The Visit

                I was on my way to bed when something slammed against my front door.  The sound caught me off guard and I jumped.  Who the hell would be out on a night like this?
         I looked through the peephole and saw nothing but snow swirling angrily in the yard.  As I turned from the door, it rattled so hard that the doorframe shook.  I jumped back as my heart bottomed out and began to pound furiously.
         “Who is it?”  My voice came out weak.  I cleared my throat and tried again.  “Who is it?”
         The pounding stopped.  For a moment nothing happened, then, “Eric it’s me Jim.”  The voice sounded odd for some reason.
         The knocking had been bad enough.  Now along with my racing heart, my blood froze.  Damn, did he know?  Why else would he be pounding on my door at midnight?
         “Come on Eric, let me in.  It’s cold out here.”  Again, that odd tone that defied description.  It almost sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of dirt or pebbles.
         Swallowing hard I went to the door and turned the dead bolt.  The door opened to a wild swirl of blown snow and icy wind.  Jim stood on the porch, his face and eyes hidden by the hood of his parka.
         Even though I had the heat on, the temperature dropped quickly.
         “Hello Eric.”
         “Jim” I said, suppressing a shudder.
         “May I come in?”
         Backing away from the door I allowed him in.  He passed me and stopped in the foyer.  With the door closed, I felt part of the chill slide away.
         “Mind if I take my coat off?”
         “No, you know where the rack is.”
         He removed his coat and scarf.  Water began dripping off him and the coat as he hung it on the rack at the end of the hall.  His movements were slow and deliberate, and I was struck by a feeling of unreality, as if I were dreaming this whole event.
         After removing his coat he turned to me.  His face was pale, his eyes appeared somewhat sunken.
         “Is something wrong?  Where’s Sarah?”  I asked.
         Instead of answering me, he said, “Do you have any coffee or something warm to drink?  I cannot seem to get warm.”
         My mind swarming with questions, I went into the kitchen.  He followed me with an odd shambling gait.  Something seemed to be wrong with his legs.
         While the coffee machine bubbled softly to itself, Jim and I watched each other across the room.  The odd discontinuity that I felt did not go away.  In fact, it seemed to grow as time passed.  It didn’t make sense, this man had been in my home more times than I could count.  He and I were friends.  I hoped that my self-conscious look didn’t show.
         I poured him a cup and he sat at the table.  Cradling the cup in both hands he sipped at the coffee.  Then he did an odd thing.  Ignoring the fact that I had just poured the steaming brew into the mug, he turned it up and drank it in one swallow.
         It should have burned his mouth and throat.  He should have been on the floor screaming.  Instead he swallowed twice, glanced into his mug with what appeared to be regret, and handed me the mug.  His eyes were bloodshot and his skin still had that odd pasty hue.
         When I took the cup from him, I noticed that the fingernails of his right hand looked ragged and torn.  One nail had peeled all the way back and appeared to be hanging only by a shred of skin.  I backed away from him with the mug held tightly in my shaking hands.  He looked as if he’d been digging at the ground with his bare hands.  There was no blood; he didn’t even to seem to be in pain.
         “Damn, doesn’t that hurt?”
         He glanced at his hand as if seeing it for the first time.  “Oh, that.  No it doesn’t hurt any more.”  For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something else, but nothing came out.
         “Doesn’t hurt any more?  What happened?”
         “Before I tell you, can I have another cup of coffee?”  Again I heard that odd pebbly sound.
         I gave him what he wanted.
         “You know Eric, I have always liked your coffee.  Sarah always says that you make the best coffee.”
         At the mention of his wife’s name I got cold all over again.  He knew, I’m not sure how I knew that, but I did.
         “Where’s Sarah?”  I asked.
“Oh, she’s around.  That’s why I’m here.”
         I sat down to wait.  What else could I do?
         He turned the full cup to his slightly blue lips and did not take it away until it was empty.
         “So how was your day?”  He asked conversationally.
         The question felt so out of place that I did not answer him.
“I’ve had a shit day.”  He said.
         He paused and handed me the mug again.
         He was silent while I filled the cup.
         “I quit my job because I got tired of my bosses bull.  It was a crap job anyway, know what I mean?”
         I nodded.
         “After I cleaned out my desk I went to the bar to celebrate.  I tried to call Sarah to tell her to come down with me, but she didn’t answer.”
         I knew why that was, but didn’t say anything.
         “I think that I drank a little too much.”
         “Are you okay?”  I asked.
         He looked at me.  His eyes were beyond bloodshot.  “Do I fucking look okay?”
         He was more than drunk.  He was pissed.  It was in his every move.  Slowly it occurred to me that there might be more than a jealous husband to deal with here.
         “You look like shit, but that’s normal for you.”  I tried humor.  It was the cornerstone of our friendship.
         It fell flat.  He glared at me.
         He drained the mug again, same as before.  How in the hell? 
“I finally got tired of drinking and decided to go home.”
He slid the mug across the table to me.
“Do you know what I found when I got there?”
         As I refilled the mug, I prayed that he would not say what I knew was coming.
