“Penny for them?” she said, bringing him back to the moment and the feelings that had snuck up on him.
“Why don’t we stay another night? We could come for a walk on the moors, have a nice romantic meal, and then just chill a little.”
Alissa laughed, a silky sound that stroked down his nerves and filled him with love. “When I look out the window all I can hear is, Stay on the road—keep clear of the moors.’”
Mark laughed. What other woman would get his favorite film? An old one, for sure, but still the best. “Maybe we could find a pub called the Slaughtered Lamb?”
Alissa chuckled. “No, that would be too freaky.”
Green eyes opened wide, staring, as her mouth dropped open.
“Mark!” her voice was high pitched and cut through the joy like a knife through silk.
The world slowed as he turned his head back to the road.
The headlights barely penetrated the soft mist in front of them, but he clearly saw a woman standing there. A white dress fluttered around her thin frame. Her face seemed carved in granite.
Frozen in an eternal scream.
Mark yanked on the steering wheel and jerked the car to the left. He tensed, waiting for the crunch as steel hit flesh and broke bones—a sound he knew well—and a memory of war flashed into his mind. Broken flesh. Blood. A world of fear and pain.
Pulling himself from the nightmare of his past, he yanked harder on the wheel and trusted his reactions were good. The car turned instantly. The force pushed him into the seat but it shouldn’t have been quick enough to miss the woman. He tensed for the crunch but it never came, just a flutter of white whipped across the windscreen.
They left the road and tore across the grass. Like a turbo powered shopping trolley, they careered down the hill, out of control.
Trees loomed out of the black as the headlights and power went out. The car plunged into darkness. The engine had died but, nevertheless, they hurtled on down the hill. Mark pulled left and right, avoiding a sheep then a tree. Everything lurched out of the dark and was on them so soon. His right foot pressed hard on the brakes, but nothing happened. Stamping his foot down on the clutch, he pushed the gear lever into first. The car should have slowed considerably, had to slow, but it didn’t. Before he could do anything else, another tree loomed out of the darkness and engulfed them.
This time, the crunch was bone wrenching as they ground to a halt. He instinctively reached out to his left to steady Alissa, but was too late. They both flew forward until they hit their seatbelts.
Another crunch and breaking glass showered him as the car finally shuddered to a halt.
In the pitch black, Mark’s ears rang and his chest hurt. His training kicked in and he assessed the situation and his own injuries. Nothing but cuts and bruises. His neck was jarred and his knees had impacted with the steering column. They ached like hell, but the seat belt had saved him from worse injuries.
The car was stable for now, but how was Alissa? Leaves cut out the moon and he could only make out shapes. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he searched for her and his phone. The seat belt was in the way. He couldn’t reach the clasp. Fighting down terror, he methodically searched for the catch.
Alissa! The thought of her injured threatened to drive him to panic, but that wouldn’t help. Although his chest ached from the seatbelt strain, he managed to cough out, “Babe, are you okay?” So far, he couldn’t hear her moving but it could just be that the compression from the bang had affected his ears. Many a shell blast had given him a permanent ringing, but now they were almost screaming at him. Why was it so dark? Why had the lights gone out? He didn’t know but they had no time to worry about that now. They had to get out of the car.
At last, he managed to free the seat belt and tipped forward. Reaching for his phone, he pulled it from his pocket and shook it twice. The torch light lit up and he almost let out a wail of grief.
Alissa was looking at him. Her eyes were glassy. Not the glassy darkness of death. This was the shine of shock, of trauma. He had to act quickly.
“Hey, baby, how are you?” He spoke gently but as matter of factly as he could.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She was awake and aware. That was good. For a moment, the woman on the road came to mind, but he pushed the thought away. They had missed her, but it didn’t matter. Even if he had hit her, he could do nothing about it now. Deal with what you can. That was what his training had taught him. Don’t go looking for more trouble. Once he had gotten Alissa out of danger, he would search for the woman.
He checked Alissa for injuries and a groan nearly escaped him as panic threatened to overwhelm.
She was leaning back against the seat. Her face looked fine, just pale, but that wasn’t what scared him so.
A tree branch jutted out of her left shoulder. The gnarled and green wood had pierced straight through her light green top, through flesh, blood, and sinew, and into the car seat.
Think!
For a moment, he grasped the branch sticking out from her shoulder.
Alissa let out a groan of anguish and he pulled his hand away.
Blood was leaking from the wound, just a trickle. If he pulled the branch clear, he would be able to move her from the car but the wound would bleed much more quickly. If she had severed an artery, she would be dead before he could do anything to stop it.
First aid kit!
He sprang from the car and battled the branches of an oak tree. They crumbled easily with each strike. The old and weary tree could topple onto the car any second now. Alissa would be crushed. Each groan and creak of the limbs surrounding him forced a bead of sweat onto his forehead.
He pulled up the coordinates of where they were on his phone, then dialed for an ambulance as he moved around to the back of the car.
Mark popped the boot and immediately spotted the first aid kit strapped against the wheel arch.
