by Simon Clark
Now the force of the inundation drove her back. The flood reached her knees. Panicking, she turned to scramble for the bedroom door that led to the corridor. She grabbed at the handle. Desperately she tried to open it, only the force of the water held it shut. In disbelief she looked down. The filthy swamp water now reached her waist. Clots of green slime floated there.
‘Fabian … Fabian … Anyone!’ Josanne hammered at the door. ‘For God’s sake! Can anyone hear me?’
The influx of that body of water drove the air before it. Winds tore at her hair. The chimes rose into a mad pulsing beat against her skull. When she turned back to the bathroom she saw a torrent of coffee-coloured water roaring out between its doorframe to swirl around the room. Chairs, bedding, clothes, scent bottles, aerosols buffeted against her.
Thoughts crowded: first, to tell her this was impossible. Then came the over-riding imperative. Get out. Save yourself! Only the influx was nothing less than an explosion. Its shocking cold robbed her of her breath. When she gagged, foul-tasting spray invaded her mouth. The currents tore away her towel. Streaks of green weed wrapped themselves around her naked body. For a moment Josanne struggled to wade across to the window. Break the glass. Get out! Then she realized her feet no longer touched the carpet. Desperately she tried to swim, only the vortex spun her around the room. Foam splashed at the top of the walls. Another surge pressed her against the far side of the room; a painting of a seascape was torn from the wall to rush at her with enough force to cut her bare shoulder as the glass shattered on impact. Now her blood joined those streaks of green weed, and shoes, and clothes, and pillows that whirled ever faster. When she reached the windows the curtains had been torn away by the whirlpool. Briefly, she glimpsed the calm exterior of the house. Dark clumps of hawthorn bushes. Fog-bound lawns. Her head struck the lampshade as the evil tide dragged her backwards. All she had time for was to take one lungful of stagnant smelling air before the surface of the water rushed up to meet the ceiling. With her head underwater the roar of the flood vanished. When she opened her eyes she saw she hung suspended in a brown aether. Silver bubbles rose. She made out the window, revealed as a dim oblong.
Break it. Escape!
The chimes returned. Now they were ghostly, shimmering peals. The sound of a bell in a church tower that had been inundated by flood. The currents moved her so Josanne flew like a naked angel through this aquatic universe. For a moment it seemed she drifted into the Good Heart. The medieval façade expanded in front of her as she glided through a tiny window. All the people who had ever died here were waiting; they swayed like they’d been weighted at their feet so they floated upright. Strangers. Then Kym floating there with her eyes wide open in shock.
The chimes grew louder. The air burnt in Josanne’s chest. She couldn’t hold it in her lungs a moment longer. It vented from her mouth in a rumble of bubbles. The chimes became thunder. The Tower pulsed to their rhythm. Windows bulged to the beat. The sound shook the universe. Distant tombs collapsed inward under the pressure of the sound. Coffins imploded. Around the world televisions echoed a single rogue chime.
Yet no one will ever know that chime signalled my death, she thought. What a way to die …
Josanne didn’t fight now. She didn’t breathe. If she could have moved her limbs and had pressed her hand to her chest she wouldn’t have found a heartbeat. As her mind faded out for the final time she seemed to see herself floating there in the water-filled room. Her mouth yawned wide as if to bite down a lungful of air. That opportunity had gone. Instead of air, water with clots of green algae streamed down her throat into her lungs. Her eyes were wide open, too. But if there was anything else to see, Josanne was past caring.
CHAPTER 18
When Fisher returned from the search with Jak he went straight to Josanne’s room. Meanwhile, Marko had boiled frozen hamburger for the dog. It smelt amazingly disgusting, but Jak wolfed it down. Now Fisher stood knocking at Josanne’s door feeling like a kid who’d come to confess a sad litany of misdeeds. He knew he had to explain that Kym had come to his room last night. Also there was this mixed-up dream she’d experienced. Where a man resembling Cantley had murdered her. It was probably nothing, but … oh, well, here goes. He knocked on the door again. Marko paused at the kitchen doorway to watch Jak eat. When he was satisfied that his cuisine for canine tastes hadn’t let him down he stepped into the corridor.
