by Amy Cross
She remembered shouting at him, begging him to run as tears streamed down her face.
He'd used her name.
“Run!” she'd screamed, but it had been too late.
She remembered seeing a shape behind the officer, and then she remembered him turning and -
He's screamed. Just briefly, before his throat was cut.
There had been another voice too, echoing all around her.
The wind picked up for a moment, rustling the grass.
“Do you still not remember what happened that night?” she remembered Doctor Carmichael asking.
“Bits of it,” she'd told him. “Sometimes...”
“I need you closed now,” she remembered the echoing voice telling her, as a dark figure had stepped over the dead officer's corpse. “No more interference.”
The memory – and she wasn't even sure it was a memory, she thought it was most likely the trace of some old nightmare – trailed off, and she watched as the dark, moonlit grass was blown by a cool wind, while her shadow lay on top of it all, shifting slightly at the edges. Her shadow always soothed her, as if it was a reminder that she was still alive. And then, slowly, she saw a second shadow appear, as if someone had begun to step out from behind her. She knew there was no way anyone could have been so close, that it was most likely a trick of the light, but she kept watching until the other shadow began to get further away, and then she turned and saw that – as expected – there was no-one around. Taking a few steps back toward the building, she flicked her flashlight on and shone the beam all around, but there was still no sign of anyone. Just as she was about to turn away, however, she spotted something dark on the shopping mall's rear wall, and when she shone the light up she realized that a word had been tagged across the wall in large, rough black letters.
“Hannah,” she whispered.
She paused.
“Hannah?”
Hannah. The same name as the girl who'd apparently knocked on her door the night before, while she was out. She tried desperately to work out where and how she'd encountered someone named Hannah before, but the information seemed blocked somewhere in her mind. Sometimes, she felt there were so many of those blocks, she'd never be able to push past them. She was certain that there had been no such graffiti on the wall just a few minutes earlier, but at the same time she knew there was no way anyone could have written it up there without her having spotted them. Turning, she looked toward the grass again, before starting to make her way back around the building, heading to the porta-cabin. She felt as if she was being watched, and no matter how much she kept telling herself it was all in her head, the feeling was getting stronger.
“Get a grip,” she told herself, stopping next to the porta-cabin and taking a deep breath. “Don't fall apart now. You're fine, you're well, there's nothing wrong with you.”
She waited.
Silence.
Another deep breath.
“Hey,” she said as she pulled the door open, “do you know who -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw that Donald was rewinding a video on one of the monitors.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Do you remember what I told you about these?” he asked sternly, with a clipped, annoyed tone.
“Sure, they don't record -”
“Unless they're specifically set to do so,” he added, “which I decided to do when you went out just now. I wanted to make sure I'd have evidence if my suspicions about you turned out to be correct. I didn't want that to be the case, obviously, but I had to be prepared.”
“Suspicions?” she asked, heading over to join him at the monitors. “What are you talking about?”
Watching as he hit the playback button, she saw security camera footage of herself heading around to the back of the building just a few minutes ago. She looked so small against the vast white wall and the darkness of the night sky.
“You told me to go out there,” she reminded him. “You were -”
“And this?” he asked, fast-forwarding a little until the video showed her pushing one of the temporary fences aside. This time, there was someone with her, a second figure shuffling through the darkness. “Would you care to explain yourself? Who's your pal, Alice? And don't lie this time, I've got it on tape.”
“I -” She watched with a mounting sense of horror as she saw the dark figure hurrying to the wall, where it began to spray letters using a small can. Meanwhile, she could see herself walking away, heading over to look out at the distant city skyline. “I didn't do that,” she whispered, feeling a cold chill pass through her chest. “That didn't happen, there was no-one out there with me.”
“Hannah, eh?” Donald replied, turning to her. “You're supposed to be keeping this building safe, not helping your friends to go around defacing private property.”
“I didn't!” she told him again, with mounting panic as she saw herself still looking out across the grass, while the dark figure at the wall finished writing the name Hannah in large, messy letters.
“I'm sorry, Alice,” he replied, “but I'm afraid I'm going to have to report this, and I've got evidence so -”
“No, please,” she said, taking a step back as she watched the dark figure hurrying away from the wall on the video, “none of that happened, I swear. I mean, part of it happened, but there was no-one else out there with me!”
On the monitor, she saw herself turning to look back toward the building. She remembered that moment, it had been when she thought there was a second shadow, except now... She watched herself heading over to look at the graffiti.
“You can tell it all to your supervisor,” Donald muttered, taking the taser from his pocket as if he was scared he might actually have to use it. “For now, Alice Warner, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for your company items, and then I need you to leave the site at once and not return. Failure to do so will result in the police being called and trespassing charges being pressed.”
“I didn't do any of this,” she whispered, still watching the screen. “There was no-one else out there with me!”
“Apart from your friend. The same friend you claim not to have seen last night.”
