by Amy Cross
“Call an ambulance,” she says suddenly, as she leans over Kerry's body and prepares to do some chest compressions. “Mark, call an ambulance right now!”
Struggling to my feet, I hurry over to the table, only to realize that my phone's upstairs. I turn to look for another, just as Caroline starts performing the compressions on Kerry and counting loudly. I'm about to ask her where I can find the nearest phone, but then I remember seeing a landline in the next room so I race through and pick it up, and then I freeze for a moment before remembering the right number. I jab 999 and then I wait for someone to answer on the other end of the line. Again, everything seems to be happening so slowly.
There's a brief ringing tone, and then a burst of static forces me to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Hello?” I shout, unsure as to whether anyone has answered. “Are you there?”
The static returns, flaring loudly. I guess it's possible that there's a human voice lost in the mix somewhere, in which case there's at least a chance they can hear me even if I can't hear them.
“I need an ambulance!” I explain. “I don't even know the address, but we're in Briarwych, near the church! We're in the little cottage with roses outside. Please, she's really sick, she collapsed and I don't think she's breathing! Can you get someone here really fast?”
I wait, with tears in my eyes, but all I hear is another burst of loud, distorted static.
“Hello?” I shout, before cutting the call and then dialing again.
I wait, but the static returns and – if anything – it's louder than ever.
“If anyone can hear me,” I continue desperately, “trace this call and send an ambulance. We're in Briarwych and she's unconscious. I don't think she's breathing, we need help!” I wait, hoping that I might hear someone reply even deep in the wall of static. “I'm going to try a mobile!” I add finally, before putting the phone down.
Trying to stay calm, I look around for a moment before hurrying back to the kitchen. My mind is racing, but all I know is that Kerry needs me to get this right.
“Where's your phone?” I shout. “I don't even know who to -”
Stopping suddenly, I see that Caroline is no longer performing the compressions on Kerry. Instead she's simply sitting on the floor, staring down at Kerry's lifeless body.
“What is it?” I ask, my heart racing as I wait to be told that everything's okay. “Why aren't you doing anything?”
She pauses, before turning to me with tear-filled eyes.
“Why aren't you doing anything?” I shout. “Help her!”
***
“The autopsy will tell us exactly what happened,” Doctor Groves says calmly, as we sit in the living room, “but for now it's difficult for me to suggest a cause of death. From what you described, it's possible that something happened in her heart. Equally, the cause of death might have been an aneurysm, something in the brain. I'd really prefer not to speculate.”
“But are you sure she's dead?” I ask, as more tears roll down my cheeks. “What if she's just in a coma?”
“I'm very sorry,” he replies, “but I'm afraid the time of death has already been established.”
“But you might be wrong!”
“I'm sorry.”
“Can't you check again?” I plead. “Just in case you missed something? What if...”
My voice trails off as I try to think of something, anything, that might help. A moment later, hearing a bumping sound, I turn just in time to see that the two paramedics from the ambulance have finished loading Kerry's body onto the stretcher. Doctor Groves had to call them after he came from his house down the road; my phone calls apparently didn't get through. The paramedics are strapping Kerry down now, and they've already put her into a body bag. She can't be dead, though. I mean, half an hour ago she was alive, she was telling me to fuck off.
She can't be gone, not so quickly.
“I knew she looked ill,” Caroline says after a moment. “As soon as she came downstairs, I could tell that something wasn't right.” She turns to me. “You saw it too, didn't you? She looked pale, like she was sick.”
I nod.
“What about last night?” Doctor Groves asks. “How did she seem?”
“Fine,” Caroline tells him, before turning to me again. “Did she say anything to you?”
I shake my head.
“Sometimes these things can come on very suddenly,” the doctor continues. “It's quite possible that whatever happened was something that began to develop during the night. We really will have to wait until the autopsy's complete before we know for sure. I'll get it hurried through at the hospital in Crenford, so hopefully we can have some answers in the next day or two, and I'll come and speak to you about those results as soon as I get them. It might be that -”
“We went to the church last night,” I blurt out suddenly.
They both stare at me, as if they're not quite sure that they heard me correctly.
“We went to the church,” I continue, sniffing back more tears as I turn to Caroline. “I'm so sorry, but we snuck out some time after midnight. It wasn't my idea, I swear, I only went because I wanted to make sure she was okay. I'm sorry I lied when I saw you in the middle of the night, but... I mean, it can't be anything to do with that, can it?”
“What exactly were you doing in the cemetery?” Caroline asks cautiously.
“We weren't in the cemetery,” I tell her, and now my voice is trembling slightly. “Not really. We were in the actual church.”
“That's impossible,” Doctor Groves says. “The church is locked. It's been locked for a long time.”
“She got the door open somehow.”
“Impossible.”
“She did!”
“But -”
He pauses, before turning to Caroline. They both look really worried.
“You went inside?” Caroline asks finally.
“Only for a few minutes,” I reply. “Ten, maybe, but no more than that. She started acting weird while we were in there. It was almost like she was hallucinating or something.”