“Emergency services, which service please?”
“Ambulance,” he said as he grabbed the kit. Alissa’s door was buried deep beneath unstable branches. He didn’t want to waste time digging her out or risk disturbing the hovering tree, so he went back to the driver’s side.
With the phone clamped between his neck and shoulder, he opened the kit and crawled back into the car.
What now!?
“Help me?” Alissa pleaded. On her cheeks, the glint of tears mocked his indecisiveness.
“I’m here, baby. You’ll be out of here any minute.”
“Ambulance, what’s your emergency?”
Mark explained as he packed around the wound with gauze.
“The ambulance is on the way. You need to leave her where she is and go back to the road to help guide the driver to the right spot,” the operator told him.
Mark recognized the tone, designed to keep him calm and busy. For a moment, he thought about it. But he couldn’t leave her. The tree groaned above him, how long would it hold? Would he get her out before it came crashing down?
Alissa’s breathing was ragged now. Panicked.
Hearing her in such pain tore out his heart.
“I can’t leave her and I have military training. Just get to these coordinates,” he said and dropped the phone back into his pocket.
“You have to get me out of here.” Alissa grabbed hold of his hand.
Her grip was weak, her fingers cold.
“I will, baby, but you must be patient.”
Leaves rustled overhead and a branch fell, bouncing off the top of the car. They were out of time. He needed to get her out of there, but he’d have to pull the branch from her shoulder to do so. The angle was wrong from the driver’s seat. If he did it from here, he would tear open her wound. If he did that, he doubted he’d be able to stop the bleeding in time.
She’d bleed out in his arms.
If he could get in through the passenger door, then it would be a cleaner jerk. The branch would come out at the same angle as it had entered her shoulder and he could staunch the fl
ow more easily. If he could get her from the car, he could possibly even tie off the artery.
“Just hold still a moment,” he said and pulled her fingers from his.
Panic gave her strength. Despite her small size, she clung on so desperately that he struggled to free his hand.
“I will just be a moment,” he whispered against her ear, then gently kissed her hair. The blonde tresses were no longer silky but wet with blood. Had she hurt her head?
He couldn’t worry about it now, so he left the car and fought his way to the front and through the fallen tree. A large branch was wedged against the door, and he kicked at it to break it free. The tree above them shuddered and rained down sticks and smaller branches. Something groaned and cracked, and still the door was wedged tight. He kicked at the branch with all his might, knowing he had a choice between time and force. Too much time and the tree might collapse on top of them, too much force and he might hasten that outcome. His foot hit the branch and it slid across the door. The tortured metal screamed but the branch fell away.
He pulled on her door, but the impact had bent the metal. His breathing was ragged, and the fear inside him fought like a wild horse for freedom but he reined it in. Feeling around the door, he found the dent and then kicked the panel to clear the frame.
Alissa let out a scream of pain.
Mark felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut, but he had to keep going. Grasping hold of the door, he pulled with all he had. For a moment, nothing happened and his muscles protested at the effort. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he worked to free the door.
With one last gargantuan effort, he hauled the door open as far as it would go.
Alissa’s eyes were drawn down, her mouth grimacing in pain. That was a good sign. If she could feel, then she hadn’t gone into shock yet and there was hope.
He fought around the door. Before he could lean into the car, a ripping sound dragged his gaze upward. A thick branch tore free from the trunk and fell down, and down. The massive limb smashed through the windscreen and slammed into Alissa’s face with a dull thunk.
As warm wet splashed his face, Mark screamed, certain he’d never be able to stop.
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The Haunting of RedRise House – Preview
October 31st 1750
RedRise House
Yorkshire Moors
England.
10 pm
Alice knew it would be tonight. She was eight now. Sometimes it seemed that she had waited for this day for more years than she could count. Every year, on this night, they came for someone and tonight it would be her. She knew this wasn’t logical. There were seven girls her age and it could be any one of them. Only, she knew it would be her. She felt it, and the fear was like a beast inside. Clawing to take control and to pull her down into its pit of dark despair. None of the other girls believed her tales. They said the missing ones had simply run away. Only there was no escape.
Alice knew, she had tried. She had been watching and one girl went missing this week every year. That had to be more than a coincidence. It had to be! Tonight, if she let them they would take her and she would never return.
The moon shone down through the thin curtains. Its silvery rays painted shadows across the walls. They were like monsters with long creepy fingers that pointed at her. Others were like the crone from the storybooks they were sometimes allowed to read. Bent and wizened and yet as powerful as the dark. She screwed her eyes tight to shut out the dancing figures created by the wind and the moon as it shone through the trees. Only, she dare not shut them for too long. If she fell asleep, she would lose and somehow she knew this was the battle she had to win.
Gradually the house grew silent. All the other children were asleep and she just had to wait for the hourly check and then she could make her move. In the darkness her heart beat in her throat and the blood rushed through her ears. How would she hear when they came if her head was filled with the sound of her own pulse?
