Through the crack of the closet door Dan McMillan watched the shadowy figures grip each other in ecstasy. He listened to the familiar cries of his wife frantically begging for more and that she needed it harder and harder. The bed screeched furiously as if it were in pain and the headboard pounded against the wall like a crazy juggernaut that wanted to break free. Then twilight clawed its way inside the bedroom, finally obscuring the lovers from view but the sex in the air remained. It was harsh and bitter.
        The paralyzing effect disappeared nights ago when he first stumbled upon the secret relationship between his wife and the mysterious man. Now only vengeance toiled in his mind. Sweet and satisfying vengeance. The word was carved in his brain by a long, sharp hunters knife. He wanted to taste his wife’s blood on his lips, and run his fingers through her chopped flesh and relish in the moment of satisfaction.
        Ah, this thought made him aroused and he almost laughed out loud when he found he had an erection. Dim moon light stabbed across his face as he continued to watch in anguish. Within moments it was all over, and Dan heard them panting as they laid beside each other. Probably savoring the moment, Dan sneered to himself. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill them now but that wasn’t his plan. Revenge must take on a role of its own. He’ll pretend to be ignorant of their love affair for a few more days and when the time was right, sex will have two less partners to fuck with.
        Gradually Dan relaxed against the wall and waited for them to leave as they always did. He had no idea where they went, but the urge to follow them was strong. He would find out where mysterious man lived, and when they least expected it he’ll blow them away into the cold, frosty night. It was like an obbsesion, watching his wife with another man. So as long as they didn’t catch him spying on them. Now that would be a predicament for both him and his wife, and especially for the rotten son of a bitch who’s been digging her out for the last three weeks.
        The Smith’n Wesson laid hidden next to him. Dan brought his fingers to it, gently brushing the barrel. Then for the first time he heard the mysterious man talk. He didn’t get all of what he had said, only that they had to go back to his place and meditate. He’ll be damned if the man hadn’t sounded like Howard Stern. But by the noise he made when he passed through the halls Dan figured he must have been an athlete or a professional body builder. Hell, he damn near may have been a giant.
        A half hour passed before his wife and the mysterious man got dressed and headed for the door. Dan heard it slam shut, and the dead bolt lock securely into place. Finally they were gone. He climbed out of the closet and shut the door behind him. He turned on the light and sifted through the tangled blankets, searching for anything that might reveal who the mysterious man was. Unfortunately like all the other times he had searched he found nothing, until he picked up one of the pillows.
        "Hello, what’s this?" Dan mumbled in the putrid air.
        He inspected the disgusting mess. It looked like green puke with bits of white chunks. And what was that strange smell? Immediately Dan spun around and scurried to the master bath, holding his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. By the time he reached the doorway vomit had already spurted from between his fingers. As he got to the toilet he let go of everything and watched his early dinner plummet into the basin. When he was done he washed up and decided to take a late stroll around the neighborhood.
        These long walks increased when Dan had ultimately stumbled upon his wife’s affaire d’amour. He used this empty cavity of time to think about his marriage and where it was headed. Then somehow the plight of revenge dug its way into his mind, burrowing a home in his after thoughts. At first he refused to even acknowledge this alien notion, but as the days continued and the number of affairs accumilated murder didn’t seem such a bad idea after all.
        When Dan came back home he saw the lights on in the kitchen. He stood by the front steps, thinking what he was going to say to her, and wondering what she was going to say to him. Without giving the matter any further thought he walked to the front door, opened it, and quietly shut it behind him. He heard his wife in the kitchen. She was probably getting a late night snack. ‘You bet she gotta late night snack!’ said the voice in his head.
        Dan tried to sneak past her when she spotted him from the corner of her eye. "Dan? Is that you?"
        "Oh, hi Liz. I was just going up stairs," Dan uttered, trying to act cool.
        "Well geez, where were you Hon? I thought you’d be home by now."
        "No, I uh, decided to look up an old friend," he lied and continued, "I ran into him the other day and just thought I should stop by and see what he was up to."
