The Visible Filth by Nathan Ballingrud Read Free Book Online Page A

you awake?”
    He got no answer.
    He stepped up to the door and peered in.
    She was sitting in her chair, elbows on the desk, leaning in close to the screen. Her right hand was on the mouse, still as a held breath. Something was moving on the screen.
    “Carrie. Are you okay?”
    “Huh?” She looked at him, blinking at the adjustment. “Oh. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were home. What time is it?”
    “It’s past five, honey.” He looked at the screen. She was watching a video of a black tunnel. The walls glistened with moisture. The camera moved through it slowly and smoothly, as if it were gliding along a track.
    “Oh man. Really? I lost track of time.” She rubbed her eyes.
    “What’s that? Are you researching something?”
    She switched off the screen. “No. That’s something else.” She arose from her chair and draped her arms around his shoulder. “Are you just getting home?”
    “Yeah. I stayed after the shift. Played a few games of pool. Just hung out.”
    “Good. I like you to have fun.” She kissed him sleepily. “Let’s go to bed.”
    “Did you send me a picture a few minutes ago? Did you try to call me?”
    She frowned, put her forehead on his shoulder. “No. Maybe? I don’t think so. I can’t really remember. I feel foggy.”
    “Are you drunk?”
    “I’m just really tired, Will. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” She headed in that direction, attempting to drag him along behind her.
    “I’ll be right there, okay?”
    She continued on by herself, walking like someone drugged, sagging from her own bones.
    He checked the apartment thoroughly. In closets, under the bed, in the pantry. The place was empty. After double-checking the lock on the front door, he followed her to bed. He stared at the ceiling until the rising sun painted it with light, Carrie still snoring beside him. Only then did he manage to close his eyes and lose himself from the world.
     
     
    T HEY BOTH SLEPT into the early afternoon. They awoke groggy and irritable. A heavy weight swung in Will’s skull, moving at a slight lag to the rest of him. He moved ponderously into the bathroom, where he took a scorching shower. He felt unaccountably filthy, as though he’d been steeped in sewage. The soap and hot water did nothing to change it. He considered, briefly, that he was feeling guilt about his encounter with Alicia, but in fact the only thing he felt about that was a horror at her rejection.
    In the living room, Carrie was sitting on the couch, staring at the window, her hands folded together on her lap. The blinds were still drawn, and the day was a pale white blur beyond them. She noticed him come in, and gave him a wan smile. He had a hard time returning it, but he did.
    “What do you think it is?” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    She opened her hands, and the yellow phone was there. “The pictures. The video.” Her face looked wrong. Maybe she was sick.
    “I don’t know.”
    “I thought you were going to give this to Derek.”
    He shrugged. He resented the question; it felt invasive. “I didn’t want to.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. Just – don’t worry about it. I will tonight.”
    She didn’t respond. Instead she activated the phone and opened the picture album.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I’m looking at them,” she said simply.
    He joined her on the couch and leaned into her, looking as well. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said. She scrolled to the pictures of the severed head, pausing on the first one.
    “I Googled that guy’s name last night. Garrett? Checked if there were any references on nola.com to someone with that name who went missing or was hurt. I didn’t find anything.”
    “We don’t know that anything happened to him,” Will said.
    She ignored this bit of absurdity. “Then I Googled other words.”
    He felt queasy. “Like what?”
    “I don’t remember. A bunch of stuff. Voices on the phone, trading images of violence, death cults, that sort of