A Gift for Dying

by M. J. Arlidge

  Wieslawa was looking out over the lake, her eyes fixed on the birds. She was wearing a warm housecoat and had a woollen blanket wrapped round her legs, which Kassie adjusted now to ensure there were no cold draughts. Kissing her on the forehead, Kassie sat down next to her grandmother, taking her liver-spotted hand in hers.

  Wieslawa barely reacted, raising her eyes momentarily to her granddaughter, before returning her gaze to the view. But at least she did not pull her hand away, as she occasionally did when she was flustered or upset. Over the years, Kassie had come to learn that you could never predict what mood her grandmother would be in. Some days she would be passive and inert, others bright and engaging. On those days, Kassie almost believed Wieslawa did recognize her, her grandmother muttering phrases, even mentioning places or events, from the past. On other days, however, she was tearful and restless, casting suspicious looks all around her. As time passed, the doctors had come up with a number of ways to describe her condition – dementia, delusional psychosis, others which Kassie had forgotten or blanked out – but Kassie held a different view. Wieslawa had always been surrounded by death, but never more so than here, where elderly relatives were placed to die by their children, out of sight and out of mind. She shuddered to think what Wieslawa must see, imminent death for so many she met in the hallways, the recreation room, at the lakeside tables. She prayed that her grandmother was too far gone to see it, but a good part of her feared that she wasn’t.

  ‘Cukierku,’ the old woman murmured.

  Kassie looked up hopefully, but Wieslawa continued to keep her eyes fixed on the horizon. Kassie hung her head once more, suddenly feeling utterly crushed. She had come here seeking sanctuary, to gather her thoughts even as she faced up to the fact that she had failed Madelaine, failed herself. The loving mom of two was about to be brutally murdered and Kassie herself had less than two weeks to live. Her failure would be fatal for both of them. The fact that this might save her from her grandmother’s fate was no comfort today – Kassie felt utterly hollow and beaten.

  ‘Cukierku,’ her grandmother whispered, a little louder this time.

  But Kassie didn’t look up, couldn’t bear to believe that the old woman understood or cared about her distress. Instead, she kissed her hand and, laying it gently on the woollen blanket once more, took her leave. She couldn’t bear the claustrophobia of the visitors’ lounge, so, instead of retracing her steps, Kassie walked down to the water’s edge. She would find another way out – one where she wasn’t spied on – but as she reached the lake, she paused, struck by the sight in front of her.

  Lake Michigan looked magnificent tonight, the setting sun streaking over its vast surface, the golden light dancing hither and thither as the water ebbed and flowed. In the distance was central Chicago, full of energy and activity, but the lake itself was serene, devoid of all human presence, confident in its scale and majesty. Nothing molested it, nothing broke the calm, apart from the waders and egrets, eagles and plovers, who swooped overhead, calling to each other. Kassie stood on the bank, craning up to watch their elegant circles, hoping to find solace in their unhurried industry. Year in, year out they came, regardless of what dramas and darkness played out in the city. And year in, year out, they would continue to come. This thought cheered Kassie slightly – her own life, her own narrative, were perhaps insignificant in the wider scheme of things – and she remained where she was, wanting to lose herself in this distraction, to find a moment’s peace.

  But, even as she stood there, something started to intrude on her consciousness. A thought … no, not a thought. A sound. A sound she had heard before. For the tiniest second, Kassie’s mind spiralled back into that awful shack, to him, to the horror and the fear, then suddenly she was back in the present once more, staring at the skies in wonder.

  And suddenly she knew.

  101

  She took the stairs three at time, racing up, up, up. She’d been burning with frustration all the way to Lincoln Park and, arriving at Adam’s office block, she hadn’t hesitated. A young woman was coming out of the main door and Kassie barged past her, sprinting across the lobby and charging up the stairs.