        "Really? How come you’ve never mentioned this friend before?" Liz asked, sounding a bit doubtful.
        Dan shrugged and said, "Don’t know. I guess it wasn’t very important at the time."
        Liz turned her back as if she were shunning him and said, "Well, why don’t you go on to bed and I’ll meet you in a couple minutes."
        Dan hesitated, looked at Liz for a moment longer, then proceeded to go up the stairs. Just as soon as he got to the bedroom he turned on the light and noticed the bed was made. He crept up to it, expecting to find some residue left on the pillow case, but it was clean as if it had just been washed and dried. Dan pulled the blanket down and inspected the bedding. Clean as a whistle. He slipped between the sheets, feeling strange that over four hours ago he had watched his wife and some macho Don Juan freak make wild monkey love in the same bed. He shuddered the thought away then laid his head down on the pillow. After all, he’s been able to force himself to sleep in the same bed with his wife ever since he discovered the secret affair. What’s going to stop him from sleeping with her tonight?
        That horrible green stuff. What was that, puke?
        No, it was worse than puke. More like undigested guts.
        Was it something else? Something vile, something evil?
        Dan rolled over on his back and saw Liz standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a buttoned up shirt. Even in the dark he could see her long brown hair flow down her shoulders, and the curves of her hips lead to her soft, milky thighs, and down her long legs that seemed to go on forever. Dan rolled over and tried not to think about her. He no longer wanted to be attracted to her, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her now. Desperately he swallowed the thought back into his head.
        "Roll over Dan, you’re hogging up the bed," Liz murmured.
        Dan moved over and faced the other way.
        "Rough day at the office?"
        "You can say that," he said without opening his eyes.
        "My day was pretty hectic too, you know with all of that bumper to bumper traffic."
        Yea bitch, I’ve seen your bumper to bumper traffic, he thought furiously.
        "Good night Hon," Liz whispered to him with her sweet, innocent tone that made Dan want to rip her head off.
        "Sweet dreams," he muttered back and didn’t fall asleep until two hours later.

        Liz already left for work when Dan woke up the next day. He checked the digital alarm clock and saw it was eight o’clock then plopped back down and closed his eyes in disbelief, knowing he was going to be late for work. Reluctantly he rolled over on his side to step out when he felt something slick and oily against his body. With a peculiar feeling growing inside him, Dan jumped out of the bed and saw that he had been lying in that same green slime he had come across last night.
        "What the hell!" He cried to himself as he raised his hands above his head, examining his chest, stomach, and legs.
        Without a second thought Dan rushed to the shower and jumped inside. The green stuff clung on his skin like ripe moss rooted to a tree. He tried using soap but that didn’t help matters. It just spread further up his neck and on his face. He had the feeling that he was being pricked by a million hungry needles. Now he was desperate. Dan hopped out of the shower, with the water still running, and opened the cupboard underneath the bathroom sink. There it was. He grabbed the Comet and poured it on his body as if he were topping himself in green cheese. Then he grabbed a towel and began scrubbing. At first he saw some improvement but that was just wishful thinking. The green stuff was still there and growing rapidly. His panic esculated into fright as he reached for random bottles lined up on the counter top. He then squirted himself, desperately hoping at least one of them would do the job. Minutes later he was covered in hand lotion, balancing moisturizer, Tinactin athletes foot fungi killer, and nail polish remover. None of them were working until he splashed on the rubbing alcohol. The green slime recoiled and began to shrink. Dan laughed in triumph and dumped the rest of the bottle all over himself. When the bottle was gone he grabbed the cologne and dumped it on his face and neck. The slime shrunk faster and faster, shrieking as it did so, and disappeared into oblivion.
        Done with the bottle, he jumped back into the shower and washed himself thoroughly. Twenty minutes he turned the water off, dried himselff, then checked his body in the mirror for any sign that the green stuff might return. He even checked his scalp the best he could. When he was finally satisfied he picked up the phone and called in sick from work.
        After stepping out form his apartment in central Manhattan, Dan waved for a taxi, and hoped one wouldn’t come so quickly. But instead two arrived in front of him and Dan picked the one in front. The other cabby hollered some obscenities to the other driver then skidded off.
