The Final Child

by Fran Dorricott

  Home? The word filled me with dread. But Alex was getting tired of talking. I needed more time to plan, to figure out what I was going to do. I had to keep him distracted.

  “After I was gone, they looked after you, didn’t they?” I fumbled for the words. “They made you a part of their – family? A new brother, for Peter… is that right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What happened, Alex? Did they tell you that we wouldn’t miss you, that Dad didn’t love you? When he died the last thing he said was your name.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Alex said coldly. “You’re here now. We can be a family again.”

  As he said this I realised, truly, what was happening. He’d lost the family he’d created, one way or another. Dana was dead. Peter was gone too. Now he wanted me back. But Alex didn’t know what family was any more.

  “That’s right,” I said slowly. “I’m here. You don’t need Harriet if you’ve got me. We can explain that it’s a misunderstanding and I’ll stay here with you. I have money. We can do whatever you want, fix this place up…”

  He relaxed. He wanted for all of this to go away, for it to be me and him again, like before.

  “You can help me to remember—”

  “Stop it,” Alex said wearily. “Just stop.”

  “Will you take me to Harriet?”

  “I will,” he said, “if you’ll shut up.”

  Then Alex turned his back, as though he knew I wouldn’t run – and he was right. But quickly, I bent to the ground and picked up my lighter, shoving it in my pocket. And I slipped my phone out, found the text to Wendy, and hit send. There was still one bar of signal. Hopefully the message would go before my battery died.

  * * *

  The trek back to the house seemed to take much longer. It was as though Alex had been fighting, before, to seem normal. Now he didn’t care. Demons swarmed between us, ghosts of what had happened, what hadn’t happened, and the years that had passed since we’d last been together in this place.

  Alex’s hands were in his pockets the whole time, his shoulders hunched against the brisk wind. Eventually the house loomed back into view. The bricks looked ice-cold even in the sunshine that now lit the building from one side.

  I stumbled and Alex’s hand whipped from his pocket – a small switch knife in his grasp.

  “Be careful,” he grunted.

  I bit back the fear that surged.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back inside.”

  I tried to focus, to push thoughts of Harriet from my mind. Inside I might find a weapon. A chair, a lamp, anything heavy or solid…

  Alex shoved me back through the open conservatory doors. Into the dim house, towards the bookcase, which he pulled back. It was no wonder the police never found anything. How could they have known? But Alex didn’t wait for me now and I had to hurry to keep up.

  Then we were back in the dark warren of corridors and passages.

  “Stop.”

  We had reached a dead end. I wasn’t sure if I’d been down this hallway earlier, but the passages all looked the same, long and narrow, some with doors just on one side but others opposite each other where the corridor narrowed. The doors were plain, dark wood, adorned with—

  Shit.

  “Why are they all locked?” I asked. Four doors, and four shiny dead bolts were screwed onto the outsides. Locked from the outside.

  Alex barely looked at me. “It’s just the way it is.”

  “You said you’d take me to Harriet.”

  My brother, still holding the knife, pulled back one of the bolts. The door opened onto a small room, large enough for a bare single mattress and a bucket with a little room either side. It was so dim I could barely see anything except the books that were piled haphazardly against a wall, their pages yellow and mildewed. Against another were several metal jerry cans.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “In there.” Alex pointed.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I see her.”

  “Get in the room and you can see her,” he snapped.

  Then I heard it. A muffled tapping. It came from the room opposite.

  “Harriet?”

  “Erin?” Panicked, tired. “Is that you?”

  “Harriet—”

  “Get in the fucking room, Jilly.”

  I stood, indecision burning, before I finally did what he asked. I stepped into the open room, not far in but far enough to feel the claustrophobia sink in. There was a battery-powered light by the door, like a camping lantern, which cast the opening in a dim white light. He waited until I was far enough in and then, still gripping the knife, he reached over to the other deadbolt opposite.

  “I’m going to open it – for a second. So you can see her. If you try to run I will kill her. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Alex unlocked the door. He pulled it open, just a little. Harriet was on the floor in a room that was so small her knees were tight to her chest. A cupboard.

  “I had to restrain her. She’s fine,” he said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. Harriet’s face was pale, blood smeared down one side. She had bruises under both of her eyes as though he’d hit her very hard. “All that blood…”

  “Most of it isn’t mine. It’s from the shed where I woke up. I think he killed somebody in there.”

  “Jenny,” I said. “It’s – it’s going to be okay. This is Alex. He was just explaining how we got it all wrong—”

  “I’m not stupid,” Alex cut in. “I know she’s not going to let this go.”

  “But you said you’d let her leave!”

  “Yes. Well. Once we’re gone she’ll have all the time in the world to get herself out.”

  And then he swung the door shut and slid the bolt home. He turned to me, his eyes shining.

  “I’ll go and get the car ready.” He stepped in, pushing me further into the room. I noticed a metal loop on one wall, a piece of rope attached.

  “Wait!” I exclaimed. “Where are we going? I thought we were staying here?”

