Perpetual Darkness: A collection of four gory horror novellas

by Jacob Rayne

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Campbell said. ‘I must be going.’

  Baz gave Chris a call to see if he’d made it back from the barn yet. The lack of a reply worried him a little. He had no desire to set foot on the farmland, but he couldn’t leave his buddy to die. He tried Chris’s home phone, which rang a few times and clicked to the answerphone. He called a few more times, unable to shake the feeling that his friend hadn’t made it home, but decided he’d give it a little longer before he ventured out to look for him.

  After completing his traffic directing duty, Campbell headed home for some much needed rest. He hoped his wife had made tea, as he was ravenous. The clock on his dashboard showed 10:10. Tea and then bed, then he had the following day off to look forward to. His mind already switching into relaxation mode, he pulled up onto the kerb outside his house. His suspension creaked as he got out of the car. The house was in darkness, which immediately struck him as odd. It should have been lit up like a Christmas tree.

  His hand pulled his cosh. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught someone in his home, but it did worry him that there didn’t seem to be any sign of his wife. The front door was still locked, they must have gotten in some other way. He knew the best thing to do would be to survey the outside of the house, see if there was still anyone inside and call for help if necessary, but he knew that his wife and kid might need his help.

  He turned the front door key, acid flooding his stomach and making him want to retch.

  The corridor was cold. The radiator hadn’t even been on. Wendy was a stickler for the heat – she’d even been cold in the Bahamas the previous year – so the fact that the heating hadn’t been on meant she’d been gone for some time.

  He went through the house quickly, in his panic not really seeing things properly. The few rust-coloured spots of dried blood he found by the back door confirmed his worst fears.

  Without pausing to think, he got his shotgun out of the safe in the spare bedroom, dived into his car and set off to Crow’s Tail asylum.

  VII

  His foot was a ton weight on the gas pedal, almost pressing the damn thing through the floor in an attempt to coax more speed out of the arthritic beast that was his vehicle. The back end fishtailed around the corner into the Crow’s Tail parking lot and he dived out before the car was stopped, keeping the shotgun hidden beneath his jacket.

  There was a solitary guard on duty by the main reception area and, after a flash of his badge and a bit of a staredown, he found himself inside the psych ward.

  Osmo was sleepy and didn’t seem as pleased to see him this time. He seemed to understand the reason for the visit.

  ‘I need you to take me to the farm, Osmo,’ he said. ‘They’ve got my wife and kid.’

  Osmo gulped, nodded. ‘Did you bring music?’

  Campbell pulled out a top of the range MP3 player he’d borrowed from his son.

  ‘Good lad. Now, how do you intend to get me out of here?’

  Osmo’s face lit up as Campbell flashed the shotgun. ‘I like your style, Officer Campbell.’

  The guard standing outside Osmo’s cell pulled a confused expression as Campbell and Osmo approached the cell door.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? He can’t leave.’

  ‘Yes he can, he’s coming with me,’ Campbell said, raising the shotgun to stomach level. The guard gulped and backed off, his hands raised.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, man,’ the guard said. ‘You’ll be banged up yourself for this.’

  ‘They’ve got my family,’ Campbell said. ‘What would you do?’

  The guard conceded the point. Campbell whacked him on the jaw with the shotgun butt, sending him to night night land, minus one of his teeth.

  The next guard was going for the alarm when Campbell caught him. ‘I won’t hesitate to put both shells in your gut,’ he said.

  The guard saw that this was no idle threat and dropped his hand from the button. ‘No need to do anything hasty,’ he said, moving away from the wall.

  ‘Cuff him,’ Campbell told Osmo.

  Osmo did so and they left the guard in the corridor.

  The rest of the corridor was quiet, the other guards were on their rounds. Campbell pulled Osmo into a doorway as a guard ran past. The gun that bulged in his hip holster brought it home to Campbell how in the shit he was over this. But it was his family, there was no way he could leave them to die.

  Before Campbell could stop him, Osmo had sprung from the shadowy alcove and dropped the guard with a hard head-butt.

