Seizure Read online

  SEIZURE

  by Nigel G. Mitchell

  Copyright 2015 Nigel G. Mitchell

  All rights reserved.

  1.

  VICTOR MORGAN'S face glowed by the light of his computer's monitor. A brisk November breeze sent leaves whispering along the pavement outside the window of his den. Victor watched letters etch themselves on the monitor's screen in time with the clicking of his fingers on the keys. The noise blended with the hum of his computer’s fan, but his surroundings were lost on him as he focused only on the work he completed.

  He put the finishing touches on a report for the CEO of the TeleTech Corporation, a progress report detailing a way to reduce the company's employee turnover. Victor felt certain TeleTech would accept the proposal, created by his case group at the management consulting firm of Gaines and Company.

  The barely audible creak of the door opening behind him drew Victor out of his musings. He smiled as he pretended not to hear his wife's soft footfall on the carpet behind him. He inhaled the rosy scent of her perfume as she drew close, but only when her soft hands covered his eyes did he react.

  "Guess who?" Adrian whispered.

  "Jennifer Lopez?" Victor allowed a smile to play around his lips. "Look, I told you not to come to the house. My wife is beginning to suspect--"

  She slid her arms around his neck, playfully slapping his cheek in mock rebuke, and hugged him a little too tight. "Fresh thing. I just wanted to tell you that Helen called. She's asking us to stop by her place for a little dinner tomorrow, and she managed to get three front-row tickets to Phantom of the Opera."

  His grin widened. His daughter knew that he loved Phantom. It seemed the perfect bait for the surprise party his daughter planned to throw him tomorrow night, a party she and Adrian didn't think he knew about.

  He cared for Helen more than anyone else in the world, except for Adrian, as much as he would have cared for his real daughter. At thirty-one, Adrian had discovered she was incapable of bearing children, but they had adopted a beautiful baby girl who grew into his pride and joy.

  "Sounds wonderful," he said. "I could use the rest. I'll call her when I'm done with this."

  She kissed him on the forehead, and carefully slipped a glass filled with champagne into his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her in surprise.

  "Tonight, we'll have our own celebration," Adrian said. "Dinner's almost ready, by the way. Your favorite. Shrimp Acapulco, carrots, Spanish rice, and for dessert, cornbread."

  "Can hardly wait. Just give me--" He checked his watch. "Ten minutes."

  "That's what you've got." She slid forward to kiss him on the lips, and moved away. He could still feel the warmth of her touch as the door closed behind her, plunging him back into silence.

  He sighed as he took a sip of his champagne. Now he was certain he was doing the right thing.

  He had worked for Gaines and Company since its inception in 1972. He had helped build Gaines into one of the most successful management consulting firms in the world with offices in San Francisco, London, Munich, Paris, and Tokyo. Even in a swarm of talented consultants at Gaines, Victor Morgan was known as one of the best in the business. His high energy and naturally friendly nature made him a favorite among clients. At the age of fifty-six, he was now a vice-president of the company. Victor had gotten job offers from rival consulting firms, and a few of his clients, but had turned them all down. Working at Gaines was all he had wanted to do with his life.

  But a week ago, he had been invited to lunch with Arthur Gaines, chairman of Gaines and Company. Over the meal at the Four Seasons, Arthur had offered him a place in the elite directors' circle of the company. It would mean more pay, but with the money came more responsibility. Victor realized he would have to choose between his job and his wife, Adrian. No contest.

  He had worked hard over the years, and it had taken its toll. He was almost sixty, and felt ninety. Though he enjoyed his work, he had known for a long time that it was putting a strain on him and affecting his home life. It was easy to have eighty-hour weeks at work, especially when the work was exciting, which happened often. The time had come for him to retire. For the first time in decades, Victor had scheduled a vacation, one he was overdue for, anyway. He wanted to put everything he had into the TeleTech report, knowing it would probably be the last report of his career.

  He put down the champagne and went back to work, accompanied by the soft seductive hiss of the wine, intent on finishing his report. He didn't want anything weighing on his mind during his sabbatical. He planned to take his wife on an around-the-world cruise, and settle down for the last few months at a villa on the Caribbean Island of Barbados. Victor had bought the house years ago, but never had the time to use it. Now he would have all the time in the world.

  At seven o'clock, he was done. He emailed the report to the printers for binding, and closed his report.

  He thought of playing a game of Odyssey while he still had the computer on, but not for long. His wife expected him, she prepared a wonderful meal, and he wouldn't let her down. This was their night.

  He only had it because Victor had received an email with a link to a free copy of the game. Odyssey had been developed by one of Gaines' clients, MagiTronics, and the email came from MagiTronics, saying it was in gratitude for his services. He had tried out and enjoyed the game, but he used his computer mainly for business.

  He took another sip of champagne, relishing its elegant flavor, before he noticed his monitor's screen had gone black.

  He frowned and checked to see whether his monitor was still on. The green light still glowed at its base, but there was no picture.

  As he tried to digest what had happened, the darkness seemed to rip apart. A massive paw tipped with hooked claws tore open the screen, accompanied by the sound of ripping paper. It exposed a gray, barren desert landscape. The unexpected and horrifying image which appeared next sent his whole nervous system into overdrive.