  I was frozen to the spot as he grabbed the rope, knife still pointed at my chest. The only time he let it drop was when he tied the rope to my wrist. I should have run, but I couldn’t. I wanted to launch myself at him, I wanted to claw at his face, but I couldn’t make my limbs obey.

  Alex pulled the rope hard, so hard it grazed my skin. “You stay there,” he said. He went to the wall and picked up one of the jerry cans – it looked like the ones I remembered my dad throwing away when we were little. I remembered how Dad had struggled to lift them when they were full, and yet Alex picked this one up as if he was used to the weight.

  “I’ll come and get you in a minute. I wanted things to work out differently, but it’s clear we’ll have to go to plan B. Good job I had multiple plans. ‘Always have a backup,’ that’s what I was taught. That’s why I took these.”

  He held up one hand, and glinting between his thumb and forefinger were Harriet’s car keys. I’d forgotten about them, but Alex hadn’t. When had he taken them? My brain stuttered with panic.

  “Alex, wait!”

  But he was at the door already. He turned back to me and shook his head.

  “No, Jilly. I’ve waited for eighteen years. It’s your turn now.”

  FORTY

  Harriet

  “ERIN? ERIN, ARE YOU okay?”

  The man had locked the door again and left me in darkness, but I could still hear them talking, their voices charged with emotion. Alex, Erin had said. Alex. Her brother. So it was true. The blond boy in the second photograph hadn’t been Chris, after all. It was Alex.

  “Erin, answer me, please?”

  After a moment I heard her voice. “I’m sorry, Harriet.” She sounded like she was crying. “This is all my fault. I can’t believe—”

  “You need to calm down,” I said firmly. “He might come back at any minute. We need to get out of here.”

 
; “How?” she wept. Her voice was muffled behind two doors but I knew she was freaking out. “He took the car keys. I didn’t even call the police. He said if I told anybody we were here, he’d kill you. Harriet, nobody is coming for us.”

  I felt my stomach drop but fought the fear.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I could picture the new terror on her face. If I didn’t get a handle on this she’d spiral into a full-blown panic attack like the other night.

  “Good,” I said calmly. “Have you got your phone? He took mine while I was unconscious.”

  “I – he didn’t take mine. I think he wanted to… Trust me? But my battery—”

  “One step at a time. Are you tied up?”

  There was a scuffling noise, like trainers scrabbling for purchase on a floor. Then something rolling.

  “Not any more.”

  “Good. Send a text message – don’t try to call, it’ll take more battery.”

  “I tried to send a text before. I don’t know if it went.” Another pause, then a screech. “Fuck, Harriet. My phone is dead. I don’t know… I don’t know if Wendy got the message. I should have sent it sooner!”

  “Okay, Erin.” A wobble of fear shook me but I fought it again. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. We need to focus. Listen to me, we can fight this. We’re together, aren’t we?”

  “Yes.” Erin was silent for a moment. “What are we going to do? There’s nothing in here. Mattress, bucket…” Then she stopped. “I don’t know what’s in these.”

  “In what?”

  “These metal jug things. Jerry jugs? They look – I’m not sure.” There was a metallic sound, and then, “It says flammable on the side. Smells like – petrol? But they’re basically empty.”

  “For his car.” The pieces fell into place. “He’s been living off the grid, I guess, probably keeps the fuel so he doesn’t have to go to a petrol station around here. Because of the cameras… Are they heavy?”

  “Yes, pretty heavy.”

  “Can you use one of them to knock the door handle out? The bolt isn’t too much higher, you might be able to reach it.”

  “I don’t know. I can try…”

  “Good,” I said. “Good, Erin. Please try.”

  There was a clanging, thudding sound, like metal on wood. Then scraping. Then something else and Erin’s muffled curse. And then, nothing.

  “Erin? Are you okay?” I tried in vain to see, forcing my face up against the crack in the door but it was too thin, and there wasn’t much room to move. “Erin?”

  And then another noise. Footsteps. I felt my heart lurch. Surely he couldn’t be back already, could he? I scrambled upright, knees bent, ready to kick out at him if he opened the door again.

  It did open, and—

  “Ow!”

  My feet connected with Erin’s thigh.

  “Jesus, Harriet.”

  She clutched her leg, stood before me like some sort of dishevelled angel. A strange, confused frown on her face.

  “God, Erin, I’m sorry.” I looked behind her. The door, and the lock, were still intact. “You didn’t have to break anything?”

  “He left the door unlocked.”

  A look of understanding slowly dawned on her face. She offered me a hand and I took it, feeling my body ache and tremble. My head was still pounding.

  “Why would he—”

  “It’s what Peter did. To… train them? If they were good, they wouldn’t leave. It’s like he’s testing me. He didn’t tie me up properly. The knot was tight but he left one hand free…”

  She saw the look on my face, the barely disguised disgust at what he had endured, and her expression shifted.

  “I know,” she said.

  I wanted to hug her, wanted to feel her solidness to remind me that this was real. She was here, and he had been foolish enough to put us together. But Erin kept her distance and I could tell she was trying to formulate a plan.

  “What now?” she asked dully. “What the fuck do we do now? He’s got the car keys and we’ll never get out of here without a car. It’s miles to the nearest public road. The woods… I can’t go back in there…”

  “We’ve got to come up with some sort of plan.”

