The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  Angela pointed to the screen at Sammie. “How long has he been sitting there now?”

  “Since we opened up the feed, which was more than an hour ago. I wonder what he’s thinking about.”

  Angela seemed to consider the answer. “I don’t know, but I don’t imagine it’s anything a normal ten-year old would think about.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll start trying to make some sense out of everything. Until then, bottoms up.” Tim raised his glass and Angela finished off her whisky. She quickly poured another from the bottle on the table. She poured Tim another too. Then she shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked her. He was getting a little chilly himself.

  Angela rubbed at her shoulders. “Yeah, it’s getting a bit frigid.”

  “I imagine it’s pretty hard to heat a place this size.”

  The patter of rain started against the windows and Tim looked across the room to the French doors, which lined the far wall behind the lounge’s grand piano. Pebble-sized splashes appeared on the panes as the downpour beat harder against the glass. “Well, I wouldn’t bank on it getting any warmer,” said Tim. “Looks like we’re in for a dreary evening.”

  Suddenly the lights in the room went out. The moon shone in on them.

  “Oh, great,” said Angela. “If I wasn’t cold before, I’m definitely going to freeze with the power off.”

  “I’m sure it will come back on in a minute. Maybe there’s a storm coming.”

  “As if this night couldn’t get any more cliché. It’s a dark, stormy night at an old English manor and the power just went out. Are you kidding me?”

  Tim giggled. “All we need now is an axe-wielding maniac.”

  The doors to the lounge burst open.

  It was Mike and Graham. They were grinning. “Mind if we join you?” Mike asked. “It’s a little too nippy to sit around in the car all night. I brought your things, Angela. I placed them in your room.”

  “Fantastic,” Angela said. “And, yes, you are welcome to join us. I think we were just about to freak ourselves out, anyway, what with the power being off. The more the merrier, I say.”

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “Take a load off.” Might be interesting seeing where you stand in all this. Are you just drivers, or are you both up to something more.

  “Thanks,” Mike said and took a seat at the table. Graham said nothing and headed behind the shadowy bar.

  “I see Graham is as sociable as ever,” Angela commented, loud enough so that the man could hear her.

  “What was that?” Graham asked from behind the bar. There was a glass of gin in his hand.

  “Nothing,” said Angela. “It’s just delightful to have such charming company.”

  “Let me tell you something, lady.” Graham came over to the table and placed his glass down on the table more forcefully than he needed to. “You’re just a guest here. I’ve been here for over two years, so maybe you should show a little more respect.”

  “Of course,” said Angela. “My apologies. I didn’t realise that the respect of a stranger was so important to you.”

  Graham shook his head and swigged his gin. “You’ll end up walking home after all this is done if you’re not careful.”

  “I don’t think Jessica would appreciate you speaking to us like that,” said Tim. I’m not going to be insulted by the bloody help.

  “Screw her.” Graham growled. “Woman’s a mess. She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on half the time.”

  “Yet, alas, here I am now listening to you speak.” Jessica had appeared in the doorway, dressed smartly in trousers and an ivory blouse. She looked more in control of her wits than the previous times Tim had seen her.

  Graham leapt up from his seat, flustered. His gin splashed out of his glass and wet the table “J-Jessica! I mean, Ms Raymeady. How are you doing this evening?”

  “I’m good, Graham. Thank you for asking. I would feel safer, however, if I knew you were outside in the car.”

  “But, it’s freezing out there.”

  “Then I suggest you turn on the engine.”

  Graham walked off in a huff. Mike got up to go after him.

  “No, no,” said Jessica. “You’re quite welcome to stay, Michael.”

  Mike sat back down again slowly, as if he were unsure. “Thank you, Ms Raymeady. Will you be joining us?”

  Jessica shook her head. “Perhaps later. I think I should keep a clear head from now on. I hear that Sammie had an accident today?”

  “Yes,” Tim admitted. “We’re not quite sure what happened.”

