Caroline leaned against the wall and shook her head slowly as if trying to clear it. “What does he want? Who is he?”
“He’s an Australian ghost from down under,” said Bob, trying to match Eddie’s flippant approach. Maybe it was the best way to ward off the panic scratching at the back of his mind. “The same one Mandy saw earlier. He seems to be in control of the building, somehow.” Bob spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t understand it.”
Pauline said: “My guess is that he’s an Anzac and died at Gallipoli, a disastrous battle in World War One. Maybe the website that kept popping up on our computers was a message to that effect.”
“But we’re in Bristol,” said Nancy. “It’s 2005. What has Gallipoli got to do with us?”
Pauline shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“And who was that Turk?”
“Again, I don’t know.”
“What do you know?” said Eddie.
“We need to get out of here.”
Bob surveyed their table. Eddie had smashed it into the wall to break a leg off but it was now bent almost in half, nearly broken. There were two legs left because one had broken off smashing the window upstairs. The fresh, new table had been left on the stairs when the Anzac appeared.
“I left the good table behind.”
“You had a shock,” said Pauline. “We don’t blame you.”
“I do,” said Eddie. “You coward.” He punched Bob lightly on the shoulder then picked up the sorry remains of the table they had. Suddenly he turned and smashed it into the wall again. It broke in two halves.
“It would have done that anyway the first time we used it. Easier to carry this way.” Eddie tucked one half of it, with two legs attached, under his arm. “Can you girls carry that bit?”
Pauline picked it up.
“Can you smash the doors with those?” asked Nancy. She looked doubtful.
“We’ll just have to try,” said Bob. “Let’s go,” said Bob. He led the way down the stairs to the next landing. The others followed. After a few steps, he realized that walking with one shoe on was making it even more difficult. He discarded the other shoe. The surface in the call centre was all carpet so it hardly mattered. Outside – well, he would be glad just to be outside, shoeless, or even naked.
They reached the first floor. The doors which led to the next flight of stairs were firmly shut. Bob and Eddie would have to wield their bits of wood again and start smashing. He surveyed it wearily and tried to muster some enthusiasm for the job.
Pauline tapped him on the shoulder and pointed down the corridor.
The door leading to the call centre on that floor was invitingly open.
Chapter Fourteen
Bob looked at the doorway. “He’s making us an offer we can’t refuse.”
“What are you talking about,” said Eddie.
“Look at that piece of crap you’ve got under your arm, mate,” said Bob angrily. “Do you think you can smash through these doors with it?”
Eddie blinked, looked sulky. “I’ll have a go.”
“We need another table. The door is open to that call centre.”
“It’s too dangerous,” said Pauline.
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
“I’ll go,” said Eddie.
“No.” Bob waved him back. “If something happens you have more chance of smashing out with what we’ve got than I have.” He winced. “My ankle is killing me, and you’re stronger than me anyway.”
“I was a roughy- toughy builder for years,” Eddie admitted.
“And I was a post office clerk. Stay here.” Bob crept towards the doors. They were still open, still sheathed in their slots. He knew how fast they could move. He stood on the threshold, took a deep breath.
“Oh, be careful!” cried Nancy.
Bob stepped smartly through. The doors didn’t close on him. He took another step forward and saw that the layout of this call centre was exactly the same as the others. He turned and saw Caroline stood right by the doorway.
“Don’t!”
She stepped through as he spoke. The doors slid shut behind her. Bob noticed that these doors bore the large dark imprint of the insurance company logo it and were not as transparent as the others. (NHS Direct and the Bank upstairs had their logos on the doors too but they were much smaller. This design covered most of the glass.) He put his face against the door and pounded on it with his fist. He could hear Eddie shouting.
“I told you not to go in there! What did Caroline follow you for?”
He turned to look at her. “Why did you?”
“I want to be with you. I had a feeling they would shut. It was just a snap decision. Sorry.”
He turned back to the glass door and shouted back to the others. “We’ll get another table and smash through this one. Wait for us.”
He smiled at Eddie’s reply. “What else can we do?”
Bob surveyed this new call centre. The Supervisors’ podium was just through the doorway, the tearoom was off to the right, and the big room was filled with so-called pods constructed of three tables pushed together with eighteen-inch high screens where the tables met. The carpet was an unexciting grey-green colour, polystyrene tiles formed the usual suspended ceiling and the walls were an off-white pastel shade with notice-boards scattered here and there. The lights were on low. At the far end of the room, partitions created a few smaller offices for supervisors and other functions. It was the same layout as both the NHS call centre and the banks. Through the windows the lights of Bristol could be seen, so close, yet so far.
Bob looked at the nearest pod and sighed. More humping of computers, more separating tables and smashing doors. He turned to Caroline.
“I could use a cup of coffee, love.”
“I’ll get on it right away. Sit down a minute. Rest.” She moved gracefully into the tearoom. Bob noticed that one of the computer screens was on, showing something.
He sat by it and looked at the screen.
It was the Dardanelles website.
