prey on them. They show them an
alternate reality in exchange for borrowing their body for a couple of hours.”

“Why is it only a couple of hours, why don’t they
just move in permanently? Our world isn’t great, but it’s better than that
awful place they live in.”

“Somnibus can only bridge for a short period of
time. They’re parasitic. They use the host just long enough to feed or to do
their dirty work. They must leave the host or risk remaining in the host’s mind
for good. They wouldn’t be able to live here in our world. They couldn’t
function as humans, and they would die within days.” He continued to scan the
streets.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

The words had no sooner left my lips than the car
pulled to the curb. Mort’s eyes fixed on the corner across from us.

“Let’s take a walk.”

“You’re kidding me?” He closed the door and left
me in the car alone.

I took my time unbuckling my seat belt. Mort stood
in front of the car and looked back at me. His eyes made it clear he wasn’t
kidding.

We approached a homeless man huddled in a corner.
I stood back while Mort approached the man.

“Hey, buddy.”

The shadowy figure either didn’t hear Mort or
didn’t care to. Stringy, matted hair hung like a veil over the man’s face. The
trench coat remained hunched in the corner with no response. Mort lifted his
foot and pushed the ragged man in the lower back. The man lost his balance, and
his shoulder struck the wall.

I stepped forward to help the man, but Mort stuck
his arm out and held me back.

The trench coat twisted toward us to reveal a
weathered face secreted by sunglasses. Mort leaned toward the man and snatched
the sunglasses from his face. Arthritic hands rose to shield the man’s face
from the false light washing over us. The man did not attempt to escape as Mort
squatted down, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his face into view.

I moved away from Mort’s arm and stepped forward
to help the man.

“Stop it! What are you doing?”

Mort found the center of my chest with his
outstretched arm. The solid hand in my sternum gave me reason to pause before
stepping any closer.

“Look, Michael. Just look for a second!”

My eyes gained focus as I leaned in behind Mort’s
forearm. The man’s pupils were the size of quarters, his chin wet with
moisture. My eyes squinted, trying to make sense of it. The man rolled his head
back and forth as if he was cracking his neck. The liquid remained in place on
his chin as Mort stood up, bringing the man to his feet.

Mort leaned in to the man’s face, so close their
noses nearly touched. Mort’s head tilted from side to side, like a curious
puppy, into the colorless eyes of the man when the man’s lower jaw disjointed
and his head fell backward. A noxious, piercing shriek escaped, and the air
filled with the familiar smell of copper and decaying flesh.

Mort held steady, appearing neutral to the stench.
The man’s fingers splayed wide while his body went rigid with a seizure. After
a minute or so, he went limp, slumping into Mort’s chest. He caught the man
beneath his armpits and eased him to the ground. After Mort stepped back from
him, I saw the source of the wetness on the man’s chin. Stepping closer, I
inspected the heap on the ground where the man had squatted in the corner.

A dying kitten lay on the ground, a hole eaten
into it, shimmering viscera oozing from the twitching feline. I knelt down and
saw the suffering in its eyes. Blood bubbled from its wound. Leaning over, I
puked on the sidewalk.

As I wiped the dangling wretch from my chin, I
turned my head back to the suffering animal, just in time to catch the smashing
blow from Mort’s heel. I rocked back and fell away as the warm splatter
decorated my face. Mort stood over me and extended his hand as if he had just
done me a favor.

I slapped his hand away and jumped to my feet. I
shoved Mort in the chest and followed him as he stumbled backward into the
wall.

“What the fuck was that? That was horrible! What
are you doing?”

“That animal had suffered enough. If I had a gun,
I would have shot it, but I don’t.” He stepped forward and put his hands on my
shoulders. I shook them free and stepped away.

“I need you to calm down and focus for a minute.
I’m sorry about the cat, but that’s not what you need to focus on right now.
Did you see how that man acted? Look at the streets around us.”

I held Mort’s eyes for a moment and then did as he
said. If I hadn’t seen what I had, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to
the homeless piled up on the corners. The ones with sunglasses turned toward
us, watching.

“Let’s just get back to the car, Michael.”

I followed Mort back to the car without question.
As we got in, some of the homeless wearing sunglasses stood motionless, some of
them tensing up in seizure, slumping to the ground and convulsing.

Before we drove off, a few of the shady figures
made their way to the curb in front of us. I pushed the lock down while they
stood with their heads tilted to one side or the other, their sunglasses fixed
on our car.

“Mort?
Should I be worried now?”

The moment I said it, a concerted hissing filled
my ears, the air infected with the rotten smell of death and copper.

“Yeah, now would definitely be a good time to be a
bit concerned.” He pressed the accelerator to the floor.