The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold

by Christian Fletcher

  I noticed her cheek twitch and an expression of resentment flicked over her face for a brief moment.

  “Okay, have it your own way,” she sighed and turned away. “I may have been able to help you find your lost male friend but now, I don’t think I’ll bother. You’ll come around in the end, Brett. Men always do.”

  “Wait,” I called, moving forward slightly. “Do you know where Gera is?”

  She flashed me a conceited glance before storming back into her room. I didn’t follow her or pursue my inquiry. She’d have only played games with me. I left her to it.

  I knocked on a couple of other doors. “Hello, is anybody inside?”

  Nobody answered me and I wasn’t going to go into Maddie’s room, so I turned and left the tower area, making no further progress in my search. As I plodded down the staircase, I wondered if I’d ever find my missing friends.

  Maybe I’d spend the rest of my days looking for them, like some sad old fool in a black and white horror movie, perpetually searching for a lost love. I wasn’t sure if Maddie was just bullshitting me about knowing Gera’s whereabouts or she was genuine. Either way, she wasn’t going to tell me now. She seemed to say and do some very bizarre things so I decided to give her a wide berth and keep my distance from her as much as possible.

  I stopped on the staircase when I was level with the door to the recreation room but the steps continued on further down, leading to a lower level.

  “Ah, what the hell,” I sighed, plodding further down the staircase, into the darkness below.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I fished around in my jacket pocket for my small flashlight. I switched it on and the silvery LED bulbs cut through the darkness as I descended the staircase. The steps were dusty but I saw recently deposited footprints in the center of the cast iron treads. Somebody had been down there in the not too distant past. I brushed aside huge cobwebs at the sides of the walkway, staring down into the gloom below me.

  Some of the steps at the bottom of the staircase had rusted and broken away from the main frame. I carefully avoided the sharp edges and dropped to the wooden boarded floor below. My feet landed with a thud amongst the dust and rusting metal debris.

  I shone the flashlight through the space around me, blowing out the stench of damp and dust from my swollen nostrils. The room I stood in housed old furniture, piled on top of each other in the corners and against the stone walls. I stayed stock still when I heard a thump. It sounded like something hitting the wooden boards beneath my feet. Maybe it was a rat or a mouse trapped under the floorboards.

  Nothing of any significance seemed to occupy the room so I turned back to the staircase but stopped when I heard the thumping again. It continued this time, gaining momentum and becoming more frantic. I listened and thought I could hear a muffled female voice.

  I shuffled across the floor space, listening out for the source of the noise. The banging came from beneath a stack of threadbare chairs in the far corner, on the right side of the room. I crouched down and shone the flashlight beam under the chair at the bottom of the stack. A trap door sat in the floor beneath, weighted down by the pile of chairs. The banging and muffled voices continued hammering and shrieking. I couldn’t make out what the people below were saying and I didn’t even know if they were alive or it was the screeches of more secretly locked away undead.

  I’d have to take a look whatever the consequences. I dragged the heavy stack of chairs across the floor, cringing at the ghastly scraping noise the motion created. Taking a moment to regain my breath, I then pulled out my M-9 handgun and pointed it and the flashlight at the trap door. I slowly bent down, loosened the bolts at the edge of the trap door and took hold of the metal clasp. The wooden flap was heavy and I couldn’t pull it open while holding the flashlight in the same hand. My heart hammered in my chest as I gripped the body of the flashlight between my teeth and tugged harder on the cast iron ring.

  The trap door slowly opened and I saw hands reaching across the floorboards, emerging from the dark space beneath. I hauled the flap fully open and flung it back on its axis. I retreated a few steps backward, pointing my Beretta at the square of blackness in the floor.

  The hands gripped the floorboards and a head rose out of the trap door. I shone the light beam directly in the face of who or what was looming up into the room. My finger gently pressed against the trigger of my handgun so I could fire at any hostile person or creature in a fraction of a second.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I recognized the face blinking against the light. I lowered the handgun and approached the trap door.

