“There’s definitely something weird going on.” Ratty took a breath. Swallowed. “I went to my granddad’s house in Paradise, but he wasn’t there. Instead, there was a woman who said she’d won his house in a competition. Can you believe it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Have you heard anyone saying anything? Something that might tell us what’s happening?”
Izzy shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I was brought straight here and then a man called Moon came and talked to me. He wanted to know how I got here. Where you were. Things like that.”
Ratty nodded his head. “They must have known we were missing, because I think they were looking for us.”
“Then why won’t they take us home?” She started crying again.
“Because now we know they’re here. I don’t think they want people to know about them and what they’re doing.”
“But we don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Yes, but if we go home and start talking, people are going to ask questions. Didn’t you ever find it strange that the fog has been here for so long, but has never been on the news? It didn’t even get a mention in the local paper. No, these people must have high connections to cover up what they’re doing so well.”
“You’re just being stupid. They couldn’t make a village disappear.”
“Then why don’t you explain it?”
She hesitated. “I can’t.”
“Well, whether you believe it or not, in a sense, Paradise has disappeared. It’s there, but it isn’t visible. No one has been in or out for nearly two years. It’s like the story of Sleeping Beauty, only instead of a forest, there’s fog stopping people entering.”
“And are the people sleeping?” Izzy asked, sarcastically.
“No, but they seem, I don’t know, different.” Ratty didn’t rise to her bait.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I never really talked to any of them as I wanted to get to my granddad’s house, but I saw a couple of the villagers and there was something about them.”
“In what way?” Izzy frowned.
“Well, they were, I don’t know, it was like when you see someone and you have to cross the road to avoid them, because you can tell there’s something wrong with them, mentally, you know, like Mental Mickey who puts an elastic band around his dick to stop himself wetting his pants. It’s in the way they look and act.”
“So what did the villagers do?”
“That’s just it, they didn’t do anything. They didn’t have to. I avoided them because ... I don’t know, I was scared I suppose.” He didn’t like admitting it.
“That’s just stupid.”
“You wouldn’t think that if you’d been there.”
Izzy shrugged her shoulders. “What on earth did you have to be scared of?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”
CHAPTER 14
When Chase recovered from the concussion, it was dark. She slowly opened her eyes and moved a hand to rub the spot where her head had struck the brick. There was a large bump and she winced as she touched it. Her second instinct was to protectively hug her stomach and hope the baby was all right – she still couldn’t believe it. A baby.
She realised she was still lying on the floor, but she was no longer outside the farmhouse: she was inside, the macabre, rotting mobile of carcasses swinging above her head. Slowly the realisation dawned that someone must have dragged or carried her, as she doubted she had crawled inside by herself. Panic flooded her system, starting in the tips of her fingers and spreading through her body like liquid nitrogen, freezing her blood.
She could feel her heart hammering away; could see the slight crystallisation of her breath creating ghosts in the cold air as she fought to control her breathing. She didn’t want to move, too afraid. She gazed nervously around the room, inclined her head slightly, taking in the skeletal armchair and the upturned cupboard. Was that someone in the corner, watching her? She wanted to run, and she started to stand up, but a wave of nausea swept over her and she collapsed back down.
Looking back toward the corner, the figure, if that’s what it was, had slipped away.
The carcass mobile twisted in the breeze, spreading the scent of death. The smell seemed stronger near the floor and she gagged.
Movement caught her eye, startling her. A shadow within shadows.
A rabbit carcass swung into the one next to it as someone slipped past, setting in motion a morbid Newton’s cradle that swept across the room. The beams of the ceiling creaked as the pendulous weights swung to and fro, dead, glassy eyes sparkling in the darkness as though the hosts had been reanimated.
A floorboard creaked as pressure was applied.
“Who’s there?” Chase whispered.
No one answered.
Outside, an owl hooted and she heard the beat of wings as it flew past.
“I know there’s someone there.” Her eyes scanned the room, looking for the slightest motion.
“Here,” a voice hissed, causing Chase to jump.
“What do you want?” Her throat was dry; she could hardly get the words out. Peering toward where the voice emanated, she saw someone was sitting in the skeletal armchair, his features hidden.
“Want? What do you want?”
Chase tried to sit up but her head throbbed when she moved. “Answers,” she said.
“Answers, solutions, revelations.”
“Just answers.”
“Just answers. Questions sometimes lead to answers.”
