by Amy Cross
***
“Here we go again,” Michael muttered, as much to himself as to anyone else, as he stepped out onto the roof and made his way to the storeroom.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and stopped at the door. He took a moment to get the lock open, but finally he pulled the door open and stepped inside. He paused for a few seconds, feeling an ache of tiredness in his legs, but he quickly reminded himself that he had to keep going, that this was the night when everything was going to come together. For the past few days, he'd felt certain that the next arrival through the barrier would be the one he'd been waiting for. After all the deaths and all the disappointments, he was finally ready to meet his hero.
“Don't worry,” he continued, heading over to fetch Rose, “it really won't take long. There's just -”
He stopped suddenly.
On the floor, where he expected to find Rose, there was nothing but a set of torn ropes. Nearby, a section of the wall panel had been smashed open, leaving a hole that was just big enough for a human to wriggle through.
***
Racing down the stairs so fast that she almost fell, Rose slammed into the wall at the bottom and then turned to go down the next flight. She knew she should stop, that she should wait and be more careful in case she accidentally ran straight into Michael, but another part of her was filled with a desperate need to get as far from Marshall Heights as possible. As she reached the fourth floor, and then the third and the second, she was convinced that at any moment she'd feel a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.
When she reached the foyer on the ground floor, she raced over to the main door, only to find that it had been locked and that a chain had been secured around the handles. Panicking, she hurried to the windows, only to find that they too had been sealed shut. She ran over to the door that led into Michael's office, but at the last moment she began to worry that she was heading straight into a trap. After checking over her shoulder, she ran back across the foyer until she reached the emergency fire exit, only to find that this route had also been locked shut. Pulling on the metal bar that was supposed to release the door, she finally took a step back and tried to come up with another idea.
Looking down into her hand, she saw the necklace she'd used to cut the rope.
“What would you do?” she whispered, trying to imagine Megan's approach to the situation. “How would you -”
Stopping suddenly, she realized that Megan had been in the same situation, and whatever she'd done, it clearly hadn't been enough.
“Oh God, oh God, oh -”
And then she heard the footsteps.
Turning to look back toward the stairwell, she realized that someone was hurrying down. Figuring that Michael must be onto her, she raced across the foyer until she reached the small door at the far end, and then she made her way down the flight of steps that led into the dark basement. By the time she got to the bottom, she was already starting to worry that she'd made a mistake and that she was trapped, but she figured she had no choice. Stumbling forward, she made her way from one pitch-black room to the next, while desperately trying to remember if she'd seen another way out. Finally she reached the room at the far end and realized that she was at a dead end.
Turning, she heard footsteps heading down into the basement.
“Rose?” Michael called out, his voice echoing through the concrete rooms. “I know you're down here. This is a waste of time, there's no other way out. I can feel it in the stars, tonight's the night when Ellis Hathaway is going to return.”
Looking around in the darkness, she tried to work out where she could go next. Fumbling through her pockets, she desperately searched for her knife, only to find that it was gone. All she had was the necklace from her sister, but at just a half-inch in length it was hopelessly small. Stuffing the necklace into her pocket, she looked around for something else – anything else – she could use as a kind of makeshift weapon.
Spotting a light in the distance, she turned just in time to see the beam of a torch in one of the other rooms.
Stepping back against the wall, she listened to the sound of Michael's footsteps. She knew he was getting closer, and she also knew it was only a matter of time before he entered the room and saw her, but she was already coming up with a plan:
Her only chance was to face him head-on and knock him out. If she didn't have a weapon, she'd have to use the element of surprise. She tried to think back to the free self-defense taster class she'd attended a few years ago, but finally she figured her best bet was just to hit him as hard as possible.
“Please,” she mouthed silently, with tears falling down her cheeks as she listened to his footsteps entering the next room. “Please, please, please...”
“There's nothing to be scared of,” Michael continued. “Your sister and your aunt both went through. Maybe you'll even find them again on the other side.”
“Please,” Rose mouthed, trying to time her strike just right. She knew Michael was close to the door now, but she didn't know exactly how close. “Please...”
“Think about the ones who want to come through to this world,” he said, as the beam from his torch shone through the doorway and lit up the wall opposite Rose. “Think how scared they are, trapped in an afterlife filled with pain and misery. I'm doing good work here, Rose, I'm helping them. Once Ellis Hathaway is back, he's going to need someone to help him. After studying his work for so many years, joining up all the dots, I'm ready to learn from the master.”
She waited.
Any second now.
“Rose,” he continued, stepping through the doorway, “where -”
Before he could finish, she punched him in the face as hard as she could manage, knocking him back with such force that the torch flew out of his hand and smashed against the wall. With a cry of anger, she launched herself at him, convinced that a single blow wouldn't be enough to knock him out. She slammed him into the wall and crunched her knee into his gut before taking hold of his head and smashing it back against the concrete wall, and then finally she pushed him to one side and watched as he dropped limp to the floor.
