Ingheist

By William Kenney

Intended for Mature Audiences. Violence, language and sexual situations.

A fatal accident befalls police officer Simon Heath while in pursuit of suspected criminals. A woman and her two children are killed and Simon is injured. After lawsuits and months of rehabilitation, he finds himself with his back against a wall. Now shunned by the police force and former friends, Simon is running out of options when a job opportunity suddenly falls into his lap.
Ingheist, a university located in mysterious Fallow's Down - a veritable magnet for the weird - calls him in for an interview and odd things begin to immediately transpire. Dark splotches of mold begin to appear in his home, spreading like mad and nearly impossible to remove, the odor barely tolerable.
The rules are different within the campus police force, each cop not quite normal. What unholy purpose does Ingheist have for him? Pulled into a web of evil and losing his sanity, will Simon realize too late that he must run and run far?

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Kenney
• Release date: Feb 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311810731

William Kenney

William Kenney is an American writer of fantasy fiction. He writes mainly dark epic fantasy and has also written in the horror genre. Kenney began writing while in high school, trying his hand at novels in the science fiction and fantasy genre. After reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien, he began to focus on epic fantasy. In the year 2000 Kenney wrote A Dream of Storms, the first book of the In the Shadow of the Black Sun trilogy. This book was eventually published in July of 2011, with its sequel Shards of S'Darin being released a year later. 2014 saw the release of the final book in the trilogy called Mournenhile.William Kenney has also written 2 books in his Tales of Embremere series aimed at younger readers. Book one is entitled Embremere, with Return to Embremere being its sequel.Kenney has also published a horror novella called Undergrowth as an homage to H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe, a horror novel called Ingheist and Die Dead Enough, a story of the zombie apocalypse.With co-author Stefain, William has created Maidenjade, a dark fantasy anthology series featuring thieves and assassins in a desperate city. Two books have been released so far.William Kenney is also an accomplished artist, having painted the covers to his own books as well as many by independent authors. He currently lives in the St. Louis area, is married and has two children.Twitter- @WilliamJKenneyBlog- AuthorWilliamKenney.blogspot.comWriters Circle- SkulldustCircle.blogspot.comVisit the Facebook page for A Dream of Storms at http://www.facebook.com/ADreamofStorms

Book preview

INGHEIST

THE WEIRD OF FALLOW'S DOWN

by

William Kenney

Copyright 2014

William Kenney

Published by William Kenney at Smashwords

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CHAPTER ONE

Wahooooo....Werewolves of London. Wahooooo....

Simon reached out a hand, searching for the clock radio, finding Norris' nose instead. The golden Labrador lapped at his fingers, excited that he was now awake. Finally hitting the snooze bar, he put an end to Warren Zevon's singing and sat up in bed. A sharp, searing pain shot through his knee and up his leg.

Damn... he mumbled groggily. Doctor says it's perfect. Shouldn't feel a thing...

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed Norris' head roughly.

It's perfect, alright. Perfectly fucked.

He stood up and pulled on some jogging pants, straightening his hair a bit as he walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was quite small, considering the size of the apartment and often received remarks of condescension from Dani, his girlfriend of two years. It didn’t bother him much, he didn’t have much use for the room other than storing food and the occasional beer. She, on the other hand, could cook. We’re not talking macaroni and cheese here, either. She had a passion for it and often threw around odd culinary words as she explained a recipe. He always nodded with a smile, even though he didn’t understand a thing about preparing a dish.

He grabbed a clean cup out of the dishwasher and filled it with water and a green tea bag, then slid it into the microwave, pressing ‘one’. Norris nudged the back of his leg and whined.

All right, all right. Guess the tea can wait. Let’s go.

Together, they walked to the front door, one far more awake than the other. Simon grabbed the leash from where it hung and snapped it onto the metal ring on Norris’ collar. He swung the door open and jumped back with a start. Ben Raymonds stood there in just a white t-shirt and colorful boxers, broad grin on his face.

Jesus! What the hell are you doing? Simon asked with a start. And where are your pants, you idiot?

Ben, all two hundred and forty pounds of him, took two steps back, hands in the air.

Dude... I was just about to knock when you opened the door. he said in his typically deep voice. You wanna hang out today? Maybe play some Halo or something? Just two jobless guys killing alien scum?

I dunno, man. Got the interview this morning, meeting Dani for lunch. I’ll let you know. Simon answered, feeling the pull of the leash as Norris fidgeted.

How’s the knee? You seem to be getting around all right. Much better than when you came home from the hospital.

