Deadly Games

by Anthony Masters

  “Then where is he?” demanded Sid.

  There was no reply.

  “How did Mrs Garland die, then? Tell me – and I’ll be very pleased with you. I want to be pleased with you.”

  “She died with us,” came the faint whisper. “But she’s gone now. We’re all alone again.”

  “Where are you?” asked Sid gently. “I want to find you. I want to look after you. You don’t have to be alone.”

  But the withered leaves of the tree were completely still again.

  “We’d better carry on with the search,” said Jenny as the moon rode high over the yard, picking out the skeleton of a rusting crane just behind the engine shed.

  “May and Leslie were rabbiting on about a well in that nursery rhyme,” said David. “Is that meant to be a clue?”

  “A well? Here?” Sid considered the idea. “I’ve never seen one but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I don’t understand why May and Leslie keep spouting those idiotic nursery rhymes,” scoffed David. “How can they be so babyish?”

  “They recite them to wind people up. I’m sure of that,” said Jenny, impatient to get going. She was cold and scared and she wanted to get the whole thing over with. “They started on Mrs Garland and now they’re using them on us.”

  “They’re so immature – ” began David.

  But Jenny interrupted him impatiently. “We can’t just sit here all night listening to those brats and then doing nothing. We need to put in some action and find this well.”

  “No one’s going anywhere,” said Sid with surprising authority. “Not until I’ve made up a fire.”

  “A fire?” asked Jenny.

  “To dry off your clothes,” he replied. “It’s bad enough you worrying your parents like this, but to get pneumonia as well – I can’t let you do that.” Sid looked stern. “Not after all you’ve done for me.”

  He soon had a fire crackling away and the twins watched Sid with a new respect; he seemed to be a real man of the road now, rather than an elderly vagrant with an obsession. The flames flickered low, throwing out a dense heat which gradually eased the painful chill of the pool.

  “Now you tell me,” said Sid. “How am I going to help May and Les?”

  “You’ve got to try and release them,” said Jenny, “The longer they’re here, the more trouble they’re going to cause.” She gazed around at the dereliction. What a place to be trapped in!

  “But how am I going to do that?” asked Sid miserably. “What am I meant to do?”

  “What you’ve already done,” said David. “Show them love. That’s what they want – that’s what they expect from you. And the worse they behave, the more they want it. I’m sure we’re right about that.”

  “I’m trying,” Sid grumbled. “What do they think I’m doing?”

  “They’re jealous of us – that’s another complication,” David continued. “They want us out of the way. We’ve got to be careful.”

  “I’m not a fool. OK, I blinded myself to all their faults, but now – Hang on.” Sid was gazing into the fire. “That can’t just be my imagination – ”

  “What is it?” asked Jenny, but soon the twins could see what Sid was staring at. The flames flickered and took shape.

  Three figures were falling down a long shaft, tumbling over and over each other until they disappeared. The images repeated themselves again and again and again. Then with a crack a piece of red-hot wood shot out of the fire and just missed Jenny’s face. As it did so, the pictures faded.

  “That was Mrs G and the two kids.” Sid choked back a sob. “Falling down the well. How did they do it? Why did they do it? Was it an accident or – ” Before he could finish, more splinters of wood exploded from the flames, seeking out the twins like guided missiles. Although they ducked and weaved, jumped and dodged, several of the red-hot splinters found their target and the twins howled with pain.

  “Get away from the fire,” Sid shouted. “Just get away!”

  As the missile attack increased, David and Jenny ran towards the shelter of a galvanised tank full of water and hid behind it. Crouching down, they could hear the sound of the burning wood hitting the surface and fizzling out. They could also hear Sid yelling.

  “You stop this,” he bawled at May and Leslie, who were nowhere to be seen. “You stop this right now!” But his authority over the ghost children seemed to have lessened.

