Sometimes he could hear them, these other Elsas. Cast out without anywhere to go, no longer alive but not really dead yet – sometimes they lingered, and if they did they’d talk to him, try and get him to answer, to tell them what had happened, where they should go. He tried not to listen. They cried, and were so lost, so alone, and he couldn’t afford to feel sorry for them. They faded away after a few days, no longer alive enough to be able to maintain any sort of cohesion, at least to the point where he was aware of them, and he was grateful when that happened. They were always so horrified, watching Elsa parade around inside their bodies, watching her with him, watching her laugh and eat and drink and fuck. It made them feel sick, and he knew it, could feel it, and it always spoiled his ability to enjoy having her back, having her whole. Nothing felt right, and he wasn’t sure if it ever would. The last one had come close; he’d felt an affinity with that one, some faint memory ringing in his mind that made him wonder how he’d known her – but she’d fought to the last and it had damaged what was left for Elsa. Furious, Elsa had made it suffer. She’d fucked him again and again, knowing that the other was watching, crying, knowing how it hurt her. And when she got bored of that she hurt the already decaying flesh; she held its hand over a naked flame, laughing as the flesh crisped and burned, and that hot sweet smell began to rise. She’d cut it, burned it, starved it… and for what? She’d only decayed quicker, and needed a new vessel sooner. Frank couldn’t quite understand; it was as if Elsa bore this particular body a very personal debt, one that she took great pleasure in repaying, even if it cost her time inside it.
Soon enough, she’d gone the way of the others, and Frank had duly disposed of the remains. If he’d been more aware, if more of his brain had been left intact by Elsa, he might have recognised that he’d chased this one for years – but he didn’t. All he knew was that Elsa pointed him at a possible body, and he followed it until he could secure it for her. Until they could both enjoy it in peace, if only for a while. He had no memory, usually, of whether he’d seen a particular blonde before, even chased her before – they all blurred into one after a while. Now and again he dreamed of fire, and loss, and woke up with his face hot and wet and his chest hitching for breath; but he could never remember why.
And now there was another girl. Elsa was excited about this one, although she wouldn’t tell him why. “She’s perfect,” she told him. “This one will last, I know it. I can come back, Frank. Once and for all.”
He prayed that this time, she was right, and he could rest.
Frank was happy. He’d met a girl, and although she fulfilled all of Elsa’s criteria – tall, blonde, willowy – Elsa had left him alone, at least thus far. Frank had an idea she was sulking; unhappy with the brevity of her last ‘visit’ with her beloved. That girl (Linda, was it?) had given up the ghost remarkably quickly – she’d fainted as soon as Frank grabbed her, and he’d taken no pleasure in snuffing her out. She’d just lain there, limp, and when Elsa took over she’d been disappointed. It was like trying to animate a dead slug, she said; she could barely move her. Linda had lasted mere days, and Elsa had been increasingly repelled by the dead girl’s flesh; it had very quickly become a prison, encasing her as it started to rot from the inside out, refusing to do more than twitch by the end. When the end came, and Elsa found herself free once more, she was traumatised. Linda had been sick, it seemed, some illness that hadn’t been found – cancer, or something like that. Once the flesh died and Elsa moved in, it had spread a mile a minute, poisoning every cell it touched until the whole thing was a soggy mess, flesh sloughing off bone that was already pitted and yellow. Elsa had barely escaped intact, and had disappeared very quickly – to recover, she said. Frank had been bereft for a while, but then he’d met Sue – and thoughts of Elsa had faded.
It had been almost a month, and Frank was in the habit of meeting Sue after work and walking her home. She’d change, and they’d go out – or she’d cook, and they’d stay in. It was a simple life, but one that Frank had been denied for so long; and now he had it, he wanted it to last forever. As Elsa receded in his already faulty memory, he could see a day when he and Sue lived together, maybe got married. He could see a time when he could be happy.
