Horror Thriller Box Set 1

by Amy Cross

"You lucky girl," Martina says, grinning from ear to ear. "I love ice cream!"

  I smile at her. If only she knew what I'm planning to do. All I need is a moment alone in her office.

  "You only get ice cream if you're good, though," my father adds, taking me by the arm and gently steering me over to a bench near the door. "So you have to sit here and be extra good for just two or three minutes, and then we'll get going. I'll take you to that place you like, and you can even have pancakes."

  "Ooh," Martina coos, "ice cream and pancakes! What a treat!"

  I stare at her. Does she think I'm a baby?

  "Do we have a deal?" my father continues.

  "Yes," I say reluctantly as I sit down on the hard wooden bench.

  "Back soon," he replies, hurrying over to join Martina as she goes into a room at the back. "She's a little down," I hear him explaining, "but that's to be expected."

  Sitting alone, I stare straight ahead for a few seconds before getting off the bench and walking quietly over to the other side of the room. Approaching the door through which my father and Martina just passed, I pause as I hear muffled voices. I creep a little closer, and finally I can hear them properly.

  "Look," my father is saying, "I know this might seem a little weird, but I was wondering if you'd thought about... what we discussed the other day."

  There's a pause. "Of course I have," she says eventually, "and I guess it'd be kind of fun. If you're sure there wouldn't be any kind of problem."

  "Of course not," he says. "Like I told you, Amanda and I were divorced two years ago. In all honesty, over the past couple of years we only stayed in touch because of Juliet."

  "So it's not like I'm going on a date with a recent widower?" she asks, sounding as if she's smiling.

  "God, no. It's an unusual situation, but I hope you can see past that, because I'd really like to see you again."

  "I think that might be possible," she replies. "What about Juliet?"

  "I'll get a babysitter," he says.

  "That's not what I mean," she tells him. "What about her perception of the situation? Her mother just died. Don't you think she might react badly if -"

  "She'll be fine," he replies, interrupting her.

  "She's a child," Martina says, "and she might get upset."

  "Let's see how things go, okay?" he says. "Let's just play it by ear."

  Another pause. "So do you want to pick the restaurant?"

  As they continue talking, I sigh and walk across the hallway. At least when my mother was alive, I didn't have to spend too much time around my father; I saw him twice a week, and his girlfriends were just these random women who seemed to float into our lives every so often. Now that I'm living with him, I guess I'm going to be more directly exposed to his misadventures.

  I head to a door marked 'Private' and try the handle, but it's locked. Hearing a purring sound nearby, I walk to the door that leads to Martina's office, and I see her cat Gizmo still sitting in his fruit bowl.

  "Hey," I say.

  The cat stares at me.

  "You okay?"

  No reply. He just stares at me. From the concentrated look in his eyes, I get the feeling he'd eat me if he was big enough to attack.

  After glancing back to make sure that no-one's following me, I walk into the office and head over to the cat. He's a fat old thing, and he looks to have barely moved since I met him the other day. I go over to Martina's desk and pick up a pair of scissors, before going back to the cat and staring at him some more. He seems so sedate, almost as if he's half-dead already. In fact, I can't help thinking that in some way he wants me to kill him, so that his suffering can end. It can't be much of a life, sitting in a fruit bowl at a funeral home, just watching a bunch of sad people come in and out, and being ridiculed for your size and your habits.

  "Sorry about this," I say quietly.

  "It's okay," he replies, his voice sounding like a soft, purr. I guess I was right: he is tired of being alive.

  Smiling, I hold the scissors directly above his head. I'm going to have to do this quickly and firmly, otherwise there'll be a noise and I'll attract attention. I definitely can't afford any kind of struggle, so I have to kill the cat with one strong strike. Realizing I have no time to spare, I ram the scissors straight down, instantly piercing his skull and cutting into the brain. He lets out a single mewl before slumping down in the bowl. Rather than removing the scissors and risking having lots of blood come spurting out of the wound, I place my backpack on the nearby chair and then lift Gizmo out of the bowl and place him inside. I zip the bag up and double-check that there's no blood in the fruit bowl, before hurrying out of the office just as my father and Martina come through from the next room.

