by Cross,Amy
Chapter Five
The Fifth Call
“Katie? Are you there? Katie?”
I wait, but all I hear for a few seconds is a buzz of static. The screen is still blank, but the call appears to be connected and after a moment I realize there's a faint rustling sound on the other end of the line, along with what sounds like heavy breathing. I think I'm hearing the correct audio, even if the video is a little hard to discern.
I grab my spectacles, which have been resting on this week's Radio Times, in the hope that they might help.
“Katie?” I say firmly, trying not to panic. “I told you to call me! I waited all evening, but finally I realized you seemed to have forgotten. How are you today? Is your flu a little better?”
The only response is more static, accompanied by the continued close breathing sound. It's almost as if her mouth is right against her laptop's microphone. Either that, or perhaps there's some kind of wrong connection. I don't know if these computers can get their wires crossed, but I certainly hope that I've accidentally called the wrong person. Still, Katie's username is showing at the top of the screen.
“Katie?”
I wait, while telling myself to stay calm and not become one of those awful, stereotypical screeching mothers.
“Katie, say something,” I continue. “Katie -”
“Hey Mum,” she replies suddenly, sounding even more tired and weak than before. “It's me.”
“Why isn't your camera on?” I ask, staring at the blank screen. “Katie, turn your camera on! I want to see you!”
I hear a bumping sound, barely audible over the continued static.
“I don't know,” she stammers finally. “Something's wrong with it. I don't know. I can't make it work. Maybe a wire's loose somewhere. The little light's on.”
“Well, can you fix it?” I ask. “I want to see your face.”
The bumping resumes, accompanied by a faint clicking, but the screen remains resolutely blank. Just as I'm about to ask if she has a spare camera anywhere, I hear a sudden, brief roaring sound through the static, followed by a set of heavy, thumping footsteps. It sounds like an absolute elephant is thundering through her apartment.
“Katie?” I continue. “What in the name of God was that?”
“I can't make the camera go on,” she replies, sounding as if she's on the verge of falling asleep. “I'm sorry, it just won't work.”
“Who -”
Before I can finish, I hear glass breaking.
“Who's with you?” I ask. “What are you doing?”
“There's no-one with me,” she replies. “I'm all alone. And don't worry, all the doors and windows are locked. I checked a lot of times.”
“Did you drop a cup?”
“Huh?”
“I heard the sound of breaking glass.”
“Not here,” she mumbles. “Maybe it was on your end.”
“No,” I say firmly, “I quite distinctly heard -”
Suddenly I hear a rumbling voice in the background, as if someone is whispering to Katie. The sound is too distorted for me to make out any of the words, but it definitely sounds like a man.
“There's someone with you,” I continue. “Katie, who is it? Is it that Fernando boy? Is he there with you?”
“There's no-one here.”
“I can hear him whispering to you!”
“Well I don't hear anyone!” she replies, sounding a little exasperated. “Mum, seriously, there's no-one here! Don't you think I'd know if there was? I'm not a complete moron.”
I pause for a moment, listening as the whispering continues. I can't quite make out the words, but I'm no fool and it's abundantly clear that she has someone with her in the apartment. Katie has never been the kind of girl who hides things from me, and while I'm glad that she seems to be making friends, I can't help thinking that something seems very wrong.
And still the whispering goes on.
“Katie?” I say finally. “Listen, this is very important. I need you to fix your webcam. Okay? It can't be that difficult, you've probably just turned it off by accident. Please, fix it immediately. I want to see what's going on there!”
I wait.
No reply.
All I hear is static, and the sound of a voice whispering with ever-increasing urgency.
“Katie?” I continue. “Katie, I'm serious, if you don't answer me right now and get your webcam fixed so I can see your face, I am going to get on the first available train to London and I am going to come to that apartment. And if I embarrass you, I don't care, but I have to make sure that you're okay!”
“I'm fine,” she gasps, although she sounds as if she's in pain. “Mum, I'm okay.”
“Who's with you?”
“No-one.”
“I can hear somebody whispering to you! Katie, I can hear it right now, even as I'm speaking. Somebody is whispering, I can't make out the words but I am not a fool! Who is it?”
“There's no-one here,” she replies, sounding a little desperate now, almost as if she's crying. “Mum, I'm looking around and there's no-one. It's just me and I'm -”
Her voice stops suddenly.
I wait, as the whispering continues.
“It's just you and you're what?” I ask.
No reply.
“Oh,” she says after a moment. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Katie?”
“I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.”
I wait, but I think perhaps she isn't talking to me. I think she's talking to whoever is in the apartment with her.
“Okay,” she adds. “Sure, but I don't know. No, I don't know. I don't know.”
“Katie! Talk to me!”
The static surges for a moment.
“Katie?”
“It's just me and I'm fine,” she groans, but there's now absolutely no doubt that something is very wrong. “Mum, I think I wanna get off the line now.”
Bringing up my web browser, I start searching for trains to London. It's getting late now, and my hands are trembling as I try to find a service that leaves tonight. The last thing I want is to have to wait until tomorrow morning.
