by Amy Cross
II
Six months later...
“Okay,” Vanessa says as she puts the top back onto the machine, “you might as well go up to bed. I'll finish everything off down here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, as I finish putting the knives back into the drawer. “I don't mind helping some more.”
“You know I like to do it myself,” she points out. “Don't take offense, honey, it's just that if I put everything away, I know where everything will be in the morning.”
“When do I ever put things in the wrong places?” I ask.
“Almost never,” she replies, “but seriously, just let me do it. I won't be long, and you look absolutely shattered. Please, Martin, get to bed. It's almost midnight and you've got so much to do tomorrow. Please, just go to bed.”
For a moment, I consider arguing some more, but then I realize that there's no point. I know Vanessa likes to finish up down here alone, and I think the solitude is starting to become part of her ritual. I feel bad not doing more, but the last thing I want is to intrude, so instead I head over and put my hands on the side of her face, and then I plant a big kiss on her forehead.
“I know better than to argue with you,” I tell her. “Just promise you won't wear yourself out down here, okay?”
“I promise. Now go to bed!”
Smiling, I turn and head to the door. As I start making my way up the stairs toward the flat, I have to admit that I'm exhausted. I've been on my feet all day and I just want to get to bed, read a few comics and then go to sleep. As I reach the top of the stairs, however, I stop as I hear the door bumping shut behind me and then the tell-tale sound of the key being turned in the lock. Slowly, I turn and look back down the stairs, and I listen to Vanessa's footsteps heading away from the door's other side. It's almost as if -
No!
No, I will not let myself start imagining things again. That night six months ago, when I imagined Vanessa and Leah doing all sorts of crazy things in the basement, still doesn't sit quite right. I basically lost my mind for a while, and the dream felt so vivid and real. Even tonight, standing here and thinking back to everything that I thought happened, it's still hard to believe that a dream could ever feel that way. I know that it was just a dream, of course. It has to have been a dream. And there's no way I ever want a dream like that again.
I stare at the door for a moment longer, and then I head up into the front room.
Once I've had a wash, I head through to the bedroom. I grab my phone and bring up the app I use for reading comics, but at the last moment I hesitate. I've been reading during the day, but I made a decision a while ago that I wouldn't read right before bed. I'm so tempted, but after a moment I set the phone down as I realize that I owe it to myself to be strong. I owe it to Vanessa, too. After all, I came close to losing my mind six months ago. Vanessa doesn't know how bad that dream was, or even what it was about. I need to make sure that I'm always here for her.
Heading to the bedroom window, I reach up to pull the curtains across. At the very last moment, however, I spot something moving in the darkness outside.
I watch as a shadowy figure hurries along the path that leads to the back door.
A shadowy robed figure.
I swallow hard, before pulling the curtains shut.
No.
No, I'm not going to let this kind of paranoia take root in my mind again. I refuse. I'm not that kind of person, and I'm not that kind of husband. I didn't see a figure out there just now. I saw a shadow, that's all. Leah lives several miles away and there's no way she'd come to the house at such a late hour. I take a deep breath and tell myself that I'm simply being stupid again. I take another deep breath and tell myself that it's time to go to bed, and then I take yet another deep breath as I realize that I'm actually doing quite well. After six months, I wobbled slightly, but I caught the wobble and now I'm right back on track. I'm completely sane.
And then, suddenly, I hear a faint bumping sound from downstairs, and I know exactly what just happened.
The back door was pulled shut.
No.
No, that did not happen.
I take another deep breath as I tell myself that the sound could have been anything. Vanessa probably just dropped something, or she bumped against something. Or, maybe she simply had to go out into the yard for a moment. Yes, that would explain the fact that she was using the back door. I force myself to smile as I realize that there are plenty of reasons why the back door would make a sound. Heading through to the hallway on my way to the bedroom, I can't help reflecting upon the fact that the human mind is a very strange and delicate thing. Just the sound of the back door being shut was enough to bring a rush of memories into my mind, and to waken old fears.
Fortunately, I'm way too smart to fall victim to my own paranoia.
And then, suddenly, I realize I can hear hushed voices coming from downstairs.
Stopping on the landing, I listen as the voices continues. I tell myself that I'm wrong, that Vanessa's simply talking to herself, but then I realize that one of the voices is clearly someone else. So I tell myself that Vanessa is watching something on TV down there, even though I know that would be totally out of character for her. Okay, so next I tell myself that she's on the phone. Yes, she's on the phone to Leah and she's using the speaker and that's why I can hear Leah's voice right now. Because it clearly is Leah's voice, even if I didn't want to admit that at first.
I glance into the kitchen, and I feel a flicker of dread as I see Vanessa's phone charging on the counter.
Okay, so Leah dropped by. So what? Vanessa and Leah are best friends, and it's perfectly natural for them to meet up and talk. At midnight. In the room where we chop meat. With Leah wearing some kind of robe.
I stay completely still for a moment, listening to the voices.
No.
