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 (2009)