Still hurts like hell. I don’t know if it’ll ever be one hundred percent again. said Simon, unconsciously glancing down at his leg.

Bullshit. Bruce Lee came back from a completely fucked-up back. Doctors said he would never practice Kung Fu again. Guess what? He did it! You should know that, Mr. Martial Arts. Fuckin’ Chinese masters ganged up on him and shit…

That’s not what happened… Simon said, shaking his head. He was deadlifting and damaged a nerve.

Whatever. answered Ben. Anyway, the wife wants me to go downtown and fill out an application at the grocery store. Can you believe that? I don’t think I want to go from making eighteen dollars an hour to eight. Damned economy. Maybe I’ll just live on unemployment.

You know, since she had the baby, she spends more time at her sister’s place than here. Then, when she comes home, I get to hear about all the girlie stuff they talked about all day. Breast pumps, mood swings, how men are all bastards.

Simon laughed as he began to walk away.

Whatever you do, don’t piss Manda off. I can hear her screaming at you from my place, ya know?

No promises! I'll see ya later, ok? Ben shouted as Simon left the building. Don't forget! I wanna shred some aliens!

It was only five in the morning and already as hot as Hell. The humidity is what always got him, making his breathing feel forced. If he thought about it, it made it worse, so he tried to concentrate on other things, like the interview. He made his way down the mostly deserted sidewalk, waiting for Norris to do his business, holding a crumpled plastic grocery bag in the other hand. A few minutes later and Norris was obviously a much emptier dog, the warm bag evidence of his recent deposit. No one else had ventured outside yet this morning and only the occasional car drove by. In just a few hours, Simon knew his street would be jam-packed with vehicles, the one thing he hated about this location.

Norris suddenly stopped, staring anxiously ahead of them along the sidewalk.

Wha-? Simon began then followed the dog's gaze.

A short, Asian man, perhaps forty-five years of age, stood there in their path, wearing a black business suit, hands clasped in front of him.

Simon had no idea why Norris had come to a complete halt. Something about the man had stopped the dog cold.

You are favoring one leg, the man said with a tilt of the head. His blue-black hair shone with a slick sheen in the morning sun. Trouble with your hip, perhaps - no - the knee, yes?

Excuse me? Uh... do I know you? Simon asked, knowing the answer.

No, no. Of course not. You would remember me, I think, the man said. Please, forgive me. I am a doctor, Dr. Chen to be exact. I noticed your injury. I simply wished to offer my professional help.

Just like that? Approaching random strangers on the street to drum up business? Simon asked.

Dr. Chen laughed, his eyes disappearing in a squint as he did so.

I assure you, I have all the business I can handle, my friend, he said. I am on my way to visit a patient. Am I mistaken?

Huh? asked Simon.

About the knee.

Oh. No, you are not mistaken. Car accident. Mangled it pretty bad, Simon explained as Norris relaxed and sat staring at the doctor, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

But... the drugs and physical therapy are not doing the trick... said the doctor.

You got that right.

Listen, you should stop by my office in Chinatown. It's on Olive Boulevard-

I don't know. I-

You believe that Chinese medicine is bullshit, Dr. Chen said, except you could not hear the letter L in the word, reducing it to booshit.

No, that's not-

How old is your culture, sir? asked the doctor, still smiling. Five hundred years? Little more, little less? Do not dismiss the product of thousands of years of research and practice. I have cured many of the same affliction, sir. They give you drugs for pain and inflammation, correct?

You got it.

But the knee has not improved,

Still hurts like hell, Simon said. He was starting to like this guy, but he could not explain just why. The man seemed trustworthy.

Here is my business card, Mr...

Heath. Simon Heath.

Mr. Heath, Dr. Chen said as he handed him the card with a slight bow. I do not like to see people in pain. It is my nature. That is why I became a doctor long ago. I watched my mother suffer for many years. I was just a boy, but I made a promise.

I'm sorry about your mother, Simon replied.

Come by my office today. Anytime. I will prepare something for you and have it ready when you arrive. You know the Seafood Supermarket?

Simon nodded.

My office is next door.

All right, said Simon as the doctor began to walk away.

And bring your dog as well. I sell treats that he would love in my store. Chinese and home-made, not the processed garbage sold here.

OK.

The doctor patted Norris on the back as he went by, then waved.

Do not forget, Mr. Simon Heath. I can help you, I promise, but you have to accept it, he said and walked off down the sidewalk.

