by Amy Cross
She waited, staring at the figure on the other side of the glass.
“My -” she began, before she heard a clicking sound and the door inched open.
She waited, daring herself to go inside before reaching down to take the penknife from her belt. Back in her aunt's apartment, when she was getting ready, the knife had felt almost too big, as if she was overreacting; now it felt pathetically small, with its three-inch blade offering scant protection. She took a moment to remind herself why she couldn't turn and run, but then just as she was about to step forward, she felt something coming loose in her mouth. With the tip of her tongue, she felt her teeth and realized that one on the right side was on the verge of coming out.
“What the hell...” she whispered, as she worked the tooth further out of place until it fell down onto her tongue. She spat it out into her hand and saw that it had come out clean, with just a hint of blood. There was no sign of damage, no rot or decay, just a glistening white tooth. After feeling the gap with her tongue, she checked her other teeth, and after a moment she found that another was loose.
Pausing, she started to check all her teeth one by one, but the only loose molar this time was near the back on the left side. As she ran the tip of her tongue against its edge, she could already feel it coming loose, until finally it dropped out. She spat it into the palm of her hand and stared down at the two teeth.
And then her phone started to ring.
“Jesus!” she muttered, stepping back from the half-open door and grabbing the phone from the top of her laptop. Seeing that Ben was trying to get in touch, she answered.
“Just me,” he said, “checking that you're not out doing something insanely stupid at three in the morning.”
“I'm at the other flat,” she replied, still using her tongue to examine the two gaps in her teeth. “313, the one I was at earlier.”
“You sound different.”
“Two of my teeth fell out.”
“Say that again?”
“I'm not kidding,” she replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. “I think it's...” Feeling the teeth near the front of her mouth, she found to her shock that another was coming loose. “One by one,” she continued, “it's like they just started to come loose a few minutes ago.”
“Freud believed that dreams about teeth falling out were a sign of sexual repression,” Ben replied, “and also a deep-seated need to be nurtured.”
“I'm not sexually repressed,” she replied, as the latest tooth came loose. She spat it out. “And do I seem like someone who needs to be nurtured?”
“You do not.”
“Besides,” she continued, “I'd like to point out that I'm not dreaming.”
“I know, just... Are any more loose?”
“I've lost three,” she replied, checking the others, “but the rest seem firm for now.”
“And you've been brushing and flossing, right?”
“I'm going into the flat,” she told him.
“Rose, remember what I said about teeth. Ellis Hathaway -”
“I'm going in.” Making her way toward the door, she peered at the frosted glass and realized that there was no sign of the figure. With her right foot, she gently kicked the door so that it creaked open, revealing the dark interior of the flat.
“Rose,” Ben continued over the phone, “I think you need to rethink this.”
“It's okay,” she replied, with the knife in her hand, “I can handle myself.”
“And how do you know your sister didn't think the same thing?”
“Megan couldn't handle herself if her life depended on it,” Rose said, stepping into the flat and looking around the empty hallway. “I was always the one who had to deal with stuff. No offense to her, but she's the last person who should ever have started poking her nose into something dangerous.”
“And you're so much tougher?”
“I have to find her.”
He sighed. “What do you see?”
“Just a dark, empty flat. It's cold in here, colder than being out on the walkway. I can see my breath.”
“Do you have the computer with you?”
She glanced back out at the laptop, which was still resting on the floor of the walkway.
“The numbers are going crazy.”
“It's five past three,” he replied. “The absolute weakest point has passed, but the barrier will still be weak for an hour or two.”
Edging forward, Rose held the knife out in front of her as she peered into the kitchen.
“This is where the guy died,” she whispered into the phone. “Jennifer Hathaway killed Ellis in the kitchen, right?”
“According to the papers.”
“And then she ran out of the flat and -”
Before she could finish, she heard a loud bang from the front room, as if something heavy had fallen over. She instinctively took a step back into the kitchen, making sure to keep facing the door.
“What was that?” Ben asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “Just a creepy unexplained noise in a supposedly haunted flat in a building that might or might not also have a serial killer problem.” She kept the knife raised and tried to focus on holding her hand still.
“Don't be a hero, Rose.”
“Megan was here.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I can feel it,” she continued, keeping her terrified eyes staring at the door. “I don't know how, but I can just tell she was here and -”
Feeling something in her mouth, she used the tip of her tongue to check her teeth, and once again she found that one was loose. Quickly working it loose, she spat it into the palm of her hand.
“Another tooth,” she whispered.
“Get out of there,” Ben replied, “before you need a whole rack of dentures.”
Staring out at the hallway for a moment, Rose listened to the silence. Finally, after looking back down at the tooth in her hand, she had an idea: she paused for a few seconds, before throwing the tooth through the door. It landed on the carpet in the hallway and remained just about visible thanks to the patch of moonlight that was streaming through the front door.
