by Amy Cross
“I don't know,” he replies, “but people are going from building to building now, searching. We drew up a methodical action plan, so it can't be much longer before she's found. We should get back out there and help.”
“Try the payphone,” Don says, turning to him. “Go on, see if it's working!”
“Actually, I was going to -”
“Try the payphone!” Don hisses, snapping his fingers. “Move, man!”
“Yes, Sir,” Matt mutters, glancing at Mary and rolling his eyes before heading through to the back of the bar. A moment later, he calls through to them: “This one's dead too!”
“Trouble paying your bill?” Don asks Mary with a faint, smug grin.
“The lines must be down,” she replies firmly.
“If you need another loan -”
“I don't.”
“Well, keep it in mind.”
“No thank you.”
“Well, if you -”
“Oh, won't it just stop?” she shouts suddenly, turning to look over at the window as her frustration starts to boil over. “I don't get it! How can she be screaming after all this time, and still no-one's found her? What the hell is going on in this town?”
“We need to find a working phone,” Matt says as he heads back through to join them and makes his way to the door. “Whatever's going on here, I think we need to get a little help from out of town. I think this might be beyond us.”
“Hang on there,” Don says, turning to him, “let's not get carried away. The only reason I wanted a phone was so we could start ringing around to check who's home and who's not. We have a fine tradition in Pine Ridge of dealing with problems without relying on outsiders.”
“Since when?” Mary asks.
“Is that why the police station's still empty?” Matt asks. “It's been almost a month since David Holland died and we're still no closer to getting a replacement. Meanwhile, Bobby Briscoe's running around pretending he's got everything under control like he's some kind of deputy, but -”
“Speak of the devil,” Don replies, looking over at the window as he interrupts. “Looks like someone finally showed his face.”
As Bobby reaches the front of the building, he adjusts his hat before pushing the door open. Immediately, the continuing scream can be heard more loudly.
“I'm sorry,” Bobby says, seeming completely flustered, “I got here as fast as I could, but I was in the shower and then I had to dry my hair and -”
“Shut the door,” Mary tells him.
“What's going on?” he asks blankly, as if he's waiting for Don to tell him what to do. “What's the -”
“Shut the door!” Mary shouts. “For God's sake!”
Stepping past Bobby, Mary grabs the door and slams it shut, with enough force to once again rattle the glass. Turning to Bobby, she sighs.
“I'm sorry,” she tells him, wincing as the scream continues outside. “I didn't mean to shout.”
“Barely makes any difference anyway,” Don mutters. “Can still hear it.”
“There are people going from building to building,” Bobby stammers. “They say they can't find whoever's making that awful noise! Is that right? I mean... How? How is that possible?”
“We're workin' on it,” Don tells him.
“No offense, Bobby,” Matt says after a moment, “but this is why we need someone with David Holland's level of experience. You were a fine deputy, but as -”
“Bobby's doing just swell,” Don mutters. “Leave the kid alone.”
“Who is it?” Mary whispers, still staring out the window. “Who is it and what's being done to her? I can't even imagine...”
“Get me another drink,” Don tells her, sliding his empty glass across the bar. When Mary makes no attempt to catch it, however, the glass slides off the other side and falls, smashing against the floor.
“All the phones are down,” Bobby continues. “It's crazy, I don't know what's wrong.”
“How can the phones be down?” Matt asks, turning to Don. “And the internet, too. Don't you think that's kind of a coincidence?”
“Let's not go makin' up conspiracy theories just yet,” Don replies. “I'll tell you what we'll do. This scream, this horrible noise, is gonna end at any moment. It has to, any second now. It's just not physically possible for it to continue for more than a couple more minutes. And then we're gonna find the poor unfortunate individual, whoever she is, and see if she's okay.”
“Do you seriously think,” Mary snaps, “that she could possibly be okay? Listen to her, for God's sake!”
“I just don't want to jump to any conclusions,” he continues. “Like I said, we'll see what's going on when we find her.” He turns to Matt. “If she needs medical help then you, Doctor Kielty, can take a look and then maybe someone'll have to drive her over to the hospital in Dulsey Springs.”
“It's just horrible,” Bobby says, heading to the door and peering out at the town square. The scream is still ringing out, although there seem to be a few more sobs mixed in with the sound now. He pauses for a moment, before turning to the others. “Do you think... I mean, do you think someone's being tortured out there?”
“Put some music on,” Don mutters. When no-one replies, he turns to Matt. “You. Jukebox. Anything.”
“I don't think -”
“Put some goddamn music on!” Don shouts, slamming his fist against the bar. “It's hard to think with that racket goin' on outside!”
“I'm not putting music on to drown out the scream,” Matt tells him.
“You, then,” Don continues, turning to Mary and snapping his fingers. “Go on, it's your bar, anyway. Just put on something that'll help us think.”
“I thought whiskey helped you think,” she replies. “How much help do you need, exactly?”
He turns to her, glaring with anger.
While Mary hesitates, Bobby hurries over to the jukebox.
