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November 2008

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Our print division, Comet Press, is currently accepting submissions for horror, suspense, and dark crime novels and novellas. Visit www.cometpress.us for details.

Available for order from Comet Press

DEADLINES: AN ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR AND DARK FICTION, will be released in November of 2008! Visit www.cometpress.us

What Lies Beyond
by Christopher Allan Death

Flowers skirted the coffin: roses and lilies and little blue buds that Benjamin had never seen before. They glimmered beneath the failing summer sun, streaked with dew like lost spirits from the nether. And deep down, Benjamin wanted to join them. He wanted to close his eyes and drift into the encompassing black abyss. But he knew that would not stop his suffering. Nothing could bring Vanessa back from the grave. Not a Catholic priest, not a protestant reverend, and definitely not Benjamin himself.

She was gone forever. Swallowed up into the endless black void; encompassed by the ruthless wings of death. And Benjamin couldn’t survive with those haunting images burned into his brain. He wanted to take a knife and plunge its cold steel blade deep into his brain, to cut out the memories that plagued his darkest dreams. But again, he knew that would accomplish nothing. They were a part of his being. And nothing could change that.

Benjamin released a long sigh and ran his fingers lightly across the coffin. He left streaks of oil across the glossy mahogany casket. And suddenly his eyes filled with tears. He told himself that he would be strong; that he would be a man and move on with his life. But that was impossible. The bonds of love were unwilling to break … even after death. So Benjamin rubbed the tears from his cheeks and forced the lump down his throat.

"I love you," he whispered. Then he turned, looked toward the casket one more time, and disappeared into the ethereal summer dusk.

***

Benjamin drove to the airport that afternoon in absolute silence. He didn’t turn on the radio or check his cell phone like he usually did. He just placed his foot on the gas pedal and watched the city nightlife flash past.

Pools of yellow lamplight and dull neon signs disappeared into the darkness behind him. He tried to imagine a time and place where death was a distant memory; where he could carry on his normal life without the pain of a lost love scorching his soul. But even that was fruitless.

Pangs of guilt and shame followed him until the lights of Denver International Airport reflected across the windshield. He tried telling himself that Vanessa’s death was not his fault. He tried telling himself that it was the result of a fatal three-car crash on I-25 … but the pain was too much to bear.

Why did you decide to leave Colorado, Benjamin? Why did you decide to leave your family and your friends and the girl you loved for a stupid degree? You should have stayed home and been thankful for what you had. But you were greedy. You wanted more money and more respect. And now you have nothing.

Nothing.

The word echoed inside his head like fingernails across a chalkboard. Was he really being selfish by leaving for college? Or should he have remained in Colorado and pursued career opportunities elsewhere? Would Vanessa still be alive if he did?

Benjamin closed his eyes. Countless thoughts darted in and out of his brain, each one more terrible and painful than the last. He did not enjoy a moment of quiet respite until his plane finally departed from DIA, and all the sparkling city lights vanished beneath him.

Into the dark chasm.

***

When Benjamin opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by bleary lights and slurred voices. Moonlight spilled across the green SUV, through the passenger-side window, and over the smooth leather seats. He could see four teenage girls directly behind him, laughing and spilling drinks onto themselves. The smell of alcohol was heavy. Like a cologne.

Benjamin tried to orient himself, but his world was hazy and distorted. He couldn’t tell if the car was driving forward or backward, or any direction in between.

Vanessa sat in the driver’s seat, fumbling with a cell phone that chirped melodramatically every few seconds. Her beautiful blue eyes were half-closed, and she struggled to keep them open. Even though Benjamin hadn’t seen her for almost two months, she was just as beautiful as he remembered her.

Blond hair swooped over her shoulder as Vanessa pressed the phone against her ear. Her lips parted as if to say hello, but no words came out. It was like watching television with the sound turned off. Benjamin tried to reach for her, but his arms would not respond.

Break lights appeared on the road ahead. But Vanessa did not notice them. She was too busy talking on the phone and listening to her friends in the back seat.

Benjamin tried to scream. He tried to reach across the car and steer them away from inevitable doom, but he still couldn’t move. His feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. There was nothing he could do but watch.

