Chasm

by Stephen Laws

  “There are all kinds of things I can do to you, if I want.”

  Trevor paused while he slobbered over the peaches. With eyes screwed shut, trying to ignore him, Juliet wondered how she could ever have been so wrong about someone. He’d seemed so normal, so caring. She permitted herself a rueful laugh. The others had been saints compared to the madman on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t you like your men to be masterful, Juliet? Don’t you like them to take command? Treat you any way they want?”

  “Why don’t you stick your head through that broken window?” said Juliet. “And see what happens.”

  “Feisty,” laughed Trevor. “That’s the word for you, my darling. Very feisty. Now let me tell you about some of the other things we could do to pass the time…”

  Juliet tried to shut her mind off from the obscenities that Trevor whispered through the door; racked her brains to think of another way out of this place. In the last two days she’d explored every option, even down to the possibility of just jumping out of the window and taking a chance that there might be something below to grab on to. Despair threatened to overwhelm her. She could feel the tears coming again, and tightened her grip on the crowbar.

  “…with a broken bottle, not enough to break the tender skin down there, but just enough to…”

  Juliet thought hard about her parents, and whether they were all right. They lived twenty miles from town, so the chances were that whatever had happened right here in the centre of Edmonville wouldn’t have affected them. (But why hasn’t anyone come yet? Why am I still waiting in here?) She thought of her workmates at the travel agency, Tricia and Jennifer. Were they all right? The agency was about five miles away. Perhaps they’d escaped.

  “…enough to make it tight, really tight. And then you’ll have to beg me to do it, even though it’s hurting you. You’ll have to beg me despite the pain and…”

  Juliet thought about her friends in Edmonville: Kate and Janie and Becca. Were they all right? Lorraine was on holiday in Greece, so she was okay. But all of the others worked locally. My God, she really would have a story to tell them when she got out of here.

  “Are you listening, Juliet? You’ve gone very quiet, my love.”

  Juliet gripped the crowbar and braced herself to slam it against the door again. But at that moment another option presented itself. One that she’d never considered before.

  “Juliet?”

  She remained still, now looking up at the shattered window.

  “And I’ll tell you what else we can do,” Trevor went on. “Shall I? Shall I tell you?”

  Could she do what she had in mind without making a sound?

  “First we need a knife,” hissed Trevor. “One of those sharp kitchen knives, with a saw edge. Know the kind I mean? Well, first we cut the…”

  Juliet shut her mind to him. As long as he was talking, the sound of his voice might cover any noise she made. Carefully, she stood up. When a knee joint popped, she froze. But Trevor just kept on with his sick fantasy. Bracing one knee on the desk, she paused. Then, movement by careful movement, she climbed on to it. Both knees on the desk, pause. Brace the hands, pause. One foot up, pause. Then the other, so that now she was crouched there on the desk, one hand against the door for support. And Trevor was going on and on, his words sicker and sicker. There was a shelving unit to the left of the door. It looked solid enough to support her weight. Her entire plan depended on it. Juliet moved carefully towards it.

  “Juliet?”

  Fear spasmed in her stomach. Juliet froze again, feeling sure that he somehow knew what she was up to.

  “Can you hear me, Juliet? It’s not like you to stay quiet for so long.”

  Juliet reached the edge of the desk, put her left foot on a shelf and reached up for a higher one. It was chunky and solid, not likely to come away from the wall as she’d feared. She stayed in that position, waiting.

  “Juliet? What are you doing? Are you asleep?” Trevor laughed. “That’s what it is. You’re asleep again! Wake up, Juliet! Wake up! You’re not listening, and that’s not fair!”

  There was a six-inch shard of glass on the shelf beside her hand. Juliet plucked it up, braced herself and looked over at the storeroom window. Making three feints, to judge how hard and far it should be thrown, she pitched it. The shard sliced through the air, hitting the wall above the window with a sharp crack and tinkling to the floor in fragments.

  “Juliet! What are you doing?”