No, I will not succumb yet again to this madness. Six months ago, after building things up in my head, I had some kind of brief mental break. I know I was lucky to get off without any permanent damage, so I should just go to bed right now. There's absolutely no need for me to go down the stairs and listen in to the conversation and prove to myself that they're merely chatting. No need at all. In fact, doing that would be a violation of everything that I hold dear in my marriage. I am not that type of husband.
Then again, I don't have to listen to their entire conversation.
Just a few seconds would do. Like, maybe ten seconds? Then I could prove to myself that everything's fine, without snooping in the process.
I hesitate for a moment, still not quite sure that this is the best choice, and then I start sneaking down the stairs. I'm terrified that at any moment one of the boards will creak, and that Vanessa will somehow realize that I'm here, but I force myself to keep going until I finally stop near the foot of the stairs. I'm only about two feet from the door, and that's close enough for me to finally be able to hear the conversation that's taking place on the other side.
It'll just be about dumb woman stuff. Leah's probably got another problem in her love-life. Something like that.
I lean closer to the door.
“I see it!” Vanessa is saying breathlessly on the other side. “It's real! It's coming!”
“Is it really him, though?” Leah gasps. “We've thought that before and it wasn't. I just... I can't believe it, not until I see it properly!”
“He's coming into our world!” Vanessa hisses. “I told you on the phone, this is it! This is the night we've been waiting for! Our master is finally coming, and we'll be rewarded for all eternity now that we've shown our devotion to him! He's emerging from the blood! I think... I think I can see... I think I can see his face!”
I creep backward up the stairs, while still staring straight at the door.
No.
No, this isn't happening.
I'm losing my mind again. I need to hold my shit together.
“It's really him!” Leah shouts. “I see him now! Master, we've waited so lon
g for your arrival! We thought we had you once before, but we were interrupted! Now you're here! Master! We adore you!”
“Master!” Vanessa cries. “Master, see us now! We're the ones who finally created the bridge that will allow you to return to this mortal world! We've done everything you asked!”
I pull back up onto the landing, and then I put my hands over my ears. I tell myself over and over again that I'm imagining things, but I can still just about hear Vanessa and Leah crying out in the distance. Finally, determined to get away from this madness and calm my troubled thoughts, I turn and start crawling across the floor until I reach the bedroom. I push the door shut and crawl onto the bed, and then I roll onto my back and wait a moment before forcing myself to move my hands away from the sides of my head.
All I hear is silence.
It wasn't real.
None of that madness was really happening. I just have a serious psychological problem, that's all. I thought about seeing a therapist after what happened six months ago, but I fooled myself into believing that I could handle things alone. Now I realize that I made a terrible mistake. I'm finally cracking, and – sure enough – a moment later I realize I can hear Vanessa and Leah chanting downstairs. At the same time, the bed is starting to shudder beneath me, and when I sit up I realize that the entire house is shaking.
I look over at the window and see a faint glow coming from outside, as if the bottom of the house is filled with light. The glow is getting stronger by the second, and now I can hear items rattling on the shelves as the entire house threatens to shake itself apart.
“This isn't real,” I say firmly, through gritted teeth. I grip the mattress, hoping against hope that somehow I can anchor myself in reality. “You're losing your mind. You've got to hold it together, man. You can't let things end like this. For your own sake and for Vanessa's sake, you have to keep your shit together.”
I put my hands over my ears again, as the shaking and rattling and chanting gets louder, and as the glow outside gets stronger. The whole house is shaking so much now, I'm worried that the place will collapse, but I console myself but remembering that this isn't really happening. And I keep remembering that even as bright light begins to burst through the gaps between the floorboards beneath my feet, and as an intense heat starts to fill the room. Still holding my hands over my ears, I stare straight ahead and wait for the illusion to end, although after a moment I can't help glancing down and seeing that my trousers seem to be on fire.
“This isn't really happening,” I say out loud, trying to use the words as a kind of mantra that will keep me sane. I don't want to make the same mistake I made several years ago, the mistake that ended my first marriage. “The world isn't ending. There's no demon coming through from downstairs. Vanessa and Leah aren't witches. I'm just imagining things, that's all. Just like all those years ago, with my first wife, when she started acting weird. I'm getting upset about nothing. This... is... not... happening!”
I keep saying those things, even as flames begin to fill the room, and as I feel my flesh starting to burn, and as a loud, demonic laugh brings to ring out from below and fill the world with its evil. I simply squeeze my hands harder against my ears, until I feel as if my skull's about to burst, and I scream.
“This isn't happening!” I shout. “It's all in my head! Somebody help me! This can't be the end of the world! HELP ME!”
Tongue
I
“WATCH OUT!”
The truck came out of nowhere, blazing suddenly in the night air. Lucy heard the sound of a horn honking, and for a fraction of a second she sat completely still, watching as the light races toward us. There was no time for thought, no time even for her life to rush before her eyes. There was only time for her to instinctively grip the seat, and to tense every muscle in her body.
And then suddenly they were all safe.
The truck skidded out of the way, missing the van by inches, and Lucy turned to look out the back window just as Brad and Melissa started laughing.