  Erin let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

  I stepped into the corridor and looked around, taking in the darkness. The rooms with their deadbolts. There had to be something.

  “Can we use one of those jugs in your room to knock him out?” I asked.

  Erin bit her lip. “Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll do much good. They’re empty but they’re still hard to lift, and it’s going to be difficult to aim it because they’re so unwieldy. And he lifted that other one so easily, and that one wasn’t empty… He’s stronger than he looks. I don’t want to take the chance.”

  I continued searching while Erin talked. The first locked door led to another empty room. “Fuck.”

  “Harriet, we have to make a decision.” She looked stronger now, as though running out of options had given her some steel back. “He’s going to come back any minute and he’ll take me with him. If the police don’t get here in time, if Wendy doesn’t get my message… I wanted to protect him. From Peter.” She shook her head. “But he’s not my brother any more. He’s a monster. I’m fucking done worrying about him.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s think logically. What have we got?”

  I glanced around again. We had empty petrol cans. A corridor. Some rooms. A little time. We could run, into the woods, but Alex was stronger than both of us, and I’d seen the knife he was carrying. If he caught us, at least one of us would end up dead.

  I opened another door – and pointed.

  “Erin, look.”

  There were more petrol cans inside. Two of them. The first was empty, but the second – easily three quarters full. But what good was petrol without…

  “Erin, what else have you got in your pockets? You normally have cigarettes and—”

  “My lighter!” Erin crowed. She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out the beat-up plastic thing triumphantly. It was filthy, covered in mud and grass, and I wasn’t sure if it would still work. But it was better than nothing.

  “Okay. I think I have an idea. How brave do you feel?” I asked.

  “I… I don’t know. Oh Jesus, do you know what you’re doing?”

  I shook my head. But Erin had moved closer, ready to listen. If we couldn’t run, that would mean we were going to have to fight.

  An unspoken question hovered between us: how badly are we willing to hurt him?

  FORTY ONE

  Erin

  I CREPT THROUGH THE hallways like a lost child, trying to calm my thumping heart. I didn’t want to do this – any of it. Finding Harriet, seeing her boxed up in that tiny room, had set something loose in me, something both wild and resigned; I was so tired of feeling like I was teetering on a knife point.

  But I kept going because of Harriet, too. I was afraid – of my own brother. I was afraid that he would catch me, like he always had in the games we played as children, and that once he had me, he wouldn’t let go.

  I hurried out of the labyrinthine maze of dark corridors, sliding out from behind the bookcase and making sure I pulled it well away from the hidden door. Sweat dripped down my back from the exertion.

  When I came to the conservatory the daylight was a surprise. It felt like years since I had been out here, since Jenny and the garden and the well… I couldn’t believe she was dead and he’d just left her there. The thought made me feel ill, sickness rising above the fear.

  I hoped Harriet was right about this, that she knew what she was doing. I hoped that she could be quick, and that I could be convincing enough to make it work.

  I followed the faint tug of memory towards a patch in the woods where Dana had kept her car. I recalled the sensation of lifting my blindfold, seeing the thin path cut in moonlight around to the side of the house. A clearing beyond the trees. I
t wasn’t much different now, only this time it seemed much closer.

  I stepped forward. Everything in me screamed that I should be running away from my brother, not creeping towards him, and yet I took another step into the tree-line. Another—

  Crack.

  The sound of my foot snapping the body of a twig reverberated in the quiet. My heart leapt – it was too soon. I hadn’t meant to do that. For a second I froze, breathed, tried not to break down into tears and wait for death.

  And then my brother appeared around the edge of a tree. He had a duffel bag in his hands, and the empty can of petrol sat nearby. Our eyes met. He dropped the bag just as I let out a little involuntary wail.

  I wanted to run. I needed to. But I was frozen. I was prey, trapped in his vicious sights, and all my traitorous body could do was tremble.

  “Jilly? I told you to stay put.”

  “I…” Panic. I could barely see straight, a screech in my ears yelling run run run! But still I didn’t move. I was back to being his little sister again.

  “I wanted to help you. Where – where are we going?”

  “It’s not important. Jilly, what are you doing out here? Where’s your friend?”

  “I…” I knew I should lie. I must be able to make something up; I’d had years of practice of telling people I was okay. It couldn’t be that hard! “I…”

  My body jerked.

  Alex threw himself forwards, as if expecting me to bolt. I screamed, dropping to my knees in the dirt and raising my hands over my head.

  “Alex, please,” I sobbed. “Don’t make me do this. I don’t want to go!”

  He was close now, within reach. He could grab me and throw me in the back of that rusty old Land Rover and there would be nothing I could do. He was stronger than me, bigger, faster.

  “Please, just let me go. We don’t have to do this.”

  “You said you wouldn’t leave me again,” he said. Spittle flecked his words. “Jilly, you promised me.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  “You didn’t think we would have to leave? We can’t stay here now, can we?”

  “Alex—”

  “This is all your fault. If you’d just remembered me, if you’d just come back…”