by Jim Ody
It is not what was in the house that should be feared but those who were to protect its secret from getting out.
He smiled again and began to hum as he disappeared into the woods.
It was nearly time.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Twenty-One
T hey slowly jogged away through the brambles and wild lupins before stumbling onto a foot-worn path. A breeze whipped through the trees like whispers, but no sooner had it arrived, than it had disappeared.
“That was…I don’t know? What was it?” Debbie said as Paul shook his head.
“I have no idea,” he replied. “I have so many questions I don’t know where to start!”
“I thought that place was deserted; it looked like apart from wild animals, nobody had been there for years.” Their feet crunched on the odd branches underfoot, and they found themselves trudging through deep undergrowth as the path in places almost disappeared.
“There was a camera, Debs,” Paul suddenly said, and they both stopped in their tracks, throwing a glance back in the direction of the house, even though it was too far away to be seen.
“A camera?” There was sudden panic in her eyes.
“Yes. In the kitchen. It was in the corner, pointing towards the back door.”
Debbie puffed out her cheeks. “It can’t still work, Paul. It might not even be connected to anything—some sort of deterrent.”
Paul slowly shook his head and grabbed her hand, silently ushering her along. “No, it was flashing a red light, so it must still work. If it was to act as a deterrent, then there would’ve been a sign. You missed it, so it wasn’t meant for us to see.”
“But for it to see us.”
“Exactly.”
They quickened their pace once more, both longing to be back at the cabin, sat in the hot tub trying to relax away the stresses of the walk.
It was at that point someone suddenly appeared in front of them.
“Hey!” he shouted, in the same way that someone might shout “boo!”
“Jesus!” Debbie said, clutching her chest. “Robin!”
“The one and only.” He grinned through his ginger beard. “For a second, I didn’t recognise you both fully clothed!” He had a camouflage jacket over his shirt now, and a bag over his shoulder. “What’s the hurry? Or are you folks doing that power-walk thing? I’ve seen it in the Olympics, that funny wiggle-walk that looks like you need a shit—ha ha!”
Paul forced a laugh, but he was still a little uncomfortable being out in the open. He was also wondering whether or not he should share what he had seen. They didn’t really know Robin, so who was to say that he wasn’t in on whatever was going on in the old house? And what was going on at the house?
“We were about to race back.” Paul conceded with a weak response. “Anyway what are you doing out here? You look a little like a crazy English version of John Rambo. You’re not setting traps for us, are you?”
“Not for you,” he winked. “Not for you.”
Then suddenly there was a blast of static, followed by a crackly female voice from deep inside his jacket. “Phoenix? Are you there? Come in Phoenix, over.”
Robin looked a little flustered all of a sudden and grabbed a walkie-talkie from his jacket pocket. He turned away from them, and for the first time there was almost a flash of embarrassment. “This is Phoenix, Kitty. Look I’ve got some company here. I’ll be over in ten, over.”
After more static, the voice replied, “Roger that, Phoenix. Over and out.” He clicked a switch and fumbled it back into his pocket. He would never make a magician. His lopsided smile suggested that poker was not his game either.
“Right, well. I had best get on!”
Paul nodded at Robin’s pocket. “Girlfriend?” He grinned.
Robin again looked like he was the one that had been caught naked. “Ah, no. No, that is not the case. I, er, we have work to do.”
“Phoenix? What’s that then? Is a walkie-talkie not working in the same way that a CB does?”
“Sort of,” Robin said.
“So why not Red Bear?”
“Ya don’t have handles on walkie-talkies.”
“So what is Phoenix then?”
Robin glanced at his watch and genuinely looked perplexed. “Uh, it’s like a nickname.”
“Like V?”
“Yeah.”
“So why not V, V?”
Robin was suddenly moving from one foot to the other, and when he replied, it was a little bit of a whine. “She likes to call me Phoenix.”
“Sweet.” Debbie winked and nudged Paul.