Caroline turns to Doctor Groves, and I can tell now that they're both worried.
“She didn't hit her head or anything!” I continue. “Not that I saw, anyway. She just started saying weird things, and then she ran home. Please, I know we shouldn't have done it, I know it's bad, but nothing happened! At least, nothing that could have caused this. It's just a coincidence!” I turn to Doctor Groves. “Isn't it?”
“Well, the...”
His voice trails off, and for a few seconds he seems genuinely troubled by something.
“If nothing happened, then nothing happened,” Caroline says finally, but it sounds as if she's trying to convince herself. “And that's what you're saying, Mark, isn't it? That nothing happened?” She stares at me intently. “Nothing happened in the church, did it?”
“No,” I reply.
She sighs, as if she's relieved.
“I mean,” I continue, “she got a bit weird. She was sitting on the altar. I told her not to, but she went up there anyway and for a few minutes she was saying all this weird stuff, and then she said she'd seen a woman. But there wasn't a woman, I swear. So maybe she was sick already, and she was seeing things. That makes sense, doesn't it?”
I wait, but nobody says anything.
“Going to the church last night can't be what made this happen,” I add, even though I can feel a sense of dread starting to creep up through my chest and onto my shoulders, pushing me down into the sofa. “Nothing bad happened at the church! I swear!”
Again I wait, but a moment later I hear the front door opening.
“What happened?” Brian asks, hurrying through from the hallway. “Caroline, what's wrong? I saw your missed calls. Why's there an ambulance outside?”
Before anyone can say anything, the paramedics start wheeling the stretcher through, taking Kerry's dead body out to the ambulance. I want to stop them, to ask them to check one last time that
there hasn't been some kind of mistake, but deep down I know there's no point. Kerry's dead.
Chapter Eight
Mark
Gasping for breath, I finally reach the top of the hill and stop to lean against the cemetery wall. I ran all the way here from the cottage, after suddenly feeling as if I was going to go crazy in there. Caroline and Doctor Groves were going over everything again, and I swear my head was about to burst.
In fact, I still feel that way.
Spotting an old, rickety wooden noticeboard, I head over and see faded pieces of paper still pinned inside. There are a few old notices about sermons and events in the church, but it looks like nothing new has been put on this board for years. And then, as my anger feels like it's about to explode, I kick one of the noticeboard's wooden legs. The entire structure shudders, so I kick it again, then again and again as I let my anger take over. For a moment all I feel is pure, blind fury, and I don't stop kicking until suddenly the wooden post gives way and breaks, and the noticeboard starts falling down. At the last second, the other post holds strong, but – as I step back to look at the damage I caused – I see that it's tilting at a forty-five degree angle.
Sighing, I step around the noticeboard and try to fix the damage I caused. I'm still angry, but I know I shouldn't have lashed out. The wooden leg is properly broken, but I manage to prop it back into place so that at least the noticeboard looks straight again. I hate these little bursts of anger that I get. They're so stupid, and they don't actually achieve anything.
Stepping back, I see that the noticeboard looks pretty good now.
Taking a deep breath, I look over toward the church, and I'm surprised to see that there's a man kneeling in front of the wooden door, working on the lock. I watch him for a moment, and then I head over to the gate. There's a part of me that just wants to turn and run, to get as far as possible from this place, but at the same time I want to know what happened here. Plus, in the daylight the church doesn't look quite so creepy. After opening the gate I push my way through the overgrown grass and weeds, and finally I reach the bare patch in front of the church's door.
The man glances at me for a moment, before returning his attention to the new lock that he's installing.
“You must be one of the new faces I heard about,” he mutters, sounding distinctly unimpressed. “I don't suppose you know anything about this door mysteriously getting opened in the night, do you?”
“I'm sorry,” I tell him.
He mutters something under his breath as he gets back to work.
“What is this place?” I ask.
He turns to me again.
“Why do people talk about it like they're scared of it?” I continue.
“I'm not sure I -”
“I just saw their faces right now,” I tell him. “As soon as I mentioned this church, Mrs. Neill and Doctor Groves looked horrified. It's like just mentioning the place made them scared. Why?”
He stares at me for a moment.
“Just leave it alone,” he says finally. “Don't ask questions when you can already tell that people don't want to answer them.”
“But why's it locked in the first place?” I reply. “It's a church. Aren't churches supposed to be open, for people go and pray?”
“No-one's prayed in this church for a very long time.”
“Why not?”
“You didn't actually go inside last night, did you?”
“The door was open! I mean, it was locked, but then it opened.”
“Don't be so stupid, of course it didn't.”
“I swear, she used a knife to -”
“This was one of the most advanced locks on the market,” he says angrily, interrupting me. “Believe me, I'm the one who researched it and installed it, so I know. I tested it, too. Every few years I change this thing for something newer and more sturdy, so there's simply no way that a pair of kids with a knife could have got it to open.”