  Bursting into the reception area on the eighth floor, Kassie sprinted towards the office door, throwing it open. Adam was on the phone, and looked up sharply as Kassie crossed the room towards him. Cupping his hand over the receiver, he was about to remonstrate with her, but didn’t get the chance. Kassie snatched the phone off him, ending his call.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he blurted.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘That was an important call …’ Adam protested, looking angry and distressed.

  ‘I know what it is,’ she replied, ignoring him.

  ‘What do you mea—’

  ‘I know what it is. The laughter.’

  Still Adam looked lost, so Kassie elaborated.

  ‘The woman’s laughter, in the shack … I said it sounded inhuman. And that’s because it is. It’s the birds …’

  She gestured to the floor to ceiling windows, which framed the lake. In the distance, the birds could still be glimpsed, completing their endless rotations.

  ‘It’s the birds,’ she repeated, half smiling, half laughing now.

  Adam was looking at her as if she was deranged, so Kassie crossed to the windows, throwing them open. Numerous birds visited the lake – bitterns, eagles, herons – and their constant, high-pitched cackling could be heard even at this distance.

  Kassie turned back to look at Adam. Moments earlier, he’d looked as though he was about to explode, but now he paused, taking in the nasty, malevolent noise.

  ‘Madelaine … she’s by the water,’ Kassie intoned. ‘She’s being held somewhere on the lake or by a river, I’m sure of it.’

  Even as she spoke, she saw a cloud pass across Adam’s face, as if something she’d said had chimed with him.

  ‘We just need to find out where.’

  ‘Kassie …’

  ‘She’s got hours left to live. But now we’ve got a chance …’

  ‘Be sensible, Kassie. The lake is huge and there are numerous rivers.’

  ‘We need to find out where the birds are grouping. It’ll be somewhere remote, where there’s no chance of this guy being disturbed, then we can go there –’

  ‘It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’

  ‘We can save her, I know we can,’ Kassie insisted, refusing to be beaten back. ‘But I don’t know where to start, who I should talk to about this.’

  In spite of himself, Adam reacted. Suddenly Kassie was flooded with hope that Adam could help her – if she only she could persuade him to.

  ‘Do you know someone?’

  ‘No. Well, yes. But I can’t just turn up and –’

  ‘Then we need to go to them now.’

  ‘Not until you tell me where you’ve been and why you think that this –’

  ‘We don’t have time!’

  The words erupted from her, shocking Adam into silence.

  ‘Twice I’ve been right about this and we did nothing. Please don’t make me responsible for another death. I couldn’t stand it.’

  Still Adam hesitated.

  ‘Do this for me and I swear I will never bother you again.’

  ‘I don’t know, Kassie …’

  ‘If we save her, then maybe everything will be ok. For you and for me. Please, Adam, do this one last thing for me. I’m begging you.’

  Kassie’s tone was beseeching, imploring. But had she done enough? Adam was staring at her, visibly torn between indulging her and telling her to go to hell. Then, to her enormous relief, Adam snatched up his phone and coat and ushered her towards the door.

  102

  Tears poured down her ravaged face, but it made no difference. There was no mercy here.

  Her captor had beaten her savagely, to the point of unconsciousness, before suddenly relenting. Madelaine remained tied to her chair, naked, bruised and shivering, but
her captor had loosened the bonds to one of her wrists, bringing her free hand up to rest on a small table he’d pushed next to her. Her eyes were glued to the hideous cleaver that lay on the battered surface close by, but he seemed momentarily to have forgotten about it. He seemed much more interested in her.

  He held her hand in his, seemingly delighted to see that it was shaking.

  ‘Are you scared, Madelaine?’

  Madelaine made a strange noise – half sob, half affirmation.

  ‘You should be.’

  She could see his stained teeth break into a smile, even as another sob crept from her.

  ‘Let’s play a game,’ he continued brightly.

  ‘I don’t want to …’

  ‘Normally I start with the tongue, but today I’ll make an exception.’

  ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

  But he ignored her, continuing to cradle her hand, running his finger over her thumb.

  ‘This little piggy went to market …’

  He slid on to her index finger.