‘Fisher?’
‘Yeah.’
‘When Josanne came back she said she’d go for a shower first. We’re all meeting up in the ballroom at half past three to decide what we do about Kym.’
‘All right … thanks, Marko.’ Fisher glanced at the door. Now Marko mentioned it he could hear the faint sound of running water. OK, so he postponed telling Josanne what happened between him and Kym, but he’d confess at the earliest opportunity. The rest of the band? What would they say? Come to that, how would Adam Ambrose react? After all, Kym was his girlfriend. Along with Belle. Hell, he saw a whole knot of problems coming his way.
A gloom-filled ballroom waited for him. Clearly he was the first. He switched on the lights. Outside, dusk crept in early as the fog grew thicker. Through the windows he glimpsed hawthorn bushes with their spiky limbs reaching out to the glass as if exploring for some gap in the window that would let them in.
‘Fuck you!’ He quickened his pace toward where he’d left his bass guitar. ‘Who the hell’s done this?’ With the exception of himself he was the only one to hear the words. Not that he gave a damn. Anger boiled up inside of him. His $4,000 Rickenbacker bass lay face down on the carpet. Someone had pushed it – or worse, kicked it – off its stand. He saw a curling line of silver extend from the neck. Damn, one of the strings had snapped. If anyone’s damaged my guitar …
He picked up the instrument to examine it.
‘I take it no one’s got any news about Kym?’ He glanced up as Marko and Sterling walked in. Sterling sipped from a massive cup.
‘Now there’s a man in love with the mighty Rickenbacker,’ Sterling observed in that easy-going way of his.
‘Huh?’ Fisher searched its red body for scratches.
‘I said it must be true love. You only put new strings on yesterday.’
Fisher turned the instrument over to examine its glossy red back. ‘Check your kit. Someone’s been in here.’
‘They’ve what?’ Sterling picked up his guitar. He brushed the strings. ‘Jesus. Someone’s detuned it. Marko?’
Marko tapped the drums. The sound they made had the flatness of someone striking a cardboard box. ‘There’s no tension in the skins. Looks as if we’re being jerked around.’
‘At last,’ Fabian sounded relieved as he entered to see everyone with their instruments. ‘So we’re ready to play at long last?’
Fisher said, ‘Check your keyboards, Fabian.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Just check them.’
Fabian obliged by pressing a key. A chime boomed from the speaker. It was a clone of the sound they heard every hour from the hidden clock. ‘Very funny, guys. Who sampled the clock?’ Rather than smiling he glared at them. ‘Of course, it now means I’m going to have to spend twenty minutes reprogramming the synth. I had presets in there to underpin the harmonies.’ He scowled as he pressed another key. The cloned chime burst from the speaker with the force of an armour-piercing shell. ‘Thanks a bunch … you bastards.’
Marko spoke up from behind the drum kit. ‘It was nothing to do with us, Fabian.’
‘Who, then?’
Sterling brushed the slack strings of his guitar again. Instead of the rippling notes of a chord it made a lackluster thud. ‘Detuned. Marko’s drums have had the same done to them. Fisher’s bass has been kicked across the room.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ This news really did shake Fabian. ‘Any lasting damage?’
‘A broken string,’ Fisher said. ‘Some scuff marks on the body. I guess you could say I’ve been lucky.’
‘So we’ve had visito
rs?’ Fisher’s eyes roved over the assembly of amplifiers.
‘Anything missing?’
‘Not that I can tell,’ Fisher said.
‘What about Adam’s guitar?’ Marko asked.
Fabian was earnestly checking through his pages of precious songs as he answered. ‘Took it with him … when we went out to hunt for Kym he locked it in his room.’
Sterling nodded. ‘1966 Fender Strat. Who wouldn’t?’
‘Where are Belle and Ambrose now?’
Fabian still leafed through his music. ‘Gone to clean up. They wandered into the bloody swamp. Mud up to their knees … Thank God! At least all these are here.’ He held up the songs before carefully sliding them into his briefcase. ‘These stay with me all the time now.’
Fisher said, ‘We need to keep this room locked while we’re out. We’re lucky that nothing got wrecked.’