        "Low and Doeries on Third," Dan uttered as he made himself as comfortable as the cab could allow him.
        "That’s that new big lawyer firm, isn’t it?" asked the cabby in a Brooklyn accent.
        "Yeah it is," Dan said, trying to avoid a conversation.
        The cab pulled out and turned on Q.
        "Lovely day today. You can actually see the blue in the sky." The cabby looked at Dan through his review mirror and said sarcastically, "Strange, huh?"
        Dan glanced at him and said, "And the air is clean too."
        The cabby wheezed with laughter, then out of nowhere he slammed his hand on the horn and hollered, "Get ya fuckin’ ass outta my lane ya damn clown!"
        A ‘fuck you!’ came from the car in front of them.
        "Fuck this!" Dan’s cabby yelled back as he raised his middle finger.
        The cabby turned right on second and proceeded south toward R. Here the streets were jam packed with grueling traffic. The cabby let out a heavy sigh and mentioned that they were going to be here for a while.
        "That’s no problem. I’m not really in much of a hurry," Dan said.
        "Hey that’s okay. It’s your meter," replied the cabby.
        Dan pulled out his wallet and took out a letter he wrote for his wife when he first discovered the affair. He had just come home from work and decided to take a light nap. Walking up stairs to his bedroom, he plopped on his bed, still wearing his gray overcoat. The overcoat was a present his wife bought him on his first day of work five years ago. Dan was the chief editor of a small publishing firm. She wanted him to think of her whenever he wore it. That night when he came home, his wife had on a similar overcoat, except hers was black. He found her lying in front of the fireplace. She rose and opened the over coat, revealing her luscious body, then quickly closed it. It was opened long enough for Dan to see her full breasts. He liked it when she teased him. Liz had always been great at it.
        He had been lying on the bed for nearly ten minutes when he heard his wife come home, laughing. No not laughing, giggling. The way she used to giggle when they were dating. Dan opened his eyes, listening further. They were coming up the stairs, down the hall, and behind the door. Dan froze. The door swung open and as the light switch flicked up, Dan threw himself to the floor on the other side of the bed. His head crashed down upon the night stand and he stifled his scream.
        He heard them kissing. Wet smacks of the tongue and lips pressed together. Carefully he crawled his way under the bed and remained there all through the bumpy night. Liz had three orgasms before the secret man was finished, and as they went back into the night, like they always did, Dan cried himself to sleep. When he awoke the next morning he found his wife in the bed.
        He watched her for a half an hour, staring at her eloquent face as she dreamt peaceful dreams. Then he wrapped his massive hand around her skinny little neck and began squeezing ever so tightly. Her face turned red, blue, then purple, and her tongue dropped out of her mouth and swelled. When Dan realized she was near death he snapped awake and jerked his hand away as if he had touched a live wire. What in hell had come over him? He couldn’t kill his wife, could he?
        Eyes swelled with tears, Dan retreated from the bedroom and decided to take a long walk; his first of many. It was during these walks he had decided to murder his wife and her bastard lover together. He would kill them when they were doing it and bury their bodies in a dumpster where they belonged. But he had to wait for the right time, the right day. The right night to kill.
        "I think some one’s dead."
        "huh?" Dan uttered.
        The Cabby craned his head around and repeated, "I said there’s an accident. Do you want me to let you off here?"
        Dan thought for a moment and told the cabby he’d rather stay.
        "As I said before, it’s your meter, buddy."
        It took nearly an hour to get to third street and almost two to get to his wife’s job. The five story building was all windows and to Dan it looked like five hundred eyes were staring down on him. His muscles tensed.
        "That’s one hundred and forty even, pal," said the cabby."
        Dan got out of the cab and dug for his wallet. He couldn’t find it. He started patting himself down when he remembered he left it on his lap. Bending down, he found his leather wallet in the gutter next to the letter. He picked it up, ignoring the letter, and took out a wad of bills. Dan counted one fifty and handed it over. The cabby counted it and handed back a five.
