Chris Carter - The Caller

On his screen, Mr. J saw Cassandra’s eyes narrow slightly. Confusion, brought on by his words, was starting to collide with her fear.

‘This has just become very interesting,’ the voice said with amusement. ‘And judging by the look on your wife’s face, she’s as intrigued as I am. So why don’t you tell us, John? Why exactly do you think that I’m seeking revenge on you?’

‘If you are after me, you know exactly what I’m capable of. Are you sure you want to play dumb?’

Mr. J’s face remained completely void of expression, but somehow his eyes looked a lot more menacing than just a moment ago.

‘So let me tell you again. Leave my wife alone. Get out of my house, and you and I can sort this out in whichever way you like.’

‘I’m very sorry to disappoint you, John,’ the demonic voice came back, ‘but despite what you may think, which, I must admit, has now made me very curious, there’s nothing for you and I to sort out. But whatever it is that you’ve done, it must’ve been something very bad if you think someone would come after your wife for revenge. But whatever that is, frankly, it’s none of my concern. Anyway, this charade game is getting old... and time is ticking away, especially for your wife. So, let me tell you how this is going to work, John. As I’ve said, I have placed a bet with your wife. Two questions. I’m going to ask you two questions. All you have to do to win this game is correctly answer both of them. If you do, she will be set free and neither of you will ever see or hear from me again. But if you don’t...’ The unfinished sentence hung in the air menacingly for a couple of seconds. ‘Now listen carefully, John, because I’m only going to go over the rules once...’

‘You’re not listening to me.’ Mr. J cut the demonic voice short. His tone remained steady but powerful and demanding. ‘We’re not playing a game. Not with my wife’s life. You and I meet face to face, and we can play whatever psycho crazy game you li—’

‘Shut the fuck up, John,’ the voice slashed back. ‘ You are the one who’s refusing to listen. I’m giving you a chance to save your wife’s life, and the only way you’ll be able to do that is if you give me two correct answers. If you choose not to, you forfeit and she’ll die right here, right now, right in front of your eyes.’

On the screen, Cassandra burst into a new fit of tears. Her head dropped down once again and she began shaking hysterically.

Could this really have been just a coincidence? Mr. J thought. Could this idiot really have no idea of who he was dealing with? Possibly. Mr. J knew that he was the best at what he did. He didn’t make mistakes. He was extremely careful. So how did this guy find him?

‘Cassandra, honey, listen to me.’ Mr. J tried to calm her down. ‘He will not touch you. He will not harm you. I promise you that, my love.’ He paused for a second; when he spoke again, he was addressing the voice. ‘If it’s true that you have no idea of what I do or who I am, let me give you a chance to rethink your actions. I work for the most powerful syndicate in Los Angeles. The most powerful syndicate in the whole of California. A syndicate that doesn’t abide by any laws. It makes its own. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’ Mr. J didn’t care for a reply. ‘My role within this syndicate is very specific. I am what you might call “the last enforcer” of their rules — the last instance in their problem-solving chain. In fact, I’m “the end of the chain”. If I come to see you, I will be the last person you will ever see. Are you getting the picture?’

Another deliberate pause.

‘So what you’re telling me, John,’ the demon replied with an odd quirk to its distorted voice, as if struggling to hold in a laugh. ‘Is that you’re a... gun for hire. A killer. An assassin. And you work for some sort of... crime syndicate. And I am now supposed to be very scared of you.’

‘What I’m telling you,’ Mr. J came back, his voice unaltered. ‘Is that if you harm one hair on my wife’s head, there won’t be a rock on this earth under which you can hide that I won’t find you, and I will skin you alive. This is not a threat. It’s a promise. I will rip your heart from your chest and feed it to rats. I’ll make you suffer in a way you’re not even able to imagine. Is this getting through to you?’

No reply.

‘So now I’m the one giving you a chance to save your life. If you set my wife free now and walk away, I will not look for you. I will not hunt you down. I will leave you be. You have my word. Just walk away and I promise that I will forget all of this. Are you listening to me?’

A few silent seconds went by.

‘Yes,’ the voice finally replied. ‘Are you listening to me, John? Because if you are, keep your eyes on the screen.’

Psychotherapist, Dr. Gwen Barnes, had stayed behind in her practice after her last evening patient had left. She preferred to go over her notes while the day’s sessions were still fresh in her mind. If at all possible, she’d also rather not take any work home, especially on a Saturday night.

Dr. Barnes’ first patient of the day had been a middle-aged woman, who she’d seen a handful of times before, and who, so it appeared, had problems for the sake of having problems. Their sessions revolved around discussing and trying to understand a problem that was never a problem to begin with, but became a problem because it had been forged into one.

‘Not that much to revise here,’ Dr. Barnes said to herself.

Her next four patients had all been people with complicated marital problems, who she did her best to try to help, but she knew that, in the long run, their relationships were, for the lack of a better word, doomed. All four of them could barely stand the sight of their partners and Dr. Barnes got the impression that the main reason why they came to her practice wasn’t really to seek any sort of help, but just so they could spend another ninety minutes away from the person who they hated with a feral intensity.

Her last patient of the day, a seventeen-year-old girl named Beverly Dawson, was indeed a human conundrum. Beverly suffered from multiple personality disorder and her case was as intriguing as it was sometimes terrifying. After eight sessions, Dr. Barnes had already encountered five different personalities, each bringing with it a whole new dimension of complexity. The most frightening of them all was the one Dr. Barnes secretly referred to as ‘Severely Aggressive Beverly’, or SAB.

As Dr. Barnes finished revising her notes, she reflexively placed her right hand over to her left wrist, something she did unconsciously every time she was either nervous or thinking, but as her fingers touched her bare skin, she looked down at her hands and a sad, almost painful, feeling came over her. She closed her eyes and pushed the feeling away. Seconds later she pulled her chair closer to her desk once again and powered down her computer.

After finally locking her office for the rest of the weekend, Dr. Barnes took the elevator down to the building’s underground parking lot. It’d been a long day. A long week, in fact, and she couldn’t wait to get home, have a hot shower and indulge herself with a nice bottle of red wine. Hell, maybe she would have a spliff too.

As she approached her pearl-white Toyota Camry, one of the last few cars still left in the lot, she noticed that someone had left something on her windshield, which wasn’t at all surprising. Almost every day she would get at least one leaflet on her car, most of them advertising fast-food joints around the vicinity, or a happy-hour deal down at one of the many local bars and lounges.