Star force origin series.., p.1
Abject Fear, page 1
Abject Fear
Paul Carro
Tether Falls Press
Copyright © 2023 by Paul Carro
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
ISBN: 978-1-7350701-7-9 (Paperback version)
Cover by Debbie from The Cover Collection: https://www.thecovercollection.com/
For more information information on the author and latest updates, visit: https://paulcarrohorror.com/
This book is horror and deals with phobias, too many to offer triggers for all. If you suffer phobias understand yours may be included in this horror novel. Beyond phobias one characters experiences SA with a non-explicit flashback. Proceed with caution.
If you like what you read, please consider leaving a review. Reviews help authors fins a wider audience. Thank you.
For more information and updates on author Paul Carro, visit paulcarrohorror.com
Contents
1. CHAPTER 1
2. CHAPTER 2
3. CHAPTER 3
4. CHAPTER 4
5. CHAPTER 5
6. CHAPTER 6
7. CHAPTER 7
8. CHAPTER 8
9. CHAPTER 9
10. CHAPTER 10
11. CHAPTER 11
12. CHAPTER 12
13. CHAPTER 13
14. CHAPTER 14
15. CHAPTER 15
16. CHAPTER 16
17. CHAPTER 17
18. CHAPTER 18
19. CHAPTER 19
20. CHAPTER 20
21. CHAPTER 21
22. CHAPTER 22
23. CHAPTER 23
24. CHAPTER 24
25. CHAPTER 25
26. CHAPTER 26
27. CHAPTER 27
28. CHAPTER 28
29. CHAPTER 29
30. CHAPTER 30
31. CHAPTER 31
32. CHAPTER 32
33. CHAPTER 33
34. CHAPTER 34
35. CHAPTER 35
36. CHAPTER 36
37. CHAPTER 37
38. CHAPTER 38
39. CHAPTER 39
40. CHAPTER 40
41. CHAPTER 41
42. CHAPTER 42
43. CHAPTER 43
44. CHAPTER 44
45. CHAPTER 45
About the Author
Also by Paul Carro
Also by Paul & Joseph Carro
CHAPTER 1
Rain pelted the car. Each plop created a concussive boom in the otherwise silent vehicle. Two people sat in the front, quiet as the dead. They stared out into a world obscured by rain pouring down the windshield. Glimmers of neon light broke through the deluge, casting purple hues into the Tesla. The female passenger offered proof of life when she crossed her arms and turned toward the driver.
“This is how it all ends, then? The two of us, here in the rain,” Wendy asked.
Catching a beam of neon, Wendy’s eyes sparkled. The deep blue metallic sheen of her evening dress already made her eyes pop, but the neon pushed them over the top. She understood their strength, kept them focused on her husband, Mitch, the dashing man in the suit and tie.
Mitch, in his thirties, was fit enough to wear the suit off the rack. The pair made a stunning couple, dressed for an exciting night out, except the man appeared miserable. He kept his face turned away from his wife. He knew better. Look into the eyes of that beauty and your decisions are no longer your own, he thought.
“I guess so,” Mitch said. “I can’t believe Enzo had the baby.”
Outside the car, and below the awning of the upscale restaurant, sat a collapsible valet sign. Balloons tied to the sign danced in the storm. A sheet of paper taped over the sign read: Enzo had the baby! It’s a girl! Street parking, sorry.
“Can’t believe as in we need to buy a gift? Do not dare say unbelievable because we need the car parked. Please do not even suggest you’re upset their valet has the night off to be at the hospital?” Wendy asked.
“Honey? I’m a doctor, of course I’m happy for him. And yes, we will get him a present. It’s just of all nights.”
“Allow me to call Enzo’s wife and ask her to suck it up for another few hours so her husband can park our car. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to our precious Tesla.”
That was all Mitch could take. He turned to face his wife. Big mistake. Damn, she was beautiful. “Enzo is not the issue. I don’t mind parking the car. I’m simply asking you to get out here.”