There was an awkward moment of silence before Robin said, “Okay, then. Perhaps I’ll pop by later, or tomorrow?”
“Get me on the CB, V,” Paul said deadpan. He enjoyed winding people up, especially when they appeared to be a little uncomfortable.
“Ten-four, good buddy!” he shouted as he set off in almost a jog, deeper into the woods but following the coastline away from the direction of the house.
“I thought you might’ve said something to him,” Debbie said. “You know, about what we saw.”
They sped up again, both wishing their cabin was a lot further away from the house. Whoever was in the van would have to come almost past their cabin to get to the main road leading out of town.
“Yeah, I thought about it, but how much do we really know about Robin?”
“We know that he’s odd.”
“He is that. Which isn’t so good when looking to trust someone.”
“And what was he doing out here dressed like he was hiding out?” Debbie added.
“Beats me, but I get the feeling there is more to our strange buddy than meets the eye. Isn’t he a groundsman-slash-handyman?”
Debbie nodded.
“So what’s he up to? And who’s the girl?”
“No idea. What if they know something? And they’re trying to catch them red-handed?”
“I just don’t see Robin as that hero type.”
“Maybe his girlfriend is Batman.”
“Now there’s a thought!”
They were very relieved to see the cabin come into view up ahead.
They walked into the cabin and both sat on the sofa, cuddling into one another and sinking further down.
The hot tub was already out. Something to do with being outside, facing the direction of the house, and wearing only a small amount of clothing had them concluding that this was not the way to relax.
And then they heard the van.
The motor was throaty, and there was a knocking sound as it took the bumps a little too fast.
Paul and Debbie both held their breath, and as the noise of the van grew quieter, they grinned, realising what they both were doing. They looked like Shaggy and Scooby, one holding the other, when the monster hasn’t found them in their hiding places.
“I’m a little uncomfortable here now, Paul,” she said.
He turned and kissed her, rubbing her shoulders. “I can relax you,” he said softly.
“I know you can, but not now.” She offered a weak smile.
Paul stood up. “Okay, let’s go for a drive. We’ve walked around this place, so let’s go back up the road and find another town or a beach. What do you think?”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s go and get a nice lunch somewhere.”
“You could check your emails or Facebook or whatever,” he added.
“Okay then, mister. Let’s go!”
With more vigour now, they grabbed a few things and jumped into the Jeep.
The truth of the matter was there was nothing to say the camera still worked. There was no real evidence that, even if they had been caught on camera, anyone would see it or even care. The body they saw, and the scream they heard, could easily be something completely innocent. Minds so easily played tricks on you.
This was their honeymoon, and they sure as hell were going to enjoy it!
But it did also have the synopsis of a
low-budget horror movie about it.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Twenty-Two
C hristina was feeling so happy. She sang along to Meat Loaf belting out the words to “Bat Out of Hell” like she had not a care in the world. She was on her way to see the man that she loved, and finally they would be together!
“Oh my goodness. Sorry, Susie. Listen to Mummy singing loudly when your little ears are so delicate to sound. Mummy is sorry…” She looked in her mirror, but Susie’s eyes were closed, and she didn’t appear to be bothered at all with the noise.
She grinned again to herself as she saw the sign on the motorway for the services. This was the one Paul had pulled into yesterday.
Looking at Susie, Christina laughed to herself and rolled her eyes. She opened the back of the car and pulled out the pushchair.
It is funny how awkward it is to get a child out of their seat and into a pushchair when they are non-responsive. Susie was not conscious at all, and it was almost a struggle to move limbs that weren’t ready to be moved.
“There, there, my sweet. Let’s just pop in here for something to eat then we’ll get back on the road. Okay?” Susie remained quiet, completely out to the world.
