“You’re not leaving the room are you?” Tim asked like a child to a parent.
Robert smiled reassuringly. “No, I’ll be right outside this enclosure, monitoring the equipment. You won’t be able to see me, but you can knock on the window if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Tim said as Robert closed the door. He smiled again at Tim through the window and moved to the side and out of sight. Tim felt as though the walls of the small, sound-proof booth were closing in on him.
He jumped slightly as a triple set of tones pulsed from the right side of the snug-fitting earpiece. He nearly forgot to push the red button on top of the wand he held. His thumb traced the button nervously. His response time improved when the next set of pulses sounded.
He relaxed slightly. Maybe this test would show that his hearing had somehow changed. He desperately wanted to believe he wasn’t crazy, but his hold on sanity was slipping. If there was some explanation for…
“He knows you did it.”
Oh God, not again. The voice was coming from the headset! He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. He wouldn’t listen to them – he refused to.
“He’s calling the police right now.”
Tim’s eyes slammed back open. What if the voice was right? If Robert called the police, what would happen? Would they search the house and find Becky’s fat body rotting in the crawlspace beneath the house? His fingerprints were on the radio. Maybe he was guilty. People had committed crimes before without remembering any of it – he’d read about that kind of stuff.
“The police told him to lock you in until they arrive.”
“No!” Tim screamed and slammed his head against the glass of the door. “Get out of my head! I’m not listening to you!” He threw the headphones to the floor. He could still hear the voice coming from the headset.
“He knows you killed her. You’re a murderer!” The accusatory voice remained low and whispering. “You can’t escape!”
Tim slammed the enclosure door open. Robert stood there with a frightened look on his face. Tim laughed at him. The man couldn’t know fear until he’d heard inanimate objects speak. Fear was committing a crime you couldn’t remember. Fear was voices that wouldn’t stop until his guilt was revealed. It was a talk show only he could hear.
“Did you call the police?” Tim screamed.
“The police? No Tim, why would I do that? I did call the paramedics though. We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No one is taking me anywhere! Now get out of my way!” Tim shoved Robert who was trying to block his escape. Laughing hysterically, Tim ran toward the exit.
Robert ran after him. “Tim, stop! It’s not safe to drive in your condition. Please listen to me!”
Tim wasn’t listening to anyone, not Robert, not the voices – no one. He ran to his car and within moments the Cutlass was burning rubber as he sped away. Racing down the highway, he looked in the rear view mirror. Robert was following in the Corvette and gaining quickly.
No one was going to get him; he’d determined that already. “I was asleep when I did it, see,” Tim said to the empty seat beside him. “No one can hold me responsible for that!”
Tim approached a four-way intersection. The light just turned yellow but if he could slip through, he might be able to leave Robert in the dust. If he couldn’t outrun the silver Corvette, maybe he could outfox the driver.
“I’m not as crazy as he thinks!” Tim giggled to the empty seat beside him.
“It’s time for you to die, Scum.”
Tim looked forward in shock. Now the steering wheel was joining in. He imagined a demonic face superimposed in the center. In stark terror he released the steering wheel, afraid it might bite off his hands to avenge Becky’s death. He screamed at it in lunatic anger.
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