by Amy Cross
“You haven't been here for long,” he replied, checking his watch. “Don't give up just yet.”
“I've read through all her notebooks and diaries,” she continued, “and one thing's clear. She was obsessed with the trains that run past this place. Maybe obsessed isn't even the right word, it's almost like she focused on them to the exclusion of everything else. She made notes about when they passed, when they were late, when they stopped, and about anyone she saw near the tracks, and then...”
Her voice trailed off for a moment.
“You're still worried about that girl you think you saw,” Michael said eventually.
“I don't think I saw her.”
“The mind is a funny thing,” he continued. “It can play tricks on you.”
“I saw her,” she said firmly. “She was right there on the tracks, she actually turned and looked at me, and then she just seemed to vanish when the train hit her. No blood, no body, just... gone.”
“Did you report it?”
“As if they'd listen to me,” she muttered. “I get the feeling the police round here don't exactly rush out when something happens at Marshall Heights. My fiance always used to say I was naive about the world, but I really thought the police would be more helpful.” She paused. “Ex-fiance. Well, dead fiance.”
“I'm sorry.”
“It's been a while since he died,” she told him. “A whole month.”
“Just a month?”
“Embolism,” she replied, rubbing her finger where the ring used to be. “One minute he was fine and healthy, the next he was in a wooden box.”
“That's rough,” Michael said, grabbing a couple of glasses and pouring them each some whiskey.
“No, really,” Megan replied.
“Come on, it'll do you good.”
She shook her head.
“Well it's there if you need it,” he continued, sliding one of the glasses toward her before picking up the other. “Honestly, I'm sorry about your fiance. I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone like that.”
“And now...” She paused, wondering whether it might help to tell a complete stranger her news, before thinking better of it. “And now here I am,” she continued with a faint smile, “sitting in my missing aunt's flat, waiting for God-knows-what to knock on the door at three in the morning.” She stared at the glass of whiskey for a moment, feeling the temptation in her heart, before reminding herself that she couldn't risk harming the baby she was apparently carrying.
“Want to make this more interesting?” Michael asked suddenly, taking some coins from his pocket and placing them on the table. “Two pounds says nothing happens tonight.”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” he continued. “Humor me.”
“I don't really bet,” she told him.
“Two pounds says the culprit is something very mundane and very mortal,” he continued. “It's probably just kids. I caught a couple of them in one of the flats today, somehow they'd managed to get through the door. Never underestimate the ingenuity of the young mind. They've yet to be crippled by doubt and self-loathing, so...” He sighed. “Damn. Remind me to put some more money in my jar tomorrow.”
He waited for Megan to reply, but once again she was staring into space.
“Cheers,” he muttered, taking a sip of whiskey. “To the ghosts of Marshall Heights.”
***
“Two minutes to go,” Megan said a little while later, watching the clock as it ticked over to 2:58am.
“Assuming the ghost is punctual,” Michael pointed out.
They were sitting in the dark front room, having decided – after much debate – to keep the lights off so that they wouldn't scare away a potential interruption. Having talked for the best part of three hours, they were both starting to tire, and Michael had gradually succumbed to the rest of the whiskey bottle, although Megan had refused to do the same. Even though she was certain on a rational level that she couldn't be pregnant, there was a part of her that wondered if somehow there might have been a miracle. Either way, she couldn't take the risk.
“Lost in thought?”
She turned to him.
“You were miles away.”
“I'm going to find her,” she replied, not wanting to tell him about the possible pregnancy.
“I'm sure you are.”
“I mean I'm really going to find her,” she continued, “whatever's happened. When I came here the other day, I'd convinced myself that it was nothing bad, that I'd get her back and everything would return to normal. Now I realize that she's most likely dead somewhere, but I'm still going to find her and get to the truth.” She absent-mindedly placed a hand on her belly. “People should be found when they get lost. It's just not right that someone can vanish and that's the end of it.”
“There are cracks in the world,” Michael pointed out. “People slip through them occasionally.”
“Not people who have families,” she said firmly. “My aunt has people who -”
“One minute,” Michael said suddenly, interrupting her.
She looked over at the clock and saw that he was right:
2:59am.
“If someone's hurt her,” she continued, “I swear to God, I'll make them pay. She's a good woman, she's honest and kind and she cares about other people. It's not right that she should even have come to live in this crumby place at all. Damn it, one of us should have done more for her, we should have had her come to live with us.” She paused, before glancing over at Michael. “Sorry, I didn't mean to -”
“It's fine,” he replied with a smile. “Marshall Heights is a dump and I know it.”
“So why don't you get away from here?”
“Money.”
“But -”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Do you think it's going to happen at three on the dot?”
He shrugged.
“How could a place like this exist?” she asked. “How could there be a whole building in one of the world's biggest cities, and nothing gets done about the strange things that happen here? I mean, no offense, but I've already seen enough craziness in Marshall Heights to warrant at least some kind of intervention.”