Chase bit her lip. There was something about that voice. She tried to see the figure more clearly, but he was cloaked in nocturnal shadow.
“Ask me a question.”
Chase could hear him tapping his foot on the floor. She licked her lips; tried to swallow. “What’s going on, here in Paradise?”
“Paradise, nirvana, heaven, utopia. Do you believe in paradise?”
“I thought you were going to give me answers, not more questions.”
“Do you believe in paradise?” he hissed.
“It depends what you mean by paradise, the village, or the dream?”
“Paradise, inhabited by mankind before the first sin. What was the first sin?”
“I don’t know. Look, I want answers, not puzzles.”
“Answer my question,” he hissed again. “What was the first sin?”
“I don’t know, something in the bible about eating an apple.”
“An apple. The tree of life. Knowledge. Snow White. And so endeth today’s lesson.” The man stood, shook his garments around him and walked out of the room, laughing.
“Wait, come back.” Chase gained her feet, fighting the nausea and giddiness that swept over her. “You haven’t answered anything.”
A disembodied voice came back out of the darkness: “Oh, but I have.” A door slammed.
This is bullshit, she thought, staggering to the back door, holding the back of her head in an attempt to alleviate the pain. But the Raggedy man had gone. “Asshole,” she mumbled.
What had he given her but more questions? Apple. Tree of life. Knowledge. Snow fucking White. What was this crap? Her head hurt – it hurt even more if she tried to think. Fighting back the pain, she started for High Top Cottage.
Now she knew why the vicar called the Raggedy man the Fool. She wanted to kick the vicar’s holy ass. He must think she was a fool too, telling her to go and see him.
In the dark, the ambience was foreboding. Nocturnal predators skittered through the undergrowth, hunted through the trees, stalked on the breeze. She sensed, more than saw them. Felt their eyes, tracking her. In the darkness, shapes twisted, distorted from the recognisable into the startling, into the bizarre, into the terrifying. Tree trunks, contorted by shadows, became old hags. Bushes became huge, lurking beasts with teeth and tusks. A patch of light through the trees became a spectre, the leaves adding the illusion of dark sockets for eyes and giving contour to the illusory shape. Branches became cl
aws, reaching out to grab her.
Somewhere in the night, someone screamed and Chase flinched.
A twig snapped. Someone was following her. She surveyed the trees that lined the path, but darkness held dominion.
She quickened her pace, but that created more noise as she disturbed the undergrowth, which made her heart beat faster, made the fear swell, caused her to let out a little whimper of fright, making her feel more vulnerable.
Something flew past her face, black as pitch and she thought of the witches in Adam’s story searching for their heads.
She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. If she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Something shimmied up a tree, disturbing leaves as it danced along a branch. Something called out with a feral shriek; something replied with a death cry as it was attacked.
Up ahead was a house, its windows in darkness. But it was civilisation, and it came as a welcome relief after the primordial backwoods. She felt herself relax slightly, her heart beginning to slow its frenetic beat. Then another house appeared, then another, these ones illuminated behind curtains that hid whatever macabre play was being enacted within. Shadowy figures were visible, silhouettes behind the curtains. Some of the figures were animated like marionettes in a shadow play; others were motionless. She heard conversations emanating from some of the houses, voices raised in argument.
Hurrying up the lane to High Top Cottage, she saw lights burning in Belinda’s house, heard muffled conversation, and heard the crash of breaking pottery, a shout, a squeal, and a laugh. Chase shivered and hurried to her house. She unlocked the door, slipped inside and locked it behind her. She didn’t turn on the light, feeling that it would advertise she was home (for some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want people to know she was here). Once in the lounge, she slumped onto the settee, exhausted. Thoughts and ideas drifted through her mind like clouds, forming into recognisable shapes and possible answers before dissipating as she dismissed them.
She heard someone laughing outside, the sound carried on the breeze so she couldn’t tell where it originated. It wasn’t a comical laugh, more like a demented chuckle that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Was that a gunshot? She bit her lip and crept to the window to look out over the village, her arms folded protectively across her chest. After five minutes of seeing nothing, she returned to the settee and sat back down.
As she sat thinking, it seemed as though the walls were closing in, the giant who had originally buckled the walls having returned to compress them more. She felt the weight of the house pressing down on her, making her feel claustrophobic. But it was preferable to going outside.
A knock at the door woke Chase from her slumber. Daylight flooded through the window, and she wiped sleep from her eyes. How long had she slept? Rising, she yawned and walked through the hall to the front door. Her hand hovered over the lock as she hesitated.
