The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 4

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Length (rounded up): 1950 words, 8 min.
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The Curse of Friday the 13th, Day 3, Part 4
Friday the 13th, 10:29 a.m.

‘Mr Hawk, it all began when...’

Rather rudely, Mr Hawk raised his arm to silence his guests. Instead of listening to the cast-wrapped and wheelchair-bound client and her husband, who desperately needed his help, he turned all his attention to the radio news.

‘...fortunately, no one was injured in the explosion at the ammunition depot, as confirmed by the spokesperson of the Department of Defence. The official press release will...’

‘...not reveal anything important,' Mr Hawk mimicked the newsreader's matter-of-fact style. Frustrated, he reached for the switch to turn off the radio. All-knowingly, he lowered his voice as if he had been disclosing vitally important information. ‘Everyone is talking about the two mysterious blasts, which happened in the desert tonight. There's gossip about a Chinese spy satellite crashing down, or the Air Force has shot down a UFO. Either way, the Pentagon would be crazy to tell us the truth.’

Hearing the string of wild ideas, Mike tried to contain his laughter, and glanced at Julie, the victim of the incident, which Mr Hawk was trying so hard to analyse.

However, Julie was in no mood to enlighten Mr Hawk. Captured in the huge plaster shell, which was a custom-made compound of a Minerva cast and a shoulder spica cast, she was forced into a wheelchair. Although her legs were healthy, the plaster shell on her upper body was so extensive, weighty, and restrictive that walking even a short distance was a challenge.

Holding her in a changeless and stiff posture, the enormous head-and-neck-and-body cast framed her face and capped her entire head. The numerous layers tightly encircled her neck and immobilised much of her torso. Unfortunately, the whole Minerva cast was fashioned from massive plaster, making it barely bearable to be inside.

She was also blessed with a shoulder spica cast, which enclosed her entire right arm between the armpit and the palm, except for only her cast-free fingers that uselessly poked out of the narrow opening. Smoothly attached to the central piece of medical armour, the immobilised limb was raised horizontally to shoulder height. The whole cast construction was flexed at a ninety-degree angle at the elbow, causing her fingers to point seemingly accusingly at Mr Hawk, who was sitting opposite her.

Finally, the wizard turned his attention back to Julie and Mike again. He studied the woman, who was partially captured in the solid medical integument. Especially, he watched the unmistakable bar, which was inserted between the shoulder spica cast and the body cast to prop up the heavy weight of the plaster-soaked bandages imprisoning her limb.

‘Was it Mr Nilrem, who gave my address to you?’ Mr Hawk showed them a semblance of a smile.

It was usually considered an honour when Mr Nilrem mentioned someone by name. As Mr Hawk waited for their answer, he smoked a cigar, impolitely yet rightly at the same time, feeling at home in his office.

He puffed out a decent ring of smoke that dissolved in the air, and then his gaze lingered on the finely arched part of Julie's cast jacket, which served as a plaster bra on her extremely feminine chest.

‘It's very rare to see a cast that big nowadays, Mrs Warden.’

‘If you can’t help me, my next cast will be even bigger,’ Julie said.

With a cast-captured neck and face, it was impossible for her to move her head. She just could only stare straight ahead at the wizard. Packed in the gigantic plaster suit, she felt so uncomfortable, as the weighty shoulder spica cast always pulled her body to the right, even though it was supplemented with a support bar. In an attempt to counterbalance the heavy encasement, she wobbled to find a better position in the cushioned wheelchair.

‘Can you tell us more about this so-called curse?’ Mr Hawk asked.

‘What did Mr Nilrem tell you?’ she asked.

‘Well, nothing.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Julie murmured.

Evident disapproval became the primary expression on her face. Understandably, she didn’t feel like going into detail about all the accidents she had suffered during the past two and a half Fridays the 13th.

‘My wife is said to be cursed,’ Mike said. ‘To be honest, I could hardly believe it myself, but there's no rational explanation left. This all started after she made a costly mistake to Mr Adam Nilrem, and she was supposedly cursed by his sister Eve. Every Friday the 13th, my wife is involved in accidents, which are somehow connected to the number “Thirteen” or the word “Friday”.’

‘This is very interesting.’ Mr Hawk took notes. He spoke with a lit cigarette in his mouth. ‘Please continue. I’d like to hear everything about it.’

Mike continued to speak at length, because so much had happened to them since the Curse had been put on her. The whole monologue was a repetitive pattern of accidents, casts, then other accidents, and larger casts again.

After meticulously describing the mishaps of the first and the second Friday the 13th, he refrained from speaking about the latest events, including everything about the destroyed bunker and the failed drone test. In the fine-tuned, revised version, Julie had fallen into the basement this morning, that’s why she was wrapped in such a large shell carved out of plaster of Paris.

Mr Hawk just hummed. At least, he figured out what the Curse of the Friday 13th was all about.

‘Can you help me or not, Mr Hawk?’ Julie’s question sounded impatient. Not without reason. Midnight was only thirteen hours away, and she would be in a full body cast in which she would be separated from everything she loved. ‘Or should I repeat the whole story again?’

