by Amy Cross
As the doctor stopped in the hallway to talk to the girls' parents, Elizabeth turned to Kari and the two girls shared a concerned moment. It was clear they were both thinking the same thing, even if neither of them wanted to be the first to say it out loud.
“That man is an ass,” Elizabeth muttered finally. “Whatever happened to Sara today, we can't ignore it. She said there was someone out there, and I believe her.”
***
“Sara? Are you awake?”
Easing the door open, Elizabeth peered through into the dimly-lit room and saw that Sara was on the bed, on her side facing away from the door as a single candle flickered over by the window. The whole scene seemed strangely peaceful, in stark contrast to the sobbing cries of earlier.
“Sara?”
The shape on the bed moved slightly, and finally Sara turned toward the door with a pained, tear-stained face. It was almost as if, in the space of just a few hours, she's aged several years, and some of the childishness had been lost from her eyes.
“Hey,” Elizabeth continued, forcing a smile as she stepped into the room, with Kari just a few paces behind. Elizabeth always took the lead in delicate situations; the girls had never discussed the matter, they'd simply accepted that as the older of the three sisters, she should make all the important decisions, and she'd learned to slip gracefully into that role when necessary. “Doctor Steiner's leaving now. He said he looked at you and that there's nothing too wrong. Physically, at least.”
Pausing for a moment, Sara finally held up her hands to reveal the long, deep scratches in her flesh.
“He said thorns caused that,” Kari said from the doorway.
Sara looked at her trembling hands with a hint of shock, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.
“You poor thing,” Elizabeth said, hurrying over and sitting on the bed so she could take a closer look. After a moment, she kissed the scratches, although when she looked at Sara's face she realized that the gesture wasn't having its usual, uplifting effect. “Did he give you something for the pain?”
Sara nodded, as another tear trickled down her cheek.
“It must really hurt,” Elizabeth added, tucking some stray strands of hair behind her little sister's ear.
Sara simply stared at her, as if she was afraid to answer.
“You said earlier,” Elizabeth continued cautiously, “that there was someone -”
“No,” Sara replied suddenly.
“I'm sorry?”
“Doctor Steiner told me not to talk about it.”
“He did?”
She nodded. “He told me I need to be a big girl, not a baby. He told me no-one likes a whiner, and that I imagined it, and that there was no-one out there talking to me today.” She paused, but her bottom lip was trembling and tears were still filling her eyes.
Elizabeth looked over at Kari, who was still standing in the doorway, before looking back down at her youngest sister. “Well, I think what Doctor Steiner meant was that you shouldn't talk about it to him. He's a little old-fashioned and I think sometimes feelings make him uncomfortable. But it's okay to talk to us, Sara. We're your sisters, we're always here for you.”
Sara paused. “Is it really okay?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“There was a man,” Sara replied after a moment, still seeming a little wary. “I heard him before I saw him, and I could tell he was watching me, and then suddenly he was standing right behind me.”
“So he was following you?”
“I don't know. Suddenly he was just...” She paused, as if she was replaying the moment in her mind. “Suddenly he was behind me, almost touching me.”
“And that's when you screamed?”
She nodded.
“And why did you do that? Did he do anything to you?”
“He...” For a moment, Sara seemed lost in thought once again, before finally she reached up and indicated the left side of her head. “He wasn't all there.”
Elizabeth forced a smile. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“I mean his head. It wasn't all there.”
Elizabeth glanced at Kari, who shrugged. “So there was something missing?” she asked, turning back to Sara.
“It was like someone had sliced off a big piece of his head from one side,” Sara continued, “and then sewn it shut.”
“For God's sake,” Kari muttered.
“There were stitches?” Elizabeth asked.
The little girl nodded. “Thick black stitches. Some of them looked like they were coming out.”
“And then what happened?”
“Then he spoke to me. At first he looked sick, so I thought maybe he couldn't speak, like some of the idiots we saw in town that time, but he could speak. It sounded like he was having trouble getting the words out, but eventually he managed it.”
“What did he say?”
Sara swallowed hard. “He told me his name.”
“And what was that?”
“I don't want to say.”
“Go on. It's just between us.”
Sara paused. “Death.”
“He said that?”
She nodded.
“He actually told you that his name was Death?”
“He said his name was Death and that he'd come to our valley for a while,” Sara continued. “He said he had something he needed to do, but that he couldn't quite remember what it was, so he was going to wait around for a while until it came back to him. He said it was on the tip of his tongue, and then he stuck his tongue out and asked if I could see it for him.” She paused again. “He said he'd been hurt, but that he was getting better, so that was another reason he couldn't leave yet. I think he was tired. He also said that I'm pretty.”
“But did he...” Elizabeth paused, trying to think of a way to ask the next question tactfully. “What did he do to you, Sara?”
“Do to me?”
“To make you hide?” She waited for an answer. “Did he touch you?”
She shook her head.
