“He's gone, and I have just checked the floor below quickly, and he is nowhere to be seen,” Laura was actually excited. That she didn't expect. She figured anything was better than being stuck in there, with no chance. At least by running there was a shot of prevailing all this.
“You have to be one hundred percent sure Laura, are you?” Officer Thompson left no room for compromise in his voice. Implying the grave importance of her observation.
Laura caroused the cameras again, and each room was vacant. But then each small square started to transform into blackness.
“Oh no,” Laura whispered, thinking aloud.
Each square of colour was sent into a black abyss.
“What is it? What's wrong?” Officer Thompson's volume raised with alarm.
Just at that moment all the lights went out in the castle, sending the whole interior into darkness. Pitch black consumed Laura and Toby in the panic room. Laura became catatonic, a mental patient whose mind had turned to mush. This was as a result of the unbelievable gust of abhorrence that had occurred within her. She simply sat with the phone pressed against her ear, able to hear the words Officer Thompson was roaring, but unable to respond. Stuck in a parallel world, in a vortex of angst and disorientation. Her eyes wide, mouth agape, and bag of bones motionless. They were nothing more than a machine that only had to have one button switched to close down the entire carcass. Then her father appeared from the dusk. She couldn't distinguish if it was real, or the ability to make objects appear in her mind, or self-consciousness blaring 'snap out of it, come back to reality, and get out of this horrible mess!' Laura was in metaphorical sinking sand, and the more time that passed, the worse it would become. The chaos would duplicate continuously unless she fought, or at the very least ran.
“Laura! Laura!” Officer Thompson's voice was tuning in, becoming louder, as if a volume knob was being adjusted, his voice coming into focus. The words starting to have specific meanings, not just blurs of noise in her disorientation. They brought forth motivating forces, both physically and mentally.
“Yes, I am here,” Laura's voice was delicate, as if fresh from a coma, surrounded by threatening blackness.
“What happened? I can't see any room in the castle any more? I had been watching the panic room's camera keeping an eye on you two between trying to get you help. Albeit the camera isn't the clearest in that room. But now everything is black,” he blared.
Did he tell me he could see me? Laura feared that she was losing her mind, fear demolishing what little sanity remained.
“All the lights have gone out,” she muttered, sounding defeated and about ready to admit defeat.
“Oh Jesus!” he panted.
He couldn't hide his own panic, as much as he no doubt tried; he was fighting a losing battle. His tone unable to insinuate a good outcome, or show a crumb of positivity. But then his tone changed dramatically.
“Laura, you still there?” he asked, more upbeat this time.
“Yes, what's wrong?” besides everything.
“Dr Anderson installed a heat detection system on the cameras so at night he could see intruders.”
She should be happy about this and leap for joy. But this still meant leaving the panic room and traipsing around a spooky castle in complete darkness with a homicidal maniac on the loose.
“So if you leave that room, go down to the front door and meet the officer, and let him in. I can guide you, and tell you where to go depending on the clown's whereabouts based on body heat,” he was optimistic.
“Yes, okay,” Laura was reaching the point where she would do anything to get out of the room now. Even if that meant dying at the hands of a crazed killer.
The walls were slowly closing in on her, oxygen supply dwindling. Which was bizarre as there were only two of them in a reasonably large room. Claustrophobia was making her delirious.
“Laura?”
“Yes?” she couldn't deny it was beginning to annoy her, him constantly saying her name. Was he just trying to keep her lucid, patronise her, or just liked saying her name, creating a personal bond between the two to endow hope? Either way she had bigger fish to fry.
“He's gone, the clown isn't in front of the door any more, he is on the first floor in the computer room, now is your chance to get out and carefully go downstairs.”
Laura began to stand, a warm serenity taking hold as if being guided by a helpful spirit. It was times like this she felt the presence of her great grandparents and questioned if it was in fact them supporting her.
“Okay, you sure?” Laura questioned.
“Yes, but hurry, and be quiet!” he said firmly.
Before Toby passed out, in the midst of their conversation, she remembered him telling her the code. Her bare feet slapped the cold metal as she trudged to the code box, her hairs standing on end. But as she got to the door, the lock disengaged and it began to open. Officer Thompson. A light broke in from the window of the stairwell. The moon shone down, gracing Laura with light. It wasn't enough to see clearly, but enough to walk down the stairs without tripping.
“Keep me on the phone, and if he moves I will tell you. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered. Everything felt surreal and nightmarish. Laura's worst fear had been realised. Little light, alone, large castle, murderer roaming free. At that moment a numbness came over Laura. If the clown turned up she was beyond fighting, death would receive a welcome invitation born of exhaustion.
“Okay, he is still in the computer room, move,” he spoke tough, like a sergeant in an army base.
She was becoming colder, rubbing the backs of her arms to generate heat. So afraid, the only way of coping was to shiver. Laura crept by dark corners, evil looking shadows and eerie statues. No longer did the art and sculptures impress, they now terrified the young girl. Each clay rendering looked frightening, as if a monster lurking, ready to pounce from the abyss.
“Oh shit......Laura stop!” he ordered.
