inside,though what a rattle would have told me was anyone’s guess.
With a shrug, I picked open the tape and lifted the lid. Whatever was inside was packed in tons of bubble wrap, which would explain why nothing rattled.
I patiently worked my way through the bubble wrap until I found the object at its center, an irregularly shaped lump wrapped in baby blue tissue paper. This was just getting stranger and stranger.
I picked up the bundle, frowning at the … odd texture. It was kind of hard, but also had a bit of give to it. I unwrapped the tissue paper and finally saw what was inside.
It was a rubber hand, closed in a fist, except for the extended middle finger. What the fuck? I turned it this way and that, and my gorge started to rise. I guess my body figured out exactly what I was holding before my mind did. It was only when I saw the severed bone at the wrist, surrounded by ragged, pale, bloodless flesh, that I realized this wasn’t a rubber hand at all.
I’m not much of a screamer, but if ever there’s an occasion for screaming, finding out you’re holding a severed human hand is it. I dropped the hand and the tissue paper, taking several steps back as if expecting it to attack. I stared at it in horror for a second, then ran to the bathroom.
After I finished puking, I scrubbed my hands frantically, trying to erase the feeling of that dead flesh against my skin, but of course I couldn’t. I gripped the sides of the sink and stared at myself in the mirror.
My face was ghost pale, my eyes red and swollen from crying, though I hadn’t even noticed the tears. I was easily stressed out enough now to break down the subconscious barrier that usually kept Lugh from speaking to me when I was awake, and right now Idesperately wanted to hear his voice, just to know I wasn’t alone.
You’re not alone
, his voice whispered in my head.
I wish I could say or do something to make you feel better, but I’m afraid I can’t
.
“No,” I said. “Not unless you can erase the last ten minutes or so from reality.”
I would if I could
, he assured me.
“I know.”
I stood there a little while longer, staring at myself in the mirror, trying not to think. But there’s only so long I could get away with that.
When I finally managed to shake off the worst of my shock, I slipped out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, averting my eyes so that I couldn’t see into the dining room where the hand still sat on the floor like some discarded movie prop. An image flashed into my mind of those fingers uncurling, beginning to drag themselves across the floor toward me.
Can you tell I was a bit spooked?
One thing was for sure: it wasn’t Adam who’d sent me that package. Right after the Maguire exorcism, I’d gotten a series of death threats on my answering machine. I hadn’t received one in at least a week, and it sure looked like my admirer had decided to raise the stakes. Like I didn’t have enough other problems in my life at the moment.
Instead of calling 911, which I suppose is the proper protocol at times like this, I decided to call Adam himself. I don’t suppose this scare tactic was in his official jurisdiction, but he had enough status within the department to get away with occasionally stepping on other people’s toes. Besides, with his name on the package, he definitely qualified as an interested party.
He was on duty today, which meant I had to callhis office to reach him. Never fun. The staff at the Special Forces office seemed to have been hired specifically for their unpleasant personalities. The first time I called, I got put on hold and then dropped after listening to elevator music for about five minutes. Elevator music is about as soothing to me as nails on a blackboard, and in my present state of mind it had me practically climbing the walls.
The next time I called, I was put through to Adam’s voice mail even though I specifically requested not to be. The third time I called, I ranted like a
With a shrug, I picked open the tape and lifted the lid. Whatever was inside was packed in tons of bubble wrap, which would explain why nothing rattled.
I patiently worked my way through the bubble wrap until I found the object at its center, an irregularly shaped lump wrapped in baby blue tissue paper. This was just getting stranger and stranger.
I picked up the bundle, frowning at the … odd texture. It was kind of hard, but also had a bit of give to it. I unwrapped the tissue paper and finally saw what was inside.
It was a rubber hand, closed in a fist, except for the extended middle finger. What the fuck? I turned it this way and that, and my gorge started to rise. I guess my body figured out exactly what I was holding before my mind did. It was only when I saw the severed bone at the wrist, surrounded by ragged, pale, bloodless flesh, that I realized this wasn’t a rubber hand at all.
I’m not much of a screamer, but if ever there’s an occasion for screaming, finding out you’re holding a severed human hand is it. I dropped the hand and the tissue paper, taking several steps back as if expecting it to attack. I stared at it in horror for a second, then ran to the bathroom.
After I finished puking, I scrubbed my hands frantically, trying to erase the feeling of that dead flesh against my skin, but of course I couldn’t. I gripped the sides of the sink and stared at myself in the mirror.
My face was ghost pale, my eyes red and swollen from crying, though I hadn’t even noticed the tears. I was easily stressed out enough now to break down the subconscious barrier that usually kept Lugh from speaking to me when I was awake, and right now Idesperately wanted to hear his voice, just to know I wasn’t alone.
You’re not alone
, his voice whispered in my head.
I wish I could say or do something to make you feel better, but I’m afraid I can’t
.
“No,” I said. “Not unless you can erase the last ten minutes or so from reality.”
I would if I could
, he assured me.
“I know.”
I stood there a little while longer, staring at myself in the mirror, trying not to think. But there’s only so long I could get away with that.
When I finally managed to shake off the worst of my shock, I slipped out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, averting my eyes so that I couldn’t see into the dining room where the hand still sat on the floor like some discarded movie prop. An image flashed into my mind of those fingers uncurling, beginning to drag themselves across the floor toward me.
Can you tell I was a bit spooked?
One thing was for sure: it wasn’t Adam who’d sent me that package. Right after the Maguire exorcism, I’d gotten a series of death threats on my answering machine. I hadn’t received one in at least a week, and it sure looked like my admirer had decided to raise the stakes. Like I didn’t have enough other problems in my life at the moment.
Instead of calling 911, which I suppose is the proper protocol at times like this, I decided to call Adam himself. I don’t suppose this scare tactic was in his official jurisdiction, but he had enough status within the department to get away with occasionally stepping on other people’s toes. Besides, with his name on the package, he definitely qualified as an interested party.
He was on duty today, which meant I had to callhis office to reach him. Never fun. The staff at the Special Forces office seemed to have been hired specifically for their unpleasant personalities. The first time I called, I got put on hold and then dropped after listening to elevator music for about five minutes. Elevator music is about as soothing to me as nails on a blackboard, and in my present state of mind it had me practically climbing the walls.
The next time I called, I was put through to Adam’s voice mail even though I specifically requested not to be. The third time I called, I ranted like a
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