  Juliet held her breath, gripping the shelf and swinging away from the desk. She couldn’t stay that way for long, but she was out of sight of the shattered window with her head about level with it at this height.

  “JULIET!”

  Already the fingers of her left hand were aching where she gripped the shelf; the weight of the crowbar in her right hand seeming to increase by the second.

  “What are you doing, you BITCH!”

  There was a scuffling movement on the other side of the door.

  Please…prayed Juliet. Please…please…

  “You can’t get out through the outside window. The Vorla told me that! There’s only the chasm below, Juliet. You’ll just fall for ever and ever. So it’s no use even thinking about it. Do you hear me?”

  Juliet gritted her teeth.

  …please…

  There was more scuffling and Juliet saw a shadow at the top of the door, through the one small section of the broken window she could see from her hidden vantage point. He was doing it. Trevor was climbing up to look through the window and see if she really was trying to make her escape on the other side of the room. But she had to wait until he was in position.

  “It’s no use, Juliet. You can’t escape from me. We’ve got lots more fun and games to play…”

  Juliet couldn’t hang on any longer. She would make a noise or she would fall. Even if he hadn’t made it right up to the window yet, she had to act before it was too late.

  Please!

  Juliet swung back from the shelving unit, bringing the crowbar up hard as she moved and jabbing it with all her remaining strength through the ragged aperture of the shattered window. Trevor was gripping the bottom of the frame, peering intently down to where she had been crouching moments before.

  The two-pronged point of the crowbar stabbed into his right eye, puncturing it and lodging deep in the socket.

  Trevor shrieked, hands flying to his face.

  Crying in horror and shock, Juliet lost her grip and fell away from the desk, landing heavily on the littered floor, glass shards stabbing into the palms of her hands and her legs.

  Trevor fell away from the window, the crowbar still embedded in his face. Juliet heard him hit the floor on the other side, still shrieking; heard the crowbar jar loose, rattling on the debris as Trevor squirmed and thrashed in agony. There was another crash and muffled thudding. In his agony, Trevor had fallen down the stairs into the supermarket, screaming all the way.

  For a moment, Juliet couldn’t move. The horror of what she had done robbed her of all strength.

  Move, girl! This might be your last chance.

  Sobbing, Juliet threw herself back at the desk, heedless of any sound she might make as Trevor’s screams echoed from down below. Seizing a carton from one of the shelves to her left, she bludgeoned out the remaining glass shards in the window aperture. Was it wide enough to squeeze through?

  No choice! I’m going through that bloody window even if I have to squeeze myself flat!

  Juliet braced both hands on the windowsill and pushed her head and shoulders through the gap. Trevor was writhing and thrashing at the foot of the littered stairs, screaming hoarsely and with both hands still clamped to his face. Blood was oozing between his fingers. Despair again threatened to rob Juliet of her strength. How could she have done such a terrible thing?

  “I had to, Trevor!” she yelled as she struggled and wiggled through the gap. “You bastard. I didn’t want to, but you made me do it!”

  She cou
ld see Trevor now, lying down below amidst a pile of tins and cartons, clutching at his face, his legs kicking and thrashing as he spun in wild circles on the floor. Sobbing, Juliet pushed harder, crying out loud again when her hips caught in the frame. It was a seven-foot drop to the floor, but that didn’t matter. She twisted her body sideways and slithered through the gap. She exercised regularly, took good care of her body, but she couldn’t prevent herself from falling awkwardly. There was no pain when she hit the floor; the shock and the horror of her situation anaesthetised her against it. The empty tins that Trevor had been eating from clattered all around her. The impact dazed her, but when her vision cleared she could see the blood-smeared crowbar lying on the floor. Her stomach turned, but the frenzied sounds of Trevor in agony below galvanised her into action. Instinctively, she knew she should take the crowbar for further protection, but the sight of the blood was too much; she could not touch it. Juliet started down the stairs, halting when…

  Trevor clawed at his face, trying to gouge the pain from his eye socket. In his agony, he believed that something was in there, trying to burrow into his brain and sending him insane with pain. He had no way of knowing that his eye was gone. And as he screamed, he could hear laughter. Was it Juliet? Mocking him from behind that door? Still with one bloody hand clasped to his face, he struggled to his knees, trying to fight the pain; tried to see through his remaining eye as it constantly filled with blood.

