by Amy Cross
“Well...” She pauses. “I guess... I think the phones...”
“Always an excuse,” he continues, with an expression of pure disbelief. “That's another of the ways in which he works. No-one will go to get help, they'll just stay right here and try to find the source themselves. As for the phones, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone has taken out their SIM cards without remembering. That's the kind of subtle little trick that he likes to use.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” she asks.
“There's nothing you can do.” He pauses for a moment, before turning and heading to the door. “Fortunately, I...”
Pushing the door open, he stops for a moment and listens as the scream continues. He takes a series of deep breaths, as if he's trying to drink in as much as possible, and slowly his eyes widen with horror.
“She's in so much pain,” Janine continues. “Whoever she is, you can tell, it sounds like... She's in real agony, isn't she? I can't even imagine what that's like.”
Roake pauses, before turning to her and nodding. “You shouldn't try to imagine it. Please, promise you won't.”
“Maybe it'd be better if she died,” Janine replies. “I know that's an awful thing to say, but if no-one can find her, maybe it'd be better if she just... didn't suffer anymore.”
“I'm sure it would,” he mutters, “but I'm afraid that's not how it works, not on this particular occasion.” He pauses again, before heading outside. “Thank you for the wonderful food.”
Left alone, Janine makes her way to the window and watches as the priest makes his way across the town square. She wants to run after him, to ask what's really happening, but somehow the thought of going outside is too much for her to handle; after all, she figures the scream will sound even louder out there, so instead she heads over to the counter and switches the radio on, turning the volume dial to maximum. Music fills the air, almost drowning out the sound of the scream but...
But not quite. She can still hear it. When she turns and looks back out the window, there's no sign of the priest.
Chapter Fifteen
“Jessica!” Judy Cluny shouts, as she stands on the edge of the movie theater's roof and looks out across the town square. “Can you hear me? Jessica!”
She waits, but all she hears is the continuing scream and, in the distance, other voices calling Jessica's name in different parts of the town. Looking down, she sees a couple of people searching a nearby alley, and a little further along there's a man in a dark brown leather jacket making his way toward the church. Squinting, she realizes she doesn't recognize him, but she tells herself that she has to focus on finding the missing girl.
“Jessica!” she shouts again, with her hands around her mouth this time, before turning to find her brother Jason making his way over to join her. “This is hopeless,” she tells him. “There's no way she can hear us, not while she's screaming.”
“She's probably out of her mind with pain now,” Jason replies, with a faint smile. “Like, beyond the point of no return. Wouldn't surprise me if he's torturing her with some pretty heavy-duty stuff, like maybe clamps and electrodes on her nipples, or spikes in her -”
“Jason!”
“What?”
“Can you just not say things like that? Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?”
“Are they even sure it's her?” he asks. “Everyone basically sounds the same when they're screaming. The further a person is pushed toward pure pain and panic, the more they just sound... Well, almost like an animal. As pain increases, screams converge until they all sound the same. That's just, like, common sense.”
“Are you serious?”
“I've read up on the theory of pain,” he continues. “The closer you get pushed, the more you lose of yourself. I'm not saying that just to poke your buttons, dumb-ass. Do you really, honestly think you can recognize the scream as Jessica's?”
“Just shut up,” he mutters.
“Is it her?” he asks again. “Come on, just try to tell.”
They stand in silence for a moment, as they hear the scream rising all around the building, filling the air. At times it sounds closer, but it quickly shifts around them, as if it wants to be everywhere at once. After half a minute or so, the sound actually seems to become more abstract, as if it's barely even a person at all, but finally – with a sudden jolt – Judy feels a flash of recognition in her chest.
“I think it's her,” she says cautiously, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I mean... I don't know for certain. I've never heard her scream before, dumb-ass.”
“But you know her pretty well, don't you?”
“I guess. We talked at school a few times.”
“So did she ever say anything that might help?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know, maybe...” Heading over to another side of the building, he looks out for a moment at a different part of the town, before turning back to his sister. “Maybe she was into something dark, you know? Something no-one else knew about, maybe devil worship or some kind of kinky sex game. Maybe she kinda brought this on herself by pushing the darkness too hard. Maybe it finally pushed back, or...” A grin crosses his lips. “God, maybe she's actually enjoying it! Maybe it's some kinda masochistic thing and she's totally getting off on the pain!”
“You're sick,” she replies, turning to her. “You know that, right? You've seen way too many gross horror films.”
“You're just too naive to imagine the possibilities. Come on, what do you really think they're doing to her?”
“Jason -”
“I'm serious. There's no point being squeamish. If we know what's causing her to scream, then we can maybe work out where she is. If certain equipment is needed, that might narrow things down. Come on, at least try. What could make Jessie Barton make such a horrible noise, and for so long?” He pauses, allowing himself a faint smile as he watches his sister's discomfort. “Put yourself in her place. You're the same age. What would it take to make you scream like that? What would someone have to do to make you scream your lungs out for almost three hours on a Tuesday morning?”
