Descent into Darkness (Crystal Sphere Book 1)

by Ingrid Fry

  ‘Ashley! You’re insane. What the hell has gotten into you? Stop it!’ I hissed, trying to wiggle my way towards his feet and away from those groping hands. I wasn’t sure which was the best direction to go. I was caught between a rock and a hard place, and the thought made me giggle.

  ‘Enough, Ashley! This is wrong. Cut it out!’

  Passion. Desire. Regret. Lust. Betrayal. Love. Ashley’s feelings and thoughts washed through my mind and mingled with my own. I tried to shut them out but they were identical to mine. What the hell? This couldn’t be happening. We’d moved on. Hadn’t we?

  A noise came from outside. The creak of a door, the rustle of paper. We froze. The sound of a phone number being tapped into a mobile phone. Swearing, someone walking away. Silence.

  Ashley let out his breath, and his hands continued their downward journey taking my jeans with them. When his arms could stretch no further, Bingo! He was holding my naked bum, a cheek in each hand, and more. A sharp intake of breath as he explored my body. He groaned, and whispered, ‘Oh, you want me.’

  ‘Well, I’m only human. Ashley stop it! We can’t do this. It’s not right. Have you gone mad? Think about Jason. He’s your best friend. Besides, in here? Way too weird.’

  I must have been convincing because, in an instant, the beast was vanquished.

  Ashley gave a long, slow sigh and yanked my jeans back to their rightful place.

  ‘I’m sorry, luv. So sorry. Don’t know what the hell came over me. It’s inexcusable,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m a bloody idiot.’

  I nodded in agreement and he enfolded me in his arms.

  We lay in a silence broken only by our breathing and the sound of approaching footsteps. [16]

  Chapter 17: Adam

  Ashley pulled the zip of the body bag over our heads to chest level.

  ‘It’s a two-day ride to get here,’ a man’s voice said over the rattle of a trolley.

  I heard a woman say, ‘Yes, it’s bizarre how hidden mortuaries are. It’s the same in most hospitals, as if they’re trying to deny people actually die. Oh, Jesus, there it goes again.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The lights flickered.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I swear, every time I bring a body down here the lights flicker. Creeps me out.’

  ‘Yeah, let’s get this done. Where’s Mike anyway? He should be here.’

  ‘Got a training session, he’ll be back soon. He said to put the body in bay one, locker five.’

  ‘Hell, this place is a shop of horrors. Look at all this stuff,’ the man said, jangling something metal.

  ‘That’s a hanging digital scale, used to weigh people’s brains and internal organs.’

  ‘Bloody hell! What’s this then?’

  ‘It’s a vibrating saw, used to cut off the calvarium—the top of the skull —so the brain can be removed.’

  ‘And this?’

  ‘A skull chisel. Once the calvarium has been scored with the saw, the chisel is used to separate the top of the skull from the lower skull, exposing the brain and its coverings.’

  ‘Blimey. These things look like pruning shears.’

  ‘They’re rib cutters, and in fact, some morgue technicians do use pruning shears. They work as well and don’t cost as much.’

  ‘Dead set?’

  ‘Yep. Come on, let’s find the locker.’

  Footsteps tapped and squeaked around the room.

  I was going to have a heart attack—we were in bay one, locker five. When they opened the door and found us, they’d most likely have a heart attack and die too. The only person alive would be Ashley, who, judging by his breathing, seemed so unconcerned he appeared to have fallen asleep.

  I poked him in the ribs as the footsteps squeaked to a stop outside our fridge door.

  ‘Hey Jenny, it’s over here, bay one, locker five, but it’s in use already.’

  ‘Can’t be.’ Her footsteps tapped over.

  ‘Woah, it says EVD Hazard. Really? Impossible. Not here.’

  ‘What’s EVD?’

  ‘Ebola Virus Disease.’

  ‘Woah!’

  ‘Nah, it’s a mistake. Has to be.’

  ‘But it says so! There was a case. We shouldn’t open it.’

  One set of footsteps backed away, one came forward, and then the handle of the fridge locker clicked.

  Our fridge door opened. There was a rush of warm air and a tugging at the top of the body bag.

