by Amy Cross
“Come again?”
“It's just a theory, I'm thinking out loud.”
“So what am I looking for?” she asked as she carried the laptop toward the elevators at the far end.
“Looking for?”
“I'm not going to just sit around,” she replied as she got to the top of the stairwell. “If your crazy-ass theory is even one per cent right, I need to start getting into it big-time so I can -” Pausing, she realized she could hear voices in the distance. She leaned over the stair-rail and looked down; there was an argument between two people, somewhere on one of the lower floors.
“Rose?” Ben said after a moment. “You still there?”
“Hang on.” Balancing her phone on the laptop, she began to make her way down to the seventh floor. “Do you hear that?”
“I only hear your voice.”
“I hear other people,” she told him, heading to the sixth floor. “Someone's having a hell of an argument.”
“Maybe you shouldn't go running straight toward them, then,” Ben replied. “Rose, you need to be careful.”
“Of things that go bump in the night?”
“That, or flesh and blood people who might also go bump.”
“I do karate, remember?”
“For three weeks. You've been doing karate for three weeks, Rose, and you missed one of the sessions so -”
“Your concern is sweet,” she told him as she got to the fifth floor and then headed down again. Glancing at the laptop, she saw that the numbers were all over the place, as if the antenna was picking up contradictory signals. “This machine is going nuts,” she explained. “I wish you were here to help out.”
“I wish I was too,” he replied. “If you had internet access at that place, I could remotely access the laptop and see what you're seeing.”
“Okay,” she said, reaching the third floor and stopping as she heard the argument coming from one of the nearby flats, “I'm on the right floor.”
“Proceed with caution,” Ben said firmly.
“Bite me.” Making her way to the walkway, she passed flat 301 and then 302, and she quickly realized that the raised voices were coming from the flat at the far end. “I can't believe I'm the only one who's doing anything,” she said. “It sounds like someone's getting beaten up in there.”
Stopping outside flat 313, she listened for a few seconds to the sound of a man and a woman arguing furiously, as if either of them might at any moment lose control. There was no sound of anything physical, but she kept expecting to hear smashing dishes or flying punches at any moment.
“Sounds like a domestic,” Ben said eventually. “Leave it alone, Rose. It's nothing to do with you.”
“The hell it isn't,” she replied. “The computer's going crazy. Either this is something to do with all the weirdness here, or some serious domestic violence is going on. It can't be a coincidence.” She leaned down and set the laptop on the concrete floor.
“What are you doing?” Ben asked.
“Just popping you down for a moment.”
“Don't you dare!”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Ignoring his continued protestations, she headed over to the door and listened for a moment longer to the voices from within, before raising her fist and knocking on the frosted glass.
Immediately, the voices stopped.
“Hello?” she called out. “Hey, I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I wanted to see if everything's okay in there.” Checking her watch, she saw the time: 3:10am.
From inside the flat, she could hear the sound of footsteps shuffling closer to the door.
“I'm from upstairs,” Rose continued, “I just... I heard something going on, so I thought I'd check up, you know? It sounded like you were having a bit of a set-to in there, and I figured maybe...” She glanced along the walkway for a moment, unable to ignore the resolutely closed doors of all the other flats on the third floor. “Well,” she added, turning back to flat 313's door, “I guess I'm just being a concerned neighbor, that's all.”
She waited for a reply, but although she was certain someone was on the other side of the door, no answer was forthcoming.
“So I'm not gonna call the cops right now,” she said finally, “not as long as I know that everything's okay. Can you just... Can someone open the door? Just so I know there's not a problem.”
“We're okay,” a female voice said suddenly, sounding a little cowed. “Go away.”
“Are you sure nothing's wrong?” Rose asked.
“Everything's fine. Leave us alone.”
“It sounded like -”
“Stop!” the voice hissed. “Go away, please, we don't need any help.”
Rose paused for a moment. “Can I see your face?” she asked finally. “Just... You know, to make sure everything's fine?”
“You don't need to see my face.”
“I'd like to.”
“Go away.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh, “but... I'm in flat 801 if you need anything. Don't hesitate, okay? I can help if something's wrong and... I know karate.” She winced, realizing how dumb that last comment must have sounded. “I can help, that's all. If you need -”
“Please just go away,” the voice hissed. “Don't come to this door again, not ever. There's nothing you can do, and I've got everything under control.”
Rose opened her mouth to reply, but at the last moment she heard footsteps shuffling away, followed by the sound of a door being slammed shut somewhere inside the flat. She paused for a moment, wondering whether to knock again, before taking a step back.
“Rose?” Ben's voice whispered from the phone. “Are you there?”
“Yeah,” she replied, still staring at the door. “That was... intense. And weird.” Heading over to the laptop, she picked it up and saw that the graph was almost back to normal.
