by Amy Cross
Time passes.
I'm not scared, but I'm cautious. I've been alone for so long, I'm concerned about any intruder. Did Patrick give me a companion, to help me pass the time? Or did he assume I'd be dead by now, and throw this companion down in the hope that it would feed from my carcass. Or did he send someone down to kill me?
Time passes.
I have been alone for so long, but I haven't gone mad. I was careful from the start to keep my mind together. I concentrated really hard and managed to keep my sanity intact. It was hard, but I did it. I thought a lot about my old life, about my mother and about how I ended up down here. There were moments where I tripped over the edge into madness, and I had to find my way back to sanity, but I managed it, somehow. I'm sane. I'm definitely sane. I'm sane. I'm absolutely sane. Sane. Very sane. Totally sane. And I can sniff out trouble from a mile away.
And this new arrival is trouble.
I lean a little closer. I can feel the warmth of its body. Sniffing the air, I can tell it's a human, but it's not a normal human. It's injured. It's hurt. Not dying, but damaged. I can smell blood, and burnt flesh. Not a lot of burnt flesh, but a small amount. And sweat. This human has been through a lot of drama, and it will take time to recover.
Time passes.
I could eat it.
I could eat the human.
It's unconscious and defenseless. Even if it woke up and had all its strength, I could take it down and eat it, but I don't want to kill it. Not yet, anyway. I want to understand the human, and sniff it, and taste it, and speak to it, and discover what it is and where it came from and why it's here. I can always change my mind later and cut its throat.
I lean closer.
I sniff it again.
I -
Time passes.
I sniff it one more time. Is it true?
Time passes.
It is true...
I smile.
I reach out a hand and feel the human's unconscious face. I run my fingers over its eyes and nose, and down to its mouth, and then I move my hand up and feel its hair.
It's her.
I smile.
"Sophie," I say. Today is the first time I've spoken properly for centuries, and my voice is wracked and broken. But it's her. It's really her. I can't help but say the name over and over again. "Sophie... Sophie..."
Sophie.
It's her.
It's Sophie.
A grin breaks across my face. Finally, my luck is turning.
Sophie
When I open my eyes, everything is dark. Pitch black. It's like there's nothing here, like I'm nowhere. I keep blinking, checking to see if my eyes are actually open, and then I start to wonder: am I blind? Or... where am I? What happened?
I sit up, and immediately I feel that my body is bruised and battered. What the hell happened to me? The last thing I remember is being out in the forest with Nimrod. We'd gone to find Patrick, and we'd eventually tracked him down to a small camp where he was badly injured. A group of people were planning to burn his body, but the tent caught fire instead and I ended up going into the flames. After that, my memory is hazy but I have brief flashes of images: I remember being inside the burning tent, and seeing that the bed was empty; I remember turning around and finding Patrick standing behind me; I remember being back out in the forest, being carried through the darkness; and then... and then... nothing. Damn it, I have no idea how I got here, or even where this place is. I just seem to be in complete darkness, and alone.
I stand up. Wherever this is, it has a stone floor and it's very wet. My clothes are damp. I take a step forward and come up against what turns out to be a stone wall, with some kind of moss growing on it. Still unable to see anything, I reach out a hand and run my hands over the stones. Suddenly I hear a squeak from behind. I turn, but of course all I see is darkness. Still, that sounded worryingly like a rat. I step in another direction, but I almost fall as my foot slips down into a deeper section that's filled with water. I step back. What the hell is this place?
I wait. What am I supposed to do? I turn back and feel the wall again, and then I carefully feel my way along its extent. After a few steps, I realize it's curling in toward me, like I'm in a small round room. After a few more steps, I come to what seems to be a step down, but I quickly realize that it leads into the water. It's like I'm trapped in some kind of room with no door. There's another squeak nearby, and I realize I'm definitely not alone in here. There's at least one rat. I'm not terrified of rats by any means, but I don't particularly like them and I certainly don't want to share a small space with one.
"It's dark down here," says a voice suddenly.
I spin around, trying desperately to see something in the darkness. "Who's there?" I say, feeling my heart racing. The voice was soft and quiet, and it sounded like a woman.
"It's dark," the voice continues. "Isn't it? But don't worry. You'll get used to it after a while."
"Who are you?" I ask.
"My name's Twomoney," she replies. "What's your name?"
I pause. "Sophie."
"Sophie," the voice repeats. "That's a nice name."
"So... Twomoney," I say. I pause for a moment. "Where are we?"
"We're at the bottom of a deep, deep well," Twomoney replies. "And we're all alone. Just us and the rats. The rats and us."
"A well?" It makes sense. The room seems to be small, with stone walls, and although it's not filled with water it's still pretty damp and one side seems to have a step down into a larger pool of water. "Why are we in a well?"
"That's a strange question," Twomoney says. "Why would anyone be in a well?"
"I don't know," I say. Suddenly I remember my phone, but when I check my pocket I find that it's not there. "Damn it," I mutter.
"Something wrong?" Twomoney asks.
"Nothing," I say. "So how do we get out of here?"
Silence.
"Did you hear me?" I ask.
"I heard you," she says, "but there's no way out of here. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried."