“I'm going to book a train,” I stammer, “and -”
“I have to go!” Katie gasps suddenly. “I'm fine, though. Don't come. I'm okay, Mum, I promise. I have to go now. Bye!”
“Wait!” I hiss. “Katie, I'm going to come to your apartment. Do you understand? I'm going to come and check on you!”
I wait.
“I don't know,” she says finally. “No, I don't know. I don't -”
Suddenly the call ends, and I try several times to reconnect, without any success.
After a few more minutes, I manage to book myself onto a flight that leaves the local station at seven in the morning. That's longer than I'd like to wait, but I can't do much better and I'll head to the station immediately. Even if I have to wait overnight, I can't possibly sit around here at home while my daughter is clearly in trouble.
I try one more time to call Katie, and then finally I realize that I can't delay any longer. After searching for the number online, I call the local police in London.
Chapter Six
The Sixth Call
Just as I'm heading to the door with a hastily-packed suitcase, I hear my laptop beeping again. I almost run straight out to the bus stop, figuring that there can't be anyone important trying to reach me via Skype at such a late hour, but at the last moment I hurry over and look at the screen.
Katie.
Katie's trying to call!
“Katie!” I stammer, hastily hitting the button to accept. “Katie, what -”
Suddenly the screen fills with a shot of my daughter's sobbing face. She's leaning so close to the camera, I can barely see anything of the rest of the room, but a moment later I spot a dark shape moving behind her.
“Mum!” she whimpers. “Mum, I don't know -”
As suddenly as it appeared, the image goes blank and the call is over. I try frantically t
o reconnect, but with no success, and it's clear that she's gone again.
“I'm coming!” I whisper, trying not to panic as I turn and hurry to my suitcase. “It's okay! I'm coming to find you!”
Chapter Seven
Arrival
As I hand some money to the driver and climb out of the taxi, I see that there's no sign of a police car outside the apartment building. I spoke to a man from the local police force on the phone last night, and again this morning. He said someone would drop by to check on Katie, but he clearly didn't take me seriously, and I doubt very much that they've sent anyone yet.
As the taxi drives away, I step toward the building's front door and look up at the windows above. My little girl is in here somewhere, and I have to make sure she's okay.
***
As soon as I get to the top of the stairwell, I see to my horror that the door to apartment 2 has been left ajar. Stepping closer, I can already see that the interior is dark, and that there appear to be clothes strewn across the floor. When I push the door open, I find that Katie's backpack has been left jammed in the way, and I have to shove the door a couple of times. Now, as I step inside, I realize there's a foul smell in here, and flies are buzzing through the air.
“Katie?” I call out, trying not to panic. “It's me! Katie, are you here?”
A fly momentarily lands on my face, and I brush it away as I step across the gloomy hallway. More flies fill the air, and a moment later I see why. Old plates are piled high on a desk in the corner, with rotten food having apparently been left out for several days now. Some of the food has slipped down to the floor, congealing in a foul, semi-liquid puddle that looks to be slowly soaking into the carpet. There's even something dark, perhaps jam, smeared across the wall.
This isn't like Katie.
She's always been clean and careful.
“Katie? Sweetheart, it's Mummy! Can you please say something, to let me know you're okay?”
Reaching another half-open door, I push it all the way and look through into the bedroom. Katie's bed is a mess, with dirty, stained sheets hanging over the edge and touching the floor. I slip into the room, although the smell in here is absolutely awful. There are dark patches on the sheets, mostly brown and yellow stains but also a few splashes of red. Down on the floor, there are piles of dirty, soiled underwear, while more food has been left not only on plates on the nightstand but also on the bed itself. There are flies crawling across the walls, and the curtains look to have been taped against the windows, as if Katie was determined to block out as much light as possible.
Several used sanitary towels have been left on the floor.
Suddenly I hear a bump from somewhere in the apartment, and I turn to look back through at the hallway.
“Katie?” I call out. “Katie, where are you?”
Stepping around the piles of clothes on the floor, I head out into the hallway and then through to the front room.
Immediately, I spot Katie's laptop on the table. The screen has been left up, and as I make my way over to take a closer look I realize there are old plates and cups piled high all over the place. Feeling something bump against my foot, I look down and see that I've knocked over the stub of a candle, and there are more candles dotted around the room, some in ornate holders and some just left on the carpet. Something seems to have stained the carpet's fabric, too, and I can't help but notice a disgusting smell in the air, even worse than the stench in the bedroom. Sure enough, there are some dirty clothes on the floor next to the desk, along with the gray blanket Katie was wearing the last time her webcam was working.
And more sanitary towels, thick with dark blood.
I stare at the laptop for a moment, before turning and seeing that the bookshelves have been torn down and dumped on the floor, apparently so that shapes and symbols could be daubed all over the wall. There are triangles and stars, and pentagrams, and intricate drawings of glowing eyes, and it looks as if an utter lunatic has been let loose in the apartment. Even Katie's books – her precious, precious books, the most important items in her possession – have been left tossed aside, and some have even had their covers and spines ripped away.