“I don't know if you being there is a good idea,” Ben continued. “Rose, if I can get some money together, how about you let me book you in at a hotel near Marshall Heights?”
“Thanks for the offer, but no. I need to be here. This place is insane.”
“Exactly, and -”
“And my sister and my aunt are here somewhere. It's like they're lost in the madness.”
“That's kinda my point.”
“I need your help,” she continued, glancing once again along the bare walkway. “If something's happening here at 3am every morning, that means I can be ready for the next time, right? I can plan and I can wait for it.”
“And do what?”
“Whatever it takes to find Megan and get her out of here.”
Eight
“You know you're going to do it eventually,” the male voice whispered from the other side of the door. “Just open up and let me in. Do you really think I'd hurt you?”
Sitting in the dark kitchen, Charmian stared at the door and waited for the voice to stop. Checking her watch, she was that it was almost quarter past three, which meant that the madness should start to fade away soon. The voice never seemed to stay for more than fifteen minutes, so all she had to do was ride it out.
Reaching up to her mouth, she began to bite her fingernails again, even though they were already sore.
“I want to come through,” the voice continued. “Every night we do this dance, and every night you refuse to help. What did I ever do to you, Charmian, to deserve this kind of treatment?”
“You died,” she whispered.
“But I loved you when I was alive. I provided for you, I gave you everything you could possibly want. Ending up here was just supposed to be temporary while I got back on my feet. If I hadn't died, we'd be well away from this place by now.”
“Please go away,” she whispered, closing her eyes tight. “Please, please just go away...”
“Beth would open the door,” he added. “I don't know how you manage to get her to sleep so well, but even if you refuse to help me, one night she'll wake up and she'll do the right thing. You know that, d
on't you? You might have been able to persuade her that it was a nightmare the first time, but she's not stupid. I'll make her hear me again.”
Shaking her head, Charmian checked her watch again: 3:16am.
“Go away,” she whispered. Glancing over at the counter, she spotted the carving knife and for a moment it occurred to her that she could just go and open the door, and then she could finish whatever was waiting on the other side. At the same time, she was convinced that the visitor couldn't be so easily killed, and she felt certain that as soon as the door was open, she'd have no chance.
She waited.
Silence.
Checking her watch again, she saw the time: 3:17am.
It was over.
For another night, at least.
Getting to her feet, she headed through to the hallway and stopped for a moment, staring at the front door. Her relief at having survived another night was tempered by the knowledge that the voice would be back again soon, most likely the following night. She even worried that -
Suddenly there was a loud thump outside, strong enough to shake the entire door, as if in one final bout of anger and frustration the voice had tried to smash its way through. Holding her breath, Charmian took a step back and waited for more, but as the seconds ticket past she began to sense that her tormentor really had gone this time, at least for now. Finally breathing again, she waited several more minutes just to be certain, and finally she checked the time:
3:22am.
Making her way over to the door that led into Beth's room, she leaned through and saw her daughter sleeping soundly under her Frozen duvet.
“We'll get out of here,” Charmian whispered, with tears in her eyes. “I swear to God, I'll get us both away from this place.”
Part Five
PARALLELS
One
“So you didn't talk to her about my aunt?” Rose asked, standing in the doorway and watching Michael as he carried some files to the cabinet on the far side of his office.
“Not so much,” he replied. “I think I've told you everything I -”
“I'm just trying to make sense of it,” she continued, interrupting him, “because I figure if I can work out Megan's exact movements, I've got a better chance of spotting where she slipped through the cracks. So she arrived at the building, I'm pretty sure she said she took a taxi, and then I guess her next stop was that she came and met you, yeah?”
“She did.” He began to put the files away.
“And next, you showed her up to my aunt's flat?”
“I did.”
“And you let her in.”
“I've already -”
“And then what?”
“Then I left her to it and got back to work,” he replied, with just the faintest hint of annoyance starting to enter his voice.
“You didn't chat at all?”
“Just some pleasantries.”
“So nothing important?”
He sighed.
“I just need to be specific,” she continued.
“Believe it or not,” he replied, “it can get pretty busy around here. As you can see, I don't have much time to stand around talking.” He paused for a moment. “We talked a little, she mentioned her aunt, and I told her I'd help out if I could. That was about it:”
“So when was the next time you saw her?”
“I'm...” He paused for a moment. “I'm really not sure I did.”
“You didn't set eyes on her again? Not even once?”
“Maybe briefly.”
“And what happened?”
“I don't remember, precisely.” He put the last of the files away, before sighing and then pulling it out again and sliding it into a different section of the cabinet. A few minutes earlier, when Rose had entered the office, Michael had seemed calm and relaxed; after just a short bout of questioning, his frayed edges were starting to show.
“Sorry,” Rose said with a faint smile, watching his body language intently, “am I annoying you?” She already knew the answer.
