“So the sunlight chased him away?” he had replied and nodded his head in understanding; that had been a mistake.
“Don’t patronize me you son of a bitch!” John had screamed at him. “You really don’t get it do you? He’s found a way to come back! He was gone from his precious home for all this time but now he’s found a loophole, he’s found a way back into our reality and he’s about to eradicate us all!”
Dr. James had to show that he was in control of the session. Using a firm voice he said, “Please calm down or I’ll have to call for an orderly.”
“I’ve seen it you know,” John muttered and dropped back down into his chair. “It’s taken the form of a man; a man with no face, just a blank piece of skin from the top of his skull to the base of his chin. I ran into him at a corner deli a month ago. I was buying a hoagie and a cup of coffee to eat before making my next run. I turned around and he was just... there. He placed a hand on my arm, right above the elbow, and he leaned in and whispered something into my ear.”
“What?” the doctor asked, dreading the question even as it left his lips.
“He said you are my herald to this world and I want you to speak the word to your people in preparation for my coming. Tell them...” Dr. James clicked off the tape with a stab of his finger. He didn’t want to hear those words again ever.
He felt the sweat on his brow, the clammy cold perspiration that brought a shiver up and down his spine. He looked down at the paperwork on his desk, at the file that he had so neatly drawn up concerning John Doe: delusions, possible schizophrenia.
“Speak the word,” the voice slithered in his mind. “Tell them.”
Dr. James shuddered again and pushed himself up from his desk. He walked to the door with a stride of purpose. It was not fear, he told himself, as he gripped the door handle. He needed some fresh air, that’s all. Maybe a cigarette to help clear his head.
He moved down the empty hall, chased by the sounds of his own footsteps. Something wasn’t quite right about John Doe, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Perhaps it was the man’s eyes, even at his most anxious, as he yelled and shook with rage. It had been like looking into an empty door that led to a great vast pit of blackness. John’s body and voice had shown all the proper emotions, but the eyes... were dead.
He left his jacket on its hook, his briefcase on the floor next to his desk and didn’t notice they were missing as he pushed through the main doors of the Hoffstetter Institute and stepped into the cool night air. A soft breeze ruffled his silver mane; the front page of an old newspaper fluttered across his feet but he didn’t notice. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then a second. He felt better, his head clearing with each breath; each step he took towards his car settled his nerves. The feeling of uneasiness faded the farther he moved away from the building. A fresh start in the morning he told himself, that’s all I need.
With the push of a button, his car responded with a soft beep and he slid behind the wheel of his Lexus. He slipped the key into the ignition and the car purred in response. The radio came to life, set to the news channel he listened to every morning during his commute.
“This just in to the BBM news desk,” the reporter said in a voice filled with anxious excitement. “The riots that began earlier tonight in New York City have spread to several other metropolitan cities – Los Angeles, Detroit, Chicago, and Miami. The outbreaks, just as in New York, are widespread and violent. Reports of fire bombings, gunfights in the streets and looting are common among the cities. No less odd is the plague of graffiti turning up in all of these locations. It’s one word that’s repeated over and over.”
“Mine,” a voice hissed softly into Dr. James’ ear as it was simultaneously spoken by the broadcaster on the radio.
He looked up into the rearview mirror. Something snapped in the darkest part of his brain, releasing a lizard-like response. A primal terror spread through his body and froze him in place. The faceless man in the reflection looked back at him and laughed.
“Speak the word,” he said with a hiss barely above a whisper. “Tell them this world is mine.”
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