by Amy Cross
“Help!” I scream, as tears flow down my face. “Somebody help me! Help!”
In the distance, I can hear footsteps running along the corridor, heading this way.
***
It took a while before I accepted it was true. When Nurse Carter ran into my room that night, I thought she'd tell me there was no-one in there with me, that Karen hadn't really come at all. I thought this would be yet another of my hallucinations, just one more crazy fit to add to the list. It was something of a surprise, then, that she not only saw Karen slumped on the floor, but also saw the broken camera. I was sobbing, clutching my broken wrist as I begged for help, but deep down I didn't believe what I'd experienced.
Even now, two weeks later, I keep expecting someone to come and tell me that, no, I invented this part of the story. That Karen wasn't behind it all, that she wasn't the one who killed Matt. I guess I'm so accustomed to second-guessing myself and doubting my own version of events, it's hard to get used to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I was right about something. Whenever I do feel doubts, however, all I have to do is look down at my broken wrist. I'm pretty sure that even I couldn't hallucinate something like that, something so painful, for two weeks straight.
“She was insane,” I whisper, sitting in a conference room at the hospital. I pause for a moment, before turning to the police officer. “Her plan would never even have worked, would it? She'd have been caught eventually.”
“Absolutely,” the officer replies, although I can see a hint of doubt in her eyes. I guess she can't even admit that possibility that Karen might have succeeded. “She was very clever, she preyed on your insecurities from the moment you were first let out of hospital, but her attempt to kill you when you were readmitted... I mean, she must have been desperate.”
“Has she admitted the truth yet?” I ask, wincing as I feel another flash of pain in my wrist.
She shakes her head. “We found plenty of evidence on her laptop, though. Once we took her seriously as a suspect, we had no trouble piecing it all together. We even went back and found flight records, showing that she traveled to Oslo the day before you, and flew back a couple of days after you left the cabin.”
“So she was there the whole time,” I continue. “She was at the cabin... She was hiding, and watching me.” I pause for a moment. “I remember little things that didn't make sense. The trashcans getting bumped late one night, footsteps upstairs when I knew no-one else was supposed to be inside. At the time, I thought maybe the place was haunted, but now...” I take a deep breath. “It was her. I can't believe I didn't realize.”
“Don't beat yourself up, Anna.”
“But I should have known something was wrong!”
“Anna -”
“She won't stop, will she?” I continue. “She'll never stop until she's got the ending to that film!”
“I don't think you have to worry about her ever being released,” she replies. “After what she did, the only question is whether she'll be declared fit to stand trial. Either way, Karen is clearly a very disturbed individual. We found footage of her causing all those injuries to herself. It's hard to believe that someone could do something like that, but I've seen parts of the footage myself. In some of the scenes, she's actually laughing while she...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I don't suppose there's any need to talk about that, though. The most important thing is that the truth is out and you're finally free to go.”
“I didn't kill Matt,” I whisper, feeling a rush of relief but, at the same time, a sense of sorrow that he was dragged into this because of me. “What about Freddie Gray?”
“As far as we can tell,” she continues, “Karen killed him when she was trying to steal some footage. I think it's also clear that she left some sections behind on the hard drives. After all, she needed to guide you to the building where she was holding Matt.”
“I was being led into a trap.”
“You were being manipulated. There's no need to feel ashamed.”
“I don't,” I mutter. “Even the video that's out there... If people want to watch it, let them. That's a stain for their consciences, not mine.” I pause for a moment. “I just... Are you absolutely certain that it's over now? What if Karen was working with someone else?”
“We're confident that she wasn't,” the officer replies. “Her email logs show communication with several of the people in Norway who were responsible for your original ordeal, as well as some individuals who were offering money in exchange for footage of your... Well, we're working with colleagues in several other countries to track those individuals down. It'll take a while, but I think we'll find them eventually. It looks like we're on the trail of a pretty major global organization.”
“I thought I'd lost my mind,” I whisper, before thinking back to that night when I was chased through the street by a headless woman. “I did lose my mind, at least for a while.”
“Anyone would have struggled if they were being targeted like that,” she suggests.
“But I fell apart so easily,” I continue. “I lost it completely, I was constantly imagining things.”
“You were vulnerable. Fragile.”
I flinch as soon as I hear that word. “I should have been stronger,” I say finally. “Now I know that someone can do that to me, I have to protect myself. I can't let it happen again.”
As her phone buzzes, the officer gets to her feet. “I'm going to need to talk to you in a few weeks' time, just about a few minor details that need tying up. In the meantime, I've arranged a police escort to take you home. As you can imagine, there are some photographers waiting out front, your story has been all over the papers. You might be better off staying in a hotel for a few nights. Don't worry, the news cycle is pretty rapid these days.”
