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Patrick Lacey

The June Selected writer is Patrick Lacey

Please feel free to email Patrick at: patrickclacey@hotmail.com

Patrick Lacey

COLD CALL
By Patrick Lacey

Baby Suzie started crying when the phone rang. Beth set her down in the high chair and cursed. She rubbed her eyes and nearly tripped while making her way to the landline. Why did she even bother with a landline to begin with? Nobody ever called, present situation excluded, and it was an eyesore hanging on the wall like that.

She yawned and leaned against the kitchen doorway. After the third or fourth ring she picked up. “Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Stacker?” A male voice.

“Speaking,” she said through another yawn. Her attention was drawn to the television. There was a muted commercial for a cruise, crystal clear water and a breathtaking sunset in the background.

“I’m calling about an exciting new opportunity.”

I’m sure you are. She watched the cruise ship as passengers lounged on chairs, drinking tropical drinks and laughing at some unheard joke.

“Ms. Stacker? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she said. “Unfortunately.”

“Great. I’d like to discuss a wonderful opportunity. It won’t take more than five minutes of your time.”

“I’m afraid five minutes is more than I can offer right now. Besides, I’m guessing this is a cold call.”

“I assure you it’s nothing of the sort,” the voice said. She felt the man’s pain. In college, she’d worked at a call center. The pay was great but she’d been verbally abused hundreds of times.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m really not interested. I’d appreciate if you took me off your list for the future.” The voice tried to speak once more but she cut it off. “Have a great day.” She hung up.

The cruise had sailed away, some other infomercial replacing the fantasy. Not that it was easy to imagine when you had a baby screaming bloody murder. She walked over and picked Suzie up. It was almost time for her afternoon nap. If Beth was lucky she could grab a half hour of sleep herself. It was days like this that made her wonder how she’d had Suzie on her own. It would be good to have someone else to lean on. Someone to hold. Someone to talk to when she grew lonely.

The phone rang again, sending Suzie into another crying spasm. Beth set her back down and marched toward the landline. She picked it up, not caring if she sounded nice this time around. “Yes?”

“Ms. Stacker?” The same robotic voice again.

She pinched the crown of her nose. “Yes, this is she.”

 “Excellent. I was worried you weren’t going to pick up. I’m calling back regarding a truly exciting opportunity. I’d like to discuss the details with you if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Actually I would mind. In fact, I’d mind a whole lot. Don’t call this number again. Do you understand?”

“But Ms. Stacker. You’re not going to want to miss out on—”

She slammed the phone in its cradle. It was an antique, from before the days of caller ID. She ought to press star sixty-nine and ask for the caller’s supervisor but it would take more effort than she could spare right now.

Halfway to the table the phone rang again.

“Motherfucker!”

Beth turned around, grabbed the phone, pushed it hard against her temple. “Whoever the hell this is, you’re really testing my patience.”

“I would’ve been fine with a standard hello.” It was her father’s voice on the other end, soft and soothing.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy. It’s been a rough morning.”

“Suzie still sick?”

She held the phone toward the screaming child. “You tell me.”

“I should be there in an hour. Traffic’s a bitch. Must be an accident.”

Music to her ears. Her father was visiting for the weekend. He wouldn’t mind watching Suzie while Beth caught up on sleep. It seemed as tantalizing as the cruise. “I’ll have supper ready.”

“Sounds good. And turn your cell phone on. I tried calling three times.”

She said goodbye and walked down the hall. In her room she grabbed her cell, turned the sound on, and winced when she saw the screen.

There were fifty-two calls and only three of them had been her father. The others were from a private number.

Son of a bitch. She highlighted one of the mystery calls and redialed. It rang for an eternity but eventually a familiar voice answered.

“Ms. Stacker. I’m glad you called back. I was beginning to worry you weren’t interested in our special offer.”

“Listen closely,” she said. “It’s illegal for you to call my cell phone. I swear to God if you don’t stop calling me—”

“You’ll what? Call the cops? Send the FBI to arrest me?” The voice let out a breath, as if recomposing. “You’re the one that needs to listen closely, Ms. Stacker. May I call you Beth? Beth, I’m trying to help you but you’re making it quite difficult.”

