Unintended Consequences

An Unexpected Consequence

By R.A. Fries

My father once told me that acting with good intentions does not always have a pleasant result. I confirmed this the hard way when my actions resulted in the deaths of three people I love.

A week ago, my close friend, Michael, lost his mother to pneumonia. He had flown home from Tokyo to see her after she was admitted to the hospital.  Unfortunately, her health declined rapidly, and Michael did not arrive before she passed.  At the funeral home, he told me it was almost impossible to talk to her because of her coughing spells.  He had been a wild teen and wanted to apologize for his bad behavior, as well as express how much he loved her.

A few days after the funeral, Michael called me. “Hey Lisa, I don’t want to impose, but would you consider holding a séance to see if we can contact my mom?”

This may seem an odd request to most people, but as teens we frequently held seances for fun. We were curious about what existed beyond this world and the fact that séances can be creepy increased their appeal. Although we typically failed to communicate with the dead, there were times when we picked up some unusual vibes and noises.

We decided to meet on Saturday night. Michael arrived first. “Thanks for hosting us tonight,” he said hugging me gently. Michael was in his late-30s now, and the splash of gray at his temples was a striking contrast to his dark wavy hair.

“Are Richard, Jack, and Patty coming?” he asked.

“Everyone but Patty, she wasn’t feeling well,” I responded pushing back my auburn hair.

Jack and Richard arrived together a few minutes later. Jack extended his arm for a handshake. “Forget that,” Michael said grabbing his friend in a brotherly hug. Richard received a high-five, as was their custom.

We entered my home, a colonial-blue cape cod, and made our way to the living room. I had recently decorated with pieces from the craft classes I had taken. Crocheted blankets graced the backs of furniture and pieces from pottery class adorned various niches.

After drinks and conversation, we walked into the dining room to begin the séance. I drew the blinds, lit the candles, and turned off the lights. Soothing music was playing quietly in the background. Michael sat next to me, and we all joined hands. When I called the spirits, I felt tingling in my fingers and a whooshing sound filled my ears. That’s the last thing I remember.

When I regained my wits, Jack said, “Are you alright?” His face was pale with drops of sweat running down the sides.

“I feel nauseous and a little dizzy,” I answered. “I could really use a cold glass of water.”

“I’ll get it,” Michael said, slowly rising from his chair. “I could use one myself.”

“I need a cigarette,” Richard added. He removed the pack from his pocket and grabbed an ashtray from a cabinet shelf. His face was rather grey, and I noticed his hand was shaking when he lit the cigarette.

“Are you sure you feel ok?” Michael asked me when he returned to the table.

After taking a sip of the ice-cold water, I said, “I’m alright. Did we reach your mom?”

“No,” Michael responded.

Richard took a long drag on his cigarette. “Do you remember anything at all?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“Let’s move into the living room,” Michael said taking my hand. He steadied me as we walked to the couch and sat down.

Jack took the seat opposite us and began to speak. “After you called to the spirits, you closed your eyes and lowered your head to the table. A few seconds later, you jerked violently, raised your head, and began to speak in a foreign language. It was shocking! You looked at each of us and smiled. It wasn’t your normal smile, it was terrifying. I swear I could see the image of a skull shrouding your face.”

Michael and Richard nodded their heads in agreement.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, beginning to shiver. The nausea returned full force. Michael grabbed my hand and said, “Everything is going to be alright, it’s over now.” I laid my head on his shoulder, and he placed his arm around me.

 “We were all stunned and sat there staring at you,” Jack continued. “The spirit that possessed you asked, ‘why have you called me here?’ It was your voice, yet it wasn’t. It sounded deep and gravelly. It was a man’s voice mixed with yours.”

Richard picked up the story. “I asked, ‘Who are we speaking to?’

The spirit replied with, “I am Vladimir the Third.”

I didn’t know why, but that name sounded strangely familiar. I tried to probe my memory but still couldn’t think straight.

“When the spirit spoke, I felt like I was in the presence of tremendous evil!” Jack said. “I think the temperature in the room fell twenty degrees.”

“And there was an odor,” Richard added. “Something foul, like rotten eggs or rotting flesh. It was all I could do not to gag. I then yelled, “Drop your hands!”

“We tried to obey Richard’s command,” Michael said. “But we couldn’t let go. It was as if our hands were glued in place. A few seconds later, your head lowered to the table and our hands broke free. After that, you were you again.”