Then Elsa had come back. She’d been barely there at first, just a whisper in his head at twilight, as he lay in bed with Sue asleep on his arm, waiting for sleep to claim him too. He tried to ignore her, but the voice just grew more insistent… within days Elsa was with him all the time: wheedling, cajoling, even threatening. His dreams were filled with Elsa now, with passion and fire, and an overwhelming feeling of need – though whether it was hers or his own, he couldn’t be sure.
Finally, he couldn’t take anymore. One Friday night he collected Sue from her place of employment, as usual; walked her home, as usual; waited for her to change and took her out to a fancy restaurant – not quite so usual. The colour in her cheeks had been high, he remembered afterwards. She’d been excited; her eyes full of questions. His own expression, in turn, had been quiet. He’d tried to meet her mood, tried to be joyful, but the knowledge of what was to come tempered his usual delight at her company; and she could tell something was wrong. She grew quieter as the night went on, the light in her eyes slowly dimming as she realised that, perhaps, the question she’d been expecting in such a nice restaurant wasn’t going to make itself known. Not that night, at any rate.
They’d reached her flat, and she’d opened the front door, turning in surprise to wonder why Frank was waiting on the doorstep instead of following her in, as he usually did. He was standing there, hands clasping and unclasping – a look of such sorrow on his face.
“Why, Frank,” she’d said, her tone one of concern. “Whatever’s wrong?”
He moved towards her, and she could see tears welling in his eyes. “I want you to know one thing, Sue,” he said, as his hands reached for her throat. “I love you. And for that reason…” he was sobbing now, “I’ll make this quick.”
Time was running out. Maddie couldn’t have said how she knew, there was nothing concrete to point to that conclusion… and yet she couldn’t escape the knowledge that it was true. He was coming for her, and this time she wouldn’t be able to get away.
You don’t know that.
“I do, though,” Maddie answered, and her mother didn’t reply. What was the point?
Maddie spent the next few days going through her normal life – she went and bought food (though not much), walked long and far, searching for any sign that he’d found her or was watching someone else; nothing happened. She passed the usual people when out walking or shopping, no one bothered her and she bothered no one. She saw no reason to think he was following her; and yet she could feel him, dogging her every step, hidden in the shadows.
Finally, when she couldn’t stay away any longer, Maddie went to Highgate Cemetery and sat by the grave that marked where she could find what was left of her mother – minus the skull, of course; that was still in her backpack – she never left it alone in her room. It was a sunny day for once, reasonably warm, and Maddie sat on the grass with her backpack beside her, open at the top, and tried to feel her mother’s presence.
Her mother, it seemed, didn’t want to cooperate today.
“Come on, Mum, please,” Maddie whispered, uncomfortably aware that an elderly man was wandering up the path armed with a bouquet of roses, further into the cemetery – presumably to visit his own departed loved one. She watched as he moved out of view, then looked around. The coast was clear, for now.
“Mum?”
Why come back here? It only reminds us both.
So she was here, just mad at Maddie, as usual. Maddie could deal with that, just so long as she didn’t abandon her. “I needed to be near you,” she said, “near where he left you.”
Why?
Her mother’s tone was plaintive; it clearly pained her to be here, where Frank had finally taken her life after all those years spent trying to evade him, to protect Maddi
e from the lunatic he’d become.
“Because it’s quiet,” Maddie said, “because I feel close to you here.”
And because you want to tempt him out of hiding.
Maddie grinned, glancing around to see if Frank had, in fact, appeared. She felt almost guilty. “There’s no fooling you, is there,” she said. “You’re right; that too.”
And what purpose does that serve?
And now Maddie was crying, harsh sobs erupting from her dry throat in spite of her trying to swallow them down. Her face was hot with tears, and she scrubbed her hand across her eyes angrily, only succeeding in smearing dirt across her cheeks like war paint. “Because I can’t take this anymore!” she shouted. “I have to finish it”
Her sobs quieted, as if the act of vomiting this out had left her clean, and she drew a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to regain control. She searched her pockets in vain for a tissue, finally finding a crumpled one that had seen far better days in the depths of her backpack. She did her best to straighten it out and blew her nose, hard, before looking in vain for a bin then shoving the tissue back in her pocket with a grimace of disgust.