Bob took the mouse and clicked on the ‘enter’ icon to read it. He learned about the World War One campaign in the Dardanelles where the British, stuck on the Western Front, had attacked Germany’s ally, Turkey in order to join up with the Russian army and approach the enemy from the east. Churchill regarded the Ottoman Empire as weak and crumbling, a soft underbelly. However, as so often in British military history, the Dardanelles campaign failed in the execution. Gallipoli was a rout. The Turks were fighting to defend their homeland from invaders, which always makes a difference, and fought with desperate savagery.
Many Australians and New Zealanders died in the landings and at Anzac Cove, as it came to be known. Bob was interested to read that, contrary to popular myth, the Anzacs were not tough colonials from the outback resentful at fighting for the mother country. On the contrary, most of them were city types and first-generation immigrants to Australia, born in England and devoted to it. As usual, the Hollywood interpretation was misleading.
Caroline appeared with the coffee and she had unearthed some biscuits too. Bob slurped and munched with enthusiasm and began to feel marginally better. He read her the details from the website.
She nodded. “That’s what Pauline said earlier. But presumably, the Anzacs are either buried in Turkey where they died or were shipped home. Why are we being troubled by one here? Where does Bristol come into it?”
“I don’t know.” Bob frowned at the screen. As he watched it flickered and changed. The Dardanelles website was gone and he was looking at something different. The title of the page was ‘Friends of Arnos Vale.’
He read it aloud. “That rings a bell.”
“It should. Don’t you remember the protests when they were building this place? On the news, there were groups of people shouting and waving placards with ‘Friends of Arnos Vale’ written on. They were the people who regarded building on the site as an act of desecration. We still get callers mention it sometimes. You had one the other d
ay.”
“So I did. But surely this place isn’t built on recent graves? And what has this to do with the Anzac?”
She shrugged. “Have a look at the site.”
Bob gripped the mouse and clicked on the various links, exploring, and finding out all he could about Arnos Vale, the cemetery, and the history. He concentrated on the screen, grunting in satisfaction now and then as some piece of the puzzle fell into place, whistling occasionally at some surprising bit of information. At one point he shouted: “The Turk! He’s not a Turk at all! Look!”
Then he noticed that Caroline was gone. He stood up and walked to the tearoom. He opened the door quietly and saw her making more coffee. She stood at the counter, spooning granules into two mugs, framed by the darkness and the glimmering lights of Bristol in the window behind her. He looked at her long shapely legs, her graceful posture, and her cascade of dark curly hair, her elfin features in profile and felt a strong surge of affection.
She turned her head and smiled. “More coffee?”
“Absolutely. Come and look at this website. I’ve think I know what’s going on.”
“We’re in a call centre on Halloween night with a mad ghost who wants to kill us,” she said.
“Yes. But I think I know why. And I believe I’ve identified the friendly ghost.”
“Casper?” She followed him, carrying the two mugs of coffee.
“You’re getting as bad as Eddie.”
“I think Eddie in my body would be your perfect mate.”
He turned to look at her. She placed the coffee down by the monitor. He put his arms around her waist and looked her in the eye. “No, dear. Eddie is just a friend. I like you in your body. I like you very much.” He lowered his hands. “I do like your body though.”
“Men! Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.” She kissed him a quick peck on the lips and stepped back, smiling. “I like you too. Now let’s work on getting out of here?”
“You’re right. Sit here and read this stuff while I wrestle yet again with these bloody tables.”
She sat down.
Suddenly the monitor winked out. “Oh!” She started in alarm.
The lights went out. Bob yelped. The room was in darkness except for the faint light coming from outside.
Caroline stood up. “Bob, are you okay?”
He did not answer but moved back around the pod so he was beside her again. He was panting.
“There’s some light from street lamps outside and a bit of moonlight.” He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out. He felt Caroline take his hand and was ashamed that it trembled. “God, I’m such a fool!”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault. Come on. We can do this together.”
Their eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness. “I can just about see the computers and pods. I think I can get a table free, if I concentrate.”
“Think about that,” she said. “Think about the job at hand.”
“I’ll try.”
There was a whoosh of air and a thunderous clang all around them. The room was plunged into complete darkness. Bob yelled in surprise and fright.
Caroline said: “The shutters have gone down.”
Bob sank down to the floor and sat there with his back resting against a table leg.
“I don’t think I can cope anymore,” he said.
Chapter Fifteen
Bob sat on the carpet with his back against a table leg, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around his legs, almost curled into a ball. His eyes were open but there was only utter darkness to see. He could feel Caroline next to him, warm against his side.
“You’ll be all right,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he said. “You don’t know. I won’t.”
“It’s a phobia. People can overcome phobias.”
Thank you, nurse, he thought bitterly but didn’t say it. She meant well. He knew it was a phobia, knew it was an irrational fear. He knew that darkness was only the absence of light and contained no inherent menace. With the conscious, thinking, logical call handler part of his brain, he knew all that. But there was some baser, darker, built in animal essence that ignored science and logic and gibbered with fear. Terror paralyzed him and he couldn’t do anything. He was a child in the dark.