         “What?”  I asked, and was surprised that my voice sounded steady.
         “Well, when I got home the house was dark.  Sarah wasn’t there.  Or at least I thought she wasn’t, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
         “So I brewed some coffee.  Not as good as yours,” he held out the now full mug, “but passable.  Anyway I went up to my study and that was when I noticed that my computer was on.  It was in a standby mode with my Star Wars screen saver running.”
         He seemed to be drawing this out, headed towards a certain point, but wanting to take his time before arriving.  Although I dreaded what he might have found, I wished that he would get on with it.
  Most of the chill had left the room, but it had been replaced by an odd smell.  Kind of musty, like an attic that had been closed too long.  It was coming from Jim’s direction.
         “When I touched the mouse, the screen changed.  The system was booted to my word processor.  If it hadn’t been for the fact that the note had my name on top of it, I might have dismissed it and turned the program off.”  He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
         “Know what this is?”  He held it out to me with his blasted looking fingers.  The smell seemed stronger.
         With trembling hands I took the note from him and opened it.
         “I can quote it to you as you read.  I’ve had plenty of time to memorize it.”
         As I read, he spoke.
         “My dearest Jim, I leave you this note so that you will not worry about my safety.  Please understand that I care about you and respect your feelings.  But I cannot continue to go on living this lie.  You have always told me that in time we would come to love each other, but after all these years it has become apparent that while I view you as a friend and confidant, I do not actually love you.
         “There is someone though, a very special person who needs me and desires me the way I am.  He is the one I will give the true love that I do not feel for you.  I hope that you understand and, given time, forgive me.
         “Your friend, Sarah.”
         I didn’t know what to do, she hadn’t mentioned me by name, but if he had put enough together to come here, he had to know.
         “Pretty sad, huh?”  He said.
         The stale, dusty odor was growing stronger.  I also noticed after all the time that he had been here, Jims’ skin still had the unearthly pallor.  He looked very sick.
         “Are you okay?  You don’t look well.”
         “No, I’m not okay, but I’ll get to that in a minute.”  He stood and stretched.  I heard several joints pop.  That was also when I saw the strange mark across the chest of his shirt.  It was a slight red slash that ran across the center of his chest.  The shirt was whole, but I could see the mark under it.
         He noticed me staring and looked down at himself.  “Oh that.  Well, I guess I was almost to that point anyway.  You see, I was wrong about Sarah.  Not just about the fact that I thought she loved me.  What I’m referring to is the fact that she had been at home when I arrived.  I read her little dear john several times sitting at my desk.  Then I went to downstairs, headed to the garage.  Her car was there and the hood was cold.  Didn’t make any sense to me, so I started looking around the house.  That was when I found this.”
         He walked back to his coat and pulled something from an inside pocket.  It was an envelope, thick with papers.
         “It’s my insurance policy.  She had hiding it along with 2 plane ticket, her passport and several other things that suggested an extended stay somewhere.  Know anyone in the South Pacific?”
         “No.”  I said.  Damn Sarah, what have you done?
         He just looked at me.  His face seemed to be getting paler.  His eyes were more sunken than before.  The stale dust odor was stronger, my stomach began to hurt from the sharp tang of it.
         “You know Eric, you’ve always been one of my best friends.  We’ve known each other for what, 10 years?”
         “At least.”  I said.  My mouth was dry.  I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding.
         “I’ve always trusted you with things.  My money, the keys to my house, you know, little things like that.  But do you know that the person I thought I could trust the most turned out not to be who I thought.”
         “What do you mean?”
         “My dear darling Sarah.  The only woman I’ve ever trusted had made plans.  Her note said that she intended to leave me.  But it left out a few minor details.  Things like what she intended to do with my insurance policy.  Who the other ticket was for.  Why she was sleeping with my best friend.  And why she decided it would be better to bury an axe in my chest than to simply disappear to a tropical paradise.”
         He had stepped towards me with each statement.  By the time he stopped speaking he was standing only inches from me.  The pebbly sound was loud in my ears.  The stench of dirt and old blood was strong on his breath.  His eyes went even further back now.  The pale white of his skin was almost translucent.
         “She was waiting for me you see.  Up in the attic.  I guess she planned it all.  Should have known something was wrong when I went up there and found a large sheet on the floor.  But I was distracted by the little note.  I suppose that was part of her plan, to keep me from thinking straight.  So when I didn’t immediately see her, I turned to go back downstairs.  I heard her scream and glanced up just in time to catch the blade of my best axe right here.”  He thumped himself on the chest.
         “I never knew she was so strong.  Of course it helped that I am such a conscientious person.  I always keep all my tools in top condition.  That axe sure was sharp.  Do you know what happens when an axe bites into human flesh?”
         I wanted to run.  He had backed me into the kitchen.  There was no way out that did not mean going through him.  The stench rolling off of him made me light headed.
         “I never wanted…”  I started to say.
         He cut me off.  “Do you know what HAPPENS?”
         “No.”  I whispered.