  Mrs Garland’s wraith stood on the overhanging arm of the crane, staring down at them. Jenny and David could see tears pouring down her cheeks, could feel her silent misery. Then she slowly faded away and Jenny wasn’t sure whether she had seen her or not.

  “Did you see what I saw?” she asked her twin.

  “Mrs G,” he replied. “You scared?”

  “More than I’ve ever been before,” said Jenny fearfully. “I get the feeling that Mrs G’s hoping we can do something, that she still cares about May and Leslie but can’t reach them. Those two brats, though – they’re really lethal. Nothing Sid says is going to stop them. They’re out to get us.”

  “Do you think we can do anything?”

  “Hard to know what,” she said doubtfully. “We only seem to make things worse. Of course, we could always go home and leave Sid to it. Perhaps he’d get on better on his own.”

  “Do you mean that?” asked David incredulously.

  “Not really,” Jenny admitted. “I know May and Leslie seem to respond to him, but that could be one of their tricks too. I wouldn’t like to think of finding Sid at the bottom of a well. I mean, maybe they want him dead – to be with them that way.”

  David agreed. “We can’t leave him. We’ve got to protect Sid, but how?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Jenny hopelessly. “You never know what they’re going to do next. And we’ve got to watch out for ourselves too all the time.”

  “You bet,” said David fervently.

  “Oi,” Sid exclaimed. “The fire’s dying. Can’t think why – there’s plenty of wood on it. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s weird.”

  “It’s May and Leslie,” said Jenny as the twins cautiously returned to his side. “They’re at it again.”

  There was no wind and the air was bone dry, yet the flames were dying back, sinking into a glowing mass. Then the glow went out and there was nothing but darkness.

  “Ding,” came a giggling voice.

  “Dong.” The word was accompanied by a delighted snigger.

  “Stop it!” Sid sounded nervous.

  David glanced up at the big, bloated, waxy-looking moon that was floating in the heavens, looking as unhealthy as the nettles around them. Nettles? He hadn’t noticed how tall they had become. Then one of them bent towards David and stung him painfully on the wrist.

  “Right,” he shouted, rubbing at the red mark. “This has got to stop.”

  “Ding!” came the cry.

  David punched at the air, losing his temper completely. “I’ll get you,” he yelled. “I’ll really get you!” But all he could hear was ghostly sniggering.

  “Let’s find that well,” said Jenny. “Now.”

  “That could be the worst idea we ever had,” retorted David, but his sister nudged him and he saw Sid looking dazed, wheezing badly and staring round in desperation. The whole situation was getting out of hand now; Sid had lost his authority and looked like losing his grip.

  “Where’s Gumbo?” he moaned. “She’s done a bunk again.”

  “We’ll start searching, Sid.” David tried to sound as resolute as possible. “We’ll get this sorted out somehow.” As he spoke, the rat scuttled into view.

  “We’ll have to split up,” said David. “We can cover much more ground that way.”

  “No,” replied Jenny at once. “That’s just what May and Leslie want. At least together we stand a chance against them.”

  David stared around the wilderness disconsolately. The well could have been covered over by all this undergrowth years ago. Suddenly he trod on s
omething soft and warm which gave out a piercing squeal.

  “What was that?” he gasped. “Gumbo?”

  “No, it’s a kitten,” said Sid. “Look, it’s gone streaking over there.”

  “Watch out, David,” whispered Jenny.

  The mother cat bounded towards him, arching its back and spitting.

  “Wild cats,” whispered Sid. Gumbo streaked off again, this time towards a pile of old bogey wheels.

  “Don’t like the look of her,” muttered David, backing slowly away from the mother cat, who stood her ground, staring and spitting, challenging them to harm her kitten. Then she slowly turned away and began to pad back through the foliage.

  “Is Gumbo all right?” asked a chastened David.

  “She wouldn’t have come off too well if there’d been a fight,” said Sid. “She’ll lie low for a while now.”

  “Ding, dong, bell,” came a shrill voice from nowhere.

  Jenny whipped round.