“I don't want to think about it!”
“Try!”
Sighing, Judy listens for a moment, as the horrific sound continues. Every few minutes, the scream seems to come close to a kind of uncontrolled sobbing sound, and occasionally it's as if there are almost a few attempts at words. The overwhelming sound, however, remains the terrified, wretched howl of pure, unadulterated pain that has now been filling the town since the sun rose.
“I have no idea,” Judy says eventually. “It could be anything.”
“I think she's being tortured,” he replies.
“Jason!”
“I do! There's no point pretending stuff isn't happening when it is! The only explanation is that someone's torturing her! There are some sick assholes out there, whether you like it or not.”
“Maybe she had an accident.”
“Then why doesn't she just cry for help and say where she is?” He pauses. “Anyway, if she was bleeding, she'd be unconscious by now. This sounds more like someone's hurting her but keeping her alive. You know, controlling her pain level, that kind of thing. If you think about it, that'd take a fair bit of skill.”
“Who the hell would torture her?” Judy asks, with a hint of desperation in her voice. “This is Pine Ridge, for God's sake! There's no-one living here who'd ever dream of doing something like this!”
“Maybe there is,” he replies, “and we didn't know it 'til now.”
“But Robert Leary said Jessica's the only person missing, right?”
“Right.”
“So whoever's doing this to her, they must be from out of town! Otherwise they'd be missing too, 'cause they'd be too busy doing whatever sick things they're doing!”
“Unless they set up some kind of machine and they were able to leave it to run automatically,” he points out. “You ever looked on the dark-net? Some of the things people build...”<
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“Now you're being ridiculous.”
“It's ridiculous whatever way you look at it,” he continues. “Physically, how long can someone scream like this before, I dunno, they just collapse or faint or something? You can barely even hear her stopping to take a breath now and then. Hell -” Taking his phone from his pocket, he taps at the screen. “No service,” he mutters, tapping a couple more times before turning to his sister. “I'm gonna record the damn thing, and then later on at home I'll put it on my computer and I bet it'll turn out the whole thing's looped. This is gonna turn out to be some kinda major disappointment, mark my words.”
“I don't think it's looped,” Judy replies, looking down at a nearby street as some men emerge from one door and then hurry into another, continuing their desperate search. “I think it's real, I just...” Putting her hands up to her ears, she takes a deep breath. “If it carries on much longer, I swear my ears are going to start bleeding.”
“Don't get melodramatic.”
“Thanks. That advice really helps.”
Sighing, Jason turns and listens to the scream for a moment longer, really focusing on the variations in tone and pitch.
“You know what I think?” he says finally. “I think someone has her tied up somewhere, or restrained, something like that, and they've come up with this really ingenious way of making sure the pain just gets worse and worse. I mean, otherwise she'd scream for a while but then she'd start to master the pain and she'd find a way to let us know where she is, but she's not doing any of that. Instead, she's just crying out as if the agony is getting worse all the time, like it keeps changing so she can't ever get used to it. He must have...” He pauses again, trying to imagine the most horrific thing possible. “Maybe he's cutting into her spinal column or something, or slicing her nipples and her clit with razors, or he's found a way to directly stimulate the parts of her brain that -”
“Don't say stuff like that,” Judy snaps.
“You can't hide from it,” he continues. “We've gotta try to think like someone who'd do this to Jessica.”
“I can't do that.”
“Well, we have to. If you were going to capture and torture Jessica Barton, where would you do it?”
“I don't know! Jason, I can't think like a monster!”
“You've gotta try!”
“Can you?” she asks, with tears in her eyes.
“Sure, if it's just, like, an exercise in logic. Everyone can.”
“Go on, then,” she continues. “Think like a monster. If you were the one doing this, where would you be doing it?”
“I'd be using razors,” he replies. “I'd have her naked, and I'd be slicing her nipples piece by -”
“Not what!” she shouts, starting to lose patience with him. “Where! Where is she?”
Taking a step forward, Jason looks out over the town. He stays silent for a moment, as he tries to imagine all the permutations, all the places where someone could get away with something like this without being caught, at least for a while. He imagines Jessica naked and chained, with blood everywhere, and some kind of maniac digging nails and saws into her flesh, cutting through her bones, causing her to scream and scream and scream. In his mind's eye, he sees Jessica's teeth being twisted out, and her eyes being burst open with hot pokers, and he sees thick, spiked objects being inserted into her body and then twisted around and ripped away. He sees needles being slid through her spine, and pieces of her flesh being carved away and left splattered on the ground along with puddles of blood and other bodily fluids.
“Well?” Judy asks. “Did you come up with anything yet, Einstein?”
He pauses for a moment longer, before turning to her. “The gas shed,” he says finally. “It's the perfect place to torture someone. If it was me, I'd have her tied up in the old gas shed.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Forgive me, for I have been weak and vain. I thought myself to be stronger, I thought I had learned the lessons of Amsterdam, but no sooner had I arrived in this town than I allowed myself to be tempted once again.”