  Moving fast, Osmo pulled the gun out of the guard’s holster then pistol-whipped it across his jaw. The guard’s lights went out and he slumped to the floor. Osmo and Campbell dragged him to the bathroom and locked him in.

  ‘We may need another gun, and we’ll definitely need his card for the main doors,’ Osmo said. ‘Besides, he was an utter prick.’

  Campbell laughed. ‘Nearly there,’ he said. ‘You just keep the gun unless we need it, I’ll take the rap for this.’

  ‘You’re a good man.’

  Campbell nodded and peered round the corner. The coast seemed clear, so he crept forward. Osmo followed, darting from one hiding place to another like a crazy, moustachioed James Bond.

  ‘Just the final desk to go,’ Campbell said.

  ‘Yep. Then straight into the mouth of hell.’

  Campbell poked his nose out from around the corner that led to the main reception and strolled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. A few seconds later, Osmo followed.

  The desk guard’s face was comical. He floundered for the right words.

  ‘We’re walking out of here,’ Campbell said. ‘Whether you’re alive to see it is your decision.’

  The guard gulped, noting the walnut shotgun stock that poked from beneath Campbell’s jacket. He raised his hands above his head.

  ‘Now, I’m sure you’re going to raise the alarm as soon as we get out of here,’ Campbell said. ‘But at least wait until we’re outside.’

  ‘They have his family,’ Osmo chipped in. ‘We have to get them from the barn.’

  The man behind the desk seemed to mellow at this. ‘The… barn?’ he gasped.

  Osmo nodded.

  The man behind the desk pressed the buzzer and let them out. Knowing he was going to get the sack for this, he walked out after them and drove home.

  Campbell haul-assed it to the farm. Osmo directed him the way that he had gone when he’d tried to find Misty. Except this time, they stopped before they reached the path that snaked through the farmland.

  ‘Get your headphones on before we get there,’ Osmo said. ‘The thing may not be able to command you, but it’ll sure as shit be able to pick up your thoughts.’

  Campbell nodded, pushing his headphones over his ears.

  ‘What you got on there?’ Osmo asked.

  ‘The latest Coldplay album.’

  ‘Ha! Pussy. Get some fucking Pantera on there and do the job right.’

  Campbell grimaced at the slight but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Now, we ain’t gonna be able to hear very well on account of these headphones, so we’re gonna have to have our wits about us. You see anything suspicious, you take the time to check it out. We’re gonna have to try and take them out with our hands or with knives and stuff. Shoot ’em if you have to, but only as a last resort.’

  Campbell nodded.

  ‘And you gotta prepare yourself, you’re going to see some appalling things in there. But we’ll do our best to get your family back.’

  ‘Thanks for doing this, Osmo.’

  ‘Thank you for breaking me out of the nuthouse. One more thing, Officer Campbell. You need to trust me. No matter what I tell you to do you have to do it, right? There won’t be time for you to question my orders. Remember I’m the only person to have made it off this farm alive – well, ’cept for my beautiful daughter, Marie, but she got mown down on the road outside.’ He sniffed and wiped his hand across his eye.

&
nbsp; ‘I realise that. And I will do what you say.’

  ‘Well, ain’t nothing more to say than good luck, Officer Campbell. Get your music’ – he pulled a funny face at the word – ‘on and let’s get in there.’

  Campbell heard an undeniably macho riff kick in on Osmo’s headphones and momentarily wished he’d chosen such a powerful song to motivate him. He put his music on and picked up the gun.

  Osmo took out his gun and picked up the tyre iron from the floorwell at the back of Campbell’s car. He nodded along with his music a few times, a satisfied grin on his face. He was so hyped up he even played a few bars of air guitar on the tyre iron. Then he stared at Campbell, nodded and pointed into the farm.

  VIII

  They were roughly halfway down the track before they saw the first tramp standing in the bushes to their left, admirably disguised by his faded coat, dark hair and beard.

  Osmo pointed the figure out with a subtle nod of his head. Campbell nodded too. Osmo tapped his chest as if to say, ‘I’ll handle him.’