“And I said no. We do everything together, you know that. Rain or shine, rich or poor. This here is the rain part.”
“It will ruin your dress.”
“We have an umbrella. And you made me wear this thing. Really? I don’t care about the dress. Or the shoes. Okay, rather fond of the shoes, but I’m not getting out. Start the car.”
Mitch grimaced and started the vehicle. Its engine remained as silent turned on as it did off, so pelting rain was all the couple heard when they pulled away from the curb.
Wendy grinned in victory. “I’m not that fragile. You think a little rain will kill me?”
“I think you’re stubborn. I just wanted to drop you off at the awning and keep you dry, but sure, I’m the bad guy,” Mitch said with a smile.
Wendy gripped his leg, and he liked that plenty. He found a spot a few blocks away. Traffic was non-existent because Los Angeles drivers feared rain. Anything beyond a sprinkle and locals stayed home. That made it easier for the couple to find the spot, albeit a dark one.
Streetlights were unreliable throughout the city. Several were out along the curb where they pulled up. Mitch parked under the nearest working one, though it flickered like a strobe light. He parked with little effort. The car did most of the work. He killed the engine while his own revved up once he turned back to Wendy.
Her dress was short but not too short, slit at such an angle that one toned leg roamed free while the other peeked out of the material below the knee. He squeezed one of her legs in that certain way. Wendy smiled.
“You start that and we’re never getting out of the car,” she said in a manner that suggested she was open to the idea.
Wendy kissed her husband. Mitch pulled her closer, needed her close. She was everything. He was lucky. Too lucky. He pulled away just enough that their foreheads still touched, allowing them to stare into one another’s eyes.
“If you only knew what I was thinking,” Mitch said.
“I have a good idea.”
She laughed. Life. So full of life. She was his grace in an ungraceful world. And he needed to be rid of her. He pulled his hand away and looked outside. The storm was not kind enough to stop just for them. Rain cared not a whit for romance, Mitch figured. But he needed to get to the trunk without his wife knowing, because that was where he had hidden her gift.
Mitch knew Enzo well enough to enlist him in a conspiracy. Mitch had Jimmy, his personal assistant, call the restaurant to partner with the now MIA valet. Enzo would retrieve the gift from the trunk after parking their car. Enzo would then deliver it to the wait staff who would bring it out when the time was right. But Enzo had the night off—rightly so.
Enzo’s wife must have gone into labor unexpectedly if the restaurant had no time to find someone to fill the shift. Or maybe they tried and failed to find a replacement. L.A. employees were notorious for calling out during rainstorms.
Mitch tried to segue to plan B once he learned of the situation. It should have been easy. Drop Wendy off under the awning to keep her dry before parking the car. (And retrieving her gift.) Most would have jumped at the curbside service, but not Wendy. Mitch and his wife did everything together; it was more than a slogan in their marriage.
He devised a plan C while they sat under the streetlight. Mitch originally placed the gift in the trunk because Wendy randomly touched him so often. When not hugging or acting playful with him, she routinely straightened his clothes. She would have sniffed it out before they got out of their garage. It was the rain in the end that provided the answer. Mitch landed on an idea.
“The umbrella! It’s in the trunk. I’ll be right back.”
Wendy protested when Mitch exited the vehicle and slammed the door. He rushed to the trunk, (his Tesla was not the hatchback version) opened it, then quickly pocketed the box. When he closed the trunk, he yelped. A withered face pressed almost up against his own.
“Spare some change?” the man mumbled.
Mitch stepped back, putting some distance between them. The man wore a hoodie so wet that it molded to his skull. A grizzled beard occupied most of the real estate across the man’s weathered face. Mitch patted his pockets, only to remember the box. Earlier, he hoped his wife would not notice the gift, but now he hoped the stranger in the street would not.
“Sorry. No cash,” Mitch said, upset that he carried none.
