The Outsiders - By Neil Jackson Page 0,1

tonight? I’m famished. I’ve had one measly handful of peanuts all evening!”

“Bear with me awhile. I intend to prepare some food later. But first I would like to tell you my own story. It’s a bit more unpleasant than Trevor’s, I can assure you.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Susan, but I have to go, now,” Chadwick said, getting to his feet. He had had enough. “You can tell me another time!”

“Oh, please stay, Simon. It’s important I tell this story to all of you, together. I haven’t told anybody else about this, ever!”

For a moment the woman looked so anxious, so desperately unhappy, that Chadwick almost felt sorry for her.

Almost, but not quite.

“Yes, of course, Susan,” Dr. Flood said, sensing her distress. “I was just about to leave, myself, but I guess I can hang on for your story, if it’s important to you.”

“Me too,” Dr. Selman agreed. “Come on, Simon, stay a few minutes longer!”

Chadwick stood there, bemused, looking from one doctor to the next.

“Oh, all right, then,” he said, resignedly flopping back down on the sofa. “This story had better be good!”

“I’m sure it will be,” Flood murmured.

Susan Clarke took a sip from her drink. She pulled her blouse out a little at the waist, rearranged the lay of her skirt across her legs, and began.

“This is a true story, I swear it. It happened almost three years ago, when I was working at a practice in London. Surgery had finished for the day and I was clearing my desk when a man barged in, demanding to speak with me. I saw real trepidation in his eyes, so I agreed to see him in my room. He told me he was suffering from a terrible affliction, one he could no longer cope with. He said he had something wrong with his stomach.”

Clarke paused to take another sip of her drink. She smiled nervously at Chadwick. The man had been watching her lips move as she spoke, imagining those very lips kissing him all over. His hand was resting absently on his leg, toying with the little phial of Liquid Heaven in his pocket. He never went anywhere without it.

God, but she’s a sexy bitch. If I hang around tonight until the others have gone I might get her into bed, yet.

“I asked him to unbutton his shirt and show me where the pain was,” Susan continued. “But he looked at me bizarrely. His whole demeanour had changed. He said I had got it all wrong. There was no pain; only an intense hunger. He pulled his shirt open, triumphantly, like a flasher in the woods, and then I saw it!”

“Saw what, Susan?” Chadwick asked, apathetically. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Flood gazing at him, smirking. Selman, however, seemed to be listening attentively to Clarke’s story.

“The mouth!” Clarke said. “In the middle of his stomach was a mouth, seven or eight inches across. I was frozen to the spot, just staring at it, morbidly fascinated. And then the lips began to open. They drew back to reveal row upon row of bright, needle-sharp teeth, receding into his torso, seemingly more deeply than the body, itself. I remember sucking in breath ready for the mother of all screams, but he clamped a hand over my mouth, mumbling something about making me one of his own. He pushed the grotesque maw towards me, but I managed to break away, kicking him in the balls and fleeing the surgery. I have never returned. I left London the same night and I shall never go back! I moved here soon afterwards and you guys know the rest.”

“What an amazing tale!” Selman said.

Flood didn’t say anything, though. He was still smirking, as if listening to a familiar joke and waiting patiently for the punchline.

Simon Chadwick, however, had had enough. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe any of this, do you? You’ve got to be joking!”

Susan Clarke leaned towards Chadwick until her face was inches from his. She looked deep into his eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking?” she asked. There was not even a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Right, that’s it, I’m going,” he said, hurriedly standing. “And I hope you don’t truly believe what you’re saying, Susan, because if you do, then I would be obliged to question your professional integrity, and you, my dear, would need to see a psychiatrist PDQ!”

Chadwick left the room, storming up the stairs to get his coat. The stairs and