As she fussed around, Anna came in to change the IV infusion. Silently and without looking at either Becky or the student, she walked over to the cardiac monitor and then took his temperature. “I’ll call the doctor.”
“Why? Do you think it’s an infection? Or another internal bleed? What?”
Anna fixed her with a stare. “I will call the doctor.”
The student nurse shook her head as Anna swiftly left the room. “She’s actually really efficient. It’s just her manner that’s, you know, not what we’re used to.”
Sure enough events did now happen quickly: a house officer arrived to write up more painkillers and antibiotics, after which Anna administered them and a porter came to whiz Callum away for another scan.
“Can I come with you?” she asked the nurse taking him down to the X-Ray department.
She nodded. “Course you can, love. Stick with me. He’ll be all right. Don’t you worry – they’re just thinking it’s a little bleed. He might have to go to theatre but it’s been spotted so that’s the main thing.”
Becky nodded, gathering together her belongings. It was going to be a long night but at least she’d got a friendly face and someone who talked to her now.
***
In the end the scan showed nothing untoward. Three hours later and still there didn’t appear to be a logical reason for his sudden decline.
On return to the ward a space had been prepared for his bed to be positioned close to the nurses’ station, and fifteen minute observations had been instructed. Becky drew up a chair so she could sit with him through the night. At least she would be here to make sure he was comfortable and not left alone again. Not ever.
The other patients had settled down to sleep, and the ward was dark apart from a few night lights. The only other soul awake was a terminally ill man in the opposite bed; emaciated and deeply jaundiced, the skin hung in folds from his bones where he lay propped up against a stack of pillows. The sour smell of decay oozed from his pores as he gasped wheezily into an oxygen mask for each breath. She’d been a nurse for long enough to know he probably wouldn’t last much longer.
Things happened in hospitals at night and one of them was death. Often it came in the early hours between sleeping and waking, stealing a corpse from behind drawn curtains with one last moaning sigh, before being silently wheeled away in a metal coffin. In the morning there would be an empty bed and the distinctive reek of disinfectant. Or a new face. The missing patient would not be mentioned, and a new day would begin.
Callum had been propped up too. An oxygen mask covered his face as he continued to breathe well enough for himself, although there was now a slight rattle in his chest. Becky frowned. Hopefully the antibiotics would take care of any chest infection. Thankfully his colour was good and his temperature had dropped back to normal, as had his pulse. Perhaps it had been pain that caused the alarm? Or was it fear? She stroked his forehead. Hopefully it wasn’t fear – she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Fear was the worst thing of all because no one else could see it and nothing could be done
With a sudden jolt she remembered… Noel – where on earth was he? Good grief, it was nearly midnight. She felt for her bag and checked the diary was still there; her thoughts had been so distracted she’d temporarily forgotten the traumatic events of the day and now they came flooding back. She was the only person who now knew about those secret graves in Woodsend, and it really would be better if he and Celeste had the information too - as soon as possible. Oh dear, she should have called Celeste, but it was far too late at night now and would have to wait until morning.
Her thoughts churned. Had Noel made any enquiries about Michael, the priest? Would there be anyone else if they couldn’t find him? Kristy had to be helped urgently. But she couldn’t leave Callum again even for a few hours – if something happened to her, who would look after him then? Like herself, he had no one really. There was an ageing mother with full-blown dementia; his sister had emigrated but was being kept informed, and then there were his two teenaged children who were supposed to be on their way – and that was something else that was odd. Where were they?
She held his hand tightly. Oh why wouldn’t he wake up?
“You know why, sweet cheeks!”
The shock of his voice hit her with a sickening punch to the gut. Loud and nasty it had spoken directly into her right ear. Oh no, no, no, no…
Whirling round she couldn’t see the little man in the black hat called Chester. They were attacking her again, that was all – but she knew what it was this time and anger surged through her veins. Go away!
“Aww…that’s no way to talk to an old friend. We met right in this hospital too! Aww…come on for old time’s sake, Becky, won’t you? I told you thing’s would get worse for ya if you messed with the boss!”
Fuck off! Fuck right off.
“Well I can see you’re in some kind of mood there, Becky, I really can. But you know what you godda do…and…”
Becky swung round this way and that. Where was he, the little…?
In the bed bay the other patients lay sleeping soundly. A tinkle of music escaped from someone’s headphones and the nurses were murmuring to each other over the clack of knitting needles at their desk. All was as it should be with the exception of the dying man opposite. And her frantic, wild-eyed search stopped there. She did a double take. What the…? Almost as if there was an invisible thread, her attention was pulled towards him and couldn’t be pulled away again no matter how hard she tried.
The man’s face had cranked sideways at an unnatural angle, and glossy black worms were crawling out of his empty eye sockets. Suddenly one of his claw hands swiped the oxygen mask away and the skull shot round to face her. “Hi!” said a velvety toned bass voice. “You look all done in, sweetie.”
This was not the poor man who was dying in his bed. This was black witchcraft playing with her mind. Reject it, reject it – none of this is real. And how disgusting to desecrate the old man like this when he should be leaving the world with dignity!