“Did he threaten to touch you?”
“He told me things,” she replied. “He warned me, right at the start, that there were things he didn't tell most people, but he said he'd tell me, because he said it was okay for me to know, like... he trusted me and thought that I wouldn't let him down. He said some things are going to happen while he's here in the valley, and no-one can stop it anyway, so...” Her voice trailed off, as if she was trying to decide how much she could reveal. “He kept saying that he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do. I think he was annoyed with himself for forgetting.”
“This is stupid,” Kari said, still standing in the doorway. “You didn't meet Death.”
“I did too,” Sara replied, turning to her.
“You're just dumb.”
“Quiet,” Elizabeth hissed, gesturing for Kari to shut up. “Sara, what exactly did this man tell you?”
“He said...” She paused, fully aware that in all her eight years, she'd never said anything quite so important. “He said more people might die while he's here, if he doesn't remember what he came to do, but that it's okay, because being dead isn't bad at all. He said he killed the man in the river, and he said he's going to kill three more people and then he's going to leave.”
“He said that?”
She nodded.
“He confessed to killing the man in the river?”
She nodded again.
“Did he say why he killed him?”
Another nod.
“And why was that?”
“Because the man was following him.”
“What kind of an explanation is that?”
“He said the man was following him and that he didn't like it, so he killed him. He said the man gave him a tattoo a long time ago, and that was another reason he didn't like him. He said not to be sad, because the man was bad and he came from a bad place, and he was one of the people who'd been hurting him. He said he was one of the people who'd stopped him
remembering things.”
Elizabeth paused. “Okay. That's... not normal, Sara. You realize that, don't you?”
Sara frowned.
“And these other people he said might die,” Elizabeth continued. “Did he tell you who they are?”
Sara stared at her for a moment, before nodding.
“Who?”
The little girl shook her head.
“What does that mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“It means I don't know.” She paused, as if she was on the verge of saying something else. “I don't know,” she whispered finally, with more tears in her eyes.
“Right.” Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth tried to think of another approach. “Sara, you know the man you met in the forest wasn't Death, don't you?”
“He was.”
“No, he -”
“He was,” she said again. “You didn't see him. He proved it.”
“And how did he do that?”
A faint smile crossed Sara's face, as if she was holding a big, important secret. “He showed me Death's number,” she said finally. “He told me that it was the true number of Death, and that he had it.”
“Sara, what -”
“He showed me!”
“And what was it?” Elizabeth asked with a sigh, starting to lose patience with her sister. “What is the number of Death?”
“I can't tell you. He said someone else had given it to him, but that he'd accepted it now. Then he said he remembered a nurse, and she was very beautiful, but he didn't remember her name.”
“Sara, this is nonsense. If you met anyone at all out there, it was obviously a very dangerous man, maybe some kind of lunatic.”
“It's okay,” Sara continued, “he said no-one would believe me. He told me not to worry, though. He said you'd start to believe me later, when it all comes true. He said it doesn't really matter right now, not until he remembers his original plan, and that no-one can stop him just by not believing. He told me he just needs to remember what he came here for, so he can do it.”
“When what starts to come true?” Elizabeth asked.
“All the things he told me. About the people dying.”
“Sara -”
“I know where he lives, too.”
“Where he lives?”
“He told me where he's camping.”
“Death's camping?” Elizabeth glanced at Kari again, then back at Sara. “Where?”
“I can't tell you. Not either of you.”
“That's not very nice.”
“It's not my fault,” Sara replied. “I just can't. I'm not allowed. He told me it as a secret, and he says he doesn't want anyone to go there. He says he likes this valley and that he's been here before. He says he could keep running, but he's going to stay and try to remember what he came for.”
“And...” Elizabeth paused. “And Death told you all of this?”
Sara nodded.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Kari asked Elizabeth suddenly. “It's urgent.”
“Wait right here,” Elizabeth told Sara as she got off the bed and made her way to the door. “I'll be back up soon with something for you to eat.” As soon as she and Kari were outside on the landing and the door was shut, her tone changed. “I know what you're going to say -”
“She's lost her mind,” Kari replied, not even giving her a chance to finish the sentence. “She's crazy!”
“She's been through a lot.”
“You heard what Doctor Steiner said. He examined her, there's nothing seriously wrong.”
“Not with her body, maybe, but emotionally -”
“Emotionally she just needs a good smack. Or lots of smacks. I know people go on about mental health and all that new stuff, but a few smacks to the side of the head might be quicker.”
Elizabeth stared at her, shocked that her sister could even say such a thing. “I don't think we're going to agree on this,” she replied finally, “so it'd be best to drop the subject. I'll look after Sara until she's well, you don't have to trouble yourself.”
“She doesn't need looking after,” Kari replied, clearly unsettled by recent events. “She needs someone to tell her she's being stupid, and then she needs to not be indulged a moment longer. If you encourage her with this stuff, she's only going to get worse! If you want to help her, you need to drag her out of that bed and put her to work, so she doesn't have time to start feeling sorry for herself.”