“Rose -”
“Quiet,” she hissed, keeping her eyes on the tooth.
She waited.
Silence.
“What are you doing?” Ben whispered over the phone.
“Bait,” she replied quietly.
Silence.
And then suddenly, from the front room, she finally heard a faint creaking sound.
Then another.
And another.
Slow, steady footsteps.
She stared at the tooth, and finally she saw a sliver of movement at the edge of the door. A tall, dark-clothed figure stepped into view and reached down to pick up the tooth.
Rose held her breath.
The figure stood with its back to her for a moment, seemingly staring at the tooth in its hand.
Clutching the knife, Rose waited.
“Is anything happening?” Ben asked suddenly, over the phone.
The figure immediately turned to look at her, and Beth was shocked when she realized that although she recognized him, it wasn't Ellis at all.
“Michael?”
“What's going on?” Ben continued. “Rose, talk to me.”
“I was just looking for you,” Michael said blankly, glancing at the knife in her hand. “What are you doing here?” He looked back down at the tooth. “Is this yours?”
“It is.”
“Who are you talking to?” Ben asked.
“If you were looking for me, Michael Powers,” Rose continued, making sure to say his name out loud, “why were you already in here when I arrived?”
Over the phone, Ben could be heard saying something, but his voice sounded distorted.
“I knew you'd come here,” Michael said, still seeming strangely calm, “so I thought I'd wait.”
“But you were talking to someone.”
He shook his h
ead.
“I heard you,” she said firmly.
“Get out of there,” Ben told her, but his voice sounded more distorted this time. He spoke again, but now the signal seemed to burst into static for a moment before the connection cut out.
Looking down at her phone, Rose saw that all the bars of signal were suddenly gone.
“Where's my sister?” she asked, looking back over at Michael.
He stared at her.
“Where's my sister?” she asked again, stepping toward him with the knife in her hand. As she felt anger welling up in her chest, she found that she was no longer trembling. “Don't give me any bullshit about not knowing. I want answers right now, you piece of shit asshole! My friend heard everything just then, he knows where I am and who I'm with, so you really need to start telling the truth.”
“Maybe he'll show up in a few days,” Michael replied, “looking for you.”
“Where is she?” she continued, holding the knife toward his face. “I swear to God...”
“She's here,” he replied calmly. After a moment, he reached into his pocket.
“Don't try anything,” Rose said firmly. “I've stabbed a man before.”
“No you haven't.”
“Do you want to put that to the test?” she asked, hoping against hope that he'd believe the lie.
He calmly pulled his clenched fist from his pocket and held it out toward her, before turning it over and showing her the collection of a dozen or so teeth.
“Part of her is here, anyway,” he explained.
“Those aren't hers,” she said firmly.
“They are.”
“They can't be.”
“Why not?”
“What the hell are you?” she shouted, fighting the urge to lunge at him. She knew that if she tried to run, she'd face a struggle. At least if she stayed on the spot, with the knife in her hand, she felt as if she was in control.
“Come this way,” he replied, turning toward the front room.
“Where's my sister?” she asked, staying rooted to the spot.
She waited for a reply, but he simply headed out of sight. After a moment, she heard his footsteps on the carpet in the next room.
“Where's my sister?” she shouted, running after him but stopping as soon as she reached the front room and saw a female figure curled up in the far corner. For a moment she actually allowed herself to think that it might be Megan, but she quickly realized that the figure was someone else, someone a little younger...
Someone sobbing.
Jennifer Hathaway.
“Everything's going to be okay,” Michael said blankly, staring at the girl.
“Where's my sister?” Rose shouted, finally losing control and pushing him against the wall. She held the knife up toward his face and although her hand was trembling, she was starting to panic and she could think of no other option. “Tell me!” she continued. “Tell me now or I swear to God I will hurt you!”
Staring into her eyes, Michael seemed unable to answer.
“You did something to her, didn't you?” she continued. “She'd better be alive or -”
Before she could finish, she felt another tooth drop out of place in her mouth, followed by another. She spat them both out, along with a little blood, but when she looked back at Michael she realized that he was looking not at her, but at something behind her.
She heard a creaking footstep.
Someone was behind her.
Spinning around, she saw that Jennifer had got to her feet and was now making her way across the room. Her eyes were dark and puffy, with tear tracks running down her face, and the way she was walking seemed different somehow, almost stiff and awkward.
“He's after me,” Jennifer said, her voice trembling with fear. “He never stops.”
Rose backed away, but the girl kept coming.
“He's always after me,” she continued. “I tried to stop him coming through, but there was nothing I could do. Eventually he just let himself in. They always come through at three in the morning, but most of them have to go back. He wants to stay.”
