by Darcy Coates
Something on the other side of the door imitated my exhale. I scuttled back, my heart thumping, as something large and dark reached up to scratch at the foggy glass.
Andrew, arms crossed over his chest, listened to Thompson’s speech as he leaned against Matt’s desk. It had been cleared during the night.
“Yes, sadly, Matt handed in his resignation yesterday afternoon,” Thompson said. He turned his head slowly to survey the gathered staff. “He was an excellent worker, and we wish him all the best in his future career. We understand it will leave a hole in this team, but we hope to hire a replacement within the week. Thank you.”
The murmurs started immediately.
“I can’t believe it,” Madison said. “I thought he loved this job. I had no idea he was thinking about leaving.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Jacob said. “This is the sixth person who’s left after a Basement Run. There’s something not right down there. You know, during my last trip I—”
Andrew tuned out the chatter as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see Thompson beaming at him. “Andrew, right? I have a job for you. You see, when Matt was fetching the folders on Friday, he missed one–Clarissa Perrick. I can trust you to find it for us, can’t I?”
“Sure thing.”
THE WATCHER
It was a bad night to do the challenge. The thin crescent moon kept slipping behind the clouds, and a harsh wind tugged dying leaves off the trees and sent them skittering across the driveway. Jasmine got out of the van she’d been forced into and pulled her dressing gown tightly around her body. They’d parked in a large clearing that bordered a nature reserve, and banks of tall pine trees rose above them, making long shadows across the grass. They’d passed a home, its lights off and curtains drawn, farther up the driveway, but it was no longer in sight. Jasmine had seen a sign for a second in the van’s headlights, but she hadn’t been able to read it properly. Trucket Pros and The Artical, or something like that.
An animal cried in the woods and another creature answered almost immediately. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Jasmine began to make out details of her surroundings. The clearing was about twenty feet wide and surrounded by trees on all sides. To the left was some sort of shed, teetering on the edge of a steep incline into a gully. The shed looked like a lighthouse sitting on the brink of a cliff, and the wildly swaying trees were the waves threatening to submerge it. To the right was an open workshop. Rusty saws and axes glittered in the thin moonlight.
Her masked companion got out of the van’s driver seat. “Down towards the shed,” she instructed, and Jasmine reluctantly obeyed.
She was halfway there before she saw the three other hooded people standing in the shed’s shadow. Like her companion, they wore thick black robes that trailed on the ground behind them. The hoods were drawn up over their hair, and blank white masks covered their faces.
“Welcome, friend,” the middle figure said, and Jasmine recognised Erin’s voice. Erin was the leader of the group and had probably planned the evening’s entertainment.
“Hello,” Jasmine said stupidly, hugging her body and shivering.
Erin stretched out her gloved hands, palms upwards, and raised her masked face towards the sky. “We have brought you here tonight for a test of bravery. Pass, and you will be welcomed into our order. Fail, and you will leave disgraced.”
The figure to Erin’s left giggled nervously, but a glare from her companion quickly silenced her. The giggle gave away her identity, though. Only Hannah laughed like that.
They were piling on the dramatics, and Jasmine had to admit, it was working. The cloaks, the masks, and the remote location were making her skin crawl. She’d never been good at handling fear. She hated horror movies and still occasionally had nightmares from a haunted house amusement ride her parents had taken her on as a child. Of all the challenges they could have planned, they had to pick bravery, huh? Just my luck.
Erin, who seemed to be getting a kick out of Jasmine’s fear, raised her voice. “The rules are simple. When the bell tolls midnight, you will step into the Watching Room.” She indicated the shed to Jasmine’s left. “When the bell tolls one, you may come out. There is a window in the shed. As long as you are inside, you must be the Watcher and stare through the glass. If you look away from the window, you fail. If you turn the light on, you fail. If you leave the room before the bell’s toll, you fail.” She paused, letting the silence stretch out, then continued in a quieter voice. “But if you can watch for the full hour, you will have proven your courage, and your initiation will be complete. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Jasmine said, trying to smile. She wished they wouldn’t make such a big deal of it. When Erin had told her she would need to pass an initiation to be a part of their book club, she’d assumed it would be an embarrassing prank or maybe a small act of vandalism. Erin had never given so much as a hint that she was interested in the cultish, horror-fuelled test of bravery she’d established.