“Of course not.”
“So Megan didn't come down to your office again and talk to you? She didn't ask for your help, not even once? That's kinda odd, isn't it? I mean, she was new here and you're basically the king of the manor, lording it over everything, so I'd have thought she'd come to you with a few questions. You'd kind of be the obvious choice.”
“She might have popped by once, but it was very brief and I really don't remember what she said.”
“And you didn't tell her not to be awake at three in the morning?”
He turned to her.
“She just mentioned something on the phone,” Rose continued. “Oh yeah, didn't I tell you? We talked on the phone while she was here. A lot.” She paused, watching the sense of concern on his face, as if he was trying to work out what she might have been told and how she might be looking to trip him up. “The best part,” she continued, “is that my phone's set up to record all incoming calls. Call me paranoid, call me creepy, you won't be the first, but sometimes this kinda thing comes in handy.” She held up her phone and tapped the screen, launching the audio player. A moment later, a tinny recording of Megan's voice could be heard from the speaker:
“It's late, we should both get some sleep. I've been talking to the building manager, this Michael guy, and he's told me all this stuff about the place.”
She tapped the screen to stop the playback.
“I record all my calls,” she said calmly. “I'm a bit weird like that.”
He forced a smile.
“So do you wanna tell me what 'all this stuff' means?” she asked. “Sounds like a bit more than a casual chat. What 'stuff' did you tell her?”
“I -”
“Be specific.”
He paused. “We talked about your aunt's apparent interest in trains,” he said after a few seconds, clearly on edge now that he knew there was a recording of Megan's comments. “We talked about the fact that she seemed to be obsessed with the times of the trains passing the building, and...” He paused again, watching Rose with concern as if he still wasn't quite sure how much she knew. “We talked about some of the stories people tell about Marshall Heights.”
“Like about not getting up at three in the morning?”
“That's one of them.”
“What are the others?”
“There are so many, I -”
“So why shouldn't someone get up at three in the morning?”
“It's just a dumb story.”
“I like dumb stories.”
He sighed. “Some people have got it into their heads that there's... something out in the corridors and walkways during the night, mainly at 3am, or just something in the air that feels wrong. Believe me, it doesn't get any more specific than that. A few of the residents have mentioned a knocking sound on their doors, but that's probably just kids. For the most part, you can safely ignore all the urban legends that swirl around this place. It's just people with overactive imaginations and far too much time on their hands.”
“But you still warned her about it?”
“I was make smalltalk.”
“You don't have cameras?”
“We have one broken shell in the foyer, but it doesn't record. It's just there to make people feel safer.”
“You don't have any kind of access system at night? Anyone can just walk in?”
“In theory, but I really don't think that's an issue.”
“But you still warned Megan to be careful.”
“I wouldn't say I warned her,” he replied. “I... told her. It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Hang on,” Rose continued, tapping her phone's screen again and bringing up another audio clip of Megan's voice:
“No, he seemed genuinely friendly. He's very friendly and helpful, I almost had to push him out the door. Not everyone in the city is a monster. Just most of them.”
She stopped the recording again.
“She's talking about you there,�
� she explained.
“She is?”
“Seems like she thought you were an okay kinda guy. So when was the last time you saw her? Be specific, it's important.”
“I...” He paused. “I'm really not sure.”
“When did you notice she was missing?”
“I didn't.”
“You didn't?”
“I just thought she'd... gone.”
“Home? Without saying anything to you?”
“We weren't exactly friends.”
“So from your point of view, she spent a couple of days poking around, asking questions and looking for my aunt, and then she just... stopped being here?”
“That is exactly how it seemed to me,” he replied, glancing nervously at the phone. “Is that so strange?”
“But obviously you went up to the flat eventually.”
“To fix the taps.”
“Who told you the taps weren't working?”
“No-one,” he sighed. “The whole building has been having plumbing problems. Look, this is starting to sound like an interrogation. I went to check on the taps in every flat, including your aunt's. That's what I was doing when you showed up, but I'm afraid I don't exactly have anyone around to corroborate my story. In case you haven't noticed, I tend to work alone.”
“So you went to fix the taps and when you got there you knocked on the door to see if my sister was still there?”
“I did.”
“And when no-one answered, you let yourself in?”
“I did, but do we really have to -”
“And all her stuff was gone?”
“As far as I could tell.” He paused. “Look, I admit that it's odd, the way she just upped and left without saying anything, but this is London. I know you and your sister are from a small town, and I guess everyone knows everyone else there, but here in the city it's a little different. Everyone gets on with their lives, and for the most part our contact with one another can be pretty minimal. There's really nothing that strange about someone just taking off like that, at least it didn't seem strange to me. She came, she did what she could, and she left. In an ideal world, things would be different, but we're not living in an ideal world, are we?”