Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  Rachel snorted, and her face creased into an incredulous glare, she wanted to say something, but was so enraged by his comment that she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she turned and started walking again.

  “Rachel…” Jason called as he caught her arm.

  “I told you to stop fucking touching me!” she yelled at him as her voice boomed into the night.

  “Rach, this isn’t funny anymore.”

  She looked at him, baffled by his statement.

  “Everybody does it, Rach,” he stated calmly. “One way or another. You just don’t see it.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Everyone may do it, Jason, but normally it’s with someone they care about or even fancy. You can’t tell me that you fancied that old hag back there. Oh God!” she put her hand to her mouth, as she felt sick again.

  “No, I don’t fancy her, but that’s the whole point. That’s the whole point of this place; you are allowed to indulge your fantasy and nobody asks questions, and in return…”

  “…And yours was to shag that bitch? Jesus Christ!”

  “Of course it wasn’t. But I was doing my part, making my contribution to the group. By helping each other this way, we get other rewards.”

  “Oh, so what you mean is if you whore yourself out to those deviants, they do you favours in return, is that it?” Rachel’s voice was calm and understanding.

  “Yes, sort of,” Jason agreed.

  “Oh, oh well, now that you’ve explained it. I feel much better, thanks,” she said sarcastically with a big smile that rapidly changed into a sneer and she spat, “You make me sick!”

  With that, she turned and started walking again.

  “Where are you going?” Jason shouted after her. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. You can’t walk back to the city?”

  “Watch me.”

  “There’s nobody else out here, Rachel. You’ll freeze to death.”

  “That’s just a risk I am going to have to take.”

  “Rach, stop being so fucking stupid!” Jason yelled, his anger boiling over.

  She wasn’t stopping and this was annoying him. It was bad enough that the bitch had embarrassed him in front of the others, now she was making him stand out there in the freezing fucking cold.

  He ran after her, grabbed her arm forcefully and spun her to face him yet again.

  Rachel cried out, “You’re hurting me!”

  “Good,” Jason said, eyes narrowing, angrily. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve fucking caused me?”

  “No,” she said through a grimace of pain, “I don’t, and I don’t give a shit either!”

  “Well you better, you selfish bitch!” He held both of her arms, leant into her face menacingly and said through gritted teeth, “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with here? They’re society’s richest and most powerful. Do you really think they want the rest of the world to know what goes on in there?”

  “Like I said before,” Rachel’s grimace increased as she tried to pull away, “You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit!”

  And that is when it came, hitting the side of her cold numbed face like a meteor. The slap was so hard, it knocked her sideways, into the snow.

  White light flashed in front of her eyes as blood oozed from a cut on her lip and dripped to the ground, dying the snow black in the moonlight.

  She lay, unmoving, as a freezing wetness seeped through her dress and kissed the skin of her trembling body.

  Jason’s shadow fell over her as he stepped forward. “Get up.” He ordered, but Rachel didn’t move. “I said get up!” he yelled, his voice laden with rage.

  Slowly, Rachel turned her face and looked up into his silhouette.

  “Now get back in there,” he ordered, and then added, incredulously, “Fuck! What is it with you stupid bitches? You just aren’t able to appreciate a good thing when you see it. It was the same with that other stupid cow. To make things worse, she gets herself knocked up,” he said with disgust. “And just like you, she wanted more. She actually wanted the guy to give up his family and career for her. Can you believe it?”

  Rachel held the shawl to her mouth.

  “What? Well, you wanted to know about her, didn’t you? Fuck! And she was a whore, Rach, a top class whore, but she was too greedy and had a big mouth. And that’s what happens when you cross these people, Rachel, you disappear, never to be seen again. Now, if you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, I suggest you get your fucking arse back in there right now and that you play good.” Jason’s voice was low and menacing.

  Rachel, lip quivering, said something that, in her stupor, came out as a mumble.

  “What was that?” Jason asked, leaning forward.

  “I said, FUCK YOU!”

  With that, he reached down and grabbed her by the hair, “You bet you will… And anyone else I tell you to,” He said as he yanked her up, making her cry out in pain. “Get used to it, there’s plenty more where that came from,” he murmured as he led her forward by the hair.

  However, Rachel had decided that she wasn’t going to go back to that place, at least not alive. With that she turned her face to Jason’s hand, and gave every scrap of strength into the bite she sank into his skin.

  The clamp of her teeth was so deep, she thought she had reached the bone.

  He shrieked and instantly released his grip, attempted to shake away the pain, and then proceeded to inspect the damage.

  Rachel did not hesitate to take advantage of the moment, and as he stood, gawking at his hand, she swung a right uppercut into his nose.

  The shock and force of the blow propelled him backwards, into a snow covered bush.

  Rachel did not hang around to inspect her deed. Instead, she clutched the shawl to her and ran for, what she believed, was her life, into the woods and the unknown.

  But she hadn’t got far when Jason’s enraged rant reached her.

  He was screamed many things, but the two words that chilled her more than the very air around her were, “…..kill you!”