Out of breath, she stared at him for a moment, waiting for any sign that he was still conscious. A part of her wanted to finish him off, but at the same time she also wanted answers. After gently kicking him in the side of the face to check that he was unconscious, she knelt beside him and started to go through his pockets, searching for the keys that would allow her to unlock the door. Once she'd managed to find what she was looking for, she got to her feet and began to run through the dark rooms, desperately trying to find her way back to the stairs. Just when she reached the room where she thought she'd be able to get back up, however, she found that she must have gone the wrong way.
She turned.
A pale girl was standing right behind her, her skin shimmering despite the darkness all around.
“Jennifer,” Rose whispered, recognizing her immediately.
“He's coming,” Jennifer replied, her dead eyes fixed on Rose's face.
“Who's coming?”
“It's almost time. He won't be happy just to be here, though. He wants to live again, to come back to the world and carry on with his old work. I hoped he'd stay over there forever, but I can feel him, he's so close... It's the teeth. They're the sign that he's on his way, they prove that he's close.”
“How do I get out of here?” Rose asked. “Come on, there has to be a way!”
“There's no way out. I tried to get away, but it's impossible.”
“I'm not just going to wait for him to kill me!” Rose shouted.
“Do you really think you can get out of here? Believe me, it's just not possible. No-one can ever escape this place. I thought I'd managed it, but I was wrong. I can't escape Marshall Heights and I can't escape my father.”
Rushing past her, Rose made her way through one dark room after another, still trying to find the stairs. When she reached the room at the far end of the basement, howe
ver, she found Jennifer waiting for her once again.
Turning, Rose ran back the way she'd come. Racing into another room, she tripped over something on the floor and landed hard. When she turned to look back, she saw that she'd fallen over Michael's prone body. Getting to her feet again, she rushed through to the next room, only to find Jennifer waiting for her yet again.
“I slipped past them, though,” Jennifer said calmly. “I made it back.”
“Back where?” Rose shouted, trying not to panic.
“Back to the world of the living.”
“But...” Staring at her for a moment, Rose tried to keep her sanity from unraveling. “What are you talking about? They're just ghosts, they can't actually come back. Where are they now?”
“Where do you think they are? They're dead, and this place is one of the best chances to return permanently. I just...” She paused, with fear in her eyes. “I always knew he'd find a way back. I hoped he wouldn't, but I can feel him tonight. He's coming. Every time another tooth comes out, that's a sign that he's a step closer.”
“No,” Rose replied, “you're -”
Before she could finish, she felt a tooth slipping out of place in her mouth.
“See?” Jennifer continued, with tears in her eyes. “He's so close.”
Making her way past Jennifer, Rose headed into the next room and then the next, still searching for the stairs. She'd gone around in circles enough already, and she was starting to think that something was tricking her into taking the wrong route. Hearing a distant rumbling sound, she realized that another train was passing the building, causing the entire basement to shudder. Dropping to her hands and knees for a moment, she waited for the sensation to pass, but after a moment she realized that Jennifer was standing next to her once again.
“It's time,” the girl said. “I'm sorry, I don't think there's any way to stop them. I tried.”
Looking up, Rose saw the fear in the girl's eyes. A fraction of a second later, she heard a sound from back in one of the other rooms, and she turned just in time to see Michael stumbling through the doorway.
Getting back up, Rose ran through to another room, barely even able to see where she was going. Just as she was starting to think that she'd never escape, however, she stumbled against something on the floor, and when she fell forward she landed on the stairs. She raced up until finally she reached the door at the top. Pushing her way through, she found herself back in the foyer, just as the clock on the wall ticked over:
3am.
She froze, suddenly aware of something nearby. Although she wanted to run to the front door and get it open, she could see her own reflection in the glass and she realized that a tall, dark figure was standing right behind her, with faint shadows moving in the background, as if barely-visible figures were all around.
A moment later, Michael came stumbling up from the basement and stopped in the doorway. His face was bleeding and he was clearly in pain, but as he stared at Rose he began to smile.
“You found her,” he said breathlessly, seemingly looking at whatever was standing right behind her. “She's yours, Ellis. Take her.”
Just as she was about to turn and see what was behind her, Rose spotted a gray, scarred hand reaching toward her shoulder.
Part Eight
SURVIVAL
One
Ten years ago
He rose slowly from the dirty armchair, coughing as he stumbled to his feet and made his way across the dark flat. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, slowly staining the already-yellow walls, as he made his way over to the door. By the time he reached the hallway, he had to stop for a moment and catch his breath. He coughed again, and this time a kind of light gray slime fell from his mouth and dripped down onto the worn carpet.
Outside, a train rumbled past.