  “Who’s there?” Wingate barked, confusion apparent in her voice.

  “It’s me, Brett,” I said. “You’re okay now, Sarah. What the hell are you doing down there?”

  “Get us out of here first,” she yelled. “We’ve been stuck in the dark in this damn cellar for hours.”

  I shoved the M-9 back in its holster and set the flashlight down on top of the stack of chairs. Then I moved quickly to the trap door and offered Wingate my hand. She gripped my wrist and I hauled her up into the room. She sat down on the floor amongst the dust.

  “Am I glad to see you,” she sighed.

  “Hey, Brett,” called a voice from below.

  I shone the beam into the dark space beyond the trap door and saw the wooden rungs were broken on the top half of the ladder leading down into the cellar. Batfish peered up at me, blinking against the brightness of the flashlight.

  “Pull me up, will you?” she hollered, reaching up with her hand.

  I crouched down and grabbed her hand. Wingate hauled herself to her feet and gave me a hand. We pulled Batfish to the surface and repeated the operation for Cordoba. Wingate slammed the cellar door shut and brushed her hands together.

  “Where’s Smith?” she asked.

  I sighed. “It’s all gone to shit out here. We ran into some crazy guy who beat up on us so Smith was going to kill him but Mrs McMahon pulled a shotgun on us. Then we went for lunch and she poisoned him,” I explained, in a garbled manner.

  “Oh, my god!” Wingate wailed, holding her hand to her mouth. “Is he still alive?”

  “Ah, yeah,” I said, nodding. “He’s going to be okay, I think.” I knew I wasn’t filling them with confidence.

  “And you just left him? Where is he now?” Wingate shrieked.

  “He’s in his bed in his room. Alex, Chloe and Trevor are looking after him so it’s okay.”

  “Shit, Brett,” Wingate gasped, moving towards the staircase. “They could be in league with Mrs McMahon and pushing a pillow over his face, as we speak. I need to get up there and see if he’s okay. Why didn’t you stay with him?”

  “I came to find you guys,” I protested.

  The three girls started climbing the spiraling staircase. I grabbed the flashlight and followed on behind them.

  “Why were you locked in that cellar?” I asked, as we hurriedly ascended the stairs. “I thought you were supposed to be checking on the upper levels?”

  Batfish was directly in front of me and turned her head slightly. “That bastard Davie said he knew where Gera was and he’d take us to him.”

  “He said he was down in that cellar with a twisted ankle,” Cordoba added.

  “Then after we went down there, the fucker shut the trap door over us,” Batfish concluded. “Wait till we catch up with him. He’s going to regret jerking us around.”

  “Davie did this?” I couldn’t quite accept it.

  “Yeah, Davie. The big fat guy,” Cordoba spat. “Why, don’t you believe us, Brett?”

  “Sure but he doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who would…”

  “Well believe it, it happened,” Batfish snapped.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “You need to ask him,” Cordoba said, shaking her head. “Any sign of Gera?”

  “Still missing,” I admitted. “Nobody seems to have seen him.”

  “I expect that damn Davi
e has locked him in another cellar someplace,” Batfish growled.

  We reached the upper floor level, adjacent to the recreation room. Wingate led the way, stomping through the doorway and across the room. Mo sat on a bean-bag in the corner of the room and glanced up from his car magazine at us as we marched through in single file. He didn’t say a word and looked bemused as we filed past towards the opposite doorway. I felt we should have quizzed Mo on the strange goings on but I knew Wingate wanted to check on Smith before we did anything else.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot to say that all our gear has been ransacked and our spare weapons, ammo and assault rifles have been taken,” I explained, as we climbed the narrow staircase to the tower.

  “What?” Cordoba squawked. “What the hell has been going on, Brett?”

  “Ah, hell if I know,” I sighed. “I think these guys in the castle are all a bit weird.”

