by Amy Cross
"She's not going to wake up for hours," I say, turning to Natalie and seeing the look of wide-eyed anticipation on her face. "Probably not until morning, although we should maybe keep a watch on her overnight." Pausing, I realize that there's no way I can leave Natalie up to keep a vigil. She'd spend the whole night imagining that the girl has moved, which means that I'm the one who's going to have to keep an eye on the girl, which in turn means that Natalie will probably stay up and ramble on and on. "We'll work that out later," I say after a moment. "Natalie, the best thing is just to let her sleep. She's got drugs in her system and she'll feel wretched enough when she wakes up, without us disturbing her early."
"But -"
"She's sleeping for a reason," I continue. "A very good reason. It's her body's reaction to the drugs he -" I pause, as I think back all those years to the night when I felt a needle slide into my arm. "Never mind," I say, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, "but if we want to be nice to her, we should let her sleep. You want to be nice to her, don't you?"
"Yes," Natalie says begrudgingly.
"Then wait for her to wake up naturally. She'll be grateful, I promise." Closing the slit, I stare down at the crumpled heap on the floor. "Don't worry," I continue after a moment. "She's not going anywhere. Once she's awake, you'll have all the time in the world to talk to her and find out who she is. I'm sure you'll be very good friends. After a few years, you'll be as sick of her as you are of me."
"You think?" Natalie asks, looking a little sad.
"I do," I reply, smiling as I head back over to the sink. Natalie's not very tactful, and she tends to just say what she's thinking without having any kind of filter. I was raised a very different way, of course, but I've learned not to be offended by the things Natalie says. I'm quite certain that she'd miss me if I was suddenly taken away and killed.
"I suppose he'll want her upstairs a lot," she continues. "Isn't that what happened with me? You said that he took me up there a lot at first, until he got bored of me."
"That's right," I say, looking up at the little perspex window at the top of the opposite wall. It's getting dark outside, and I can see a jet-liner high up in the sky. I can't help thinking of all those people, packing into their metal tube, unaware that they're flying over a place like this. "The first two weeks you were here," I continue, lost in thought for a moment, "you were upstairs almost every day. You just came down here to sleep, really, and you were always so tired. You were very different back then. I'm surprised you don't remember."
"Tell me more," she says, hurrying over to me. "I like hearing about when I was... I mean, about when I came."
"You were plumper," I reply, still watching as the jet-liner passes above us. "Not fat, but definitely plump. Healthy. You cried and cried all the time, begging for someone to take you home. You screamed for your parents, and you came up with all these plans to escape. I don't think you slept for a week. You were too busy trying to find a way out of here. Don't you remember the time you decided to dig a hole and tunnel out? Or the time you thought you could get out through this little window? There was even a time when you planned to go upstairs and knock him out."
"Did I really want to do all that?" she asks, with a hint of wonder in her voice.
"It took six months for you to really calm down and accept your new life," I continue. "You've changed so much, Natalie. Sometimes I wonder if he secretly switched you with another girl in the night while I wasn't looking."
"Maybe he did?"
I shake my head, and finally I turn to her. "You've still got the same eyes you had that first time I saw you. And the same voice, and the same expression. You're a lot thinner, and more frantic, but it's definitely still you. This place has changed you, that's all. It's changed me too."
"Do you think she'll be angry?" Natalie asks, turning to look back over at the bag.
"I think she'll be scared," I reply. "Actually, I think she'll be terrified. She'll scream and shout, and she'll want her parents to come and rescue her. I'm sure there are search parties out. It'll be all over the news. They'll probably have reporters standing in the streets, explaining how the police are desperately searching for her, and eventually her parents will go on the television and beg for her to be returned. Searchers will comb the woods, looking for a body. They'll go house to house, desperately trying to find her, but they won't have any luck."
"You don't know that," she says.
"They didn't find you, did they?" I pause for a moment. "Or me. I don't know how he does it, but he seems to know how to get us out of the way. Maybe we're a long way from where we went missing, or maybe he's just good at covering it all up. Either way, I guess he won't slip up now. He's had years and years to get better at this, and to come up with new methods. I see no reason to think that she'll -"
"She moved again!" Natalie shouts.
"No," I say, turning and glancing at the bag, "she -" Suddenly I freeze, as I see that the girl is, in fact, shifting slightly under the fabric. With my heart racing, I watch as she continues to move, as if she's rolling over. At first, I tell myself that it's just a reflex movement, but after a few frantic seconds I'm forced to accept that she's genuinely waking up. This is all happening much, much sooner than I expected.
"I told you!" Natalie shouts.
"Quiet!" I hiss, clamping a hand over her mouth.
Seconds later, as the body in the bag continues to wriggle, there's a thumping sound from the ceiling.
"See?" I whisper to Natalie. "You mustn't shout, or you'll make him angry." Slowly, I take my hand away from her mouth, and we stare in stunned silence at the bag as it continues to move. Finally, almost unbelievably, a hand emerges and starts feeling around, scrabbling over the concrete floor. After a moment, there's a low, pained groan from deep within the bag.