Suddenly the car came to a screeching halt. The sound of metal twisting and glass shattering split the silence. The driver-side door was torn from its hinges like tin foil, and flung across the highway.

The next moment, Benjamin was upside down and tongues of flame leapt from the engine. He tried to locate Vanessa’s body among the acrid black smoke, but she was gone.

"Vanessa!"

Benjamin screamed and bolting upright. Sweat drenched his body, cold and wet. His head throbbed. A bald man sat beside him, holding a bag of peanuts and staring through thick round glasses.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

Benjamin nodded slowly. He must have nodded off when he boarded the flight to Las Angles. That would describe the feeling of nausea he experienced in the dream. Long flights always made him airsick.

"Do you want me to call a flight attendant?"

The man with glasses watched Benjamin warily. His voice was even and controlled, but a flicker of anxiety danced in his eyes. He was probably worried that Benjamin would pop and spew stomach bile all over his good pants.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I just had a nightmare, that’s all," Benjamin murmured. But deep down he knew that it was more than a dream. Something very strange had just happened; something that he could not explain.

***

Fresh California sunlight shimmered over Benjamin’s black Audi, conjuring ripples of heat from the old pavement. Four hours had passed since his unusual dream, but he still felt queasy and slightly nauseous. Like someone had stuck his head in a blender. The only thing he could think about was getting a good night’s sleep.

Maybe his head would be clearer in the morning.

Benjamin eased into the apartment parking lot and closed his eyes. So much had happened over the past few days that he felt helpless and overwhelmed. First he got fired from the software company, then the tuition fees increased, and now his only love had been snatched away from him in a horrible accident.

He felt like shit.

The hallway was dark when Benjamin stumbled into the ruddy apartment complex. The curtains were drawn and an ancient ventilation system spewed hot air through the facility. Except that wasn’t what was bothering him. His apartment door stood wide open.

Benjamin swallowed hard and stepped forward. The scent of cheap perfume and apple-blossom shampoo wafted into his nostrils as he entered the room. He knew that scent like the back of his hand: it was Vanessa’s favorite fragrance. But that wasn’t possible …

She had been dead for five days.

Benjamin crept into his bedroom and surveyed the room. There was nothing missing. His laptop, his ipod, and his television were still there. That meant his apartment was not vandalized by some random burglar. But that did not calm the drum-like beating in his chest.

"Ben."

"Who’s there?"

Benjamin spun around and peered into the kitchen. His eyesight was fuzzy and slightly out-of-focus, but he could have sworn that he saw a dark shape dart into the shadows.

"I know somebody’s in there. Now come out before I have to kick your ass!"

No response.

Benjamin gathered all the courage he could muster and slipped into the kitchen. He could feel a dark presence nearby, lingering just outside his conscious mind. But he couldn’t decide what it was. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Spreading a blanket over the couch, Benjamin let himself crumple onto the soft cushions. He was physically tired from driving all day and emotionally drained from Vanessa’s funeral. But he needed to move on. He needed to put that sad chapter behind him and move on with his life.

Either that or slip into a suicidal depression for the rest of his miserable existence.

The cell phone rang and tore Benjamin away from his misery-induced daydreams. He flipped it open and stared at the screen with wide eyes. Not blinking. Because what he saw was enough to chill the very cockles of his heart.

It was a text message from Vanessa’s old phone … the one that got destroyed in the car accident. And it read, HELLO BEN. DID YOU MISS ME?

***

Sunlight streamed through the drab white curtains when Benjamin awoke the next morning. His head throbbed like a drum and a dingy ceiling fan rotated above him like a dog chasing its tail. He felt like shit. That was the only way to describe it.

Shuffling into the kitchen, he extracted a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. But the artificial sugar and orange pulp turned to wallpaper paste in his mouth. It burned down his throat like battery acid, turning his insides to mush.

Benjamin stumbled over to the sink and heaved steaming stomach bile into the drain. Sweat poured down his forehead, leaving streaks of salt down his neck and shirtfront.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he choked.

"Why don’t you see for yourself?" a gravelly voice replied.

Two emaciated gray arms reached from the sink, topped with ten bony fingers that writhed like gruesome undead worms. They knotted around his throat and pulled him down toward the rusty drain. The scent of alcohol and cheap perfume violated his nostrils with its sickeningly sweet fragrance.

