Remember Why You Fear Me: The Best Dark Fiction of Robert Shearman by Shearman Robert

Author:Shearman, Robert [Shearman, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781927469224
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2012-10-15T05:00:00+00:00

FEATHERWEIGHT

He thought at first that she was dead. And that was terrible, of course—but what shocked him most was how dispassionate that made him feel. There was no anguish, no horror, he should be crying but clearly no tears were fighting to get out—and instead all there was this almost sick fascination. He’d never seen a corpse before. His mother had asked if he’d wanted to see his grandfather, all laid out for the funeral, and he was only twelve, and he really really didn’t—and his father said that was okay, it was probably best Harry remembered Grandad the way he had been, funny and full of life, better not to spoil the memory—and Harry had quickly agreed, yes, that was the reason—but it wasn’t that at all, it was a bloody dead body, and he worried that if he got too close it might wake up and say hello.

And now here there was a corpse, and it was less than three feet away, in the passenger seat behind him. And it was his wife, for God’s sake, someone he knew so well—or, at least, better than anyone else in the world could, he could say that at least. And her head was twisted oddly, he’d never seen her quite at that angle before and she looked like someone he’d never really known at all, he’d never seen her face in a profile where her nose looked quite that enormous. And there was all the blood, of course. He wondered whether the tears were starting to come after all, he could sense a pricking at his eyes, and he thought it’d be such a relief if he could feel grief or shock or hysteria or something . . .

when she swivelled that neck a little towards him, and out from a mouth thick with that blood came “Hello.”

He was so astonished that for a moment he didn’t reply, just goggled at her. She frowned.

“There’s a funny taste in my mouth,” she said.

“The blood,” he suggested.

“What’s that, darling?”

“There’s a lot of blood,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, that would make sense. Oh dear. I don’t feel I’m in any pain, though. Are you in any pain?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I haven’t tried to . . . move much, I . . .” He struggled for words. “I didn’t get round to trying, actually. Actually, I thought you were dead.”

“And I can’t see very well either,” she said.

“Oh,” he said.

She blinked. Then blinked again. “No, won’t go away. It’s all very red.”

“That’ll be the blood,” he said. “Again.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “Of course, the blood.” She thought for a moment. “I’d wipe my eyes, but I can’t seem to move my arms at all. I have still got arms, haven’t I, darling?”

“I think so. I can see the right one, in any case.”

“That’s good. I do wonder, shouldn’t I be a little more scared than this?”

“I was trying to work that out too. Why I wasn’t more scared. Especially when I thought you were dead.

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