With violently trembling legs she forced herself to stand up and walk over to the window, keeping her back to him and her mind closed to both the images and the voices. No she was not going mad and no it was not real. Celeste had taught her a thing or two about self-protection and once again she had let her guard down. She must stay strong.
The view from the ward was of a mind-numbingly ordinary multi-storey car park, and she focused on that whilst repeating a prayer of protection over and over again, blocking out the mocking laughter from the hideous creature in the bed opposite Callum. No, he was not climbing out of the bed, and no it was not him breathing into her neck. She was tired and weakened and she was not going to be ill again just when Callum needed her most. Not to mention Alice and poor Kristy. Oh God, please help me, I have to be strong.
“Hello, Becky! I hope you don’t mind—”
She nearly jumped clean out of her skin.
“Oh my God! Celeste! What are you doing here?”
“Looking at your face I’m glad I came, love. I had a feeling you were going to need me.” She inclined her head towards Callum. “I have to protect him first but then we need to talk urgently. Why don’t you go down to the day room and ask those nurses if we can have some tea?”
Becky swayed with fatigue and relief.
“Go on – you need to sit down before you fall down.”
“Celeste,” she whispered. “The man in the bed opposite Callum. What do you see?”
Celeste looked over while Becky kept her eyes averted. “I see a man about to meet his maker.”
“Does he look normal to you? I mean for a dying old man struggling for his last breath?”
“Yes.”
Becky sighed heavily. “Good. Thank God.”
***
Chapter Seventeen
Doncaster Royal Infirmary. Midnight
When Noel finally joined them, Becky and Celeste were in the staff canteen having a midnight m
eal of chicken casserole. He’d never enjoyed working nights: being unable to sleep during the day meant feeling jet lagged on shifts. But tonight he was wired, with sleep an alien concept.
Becky glanced up as he walked over. “Oh thank God! I’ve been so worried about you. Your mobile wouldn’t work. You look terrible.”
He gestured towards the serving hatch. “Thanks – back atcha! I’m just going to get something to eat before they finish serving. Won’t be a minute.”
After he’d bolted down a mountain of cottage pie, he leaned back and stretched before appearing to notice Celeste for the first time. “Hello again!”
“Bet you’re surprised to see me again so soon, love?”
“After tonight I don’t think I’ll ever be surprised about anything ever again. If I’d walked into a room full of white rabbits eating pickled eggs with chopsticks I wouldn’t have looked twice.” He shook his head, smiling to himself. “Funny, isn’t it, how we start to accept weird things as being normal? I mean really – what’s sane and what’s not? What keeps us out here and others locked up with a lunatic label slapped on their heads? Thin line…thin line…”
“What’s happened, Noel?” Becky asked.
He related the motorbike incident and the impossibility of the car gaining on him on the straight; and the feeling that whoever was driving was not messing around or trying to scare him but really did want him dead.
“I don’t think that car was real,” said Becky.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“No, honestly – hear me out – this is why I desperately needed you to come over tonight. If we don’t share this stuff and face up to it we really are in deep shit. I’ve got Linda Hedges’ diary with me and you need to read it right now!” She took it out of her bag and slid it across the table.
Noel picked it up. “I can’t believe you managed to get this!”
Becky inclined her head towards Celeste. “Let’s just say I had a bit of help. Anyway, read it. Noel, there are satanic rituals and human sacrifices going on in Woodsend – children being born and used purely for that purpose! Linda found a plot of relatively recent, unmarked graves in the cemetery, which means that for years and years, births and deaths were not being registered. The day after she discovered this and made enquiries she collapsed and died.”
As Noel scanned the notebook, the other two waited.
“I’ll get more coffees to keep us awake,” said Becky.
Eventually he closed the book and put it back on the table. “Shit!”
Becky stared at him. “Now do you see what I’m on about? And Alice is still with Paul Dean! Ruby told Celeste today that they’ll baptise her when she’s thirteen – that’s baptise her in the name of Satan! And she’ll be thirteen any day now.”
Celeste interrupted, “Once Alice has been baptised in the name of the Antichrist she will be taking part in satanic rites, the dark arts and sacrifices! I am not party to the rituals but I have been shown enough by spirit to know that pain, torture and fear feed their energy. They want power over others, or revenge on an enemy, and of course some just want personal perversions satisfied, which will include murder, rape and paedophilia. Anyone who joins will have to commit some horrible act that will bind them to the coven forever. Stupidly they believe the evil invoked is controllable and not the other way round. In reality they themselves become vessels for the inhuman; and to cut a long story short any hope of Alice living a normal life will effectively be over. If she doesn’t die she will go mad.”
“I can’t believe this is real,” said Noel. “No way. It’s fucking medieval.”
“Oh yes,” said Celeste. “This is the diseased mentality of hags and warlocks dating back to the beginning of time. And much as we like to think we’re all modern and sophisticated and have all the answers, I’m afraid this kind of thing still exists and in fact, is more potent than ever because the rest of us refuse to accept its very existence. In our book evil is in our imagination and possession is madness. We make it easy for them.”