“Then how did it open?” I ask.
He hesitates, but I guess he doesn't have an answer for that. I stare at him for a moment, before looking at the new lock that he's still in the process of fixing onto the door. It looks even sturdier than the one Kerry managed to break last night.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask finally. “Why do you have all this security, just to keep a church door shut?”
“You don't know anything, and I'd advise you to keep it that way.” He turns back to the lock and resumes his work, screwing one of the metal plates into place. “You might be living here for now, but this church has nothing to do with you. It was here before you were born, and it'll be here long after all of us are gone. And the door will remain locked.”
“She's dead,” I tell him.
He turns to me again.
“My friend died this morning,” I continue, and I can once again feel tears in my eyes. “Or whatever she was. Yeah, okay, we came here last night, and somehow we got through this door. We spent all of about ten minutes inside this church, and my friend started acting really strange. Less than half a day later, she's dead in a bag in the back of an ambulance. She collapsed this morning during breakfast. But that wasn't anything to do with this church, was it? I mean, she was talking about seeing someone inside, but that was just because she was sick. The fact that we came into this church is just a coincidence, isn't it?”
I wait, but he's got a weird look on his face. It's like the expression I saw on Caroline and Doctor Grover earlier.
“I'm sorry about your friend,” he says finally, “but whatever happened to her, it sounds like it was just bad luck. Now if you don't mind, I really need to fix this lock. We can't leave the place open. After all, you never know when some idiot kids might break in and cause damage.”
He turns and starts screwing another section into place.
“Oh,” he adds, “and don't take this the wrong way, but maybe Briarwych isn't for the likes of you. Maybe you should think about moving on. You've already caused more than enough trouble.”
***
“Fucking countryside assholes!” I mutter under my breath as I push the last of my clothes back into my backpack. “Why the hell would anyone want to live in a place like this, anyway?”
“Knock knock.”
Startled, I turn to see Maxine Trevor standing in the doorway.
“Hey,” she says, with tears in her eyes, “I came as soon as I heard. Do you mind if I come in for a moment?”
“I'm all packed,” I tell her. “Can we just talk in the car?”
“In the car?” She steps into the room. “Why are you packing, Mark?”
“I can't stay here now, can I?” I point out. “I mean, I've been here less than twenty-four hours and Kerry's already dead. There's no way I can stick around. This place is cursed or something.”
I wait for her to agree with me, but she's just staring at me as if she's surprised by the fact that I want to leave.
“Sit down, Mark,” she says finally.
“But -”
“Please.” She gestures toward the bed. “You must be so shocked and upset. Mrs. Neill told me that you were in the room when Kerry collapsed.”
I hesitate for a moment, before heading over and sitting down. I put my head in my hands as she sits next to me, and I take a deep breath as I realize that I don't know what to say. I just want to punch something. Maybe I should go and take another crack at that noticeboard. Then again, last time I just ended up feeling silly. Looking down at my hands, I try to imagine the anger draining out through my fingertips.
“I didn't know you or Kerry for very long,” Mrs. Trevor says after a moment. “The funny thing with Kerry is that she was always so antagonistic, like she was trying to take on the whole world. By the time her file reached my desk, she had a string of referrals as long as any I've ever seen, and plenty of police reports as well. I don't know how much she told you about herself, but a while back she was very badly hurt in a stabbing. I read the medical notes, and it's a miracle that she surv
ived. I guess that whole incident must have left its mark, because she seemed convinced that everyone was out to get her.” She takes a deep breath, and there are still tears in her eyes. “I liked her, though. I admired her refusal to do everything she was told, even if she drove me crazy sometimes.”
“We snuck out last night,” I tell her.
“I know.”
“We went to the church.”
“I know.”
“We didn't break in, though! The door just came open!”
She sighs.
“That part is a little difficult to believe,” she says.
“It's true! I saw it!”
“Well, maybe. I don't suppose it matters right now.”
“And she started acting weird in there.”
“Mrs. Neill told me that you mentioned that.”
“Could that have anything to do with what happened this morning?”
“It's possible,” she explains. “Maybe she was already feeling a little off last night, but she didn't think it was anything serious.”
“And could that have made her hallucinate?”
“I'm not a doctor, Mark,” she replies, “but hallucinations might well be a sign that something wasn't right in her head.”
“There's nothing wrong with that place, is there?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“People act all weird whenever that church is mentioned,” I tell her. “I don't know what shit they think they've got going on here, but all we did was go into the church and look around. Kerry started acting weirdly, she seemed to be hallucinating, but going into the church didn't make her sick, did it? I mean, it couldn't have.” I wait for her to answer. “Could it?”
“Of course not,” she says finally. “You don't think I just randomly plopped the pair of you down here, do you? I researched Briarwych very carefully. It's just a nice, normal little village. The biggest danger here is boredom. And that's why I think it's best if you stay for now.”
“I can't.”
“Running away won't make it hurt any less.”
“I'm not running away! I just don't want to be here!”