‘It isn’t necessary, Mrs Warden.’ Mr Hawk casually lit a fresh roll of tobacco.

Irritated by the thick cigar smoke, which slowly filled up the air of the room, Julie coughed. Strangely, even the violent exhale of air wasn’t able to shake or loosen her strengthened, body-hugging plaster casing.

‘Would you please stop it, Sir?’ Mike asked, seeing Julie’s heavy reaction to the fume.

‘What?’

‘Smoking your cigars, of course.’

‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Why haven’t you mentioned it before?’ Mr Hawk returned the reproach; however, he put out his cigar, pressing its burning end into an ashtray that was filled almost to the brim with ash. ‘Well, what exactly do you want me to do for you?’

‘What?’ Julie, full of fury, slammed her healthy fist against the cushioned armrest of the wheelchair. ‘If you look at me, you can easily guess what I want! I ignored the doctors, who told me to stay in the hospital, and I've come here to meet you. You can be the only one, who can save me from becoming a plaster-mummy again.’

Mike translated her words into a more composed tone. ‘My wife would like to kindly ask you to stop the Curse of Friday the 13th. She’s afraid that she’s going to be in a full body cast by midnight. And all over again on every Friday the 13th. Can you do it, Mr Hawk?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Mr Hawk studied the plaster-casted Julie in the wheelchair, and then pondered Mike’s words for a moment, trying to come up with a solution that would work for everyone. ‘Do you want me to write a new magic spell, which is powerful enough to override the Nilrem Curse? It won’t be easy. I have to do it with great care. If I make a mistake, the old spell won't be neutralised. On the contrary! Maybe, Mrs Warden will have to live with two different curses simultaneously.’

Mr Hawk forgot his earlier promise to stop smoking, and nervously relit a cigar. Another puff of smoke made Julie cough again.

‘Mr and Mrs Warden, please give me a few uninterrupted minutes to see if I can help you.’ He opened the top drawer of his desk, and took out a deck of cards. ‘I’d like to use my Tarot cards to predict the future. Please remain quiet for a little while.’

‘I need some fresh air,’ Julie whispered to Mike, trying not to disturb Mr Hawk’s magic session.

‘Can I help you, sweetheart?’

‘No, thanks. I can walk. For the time being,’ she said, foreseeing her destiny better than the wizard.

Mike realised that his wife had resigned herself to her situation. She had given up all hope of finding relief from the slow-witted and incompetent magician.

After sliding her legs off the leg rests of the wheelchair onto the floor, Julie stood up from the wheelchair seat with extreme caution. Just to test the ground and her ability to walk, she took a few tentative steps. Promisingly, the floor didn’t collapse under her shoes, and she didn’t slip on the carpet, either.

Because of the Minerva cast, which secured her head, Julie had a significant blind spot in front of her feet. So, she tried to move as unhurriedly as if walking on a minefield.

Careful with every step she took, Julie crept across the room, skilfully skirting every piece of furniture. However, she needed a large open airspace around her to protect her bulky shoulder spica cast, which stuck out far from the main mass of the body cast.

Once she managed to get to the windows unharmed, she noticed that they weren't just simple glassed openings in the wall, but a door leading to a balcony. Feeling ill after inhaling the smoky atmosphere of the room, she eagerly sought some fresh air.

With her clumsy but uncasted left hand, Julie opened the door and made a wrong move. The glass panes of the door rattled loudly from the impact of her heavy plaster shell. As she turned her stiff torso, her cast-wrapped elbow almost shattered the glass.

‘Ouch, sorry.’ She sent a smile towards Mike, who had flinched at the alarming noise.

Having opened the door, Julie stepped out onto the balcony on the second floor. The fresh air finally filled her lungs again. From her vantage point, she peered down at the cars speeding up and down the wide road in front of the house. Then her gaze wandered to a peaceful city park across the street. Near the entrance, she caught a glimpse of a poster, in which the city mayor welcomed the visitors, who came to see the new public garden in District...

‘Oh, goodness!’ Julie shrieked after reading the address. Locked in the plaster sweater, she couldn’t recede in a rush.

‘Oh, no... Mrs Warden, you are in danger!’ Mr Hawk’s astonished exclamation drowned out Julie’s cry. He snapped up his head to look at her, but the wheelchair by the table was empty. While predicting the future from the magic cards, he hadn’t noticed the woman leaving the room. ‘Where is she?’

‘On the balcony,’ Mike said ominously.

‘Oh, God. I’ve seen such terrible things! The cards say that she’s in imminent danger! Mrs Warden, you must leave this place! Right now!’ Mr Hawk shouted.

Frightened by the wizard’s warning, Julie tried to escape from the balcony, but, strangely, she felt as if an unknown force had glued her feet to the floor. Mike jumped up to help her. But his rescue action started too late.

Making a thunderous sound, the balcony detached from the main block of the building. The floor beneath her legs collapsed, and the platform simply disappeared from view, with Julie on it. The disaster happened so suddenly that she didn't even have time to yell for help.

‘Oh, now I understand how the Curse works,’ Mr Hawk said with a pale face. ‘Mr Warden, you shouldn’t have come here to District XIII today.’

to be continued

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