  ‘This little piggy stayed at home …’

  ‘No …’

  ‘This little piggy had roast beef …’

  ‘Please … no …’ she gasped, louder this time.

  ‘And this little piggy had none …’

  He passed from her fourth to her pinkie finger.

  ‘And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.’

  Still clutching her pinkie, he reached for the cleaver. Madelaine screamed – long, loud, terrified – but he seemed not to hear her. Placing the blade on the base of her finger, he took aim, lifted the cleaver, then brought it back down sharply. Madelaine erupted – her keening howls masking the soft ‘plump’ as her severed finger hit the plastic sheeting beneath.

  A moment’s dull shock, then a savage flame of agony. The pain was unbearable and for a moment Madelaine lost consciousness, blacking out briefly before sliding hideously back into the present. Now she started to babble, pleading with her captor for mercy, invoking everything she held dear, but that only seemed to excite him further. To her utter horror, she saw the makings of an erection in the taut groin of his boiler suit.

  Madelaine screamed once more, screamed till her lungs burned. She felt dizzy, numb – she was assailed by the deepest despair and prayed that her heart would give out, that she would escape this awful nightmare. But her captor wouldn’t allow it, slapping her hard to stop her shrieking. This silenced her momentarily, but before long she was spluttering and growling out her anguish and fury. Such was the agony that it was impossible to keep quiet, she desperately needed some kind of release. But none was forthcoming.

  ‘Now then, Madelaine …’ Her captor was purring now, taking her bloody hand firmly in his grip once more. ‘Are you ready to play again?’

  103

  ‘This is really important, Brock. Think …’

  Brock Williams had been in the middle of a meeting, talking his finance partners through the drawings for the condo development on Lakeshore, but when his secretary mentioned Adam’s name, he’d dropped everything and hurried out. He had left a message of sympathy following Faith’s stillbirth, but hadn’t actually seen Adam since it happened and, as he ushered his old friend and his strange, teenage companion into his private office, he’d apologized profusely for being such a bad, absent friend.

  To his surprise, Adam had batted his apologies away. He had come to him for one reason alone – Brock’s knowledge of birds. Brock assumed Adam was joking, teasing him even, but when it became apparent that he was deadly earnest, he wondered if Adam had been drinking. But, actually, Adam appeared his usual self – a little agitated perhaps, but otherwise lucid, intelligent and precise.

  ‘It sounds like you might be describing an eagle of some kind,’ Brock said hesitantly. ‘Could you give me the sound again?’

  The teenager – whom he now learned was called Kassie – mimicked the bird’s cry as best she could, cackling long and loud. Brock immediately crossed to his laptop and opened YouTube.

  ‘Is this what you mean?’ he offered, hitting the play symbol on a clip.

  The room filled with raucous cackling, as a host of birds called to each other.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. That’s definitely it,’ the girl cried, looking oddly moved.

  ‘Then it’s a bald eagle you heard.’

  ‘Where’s that from?’ Adam followed up quickly, pointing at the clip.

  ‘It’s just a generic clip. It’s not from around here,’ Brock replied, surprised by the urgency of his friend’s tone.

  ‘But you do find them in Chicago, right?’

  ‘Sure, they come here every spring.’

  ‘And where do they nest?’ the girl interrupted.

  ‘All over. They come to feed, stay for maybe six weeks –’

  ‘Where specifically?’

  ‘On any large body of water,’ Brock blustered, sensing the pair were dissatisfied with his answers. ‘Lake Michigan is a big draw –’

  ‘That’s too large an area,’ Adam interjected. ‘Is there anywhere else you might find them? We’re looking for somewhere remote.’

  ‘Well, Lake Winnebago has a large population, but that’s north of Milwaukee.’

  ‘Closer than that,’ the girl urged.

  ‘Well … if you really want somewhere local, there is one body of water that might fit the bill. I haven’t been down there because it’s hard to access, but they say there’s a huge population of bald eagles there this year.’

