H. H. Fowler - Wicked Intent: The Hendricks Family - Book 3

Ambrose eased through his front door, quietly resting his bunch of keys on the coffee table. His usual routine was to check in on his ailing mother, make sure her needs were met before he showered and binge-watched one of the recently released TV series on Netflix. However, that was weeks ago; his downtime now bereft of any lasting peace.

In fact, it felt as if he were walking on eggshells not knowing what to expect when he got to his mothers room. She was constantly in attack mode, defiling the name of God with the vilest of foul language. Demetrius prognosis was that his mother was showing signs of demonic possession. Ambrose believed, however, that the cancer in his mothers body had left her mind in a state of delirium. He was not impressed with the supernatural lingo.

The only light in his mothers room emanated from the TV, which had been set to the sci-fi channel. Images of prurient, esoteric looking creatures covered the screen, appearing to be involved in a blood ritual. Ambrose turned his head away in disgust. Hed chastised his mother repeatedly about watching that channel because Ambrose believed it fueled the delirium that she was already experiencing in her mind. But it was the only channel she gravitated to, apart from the Christian networks, which she only watched as a form of entertainment to laugh and mock the evangelical preachers.

The atmosphere reeked of medicated ointment and incense. Signs that the nurse hed hired a few days ago had not too long left the house. Ambrose was worried that his mother would hurt herself, so he took Tegans advice and got someone to check in on his mother while he was at work. The nurse, however, reported that shed never experienced any strange encounters with his mother. His mother was calm and cooperative during the nurses visits. It seemed as if it was only when Ambrose got home that all hell broke loose.

Mum, he called. You awake?

No response.

He moved in for a closer inspection. His mother was lying on her back with her fingers entwined on top of her breasts. That wouldnt have seemed unusual, except that her diaphragm wasnt moving. Ambrose just knew something was wrong. He shook her.

Mum, wake up. MumMum!

Mrs. Feddleton inhaled sharply, promptly followed by an indecipherable sound that rattled out of her mouth. Her eyes flew open in fear. An ethereal sort of fear that could be felt in the way she gripped Ambroses wrist.

Get me some water! she bellowed. The flames are all around me!

Flames? I dont understand

I need water! Waterrrrrrrrrr!

His mothers bloodcurdling scream sent Ambrose scurrying through the bedroom door. In all his twenty-three years on the Earth, hed never seen her so horrified, not to mention the pangs of panic he felt racing through his veins. By the time he returned to the room, her entire body was soaked with sweat. She drank the glass of water in one gulp.

More! she growled. I need more! The flames are so hotmy tongue is parched...

Ambrose felt her forehead. She was hot like an oven. Get a hold of yourself, Mum, he told her. Look around the room. Theres no fire. Theres no flame. It seems as if this cancer has gotten to your brain and made you delusional.

I am not delusional! Theres fire all around me! Look! They are coming up through the floor! I can see them!

Who are you talking about? I dont see anyone.

I dont want to go back thereget me more water!

Ambrose bolted out of the room for the second time, got the water but made a detour to grab his phone from the coffee table. The nurse hed hired should know what to do. But his mothers high-pitched screams caused him to forget the notion as he broke off running back to her room. Literally, the distance from where he had leaped was only about three seconds away. He certainly wasnt prepared for what he saw.

His mother was remarkably calm. No signs of fear. No screaming. No babbling. Nothing remotely indicating shed probably had the worse dream shed ever had in her life if Ambrose could call it that. But it did seem for the moment, whatever had been tormenting her had ceased its assault. She took the second glass of water from him, this time drinking it down, one slow gulp at a time.

Obviously puzzled by her behavior, Ambrose asked, Are you okay?

Of course, Im okay, she said spritely. Dont act as if youve never had bad dreams before.

I thought dreams occur when we are asleep, Ambrose said. But you were wide awake and describing everything you felt and saw. For a minute there I thought youd totally lost your mind.

Without another word, Mrs. Feddleton gave Ambrose a sardonic smile, transforming her into a grotesque shell of her womanly features. She slithered out of the bed like a snake and crab-walked out of the room on her hands and knees.

Fear clung to every inch of Ambroses strapping frame. What the hell did I just witness? Where are you, Tegan, when I need you?