“Ten seconds.”
She looked over at the clock, and they sat in silence for a moment as the second hand ticked around to zero and then continued on its way. After a few more seconds, they both turned and looked through to the hallway, listening to the aching silence.
“So how long do we give it?” Michael asked eventually, as the clock reached 3:01am.
“As long as it takes.”
Outside, another train rattled past the building.
“I'll be back in a moment,” Megan said, getting to her feet and heading through to the bathroom. With a sudden sense of extreme nausea in her belly, she pushed the door shut and slid the lock across before turning to the mirror. She knew she was most likely imagining the sensation, but ever since she'd seen the results of the pregnancy test she'd been feeling as if her entire belly was constantly twisting and churning.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself.
It was just a false positive. That was what she kept telling herself. She could get another kit in the morning, and that would -
Suddenly she felt something strange in her mouth.
Running her tongue along her teeth, she realized that one of the bicuspids on the left side was loose. She used her tongue to give the tooth a wiggle, and finally she felt it starting to come out. Leaning over the sink, she reached two fingers into her mouth as she began to taste blood, and after a moment she felt the tooth fall out and come to rest on her tongue. Spitting it into her hand, she stared in shock.
“What the hell?” she whispered, turning the tooth around in her fingers. There was no sign of any decay, and she'd not noticed anything wrong until just a couple of seconds earlier.
As she ran her tongue across her other teeth, she realized with horror that another, this time a molar at
the back on the right side, was also loose. She stared at her own reflection as she worked the tip of her tongue under the tooth, and finally it slipped out and she spat it into the sink along with a small amount of bloodied saliva.
“No way,” she said quietly, using her tongue to check the rest of her teeth until she found that yet another was loose, near the front.
She stood up straight as a sense of panic began to rise through her body, threatening to overtake her completely.
“What the hell is -”
Before she could finish, one of her front teeth dropped out and she spat it into her hand, and she could already feel another loose tooth nudging against the inside of her mouth.
“This is a dream,” she whispered, “it has to be.”
Pulling her sleeve up, she pinched her arm as hard as possible, convinced that at any moment she'd wake up, that suddenly she'd -
Hearing a knock at the front door, she spun around.
“This isn't happening,” she told herself, heading to the bathroom door and unlocking it before easing it open to find Michael standing out in the dark hallway. From the look on his face, it was clear that he'd also heard the knocking sound from the front door.
She paused, before looking across the hallway and seeing a figure standing on the other side of the frosted glass. Taking a step forward, she suddenly felt Michael's hand on her arm.
“I don't think you should do this,” he whispered.
“Are you kidding?”
He shook his head.
“I have to find out who this is,” she hissed. “They might know what happened to my aunt.”
“Whoever's out there might be a psycho.”
“Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? To protect me? Besides -” Feeling another tooth coming loose, she turned away and spat it into her hand before slipping it into her pocket.
“Megan?” Michael asked. “What's wrong? Did you just -”
“It's nothing,” she replied, turning to him. “There's no -”
“Help!” a female voice called from the other side of the front door. She sounded scared, maybe in pain. “Please, I know you're in there, you have to let me in!”
“It's a trick,” Michael whispered. “This is some asshole trying to scare you.”
“Then I have to show them it isn't working,” she replied, trying to pull her arm free from his grip. “Let go.”
“I can't let you do this.”
“You can't stop me.” Slipping away from him, she made her way over to the door and grabbed the handle.
“Please let me in,” the voice said on the other side. “He's coming for me.”
“Who's coming for you?” Megan asked, raising her voice so she could be heard through the door.
“He's close,” the voice replied. “Please, if he catches me tonight he's going to hurt me so much. He's mad at me. I didn't do anything wrong, I swear, but that doesn't matter to him, he wants to make me pay.”
“Who are you?”
“Please,” she whimpered, “just let me in.”
“What's your name?” Megan asked firmly, as Michael come up behind her. “I'm not letting you in unless you tell me who you are.”
“I'm scared,” the girl cried. “Help me!”
“Your name!”
“She might be dangerous,” Michael whispered. “She might have a knife, even a gun. There might be some big thug hiding out there with her, ready to -”
“Do you know what happened to my aunt?” Megan called out, her hand resting on the handle, ready to open the door. “Her name was -”
“The nice lady who lived here before?”
“What happened to her?”
“Please, just let me in,” the girl continued, placing her hand on the frosted glass. “He's close, I can feel it. If he catches me, he might... He's really mad this time, I think he might actually come through and hurt me.”
“Don't let her in,” Michael whispered. “Something about this feels very wrong.”
Ignoring him, Megan turned the handle and pulled the door open, finally coming face to face with the girl. With long black hair that obscured part of her face, the girl seemed to be shivering, and the wild look in her eyes spoke of extreme fear in her heart.