“I'll do it, Sir,” he says eagerly, as he starts to root through his pockets for some coins. “What would you like? Easy listening? Classic rock? Something more -”
“Anything,” Don says darkly, wincing slightly at the continued sound of the scream outside. “Are you sure there are no open windows around here?” he asks, turning to Mary. “That noise just seems to be leaking into the goddamn place!”
“There's Stones, Beatles,” Bobby continues, “Led Zeppelin, maybe -”
“Anything,” Don says again, as he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on Mary. “What? Do I have to ask when I want another whiskey?”
She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure getting drunk is the answer?”
“I'm not getting drunk, I'm just trying to make it easier to think.”
“What about Bonnie Tyler?” Bobby asks suddenly. “She's nice and -”
“Anything!” Don shouts, turning to him with pure anger in his voice. “For God's sake, boy, just put a coin in the slot and pick any goddamn song, okay? Jesus Christ, do I have to wipe your ass for you too?”
Clearly shaken by the outburst, Bobby drops a coin into the jukebox and begins to load up the first song. “Sure,” he mutters. “Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to...” His voice trails off, and he seems close to tears as he jabs at a few more buttons on the machine.
Grabbing a fresh glass, Mary goes to fill another shot.
“Something isn't right here,” Matt says after a moment.
“No kidding, Sherlock,” Don replies. “Pine Ridge has been a peaceful town for as long as I've lived here, which happens to be since the day I was born. Nothing like this has ever happened here. Hell, nothing like this should ever happen here, it's not right.” He grabs the glass of whiskey as soon as Mary sets it down, and he takes a big gulp. “I doubt anything like this has ever happened anywhere, period.”
A moment later, music starts blaring from the jukebox, although it's not enough to completely drown out the scream.
“Turn it up” Don mutters, taking another sip of whiskey before turning to Bobby. “Louder!”
“How much louder?” Bobby asks.
Taking a deep breath, Don turns and glares at him.
Bobby immediately turns the dial all the way, and the music becomes deafeningly loud, causing them all to cover their ears before Bobby turns the dial back down a little.
“Okay, there,” Don says with a sigh. “At least I can goddamn think now.”
“This is a small town,” Matt replies, heading over to the window and looking out. “There aren't many places where someone could be hidden away without getting found almost immediately.”
“They need to check every roof,” Don mutters.
Spotting people on the roof of the Beauy building, Matt turns to him. “Looks like some guys are getting onto that right now.”
“That's where she'll be,” Don continues, sounding a little calmer now. “Mark my words, I guarantee it. I even think I could tell the scream was comin' from quite high up as soon as I heard it. I thought, yeah, that's what's happenin'. Someone's up on the roof somewhere doin' this. If people had listened to me from the start instead of making dumb lists, this'd all be over by now.”
“So do we have a plan?” Matt asks, turning to Don. “You said we were coming in here so we could work out what to do next, not so you could sit around drinking whiskey and telling other people to run around after you.”
“I think I can still hear it,” Mary whispers, “even above the music.”
“Just ignore it,” Don tells her.
“How?”
“With the power of your goddamn mind!” He turns to Matt. “Yes, we have a plan. The plan is to search every inch of this town until we find out who the hell is screamin' like that, okay? It's a real simple plan and it -” Before he can finish, the song begins to fade out, and gradually the scream becomes easier to hear again. “Bobby,” he barks, “why isn't another one playin'?”
“Did you want more than one?” Reaching into his pocket, Bobby pulls out some more coins. “I'm not sure I have -”
“Give him some coins from the register,” Don tells Mary.
Ignoring him, she makes her way around the counter and over to the jukebox, before leaning down and pulling the plug out of the wall. The music immediately cuts off, allowing the scream to be heard again.
“What did you do that for?” Jim shouts. “Do you want to hear that godawful racket?”
“I sure as hell don't want to hide from it,” she replies, heading to the door. “I want it to stop. This was a mistake, hiding away in here, I'm going out there to help with the search.” Pulling the door open, she pauses as soon as she's able to hear the scream properly again. “It's getting worse, isn't it?” she continues before turning to Matt. “Is it even possible for a human being to make that awful noise for so long?”
“How long has it been now?” he asks.
Checking her watch, she feels a shiver pass through her chest. “An hour and a half,” she tells him. “God, how can this have lasted that long?”
“Mary's right,” Matt says, turning to Don. “We're going back out there. We need to find this person, and then once we've -”
“I know who it is!” Robert shouts suddenly, hurrying across the town square and making his way to the bar, with several other people right behind him. “I went through every name,” he continues, a little out of breath as he holds up the sheet of paper for them to see, “and I only crossed people off once I'd seen them personally, with my own eyes, plus a few other people we know it can't be 'cause of age or gender, things like that.”
“And?” Matt asks, grabbing the paper from him. “Have you got a name?”
“Jessica Barton,” he replies. “I mean, she's the only one it could be who I also haven't seen this morning, and no-one else has seen her either, not since before this started.” As the scream continues, he turns to look back across the town square. “I think it's Jessica Barton.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This is one hell of a burger,” Roake says as he grabs a napkin and wipes juice from his chin. “Wow, just... Growing up in a small town in eastern Kent, I always wondered what a real American burger would taste like in a real American diner, and this...”