  "Hey," my father says. "I thought I told you to wait over by the door. Have you been snooping around?"

  I shake my head.

  "Have you been good?"

  I pause for a moment, and then I nod again.

  "Good enough to deserve an ice cream?"

  I nod yet again. Sometimes, I get really sick of nodding.

  "It was lovely to see you again," Martina says, smiling a false smile.

  I smile back at her.

  "Juliet can be a little shy sometimes," my father says, reaching out and ruffling my hair. "Can't you, honey?"

  "Of course she's shy," Martina replies. "There's nothing wrong with being shy. I was shy when I was a little girl."

  I smile again, feeling the extra weight of the dead cat in my backpack. All I want to do is get home and start preparing the body for the process, but I have to be careful so I don't seem too eager to get out of here. As I loiter by the door, my father pretends to be discussing some business matters with Martina. It's kind of funny to see the way they're putting on this charade for me, and it's clear that they've got no idea that I overheard them. After a moment, Martina rushes into her office to get some forms. When she comes out, she looks a little distracted.

  "Well, how about that?" she says as she hands the forms to my father. "Gizmo's actually hauled his lazy ass out of the bowl for once." She turns to me. "Have you seen my cat, honey?"

  I shake my head.

  "Hopefully he's chasing mice," she continues. "Anything to get a bit of weight off his haunches. I swear to God, I only give him regular cat food, but he just gains weight all the time. It's been a while since he acted like a normal cat."

  With that, my father says goodbye and we head out the front of the building, into the bright afternoon sunlight. There's a part of me that really wants to pull the dead cat out of my backpack and shock everyone, but I force myself to stay focused on my real aim: I'm going to observe the slow decomposition of Gizmo, and I'm going to try to imagine the same things happening to my mother's body if my father hadn't made the crazy decision to burn her. It's not an ideal situation, and I'll have to be careful so that my father doesn't find out, but at least my curiosity will be satisfied and I'll finally get to see the face of death.

  Chapter Seven

  Today

  "Lizzie!" I call out, running into the reception area. She's nowhere to be found, so I head straight to the next ward, desperately hoping to find her. The last thing I need is to get stuck alone in this place again, especially after my very first shift ended in near-disaster while I was searching for Mr. Jenkins. "Lizzie!" I say, lowering my voice a little in an attempt to make sure that I don't wake up any of the residents. "Lizzie!" I check in the office, but there's no sign of her.

  "What?" she hisses, suddenly coming up behind me.

  "I need help!" I say, spinning around to face her. "It's Ruth Brown. She's awake."

  "Awake?"

  "She got out of bed," I continue, trying not to sound too much like a rambling lunatic. "She started talking. She's on the floor right now."

  "What?" She pauses for a moment. "Okay, Juliet, calm down. Tell me what happened."

  "She got out of bed," I say again. "She's moving about. It's like she wants something, but I don't know how to help her.
She fell over, but I don't think she's hurt too badly."

  "Are you serious?" Lizzie asks, raising an eyebrow. "The old bird's a vegetable, Juliet, she can't -"

  "Come and see," I reply, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her along the corridor.

  "I don't have time for this," she replies, slipping free from my grasp. "I like you, Juliet, but you can't go pulling pranks like this. This is a professional environment and we have responsibilities to all the residents. Any time I spend on a stupid joke is time that's taken away from the others."

  "I'm not lying!" I say, desperate to get her to come with me. "Why would I make this stuff up? Just come and see. I swear to God, if it turns out I'm lying, you can fire me on the spot!"

  She sighs. "Fine," she says, marching along the corridor. "You'd better not be bullshitting, Juliet."

  "I swear it's true," I say, hurrying after her.

  "It can't be true," she replies. "People don't just slip out of vegetative states when they're this close to death. What you're saying is physically and practically impossible."

