Syndrome Read online

  Syndrome

  How do you find someone who everyone claims doesn’t exist?

  J. Sharpe

  www.jsharpefiction.com

  Copyright © 2020 by J. Sharpe

  Syndrome

  Translation: Joke Michielsen en Lisa Rijnhoud

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility or liability whatsoever on behalf of the consumer or reader of this material. Any perceived slight of any individual or organization is purely unintentional.

  First, a small gift

  I want to thank you personally for downloading this book. You love to read, otherwise, you wouldn’t have bought this book. So let me give you an exclusive free story.

  Click here to watch the video.

  In this story the main character reincarnates into a flower and finds herself in some strange situations.

  To get access simply click here or go to my website www.jsharpefiction.com.

  Eden

  Will you survive a new plague?

  I presume you like suspense novels. So please allow me to tell you about one of my others novels. Eden is a post- apocalyptic suspense novel. If you like to read the first chapters for free, click here. The complete book is out on Amazon, so feel free to check that out.

  Writing a novel is fun, but it also can be a hard and daunting task. Especially to make sure a lot of readers will find it and read it.

  My dream is to be a full-time writer. I’ve traditional published 13 books so far in The Netherlands but still have a day job. Now the time is right to publish my books in other languages to, like this one, and chase my dreams furthermore.

  And you can help me with that.

  If you like this book, then please leave an honest review afterward. I love to read what you think.

  For now: enjoy this rollercoaster.

  J. Sharpe

  Prologue

  The mattress squeaks as I turn. The pillow sticks to my face and smells of sweat. The covers are just as dirty and yellowed.

  It doesn't matter.

  Nothing matters anymore.

  I know every inch of this room. Every streak and discoloration, every name and number that has been carved into the wall. The ventilation grid, the door, the chair, the bed, the table; it will all haunt me in my dreams until the day I die.

  How long have they been keeping me here? Days, weeks, months? I honestly have no idea. The meaninglessness of the hours is an endless flow. And then there are the seizures… Whenever I have one, I am out cold for days.

  Footsteps in the distance… but they're getting closer, just like the voices.

  I sit up, wrap my arms around my knees like a child and press my back against the wall. Instantly the cold creeps through my clothes and I start to shiver.

  I hold my breath.

  The footsteps become louder. The men are getting closer.

  Keep walking… for goodness sake, keep walking.

  They stop in front of my door. Keys rattle.

  The door opens with a squeak.

  Three men appear one by one.

  My heart stops. I press my back even closer to the wall. 'Please, no!'

  The men grin at each other. They approach.

  I scream.

  Chapter 1

  Shadows, all the parents, teachers and children are reduced to mere shadows. The rain makes sure of that. The water splatters against the windshield. Umbrellas in all shapes and colors make it surreal.

  I barely notice I have been staring at my phone for the past ten minutes, scrolling past dozens of pictures of my mother. She looks cheerful. Her smile is warm and sincere. Those two things were always a part of her character. Not a problem in the world could bring her down. 'You can always find a solution, as long as you look for it,' she would sometimes say to me. I believed that.

  That belief is gone now, just like my mother's smile.

  The musical notes coming from the radio valiantly try to overpower the clatter of the rain. The wistful voice of the singer gives me a lump in my throat. I’m wiping a tear from my cheek as the phone in my hand begins to vibrate. I recognize the number immediately. I take a deep breath to steady myself and pick up. Before I can say a word, the man on the other end of the line starts to babble so loudly I have to take the phone away from my ear.

  'Listen, kiddo,' my employer says. 'Esmee is well again, so you don't have to fill in for her. Although the customers will miss that sweet face of yours tonight.'

  The lump in my throat persists. I swallow a couple of times and cough. I wonder if Louis notices, but I doubt it. If there is anyone who lives in his own little universe, it is Louis Enrico. 'Sure,' I respond. 'Instead of putting up with my ugly visage, they get to stare at Esmee's boobs all night long. I feel sorry for them already.'

  On the other side of the line, Louis roars so loudly it hurts my ears. I keep the phone a bit further away from my ear. The laughing turns into coughing.

  'Cigarettes are so nice, aren't they?' I respond.

  'Shove it, waster.' Another cough. 'Besides, things have improved lately, haven't they?'

  'Improved?'

  'For God's sake, Peter. What do you think I'm talking about?'

  'Honestly, I have no idea.' I say.

  'The seizures.'

  'I…'

  'Never mind.’ Louis responds. ‘I'll see you tomorrow.'

  'Don't worry. My bartender skills will fill you with joy.'

  'Hmpphh, the only skills you have are written on your résumé.'

  I laugh. 'If that’s true, why don't you fire me?'

  'Because there's nobody else I can talk to like this without getting punched in the face.'

  'Perhaps because I know that somewhere deep down you have the heart of an innocent little girl.'

  'Bite me, Deferme.'

  After Louis hangs up, I shake my head and put the phone in my pocket.

  The passenger door opens and my sister hops in. A gust of cold wind and a couple of raindrops accompany her. She shakes her head as she slams the door shut. She throws her schoolbag on the back seat. 'What are you doing here?'

