by Amy Cross
“Becky?” I whisper, before turning and making my way out of the room and along the narrow corridor. When I get to the foot of the rickety wooden steps, I shine the flashlight straight up toward the open door and wait for a moment, listening to the sound.
The footsteps are moving away now, maybe toward the front room.
“Becky?” I call out. “Are you walking around?”
I wait, but there's no answer and the steps simply continue.
“Becky?”
Still hearing no reply, I start making my way cautiously up the wooden steps, taking care to not put too much pressure on the old wood. When I get to the step that collapsed under Becky, I edge carefully around the broken section, and finally I emerge into the darkened hallway just in time to hear that footsteps are moving across the front room. I listen for a moment, trying to work out whether maybe I'm mistaken, but now I'm more certain than ever.
Somebody's walking around in the house.
“Becky!” I whisper, even though I'm sure I've attracted plenty of attention by now. “Hey Becky, are you okay?”
The footsteps continue, slowly getting further away.
A moment later, a floorboard creaks.
“Hey Becky!”
Another footstep, then another.
And then silence.
“Becky?”
I head over to the doorway and look through into the front room.
Sure enough, Becky is slumped in the armchair once again.
“What were you doing up?” I ask as I head over to her. “I told you to rest.”
She turns and looks up at me. She looks even more dazed than before, almost as if she doesn't quite recognize me.
“Huh?” she whispers finally.
“You shouldn't have been walking about,” I tell her as I head over and place my right hand against her forehead. “You feel clammy.”
“Is he back yet?”
“Freddie? No, not yet.”
I turn and look over at the window, but all I see outside is darkness.
“He won't be much longer,” I continue, before glancing down at Becky's leg and seeing that at least the worst of the bleeding has stopped. “He can't be.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen just now?” she asks.
“I wasn't in the kitchen. I was in the basement.”
“I heard you in the kitchen. I heard your footsteps.”
“No, that was you. You were in the kitchen, Becky.” I crouch down and place two fingers on the side of her neck, checking her pulse. Her heart is pounding and I'm starting to think that she's really getting sick. “You're not remembering things very well, are you? You seem confused.”
“I feel hot and cold at the same time.”
“I think maybe you were right,” I tell her. “I think you're getting an infection. It's happening pretty fast, but I guess that's possible.”
Taking my phone from my pocket, I see that it's almost 1am, which means Freddie's been gone for over an hour now. I honestly thought he'd have fetched help by now, and I can't quite figure out what's taking him so long. Town isn't that far away, and it shouldn't be difficult for him to get some cellphone coverage once he's close to the main road. By now, we should be able to hear ambulance sirens heading this way.
Heading over to the window, I look out and see nothing except the dark forest.
This is taking too long.
“Becky,” I say cautiously, “will you be okay if I go and try to get signal? I won't go far, just a couple of hundred meters from the house. I won't go out of sight, I promise, but I want to try. Is that okay?”
“You're going to leave?”
“No, I just -”
“Please!” Suddenly she grabs my hand, squeezing tight as she looks into my eyes. “Don't leave me here.”
“I won't go far.”
“I don't want to be alone.”
“I'll be five minutes. Ten at most.”
“And I have to sit here by myself?”
I can see the fear in her eyes.
“No,” I say finally, “of course not. I won't go anywhere.”
She pauses, before slowly releasing my hand.
“It's okay,” she whispers finally, “you can go. But don't take too long.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm a big girl,” she replies, forcing a smile even though her face is glistening with sweat and her eyes are barely open. “I'll be fine.”
“I know you will,” I tell her, before hesitating. I know she's scared and that she doesn't want me to go anywhere, but I guess she doesn't want to admit any of that. Finally, even though I know the idea is probably crazy, I lean over and kiss her on the shoulder, before slowly getting to my feet.
“What was that for?” she whispers.
“I don't know. Luck?”
“Luck?” Her smile shifts slightly, becoming a little more genuine. “Thanks,” she adds. “You're not such a bad guy, Tim. Did you know that?”
“I do my best,” I reply, which I guess is kind of a weak answer. Still, I feel a little bolder now, as if I've finally started to impress her. “Just wait right there, don't go walking about on that bad leg, and I promise I'll be back real soon.”
I head to the door, before stopping and glancing back over at her. She looks so weak and fragile, and I just want to find some way to make everything better for her.
“Nothing bad'll happen to you,” I add. “I promise. I'll keep you safe.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Nothing bad'll happen to you,” I mutter under my breath as I hurry across the clearing and into the forest. “I promise. I'll keep you safe. Idiot!”
When I said those words to Becky, I hoped they'd sound cool and firm, but I'm pretty sure I simply made myself sound like a grade-A moron instead. Becky didn't even respond; she simply stared at me and kept that faint smile on her lips. I bet when she gets home, she'll tell all her friends about how dumb I sounded. They'll laugh at me, soon everyone at school'll think that I'm some kind of idiot.
