by Alex Smith
Thump.
He actually jumped out of the encroaching dream, every muscle tensing, his stomach fluttering like it was about to cramp. He cocked his head, trying to hear past his crashing pulse, trying to work out if the noise had been real.
Just an echo, just something left behind.
But he still listened for it, lungs frozen solid, hearing it so clearly. Thump, thumpthump. Just in his imagination, though. The house was silent.
Fuck you, sleep, he said, checking his phone again. 3:43. It was officially the slowest eleven minutes that had ever passed. He’d never felt so alone, never felt so much like a man abandoned. He needed to talk with somebody, but who?
Adam. He wanted to call him. Needed to call him. His only friend might not have answers but he’d have some ideas. Hell, maybe he would get a posse of guys from his work together, tool them up with bats and blades and lie in wait in Blake’s living room until the devil came calling. Blake was actually smiling at the thought. Oh, yeah, come right in, I’m ready to die, let’s just do it in here, though… Followed by a sudden rush of muscle and steroids and cheap beer and rage, a flood of retaliation that would crash down on the guy, hacking and beating until he was just a bloody pulp on the rug. What was the point in having a security guard for a friend if you couldn’t call on them to back you up in a fight?
He checked the time again and it was still 3:43. Could he call him now? Say it was an emergency? It made sense to do it while it was dark, he thought, because there really was a chance that they wouldn’t be watching the house right now. He could sneak out before dawn and meet Adam somewhere they’d never think to look. He thumbed a text: hey, sorry, got an emergency, can we meet? But he didn’t press send. He wasn’t sure why, just an invisible hook that held him back.
Adam was his best friend but that didn’t mean what it had meant ten years ago, or even five. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen him in the flesh. Maybe five or six months ago—yeah, at the wedding of a mutual friend. Blake had moaned that he didn’t want to go but Julia had coerced him, telling him he needed to make more of an effort. They’d skipped the ceremony and stayed at the reception for less than two hours before Connor took mercy on his dad and started screaming so loud they were forced to make their excuses. He’d said maybe three sentences to Adam that day, the last of which was something along the lines of shit man, we need to get our act together, how about a beer sometime next week?
Always next week. Always the week that never came.
Adam wasn’t much better, but he texted once or twice a month—more, now that Blake was thinking about it. Usually jokes, almost always racist or sexist or both. But at least he made the effort. He rang, too, when he was bored and he wanted somebody to talk to. Recently, Blake hadn’t even picked up his calls—too busy with the kid and the dog and the wife, too busy with life. He hadn’t bothered ringing back. He hadn’t even bothered listening to the voicemails either. He felt a sudden rush of something—another churning in his intestines—at the thought of how far he’d let himself drift. Wasn’t it a bit shit of him, then, to suddenly call on his friend for help?
No. No, that’s what friends were. Real friends. They were the people you might not see for ten years but who dropped everything to make sure you were okay. Adam was solid. He was a good man. He would help.
Blake pressed send and watched the text go, drumming his bare feet on the carpet. Please, please, please be awake. He rested his head back, rubbing both hands through his hair. His eyelids were made of lead, too heavy to keep open, and he let them go, resting fingers on his phone so that he would feel it buzz. He kept sleep at bay by trying to figure out somewhere safe to meet, somewhere nobody would think to look for them, somewhere…
He felt the tremors in his hand and couldn’t quite work out what was going on. Something burned its way into his skull, a laser light that was almost painful. He peeled open his eyes, the living room burning bright. He thought it was a fire for the few seconds it took him to work out it was daylight pouring in through a crack in the curtains.
He’d fallen asleep again.
Fuck.
He squinted at his phone, the words on the screen not making any sense until he’d blinked a few times. There were six texts there, all from Adam.
WTF?
Sure man, give me sec. what’s up, can you call?
Hey, fucker, you there?
…?
Right… thanks for that, douchebag.