"Is she still asleep?" Natalie whispers.
"I don't think so," I reply, watching as the hand continues to search for something. It's as if the girl in the bag is checking her environment before she tries to come out. This is all so different to how things were when Natalie arrived, and I'm not entirely sure what to do. I mean, I always knew that there was a strong chance that he'd throw another girl down eventually, but I never got around to formulating a proper plan.
"Should we help her?" Natalie asks.
I open my mouth to reply, but then I realize that I have no idea what to say. I usually feel as if I'm in control, as if I'm in charge of things down here, but right now I'm lost for words. My heart is racing, and I have no idea what to expect when the girl finally emerges from the bag. One thing's for certain, however: she's going to be terrified. And when she finds out where she is, and why she's here, she's going to scream.
Ben Lawler
Today
I guess I can see why they decided to name this place The Box. It's by far the most basic and undecorated bar I've ever visited in my life. Stuck out on the edge of town, with just a bare painted sign on the outside of a squat building with corrugated iron walls, The Box is the kind of place that looks like it was put up yesterday and is going to be taken down tomorrow. It also looks like it's seen a lot of fights, and the barbed wire running along a nearby wall seems to be serving as some kind of a warning. The interior is dark and almost completely lifeless, and I almost feel guilty for disturbing the air as I walk through the door. There's a middle-aged guy wiping the counter, but apart from that the place seems to be completely empty.
I guess they're late.
"Just a beer, thanks," I say as I reach the bar.
"You here to meet someone?" asks the guy, as he cracks the top off a bottle and sets it in front of me.
I nod as I pull some notes from my wallet.
"Wouldn't happen to be two ladies, would it?" he continues.
"You've seen them?" I ask, shocked that they might have shown up already.
"They're in the back," he replies, taking the money. "If you need somewhere more private, you can have the pump room for $50. There's no cameras
in there."
"Good to know," I reply, taking my beer and heading through to the back of the building. Sure enough, I quickly realize that there are voices coming from the other side of a small doorway, and eventually I peer inside and spot two women sitting at a small table, talking urgently to one another in hurried tones.
"It's him," one of them whispers as she spots me. Middle-aged and with dark, soulful eyes, Natalie seems kind of nervous, as if she expects to have to run away at any moment.
The other woman, older and with graying hair, turns and smiles cautiously as she sees me. "Good to see you again, Ben," Elizabeth says, removing her coat from a nearby chair. "We got started without you. I've got to admit, this isn't the kind of neighborhood where I'd usually want to spend time, but I'm getting into the spirit of things." She takes a sip from a huge, multi-colored cocktail, and there's a smile on her face that makes me think she's telling the truth when she says she's having fun. "As my mother always said, needs must when the Devil drives."
"What does that mean?" Natalie asks.
"It means that sometimes you have no choice about where you end up in life," Elizabeth replies. "So, Ben. I understand that you were able to see Holly. How was she?"
"She seemed fine," I say, swigging from my bottle of beer. "She seemed good, actually. Very composed and happy. Not really like you described her at all."
"From what I've heard," Elizabeth says, "she's thrown herself into academia. Perhaps it's her way of cutting herself off from the world."
"She had me thrown out of the building," I reply. "As answers go, I don't think that's particularly positive. To be honest, I felt bad for being there. I felt like I was intruding. She seemed very settled and happy with what she was doing, and I felt like I shouldn't be blundering in there and asking her to rake up the past."
"But she's coming," Natalie continues. "She has to come. She said she's not, but she will. Trust me. I know her. She'll be here."
I look over at Elizabeth, and I can see that she's not so certain.
"Is there any way we can do this without her?" I ask. "I mean, if she doesn't want anything to do with it, is there any way we can move forward with just the two of you?"
"Absolutely not," Elizabeth says. "I've told you from the very beginning, Ben. It's all three of us, or it's nothing. That's how this whole thing has been since it started. The power of three can't be imitated or replaced."
"We need her," Natalie mutters, looking down at the table before taking a sip from her glass of wine.
"Maybe you only think you need her," I point out. "I mean, you've said it yourself, you don't entirely understand the whole thing. So maybe you're making assumptions that aren't actually correct. Have you ever actually tried doing it without her?"
"There's no point," Elizabeth says firmly. "It wouldn't work."
"But have you tried?"
"No," she says.
"Yes," Natalie adds at the exact same time.
There's an awkward pause as they exchange a troubled glance.
"We have," Natalie says quietly, as if she's hoping that I won't be able to hear.
"Of course we've tried," Elizabeth says, seeming a little flustered. "The point is, we didn't get anywhere -"
"We did," Natalie says, butting in.
"No," Elizabeth continues with a sigh, "we didn't. We tried, and we had almost no success at all. Just little things here and there, but little things aren't going to be enough this time. We need all three of us. We need Holly to come and join us, and if she refuses, then there's nothing more we can do." She pauses for a moment. "That place should have been knocked down a long time ago. It's a disgrace that it's still standing."
"Do you think demolishing it would be enough?"