“I already told you I’m not interested.”

“You will be when you learn what’s at stake.”

She froze. Was this a threat? “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we know we know you live at 221 Walnut Ave and we know your father is on his way to visit and we know your daughter is sitting in the kitchen as we speak. You graduated from BC and you are currently a guidance counselor. Would you like me to go on or are you ready to listen?”

She didn’t say anything. Her tongue was dry and her eyes were open too wide. They began to tear up but she didn’t dare blink. Somehow, she thought, to move would be to give into what she’d just heard, which was crazy. Ludicrous. Absurd.

Wasn’t it?

The man had said something. She forced herself back into the present. “What?”

“I said if you hang up again, we’ll have to send one of our representatives in person and trust me when I say you do not want that. Have I got your attention?”

She nodded as if he could see her, which felt like the case.

“That’s good,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about your promise.”

“Promise? What promise?” She walked over to the bedroom window and peered out. She saw only trees and empty parked cars. At least she thought they were empty. She went back into the kitchen and checked on Suzie. The girl had finally stopped crying. She looked worried now, as if she could tell something wasn’t quite right.

The voice sighed. “Do you remember what you did last weekend?”

She thought back. “I didn’t do anything accept go out with friends on Saturday night.” She wondered if she’d run into any guys she couldn’t remember.

“That’s right. And do you remember any of your conversations? Specifically one that took place near the end of the night?”

What the hell was he going on about? He had to be a stalker. Someone that had been following her and knew her every move. Keep him talking while you come up with a plan. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“You were quite inebriated. Most of our clients contact us when they are…not their best selves. Do you recall stepping out of O’Connor’s Pub just after last call and following your friends Nicole Larter and Alison Declan?”

“Yes, I remember.” She looked at the landline. Perhaps she could call the police while she kept the voice occupied. She walked over to the window above the sink and pulled down the curtains.

The voice clicked its tongue in annoyance. “Please pull the curtain back up, Beth. As I’ve said, we are keeping a close watch. I wouldn’t want you to try anything that would jeopardize your situation even more.

She reached a shaking hand toward the curtain and pulled it back up. She scanned the street and saw no sign of life.

“That’s better. Back to Saturday night. You walked with your two friends into a nearby alleyway where you took approximately four hits from a rather large joint. Do you recall this as well?”

She nodded once more, holding a hand to her mouth. She imagined the man following her, steps away the whole time. She’d led a psychopath to her home without knowing it.

“Your friend Nicole spoke of her divorce and started to cry. Alison consoled her but you, Beth, did not. Instead you said—and I quote—‘You think you’ve got it bad? Try raising a kid by yourself and lying awake at night, thinking your life couldn’t get any worse. You know what I’d like? I’d like a way out, a new start. I’d sell my soul for a second chance.’” The voice paused, letting her take the words in.

She hadn’t remembered saying them until now. The entire conversation was a drunken blur. She recalled apologizing to Nicole and Alison, begging for their forgiveness. She was stressed, sleep deprived, probably a bit depressed. She didn’t mean a word of it. “I didn’t mean a word of it,” she said.

“Beth, we both know that’s not the truth.”

“What difference does it make?”

“All the difference. You promised my client something and I need you to follow through.”

“Promise? What the hell are you talking about?” She tried to remember what happened after the alleyway. Had she run into anyone, made a bet of some sort? Her memory came up blank. As far as she knew, she’d gotten a ride home from a taxi, paid the babysitter, and collapsed on the couch.

“I’m talking about your soul, Beth.”

She began to laugh. Not because what he’d said was funny or because she was mentally and physically exhausted. Not because she’d never felt more lonely or hopeless. But because she somehow knew this man believed in every word he spoke. “And how do I go about doing that? Should I should put it in an envelope and send it your way?”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. We’ll need to arrange a meeting where we can take the payment in person.”

She stepped into the living room and peered out the windows toward the side street. A man walked his dog, speaking into a phone. For a moment she wondered if he was the voice but his moving lips didn’t match up. “I think I’m going to hang up now. Maybe you can call back another time?”

