Horror Thriller Box Set 1

by Amy Cross

  When the house was boarded up, the plan was to swiftly demolish the entire structure. Since then, the wheels of local politics have turned achingly slowly, and the house still stands. With its doors and windows covered by large, gray metal sheets, the place is hermetically sealed. Nothing can get in or out, and for most of the people around here that's more than enough. They just want to ignore the whole horrific incident, and forget that such evil once lurked in their community. I don't blame them. There was a lot of soul-searching when the truth about the house came out all those years ago, and in some ways I don't think the town has ever really recovered.

  Taking a sip of water, I keep my eyes trained on the house and try to decide whether I should even be out here at all. That conversation with Samantha Briggs put me on edge earlier, and I spent the afternoon wondering whether she might do something stupid. She's precisely the kind of high-achieving, highly-driven student who could decide to take a risk in aid of extra credit. Frankly, she's probably got her head filled with dreams of coming up with a killer story that'll get picked up by the mainstream media. I hope I'm wrong, but I'm convinced that there's a good chance that she'll make her way out here. Two girls have already died near the house this year. At least I'm here to stop Samantha from becoming the third.

  As the evening wears on, however, I start to realize that I didn't plan ahead properly. The pall of darkness makes it impossible for me to see the house, and the light in my car makes me stand out like a sore thumb. I guess I should have brought some better supplies. Reluctantly switching the light off, I sit in total darkness and look out at the night scene. If Samantha does come out here, she'll have to bring a torch, so I should at least be able to see a telltale light. Taking a deep breath, I check my watch and decide that I'll give it until midnight and then I'll go home. After all, she'd be crazy to come out here when it's dark. Even a bright, adventurous and level-headed girl like Samantha would surely bristle at the thought of coming to this house after sundown.

  Eventually, without even having realized that I was particularly tired, I start to doze in my seat. Although I try to stay awake, my head starts feeling so heavy that I have to rest for a couple of minutes, and suddenly I open my eyes again and find that the bright light of morning is streaming across the nearby fields. Feeling a little dazed, I check my watch and see that it's almost 6am, which means I've only got a couple of hours before I have to be heading to work. Cursing myself for having slept in my car, I open the door and step out for a moment, taking a deep breath in order to make sure that I'm fully awake.

  Glancing over at the house, I see that the metal boards look to be in place. I was probably being paranoid last night when I worried that Samantha would come out here. I mean, what kind of person would decide to head out to a remote, creepy house in the middle of the night? If she's going to come out here at all, it'll be at the weekend, so I guess I need to come back on Saturday morning and keep an eye on the place. Getting back into my car, I start the engine and start the drive back to my apartment, where I'm going to take a quick shower, grab a change of clothes and then head off to work. I'm starting to think that I've been allowing this concern about the house on Willow Road to overtake my thoughts a little too much. It's just a house. I need to get a grip.

  Once I get into town, I stop at a gas station and head inside to grab a sandwich. While I'm waiting in line to pay, I glance out the window and spot, to my surprise, Samantha Briggs cycling past. Checking my watch, I see that it's still not 7am, and she's headed the wrong way for school. With a sudden feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, I realize she's heading out to the house to take a look. I run over to the cash desk and throw some money onto the counter, and then I run back out to my car without waiting for the change. I figure I can easily catch Samantha, but unfortunately the morning streets are starting to get busy and while a bike can sail past the jams, I find myself stuck behind light after light. By the time I get back out of town and on the road toward Willow Road, it's been almost fifteen minutes since I saw Samantha. I know the chances of something bad happening are low, but I still have to catch up to her.

  When I reach the house, I pull up right outside and hurry across the path that leads to the front door. Samantha's bike is resting on the ground, but all the metal boards on the building seem to be in place.

  "Samantha!" I shout, running around to the back of the house. The garden is massively overgrown, with grass up to my waist and old pieces of rusted metal dotted about the place. I still can't see any way Samantha could have managed to get inside, but it's clear that she's here somewhere. She can't have just vanished into thin air. "Samantha!" I call again.