"How long have you been here?" I ask.
"A long, long time," she says. "Impossible to say for sure. I can't even tell when it's day or night. But a long time. A very long time."
"Days?" I ask. "Weeks?"
She laughs. "Many, many years. Probably more years than you've been alive. You sound young. Are you young?"
"Yeah," I say. Suddenly I feel a pair of hands touch my face, and I pull away. "Don't do that" I shout.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I just wanted to feel your face. I wanted to know what you look like, and how young you are."
"It's okay," I say, "I just wasn't expecting it." I turn and put a hand out, feeling the stone wall. "So we're really down at the bottom of a well?" I ask. "Can't we just climb up?"
"I've tried," she says. "It's so hard, and when you reach the top there's a heavy stone covering the entrance. I pushed and pushed, but eventually I just fell all the way back down again. I think I broke part of my back, but luckily it seems to have healed straight."
"We have to try again," I say. "Maybe with two of us, it'll be easier."
"Maybe," she says.
"We can't just stay down here," I insist. "We can't just wait for someone to come and rescue us."
She laughs again. "Who's going to come and rescue us?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say. "I know someone. Someone who'll find us. He'll be looking, and when he works out where I am, he'll find a way to get us out of here."
"You sound awfully certain," Twomoney says.
"I am," I say. "Patrick won't leave me down here. He'll find me and he'll get me out, and he'll get you out too."
"Patrick?" she asks. "You think he'll rescue us?"
I pause. "You know Patrick?"
Silence for a moment. "Yes," she says eventually. "But he won't come and rescue us from this place."
"What makes you say that?" I ask.
Another pause. "Put it this way," she says after a moment.
"Who do you think put us both down here in the first place, dummy?"
Twomoney
Many years ago.
"Twomoney!" my mother shouts across the valley. "Twomoney!"
I don't move. Hidden here in the bushes, like an animal keeping perfectly still in case it attracts the attention of a predator, I know that there's no way she can find me. My mother's just not the kind of person who would start rummaging through the bracken for a lost child. She knows I can take care of myself, and she knows I'll be home when I want to be home. She stopped trying to control me long, long ago after her last attempt ended in failure and tragedy.
"Twomoney!" she shouts a third time, but the urgency in her voice is gone. She knows it won't work.
I wait.
Time passes.
As soon as I'm sure she's gone, I hurry across the valley, keeping low among the tall grass just in case I'm still being observed. I heard rumors that a man was spotted nearby, a stranger, and I want to find out if it's true. Strangers don't come around here very often and, when they do, it's worth finding out what's going on. Who knows? If I'm really lucky, maybe he'll take me away from here. That's what I want more than anything; to get out of this hell-hole and start a new life somewhere else, somewhere more exciting. For that, I need help and I need a stranger.
After all, I'm fifteen years old. I deserve a break.
Tracking the stranger down will be difficult, of course. I don't have time to check every square inch of the land around my parents' farm, so I have to plan my search carefully and hope for a little luck. There are some obvious routes that he might be taking, perhaps across the north of the valley to head on up to one of the bordering states. There are trade passages that pass nearby, so he might be a merchant. Perhaps he needs an assistant? I could be a great assistant. We could travel to the Orient, selling beads to the Chinese. Or we could set up shop in New York and build a business empire. Okay, I'm getting a little carried away here, but I've been waiting years for a chance to run away. This might be my chance to get out of here.
That's all assuming that there really is a stranger around here, of course. It's always possible that I was misinformed and that there was no stranger. Rumors tend to spread fast around these parts, and some of the other villagers aren't exactly the brightest tools in the box. Some of them are downright idiotic. But still... It's been a couple of years since there was even a rumor, let alone an actual stranger. Although the others tell me to be careful of strangers, I'm sure I can keep a safe distance. After all, what's the worst that can happen?
I spend the whole afternoon wandering across the valley, making my way slowly through the fields of tall grass. With a casual wind blowing from the east, the grass is rustling and the whole valley seems to be alive. I don't see a single soul, not even a bird, and soon I'm coming to the conclusion that once again I've been fooled and there's in fact no stranger. I feel a little stupid, but I also know that one day I'll turn out to be right and there really will be a stranger, and then I'll find a way out of this valley and I won't be feeling stupid then, will I?
I keep walking.
Time passes.
And then I see him.
It takes me a moment to register what's in front of me, but when I do, I stop walking and a shiver runs up my spine. About fifty meters ahead of me, partially hidden in the tall grass, there's a man. He has dark hair and dark clothes, and a dark stare from dark eyes. He seems intently focused on me, his unblinking eyes locked on me with a kind of focus that's a little offputting. What's particularly unnerving is the fact that he makes no attempt to hide the fact that he's watching me. He certainly doesn't seem scared of me at all. It's more like he's standing there as a challenge, like he's daring me to come closer.
I stare back at him, completely unsure as to what I should do. I feel as if his stare is paralyzing me, holding me in position. I should turn and run, but my feet seem to be rooted to the ground. All I can do is wait and see what he does, but he seems content to just stare and stare at me as the grass rustles all around us in the wind. In the back of my mind, I can hear my mother's voice urging me to run. But I can't run, can I? After all this time, I have to be just a little brave. And if he turns out to be some kind of beast, well, that's a risk I'm willing to take.