“Who are you talking about?” Rose asked, glancing over at Michael. “What the hell is -”
Suddenly the girl took another step forward, leaned close to Rose's face, and screamed.
Four
“Mum?”
Stopping in the stairwell for a moment, Beth listened to the distant sound that seemed almost like a scream. For a moment she began to panic, worried that her mother was calling out for help, but finally she realized that the scream was coming from someone else. She knew it was bad of her, but she actually felt a little relieved. At that moment, all that mattered to her was finding her mother. Besides, since moving to Marshall Heights, she'd learned to ignore certain sounds.
She took another step down the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
Turning, she saw that Toby was standing close behind her.
“My...” She paused, concerned by the blank look in his eyes. “My mother went out of the flat. I'm worried about her.”
He stared at her for a moment, as a train went past the building.
“Have you seen her?” Beth asked.
He shook his head.
“Have you seen...” She paused, not wanting to sound dumb but desperate to ask the question. “Have you seen my father?”
“He's dead.”
“I know, but I thought I heard...” She turned and looked toward the walkway, and for a moment she felt certain that something was watching her from the empty spaces. As a cold wind blew past, she turned back to Toby. “Don't you ever hear weird sounds?”
“Like dead people?”
“Maybe.”
He paused, as if he wasn't sure of the answer.
“What are you doing out?” she asked.
“I wanted to see them.”
“Who?”
“The ghosts.”
“There's no such thing as ghosts,” she replied cautiously. She usually trusted Toby and believed most of the things he said, but this time she was scared.
“I can take you to her,” he said suddenly.
“My mother?”
He nodded.
“Do you know where she is?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“Is she okay?”
“Come on,” he said, making his way over to her and taking her hand, before leading her down the stairs. “It's not far. I've been watching him for a while and I know one of the places he takes them.”
“I keep hearing weird sounds,” Beth replied, glancing over her shoulder.
“That's because of the time,” he told her. “Don't worry, by four or five the barrier should be stronger.”
“What barrier?”
“Stop,” he said suddenly, turning to her. “Do you hear that?”
She listened, but all she heard was the faint sound of the city's distant roar, which was made up of a huge mishmash of sounds: jet planes overhead; trains in the distance; trains nearby; sirens; faint rumbles that no-one ever seemed to question.
“You don't hear the building singing?” he asked. “Are you deaf? Don't you feel it vibrating?”
“It's not vibrating,” she said cautiously.
“Yes it is,” he continued. “It's always vibrating. Every time a train passes, it makes the whole of Marshall Heights vibrate, and by the time one vibration starts to die down, another train comes and it all starts again. There's no peace.” Taking her hand, he placed it flat against the cold concrete wall. “Wait,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“Another one's coming.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but suddenly she heard another train in the distance. She held her breath, listening to the sound of the steel wheels squealing against the tracks and the rattle of heavy carriages as they passed over the signals. Still, she couldn't feel any vibrations in the walls.
“What's wrong with you?” she replied.
“What'
s wrong with you?” he said. “The whole building is humming now. The air's a different shape. Each of the walkways has its own sound, each of the stairwells too, and together they add up to make a kind of symphony.”
He paused, as if he was momentarily overwhelmed by a sound that only he could hear. In the distance, the sound of the train had already receded.
“I'll show you,” he said suddenly, grabbing her hand again and leading her down to the third floor and then to the second. He seemed to be in a hurry.
“I'm cold,” she told him.
“Me too.”
“I can see my breath,” she continued, but this time there was no reply.
When they got down to the ground floor, he led her past Michael's office and then through to the rear section of the lobby. He struggled a little to get the door open, but finally he took Beth outside just as yet another train rumbled past on the other side of the fence. Beth instinctively held back, but Toby kept hold of her hand with such firmness that she felt there was no point trying to get free.
“It's okay,” he told her. “No-one's going to hurt you.”
“It's freezing out here.”
“So?”
Allowing him to lead her along the alley, she couldn't help shivering as she felt the cold night air biting at her legs and face. A few streetlamps lit the area, but for the most part the only light came from the moon, which bathed the scene in a kind of cold blue haze. As Toby led her around the side of the building and over toward the bins, she felt a tightening sensation in her chest as the fear grew and grew, until finally they stopped just a few feet from a bin that was surrounded by a swarm of flies and she felt as if her heart was about to explode.
“This is where some of them go,” Toby said after a moment. “The ones he doesn't need.”
“I want to go back inside,” she replied, stepping back but unable to get her hand free from Toby's cold grasp. She watched as one of the flies landed nearby, and she couldn't help but notice that it seemed much fatter than any other fly she'd ever seen.
“You need to look.” He turned to her. “I looked.”