The Dead Woman

CHAPTER TEN

Pain brought Matt back to his senses. His head hurt like a bastard, pulsing and throbbing with every agonizing heartbeat. He tried to touch his head, but his arm wouldn't move. His fingers tingled, sending hundreds of needle-like pains running up and down his arm.

What the fuck? He tried to move his head and a wave of nausea hit him, almost strong enough to send him back to dreamland.

"Wake up, asshole." The voice stabbed into his ears like a blade, multiplying the pain in his head by a factor of ten. "Open your eyes."

Matt tried to reply, but all he could manage was a gurgle that might have been "fuck you," but he couldn't be sure.

A sudden, sharp pressure on the side of his head, right where it hurt the most, caused a white-hot burst of pain to bloom in Matt's head. He couldn't keep the scream inside, and his attacker laughed. The pressure held for a few seconds, then faded. The laughter didn't.

"You better open your eyes, mister," the voice said. "Next time I won't be so gentle."

Matt tried to comply, but a gummy, sticky substance covered his eyes, gluing the lids shut. Blood. It had to be. There must have been a lot of it.

"I can't," Matt mumbled. "They're stuck."

More laughter. "Shit. I shoulda known that'd happen. Hang on." Rough fingers pried his eyelids apart, none too gently, and cleared away some of the gunk with a wet towel.

Finally, Matt opened his eyes. He found himself sitting in a small, dim room. His arms and legs were strapped to a wooden chair with duct tape. The concrete floor had a drain in the middle, which Matt took as a bad sign. On the floor next to his chair lay a blood-crusted aluminum baseball bat. Matt couldn't see the logo, but underneath the blood the bat was blue and silver.

He raised his head to see Dale leaning over him. The officer's face sported a decaying green sore on his right cheek. It wasn't big, but it was there. A thin dribble of pus poured from it and ran down his chin. Whatever was going through Dale's mind, Matt had a feeling he wouldn't like it much.

"What are you doing, Dale?" Matt asked, hoping to stall. "I'm pretty sure this isn't procedure."

"Fuck you," Dale replied. "You think I don't know about you and Abbey? I know everything. I know you spent the night there last night. Was it worth it?"

Dale's eyes looked wet. Matt tried to think of something to say that would slow him down, but he couldn't. Nothing the officer would believe anyway, so he settled on the truth.

"You're right, Dale," he said. "I did spend the night at her place. But you two are divorced. Don't you think it's time you moved on? It's obvious she has."

"Oh, that's a good one," a new voice said. Matt looked around the room, his vision still a bit hazy, and finally spotted the source. In the far corner, standing in a shadow, was Mr. Dark. "Now tell him how there are still plenty of fish in the sea," the asshole said, giggling. "I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it."

"I might have known," Matt said. Suddenly it made sense. Dale, the attack, the green sore. Everything. "Of course this is your work."

Dale turned to the corner, then back to Matt. "Who are you talking to, Cahill?"

Matt ignored him. "You're going to ruin his life."

Mr. Dark laughed. Matt understood. Mr. Dark's existence was about pain and suffering, what did he care about ruining the life of one small-town cop? Not a damn thing.

Fuck!

"Goddamn it, Cahill, what the hell are you trying to pull?" Dale snarled.

Matt turned back to the officer, trying his best to ignore Mr. Dark, who was still laughing in the corner. "This isn't right, Dale. And you know it."

"Fuck you, Cahill. What do you know about right? You're the one sleeping with another man's wife."

"You're divorced, Dale."

"The hell we are!" Dale shoved his left hand in Matt's face. The dim light of the room glinted off the gold band on Dale's ring finger. "We've been married almost three years now. Abbey..." Dale's breath caught in his throat, and the tears that had been building finally spilled over onto his cheeks. "She just tells people we are. She never wears her ring. She keeps that little house of hers so she can take guys like you there and...and..."

Matt winced. He couldn't help it. If what Dale said was true, then Abbey had lied to them both, but Dale was the one paying for it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

Mr. Dark came out of the corner then, walking slowly towards Dale. "He doesn't care. You fucked his wife. Why should he care?" Mr. Dark said, his black eyes mocking Matt's predicament. "Ignorance of the law is no excuse. Isn't that what cops say?" He winked.

Dale's face blazed and he raised the bat, ready for another swing.

