by Amy Cross
And those houses were dotted so far apart, it was almost as if they'd been dropped into place from a great height.
“It's creepy out here,” she said after a moment. “Why are all these houses left empty?”
“The company that owns them is mired in litigation,” Brad explained.
She turned to him.
“Or they're owned by drug cartels who want to keep people away,” he continued. “Or they're used by the military for exercises. Or they're part of some kind of scam. Or they're just too haunted for anyone to live in, and nobody'll go near them.” He held his hands out to his sides and smiled, as he stood silhouetted against the nearest house. “I've heard a hundred different stories about these houses. From the few people who are willing to talk about them, at least. I have no idea which of the stories might be true, but I've heard a lot of people say that there are ghosts here. And that's what we're here to find out.”
“Hell, yes,” Melissa said, as she stepped over and gave Brad a kiss on the cheek.
“Are we allowed to be here?” Lucy asked.
“Are we allowed?” Brad said with a grin. “Hell, no, of course we're not allowed. Are you for real? Everyone knows this place is out of bounds.” He turned and looked toward the nearest house, which loomed ominously as it stood against the starry night sky. “People just ignore these houses. Have you noticed that? They're not even mildly curious about them. That just shows you that the vast majority of people round here are nothing more than sheeple.”
“It's so weird how they just built these twelve houses, so far apart from each other,” Melissa said. “Imagine a parallel universe where the estate was actually completed. Instead of these twelve houses, there'd be over a thousand. The town would be completely different.” She took a step forward. “And they're nice houses, too. They're big. One day someone'll get things back up and running. They have to. This land is too valuable to be left abandoned like this.”
“I asked Mom and Dad about it the other day,” Lucy said, turning to her. “They totally didn't want to talk about it at all. Nobody does. It's like people have an instinctive aversion to even thinking about this place.”
“Maybe they're heard the ghost stories too,” Melissa suggested.
“You don't actually believe that stuff, do you?” Lucy asked.
“I know people who say they've heard weird noises out here. And people who say they can feel that there's something here, something that's not right. Can't you feel it in the air, Lucy?”
“No.”
“Try harder.”
“I don't feel anything in the air. I don't even know what that means.”
“It means you don't have any imagination,” Melissa said with a sigh, while rolling her eyes. “There's something weird here. Human beings have, like, these extra senses that we don't even know we have. It's how we pick up on things that we don't really know are there. It's the reason the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you're scared, and the reason you get the shivers when you realize someone's watching you from the shadows.”
“None of that stuff's real,” Lucy said. “You're just making stuff up.”
“Then you won't be scared when we go into one of the houses, will you?”
“We probably won't even get inside,” Lucy point out. “The houses are locked up, and they're probably alarmed too. This whole trip was probably just a complete waste of time.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!”
Grinning, Melissa nodded toward the house.
Lucy turned and looked, and she was about to sigh when – at the very last moment – she saw that Brad was in the process of pushing the front door fully open.
“How did he even do that?” Lucy asked.
“I told you, my boyfriend's a genius,” Melissa said, nudging her arm before heading past and making her way up the steps. “Come on, let's get inside and scare ourselves half to death!”
“I don't think being able to break and enter a property counts as being a genius,” Lucy muttered, before turning and looking back toward the road.
For a moment, she couldn't help cursing herself for agreeing to hang out with Melissa and Brad. She wished she could be back at home, reading or watching something on her laptop. Anything seemed preferable to being cold and bored and tired out in the middle of nowhere, and she knew that she was in for several mind-numbing hours of tedium. She didn't enjoy Brad's company at the best of times, and she certainly didn't believe in ghosts, which made her decision seem rather perplexing. At the same time, she knew she was stuck for the night, so she figured she'd better just try her best to have fun.
“As long as we don't get murdered by drunk hobos, I guess it'll be okay,” she said as she began to make her way up the steps that led to the open front door. “I just want to get this over with and go home.”
IV
“It's late, Walter. What are you doing here?”
“It's a long story,” Walter replied as he took his usual seat at the bar and waited for his usual drink to be brought to him by the usual bartender. “Let's just say that I'm getting some unexpected time off.”
“Time off?” The bartender glanced at him, and it was impossible for him to hide the concern in his expression. “You?”
“I got run off the road, a few miles out of town. It's nothing too serious, the truck should be back running by tomorrow night. It's just annoying, that's all.”
He waited as the bartender wandered over and set a double whiskey on the counter. Smiling, he picked the whiskey up and took a good swig, but as he did so he couldn't help but notice that he was being watched.
“What?” he asked finally.
“Nothing,” the bartender replied. “Well...”
“Spit it out.”
“Well, it's just that you've never taken a day off before, have you? That's what everyone says. For the past thirty years, maybe more, you've been at work every single day.”
“That's right.”
“You never even been sick, Walter?”
“Plenty of times, but I'm no use to anyone if I'm sick, am I? So I just carry on regardless. I get the job done.”