  ‘Where?’ Adam demanded.

  Brock paused, before concluding:

  ‘Lake Calumet.’

  104

  They drove in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Lake Calumet lay to the south of the city and had once been a busy shipping station and industrial centre. When business declined, it became a landfill site, but even that had proved unsustainable. Now it was just an abandoned industrial wasteland in the shadow of the Bishop Ford Freeway, popular only with migratory birds and the occasional intrepid birdwatcher.

  It was a place Kassie had heard of, but never visited. And as they rolled up the rough track to the chain link perimeter, ignoring the ‘Danger! Keep out!’ signs, Kassie could see why. A huge, derelict grain elevator, skeletal and sad, stood guard over a plethora of abandoned industrial buildings. A relic of former prosperity, the whole place was now forlorn, decaying and probably dangerous, numerous signs on the fence warning of toxic chemicals buried within the landfill site.

  It was impossible not to feel sad when taking in the decrepit spot, but the sight of a bald eagle circling overhead reminded Kassie of why they were here. Playing nervously with the hem of her sleeve, she stole a look across at Adam. She could tell he was feeling the same as her – he looked very tense, repeatedly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  The car rolled to a stop and Adam killed the engine. Pocketing the keys, he peered out at the ominous sight beyond.

  ‘We’ll take a quick look and if we see anything suspicious, we’ll call it in,’ he said quickly, making to open his door.

  ‘Adam, wait.’

  He turned to her, as she laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘You’ve done what I asked. You should go home now.’

  Adam was about to protest, but she talked over him:

  ‘Whatever’s out there, I can face it alone.’

  ‘Give me some credit, Kassie,’ he replied, dismissively.

  ‘I know you never wanted any of this, that I’ve caused you nothing but trouble.’

  ‘I’m not letting you do this alone.’

  ‘Please, Adam,’ Kassie insisted. ‘You have a wife, responsibilities. Go home to Faith, let me finish what I started.’

  ‘I said I would do this last thing for you and I will. There’s no question of me leaving you here alone …’

  He gestured to the desolate wasteland.

  ‘But if this proves fruitless, if you’re wrong, I want you to promise that you will let me he
lp you. We can get you some residential care perhaps.’

  ‘Agreed, but –’

  ‘Then let’s get on with it. We’re wasting time.’

  Adam’s words pricked her conscience – every second could cost Madelaine dear – but still she hesitated. Was this fair? Could she really do this? But Adam had already climbed out, circling round to the trunk of his car, and reluctantly Kassie followed suit. He rejoined her swiftly, having found a flashlight. The sun was nearly below the horizon now and soon they would be lost to the darkness.

  ‘Let’s do this.’

  He marched off and Kassie hurried after him. They followed the tall, imposing fence until they found the main gates. They were solid, well-made structures, designed to keep out metal thieves, and were secured with a large padlock. They walked towards the forbidding barrier, wondering how they might gain access, but as Adam’s flashlight beam fell on the padlock, they immediately saw that it was broken. Adam flipped it out of its holding to examine it more closely, then showed it to Kassie – one arm of the padlock had been cut clean through, presumably with bolt cutters.

  ‘Doesn’t mean anything,’ Kassie mumbled. ‘Could be thieves …’

  Adam didn’t look like he believed this any more than she did, but to his credit he held his nerve, yanking the gates open. They walked slowly on, passing an old warehouse. The dying sun cast weird shadows over the ground, and on more than one occasion Kassie felt she saw the outline of a man. But it was just her mind playing tricks on her, or so she told herself. On they went, past stacks of abandoned packing cases, deserted grain stores and empty offices, walking in silence, their eyes raking the site for wooden outbuildings.

  ‘Do you think we should kill the flashlight?’ Kassie said suddenly. ‘I mean, if there is someone here and they see our beam …’

  Adam was looking at Kassie as if she had finally gone mad, but, reluctantly conceding the point, switched it off.

  ‘There’s probably enough light from the freeway for us to make our way.’