by Amy Cross
With that, Berresford stepped back inside and slammed the door, leaving the unfortunate drunk figure to crawl over to the step.
Walter watched for a moment, until the figure's face was caught in a patch of light cast from the window.
“Well,” he whispered, unable to hold back a very faint smile, “if it isn't the man himself.”
He hesitated, telling himself that no good would come of going over to speak to someone he hadn't seen in so many years, but somehow deep down he couldn't quite resist. The last thing he wanted was to make fun of a washed-up old drunk, but finally he began to stroll across the street, telling himself all the while that he could change course at any moment. That he could just walk on past without engaging the man who, even now, seemed poised to topple over and fall fast asleep on the sidewalk.
“Who's that?” the drunk old man asked suddenly, as Walter got closer. “Wait... Walter, is that you?”
“Lord Pelham,” Walter replied, stopping and staring down at him. “Christopher. It has most certainly been a while.”
“What have...” Lord Pelham slurred his words for a moment. “What have you been up to, you old fool?”
“The same thing men in my family have been doing for generations,” Walter said, with a hint of long-festering bitterness in his voice. “Taking care of your family's mess out at those terrible houses.”
VII
“My mind is not blown by this,” Melissa said a few minutes later, scrunching her nose as she looked at the large wooden panel on the wall. “Just how easily blown do you think my mind is?”
“There are panels like this on several walls in the house,” Brad replied, as he continued to push against the panel. It was as if he expected the main section to suddenly fall away and reveal something on the other side. “I think they open, but I'm not sure how.”
“Fascinating,” Melissa said, before turning to Lucy. “Aren't you fascinated.”
Lucy opened her mouth to answer.
“Actually, scratch that,” Melissa continued. “You're so boring, you probably would find all of this interesting.”
“Maybe the houses weren't finished,” Lucy pointed out. “I mean, the estate was left that way, so maybe these panels were originally supposed to lead to... something?”
“Have you noticed something else?” Brad asked. “Something about the layout?”
“It seems very boxy,” Lucy replied.
“It's more than that. It took me a while to figure it out, but now I've realized that all the corridors seem to run around the outside of the house. Apart from the panels, there are no doorways or any other openings that lead into the center.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked. “You make it sound like you think there's some kind of house within the house.”
“I'm saying that there's no way to get into the center,” Brad replied. “No way at all. The only possible way is through these panels, and I have no idea how to get them open.”
“Wow, you guys,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes, “you really are a pair of dorks, aren't you? Brad, darling, if you find this kind of thing interesting, maybe you should date my sad little sister instead.” She stepped toward him and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him closer. “I came out here tonight to be scared. Not to listen to you two talk about walls.”
“Aren't you curious?” Brad asked her.
“Oh, sure I am. I'm curious about how I didn't realize before that you're such a loser.”
“It definitely opens somehow,” Lucy said, having begun to assess the panels herself. She was pushing the edges, trying to wiggle them free. “I don't see any kind of keyhole, or anything that could be used as a kind of trigger.” Stepping back, she looked at the panel's thick wooden frame. “Do you think it could be some kind of puzzle?”
“Maybe,” Brad replied, “and -”
“No!” Melissa said, pulling him away. “I'm not going to let you two ruin my evening. Brad, honey, we're going to go and look around this place. Either we get scared by some ghosts, or you have to find some other way to keep me warm. Because so far, I'm really not getting much of a vibe from this place, one way or another.”
Brad tried to protest, but Melissa was already frog-marching him along the corridor and soon they'd disappeared into another part of the house.
Left alone, and grateful for the peace, Lucy got back to work on the panel. Never one to walk away from a challenge, she was already entirely focused on figuring out how to open the panel and get to whatever was on the other side. It wasn't that she particularly cared what was on the other side; it was simply that she didn't like being bested by a piece of wood. She was so focused, in fact, that for several minutes she simply muttered to herself as she tried every conceivable way to open the panel. She was so focused, she kept realizing that she'd forgotten to breathe.
She was so focused, she didn't hear the sudden, distant thudding sound that came from one of the other corridors.
She worked and worked and worked, until after nearly an hour she stepped back again and looked down at her fingertips. She'd managed to crack one of the nails on the piece of wood, and she was still no closer to finding a solution. The panel definitely opened, of that she was certain, but how it opened remained a mystery.
A moment later, a heavy banging sound briefly rang out through the house.
This time, Lucy turned and looked along the corridor.
The house was silent now.
“Hey!” she called out. “Are you guys okay?”
She waited, but she already knew that the house was too large for voices to carry far. If Melissa and Brad were around in one of the far rooms, they'd never hear her.
“Never mind,” she muttered as she turned back to look at the panel.
Think, she told herself.
Think.