  “That’s quite alright,” said Jessica, “but let me assure you that I will not tolerate my son being hurt again. Next time there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” said Tim, feeling about five years old.

  “Good,” said Jessica. “I will be with Sammie if anyone needs me.”

  Everyone at the table nodded, but remained quiet. Jessica had gotten a hold of herself in a big way and was now unidentifiable as the drunken mess from the morning. Suddenly, Tim could see her as a wealthy and powerful woman. Jessica had given herself a reality check and was now back in control. Either that or the woman’s close to a break down. This could be the calm before the storm.

  Tim snapped shut the lid on his laptop. “So much for my equipment. Not much use with the power off.”

  “Frank will be looking into it,” said Mike. “Power’s been going off a lot lately.”

  “Doesn’t your laptop run off a battery?” Angela asked Tim.

  “Yeah, it does, but not the cameras. All the feeds have gone down.”

  “What feeds?” Mike asked.

  Angela poured herself another drink and explained. “Tim has video cameras set up in Sammie’s room. We were going to observe him this evening and try to figure out what’s going on with him.”

  Mike chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that. Jessica has had half the medical community through here the last few months. No one could figure it out. Most of them ran screaming from the building.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tim. Is he just trying to scar us, or is he telling the truth?

  Mike rubbed his hands in front of him, to warm them up. “Sure you’ve seen by now, but Sammie has a bit of a temper. There was a psychiatrist that was here a few weeks ago that tried some behavioural adjustments – one of which was trying to take away Sammie’s crayons until he promised to only draw nice things. Next thing we know, Sammie attacks the guy; bites one of his ears clean off. The doctor starts crawling around on his hands and knees, squealing like a pig, looking for his missing appendage – and then we realise. Sammie had swallowed the thing whole.”

  Tim’s face scrunched up with disgust. “Helsinki.”

  “Tell me about it. Jessica had to cut the guy a fat cheque just to keep him quiet about the whole thing.”

  Angela finished off her new whisky in a single gulp and quickly poured another. Tim raised an eyebrow and wondered whether to be impressed or worried by her constitution for alcohol. “How come you’ve hung around though all this, Mike?” she asked. “Frank told me everybody else left.”

  “Me and Graham work outside. We have no contact with Sammie. I guess we feel safe enough.”

  “So you think Sammie is dangerous?”

  “I know he is. Whatever the reason for that, I can’t say, but you wouldn’t catch me alone in a room with him.”

  “He’s just a ten-year old boy,” said Angela.

  Mike shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, maybe you being here is exactly what is needed. Your exorcism kit is in your room. I think you may want to think about using it.”

  Tim cleared his throat. “You’re going to perform an exorcism. Can you still do that as an ex priest?”

  Angela cleared her throat. “Guess we’ll find out. Unless anyone has any objections?”

  “Not me,” said Mike. “I’m not really much of a believer in God, but I’
d like to see what happens. Every other option has been exhausted, so we’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “I agree,” said Tim. “I still believe that there’s a rational explanation for all this, but I’d like to dispel any notions of ‘possession’ as soon as possible. You’re the best person to do that.”

  Angela eyelids suddenly became very droopy, as if the mere mention of performing an exorcism had drained away her energy. “I’m not sure I even remember what to do anymore,” she admitted.

  “It will come back to you,” said Mike. “I heard you were very good at it once.”

  Angela huffed. “Too bad I can’t put it on my resume as a useful job skill.”

  They all shared a laugh about that and sipped at their drinks. After a few moments had passed, Tim looked at Mike. “Tell me about Jessica,” he said.

  “Jessica? What’s to tell? She’s lived most of her life in the papers and most of what they’ve written is true. She met Joseph Raymeady at University. I’m not sure what she was studying, but she never finished anyway. Joseph asked her to marry him, right after he graduated and joined his father’s company. Eventually, both she and Joseph took a place on the Board of Directors.” Mike motioned to the room around them. “You’ve already witnessed the fruits of their labour. Jessica is one of the richest women in the world, but I don’t think she really knows what to do with it all without her husband. Things have been hard on her.”

