The Jake Helman Files Personal Demons (23 page)

“I need
you.”

“I
really don’t think this is the best time for that discussion.” She dumped the fragments into a wastebasket beneath the sink.

“I really need to talk to you. Believe me, it’s not what you think.”

She put the broom and pan away and faced him, hands on her hips. “Fine. Let’s talk about why you came in here without my permission.”

He swallowed. “Can we at least sit down?”

Sighing, she nodded. “Of course.”

They moved into the dark living room. Sheryl switched on the computer stand desk lamp and sat on the sofa. Jake peered out the window: people on the sidewalks had their umbrellas out and ready, but the onslaught had not yet commenced. He rotated a wand, closing the wooden blinds. Sitting beside Sheryl on the sofa, he wondered if it had really been only three days since they had sat in the same spot with his stash before them.

“I’m waiting.”

He ran one hand through his dirty hair. “I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how much to tell you or how much you’ll believe. I’m not even sure how much I believe.”

“What’s going on?”

Hearing concern in her voice, he looked into her dark brown eyes. Did he dare tell her everything?

No. She’ll never believe you
.

“Did something happen at work?”

“You could say that.”

“Did you get fired?”

He considered the question and shook his head. “No. I only wish that were the case. I may be stuck with that job until the day I die.” He cackled. “Maybe even longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I stumbled onto something … incredible.”

“Something you’re not supposed to know?”

He nodded. “Tower International is conducting all kinds of genetic experiments that the public and the government know nothing about.”

“And that surprises you? Watch the news sometime.”

“They’re creating new life forms. Flesh-and-blood weapons. Monsters.”

A moment passed before she responded. “That sounds pretty far-fetched …”

Jake wrung his hands. “There’s more. The Cipher works for Old Nick.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s on their payroll. I guess that makes us colleagues. Maybe we can trade shop stories at the office Christmas party.”

“Have you told Edgar this?”

“No. He wouldn’t believe me. He couldn’t.”

She hesitated, speechless.

“I’ve seen things that no one could possibly believe without witnessing them with their own eyes.”

“Do your bosses know what you’ve seen?”

“Oh, yeah—the old man spoke to me at length this morning.”

“What did he say?”

“My soul is in jeopardy.”

Sheryl sat in silence, as if wondering what to make of his story.

“Those two thugs I killed?”

She nodded, apprehension on her features.

“I saw them today. Right outside this building.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Come again?”

“They’re after me.”

Her expression cooled. “Are you telling me you saw two ghosts?”

“Oh, I saw more than two.”

“And do these ghosts also work for Old Nick?”

He paused. “I’m not sure.”
Who else could they be working for?

She stood, anger rising in her voice. “What are you on? Are you still just snorting coke, or have you started smoking crack?”

He stood as well. “Sheryl, please. I know what I just told you sounds crazy, but I swear to you, I haven’t used anything.”

“You’ve certainly been drinking.”

“All right, so I got loaded after the most fucked-up day of my life. You’d have done the same thing if you went through what I did. But that’s all I did. I’m clean, I tell you.”

“Then you’ve lost your mind.”

“I wish you were right. That would be a lot easier for me to accept. But I’m not crazy. I know what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard, and what I’ve experienced. Tower International is behind the Cipher, and they
are
making monsters.”

Sheryl massaged her temples. “When did you last have a full night’s sleep?”

“Three nights ago, but—”

“And when did you last eat?”

“I had some pretzels at the bar.”

Pursing her lips, she nodded.

Jake saw that he had failed to reach her. “Listen to me. Please. I need a place to crash. Just for tonight, so I can get my head on straight and figure out my next move. I’ll be out of here first thing in the morning, I swear.”

She stared at him, indecision in her eyes.

“There’s no one else I can turn to.”

She sighed. “All right. I hope I don’t regret this, but you can spend the night on the sofa. Go lie down in the bedroom for now and I’ll fix dinner.”

Closing his eyes, he bowed his head. “You believe me?”

“I didn’t say that. But I want to talk to you after you’ve rested and sobered up.”

Looking at her, he nodded. “I’m too exhausted to argue.”

“Go lie down.”

He started toward the bedroom, then turned back. “Thank you.”

She said nothing.

“Wake me if the doorbell rings, and don’t answer the phone.” He went into the bedroom and closed the door. Peeling off his jacket, he slipped off his shoulder holster and laid his Glock on the bedside table. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in a pillow.

A tiny black speck moved up a great dune as the sun blazed down on a sea of sand.

That’s me
, Jake thought, as if watching himself on a movie screen.

He crawled on his hands and knees, parched and exhausted in the afternoon heat. He suspected that he was dreaming, but the illusion seemed so real. Naked, his bright pink skin had started peeling. He clawed at the burning sand in agony, his knees raw.

Where am
I? he wondered.

The last thing he remembered was falling into bed.

Is this hell?

No, not hell—someplace else. If the previous twenty-four hours had taught him anything, hell existed on Earth.

He reached the dune’s peak and stood, staring across the vast sandscape. He raised his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the brutal sun.

Sand, as far as he could see.

He turned in a circle, scoping out his surroundings.

Sand, everywhere.

I’m screwed
.

Not even Sheryl could save him from this.

Something glinted in the sand below him, at the bottom of the dune, reflecting light into his eyes.

Glass.

He stepped over the edge of the dune and slid down it, losing his balance halfway down. He rolled the rest of the way, sand tearing at his flesh until he stopped at the bottom. He spat sand out of his mouth and crawled over to the glass, his heart pounding. Using both hands, he dug out a bottle, its seal unbroken.

