Becoming...

by Jacob Rayne

  The lad stumbled to the right but kept on charging.

  Clare ran to the back door, hurling the remaining shard of wood like a spear. It bounced off the lad’s belly, but did little else.

  She fumbled the key, her sweating, trembling hands slipping from the polished brass.

  Bryony raised the bottle to swing at the attacker but he slammed into her like a charging bull. The impact sent both of them off their feet. The world spun.

  Clare pulled the key out and put it into the lock. She heaved the door open and ran to help Bryony, who was trying to pull herself out from beneath the lad’s bulk.

  The sound of sirens cut through the otherwise quiet night.

  ‘Help,’ she cried. Blood ran down her face and arm. She wheezed for air.

  Clare tried to roll the semi-conscious lad off her friend.

  ‘Come on,’ Bryony whispered. ‘Before he wakes up.’

  Already Otis had started to stir. He grabbed Clare’s leg, making her squeal.

  Bryony managed to get out from under the intruder while he tried to keep his grip on Clare.

  She kicked him in the bicep of the arm which held her friend. He let out a grunt and his hand let go of Clare’s leg.

  Clare pulled back and pushed Bryony towards the open door.

  They ran blindly, not caring where they ended up as long as they outran the maniacs who seemed hell-bent on killing them.

  Chapter 56

  Wincing, Otis got to his feet. His head pounded. He reckoned he must have banged it when he and the girl landed on the floor. Still he smiled. The girls’ terror was delicious. He was savouring every second of their fear.

  This extended chase was like foreplay, only prolonging his fun. When he got his hands on them they were going to suffer for making him wait.

  The girls found themselves on the edge of town. There seemed to be nothing for about a mile in every direction. Just lampposts and trees and bushes. Places to hide.

  ‘I think we can stop now,’ Bryony said, still winded from where Otis’s head had met with her stomach.

  ‘Think you might be right,’ Clare said. She too was exhausted. Her mind was screaming thoughts at her.

  ‘He cut my arm,’ Bryony said. ‘Only a little but it’s bleeding badly.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. Try to keep quiet, just in case he’s around.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll— Shit.’

  ‘What?’

  Bryony clamped her hand over her friend’s mouth and pulled her behind a thick tree trunk. She pointed across the road.

  Clare’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the man in the shadows, carefully scouring the trees and bushes.

  ‘I know you’re here,’ he said, loud enough that they could hear. ‘When I find you, you’re going to be sorry you made me wait so long.’

  Clare and Bryony did their best not to gasp.

  Clare felt paralysed with fear. Bryony grabbed her friend’s arm and led her further into the trees and bushes. She looked over her shoulder every few seconds, making sure that their pursuer hadn’t seen them.

  The moonlight reflected off the knife in his hand. In the twilight he looked even more frightening than he had in the house.

  They realised they were heading uphill. Bryony caught her foot before she stepped onto the gravel path which led up the driveway. The noise would have been certain to bring the lunatic straight to them.

  Clare pulled to a stop.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Bryony whispered.

  ‘That’s the Murder House. We can’t go in there.’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me? This nutcase is going to cut us up if he catches us.’ She pointed down the hill for emphasis. The man was headed towards them, unwittingly for now.

  ‘I’m shit-scared of this house too,’ Bryony continued. ‘But it’s the lesser of two evils.’

  Clare said nothing but let Bryony lead her again. They reached the top of the drive and headed for the gates which were slightly open.

  ‘Besides,’ Bryony said. ‘No one’s lived here for years.’

  They both winced as their feet crunched on the gravel. The man glanced in their direction, making them both almost scream. He carried on following, but didn’t seem to have seen them.

  In the grounds of Peth Vale, the two girls felt a wave of unease. There was something plain wrong about the house and the land on which it stood. It was the epitome of bad vibes.

  Just superstition, they both tried to console themselves. They hid in the corner of the grounds, behind the garage which was partly hidden by overgrown bushes.

  They watched through a gap in the brickwork on the wall that marked the front boundary of the house.

  The man was out of sight but they could hear his footsteps on the gravel. He was moving slowly, presumably in an attempt to stop them from hearing him, but he was undoubtedly on his way to the gates.

  ‘He won’t come in,’ Bryony said.

  He paused at the gate. They saw one gloved hand poke through the bars. It was like he was deciding whether to go in the grounds or not.

  As Otis pushed the gate open a little more, making an unsettling squeal ring out, one of the upstairs windows of the house illuminated.

  Chapter 57

  Bryony and Clare stifled a gasp. They’d never have set foot in the grounds of this notorious house if they’d known it was occupied.

  The silhouette of a man showed in the curtains, making the lad who’d chased them duck away from the gates. The girls heard his footsteps retreat down the driveway.

  They breathed deeply for the first time since they’d set foot out of Clare’s house.

  Their breath soon froze again when they heard the door of the house open. Footsteps crunched across the gravel towards the gates.

  The man came into view, his pale face hidden by a black hood. His right hand held a large cleaver.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he said, his voice commanding and without even the merest hint of fear. ‘You stay the fuck away from here or I’ll cut you to ribbons.’