  "It's true," I insist. "Just wait and see." We head along a series of corridors until finally we reach the spot outside Ruth Brown's room. To my shock, she's no longer on the floor, and the first thought that crosses my mind is that perhaps I've somehow been tricked; perhaps she's gone back to bed and I'm going to be made to look like a complete fool.

  "Where exactly is she supposed to be?" Lizzie asks as she walks to the door and looks into Lizzie's room. "Is she -" She pauses as she sees the empty bed. "Where the fuck is she?" she asks, turning to me with a shocked look on her face.

  "I told you she was up," I reply.

  "Okay," Lizzie says, grabbing my arms and staring at me. "This is deadly fucking serious, Juliet. We're entrusted with the care of these residents, and we absolutely cannot have them wandering off. Where is she?"

  "She was right outside her room when I came to find you," I say, starting to panic. "She was trying to crawl, but she couldn't manage it."

  Letting go of me, Lizzie rushes to the end of the corridor and glances in both directions. "How long ago?" she asks, looking back at me. "How long did it take you to find me?"

  "Five minutes," I say. "Ten, tops."

  "She can't have got far," she replies. "Okay, Juliet, here's the deal. If Charles Taylor finds out about this, we're both fucked, do you understand? Our only option is to find her, and find her fast, and then get her back to bed." She checks her watch. "It's 4am, so we've got two hours before we have to start the morning routines. Two hours is more than enough time to check every damn inch of this place twice over, so that's what we're going to do. When we..." She pauses for a moment. "Why didn't you phone me? Why did you leave her and come running off to find me?"

  "I didn't have any signal," I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. To my surprise, I see that I've now got four bars' worth of signal. "It looks fine now."

  "When you find her," Lizzie continues with a sigh, "you call me. You don't leave her again. You fucking call me, you tell me exactly where you are, and I'll come. If I find her, I'll call you. Do you understand these very simple instructions, Juliet?"

  I nod.

  "You go that way," she says, pointing toward the other end of the corridor, "and I'll go this way. And remember, our jobs are on the line here." With that, she turns and hurries away, muttering something inaudible as she goes. I'm left standing alone in the corridor, totally shocked by the latest developments. I just don't understand how someone as old and frail as Ruth Brown could possibly have managed to haul herself along the floor, but I figure I just have to keep calm and make sure I find her. Turning and hurrying along the corridor, I glance both ways at the junction before walking quickly toward the rec room. With no sign of her, I head along the next corridor, and then the next, and then the next until finally I see a figure crawling along the floor.

  "Hey!" I call out, running over to her. "What are you doing here?"

  Without answering, Ruth continues to inch forward, dragging her withered body along the polished floor.

  "Where are you going?" I ask, kneeling next to her. It's so tragic to see the look of absolute determination on her face, and the intent, concentrated stare in her milky white eyes. "You can't be out here," I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have to get you back to your room."

  She doesn't look at me. Instead she opens her mouth and lets out a low, guttural gasp.

  "Please," I say, pulling my phone from my pocket, "just try not to hurt yourself." I pull up Lizzie's number and try calling her, but the call doesn't connect and when I check the screen, I see that I've once again got no signal. "Great," I mutter as I put the phone away. It's almost as if something is deliberately blocking me every time I need to call for help. Glancing along the corridor, I suddenly see where Ruth Brown is headed: about ten meters away, at the next junction, there's the boarded-up door to the abandoned ward.

  "You don't want to go in there," I say, looking back down at Ruth, but it's quite clear from the look on her face that she knows where she's going. "Please," I continue, moving along the floor a little in order to keep pace with her. "You really, really don't want to go in there. There's nothing for you through that door, it's just a really cold, really horrible place." Realizing that she's either not hearing me or not paying attention, I hurry in front of her and sit right in the middle of the corridor, blocking her way. "I'm taking you back to bed," I say firmly, staring straight into her eyes. "Do you understand me? I'm taking you back to your room so you can go to bed."