  “Ding, dong,” came another voice, exploding with the all too familiar giggling sound. But this time it seemed harsher.

  “It’s them again.” Sid looked older than ever, a little vein beating in the withered flesh of his neck.

  “They’re playing with us,” muttered David.

  “Where’s that well? Come on, you two. Where’s that flipping well?” But Sid sounded beaten.

  There was no reply, and after a while Sid, David and Jenny began to search the yard, moving systematically from the sheet-metal fencing that ran around its perimeter towards the derelict engine shed that stood in the centre. The search was slow and frustrating because nature had reclaimed so much of the yard. Several times they thought they had been successful in locating the well, but in the end they found they had only discovered a bramble-covered oil tank and, later, an inspection pit that bloomed with bright-yellow winter jasmine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thoroughly exhausted, the trio stumbled through the wiry undergrowth towards the old engine shed. An owl hooted and a bird that David thought might be a nightjar flew slowly over their heads. Then a scurrying sound announced the return of a more cautious Gumbo.

  For some time they continued to search. Just as they had almost given up, Jenny discovered an ivy-covered mound. Tense with foreboding, the twins pulled the damp and silky strands aside and discovered a large wooden hatch which had partly rotted away in the middle.

  “Wait a minute,” said Jenny suddenly. The words of the young man in the tunnel were beating away in the back of her mind. Then they became clearer. “He found her with her mouth all swollen up – been trying to gnaw her way through something or other.” She turned abruptly to her twin. “Those are teeth marks. Do you think Gumbo’s been trying to get into the well – to reach May and Leslie?”

  “Why should it?” asked David.

  “I don’t know,” replied Jenny. “But I’m sure those are teeth marks – and look at the rat.”

  Gumbo was jumping about their feet in excitement. But Sid didn’t appear to have been listening to them or paying attention to Gumbo’s antics.

  “This must be it,” said Jenny triumphantly.

  Sid was gazing down at the hatch with single-minded intensity. “Be hard to shift that lot.”

  “Let’s see if we can pull it back,” said David, trying not to sound as nervous as he now felt, half expecting to be confronted by May and Leslie at any moment.

  They all three pulled and pushed at the hatch with Gumbo watching, its whole body tense, but whether this was the anticipation of a ghost or a marauding mother cat was far from clear.

  Eventually, the combined weight of a wheezing Sid and a desperately straining David and Jenny succeeded in pushing the hatch aside. It fell into the mesh of ivy with a dull thud, exposing a stale-smelling black shaft.

  They could see the dark glow of water a long way down and the beginning of a ladder that clung to the dank, sweating brickwork, which was partly covered in moss. When the twins’ eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, they could also see a small island made of silt that must have built up over the years.

  “Now what do we do?” asked Sid.

  “I don’t know,” replied Jenny. There was a strong feeling of anticlimax, of being horribly let down. Was this even the right well? Could there be another one?

  Then David said, “What’s that smell?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Disuse and decay, I suppose.”

  “No, there’s something else.” He sniffed again. “It’s peppermint,” he said softly.

  “That water’s rippling.” Jenny stared down. “Did you throw a stone in?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” snapped David.

  “But I can see something in the ripples. It’s carrying along some kind of light.”

  Sure enough, there was a tiny spot of what looked like phosphorescence widening out just by the island. The picture came slowly and hazily. Then it sharpened and they could see May and Leslie standing on the ladder, calling up in singsong voices:

  “Mrs Garland! Mrs Garland! We’re down here.”

  Their voices echoed up the well and David and Jenny knew they were about to witness another of their games.

  They saw Mrs Garland’s stern face, hovering about them now. “What’s the matter?”

  “We’re stuck. We’re scared. We can’t go up and we can’t go down.”

  “You should never have run away in the first place. You could have been killed in that tunnel. Why are you always doing this? Why are you always testing me? You know I love you. You know I care – ”

  “We can’t go up,” said May and Leslie in their childish chorus. “And we can’t go down.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Mrs Garland looked flustered and uncertain.