“Did you see that asshole?” Brad asked. “He was driving in the middle of the road, like he owned it!”
“Uh, I think you're the one who was in the middle,” Melissa said.
Lucy squinted as she continued to look out the back window, and then she turned to the others.
“Shouldn't we go back?” she asked. “That was really close, maybe he ended up off the road.”
“So?” Melissa replied.
“So what if he's hurt?” Lucy pointed out.
“He's fine,” Brad said. “I saw, he carried on. He probably got the scare of his life, but he carried on.”
“Are you sure?” Lucy asked.
“Don't nag, Lucy,” Melissa said, turning to her with a grin before taking a sip of beer from her can. “That's always been your problem, you don't know when to just let go of something. Brad said the guy continued unharmed, and that should be enough for you. When did you get so suspicious and untrusting?”
“I'm not either of -”
“Chill,” she added. “Seriously, Lucy. Don't make me regret letting you come tonight. Just because you're my little sister, that doesn't mean I have to be nice.”
“Why did we bring her, anyway?” Brad muttered.
“Sshh!” Melissa hissed, banging his arm with her fist.
“Just a joke,” he continued. “You know what jokes are, Lucy, right? You know how to take a joke, don't you?”
“Sure,” Lucy replied, as she settled back into her seat and forced herself to stay calm. She told herself that of course the other vehicle had been fine. She knew that she had a tendency to assume the worst, and many times she'd wished that she could be more like her carefree, happy-go-lucky sister.
The truck had been fine.
Everything was fine.
“So how long until we get there?” she asked finally, leaning forward, hoping to seem more cheery. “I feel like we've been driving for ages. Soon, I'm going to starting needing a -”
Before she could finish, Brad turned the wheel sharply, sending the van bumping off the side of the road. As he did so, there was a loud crashing sound and the entire vehicle shuddered, and Lucy turned just in time to see a large plate of metal – a street sign, perhaps – getting spat out from under the rear wheels.
“We're there, dumbass,” Brad said. “Didn't you see the sign?”
“I think you destroyed it!” Lucy stammered.
“It was half hanging off,” Brad replied.
“What did it say?”
“It said the same thing I'm about to say,” Brad continued. “Welcome to Pelham Heights!”
“Huh?” Turning, Lucy was about to ask what he meant when she suddenly realized that she could see a building up ahead, looming out of the darkness.
“This is officially too cool,” Melissa said excitedly. “I don't care what anyone else says, all those parties in town are totally lame tonight.” She turned to Lucy. “I don't want to party on a night like this. I want to explore a haunted house!”
II
“Damn kids!”
Gasping as he stumbled out of his truck, Walter instinctively clutched his left side. He'd taken a nasty knock as the truck had skidded off the road, and then another knock as he'd come to a sudden halt in the ditch. Other than the painful ribs, however, he could already tell that he'd escaped without any serious injury.
Except to his pride.
His pride was bruised rotten.
Turning, he looked along the road. For a moment he could just about make out the sight of the other vehicle's lights disappearing into the distance, and then even those lights were gone.
He'd seen them, though.
In the split second before he'd managed to swerve, Walter had seen the faces of three startled-looking kids in the other vehicle. They'd looked young, maybe only in their late teens or early twenties, and Walter reckoned that all three of them had seemed pretty dumb. Then again, they'd have to be dumb to be driving along in the middle of the road
, and Walter was pretty sure that it'd been the man – or rather, the boy – who'd been driving.
“Absolute bloody idiots,” he muttered as he turned and took a look at his truck. “This is going to be an expensive repair job.”
The more he examined the damage, however, the more he began to realize that actually the truck was still in a pretty good state. Sure, it was slightly on its side, but otherwise there was no obvious damage. He'd have to wait until morning to get Kevin to drag the damn thing back into town, but then it might only take a few hours to make the truck roadworthy again. Of course, first he'd have to get in touch with Kevin, and that was never easy. Kevin tended to like taking naps, and he never napped in the same place twice. All of which meant that Walter was facing – at the very least – an interruption to his usual schedule.
“Great,” he said with a sigh, as he opened the rear of the truck and peered inside to check that his cargo hadn't been damaged in any way. “All because of some stupid kids who don't even know how to drive.”
Inside the rear of the truck, several large boxes had been left scattered but intact. And on the side of each box, in large letters, there was a warning:
FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY! PROPERTY OF PELHAM HEIGHTS!
III
“Pelham Heights,” Brad said as he slammed the van's door shut and stepped out across the bare, flat expanse of land that lead toward the house. “Isn't this one of the freakiest places you've ever been to?”
Pulling her coat tight around her arms, in a desperate attempt to stay warm, Lucy couldn't help but look around and marvel at the desolate landscape. They were only about sixty miles out of town, but the green forests had long since given way to a vast flat plain. Turning all around, Lucy realized that the whole area was deserted as far as the eye could see in any direction, with the obvious exception of the road and the dozen or so houses that made up the Pelham Heights estate.
