Michael Langlois - Bad Radio

I looked at Greg. “It’s your wife, isn’t it? The living room is full of pictures of you and her, but we haven’t met her.” The anger drained out of Anne’s face as it clicked for her, too. Greg didn’t answer. “That’s how you know who to rescue. She’s dreaming about it, too. But she’s not the same anymore, is she? That’s why all of you are so interested in Anne’s nightmare.” He looked away, so I asked quietly, “When did you have to lock her up?”

“Two months ago. How did you know?”

“We met somebody else that had a similar thing happen to them.”

“Jesus, this is happening somewhere else?”

“Not exactly. She was living with one of those altar pieces I was telling you about.”

“What happened to her? Was she okay after you took the piece away? Did she get better?”

I hated to see the hope in his eyes as he said that. “I don’t know what would have happened, Greg. She tried to kill us. I’m sorry.”

“Well, if that altar thing was doing it to her, then it only stands to reason that once it was gone, she would have been fine.”

“Could be. But Greg, maybe not. And your wife hasn’t been exposed to any of the altar pieces.”

“But it’s all connected. If we stop whatever is happening, then Valerie will get better. It’s possible.”

I didn’t look him in the eyes. “Sure, it’s possible.”

“We’re getting off track here,” said Mazie. “The point is that she’s like Valerie and she was loose last night. While we were sleeping, she was loose.”

Anne took a step in Mazie’s direction. “I’m not crazy!”

Mazie balled her fists and stepped closer. “Only crazy people say that!”

I got between them and put my hands up. “Hang on! Mazie, I appreciate that you think you might have been in danger last night, but I assure you that you weren’t. Anne, we know you aren’t crazy, so calm down.”

“You totally don’t know that,” said Mazie.

“I don’t know it for sure about anyone, including you. Or me. Or anyone who claims to be running an underground railroad for victims of worm infested bad guys. What I do know that you don’t is that Anne is particularly suited for this. She has a gift. Her grandfather had it, too. She knows when a … coerced person is close, and she can tell you where they are. That makes her a little more sensitive than the rest of us, but she can handle it. Her grandfather had dreams, too, but they never got the best of him. Don’t worry about Anne, this is what she’s good at.” That sounded great coming out of my mouth. God, I hoped it was right.

“She better be.” Mazie grabbed her rifle out of the corner. “I’m locking my room tonight, and I’ll have this, so you better head for Chuck’s room if you lose it.” She stomped out of the kitchen.

“If you see me headed into Chuck’s bedroom, then I give you permission to shoot me!” Anne yelled after her.

“Dude,” said Chuck, “I’m sitting right here. I have feelings, you know.”

Anne glared at him. “Shut up, Chuck.”

I hated to push, but I didn’t see that I had a choice. “Greg, I think it’s time we met your wife.”

Greg stopped outside of the closed bedroom door upstairs and visibly steeled himself. It was just the three of us, Greg, Anne, and myself. He was carrying a plate stacked high with those frozen waffles that you heat up in the toaster. “Just. Don’t judge me. I did what I had to, for her sake.”

Anne and I exchanged a glance. “We understand.”

Greg opened the door gingerly and stepped inside. “Honey, are you awake?”

“Where were you? I’m so hungry, and you’ve been downstairs eating, haven’t you?”

Greg flipped on the light and stepped inside. “She’s awake, come on in. Valerie, I want you to meet some friends who dropped by last night.”

“I don’t care! What did you bring?”

The room was small and looked like at one time it had been a guest bedroom. It smelled sharply of sweat and urine. In the center of the room was a bed with a vast woman in a stained T-shirt and shorts lying on top of it. The bed had a decorative headboard and footboard made of iron rails, to which four cargo tie-down ropes had been attached, binding the woman’s wrists and ankles. The skin around the smooth, round ropes was angry and raw. The most striking thing, however, was the scarring on her arms, legs, and face. They were crude razor blade cuts in curved lines, some a few inches long, and some disappearing into her sleeves and shorts. They looked like worms, cut into her skin, everywhere she could reach.

Her greasy hair hung limply around her face in long strings as she opened her mouth and strained towards Greg, who was already feeding her the first of the waffles. Her teeth snapped together audibly as she wolfed it down. He dropped the last piece into her open mouth rather than risking his fingers.

“She’s always hungry now. At first, last year, she was just eating more. She gained some weight, but nothing unusual.” He gave a feeble grin. “I’m no lightweight myself, you know. But then about six months ago, it was like she could never get enough. We went to the doctor, and he prescribed some pills that were supposed to suppress her hunger, but it didn’t work.”

“Pay attention, Greg! I’m starving!”

“I’m sorry, baby. Here.” Another two waffles. “One night, I woke up and she had the freezer and the refrigerator open, and she was just eating everything inside. Ketchup, raw eggs, ground meat, everything. I tried to pull her away, and she got violent. I had to call an ambulance and the police. By the time they showed up, she had already ruptured her stomach. She was lying on the ground, crying, and still trying to reach pieces of cereal that she had spilled all over the floor.” He had to stop and get control of himself.

Valerie finished her current waffle and dropped back onto the pillow. “Oh, Greg. I’m so sorry. I try to control myself, you know I do. It’s just so hard. But I’m helping, aren’t I? We’re doing this together, you and me.”

“We sure are, baby. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Thank you.” A tear spilled out of her eye, and she reflexively wiped it off against the pillow, not being able to use her hands. It looked like she’d had a lot of practice at it. “Baby, can I have some more now? Please?”

He started feeding her another one, still careful of his fingers, despite her polite tone. “Anyway, after she was in the hospital for a couple of weeks, she seemed to get better. She was able to control her eating, and everyone just chalked it up to some kind of temporary chemical imbalance. Everything was fine, until the dreams started. We know that they’re real now, but when it started happening, we really thought she was going crazy again. That’s when she started cutting herself.”

Valerie sputtered around her food. “I can’t help it, it’s not my fault.”

“I know, Val. Nobody’s blaming you.” He fed her the last waffle, which she ate just as desperately as the first one. “She asked me to tie her up here, so that she wouldn’t eat herself to death, and so that she could help us rescue people. If she were back in the hospital, they would just dope her up, and then nobody would get saved.”

“That’s right, I can help people here. I don’t want to be asleep in the hospital with the IV drip, I want to eat. This is better. I help a lot, don’t I, Greg?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I can help right now, Greg. I had a dream last night, a good one. There’s a family out in Oak Grove, over by the movies, you know? They live in a blue house with a tree in the front. There’s a car in the driveway, it’s blue, too, and old. You’ll know the house, it’s on one of those circle drives. I don’t think there are too many of those in Oak Grove. The woman is bad, and the husband is gone. But there are two boys in the house, teenagers. You can save them. You can save them tonight.”