“You need to lock Toby in the panic room, for some reason I can't remotely close it just this second. Go to the pad and I'll tell you the closing code. Hurry,” once again, with a dominating, powerful tone.
Laura turned, staring into the unnerving, dark panic room. With her back to the stairs she felt vulnerable. The clown could appear behind her at any moment. The nape of her neck tingled. Toby was barely visible with hardly any light reaching him. But Laura could see he was still covered in the many blankets Laura had cocooned him in. But from the black void surrounding the young boy came a bright hand. Red gloved fingers wriggled in mid air, dripping a thick crimson liquid.
“Oh God....” Laura gulped, legs trembling.
The dripping digits started stroking Toby's hair. They petted him delicately, smearing red through his hair. Then Laura's eyes travelled from the hand to a face floating in the gloom, grinning profusely, and chuckling quietly. Features blurred into focus. Painted skin, malevolent eyes, yellow teeth. All resting beneath a vibrant wig. The eyes shifted the gaze from Toby, and shot to Laura. Upon noticing the audience, the clown burst out laughing hysterically. “No no no.....” Laura back away, gasping for oxygen. Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, the clown began to sing a lullaby.
Laura ripped the air with an eardrum-breaking shriek that took her breath away, chest ablaze. Toby looked so peaceful and innocent, as if sleeping, as the clown continued to pet him, burgundy drooling down his face. Blood! Taunting Laura, eye-balling her, an evil grin controlling his face. He broke from singing and reverted back to laughing hysterically. One that she had never heard before. It was demonic, low pitched, and slightly robotic. Laura thought of scare walks at amusement parks and the giant stone head that usually invites you into the 'walk of doom'. It was a monster's voice. Then he rose in one fluid motion, leaving Laura terror-stricken. Colourful limbs became visible in the murk. Laura fought breathlessness as he advanced towards her. The shoes squeaked on metal, the chuckling ongoing. Laura fell from the fearful oblivion an
d ran. Still clutching the phone, which Officer Thompson was repeatedly yelling through. But the main priority was to hotfoot it immediately, there was no time to waste. She flew downstairs, bracing against the bannister as legs rolled around like the wheel of a bike. The wood was moist, and segments of the carpet were soggy, squelching with each step. Laura's brain was under extraordinary pressure to make a choice. Keep going down, or turn off into one of the floors. A list was being formed of all the rooms that Dr Anderson described. From that she was making the decision where to hide. Lungs were on fire as time was running out. The front door was pointless. Her vision bounced as she ran, hazy and blurred. It wasn't possible to just scurry to the front door. All those locks would take time to unlatch. And time was the one thing that was lacking.
Laura was approaching the third floor. Toby's room! Surely they would make the room of their only son safe? She counted on this assumption. Laura leapt onto the floor, landing with a crash. Feet and hands outstretched as they collided and coasted through a strip of carpet. Normally a rest would have been needed after such a plummet. But in this scenario, it wasn't an option. Whilst in the process of elevating she turned. Hands wildly smoothed the wood until they hit a handle. Laura pushed down and burst inside with all her weight. Laura clung onto the handle until her body stopped. Then she swung and locked it. Back against the board, she waited for her heart beat to calm. The only sound was of her breathing, she needed to get it under control. The clown would have no trouble hearing heavy wheezing. In this moment emotions were suppressed. The ones that were blatantly obvious to the naked eye were dismay and dread. But underneath this curtain of expressions, was repulsion and detesting for this person. This man who was terrorizing two innocent, young children. Herself, and an even younger child. This reprehensible human being, was destroying her life. Threatening death and no doubt gaining pleasure from all distress inflicted. Physical, emotional or mental.
“Laura?” yet again, her name was mentioned by the policeman. A voice echoing from the tumult.
“Yes, I am here,” she very quietly informed him.
“I saw bits of what happened on the monitor, are you okay?” he asked with an authentic concern.
Yeah I am just great! She thought sarcastically. “Yes I am just......” she paused for a moment, feeling astronomically guilty for leaving Toby behind.
“I feel bad for leaving Toby, the clown has probably got him now,” her face wrenched out buckets of tears, pouring down her face.
“No he is okay,” he burst in.
Her head bounced up as the tears seized at that information, and her crinkled face became smooth.
“What, how?” she couldn't believe it.
“I managed to close the door after the clown had left and started chasing you.”
“How did you manage that? I thought you said you couldn't do it remotely? That it wasn't working?” she was happy, but bewildered, drying her face with the backs of her hands.
“It just worked after a few attempts, another of the many gems I don't have time to go through. All of which I advised Dr Anderson on, so don't worry, there are back ups. Such as the heat sensing cameras.”
Laura felt relieved. Which was short lived, as it was quickly overtaken by meddling.
“Speaking of, how come you didn't detect the clown?” she inquired, clearing her throat.
“What do you mean?” he was baffled.
“You said there were only two people at the time I left the panic room, me and Toby. So how come your heat detecting thing couldn't detect the clown? He was just outside. Or he must have been to sneak past me and in the panic room,” Laura rambled.
