From the Fright Vault: Wendel the Hypnotist (Patreon Teaser)

Reunion

The AmTrak heading toward Chicago rumbled into a darkened tunnel before emerging from the other side. The train whistle blared when the eight passenger cars entered into a quiet suburban neighborhood.

Wendel watched the rundown houses pass by outside his window. He found the rocking of his seat soothing and closed his eyes to take a brief nap. He just about drifted off to sleep when there came a soft tap at his shoulder.  

Wendel twisted in his seat. One hand slipped into his breast pocket. He assumed this must be the conductor asking about his ticket. He was not prepared, then, when he looked up to find a woman with one hand leaning on his seat.

His blood ran cold. For a moment, he thought it was someone he knew, but quickly realized it wasn’t. 

He pegged the lean woman to be in her thirties or forties with a surgically-cut blond bob that perfectly aligned with her chiseled jaw. Wendel thought she’d be perfect for the part of a female spy in some espionage thriller.

“Sorry to bother you,” the woman said, “I’m Olivia Pappas. I believe you know my husband. You’re Wendel Bakowski, aren’t you?”

“Just Wendel, please,” he said of his stage name. “You said your name is Olivia? Who, may I ask, is your husband?” 

Instead of answering him, the woman looked over her shoulder and raised her voice so everyone in the car could hear. “It’s him, honey. You were right.”

Wendel plotted his revenge on that rumbling Amtrak train. Get the full story by subscribing to Patreon.com/FromtheFrightVault

Wendel sat up in his seat high enough to see over the backrest. His face fell. His stomach knotted when he saw that three rows back sat Cristos Pappas, the one man he hoped he would never meet again.

Cristos had the same dark eyebrows and solid jaw. Age had not changed his physique, though he did appear slightly more muscular up top. 

“Cristos Pappas,” Wendel said as pleasantly as he could. “Long time no see. Doing okay?.”

“Wendel Bakowski!” Cristos said with gusto, so even the people seated on porches of the dilapidated houses outside could hear him.  “I knew that was you. Tell him, honey. Tell him.”

Wendel’s face grew hot from the surge of attention. In his periphery, people craned their necks to get a better look. He felt like the unsuspecting star of a bizarre reality show. He became weirded out even more when Olivia leaned down to whisper in his ear. 

Wendel turned his head to the side and met her halfway. He gasped when her heated breath slid past his earlobe. His head and spine tingled as he inhaled her breath that smelled sweet from something she ate at breakfast. 

“My husband, Cristos, said he knows you,” she whispered. “He wants me to invite you to our home.”

Wendel came away laughing. Surely this was a joke, but Olivia did not laugh. She looked at him expectantly for an answer. 

Wendel tried to think of an excuse. He thumbed over his shoulder, “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Olivia held up a flat palm. “We’ll take care of everything. We have plenty of room. Be our guest, have dinner with us. We’d even love for you to spend the night. We’ll get you to wherever you need to be tomorrow. Promise.”

Wendel rarely found himself at a loss for words, but this was one of those odd times. He checked his surroundings. Even people in the car in front and behind them anticipated his response.

Olivia laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have to say yes. Cristos would be heartbroken. He remembers you two used to be such great friends. He told me all about it.”

Wendel stared into Olivia’s pale green eyes. He did not see anything written on her face that would indicate she was mocking him. With the pressure put on him by all the onlookers, and with a strong desire for the encounter to end, Wendel said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated for everyone to hear.

The passenger car erupted with laughter and applause. Wendel who usually loved the limelight suddenly hated the attention. 

“Excellent,” Olivia said. “Come find us when we arrive at our destination. We’ll have a car waiting for us. See you then.”

Wendel watched her backside jiggle as she sauntered away. He noticed everyone still looking at him.

“If you like hypnotists,” he announced. “Come see me at the Las Vegas HorseShoe Cafe. Not the HorseShoe Casino, but the Cafe, around back. It’s not affiliated with the casino. Not really sure how they got away with that, but I’ll be there this Friday and Saturday. Come, get hypnotized, and have a few laughs. You can also watch it on YouTube Live.”

