by Amy Cross
“Come on, pick up,” Grace whispered as she tried Andrew's phone again.
“What's your surname?” Leonora asked suddenly.
“My... Um, Hooper. Grace Hooper.”
“From Hackney?”
“How did you know that?”
“There are a lot of Hoopers in Hackney. Your grandparents must have been engineers, I believe.”
“Yes, but...” Setting the phone down, Grace stared at her for a moment. “How do you know so much about me?”
“I did my research,” Leonora replied, with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I've noticed you seem to be trying to get hold of someone on your mobile telephone. A gentleman, by any chance?”
“Oh, it's just... one of the staff psychiatrists, that's all.”
“Someone you care about?” A faint smile crossed her lips. “What, if you don't mind the question, is his surname?”
“Does that matter?”
“It matters a great deal.”
“Dunne,” Grace replied. “Andrew Dunne.”
“Dunne...” Leonora paused.
“I suppose you're going to tell me all about his family history too?”
“No,” Leonora replied, “sadly I'm not. There were no Dunnes in my research.”
“You're not telling us everything, are you?” Grace asked. “What are you holding back?”
“This Mr. Dunne, is he missing?”
“I can't get hold of him right now.”
“I shouldn't imagine,” Leonora replied, “that you'll have much luck at all. Unless my research missed a branch of the family, I'm afraid my sister will have dispensed with poor Mr. Dunne.”
“Branch of the family?” Grace asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Haven't you realized by now?” She paused for a moment. “With one or two very small exceptions, all the women in this entire prison – and that includes not only the inmates but also the staff – are related to one another. They're all members of the Blake family, and the ones that aren't are going to be Elenora's first victims.”
***
“It must be the generator room again,” Ferguson explained as he hurried along the corridor with Doctor Bell. “I told Governor Windsor it needed reinforcing after the last time it flooded, but he didn't listen to me.”
“Governor Windsor is no longer in charge,” Doctor Bell replied, stopping and turning to him as they reached the door. “If the generator's down, we just have to wait until morning and -”
“The cell doors won't lock,” he added, interrupting her. “Technically, right now, all the prisoners could walk out of their cells and do what they want. There's an old emergency system to lock or unlock the doors using a lever, but -”
“Use it.”
“It's in the basement, right next to the generator. Pitch black and probably under ten feet of water by now.”
“Jesus Christ,” the doctor muttered, “what kind of ridiculous system is that?”
“Modern technology,” Ferguson replied. “When they reopened Hardstone, they spent so much money on some fancy automated locking system, they didn't have anything left over to buy a bunch of keys. Everyrhing's supposed to be smart tech, but of course it doesn't work properly. Never does. It's a bloody scandal how this prison was rushed back into service.”
“Then get to the generator room and find a solution.”
“But -”
“You don't want to get wet?” she asked, clearly not impressed. “Tough. If it makes you feel any better, I'll have Grace make you a nice hot cup of tea when you get back in.” Turning to walk away, she stopped as she spotted something at the other end of the corridor: the ghostly image of a little girl, walking straight toward them both.
“I'm not an engineer,” Ferguson protested. “I'm just -”
“Shut up,” she hissed. “Do you see it?”
“See what?” He turned and looked along the corridor. “What are you talking about?”
“You don't see her?” Doctor Bell asked, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on Elenora began to walk toward them. “Do you seriously not see anyone coming this way?”
“Huh?” Stepping forward, Ferguson stopped just as Elenora reached him. “You sure the shadows aren't playing tricks on you?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the presence. “There's no-one here.”
Doctor Bell watched as Elenora slipped a knife from her pocket and held it up toward Ferguson's neck.
“Listen,” the guard continued, turning to her, “okay, I can go to the generator room, but I'll need a torch and I can't promise I'll actually be able to do anything. I mean, I can't perform miracles, can I? There's only -”
Before he could finish, Elenora ran the blade across his neck, causing him to take a step back.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked, his voice filled more with confusion than fear. “I just felt -” His words abruptly came to a gurgling halt as a thin line of blood began to run from the sliced wound across his neck. He reached up as more and more blood flowed down, and finally he stared in shock at his fingers. Opening his mouth again, he seemed to be trying to speak.
“Fine,” Doctor Bell said, staring at Ferguson as he stumbled back against the wall, “I suppose I'll have to find someone else to fix the generator.”
Ferguson let out a gasp of shocked pain before turning and taking a couple of faltering steps along the corridor. Finally, however, he dropped to his knees and then fell to the floor, leaving smeared blood on the wall and floor. Gasping again, he rolled onto his front and tried to drag himself away.
“Well you're not a very nice little girl, are you?” Doctor Bell asked, as Elenora turned to her. “What did you do that for, and why have you...” She paused, staring deep into the girl's dead eyes. “What do you want from me?” she asked finally. “I've seen you all my life, long before I ever even heard of Hardstone prison, before I even considered going to medical school, so why are you so interested in me?”