“Where are you,” he whispered. “Jennifer...”
Glancing back at his armchair, he saw the empty glass that he'd just emptied. His daughter had brought him beer as usual, but something felt different this time. He squinted, and finally he saw that the foam left in the glass seemed thicker than usual. His mind began to race with the possibilities, but he told himself he was just overreacting.
The girl was dumb.
She did what she was told, and nothing more.
She wouldn't dare try to hurt him.
Limping through to the kitchen, he stopped again, feeling desperately short of breath. Blood was starting to seep from the corners of his mouth, running down his wrinkled chin and dripping onto the dirty shirt that covered his swollen belly. He reached up and wiped some of the blood from his face, but his bony arms were too tired and thin; eventually he stopped bothering, before taking a step forward and then dropping to his knees with such force that he felt a shudder pass through his body.
Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were discolored, almost gray. Deep in his belly, he could feel something warm starting to bubble through his guts, as if he was bleeding inside.
“What...” he whispered, “did you... do to me?”
He grimaced as the pain surged for a moment.
“What did you do to me?” he bellowed, his voice wracked with pain. “Bitch, what did you do? Get here and tell me what the hell you did!”
Behind him, a figure appeared in the doorway, trembling with fear.
The old man turned to her and tried to speak, but all that came from his mouth was a thick collection of bile and saliva, mixed with a hint of blood.
“I know what you are,” Jennifer said after a moment, trying to sound calm even though she was on the verge of breaking down. “I worked it out, Dad. I worked out why you go out late at night, and I worked out why there's always blood in the laundry basket. I also found your little collection in the bedroom. Why the hell do you take their teeth? What kind of a sick bastard are you?”
He turned and reached out to try to grab her, but his vision was failing and he had to grab the doorjamb, holding himself up as he felt the world spinning around him. Whatever was wrong with his gut, it seemed to be spreading through his body, reaching up toward his neck with millions of sharp, burning little fingers.
“What...” he gasped. “What did...”
“No more,” she continued. “I'm not letting you do it. You're a monster. I always knew there was something wrong with you. All the times you beat me, all the times you hit me, I thought I was doing something wrong, but now I realize you were like that with everyone. Tell me something... How many people did you kill?”
“You have no idea,” he whispered, tasting blood at the back of his mouth.
“Did you kill Mum?”
He swayed for a moment.
“She deserved it,” he whispered finally. “She was weak, like you.”
“I hate you,” she shouted, grabbing a knife from the counter. She stepped toward him and raised the knife, but at the last moment she forced herself to hold back. She'd planned this moment so carefully, and she wanted his death to be slow and miserable. “I despise you with every atom in my body,” she told him. “I want you to know that, right before you die. I hate you more than anyone has ever hated anyone in the world, and I see you for what you really are.”
“I should have...” He gasped as the pain began to burn his belly. “I should have done you too. I knew it the moment you were born, I could see the weakness in your eyes. I should have strangled you before you ever reached the crib.”
“I put tranquilizers in your first beer this morning,” she continued, “to slowly numb your tongue, and then I put bleach in your second beer, and by that time you didn't notice, and then I put morphine in your food so you wouldn't feel the pain until it was too late. You always told me I was dumb, but I think I worked this out pretty well, and now you're burning from the inside out.”
“Clever,” he whispered, trying to hold back the pain. “You're... my daughter after all. I always feared that you... took after your... mother...”
“I'm nothing like you.”
“R
eally? You seem to... make a good... killer...”
Before he could finish, he felt the knife slicing through his back. Letting out a gasp of pain, he tried to steady himself but it was too late: after clinging to the side of the door for a moment, he slid down onto the floor. As the knife was slid out of his body, he rolled onto his back and stared up at his daughter as she knelt over him and stabbed him three more times in the chest.
“You're a monster,” she hissed as tears fell from her eyes.
“And you're... my little girl...”
She shook her head.
“Yes you are,” he continued. “Why don't you let me teach you?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“You're my child...”
“I'm not your anything,” she told him, pulling the knife out and then driving it deep into his chest, piercing his heart with such force that she even shocked herself. “Not any more,” she continued. “I'm not your punchbag. I'm not your servant. I'm not your cleaner. I'm not your toy. And I don't care what the genetics say, I am not your goddamn daughter.”
“Then why...” he gasped, “are you so good at this? You have... my... talent... for killing...”
She stared down into his eyes, before finally realizing that he was dead. Another train passed in the distance as she stood back, looking in horror at the knife that was embedded in her father's chest. A pool of blood began to spread from beneath his corpse, running into the grooves between the floor-tiles.
“I'm nothing like you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. “I'm not, I'm normal, I'm...”
Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were covered in blood.
“I'm a killer,” she continued. “I'm exactly like you. A normal person wouldn't have done this. They'd have just run, but I...”