Good old Jim Beam
.

Standing, he opened the bottle. Alcohol would only dehydrate him further, but so what? This was a dream, after all. He raised the neck of the bottle to his cracked lips and tilted his head back, gulping the whiskey like water. The poison burned the inside of his mouth and the back of his throat, and he gagged. But his stomach felt great. Perhaps he would drink himself into a stupor and pass out, then die in his dream and never awaken. Better to burn out than to burn in hell.

But what about Sheryl?

He had reason to be optimistic on that front, even if the rest of his life had gone down the sewer. He wavered, his vision turning white for a moment. When his eyesight returned, something about his environment had changed.

The sand had turned gleaming white.

Salt?

Dropping the Jim Beam bottle, he fell to his knees and inspected the sparkling powder, touching it with one finger, tasting it. His tongue turned numb.

Cocaine
.

Miles of it!

His eyes widened and before he knew it, he had scooped up a handful of coke and plunged his face into it, snorting it up both nostrils. Sheryl couldn’t hold his dreams against him, could she?

He stood, waiting for the drug to kick in.

Nothing.

He should have known. Didn’t this always happen on
The Twilight Zone?

A droplet of blood landed in the coke between his feet. He ran his right hand beneath his nose and examined it. The blood had not come from him.

Thunder rolled across the desert, and he gazed up at the cloudless sky. He felt a raindrop splash his head, then another on his back. The drops felt warm, and others spattered the cocaine at his feet, turning it dark red.

Lightning flashed, and blood rained down on him.

He screamed.

T
hunder boomed over Jake’s strangled cry as he sat up in the dark. He gasped for breath and for a moment he forgot his location. Rain and wind rattled the windows like machine-gun fire and lightning flashed nearby, illuminating the bedroom.

I’ve come home
, he thought.

Thoughts and images tumbled in his mind, one on top of another, and the events of the preceding four days felt like aftershocks from his nightmare. Thunder shook the building, causing him to flinch.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and swallowed. 9:11 p.m. He had been out for hours and felt worse now than he had before. He climbed out of bed with a groan, his head tingling, and staggered across the room. His limbs felt sluggish and he lurched from side to side. Closing his hands into fists, he willed his mind and body to awaken.

When he opened the bedroom door, the familiar aroma of Sheryl’s cooking greeted him. He relieved himself in the bathroom, then followed the odors to the kitchen. He stopped in midstep when he heard whistling ahead of him. His chest swelled as he recognized the tune Sheryl had chosen: Van Morrison’s “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?”

Their song.

Moving just outside the kitchen, he gazed at Sheryl. She stood at the counter with her back to him, rolling ground beef into meatballs on a wooden cutting board. Her short hair gave way to her slender neck, which sloped down to her perfect shoulders. Steam rose from the large black pot on the stove, and the water inside it had almost boiled down. Starch rose to the surface and strands of spaghetti writhed like snakes in a crowded nest. Sheryl’s whistling filled the kitchen and when she finished, she started over. In that moment, Jake sensed that everything would turn out all right.

“Sheryl?”

Her body jerked as she spun around, a startled cry escaping from her throat.

Damn it
, Jake thought. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you again.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her lips. “That’s okay. I’m fine. Why don’t you go lie down for a while?”

“I just got up. The storm woke me.”

“Storm?” She glanced at the window in the dark living room. “Oh, right.”

“Look, I want to apologize again for barging in here like this. I know I should have waited until you got home, but it was an emergency.”

Sheryl looked at the floor, then into his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is your home, too.”

His heart clenched. “It is?”

She nodded. “Of course.” A pause. “Do you believe in true love, Jake?”

Dèjá vu
crept over him. “You know I do.”

Her lips trembled. “So do I.”

Jake debated how to react.

“I’ve made up my mind. I want to work things out. I want you to stay here with me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but the telephone rang. A sick feeling spread over him. Had his boss tracked him down? “Don’t answer that.”

A puzzled expression passed over her face. “Okay.”

He went into the living room, his elation on hold. The ringing sounded shrill in the darkness. Regarding the phone with suspicion, he sat on the sofa and turned the caller ID box so that it faced him. Recognizing Edgar’s cell phone number on the display screen, he lifted the receiver from its cradle. “Hello?”

“Jake?” Edgar’s voice sounded strained, and Jake heard rain falling in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I haven’t returned your calls, but things have been really crazy.”

“Jake, I have to talk to you. Wait there, I’m coming right over.”

“I need to see you, too, but I’m in the middle of something important right now.”

In the kitchen, Sheryl started whistling again.

“Jake, this isn’t a social call. Something terrible’s happened that you need to know about.”

Jake hesitated. “Go on.”

“Not over the phone. I only called to see if you were home, since you haven’t been answering your cell.”

Jake lowered his voice. “Tell me now.”

Edgar paused, then sighed. “Brace yourself. It’s Sheryl.”

Jake glanced toward the kitchen, his body turning rigid. He saw the roses he had bought arranged in a vase on the dining table, and his heart swelled. Sheryl’s shadow moved along the wall behind them. “What about her?”

“I’m sorry as hell to be the one to tell you this…”

“Spit it out.”

“She’s dead. Murdered. It looks like the Cipher got her.”

An invisible blow nearly knocked the phone from Jake’s hands. “You’re wrong. It must have been someone else. Sheryl’s here with me now.”