  'Nice to see you too,' I say.

  Aisha wipes the raindrops from her jacket and crosses her arms. 'Dad would pick me up.'

  He is far too loaded to even get up and you know it damn well, little sis.

  Aisha puts on her seatbelt.

  I start the engine and steer the car towards the road. 'He was too busy.'

  I can see her disappointment from the corner of my eye. 'He promised! I finally got him to take me shopping. I really need some new T-shirts.'

  We approach an intersection. The raindrops on the windshield distort the lights of the houses and lamp posts on the side of the road. It makes me feel gloomy.

  'You're kidding, right?'

  'What?' Aisha bristles at me. 'The fact that I need some new T-shirts or dad promising me to go shopping?'

  'Both.'

  I can't imagine my dad managed to speak coherently, let alone make a promise. Ever since the accident he only sits aimlessly behind his computer with a six-pack within reach. His editors expect him to hand in his new novel within two months, but he hasn't written a single chapter.

  'Well, it's true.' Shaking her head Aisha turns to look out the window. My little sister is ten years my junior, but she is quite mature for an eleven year old. She has tons of friends and she can babble for hours. Her being quiet at the moment, is telling
. It makes me realize what this excursion with dear old dad truly meant to her. It's not about the clothes; it's about the man himself. It is a brave attempt to get her father – not the man he is nowadays, but the person he was a year ago – back to reality.

  The lump in my throat returns. I change gears, place a hand on her arm and squeeze slightly. 'I could come along with you?'

  Her words confirm my suspicion. 'No, never mind.'

  I don't let her rebuff me that easily. 'Of course, I could. It will be fun, won't it?'

  She shrugs her shoulders and stares through the window avoiding my gaze.

  Playfully I nudge her with my elbow. 'Come on. Have you seen how I look these days? You may need some new shirts, but I need a whole new wardrobe.'

  A smile. Mission accomplished. 'That's one thing for sure.'

  'You can help me. Girls have a far better fashion sense than guys.'

  'It's time for you to get a girlfriend.'

  I grin. 'As if I have the time.'

  Aisha glances at the clock. 'But don't you have to go to work any moment?'

  For a moment I consider telling her the truth, but I decide that lying will make me sound cooler. 'I'll just call in sick.'

  'To go shopping?'

  I steer the Fiat to the other side of town. 'To go shopping with you.'

  We've still got a few blocks to go and reach the mall when Aisha sees the red pick-up truck. 'Peter, we're being followed.'

  I glance in the rearview mirror, take a look at the car and roll my eyes. 'Seriously?'

  'You think I'm joking?'

  'More like you're playing some game again.'

  Thousands of raindrops clatter unharmoniously on the windshield. The wipers work overtime and do their best to try and hypnotize me. Rainclouds have stripped all colors from the surrounding landscape and turn it all grey.

  Aisha continues, 'He was parked at the end of the street at the school.' She unbuckles her seatbelt, turns around in her seat to sit on her knees and presses her stomach against the backrest. Then she places her cheek against the head restraint and stares through the back window. 'He's been behind us ever since.' She speaks calmly, almost amused.

  'Put your seatbelt back on.' Irritated, I grab her shoulder and push her back down.

  Without removing her gaze from the window, she smacks away my hand. 'Perhaps he's a cop.'

  'Have you been up to something, then?

  'No, but you might.'

  'Not that I'm aware of.'

  'Or maybe something you don't want to admit.'

  'Just sit down or I'll tell dad you've been a pain in the ass.'

  She looks at me defiantly. 'No, you won't.'

  'Watch me.'

  But we both know that I won't do it in the end. Not that he'd care in the least.

  Aisha points. 'Look, there he is again. He's coming around the curve. Why would he be following us?'

  'Perhaps he thinks you have a lot of cash on you.'

  'Don't be stupid.'

  'Whoa, don't be stupid.'

  She ignores me and says, 'You don't think it's…'

  'What?'

  'A bad man?'

  'If so then I think he'd try to push us off the road, don't you agree?'

  'Perhaps he's about to. He's getting closer.'

  'Stop it, Aisha. We're not being followed. That car is just going in the same direction as we are, that's it.'

  She doesn't listen to me. She's still looking through the back window obsessively. She stays quiet for a minute or two, which has to be a new record. Then her voice changes remarkably. 'Peet…'

  'What?'

  'That man…'

  Once again I look through the rearview mirror, but instead of the driver I only see a blurry shadow. The rain clattering against the back window makes it impossible to see any contours, let alone a face.

  'I know him.'

  I sigh. 'You can't even see him.'

  'Yes, I can. Look, he just winked at me!' Her voice is trembling. 'Get us out of here.'

  'Christ, what has gotten into you?'

  'Just hit the gas!'

  'Calm down, will you.'

  'You don't get it.'

  'Quit playing games, Aisha.'

  'It's him, Peet.'

  'Who?'

  'The man from my nightmares!'

  'That's enough. Or I'll take you straight home. I'm not in the mood for this nonsense.'

  'It's not nonsense. It's him. Just look!'