So she thought, and she kept on thinking for hours and hours, trying every possibility several times over. She lost herself in the mystery of the panel, allowing the challenge to consume her. Time seemed to no longer exist, as if the panel was the only thing that mattered. Occasionally Lucy wondered whether she might be getting a little obsessed, but soon the obsession took back control and she was lost again. Finally, after several hours of fruitless labor, she was only stirred by the sudden realization that she needed to pee.
Was there even a bathroom in the house?
Reluctant to leave the puzzle, she briefly considered finding a makeshift toilet, and then she set off along the corridor. Perhaps, she told herself, a little break might help. She reached the top of the stairs and waited for a moment, listening out in the hope that she might hear Melissa and Brad somewhere in the distance. Would they be laughing about something? Or telling each other scary stories? Or arguing? Or getting frisky?
She waited, but she heard nothing, and now she began to worry.
Just a little.
“Hey!” she called out, not particularly loudly. After all, being loud was definitely not her thing. “Are you guys still here?”
Again she waited, and now she felt a tingling sense of dread in her chest. She listened for a moment longer, and then she hurried down the stairs as she felt panic gripping her soul. By the time she reached the front door, she'd managed to convince herself that Melissa and Brad had left and stranded her at the house, probably because they thought it'd be funny.
She pulled the door open, and then she felt a sigh of relief as she saw that the van was still outside.
Okay, so they hadn't abandoned her.
She shut the door and turned to look back up the stairs, and then she realized that she could feel the floor shuddering slightly beneath her feet. She told herself that she had to be wrong, and then she reached down and touched the wooden boards. Sure enough, she could feel a dull, irregular thudding sensation, as if something was moving down in the building's basement. Not that she was even sure there was a basement, but something definitely seemed to be moving beneath the ground floor.
A boiler, maybe?
M
aybe.
Heading along the nearest corridor, Lucy listened out for any hint of Melissa and Brad. She told herself not to worry, that she was just – as usual – panicking over nothing. At the same time, the continuing lack of noise coming from Melissa and Brad was starting to worry her more than ever. Once again, her imagination began to run wild and she became more and more convinced that something was wrong.
Were they playing a trick on her?
That would be so typical. All her life, Melissa had picked on her and made fun of her and gone out of her way to make her look stupid. That behavior had ended a little as they'd grown up, but now Melissa had her 'perfect' boyfriend and all the old childish antics were coming back.
“Where are you?” she muttered angrily under her breath, as she hurried along the corridor, her footsteps banging out loudly against the wooden boards. “I'm not going to be played for a fool again!”
She stormed all the way around the ground floor, and all the way around the upper floor, and finally she stopped in the hallway as she realized that she'd checked the whole house. Heading to the front door again, she checked that the van hadn't left, and then she stopped to think for a moment. Her mind was racing, still filled with the fear that she was being mocked. And then, finally, she spotted yet another wooden panel on one of the far walls.
Except that this time, there was something stuck in one corner of the panel.
She made her way over to take a closer look, and as she reached down she realized that the item was in fact a scrap of fabric. She tried to pull the fabric out, only to find that it was stuck. At the same time, she also saw that the fabric seemed familiar, and she realized a moment later that it seemed to have been torn from her sister's dress.
“Melissa?” she whispered, looking both ways along the corridor before turning back to the panel.
She hesitated, telling herself not to worry, but of course her imagination was once again running wild. She began to push against the panel, which seemed to be much the same as the one that had defeated her upstairs. As she pushed a little harder, however, she felt something slightly different: a very faint breeze was blowing through the panel's edges, hinting at a space on the other side.
“Melissa!”
She tapped against the panel, in case Melissa and Brad had somehow found a way through to the house's interior.
“Brad?” she called out. “Hey, you two! Can you let me know that you're okay?”
She pushed the panel again, before turning and pressing hard with her shoulder, summoning all her strength in an attempt to get the panel to move.
“This isn't funny!” she shouted. “I'm only -”
Before she could get another word out, the panel suddenly swung inward. Unable to steady herself, Lucy fell straight through and let out a startled cry as she fell into the darkness. She tumbled down into the depths of the house, and after a moment her cry was cut short as the panel swung back into place.
VIII
“You know, Chris,” Walter said as he sat on the pavement, near a patch of light cast by a streetlamp, “sometimes I get to thinking that the whole world is upside down. Do you know what I mean by that?”
“Spare me your phony philosophy,” Lord Pelham replied wearily. “You're paid a good wage for what you do. If you don't like it, you can always quit.”
“Can I? And who would take my place?”
“I'd -”
Suddenly Lord Pelham was interrupted by a hiccup.
“I'd find someone,” he continued after a moment.
“My family has experience going back generations,” Walter pointed out. “We've been looking after these things for -”
“Anyone could have done that,” Lord Pelham replied, interrupting him. “You're not so special, Walter. You're barely a step above a game-keeper. Never forget that.”