Jasmine looked at the three silent figures beside Erin. She’d gotten on well with them before, but it was so much harder to talk with them when they wore masks. “Did you all have to pass, too?”
“Yep,” Hannah said proudly before Erin could glare her into silence. “Even Erin did it.”
“It was ages ago, though,” the person to Erin’s right added, and the accent told Jasmine it was Tasha. That meant the fourth figure, the one who’d driven her there, was Mel.
“We did it when we were kids,” Hannah said. “This place has hardly changed, though.”
“Some things never change,” Erin said, making her voice low and ominous.
Jasmine could tell she’d been waiting for an opening for her story.
“Things like the Stalker.”
Mel shivered under her cloak, and Hannah let out another nervous laugh.
Erin walked forward and began circling Jasmine with slow, ponderous steps, her feet scraping through the dead leaves. “The Stalker has lived in these woods for longer than anyone can remember. They say it’s a horrible monster, half bat and half human, that drags its live prey deep into the forest to consume. It’s often been seen from the window in the Watching Room as it stalks its victims.”
Hannah’s giggles became higher and more sporadic. She was really, truly frightened, Jasmine realised.
“Your job as the Watcher is to watch for the Stalker,” Erin continued. “If you see it, don’t look away. The Stalker won’t attack as long as you keep your eyes on it, but as soon as you turn to run…” She drew her gloved finger across her throat in a slow sweep then leant forward to whisper into Jasmine’s ear: “Don’t look away.”
What the hell sort of hazing is this? Jasmine rubbed at her arms as goose bumps rose over them. I’m trying to join a book club, not a cult.
She knew Erin was trying to scare her, and she was a little ashamed to admit it was working. The animal chattering from the gully was taking on a new dimension. The calls, the wails, and even the rustling of the leaves raised Jasmine’s heart rate. What would a Stalker sound like?
The clamour of nature was suddenly interrupted by a deep, melodic boom. The town hall bell, the sound of which travelled across the woods, was announcing midnight.
“It’s time,” Erin said.
She, Hannah, and Tasha began walking up the driveway, leaving Mel to pull a large, ornate metal key out of her pocket and unlock the shed’s door.
“I’ll see you in an hour, I guess,” Jasmine said, trying to inject some lightness into her voice. “Let’s hope the Stalker doesn’t show up, huh?”
The lock clicked, and Mel put the key back into her pocket. The town hall’s bell was still ringing, blending with the noise from the gully.
“It’s real, you know.” She reached up to pull her mask over her hood. Her round face was flushed and sweaty, but her dark eyes were serious. “I know you think it’s something Erin made up, but it’s not. It’s a local urban legend. There are stories ab
out the Stalker from when the town was being settled. You’re new here, so you wouldn’t have seen them, but the newspaper sometimes runs articles on it, too.”
“What?”
“Just thought you should know,” Mel said, and Jasmine caught a glimpse of a wicked grin before the mask was lowered back into place. The town hall finished its twelfth chime, leaving the air saturated with its echoes, somehow heavier from the oppressive silence. Mel placed a hand on the wooden door and pressed it open. “In you go.”
Jasmine could feel her fingers shaking, but she couldn’t turn back. She’d been spending time with the four women for over a month, and when Erin had invited her to join their club, which they’d apparently started as children, she knew she would do anything it took to be included… even spending an hour as a Watcher.
She stepped over the threshold of the shed, and the door clicked shut behind her. Mel didn’t lock it, though, and Jasmine was grateful.