At this point there were two missed calls, time-stamped 3:53 and 3:56. The last text had just come through, at 5:56.
Blake, you ok?
He stood up, the room spinning. So much for breaking away under the cover of night. He dialled Adam, lifting the phone to his ear and waiting through four rings before his friend answered.
“What—”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “I need help, Adam. Can we meet this morning? Not later, now?”
Adam sniffed, clearing his throat and muttering something.
“Sure, mate, yeah, of course we can. You wanna come here? Kid’s still asleep.”
“Can you leave him? For an hour?”
“Blake, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“No more, I promise,” Blake said, switching the phone to his other ear and pacing to the window. “I need to talk to you, talk to someone. We need to meet somewhere safe.”
“Safe?” Adam spluttered a laugh. “Is this revenge for some prank I pulled on you years ago that I can’t remember? Because if it is then fuck you right up the arsehole, BB.”
“It’s not,” Blake said. “I swear. It’s something bad, Adam. It’s something really, really bad.”
A sigh, the sound of a body turning over beneath blankets.
“Safe like hidden?” Adam asked.
“Like, away from the city,” Blake said. “Somewhere I won’t be seen.”
“Fucking hell, Blake. Meet me up on Mousehold, the car park. You know it? The woods?”
“Now?”
“Christ, let me get some fucking trousers on first, yeah? Give me half an hour, say half six.”
“Okay.”
“And Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fall asleep on me again, or I will personally string you up out there and leave you for the birds.”
He laughed, but Blake didn’t laugh with him.
Twenty-Three
Blake pulled into the car park and cut the engine, and almost immediately Doof started singing. It was the only word for it, the dog’s voice high-pitched and tuneful, pure excitement. He was throwing himself around in his cage in the back, hard enough to rock it from side to side. Blake felt a little sorry for him. They hadn’t taken him out to the woods like this for months. Not like the old days, before Connor, when drives to the countryside and walks in the park or through the woods or on the beach had been every other day. Seems like the dog had a long memory.
“Mate,” said Blake. “Calm down.”
If anything, the dog became even more excited, his whines shrill enough to break glass. Blake ignored them, checking the small car park. It was empty aside from a shopping trolley—god only knew how that had got up here. The time was coming up for half six and the day was half awake, a smoky light hanging over the city. The sun was lost behind the trees, behind low, angry clouds. It wasn’t raining but there was rain on the way, no doubt about it.
He stayed in his seat, expecting to see a set of headlights pull in behind him, an old UPS truck idling on the other side of the car park. But he’d been careful. He’d driven the other way across the city, going in circles, doubling back on himself on several occasions just to make sure he didn’t have a tail. Unless the devil had an invisible car or a satellite, there was absolutely no way in hell he had followed Blake here.
Then why couldn’t he shake that feeling, that tickling on the back of his skull, the one that creased his skin into goosebumps?
Suddenly cold,
he stared into the trees. They were tall and almost shoulder to shoulder, and they seemed to stare at Blake like they were saying go away, we want no part of this. The darkness between their wide trunks, held in their long branches, was utterly inscrutable, as if nothing at all existed beyond, as if the world stopped right there. And again—how many times now?—Blake felt that uncanny sensation of being somewhere not quite real, of being an actor on a stage. What would happen if he stepped through into that darkness? Would he cease to exist, just be wiped from reality like a deleted file? The thought was almost appealing.
Doof let out a howl like he was being tortured and Blake popped his door, shivering against a rush of cold air.
“Come on then, you turd.”
He walked to the back and opened the cage, careful to grab Doof’s harness as he cannonballed to freedom. He wrapped the long lead around his fist, twice, then placed the dog on the muddy gravel where he immediately began sniffing around like a vacuum, the loudest sound in the lot. Blake took a long, deep breath of morning air, held it, let it go gently. He felt better already for being away from the house. Up here above the city, standing on the edge of a woodland that had to be hundreds of years old—thousands, maybe—his mortality didn’t seem to be such a big deal. Up here, with a heavy, wet wind kicking dust across the car park, he couldn’t even remember what the devil smelled like.
