by Amy Cross
“I don't want to look. I want to find my mum.”
“A lot of them go through,” he continued. “They have to, it's part of his plan. Some of them don't go, though, because they're not needed or the time isn't right. He doesn't really understand how it works, but he keeps trying.” Pausing, he frowned as he stared at the bins. “She's not here,” he whispered finally.
“I want to go home,” Beth told him, struggling to keep from bursting into tears.
“What's wrong?” he asked. “Are you a chicken?”
“I just want to go home.”
“You sound like a baby.”
She tried to twist her hand free, but her wrist was starting to hurt.
“Jennifer hates him,” he continued, keeping his eyes fixed on the bin. “She knows what he's doing, and she knows why, but she can't stop him.”
“Please...” Beth whimpered, trying to force Toby's fingers off her hand one by one. “Let go of me!”
“You have to look.”
“Toby -”
“Then you can go home.” With that, he shoved her in the small of the back, forcing her forward until she bumped against the side of the bin. She swatted at the plump purple flies that were buzzing all around her, finally managing to wave most of them away. Within seconds, a few flies had returned, with one landing on the back of her head and crawling across her hair.
“I don't want to look,” she said firmly, although she felt deep down that there was no way he'd let her leave yet. For as long as she'd been friends with Toby, she'd had a kind of innate understanding that he was somehow in charge, and now that sensation felt stronger than ever. He was a few months older than her, but those months felt like years. Suddenly feeling the fly on the back of her head, she swatted it away.
“Use the crates,” Toby told her.
Looking down to the side of the bin, she saw some crates stacked together to form a kind of makeshift platform, but something was holding her back: fear, churning slowly in her gut and reaching up to claw the inside of her chest.
“It's not your mother,” Toby said suddenly.
She turned to him.
“I know that's what you're worried about,” he continued, “but it's not her. You still need to look, though.”
The flies had already returned. Waving them away again, Beth climbed up onto the first crate and then onto the second; reaching up to grab the top, she felt a fly land on her hand and quickly brushed it away. She hauled herself up until she was finally high enough to be able to look into the bin but at the last moment she held back, disgusted by the foul smell of bleach. Despite the nausea in her belly, however, she knew she'd have to look soon. Toby wouldn't let her back down now.
“I don't want to...” she whispered, with tears in her eyes. A fly briefly landed on her bottom lip, but she swatted it away.
“You don't have a choice,” Toby told her. “I promise you, it's not your mother. It's one of the other ones. It's one of the ones he didn't use.”
Staring at the top of the bin, Beth finally began to lean forward. She held her breath, trying not to breathe in any of the foul stench, but when she looked down into the bin she saw nothing but piles and piles of black plastic sacks, some of which had tears in the side. There was garbage, including old food and various wrappers, but she knew there must be something else down there, something that she hadn't seen yet.
“Look closer,” Toby said calmly.
Leaning a little further into the bin, she peered at the sacks and then at the torn sections, and finally she saw that flies were inside the sacks along with thick white maggots, and the maggots were crawling all over something long and gray, like...
Her eyes opened wide with horror.
A human forearm, glistening in the moonlight with some of the maggot-infested flesh having been eaten away to expose the bone beneath.
“Please,” she whispered, “I don't want to look.”
“No-one does,” Toby told her, “but sometimes you don't have a choice. Don't worry, though. It's not anyone you know. Look closer.”
Fighting her instincts, Beth leaned even closer to the black sacks, and finally she spotted a section of dark fabric showing through another of the torn sections. Part of a badge was showing, along with a stitched number. She'd seen something like it before, on one of the T.V. shows her mother liked to watch.
“A police woman,” Beth said finally, looking across the sack and seeing a blank, staring eye with flies crawling across its surface. “It's a dead police woman.” She instinctively pulled back.
“You don't get it yet, do you?” Toby whispered.
She turned to him.
“I'll have to show you,” he continued. “Just promise not to cry too much. Trust me, crying doesn't do any good. I cried a lot after I died, but it didn't change anything.”
Five
“This will make you much stronger and taller,” Patricia said with a smile as she set a plate of vegetables and dip in front of Rose, who scrunched her nose up in response. Sunlight was streaming through the conservatory window, and a bright blue Devon sky hung above the cottage. The whole scene was perfect; almost too perfect. “Go on, just try it. Not all vegetables are bad.”
“I don't want to,” Rose replied. “Can I go and play with Megan now?”
“Not quite yet. You're still so young, Rose. You'll be starting school next month, so you want to be full of energy, don't you?”
Rose opened her mouth to reply, but at the last moment the words caught in her throat. She looked around the room, convinced that something was wrong. She remembered the house, of course, but somehow she felt that she no longer belonged there. In the back of her mind, a voice was hissing at her, warning her that she was in the wrong place, but at the same time she felt so comfortable and safe. When she looked up at her aunt's smiling face, she felt a hint of suspicion.
“I want to go and play with Megan,” she said finally.
