The Visitation
Moving around at night had always been the best time for Colman to
conduct his business. Stealth was the essence of his success. On the streets in
the early hours of the morning there were normally very few people, but Colman
possessed an uncanny awareness that enabled him to almost feel and hear
attackers. A lone person in the dead of night may not always be an easy victim
and some people should be left alone in much the same way that a house
presenting above average defences should not be burgled. Secure fences, doors
and windows should offer a warning to even the most opportunistic thief.
The corridor leading towards Dr. Heather Riding's
office was gloomy and at night the building looked as seedy on the inside in
the dim light as the dull grey bricks appeared from the outside in the daytime.
Colman had used the stairs to reach the second floor, shadowy corners being
ideal places to launch an attack on an unsuspecting victim unfortunate enough
to be alone in this soulless place.
The distant wailing of a police car or an ambulance
could be heard.
The images of Dr. Riding that had been described were
in complete conflict with those he sensed in this building and Colman's highly
tuned sixth sense seemed to be on the alert, rising up towards a seventh. The
vision of the time he'd been on patrol with his Special Operations unit flashed
into his mind when he had screamed: "DOWN". There had been no reason
to expect an explosion at that moment other than the nature of their work made
it likely to happen at some time. Just a fraction of a second after his command
the bomb detonated. The instant reaction of well-trained soldiers saved many
lives that day. There had been no warning, but Colman somehow just... knew.
The locked door presented no problem to a man with
skills such as Colman, acquired through his years of military service. This had
left him with remarkable expertise in all sorts of disciplines and he could
probably just walk into any number of different jobs suitably qualified for all
of them. No longer on active service, nothing seemed to give him quite the
challenge and excitement of those dangerous times. The door opened silently and
he slipped into the room. The door closed softly behind him. The room was not
in total darkness so he switched off the small pencil torch and placed it in an
arm pocket of his jacket.
The sirens he had heard earlier were now silent though
at such a late hour there shouldn't be much traffic in this desolate part of
town. And why would a successful psychiatrist choose this part of town off the
main street to set up a business? No doubt there were good business reasons.
Perhaps the undisturbed quietness in the area away from the normal madness of a
busy town was beneficial. The hairs on his neck began to tingle.
Colman became aware of a red glow that permeated the
whole room as he mentally focused onto the gloomy silence and was instantly
alerted to an undefined danger. Nothing tangible, but this office broadcast
menace. In the stillness of this cold room, Colman approached Heather Riding's
desk that had been placed near the south-facing window. His vision was getting
accustomed to the meagre light that came from the half-Moon that was clearly
visible through the window and the vague red glow. Everything was bathed with
in an eerie grey quality. The chair had been moved from the usual central
position behind the desk over to one side and turned away so he could only see
the back and side of it. In the distance in one corner of the room on a wooden
chair, he could just make out a neat pile of dark clothes. Placed on the top
was a shirt. Even in the greyness, this was obviously white. As Colman moved
closer to the desk he noticed that it was almost empty except for a telephone,
a notepad and a small dark box with a tiny yellow light that was slowly
winking. Then he saw the heater on the floor nearby that was clearly the source
of the red glow in the room. One of those infra-red devices that never seem to
yield much heat as they don't warm the surrounding air, only the occupants of a
room as they are exposed to the radiation. Colman could feel the warmth at this
close range like the sun on a summer's day, but why was this fire switched on
at this time in the early morning. And in an empty room?
Colman's sense of danger suddenly increased and he
felt the sensation of burning fingers being scraped over the back of his neck.
The combined effect of heat on his neck and face produced an intensity he'd
never experienced before. In all his years of the most dangerous situations
imaginable, he suddenly felt the real fear he'd known as a novice soldier. Fear
is ever present no matter what the experience and provides a route to survival.
Danger becomes the challenge. But this was different. Out of the corner of his
eye, he had sensed rather than seen an image of something that had been sitting
in Heather Riding's chair. He moved around the desk to face the chair. It was
empty. Everything remained almost as it had been. The pile of clothes remained
on the chair and the heater was still on, but curiously the yellow dot of light
from the black box had stopped winking. The room was no longer silent. Colman's
thumping heartbeat felt as though it would wake the dead. An icy sweat covered
his brow as he put a hand on the leather swivel chair.
It was cold.
Rather than confirming his sense of a presence,
Colman's feeling of danger was raised even more. This he could hardly imagine
was possible. The heater was in front of the desk chair and he was sure he had
seen something sitting in that chair. That something had disappeared and the
chair was cold.
Louis Brothnias, v 2.1 (November, 2009)