UK-based author Stephen Barnard has been writing and self-publishing both fiction and non-fiction for a number of years. He predominantly writes horror / suspense, and has a number of short story collections and novels available. He has also written the science fantasy trilogy, 'Portentous' and the sports biography 'Calamity Cricket'. His latest release is the novella 'They Let Themselves In' - an inventive take on the home invasion sub-genre. When he's not writing he sometimes teaches, parents, reads and binge-watches horror films.
You can read more from Stephen right HERE.
SOMETHING IN THE WATER
by
Stephen Barnard
He was the last patient of the day. Dr Reid was all for sending the man home, but the receptionist, Marie, was more sympathetic. ‘He’s been waiting two hours,’ she offered when she popped her head into the examination room.
‘Alright, send him through.’ Reid looked out of the window. It had started to rain, unforecasted. It was July and he’d brought neither overcoat or umbrella. ‘Just brilliant.’
Reid glanced at the computer screen. Lawrence Franks, 45, not a frequent visitor. There was no note added about today’s visit to the surgery. That usually meant either a talker or an embarrassing ailment. Reid poured his patient and himself glasses of water, settled into his chair, and answered the tentative knock. He was hoping for a genital wart rather than an emotional outpouring. Prescribe a cream and send the man on his way.
Franks came in, slightly dishevelled and skittish. He seemed unsure of his surroundings and nervous about the medical paraphernalia that surrounded him. ‘Please, Mr Franks, take a seat.’
‘Don’t normally come the doctor’s.’
‘I noticed from your notes. It’s fine – we don’t bite. Sit.’
Franks lowered himself into the chair opposite. He looked distrustfully at the glass of water on the coffee table. Reid noticed. ‘I’ve just poured it. It’s fresh. So what can I do for you today, Mr Franks?’
He didn’t look at Reid but kept his eye on the table. ‘I’ve been seeing things. That nobody else can see.’
Not a quick prod at a scrotum then. ‘Okay. What kind of things?’
He pointed at his glass. ‘In the water.’
Reid leaned forward and looked at it. It was clear, as was his. ‘You think you can see something in this water?’
‘I don’t think, I know. Right there.’ His finger shook when he pointed.
‘Would you like to describe what it is?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Like tiny slugs, or maybe stumpy little eels. Half a centimetre long. No obvious head, but occasionally they stretch out and a little spike appears.’ He shuddered at the reference.
Reid didn’t really want to get into this; the man was clearly delusional. He just hoped he could appease him with a prescription for something to take the edge off. ‘Have you had… visions like this before?’
‘No – only this, and only recently.’
‘Oh, how recently?’
‘Since last week. I fell into a river; current swept me away. Nearly drowned. They had some trouble reviving me on the bank. Said I’d stop breathing.’
‘You went to the hospital with this?’ Reid looked back at the notes on the screen; they hadn’t been updated.
‘No. Didn’t go. Didn’t see the point. Wasn’t injured and after I puked up half the river I felt better. But then I started seeing these things in the water. Since then it’s got me all agitated.’
‘I can imagine.’ He took a close look at Franks. He squirmed in his chair, like he was looking to position himself as far from the glass as possible.
‘Have you had a drink of water since you started seeing these things?’
‘What? You think I’m crazy? The only drink I’ve had in the last five days is milk and fruit. That stuff looks fine. Everything else has water in it.’
Reid didn’t want to get into the water content of milk and juice. Yet the man was clearly suffering and he wanted to help him get past whatever this was. ‘I think, Mr Franks, you’re suffering delayed trauma from the near drowning incident. I’m going to get you an appointment at the hospital for a thorough examination, and in the meantime I’ll prescribe you a short course of Xanax for your nerves.’
Franks seemed to take it in; he nodded slowly as he processed. ‘Okay, but what are you going to do about the things in the water?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s those spike things. They’ve been coming outta the creatures more frequently. Since this morning. I think they’re getting ready for something.’
Holy Christ. ‘I’m sure that once the hospital has had a good look at you, and you’ve started your pills, a solution will be found to these issues you’re having.’ He wrote out the note on his prescription pad. ‘If you hand this to Marie on the way out, she’ll let you know when you can pick them up. We’ll call you at the number on file with the hospital appointment.’
‘That’s it?’
‘For now. We will follow everything up, of course.’ He smiled, stood and held out the prescription. Franks didn’t take it immediately; instead he pushed his chair back to be clear of the table. Then he got up tentatively and took the slip.
‘Something needs to be done.’
‘I agree. Thank you, Mr Franks.’ He indicated the door with his hand.
Franks looked like he’d been struck by an invisible hand. Befuddled, he shuffled his way out of the room.
‘Poor bastard,’ Reid muttered. He picked up his glass and walked over to the window. It was coming down quite heavy now: fat drops, the prelude to a deep, low summer storm.
He downed half the water.
He coughed almost instantly. Down the wrong hole, his mother used to say. But there was more to it than that. It hurt all the way down. It felt like he’d swallowed a horse-chestnut in its case.
Outside, walking past the window, a young woman started to pat at her hair and cheeks frantically. Then she tried to shake off something invisible from her head. Across the street, an elderly man started to do similar, scratching at his hands. They both started yelling.
Reid grabbed his chest, then his gut. It felt like something was tearing at him.
He coughed again.
This time there was blood. It spattered against the window.
On the opposite side, pregnant, loaded drops of rain ran down the pane, looking for targets.