He let Doof lead him towards the treeline, the dog taking his time, investigating every scrap of rubbish, every puddle, every loose stone. The closer he got to the forest the deeper he could see into it. The world didn’t stop here, after all, a network of paths and scrub stretching into the gloom. He had almost reached it when he heard the growl of an engine, and he turned back to see a big, black Mitsubishi L200 pull into the lot. Even though he knew it was Adam’s his heart still did a somersault, especially when the horn bellowed twice, launching a cloud of birds from the canopy. It pulled up next to the Volvo and the engine died.
Adam clambered out, dressed all in black—Blake didn’t think he’d ever seen him wear any other colour—with a black cap marked “Security”. He was as broad as ever, the look of a guy who spent a lot of time at the gym, but Blake was surprised to see how much weight he’d put on since the last time they’d met up. His T-shirt was tucked into his jeans, and there was a definite stomach bulge visible before he zipped up his jacket and walked up the path.
“You’re a fucking tool, Blake,” he grumbled when he got within earshot. “You know that?”
And Blake was grinning, his body suddenly light, as though gravity had been turned down a notch or two. It took all his strength not to run over to the big guy and hug him—something Doof was desperately trying to do. Adam ducked down and scrunched the dog’s fur, driving him crazy, then he looked up at Blake, adjusting the cap.
“You know that?” he said again.
“Yeah, I know it,” said Blake. He held out his hand and Adam shook it, the gesture awkward because they’d never really known how to greet one another, how formal to be—hugs, backslaps, handshakes. “Thanks for coming.”
“Oh sure, nothing I like better than being dragged out my nice bed, especially after being woken up at three in the pissing morning.”
“Sorry,” said Blake. “I panicked.”
Adam’s face grew serious and he toyed with the cap again, tugging the brim down a fraction of an inch then pushing it back. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, a layer of brown fluff over skin still scarred by the acne he’d had as a kid. He stared at Blake with an intensity that was almost frightening and Blake read the question there: what the hell is going on?
“Let’s walk,” he said. “Not for long, I want to get out of sight. Adam Junior okay?”
“Fast asleep,” Adam said. “Probably won’t even notice I’m gone, lazy fucker. Yours?”
“Same,” Blake said, starting up the path, Doof tugging on the lead. It wasn’t strictly true, he’d heard Connor starting to cry as he was doing up his laces, and he’d crept out the house before Julia woke up. He felt guilty, but at least he had his cover story now, at least she’d be able to reassure herself that he was just walking off the stress or something. He should have left a note.
He walked past the first tree and pushed into that darkness. It was less sinister now than comforting, like being drawn into a mother’s arms. Everything felt close in here, the branches low and protective, the layer of mulch on the ground muffling his steps. Even the air was kinder, warmer. There was something uterine about it, something strangely safe. He bent down and called Doof over, unclipping the other end of the lead and letting him bolt. He didn’t go far, he never did, amusing himself by cocking his leg and pissing on the nearest tree.
“What time’s the match?” Blake asked.
“Please tell me you didn’t bring me out here to ask me that,” Adam replied, kicking a pinecone. Blake laughed.
“Yeah, it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The match.”
“Fuck off.”
The path split into two and Doof chose the right-hand one, galloping down it on his little legs. Blake looked back, the car park now invisible. There was nobody else in sight, no sign of any life at all other than a cautious chorus of birdsong overhead. For the first time since this all started he felt almost safe, like he’d escaped, and the elation tickled his ribs like fingers. It left him giddy.
“So…” said Adam. “You’re acting weird. You never call. Something’s up, Blake, and I’m here. Tell me.”