  ‘Phew! It stinks in there. It shouldn’t smell. Huh, there’s a Red Category Three tag on the bag.’

  The door slammed shut, more fridge doors opened and closed.

  ‘This is an empty one. Put her in here and make a note in the book.’

  Noises of metal on metal, a hydraulic hoist, a rattle of rollers and a fridge door slamming shut.

  ‘Done. Let’s get out of here.’

  I waited until the footsteps had disappeared before I said, ‘Ashley, get me out of here too, or I swear, I will kill you.’

  ‘Easy babe, that won’t be necessary. Out we go.’ He unzipped the bag and pressed the door release.

  Nothing happened.

  He pressed it again.

  Nothing.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Nothing.

  ‘Shit!’ he said.

  A rising tide of panic washed over me, and a sweat as cold as the fridge ran down my face.

  I whisper screamed into Ashley’s chest. ‘No! No! No!’

  ‘Chill, it’s okay.’

  ‘How. Is. It. Okay?’ I growled. ‘And I am chilled. To the bone!’

  ‘We’ll have to wait for Mike to come back. They said he wouldn’t be long. We’ll bang on the door and he’ll let us out. All is well.’

  ‘And then we’ll say what?’

  ‘We’ll say Jenny played a practical joke on us.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Nah, we’ll make a run for it.’

  ‘Ashley?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What if he reads the EVD label and doesn’t open the door?’

  ‘He’ll have to. We’ll be banging the shit out of it.’

  ‘But what if he thinks an EVD case was brought in without his knowledge, and now, the EVD case is banging on the door trying to get out?’

  ‘Like an EVD zombie?’

  ‘Exactly! Didn’t think of that did you? No sane person is going to open the door for an Ebola Virus zombie, ever. We’re gonna die in here, and it’s all your fault.’

  ‘Well then, I couldn’t think of a nicer person to kick the bucket with.’

  I pounded on his chest as best I could in the limited space. The result was more a pathetic tapping.

  ‘I know something we could do to pass the time,’ he said.

  ‘You are fair dinkum unbelievable.’

  ‘I know.’ He rubbed his hands through my hair to muss it up even more than it already was.

  ‘Shhh, footsteps!’ I said.

  ‘See? It’s Mike. What did I say?’

  ‘Wait,’ I hissed.

  Footsteps entered the room, stopped, then travelled across to our locker. There was a pause, and the footsteps moved off. The sound of turning pages. The clink and clank of metal instruments. A sound of something being dragged. More clinking and clanking.

  Ashley zipped closed our body bag. Here we went again.

  The footsteps returned to our locker. The handle clicked; the door opened. Every muscle in my body was ready to explode, and my heart ready to join them. The door closed again. We both exhaled. The footsteps moved away, fading to nothing. We waited for a minute, ears straining for a sound. Then, there was one. Ashley farted.

  As if things couldn’t get any worse.

  ‘Oops, sorry, luv.’

  ‘Ashley, try the door again. Now!’ I held my breath.

  He unzipped the bag and pressed the release button. The door clicked open. He froze, listening. I listened too, but couldn’t hear anything other than my heart pounding.
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  ‘Let’s go!’ He pushed the body board out.

  No one could have seen it coming.

  The gun butt smashed into Ashley’s skull. It took four blows to bring him down, before he slid bloodied and unconscious off the board.

  The attacker was bigger than Ashley. Thicker, built like a tank. Standing in his socks, his silhouette blocked out the light.

  Dressed all in black—the villain’s fashion choice—he was young, with pale skin, a chiseled jaw and stunning blue-grey eyes, framed by perfectly plucked, arched eyebrows. An aquiline nose sat above rosy lips that curved slightly upwards. Short brown hair was swept neatly off his face to one side, in the way a mother may have combed her child’s hair.

  He should have been doing aftershave ads.

  His neck to his jawline was decorated with a thick collar of tattoos: hideous monsters interspersed with spinning symbols like Catherine wheels. The band of ink writhed with menace and set off his face to perfection. He was evil and innocence personified. Yin and Yang.