The shed was completely empty and felt larger than it had looked from the outside. Wooden floors met wooden walls, which, in turn, disappeared into a wooden ceiling draped with spiderwebs. Erin had said there was a window, but that wasn’t strictly true. Jasmine felt a swell of fear rise through her as she faced a wall made entirely out of glass.
There were no supports and no metal bars to segment the pane. It stretched seamlessly from the left wall to the right, and from her slippers to five feet above her head. As she stepped up to the window, she felt as though she might be sucked through it and into the forest beyond.
The view would have been stunning at any other time, but that night, it was like something out of her nightmares. The incline dropped away from the edge of the shed, creating a slope of grass splattered with underbrush and scrappy weeds. The clearing rushed to blend with the claustrophobic woods beyond. It was a mess of shadows, where spears of moonlight and gashes of darkness mixed and fought for dominance, dancing and darting as the wind threw the trees’ branches about with ecstatic abandon.
The sounds bled through the gaps in the shed wall. She could hear the calls of small mammals, the rasping chatter of bats, and a bleat from deep in the woods that rose in pitch before abruptly cutting off.
Jasmine struggled with herself, fighting to keep her feet planted where they were and to get her breathing under control as gnawing anxiety made her legs weak and her fingers shake.
Don’t lose, she told herself. Don’t let their stories get into your head. This is fine. You’re safe. Nothing can get in here.
She felt vulnerable, though, exposed by that window, as though she could fall through it at any moment, to be dragged away by the Stalker.
There’s no such thing as a Stalker! Even her internal voice sounded panicked. Jasmine closed her eyes for a moment then forced them open again. Erin and her friends were probably making sure she didn’t look away. They might have hidden a camera somewhere in the corner of the room, or they could have been in the woods at that moment, watching and laughing as she trembled, alone, in the shed.
Something moved between the trees, and Jasmine’s heart skipped a beat. She focussed on it, trying to make out the shape among the mess of shadows and plants. Some sort of animal sent up a chatter, a harsh cht-cht-cht-cht.
She tried to guess how long she’d been in the shed, but time felt unstable there, as if it passed differently on the outside world. She thought that at least half an hour had gone by, though. Her feet were starting to get tired. The wind picked up a notch, and the shed creaked, making a laborious sound that started to her right and travelled over the roof.
More movement appeared among the trees, though it might have just been a trick of the light. She scanned the scene, letting her eyes linger over the darkest parts, trying to identify shapes. A rock a little way down the gully looked as though it had eyes. Jasmine stared at it then smothered a shriek as it moved.
The rock wasn’t a rock after all, but a creature hunched on the ground, watching her intently. It rose to a half-crouch and began creeping up the gully.
All of her false confidence left her. She would have run if her legs hadn’t been drained of their energy.
It can’t be real, her mind gibbered as she struggled to draw breath, watching the creature slink closer to her window. It’s got to be an animatronic or a special effect or… or a costume.
She remembered the sign that had been nearly hidden by the trees at the head of the driveway, and the correct words came to her instantly: Truskett’s Prosthetics and Theatrical Makeup.
Erin’s surname was Truskett, but her parents lived near the town centre. This property must belong to an uncle or a grandfather, then. Someone who makes theatre costumes and does makeup. Erin’s resourceful. Of course she’d take full advantage of her relative’s craft to make tonight an event I’ll never forget. Why just talk about a Stalker when you can make one appear?
This knowledge was like a rush of warm water. No wonder Erin had been so insistent that Jasmine not look away from the window. They didn’t want her to miss a second of their elaborate fright fest. Better luck next time, Erin.
Jasmine tried to smile, but her face felt frozen. She was certain the thing in the gully was one of her friends dressed in an elaborate costume, but fear continued to crawl across her skin, itching at her back and making her feel sick. The monster in the gully was creeping closer, keeping its body low to the ground, its yellow eyes fixed on Jasmine’s.
Don’t look away.
