by Ian Woodhead
“Oh Christ! Arnold. I’m so sorry.” The man fell against the side of the door, weeping. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. He shut his eyes. She’s making up the rules.”
Joshua pulled the man back. The door slammed shut. “I might not be built like a brick wall like my mates,” he snarled, curling his fist, “but I still know how to cause you a lot of damage. You’d better start talking.”
“My name is Conner Delany. The poor man in that bedroom was Arnold Banks. Together we looked after the mistress.” He leaned against the wall, his fingers tracing along one of the scorch marks. “You’re all going to die in here,” he said without looking up. One of your two absent friends is now dancing with her. She will consume your sanity before your friend rips the skeleton from your still twitching body.” He stood up and rested his fingers on a thin wooden chair.
Joshua moved away from the smiling man, watching the furniture beneath his fingers change colour to pale cream before the structure shimmered, its true form appearing out of the flickering cloud. Conner Delaney held a chair constructed of bone.
“And now, I find myself in the unfortunate position of being on the other side.” He looked up, his eyes resting on the two other doors, beginning to open. “I’m not sure I will enjoy being the rabbit.”
Barbra untangled her arms from Clarice when Tommy walked out from the next door. He turned. “Have you seen Bryan?” His girlfriend hurtled forward, throwing herself into his arms. Tommy gave Conner a quizzical look before turning his head as his brother emerged from the other door.
“Look what I found,” he said. His huge hand folded over the handle of a long thin knife.
“How the fuck do we get out of here!” The green-eyed man now stood in two of the depressions. Somewhere in the house’s past a person had stood in the same spot and burnt to a cinder. Joshua was more scared than he’d been in his life. He sought comfort in his girlfriend’s warm hand, listening to the faint sound of pleasant laughter. It didn’t take him long to discover the voice lay inside him.
Conner shook his head and removed his hand from the chair, its shape returning to a form less offensive. “There is no escape, Joshua, I’m sorry. All you can pray for is to let her take you first. Believe me, the suffering will only increase the more she drinks”.
Act Five
Three years ago Tommy took his brother to the gym for the first time, explaining to Joshua that the lad needed a focus. The hazy explanation was not clarified until just a few weeks ago when a very drunk older brother explained how he found Bryan’s bank account book detailing more money than he should have had. The lad had sold a huge amount of stolen property to some old school friend who ran a market stall in the next town. The properties were all acquired by Bryan. It turned out that his younger brother had a talent for breaking into other people’s houses.
Joshua had no doubt that right now the lad was using all of those talents to find a way out of this hellish house. Even with the supposed threat of their deaths hanging over their heads, he refused to let the green-eyed man’s constant muttering to eat into him.
He pulled on the rope, and like an unruly dog, Conner’s noise jammed halfway out of the throat when the knot bit into throat. “Keeping quiet isn’t a difficult as you make out, Conner.” The dried blood from his friend had rubbed off on Conner’s skin. The man didn’t seem to have noticed.
What little empathy Conner had shared with the two girls blew about when he calmly told them all when on the floor above that they were all going to be slaughtered like cattle in an abattoir. The green-eyed man’s mouth would not stay still, else they would have objected to Tommy and Bryan removing the corpse from the rafters and using the rope as a lead. Bryan suggested that they all stay together; that ensured Conner stayed within sight.
It was strange how cemented morals slipped away without conscience when confronted with impending extinction. He tugged on the rope again. The man hadn’t spoken, Joshua just wanted to hurt him. Unlike the others, he wasn’t convinced that Conner wasn’t still playing a part. He said it himself that his mistress , whoever she was, operated from a script, and that each showing deviated little from the main performance.