“Chase, are you in there?”
It was Adam. She unlocked the door, pulled it open and stared at him, momentarily embarrassed by her shabby appearance as she was still wearing the same clothes from the day before.
“I was worried about you,” Adam said. “Yesterday, I waited by the pond for you, but you never turned up.”
“Sorry about that. Did you find Ratty, I mean, Peter?”
Adam shook his head. “Not a trace. I’m sorry. I take it that you didn’t either?”
“No. Please, come in.” She stepped aside to let him enter before leading him through to the kitchen, absently noticing her reflection in a mirror in the hall and realising she looked a state. Running her hands through her hair, she accidentally touched the bump that had resulted from her fall and she winced.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Would you like a drink?”
Adam frowned before nodding his head. “Tea would be nice.”
She filled the kettle, but remembering the vicar’s brown, dirty water she didn’t make herself a drink: Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities.
In his drunken preaching, was the vicar telling her not to drink the water? But why? What was wrong with it? An apple. The tree of life. Knowledge. Snow White ate a poisoned apple. Connections suddenly clicked into place. Were the vicar and the Raggedy man telling her not to eat or drink anything in Paradise?
She watched Adam as he drank the tea. He noticed her and said, “Is there something wrong? You haven’t poisoned it have you?” He grinned.
Chase smiled. “Of course not. Is it all right?”
“Lovely. Best drink of the day.”
Chase nodded and sat down. “I don’t know how to ask you this, but is everything all right, you know, with the people around here?”
“All right! What do you mean?” He frowned and set the cup down on the table.
“Well, it’s just that some people are, I don’t know, acting a little ... strange.”
“Strange?”
“Yes, you know, quirky.”
“Quirky? I don’t know what you mean.” He shrugged his shoulders and picked his cup up again.
“Well, take your receptionist. For no reason at all, she threw some flowers at me. Then there’s Belinda who lives down the lane. She threw cakes at me. Then the people waiting in your surgery were a little ... peculiar. Then there’s the lady in the general store ...”
Adam shook his head, laughing. “You must have imagined it.”
“No, it happened.”
“Really. Well, in your condition, you are, how shall I put it, going through hormonal changes. For no reason at all, things may anger you or upset you, but if you think about them rationally, you will see there was nothing to get upset about.”
“Wouldn’t you call someone throwing things at me something to get upset about?”
Adam smiled. “Now are you sure that’s what really happened?”
She felt like punching him. “Of course I’m bloody sure.”
“Okay, calm down.” He raised his hands in a placating manner. “Just take deep breaths. Perhaps you should have a drink.” He went to the sink and filled a glass with water, then returned and handed it to her.
Accepting the glass, she licked her lips. She was thirsty; beads of liquid rolled down the frosted glass.
“Go on, take a sip.”
Lifting the drink to her mouth, she felt the cold glass on her lips.
“That’s it. Drink.”
Tilting the glass, she saw the liquid pouring toward her mouth.
“Drink.”
Felt the cold water on her lips.
“Drink.”
Felt the water in her mouth, cold and satisfying. All it would take was one swallow.
“Drink.”
One swallow and she would be sated. Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities. Hearing the vicar’s voice in her head, she spit the water out of her mouth and threw the glass toward the sink where it smashed, sending shards of glass across the room.
Adam’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Chase, what’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I don’t want a drink and I don’t want you humouring me.”
“Humouring?”
“And I don’t want you repeating every damn thing I say.”
Adam sipped his tea. “Repeating?”
Chase shook her head. “I want to go home. I want to get out of here. Where can I find Moon?”
Adam shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Well if you can’t help me, then just go. Leave me alone.”
Adam stood up, placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “I can see you’re upset. If you need to talk, you know where I am. I’ll see myself out, but please, come and see me. I’m worried about you.”
She watched him go, feeling momentarily guilty about shouting at him. It wasn’t Adam’s fault, and he was the only friend she had around here. She decided she would apologise the next time she saw him.
Hearing the front door shut, she walked through to lock it behind him. She had never felt so insecure, so unsure of what was going on around her, causing her to confuse what was real with what she imagined. Had those people really thrown things at her? She needed to talk to someone other than Adam, and the only people she had were the vicar and the Raggedy man. Neither option was very appealing. Both of them spoke in riddles to avoid a direct answer, as though the truth was too dreadful to voice.
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