Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  However, the machine had only lifted a few feet before it landed once again with a thud.

  Bemused, the pilot flicked switches and tapped the glass of the gauges; they were all falling, the engine sound decreasing, the rotors slowing.

  “What the hell..?”

  The power down continued until the engine suddenly cut out, restoring silence to the land once more.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Mark demanded, walking back up to the chopper.

  “I don’t know,” the pilot said, checking and rechecking the instrument panel, “it looks like the alternator isn’t putting out any power.”

  “Bloody hell,” Mark mumbled, looking back at Rupert who was clutching onto a semi-conscious Ashley and a frightened Rachel. “Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll get you out of here.”

  But the pilot didn’t agree since, no matter how much he tried, he could not get the engine to restart. The clicking sound was unmistakable; there was no power. The helicopter wasn’t going anywhere.

  Mark shook his head, angrily. The temperature was below freezing, and he had a hypothermic woman who needed treatment.

  “Okay,” he said decisively, and turned to the pilot, “get on the radio, call base, and tell them to get a medical chopper out here right now.”

  The pilot complied by picking up a mobile phone and dialling numbers.

  Mark looked at the house and then at Rupert. “I’m sorry. We’re going to have to take shelter inside, until we can get the helicopter restarted or another one out here.”

  “No!” Rachel said, abruptly.

  All eyes turned to her.

  “We… we… can’t… go back in there,” she stated, eyes filled with fear, “Jason’s in there, he…. He… tried to kill me. I think he’s dead,” she garbled through shivers.

  Mark exchanged looks with Bass, not sure exactly what to make of the statement, but reluctant to get into it right now.

  “Okay, well, either way, we need to get you both inside.”

  He rummaged under one of the seats and retrieved a flashlight. “Rupert?”

  Rupert took his cue; he unbuckled Ashley, and helped her out of the craft. Bass followed suit with Rachel, who panicked when he tried to disengage her seatbelt.

  “It’s okay,” the officer soothed. “We’re with you now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Rachel wasn’t convinced. She didn’t want to go back into that house, not after what had happened there, but she had no choice. Bass was already helping her out of the helicopter, and leading her towards the front door.

  77 the reckoning

  Mark swore when the pilot informed him that emergency services would not be able to reach them for at least a couple of hours. Apparently, the heavy snowfall and icy conditions meant that they were already working to capacity.

  Worse, he discovered that the power was out at Kenning Hall. Rupert explained that this was normal in bad weather, and promptly retrieved a collection of vintage lanterns, kept specifically for such an eventuality.

  Therefore, it was by lantern light that Rupert escorted Ashley to the master bedroom, stripped her down to her underwear, wrapped her in several warm blankets, and put her to bed.

  Then, he lit a mobile gas heater, drew the curtains, and sat with her until Mark arrived with some warm tomato soup.

  “How are you feeling?” Mark asked.

  “Co..cold,” Ashley said, through shivers.

  “Drink this,” Mark said, handing Rupert the mug and spoon.

  She shook her head.

  “Ah now, Miss Marshall, I didn’t say it was optional. You need to eat something warm.”

  “Ash...Ashley, I told you, my name is Ashley,” she stuttered, looking at Rupert, and then the mug, as if contained poison.

  Mark smiled, “Yeah, sorry, I forgot. Makes you feel like a school teacher, right? You’re going to be okay,” he said, warmly, and then added as a stern parent, “as long as you drink that soup.”

  He exchanged glances with Rupert, who nodded.

  “I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Stay warm,” he added and left.

  Ashley looked up at Rupert, “I…I must look awful,” she said.

  He smiled, lovingly, “Trust you. You’ve just been resurrected from a shallow grave, and you’re worried about how you look.”

  Ashley frowned, suddenly, and tears pricked her eyes, as frozen memories melted back into her consciousness.

  “Hey, hey now, come on,” Rupert said, softly. “You’re going to start me off.”

  “I…I… thought I was going to die down there,” she said, through shivers.

  “I know, I know,” he cooed, feeding her more soup.

  She spluttered a few times and then said, “Adam…”

  “…Shhh, he can’t hurt you anymore. Nobody will ever hurt you ever again,” he added with conviction, as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, tenderly.

  Rupert’s heart ached as he remembered the news articles he had read in the car.

  They chronicled the story of a little girl who had lost her mother at the tender age of nine, and had been betrayed by her abusive father; the man Rupert visited in the care home.

  Andrew Skelton had taught his daughter how to assume the role of his wife. How to cook, clean and please him, as only a lover should.

  This abuse had continued until the girl awoke one day to find her father having sex with his new girlfriend.

  In a jealous rage, the girl had lashed out with a knife, wounding the woman and disabling her father.

  As a result, he was sent to a secure hospital and she to a juvenile detention centre.

  Eventually, the young girl was released and placed with a wealthy family, who committed to raise her as their own.

  However, one day, whilst her foster parents were holidaying in Barbados, their two teenage sons took advantage of the young girl; one held her down while the other violated her.

