Last Wrong Turn

by Amy Cross

  “Hey, you fuckers!” Lindsay's voice rings out from the yard, accompanied by the sound of more breaking glass. “I'm smashing your house up! Don't you wanna try to come and stop me?”

  Opening one of the doors, I peer through and see a small room with a bed in one corner. I step inside and head over to the table next to the bed, where I find a couple of old wooden toys. Holding one of them up, I realize that it's a crude spinning top. Turning, I see to my surprise that one of the walls has been painted, filled by a large, untidy and not entirely accurate picture of a rainbow.

  Outside, Lindsay's still smashing things and shouting into the fog.

  It's almost as if I'm in a child's bedroom, although I'm sure that when I was here six years ago, this room was occupied by the old man. Still, someone has apparently tried to make it nice for a child.

  “Hugh?” I call out, just in case there's any chance he might be able to hear me. I know it's a forlorn hope, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm going to find my son and husband again. “Are you here?”

  I pause for a moment.

  The house is perfectly still and quiet.

  “Hugh?” I continue, before spotting a panel low down on the far wall. Stepping over, I realize that the panel seems to be loose. “What the -”

  “Hey!” Lindsay shouts suddenly, somewhere outside the house. “Wait! Stop right there, you fucking asshole!”

  “What is it?” I yell, turning and rushing out of the room.

  “Stop!” Lindsay continues, and I hear the sound of someone running across the yard.

  After racing down the stairs, I hurry to the front door and pull it open, but I stop suddenly as soon as I hear a loud, terrified scream.

  Penny

  “Where are you?” I shout, running around the side of the house. “What are -”

  Stopping suddenly, I see Lindsay on the ground, writhing in the mud as she clutches her throat.

  “Lindsay!”

  I rush over and drop to my knees, but I can already see blood flowing down her hands and arms.

  “What happened?” I ask, as she lets out a series of desperate, guttural gasps. After a moment, blood briefly sprays between her fingers from a wound in her neck, and then her hands fall away to reveal a thick, deep cut running from ear to ear. Every beat of her heart forces more blood out between the flaps of skin.

  “It's okay,” I stammer, trying not to panic even though blood is already pooling in the mud. “You're going to be fine, I just -”

  Suddenly she tries to say something, but all that comes from her mouth is a faint gurgle. Her eyes are wide with shock as she stares up at me. After a moment she reaches up and grabs my shoulders, digging her nails through my shirt as if she's desperately trying to hold on.

  “Was it Enda?” I ask, my mind racing as I try to work out how I can fix the wound.

  Again she tries to say something, but all that comes from her mouth is a faint gasp and a trickle of blood.

  Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone again, but there's still no signal.

  “Was it the brother?”

  She digs her nails deeper into my shoulder.

  “Who was it?” I ask, putting my phone away and placing my hands against her neck, hoping against hope that I can find some way to seal the wound.

  She lets out a slow, rasping gurgle as more blood flows from her mouth.

  “I'm going to see if there's a First Aid kit,” I tell her. “I'll be quick! Just hold on!”

  Getting to my feet, I stumble back into the house and head through to the kitchen. I start rooting through all the cupboards, but of course there's no sign of anything. Drawer after drawer, cupboard after cupboard, reveals nothing but a few old pots and pans. Finally, however, I notice a metal tin in one corner, and when I pull it open I find what appears to be some thin black wire and a set of needles.

  Grabbing the tin, I race back out and drop to my knees next to Lindsay. She's barely struggling now, as more and more blood washes down her neck, but she's still alive.

  “I'm going to help you,” I tell her, frustrated by my shaking hands as I thread some of the wire through the eye of the needle.

  Reaching down, I force my hands to stay steady as I place the tip of the needle against her neck. I hesitate for a moment, trying to work out the best way to do this, before slowly sliding the needle through her flesh and then poking it up behind the gap. She's still trembling, but she doesn't really react as I wriggle the needle back out through another spot in her flesh, at which point I pull it tight in an attempt to start sewing the wound shut.

  “I think it's working,” I tell her, already moving the needle around so I can push it through again.

  After a moment, however, I realize that Lindsay has stopped struggling.

  “Just stay with me,” I stammer, pushing the needle through again. My hands are covered in blood, but I manage to move the needle around inside her neck and then pull it out through her flesh a little higher up.

  She's not moving at all now, but I keep working for the next few minutes, desperately telling myself that I can still save her. By the time I've crudely sewn the wound in her neck shut, I realized I've been deliberately avoiding looking at her eyes.

  “You'll be fine,” I whisper, as tears roll down my cheeks.

  Finally I look at her face, and I'm struck by the instant realization that it's already too late.

  “Lindsay?” I whisper.

  Taking hold of her wrist, I check for a pulse, but there's nothing. Although I keep telling myself that she can't be dead, her eyes seem almost glassy, and she's not responding at all. Looking down, I see that I'm kneeling in a large pool of warm blood that has already started soaking into the mud.

  Crawling around her, I look directly into her eyes. All I see is my own reflection, and the light gray of the sky.