"I think it'd be a damn good start," she replies, sipping from her cocktail. "Excuse my language. But I doubt things would be that easy. Knock it down. Burn it. Whatever. The evil will persist. Without Holly, we can't hope to drive it away."
"So what do we do?" I ask. "If knocking the place down won't help -"
"We could always just leave it alone," Elizabeth suggests. "I'm serious. As long as people know not to go to the house, then maybe there isn't a problem. It's in a remote area, and you could put signs up to warn people. If they ignore the signs and go inside anyway, then it's their problem. Why can't we just let it all fester where it is? Just walk away and pretend it's not there?" She looks over at Natalie, and then at me. "Seriously, why do we have to do anything? If someone's stupid enough to go into that house, then they can face the consequences."
"It's not just inside the house that there's a problem," I point out. "One of the victims died a few hundred meters away."
"So now you're suggesting it's spreading?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," I say as I finish my beer. "I have no idea what it's doing, but I know that two people are dead, and I'm worried about what that means. By all means, if I thought we could just cover the place in concrete and leave it to rot, maybe I'd be willing to go down that route. But I don't think that'll work. I think we need to deal with the problem head-on."
"Without Holly," Elizabeth replies firmly, almost as if she's talking to a child, "your only option is to build a fence around the house. Every few years, move the fence a little further out. Make sure no-one ever goes near the house, and hope that the evil will be contained."
"She'll come," Natalie says, "so it'll be okay. Once she comes, everything'll be okay."
"If she comes," I reply, "it's just the start. I still don't know what we're exactly supposed to do, even if she turns up, but I don't think it'll be easy. I mean, how does it work? If she turns up, do the three of you just wander back into the house and do the same thing you did before?"
"I have no idea," Elizabeth says. "You have to remember, we saw what we could do, but we didn't understand it. If we'd been able to control it a little better, we might not have been so scared."
"I wasn't scared," Natalie says. "I was just trying to protect my baby."
"I'm afraid that there's no textbook," Elizabeth continues. "There's no set of rules to cover this type of situation. If we ever end up going back there, we have to come up with our own plan."
"But you're willing to do that, right?" I ask. "If she comes?"
"If she comes."
"And if she doesn't?"
"I'm not going back into that house unless all three of us are together." With that, she finishes her drink and stands up before walking to the door and then glancing back at us. "Natalie, are you coming?"
Smiling awkwardly, Natalie gets up and hurries over to join Elizabeth, grabbing her coat from the rack along the way.
"Goodbye, Mr. Lawler," Elizabeth says, with a hint of heavy sadness in her voice. "I appreciate the effort that you've made, but I'm afraid you've hit a brick wall. We did everything we could to deal with that house, and now it's someone else's problem. If you want my advice, you'll put a big fence up around the place and leave it well alone. I'm sorry Natalie and I couldn't be of more help, but without Holly, we're just two women with bad memories and nothing to contribute."
Once they've gone, I'm left sitting alone with a half-drunk bottle of beer, contemplating my options. Sure, it'd be great to just put a fence around the house and trust that the problem would be solved. The problem is, we've already tried that, and it didn't work. Whatever's in that house, it wants to get out.
Elizabeth
15 years ago
"Keep back!" I shout, pulling Natalie's arm to make sure she doesn't get too close to the wriggling bag.
"I want to help her!" she replies, with a pained look in her eyes.
"You'll help her more by keeping back," I reply, glancing up at the ceiling and hoping that our conversation won't attract any attention. Right now, I feel it'd be better if he doesn't come down, since the new girl is going to need help as she adjusts to her new environment.
"What's she doing?" Natalie asks.
"She might be disorientated," I say. "Just beca
use she's awake, it doesn't mean the drugs are out of her system."
We stand and watch as the bag continues to move, with the new girl apparently having trouble finding her way out. She has one arm poking through the slit, still feeling the ground as if she's hoping to find some kind of clue; the rest of her body, however, remains very much still in the bag, almost as if perhaps she's partially paralyzed. I don't remember Natalie being paralyzed when she came down here, but perhaps he's used different drugs this time.
"Are you sure we shouldn't go over?" Natalie asks.
"I..." I start to say, before realizing that maybe she's right. There's only so long that we can stand here and watch as this poor girl continues to struggle. Still, the thought of actually going over is somewhat overwhelming. It's been five years since Natalie arrived; five years without meeting anyone new, and suddenly there's a third girl down here. She might be disruptive. She might cause problems. This could be the start of something awful.
"Please," Natalie pleads. "Can't we help her?"
"Fine," I say, rushing over to the bag and kneeling next to the outstretched arm, while Natalie crouches next to me.
"We should say something," Natalie whispers.
I nod, but I have no idea what to say. Eventually, I reach out and lift up the edge of the slit, and I immediately see the problem. I hadn't noticed before, but the girl's feet are bound with a thick rope, and one of her arms is tied behind her back. I guess she somehow managed to get her other arm free, but it's clear that she's struggling. Reaching inside the bag, I start to untie the rope around her legs, before pausing for a moment.