He pauses for a moment, before turning to see that the waitress is chewing on her fingernails as she stares out the window.
“Well,” Roake continues, setting the burger down, “the dream certainly lived up to the reality. I sure would like to know the secret ingredients that push your burgers over the edge from delicious to ravishing. I'm starting to think it must require real skill.”
He waits for her to reply, but she's still staring out at the town square so he takes a sip of water before picking up the burger and taking another huge bite. He adds something with his mouth full, although this time his words aren't clear.
“Oh God!” the waitress shouts suddenly, turning away from the window and putting her hands over her ears. “What the hell is going on?” She closes her eyes for a moment, before opening them and looking over at Roake. “I'm sorry, Father, I didn't mean to use bad language, it's just...” There are tears in her eyes now, and after a moment one trickles down her cheek. “It's been so long now,” she continues, “and that scream just keeps going on and on, and I keep telling myself it has to end but then it doesn't and -”
She stops suddenly, her mouth hanging open as if she can't work out how to continue.
“It's a terrible thing,” Roake replies, swallowing another mouthful of meat. “That much is certain.”
“How can someone be in so much pain for so long?” she asks, making her way over to join him. “It's not even physically possible, is it? I mean, surely the human body can only stand so much before... Well, I don't know, before something happens.”
“Ordinarily, yes,” he tells her. “Unfortunately, sometimes... Ways are found to keep things going.” He takes another bite, while his gaze drifts down to the hint of cleavage that's visible behind her uniform.
“I just wanna stuff cotton in my ears,” she continues, putting her head in her hands, “and drive away from Pine Ridge until this is all over. I don't think I can take it much longer. I know it's only been a couple of hours, but still... It's driving me insane.”
“Well...” Chewing, he stops suddenly, still watching her cleavage before finally looking up and seeing the fear and pain in her eyes. After a moment, he sets the burger down and stares at it for a moment, before spitting out a mouthful of burger into another napkin. “He did it again,” he whispers, with an expression of pure shock. “He distracted me, just like in Amsterdam. I almost fell for it again, too. After everything that happened last time, I almost walked right into the same trap.”
“She's almost howling with pain,” the waitress points out. “It's not even as if the scream is constantly the same, it's more like whatever's happening to her, it keeps changing.”
“I thought I was stronger this time,” Roake continues, staring at his trembling hands. “I thought I could resist the temptations of the flesh, but evidently I was wrong. Still...” He pauses for a moment. “At least I saw through it this time. I can console myself with that, at least.” He turns to her. “M'am, do you mind telling me your name?”
She hesitates. “Janine,” she tells him finally. “Janine Day.”
“Janine Day?” A faint smile crosses his lips. “That's a fine name, you're very lucky. Would you like the rest of my burger, Janine Day? It's very nice, very...” He eyes it with suspicion. “Tempting.”
“You're a priest,” she continues, “right? So can't you do something about what's happening?”
He stares at the burger for a moment longer, before turning to her. “Soon,” he whispers. “It's really not that simple. If it was, I or someone like me would have ended this madness a long time ago, before it even reached your fine little town.”
She dabs at the tears in her eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I may be a man of God, but I am still just one man.” Glancing at the window, he watches
as several locals hurry past, no doubt on their way to continue their search for the scream's source. “The scream is something bigger. It's something that one man can't hope to stop, not on his own. Plenty have tried. Believe me, I'm far from the first who has set out on this path, but God willing maybe, just maybe, I'll be the last. Still...” Getting to his feet, he steps back from the table. “Distractions. That's how he stopped me last time, that's how Amsterdam became such a disaster.”
“You make it sound like you know what's happening,” she replies, sniffing back more tears.
He turns to her.
“Do you?” she asks, her eyes widening with shock.
He shakes his head. “No. Not really. Well...” He pauses, not wanting to lie but also keen to reserve as much of the truth as possible. “It's a very complicated thing, Janine. Smarter men than I have studied it at length, and only scratched the surface of the scream and its associated nightmares. Let's just say that it's no coincidence that I happened to come here today. I've been following this thing for quite some time now, always hoping to catch it at the right moment, but until Pine Ridge...”
“What do you mean?” she asks. “How can you follow a scream?”
“I can't,” he replies, “but what causes the scream... That is something I can follow. Or try to follow, anyway.” He blinks a couple of times, as if he's trying to get a thought out of his mind. “Perhaps I shouldn't have come and eaten. I allowed myself to become distracted, but that's something he always does to those who get close to him. It's one of his greatest defense mechanisms, it's his way of making sure no-one can even try to stop him. I thought I was stronger this time, I thought I'd learned after Amsterdam, but clearly the flesh is still weak.”
“You talk a little funny,” she tells him. “Even for an English guy.”
“Don't you think it's odd,” he continues, “that no-one from this town has gone to get help? That no-one has called or emailed anyone, that no-one has taken videos and uploaded them online to show the world what's happening here?”