He didn’t look at Blake as he spoke, he stared into the woods, some masculine pride preventing him from making eye contact. Blake was relieved. He still felt a terrible sense of shame at the way he had let the devil into his life, the way he’d allowed him to threaten him and his wife and child and dog. He, too, looked away as he spoke, first checking the path behind to make sure it was clear and then focussing on Doof. He opened his mouth and let it out.
“Somebody is threatening to kill me. I think he is going to kill me.”
The relief of finally sharing it was overwhelming, and he had to grit his teeth against a sudden rush of vertigo. But almost instantly he wished he could take it back, because he had broken the rules.
Tell anyone, and your wife and child will die.
He glanced back again, the woodland utterly deserted apart from the birds in the trees, the squirrels, the creatures that crawled and chittered beneath their feet. He had an absurd notion that they were working for the devil, that the birds might erupt from the canopy in a sudden thunder, might fly across the city to report what they’d heard. Or the ground would come alive as the spiders and worms and earwigs swarmed to their master.
He is the devil, after all.
He shook the thought away and turned to see Adam rooted to the spot and frowning at him.
“Seriously?” his friend said. He grabbed Blake’s arm. Blake had to look away again because his eyes were burning, the pressure there immense.
“I…” he choked on the words. “I’m not sure. But he’s been in the house, Adam, he tried to kill the dog.”
“What?” Adam laughed, incredulous. He gently but firmly pulled Blake around until they were face to face, leaning in as if he was starting to understand the gravity of the situation. “He tried to kill your dog? What do you mean he’s been in the house?”
“Twice now. At least. Probably more. I think he has a key. Had a key.”
“Whoa, hang on, who? Start from the beginning.”
Blake took a deep breath, opening his mouth and feeling the words surge up like he was a can of Coke that had been shaken and popped. Then he clamped down on them, so hard that it was a physical pain in his throat. He looked past Adam’s broad shoulders, back towards the car park. Why couldn’t he shake that feeling? The idea that somebody was watching him. But it was impossible, they couldn’t be.
“Can we walk?” Blake said, his voice belonging to a child lost in the woods. “I don’t… I don’t know if it’s safe.”
“He follow y
ou here?” Adam said, looking back. “I’ve got a hammer in the truck, you want me to go get it? Knock that fucker’s head in?”
“No,” said Blake. “No, it’s okay, he can’t have seen where I went. It’s just… I don’t know, I’d feel safer if we were further away, yeah?”
Adam didn’t reply, he just watched the woods behind them for a few seconds and then nodded. He walked, his hand on Blake’s arm like a bodyguard, guiding him down the path. It felt good to be looked after, and Blake was happy to revert to a younger version of himself, a boy with no responsibility. They walked in silence, Doof far ahead chasing shadows and leaves, oblivious, heading into the darkness and silence of the forest. It was as if night was falling again, as if the world had stopped its spin and then turned back on itself, the sun dipping back below the horizon. Only when it was almost too dark to see the path ahead did Adam stop.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said in a whisper.
“I can’t,” Blake said. “Not all of it. He said if I told anyone he’d kill Julia and Connor.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. Some guy. I’d never seen him before this week. He just showed up at the house and walked right in, told me he was going to come back in six days and kill me.”
“Six days?”
“Yeah, six days, six hours, six minutes. He’s… He says he’s the devil. Six, six, six, I guess. That was Friday morning.”
“So he came to the house and you let him in?” Adam’s eyes glowed in the half-light.
“It wasn’t like that,” Blake said. “I couldn’t stop him. He’s big, Adam, bigger than you. He just pushed his way in and I told him to leave but he sat down and said he was going to kill me. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Did he hurt you?”
He made me piss my pants.
“No, not like that. He didn’t hurt me. He just said not to call the police, not to tell anyone, not to try to escape. Then he left.”
“You seen him again, since then?”
“Yeah,” Blake said. “He was at Homebase. He followed us there. And it’s not just him, he’s got these guys working with him. I don’t know how many. Two, I think, or maybe more. They’re like his disciples, like… like homeless guys, they all stink.”