He had seen a touch of relief in Conner’s eyes when Bryan handed him the rope, ordering Joshua to keep their prize under constant surveillance. Tommy’s brother was under the impression that the unknown killer wouldn’t attack any of them if the green-eyed man couldn’t slip away. Their leashed up prisoner had already voiced the notion that either Bryan or Tommy could be the killer,
Joshua tugged the rope again when Conner’s mouth opened, whether for a yawn or to breathe out, he didn’t care. Joshua didn’t want Conner to vomit any more lies, truths, or a mixture of both. Keeping him silent served both their purposes. With the torrent of obscenities streaming from Bryan’s mouth, he had finished checking the windows, door, and ventilation vents in this room for any possible way out. The younger brother marched out of the room, pausing to boot Conner in the ankle.
“Wait!”
He couldn’t yank the rope again, not after Bryan had kicked the man. Joshua walked towards the doorway, intending to follow the others into the next room. “Be quiet and behave, Conner. It’s the sensible way to avoid getting hurt.”
“Before you leave this room, please, you must listen to me.” He ran around the front, his head jerking towards the open doorway. “He’s wasting his time, Joshua. Even if he was really trying, your pal won’t find an exit from this house.” He slowly grinned. “I know how to escape though. I’ve been in here for a long time, I know this house intimately.”
From behind Conner’s sincere expression, he watched Clarice trail off from the procession. She turned around, urging Joshua to hurry up.
Conner’s voice took on a lower tone, becoming ever more urgent. His eyes slid to the side. “We need to leave right now though, as I think she’s already chosen the next player!”
“Make a choice: either keep your trap shut or I’ll stuff one of my socks in there.” He wrapped his fingers around the rope. “I think the one full of my blood should do the job nicely.”
“Go ahead,” spat Conner. “Do what you like, you obviously don’t care about living any more.” He wrapped his own fingers around the rope. “On second thoughts…”
The man tugged down on the rope, pulling Joshua hard against his body. “It’s been such fun,” whispered Conner. The man ran his cold tongue along Joshua’s mouth before he brought up his open palm and backhanded him across the cheek. “Give my regards to her.” He pulled the noose off his neck and blew Clarice a kiss; he then jumped over Joshua’s body and ran back into the room.
Joshua growled in fury. He scrambled to his feet and spun around. “What the fuck?” The man was nowhere to be seen. “Where did he go?” he asked, turning to face Clarice. Only she wasn’t with him either. Joshua gently rubbed the side of his face, walked up to the door frame, and leaned out. The corridor with four closed doors, each one leading to another room, greeted Joshua. There was no sign of the others.
“So, you think this is funny do you, Conner?” he yelled. “I’m too fucking old for hide and seek.” Joshua left the room, slammed the door shut, and looped the rope around the door handle, tying the other end to a thick metal pipe that ran parallel to the deep red skirting board. Once he was satisfied the door was secure, he hurried across the hallway, stopping in front of the door that led to the kitchen. They were bound to be in here, this was the only room that Bryan hadn’t checked yet.
His drawn face, crumpled, twisted, and warped, stared back at Joshua from the polished reflection in a silver door handle. Dried blood coated the mirror image’s top lip, painfully reminding him of Bryan’s last outburst. Joshua’s fist tightened around the handle, blocking out the other face.
If Bryan did bring out the fists, then he’d just show him the roped door. Fuck him. Joshua’s inadvertent method shit on the dog lead idea. Not even Houdini would be able to get out of that room.
/> For the first time since entering this bizarre house the only thing he could hear was his own shallow breathing. Although he still wasn’t sure that the others were on the other side of this door, Joshua found the solitude strangely comforting. He hesitated, finding himself caught between wanting to find his Clarice and the urge to explore this building alone, to immerse himself in the building’s ambience, to experience the utter joy of teasing out the anguish from the thousands of trapped souls caught within the stonework; to love the mistress and harvest more bodies to…”
He slapped both his hands against the side of his head and shrieked. “Get out of my head!” Joshua shook himself like a wet dog, feeling the intruder slipping away. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, staring in fascination at the pink spots swimming through the saliva.
The visitor had left him quietly weeping. As a final torment, it had deposited images of Clarice lying on the kitchen tiles, gutted and headless. He fought against the shakes and lashed out, his weakened fingers once more clasping the door handle, using it to drag himself back up.