  “No,” I stammer, grabbing her shoulders and starting to shake her. The sewn-together wound in her neck has already started to split open again. “Lindsay, you have to stay with me! You have to -”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize that if someone attacked her, the same person might still be nearby. I look around for Lindsay's knife, but it's nowhere to be seen, and then I pull away, turning to make sure that no-one is sneaking up behind me. I still have my own knife, clasped in my right hand, but I'm terrified that at any moment Enda might emerge and try to attack. Looking down, I realize that there's a pair of prints in the mud, leading away from the house and toward the trees, almost as if -

  Suddenly something moves in the distance, as if someone ducked out of sight behind a tree. I freeze, half expecting the figure to appear again, and after a moment I realize I can hear footsteps racing away through the undergrowth.

  “Enda?” I whisper, taking a step forward. “Come back! Where's my son?”

  I wait, but now there's no sign of her and a light rain is starting to fall.

  “Enda!” I shout, as loud as I can manage. “I'm here for my son!”

  ***

  “I'm so sorry,” I tell Lindsay as I finish dragging her into the kitchen. Letting go of her feet, I reach down and double-check her wrist in case there's a faint pulse, but then I see that her body has left a thick trail of blood on the floor.

  Finally, I close her eyes, figuring that there's nothing else I can do for her.

  “I tried,” I stammer, looking at the crude metal stitches that I sewed into her neck. “I really tried...”

  I silt in silence for a moment, until spots of rain start falling against the window.

  “I'm going to find them,” I whisper finally, trying not to panic as I head across the kitchen and look out at the yard. To my shock, I see that the sky is getting noticeably darker, and when I check my watch I see that it's a little after 6pm. Night is closing in, bringing rain in its wake, and I have no way of calling for help. I could try to run, of course, but then there's no guarantee that I'd be able to find the farmhouse again, not without Lindsay's help. If I run, I might lose my last ch
ance to get Pete and Hugh back. I'm not leaving until I have him.

  Heading to the wall, I flick a switch, but there's no electricity. Once night falls, the house is going to be shrouded in darkness, although I still have some battery on my phone and the flashlight app will at least allow me to see for a while. At the same time, I don't like the idea of Enda being out there, and I'm still worried that Lindsay might have been right about her having a brother. Even now, staring at the dark trees, I can't be sure that someone isn't lurking in the shadows and watching me. After a moment, feeling a shudder pass through my chest, I draw the curtains and take a step back.

  “What do I do?” I whisper, trying to get my thoughts straight. “What the -”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize that I at least need to make sure no-one sneaks up on me. I hurry through to the hallway and push the front door shut, making sure this time to slide the latch across. Then I go through to the other end of the house and do the same to the back door, before going from room to room in an attempt to secure the windows. Sure, someone could break through, but at least I'll be able to hear them when the glass breaks.

  Once the downstairs area has been secured, I hurry up and do the same to the rooms above, making sure that every window is shut. I also check every possible hiding place, just in case Enda or her brother might be lurking. I even slide the door to the attic open and take a look up there, but all I see is a large empty space. Finally, having scurried around for close to half an hour, I'm certain that I'm alone in the house, and I make my way back down to the hallway.

  Looking out through the window next to the door, I see that it's even darker outside now. Soon, I won't even be able to see the trees. I hurry through to the room at the back, where I find myself once again next to the metal table where I was held when I first woke up in this hellhole.

  I'm trapped here, back where it all began. Now all I can do is wait.

  Penny

  Moonlight streams through the window as I start setting the knives out on the metal table. Having gone through all the drawers and cupboards in the house, I've assembled a little collection of blades, partly so that I have them handy and partly so that no-one else can get to them. In total, I've managed to find eight, which I figure isn't a bad result. More weapons for me, and less for anyone else.

  And I'm back here, in the room where I woke up all those years ago, and where I gave birth to my beautiful little son. I only got a few minutes with him, but I swear to God I remember his face, and I'm damn sure I'll get him back.

  Deep down, I'm not so sure about Pete. After all, it's hard to believe that he could have been held here for six whole years, but still I refuse to give up all hope. Once I get hold of Enda, I should be able to make her tell me everything. Even the parts that I don't really want to know.

  Suddenly I hear a brief, loud banging sound from outside. I turn and look through to the hallway, and a moment later the banging sound returns. My heart is pounding in my chest and I tell myself that there's no need to worry, that I have the upper hand. Still, I grab three knives before heading out into the hallway and through to the kitchen. The banging sound is coming from somewhere near the window, but it's difficult to see out. Finally, however, I cup my hands around my eyes and peer through the glass, only to see that a strong wind has picked up in the rain outside, and a wooden board is partially loose over by the pig pen.

  The banging sound is simply the board getting blown about. I can hear the pigs too. They sound restless.

  Turning, I look down at Lindsay's body on the floor. For the third or fourth time in the past hour, I step over and crouch down, taking a moment to check her pulse yet again. I know she's dead, but at the same time I can't shake the hope that maybe some miracle will occur. I press my fingers against her wrist, but her flesh is so cold now. When I try to lift her arm, I feel a degree of resistance, which I guess means that rigor mortis must have set in.

  She's gone.