"Dale, you don't want to do this," Matt said. "You're pissed. I get it, but this is murder, man."

"Oh, damn, you're smart," Mr. Dark said. "This is murder. You'll get your prize in a minute." He leaned over to Dale, his gnarled finger inching closer to the small sore on Dale's cheek.

"I...I...I love her, Cahill," Dale said. The bat trembled in his hands. "I've loved her for years. You should have seen her on our wedding day. She was so beautiful."

"You really need to watch where you put your pecker," Mr. Dark said, smiling. "It does seem to get you in trouble."

"Go to hell, Mr. Dark," Matt said.

"Damn it," Dale shouted. "Stop doing that! This is about me and you. Who the fuck is Mr. Dark?"

"That would be me," Mr. Dark said, and touched the sore on Dale's cheek.

"No!" Matt tried again to free his hands, but it was no use.

Mr. Dark laughed even harder.

The sore on Dale's face expanded, doubling in size in a matter of seconds. The trickle of pus became a steady stream, and a small beetle appeared and began chewing on the rotting skin. The officer's breathing came faster and faster, and his eyes burned. The smell of decay grew strong as the sore spread across half of Dale's face.

"Was she worth it?" Dale asked again. "Answer the question, asshole. I wanna know if fucking my wife was worth it."

"Don't do this, Dale," Matt said. "You're a cop. You know this is wrong."

"I don't think he cares," Mr. Dark said.

"Answer me!" Dale shouted. "Was she worth it?"

"Tell him, Matt," Mr. Dark said. "Tell him what a wild fuck Abbey is. I bet he'd love to hear it."

"This won't make her stop," Matt whispered. "She's just gonna keep doing it, Dale."

"Fuck you!" Dale's hands shook, but he hadn't swung the bat yet. Matt noted the tension in the man's arms and the way he gritted his jaw tight. He looked like a man on the edge, but had he gone completely over? Matt was starting to doubt it.

Mr. Dark was having his doubts, too, it seemed. He stared at Dale like a viper watching a rodent. Waiting for the moment when his poison would do its job.

The green sore had spread all across Dale's left cheek, but it hadn't gone farther than that. It looked... contained. Matt had never seen anything like it before, but he knew what it meant.

Dale was fighting it.

"Dale, look at my face," Matt said. "Look at the blood on it. Is this you? Really?"

Dale did look, and he quickly looked away. The bat dropped a few inches.

"I don't think this is you at all, man," Matt said. "I think you're just hurt right now. But if you do this, you can't take it back. You know that."

Dale looked up, and the bat slipped a few more inches toward the floor. "I don't know what it is. I... she just makes me so crazy. Why does she do shit like this?"

"I don't know," Matt replied.

"Well, that's enough of that." Mr. Dark's face blazed. He stepped forward again and placed his entire hand on Dale's cheek. The sore bloomed outward like an explosion, and Dale's eyes and jaw clenched shut so hard Matt could see the veins in his head throbbing. When Dale's eyes opened, Matt felt a chill in his spine. There was no humanity left in them.

"No, Dale, think about this for a second!" Matt said.

Dale shook his head. Matt could almost hear the man's jaw muscles straining as he wrestled with Mr. Dark's insidious disease, but it didn't look like it was doing any good. The green rot continued to spread across the man's face.

"Fuck this!" Dale shouted. Then he swung the bat. Matt closed his eyes and braced for the blow.

But it never came.

Matt jumped in his chair as a loud clang sounded through the room. With his eyes closed, Matt couldn't see what was going on, but he heard Dale sobbing well enough. He couldn't do it, Matt realized. When it came right down to it, Dale couldn't kill me.

There was another sound, too. Mr. Dark's laughter. "You think you've won?" he chortled. "It's only halftime. The game isn't over yet, Matt."

He opened his eyes to see Dale sitting on the floor, his face in his hands. The bat was on the floor by the far wall, rolling along the concrete with a metallic whisper.

Matt almost shouted with relief. The sores on Dale's face were gone, replaced by healthy pink skin. The smell of decay that had clung to him had also vanished. Did that mean Dale was out of danger? Matt looked to the corner, but Mr. Dark was gone.

"Good for you, Dale," Matt whispered. "You beat him."

In his mind, he heard Mr. Dark's parting comment: It's only halftime. The game isn't over yet, Matt.

Great, Matt thought. Just fucking great.