The Waiting by Hunter Shea Read Free Book Online

couldn’t keep herself from stealing glances down the hallway, into Cassandra’s room.  
     
     
    Brian’s stomach woke him up in the middle of the night. He’d barely eaten dinner, hadn’t been eating much at all lately, but he was tied up in knots like he had spent the night downing White Castle belly bombers. Clutching his stomach, he pulled himself up from the air mattress by gripping the end of Cassandra’s bed. He gave the infusion pump a quick check before walking with halting steps into the bathroom.  
    The house was still, in direct contrast to Brian’s mind. The incident with the boy, now several days in the rearview mirror, had him questioning his sanity. Better to let it go, chalk it up to stress, he’d been telling himself.  
    There was a sharp click, followed by amber light that crept within the gap between the bottom of the door and the frame.  
    Brian was just finishing up. Guess I made more noise than I thought.  
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. Alice had been doing so much, caring for both him and Cass, that she had to be just as stressed as he was. She needed her sleep, not him bumbling around.  
    There was no reply.  
    Alice had her own bathroom upstairs, so she was most likely in the kitchen grabbing a drink or a small bite to eat. The thought of eating made Brian nauseous. But he could use a glass of water.  
    He opened the door and flinched.  
    The boy was back in the hallway, staring at the bedroom.
    An icy, numbing sensation spread from Brian’s core to his extremities.  
    No. He can’t be there!  
    Brian blinked hard and gripped the doorknob. If he reached out, he could touch the boy’s shoulder. That’s all he needed to do to confirm that he wasn’t losing his mind; that the boy was physically in the house.  
    All it required was a simple moment of brief contact.  
    But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. A terror as rich and real as his boyhood fear of prowlers breaking into the house at night kept him rooted to the spot. He wanted to speak, to say anything to get the boy’s attention. His vocal chords were frozen, locked into shocked silence.  
    The boy never once looked his way, never wavered from his concentration on the bedroom seven feet away. Brian could hear the soft whirr of the life support machine, could even hear Cassandra’s light exhalations.  
    Do something!
    It was the boy who moved first. Without a sound, he proceeded down the hall and into the bedroom. Brian watched him stop at Cassandra’s bedside. He tilted his head to be closer to her face.  
    The boy’s lips moved but even in the silence, Brian couldn’t hear a single vowel, much less a word.  
    What is he saying to her?
    The boy straightened, his eyes never leaving Cassandra.  
    A soft, small voice began to sing, but the boy’s lips never moved.  
    Oh hush thee my baby,
    Thy sire was a knight.
    Thy mother a lady,  
    Both lovely and bright.  
    The woods and the glens from
    The towers which we see,  
    They are all belonging,  
    Dear baby to thee.
    The melodious, disembodied voice made Brian’s heart palpitate. If flowed from somewhere in his bedroom. The boy swayed like tall grass in a soft breeze as the lullaby was sung.  
    The voice grew softer and softer until it hushed out of existence.  
    His paralysis broke. Brian’s feet touched the cold wood of the hallway floor and he walked toward the bedroom, weaving like a sailor on leave. His vision spun, then pulled into long, wavy lines like taffy. He watched the boy whisper to his wife.  
    One step from the bedroom, the boy’s head snapped to face him. It only lasted a moment, and Brian saw nothing in his eyes but an emptiness as vast and unknowable as the depths of Europa’s mysterious seas.  
    Brian cringed when the boy straightened and ran past him. Brian pulled back, colliding with the wall, his fear of coming in contact with this…this…phantom overriding any natural impulses to grab this pint-sized