  Ignoring me, she slowly starts trying to crawl around me, but I immediately block her again.

  "It's not going to work," I say firmly. I try my phone again, but it's still not working. "There's nothing for you up there," I continue, "so just let me help you. Please!"

  She tries to get around me again, but I keep myself in her path. After a moment, she pauses, as if she's actually starting to realize that she's going the wrong way.

  "Back to bed," I say, trying not to sound too harsh or mean. "Seriously, it's -"

  With no warning, she suddenly lunges straight toward me, letting out a deep growl as she reaches up and grabs my face, digging her fingernails into my face. I gasp as I feel her cutting my skin, and I immediately pull back. Putting my hand up to feel the wounds, I find that there are small trickles of blood coming from each of the cuts. By this point, she's already started to make her way around me. It's as if her determination to get to the abandoned ward is stronger than any other impulse.

  "You have to come with me," I say, my voice trembling with shock.

  She ignores me once again, instead crawling on her hands and knees, her thin hospital gown barely covering her frail body.

  "You can't go in there!" I shout, checking my phone again and seeing that there's still no signal. I reach out to hold Ruth Brown's arm, but she suddenly turns and lunges at me again, digging her teeth into the flesh of my wrist. Stunned, I try to pull back, but she's got a strong grip with her jaws and she won't let go, not even when I feel her teeth start to puncture the skin. Blood dribbles down onto the floor, but I'm scared to pull away too hard, in case I cause more damage. "Get off!" I shout, forcing myself to hold back from hitting her. I put my other hand on her face and try to gently ease her away, and finally she pulls back.

  "Fuck!" I gasp as I check the damage to my wrist. She hasn't done any major damage, but I can see the outlines of her teeth in my skin, and she's broken the flesh. The pain isn't too great, though. When I look back over at her, I see that she's finally reached the door to the abandoned ward, and now she's reaching up in an attempt to get hold of the padlock. As hard as she tries, however, she seems to be completely unable to get her shaking hand up high enough.

  "You won't get in," I say, making sure to keep my distance from her. "The only way you could ever get through that door is if someone helped you, and there's no way I'm going to do that, so you might as well just give up."

  She continues to r
each up for the padlock. Even if she could manage to get to it, however, there's no way she's be able to force it open. All her intensity, and all her passion, has led her to this point, but her legs are too frail to support her. I take a deep breath, keen to avoid being bitten again but also keenly aware that I have to do something. I look at the floor and see that she's left a trail of sweat and flaky skin as she made her way here.

  "You're going to die," I say eventually. "I don't know if you can hear me, but you might as well know the truth. Do you really want to spend your final moments here, like some kind of addict? Or do you want me to take you back to your room so you can die in peace?"

  She gasps as her wrinkled, trembling hand continues to reach up toward the padlock. Her fingertips are just inches away.

  "What's in there that you want so much, anyway?" I ask, even though I've got a horrible feeling that I already know the answer. I make my way over to her, making sure to stay a safe distance back. "Have you been in there before? Did you meet someone while you were inside?" I look at the little window in the middle of the door; I can see the brightly-lit abandoned ward on the other side, looking cold and empty. "Did you meet her?" I ask, looking back down at Ruth Brown. "Jennifer, or whatever her name is."

  I wait for some kind of response, but there's nothing. It's as if every scrap of energy left in her body is being directed toward one goal, and one goal only: she wants to get through this door and onto the abandoned ward.

  "You have to come back with me now," I say, staring down at her tired, weathered face. "I'm not angry at you for hurting me, but there's no way I'm ever going to open this door for you. There's nothing through there but..." I pause for a moment, remembering the night I walked through this door. "There's nothing that can help you," I continue. "There's nothing through there that can make things any better."

  "Are you sure about that?" whispers a voice nearby, and I turn to see Jennifer standing on the other side of the door, staring at me through the window.

  "What do you want with her?" I ask.

  "Me?" she replies, smiling. "Who says I want anything with her?"