  I stared at him, mesmerised. After what seemed like forever, he leant forward, grabbed my wrist and helped me out of the locker.

  ‘Are you all right, Maggie?’

  I couldn’t place his accent.

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘I’m glad. My name’s Adam.’

  I was confused; he was exceedingly polite for a bad guy. Was he one?

  ‘Please don’t scream, or I will kill you.’

  Ah, that would be a yes then. A polite psychopath.

  Ashley was on the floor, his face white and still. ‘My friend, is he … did you—’

  ‘You must give me the crystal sphere.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t play games. Don’t make me angry; it is not good when I’m angry.’

  ‘Yeah, I know how that feels.’

  ‘Where is the crystal?’ His voice was soft but insistent.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

  His left eye twitched. ‘I know you know.’

  My mind was racing; surely, he would have been to our house? The crystal wouldn’t be hard to find. And what about Ashley’s rock? Why did he want the crystal? What would happen if I told him where it was? But in truth, I didn’t know where it was anymore.

  ‘Adam, honestly. It was at my house, but I don’t know where it is anymore. You should go. Mike will be coming back any minute.’

  Adam nodded towards the back of the room. I turned and saw Mike propped against the wall, sitting in a pool of his own blood.

  My blood ran cold. I felt Adam catch me just before I hit the floor.

  I awoke to find myself bound to an autopsy table by my wrists—yes, again—and my ankles. Fluorescent ceiling lights and peeling paint gave me something to look at. Someone needed to get a cobweb broom up there and give it a serious going over.

  The situation seemed grim, but I did have one thing to be grateful for. I still had all my clothes on.

  Adam bent over me and rubbed my forehead with his thumb. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Actually, no.’

  ‘If you tell me the location of the crystal you can go free, unharmed.’

  ‘I told you already, I don’t know.’

  ‘There are many fine instruments here.’ He caressed an assortment of stainless-steel kitchenware. ‘I’m particularly fond of this one.’ He picked up what appeared to be a little hand saw.

  I remembered the conversation of the previous folk. ‘I believe that’s a saw used to cut off the calvarium, so the brain can be removed.’

  Adam tilted his head and regarded me with a raised eyebrow.

  Oh, for God’s sake, not another eyebrow raiser in our midst.

  ‘You’re probably wondering why you still have your clothes on.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s because I’m going to cut them off with these.’ He smiled and held up a ginormous pair of stainless-steel shears, and then inserted them into the leg of my jeans.

  ‘Please don’t. They cost me a lot of money.’

  He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger and examined the stitching. ‘Moschino?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Where’s the crystal?’

  ‘I don’t know, Adam.’

  ‘You will wish you did know.’ He moved to the head of the table and I tipped my head back to see him. Adam tore off a length of tape with his perfect white teeth. He placed it over my mouth, and I experienced a feeling of déjà vu.

  The vibrating saw screamed next to my ear. I yanked at my bindings, but it was hopeless. I tilted my head and rolled back my eyes to look at him with the most pleading expression I could muster.

  ‘Mmmmm. Mmmmm,’ I said, willing him to stop.

  Still holding the saw millimeters from my flesh, he peeled back the tape from my mouth with his free hand and held my gaze.

  He was a soul in torture. I was in his mind. His eyes softened. He stroked my cheek, and then the top of his skull exploded.

  Adam’s blood felt warm as it cascaded over my face. His body remained upright for a second, before falling backwards onto a tray of instruments.

  I raised my head and saw Jason. He stood in the doorway, legs spread, arms out, with a gun clenched in his hands.[17]

  Chapter 18: Morgue Mayhem

  Adam’s blood trickled over my face—his final caress. The blood pooled around me on the stainless-steel table. Closing my eyes, I lay still—shattered.

  Adam’s blood was in my mouth. His essence. The taste of copper and iron unfolded his life in my mind. A gentle, artistic soul thrust into circumstances of abuse and neglect, he sought solace in the arms of heroin—a lover taking him to divine realms. and then leaving him abandoned at the gates of hell.

  Images of beauty—paintings created by him—flowed by, changing gradually to a filmstrip of horror, death and darkness.