“Nothing bad'll happen to you,” I say again, shuddering at the thought of how I must have sounded. “I'll keep you safe. Yeah right, as if.”
I hold my cellphone up, hoping to get a signal, but there's still nothing. I walk a few more paces between the trees before stopping, and then I turn and look back toward the house. I can see a faint glow in the window of the front room, which is where I left Becky.
The problem with telling people you'll keep them safe is that then you have to actually deliver.
So far, I can't even make a goddamn phone call.
“Come on,” I say with a sigh, standing on tip-toes and holding my phone even higher into the cold night air. “What's wrong with you? Just one bar is enough!”
I wait, but still the phone resolutely refuses to pick up any kind of signal at all.
I'm starting to think this whole night is cursed.
“Dear God,” I continue, “I promise I'll start believing in you, if you just give me enough coverage to call for help. That's all I need, thirty seconds of signal, and then I swear I'll believe in you for the rest of my life. And if you won't do it for me, then do it for Becky. She needs medical attention.”
I strain to hold the phone even higher until finally I almost fall over, and then I let out a strained sigh as I lower my hand and see that I still have no coverage. I get that there can be dead-spots, but this seems ridiculous and I'm staring to think that maybe there's some kind of broader network outage that just happens to have struck when I most need to make a call. Maybe that's why Freddie is taking so long, since he'd have had to go all the way into town and actually knock on some doors, although I still think he should be on his way back by now.
I should be able to hear sirens, but all I hear is the rustling of trees in a late-night breeze, along with the sound of the generator back at the house.
“I guess I'll have to go a little further,” I mutter under my breath, checking my phone one more time before glancing ba
ck toward the house. “Don't worry, Becky, I promise -”
Stopping suddenly, I realize I can see a silhouetted figure standing in the window of the front room.
I stare, convinced that I have to be mistaken, but with each passing second I feel a sense of dread creeping up across my chest and onto my shoulders.
Someone's watching me from the house.
It's Becky.
It has to be.
And yet the more I look at the figure, the more I feel that it doesn't look like Becky at all.
It's taller, and thinner.
And it's looking straight at me.
I don't even know how anybody could see me all the way out here in the dark forest, but the figure seems to be staring right at me and I can feel its gaze drilling into my soul.
It has to be Becky.
There's nobody else in the house.
Even though the silhouette doesn't look much like Becky, I know it has to be her.
I wait for her to move away from the window, but after a couple of minutes I realize that maybe she's waiting for me to return. She seemed pretty scared when I said I was leaving, so I guess it's possible that she simply wants to keep an eye on me, to make sure I don't go too far.
Sure.
That must be what's happening here.
“It's okay,” I stammer, even though I know she can't possibly hear me, “I'll be back real soon.”
I check my cellphone one more time, just to make absolutely certain that there's no coverage, and then I look back toward the house.
She's still there.
Although I want to go back to the house right now and reassure her, I turn and start making my way through the forest some more, while still waving my phone about in a vain attempt to get some signal. I glance over my shoulder several times and see that Becky is still watching me from the window, and I spend so much time looking back that I eventually trip over a tree root and crash to the ground, landing hard in a pile of cold, wet leaves.
“Damn it!” I mutter, dropping my phone and then immediately picking it up again.
Still no signal.
“This is hopeless,” I continue, struggling back to my feet while wiping dirt from the screen.
I wave the phone around again, and then finally I realize that something really must be wrong with the network.
Looking over my shoulder, I'm surprised to find that I can no longer see the house. I've wandered over the crest of a small hill, and I guess Becky's probably getting worried now. After all, I promised I wouldn't go out of sight.
Figuring that I could walk for miles and maybe still not get any signal, I turn around and start making my way back. Sure enough, once I get to the top of the hill, I see the house up ahead with Becky still standing silhouetted in the window. For the next few minutes I trudge through the forest, still checking my phone in case there's a miracle, and still hoping that Freddie'll come through for us soon.
As I get closer to the house, however, I stop again as I realize that the silhouette at the window really doesn't look like Becky. It's a woman, I'm pretty sure of that, but the general shape of her seems wrong. The silhouette's hair seems longer than Becky's, and her hips look to be wider.
I watch her for a moment, squinting in an attempt to see her better and prove to myself that it really is just Becky.
Figuring that this is dumb, I start walking again, and after a few minutes I reach the edge of the clearing. The figure is still at the window, but she's standing with the standard lamp right behind her and the light makes it impossible to see anything more than her outline. I'm only twenty feet from the window now, but she's still standing there, still staring out toward me.
I raise a hand and offer a cautious wave, hoping to put her at ease.
She doesn't respond.
Maybe she's mad at me for going further than I said.