And what if he finishes you?
Maddie sighed. “Then I’d be with you, wouldn’t I. And none of this will matter anymore.”
She sat flat on the grass, legs crossed in front of her, and hauled the backpack onto her lap. Her breath still hitching, she reached in and pulled out her mother’s skull, kissed it gently before lowering it to the ground before her, resting on the spot that covered the rest of her mother’s bones. The ground looked as if someone had disturbed it recently, clods of earth lay around the gravestone, and Maddie could see flashes of yellowy-white here and there. Reaching forward, she raked the soil with her fingers and realised they were bones – small, varying in age: part of fingers, or toes, maybe.
“Home from home, eh?” she said, and tried to smile. “See? More bones. What do you think, fox maybe?”
“Touching.”
Maddie froze.
“You stole the skull,” Frank said, moving slowly out from behind a tree near Maddie. “I needed that.”
Maddie clutched the skull to her chest, and struggled to her feet. “Why?”
Frank came to a halt some dozen paces in front of Maddie. He sighed, and seemed to slump a little; he seemed as exhausted by all this as Maddie herself did. She wondered how old he was; probably somewhere in his fifties, she guessed, but he looked far older. He looked tired, worn. Used up.
“I should be clearer,” he said, and smiled. “It’s not that I needed it.” He gestured over Maddie’s shoulder, forcing her to whirl around to see what was hiding behind her. “I wanted it; for her.”
Maddie saw a woman, or the suggestion of a woman, not unlike her mother. This figure wasn’t solid, though; she was no more than a mist, softly moving in the day’s gentle breeze.
This thing was far from gentle, Maddie knew. Even if she hadn’t known how all this had started, you’d never mistake Elsa for anyone gentle, or even kind. There was a hardness about the features, a greediness apparent in the eyes.
It drifted closer, and Maddie wrinkled her nose in disgust. Even though Elsa had no physical form, there was an odour around her that turned the stomach; she stank of decay, of rot and mould. Maddie wondered where her body was, and whether that smell was something transmitted from Elsa’s remains or whether she carried evidence of her evil with her; she stank of death.
Maddie held her breath as Elsa reached her, and slowly started to drift around her in a circle. At one point she leant in close and inhaled, as if she was savouring Maddie’s own scent, and Maddie fought back the sickness rising in her throat. She released her breath as slowly as she could when Elsa drifted back to Frank, and slowly tried to relax – every muscle in her body was knotted solid, aching at the tension she was feeling.
Elsa whispered something to Frank, and Maddie found herself straining to catch the words.
Frank sighed, and nodded. “She wants you now,” he said. “Apparently you’re perfect.”
“Nice to know I’m good for something,” Maddie said, “but no. Sorry and all that, but no. I don’t think so.”
Frank shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “Just for once, it’d be nice to find one that didn’t fight,” he said, though the light in his eyes showed he was looking forward to the tussle. “An easy one, just once.”
Maddie felt the air around her shift, and knew her mother was close. Listening.
“Not going to happen, Frank,” she said, and watched his eyes widen as he noted her use of his name. “In fact, it’s going to be a bit harder than you think.”
He sighed again, and stood tall, squaring his shoulders as if ready for a fight. He wasn’t pretending to be tired anymore. “I doubt it. They’re all fuss and bluster for a few seconds, but all it takes is one good knock and they’re down.” He shrugged. “It’s easier after that.”
Maddie swallowed, her mouth dry, and took a few steps back.
Frank grinned and matched her steps in a little hopping dance, the malice evident now, keeping the distance between them constant. Elsa was little more than mist, the air around her darkening as she grew more agitated. She was starting to fade, and as she did, she was raising hell.
He won’t win.