“I don't have a friend!” she told him, even though she could still see the dark figure on the screen, shuffling away into the shadows. “I don't have a friend,” she said again, feeling as if her mind was at breaking point. “I don't know who that was! I don't know anyone named Hannah!”
Chapter Fourteen
1941
“Hello?”
Stopping for a moment in the pitch-black tunnel, Wendy realized she could see the faintest hint of light at the far end, as if a fire was burning around a distant corner. She'd been walking for a few minutes now, and she told herself she should turn around and head back to join the others, but at the same time she much preferred being away from all the smelly, loud people, and she definitely didn't want to run into Stanley again.
As another boom shook the tunnel for a moment, she realized it couldn't hurt to take a few more steps. After all, she'd been telling herself that for several minutes now, and it had worked out okay so far.
She could always run if something bad happened. Running was easy, even though her legs and feet were in pain.
Stepping forward, she kept one hand against the wall, even though the light ahead was strong enough now for her to be able to see her way. Finally, she stopped again just a few feet from the corner, and she felt certain that there was someone just out of sight. It was as if a kind of presence was reaching through the air, teasing her and trying to draw her forward.
“Hello?” she said again.
Immediately, she heard a faint scrabbling sound, just enough for her to be certain that someone was there.
“I don't want to disturb you,” she continued, “I just... Is your name Hannah? That's what the other women called you.”
She waited.
“You're a nice young lady,” a female voice whispered suddenly, barely loud
enough to be heard. “Absolutely charming. Delightful.”
Wendy opened her mouth to reply, but for a moment she paused.
“Lovely,” the female voice added. “Really nice. Just so pleasant and friendly. I haven't seen one like you in a long time, not down here.”
“Are you talking to me?” Wendy asked, before swallowing hard. She didn't want to interrupt, but at the same time she wanted to see what was around the corner. The person certainly sounded friendly, although she knew that wasn't always a good way to tell.
“So polite,” the voice continued. “Not rude at all. Well-mannered. I like you already, I do. I like you a lot.”
“You do?” Wendy replied, before frowning. “Are you talking to me?”
“Humble. I love humility. So few young girls are taught that these days. A humble soul is a soul directed toward the light. The right light.”
“Is it okay if I come closer?”
She waited, but there was no reply. Slowly, she began to make her way forward, until she reached the corner and took a deep breath. Leaning around, she saw that there was a small fire burning in a metal drum, and a little further back there was a woman sitting cross-legged with her arms folded and her hands tucked away under her own armpits. There was something odd about the woman's hunched posture, and about the way she seemed to be squirming slightly, but her face was friendly and she was beaming with a broad smile as she stared back at Wendy from beneath a shawl that covered most of her head. However old she was – a little older than Wendy's mother, perhaps – she just seemed instantly kind and safe.
“Oh, look at you,” the woman continued, biting her bottom lip for a moment as she continued to wriggle, as if she was struggling to get her hands free from under her armpits. “So beautiful. My word, I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful young lady. Come closer and let me take a proper look at you.”
“I'm not beautiful,” Wendy said cautiously. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked back along the dark tunnel.
“And such a pretty dress,” the woman continued. “You wear it so well.”
“My mother -” Turning back to the woman, Wendy paused for a moment. “My mother made it for me,” she explained finally. “She's good at using old fabric.”
“Of course she is,” the woman replied. “You're a very lucky little girl, but I'm sure you knew that already. Very lucky indeed. Oh, so lucky.”
“It used to be curtains.”
“What did, my dear?”
“This dress.” She paused. “It used to be curtains in my grandmother's house. My mother took out the lining and turned the curtains into this dress for me, and she had enough left over to make some pillows for the living room.”
“What a lovely mother she sounds like,” the woman replied. “Lovely. Sweet. Caring.”
“Why are you all by yourself down here?” Wendy asked.
“What's that?” The woman was wriggling furiously now, still trying to get her hands out from under her thick, baggy clothes. “Alone, you say? Why am I -” She paused, seemingly distracted. “Why am I alone? Who says I am alone? No, wait -” She paused, as if she was worried she'd been asked a trick question. “Yes,” she added finally, cautiously, “I suppose I do look alone, don't I?”
“Do you need help?” Wendy asked.
“No, I -” The woman gasped as she pulled harder on her right arm, as if she was desperately trying to get it free from under her armpit. “I'm fine,” she added, still smiling despite the tension in her voice. “Don't you worry about me.”
“Is your name Hannah?”
“Hannah? Oh, it might be, yes, it definitely might be. That's the problem with names, you have to rely on other people to tell you what you're called. It's not like there's a label anywhere. We don't need to worry about that right now, though, we just -” She gasped again, as she began to wriggle more than ever. “We just...” Another gasp. “Damn it!”
“What's wrong?” Wendy asked, taking a step closer. “Do you need the toilet?”
The woman laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, just sit down and take a load off, why don't you? I'll be with you in just one moment.”
“I can help you if you tell me what's wrong,” Wendy replied. “I can try, at least.”