        "It’s a pleasure doing business sir."
        "Don’t mention it," Dan said as he slammed the door shut. The yellow Ford, with the word ‘vacant’ glowing on top, drove away with the rest of the cabs that reminded him of a swarm of ticked off yellow jackets. He turned back toward the building, stomach churning, and walked up the series of steps to the door.
        Inside, soft music dripped from the speakers on the ceiling. The walls were peach pastel and so was the desk that the secretary was sitting at. Plants rounded every corner. Their fake leaves wavered in the draft of the airconditioner. On rubbery legs Dan walked toward the secretary. Her bright blue eyes lit up behind her glasses as she saw him.
        "Hello Madeleine. Is my wife here?"
        Madeleine smiled perkily, in fact too perkily and said, "She should be. You can go in if you want."
        "Thanks," he said in a dry voice.
        Her smile widened and her glossy teeth appeared to be too big for her mouth. With her new red hair dew and bright red lips, she looked like she bathed in blood rather than the usual tainted New York water. He smiled back wearily and turned for the hall that led to the elevator.
        He got out on the third floor and walked down the long hall to his wife’s office. The carpeting was a motif of blue and red half circles. The hall led him past several offices before he confronted Liz’s door. He knocked but only dead silence followed. He knocked on the door again and still there was no reply. Finally Dan brought his fist up and was about to pound on it just as Liz peeked her head out. He stopped short of hitting her in the forehead.
        "Dan, hi. W- What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at w-"
        "I called in sick," Dan interrupted. "Let me in."
        "Dan I can’t I-"
        Quickly he grabbed her wrist and pushed the door open all the way until it hit the door stop. The room was silent. Everything was normal. Dan pushed her back, rummaged inside, and checked behind the door, in her closet, and under the desk. Nothing.
        "Dan, what are you doing? What in the hell do you think you’re doing?" Liz cried.
        Dan spun toward her, his face red. He slid his hand across the desk and knocked over piles of paper, books, and her phone. They crashed onto the thin, gray carpet. Liz screamed, her hands over her mouth.
        "Damn you. Damn you, bitch." he said, trying to steady his anger. He grabbed her shoulders and whispered harshly, "What is wrong with you!"
        "Wrong with me?"
        "Damn it, Liz! Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?" Dan exclaimed.
        "That’s it? This is why you came all the way here? To ask me why I didn’t wake you up." Liz retaliated.
        "No. There’s more," and in that moment Dan swore he saw guilt wash over her face. Dan opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then said, "I don’t remember who we are anymore. We never talk unless it’s about work or bills that need to be paid. We used to talk about children and how fun it’ll be. We’re not the same anymore. It’s like some body put a wedge between us and is pulling us apart."
        Liz was crying now. Her cheeks flowing with tears. She wrapped her arms around him and said she was sorry, she would some how make it up to him. For the first time in weeks Dan actually believed her. He hugged her back and told her he loved her. That too was no lie, he still did even though their marriage was coming to an end.
        He pulled back and said, "What about the sex? Remember. Do you remember how beautiful it was?"
        Liz nodded, her eyes wet. Her brown hair, which was tied in a bun, streamed down her cheeks and down her neck. Then she began to change. It was like an invisible force punched her in the stomach. She bent over dramatically, holding onto the corner of the desk. Her veins stood out like grape vines.
        Dan grabbed her and tried to pull her up, but Liz picked him up by his throat and threw him into the wall. Dan climbed out. He was in utter surprise. Then his legs gave way and he crashed to the floor. His wife’s eyes were bulging from their sockets inhuman like.
        Back on his legs, Dan used the doorway to steady himself. He watched his wife suffer in agony and couldn’t get himself to help her. He wanted to but he no longer cared about her the same way as before. Dan stumbled out of the office, down the hall, and into the elevator.
        Three hours later he made it home. Up stairs in his bedroom he found the gun he had hidden in the closet. A Smith‘n Wesson revolver. He put the gun in the waist line of his pants and waited for his wife to come home. Any one else would have expected their wife to leave, but for some reason, beyond any doubt, Dan new she was coming back one last time.