There was a faint crackle by his head. He stopped breathing, listened. The crackle came again. It was the headphones. He picked them up and put them on.
“Did you hear something?” said Caroline.
“Sssh. It’s the headphones.” Bob listened. Perhaps it was the benign spirit who had warned them to get out. Perhaps he could help.
A sudden scream of laughter made him jerk. Caroline gasped.
“G’day you pommy pig. How are you? Scared of the dark?” Laughter again.
Bob looked at Caroline. “It’s him.”
He heard scratching, gnawing sounds and the image of dark, stinking, menacing creatures filled his mind. He started again and almost got to his feet. Then he realized it was only on the headphones and sank back weakly.
“Scared of a few rats, Bob? Laughter again, dark and chilling.
“You can’t hurt us!” he shouted. “You can’t hurt us! You’re only a ghost! You have no physical power!”
“How’s your ankle, Bob? The tone of voice was sneering. There was laughter again. Then the voice resumed, vicious this time. “I will hurt you, boy. I will maim you one by one and burn this place to the ground with you all inside.”
“You can’t.”
Caroline grabbed his arm and whispered urgently. “What’s he saying?”
Bob wanted to talk to her but the voice had resumed. He couldn’t ignore it.
“I can do anything I want, you pommy brat! I control this building. I can close the doors or open the doors or slam the doors into your brittle mortal bones. I control the computers and the phones and shutters. I can make a few electrical sparks jump where they shouldn’t and – hey presto! – Inferno. I won’t do that yet though. We have all night to play.”
There was a loud bang to their immediate left and Caroline screamed. Bob craned his head to look and saw a monitor glowing faintly in the darkness. The screen had exploded.
He heard Caroline brushing at her legs.
“What is it?”
“Glass. I got showered with the glass!”
“Are you still there, Bob? That was just a small demonstration.”
“You... you...”
“Must fly, Bob. I think your friends are getting bored out there so I’ll go and play with them for a while. Take care of the lovely Caroline for me.” Laughter again.
Caroline fainted. Bob was only aware of it because she had been huddled tightly against him and fell away. The headphones had gone silent. He snatched them off and shifted his position.
“Caroline. Caroline,” he whispered. He was ashamed, not sure if he was more worried about her or himself, alone in the dark. He wanted to wake her up. She was prostrate full length stretched out on the floor, half under the table against which they had been propped. He found her shoulders, felt the strap of her handbag and slid it down her arm. She had fallen back on it. He shifted her torso and slipped it out from under her so she would be more comfortable. She felt cool, too cool. He remembered the prioritization questions they asked of callers – ‘Is the person pale cold and clammy?’ If they were it was a priority one call, put straight through to a nurse. It had been explained to him that if a person was pale, cold and clammy it was a sign of shock. He took Caroline’s shoulders in both hands and shook her gently.
“Caroline.”
There was not the slightest twitch in response. She was spark out. Bob wasn’t medically trained. He didn’t know what to do. He needed a Nurse.
Then he remembered what the Turk had said. I fear the girl may die. Of course, he wasn’t a Turk. Bob knew that now. A fat lot of good it did Caroline.
He heard something. Bob listened keenly thinking it might be the headphones again. No. It was coming from the
corridor outside where he had left the rest of them. It was the drumming noise of the call centre’s fully automated twenty-first-century doors opening and slamming shut repeatedly. There was another sound underneath it, barely detectable.
Screams.
Bob sank under the desk and curled into a foetus like ball in the dark.
There was nothing he could do.
Chapter Sixteen
Bob sat in the dark shivering with terror. He was right next to Caroline so he could feel the warmth of her next to him. It was slight comfort. Outside in the corridor, he could hear the doors open and slam shut. The screams had stopped. Bob wasn’t sure what that meant. He couldn’t think straight. He could hardly think at all but hoped his friends had stayed still and not tried to dash through the doors. As long as they didn’t panic they might be all right. He didn’t think the Anzac could do anything physical himself, though he controlled the building.
Caroline was still. He strained to listen to her breathing, put his head down near her mouth. She was still breathing but it seemed rapid and shallow. It was still cold. He should try and think of some way to keep her warm. He should at least get her a drink of water, he decided. The floor plan here was the same as in his own call centre. He knew where the tearoom was.
All he had to do was get there in the dark.
He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to venture out into the darkness. Darkness concealed things. You never knew what was out there.
“Coward.”
The voice was his own.
No, he wasn’t a coward, he thought. There was just nothing he could do, not for himself or Caroline. He would just have to wait here in the dark for the morning shift to arrive. They would sort things out. Bob was exhausted and his ankle hurt like hell. There was nothing he could do. He was helpless. He would just go to sleep next to Caroline and the time would pass. He would sleep and dream of glorious summer daylight. Sleep with his arm around his new girlfriend to keep her warm and in the morning everything would be fine. In the morning it would be November 1st and the night of Halloween would be over and there would be no ghosts.
Arnos Hell Page 8