The lights flickered again, briefly plunging the corridor into darkness before coming back to life only to reveal that Elenora had vanished.
“Come back!” Doctor Bell shouted, stepping over Ferguson's spluttering body as she hurried along the corridor. “Just tell me what you want! Elenora, come back!” Hearing her phone ringing in her pocket, she slipped it out and answered. “This is Doctor Bell, I can't -”
She paused for a moment.
“I'll be right there.” Cutting the call, she looked back at Ferguson and saw that he had finally fallen still. “Huh,” she muttered. “For once, not my fault.”
***
“She was found in the shower unit,” explained one of the guards as he and a colleague carried Amanda's motionless body into the medical room. “Looks like a revenge attack.”
“Revenge?” Doctor Bell asked, immediately starting to examine Amanda as her body was placed on one of the tables. “For what?”
“What do you think? The other inmates found out what she was in here for.”
“Animals,” the doctor replied, checking the area around the knife, which was still embedded deeply in Amanda's side. “What the hell is wrong with these people? Why do they expect to be treated with dignity when they act like a bunch of savages?”
“Always happens,” said the other guard. “People who hurt children never last long in prison.”
“She's still alive,” Doctor Bell muttered as she grabbed some equipment from a nearby trolley. “She has a pulse, but it's weak.” Turning Amanda around, she began to cut her clothes away. “What are you two standing there for?” she asked the guards. “Bring some order back to this place. I want every prisoner in her cell and I want those doors locked!”
“But -”
“Get down to the generator room!” she shouted, finally losing her patience. “This is not acceptable! I'm trying to save a woman's life here, I don't have time to micro-manage everything you do!”
As the guards made their way out, Doctor Bell took a pad and applied pressure to the area next to Ama
nda's wound.
“If you can hear me,” she said after a moment, “I promise you'll be okay. I'll fix whatever these monsters did to you, and I'll -” She watched as blood poured out from either side of the pad, and no matter how hard she tried to keep the wound closed, there seemed to be nothing she could do. “Jesus Christ, how do -”
Before she could finish, she spotted movement nearby and she turned to see that Elenora was watching once again, standing on the other side of the table and staring with dead-eyed intensity at Amanda's wounds.
“What do you want?” Doctor Bell shouted, as the lights flickered and once again Elenora disappeared.
Looking down at Amanda, the doctor took hold of the knife's hilt and began to ease the blade out. As soon as the tip was clear, a torrent of dark blood began to flow from the injury, and although she tried to ease the loss with a series of pads, Doctor Bell soon began to realize that she was losing control. Blood was falling from the body so fast, it was already dribbling off the side of the table and onto the floor.
“Come on,” she hissed, grabbing some gauze from the trolley, “you have to stay with me, Amanda. Are you seriously going to let those animals do this to you?” Reaching across the body, she checked for a pulse. “Damn it, just stay with me!”
Fifteen years ago
Hurrying along the dark path that twisted between the campus buildings, Deborah couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, just in case someone was following her. She could feel a presence again, and although she was sure it must be the little girl, she couldn't discount the possibility that Dan or Julie had followed her from the pub.
“Hey!” a drunk guy shouted suddenly from one of the windows. “Want to come up for a party?”
Ignoring him, she made her way toward the door to her building.
“What's wrong,” the guy continued, “got a rod up your ass? Free booze!”
“Go to hell,” she muttered, pushing the door open.
As soon as she reached the stairwell, however, she saw the ghostly little girl standing on the top step, staring down at her.
“What do you want?” she shouted, finally starting to lose control. “Are you just going to follow me around and stare at me for my whole life? Can't you -”
Hearing someone coming through the door behind her, she turned to see two other students drunkenly staggering into the hallway.
“You okay?” one of them asked cautiously.
Turning to look back up the stairs, Deborah saw that the girl had gone again.
“She's the weird one,” a voice whispered.
“Which one of you said that?” she asked, turning to them with anger in her eyes. “Have people been talking about me?”
“What's up?” asked the other drunk student, stepping forward and putting a hand on her shoulder. “If you -”
“Don't touch me!” she screamed, pushing him away with enough force to send him thudding against the wall. For a fraction of a second, she felt an impulse to really hurt him, and an image flashed into her mind of a knife sliding into the idiot's chest. Taking a step back, she forced herself to stay calm.
“Okay, psycho,” the student said, as he and his friend made their way up the stairs, walking right past the spot where the little girl had been standing just a moment ago.
“I'm losing my mind,” Deborah whispered to herself out loud. “That's the only explanation that makes sense. I'm finally cracking up.”
Today
“It might be him,” Grace muttered, hurrying out of the kitchen and grabbing the phone from her desk. “Andrew, is -”
“I have to speak to Alistair!” a voice cried on the other end of the line. “Please, hurry! Where is he?”