“You won’t beat me,” he growled, licking his dry lips. “I refuse to be cowed by a bunch of cheap tricks.” He turned the handle and pushed it open. The door slowly swung in, its wake revealing a black chair sat on grey carpeting, and a wall of book cases filled with red leather bound volumes. “What is going on here?”
Joshua spun around, the rope was still wrapped around that door handle, sealing the room shut. If that were the case, how the fuck could he be now looking into the room that he’d just left?
He took a single step over the threshold, keeping his hand tight around the door handle. There was no mistake, this was the same room. He saw the book on the carpet, dropped by Barbra just ten minutes ago. The only thing missing was the green-eyed man. “Get a grip; how can he be in here, you idiot?”
“Where else would I be?”
Conner leaped out from behind a high backed chair; he had the rope held in both hands. “Let’s see how you enjoy being pulled about!”
Joshua’s slow reactions allowed the man to cross the distance between them in a heartbeat. He saw Conner’s arm drawing back. The lights flickered, then a thousand light bulbs exploded inside Joshua’s head.
***
The numbers left Barbra’s mouth one by one. Each digit sounded gave her more assurance of those eight bulbs standing in a golden circle, they weren’t going to fade to black. “Don’t go out,” she whispered, after reaching ten. Barbra curled her fingers into fists, keeping her eyes on those bulbs. “I’m not sure I can stand that again.”
Only a couple of minutes had dragged past since the lights turned the room into an explosion of screams, shouts, and swearing. It shamed Barbra to admit that most of the noise erupted from her mouth.
The noise only halted when she realised that she was the only one still making any sound. The lights chose that moment to burst out their brightness, the illumination showing her that she stood alone. The others were nowhere to be seen.
Panic and fear took no prisoners with the few emotions on show. Her breath misted as she ran into the door, expecting it to burst open and spill her into the waiting arms of her boyfriend. The impact stole the air from her lungs. She wheeled out her hands, fingers only brushing against the handle before connecting with the tiles.
She wrapped her arms tight around her chest. Her eye line now level with the handle, attempting to piece together why she now sat on this cold floor. Her bare thighs no longer smooth. The skin rose in goose bumps.
The handle turned clockwise, and through the freezing shakes Barbra found muscles to smile. They’d obviously figured out their number was short. “You took your time!” she shouted, waiting for Tommy to open the door wide, his own face matching Barbra’s grin. She tried to inject anger in her tone but gave up on that impossible task; her relief was just too great.
The door swung open. “Help me up then…”
The man shaped shadow lunged through the opening, his sausage-sized fingers twisting into claws, clenching tight around Barbra’s hair. She screamed out, her own clawed digits raking down the stranger’s thick arm while he pulled her across the tiles.
He bent his head, the scent of rot filling her mouth.
“You are very pretty.” He released her hair, sliding a thick finger down the side of her face. “Your flesh hides such beauty; you really are a gift from beyond my domain, sweet one.” His hand curled around Barbra’s wrist. “Thanking you would not seem right, you know. The others previous would find that distasteful.
Barbra breathed through her mouth, not daring to take her gaze from the masked stranger. Grey porcelain encased his full face, even the eyes were absent. She only saw twin infinite black pits when she dared to look.
“Please, let me go?”
The man lifted his bulging arm, the muscles rippling beneath the filthy grey smock. Her body rose. Barbra found herself staring down into those terrible dark holes as her feet swung in lazy circles.
Hot tears sprang forth. “Oh God!” she blurted, seeing the wide blade for the first time, nestled in his other hand. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
“I’d rather you didn’t allow the clear fluid to escape, sweet one.” He pressed the blade’s tip against the top of her blouse, the fabric tearing at the slightest touch. Soft moans left her dry mouth; as the blade continued its journey down the front of her body, slicing through cloth, leaving her skin exposed to the freezing air. Barbra punched up her other arm, her fingers digging into his thumb, searching for purchase. She wasn’t going to go without a struggle. Her actions went unnoticed by the man, his focus lay on her full breasts as his knife sliced through the bra too, the two cups dangling below her nipples.