  By the time the foster parents returned, the two boys had brain washed the girl into believing that if she told, nobody would believe. Because she was already damaged goods.

  She already had a history. Who did she think their parents would believe?

  She’d be sent away again without a home, a family, nothing.

  Eventually, the young lady left to attend the best education money could buy. Whilst there, she studied English, among many subjects, including psychology, where she learned that the first step to making amends with the past was to confront it.

  She did, as well as her foster parents, who refused to believe the despicable things she accused their beautiful sons of.

  They disowned her.

  She left, and assumed the identity of the one person she believed had the perfect life, but not before sharing her story with a local paper.

  It was this story that Rupert had read, and it was the memory of this story that brought tears to his eyes.

  “I thought you told me not to get all emotional,” Ashley said, weakly.

  Rupert sniffed, “Yeah well, I said you would get me started didn’t I?” He forced a smile. “I love you so much,” he said.

  “You sure?” She asked, wearily.

  “I’m sure,” he said, and pulled the covers up around her. “I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered.

  She replied with a murmur.

  He waited a few minutes until she was asleep, and then he left the room, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him.

  Downstairs, in the study…

  Mark asked, “How is she?” before handing Rupert a coffee.

  “Sleeping.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s to be expected after what she’s been through. The best thing you can do for her now is make sure she stays warm, and rests, until we can get out of here.”

  Rupert nodded. “Thanks Mark.”

  “Don’t sweat it. It’s all part of the service,” he replied. “She’s been asking after you both,” Mark added, nodding toward Rachel, who was curled up on the couc
h, in front of a roaring open fire.

  Rupert walked over and sat next to her.

  “How are you doing?” He asked.

  She nodded, “Better.”

  But Rupert noticed that she was still shaking, and put a comforting arm around her.

  Their eyes met.

  “Thank you,” he said with a voice brimming with emotion; Rachel had saved Ashley and he would be forever indebted to her.

  She smiled at him and held his arm.

  Mark sat opposite them. “We’ve called back, Rachel. I told them about the place you talked about, but with the exception of this Trevor bloke who attacked you, I doubt there’s much we’re going to be able to pin on any of them.”

  Rachel didn’t reply, she watched the fire, vacantly, as it crackled and snapped, and then she suddenly whispered, “I think they killed Keri Paxton.”

  “What did you say?” Mark asked, but not because he hadn’t heard her, but because he thought he had misunderstood.

  “I think Jason killed Keri.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “He told me that they wanted rid of her because she became pregnant by one of them, and they didn’t want a scandal.”

  She drank from the mug she was nestling in her hands.

  “He said the same about me. He said that if he didn’t deal with me, they would deal with us both…” her voice faltered as hideous memories pushed their way back. “I thought he loved me,” she added, her voice a quiver.

  Rupert pulled her to him and comforted her.

  He looked around the room. “It’s turned really cold in here,” he said, as she trembled in his arms.

  “It’s freezing,” the pilot, who was sitting at the desk, agreed. “Are you sure someone didn’t just turn the electricity off at the mains before you left?”

  “Good point,” Bass, who was sitting in one of the armchairs, agreed.

  “It’s possible,” Rupert said.

  “Well, why don’t we go and take a look?”

  “I’ll go and check,” Rupert said, getting up, but Rachel clung to him.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go. Just tell me where the main switch is,” the pilot said.

  “It’s in the cellar. There’s a trapdoor in the kitchen.”

  “Seriously?” the pilot forced a smile, looking at the others.

  Rupert nodded with a knowing look.

  “Take the flashlight,” Mark grinned, handing it to him.

  “Do you want me to come and hold your hand?” Bass asked in a mocking tone.

  The pilot pulled a face, “I think I’ll survive.”

  When he finally found the trapdoor hidden under the rug, he secretly wished he hadn’t volunteered for the mission.

  Yes, he was a grown man, but this house gave him the creeps.

  It had, ever since he walked through the front door.

  The dead body in the hallway didn’t help.

  He pushed the thought from his mind, pulled the trapdoor open and trained the light inside.

  It did little to push back the darkness, but it did reveal the upper rungs of a ladder which, reluctantly, the pilot began to descend.

  Back in the study...

  “Rachel, are you going to be okay? I just want to go and check on Ashley,” Rupert said, after finishing his coffee.

  Before Rachel had a chance to reply, Bass stood up and said, “It’s okay, I’ll sit with you, if you like.”

  “Do you need me to come with you?” Mark offered.

  “It’s okay,” Rupert said. “I’ll let you know if anything’s changed, but you can put the kettle on the gas if you like.”

  Mark nodded.

  The cold seemed much more intense in the entrance hall, made worse by a gale that had blown up out of nowhere, and was now howling around the building.

  Rupert held the lantern high in front of him, scaring away the shadows. He tried hard not to glance at the body in the hallway.

  It had been hastily covered with a white tablecloth that seemed to move as the light danced across it.

  The icy cold wind moaned under doors, as it scurried down the hall and the stairs until it met Rupert, pulled his hair, and then attempted to extinguish the lantern’s flame.