  I shoot a quick glance at the pick-up truck. 'I can't see shit in this weather, Aisha. Which means you can't see anything either.'

  'But…'

  'No.' I make her turn harshly so she's back in her seat looking straight forward. But I only notice at the last second that I turned the wheel at the same time. The suspension jolts when the tires hit the curb. 'Damn it.' I can barely prevent us from tearing through the fence of one of the front yards. I yank the wheel and steer the vehicle back towards the road. 'Look what you've made me do.'

  I expect her to react sharply but my little sister has turned pale while looking in the side mirror.

  I start to doubt. She's not that good an actress, my little sister.

  Christ. She's trembling. Does she truly believe any of this?

  I whisper. 'Hey, you're letting your fantasy get the best of you. You do know that nightmares can't come to life?

  She looks at me furiously. Tears gleam in the corner of her eyes. 'This isn't just a nightmare. I've been dreaming about him for about two years now.'

  'Aisha, nobody is chasing us.'

  She just looks at me with fear in her eyes.

  I sigh. 'Fine, I'll prove it.'

  Instead of turning right which will take us to the mall in under five minutes, I turn left. We pass by several stores, houses and office buildings. There aren't many people walking around due to the bad weather. The few exceptions are battling against the rain. Their chosen weapon, the umbrella, is blown in every direction by the strong wind.

  We approach an intersection. The traffic light has been green for a while and chances are that it'll turn orange any time now. I grasp the steering wheel and hit the gas. The engine roars and it overpowers the noise of the rain. If we manage to reach the traffic light before it turns to red, I calculate, then the pick-up truck will have to stop. In that case, we get him off our tail quickly and we can resume our original route.

  I focus on the traffic light. The pick-up truck is about 100 yards behind us. With just 10 yards to the intersection the light is still green.

  The pick-up truck doesn't slow down. Not two seconds later the light turns orange.

  It doesn’t matter. Without slamming down on the brakes you can't stop safely anymore. Hit it, Peet.

  The traffic light turns red.

  We fly across the intersection. I quickly glance left and right and check the other traffic. A small bump in the road makes the tires bounce on the asphalt. When we touch the ground again the suspension squeaks loudly.

  The intersection is the end of the city center. The local road ahead of us leads to the woods. Dozens of trees and bushes sway wildly in the wind.

  'Peter, he's not stopping!'

  I glance back through the rearview mirror. Astonished I see Aisha is right. Despite the fact the pick-up truck is about to fail to stop at the red traffic light and the traffic on the other lanes is already starting to move, the vehicle isn't slowing down.

  'Christ, they're going to collide!' I yell.

  'Can't they see him?' Aisha clasps a hand around her mouth.

  Scared I might drive us to death, I hastily pull over to the side of the road. Since I don't take my gaze off the rearview mirror it's a miracle we don’t hit anything. Almost automatically, I turn around quickly. The wiper constantly renews the view, like a slide, so I only see fragments of how the pick-up truck hurtles across the intersection. The driver doesn't seem aware he's about to get hit. If the large truck that's approaching from the left won't crash into him, then the car from the
right certainly will. It's inevitable.

  I hold my breath and brace myself for the crash…

  …that doesn't occur.

  'What?' Aisha's voice fades away.

  My jaw drops.

  No, I'm not seeing it right The view is distorted because of the rain.

  The truck and the car pass each other by across the intersection, cutting the pick-up truck in half. They don't even notice. It's as if the pick-up truck is made of air.

  Can't they see him? They don't even honk their horns.

  'Peter, hit the gas!'

  It takes a while before I notice Aisha pulling my shirt. My limbs refuse to move. I'm too astonished.

  The pick-up truck is closing in.

  That license plate.

  Three smileys grin at me.

  Your imagination is getting the better of you, son. Don't let your sister's fantasy get a hold on you. That pick-up truck is just going to pass you by and that's it.

  But instead the car slows down until he comes to a stop right next to us in the middle of the road, his tires squealing. The engine sputters and it sounds way too heavy for the vehicle it powers, more like a large truck. A cutting sound rivals with it, like the timing belt is in desperate need of replacement. There are other sounds as well, like an off-tune children's melody which reminds me of an ice-cream truck and…

  Voices?

  My ears prick up. As if the driver holds the god of weather by his balls, the rain stops. The wind picks up and with it come gloomy whispers. A shiver goes down my spine. The wind rocks the Fiat hard back and forth.

  I hold my breath. My heart pounds in my throat.

  Aisha screams.

  The sides of the pick-up truck are covered with rust stains. The side windows are blinded. I shouldn't be able to see the driver. But I can!

  Impossible!

  The man is extremely pale and his white hair is turned into dreadlocks. He shows a toothless grin like an octogenarian. His eyes are nothing more than black holes, like a bottomless pit holding me prisoner. He lifts his hand and waves. His mouth goes up and down, but more like a goldfish’s than like he’s trying to make words. Yet we can understand him perfectly. Better yet, it sounds as if he's sitting next to us in the car. 'Can I wish you a bloody good afternoon, you weirdos?'