  Campbell was amazed at Osmo’s calm demeanour. He had the excitable air of a kid playing laser tag, while Campbell himself was bricking it. His stomach felt like it was bungeeing up and down his throat and his blood seemed to have been replaced with ice water.

  Osmo drew to within ten feet of the figure hidden in the bushes, feigning ignorance of his concealed foe. It seemed the figure was going to let him pass, but then he burst out of the bushes with a speed that Campbell found terrifying. He covered Osmo with the shotgun, just in case the worst happened, but Osmo had already decked the tramp with a wild swing of the tyre iron.

  He pulled a thick branch from the trunk of a decaying tree, tipped it sharp side down and thrust it into the tramp’s heart. A geyser of warm blood shot out of the wound, drawing steam as it met the cold air. The tramp’s mouth moved in a silent scream, the sound hidden by the music they needed to hide their thoughts from the creature in the barn. Campbell looked away and inspected the hedges further down the road. His imagination was really playing with him, turning the twisted shapes of the hedgerows into further lurking enemies.

  Osmo stood up from the tramp’s body, blowing the bloody end of the tree branch like a gunslinger in a western.

  ‘One down,’ he mouthed.

  Campbell gave him a thumbs up, trying to hide the shake of his hand. Osmo noticed and handed him a sharp piece of tree branch.

  Campbell nodded and they set off back down the trail.

  They saw some horrid things while they scoured the hedgerows. The first was a plastic water carrier sitting beneath the branches of a sprawling tree. A large funnel poked out of the neck of the container which was half full with a dark viscous liquid. Osmo bent down to take a closer look.

  ‘Blood,’ he mouthed, pointing up into the tree.

  Campbell saw the carcass of an Alsatian tied to one of the branches. The blood from the slit in the animal’s belly poured down the branches into the funnel.

  Campbell’s stomach tried to empty itself, but he was left dry-heaving. A few yards along the path, Campbell saw a white bath tub. Bloody spatters marked the sides of the bath and when he got closer, he saw a man slumped over the edge of the tub, a gaping wound in his throat. The blood was still dripping from his neck, tumbling down the slope of the bath and landing in the large crimson pool which was already knee-deep. He turned away, his stomach again starting to spasm.

  Osmo clapped a consoling hand on his shoulder and pointed down the track to where another figure was just visible through the vast expanse of gnarled hedges. He pointed questioningly to Campbell.

  Campbell nodded. He’d take this one.

  Moonlight danced on a shimmering pool by the side of the road as Campbell approached the concealed tramp. The closer he got the more fearsome the figure became. The tramp’s dank hair and beard were matted with sticky clumps of blood and he held what looked like a child’s arm in his hands, gnawing at it as though it was a chicken leg. He smacked his lips greedily as he ate, his vile tongue darting into his beard now and then to lick up the dripping blood.

  ‘Put him down while he’s busy,’ Osmo mouthed.

  Campbell nodded. He snuck through a gap in the hedgerow so he’d be approaching the tramp from behind. Osmo snuck up the roadside of the hedge, ready to give covering fire if necessary.

  Campbell moved in, fearing his frantic heartbeat was loud enough to alert the tramp to his presence. He gripped the branch in his shaking hands, hoping he could put the tramp down silently.

  He was close enough to attack now, and he drew in a deep breath and prepared himself for what he was about to do. The tramp must have heard his breath, as he turned, dropped the child’s arm, and exposed sharp, blood-smeared teeth. Campbell let out an involuntary cry and lunged forward, the branch in front of him like a lance.

  The tramp ran right onto the branch. The feel of the pointed tip digging into the tramp’s belly sickened Campbell, a feeling which got much worse when he felt blood seeping out onto his hand.

  He cried out again. The tramp fell to the side, his hands gripping the branch and starting to slide it out of his belly.

  Movement from his side made him jolt. He turned to see Osmo dive through the hedge and start trying to pulp the tramp’s skull with the tyre iron. His face was a lattice of cuts from the sharp thorns and branches. The tramp squirmed, doing his best to sink his teeth into Osmo’s arms and neck.