Simon studied the business card, simple yet elegant with flowing Chinese characters across it in red. Dr. Lucas Chen, M.D. Acupressure, acupuncture and massage. Eastern medicine.

Well, that was interesting, wasn't it? he said as Norris rose to his feet.

Back up the concrete steps he went, unlocking the door while trying to hold on to Norris’ bag of goodness and finally maneuvering both of them inside. He quickly walked down the hall to the rear entrance of the building and leaning outside, tossed the bag into the large trash dumpster that sat a few steps away.

As he re-entered his apartment, letting Norris free once more, a strange feeling came over him. He felt as if he were being watched and glanced behind him at the door. He verified that the doorknob and deadbolt were both in place and crossed the living room. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed him. A man stood in a window of the building across the street. Just stood, as straight as an embalmed corpse and stared in his direction. He was an old man, balding, with wispy strands of white hair hanging about his large ears and filthy beard that fell to his chest. Even from this distance, Simon could see that his eyes were vacant, like a blind man’s eyes.

What the Hell…? he whispered to himself and reached for the blinds. As he dropped them down to cover the window, the man's mouth opened wide and then bit down hard. The man went back to standing perfectly still, eyes locked dead-ahead. Simon ducked inside and then peeked through the blinds once more. Yep, the man was still standing there, unmoving.

Freak.

His interview was at seven and he still needed to stop somewhere for breakfast. No, of course he wouldn’t prepare something himself. Too lazy.

The cup of tea in the microwave was still fairly warm and he drank it quickly as he walked to the bathroom. Placing the empty cup on the sink, he removed his clothes and leaned in to start the water. He pulled his hand back with a start as his eyes caught the random patches of dark green mildew that had seemingly grown overnight, spreading from the corner of the tub and up the wall.

Damn. Where did that come from? he said with a grimace, leaning forward for a closer look. Man, that crap grows overnight. It’s gonna have to wait ‘til later. Too many things going on this morning.

He had no trouble on Highway 70 that morning, the traffic rather light for a Monday and after taking an exit to run through the McDonald’s drive-thru, he found himself crossing the bridge and quickly approaching Fallow's Down, the town in which rested the university to which he had been summoned. He didn’t want to show up too early, thought he would look desperate, so he pulled off onto a side street and parked in the Walgreens lot.

Across the street, he saw an elderly man slowly making his way down the sidewalk. His movements looked painful, his body extremely stooped with a very pronounced hump at his shoulders. He could barely see where he was going, having to crane his neck at a harsh angle to raise his eyes to a satisfactory position. The man’s skin was unbelievably pale as if he had never seen the sun in all his years. Simon imagined him as a character from some old horror film and then felt bad about doing so. Such an existence must be trying on one’s soul.

His cellphone rang suddenly, causing him to jump in his seat. Checking the screen, he saw that it was Dani and pressed the ‘accept call’ button.

Hi, Honey. he said as he put the phone to his ear.

Hey. So, I guess you’re on the way to your interview?

Yeah. Got here too early, so I’m waiting in a parking lot until it’s time. How are you, this morning? he asked, eyes still following the old man’s torturous path as he shuffled past the store fronts, his legs the only things moving on his body.

Fine. Things are going to be busy today and Amy’s already getting on my nerves, but I should still be able to make our lunch date. Shickman's, right?

Yep. Sounds good. Hey, you should see the shower. I don’t know what the Hell happened, but I’ve got a serious case of mildew going on in there. Yesterday, nothing. This morning, it’s like pod people are growing on the wall. he said, referring to one of their favorite old movies.

He wanted to remind her of the substantial sum of money that her family had, money that she had access to. Dani did not need to work, but for some reason that Simon could not understand, she enjoyed it. How did he land such a catch? He had no idea.

She sighed. I told you to clean the bathroom at least once a week. That stuff wouldn’t happen if you would listen to your girlfriend.

"I do clean it!"

Uh huh, right…anyway, I love you and good luck. You already know what I think about that job, but if you think it’s something you want to do…

I know, I know. We’ll talk about it at lunch.

Ok. I’m gonna get to work. I’ll see you at noon.

Ok, Honey. Bye.

Bye, bye.

He parked the car in front of the campus police building at the university. As he stepped out, straightening his shirt and tie, he noticed the extreme difference in temperature. It was quite cool here, no humidity at all, it seemed. Strange. He flipped open the folder that he had brought, checked to make sure his paperwork was in order, cover letter and resume. Dani had helped him format it properly and get the wording right. He was never really good at that stuff. He hated it, as a matter of fact. It always felt like lying to him and the personality exams that they sometimes gave you were a joke.