"I'm Twomoney!" I shout at him eventually. "My name's Twomoney!"
Still, he just stares. What does he want?
"I'm from that village over there!" I shout, pointing back at the village, which is hidden behind the hill. "I'm fifteen!"
Nothing. He just stares.
"What's your name?" I ask.
Nothing. For a moment, it occurs to me that he might be an elaborate scarecrow, but I squint my eyes and I can see that he's real, and alive.
"Are you a murderer?" I ask.
No reply, but that's hardly conclusive proof one way or the other. His stillness is rather disconcerting; I'm worried that at any moment, he might suddenly leap toward me. I might be able to outrun him, I might not. To try to get a better idea, I duck down into the grass. There's no way he can see me now, and I carefully move a little to the left. With the wind rustling the field, it'll be impossible for him to distinguish my movement from the natural blowing of the grass, but when I pop back up I find that he's staring straight at me once again.
Creepy.
But I start to relax a little. He seems calm enough, and not too threatening. Perhaps he's a little simple? I've heard before that sometimes simple people come through the valley. Their brains aren't properly developed and they can't really think or speak properly. They just kind of walk and react to things. My mother says they have worms in their brains, but others say they're born stupid. They're supposed to be harmless, though.
"Are you simple?" I shout at him. "Can't you talk?"
No reply.
"It's okay if you are," I shout. "It's not your fault."
Feeling a little more confident, I make my way toward him, parting the grass ahead of me. When I'm just a few meters from him, I stop. Now that I'm closer, I can see him more clearly. He's young, maybe only ten years older than me, and he's strikingly handsome. I was under the impression that stupid, simple people were always ugly, but this man has an intelligent and compassionate face. The only exception is his eyes, which look dark and old, as if he's seen and done things that have left a mark on his soul.
"My name is Twomoney," I say, in case he didn't hear me earlier. "I come from the village on the other side of that hill. I'm a..." I stop speaking as the man slowly opens his mouth, revealing two sharp fangs. He keeps his eyes fixed on me, and I feel a chill run up my spine. My first instinct is to turn and run, but I'm filled with a sudden belief that I could never outrun him, so I decide to stand my ground. I remember something my mother told me about bears: don't let them see that you're scared of them. Maybe the same tactic can work here.
Maybe.
"I'm not scared of you," I say, my voice faltering a little. "You can't hurt me."
He slowly closes his mouth, but he keeps his eyes on me. I don't think he's even blinked once since I saw him.
"Are you a vampire?" I ask. I've heard stories about vampires. Some people say they're not real, but others say they're just very solitary and quiet. I've never heard of one being seen around here, but then again maybe people who see them don't live to tell the tale. "If you kill me," I say eventually, "people will come and hunt you down. So you should just let me go." I step back. "I'm going to walk away now, and you're not going to follow me. Do you understand?"
No response. He just stares at me.
I turn and start walking. In order to ensure that he doesn't think I'm scared of him, I keep looking straight ahead, though I'm convinced that at any moment he'll come up behind me and attack. I walk down to the bottom of the valley and then up the other side, keeping a steady pace but fighting the urge to run. Is he behind me? Is he keeping pace with me, or following from a distance? Or has he just let me walk away?
Eventually, when I'm on
the crest of the hill and I can see the village again, I stop walking. I slowly look back. He's still standing exactly where he was, and I'm so far away now that he just looks like a small dot in the distance. He hasn't moved since I turned away, but I can tell that he's still looking at me.
"Go away," I mutter under my breath, before turning and heading back to the village. I decide not to tell anyone about the encounter. They wouldn't believe me, and they'd just add the story to the list of reasons to think I'm crazy. But I'm not crazy. I know I'm not. That guy was a vampire, and he seemed strangely interested in me. Even once I'm back at the village, and even once I'm back in my parents' house and sitting in the kitchen, I feel as if the vampire's eyes are still staring straight at me across all this distance. I feel like he was waiting for me, like he knew I'd be out in that field today. I look over at the window. I realize, with a sense of dread, that it'll be getting dark in a few hours. I'll have to make doubly sure that my window is bolted shut tonight.
Sophie
I want to argue with her. I want to tell her that she's wrong, that Patrick wouldn't do something like this. But I can't. I know, deep down, that Patrick would do something like this. The last thing I remember is being carried from the tents, so I guess it was Patrick who was taking me away. He must have recovered from his injuries, but why would he decide to lock me up like this? Is this his way of making sure that I don't find a way to get to Abigail?
"Patrick!" I shout, looking up. Maybe he's still there, but the top of the well is covered, so he's probably long gone. "Let me out of here!" I bang on the stone walls, but all I manage to do is hurt my hands. "You can't do this!"
"Forget Patrick," Twomoney says, her voice echoing in the depths of the dark well. "He's going to forget us, so we should do the same to him."
"Why did he put me down here?" I ask, turning to the direction from which her voice is coming.
"Who knows?" she replies.
I pause. "Wait," I say. "Why did he put you down here?"