Meanwhile, the figurine has been left all alone on the shelf, as if Katie valued it more than all her books combined.
Reaching up, I take the figure so I can give it a closer look, and I see that it's made of two wax cylinders that have been twisted together to form a crude human shape. The figure seems to be female, with huge, wide hips and exaggerated breasts. After a moment, feeling something sticky on my hands, I realize that the figurine is covered in some kind of dark substance. I set it down on the desk and turn my hands toward the blacked-out window, and I'm just about able to make out a faint hint of something red.
Blood.
I think it's blood.
There are more sanitary towels in the corner, pushed against the wall.
Suddenly there's another bump, and this time I turn and look toward the door at the far end of the room. There's someone in there, and I quickly make my way over.
“Katie?” I call out as I reach the door. “Katie, this is your mother and I insist that you let me in!”
The door is already partway open, and I can definitely hear someone on the other side, but I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to burst in on her. I look at the crack, and sure enough I spot a figure moving in the brightly-lit room.
“Katie!” I continue, with tears in my eyes. “What's going on here? Why have you let this place become an utter mess? Katie, answer me this instant!”
I wait, but all I hear is the sound of someone splashing water. A moment later, there's an annoyed grunt.
“I should have come sooner,” I stammer. “I'm so sorry, Katie, but I thought you were okay!”
I take a deep breath.
“I'm coming into the bathroom, okay? Make yourself decent, because I'm going to open the door.”
I wait.
No reply.
I take a moment to prepare for whatever horror I might be about to witness, and then finally I push the door open.
Suddenly I let out a gasp as I see that there's a naked man standing with his back to me, washing himself in the sink. I make eye contact with him in the mirror, and I realize that this is that awful Fernando person I saw over the video.
Before I can say anything, he turns to face me, and I'm shocked to see that he's washing blood off his huge, swollen penis.
“Give me some goddamn privacy!” he yells angrily, grabbing the door and slamming it shut so fast that it almost hits me in the face.
Already, I can hear him muttering something to himself as the splashing sound continues.
Startled, I step back, and a moment later I realize I can hear a furious scratching sound over my shoulder. I turn, and at first I can't see any sign of movement, but finally I spot something in the far corner. I honestly don't know if she just came into the room, or if she was there earlier and I somehow didn't notice her, but there's a naked girl curled up on a pile of dirty old clothes. Blood and other fluids are smeared on her flesh, and the scratching sound seems to be coming from her hands, which are hidden between her legs.
Stepping closer, I realize that it's Agnes.
“Where's Katie?” I stammer, with tears streaming down my face. “Where's my daughter?”
When she fails to reply, I make my way around her. She seems furiously focused on something between her legs, and the scratching sound is getting louder. Finally, I stop in front of her and see that her bloodied fingertips are digging into the flesh of her crotch, as if she's trying to pull something out. Strips of ragged, pulpy skin hang down between her fingers, and she's already gouged several meaty chunks from the most intimate part of her anatomy.
Shocked, I step back until I bump against the wall.
“We had to send her to them,” she gurgles, her eyes wide with excitement as she continues to tear flesh from her crotch. “They demanded it. We had no choice. She didn't know. I don't know how,
but she didn't!”
“Where's my daughter?” I stammer, my mind racing as I try to work out what on earth this awful girl is talking about. “Where's Katie?”
“We sent her away,” she hisses, barely able to speak as she starts laughing. “We sent her to them! How could she not have known?”
“Where is she?” I scream, grabbing her shoulders and hauling her up. “What have you done to my little girl?”
Chapter Eight
The Police
“Okay, Mrs. Wren, calm down,” the police detective says as he takes a seat opposite me, in the farthest corner of the crowded, noisy office. He has a strong estuary accent, and sweat is already glistening on his forehead. Every word from his mouth so far, every gesture and every sigh, has suggested he just wants to get me out of here. “I just need to take down a few details.”
“I've given you everything you need!” I hiss, frustrated as much by his lethargy as by his apparent belief that nothing is really wrong. “Why aren't you out there looking for my daughter? Why aren't you with those two awful people, forcing them to tell you what they did?”
“Because I'm talking to you first,” he replies, opening a notebook and letting out another faint, tired sigh. “So I have your daughter's details, but what I'm not understanding is why you came rushing up here from Shropley today.”
“I told you! Something's wrong, she was in distress the last time I spoke to her online and now she's missing! Why can't you get that through your thick head?”
He sighs a long, drawn-out and rather theatrical sigh.
“I'm sorry,” I add, “I didn't mean to be rude.”
“Quite alright, M'am.”
“My daughter is missing!” I continue, shaking with rage.
“So you claim.”
“I claim? If she's not missing, where is she?”
He checks his watch. “Down the pub?”
“It's not even lunchtime!”
“Well, she's...” He pauses, staring down at the scan of Katie's passport, before glancing at me. “Well, I hope it's not inappropriate for me to mention this, but your daughter's a very attractive young lady. She's the kind of girl who...” He pauses again, before offering an awkward smile. “How can I put this? She's the kind of girl who wouldn't find it too difficult to make friends.”