‘Have you ever stolen anything?’ Oh, no, of course not. Baseball cards and comic books when I was five, Tommy Larsen’s bike when I was ten and countless condoms when I got into girls. None of those things count, do they?

He laughed to himself as he took the few steps up to the door. Do these places actually believe that everyone they hire is a straight-laced, upstanding citizen? Give me a break.

Most of the guys that he used to work with were worse than the criminals they were protecting the populace from.

He could see through the windows a neatly dressed woman at a desk and two men in uniform standing there in conversation. He pulled open one of the double doors and stepped inside, turning their heads in his direction.

Mr. Heath? asked one of the men, a sergeant by the look of his uniform. He took a few steps toward Simon and met him with an extended hand. The other officer shadowed the Sergeant in an odd way, hanging at his shoulder, giving Simon a cold stare.

Simon gave the Sergeant's hand a strong shake.

Simon Heath, sir. Nice to meet you.

And you as well. I'm Sergeant Buecker and this is officer Hammer, uh Hamann. Hammer's a nickname we all call him by. Welcome to Ingheist.

Both men seemed to tower over Simon, standing well over six feet tall. Hamann had the bulky and barrel-chested appearance of a dedicated bodybuilder, his shirt stretched to its limits. Buecker was balding and going grey, Hamann had a jet-black crew-cut and sunken blue eyes.

Hamann reached out and shook Simon's hand as well, his grip intended to display his dominance.

Damn that fucker is strong.

Heath, Hamann said, his voice like rattling gravel.

Officer Hamann, Simon replied.

Call me Hammer, the officer said, rolling his head on his neck, stretching. I hate the formality of this shit. Let's get on with it.

You're early. High marks so far, said Buecker. The others are inside, but I wanted to speak with you a bit before I threw you to the wolves.

All right, said Simon.

I believe in second chances, Mr. Heath. A man can find redemption, no matter the sin. Do you agree?

Weird.

Of course, Simon replied.

Buecker held up a thin stack of papers, staring down at them with a frown.

If I place my finger on this paper - your resume - thusly... and cover up this single entry... you are the perfect cop. Unfortunately you've got this permanent black eye here. That's why you can't go back to the street, he said.

Buecker looked up at Simon, chewing his lip.

What are you going to do if you don't get this job? he asked, rubbing his chin with his fingertips.

Uh... Simon started. I'll keep looking for work, sir. Not much choice, really.

As a cop?

If possible, yes-

It's not though, is it? the Sergeant interrupted. I mean - not to be rude, but - who's gonna hire you?

Simon swallowed nervously and ground his teeth.

Let's say you can't find work as a cop. What line of work would you look into? You look fairly strong. Security? Bouncer? Bit of a step down, though...

He trailed off into silence, tapping his fingers against the back of the papers.

This is the easy part, Buecker said with a smile. You know that.

I know, Simon said.

Heard you fucked up your knee, said Hammer, glancing down at Simon's legs. Among other things. You got clearance for duty, right? You plan on calling in sick cuz it hurts?

What the hell?

No, of course not. It's all good, said Simon, his temperature rising, nerves pulling tighter and tighter.

All right, Hammer, said the Sergeant, slapping Simon on the shoulder. He's our resident hard-ass, you understand? Let's get the real interview underway, shall we?

Yes, sir, agreed Simon, feeling Hammer's eyes staring holes into the back of his head as he strode past.

He was led through a set of double doors and into a room that smelled of must, reminding Simon of his shower back home. Against one wall, were two eight-foot tables, behind which sat three other individuals, those that would be throwing the hard questions at him. There was a Lieutenant present, the white shirt and gold bar giving him away.

The others were a man in plain clothes that Simon assumed was an undercover detective and a Hispanic woman, looking to be in her thirties, her dark hair piled on top of her head, stray strands hanging in her face. She gave Simon a pleasant smile as he entered the room, her large eyes rising at the corners as she did so.

Mr, Heath, please take a seat, the Lieutenant said, motioning to the lone, metal chair placed before the tables. I'm Lieutenant Huber. This is officer Avila and next to her is Detective McCord.

Huber was thin, deathly thin. He looked to be in his fifties, his hair gone nearly white, his face carved with deep wrinkles from eyes to chin. He reminded Simon of a stick insect and imagined the man was just as frail. At some point in time the man's lips had vanished, leaving a ruler-straight line