“My family -”
“Your family would be nothing without my family. We're the ones who gave you your precious work. And you were simply born into it, Walter. My father never thought much of you, he seriously considered finding somebody else when it came time to pass the baton. I'm the one who persuaded him to give you a chance. Without me, you'd have been thrown out onto the street and someone else would have been found to do what you're doing.” He let out a derisory sniff. “Someone who doesn't grumble so much.”
“Is that right?”
“That's right. And don't you forget it!”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then slowly – with considerable pain in his knees – Walter got to his feet.
“Alright, then,” he muttered, “I guess I quit.”
“Whatever.”
“See you around, Christopher,” he continued, as he started walking away. “I wish you all the luck in the world. I'll be interested to hear one day what happens to those houses.”
“You won't quit!” Lord Pelham barked, stumbling up from the ground and then leaning for a moment against the wall, trying to steady himself. He hiccuped again, and then he burped, and finally he farted. “You've got nothing else to do and nowhere else to go!”
“I'll manage!”
“Have fun, then!”
“I will.”
Walter kept on walking, waiting for the moment when -
“Wait!”
He stopped and allowed himself a faint smile. To be fair, Lord Pelham had held out a little longer than he'd expected, but of course he'd eventually come around to a point of sanity. Sure, His Lordship was basically pickled, but the man's mind wasn't completely addled.
“Wait, Walter,” Lord Pelham said, as he stumbled up behind him, “let's not do or say anything hasty. I mean either of us. I've had a few drinks and you... well, I'm sure you have days when you say things you don't mean.”
Walter turned to him.
“I could find someone else to look after those houses,” Lord Pelham continued, “and to keep them safe, and to keep people out of them, but it'd be hassle and I don't like hassle. And I know you could find another job. You're a good man. But, again, why bother? Why not just keep doing what you're doing?”
“It's a matter of respect,” Walter replied.
Lord Pelham made a rasping noise, suggesting that he wasn't entirely convinced.
“I've personally been in charge of those houses for a few decades now,” Walter continued, “and in that time, how many incursions have there been?”
“None, I know, and -”
“That's right!” Walter roared. “None! Not one inquisitive asshole has entered any of those houses! Not one person has found out what's hidden in them! Do you think that's easy? Do you think I just sit on my ass all day!”
“Of course not, Walter.”
“I want a little damn respect for what I do!” Walter continued. “I work day after day, night after night. I never take any time off. I work and I work, and I keep everything safe, and I make sure that your family gets to go on living without having to face the truth about what happened out there all those centuries ago! Don't you think the newspapers might like to know what's buried deep inside -”
“You've made your point, Walter.”
“I don't think I have!” Walter shouted, and now he was really getting into his stride. “I've saved lives, Christopher! I've kept secrets! And for what? For the measly pittance you pay me each month?”
“So that's what this is about, eh? You want more money.”
“You don't get it,” Walter muttered, taking a step back. “You never did, and you never will. Well, screw you, Christopher. Screw you and screw those houses. I'm done! When I said I was quitting, I didn't mean it, but I mean it now! I mean it, and I'm doing it! One little ounce of respect is all it would have taken, Christopher! One little ounce!”
With that, he turned and stormed away.
“Fine!” Lord Pelham shouted after him. “I respect you!”
“Too late.”
“I'll pay you more!”
“It's not about the money,” Walter muttered under his breath, quickeni
ng his pace and – at the same time – feeling relieved that he hadn't lost his cool and punched Lord Pelham square in the jaw. “It was never about the money.”
“Get back here!” Lord Pelham yelled. “Do you hear me, Walter? You can't quit! What am I supposed to do if you quit? How am I supposed to keep those things under control?”
IX
After falling for several seconds, Lucy slammed down hard against a cold, hard floor. She let out a pained gasp, and then she winced as she felt ripples of pain in her ankles and waist.
She looked around, but she couldn't see anything. She could hear a faint throbbing sound, however, and after a moment she realized that the air all around seemed strangely humid. There was a foul smell, too, as if someone had left rotten garbage nearby. As she sat up and tried to get her bearings, Lucy continued to look around, and she realized that the stone floor seemed to be soaking wet. Already, patches of water were seeping through the bum of her jeans.
“What the...”
She paused, but now the smell was becoming increasingly foul. Reaching up, she put a hand against her nose as she began to crawl back, and finally she bumped against a wall.
After a few seconds, she heard the throbbing sound again, accompanied this time by a sickly, slimy crunch.
“Melissa?” she said cautiously, as she looked around and tried to make out something – anything – in the darkness. “Brad? Are you here?”
She waited, but there was no reply.
Suddenly remembering her phone, she reaches into her pocket and slipped it out. The screen was cracked from the fall, but at least it still worked, and she fumbled for a moment before finally managing to activate the flashlight. With trembling hands, she turned the phone around and -
“No!” she screamed, freezing instantly as soon as she saw a body in the near corner.