  “How long has she been drinking?” Tim asked.

  “Not long, to be honest. The woman you just saw is more the real her. She is a kind soul, but very much in control of herself usually. The drinking and depression has been out of character, but who can blame her? In fact, I was pleased to see the way she just dealt with Graham. Perhaps she’s on the mend. I think she feels better with the two of you here. Let’s just hope you can help Sammie. Else I fear she’ll take another slide.”

  “We’ll do our best,” said Tim. Whatever that is. “I don’t plan on leaving until we get to the bottom of-”

  The laptop on the table vibrated. The speakers emitted static.

  Angela thrust her chin at the computer. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know.” Tim put his hands on the laptop and slid it in front of him. He slowly raised the monitor.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  Tim spun the laptop around so that she and Mike could see what was on the screen. “The feeds are back up,” he explained. “I don’t know how.”

  Angela looked at the screen and squinted.

  Mike did the same.

  Tim had a bad feeling.

  Sammie’s room was dark except for a candle burning beside his bed. Sammie was tucked up beneath the sheets with Jessica sat beside him, reading a paperback novel while her son slept. Keeping a vigil, Tim thought.

  In addition to the standard video feed, there was also a second feed being displayed. The infrared camera displayed several multi-coloured blotches onscreen – heat signatures. Jessica’s body glowed beside the prone form of her son beneath the covers. Sammie’s heat signature seemed to be in constant flux, reds and yellows pulsing and changing every second.

  They all continued to watch the screen, eyes glued. Jessica put down the paperback and got up up out of her chair.

  “What’s she doing?” Mike asked.

  Tim shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s going over to Sammie’s bed, I think. She’s…oh, God.”

  They all watched as Jessica pulled a pillow from beneath Sammie’s sleeping head and held it over his face.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Angela galloped through the long hallways of the house, trying to navigate her way to Sammie’s room as quickly as she could. With every corner, she shouted out Jessica’s name at the top of her lungs. The woman had finally lost her sanity and was trying to eliminate the cause of all her stress – her ten-year-old son. Angela knew it was an automatic defence mechanism for someone who was clinically depressed to try and eliminate the cause, but Jessica’s urge to kill Sammie was only a temporary madness that she would later regret for the rest of her life. If Jessica managed to succeed with what she was doing, the mother would never forgive herself. Angela had to stop her before it was too late.

  Tim and Mike were right behind her. Sammie’s room was just up ahead. Even in the dark she could see the posters and signs that adorned the boy’s bedroom door. Angela wasted no time in barging inside. It was like entering a nightmare.

  It was dark inside the bedroom. Shadows seemed to shift and swirl all around. The stench of sweat and faeces was everywhere too. Over in the depths of the room was the burning candle Jessica had been reading by. A flickering cone of light surrounded it, but it was not enough to illuminate anything beyond half-a-foot.

  “Jessica!” Angela called out. “Whatever you are doing, you need to stop.”

  There was no answer.

  Angela took a step forward, slicing through the darkness. Sammie’s bed lay ahead. The boy rested beneath the covers – his silhouette grey and unmoving.

  “Sammie? Are you okay?” Angela could smell the sweat coming off the boy’s bed sheets in waves. “Sammie, answer me.”

  Tim and Mike milled in the shadows behind, but Angela felt as if they were a million miles away. It was just her and the bed and the grisly secrets it held. She took the final steps and reached out a hand, her fingertips searching, dreading what they were about to feel. Were her fingers about to connect with the soft flesh of a dead child? She edged forward, inch by inch, stretching on her tiptoes.

  Something wrapped around Angela’s wrist.

  She tried to leap back. Whatever had her would not let go. She cried out for help, struggling to break free. Tim and Mike rushed up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, pulled her back.