No one looked at him now. That was just as well. Wendel needed a moment to ponder what just occurred. What are the odds he thought Olivia was Carol only to find that she’s married to Cristos, his old childhood bully? Though it would make sense. Everyone has a type.

Wendel seethed inside that he had accepted the invitation. It made him sick just thinking about being in the same room with the man who had tormented him for four long years. 

It perturbed him even more how his body reacted when he thought it was Carol who had interrupted his nap. He had spent two decades building up this strong, confident stage presence. And in the flash of a moment, thinking he saw Carol and actually seeing Cristos morphed him back into that chubby, zit-faced geek he used to be.

Just as Wendel began concocting one excuse after another as to why he couldn’t go to their house, Wendel suddenly had a better idea.

As the houses outside gave way to tall buildings with mirrored windows, Wendel found himself formulating the perfect plan for lifelong revenge. 

Catching Up

Wendel pressed the phone to his ear and listened to the dial tone until a weary voice answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, Mitchell,” Wendel said with his hand cupped over the receiver. “You are about to lose a bet, my friend.”

“Who is this?” Mitchell Silver said.

“It’s Wendel.”

“Bakowski?”

“Just Wendel,” he corrected. “You’re about to lose a bet. Big time.”

“What bet?” Mitchell said. “I work the night shift and was sleeping, man.”

“My bad. I’ll only keep you a minute. You know damned well what bet. I just ran into Cristos Pappas. Remember him?”

“From high school? The guy that kicked your ass senior year?”

“Yes,” Wendel hissed. “You’ll never believe this, but his wife looks just like Carol Bettencourt. And they both invited me to their home.”

Mitchell yawned. “Why would they do that?”

“No clue,” Wendel said. “His wife is super hot. He sent her over instead of coming over himself. He’s probably seen me online and knows I’m not the weakling he so easily pushed around when we were younger. I have a presence now. Fans.”

“Fans?” Mitchell said.

“I have fans,” Wendel mumbled. “Well, get this…”

Wendel glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. Confident he could continue, he whispered, “Remember that time I told you I was going to hypnotically seduce Carol, film it, and send the video to Cristos? You bet me a hundred bucks I wouldn’t do it.”

“So?” Mitchell said. “Look, I gotta go, man.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it. It’s not Carol, but it’s Cristos’s wife, and she’s just as hot. Maybe even hotter. I’ve gotten quite a bit better since senior year. Not sure if you’ve seen my videos online, but I’m a professional hypnotist.

“I have it all planned out. I’ll stay the night, turn her out for a few hours while he’s sleeping, then leave the video playing on their TV as I make my exit.”

“Since the video won’t be disseminated, no crime will be committed. The only downside is I won’t get to see Cristos’s face when he realizes I bested him instead of the other way around.”

“What are you talking about?” Mitchell said. “You’re crazy. You can’t do that.”

Wendel gasped “You don’t believe I can, do you?”

“I don’t know, man,” Mitchell said. “Just, even if you could. You sure you want to be doing that?”

Wendel peeked over the seat. Cristos stared out the window, a pleasant grin on his face, while Olivia’s chair stood empty. Wendel looked up and down the car, but didn’t see her anywhere. 

Wendel sat and whispered, “I’ve never wanted anything more.” He clenched his free fist in front of his face and added, “The thought of him being tormented by the thought of me defiling his wife. That lasts in the mind of a man, for as long as he lives.”

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Mitchell said. “Most guys wouldn’t take kindly to their wives becoming another person’s sex slave.”

“It’s only for a night,” Wendel sneered.  “I’ll send you a copy when I get back home.”

“No thanks,” Mitchell laughed. “I don’t want to see your face, let alone your bare ass.”

“Very funny,” Wendel said. 

Disembarked

The hissing of the brakes preceded a jarring jerk of the passenger car as the train came to a stop. Everyone around Wendel began rising from their seats. He waited until the car was mostly clear to find his luggage and step off the car and onto the platform.

Standing there waiting for him were Olivia, Cristos seated in a wheelchair, and a man dressed in a professional suit and hat the couple introduced as James. The realization of why Cristos did not come over himself washed over Wendel, and he did his best to hide the glee on his face. 