  “Juliet! You bitch! Are you laughing, are you LAUGHING?”

  He staggered to his feet, now groping with one free hand, trying to find his way back to the stairs as…

  Juliet stopped, three steps from the bottom. She could see the extent of the destruction in the supermarket—the fractured ceiling, the toppled shelves and units, the shattered windows at the front of the store, and the great black space over to her right where the rest of the supermarket used to be. Perhaps there was a moment when she could have made a break for it, running past Trevor as he lay in agony on the ground. But the shock of what had happened here, of what she had done to him, froze her. She was out of the storeroom now, and the bastard was insane, but…oh God…what had she done to his eye? She was about to run, about to launch herself past his scrabbling body, when he suddenly pulled himself to his feet, his face a mask of blood, one hand clamped there to staunch the flow as he screamed and staggered and groped towards her. The moment for escape was gone. He was blundering straight towards the stairs, one arm outstretched and wavering, but she could not get past him.

  “Stop LAUGHING! Stop LAUGHING!!”

  Silent, her face white and with both fists clenched to her mouth, Juliet remained on the third step from the bottom as Trevor groped his way towards her. Part of her shrieked that she must run; another, equal part told her to stay and wait. Trembling, she watched him stagger on, straight towards her.

  And then Trevor stopped, realising at last that it was not Juliet he could hear laughing. Was it the voice inside his head? Was it the Vorla?

  “Why are you laughing?” asked Trevor, in a voice like that of a hurt child. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  Juliet almost answered. Instead, she kept her fists to her mouth and tried to keep control as Trevor stood before her, no more than six feet away.

  Laughing? said the Vorla in his head. I’m just so HAPPY for you, Trevor.

  “Happy?”

  The pain is all part of the Test, Trevor. It hurts, doesn’t it?

  “Oh Christ, it hurts…”

  She’s out of the storeroom. She got out. Now you have to find her. You have to hunt her down and…

  Juliet stepped carefully and quietly to the bottom of the stairs, trying not to make a noise, carefully stepping over the tins that littered the floor. Step by careful step, she moved around Trevor, who remained in front of the stairs, now silent, blood streaming between his fingers where his hand remained clamped to his face.

  …catch her, Trevor. She can’t get far. And catching her will all be part of the Test. It’s dark, Trevor. And I could take her now, oh so easily. If I wanted to. But I want to watch, and savour the hunt. I want you to hunt her down for me. I want you to make her suffer. Want to feel her terror and her pain. You can do all that for me, Trevor. That’s the Test, do you see?

  Juliet headed down an aisle, away from Trevor, stepping over the detritus. Her foot caught a cereal packet, and Rice Krispies pattered over the tiled floor.

  Trevor whirled in her direction.

  Now no longer caring whether or not she made a sound, Juliet ran towards the shattered glass frontage of the supermarket, bumping a shelving unit as she ran. Tins clattered and rolled over the floor behind her. Trevor started forward in her direction.

  No! Stop! commanded the Vorla.

  “Why? You want me to catch her, don’t you?” Trevor groaned again as the fire burned into his skull.

  Give her a few moments, Trevor. Let her believe that she’s escaped. She’ll soon find that she can’t get far. And then you can commence the hunting. You can give me great pleasure, Trevor. And I promise you, you’ll be well rewarded if you pass the Test.

  At the front of the supermarket, Juliet began to pick her way over the broken glass towards a ragged hole in one of the windows. The revolving glass doors were impassable. Looking back only once, she dipped through the hole and was gone into the supermarket carpark.

  “Now?” asked Trevor.

  Wait, said the Vorla. Wait and I’ll tell you the Big Secret.