“Megan's allowed to play because Megan ate what she was given. As soon as you do the same, you can go and play with her. I'm sorry if you think that's mean, but I promised your mother that I'd look after you today. You wouldn't want me to break that promise, would you?”
Sighing, Rose reached out and picked up one of the carrot sticks, before dipping it into a tub of hummus. She nibbled at the end but immediately dropped the stick onto the table as soon as the taste hit her tongue. It seemed almost acidic, as if – despite its appearance – the food was rotten deep inside.
“You don't like it?” Patricia asked.
Rose shook her head.
“Just try to eat a little more. I always say that you should try something twenty times before you decide you don't like it. One down, nineteen to go.”
“I don't want to. I want to go and play with Megan.”
“You two are inseparable, aren't you?”
“I just want to go and play.”
“I suppose you should be together, but...” Patricia paused for a moment. “Not here. Not yet.”
Rose sighed. Her whole body was aching with the desire to get up and run, but she forced herself to stay on the chair.
“I'll make a deal with you,” Patricia continued. “Eat one of those carrot sticks, and then you can go and join Megan in the garden. Just one more stick for now, okay?”
Staring at the carrot stick, Rose considered the offer for a moment. Finally she turned and looked over at the window. Bright sunlight almost blinded her, but in the distance she could just about make out Megan on the lawn. Between flashes of light, she watched her sister pushing a toy car through the grass; a moment later, Megan looked over at Rose and they made eye contact, but there was something sad in Megan's eyes, as if she knew that something bad was coming.
“Wake up.”
She turned to look at her aunt.
“Wake up,” Patricia said again.
Rose frowned.
“This is important,” her aunt continued, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It might be the most i
mportant thing you ever do in your life, Rose.” She paused, before leaning closer. “You can't go and join Megan yet. For God's sake, you have to wake up. You can't let him send you to the dark place.”
“What do -”
Hearing a scream from outside, Rose turned just in time to see that some kind of dark, smudged shape had grabbed Megan on the lawn. Her sister was desperately trying to get free, but the shape was holding her too firmly. As it leaned down and began to pick Megan up, the shape briefly revealed a faint, dead-eyed face with a distinctive crooked nose. Rose tried to get up and help, but now she found that she was frozen to the spot.
“Wake up,” Patricia said, leaning close to her ear. “Wake up or that'll be you next.”
“But I have to -”
Opening her eyes suddenly, Rose felt a sharp pain running diagonally through her chest, from the left side of her hip all the way up to her right shoulder. Filled with panic, she looked around, but all she could see was darkness and all she could feel was a cold, wet concrete floor beneath her body; there was a foul stench in the air, too, like a cross between bleach and something rotten, while in the distance there was a faint but persistent buzzing sound. She tried to roll over, but the pain in her chest simply got worse and worse, as if something was cutting into her body. Finally, unable to stand the agony any longer, she rolled onto her front and let out another gasp.
“Don't make a noise!” a voice hissed.
Rose paused, listening to the sound of someone shuffling in the darkness nearby. Whoever it was, it was close, and after a moment she heard a grunt of pain.
“If you make a noise,” the female voice continued eventually, “he'll come back.”
“What are you talking about?” Rose asked, trying to sit up, only to realize that her wrists had been bound together. A surge of panic thumped into her chest. “Where am I?”
“Keep your voice down!”
“Where am I? Oh God, what -”
Before she could finish, she felt a hand being clamped over her mouth. There was a section of rope around the base of the hand, and she realized that whoever the other woman was, she was also bound. Although she struggled to get free, Rose felt herself being pulled back.
“If you panic,” the female voice said firmly, “you're dead, do you understand me? He might be right outside, he might be close. Please, you mustn't do or say anything that could make him angry. I won't let you draw him back.”
Trying to push the woman away, Rose began to realize that her body felt strangely weak.
“Please,” the woman continued, “we need to work together, but you have to start by shutting the hell up.”
Rose tried to stay calm, but she could feel her whole body starting to tremble with fear.
“He comes back sometimes,” the voice explained, “but I don't think he'll do anything to us if we're quiet. Not yet, anyway. When he was here earlier, when he brought you, I pretended to be unconscious and I think it worked. He won't do anything until tonight.” She paused. “So if I let go, will you promise not to call out?”
Rose nodded.
“I swear to God,” the woman continued, “if you make a noise...”
Slowly, she took her hand away from Rose's mouth. Although she was filled with panic and desperate to call for help, Rose forced herself to stay quiet, although she couldn't help taking a series of deep, gasping breaths.
“We have to find a way out of here,” the woman explained. “I have to get back to my daughter.”
“Are we still in Marshall Heights?” Rose whispered.
“I think so. My daughter Beth is out there somewhere, but she's alone and I have to find her before he gets to her. Please, you have to help me. I've almost managed to get the rope loose, if you can work on mine I'll return the favor and let you go as soon as my hands are free.” In the dark, she turned her back to Rose and nudged her with her bound wrists. “Please, he might come back at any moment. If he does, just drop down and pretend to be unconscious.”
