by Amy Cross
"You live out here?" I ask.
He nods. "Got a farm about three miles away. I'm gonna be honest with you. I do everything off the books, if you know what I mean. My grandfather built this house, and he didn't go asking for any planning permission or anything like that. He owned the land, so he built on it. Now I own the land, and I do what I want with it. There's no-one that can tell me my business, you understand?"
"Rent in cash?" I reply, pulling a small envelope from my pocket.
"You got that right," he says with a smile. "This is my house and I'm gonna rent it out to you. Why the hell is that anyone else's business? Why does the government think it has a right to know what the fuck anyone's doing? I just mind my own business, that's all."
"Me too."
"What're you gonna be doing out here, anyway?"
"Writing," I tell him. "I've got an advance, so I'm going to work on my novel. Maybe grow some food, too. I really want to get down to a basic lifestyle. Live off the land, that kind of thing. If I try writing in town, I'll just end up getting distracted. I want to completely isolate myself out here."
"Huh," he replies, staring at me. He seems a little suspicious, but I'm sure it won't stop him from taking my money. After all, there can't be too many people interested in renting a dilapidated old place like this. "A writer... Well, good luck to you. You got a wife and kids, anyone that might come out and join you?"
"No," I say. "No family at all."
"Nothing?"
I shake my head.
"Well, you shouldn't have any problems out here," he says, opening the envelope of cash and taking a quick look inside. "The only person you'll ever bump into is my grandfather's spirit. Like I said, that man built this house. He's in the mix of it, so to speak. That's what happens when a man builds his own place. His soul becomes its soul. You believe in souls, don't you?"
"Of course," I reply with a smile.
"Well, I guess we're done," Mr. Willard says after a moment, before taking some keys out of his pocket and handing them to me. "The place is yours. You know where to find me if you need me, but otherwise I'm gonna leave you well alone." He reaches out and shakes my hand, before walking over to the gate that opens out onto the quiet dirt track that passes this place. "Good luck to you!" he calls back to me.
"Thanks," I say, heading over to my car so I can unpack a few things. "You too."
"Oh," he says, stopping and glancing back at me. "You know, in all the time we were talking, I don't think you ever told me your name."
"Didn't I?"
He shakes his head.
"Are you sure?"
He nods.
"Well," I say, "Well how about that. I guess it must have just slipped right past. That's odd, isn't it?"
He stares at me, waiting for me to answer.
"Sorry," I say with a smile, hurrying over and reaching out to shake his hand again. "Where are my manners? My name is -"
Holly Carter
15 years ago
"She's awake," says Elizabeth from the other side of the basement.
Looking over, I see that Natalie is starting to stir. It's been five or six hours since she was thrown back down here, and Elizabeth has been lovingly doting over her ever since. In a strange way, it's kind of cute to see the way they work together. At first, I thought their relationship was freaky: I hated the way Elizabeth mothered Natalie and treated her like an idiot, and I hated the way Natalie became submissive and allowed herself to be coddled so completely. Now, though, I can see that it's an arrangement that works for them. It'd drive me crazy, but I guess it's not my job to tell them what to do. They're a little double-act, and sometimes I wonder what they'll do when we eventually get out of here. Will they stay together? Part of me hopes so, and part of me thinks there's something slightly strange about their relationship.
"Is she okay?" I ask.
"She's as okay as she can ever be," Elizabeth says, stroking the back of Natalie's head. "She's cold. She's in pain. She misses her family."
"No kidding," I mutter quietly. "Join the club."
"How did I do?" Natalie asks, slowly sitting up. She looks dazed and confused, which is understandable considering her ordeal upstairs in the ice bath. Of the three of us, Natalie always seems to be the most fragile, and I can't help wondering how much longer she can handle this kind of torture. When he called her upstairs yesterday, for example, it occurred to me that one day she might not come back down. She just seems too frail to last much longer. I hate the thought that Elizabeth's patience might lead to Natalie not making it; also, from a purely selfish point of view, I know that we need all three of us to be down here in order to make this 'power' work for us properly, so we can't afford to lose Natalie.