“As I said before, hanging up would be a mistake. We will have to send someone to your door.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her laughs had turned to quiet giggles, mingling with sobs. She wiped snot and tears from her face. The problem was that she did believe him.

“Beth, I want you to come back to the window over the sink. Can you do that?”

She nodded again, forgetting he wasn’t in the house with her, and stepped back in front of the sink. “What am I looking for?”

“Across the street, in your neighbor’s yard, just next to the oak tree, what do you see?”

She squinted. There was a shape there, vaguely human, but her eyes were tired and she was nearly blind without her glasses. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look harder.”

She spun around, grabbed her glasses from the kitchen table. Suzie eyed her with terror. Beth smiled but even the baby could see it was hollow. When Beth looked through the window again she dropped the phone.

Her eyesight had not completely failed her. There was a shape across the street and it was vaguely human but it was most definitely not human. It was large and misshapen and had two large protrusions in the dome of its head that looked a lot like horns. She stifled a scream and took a few steps back, never taking her eyes away from the thing. It seemed to double in size and grow closer without moving an inch. The voice spoke from the phone below. She picked it up and stayed kneeling.

“Beth? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. She felt the thing across the street could hear her if she spoke any louder.

“I take it you saw our representative?”

“I saw something. I think I’m going crazy.” She slowly stood back up, wincing as she neared the top of the sink. She expected the thing to be just in front of the window, its foul breath fogging the glass, its horns scratching the surface.

There was nothing. Her neighbor’s yard was empty. The spot where the thing had stood was just a patch of front lawn. A newspaper from this morning’s delivery lay on the ground.

“You are not going crazy,” the voice said. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’re handling it quite well. Many of our clients would have broken down by now.”

She certainly felt broken down. Her heart refused to slow its beating and her skin was dripping with icy sweat. She tried to weigh her options. If she hung up she was doomed. If she called the cops she was doomed. Perhaps she could keep the voice on the line until her father showed.

She tossed greasy bangs from her face. “What happens now? Suppose I haven’t had a nervous breakdown. Suppose all of this is real and you’re telling the truth. You want me to give myself up? Are you going to kill me?”

“You offered your soul in exchange for a way out. The demand was quite vague but our team of experts took that to mean a fresh start. A life without worry and stress. Which would mean taking away the biggest element of stress in your life.” She eyed Suzie while the man spoke. The girl was chewing on her fingers and kicking her feet. She looked angelic. “Do you understand what I telling you, Beth?”

She lifted Suzie from the high chair and set her down in her playpen. “You can’t have her. I was drunk and tired. I love my child very much.”

“But your life would be better without her.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” She spread her arms like wings, blocking Suzie as if bullets would tear through the walls at any moment.

“Even if that’s the case, we’ve already processed your request. It is non-refundable.”

Without thinking, as if her hands moved independently of her mind, she hung up. It took several seconds to process the gravity of what she’d done. When her thoughts caught up she put her phone in her pocket, picked up Suzie, and carried her out the door, grabbing her car keys on the way.

The phone began to ring in her pocket as she strapped Suzie into the car seat. Beth tried to ignore the buzzing, told herself it was just a twitching of skin and nothing more. The call ended and began ringing several seconds later.

She pulled it out of her pocket, saw the same unknown number, and tossed it onto the ground. She got into the front seat, started the car, looked into the rearview mirror.

And screamed.

The thing—the representative—was across the street again, in the same spot as before. Only now it was moving in her direction. She put the car in reverse and sped out of the driveway. The phone crunched from beneath her tires.

The thing became a blur in the mirror and as she turned onto the next street, it was gone altogether. She needed to find a payphone to call her father. But what should she say? She was being followed by a demon because she’d accidentally made a pact with the netherworld? It sounded crazy in her mind, let alone out in the open.

Someone spoke from the back seat.

For a moment Beth knew the voice from the phone had materialized. It was sitting next to Suzie, its clawed hands stroking her daughter’s head, waiting to dig into the flesh.