With a wave of his arms, Mitch turned away, apologetic and soaking wet. Wendy appeared, umbrella in hand. She raised it higher to accommodate them both.
“What are you doing? You keep the umbrella in the glove box. Now you’re soaking,” she said.
Mitch nodded, knowing all along where they stored the umbrella. At six-foot-three, Mitch towered over Wendy, so he took over umbrella duty. As they stepped away from the car, he beeped the locks. Wendy only noticed the man as they walked away.
“Poor man out in this rain,” she said.
They moved on and checked for oncoming traffic. The couple dodged a pud
“I love you,” Mitch said.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think I don’t say it enough.”
“But you show it, honey, you always do. Truthfully, I’d rather be at home watching movies, having wine, and then having you.” Wendy made certain they were alone before grabbing one of his hands and placing it high on her exposed leg.
Mitch’s breath caught. Her skin excited him. He traced his hand even higher. Wendy breathed in time with him, but as she leaned in closer to hide their indiscretion, Mitch pulled away. Their affection would have led to her noticing the gift box in his breast pocket. She moaned in frustration.
“Sorry. I’m starving,” he said.
Wendy laughed. “While disappointed, I can’t deny I am as well.”
Mitch took the hand of the most beautiful woman he knew and led her into the restaurant. Apparently, all the regular employees were visiting Enzo. Mitch recognized no one on the wait staff and had to inform them where their usual tablet was. The server apologized for the soaking incurred from no valet before the conversation turned to how the birth went. Enzo had a girl.
Wendy and Mitch had dried by the time they finished their meal. Mitch cut the last of his steak into small pieces and offered some to his wife. She declined. He happily finished it. Wendy had half a lobster Cobb salad left on her plate. She flagged down the server and mimed the universal sign for a to go bag.
“A long way from ramen noodles,” Wendy said.
Mitch nodded; mouth too full to speak. He sipped the last of his wine to clear his throat. “Agreed. So happy to be past all that.”
“You never miss it? Us needing to use the hot pot, because they cut off the gas to the stove when we couldn’t pay the bill?” She gripped his hand.
“All that stress? No, thank you.”
“But us at our prime? My wearing your dress shirts, and nothing else?” She rubbed her foot against his legs under the table.
“I’m simply glad we made it through. There were times I didn’t think we would. You kept me going. Am I thankful to have been with you since college? Yes. Am I fond of how tough things used to be? No. Besides, I couldn’t afford things like this back then.”
Mitch pulled out the Willington’s box. The jeweler was famous locally and competed with Tiffany in quality and price. Their boxes were pink versus the competitor’s blue. Wendy lit up as Mitch handed it over.
“I confess, the box alone is more exciting than our old chilly apartment. Do I thank Jimmy or you?”
Mitch flushed red. Jimmy kept all Mitch’s trains running on time, but Mitch had a hand in the purchase. “Jimmy suggested where to shop. I did the rest. With the help of a saleslady.”
“I was kidding. I’m grateful. This is too much.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet.”
She opened the box and her face faltered, almost slipping into a cry before she remembered they were in public. An intimate restaurant, but not private. Wendy’s eyes connected with a lone female diner who could have been her doppelgänger. The two women traded warm smiles, one stranger sharing in the good fortune of another. Wendy turned her attention back to the gift. It was a necklace comprising two gold circles like wedding rings intertwined at the end of an elegant thin chain.
Mitch moved from his chair to help her fasten it. Once hooked, he kissed her neck and retook his seat. She lifted the charm and caressed the pieces.
“If you thought that buying this would make me want to go home and take advantage of you, mission accomplished.”
Her foot found his crotch. He gulped and flagged down the server and mouthed the word check. The server brought it over and Mitch dropped his card. The server also took Wendy’s food to wrap.
Mitch stiffened and tapped his foot. The nervous tic spread to his hands as he tapped the table as well. Wendy frowned and followed her husband’s gaze to where the server closed out the bill. She gripped his hand, steadied it.
“What is it, honey?”