“Thank you,” I reply, staring into space as she makes her way past me.
“You'll be okay, Anna,” she continues. “Just take things slowly.”
“Can I speak to Detective Bryson?” I ask, turning to her. “I feel like I... I suspected him for a while, I ran away from him. Now I know he was just trying to help. I owe him an apology.”
She opens the door before glancing back at me. “Who?”
“Detective Bryson. He was handling my case when the video was first leaked.”
She frowns. “I've never heard of anyone named Bryson. Are you sure he was from Benton Street station?”
“I called him several times,” I reply, feeling a cold shiver pass through my chest. “He came to my house, he spoke to me, my mother was there too.”
“There's definitely no Detective Bryson at Benton Street,” she tells me. “I can ask around, maybe he was from another division.”
I stare at her for a moment, as the truth starts to become apparent. “No,” I say finally. “No, it's okay. I guess I was just confused.”
“Don't worry,” she says with a faint smile. “You'll get back to normal soon enough.”
“Why don't you just admit the truth?” she asks. “You're not as smart as you think, Anna.”
“You're a very smart young lady,” she tells me. “I'm very impressed by how you've handled all of this.”
“Thank you,” I reply calmly.
As she leaves the room, I get to my feet and head over to the window. Even though I know the truth about Karen now, it's still hard to pick apart the events of the past few weeks and determine what was real and what wasn't. If Bryson was all in my head, that means there are still several blank spots in my memory, periods of time where I have no idea what I was doing or where I was. Karen must have really undermined my attempts to stay sane, but it's still scary to think that my brain was capable of conjuring up so many convincing illusions. Bryson seemed like a real person, like a -
Stopping suddenly, I stare at the distant treeline. Tilting my head slightly, I watch as the leaves gently rustle in a morning breeze. For a moment, just for a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a red light in the distance. It's gone now, but -
Ther
e it is again!
Just a brief light, flickering as it hurries between the trees, but I'm certain I saw it.
I take a deep breath.
No.
Not again.
I refuse to let myself get drawn back down that rabbit hole. Then again, as I continue to watch the forest, waiting for another flash of that light, I can't help realizing I can never be sure that the video is over. Someone else might come along some day and try to get the 'money shot', the final scene to give the video a proper ending, or Karen might have had an accomplice after all. I'll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering whether I've truly escaped or whether someone else is out there, ready to continue the work that began at the cabin.
Unless I can find some way to take control. Some way to be certain that I'm not being filmed. Somewhere there are no cameras.
Epilogue
One month later
“You're working too hard,” Mum says over the phone as I pick up another box and place it in the cupboard. “Anna, I can't believe you haven't learned your lesson from all of this. You're pushing yourself when you need to be resting!”
I hurry along the dark street. I know exactly where the blind spots are in this town, and how to move about without getting caught on a single camera.
“I'm fine,” I tell her, grabbing the final box and slipping it onto the shelf, before swinging the cupboard door shut and heading back across the room. There's a bad smell in here, but I should be able to fix that pretty soon. “You don't need to worry about me all the time.”
“Well, it'd help if you answered your phone occasionally!”
“I answered it just now, didn't I?”
“For once.”
Stopping in the doorway, I can't help letting out a sigh. “Mum, you need to relax. I'm perfectly okay. I'm just burying myself in my new job, and I don't think that's such a bad thing.” Staring through into the main room, I see the thirty-two CCTV monitors flashing with images from across town. “I feel safe here,” I continue. “It's the only place where I don't have to keep looking over my shoulder every five seconds. Ironically, as long as I'm in this building, I know that I'm not being recorded.”
“It's not normal,” she mutters. “The job itself isn't normal, and sleeping in a spare room at the office, barely ever leaving the place at all, that is most definitely not normal.”
Karen swings the ax handle at me, but I duck out of the way just in time.
“I don't need to go outside,” I tell her, shuddering at the thought. “I get food delivered. I'm fine.”
“But Anna -”
“And I don't need to be normal,” I continue. “Who the hell is normal, anyway? Isn't it more important to be happy?”
“Well you can't be happy,” she replies, her voice dripping with disdain, “not wasting your time staring at a load of monitors.”
“Maybe I can,” I whisper, watching the screens for a moment before realizing that I've let Mum distract me for long enough. “I'll come to the house some time,” I tell her, “I promise, or you can come visit me here. But right now I have a job to do and I really want to get on with it.” Heading over to the main desk, I take a seat in the revolving leather chair that once belonged to Freddie, and I allow myself a quick spin. “Sleep well, and don't worry about me. I'm okay.”
It takes another few minutes to get her off the line, but finally I set my phone down and lean back, staring at the monitors. I was telling the truth, this really is the only place where I feel truly comfortable these days. On the few occasions when I have to go outside, I feel as if there could be a little red light somewhere, still filming me, still adding footage to that video so that one day someone can come and get the final shot.