Marko began work on tightening the drum skins. ‘Who the hell would do this anyway?’
‘None of us.’ Sterling spoke with conviction.
Fabian tutted. ‘There’s no one for miles. Who’s likely to wander in by chance, then go to the trouble of reprogramming my keyboard?’
‘There is someone else on the estate,’ Fisher told him. ‘A guy called Cantley. He’s says he’s a groundsman, but for all we know he could just be here to steal what he can get his hands on.’
Sterling frowned. ‘Yeah, I could see some drifter nicking a guitar. Though are you going to tell me he’d reprogrammed a synth so it plays the same chimes as the house? And why detune the guitar and drums?’
The house is afraid of the sounds we make. It’s fighting back … The thought came out of nowhere; it could have been the flippant aside that Fisher’s mind generated all the time – whether he wanted it or not. But it had all the resonance of a revelation. He looked up at the ceiling. Are you listening to what we’re saying, House? Can you understand us?
The chime came with startling suddenness.
Marko flinched. ‘OK, Fabian, we know what the sample sounds like. Do you have to keep hitting us with it?’
Fabian shrugged, mystified. ‘That wasn’t me. I never touched a thing.’
‘It’s that fucking clock,’ Sterling growled. ‘What do you say to finding the wire cutters and shutting it up for good?’
Hey, House, did you hear that threat? We’re going to kill your clock. Fisher’s skin tingled. For a second he believed the house would respond. Recollections of the room imploding to crush his body, Kym suffering the electric shock, the weird guy with the scar on his forehead – they all rushed at him. Shit, there was something venomous about the place.
‘Listen!’
They all turned to the doorway. Josanne stood there. Her entire body had stiffened with tension; her shoulders were bunched up toward her ears as if she was in pain. Her eyes were wide as she glanced from face to face.
Fisher noticed that she’d struggled to dress herself. With her blue jeans she wore a T-shirt that had been roughly dragged on as an afterthought. Her feet were bare. Tremors ran through her body.
‘Listen to me! Can you see me? Am I really here!’
Fisher recognized terror in her eyes. ‘Of course we can see you, Josanne.’ He looked more closely. ‘Josanne? What’s wrong?’ He rushed forward as she took a single staggering step forward and fell to her knees. Gently he helped the woman to her feet then guided her to a chair. ‘Here, sit down.’
Fabian hurried to crouch beside her. ‘Josanne, sweetheart, what’s happened to you?’
‘I’m warm, aren’t I? I mean … I mean I’m not dead, am I?’
‘You’re shaking.’
‘But I’m not dead?’
‘Of course you’re not dead.’
Fisher crouched down, too, so he could see into her brown eyes that were on fire with terror. ‘What made you say that?’
‘I … I …’ She clenched her fists, the took a deep breath. ‘I showered. I went to dry my …’ She touched her hair. ‘It’s dry … how can it be dry after that?’
Fisher squeezed her hand. ‘Something happened to you, didn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘What was it, Josanne?’
‘What’s wrong?’ Fabian asked. ‘Has someone attacked her? Fisher? What do you know about this?’
‘Shh, Fabian. Let her speak. Josanne, what was it?’
‘It seemed real. It was real!’ She took another deep breath as tremors shuddered through her body. ‘I sat down to dry my hair. I realized I’d left the shower running. Water was trickling under the door. I opened the door, and … bang. This wall of water – dirty water with weed and filth – all this just hit me. It filled the room. I was swimming … then it was over my head. I couldn’t breathe. Oh God, Fabian, I drowned … I knew I drowned.’
‘Hey, sweetheart …’ He spoke gently. ‘That’s not possible, is it? Look at yourself. Dry as bone.’
‘Kym told me …’ Fisher’s voice trailed.
Fabian appeared suddenly suspicious. ‘She told you what, Fisher?’
‘It was when she got that jolt from the clock yesterday. She blacked out for a moment. Later she told me that she’d had a nightmare.’
Josanne’s eyes suddenly came back into focus. ‘What happened in the nightmare?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Fisher, tell me.’
‘You know, just a nightmare.’
‘Tell me what she dreamt.’