“I wondered when you were going to say something,” Maddie whispered, hoping Frank didn’t notice she wasn’t alone anymore. The air felt full, somehow, charged, the way it felt when a storm was coming. She felt the hairs on her arms and at the back of her neck prickle, and gasped as a layer of warmer air seemed to encase her, just for a second.
“Was that a hug?”
Don’t be silly.
Maddie grinned. “It was, wasn’t it?”
No answer.
Maddie stared at Frank, and realised she was no longer terrified of what might happen to her. Her mum was here, and she’d protect her daughter with everything she had. Maddie just had to hope that, combined with her own strength, would have to be enough.
Frank reached into his worn, tattered coat and dragged out what looked like a cosh. Black, what looked like leather covering its pitted surface, and heavy. He hefted it to and fro a few times in his right hand, slapped it into the palm of left, wincing for effect. “Ready?” he asked, and grinned.
Maddie recoiled. Flashes of other blows, other wounds, bombarded her, and she felt the collective fear of what must surely be all his victims, not just her mother, and the impact of those blows. She whimpered, staggering under the onslaught, and felt her mother’s presence at her side.
He won’t win. Not this time. Look.
And Maddie did.
Elsa wasn’t the only mist surrounding them. Although she still shimmered at Frank’s side, whispering into his ear and goading him on, there were others. Maddie could make out at least five other than her mother, featureless so far, but somehow familiar. As Frank started his advance, they grew clearer, and Maddie realised all his victims had come to her aid. Five. No, six, seven. She wasn’t sure.
There’s Annie, and Sarah, and Ruth.
Maddie saw a small blonde woman in what looked like Seventies clothes, a slightly taller girl of maybe sixteen dressed in jeans and a jumper, and a woman who looked to be in her thirties that was very tall, maybe 5’10”, in a long dress. All had blonde hair, all shared very similar features to Maddie’s mother, and to Maddie herself, she knew.
There were more behind those, and Maddie listened, disbelieving, as her mother reeled off more names.
Carrie, Linda, Margaret. Sue.
That made seven, eight if Maddie counted her mother. They all drew close to Maddie, and she realised they were listening to what her mother was saying. They all looked at Maddie, then, and smiled; nodded. Then they’d moved off, standing at various points around the cemetery, and Maddie started to panic.
“Where are they going? They’re not leaving, are they?”
Don’t be scared; just watch.
; Now Maddie saw her mother start to coalesce, and felt tears well as she realised once more how beautiful her mother had been. She walked towards the grave where her remains were hidden, and then she was gone.
“No…”
The others were gone too, and Frank grinned as he hefted the cosh once more. “Now, then. Where were we?” He gave no sign that he had seen them.
He moved forward, his right arm raising as he came, ready to come down hard on her skull.
Maddie feinted left, and screamed as the cosh came down on her shoulder instead. She felt the bone shatter, pain lancing down her arm and into her chest, and her arm was useless, just like that. The heat of the impact was pulsing in her shoulder, and she felt the world rock – once, twice. Then she was on her knees, gasping for breath, wondering why they’d all deserted her in the end. Did Frank even know they were there? Had he seen them? Had Elsa?
Frank dragged her upright and she screamed again as her shattered shoulder protested. She tried to raise both arms to protect herself, but only one obeyed, batting ineffectually at his chest. The other hung dead, presaging what she knew must surely follow.
Abruptly, Frank let her go.
Stunned, she fell back to the ground, retching at the renewed pain in her shoulder as it pulsed through her arm and chest. She cradled it to her chest and rocked, tried to get her breath back and figure a way out to help herself, somehow.
There was a rumbling sound, a grating, and Frank was turned away from her now, the cosh hanging forgotten in his hand as he stared in disbelief.
The earth was moving. As Maddie watched, patches of soil started to rise upward as if something were burrowing from underground. Then Maddie saw a flash of white in the midst of a heap of newly raised earth, and watched as a skeletal hand broke free of its covering.
Bury Them Deep Page 5