  Making my way back to the front of the building, I look over and see that Samantha's bike is still on the ground. I go to the front door, but the metal plate is firmly fixed over the entrance. I try all the windows, and finally I find that one of the plates is slightly loose. Sure enough, when I pull it back a little further, I manage to open a gap that's just big enough for a person to get through. Figuring that Samantha must be inside, I lean through and stare into the dark, dirty room.

  "Samantha!" I shout.

  Nothing.

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I activate the flashlight function and use it to pick out the floor as I climb inside. As soon as I'm through the window, the metal plate springs back into place with an ominous shudder. Shining the flashlight across the room, I see that the place looks surprisingly normal. There's a sofa over by one of the walls, and there are a few chairs facing a large, old-fashioned television. A few stray magazines have been left scattered across the floor, and there's some broken glass over by the nearest door, but overall the house isn't the dark mess I'd been expecting. The ordinariness of the whole place seems particularly chilling, given the nature of the events that took place here all those years ago.

  "Samantha!" I call out, walking carefully through to the kitchen. The floorboards creek under my feet, and I realize I'm probably directly above the basement where Elizabeth, Natalie and Holly were kept all those years ago. "Samantha!" I shout again, starting to get impatient. She must be able to hear me, so I guess she's hiding on purpose. "I'm not going to get you in any trouble!" I shout. "I just want to get you out of here! It's not safe!"

  I wait, but there's still no reply.

  Sighing, I head through to the hallway, where I spot a small metal door that looks like it heads down to the basement. Trying the handle, I'm surprised to find that it turns, and I manage to get the door open. Ahead of me, in the darkness, there's a set of steps leading down to what appears to be a stone floor. I've heard so much about this house, and I've seen a lot of photos, but it's still strange to actually be in the house where those women were held prisoner. I've never been much of a believer in the idea that a building can contain its own energy, but this place just feels evil. It's shocking to think of the man who once lived here, and who subjected those women to such a horrific ordeal. If I didn't know for certain that he's dead, I'd half expect to find him still here, loitering in the shadows.

  Just as I'm about to start walking down the steps into the basement, I hear a noise above. Looking up, I wait for a moment, and sure enough I hear the noise again. It sounds like something being splashed in water. I was hoping that Samantha was just hiding from me, but now I'm not so sure. She should have called back to me by now; even at the height of her enthusiastic rush for journalistic glory, she must surely realize that she's gone too far, so why is she staying silent?

  "Samantha!" I call out again. "Are you up there?"

  Realizing that she's not going to reply, I start making my way up the stairs. The flashlight is useful for making sure that there's nothing in the way, but the house is still extremely dark thanks to the metal plates that are clamped over all the windows. As soon as I reach the top floor, I look around and try to work out where the brief splashing noise came from. There's no sign of anyone up here, but I'm certain that Samantha must be close.

  "We have to get
out of here!" I shout. "This is trespassing, Samantha. You're going too far! I'm not mad at you, but I'm not leaving until you come out from wherever you're hiding! I know you're here! I'm not going to leave until I find you!"

  Walking along the corridor, I suddenly realize I can hear a dripping sound nearby. It takes me a moment to work out where the sound is coming from, but eventually I make my way over to a door at the far end.

  "Samantha, are you in there?" I call out, before pushing the door open and shining the flashlight inside.

  It takes me a moment to realize what I'm looking at, but finally I realize that it's a bathtub filled with water and blocks of ice, some of which have overflowed onto the floor. I instantly feel a chill in my spine, and as I take a step forward, I shine the flashlight onto the ice and see to my horror that there's a body beneath the surface, with Samantha's pale face staring up at me.

  Holly Carter

  15 years ago

  "It's okay," Elizabeth says, kneeling next to Natalie and reaching out to hold her by the shoulders. Still screaming, Natalie has her eyes closed and she's started to tremble. "Natalie, please," Elizabeth continues, "you must stop this at once." She glances fearfully at the ceiling. "You'll upset him."