There was a slight breeze in the air, but she was expecting that. She had checked the weather on her mobile before leaving, and while today was going to be what meteorologists like to vaguely label as “changeable”, the next few days were going to be hot. She could only imagine what they would be doing. More than likely they would find a lovely deserted cove, where Paul would hold Susie’s hand while she splashed and giggled in the sea as they walked along the beach with the waves chasing them. She would sit down looking across at them, smiling and content that the little family were finally together.
Just as God had planned it.
As they approached the bank of glass doors to the services, a middle-aged man held one open for them. While this could be seen as an act of chivalry, he also thought he should be automatically rewarded and proceeded to glance up and down her body. She wasn’t offended and winked at him, a move that instantly dropped his jaw. She knew she was attractive; what she looked like had never been a problem.
Men could be such stupid creatures.
“Let’s go and get some food, Susie,” she said to the back of the small child’s head while pushing her pushchair along. “Are you hungry?”
Susie remained quiet. She really was an easy child.
They queued up and got some food.
Christina didn’t realise but as they were sitting down to eat, behind them a harassed Jez passed by, struggling and looking at his phone while clutching a burger and a large coke in his other hand, wondering why his sister still hadn’t replied to his text messages.
Jez’s wife was quick to tell him on her quiet retreat there were a number of strapping men oiling them up and looking to sweep them off of their feet.
Jez shook his head in almost disgust. Who did she think she was, Shirley Bloody Valentine? It was meant to be some hippy, chill-out retreat thing that she was on, not some steamy sex-fest.
He struggled to leave the building where a guy let go of the door just as he got there. This was a common problem when you don’t have breasts. With no spare hands, Jez took the selfless decision to stop the door with his head.
“Jesus, shit, Christ!” he shouted as it banged him. The glass really was rock hard. For some reason he had thought it would not hurt quite that much, but the thing was spring loaded, and he was now questioning the dangers of driving while concussed.
“Hey!” a grossly overweight lady said as she stood a foot outside, blowing cigarette smoke into the faces of not just everyone walking past, but her four kids that were huddled around her—more than likely gasping for oxygen.
“Fucking, nutter!” one of them muttered. He was no more than six. His older brother spat on the floor and simply replied “wanker!” while glaring at him too.
“Shut it, Beckham!” she shouted loudly and slapped him round the head, the movement causing all of her chins to move.
“Fuck-sake,” he said glancing around embarrassed, and scratching his crotch. “Just sayin’, wa’n’t I?”
Jez put his phone away and took a big bite of his burger, not worrying the ketchup squeezed out of the sides and onto his cheeks.
He balanced the drink on his roof as he opened the door and sat in, ready to finish his dinner.
It was already beginning to be annoying. He was sure that Debbie would’ve rung him by now, or sent him a text at the very least. He was heading off to the only address that he had, which was for a lady called Ginny.
Who was Ginny? he wondered for no reason, conjuring up a flick-book of women that flashed ever changing from old to young, thin to fat, black-skinned, white, blonde, ginger, everything that his mind could produce.
He was sat cramped in a car that didn’t have a drinks holder, so his drink was warming between his thighs. This actually meant that as his knees were up due to his height, the coolness could be felt against his testicles. His burger was dripping hot grease and ketchup, and all he could think about was a collection of Brad Pitts and Ryan Goslings rubbing warm oil over his wife’s ample naked breasts, while their own manhoods were tickling against her, and she let out that silly giggle she does in times of excitement; or he was picturing that woman dressed fully in black and creeping into the place where his sister was staying, ready to commit murder.
He didn’t think things could get much worse or complicated.
And then there was a rap on his car window. He jumped, squeezing the coke with his thighs and sending a stream of cold liquid over his crotch. A moon-faced woman of early twenties—thickset but with a big grin and dimples—bent down, beckoning him to wind down his window.
He quickly cranked the window-lever, as his energy lowered more quickly than the glass in his window.
“I often have that effect on men!” she said in a thick Irish accent.