I can't deal with all the cameras that are everywhere. They make me itch.
“You've got no evidence to hold her here!” the lawyer says firmly. “You have no surveillance footage that shows Anna anywhere near those locations. You don't even have any bodies!”
In here, I'm in control of the cameras, and I can watch the entire town without anyone being able to watch me in return. There already a few regulars, people I spot on a daily basis. They're my new friends. It's very rare for anyone to glance at the cameras, but when they do I feel a kind of connection. Maybe that isn't normal, I don't think I even know what is normal these days, but this is the only place where I feel certain my mind won't unravel. If I were to go anywhere else, I'd be constantly second-guessing myself, and I've already seen where that leads me.
Imaginary conversations with police detectives who don't exist.
A headless woman chasing me through the street.
Letting someone trick me into believing that I'm a murderer.
I can't go through any of that again. It took so long for me to get to this point. The cabin changed me, and I can't keep throwing myself against the rocks over and over in some hopeless attempt to change back. This is who I am now, but I can make it work. That's all any of us can do, really. Find a way to make our lives work. And if we have to ignore certain aspects of reality and imagine others, then maybe that isn't so bad.
And then there are the ghosts.
I've finally come to realize that the ghosts – some of them, at least – were real.
Are real.
I see them sometimes, just the way Freddie described. They only ever appear on the monitors late at night, but they're instantly recognizable. They just don't seem to belong, and no-one else notices them. Occasionally I manage to do some research and come up with possible names for a few of them, and sometimes they even turn and look at the camera, but that's fine by me. I'm fairly sure that the 'ghost' of Jennifer was just my subconscious mind forcing me to remember what I did to her corpse after the cabin had burned, and my fevered mind probably imagined Daniel. The ghosts on the monitors, however, seem very real. Like Jennifer that night on the walkway. But I'm not scared anymore. I like seeing them. Ghosts aren't as scary as real people.
“You're free to go,” the officer says, although I can tell from her tone that she's extremely annoyed. But if she has no footage and no bodies, what other options does she have?
Sometimes I even see Matt on the monitors, or at least I think I do. He's usually out near the walkway that crosses the train-tracks, although I've also seen him near the hotel. The cameras aren't always clear, but I'm fairly sure that it's him. I wish I could go and talk to him, and somehow put his soul at rest, but one night I actually dared to go out and look for him and I didn't have any luck at all. I ended up running back here, filled with panic. I haven't been out since. So maybe he's avoiding me, or maybe Freddie was right and these ghosts usually can't be seen in the flesh, only when they're caught on camera. I could probably go mad trying to untangle all the possibilities, but I've learned to not mind the fact that I don't understand everything. Some of my memories are real, and some are false, and that's just the way it is. Un-threading the real from the unreal would probably drive me crazy.
I guess that moment with Jennifer's body, when I bashed her head from her shoulders and then forced myself to forget what I'd done, was when my mind really became detached from reality. You can't really expect someone to fully recover from something like that.
“No!” Karen screams as I grab the ax handle from her and turn it around, swinging it at her head with enough force to crack her skull.
Smiling, I lean back and watch the monitors. So many people, all getting on with their lives. I'll pick one to follow in a moment, but first I have one more thing to do before I get settled for the night. Heading over to the counter, I grab the air-freshener that was delivered with my shopping, and then I go through to the store-room. I pause at the fourth cupboard for a moment, before opening it and spraying some of the freshener inside.
“I'll find a way to make sure this never happens again,” I whisper, standing over Karen as she bleeds out. “The cameras make me paranoid. If I can avoid the cameras, I won't hurt anyone else ever again.”
“I'll come up with a better place to put you two soon,” I whisper, looking down at Karen and Matt's rotting corpses, before swinging the door shut and heading back through to the monitors. “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
Also by Amy Cross
THE FARM
No-one ever remembers what happens to them when they go into the barn at Bondalen farm. Some never come out again, and the rest... Something about them is different.
In 1979, the farm is home to three young girls. As winter fades to spring, Elizabeth, Kari and Sara each come to face the secrets of the barn, and they each emerge with their own injuries. But someone else is lurking nearby, a man who claims to be Death incarnate, and for these three girls the spring of 1979 is set to end in tragedy.
In the modern day, meanwhile, Bondalen farm has finally been sold to a new family. Dragged from London by her widowed father, Paula Ridley hates the idea of rural life. Soon, however, she starts to realize that her new home retains hints of its horrific past, while the darkness of the barn still awaits anyone who dares venture inside.
Set over the course of several decades, The Farm is a horror novel about people who live with no idea of the terror in their midst, and about a girl who finally has a chance to confront a source of great evil that has been feeding on the farm for generations.