***
Still sitting on her bed, Sara could hear their voices outside, arguing. Kari was saying something about the whole thing being ridiculous, and Elizabeth was telling her that they needed to be more patient, and the two of them were basically going back and forth with no sign that either would cede any ground.
Smiling, Sara climbed out of bed and, although her badly-lacerated body was still hurting a little, she limped over to the window and looked out at another warm evening, with the sun starting to dip low in the sky. Her eyes focused on the forest in the distance, and her smile grew as she thought about her new friend sitting at his little campsite, and as she remembered one of the secrets he'd told her:
“More people are going to die in this valley before the week is out,” he'd whispered into her ear. “I can feel it getting stronger. It's going to kill more people soon.”
Chapter Eight
Today
“Kids,” her father said as he peered at the window. “You know what they're like. We just received a rather unconventional welcoming committee in the middle of the night, that's all.”
“Kids?” Paula replied, sitting on one of the packing cases as she ate some bread and jam. “Seriously? You think kids were creeping around our house at three in the morning? You think kids put a freaky face at the window and left a hand-print? This is classic ghost activity, and even you can't deny that!”
“Even me?”
“You've always been a skeptic.”
“This is obviously a kid's hand-print,” he continued, tapping at the glass. On the other side, the hand-print was still just about visible, sparkling in the light of the morning sun and already starting to melt away. “Maybe this is traditional around here.” He glanced at her. “You mustn't let this obsession with ghosts become a thing, Paula.”
“A thing, father?”
“I know why you want them to be real. Ever since your mother -”
“That's not why,” she replied, with obvious irritation. “I want ghosts to be real because I like the idea of there being more to the world than just what we see. It's not some kind of weird hang-up to do with what happened to Mum.” She took another mouthful of bread. “You just won't admit what's right in front of your face.”
“A hand-print,” he replied. “That's what's right in front of my face. I'm not denying that someone was out there. It's spooky, but I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. We'll take extra care to look up tonight.”
Rolling her eyes, Paula got to her feet and carried her plate over to join her father at the window. “Okay, Sherlock. Where are the footprints?”
Leaning forward, John looked outside and saw that the snow all around the window was pristine and untouched.
“It snowed all night,” he said cautiously, “so obviously it must have filled in the prints.”
“That's not remotely how it works,” she told him. “There'd still be visible depressions in the snow if someone was out there. It's only been a few hours.”
“So they carefully filled them in.”
“You're not going to admit this, are you?” Paula replied. “No matter how much proof I bring to you, you'll never admit that maybe, just maybe, something spooky happened last night.”
“Get dressed,” he told her, heading over to the door. “You've got an appointment at the local school at lunchtime to meet the teachers and get your schedule for next week.”
“I can't make it,” she replied, staring out at the unblemished snow. “I've got way too much work to do here.”
“What work?”
; “Ghost-hunting.”
“There are no ghosts here, Paula.”
“There are, and I'm going to prove it.”
He sighed.
“I'm not scared of ghosts,” she continued. “I'm fascinated by them, and I'm convinced they're real. I'm not talking about taking blurry photos or crappy, low-quality distorted sounds. That kind of stuff is baloney, there's no point. But ghosts are real and I just want to prove it to myself.”
“And this has absolutely nothing to do with your mother?”
At this, she paused, as if his words had shaken her a little.
“Sometimes,” he continued, “you have to accept that the world is just the way that it is. Even if that means accepting bad things, and even if it means...” He paused for a moment. “Even if it means that when people die, they don't get to come back. They just die and they're gone.”
“It's got nothing to do with Mum,” she replied. “Anyway, you're the one who brought us to live in a haunted farmhouse, not me.”
“It's not a haunted farmhouse, Paula. It's a farmhouse, that's all.”
“We'll see,” she told him. “And that's why I don't have time to go to talk to people at the local school. I don't need teachers and I don't need friends, I just want to get on with my work.”
“Tough. And before that, I need you to go to the supermarket for me. I'll write you a list.”
Once she was alone, Paula continued to stare out at the snow for a moment, before looking down at the hand-print. Bright sunshine was catching in the remaining ice crystals, and as she knelt to take a look, she realized she could see the crystals melting away right in front of her eyes. She stayed in place for a few minutes, watching intently as the hand-print finally disappeared completely. Almost as if it had never been there in the first place.
***
Trudging through the snow, with her father's shopping list in her back pocket, Paula stopped for a moment to look around. She was in the middle of one of the fields her father now owned, on the edge of the forest, having figured that she could take a short-cut to the supermarket and that, besides, it wouldn't matter that much if she was late getting home. Snow was falling, as ever, and she was up to her knees in the goddamn stuff, but at least this time she was wearing waterproof boots and trousers, which – although not exactly stylish – meant that she stayed dry.