  73 Tales From A Tomb

  When news of Adam’s death arrived at the Harrison Penthouse, Rupert’s legs buckled beneath him and he had to be escorted to the sofa.

  He’d sealed Ashley’s fate the moment he transferred the money. His actions, albeit indirectly, may well have contributed to the death of the woman he loved.

  Warner did his best to reassure him. He told Rupert that he had all the police officers that he could spare, following up on any and all possible leads in the effort to find Ashley, but this was little comfort, for he knew that the police had no leads.

  But that is when he noticed one of the officers walk up to Mark Warner, and whisper something in his ear. The news made the Detective Sergeant shake his head.

  Rupert sprung to his feet, “If you lot have something to say, why don’t you just say it?” he said, angrily.

  “Mr Harrison…”

  “…forget the Harrison shit; just tell me what the hell is going on!”

  “Okay, I will, just calm down…”

  “…Don’t tell me to calm down, my fiancé’s out there,” Rupert said through gritted teeth. “Jesus Christ,” he wrestled with tears, “my fiancé is out there somewhere and we have no idea where she might be.”

  Mark sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr Harrison…”

  “…Rupert, my name is Rupert and my fiancé’s name is Ashley.”

  Mark nodded, “Rupert. I ordered a trace on Adam Lewis’ mobile phone. There’s a slim chance that we may be able to triangulate where he was when he made that call to you.”

  “Really?” Rupert’s face brightened.

  But Warner was quick to stress caution. “Please, it’s just a possibility. Unlike what you may have heard or seen in movies, the technology isn’t that accurate.”

  Rupert looked perplexed.

  “You see, when you make a call from your mobile phone, the tower it’s directed to is dependent on multiple factor
s and software algorithms.”

  “But there must be a chance, I’ve heard of people being convicted on that kind of data.”

  “Yes, they have, often wrongly. For example, if I were to pick up my phone right now and make a call, it wouldn’t necessarily be routed through the nearest mast, since how my request is handled is subject to the load on that particular mast in that particular moment. If the load is high, there’s a distinct possibility that the call may be routed through another tower, miles away.”

  Rupert’s shoulders slumped once more.

  “I’m sorry,” Warner said. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up too high.”

  “Some hope is better than none, Mark. So please, from now on, no more Mr Harrison and no more whispering, just tell it to me exactly how it is,” Rupert said, wearily.

  Mark smiled and nodded.

  There was silence for a few seconds before Mark spoke again. “Mr….Rupert, there’s something else.”

  Rupert looked up.

  “It’s about the package Ashley received here.”

  “You think it was Adam?”

  “No, we know it was somebody else.”

  “Who?”

  “Have you ever heard of a man called William Barber?”

  Rupert thought for a few seconds and then shook his head.

  “Well, during our investigation into the incident at Ashley’s flat, and the package she was sent, we routinely looked into some of the authors that she had turned down recently. William Barber happened to be one of them. In his home, we found newspaper clippings about the book Ashley wants to publish about The Met, among other things. We also found your address scribbled on a notepad, along with a copy of the actual manuscript Ashley turned down. Do you have any idea what Barber’s manuscript was about?”

  Rupert shook his head. “I told you, I’ve never heard of him.”

  “It was about a man that lives with his mother, but one day flips out and buries her alive in the back garden. Adam Lewis was on your fiancé’s team, the team who turned down this man’s manuscript, he will have undoubtedly read it.”

  Rupert breathed in, “Oh God.”

  Mark continued, “There’s more.” Mark paused, then, “We found William Barber dead tonight; he was hanging from the banister of the home he shared with his mother. There was no sign of her so, on a hunch, we checked the back garden, and, well, let’s just say that his book wasn’t fiction. It was a true story,” Mark said, gravely. “We also have reason to believe that it was he who sent the package to Ashley.”

  “So, do you think he was also responsible for what happened at her flat too?”

  “There’s no evidence to suggest that.”

  “Who was it then? Adam?”

  Mark paused. “Well, at the moment, we don’t know.”

  74 The Beacon

  Rachel had lost track of time.

  It felt as if she had been wandering through the woods for over an hour when, in reality, it had not been more than fifteen minutes.

  She had run, stumbled and walked through the woods aided only by the light of the full moon.

  She was tired, her head thumped and despite the fact that her body was burning from the exertion, the rest of her extremities were numbed by the sub-zero temperatures.

  She stopped by a fallen tree as her rasping breath rang loudly in the still of the night.

  A bird screeched from somewhere in the shadows, making her jump. She looked around and began to appreciate the hopelessness of her predicament; she was in the middle of nowhere, cold, unwell, and without a clue.

  A snapping sound snatched her from her thoughts. She turned quickly in its direction, and panic gripped her. He was here, he was close and he was going to kill her.

  Oh God, the same way he killed Keri. And nobody will ever know. Nobody even knows I’m out here!

  Another snap and then a fluttering sound in the shadows. She began to breathe fast and heavy, and she could swear she heard the sound of her beating heart echoing around her.