The fragrance of death.

Benjamin tried to pull away, but he was too weak. He could hear Vanessa’s distorted voice in his head. It echoed in his ears and threatened to possess his entire body.

"What are you afraid of, Ben? This is just a dream."

Vanessa smiled, revealing two rows of cracked yellow teeth. They were crooked and broken from decay. But her eyes were still bright and blue like he remembered them.

"Wake up, Ben. It’s time to wake up."

"What the hell do you want with me?"

A warm hand touched Benjamin’s arm and his eyes fluttered open. A single face hung above him, suspended in the shadows until a muscular chest and two square shoulders came into focus. It was Michael Fuller, his roommate and fellow party crasher from high school. The two had been close friends since third grade.

"Ben, are you alright?"

Michael stepped around the couch and saw the dark bags that settled around his eyes. "You don’t look so good, dude."

"I’ll be fine. I just need a little rest, that’s all."

"You’ve been sleeping all day."

"I have?"

Benjamin shook his head. He felt like he had been shot with elephant tranquilizers. Or worse.

"Yeah. You’ve been acting strange ever since you came back from that funeral. You haven’t gotten off the couch once."

"Must be jet lag."

"That’s one mean case of jet lag, dude."

Michael maneuvered through the darkness, stubbing his toe only once on his way to the bathroom. He never was the most coordinated fellow. That was the reason he never made varsity in high school football. And the reason his date left halfway through their senior prom.

"Uh … Ben? I think you should come see this."

Michael’s voice drifted down the hall, avoiding the patches of darkness that gathered together like cobwebs along the walls. He sounded uncharacteristically perturbed … and maybe even afraid.

"What is it?"

"Come see for yourself."

Benjamin exhaled deeply and hoisted himself from the couch. A faint blue light issued from the bedroom, dancing through the hallway like melodies in a symphony of light. He found Michael hunched over his laptop, staring blankly at the screen.

"Is this some sort of practical joke?"

Michael didn’t respond. He simply beckoned Benjamin forward. "What does it mean?"

"I don’t know," Benjamin whispered. "But whoever thinks this is funny has got to stop."

"Should I delete it?"

"Yes."

Benjamin watched Michael slide the cursor across the screen and delete the message. But even though the window disappeared and the monitor went dark, he could not purge the haunting image from his mind:

HELLO BEN. DID YOU MISS ME

***

Michael sat in the booth across from Benjamin and stirred his caramel latte. Ribbons of steam rose from the Styrofoam cup, fogging over his oval glasses and creating beads of moisture on his upper lip. The uptown café was almost empty, and that meant the two men could converse in peace, without the constant complaint of beatnik guitar players and over-caffeinated cell phone conversations.

Both of which made Benjamin cringe.

Michael finished stirring the frothy liquid and raised the cup to his lips. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee and stretched his legs out beneath the table, as if to somehow increase the size of his bladder.

Michael was a certifiable coffee addict, downing an average of eleven cups a day, and possibly fifteen during finals week. But today he was not scrambling to hand in a major paper or cram for a political science exam. He was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his buddy, Benjamin Hesse.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hold on just a second. You’re trying to tell me that your ex-girlfriend is trying to communicate with you from the grave?" he stammered, filling his cheeks with yet another mouthful of caramel liquid.

Benjamin nodded. "Exactly. Ever since I’ve gotten back from Vanessa’s funeral … strange things have been happening."

"Like cryptic text messages and bizarre emails."

"You witnessed it yourself."

"Suppose those messages were sent to you before the … ah … accident … and you just didn’t notice them until yesterday."

Benjamin shook his head. "Not possible. The dates were all wrong. And besides, the cell phone company doesn’t have records of any messages being sent from her phone in the last five days."

Michael sighed, pursed his lips. "Looks like you have a classic case of stolen identity."

"What do you mean?"

"Some bastard hacks into Vanessa’s personal files, steals her phone number, email address, credit card, and decides to pull a little prank in the process. So he sends out messages to random contacts in her address book. Big deal. Some guys get off on shit like that."

"But how could he disguise an outgoing text message from Vanessa’s cell phone?"

Michael shrugged his broad shoulders. "How the hell should I know? The guy’s a computer genius. He hacks into servers for breakfast. Speaking of which, have you eaten yet today?"