It was entirely grey and wore no clothes. She couldn’t imagine any of the friends stripping naked for a prank, so she guessed it was a monster bodysuit. The yellow contacts would have been a pain to put it. They’ve really put a lot of effort into this.
She would have been impressed with some quick makeup, maybe a wig and some tattered clothes–but the creature was above and beyond. It even moved animalistically, using all four limbs to creep up the steep incline, its body twisting lithely. She could swear she saw the spine writhe under its skin.
“That’s enough,” she whispered. “Please, no more.”
As if it could hear her, the creature turned, leaving its course, and circled the building. She watched it until it disappeared from view.
Her chest ached from the stress. Her heart was thundering, and her body was sticky with sweat under her dressing gown. She tried to swallow and found her throat was dry. Please let that be it, she begged. I want this hour to be over already.
A scream, shrill and inhuman, came from behind her. Jasmine jumped and shrieked herself, and it took all of her resolve to stay facing the glass wall. You’re the Watcher. Watch the window. Don’t turn around, or you fail.
The scream became raw, thick with terror, then it ended abruptly.
“Don’t let them scare you. You’re stronger than this.” Jasmine reached up and rubbed the tears off her cheek. She’d never felt fear so intensely. “They’re trying their best to make you leave, but you’re going to win.”
The silence stretched out. Jasmine kept her eyes on the woods below, following the rules to the letter. Her chest ached, and her limbs shook as she stood, watching the flickering shadows and swaying trees in the gully.
Then a deep, melodic boom came from the town. Her hour was up.
“I did it.” She finally turned and stumbled towards the door, her relief and exhilaration battling with her still-present fear. “I did it.”
She opened the door, hoping for cheers and welcoming hugs, but the clearing was empty. Jasmine scanned the edges of the wood, looking for movement. They must have gone to wait back at the house. Jeeze, you’d think they’d be a little bit more considerate after what they put me through.
She started walking and tripped over a dark shape at the foot of the shed. She screamed and landed in the dirt, then pushed back quickly to see what she’d fallen over.
Erin lay on her front, her head twisted up to stare in horror at the crescent moon. Her face was painted white with dark patches drawn about her eyes. Plastic fangs peeked over her bott
om lip, just above a dribble of blood.
A vampire. Erin’s interpretation of half-human and half-bat. Jasmine’s brain sluggishly put the pieces together as she sat on the ground, too shocked and frightened to move. She must have been waiting for me to leave when the hour ended.
Then she heard the noise, a chk-chk-chk-chk, from the opposite end of the clearing. Jasmine raised her eyes and saw it creep out from the trees. Its leathery grey skin slid over angular bones as it paced towards her, its body moving fluidly, its harsh yellow eyes fixed on hers.
Don’t look away.
THE MALLORY HAUNTING
The Mallory’s residence didn’t look like a stereotypical haunted house. The two-story brick building sat in the middle of suburbia, and the garden was full of freshly planted shrubs and green trees. A young, dark-haired woman opened the door when I knocked. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Cheryl White, ghost hunter. Paul Mallory called me about a spirit problem.”
The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, of course! I’m Anne, Paul’s wife. Please come in.”
In the sparsely decorated foyer, boxes were stacked into corners, waiting to be unpacked.
“When Paul booked the appointment, he mentioned you’d moved recently.”
“That’s right, we’ve only had this place for a few weeks. Excuse the mess; Paul hasn’t finished unpacking, I’m afraid.”
Anne led me into the kitchen and indicated that I could put my case of equipment on the table. Like the hallway, the kitchen was only partially unpacked. “Would you mind if I asked why you moved here?”
Anne let her breath out with a whistle. “Actually, the move was long overdue. We’d been staying with Paul’s extended family. They had a large property up in the Blue Mountains and invited us to live with them after we got married—to save costs, you know? Then there was a death in the family, and Paul said he wanted to move out. We needed a fresh start, so we came out here.”