“I haven’t got any change,” he said, rubbing himself. “Well, pennies, but not much.”
“Blimey, you must be thinking I’m really cheap then!” she laughed.
“I, er, no, I thought you just wanted change.”
“So you don’t be thinking that I could make a good prozzy then, huh?”
“I have no idea. What does a prostitute look like? They’re skinny with missing teeth, aren’t they?”
“Ahh, I see. So I be too fat, and have a big gob o’ gnashers, right?”
It always did Jez good to be questioned and put in his place by a woman. His neighbour Eddie had told him if it happened enough times then he might actually understand the correct way to treat a woman, although most other people considered this to be somewhat optimistic. A better lesson might be to just remain silent.
“I haven’t even looked at you. So what did you want?”
“I can see that. You’re too busy rubbing yourself. I think you might have got that ‘dogging’ lark a bit backwards!” She laughed at that then carried on. “You requesting me ta flash now, are yer?” She opened her jacket, thrusting out amply wobbling bosoms. “Feeling like yer might wanna be helping a woman now?”
“I never said I wouldn’t help you. What did you say you wanted again?”
“A ride. I assume you are going left when you leave here?” Jez nodded, even though this was an obvious guess what with that being the only way you can go to get onto the M5 again.
“You want a ride? Where to?”
“Where are you going, cowboy?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Devon, South Coast somewhere.”
“Okay then!” She ran round the back, opened the passenger door, and chucked a large holdall onto the backseat. The car creaked and then rocked as she piled in, beaming a massive grin on her face.
Jez could now see that she wore small denim shorts, but with bright stripy rainbow-coloured tights underneath and purple DMs on her feet.
As she wrestled out of her denim jacke
t, he noticed a large rose tattoo on her back. “Kim’s me name.” She held out her hand which was full of silver rings.
He limply shook it and replied. “I’m Jez. Um, I’m married.” He was plainly aware that she was wearing a tight vest, and he was doing all he could to look anywhere but at her breasts.
“Good for you.” She laughed. “My daddy was too when he wasn’t seeing other women!”
He took another bite of his burger and a swig of his coke, and they sat in an awkward silence for nearly seven minutes until the rest of the burger was gone.
When the engine started, the stereo kicked in playing the twisted dark rap of Insane Clown Posse.
“What in the name of all fuckin’ tings holy is this?!” She squealed. There was now the guest vocals of the late rapper Ol’ Dirty Bastard on this sweet song called “Bitches”.
“They dress up as clowns,” Jez said as if this would now make things clearer and more acceptable and then thought of the stupid antics of minorities had done nothing for the profile of clowns but make them appear more terrifying. He suddenly wished he had something a little less hardcore on. Maybe Bon Jovi singing a ballad about lost love.
“Sounds pretty fuckin’ good is what I’m saying.”
Blimey, Jez thought, this was one crazy woman.
“You don’t want me to change it?”
“I suppose you think I listen to Westlife, or Chris De-Fucking-Burgh?”
Jez just shrugged. He didn’t think she actually wanted an answer, and if she did, he wasn’t sure what it might be.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Twenty-Three
B olan the dog made a strange noise as he wriggled in his sleep, off on whatever wild adventures a small Alsatian would care to be in whilst in a dream world.
Ginny grinned at him and then stared at the screen of her laptop again, watching the pulse of the cursor and wondering just where her story was to go now.
She had been working on this book for six months and she was no nearer finishing it. The truth was she was torn between genres and so now had three on the go. The first one was a fantasy novel called Good Bite, Sweetheart and followed the adventures of a strapping vampire called Damascus as he was trying to juggle his everyday job in advertising, with his blood-sucking pastime, while falling for the charms of all nubile females the crossed his path—often with macabre consequences. Ginny had liked this story at first, but now felt that Damascus was a little too cocky, and thought perhaps her readers would grow tired of him by chapter three and give up. Was there really enough bookshelf room for another vampire novel?