Fumbling with the ropes around the other woman's wrists, Rose struggled to get her free, before finally managing to pull one section of rope back far enough. She felt the woman slip her hand free, and only a few seconds' more work was required to get the other part of the rope loose. Relived, she waited as the woman tossed the rope to one side.
“How did I end up here?” Rose asked.
“The same way I did,” the woman replied. “The same way the others did. He brought you.”
“The others?” She paused. “What others?”
“Haven't you seen them yet?”
Rose looked across the dark room and, now that her eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom, she was just about able to make out some dark shapes nearby. After a moment, she realized that she was looking at the shoulders of various human bodies.
“Are they...” she began to say, as her thoughts filled with fear.
“Don't go over there,” the woman said as she worked on the rope around her ankles. “Trust me.”
Ignoring the advice, Rose shuffled across the room, only stopping when she saw that flies were buzzing around the other bodies.
“They're dead,” the woman told her. “You can't do anything for them.”
“But they might be...” Suddenly filled with panic, Rose hurried to the bodies and used her tied wrists to carefully roll the first one toward her. As flies buzzed all around, she saw the face of the dead body, its mouth wide open in a dead scream and its features having begun to decompose. After a moment, with a sickening sense of horror and relief, she realized that the body was male.
“Don't do this to yourself,” the woman hissed. “Trust me, it's not worth it.”
“I have to make sure my sister isn't here,” Rose muttered, making her way around the male body until she reached the next. From the clothes, she could already tell that it was a woman, but the knee-length skirt didn't look like anything she'd ever seen on Megan. Fumbling with her bound wrists, she managed to roll the second body toward her until she saw the face of an elderly Indian woman, whose features had barely begun to rot at all.
“Mrs. Chaudhury,” the other woman said from across the room. “I talked to her a few times.”
“These are all people from the building?” Rose asked as she crawled over to the third and final body.
“He's been picking us off one by one.”
Looking down at the face of the third body, Rose saw to her horror that maggots were already crawling through the flesh of the face and spilling out from the wide-open mouth. Starting to retch, she turned away and forced herself not to cry out, even as tears streamed down her face. After a moment, however, she realized that she still needed to be sure that the third body wasn't someone she recognized, so she forced herself to turn back and stare at the face. Not only were maggots crawling all over mouth and eyes, but some seemed to be beneath the skin itself, which as a result was rippling slightly.
“It's not her,” she whispered with relief. “It's not either of them.”
“Got it,” the other woman said as she managed to get her ankles free.
“What the hell is this place?” Rose asked, turning to her.
“I don't know, but we have to get out of here.” The other woman scrambled across the room. “My name's Charmian.”
“Rose.”
“We're going to get out of here, Rose. I have to get to my daughter.”
Turning back to look at the bodies, Rose watched as flies swarmed in the air. Sickened, she turned again, just in time to see Charmian pushing a piece of cloth away from the window. A shaft of light entered the room, catching the woman's profile so that Rose could just about make out a few of her features. There was fear in her eyes, but also a hint of determination.
“It's late?” Rose asked.
“Early evening. The sun's already setting, so it must be five or six.”
“I must have been unconscious for hours.”
“He took me in the night,” Charmian replied. “He knocked me
out. It happened at 3am. Everything around here happens at 3am.”
“Who knocked you out?” Rose asked, struggling to get to her feet. “Was it Michael, the building manager?”
“There was another voice,” Charmian explained. “It lured me out of my flat, but then Michael was waiting. I don't know how, but he managed to make himself sound like my dead husband, but I only got a brief glimpse of his face before...” She paused, still peering out through the window. “He could be anywhere. I have to go and find Beth.”
“Help me out of this rope,” Rose replied. “I can help you find your kid.”
“I'm just going to check he's not nearby,” Charmian told her, trying the door handle and finding it to be unlocked. Pulling the door open, she stepped outside as a cold wind blew inside. Nearby, a train could be heard passing.
“Why the hell would he leave the door unlocked?” Rose asked.
“I guess he never thought we could get free. Hang on, I'm going to double-check he's not around.” With that, she stepped out of view.
“Come back!” Rose hissed.
She waited for a reply.
“Are you still there?” she called out.
“I don't see him,” Charmian replied, stepping back into view. “We're on the roof. We don't have much time, though. Wherever he is -”
Before she could finish, a dark shape appeared in the doorway behind her. Before Rose could call out, the figure grabbed Charmian around the neck and twisted her around, slamming her first into the wall and then down onto the floor, before dropping down onto her chest.
“Help!” Charmian shouted, desperately trying to fight back. “Get him -”
Rose screamed as she saw the glint of a knife, and she was just about able to make out Michael's face as he sliced the blade into Charmian's chest. The woman's body immediately seemed to stiffen as she let out a cry of pain. Pulling the knife out, Michael stabbed her again and again, each time with a sickening slurping sound, accompanied by a series of agonized gasps as Charmian desperately tried to push him away. Unable to scream any longer, Rose simply stared in shock as Michael continued to stab her, with each thrust of the blade being quickly followed by another and another and another until finally blood began to erupt from the dead woman's savaged chest and Michael slowed his pace.