Silence: an incredibly awkward one.
“Oh no....” Officer Thompson gasped.
“What is it?” Laura began to worry.
“That means Toby is too cold to be detected,” he spoke with regret.
“Meaning? I don't... oh my g-” a lump became lodged in her throat as realization hit hard.
Toby was in fact dead.
Laura was crushed, a heavy burden weighing on her shoulders and bringing a fresh lease of tears. So young, such a nice, lovely boy, gone. His spirit roaming in heaven now. She was devastated. All because of a mentally unhinged man who no doubt had a terrible upbringing. Who found pleasure in terminating lives. In no time her eyelashes were drenched, face completely soiled in tears, Laura was a wreck. Her chest felt congested and oesophagus sticky and narrow. This only intensified by being in his room, surrounded by his toys, games, bed, books and other personal belongings. The novelty race car bed which he would sleep in, or hold his game's control as if it was his most prized possession. His desk, where he would actually do homework, unlike most kids that age. The en-suite bathroom where he would keep nice and presentable. An innocent, blameless boy taken from this world. The universe is so unfair.
“How are you?” the eager policeman muttered through the phone.
“Okay, I guess, I can't believe Toby is.....................dead.....his parents will be heartbroken,” she sobbed down the telephone line, barely audible. Officer Thompson struggled to understand her.
“They will, and yes, it is a tragedy. Always is. He was a lovely young man,” he responded.
Laura couldn't help but take offence to the callas and cold attitude. As if it wasn't a person but merely a statistic, a casualty of this unfortunate event. But in an officer's line of work, death and fatality was most likely a regular occurrence. But she was irritated nonetheless. This was a human being, and a child at that! But she had to let it go if she had any chance of getting out alive.
“What now?” she had to change the subject as rage was building. It wasn't a great idea to spout anger at the only man helping. Quite possibly the only chance of surviving.
“We have to at least get you out alive.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked, using forearms to rid her face of tears, again.
“I can still monitor you through the heat you're emitting,” he informed like a scientist.
Laura didn't want to ask the next question, dreading the answer. But it had to be done.
“Where is... he...” the last word dragged out like a tooth being yanked from a kid's mouth.
There was an unsettling pause as the officer surveyed the cameras, when a thought occurred to Laura.
“Hang on, didn't you originally say he was in the computer room?” her eyes squinted in concentration.
“What? Oh, yes, I did,” Officer Thompson wasn't sure where she was going with this.
“Why did you think that?” Laura quizzed, drying each forearm against her black top.
“As there was heat down there, the same as what yours and....” he tailed off.
“What? Officer Thompson?” I really wish he wouldn't pause mid-sentence!
“Hang on a second, I just want to check something,” he mumbled, clearly preoccupied.
He left her hanging in the dark, literally. Not hanging, but regardless, stuck in the dark, alone. With the exception of a raving rainbow coloured lunatic prowling the halls.
“Oh, well that doesn't.....”
“What?” she was becoming irritable and quick-tempered. Just tell me dammit!
“There is someone downstairs.”
“What? Who?” her upper arms tingled, she could feel the phone against her ear begin to quake.
“I don't know, but that heat being emitted is still there.”
“It's not the clown?” Laura asked.
“No, the clown is.......on the move.”
“Moving where?” she inquired, itching her back.
“He must be in the stairwell as the heat is circling, and I doubt he is walking around repeatedly.”
“Which floor?” she worried.
“He has just left the fourth, and is walking down to the third, to........yours,” he gulped.
Laura backed to the window, adding as much distance from the door as possible.
“Is he still going down?” she whispered
, still pacing backwards.
No answer.
“Officer Thompson, is he still walking down the stairs?” she raised her vocals to a stage whisper.
Silence. Using wit, she looked at the phone. The timer indicated the call was still active. But the flashing signal bar in the top left corner showed no connectivity. She tiptoed forwards a couple of feet staring at the signal bar.
“There?” it sounded like the end of a sentence, the end of a question. Laura quickly placed the phone back to her ear.
“Sorry, I think my signal cut off,” Laura brushed hair from her face.
“I told you, the signal in that house is terrible, so temperamental. Where did you go?”
“Just to the window, away from the door, where is the clown?” she asked, now gawking at the door, envisioning would could potentially be on the other side.
“He just got off at your floor,” angst was even present in his voice, and he was at a location of safety. Unlike Laura, who only had a few feet and block of wood between her and a multi-hued mad man.
“You locked the door yeah?” he checked.
“Yes,” she forced out through an increasingly tight chest.
“Good, just stay quiet, and don't give him any reason to suspect that room is where you're hiding,” he advised, trying his utmost to radiate calm.
“Ok..ay,” her voice warbled, nerves taking control of her speech.
“He is just walking outside the room now, stay still and silent,” he ordered, holding his breath in anticipation.
She pictured the clown on the other side of the door. Brightness slithering down the halls. Fingers wiping walls, hands grasping at handles, all while whistling nursery rhymes. The painted face, sizeable clown feet squeaking against carpet, collisions of colours slinking onwards.
He's Watching Me Page 7