"Your leg's already starting to heal," Elizabeth says. "He's really getting much better at stapling the wounds together. He almost never leaves one loose these days."
"But how did I do?" Natalie continues, looking down at her fingernails. "Did I get anything?"
"You got a few flakes of his skin," Elizabeth replies, "and some hair."
"That's not much."
"Every little helps. We've already added it to the doll. Remember, Natalie, this isn't a race. If we take too much too soon, he'll get suspicious. This is the best approach. We'll each try to get a little piece of him when we're up there, and eventually we'll have enough to create a much more powerful doll. It's like my mother always used to say: slow and steady wins the race."
"Yeah," I say, glancing over at them. "At this rate, we'll be out of here in just a couple of years."
"We need to be patient," Elizabeth replies. "We need parts of his body, and we need time to practice using the power. It's not something that's going to work overnight. We're just lucky that he doesn't seem to notice. I don't think he sees the world properly. He's a man of instinct rather than reason, so hopefully he won't realize what we're doing. Besides, he's not the only one we have to worry about. The house won't just let us go as soon as we've killed the man."
"You act like the house is alive," I reply.
"And you act like it isn't," she says, walking over to the sink and carefully removing the doll from the shelf. "This is our ticket out of here, but our abilities are still weak. We'll get stronger, though. We'll get to the point at which we can really use the power for our own aims. Just be a little patient. We've finally found a way to escape, but it won't work if we rush."
I stare at her for a moment. "How do you know so much about it?"
"I don't," she replies.
"Yeah," I say, "you do. I can tell. When you talk about it, it's as if you know all about how it works and what we need to do. Then we ask you questions and you backtrack, but I can tell you know." It's true. When she forgets to be cautious, Elizabeth speaks with total authority about the power. Over the past couple of days, I've started to think that maybe there's something she's not telling us. I swear, it's as if she knows some kind of hidden truth about how the power works, almost like she's done this kind of stuff before. Is it just that she has a natural tendency to take charge and assume a position of authority, or does she actually know what she's talking about?
"I don't know any more than anyone else," she says, setting the doll back on the shelf. "If I sound authoritative, perhaps it's just because I'm older, and because I've been here for a decade. I'm less excitable." With that, she turns and heads over to the far side of the basement, and finally she disappears into the little side-room that functions as our toilet. Typical Elizabeth, always cutting off conversations by going off and doing something else. I can't work out whether she thinks I'm some kind of annoying brat, or whether she's hiding something. Both, maybe.
"Hey," I say quietly, hurrying over to Natalie. "You okay?"
"My leg hurts," she replies.
"So what do you think?" I continue. "Should we wait?"
She stares at me. "Wait for what?"
"To get out of here."
"Elizabeth says it'll take time."
&nbs
p; "Don't you think Elizabeth is stalling?" I ask. "All this stuff about waiting for the right moment? It's bullshit. We just need to use the doll when the door is open, and then we can rush him."
"We need more pieces of his body," she replies.
"No," I say, "we can rush him! He'll be in pain! We can bowl him right over and be out the front door before he gets back on his feet."
"Elizabeth says -"
"What does Elizabeth know?" I ask, glancing back across the room to make sure we're not being overheard. "How many more times does she want us to go up there and scratch off little pieces of flesh from his arms while he's ducking us into the ice bath? It's going to take forever at this rate. We're still gonna be here in a month."
"We have to be patient," Natalie replies, parroting the answers Elizabeth has been giving us recently. She's very obedient, and she learns her lines well.
"Don't you think there's something strange about her?" I continue, determined to see if I can get Natalie on my side. "How much do you really know about Elizabeth? I mean, about her past. What was she like before we arrived?"