  Adam’s calm eyes appeared before me and I could feel his touch on my face.

  ‘Maggie, I’m free. The beauty has returned. I have my soul back. I can paint again. It is better now; don’t be sad.’

  Adam’s touch vanished as I became aware of loud groaning noises—they were coming from Ashley.

  Footsteps approached. It was Jason. ‘Maggie?’ His voice broke. ‘Maggie!’

  Steel trolleys clanged and instruments scattered nosily as Ashley staggered towards me. His body collided with the autopsy table. ‘No!’ he yelled. He touched my face and whispered hoarsely, ‘Maggie?’

  Vibrations racked me, the sound of a jet plane in my head, and I left my body, floating up to the fluorescent lights and cobwebs. Peace.

  The orange floor highlighted the strewn stainless-steel equipment. Puddles of red pooled around shiny metal devices. A roll of paper towelling had unrolled across the room, a bold white stripe, emblazoned with flashes of blood.

  Adam was on his back, arms outstretched to the side, the saw still screaming in his hand. A halo of steel instruments surrounded him, appearing to have exploded from his body. Glimmering eerily, they created a holy aura against the orange and blood coloured floor.

  Poor Mike had toppled over leaving a windscreen wiper streak of blood on the wall behind him.

  I lay on the autopsy table, my face a mask of blood.

  Ashley was a train wreck—beaten and bloodied, his face contorted with grief as he looked down at me, his tears splashing on my cheeks. Jason felt for a pulse on my wrist and neck.

  ‘Ash, she’s alive. Maggie, come back! We need you to come back. I need you to come back.’ He cut the tape from my wrists and ankles. ‘Help me sit her up.’

  Jason knew Ashley needed something to do.

  Ashley put an arm around my shoulders and raised me from the trolley. Jason held my ankles and swung my legs around so I sat on the edge of the table. My mouth fell open releasing a torrent of Adam’s blood.

  ‘Jesus,’ Ashley said.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Jason said, looking horror stricken.
r />   I felt a rush as I slammed back into my body. I gasped for air, breathed in blood. A violent coughing fit racked my body, and Jason copped a spray of blood in the face.

  ‘Ash, get some water!’

  Ashley picked up the bowl from the digital scale used for weighing brains and body parts and filled it with water.

  My coughing eased and I croaked, ‘I’m back.’ I smiled and they took a step back in shock.

  ‘A blood-filled grin is so not becoming,’ Ashley said, dipping a paper cup into the water and handing it to me. ‘Here, rinse out with this.’ He sounded like my dentist. I dutifully swished and swooshed, after which he held an empty cup in front of me.

  ‘Now spit.’

  ‘Ew!’ I said, seeing the red soup I’d spat out.

  ‘Again. Rinse!’

  I repeated the procedure until my mouth stopped tasting like a fistful of old pennies.

  ‘Thank you, Ashley.’ I smiled a big smile.

  ‘That’s better!’ they said simultaneously.

  Jason soaked a paper towel in water and gently cleaned Adam’s blood from my face.

  I took Ashley’s hand. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘Nah, I’m fine. Got a cracker of a headache, but.’ He gingerly rubbed his temples and winced. ‘It’ll take more than a whack on the noggin to do me in.’

  ‘It was more than one whack.’

  He rubbed my hand. ‘I thought you were dead too. Had me right worried, you did.’

  ‘That makes both of us,’ I said. ‘I need to stand.’

  ‘Here, I’ll help you.’ Ashley lifted me off the table and held me upright. ‘Can you stand?’

  I braced my feet against the sticky floor; the strength in my legs seemed to be there. ‘I’m fine. You can let go.’

  I took a step and turned to where Adam lay behind me. I’d seen his body from above, but on the earth plane the scene hit hard. My knees buckled and Ashley caught me, scooping me up in his arms.

  ‘Ash, give her to me,’ Jason said. ‘You look like hell.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘No, really.’

  ‘I’m okay, Jason, all good.’

  ‘No, here, let me.’

  ‘Oh, boys.’ I feared this dull conversation may go on all day, or night—I’d lost track of time down here in Mortuary World.