  “You can say that again,” Batfish groaned.

  “And Spot is also missing,” I admitted.

  Batfish turned to me, open mouthed. “We’ll have to damn well find him,” she hissed.

  We hadn’t encountered anybody else on our way up to the tower bedrooms but Alex and Trevor were still in Smith’s room. Wingate barged them out of the way to take a look at Smith.

  “Who has gone through our things and where’s our dog?” Batfish demanded.

  Alex shrugged and Trevor shook his head.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Alex said. “I don’t know who is responsible but I’m going to find out.”

  “We need to speak to Davie,” Cordoba seethed. “He locked us in a damn cellar and we want to find out why.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a word,” Alex groaned sheepishly, holding up his hands in a surrendering motion.

  Wingate felt Smith’s forehead with the palm of her hand, checked his tongue and his pulse. “What the hell did that woman poison him with?” she barked.

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t know,” Alex admitted, hunching his shoulders. “I’ll go and try to find the people concerned and speak to them.”

  “Chloe said Mrs McMahon keeps a jar of the Deadly Nightshade plant, whatever that is, in the kitchen,” I said.

  “Oh, Christ, that’s belladonna,” Wingate groaned. “That’s a damn seriously poisonous plant. How much did he ingest?”

  “Not much,” I said. “He only ate a few mouthfuls of the soup we think was poisoned. Everybody else ate pie but she gave Smith a bowl of soup to eat because of his swollen lips.”

  Alex left the bedroom and Trevor followed. Smith looked slightly better than when I’d left him as he did have some color back in his face. Wingate studied his bruises around his eye and mouth then turned to look at me.

  “Did you and he get those injuries when you were attacked by this weird guy?”

  I nodded. “The guy just leaped out and started swinging at us. He was strong as a gorilla and looked like one too.”

  “Okay, listen, I’m going to stay with Smith but you guys should carry on looking for Gera,” Wingate said. “We should try getting out of here as soon as we can.”

  “We can’t leave you on your own,” Cordoba said. “I’ll stay here with you.”

  Wingate nodded and glanced at Batfish and I. “You guys cool with that?”

  “Yeah, that’s all right,” I said.

  “I want to find my boyfriend and my dog,” Batfish whined. “The bastards have taken them both from me.”

  “You’ll find them,” Wingate said, in a soothing tone.

  “Go get ‘em, tiger,” Cordoba cheered and punched me on the shoulder. She then leaned forward and kissed me briefly on the cheek. “Don’t be too long and keep your wits about you.” She gazed at Batfish and I in turn. “Both of you come back safe, okay?”

  Batfish and I nodded. I knew Batfish was worried about Gera and Spot in equal measures but the little dog was more incapable of defending himself.

  “Look after Smith and make sure he’s okay,” I muttered.

  Wingate audibly gulped and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have a look in my room for my medical kit in a second. I just hope that my supplies haven’t been stolen along with everything else.”

  Batfish and I checked our handguns and the spare magazines, then turned and left the bedroom. We hurried down the stairway and narrow corridors, through the Great Hall, then the dining area and back up to the recreation room. I wanted to speak to Mo and see if he knew anything about what was going on. Nobody was in the room; Mo’s car magazine lay open on top of the bean-bag.

  “Shit, he’s gone,” I hissed.

  I glanced out through the window and saw the sun starting to dip across the white horizon. The shadows grew longer in the room and it would soon be time to light more candles.

  “Damn it,” I spat. “I wanted to be out of here before nightfall.”

  “I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight, Brett,” Batfish sighed. “Where is everybody?”

  “I don’t know,” I groaned. “These people are like ghosts. They disappear and reappear all over the damn place. I can’t keep up with them and I don’t know where they go. Some of their bedrooms are upstairs in the tower above us.”

  “Shall we try up there?”

  I thought about Maddie propositioning me earlier and didn’t want a repeat of that little scenario.