Benjamin avoided eye contact. He knew that he couldn’t lie to Michael. The two were like brothers. Michael would detect a lie the moment it escaped from his lips.

Unfortunately the silence was condemnation enough. Michael exhaled and set his coffee aside. "You really need to be eating, Benjamin. All this excitement is wearing you down. You can’t just go three days without food. It’s not healthy."

Benjamin ran a hand through his greasy brown hair. He knew that Michael was right. He knew that he should be out searching for a job instead of hibernating in his apartment all day long, but something was holding him back. Something had anchored itself onto the back of his mind and was casting a shadow over his will to live. He tried to tell himself that it was just the opening stages of depression; a mental roadblock that he could overcome with a little counseling and some good old fashioned willpower. But he knew it was more than that. He could feel the tendons of some supernatural force latch onto his subconscious and rend his mind in two.

He could feel Vanessa watching him.

"Are you sure you’re ok?" Michael asked. His voice broke the silence like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Benjamin didn’t know what to say, so he simply stood up and headed for the exit. Michael tried to stop him, but it was too late. The glass double doors swung shut.

***

Darkness pooled onto the empty streets when Benjamin arrived home that night. Streetlights cast a brazen yellow glow across the sidewalk, and reflected off his apartment windows like a thousand lost souls searching for purpose. But he barely even noticed them. He was too busy thinking about the mysterious messages that plagued his computer.

Was Michael right, and were the emails just the result of a cruel prank? Or was there some darker explanation behind the phenomenon? Could Vanessa’s soul be calling out from the grave?

Benjamin wanted to learn the truth once and for all. So when he reached the decrepit old apartment complex, nothing could divert his attention. Not even hell itself.

Or could it?

The window shades were drawn when Benjamin stumbled into room 622. Dirty clothes were scattered over the floor and a box of half-eaten cheese pizza lay overturned on the couch. That was Michael’s handiwork. He thought the entire world was his garbage disposal. But for some reason the mess didn’t bother him. Not tonight anyway.

Benjamin dodged a pile of sweaty socks and snatched his computer from the kitchen counter. The monitor resonated with an ethereal green light. And then an instant message appeared as if by magic. It was plain and straightforward just like all the other messages, and stated simply: HELLO BEN. DID YOU MISS ME?

Benjamin ran his cursor over the reply box and began typing a message. He didn’t know exactly how to respond, so he wrote: YES.

A second passed, and then another message appeared onscreen. This time it read: GOOD, BECAUSE I MISSED YOU TOO.

Benjamin felt his mouth go dry. He did not expect such a straightforward answer. In fact, he did not expect an answer at all. No hacker would go this far to fulfill his twisted manifesto. Would he?

BEN: WHO ARE YOU?

VANESSA: YOU KNOW WHO I AM.

BEN: THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

VANESSA: WHY?

BEN: BECAUSE YOU’RE DEAD.

VANESSA: DEATH IS JUST THE BEGINNING OF ANOTHER LIFE.

BEN: BUT WHY?

BEN: WHY ARE YOU CONTACTING ME?

VANESSA: BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

BEN: THE DEAD CANNOT LOVE.

VANESSA: EVEN DEATH CANNOT SEPARATE THE BONDS OF TRUE LOVE.

Benjamin stopped typing. He could hardly believe the words that appeared before his eyes. He felt like Alice must have felt when she fell into the rabbit hole: nervous, afraid, cold, and alone. But mostly afraid; afraid of something he did not understand.

VANESSA: DO YOU LOVE ME?

BEN: YES.

VANESSA: THEN COME WITH ME.

BEN: HOW?

VANESSA: JUST RELAX.

Suddenly a tangle of black threads burst from the computer screen. They wrapped around his wrists and coiled over his face. He tried to break free from their slimy grasp, but he found himself unable. All his strength was gone. The wriggling tentacles squeezed every last breath from his body, and sucked him into the computer screen. The only thing that remained was a battered sneaker and a black scorch mark where his body once sat.

***

The police never found Benjamin’s remains. After two weeks of searching, they declared the case dead and classified him as just another missing person. About the same time, Michael Fuller began to receive strange messages on his computer.