‘Look, it was just a nightmare, but …’ After concealing his liaison with Kym he knew he’d have to tell the truth now. ‘Kym told me she’d dreamt that someone killed her.’
‘How?’
This made Fisher uncomfortable. ‘That’s the weird thing. He used some kind of machine to stab her … look, I told you, it was a dream.’
‘Well, I’ve just had the most vivid dream of my life. I dreamt I drowned in my own room.’ Josanne had snapped out of the confused state now. Her eyes were clear. Self-confidence returned to her voice. ‘It’s getting dark. No one’s seen Kym since last night.’
Marko said, ‘There’s just no way we can search this place alone.’
‘I know,’ she told them, suddenly businesslike. ‘I’m going to drive to the nearest telephone, then I’m calling the police. They’re going to have to bring fucking dogs and helicopters, but they’ve got to find Kym.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Fisher told her.
‘No, stay here. One of you keep checking the rooms she’s likely to use. The rest split up – search the rest of the house and the grounds. There are flashlights in the kitchen.’
Fisher glanced at Fabian. If there was one man here to disagree with Josanne he’d be the one.
Fabian stood up. ‘You get some shoes on. I’ll have the car running for you by the time you get there.’ Josanne allowed him to help her to her feet.
‘Just one more thing.’ Fisher shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem much compared with Kym vanishing, but someone came in here and messed around with our kit.’
Marko shook his head. ‘Hell, Fisher, this isn’t the time—’
‘It is the time. What happened to Kym might be related to whoever came in here while we were out.’
‘So? You want us to stand guard?’
‘No, but you’ve got a video camera, haven’t you, Josanne?’
‘Yes. Is it important?’
‘Before we look for Kym again I think we should leave the camera running; it’ll film this area where the instruments are.’
Sterling whistled. ‘And catch anyone who monkeys around with them?’
Fabian rubbed his jaw. ‘Sounds a fair idea to me.’
‘OK,’ Josanne said. ‘If it helps. I’ll get the camera.’ She paused. ‘Fabian, instead of starting the car for me?’ She gave a tired smile. ‘I don’t fancy the idea of going back to the room alone.’
‘Sure, I’ll come.’ He put his arm round her as they left the ballroom.
Marko pursed his lips. Then spoke so Josanne and Fabian wouldn’t
hear, ‘Just when I was beginning to think that in place of a heart Fabian had a big, cold lump of naked ambition …’
Sterling nodded. ‘Goes to show. He’s not as bad as we thought.’
Fisher didn’t comment. He was thinking about Kym’s vivid description of her death by the man with the scar. Bumping alongside that were images his imagination supplied of Josanne choking to death as a deluge of water filled the room.
Yeah, as if you could be killed by a bad dream.
Deep in the house the blind clock struck four. The three men paused as the chimes resonated through the room before dying back into its ancient walls.
CHAPTER 19
Josanne returned to the ballroom five minutes later, alert and focused. She wore her sneakers, jeans and a white fur-trimmed jacket with a hood. Josanne had a mission: to bring the cops to search for Kym.
When she handed him the video camera Fisher had asked for, she spoke briskly. ‘There’s a blank tape ready in the camera; the batteries are fully charged.’
‘How do I—’
‘Everything’s automatic. Just press the button on the side to shoot. When you want to stop recording press the button again.’
‘Thanks.’
Fabian stood in the doorway. ‘You really think whoever jerked around with our instruments is going to come back?’
‘They might. At least with this running we’ve a chance of seeing who it was.’ Josanne said, ‘My money’s on Cantley.’
‘He looked weird enough.’ Fisher checked the controls on the camera. ‘I’m going to set this on the table over there and just leave it running.’
‘They’ll have to show up quickly. There’s only an hour’s recording time.’
‘It’s worth a shot.’
‘Right,’ she said, ‘wish me luck.’
‘Make it quick,’ Fabian told her. ‘It’s getting dark.’
‘I shouldn’t be more than an hour.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come along with you?’
In that business-like way she shook her head. ‘I’d prefer it if you join the others looking for Kym. I keep picturing her lying hurt somewhere. And if we don’t find her soon …’ She shrugged, leaving the words unsaid.