  The power came back on with an audible click! Light flooded the bedroom and Angela blinked as her retinas responded with pain. Sammie was lying on the bed in front of her, staring at her through narrow black slits.

  It must have been Sammie’s hand that wrapped around her wrist. But how could it have been with him lay in bed beneath the covers.

  “What are you doing, Angela? I was sleeping.”

  Angela found it hard to speak. Her lungs had seized up as if an invisible python had roped itself around her chest. “Sammie, w-where is your mother? Where is Jessica?”

  Sammie’s grin grew wider. “Oh, I think she went up to her room to get some air. She was feeling rather unwell.”

  “Sammie? Has something happened? Did you mother do something to you with a pillow?”

  Sammie giggled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. As I explained, I was sleeping quite soundly until you rudely woke me. Maybe you should go check on my mother, if you’re so concerned. I would hate for anything to happen to her.”

  Angela leant closer to the boy. “What does that mean?”

  “Erm…Angela?” It was Tim’s voice, coming from behind her. “I think you should take a look at this.”

  Angela stepped away from Sammie and turned around. What she saw on the walls was impossible. More of the boy’s crayoned drawings had appeared, stuck into the plaster with pushpins so thickly that they overlapped and looked like gaudy wallpaper – hundreds of them. They depicted the rain outside, the house without power, and the windows shaded black to show the lack of light. Even more disturbing was the depictions of Angela, Tim, and Mike. The drawing showed them all sitting in the piano lounge huddling around a table with a laptop between them. Sammie had drawn them watching him. There was no way he could have known how they were sitting or what they were doing – it had happened only minutes ago. It could never have even drawn it in time. Not a hundred times over.

  Tim placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder and turned her slightly to her right. He pointed at one of the pictures. “Look.”

  Angela looked at the artwork and felt a heavy stone roll its way through her guts. Scrawled in harsh black pencil
was a picture of Jessica. She was hanging by her neck from a rain-drenched balcony.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When Angela and the others reached the penthouse floor, they heard Frank. He was crying out for help in a way that made it clear something terrible had happened.

  Angela had not yet visited the penthouse floor and neither had Tim, so Mike led the way. The hallways of the fourth floor were wider than the others and the three of them were able to sprint side by side as if they were running track. Mike motioned to a doorway at the end of the hallway and told them it was Jessica’s bedroom. Frank’s voice was coming from inside.

  Angela grabbed the door handle and yanked, but it was locked. She rattled it back and forth, hoping it would turn, but it held tightly. She bashed a fist against the wood. “Frank? Frank, let us in. What’s happening?”

  “I can’t,” came Frank’s muffled voice. “I can’t let go. Please, help me. I can’t hold her much longer.”

  Angela looked at Tim and Mike, saw they were as confused as she was, but at least Mike seemed to have an idea. He shrugged his shoulders and took a step backwards, then strode forward and aimed a heavy kick at the door.

  Bamph! The wood cracked.

  Mike kicked again. The door swung open.

  Angela rushed through into Jessica’s bedroom, dragging Tim along with her. She looked around for Frank, but the room was empty. “Frank! Frank, where are you?”

  “Over here, on the balcony.”

  Angela peered across the lavish bedroom and saw a pair of French doors at the far side. They were hanging open, the wind and rain blowing into the room. Angela found Frank leaning over a cement railing, struggling with something unseen beneath. The shirt on his back was sodden from rain and sweat.

  “Frank, what’s happening?”

  The man strained to turn his head and look at her. The muscles in his neck bunched up. “Help…me!”

  Angela hurried over and was glad Tim and Mike did the same. Frank was tired, hanging over the railing, his body starting to give out. Angela gasped to find Jessica’s limp body hanging from his grasp, dangling four stories above the ground. She was unconscious. A thick noose cut into her throat and was secured at the other end by one of the balcony’s cement balustrades.