WICKED TALES

FOUR

I love my job working at the medical center in Chicago, but the one thing I didn't like was riding the train to get to work. It wasn't so much the train ride it was mostly the smell and the fear of being robbed, raped, or whatever else that could go wrong. An attractive woman like myself I knew that any of those things could happen, that's why I always carry my trusty pepper spray everywhere I go. Working at the hospital was okay, I mean I wasn't a doctor nor was I any type of nurse. I was a janitor, cleaning up after people, but it opened up doors to get to know the patients who hardly ever had any family come to visit them or were just waiting to perish away from some type of illness. It was sometimes sad and depressing but it also felt good to know that I was there to console them and to make them laugh.

It was a rainy Wednesday morning and I was debating if I should just call a taxi for work or to stick with my usual routine. I decided to ride the train because paying for a taxi to the hospital wasn't in my budget. The train had its normal musty and moldy smell, the type of smell that could make you gag or want to puke. I was sure the regular riders were immune to the pungent smell that it no longer fazed them. I tried to sit where I normally sit but the seats were occupied, hell the train seemed to be congested with people so I chose to stand until a seat was available. Luckily I didn't have to wait for long because at the next stop half of the train departed. I sat down, put in my headphones, and let some classic rock zone me out. I was so lost in the music that I didn't realize a guy wearing a black raincoat had sat next to me.

The water from his raincoat lightly splashed me which was probably the only reason I was jolted back into reality. He seemed to be in his reality since he made no effort to apologize forget me damp, he just sat there with a medium-sized box resting on his lap. He seemed weird but shit everyone I encountered on the train was weird to me, and they probably thought the same about me, so I ignored him. It takes about twenty minutes to get to work on the train which would probably be an additional twenty minutes if I had taken a taxi. My stop was getting close, maybe four more stops before mine, I had glanced over at the guy next to me and seen that he was asleep and the box he was holding was now sitting on the seat next to him. I probably would've done the same once the train was clearing out and I felt safe to take a quick cat nap.

Closer to my stop the weirdo stood before the train could stop at the Broadway stop. I figured he was prepping himself to get off at this stop and I was right. The train stopped, the doors opened and the guy rushed off the train but he left the box. I yanked my headphones off and called out to the unknown man but he kept shuffling through the people boarding the train. I sat next to the box, deciding I would turn it into the transit police at my stop but something caught my attention. Elizabeth Snider was written in bold print on top of the box. It could've been a coincidence but I found it weird that my name was on this stranger's box. I slowly picked up the box and tried to see if there were any other inscriptions on it but there were none. There was some type of black liquid forming in a corner of the box though. I placed it back on the seat because I didn't want to get the substance on my uniform and now I was conflicted rather I wanted to take a peep inside or not. Hell, I wasn't sure if I wanted to turn the damned thing into authorities.

My stop was next and I had to decide rather keep it and look at it at the end of my shift or to give it up, and I only had a few minutes to decide. My interest got the best of me so I decided to just keep it, work my shift, and take it home. Work was very depressing because a patient that I had gotten very close to had passed away in her sleep. Sue was a loving sixty-nine-year-old who had stage four cancer but you wouldn't tell from looking at her, she was a fighter and I was very distraught to hear that she died. Eight hours had flown by and I was relieved that it was time to punch out and head home. I usually take the train back home but holding the box and wondering why my name was on it, I decided to pay the extra money and take a taxi.

Back home, showered and changed into my pajamas, I decided I was going to look inside the box. Before I could open it I saw that the black liquid was now soaking the bottom of the box and now I wasn't too sure I wanted to open it. With my name on top of it, I just had to see what the hell was inside, so I grabbed a knife out of the kitchen and went to work to open the package. After a couple of minutes of carefully cutting away the tape on top of the box, I took a deep breath and opened the box slowly. What was inside rocked my world? A severed head was laying face down inside. I backed away shaking, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing and goosebumps were swarming all over my body. That strange man was carrying a fucking severed head around in a box.

I ran to the toilet and began to vomit up my lunch and whatever else that settled inside. I splashed water on my face and tried to gain my composure. I couldn't believe a head was inside the box and worse of all I couldn't believe I was carrying the fucking thing around with me all damn day. Who the hell did this and now that I had it, did this make me an accomplice. I was on edge and I just had to get rid of it, then it dawned on me, why the fuck was my name on the box. I mustered up some courage, found some gloves in my bathroom cabinet, and decided to investigate further. I had to know why the package was addressed to me so I went to the head. Standing over the box I saw that the head's hair was gray, the back of its neck had a pentagram tattoo and the ears had earrings with the same symbols as the tattoo. I felt unnerved.

Finally, I gently grabbed the head and rotated it so that the face was looking straight at me. Just like I had done when I opened it I stepped back in awe and realized who the head belonged to. It was Sue from the hospital, Sue who had just passed away the night before. What the fuck, I said to myself, what the fuck, I repeated. And then the head spoke, sending a shock wave of fear and confusion racing throughout my body. I couldn't believe I was looking at the elderly woman I had gotten so close to over the past four months. I couldn't believe that someone would do this to such and loving and caring woman. Who could have done this, why did they do this and who was that mysterious man who had left it on the train. I had to do something so I decided to call the police but before I could reach my phone to call them the heads eyes opened. I stared at Sue without a word and waited to see if my mind was playing tricks on me. Then she spoke, Hello Liz, don't be frightened. I know what this looks like but I will now always be here with you, Sue told me. I did not know what the hell to say so I sat on my sofa staring at Sue as she just smiled at me.

Now I know you are wondering what did I do with Sue's head. Did I call the police, did I bury her or burn her or did I get rid of her as the stranger did? Well, it has been about a year now, I am still a janitor at the hospital, I still ride the train there and back, and as for Sue, we are closer than ever. Yes, she is living with me at my place and we are currently trying to come up with a plan to get her a body.