  She listened hard, her eyes darting all over the place, as she half expected Jason to pounce at her from behind a tree, donning that same maniacal glare, but nothing happened.

  That didn’t stop her breaking into yet another run.

  The forest seemed endless, albeit mercifully sparse, yet populated by the giant spectres of naked trees with long creature-like talons that occasionally seemed to reach down and pull at her hair and her shawl.

  She stopped, momentarily, and snatched the garment from the clutches of a branch, but when she turned, it took its revenge by tripping her up with one of its roots. She fell, once more, into the snow.

  It was as she was lying there that she broke into a sob.

  She remained that way as a few minutes melted by. The awfulness of all that had happened to her in the past hour, in the past weeks, finally taking its toll.

  You’re gonna’ die out here.

  No, I’m not.

  And it was as she was wearily pulling herself to her feet that she saw it; a light, shining through the trees like a beacon.

  She made her way towards it, like a moth to a flame. Slowly, the amber glow took its place inside the silhouette of a building; hope in the winter wilderness.

  Like a warm shower, relief washed over her as she emerged from the forest into a small meadow. Directly ahead, a light shone brightly from one of the mansion’s upstairs windows.

  She raced across the blanket of snow, around the building and up to the front door.

  She hammered on it just as a shadow emerged from the woods behind her.

  “Hello! Hello!”

  But there was no answer.

  She stepped back from the steps and looked up and around the building; all of the windows were in black.

  All lights extinguished.

  “NO!”

  She retraced her steps to the side of the house.

  Nothing.

  No lights. No beacon.

  This isn’t happening!

  She ran up to the front door once more.

  “PLEASE! HELLO! PLEASE! OPEN UP! I NEED HELP!”

  Nothing.

  So she grasped the door handle in frustration and felt part relief, part apprehension when it clicked open.

  “Hello!” she called as she pushed the door open with a loud creak.

  “Is anybody here? Hello?”

  Just silence.

  In the gloom of what appeared to be a large entrance hall, she could just about make out a table and two armchairs. Next to them, the outline of a staircase disappeared up to the next floor.

  The air was musty with a strong scent of lavender.

  She walked in and scanned the shadows for the outline of a phone.

  She could hardly see, so she searched for a light switch. Found it, flipped it on and off a few times but nothing happened.

  “Hello? Please! Somebody!” she called desperately into the darkness. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong sense of foreboding that the house may be uninhabited, with no phone, and nobody to help.

  But she refused to believe this. She’d seen the upstairs light.

  She crossed to the foot of the stairs, and nearly squealed with excitement, when she spotted a small table under the staircase, and a phone!

  She rushed over to it, snatched the receiver from its cradle and cried with relief when she heard a dial tone, but with it came the sound of muffled footsteps in the snow outside.

  “No,” she breathed.

  Oh God. He followed my footprints here!

  She looked around in the gloom trying to decide what to do next, where to hide.

  The footsteps were getting louder, closer; he was just outside the door.

  The staircase; without hesitation, she rushed to it and climbed the stairs, as quickly and as quietly, as she could, just as the doorframe filled with the scary shadow of a man.

  From her position on the landing, Rachel watched as the figure remained unmoving as if sniffing the air fo
r her.

  She struggled to stifle her breathing as she waited for its next move.

  For a fleeting second, she even considered giving herself up, trying to reason with him. He was her boyfriend after all. He was the man who was supposed to love her. The one for whom she had given up everything.

  But he was also a desperate man, someone who would stop at nothing to protect a secret that could send him to prison and ruin the lives of those he consorted with.

  He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. You found that out tonight. He killed Keri!

  She touched her thick lip in the darkness as if to remind herself. The welt was a stark reminder that her boyfriend was not the man she believed him to be.

  This is why Keri took out insurance against them. This is why she recorded all of her telephone conversations.

  Rachel drew in a sharp breath, as the shadow moved from the door. For one horrifying moment, she thought it was going to climb the stairs.

  Mercifully, it didn’t. Instead, the footsteps clicked into one of the downstairs rooms.

  She looked around; the stairs, the balcony directly in front of her and the long, dark corridor to her right at the end of which she could see a slither of a moonbeam, like gold at the end of a rainbow.

  She knew she would have to move from her position, it would only be a matter of time before he came up to search for her.

  Slowly and quietly, she moved away from the banister and crept down to the end of the corridor, and looked out of the window. The moon glistened on a snow covered world, but offered no way out of there.

  She heard a creak and spun around.

  He’s coming up the stairs!

  She quickly and as quietly as possible, opened the first door she could find and darted inside.

  Like the rest of the house, the room was stalked by shadows; she could just about make out a bed and some furniture.

  She pushed the door to, careful not to click it shut, and then listened carefully, but it was difficult with her rasping breaths and the pounding of the blood in her ears.

  She willed herself to calm down.

  Then she heard it, that eerie creaking sound, one of a person creeping quietly down the corridor, someone searching for her, someone who could not and would not stop until she was found.