  Campbell pulled himself out of the momentary period of stunned inaction and wrenched the branch loose. The tramp’s belly glistened with blood that looked black in the moonlight.

  Blood flew from the tramp’s mouth as it opened to emit a scream of hate. Osmo dealt him a punishing blow that Campbell heard over his music and the tramp stopped struggling for a second. Campbell took his chance and threw himself forwards, slamming the spike into the tramp’s heart. He felt bone relent beneath the power of the strike, then a torrent of hot blood hit him in the face.

  Retching and sobbing, he fell away.

  The tramp’s body convulsed, his feet beating a tattoo on the ground near Campbell’s face.

  He lay for a moment then hauled himself to his feet.

  Terror stuck an icicle through his heart when he noticed that Osmo was gone.

  ‘Where the fuck?’ he said aloud.

  The tramp’s death throes were coming to an end. His dark blood was seeping around him in a gleaming pool. Campbell pulled the branch out of his heart and moved onto the road. Knowing that it was a bad idea, but knowing he needed to, he pulled one of the cans off his ear so he could hear. A noise that sounded very much like frantic, muffled breathing came from his right. He looked to the source of the sound and saw one of the tramps crouched by the roadside, holding a scythe blade to the side of Osmo’s throat. A drop of blood descended from the shallow wound.

  The tramp adjusted the blade a little to give him a free hand to mime that Campbell should take off his headphones. Campbell did so.

  ‘You’re idiots for setting foot on this farm,’ the tramp hissed. ‘And for killing two of our brethren your suffering will be eternal.’

  ‘Shoot the scruffy son of a bitch,’ Osmo said, his voice contorted by the pressure against his throat.

  Campbell shook his head. ‘He’ll kill you.’

  ‘So? All that matters is that you get your family back.’

  Campbell shook his head. He bent down and put the shotgun on the road and raised his hands over his head. ‘Don’t hurt him,’ he said.

  A pair of dishevelled men stepped out of the hedgerow behind Campbell. One of them stooped to pick up the gun then used it to deal Campbell a solid blow that buckled his legs and made the world do a somersault.

  ‘Let’s get these unwanted guests to the barn,’ the first man hissed. He climbed to his feet, keeping the scythe blade against Osmo’s throat.

  Campbell’s own shotgun was shoved into his back and used to push him forward. The third tramp frisked them for weapons, discarding the tree b
ranches by the side of the road and tucking Osmo’s gun into the waistband of his filth-encrusted tracksuit bottoms.

  After being accused of wasting police time, Baz had tried Chris a few more times then called round some of the lads. Max and Bobby were the only two that Baz could find at short notice – the other lads were all married and needed a week’s notice to leave the house. The trio were agreed; they’d go up to the farm to see what was going on. Even if they couldn’t find Chris and Vivian, they’d honour their friend’s wish and burn the place to the ground.

  They each had a shotgun which they were ready to use if they ran into trouble. It was time to see if the rumours about the barn were true.

  Campbell and Osmo were led across the field to the barn. They counted maybe a dozen tramps scattered across the field. Most of them were standing perfectly still, so as to be mistaken for scarecrows as Osmo had thought on his first fateful visit here.

  Others were busy with sickles and knives, doing things to dead and dying bodies that Campbell wished he hadn’t seen.

  ‘I guess you could say they are the food preparation staff,’ the tall, skinny tramp who held the scythe to Osmo’s throat chuckled.

  His two companions laughed along too. The sound made Osmo and Campbell’s skin crawl.

  The barn loomed above them, like a rusting portal to hell. Campbell’s bowels churned at the sight of the much-maligned edifice. His throat suddenly felt like it was lined with chalk.

  ‘You’re going to see it very soon,’ the tramp who’d taken Campbell’s shotgun said.

  Baz, Max and Bobby picked a path through the woods which was eerily similar to the one that Chris and Vivian had taken. Their eyes flicked between the treeline and behind them to make sure nothing was creeping up on them. They were spaced well so that any attacker couldn’t take them out with one blow. All of them were feeling confident, intent on retribution rather than fearing for their lives. But that was due to change.