Becky leaned forwards. “If ever proof were needed that this threat is real, just look at Jack and Kristy! They were two of the most level-headed, intelligent people I’ve ever met, not to mention humanists with big hearts, and look what happened to them! Only Kristy isn’t getting the help Jack had and if you’d seen what I saw today you wouldn’t need any more convincing; especially if you add in the fact that she coincidentally has the same doctor who presided over Woodsend for forty years. So how did that happen?”
He held up his hands.
“Exactly. And even though Callum was conscious and talking when he was found, he certainly isn’t now; and I only just learned from the night staff that his kids haven’t arrived yet because they had a car accident en-route. Oh and his nurse went off sick this morning within minutes of being in his room, leaving him alone all day with a soaring temperature and tachycardia; and tonight I had one of the most horrific experiences I’ve ever had. On top of that Celeste has some pretty shocking information too, but you’ve got to keep an open mind, Noel.”
“Sorry. I had the scare of my life tonight and stupidly had a couple of pints to steady my nerves. I’ve been persuading myself for the last two hours that nothing sinister happened apart from having the bad luck to be chased by a nasty driver.”
“Only you know that it couldn’t have happened like that.”
“Yes. It actually wasn’t physically possible.”
“‘They’ can throw all sorts of obstacles in our paths…” said Celeste. “…banks of fog, a bat flying into your face, a snake in the car – anything to cause you to go off the road or have an accident of some kind.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“I think we stay sane precisely because we don’t really believe any of this,” Noel said eventually.
“And now?”
“Now we’re insane.”
Becky laughed. “No we’re not. We just have to accept that this is real. It is! There are some pretty nasty people out there who’re meddling with the dark arts.”
Noel nodded. “I suppose I just don’t get how that actually works. But somehow it does…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he snapped back. “Oh, I didn’t tell you earlier when we spoke, Becky, because you’d got enough on your plate, but Ruby had a bit of a set-back today.”
“What happened?”
“She was watching TV when a holiday programme came on about caravans. She switched to Dylan and attacked some of the other patients. We got her into the isolation room and left her to calm down, but when I went to see her at the end of my shift she switched back into Eve; started telling me about something being love, about ‘loving him’, but stupidly I lost the thread and asked what had happened earlier instead – you know, what had set her off? Anyway, that’s when I got Tara.”
“The seven year old?”
“Yes.” He looked across at Celeste. “This is confidential and…”
Celeste nodded. “I can go if you want, but Becky has asked me to work with Ruby to help her control her clairvoyance. I can’t avoid her alter personalities and I’ll be supervised at all times. Anyway, I’ve no interest in her medical condition, only to try and help. It’s up to you if I stay or go.”
“Stay,” said Becky. “We need you. Please stay.”
She nodded, and folded her hands in her lap.
Noel continued. “Okay, well I think this might help…Tara described a caravan in the woods at night. She says her father took her and her sister from their beds one night, and her sister was then locked in one of the caravans while she was taken to another bigger one. Her sister was told to stay quiet and they would come back for her, but she could hear her crying as they left. Tara described a table covered in a purple cloth with a broken black cross hanging on the wall. There was a strong ‘horrible smell’ and there were candles burning. ‘Huge, big fat men’ were getting drunk, and it was all smoky. After that she blanked out and started screaming about
her feet being on fire. They’d burned upside down crosses on the soles, can you believe?”
“Evil pigs.”
“I’m assuming the ‘good sister’ was kept safely in the ‘other’ caravan while it all happened? Nevertheless, the seven year old did recall being taken there by her father and she does have the scars on her feet to prove it!”
“Was she able to relate any other detail that could help?”
He shook his head. “No, she was extremely traumatised. I don’t think, to my knowledge that seven year old Tara has spoken to us like that before.”
Celeste frowned. “Who is Ruby’s mother?”
“Natalie,” said Becky. “She was brought up by Ida, though – Paul Dean’s wife, or partner anyway – but her natural mother was Natalie Dean.”
“Paul Dean’s first wife?”
Becky shook her head. “No, sorry – she’s Paul’s sister.”
“Now I feel sick,” said Noel. “Did Ruby tell you this?”
“Yes, well Marie did! Ruby’s got a grandma called Cora who still lives in Bridesmoor. Cora and Lucas Dean, who lived at Tanners Dell in the old mill, had five children together – Paul, Derek and Rick, and the two girls, Natalie and Kathleen. Natalie’s dead now but she was Ruby’s real mother.”
“Where did Ida come from, then?” Noel asked.
Celeste spoke softly and rapidly. “Her name isn’t Ida, it’s Lilith.”
“You’ve lost me,” said Becky, turning to look at her.
“Me too,” said Noel.
“That’s what I’ve come to tell you urgently. She’s on to me now. I can feel her around me, using my eyes…” Celeste started to shake all over and Becky put an arm around her.
Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Page 13