  As suddenly as she started screaming, Natalie suddenly falls silent. Opening her eyes, she turns to me and for the first time since I arrived, I can see real anger in her expression.

  "What was that?" I ask.

  "If you mess things up," Natalie says, her voice sounding much firmer than before, "you'll make him angry. If you make him angry, he'll take it out on us. If he takes it out on us, he'll hurt us. If he..." She pauses for a moment. "Please, don't make him angry. You've been here less than a day. You don't know what happens when he gets angry, but he'll hurt us all."

  "You should listen to her," Elizabeth says. "She's right."

  "Show her," Natalie says, turning to Elizabeth.

  "Not now," Elizabeth replies quietly.

  "Show her!" Natalie insists. It's the first time I've seen her really assert herself.

  Sighing, Elizabeth reaches down and lifts her skirt up above her knees, to reveal numerous large scars all over her flesh.

  "See?" Natalie continues, staring at me.

  "He did that to you?" I ask Elizabeth.

  "Of course he did," she replies, lowering her skirt again. "There are more, too. On my back, and my chest, everywhere. Each time, he took a small piece of bone. Just a sliver, not enough for me to notice, but over time..." Her voice trails off, and I can see tears in her eyes.

  "All the little pieces add up," Natalie adds fearfully. "Over the years, he's taken a lot from both of us."

  "You can't let this keep happening," I say firmly.

  "Show her the other one," Natalie says.

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth leans forward and parts her hair to reveal a small, scarred bald patch on her scalp. "He took a small piece of my skull," she says. "Not all the way through. He just shaved a thin strip of bone away. He did the same to some of my teeth, too. Just shaving little pieces of enamel. He doesn't do it much these days. Not to me. He does it mostly to Natalie. I expect he'll do it to you too. The point is, he does it more when he's angry, when we make noise. So please, please, for the love of God, be quiet." She stares at me, and I realize that she's shaking with fear.

  "It can't get worse," I say. "What else does he do up there? You said he doesn't always take bone, so what else happens?" I wait for an answer. "Does he hurt you? Is it sexual?"

  "No," Elizabeth says.

  "Sometimes," Natalie adds.

  "What's he like when he does these things?" I continue. "Is he mad? Is he shouting? Is he -"

  "He's calm," Natalie says. "He's always calm."

  "Does he talk?" I ask. "Does he explain himself?"

  Natalie shakes her head.

  "He only talks so he can tell us what to do," Elizabeth says. "Just a few words here and there."

  Walking over to the steps, I look up at the door. I'm terrified by the thought of a piece of wood being thrown down here with the number three scratched into its surface. It's going to happen, though, and I need to be prepared. It's clear that Elizabeth and Natalie aren't going to be any help, but I figure I can maybe take matters into my own hands. If I can strike fast, and stop this guy straight away, there'll be no chance for him to take revenge or punish anyone. I just have to make sure I get it right first time, or I'm putting us all in danger.

  "What are you planning?" Elizabeth asks eventually.

  "I'm going to lure him down here," I reply.

  "No," Natalie says. "You can't."

  "Watch me," I say, turning to look at them both. "But first, I'm going to tie you up. I'm going to make it really clear that you're not part of this, just in case it goes wrong. Get a rope."

  "No," Elizabeth says.

  "Okay," I reply, "then I guess I'll actually have to do it against your will." Heading across the basement, I reach the bag in which I was thrown down here. Sure enough, there's still a length of rope that was used to tie me up, so I pull it loose and turn back to the others. "You don't have a choice here," I explain. "This is happening, whether you like it or not."

  "Please stop her," Natalie says quietly.

  "It's okay," Elizabeth replies.

  "It's not okay," I say firmly. "I don't care who this guy is, I can take him down. Trust me. You can thank me later."