“Exactly,” the bartender replied,” and now... Pardon me for asking, Walter, but is everything going to be okay out there at Pelham? If you miss a night, I mean. Is it safe?”
Walter hesitated for a moment, and then he took another swig of whiskey as he contemplated his answer. In truth, the bartender's questions echoed his own, and he couldn't deny that he felt more than a little worried. On the walk back into town, his mind had filled with all sorts of terrible ideas about what might happen if he didn't get out to the house for twenty-four hours. Even now, after he'd managed to calm his thoughts a little, there were lingering concerns, and these weren't helped when he turned to the bartender and saw a flicker of concern on the man's face.
“It'll be fine,” Walter said finally.
“But if -”
“I told you, it'll be fine. Twenty-four hours isn't that long.”
“What if the -”
“I'll deal with it tomorrow night,” Walter continued, cutting him off. “Listen, I know that place like the back of my hand, okay? I know how it works. And I'm telling you, a twenty-four hour delay isn't going to cause any lasting trouble. Tomorrow night I'll make it all alright.” He paused again. “I know how it works.”
“And I trust you entirely,” the bartender replied. “We all do, so... I guess your word is enough. I mean, I don't know how you handle that situation, but I can't deny that you keep it all under control. You've been keeping it under control for years. Especially that one particular house that tends to cause more trouble than all the rest.”
“That I have,” Walter said, finishing the last of the whiskey and then reaching into his pocket as he got to his feet. “I still can't get Frank on the phone. He'd better not be flat drunk somewhere, not when I need him. I'm not going to be much use to anyone while I don't have a vehicle. How much do I owe you?”
“I still like to offer now and again,” Walter replied with a faint smile, as he turned and headed to the door. “I wouldn't like to take anything for granted.”
“If you ask me,” the bartender said, “it's a scandal that you're not given more. I thought that same thing years ago, when your father did your job. Your entire family has been working tirelessly for generations, and what thanks do you get? A few free drinks here, some free work on your car, but that's about the end of it. Meanwhile, certain people lord it up at the manor and act like it's nothing to do with them, when we all know -”
“That's enough,” Walter said, interrupting him. “There's no need to rehash all the old arguments. Lord Pelham has his own problems to deal with. Just because he's rich, that doesn't mean the man's life is free of stress. Anyway, he and his kind wouldn't know the first thing about dealing with Pelham House. It takes experience to keep that place safe, and all the experience rests in the hands of my family. I wouldn't trust anyone else.”
“You're a better man than me,” the bartender grumbled. “I'd be spitting feathers about the situation.”
As he headed out into the night air, Walter briefly considered those words. It was certainly true that Lord Pelham and his ancestors had abdicated all responsibility for the houses on their land. Sure, they'd paid for the construction of the 'new' houses out there, but otherwise they'd kept well out of the matter. The present Lord Pelham, in particular, was known as a layabout good-for-nothing who used alcohol to avoid thinking about his troubles. Then again, as Walter's father had noted several times, this was simply how things were. And as he began to make his way toward the garage, Walter had to admit that he lacked the energy to try changing anything now.
Maybe someone else could change things some day. But Walter, as usual, was far too tired. He barely had the energy to keep Pelham House in order, and to make sure that nobody ever discovered its dark secret.
V
“What was that?”
Melissa spun around yet again and shone her flashlight back along the dark corridor.
“It was nothing,” Lucy replied with a heavy sigh. “It was just the house settling. Again. Can't you just get used to the fact that it happens?”
“Houses don't settle!” Melissa hissed, sounding increasingly flustered. “Houses don't move, dumbass!”
“No, but this particular house is made of wood,” Lucy explained, “and wood expands and contracts. Not by much, but by enough to cause a few creaks and groans. Now can we please keep exploring? At this rate, we'll be here for hours.”
“We should never have split up like this,” Melissa said, as she began to reluctantly follow Lucy along the corridor. “We should have made Brad stay with us.”
“What's up with him, anyway?” Lucy asked. “He seems kinda preoccupied.”
“He's been arguing with his parents,” Melissa explained, slowly aiming the flashlight all around as if she expected to see a hideous monster at any moment. “Plus there was all that drama with his uncle Martin a while back. I think that affected him more than he's letting on?”
“What happened to his uncle?”
“It's a long story. He basically went nuts one night. He thought his wife and a friend were summoning demons in the butcher's shop where they lived. Eventually he ran out naked in the middle of the night, screaming that he was on fire. He was found the next day hiding in a bush in the corner of the local school's playground. Let's just say that he's going to be wearing clothes without sleeves for a long time.”
“Yikes,” Lucy said. “He sounds properly nuts.”
“And the worst part,” Melissa continued, “is that just after he went nuts, his wife Vanessa found out that she was -”
Suddenly she spun around again.
“What was that?”
“It was nothing!” Lucy said firmly, before grabbing her arm. “Please, let's just get this over with. You keep stopping every ten seconds!”
“That's because I keep hearing things!” Melissa hissed as they started walking again. “What if, like, the previous occupants of this house are somehow still here? What if they're out for revenge?”