  A wolf stood there silhouetted against a moonlit horizon. The wolf's gray fur stuck up in thick clumps like knives. Its enormous body supported three heads, all snarling and snapping at air with jaws dripping saliva. The wolf's three heads raised in unison to howl at the yellow moon suspended in the sky above them.

  Victor watched the image in disbelief. He wondered if his report was still intact. He had made a copy of his first draft, so it wasn't a total loss, but the idea of losing a night's work didn't sit well with him. Victor wanted to lean forward to try to close the image or shut down the computer, but he felt strangely unable to move.

  The wolf's three heads stopped howling, and swept the landscape with hungry, impatient movements. The heads all focused on one thing; Victor. The flesh over his spine tingled at the sight of the three pairs of bloodshot eyes on the creature. They seemed to look right out of the screen at him, as if they really could see through the glass of the monitor, dwelling not as bits of information in a computer, but in a darkened netherworld into which the screen was merely a window.

  The wolf began to run. Its paws kicked up tiny puffs of dust as they carried it towards the screen at frightening speed. Victor felt an impulse to back away, to cry out and throw up his hands to protect himself as the monster lunged forward. Its three mouths opened wide, growing larger until they filled the screen, and swallowed it whole.

  The screen went black.

  It took a moment before Victor could breathe again. He could feel his heart pounding hard, as if straining to free itself from his chest. He tried to relax, to dismiss what he had just seen, but it had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life. He wanted to laugh at himself for reacting so oddly to what was obviously a prank of some sort, but for a brief moment, he had felt certain the three-headed monster would leap right out of the screen, and he
would feel it sink its dripping fangs into his throat.

  He remembered his report. He was still concerned about his computer, but he felt drained from his experience. He didn't want to even look at the PC for the rest of the night. He decided to shut it off, go and have dinner with his wife, and worry about the computer in the morning.

  The screen pulsed with light.

  Victor stared as it returned to black again, leaving no sign that it had ever changed. He wondered if he had imagined it. Maybe the champagne had already gone to his head. He really needed to take a break.

  The screen flashed again, this time as he watched. It glowed with a dark red, and faded away to black again. It throbbed again, this time in a sickly green. Before it could return to black, the color changed to yellow, blue, and red again. The green came again, only quicker this time. The flashes began taking on a regular pattern, coming closer together, growing more frequent, until it formed an endless rainbow on his screen, the colors blending into each other until Victor didn't know where one ended and the other began. He tried to look away, but found himself paralyzed by the blinking lights on the screen.

  He became aware of a slight tingling in his left hand, as if it had suddenly fallen asleep. A faint whiff of something like week-old meat made him want to throw up, but he couldn't. He couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe.

  * * *

  Adrian smiled as she touched the flame of her match to the last of the candles decorating the table. When the wick had caught fire and was burning with a steady glow, she blew out the match, then stood back to gaze in satisfaction at the dinner table.

  It was perfect. She had worked all day to set it up, bringing out the best china, the best silverware, the best tablecloth. The meal she had worked on all afternoon lay on two neatly arranged settings. The seasoned rice, juicy shrimp, and hot cornbread gave off a fragrant aroma filling the dining room. Victor's favorite jazz musician, Charlie Bird, played lightly on the stereo. She turned off the lights, letting the candles tickle the walls with an irregular glow.

  She couldn't hold back the broad smile on her face. It was perfect, exactly as it should be for their last night together before their vacation. It had to be. Tomorrow, they wouldn't have a chance to be alone at Helen's surprise party. She had worked hard to avoid giving away the secret, but she could tell from Victor's amused attitude and knowing smiles that he had figured it out. It was so hard to fool that man.

  She sighed with contentment as she surveyed the table once again, and caught sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror. She wore a stunning red dress, one elegant enough for the evening with a bit more cleavage than she would wear out in public. A friend of hers who was also a makeup artist for Broadway shows had handled her hair and makeup.

  Even so, she couldn't help dwelling on the wrinkles lining her face, and the strands of gray hair peppering her head. Even though Victor often said she grew more beautiful every day, her visible aging still bothered her. She often felt that she really didn't deserve a wonderful man like him. Sometimes she found herself waiting for someone to walk in and tell them their marriage was all a ghastly mistake. But no one had, and she was starting to accept that no one ever would.

  She shook her head, trying to chase away the melancholy. It was probably just the knowledge that one life was ending, and a new one was beginning that drove her to such musing. She gave the dinner table one final check, and looked at her watch.

  She was amazed to discover it was a minute after seven. Victor was late. For anyone else, it would have been meaningless, but she knew that he was always punctual, almost to a fault. He prided himself on being everywhere he needed to be on the second. Of course, she told herself he might just be wrapped up in his work, but he had never let it interfere with their marriage before.

  Adrian wondered if she overreacted, but she knew her husband better than this. His delay was mysterious and out of character. The finger of fear crawled steadily along her skin until she could stand it no more. She left the dining room, forcing herself not to run down the narrow hallway leading to Victor's den. She came to the door and held herself back from throwing it open. Instead, she gently eased it wider, its hinges crying softly.