  “Secret?”

  About what’s happened here, Trevor. What’s happened to your world. And what I really am.

  And as Juliet ran through the ruins of the carpark shouting for help that would never come, Trevor stood with blood dripping to the floor, listening to the Big Secret, and learning at last what had happened, and the real meaning of the Chasm.

  Finally, when the Vorla had finished speaking, and Trevor understood what his part was to be in this new world, the darkness began to fade.

  The Vorla must return to the Chasm before that time.

  But it could stay inside Trevor’s head, and enjoy the chase to come.

  Now, it said at last.

  Suddenly, it seemed that the pain in Trevor’s eye socket had been muted by the presence of the Vorla in his head.

  “Now?” repeated Trevor.

  Find her, said the Vorla. Find the bitch. And do everything that you promised her.

  Grinning, his face a mask of blood, Trevor staggered down the supermarket aisle towards the frontage. Finding the same gap that Juliet had used, he stepped out into the carpark.

  “Juliet!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “I’m coming to find you!”

  Chapter Six

  Bring Out Your Dead

  The truck was where Alex said it would be.

  It had veered off the road when the ’quake first hit, and crashed through a roadside fence. The twin tracks of burned rubber from the tyres were still visible on the churned-up road. Both doors were wide open, the occupants long since fled.

  “Anybody ever drive one of these?” asked Jay.

  “Here,” said Alex. “Let me.” He swung up through the door on the driver’s side, slamming it shut.

  “Keys?”

  “Yeah, still in there.” Alex twisted them and the engine coughed. Twisting again, he cranked more gas, and this time the engine caught and maintained a healthy grumbling. He looked back at Jay, as if to say something. He couldn’t find the words, but Jay knew what was on his mind.

  “No,” he replied to the unasked question. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. But no one’s coming to help us. I don’t know why, Alex. But they’re not. And we have to protect ourselves.”

  “But…I mean…burning them?”

  “It’s the only way to stop them coming back. And before you say anything about the nerve gas theory again, ask yourself this: how long does the hallucination last? I mean, those two bodies back there by the fire…the ones made to look like Gordon’s a
unt and my old head teacher…they were still there this morning. They didn’t disappear. Ask yourself another one: how did they get there? I know what I saw—they walked there.”

  Alex looked troubled. He turned to face the front, biting his lip.

  “All right,” he said at last.

  “Look,” continued Jay, “we’ll not get far on the road. But I reckon if we drive on to the verge here, where the park perimeter is, we can move out to the cliff-edge, go through the houses there, find…whatever…and drag them back to the truck. Then you can move the truck down the perimeter, keep moving it until we’ve covered the street between here and the cliff-edge.”

  Gordon handed his guitar up to Annie, sitting next to Alex in the cab.

  “Thought that thing was growing on you,” said Jay, as he jumped down from the running-board. Last night’s defiant stand was still a shining memory, despite the horror of everything that had passed. Gordon smiled, and Alex drove the truck straight over the shattered fence and on to the grass verge. Yanking on the handbrake and switching off the ignition, he climbed down to join the others.

  Annie, Wayne and Damon were staring at what they had just discovered on the roadside, screened by bushes.

  It was another body.

  A woman, face down in a dried brown pool. She was wearing a floral print dress and her hands were flung out in front of her. It looked as if she had been finger-writing in the horrifying stain. Had she been there ever since the ’quake? Or had she been one of the stumbling figures from last night, brought back to hideous life by the Black Stuff?

  Jay, Alex and Gordon joined them.

  They stood looking at the woman for a long time.

  And then, bile rising, but not wanting any of the others to see it, Jay strode forward. Gritting his teeth, he stooped down and grabbed one of the hands. It was cold and hard, like a hand made of marble. Turning to fix his gaze on the rear of the dump truck where the other two bodies had been lifted, he turned her over. Annie was the first to see the pool of dried blood the body had left behind, and her sharp intake of breath made the others recoil instinctively.