“I...” Grace paused for a moment, disappointed that Andrew still hadn't responded to her most recent calls. Her mind raced as she tried to work out who she was speaking to, until finally she realized: “Mrs. Windsor, is that you?”
“Where's my husband?” the woman sobbed. “He hasn't been home for so long! He's never late!”
“I... He went away,” Grace explained. “He went to a conference. Didn't he tell you?”
“Please,” Ruth continued, “just put him on for me. Even if he's busy, I just want to speak to him! I have to know that he's okay!”
“I... I can't. I'm sorry, but he's not -”
“Ruth?” a voice asked suddenly, sounding a little crackly over the line.
“Oh, Alistair!” his wife replied, sounding overjoyed. “I'm so glad to hear from you! Wherever have you been?”
“Sir?” Grace said, turning to look toward the door that led into the governor's office. “Are you -”
“When are you coming home?” Ruth asked. “I miss you so much, and I keep hearing noises from downstairs!”
Setting the phone down, Grace made her way to the door and pushed it open. The governor's desk was unattended, and there was no sign of anyone, yet somehow he seemed to be using his phone. Heading back to her own desk, she picked up the phone again and listened as the governor continued talking to his wife.
“It's very dark here,” he explained. “I'm not sure... I don't know where everyone seem to have gone.”
Leaving the phone on her desk, Grace made her way back to the kitchen, where she found Leonora looking through some notebooks.
“What's happening?”
Looking up at her, Leonora seemed troubled by the question.
“I believe you,” Grace said finally. “I believe every word you've said tonight, but I also think you're holding back. There are ghosts here, but you didn't just come here to warn us, so what do you really want?”
***
“The Blake family is enormous,” Leonora explained as she was wheeled along the corridor by Grace. “There are so many different branches, and it's very difficult to keep track of them all. People marry into other families, of course, and that just makes things even more complicated. I doubt that any of the women in this prison are aware that they're distant relatives of the Blakes.”
“Including me?” Grace asked.
“Elenora wanted to fill Hardstone with family, and that includes the staff. Not all the staff, of course, she wasn't able to exert complete control, but most of them... I'm afraid that in her eagerness to gather family members, Elenora manipulated most of them into committing crimes that would get them sent here. It's a quite monumental feat, but then my sister was always the smarter one, and she has had so much time to prepare. From the little I've managed to discern, it would seem that she has spent most of the past century working on her plan, influencing events far from the prison in order to draw us all here.”
“But how could she do that? How could she manipulate so many people to commit crimes? And how could she make sure that they'd get caught and end up in this prison?”
“You'd be surprised,” Leonora replied, “how easy it can be to gently nudge some people onto a darker path. Not everyone, of course, but enough for Elenora to get the prison to half its usual capacity, which I believe is more than enough for her. She wants enough people gathered here for it to feel like home again, and then she hopes to...”
“To kill them?”
“No, my dear, just to have them around as family. You must remember that her mind is terribly damaged after all the trauma she experienced when she was alive. She sees things differently, there's bitterness and anger in her heart, alongside all the loneliness and fear.”
“Then why has she been killing people?”
“She's only killed people who aren't members of the family, people she views as interlopers. Or perhaps in a few cases, she killed by accident. She's misguided and foolish, but I can assure you that she's not evil.”
“Emma Tate suffered a heart attack.”
“I researched every prisoner in this place,” Leonora replied. “Ms. Tate was, I believe, the only non-white person in the whole of Hardstone, since she was from the one branch of the family where a Blake had married someone from out of the country. I imagine the poo
r girl rather stood out here among the general population of Hardstone. She did, however, have the famous Blake birth defect.”
“What's that?”
“Stop for a moment,” Leonora told her, before reaching down and carefully untying her shoelace and pulling her foot free to reveal a sixth toe. “Around 10% of the women in our family have this redundant little feature. It's a rather unusual genetic quirk, but one that many of us have come to appreciate. Do you happen to be similarly endowed?”
“I...” Grace paused, staring at the toe. “Yes. My mother had it too, and her mother.”
“So you see? We're all related, albeit so distantly that no-one noticed how many of the women in the extended family had ended up being incarcerated. Elenora picked wisely, and she knew how to avoid being noticed. The Blake family is so large, many of its tributaries have quite forgotten that they're even linked.”
“So she gathered everyone together,” Grace replied as Leonora slipped her foot back into the shoe, “and now what? What's she going to do with us?”
“She merely wants to keep us. She wants to have the family that was denied to her as a child. Surely you can understand why a little girl would be scared of remaining alone? She's waited so long for this moment, and I don't think she's even thought about tomorrow. In her mind, this night will last forever and -”
The lights flickered again.
Stopping suddenly, Grace saw a figure ahead, standing at the far end of the corridor. Staring in shocked horror, she realized that the little girl was looking straight at them.