Kneeling in the church, Roake has his eyes tight shut and his hands against his face in prayer. Ahead of him, there hangs an image of Christ on the cross. The scream can still be heard outside, although the church's cavernous space and high ceiling mean that it sounds different now, echoing all around Roake as he tries to clear his mind and focus.
“I lost two years last time,” he continues, his voice barely rising above a hurried whisper. “Two years of fornicating and drinking and indulging myself in the pleasures of sin. When I finally emerged from that nightmare, I swore I would never let him distract me again, but I came so very close.”
He takes a deep breath, his whole body shuddering as he thinks back to those awful days. For a moment, he sees himself stumbling drunkenly down an Amsterdam side-street, bathed in red lights from the windows on either side, and then he sees himself in one of the booths, his trousers around his ankles as he thrusts into another girl. After that, he sees himself with a needle in one hand, sitting under a bridge on a cold morning and slowly injecting heroin into his arm. Then he sees himself fighting, punching police officers and running. Then more fornication, with whole groups of men and women, and a bottle of whiskey being poured down his throat, and flames...
Opening his eyes suddenly, he realizes it was about to happen again. For a brief moment, he actually felt as if he missed those years he lost in Amsterdam.
“Not this time,” he says firmly, looking up at the image of Christ. “This time I will force myself to stay strong. This time, I will not waste the opportunity, not now that I've almost found him again. I will finish your work.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Did you come up with anything yet?” shouts Clifford Tanner as he and his brother Henry hurry past.
“Sorry,” Jason replies, leading Judy across the street and over toward the abandoned gas shed on the edge of town. A large industrial building that was once home to a regional gas supply company, the shed has been rotting away for a couple of decades now, left to be slowly reclaimed by weeds and animals. High up on the metal roof, however, the words Pine Ridge Emeco Gas and Holding Company can still just about be made out, although the sun has long since begun to bleach them away. Even the birds don't sit up there anymore; the roof gets too hot, so they sit on other buildings instead while they're watching humans down below.
And all around, the scream is still ringing out.
“Does it sound louder to you here?” Jason asks, stopping at the metal door that's covered in Keep Out signs and warnings about possible danger.
“Not really,” Judy replies.
“It does to me,” he mutters, trying the door but finding that it's locked. “I think it's louder.”
“You're imagining things.”
“We'll have to get in through the window.”
“Jason, don't you think someone else has already checked here?”
“The door's locked.”
“Which means someone was probably here, looking!” She watches as he searches through the tall grass for something he can use to break the window. “I mean, this is, like, the most obvious place, so of course they looked here.”
“Maybe, but it doesn't hurt to try again.”
“If you -”
“It's where I'd bring her,” he replies, picking up a rock. “I'd either lure her out here somehow, like sweet-talking her and telling her she's beautiful, or I'd drug her and get her here some other way.”
“You would, would you?”
“How would you do it?”
“I don't know!” she tells him, trying to hide her frustration. “I'm sorry, Jason, but I actually find it quite hard to imagine how I'd kidnap and torture one of my friends!”
“I'd do it during the night,” he continues, as he starts to aim at the window, “so I'd be all in place by the time the sun came up. I'd want to be, like, settled before the scream began, and I'd have been planning for a while. I don't
think any of this is an accident, you know. This sicko clearly wants the whole town to hear what he's doing to her. He probably, like, gets off on it like some kind of psycho pervert voyeur.” He pauses, once again imagining the scene. “I'd put a gag over her mouth and only remove it at the exact moment I wanted her to scream, and then I'd probably start with something that doesn't hurt that much, like a hot poker to the back or something, searing her skin.”
“You think a hot poker to the back doesn't hurt?”
“It's relative. That's the whole point, you'd have to have a steady increase in pain as it goes along, or she might start getting used to it. He obviously doesn't want her to do that, or she might be able to shout and tell us where she is. You've gotta be professional about these things, and this is clearly an expert guy. I mean, as sick as this might sound, you have to respect a master at work.” He pauses again, listening to the scream. “So yeah, he's ratcheting it up, alright. It's just a question of how long she can go on, although I suppose there's not necessarily an upper limit. Unless her heart gives out or something like that, or maybe -”
“Are you going to throw that?” she asks.
“Yeah, I'm just -”
“For God's sake,” she mutters, picking up a smaller rock and throwing it at the window. Her aim is perfect and the rock smashes through, shattering the glass.
“I was gonna do that!” Jason tells her.
“Help me up,” she replies, putting one foot on the skirt of brickwork that runs around the building, before reaching up and grabbing hold of the window-ledge. “Anything's better than standing here, listening to you fantasize about what you'd do if you were a monster.”
“I should go first,” he tells her. “It might be dangerous in there.”
“Well, it -” She pulls herself up until she manages to get her elbows onto the ledge, at which point she can see inside. “It's okay so far. And I really don't think the scream is coming from in here. Thanks for the help, by the way.”