"She was alone down here," Natalie says.
"But what was she doing?" I wait for an answer. "She says she was alone for five years before you arrived, right? So what did she do during all that time, and how does she seem to know so much about voodoo dolls and all this other stuff?"
"She's smart," Natalie replies. "Elizabeth's the smart one."
"She's no smarter than us," I tell her.
"She is."
"No," I continue, "she's not. I think she's got experience. It's just a gut feeling, but I think she knows what she's doing with all this stuff. You saw what happened with the doll. It's like she knew why it didn't work the first time, and she knew how to fix it, but she's still pretending that she's in the same position as us." I pause for a moment. "How do you know she was alone? How do you know she was here for five years? Just 'cause she told you?"
"Elizabeth wouldn't lie to me," Natalie says, sounding a little defensive.
"She's been lying to me," I reply. "I swear to God, she's hiding something. What about those bones? Where did they come from?"
"They're bird bones," Natalie says uncertainly.
"Bullshit!"
"They are!"
"Seriously? You believe that? They're not bird bones. They're..." I pause for a moment. The truth is, I have no idea what kind of bones they are, but I'm certain they're not from a bird. I just have this gut feeling that Elizabeth isn't being honest with us, and that we can't trust her.
"Elizabeth looks after us," Natalie says after a moment. "She makes sure we're okay, and she... she..." There's a pause, almost as if she's trying to remember a list of reasons why we have to trust and obey Elizabeth. "She keeps us safe. Without Elizabeth, we'd be lost. Without Elizabeth, I'd have been alone down here for the past five years, and I don't know if I could have survived. I'd have gone mad. I might even have died. Sometimes, when he doesn't staple my leg back together properly, Elizabeth fixes it for me. She... she..."
I wait for her to continue, but she seems to be lost in her own thoughts for a moment.
"Has she ever done or said anything that makes you think that she knows more than she's admitting?"
She shakes her head.
I look over at the far end of the basement. There's still no sign of Elizabeth, which makes me wonder if she knows we're talking about her.
"We have to get out of here," I continue, making sure I keep my voice down. "I know she wants us to wait, and to be patient, but I think we should do it today. We already know we can make him hurt. We already know how to do it, and we've got at least as much of his flesh as we had last time. We just have to time it right. When he opens the door, we'll use the doll. He'll be in agony, and we can get out. Once we're past him, and past the door, we can get out of the house and run. We'll get to the nearest town and tell them what's happened, and then we'll go home. There'll be cops all over this fucking place in ten seconds flat." I stare at her for a moment. "You want to go home, don't you?"
She nods.
"You miss your family, right?"
She nods again.
"Your Mom? Your Dad?"
She pauses, and I realize there are tears in her eyes.
"You miss them a lot, don't you?" I continue, before reaching around and giving her a hug. There's a brief pause as she sobs on my shoulder. "Think about how much they must miss you. We're going to get out of here," I whisper, as I hear a noise from the other side of the basement. "Let me handle things. You'll be home before you know it."
Suddenly there's a clanging sound from the top of the steps, and the door opens. A wooden block is thrown down, landing close to us. With a heavy heart, I realize that he's calling one of us up again. He's already taken Natalie in the past twenty-four hours, and it was Elizabeth's turn the other day. If he's treating us equally, I must be next.
"He's speeding up," Elizabeth says, standing over in the doorway that leads to the bathroom. "He never used to do two in a day. He rarely did two in a week. Something's changed."
"It's good, though, right?" I reply, staring at the block. "It means we can get more of his flesh, and then we can use the doll tonight."
"Maybe," Elizabeth says, but it's clear that she's not convinced. Sometimes I don't think I'll ever understand her. She seems conflicted, as if there's a part of her mind that she keeps secret. I know Natalie trusts her implicitly, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something pretty weird about Elizabeth.