Once my friends completed the story, Richard suggested that we burn sage and direct the smoke into every nook and cranny of my home. Once we finished, the air definitely felt lighter.

Richard checked his watch. “Jack, I think we should get going. I have work at 8 am, and you have a late morning flight to the Bahamas.”

Michael turned to me and asked, “Would you like me to spend the night?”

“Yes, please,” I responded. “This whole thing has me rather freaked out.”

The next morning, Michael left after breakfast to meet another friend for camping. He offered to cancel, but I wouldn’t hear of it. The house became a little too quiet until the phone rang. “Hi Lisa, this is Patty. I just received a call from the hospital Emergency Department. Richard was injured at work and the nurse asked me to come in as soon as possible. I’m too upset to drive myself. Would you mind taking me there?”

“Of course not, I’ll be right over.”

We drove to the hospital and were met by Richard’s nurse. She led us to a private room and once seated said, “Mrs. Carter, I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Carter sustained a serious injury at work this morning. A nail from a nail gun ricocheted off wood and penetrated your husband’s head. A neurosurgeon has been called in to see if it is possible to remove the nail. Our Emergency Room doctor is currently stabilizing your husband.”

“Are you saying that the nail is still lodged in Richard’s head?”

“Yes ma’am. Your husband is in a coma,” the nurse responded.

“Oh my God!” Patty covered her mouth and began to cry.

I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. “This can’t be happening,” I thought. “We were just together last night.”  

“It’s going to be alright Patty,” I said as much to comfort myself as her. “The doctors will take good care of Richard. He’ll be alright.” I looked at the nurse for reassurance. There was none.

The neurosurgeon met with us next. “Mrs. Carter, I’ve reviewed your husband’s case, and it appears we have two treatment options. One is to leave the nail in place and hope it doesn’t cause a stroke or an infection.  The second is to remove the nail and hope surgery causes no more damage to the brain.”

“If the nail is left in place, how will it affect my husband?”

“We can’t be sure; however, his memory, movement, and problem-solving skills could be dramatically affected.”

“Are you saying he could be permanently incapacitated?”

“It’s a possibility regardless of how we treat your husband’s injury. I would suggest talking this over with family. Tomorrow, you can tell us which way you want to proceed.”                  

Patty collapsed in tears, she was inconsolable. A couple of hours later, the family began to arrive at the hospital. I took this as my cue to return home. I called Jack and Michael to inform them of Richard’s accident. I reached Jack who was in his hotel room. He considered returning to our hometown immediately. I explained there was nothing we could do and promised to keep him updated. Unfortunately, I didn’t reach Michael. He probably didn’t have cell service where he was camping in the Allegheny mountains.  

The next morning, I received a text from Patty saying that Richard had passed away during the night. He had suffered a massive stroke and the doctors couldn’t save him. Jack and Michael had also texted me; Jack asked about Richard and Michael asked about me. I called them both, but neither answered so I texted asking for a call back. I would wait to tell them about Richard’s death.

That afternoon, my phone rang and I hurried to answer it. I didn’t recognize the man’s voice on the other end, but he certainly sounded authoritative. “Hello, is this Lisa Jamison?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Robert Marelli. I’m the Captain of Ocean Dreams, the ship that your friend, Jack Bolton, was diving from here in the Bahamas. Jack gave me his phone to hold in case you called while he was diving. He asked me to take down your message.”

“I was keeping Jack updated about a good friend of ours who was recently wounded,” I said.

Mr. Marelli hesitated before speaking again; I was beginning to think we lost our connection. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you. Jack was injured during the spearfishing trip today.”

“What happened to him?” I murmured, sliding to the floor.

“Jack was involved in a bizarre accident. We were spear fishing off the Florida coast. Jack had just speared a large needlefish when a shark swam into view. The shark was swimming right at Jack, so one of the divers took aim and shot at it. At the last second, the shark turned and the spear penetrated Jack’s upper leg. We swam to his side, brought him to the boat, and tried to stop the bleeding. We raced to the hospital, and he was taken into surgery. The spear pierced his femoral artery, so he lost a tremendous amount of blood. Despite everyone’s best efforts, Jack couldn’t be saved.”

“Oh no,” I cried.

”I’m so sorry to give you this news,” Mr. Marelli said.  

 I hung up the phone and screamed, “It can’t be true”. Two of my closest friends died in the last two days. I sat on the floor, my head in my hands, and trembled uncontrollably.

“It has to be some kind of horrible coincidence,” I thought.  “Richard and Jack both killed in unusual accidents. One impaled by a nail and the other impaled by a spear.”