  "The window," Natalie says, turning to look across the room. "You're going to break the window."

  "No," I tell her, "that won't work. I'm going to be more direct. He's a coward. If you want to stop a coward, you have to do it head-on."

  "You don't know what you're talking about," Elizabeth says. "Please, Holly, you're meddling with things that you don't understand. You're just going to cause us all more problems."

  "I'm going to get us out of here," I reply. "So, do you want to be tied up while I do this, or are you going to help?"

  "I'm not going to be any part of this," she says, stepping away from me. "In fact, I'm not going to let it happen at all." Before I can stop her, she turns and hurries over to the steps and up to the door. She pauses for a moment and glances back at me. "Help!" she shouts eventually. "She's trying to escape! Help us!"

  "No!" I call out, rushing after her and pulling her back down the steps. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Help!" she shouts again, looking up at the ceiling.

  "Stop it!" I shout, putting my hand over her mouth. She struggles to get free, but I manage to keep her quiet.

  "You're going to break it," Natalie says, sounding scared.

  "Nothing's going to get broken," I reply, struggling to keep hold of Elizabeth. "This is crazy. Are you seriously more scared of this guy than of staying down here forever? What the hell's he got up there? If we just work together, we can be out of here in an hour!"

  "You stupid little bitch," Elizabeth blurts out as she manages to get free. "You're going to make him angry at us all!"

  "Good!" I reply, making sure I keep hold of her arm. There's no way I can let her go back over to the door. She's clearly insane, and she wants to tell the guy upstairs about my escape attempt, just so he'll realize she's not involved. I guess ten years down here in the basement have really messed with her head. "I want him to be angry," I continue after a moment. "Anger's good. Angry people make mistakes. He's had it too easy with you two docile little things. I'm going to rile him up, make him come storming down here, and that's when I'm going to knock him out."

  "You're an idiot!" Elizabeth spits back at me. "You're going to ruin everything!" She turns to go back to the door, but I pull her away. There's a brief tussle, and eventually I pull her around and slam her into the nearest wall. I'm shocked to see a frenzied look in her eyes, as if she's terrified that I might actually go through with my plan. After ten years down here, she's probably scared of the outside world.

  "Stop fighting me!" I shout.

  "I'm not going to let you destroy everything!" she sh
outs back, trying to get free. "Help! She's trying to escape!"

  Determined to show her that I mean business, I slam her into the wall again. "Stop it!" I shout. At that moment, there's a cracking sound from above. I look up, just in time to see a shower of perspex shards come crashing down onto us.

  "You broke it," Natalie says, standing calmly nearby.

  "What the fuck?" I ask, stepping back. It takes a few seconds before I realize what happened. Looking up at the top of the wall, I see that the little perspex window has shattered.

  "Told you," Natalie adds.

  "What have you done?" Elizabeth asks, turning in shock to look at the window.

  "I thought you said it was unbreakable," I say, as I grab a chair and climb up to get a better look at the window. I reach my arm through and run my hand through the grass. Unfortunately, it quickly becomes clear that the window's far too small for a human to fit through. Still, it's a start.

  "How did you..." Elizabeth starts to say, clearly stunned. "How did you do that?"

  "I didn't," I reply, my mind racing as I try to think of a way we can use this small victory to our advantage. "You said this couldn't be broken," I continue, turning to look back at her. "Look at it. If we can do this, we can do other things that you thought weren't possible."

  "I tried so many times to break it," Elizabeth says, staring at the window. "When I was first down here, I tried so hard. I tried everything, but I couldn't even make a scratch."

  "We have to use this," I say. "We have to find some way to use this to get out."

  "It's too small," Natalie points out.

  "Then we have to be creative," I continue. "We have to think of something. There has to be some way to get out of here, or to attract attention. There has to be something we can do. We just need to be smart about this."

  Above us, there's the sound of footsteps.

  "He's coming," Natalie says, her voice suddenly gripped by fear. "He's coming again."