        It was eight o’ clock when the door startled Dan out of his sleep. He was dreaming he had fallen in a pool of snakes and they were eating him alive. As his eyes darted through the closet’s darkness he couldn’t remember what his dream had been about, but he sensed the danger growing in his skin like a fever.
        Heavy footsteps came up the stairs, down the hall and stopped just short of the bedroom door. It was Liz and her secret lover. The guy was saying something to her. His voice was a low rattle. She told him she loved him and would do anything to be with him forever. Dan heard kissing as they fell on the bed together. There was moaning and the bed springs squeaked in rhythm. Eyeing the darkness through the crack of the closet door, Dan pulled out the Smith’n Wesson from his pants and slowly, quietly cocked it. The noise seemed to fill his ears.
        The moaning stopped and so did the bed. From out of the darkness Dan faintly heard his wife gag. It was a similar noise she had made when he was in her office. He’s doing something to her, he thought. The gagging became louder and he could hear the vomit hit the sheets and the floor. The mysterious man comforted her, but the gagging started to get more violent as if it were out of control. Dan could picture Liz’s face turning purple as she clawed at her throat. He smiled a little. Now he was ready to kill the bitch and her secret lover. Ready to end it all.
        The mysterious man stood up from the bed and spoke in a low, diligent voice, "We must hurry and go."
        Liz put on her clothes and within minutes they were down the hall. Dan was curious of where they went every night. He wanted to follow them. He slunk out of the closet and opened up the bedroom door. There he noticed the sheets. They were drenched with slime, only this time it completely covered the bed. The slime reached out to grab him, but Dan backed away in time. The front door slammed shut. Dan hurried down stairs then looked out the window to see if the coast was clear, but they were gone. It was as if they disappeared into thin air. Discouraged, Dan ran out the door and peered down both ends of the street. He saw a few scattered people but no Liz.
        ‘What did they do, fly away?’ he asked himself. Then he put the gun back into his waistline and headed back in the building. White breath whirled before his face in the February night. He trotted up the cement steps, came inside and closed the door behind him. He crossed the family room and entered the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge. Yea, that’s just what he needed. Leaning against the tiled counter, he lifted the can to his mouth then froze. Somebody was in the house with him. They stared at each other. Dan’s eyes filled with terror as he realized it was the mysterious man. Liz’s secret lover.
        The man was six eight, and weighed well over two seventy-five. His body was roped with muscle and tattoos were grilled across his fore arms and his exposed chest. The man’s eyes were like fire and a wild grin stretched across his face. His hair was cut to the scalp and his side burns reached his lower jaw. The man looked to be in his twenties but as he came closer Dan saw the man was well over thirty five. The can hit the linoleum and beer jutted out in swallows.
        Liz’s secret lover grabbed Dan by his collar and smashed his fist into Dan’s nose, turning it to mush. Dan swung wildly as blood gushed all over his face and down his shirt. Then the man slammed his head into the fridge and growled, "Do you like how that feels, huh? Do you like it?"
        Dan moaned in agony, shaking in his grasp.
        "Do you really want to follow us? Do you want to know where we go? Where we hide?"
        Dan heard him, but he couldn’t answer and he didn’t want to lift his sight and look into those psychotic eyes.
        "Well guess what? You’re coming with us!" And again he slammed Dan into the refrigerator. Then he grabbed the half empty beer can and threw it at Dan’s face, chipping his two front teeth. Blood flowed every where as if he were an elaborate fountain you could buy at a nursery surplus store. The man beat Dan to the ground until he was out cold. Then he picked him up, carried him out of the house and disappeared into the night.

© Brian Grisham

Written in the summer of 1997, "Hidden Faces" was origionally titled, "The Demon". It was edited later in 1997 and got the title, "Hidden Faces" from a link that Brian had up in his first website, Kilagan's Coffin. Later when he revamped the Coffin,  he changed the story's name.

Visit Brian's website: http://covenroses.com

October 2000