by Amy Cross
“Paula,” she stammers. “Help me...”
Chapter Forty-Four
“Get away from her!” Mac shouts, pushing me back as soon as he reaches the room. Dropping to his knees, he immediately presses two fingers against Helen's neck to check her pulse, and then he places a hand on her forehead.
“What's wrong with her?” I ask, taking a step back.
Without answering me, he hurries around to the other side and checks her pulse at the wrist.
“What's happening?” I stammer. “Mac, what -”
“I think she's having a heart attack,” he replies, trying but failing to uncurl the fingers that Helen has clasped around her left elbow. “Jesus Christ...”
“She can't be having a heart attack,” I tell him, trying not to panic. “She's the healthiest person I ever met! She's only in her thirties!”
“Help,” she whispers, with her fearful eyes still trained on me. “Paula, run...”
“I'm going to sit you up,” Mac explains, moving around her again. The yellow notebooks slip from his pocket, although he seems not to notice as he takes hold of her shoulders. “I have to sit you up and put you in a better position, Helen. It'll help, I promise.”
I watch in horror as he starts lifting her up from the floor, and then he slowly drags her across the room until he's able to lean her against the wall. Grabbing her knees, he bends her legs a little. He immediately checks her pulse again, and after a moment I realize that he's muttering under his breath. At first I think he's talking to himself, but suddenly it becomes clear that he's actually whispering to Helen, as if he's trying to tell her something without letting me overhear.
I step closer, but my feet brush against the notebooks on the floor.
Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone, but of course there's no signal.
“What do we do?” I ask, watching as Helen's head dips slightly, as if she's losing consciousness. “Mac? We need to get an ambulance out here!”
“We can't right now,” he replies, checking her pulse yet again. “Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be fine.”
“You said she's having a heart attack!” I shout.
“Just stay calm!” he hisses, before leaning closer to her. He lowers his voice, but this time I'm just about able to make out what he says. “I thought you were gone,” he whispers. “What the hell were you still doing here?”
“What did you see?” I ask, before looking around the dark, bare room. There's nothing here, but when I turn back to Helen I immediately see the fear in her eyes. “Was it in here? Helen, what did you see?”
With her eyes still fixed on me, she lets out a faint gasp, but I can't make out any of the words. After a moment she leans forward, reaching a hand out as if she wants to grab my leg, although Mac quickly presses her chest and forces her to lean back against the wall.
“You need to stay like this,” he tells her firmly. “Helen -”
“Run,” she gasps, still staring at me. “Paula -”
“She's delirious,” Mac mutters, turning to me. “Paula, I have some basic emergency training, but I think your presence in the room is upsetting her. Can you wait outside?”
“But -”
“Wait outside!” he hisses. “Paula, that's an order!”
He turns back to help her, and I can't help thinking that maybe he's right. For some reason, Helen seems agitated by the fact that I'm here. Turning, I'm about to go out into the corridor when my foot brushes against the notebooks once again. I look down and see Doctor Pullman's diary on the floor, and then I glance at Mac and see that he's busy trying to help Helen.
Reaching down, I grab the main, dog-eared notebook and hurry out of the room.
Once I'm in the corridor, I can still hear Mac talking to Helen but I can't make out what he's saying. I peer through the crack in the door and see that he doesn't seem to be doing anything to help her. Instead, he's simply whispering into her ear, while she grimaces and lets out a series of pained gasps. I want to help, but I have no idea what to do when someone's suffering a heart attack and Mac claims to have gone through First Aid training, so I figure I should let him get to work.
When I look down at the yellow notebook, I realize my hands are trembling. Still, I can't resist the urge to open the book and check the first page.
“September 1st,” I read, struggling a little to decipher Doctor Pullman's scrawly handwriting. “Blackwych Grange is exactly as I expected. Tall, dark and imposing, filled with some form of character that seems to emanate from the walls. I've never experienced anything so powerful, yet at the same time I know that this is purely a psychological effect. There are no ghosts here. Tomorrow we shall enter the house and prove that fact.”
I turn to the next page, where Doctor Pullman has drawn several sketches of the house's windows.
Hearing more whispers from inside the room, I peer once again through the crack in the door. Mac is still whispering to Helen, but he's not actually doing anything to help her and she looks much weaker.
I quickly look back down at the notebook, flicking through a few more pages until I find another section of text.
“The camera at the top of the stairs is giving us trouble,” I read. “I sent Joe up to take a look, he found a loose battery case.”
I pause for a moment.
That's exactly what happened with out equipment, too. A loose battery case on the camera at the top of the stairs.
“I can't deny that there have been some unexplained noises in the house,” I read from the next page. “Bumps, scratches, just little annoyances. They put me in mind of the claims made by Clara Harrison in her 1947 interview. I can understand why people might start believing in the supernatural, but I keep reminding myself that there's no reason to be afraid. Still, the upstairs part of the house seems to be the focal point, so this is where I've spent much of my time, preferring to leave my team down in the lower rooms.”
I turn to another page.
“The ghosts of Blackwych Grange, although they do not exist, are noisy tonight.”