James the driver guided them to a waiting limousine - one of those stretched humvees, jet-black, with room enough to house the whole damned train. Cristos had to be helped into the vehicle by Olivia and James. Wendel wondered if he should help, but figured he’d only get in the way. He remained seated on the leather seat and looked around at the dim interior that reminded him of a piano bar.

“Care for a drink?” Cristos said. 

Wendel started to hold up a hand, but Cristos waved him off. “Please, dear.”

Olivia went to work preparing two drinks, one for Cristos, and one for him, but nothing for herself.

“You don’t drink?” Wendel asked.

She answered plainly without looking at him. 

”No.” 

Olivia handed Wendel his drink and nodded toward her husband. “Cristos said the two of you were great friends.”

Wendel swallowed into the wrong pipe and choked. The dry whiskey and harsh soda bubbles burned his throat as he quickly recovered, but not before dribbling liquid onto his tie. He ignored it, though his first instinct was to ask for tonic water to get the stain out. 

“Good friends,” Wendel said. He carefully studied both their faces. 

Were they putting him on? 

Cristos pointed to Wendel with the same hand holding his drink. “You were so funny, that’s all I remember,” he said with the widest grin 

Wendel once more felt like this must be some kind of production. He looked around for the cameras, maybe a glimpse of a headset of a crewmember hiding behind one of the loungers on the opposite side of the limo. 

Yet they were alone. Wendel wondered what happened to the Crsitos he once knew. Gone was the mocking jeer, the sadism in his gray eyes. 

Olivia opened a cooler at her knees and took out a bottled water. “Cristos doesn’t remember much before the accident.”

“That so?” Wendel said. 

“That’s one of the reasons I invited you, Wendel,” Cristos said.

“Oh?” Wendel said in response.

“That’s right,” Cristos said. “I’ve seen your stuff online. You’re such a pro on stage. The way you can make anyone do anything. It’s so funny.” 

“Well, I’m glad you like my content,” Wendel said, doing his best to sound humble. 

Cristos continued. “Then I saw you sitting there and I had Olivia look you up. Imagine my surprise when I found out we not only went to the same school, but we were in the same class. I don’t remember much, but we were friends, right?”

“Yep,” Wendel lied before taking a drink of his whiskey. He swallowed and heaved a sigh with a grin plastered across his face. “You got that right. Best friends.”

Arriving Home

The Pappas family was always known for being rich. Santos Pappas, Cristos’s father, owned a string of car dealerships around southwest Michigan. Cristos always came to school wearing the best clothes. When he could drive, he pulled up to school in the fanciest car. And at prom, Cristos and his whole crew rolled up in white outfits in a matching white limo. 

But nothing could have prepared Wendel for the castle that loomed at the end of the mile-long driveway they traversed down from the main road. Wendel did his best to hide his awe by finishing his drink, since their ride was coming to an end.

Wendel waited outside the limo while James lifted Cristos like a child and carried him to the waiting wheelchair. Cristos waved Olivia off and ordered, “Show him to his room, babe. Wendel, our casa es su casa.”

“Gracias,” Wendel said as he followed Olivia through a door made for a giant. The marble staircase proved treacherous. Wendel clung to the railing without making it obvious. Inside his room, which was the size of a gymnasium, he found a bed, dresser, pool table, and theater corner with a curtain separator and several theater style seats. 

“You’ll sleep here,” Olivia said. “We’ll have dinner at seven. Steak okay?”

“Fine,” Wendel said. He could not believe his luck. His dilemma in formulating his plan was how would he get Cristos separated from his wife, and how would get her alone? With Cristos paralyzed, his plan was falling perfectly into place. 

He turned to face her and held out his hand. “Thank you.”

“I just want you to know,” Olivia told him as she spun around to face him. “I don’t believe in any of what you do. Cristos does, but I don’t. I find you to be a charlatan. But Cristos wanted you here, so here you are. Go ahead and freshen up, then meet us downstairs for drinks.”

With that, Olivia turned and walked downstairs. 

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