         “In the first one millionth of a second the skin parts.  The top layers of blood vessels are severed almost beyond repair.  Then it contacts bone.  If swung with enough force, the axe will not bounce off or skitter across.  The bone gives way to the excessive force.  It parts driving part of the sternum upwards into the lungs, penetrating and collapsing the air sacs.  The other part is pushed downward into the heart.  The heart is ruptured in the blink of an eye.  But before that happens, blood is forced into places it is not meant to go.  Usually up the throat and out the mouth.”
         I slapped my hands over my ears.  If he touched me, my heart would have exploded.
         “That’s what happened to me.  My ‘loving’ wife drove my own axe into my chest and stood watching as I choked my last breath out onto that sheet.  And do you know what she did then.”
         I shook my head.  I didn’t want to know.  All I wanted was to get out of this room alive.  When I did not answer he screamed, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID?”
         “No.”
         “She said, ‘I’m sorry Jim, but Eric and I want to be together’.”
         “As I lay dying in my own home, she had the gall to tell me.  But you know, something strange happened.  I know my heart stopped beating.  I also know that I was not breathing.  The thing was, I don’t know how I knew all this.  I figured that I was dead, and maybe I even am, but before I went I knew there was something I needed to do.”
         I grabbed a knife from the sink and waved it at him.  He looked at the knife with an amused expression on his face.
         “What do you think you are going to do with that?”
         “What did you do to Sarah?”  I asked.
         “Ah, Sarah.  Did I ever tell you how much I loved her?” 
         He stepped forward and without thinking I shoved the knife into him, in the same place that she had hit him.
         There was a loud crunch as the knife went into him.  I let go of the handle and backed away.  My body felt numb.  I’d never done anything like this before.  Hurting people was not in my nature.
         He looked at the knife handle, and then he looked at me.  The whole time there was an amused expression on his face.
         “Never knew you had it in you.”  He said.  Then he pulled the knife out of his chest and handed it back to me.
         Words failed me.  I took the knife from him and looked at it.  There wasn’t a drop of blood. 
         He backed away and sat at the table.
         “Where is she?”          
         “Before I answer that, friend ‘o mine, you answer one for me.  Did the two of you plan this?”
         It took me a moment to answer.  I didn’t think that telling him the truth was going to help.  Most likely he would not believe me.  But what alternative did I have?  I’d just stabbed him, and he acted as though it were no worse than a mosquito bite. 
He was looking at me, his eyes dark holes in a pasty white background.
         “Sarah and I have been, well, seeing each other.”  I started.  “But it wasn’t anything serious.  We got together a few weekends when you were away.  That was all, swear to god.  I tried several times to break it off, but she kept calling me and insisting on coming over.  She wouldn’t stop.  Then she started calling me at work and leaving messages on my machine.  I threatened to tell you…” I stopped because a horrifying realization came to me.
         Apparently he had come to the same conclusion.  “You put a high price on her relationship with me, didn’t you?”
         “Jim you’re my friend.  I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you.  At first I figured it would be a one-time thing and that you would never know.  But she refused to let it go.  When she came over today…” I stopped, this was the last thing that I’d wanted to say to him.
         For a long moment he sat there and stared at me.
         When he spoke the pebbly sound had deepened.  Then I realized, he was speaking through a throat full of whatever had come up when she hit him with the axe.
         “She was here today?” 
         “I wanted to end it.  I told her that when she got here.  She got mad and said that we’d both pay.”
“Oh, I paid alright.”  He said too himself.
         “Jesus Jim, I’m sorry.”
         “Sorry?  You’re sorry?  My wife hit me with an axe, how the hell do you think I feel?”
         “But if you’re really dead, how can you be here?  Sitting in that chair, talking.  Drinking coffee for Christ’s sake!”
         “I told you, I had something to do first.”
         “What?”  I said, a rather unpleasant notion dawning on me.
         He looked at me.  “No, not you.  You stuck that knife in me out of fear.  I believe you.  But she’s a different story.”
         “Where is she?”
         “Like I said, around.”  He stood up.  With that same shambling gait, he walked back to his coat.  Removing it from the rack he turned to me.  “Let me give you some advice.  Because I trust you I won’t do anything to you, but if I find out that you lied to me or that you’re sleeping with some one else’s wife, I’ll come back for you.  You were a good friend Eric.  Find yourself someone to settle down with.  Just never trust her too much.”
         “Please Jim, where is Sarah?”
         He turned and put his coat and scarf on.  After shambling to the door he twisted to look at me.  His eyes were gone.  Two deep pools of black stared at me from his pale skull.
         “She’s going with me, one way or another.  Just remember what I said.  Married women are off limits.  Goodbye Eric, take care of yourself.  Don’t make me come after you.”
         That chilled me to the bone.  What happened next was worse.  He twisted to the door, opened it partway and vanished.  I don’t mean he went through it.  What I mean is that one-second he was there, the next he wasn’t.
         I ran to the door, slammed it and leaned against it, shaking badly.  I was freezing, but I could feel sweat running down my back.
         “Oh Sarah, why?  And Jim, what did you do?”
         From out of nowhere I heard his voice, “You don’t want to know.”

The end