  “I'm so sorry,” I tell her, as the piece of wood continues to bang in the wind outside. “We should have stuck together. I should never have let you go out there alone.”

  I wait, giving her a chance to answer, and then I get to my feet and wander through to the hallway. Apart from the banging sound in the yard and the noise of the pigs, the house itself is completely quiet, almost as if the walls are holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. I glance at the window, almost expecting to see a face staring in at me, but there's no-one. Heading over, I peer out at the moonlit yard, and for the first time it occurs to me that perhaps – after killing Lindsay – the occupants of the house have fled. After all, they must realize that the game is up, and that they can no longer live here without attracting the world's attention. Maybe they've abandoned the farmhouse.

  “Is anyone here?” I call out, mainly just to break the silence.

  No reply.

  “I just want my son,” I continue, my voice trembling slightly, “and my husband too. Let me take them away, and we'll leave you alone.”

  Silence.

  Feeling as if I'm on the verge of losing my mind, I head back through to the room where I was once tied to a metal table. At least there's plenty of moonlight in here, which makes it harder for me to start imagining shadows moving in the corners of the rooms. Heading over to the table, I look down at the knives. It feels strangely good to know that I have a way to defend myself, although after a moment I realize that something seems to be wrong. I count the knives, and then I count them again, and then a third time just to be sure.

  Seven.

  There are seven knives.

  When I left the room a few minutes ago, there were eight.

  I turn and look around, but there's no sign of anyone. There's not even any way for someone to have slipped in or out of the room, not without being seen. At the same time, I know that I had eight knives here, and now there are definitely only seven, which means someone has to have come in here and taken one.

  “Hello?” I call out, stepping across the room. “Where are you? I just want to talk.”

  I wait.

  Nothing.

  “Please,” I continue, turning and looking the other way, “I just want my son and my husband! Can't you at least tell me where they are? I'll leave you alone once I've got them, I'll take them away and I won't tell anyone about you!”

  Again, I wait.

  Silence.

  “I know you're here,” I continue, looking back at the knives. “And now I know you're armed. Enda, please...”

  For the next few minutes, I make my way around the room, examining the walls in case there's any sign of a secret passage or maybe a hidden door, but I don't find anything. Although I'm trying very hard not to panic, I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me, and several times I spin around, convinced that I heard a noise. The wood is still banging outside, but apart from that the house seems completely quiet.

  “Hello?” I call out, hurrying through to the hallway and looking up the stairs. “Where are you? Can you please just come out?”

  No reply.

  “Enda, please,” I continue, “I just want to talk to you! You didn't have to kill Lindsay, she wasn't here to hurt you!”

  Sighing, I realize that this is hopeless. With a knife still in my right hand, I make my way to the kitchen door and look through. Lindsay's body is still on the floor, just as I left it earlier, and I tell myself that there's no point checking yet again for a pulse. Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone, but of course there's still no signal. I even try dialing 999, just in case I somehow get through, but finally I slip my phone away again. I glance at Lindsay for a moment, before turning to head back through to the hallway.

  Suddenly I freeze.

  Either I'm going crazy, or when I looked at Lindsay just now, there was a hint of movement.

  I turn slowly, my heart pounding as I tell myself that there was definitely no pulse earlier. Looking at her again, I see no sign of movement at all, but I swear a moment ag
o I saw something twitching on her shoulder. I pause for a moment, before stepping closer.

  “Lindsay?” I say cautiously, feeling a sliver of hope in my chest. “Are you -”

  And that's when I see it.

  A small hand, reaching around from behind the refrigerator, touching Lindsay's arm.

  “Hey!” I call out. “What -”

  The hand pulls away, disappearing behind the refrigerator. I hurry over to take a look, just in time to see a panel being pulled back into place at the base of the wall. Stepping past Lindsay, I crouch down and try to pull the panel loose, but there are no edges to grab. Still, after a moment I hear a faint shuffling and scratching sound behind the wall, as if someone is climbing up through the gap.

  “Hello?” I call out, banging my fist against the panel. “Enda, is that you? Enda, please, I just need to talk to you! I need to know what you've done with my son!”

  The sound continues, moving slowly up the wall and then over into the ceiling.

  Getting to my feet, I make my way across the kitchen, following the sound as it moves through to the hallway. Whoever's crawling between the walls, it's someone who's able to move fast. Finally, just as I reach the middle of the hallway, the sound stops completely, and I'm left staring up at the ceiling.

  A moment later, I hear a bump from one of the upstairs room, almost as if someone crawled back out from between the walls.

  “Enda!”

  Racing up the stairs, I reach the landing and then run toward an open door at the far end. Convinced that I'll find someone in there, I hurry through with the knife raised, only to find myself back in the empty room with the rainbow on the wall. I pause for a moment, listening for any hint of movement, and then I step back out into the corridor. Turning, I make my way back toward the top of the stairs.

  “Hello?” I call out, my heart racing as I try to find some hint of movement. “Are you -”

  Suddenly I hear someone running up behind me. I turn, and for a fraction of a second I see a young boy's snarling face as he lunges at me. Before I can react, however, he slices a knife at my eyes. I feel a flash of pain, and everything goes black.