  His eyes flicked across the garden and the girls were certain he had seen them. He didn’t act as if he had, just continued to scan the darkness as he moved over to the gates. He wrapped a thick chain around the gates and secured it with a big padlock.

  The girls were trapped in the grounds now. With an angry man who had threatened to cut up any intruders. Things were going from bad to worse.

  Chapter 58

  Bryony heard a noise in the bushes behind her. At first she thought it was a bird, but then something hairy and warm squirmed over her foot. She put a hand over her mouth, but not before the scream escaped.

  The man looked over to their hiding place and started back across the gravel towards them.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he shouted.

  The girls remained silent, knowing they were discovered but too frightened to do anything about it.

  ‘Come out now. Don’t make me have to look for you,’ the man barked. ‘Put down your weapons and I’ll let the cops deal with you, much as it pains me to do so.’

  Clare and Bryony looked at each other.

  Shrugged.

  Raised their hands above their heads and left the cover of their hiding place.

  Chapter 59

  ‘Keep your hands where I can see ’em,’ the man with the cleaver told them.

  Clare and Bryony did so. They couldn’t see the man’s face so well in the dark.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ the man said.

  ‘This fucking whacko was trying to kill us,’ Clare blurted.

  ‘One of that arsehole gang,’ Bryony added.

  ‘The one who crippled that lad?’ the man said, his voice becoming much kinder.

  Both girls nodded, eyes wide.

  ‘Are you ok?’ he asked, lowering the cleaver and tucking it into the back of his trousers.

  ‘Shitting ourselves,’ Clare said.

  Bryony laughed nervously.

  ‘I don’t blame you. But you’re safe
here. Come inside for a drink, make sure he’s gone.’ He turned so he was facing Bryony. ‘Looks like you’re bleeding,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, the crazy bastard got me with his knife,’ Bryony said.

  ‘I can treat the wounds for you if you like.’

  Ignoring their misgivings, the girls took him up on his offer and went inside.

  Chapter 60

  The interior of the huge house was impressive, arguably even grander than the exterior, but looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a lifetime. Clare and Bryony were wowed by it, dust or no dust.

  ‘Please, take a seat in the front room,’ the man said.

  The girls opened the door to see wall upon wall of heavily laden bookshelves. Pictures filled in the space between the books.

  The girls found themselves unable to resist curiosity’s pull and started to look at the pictures.

  ‘Dr Arnold Kasabian,’ Bryony said, reading aloud the certificate she saw framed on the wall. ‘Sounds like one of the fucking X-men.’

  Clare stifled a laugh. ‘You’re wicked. The man just saved our asses.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. He ain’t exactly a shining beacon of humanity though, is he?’

  Clare’s reply never came because she heard a nervous laugh from the doorway.

  She looked across to see the man standing outside the door with a tray of drinks. He looked very uncomfortable, like he had heard every word of their conversation.

  ‘I’ve got beers, vodka, whiskey, mixers and ice,’ he said. His face was still hidden in the shadows, giving the girls the impression that he wanted it to stay that way.

  ‘Beer will be fine,’ Bryony said. ‘Thank you.’

  The man nodded.

  ‘Haven’t you got any brandy?’ Clare asked.

  The man shifted uncomfortably for a second then Clare burst out laughing. ‘Just messing with you,’ she said. ‘Beer’s fine.’

  The man laughed but it was forced. ‘Do you mind telling me your names?’

  ‘I’m Bryony.’

  ‘Clare.’

  ‘As you already know, I’m Dr Alfred Kasabian. I’ve just moved into this wonderful house. I’m pleased to meet you both and I’m glad your intrusion on my premises was justified.’ He grinned at them. If it was meant to put them at ease it failed. Even without the cleaver he had an air of menace.

  ‘Well, thanks for not cutting us up,’ Clare said.

  The man laughed. As he did so, his face moved into the light. His skin was pale and pock-marked, except for his fat cheeks which were red as though he was permanently blushing.

  ‘We were just glad you weren’t a psychopath,’ Bryony laughed.

  The man grinned.

  For the first time he looked relaxed. ‘Please, stay a while. Have a few drinks. I’m glad to share my home with you. When you’re ready to go I’ll call you a taxi. We’ll split the fare.’

  ‘That’s very good of you, but—’ Bryony started.

  ‘I insist,’ the man said, waving away her protests. ‘I’m glad to be able to help. Let’s just pray this clown gets what he deserves.’

  ‘Fucking right,’ Clare said, raising her glass.

  ‘I’m sorry but can you please not shout,’ the man said. ‘I don’t mind but my wife is asleep upstairs. If she were to wake and find me here with two such comely ladies,’ he pulled a horrified expression.

  ‘Keep it down, Clare,’ Bryony said.

  Clare scowled at each of her companions in turn.

  ‘Where’s the toilet, Doc?’ Clare asked.

  ‘There’s one upstairs, but I’d rather you didn’t use it. The one downstairs is straight along the corridor, second right then third door on the left.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Bryony gave her a look that said, you’re not leaving me alone with this guy are you?