“Revenge for what?” Lucy asked. “Anyway, these houses were never occupied! No-one ever lived in them!”
“Then what if the land itself was haunted? What if it was some kind of burial ground?”
“Was it some kind of burial ground?”
“How should I know?”
“Then I think maybe you're jumping the gun a little,” Lucy pointed out. “I'm pretty sure you can't have ghosts without -”
“WHAT WAS THAT?”
Melissa spun around, and this time Lucy looked the same with with a hint of concern on her face. There had been a loud bumping sound, louder than all the previous noises combined, and for a moment both women stared back along the corridor as if they were waiting for something to happen.
“You heard that, right?” Melissa whispered. “That was not wood growing!”
“That's not quite what I said earlier,” Lucy replied, before listening for a moment longer to the silence that had now fallen in the house. “It was probably Brad, that's all. I'm sure he's just blundering around somewhere in the place, knocking things over and slamming doors. He doesn't exactly strike me as the delicate type.”
“Brad went upstairs,” Melissa reminded her. “That noise came from somewhere down below. Like, in the basement.”
“Then maybe he's in the basement.”
“I don't like this,” Melissa replied, turning to her.
“Are you kidding me?” Lucy replied. “You love this. This must be the most fun you've had in years. With your clothes on, at least.”
“There's something here with us, Lucy,” her sister replied. “I'm telling you, I can feel it in my bones. I don't claim to be able to explain it, and I know this house doesn't have any kind of spooky history. But there's something here with us and I think maybe we're starting to mess with things we don't understand.”
“At least we're in agreement with that,” Lucy said. “Then again, I figure there's a long list of things that Brad doesn't understand. Like holding down a job. Or staying sober for more than twelve hours at a time. Or driving on the right side of the road. Or -”
Suddenly another loud banging sound rang out, this time coming from above. Lucy and Melissa both looked up, just as a fine layer of dust began to fall from the wooden ceiling. A moment later there was another bang, then another, followed finally by what was clearly the sound of someone running down the stairs.
“Are you telling me that's not a ghost?” Melissa hissed.
“It's Brad,” Lucy replied with another sigh. “It was obviously Brad.”
As if to underline that point, Brad hurried around the corner and stopped as soon as he saw them.
“I've found something!” he gasped. “You know I said there was something weird about this house? I wasn't kidding. I've found something upstairs that's gonna blow your minds!”
VI
“I'll get it sorted for you,” Frank said wearily as he slipped his arms into his coat. “You don't have to keep nagging me about it.”
“I'll need it in the morning,” Walter said firmly.
“You've already told me that several times,” Frank continued. “Don't worry, I know how it works. If you can't get out there, you'll start complaining to everyone within earshot. I'm sure there isn't that much damage to your truck, anyway.” He pulled his front door shut and shuffled over toward his vehicle, before stopping and turning to Walter. “How exactly did you get run off the road, anyway? You're the most careful driver I've ever met.”
“I told you, there were some kids out there, driving like maniacs.”
“Kids?” Frank hesitated for a moment. “They couldn't be going to the -”
“No, of course not.”
“But how do you -”
“Because I know!” Walter snapped. “Don't you think I've got the houses alarmed? Nobody can go near them without me knowing. I'm not a complete idiot!”
“Fine,” Frank muttered, “it was just a thought. You know what kids are like, they get so curious. You tell them not to do something, and that only makes them more determined than ever.”
“Which is why I have the alarms,” Walter replied. “What time can I come back for the truck?”
“Come back at lunchtime,” Frank said. “Twelve. Don't bother me any earlier than that. And Walter? Go home, get some sleep. You look absolutely exhausted.”
“I get more than enough sleep,” Walter said gloomily, as he watched Frank walking away. “I don't tell other people how to live their lives, so I don't expect to be told how to live mine.”
With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as Frank climbed into a truck, and then he stepped back as the vehicle reversed from its spot. The headlights briefly lit the yard, forcing Walter to raise a hand to shield his eyes, but then Frank drove away and the light dipped again, until Walter was left standing all alone in darkness. Once he was sure that nobody was around, he let his shoulders drop a little and turned to begin the walk back to his flat.
“Everyone thinks they know better,” he grumbled under his breath. “You'd think by now they'd know to leave well enough alone. There's no point trying to change centuries of tradition. Things work as they are, so why try fixing them?”
A few paces later, his introspective musings were disturbed by the sound of glass smashing. He stopped and looked around, just in time to see a figure stumbling out from the local snooker hall. There were voices shouting inside the building, and after a few more seconds the familiar figure of Deacon Berresford emerged.
“This time you're going to stay out, Pelham!” Berresford snapped angrily, as the other figure stumbled and fell against some bin bags. “You're barred! Do you understand me? You're turning into a pub-clearer. I don't care how many rounds you offer to buy, it doesn't make up for all the people who clear out as soon as they see you coming. You're a disgrace, man. Is this really all you can think to do with your life?”