  His computer stood watch on his table, its screen glowing like an eye in the dim light. The screen displayed the text of a document, but Victor wasn't sitting in front of it. She wondered if he had left, but there was only one door to the study, and it led to a hallway adjoining the kitchen. There was no way he could have left without her seeing him.

  She took a step back. Maybe he had crept past her to surprise her with something. She would check the bedrooms, and the living room, and the kitchen again before she let herself worry. Not before.

  She heard a thump. Adrian looked down at a corner of the room beside the computer table, hidden in shadow, slightly behind the door. It had missed her attention, but she saw it now, because her husband lay there.

  His arms and legs trembled and jerked violently. His dusky blue skin glistened with sweat. His stiffened neck held his head rigid as his eyes looked up at her with an expression of pain and desperation as saliva dribbled out of his mouth. One of his hands slapped against her ankle in an unsteady rhythm.

  Adrian tried to scream, but her breath caught in her lungs. No. Not like this. She dropped to her knees to seize him, tried to hold him against her in the hopes that the closeness of her body could keep him still. Please, no. She groped for his arms and legs, trying to hold them, but they broke out of her hands. No, not like this. Don't take him away like this. Not today.

  He tried to say something through his clenched teeth, fighting the convulsions in his throat to whisper a single word she didn't even understand.

  With one final jerk, he went limp. His eyes glazed over slowly, looking at something far away.

  She held him closer, squeezing him as hard as she could, her eyes burning with tears. She dared not believe what she was seeing, that her husband was dying on one of the greatest days of their lives.

  She rested Victor's head on the carpet. She ran for the phone across the room, dialing 911, and the scream finally burst out of her lungs as the operator answered, yelling for an ambulance to save her husband.

  The operator called to her over the phone, and Adrian fought to maintain control long enough to give the operator her address. But she looked down at Victor's body, and realized it was already too late.

  The dream was over.

  2.

  KENT REYNOLDS woke up Monday morning, alone, something he couldn't get used to. He still expected to feel a warm body beside him when he awoke, someone to smile and whisper "good morning" to. But all that had disappeared instantly with the death of his wife three years ago.

  He rolled over and looked out his window for a moment at the city outside. It always took him a while to face the day. When he felt ready, Kent slid out from under the warm embrace of his blankets and shuffled off to the bathroom. After a shower, he began to get dressed.

  His schedule for the day ran through his mind. He remembered Victor Morgan retired that afternoon from Gaines and Company. It saddened him to see Morgan go, but Kent knew it was for the best. Kent put on a suit, and headed for the stairs to the kitchen.

  Walking down the hall brought Kent to his son's bedroom. Hand-written signs written on loose-leaf paper taped on the door all carried the same message; "Keep Out," "Troy's Room," "This Means You."

  As Kent passed, Troy's door flew open and a boy lurched out. He was only fourteen, but his solemn gaze made him look much older. The boy wore torn jeans and a T-shirt, his usual dress for school.

  Kent said his usual morning greeting. "Morning, Troy."

  Troy entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, saying nothing. Kent knew that was probably the only time he would see Troy for the rest of the day. Kent worked long hours and usually came home after Troy went to bed.

  Troy hadn't taken his mother's death well. Kent wondered if anyone could take having their mother k
illed by a hit-and-run driver "well," but Troy definitely had problems. His grades had collapsed. He locked himself in his room for hours at a time, and was disobedient and rude to Kent, his teachers, and everyone else he encountered. Troy had become a completely different person from the cheerful boy Kent had known before his wife's death.

  Kent wanted to try to reach Troy somehow, but he had no idea how to ease the pain. He hired a therapist to meet with Troy once a week in an attempt to reverse some of the damage before it was too late.

  Kent went downstairs, made himself some coffee, and got a cheese Danish from the cabinet. He ate while he flipped through The New York Times. With his morning ritual complete, Kent checked to make sure his notes on TeleTech's management reports were in his briefcase, and headed out the front door.

  "So long, Troy," he called out. "Going to work."

  No answer, but Kent had come to expect that.

  Kent walked down the steps out of his townhouse and headed down the tree-lined Manhattan street to where his taxi waited as usual. After giving the driver directions, Kent settled back for the long ride to the building where he worked.

  The taxi turned off 42nd Street onto Ripley Place, a vast business complex where his company leased the first four floors of a large office building. After paying the cab driver, Kent rode the elevator up to the second floor, where he stepped into the heart of the management consulting firm of Gaines and Company.

  At the sight of the bustling corridors and friendly faces, Kent felt himself unwind. In many ways, Gaines had become his family after his real one fell apart. It was a lively, energetic place to work, where decisions were made that affected powerful corporations all over the world.

  Kent walked down the long hallway to the cubicles where the consultants kept their offices. He waved to a few people, took a seat at his desk, and checked his appointments. He had a meeting with the other members of his case group in a few minutes, but they had one every morning. He was also scheduled to have lunch with Victor Morgan at noon. That boosted his spirits.