  Clare ignored her and said, ‘Not be long.’

  The man smiled at Bryony. It was the smile of someone who had no idea what to say next.

  Chapter 61

  Clare tried not to be nosey, but she couldn’t help but take a look into the rooms she passed on the corridor.

  Dead animal eyes stared at her from the walls. She flinched as if burnt and, cursing her curiosity, went to the door that the man had told her was the toilet.

  After a second’s thought, she locked the door. When she finished she left the toilet and walked back to the front room.

  No detours this time. She didn’t want to see the dead animals again.

  It would be best if she and Bryony got out of here, as soon as they could. She had a very bad feeling about everything now.

  Clare jolted when she reached the front room. Bryony was nowhere to be seen. The man was gone too.

  Her mind started working overtime. Feeling a blast of cold air, she looked to the front door. It was open by a few inches and the smell of cigarette smoke drifted into the house.

  She pulled it open to see Bryony and the man having a smoke.

  The man noted her wild-eyed expression and said, ‘Don’t like to smoke in the house.’

  ‘Of course,’ Clare said. ‘I just…’ she didn’t want him to know what she’d been thinking but he seemed to know anyway. ‘So, we should be going.’

  ‘Please, stay for one more drink. You’ve barely even relaxed yet,’ the man said.

  ‘He’s right, Clare, you still look wound up.’

  Clare didn’t want to offend the man after everything he’d done for them, but she felt terrified. Something was wrong about this, but her mind was refusing to reveal it to her.

  ‘One quick drink, Clare,’ Bryony said. ‘Half an hour at most. Then we’ll go home.’

  Bryony and the man stared at her, making her feel like a nerdy kid being cajoled into smoking a cigarette behind the sports hall at school.

  ‘Ok. One more drink,’ she relented.

  ‘I need to pee,’ Bryony said.

  ‘You know where to go?’ the man said.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  The man nodded, stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I’d best go sort out the drinks,’ he said.

  Clare nodded and took a draw of the cigarette. When the front door closed, she felt strangely alone and on show. Like unseen eyes were upon her.

  She ignored the feeling (and her persistent thought that something was wrong) and instead looked at the grounds of the house, trying to see the beauty in it.

  She failed.

  Chapter 62

  After her smoke, she went back to the front room. The house was strangely quiet.

  The man came in with a second tray of drinks. ‘Another beer?’ he smiled. His grin made her sick to her stomach.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He passed her a dew-covered can.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She popped the ring-pull and took a drink. Smiled at him. The atmosphere was still uncomfortable. The man was not one of the world’s great conversationalists.

  While she sat in silence, the answer to what was making her so uneasy leapt into her mind.

  Arnold Kasabian. She knew she’d heard that name before. He had been a doctor at Marshton’s hospital who’d gone missing a few years ago.

  The weird guy who she was now sharing a room with was no doubt the killer, trying to pass himself off as the dead doctor. He’d even called himself Alfred instead of Arnold.

  Her heart began to pound and a sickly feeling flooded over her.

  As soon as Bryony came back they were going to get the hell out of here.

  She sure was taking a long time considering she had just gone for a piss.

  The man seemed to sense her unease and tried to console her. ‘It’s a big house. She probably just got lost.’ His smile did little to lessen her thoughts of foul play.

  A few minutes later, Clare was seriously worried. What was taking Bryony so long?

  The man just kept smiling at her. The more he did it, the more creeped out she became.

  ‘Mind if I check up on her?’ Clare said.

 
; Her strange companion shook his head and smiled.

  Clare felt good not to have to look at him. The evening had taken a sinister turn.

  She moved through the dark rooms, towards the bathroom she’d visited not long ago.

  ‘Bryony?’ she called, rapping lightly on the door. ‘Anyone there?’

  After waiting a tense minute or so, she knocked again. The silence of the house was almost deafening.

  She tried the handle.

  Pulled it open.

  Saw Bryony slumped over the toilet bowl, limp and pale.

  Turned to see the man stood with a length of rope in his hands.

  ‘Shh,’ he said, lunging at her.

  Clare fought as best she could but he was just too strong. The rope drew taut around her throat and crushed the air out of her.

  She felt like she was drowning, like her eyes were bulging out of her head. Her hands clawed at the rope. Panic welled up inside her then she felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 63

  Alfred had been wrong about the first girl. She hadn’t died just yet. That was good, he could have some fun with her before he put her out of her misery.

  While she was still out cold he ran his knife up her top, slicing it in two. The removal of the torn garment revealed two perfect breasts.

  His mouth watered. His groin pulsed and tingled and stiffened. She was beautiful but he would let her wake before he touched her.

  Bryony stared up at the clown. Just her luck to end up in his clutches after escaping the first nut with a knife. She fought back the panic which threatened to consume her and tried to think.

  With her hands bound behind her like this, the clown could do anything he wanted without too much of a struggle. She needed to be smart.

  Though it sickened her to do so, she winked at the clown and turned her back to him. She reached back with her hands, trying to reach his groin.

  She tried to speak, but the gag muffled her words.