“You can help by keeping me company,” the woman told her, rocking from side to side now as she worked to get her right hand free from the fabric of her clothes. “That's what I want, so why don't you sit down and...” She gasped again, as if she was in pain but determined to appear relaxed. “Why don't you sit down and tell me a little about yourself? All the details. Don't leave anything out, now.”
Wendy swallowed hard, still feeling as if something was wrong with the woman. She felt pretty sure that her mother would tell her to keep back.
“Come on, come on,” the woman added, with an increasing sense of urgency in her voice. “There's absolutely no need to be shy, just sit yourself down and tell me -” She let out another gasp, with a hint of pain this time, as she rolled onto one side and wriggled desperately, still trying to get her hand free from under her armpit while grinning from ear to ear. “Don't mind me,” she continued. “Just sit down and tell me all about it.”
“All about what?” Wendy asked. “Do you -”
Suddenly the tunnel shuddered as another boom sounded in the distance. This time, however, there was an ominous cracking sound from above, as if the tunnel's roof was starting to get damaged.
“Bombs, eh?” the woman replied, sitting up again as she continued to tug on her arms. “Nasty thing, this war. Why don't you come closer, so I can get a better look at you? My eyesight isn't quite as good as it once was, you see. I can tell you're pretty and that you've got a lovely dress, but I'd really like to get a little more detail. Come on, I'm perfectly friendly, there's no reason to hold back like that. What's wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Wendy replied, still not too keen on getting close to the woman. “I just... Are you sure you're alright?”
“I'm fine,” the woman gasped, forcing a smile as she continued to try to pull her arms free, “just...” She grimaced slightly, as if the effort was too much. “Now stop it, you,” she whispered suddenly, as if she was talking to someone else. “This won't fly, do you understand? I refuse to allow it. Know when you're beat.”
“Allow what?” Wendy asked.
“Just give me a moment,” the woman hissed at her, before looking down at her arms, which were still crossed across her chest. “You're creating unnecessary trouble,” she added, lowering her voice again. “If you'd just stop fussing, we'd be in a much better state, I'm only borrowing, I'll let you have it back when I'm done. Sit still and behave!”
Wendy took a step back.
“No!” the woman called out to her, raising her voice again as her smile widened almost to breaking point. “Don't go! Come closer! Come sit by the fire with me and -” She gasped again, but despite her obvious discomfort she managed to maintain her smile, even if it seemed even more strained than before. “Rest awhile with me! Come on, you don't want to be antisocial, do you? Keep a lonesome old woman comfortable, we can -”
Before she could finish, she tilted her head slightly and a faint, muffled groan emerged from her mouth.
Wendy instinctively took another step back.
“Come on,” the old woman continued, as sweat began to run down her face. “Why not -”
Suddenly her right hand broke free from under her armpit and swung out in front of her, grasping frantically at the air.
“Damn it!” she shouted.
“What's wrong with you?” Wendy asked.
“Nothing's wrong with me,” the woman hissed, even though her hand was swinging about wildly now, as if it was reaching for something. Ducking, the woman seemed to be trying to avoid her hand's continued attempts to take hold of her face, as if she was under attack from one of her own body parts. “Sit down and relax with me,” she added, as if nothing unusual was happening at all. “We can -”
She ducke
d as her hand reached for her face again, this time clutching at her neck and scratching at the skin.
Wendy took another step back.
“No!” the old woman hissed, as her right hand inched up onto the side of her face. “Little girl, please, just sit down. I'll be right with you, we have so much to talk about. I just need to get this damn thing back under control.”
Wendy watched in horror as the hand's fingers began to dig deep into the old woman's face, almost as if she was trying to claw at her own flesh. Blood began to run down onto the woman's wrist, which Wendy noticed wasn't nearly as wrinkled as her face looked. Leaning back slightly, the old woman let her shawl fall down to reveal a mop of jet-black hair, shoulder-length and scruffy but with not a hint of gray or white. Somehow, her face didn't seem to match the rest of her body at all.
“Who are you?” Wendy whispered, with a growing sense of horror.
The old woman merely let out a grunt of frustration as her right hand continued to dig into the flesh on the side of her face. Blood was dripping down onto the ground now, and her fingers began to slowly peel back the skin around her cheekbones, revealing not a skull beneath but, instead, what appeared to be another, younger face soaked in sweat and more blood. Finally, with one more howl of anguish, the old woman's face was ripped away entirely to reveal the younger, panic-stricken face beneath.
“Run!” the new face screamed at Wendy.
***
High above London, buffeted for a moment by strong turbulence in the night sky, a German Heinkel He 177 bomber turned five degrees to the west. Voices could be heard shouting angrily inside, before the final bomb of the night was released from the main hold. The plane immediately veered east again, turning to begin the journey home.
Plummeting through the air, the 1,000lb bomb flashed briefly through the clouds, then between a couple of spotlights as it fell toward a spot of land just south of the river, whistling ever downward until finally it hit, crashed through the roof of a tunnel, and detonated in the middle of a crowd of screaming people.
