Light by Eric Rendel Page A

figure was smiling in anticipation.
    ‘If you refuse...?’
    And everything seemed to change.  The
infinite greyness had gone and Jake found himself looking down upon his body as
it lay next to Fiona upon the bed.  It seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
    It was Fiona who was no longer herself.
    Her skin was sallow, tight, almost as if
she had been mummified and she lay there with un-lidded eyes staring at his
hovering spiritual form.  She looked as if she had been dead a thousand years
or more.
    It was with a sense of revulsion that Jake
watched, mesmerised, as the form of his wife sat up and looked down upon his
unprotected sleeping body.  In horror he realised that her rotting belly was
distended as if she was in an advanced state of pregnancy.  It was a thought
that filled Jake with revulsion.  She opened her mouth in a cavernous grin and
Jake became aware that the void was filled with living things that squirmed and
wriggled in phosphorescent shades of pink and white.  Long, maggoty creatures
that danced and cavorted within that gullet seeking a route into the world of
life.
    He knew that he had to fight back.
    ‘This is not real,’ he told himself.
    ‘Not real,’ came the echoing voice, ‘Then
face reality.’
    Again, everything changed and it took Jake
a second to re-orientate himself.  He was in bed, his eyes closed, but awake
and, within him, there came the certain knowledge of what he would see when he
opened them.  No, he was being ridiculous.  That was totally impossible.
    Wasn’t it?
    All he had to do was to open his eyes to
find out.  It was so simple.
    He had to know.
    And he opened his eyes.
    Nothing.  The room was in darkness.  It
was impossible to see but there was an awful smell like ancient decay.
    Jake reached for the bedside light and
switched it on.
    What was that smell?
    He turned over to look at Fiona and wished
that he hadn’t.  She was just as he had seen her in the dream; a dead pregnant
thing with the putrescence of the grave.  It had to be a lie.  The bastards
were still playing tricks with his mind.  He knew what to do.  Wake Fiona up. 
No way could the illusion survive her temper at being disturbed.
    Trying to control his revulsion Jake
leaned over the rotting corpse resplendent in its burial shroud and reached
down to shake it by the shoulders.
    It was as his eyes met hers that it
happened.
    A skeletal arm barely covered by strips of
paper-thin flesh reached up and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.  He tried
to pull away but it was impossible.
    Jake began to panic.
    The other arm came up and took hold of him
and he knew exactly what was in the corpse’s mind.  Its mouth, like the mouth
of a skull, opened and he found himself staring into that maggot filled maw
from which issued a hissing voice of command.
    ‘Kiss me.’
    And, with unbelievable strength, the thing
yanked downwards and Jake saw himself coming ever closer to that open mouth
infested with worms and the slimy things from beneath the ground.
    He closed his eyes and felt that fetid
breath upon his face; the cold dead tongue weaving its way between his lips. 
There was nothing he could do.
    And Jake screamed.
    Only to find that he was still lying
down.  It had been another dream and the real Fiona was already awake, looking
at him with an expression on her face that seemed to be some way between pity
and loathing.
    ‘You’re not making a habit of this, I
hope?’
    (Loathing.)
    And then she smiled.
    ‘Oh, Jake.  You’re really having a bad time
of it, aren’t you?’
    There was no reply he could give.  All he
could do was to shake his head sheepishly.
    ‘You think you can get back to sleep?’
    ‘I’ll try.’
    But he did not think he could.
    The two of them lay down again but Jake
did not shut his eyes.  He did not want to return to that dream world
controlled by his enemies, whoever they might be.
    …………………………………………
    Inevitably, Jake did return to sleep and
he