Never Fear

13

Walter Smith was an interesting man. He didn't seem like the person to teach English. He had been told this numerous times. Walter was a tall man, tall and muscular, not really the appearance of a university English tutor. Julie, his wife, walked through to the study and wrapped her arms around his neck as he sat working. "How's it going?" She questioned simply, Walter shook his head. Julie simply took this as a sign of: "Progress is slow."

A knock on the door parted the married couple. Julie walked casually out of the study and out of sight. Heaving a tired sigh, Walter picked up his pen and drummed it against the desk. Hearing a scream from downstairs he shot up and charged down the hall and down the stairs. Seeing the front door open, Walter walked over and looked out at the porch.

No one was about, turning and shutting the door he walked into the living room. Julie sat huddled in the corner with her arms around herself. "Julie," Walter whispered and crouched in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Half a pound of tuppenny rice. Half a pound of treacle. That's the way the money goes. Pop! Goes the weasel." Walter turned and looked towards the owner of a voice.

"Who are you?" Walter questioned and then let out a startled noise when Julie started screaming.

"Dad, what's wrong?" A tired voice piped up from the doorway. Walter looked from the suited man in the chair, to his daughter.

"Go back to bed sweetie, I'm trying to wake mum up from a nightmare."

"You're not meant to wake people up who are having nightmares." The man said, Walter shot him a glare. "Could do more harm than good."

"Who's there with you?" The young child questioned.

"Lizzie, go back to bed." Walter urged, he didn't want his daughter walking in coming face to face with whoever that was.

"They fly...they're all around me! Why do they swarm to me?" Julie's voice escalated and she waved her arms around.

Standing up Walter yanked the man from the chair, his hand fisted around his collar and he shook him several times. "Whatever you've done, reverse it."

"I can't. I don't have an antidote. If I did would I give it to you, Walter? No, I wouldn't."

Walter's eyes widened, "That voice," reaching up with his spare hand he pulled the sacking mask off. "Crane, you sick bastard! You come here and-"

"Shh," Walter's words were cut short when Jonathan had moved his arms from behind his back. One hand held onto Walter's neck whereas the other caused a sharp pinching feeling to flood his body. When Jonathan moved his hand away, Walter's eyes widened at the sight of the needles.

"What-"

"What do you fear, Walter? Is it your beloved wife, who you've known since childhood slowly going crazy in the corner?" Jonathan glanced at Julie and shrugged while Walter faltered back and collapsed on the sofa. Jonathan sat next to him and waved a hand in front of his spaced out eyes. "Your daughter perhaps being the only sane person in the house, alone, with me."

"No." Walter hissed and made a lunge at him. Jonathan laughed lightly and easily moved away from him.

"I've got no interest in children. But I could find some people who are." His words just caused Walter to flip out, the muscular man ran towards Jonathan but instead of grabbing the lanky suited man, he instead charged right into the wall. "Hm," Jonathan hummed. This new drug seemed to make people run, or hit inanimate objects. About five minutes ago Julie had rendered herself unconscious from hitting her head against the wall. What a failed experiment this was. Hearing small footsteps, Jonathan looked down at the small girl, she in turn looked up at the sack faced man. Jonathan had briskly put his mask back on.

"Where's mum and dad?"

"They're sleeping. You should be sleeping too, isn't it a little late for you to be up?" Jonathan scolded and watched the girl sigh and walk back up the stairs. Raising an eyebrow Jonathan walked through the house and left through the back door. This was a whole lot easier than he thought.

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Nellie Tyler was more eventful than Walter. Nellie screamed, scratched and clawed her way around her room in a ditch effort to get away. Jonathan leaned back against the wall and observed her. "Get off, get off!" Nellie screeched at the top of her lungs and clawed more at her skin.

Shrugging and growing bored, Jonathan turned and left her apartment. Walking idly down the corridor he managed to leave the building effortlessly without getting stopped by any passing inhabitants. That was two people down, the people left on Jonathan's list were Harold Miller, Lester Armstrong and Matthew Price. Harold Miller was obviously going to be left till last. The nearest person to where Nellie lived was Lester.

Lester, much like Nellie, lived alone. Which was a blessing really. Walter had to be awkward and have a wife and child, although Jonathan left the child well alone. It just meant that he didn't need to use so much toxin on one person, thankfully. Sighing and managing to sneak up to the house where Lester lived, Jonathan frowned. Lester's house reminded him too much of his grandmother's. Rummaging in his coat pockets Jonathan pulled out a small spherical object.

Knocking on the door and listening to the footsteps approaching, Jonathan pushed the small items through the letter box. Soon coughing and spluttering could be heard, taking two steps back Jonathan aimed a well needed kick to the lock and the door swung open. "Hello, Lester." Jonathan stepped forward just as the grandfather clock struck ten. Lester screamed and looked at it. Sighing and smiling, Jonathan lightly stepped forward and shut the door. "Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one. The mouse ran down. Hickory, dickory, dock." Lester shook his head and actually pushed the clock over and took to stomping on the pieces. Jonathan frowned when Lester picked up a sharp piece of the glass cabinet and pointed it at him. "Put it down, Lester," Jonathan sighed, Lester's arm shook and he seemed to be debating with himself on what to actually do. Jonathan took several steps back and exited the building when Lester stuck the shard into his chest.

Matthew Price didn't go down in such a bloody manner, no, instead he leaped out of his tenth story apartment and fell to his death. Jonathan leaned against the railing and pushed away, soon leaving the apartment he joined the growing crowd below who were examining the bent and broken body of Matthew. The only person left to visit was Harold Miller.

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(Edited: 30/Sep/2019)