Peering through into the room once again, I see that Mac is shifting Helen, settling her on her back now. I guess he knows what he's doing.
“Matt quit this evening,” I read from the notebook. “Out of the blue, he announced he couldn't stay in the house for a night, so he left. It'll be difficult to work without him, but we'll manage. Now we are three, and we must ensure that we don't let this opportunity pass us by. We have to figure out the truth about Blackwych Grange while we have the chance.”
I freeze for a moment, unable to ignore the coincidences. So far, our time here at the house seems to have mirrored Doctor Pullman's experience, to such a staggering extent that I'm not sure I can believe it's not intentional.
I flick through a few more pages until, suddenly, I find Doctor Pullman's final entry.
“It's just the two of us now,” she wrote. “Joe left. Claire is a good student, but she's easily spooked. Tonight is our second night in the house, and this is supposed to be when the so-called black-eyed lady makes herself known. I keep telling myself that such stories are nonsense, of course, but the human mind seems designed to accept these irrational ideas. I just sent Claire upstairs. She was reluctant, but I persuaded her to face her fears. I shall write more in a few hours' time, once we've passed midnight, but for now I must admit that I have noticed a change in myself. When I arrived at Blackwych Grange, I was certain that ghosts do not exist. Now I catch myself starting to wonder, and the approach of midnight fills me with apprehension. Still, I trust that all will be well in the end.”
I check the rest of the notebook, but Doctor Pullman wrote nothing more. My hands are still trembling as I go back to the beginning, and I can't help thinking that -
“She's dead.”
Gasping, I turn and see that Mac is standing in the doorway.
“Helen,” he continues, “she...”
His voice trails off for a moment, and finally he wipes his brow.
“There was nothing I could do,” he adds. “I tried everything, but...”
Again, his voice fades, and for a few seconds he seems lost in his thoughts. Finally, however, he turns and gently pulls the door shut, although I catch a quick glimpse of Helen's body on the floor.
“She can't be dead,” I stammer, “she just... We have to get her to a hospital...”
“What are you doing with that?” he asks, looking at the notebook in my hands.
I open my mouth to reply, but he snatches it away and checks the pages before slipping the book into his pocket.
“I told you,” he continues, clearly struggling to hide his sense of irritation, “that Doctor Pullman's notebooks are not for your eyes. Paula -”
“We have to get out of here,” I reply, interrupting him. “We have to -”
“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “Do you think Helen would want us to get this far and then abandon our work? She told me just now, with her dying breath, that we're to continue and get the answers we're seeking.”
I stare at him for a moment, shocked by his callousness, before suddenly remembering something I heard him say to her a few minutes ago.
“You said you thought she was gone,” I tell him. “I heard you. You asked why she was still here.”
“Paula -”
“What did you mean by that?” I ask, taking a step back.
“What the hell do you think I meant?” he replies, sounding a little exasperated. “She'd disappeared, so I assumed that for some reason she'd gone back to the village. That's a perfectly natural reaction!”
“But you sounded more certain,” I continue, “almost as if...”
Almost as if he expected her to leave.
He stares at me for a moment, and I can see a hint of caution in his eyes.
“Here's what we're going to do,” he says finally. “We're going to finish the night. It's just the two of us now, Paula. You're a good student, but I can see that you're easily spooked, and obviously Helen's death is a shock. We both have to face whatever's happening here and wait until morning, and then -”
“She's dead!” I shout, unable to stay calm for even a moment longer. “Mac, she's actually dead!”
“I know,” he says calmly.
“And you want to just shut that door and leave her in there until the sun comes up?”
“There's no logical reason to -”
“I'm calling for help,” I stammer, turning and hurrying back along the corridor, heading toward the stairs. “Maybe if I walk back toward the main road, I can get some signal. Or I can try the satellite phone.”
“Paula, stop!”
I can hear him coming after me, but I can't bear to be in this house for a moment longer. My heart is pounding and I'm starting to think that maybe I can't trust Mac after all, and by the time I get to the top of the stairs I'm starting to wonder whether this whole trip was doomed from the start. I have to find the satellite phone in the van and then I have to call for help.
“Paula -”
“I'm not staying here!” I tell him, starting to make my way down the spiral staircase. “This is beyond -”
Suddenly something slams into the back of my head, hard enough to send me slumping down. The last thing I feel, before losing consciousness, is my limp body hitting the stairs and starting to tumble to the hallway below.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Doctor McAllister is such an asshole,” Katie mutters, rolling her eyes as we make our way out of the lecture hall. Stopping in the corridor, she looks down at her essay. “Can you believe he gave me a D? I'm not a D kind of person! I have never, in all my life, been a D kind of person! The man's a goddamn...”
Her voice trails off for a moment, and then finally she lets out a grunt of frustration.
“I hate him!” she hisses. “I swear to God, I hate his guts!”