“Both impaled.”

“Impaled.”

“Impaled!”

That’s when I began to put the facts together. “What was the name of the spirit we contacted during the séance? Vladimir? Wasn’t there a Vladimir many years ago who would impale his victims? I’m sure I came across that name when I was reading about vampires. Was he Vladimir the Third?”

I grabbed my phone and googled the name Vladimir and the word impaling. I felt the blood drain from my face. The Vladimir who impaled his victims, was Vladimir the Third.

I thought back to what I had been told about the séance. “The guys said the spirit felt evil. It made them physically sick. If it really was Vladimir the Third, he may have just killed two of my friends.”

My head pounded and I broke out in a cold sweat. I was now desperate to talk to Michael. Perhaps he could make sense of all this. I pulled out my phone and hit the call button. “Please, please let him have cell service,” I said aloud. Michael answered on the third ring, but the connection was tenuous.

“Hi. I saw you were trying to contact me,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean I need to talk to you.”

“What’s going on? You sound terrible!”

“I am terrible,” I said.  Relating what had happened to our friends through the snaps and crackles of our poor connection was difficult, but Michael got the gist of what I was saying.  

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” Michael said. “I doubt I can make it before tomorrow morning.”

“There is one more thing you need to know. I did some research on the man who spoke through me during the séance. Vladamir the III was also known as Vlad the Impaler. Are you familiar with that name?”

“No.”

“He lived during the 15th century and would impale his enemies. Now two of our friends have been killed through impaling. Do you think it is possible that I was possessed by Vlad the Impaler?”

“Anything is possible, I guess. I certainly felt that the man speaking through you was wicked. But a spirit killing our friends? I’m not so sure of that,” Michael said. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I want you to contact your church and have a priest come over to bless the house. When I get back, we’ll make an appointment to talk to someone with expertise in occult matters.”

“Given how quickly things are happening, I don’t think we should waste any time,” I said.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said and we lost our connection.

I called Father Bertrand to enlist his help, but he didn’t answer his phone. I left a message explaining what had happened during the previous two days and asked if he could perform a blessing on my house. I didn’t hear back from him before going to bed that night. I tried to sleep without much success, hearing creaks and knocks coming from the dining room.

A couple of hours after waking up, the phone rang. A feeling of relief poured over me as I assumed it was Father Bertrand calling me. Instead, it was Michael’s sister. I barely recognized her voice.

“Hi Lisa,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry for calling so early, but you are one of my brother’s closest friends. I just received a phone call from Michael’s hiking partner. He has had a serious accident. Michael fell into a ravine and landed on the broken limb of a huge tree. The limb penetrated his back and lodged in his lungs. He has been airlifted to St. Vincent hospital, and the doctors say he is in critical condition.”

My knees buckled.

“His hiking partner thought Michael had been hallucinating before the fall. Michael claimed he saw a dark figure following them on the trail. His partner saw nothing. My brother was so distracted that he lost his footing and fell.”

Now I knew for sure. Vlad the Impaler was systematically killing us. And I would likely be next.

I wasted no time pulling together a travel bag and googling directions to the hospital. On my way out of town, I stopped at the church rectory, hoping to receive a blessing from my priest. No one answered the door.

As I was driving the highway to the hospital, a voice whispered in my ear. It was deep and harsh. A stench filled the car and the air became frigid.

“Thank you for waking me up,” Vlad said. “It’s wonderful to be alive again! I will enjoy recreating my kingdom.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as he continued to speak. “I was planning to allow you to live as you have done me a great favor. But now, you and Michael are seeking ways to send me back to the abyss. I can’t allow that to happen.”

Vladimer’s rancid breath filled my nose, and his foul laughter echoed in my ear. Suddenly, the steering wheel jerked out of my hands, and it pulled hard to the right. I struggled to regain control before my car slammed into the guard rail at the side of the highway. I heard a deafening sound as metal collided with metal. The guard rail shattered. Fragments flew in every direction, including through my windshield. One pierced my chest. The pain was excruciating, and I gasped for air as blood gushed from the wound.

“If you hadn’t threatened my existence, I would have allowed you to live,” Vlad said. “I may have even allowed you to reign in my kingdom with me.”

There was only one last thing for me to do. I had to try to stop the evil we had accidentally released during the séance. I reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the knife I had placed there. I took one last tortured breath and using all my strength, thrust the knife backward. I heard a terrifying scream and then closed my eyes for the final time.

THE END