No matter what she tried, there was no shifting the man’s thumb. Barbra pulled his sleeve down and pinched his skin, lifting, stretching, and twisting the skin. A low grunt was her only reward, followed by the explosion of white light, loud ringing, and pain when he slammed the blade’s handle into the side of her head.
She lashed out with her leg, the foot slamming into his thigh. She kicked him again, this time hitting her target. The man dropped her. Barbra hit the ground hard, cracking her knees against the tiles. She clenched her teeth together, jumped over the groaning mound of hard flesh, and raced down the carpeted hallway.
Paintings flashed past her as she headed for the only open door. Each portrait was just one woman. She saw dozens of herself frozen in mid scream, the blue eyes from each one accusing her of not trying hard enough to escape. Barbra kept her eyes on the carpet, crossing her arms over her front, putting on an extra burst of speed as she heard his heavy breathing increasing in volume. She reached out, her fingers finding the edge of the door frame. She dared to look back just once and found…
The hallway empty. There were no paintings on the walls and every other door stood open. In the last door at the end Tommy, Bryan and Clarice were yelling at her. She swallowed hard, finding a smile of relief creeping over her face. She took one step away from the door.
“Like a balloon full of liquid life, my sweet one.”
His huge hand closed around her ankle. Barbra shrieked; she tried to spin around, seeing the man below her, lying on stone steps leading to the cellar. Barbra turned back, her hands reaching out for the door, seeing her friends racing towards her as the cellar door slammed shut, plunging her into blackness. She felt him grab her other leg before dragging her body down the stairs. Fingers found nothing to stop the descent. Barbra twisted and bucked, only slowing down when the back of her head cracked against the edge of a step.
“I should have waited. The ones that struggle tenderise their own meat.”
Through dazed senses, she experienced a moment of weightlessness before gravity pulled her down. Red light lit up the inside of her eyelids, and Barbra opened her eyes to rough stone walls, wet with lumps of dark red gristle,
She tried and failed to move her hands back to cover her nakedness. He�
�d tied her to a thick pole; the rough grain rubbed against her shoulder blades. He moved out from behind her, his huge form blocking out white light from the bulb behind them. He no longer held the knife. His hands rested on her breasts, the thumbs pressing down on her nipples, while rotating in slow, tight circles.
He moved the mask closer to her face. “Tell me your guilty secret, Barbra. Your story will determine your final structure.”
She found her eyes drawn into those endless dark chasms. Like falling down the rabbit hole, her slippery journey took Barbra away from the stench of decomposing human meat, away from the conflicting pain and pleasure he inflicted, away from her imminent demise.
Her eyes flickered open, stretching out, naked on pure white silk sheets, sighing in delight as her lover peeled away his blue boxer shorts. She rolled on her front and crawled towards him, her mouth open wide, her tongue flicking in and out, already wet with anticipation of feeling that huge organ slide between her firm thighs. Not yet though. She wanted him totally solid. Barbra gripped his firm buttocks, looked into the eyes of Joshua’s father, then rolled her tongue from the base to the tip.
The male groans, sunlight streaming through the man’s bedroom window, and the faint taste of soap all faded away, the thin veil dissolving, leaving Barbra’s captor inches from her face. The cold now penetrated every part of her body, with numbness its eager bedfellow. She cast her eyes down; his hands were no longer caressing her breast. It didn’t shock her dying brain to see he now held the knife in both hands, the blade lost inside her body. His arms stopped moving.
Strange how death no longer frightened her. She felt no pain, just more numbness, its fingers finding her blood vessels, filling them with a freezing void. It wouldn’t be long now.
“No, you don’t!” screamed the man. He grabbed her ears, pulling them forward, bringing her screaming head down to witness the violation he’d inflicted on her torso. His knife opened her flesh like ragged petals. Purples, reds and blues filled her vision. Barbra couldn’t stop screaming as his clawed fist pushed into the hole.