  “Put out your hand,” pleaded May.

  “Help her up,” said Leslie calmly. “And then me.”

  Mrs Garland leant over the head of the well and stretched out her arm.

  “You can’t reach us,” May wailed.

  “Bend over a bit more,” Leslie advised.

  Mrs Garland stretched herself over the shaft, but David and Jenny knew exactly what was going to happen. She reached out until she was completely unbalanced, and then fell.

  As Mrs Garland disappeared down the shaft, she grabbed first at May and then at Leslie. There was utter terror in their eyes as they plunged down the well with her.

  More ripples spread and the phosphorous light went out.

  “Did you see that, Sid?” asked David.

  “They killed her – and themselves.” Jenny was crying.

  “It was an accident,” Sid protested.

  “No,” wept Jenny. “It was a game. Don’t you see – it was all a game. And then it was over.”

  The mother cat came howling out of the bushes, eyes flashing in the moonlight, teeth bared, hurling herself at the shaft in a bundle of fur.

  “Ding, dong, bell,” came a laughing voice as she disappeared over the edge, plunging down inside with a dreadful cry.

  “The cat’s crazy,” David exclaimed. “Why should she want to do that?”

  “She didn’t want to,” Jenny said incredulously. “I think she was thrown. I was wrong. Their games aren’t over yet.”

  There was a splash, a spluttering yowling, and as David, Jenny and Sid bent over the edge of the shaft, they saw the mother cat below, struggling towards the island of silt. Somehow she managed to climb up out of the water, but her position was precarious as she crouched helplessly on her tiny refuge.

  “May and Leslie threw her in,” said David. “But why?”

  “Why do you think?” Jenny’s voice shook. “They want us to go down there and rescue her. And while we’re trying to do that, they’ll kill us, the way they killed Mrs G – and themselves.”

  “They can’t be that evil.” David was horrified.

  “May and Leslie are capable of anything now,” Jenny assured him. “They could drown us and the cat. It’s their jealousy – they can’t se
e beyond it.”

  “They couldn’t be so cruel,” Sid replied.

  “Want to make a bet?” muttered Jenny.

  Sid roared down the shaft, “If you want me to go on loving you, you’ve got to sort this lot out now.”

  There was silence as the mother cat crouched and shivered on her minute island.

  “They’re playing hard to get,” muttered David.

  “I think they’re feeling desperate,” said Jenny. “Sid, you’ve got to convince them that we don’t matter to you, but they do. They’re prepared to go to any lengths to get rid of us because they think we’re in the way. You’ve got to convince May and Leslie – now. Tell them there isn’t any competition. Tell them how much you love them.” Jenny paused, breathless.

  “Do you hear me?” yelled Sid. “Get that cat out or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  But David and Jenny knew he was mishandling it – he was only using the kind of authority that Mrs Garland would have used. Surely he must know by now how May and Leslie would react to that?

  Predictably, there was a smothered giggle on the air and stones rained down the shaft, some of which hit the mother cat’s island and scattered the silt. She let out a terrified yowl, which was followed by a jeering, chanting song:

  “David and Jenny,

  Jenny and David,

  We hate you,

  We hate you.”

  “Stop that!” roared Sid.

  “Ding, dong, bell. Poor pussy’s in the well.”

  “You’re not going down there,” Sid said to the twins. “And that’s an order.”

  More stones came hurtling down the shaft and this time the terrified cat almost slipped off the island.

  Sid’s voice was hoarse as he shouted into the night air. “I love you,” he yelled. “Isn’t that enough?”

  But the mocking calls continued; Jenny knew he had said it too late and that May and Leslie didn’t believe him.

  “David and Jenny. You love them and you don’t love us.”

  “Rubbish,” bellowed Sid. “Are you both thick or something?”

  “We’re dead thick,” came the laughing voice of Leslie. “Dead thick. Do you get it?”