“I'm back!” I call out, but my voice sounds so weak and fragile. “Sorry, I didn't mean to go out of sight.”
Taking a deep breath, I realize I only have one option. I make my way toward the steps that lead up to the house's front door, while keeping my eyes fixed on the window. I keep telling myself that the figure has to be Becky, but I can't shake a sense of dread as I push the front door open. I watch the window for a moment longer, still hoping that the figure will turn and walk away, and then finally I step into the house's dark hallway.
I wait for a moment, but all I hear is silence.
No footsteps.
No movement at all.
I guess she's still at the window.
Making my way across the hallway, I stop at the door as I see that the armchair is empty. When I look through toward the window, however, I see that there's no sign of Becky there either. Ninety seconds ago, I saw from outside the house that she was definitely standing at the window, but now she's gone. It's hard to believe that I didn't hear her walk away, and even now the house seems strangely quiet.
“Becky?” I call out. “Where are you?”
I wait, but there's no reply.
Trying not to panic, I head across the room and look through into the kitchen, but I still can't see her. I go through to the old dining room, but she's not there either, and then I circle round to the hallway again and look up the stairs.
“Becky? Are you okay?”
Again I wait, and again I don't hear anything.
“Becky? Say something!”
No reply comes, so I cup my hands around my mouth and shout again.
“Becky! Where are you?”
Chapter Eighteen
Hurrying out of the second bedroom, I head along to the third and push the door open. This is the last room I haven't checked yet, but as the door bangs open I see that there's still no sign of Becky.
She's gone.
She's not anywhere inside the house.
Just as I'm about to turn and head back downstairs, however, I notice that the video equipment on the desk is still running. A green light blinks on the side of the tape deck, so I guess I must have missed the button to make it stop earlier. The monitor is off, so I walk over and flick a switch on the side, and sure enough an image quickly fills the screen.
It's about half an hour since I was up here and started watching this tape, so I guess the footage has moved on by the same amount of time.
On the screen, Anthony Jewell is standing in the doorway of the other bedroom, looking along the corridor toward the stairs.
“Maybe it was nothing,” a voice says from behind the camera. “Maybe -”
“Quiet!” Jewell hisses.
“Sure, but -”
“Can you just shut the fuck up for one second?”
“Let's focus on what's important,” the other man says. “Did you finish covering the wall in the basement? What about that window that needs fixing before we leave? Did -”
“Will you just shut the hell up?” Jewell hisses. “Listen!”
They stand in silence, with the only sound coming from the hum of the camera itself. As he stands in the doorway, Anthony Jewell seems worried, as if he thinks that maybe there's somebody else in the house. I wait to see whether anything is going to happen, but after a few seconds I realize I have to keep searching for Becky.
I reach out to stop the tape.
Suddenly a brief scratching sound comes from the speakers, and on the screen both Jewell and his friend seem startled. The camera swings around toward the top of the stairs, but there's no sign of anyone.
“Keep your fucking head straight,” Jewell whispers.
“But I saw -”
“You saw a shadow moving!”
“I'm telling you, it was a girl. She was in the basement. It was dark, but -”
“Will you shut the hell up?” Jewell hisses. “You're gonna make us both start seeing things. Just shut up and wait.”
They stand in silence again, listening to the silence of the house.
“I think we should get out of here,” the other man says finally, his voice filled wit
h fear. “Let's just load the equipment up and carry it back to the road, and then we can drive away and forget this place ever existed.”
“We haven't finished scrubbing it down.”
“Then we can come back another time. When it's light. Hell, we can burn it down if that's what it takes. I'm game.”
“The bitch is dead,” Jewell replies firmly. “You understand that, right? You saw me chop her up and put her in bags. So don't start with -”
Suddenly the camera jumps slightly as there's another distant scratching sound, and the image gets blurry for a moment before settling on the top of the stairs.
“Then what the hell was that?” the man behind the camera asks. “It's getting closer, and there's sure as hell nobody else around! I think... Fuck, I think she's coming up the stairs.”
“Bullshit!” Jewell replies, pushing past him and walking over to the top of the stairs.
“Stop!” the other man calls out. “Be careful!”
Jewell stops and looks down the stairs, toward the hallway.
“What do you see?” the other man asks, keeping the camera trained on the back of Jewell's head.
The camera hums, but other than that the video is silent for a few seconds as Jewell simply stares down the stairs.
“What do you see?” the man asks again, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Talk to me, man!”
Again, there's no reply.
“You're seriously freaking me out right now,” the man continues. “There's no-one on the stairs, right? Tell me, dude. Tell me there's no-one on the stairs, tell me there's not a -”
Before he can finish, the scratching sound returns, lasting for several seconds this time as Anthony Jewell continues to simply stare down toward the hallway. It's as if he's transfixed by something, as if whatever he can see has frozen him in place.