“Silly thing,” Mitch said. “I have the fear.”
“Fear?” Wendy asked.
“Not simple fear. THE fear. I’m afraid the card won’t go through.”
“Seriously?”
“What have we been talking about? Things weren’t always this good. I’ve mentioned my phobia, right? I always feared that if life gets too good, something gets taken away.”
“Honey. Don’t be foolish. Your credit card is fine.”
He nodded, trying to assuage Wendy’s desire to change the subject. “They might decline it; I did just buy you an expensive present.”
“Yes, you did.” She leaned over the table and gave him a quick kiss. Then she looked over to where the server conferred with a manager she did not recognize. “What is taking so long?”
The manager headed their way. A nearby tequila bar wall turned the man purple and green as he passed, carrying the check with a look of great concern on his face. The manager handed over the bill-folder. He stood rigid, but awkward. Mitch and Wendy traded looks.
“Is there a problem?” Mitch asked.
“Yes. It appears your wife is off cake,” the manager said.
“What?” Wendy asked. Then her face turned ashen. She shook her head. “Oh, no.”
Their server and two waitresses approached, carrying Wendy’s leftovers, a tray, and enormous grins. One waitress set Wendy’s takeaway down on the table while the other lifted one of two shots from the tray and placed it in front of Wendy.
“Your husband mentioned your cake aversion but never mentioned a tequila aversion,” the manager said.
“I have a much greater aversion to tequila than cake. What are you talking about?” Wendy raised the shot glass, anyway. “Honey?” She signaled for him to take the other.
Mitch waved her off and signed the check. “Are you kidding? I’m already terrified of driving in the rain after wine. Add tequila? No thanks. Both are yours.”
Wendy downed it, then thrust her arms up in victory. One waitress collected the empty shot glass, while another placed the fresh one in Wendy’s hand. The staff sang Happy Birthday. Mitch joined in, as did the female diner nearby. Other diners clapped along to the familiar birthday song.
Wendy downed the second shot to cheers. The staff filtered away to attend to their other customers while Mitch and Wendy made their way to the exit. Los Angeles rain was often warm, so neither had bothered with coats. Mitch scooped up their umbrella from the tin near the door and they exited.
Once outside, Wendy looped her hands around Mitch’s neck. “Never do that again.”
“Buy you an expensive gift? Done. Will never happen again.”
“No. Make me feel nervous about the credit card. Honey, we are past all that. We made it.”
Mitch nodded, but he did not fully agree. His performance earlier was only partially an act. He distracted his wife with the fear of a credit decline to keep her from noticing the staff prepping birthday shenanigans. But Mitch feared good things going away. That much was true. He found his inability to overcome such anxiety fascinating, if only because he understood the subject so well.
Many people considered fear an irrational emotion. Not Mitch, who had an affinity for the subject. It was one of his major studies in college. Fear was rational in the correct context. Evolution, for example. Fear was crucial for early humans to avoid danger. Fight or flight instincts allowed humanity to survive. Wendy pulled him tight and leaned into his ear. Her presence always made the fear go away.
She was clumsy as she whispered in his ear, likely the tequila kicking in. “Plying me with alcohol? I think someone is trying to get lucky.”
“I am lucky,” he said matter of fact.
Wendy shoved him and nipped his ear, a quick snap followed by a warm breath. “Well, you’re about to get luckier. Let’s go home.”
She pulled away, cradling her leftovers. He pulled her into a huddle, opened the umbrella and they dashed out into the still heavy rain. The flickering light pole served as a beacon guiding them toward the vehicle (which he had just washed two days ago!). Mitch turned on the headlights from a distance when suddenly a shadowy figure appeared, backlit by the high beams.
Because of the rain, it took Mitch time to understand what it was they rushed toward. A shadow should not have stood in front of their vehicle. No one should have been out in the storm. As they neared the car, it sank in. The beggar. He who asked for cash. The man inexplicably remained near their car.