“He's not that bad,” I reply, glancing back toward the door. I need to catch Doctor McAllister when he comes out, so I can ask him about my own essay. Like Katie, and like pretty much everyone else in the class, I was given a D grade, but I need to know why. I have to make sure my next essay is better, and that I meet his expectations. “He's just tough, that's all,” I continue, turning back to her. “His standards are high.”
“Ugh!” she groans. “Why don't you two get a room?”
I can't help sighing. “He just -”
Before I can finish, the door swings open and Doctor McAllister comes storming out, swinging his briefcase as if he means to beat away anyone who dares get close.
“Back soon!” I tell Katie, before hurrying after Mac. “Doctor McAllister!” I call out. “Can I ask you something?”
He glances at me, but he doesn't slow his pace and he seems distinctly unimpressed.
“It's about my essay,” I explain, limping slightly on my right leg. “I wanted to ask why -”
“Who are you?” he snaps.
“My name is Paula, I'm a student in your -”
“Class is over.”
“I know, but -”
“I don't talk to students outside classes or designated office hours.”
“I tried signing up for office hours,” I tell him, feeling a rush of pain in my leg, “but you don't actually hold any.”
“That's right,” he says firmly. “My time is far too valuable to waste it on students.”
“But if -”
“Stop!” he snaps, turning to me as he reaches the door that leads out of the building. “If you're a student of mine, then that's great for you and I hope you're grateful for the privilege, but your needs don't interest me in the slightest.” He glances at my essay, which I'm still holding. “I see that I gave you a D grade. Be proud, it's probably going to be the highlight of your academic career. And then like all the other little students in this place, you'll graduate and go off to flip burgers or work as an office monkey.”
I take a deep breath. “I just wondered if you could explain whether -”
“No, I couldn't,” he adds, pushing the door open. “I have better things to do with my time.”
I open my mouth to ask again, but he storms out and I'm left standing alone, with my essay still clutched in my hand. After a moment, I realize my right leg is hurting more than ever, and I'm starting to feel a little dizzy. I don't remember hurting myself, but something seems to be really wrong with my leg.
“Well that was a waste of time,” Katie mutters dourly as she comes up behind me. “I told you, the guy is a major asshole. He was an asshole before his girlfriend went crazy, and he's an asshole now, and he's probably gonna be an asshole for the rest of his sucky, miserable life. I don't even feel sorry for him.”
“He's one of the most brilliant researchers in the field,” I reply, staring out the window and watching as Mac heads to his office. “Maybe he's not very good with people, but -”
I flinch as I feel another rush of pain in my leg. Looking down, I don't see anything wrong, but I'm feeling increasingly woozy and after a moment I reach out, steadying myself against the door.
“Something's wrong,” I whisper. “This isn't -”
I let out a gasp as something slams into my leg. Stepping back, I lean against the wall.
“You need to get over your obsessive desire to please that tosser,” Katie whines. “Don't go running after his validation, Paula. He's just a loser, and technically a D grade is a pass. That's all that matters, right?”
I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly I feel another ripple of pain in my leg, and then another.
“This isn't happening,” I gasp, as I realize that the world around me seems to be rippling slightly. I turn to Katie and watch for a moment as her face twists into a dream-like rictus. “This isn't now. I graduated a couple of years ago, I'm -”
***
Suddenly I let out a scream as I sit up. I'm on the cold, hard wooden floor at the bottom of Blackwych Grange's spiral staircase, and there's an intense, burning pain pulsing in my right leg.
�
�Stay calm!” Mac hisses, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Paula -”
I turn and look at him, but even the slightest movement brings another cry from my lips. Gasping, I look down at my leg and see a twisted, bloody mess, and I instinctively prop myself on my elbows and try to drag my body away, only for the pain to come back once again.
“Don't try to move!” Mac says firmly. “Paula, please, I'm trying to help you!”
I let out another gasp as I see that my leg is broken just above the ankle, with a splinter of bone poking out through the torn flesh. There's a fair amount of blood on the floor, and a moment later I turn and look up the dark, barely lit staircase.
“You fell,” Mac explains, looking down at my damaged leg. “I tried to catch you, but it was too late. You went down like a rag doll, and you must have landed awkwardly.”
He reaches for my leg, as if he's going to try to help, but after a moment he pulls his hands away. There's blood all over his fingers, as if he's already tried to do something.
“I was hit,” I stammer, wincing as a fresh wave of pain floods my body. “Something hit me from behind.”
“You fell.”
“I was hit!”
“You fell, Paula. I was a few paces behind you, I saw what happened. You were rushing, you weren't looking where you were going, and you tripped.”
“I felt it,” I reply, reaching up and touching the back of my head. Immediately, I feel a sore patch behind my ear. “Something slammed into me.”
“You just fell,” he continues. “It was an awful accident, but that's all.”
“Don't tell me what I felt!” I shout, before letting out another cry of pain. “Something hit me!”
I try to turn away, but the pain in my leg is too strong. I try again, and this time I shudder as I feel the broken bone scraping against the floorboards.
“You can't move like this,” Mac explains. “I've already called for help. The satellite phone didn't have great reception, but I think I got through to someone. They said an ambulance will be here around dawn.”