  He paused at the top of the stairs, and looked down the gloomy corridor, as if expecting to see somebody standing there, but it was empty.

  He couldn’t quite explain it, but something felt off about his childhood home.

  He no longer felt welcome.

  That’s when he felt it. Another puff of cold air. It blew directly into his face, as if spitting at him, and that’s when he realised; the door to the master bedroom was wide open, yet he distinctly remembered closing it when he left earlier.

  As he drew near to the doorway, the lantern’s flame began to dance wildly, as if trying to flee from its metal enclosure.

  Rupert could see into the bedroom now.

  The lantern he’d left on bedside table had been extinguished. The room had been plunged into darkness, but for the flame of the gas fire and the moonlight streaming in through open balcony doors.

  He also noticed, to his dismay, that the covers had been pushed back and that bed was empty!

  He rushed forward, but yelped when the door slammed shut in his face, propelling him backwards and sending him teetering over the edge of the broken railing.

  The lantern slipped from his hands, as he struggled to keep his balance, and smashed loudly to the floor below.

  It took a few seconds but, eventually, and with immense relief, Rupert managed to regain his footing on the right side of the drop.

  As soon as he did, he launched himself at the door, but it would not budge.

  Instinctively, he banged on it with his fist.

  “Ashley! ASH! Open the door!”

  His face contorted with exertion as he turned the handle and pushed his shoulder into the door, until it finally gave way and he fell, heavily, into the room.

  A gale hissed at him, through the fluttering curtains of the open balcony, as he jumped to his feet.

  He looked over to bed, and saw that Ashley was lying in a foetal position on the floor, next to it.

  “Ash!”

  “Rupert!”

  He heard footsteps running up the stairs. It was Mark.

  “I’m in here...” Rupert shouted back.

  “Is everything okay, we heard…?”

  …Mark’s words were cut short as, once again, the door slammed shut.

  Then, much to Rupert’s incredulous horror, a dresser scraped its way across the floor and stopped in front of it.

  The action instantly cut the turbulence, the curtains fell still and the room quiet.

  Rupert stood, unmoving.

  All was still.

  He could see no one but Ashley, yet he felt a presence nearby. Someone was watching him from the other side of the room.

  He could hear them breathing!

  The breaths were slow, deep, and had a guttural rattle, like that of an animal.

  It was in the corner, between light and shadows, and it was waiting.

  “Rupert!” Came Mark’s voice from beyond the door as he banged on it.

  The sudden sound startled Rupert.

  “I’m alright,” he said, hastily, as if not wanting to disturb the moment.

  “Are you sure?” came the muffled reply.

  “Yes.”

  Rupert slowly took in the room, as his breath fogged in front him.

  He could hear Ashley’s shallow breathing. She was shivering, and he wanted to go to her, but he didn’t dare move.

  Then, he looked up and around, as the scent of moss filled the air.

  He sniffed, instinctively.

  The scent was strong, familiar, and it instantly transported him back to his childhood.

  Ben?

  The world was still. Silence reigned.

  Mark had gone quiet. Ashley had stopped breathing. Rupert’s heart had stopped pounding.

  All that existe
d was the silence, and the smell…

  …and then…

  The blow hit Rupert with such force, it launched him backward, through the air, smashing him into the mirrored door of the wardrobe. He, and hundreds of tinkling pieces of glass slid to the floor and lay, motionless.

  The dankness of the cellar made the pilot gag.

  Thankfully, the blue spy light of the gas burner was a beacon in the blackness.

  He carefully made his way towards it, as his flashlight made creepy, moving shadows of boxes and wine racks.

  It was only when he reached the burner that he realised; the thing was already on, which meant that the heating upstairs should be working, but it wasn’t.

  He peered closer at the blue flame, as if not trusting his own eyes, and leapt when something slammed loudly behind him.

  He whirled around, pointing the flashlight in the direction of the sound, and saw that the trapdoor had shut, sealing him down there.

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Very funny. Now open up!”

  Silence.

  “Come on, Bass, stop pissing around!”

  The quiet continued, until something scuttled on the floor next to him. He turned, quickly, to see a rat’s tail disappear behind a wooden box.

  He breathed, taking a few seconds, in an attempt to control the anxiety that was beginning to smother him, like the dark down there.

  He made his way over to the ladder, where he quickly climbed the rungs and pushed on the trap door, but grunted with the effort when it did not move.

  He was starting to lose his patience now. He didn’t like it down there, and Bass was making the whole thing worse.

  “Come on, open up!” he said, banging on the wood. “Bass? Come on!”

  Something else scampered, in the far corner of the room. He turned and aimed the flashlight, like a weapon, in that direction, but saw nothing.

  “Jesus Christ! Bass open the bloody door!” he yelled, banging on the wood above him.

  Nothing.

  “BASS! ANYONE!”

  Still nothing.

  Frustrated, he turned and froze.

  Was he hallucinating?

  It seemed that there were now three blue pilot lights across the room; the burner flame, and two more next to it. Only these were almond shaped and seemed to shimmer.