  “Ah, I already tried earlier,” I sighed. “Nobody answers their doors so I don’t even know if they stay in there. I think they all just creep around the castle and meet up at meal times.”

  “That’s no good, Brett. We can’t wait until supper time.”

  “I know,” I groaned, frustration creeping into my mind set. I stopped myself snapping at Batfish. She was obviously worried and a little unsure of what to do. With Smith out of the picture and Wingate and Cordoba keeping guard over him, I had to take charge and lead this particular operation. But my leadership was flawed, as I was out of ideas at where to search next.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I poked my head through the kitchen door but Mrs McMahon thankfully wasn’t in there. I really didn’t want to run into her again and she wouldn’t help us anyway. The darkness rapidly increased as we strolled around empty rooms, looking for anybody or anything that would help us find Gera, Spot or our stolen weapons. Batfish and I turned on our flashlights and I told her about our findings of the profile files in the office and the mysterious, hanging dead girl as we wandered around.

  We moved through parts of the castle I hadn’t seen before, a disused ballroom, a golfing gift shop and some empty function rooms. I remained wary of Rory or any other hostile person leaping from the ever growing shadows.

  “The longer this goes on, the less likely we are to find them alive,” Batfish sighed.

  “We’ll find them,” I said, trying to sound convincing. Whether we found them alive was a different matter.

  “It was only by luck that you found us down in that cellar. There could be dozens of them under each section of the castle. We’ll never have time to search every place and dark corner.”

  I knew she was right but we couldn’t just give up. We had to at least keep searching until we were too tired to carry on.

  As time ticked by and the rooms became darker under total nightfall, I felt a sinking feeling of despair wash over me. It seemed we were faced with a hopeless task. The people in the castle could remain unfound and unseen if they wanted to be. Gera and Spot could be anywhere and not necessarily within the castle walls or grounds. They both could be zombie food, while we fruitlessly searched for them.

  We trod through a hallway, somewhere at the rear of the castle. The air was cold and damp with a musty stench hanging in the air. A vast, dark wooden staircase and landing with a balconied walkway stood to our left and above us. I shone the flashlight around the stone floor and walls and across the arched windows. The area had a unsettling atmosphere and reminded me of an ancient chapel.

  I heard a hiss from the balcony above us and I spun around on
my heels, pointing the flashlight over the wooden balustrades and reached for my handgun. Batfish heard the sound too and shone her light across the upper walkway.

  “What was that?” she whispered. Her voice caused an eerie echo.

  “I don’t know,” I muttered, feeling goose bumps form on my flesh.

  I scanned the balcony, trailing the flashlight from left to right and caught sight of a flash of white material. I stopped moving the light and shone the beam between two balustrades, picking out a pair of blinking eyes and a pale face.

  “Chloe?” I hissed.

  “Come up here,” she whispered.

  A shiver ran down my spine. I trusted Chloe but there was still something creepy about her. Why did she keep following us around like this?

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I want to show you something.”

  I glanced at Batfish and she looked worried.

  “Chloe’s okay,” I said. “She’s on the level.”

  “You sure?” Batfish asked.

  I wasn’t totally convinced but she was more dependable than the other castle dwellers. I nodded and gestured with my head to the staircase. Batfish followed me as I trod cautiously up the steps to meet Chloe.

  I shone the flashlight across the width of the balcony to check nobody else lurked in the darkness. Chloe still crouched behind the balustrade as though she was hiding from somebody.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Chloe stood up and beckoned me to follow her. I flashed Batfish a backward glance and gave her a slight shrug. Chloe turned right into a room situated beyond an alcove behind the balcony. I hesitated slightly then followed her into the room. Batfish hovered a few feet behind me as we moved through the entranceway.

  I shone the flashlight around the dark room and heard a whine and a grunt coming from near the floor. Chloe bent down to touch something. I flashed the light to my right. Spot’s little face loomed in the light. He stood still with his tail wagging, as he was tethered by a leash to a big wooden chair.