Walking across the room, I crouch down by the block of wood and pick it up. There are three notches on the surface, which means that I'm the one he wants. Looking up, I see him standing at the top of the steps, with the cattle-prod in his hand. He's waiting for me, and he knows I'll come. I mean, I've got no choice. The ice bath is waiting, and no matter how bad it'll be, I have no doubt that the consequences of disobedience would be ten times worse.
"It's me," I say, turning to Elizabeth and Natalie. "I'll get it."
"Be careful," Natalie whispers.
I nod.
"Remember," Elizabeth adds, "don't take too much. Slow and steady -"
"Slow and steady wins the race," I reply, interrupting her. "I know."
"I just don't want you to panic," she continues. "If the -"
"Don't worry," I reply, walking toward the steps. As I go up to the door, I remind myself that this is the last time I'll ever let him do this. I'm going to get a good chunk of his flesh, and then I'm going to make sure that we use the voodoo doll tonight. I know Elizabeth and Natalie have managed to survive down here for years and years, but I'm not going to let that happen to me. This is it. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the beginning of the end.
Ben Lawler
Today
"She's going to be okay," I say, watching as Holly stands over Samantha's sleeping form. "She's been through a lot, but she's going to pull through. I don't know what they were doing to her at the hospital, but whatever it was, it was killing her."
Reaching down, Holly lifts the bottom of the dressing gown that's covering Samantha's legs, revealing a large gash running from just above the ankle to just below the knee. The wound looks rough and untreated, and slightly swollen.
"She was at the house," I continue. "It happened just after I came to see you. She went out there to take a look around, and something got her. When I found her, she was in the bath. It was filled with ice, and she had a bad cut on her leg. Just like Brenda Baynes a while back, except no-one was around to save Brenda. I was right when I said that there's something still there."
"It's still alive," Elizabeth says, sitting on the sofa with Natalie.
Holly looks over at them. She's barely said a word since she arrived, seemingly preferring to keep a watchful eye on Samantha. This is the first time that Holly, Elizabeth and Natalie have been in the same room for over a decade, but it's Samantha who seems to be the focus of Holly's attention.
"I know you might think
we're overreacting," Elizabeth continues, sounding strangely subdued, "but we're not. The evidence is too obvious to ignore. We thought we'd killed it, but we hadn't. I don't know what went wrong -"
"We killed it," Holly says suddenly, before turning to me. "We definitely killed it."
"With all due respect," I start to say, "I don't think -"
"With all due respect, you weren't there," she replies firmly. "I was. We killed it."
"No," Elizabeth says. "We didn't."
"I knew you'd come," Natalie says, unable to hide the smile on her face. "I could tell."
"I just came to stop this nonsense," Holly replies, turning to Elizabeth and Natalie. "I knew it'd all get dug up again one day, but I assumed it'd be journalists or the media or freaks and weirdos who'd do the digging. Not you two. Are your lives really so dull and empty that you have to try starting all of this bullshit up again?" She pauses for a moment. "We killed it. We saw it die. There's no way it could have survived, so let's just ignore this big pantomime and go home. There's a film crew looking to make a movie about it. This is probably just their way of building up some publicity."
"What did you kill?" I ask. "You keep saying you killed 'it', but what was in that place?"
"Up in the -" Elizabeth starts to say.
"We agreed not to talk about it," Holly says, interrupting her.
"I think it might be time to break that agreement," Elizabeth replies.
"We agreed!" Holly says firmly.
"We also agreed to never be in the same room together," Elizabeth says, "but sometimes you have to go back on decisions. You might not like to hear this, Holly, but there's no point ignoring the facts. It's still out there, waiting in the house. We didn't kill it. Maybe we wounded it. Maybe that's why it's been dormant for fifteen years, but it's waking up now, and it's taking people again. Young women so far, but I wouldn't be surprised if its palate changes a little over time."
"I can feel it," Natalie adds. "Even from here, I can feel it. How far are we from the house right now?"