She spun her head around and saw only her daughter. The girl opened her mouth and repeated her first word ever. “Bird.”

Beth wished it had been under different circumstances. She would’ve liked to laugh and cry and take a photo to capture the moment. “That’s lovely,” she said. “Do you see a bird?”

Suzie pointed to the sky through the window. “Bird.”

Beth followed Suzie’s line of sight. She expected to see a seagull or pigeon but instead she saw a dark shape that momentarily covered the sun as it dove toward the car. It was too quick to take in all its parts but that was fine by her. To see its horns and teeth and claws in detail would be akin to ripping out her eyes, reaching through the blood-filled cavities and tearing her brain apart. Which was exactly how it felt as the thing neared her windshield.

Beth slammed on her brakes and screamed in tune with Suzie as the thing landed on the hood of the car. The sudden impact sent the vehicle into the wrong lane. Just as Beth was staring into the demon’s crimson eyes, the oncoming mail truck slammed into her front bumper.

*****

When she woke, there were tubes in her arms and she could only see out of her right eye. Her mind began to process her surroundings: white walls, white floor, white bed.

A hospital. She was in a hospital. Because of the car crash and the demon thing and the voice from the phone. She opened her mouth to scream but someone stood from the chair beside her and gripped her wrist.

It was her father. He smiled and forced her arm back down. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Suzie is fine. She’s scratched up, might have a scar or two on her arms, but she’s going to make it. And so are you.” His eyes looked misty for the first time in Beth’s life.

Beth touched her left eye. It was covered in a bandage.

“You’re not blind,” her father said. “It’s just a scratched cornea. The doctor said things will be blurry for a while but otherwise it’ll heal in a couple weeks.”

She nodded and swallowed against her swelling throat.

“Speaking of the doctor,” her father said, “let me go get him.”

Before she could say she didn’t want to be alone for even a second, he stood from his chair and left the room. The heart monitor beside the bed beeped steadily and she could hear muffled conversations from the hall. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted with laughter.

She wondered if she had truly had lost her mind. Perhaps everything prior to the crash was the result of a meltdown, a break with reality, early onset dementia.

She thought all this as the phone rang beside her.

It was a harsh tone, bland and piercing like all hospital phones. She would ignore it, would not breathe or think or move until the ringing ceased.

Eventually it did stop and she let forth the longest sigh of her life.

There was a knock on the half-open door. “Ms. Stacker? May I come in?”

She recognized the voice from somewhere, perhaps the man who had treated her when she’d gotten her appendix removed. “Yes,” she said, pulling the blankets to her chin. “Come in.”

A white-haired doctor stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked familiar, though she couldn’t place him. She’d been young during the surgery and he would’ve aged a decade since then.

“How are you feeling?” he said, looking at the monitor.

“Tired. And shaken up. But mostly tired.”

“Yes, that’s to be expected. You’re lucky you didn’t suffer any serious injuries. I’ll need you to fill out some forms quickly before we discuss your predicament further.”

She began to feel sleepy. She looked at the tubes running into her arms. Had a nurse come in just before she woke to give her a sedative? Didn’t they want her to wake up instead of staying asleep?

The doctor handed her a clipboard. “It will only take a few moments of your time.”

That voice. She knew it from somewhere.

She took the clipboard and squinted at the first form. She wished she had her glasses. Everything was blurry. She brought the paper close to her good eye and wondered if she was hallucinating.

There was nothing about her blood type or prior medical history. The form was less like a medical evaluation and more like a legal document.

She looked up. The doctor no longer looked familiar because he was no longer an old man in a lab coat. His skin was gone, replaced by scaly leather. Two long horns pointed toward the ceiling.

A clawed finger tapped the bottom of the form.

“Don’t forget to sign on the dotted line.”

Patrick Lacey is an Editorial Assistant in the healthcare industry. When he's not reading about blood clots and infectious diseases, he writes about things that make the general public uncomfortable. He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, his Pomeranian, and his muse, who is likely trying to kill him. His debut novella will be released through Samhain Publishing in 2015. Follow him on Twitter or find him on Facebook.