“You!” Megan said, recognizing the girl from the train tracks earlier, the same girl who had seemingly vanished.
“Please let me in,” she said, taking a step forward, “if he -”
Stopping suddenly, she looked past Megan and her eyes widened.
“You can come in,” Megan replied, taking a step back. “Of course you can.”
“What's he doing here?” the girl asked, seemingly frozen in terror as she stared at Michael.
“This is my friend,” Megan said.
“Get him away from me!” she screamed, hurrying back until she bumped against the railing. “Don't let him near me!”
“No,” Megan continued, stepping through the door, “please, listen, no-one's going to -”
“Don't touch me!” the girl shouted, turning and running along the walkway.
“Come back!” Megan called after her, but it was too late: the girl had already disappeared into the hallway at the end, and seconds later she could be heard running up the stairwell.
“Well that was odd,” Michael said, stepping out to join Megan.
“Did you recognize her?”
He shook his head.
“She seemed to recognize you.”
“She's crazy,” he replied. “You saw the look in her eyes, there's something wrong with her. I swear to God, I've never seen that girl before in my life.”
“She was terrified,” Megan said, reaching back into the flat and grabbing her coat from the hook, “we have to go and find her.”
“Are you kidding?” He checked his watch. “It's ten past there.”
“Exactly,” she replied. “Everyone says not to be out at three, no-one says anything about ten past.”
“You're splitting hairs.”
“I'm going after her,” she said firmly as she slipped into her coat. “You don't have to come with me.”
As she hurried along the walkway, she heard the front door closing and a moment later Michael caught up to her.
“I should have brought something,” he said, his breath visible in the cold air.
“Like what?”
“Like a knife.”
“You saw her,” Megan continued. “That girl was no ghost.”
As they reached the stairwell, they stood for a moment, listening to the silence.
“She went down,” Megan said finally, hurrying to the stairs.
“Up,” Michael said quickly.
She turned to him.
“She went up,” he said again. “I swear.”
“Well I'm going up, because I know what I heard.” Hurrying down the stairs, she kept going from floor to floor until finally she reached the third floor and saw to her surprise that the girl was cowering in the corner, over by the elevators.
“Don't let him near me,” she whimpered.
“It's okay,” Megan said, taking a step forward, “no-one's going to hurt you.”
“He gets so mad,” she continued. “I swear, he hurts me...”
“You're scared,” Megan replied, trying to sound as calm as possible as she made her way to the girl and crouched in front of her. “It's okay, we're here to help you. You trust me, don't you?” She waited for a reply, but the girl simply stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. “You knocked on my door, remember?” Megan asked. “You must have run past other doors to get to me, so why did you choose that flat? Were you looking for my aunt?”
The girl shook her head. “You're one of the only ones left. Ghosts can't help me.”
“There are no ghosts here,” Megan told her.
“He's going to come through the barrier,” the girl continued. “He's going to come through, and that other man is going to help him.”
“Why did you know on my aunt's door?” Mega
n asked again. “You have to tell me! Did she help you before?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Me?” Megan paused. “I don't even live here, I'm just -”
“It's going to be a boy,” the girl said suddenly.
Megan stared at her, lost for words.
“It's going to be a boy,” the girl continued, her voice trembling. “I know that's what you were wondering.”
“How did you know I'm pregnant?”
“I was with you when you did the test. I was standing right next to you, but it was during the day. Things are different round here at night.”
“I'm starting to see that,” Megan replied, trying to stay calm. “My aunt -”
“She was a good woman.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“I didn't mean to hurt them.”
“Hurt who?”
“Any of them.”
“Did you...” Megan paused again. “Did you hurt my aunt?”
The girl shook her head.
“Then -”
“Can I have it?”
“Have what?”
“Your tooth.”
Before she could answer, Megan realized that another of her teeth was loose. Working it out with the tip of her tongue, she spat it into her hand. Slowly, cautiously, the girl reached and took the tooth, examining it for a moment before slipping it into her own mouth.
“The teeth mean he's close,” the girl whispered, her voice filled with terror.
“Come with me,” Megan said, realizing that the girl seemed seriously disturbed. “We'll get help for you, okay? Whatever's wrong -”
“You don't know what's wrong,” the girl replied, staring straight at her.
“But if -”
“Keep him away!” she shouted suddenly, looking over at the stairwell.
Turning, Megan saw that Michael was just reaching the bottom of the stairs.
“Get away from me!” the girl yelled, pushing Megan back as she leaped to her feet and ran through to the walkway.
“Wait!” Megan shouted, feeling a sudden sharp pain as she tried to get up. Turning to Michael, she saw that he was hanging back, as if he was worried about getting too close.
“There's nothing you can do,” he said firmly. “Jennifer never listens to anyone.”