The minutes passed so slowly and she started to get tired. Was Mary already asleep? Could she leave her? How could she have such a thought? Mary was just a year younger and if they could not take Alice then maybe they would take Mary.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. They approached quickly and confidently. It would be the last check of the night. The one to make sure that they were all asleep. The lantern would shine over her and she must make sure that she did not blink, did not move and yet what if she had mistimed this? What if she had slept and the last check had already gone. What if this time the footsteps were the man in the hood? The one who would take her away.
The thought was so frightening that she felt sick and her eyes burst open. She had to close them, had to lay still and yet she did not think she could.
The door opened and the lamp light swung into the room. Footsteps approached the first bed. It was two away from her and she tried to close her eyes. They didn’t want to shut but eventually she managed to force them closed. Only now she couldn’t breathe. She had to breathe slowly and quietly and yet she was gasping for each breath. Almost hyperventilating in her panic. The lamp light flared which meant it was raised above the first bed. The footsteps had stopped as Matron looked down on Jennifer. She would be asleep, at only six she was always tired and often asleep just as her head hit the pillow.
The light was moving, coming closer and she held her breath for a few seconds. The light was over Mary’s bed now and once more it was lifted. She crossed her fingers hoping that Mary would be asleep. That she wouldn’t move and risk the belt. The lamp was raised and she screwed her own eyes down tight and took another breath. In the silence it sounded like a gulp and she knew she had to calm down. If they suspected then maybe they would take her now and then it would all be over. Who would save Mary if she were already gone?
The lamp lowered and the footsteps moved across the hard concrete floor. Each one was like a slap, slap, slap and Alice had to screw her eyes tight to not jump at every sound. Slowly she let out a breath and relaxed her eyes and face. This had to look natural. Matron was hard to fool and if she was found awake then the least of her problems would be the belt. It had happened only five times in her four years at the home. Each time had left deep welts on her buttocks and legs and as matron approached some of the scars began to itch. It was as if they could sense the belt, sense the punishment she deserved for defying her betters and staying awake.
Breathe, slowly, calmly. The footsteps stopped at the side of her bed. Through her eyelids, she could sense the light as it rose above her. How she wanted to gasp or breathe. To pull the thin and stiff blanket over her head and hide beneath its perceived safety but she must not. Stay calm, stay still as a dormouse.
In her mind she could see Matron. Her thin lips drawn tight over sharp pointy teeth. Her dark eyes sunken into her sallow skin. Her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun that stretched the skin across her bones making it look as if it would tear if she ever dared to smile. She didn’t of course, she was always angry, always mean and yet after each disappearance she looked younger, more alive. Did she eat the girls?
Matron let out a breath and she almost jumped. The sound was coarse and phlegmy. Though she did not understand the consumption that was gradually killing the old woman, she sensed that her time was near. It made the old matron even more angry and prone to dish out punishment even when it wasn’t warranted. Yet, Alice knew she deserved it tonight. She had defied them and forced herself to stay awake. What would be the punishment for that, if they knew?
Alice almost shuddered at the thought but she clenched her fists beneath the covers and kept still. Soon she would have to take a breath and then it would be over. How she wished that the matron would move away. Would go look at one of the other nine beds in this room or move on down the corridor to one of the other rooms.
The woma
n seemed to hesitate too long and Alice was sure she had been caught. Any second now a hand would reach down and snatch her thin frame from the bed. Any second...
Matron coughed causing the lamp to shake in her hand and the light from it to bounce across her eyelids. Then she heard the slap, slap, slap as the footsteps moved away.
Slowly she let out a whistle of air and relaxed just a little. The footsteps were moving on, the lamp was fading.
Alice gripped tightly to her covers as Matron checked each bed and then she slap, slap, slapped back to the door and was gone. The footsteps faded down the corridor and went into another room. A yawn escaped Alice and she wondered how much longer she would be able to stay awake. They had worked extra hard these last two weeks. Scrubbing the massive house from top to bottom as well as working in the gardens and on the farm. There would be visitors tonight and so they had needed to prepare laundry and extra rooms. It was exhausting work and their rations had not been increased so they went to bed hungry each night and woke up weak for the following day’s work.
Alice heard Matron approaching the door again. It did not bother her this time, as she would simply walk past and then go up the stairs to her own quarters. Once she heard her door close she would be sure that it was almost time. Maybe she would just give it a little longer. Enough time for Matron to get into bed and fall asleep. Did she sleep? Maybe she sat there waiting for one of the girls to move. Maybe she sat at the top of the stairs looking down and just waiting?
Alice pushed that thought away and concentrated on her plan. She intended to wake Mary and then go down the stairs into the basement. She knew where there was a lamp and a flint kept in the kitchen, she would grab it on her way out. With that she would go to the basement where she had been told there was a tunnel that led out of the house and under the wall. If she could find it then they would escape and go somewhere nice. Maybe into the woods. They could live in a tree and hide from everyone who came near. It was a lovely dream and it filled her with hope. Just her and Mary safe and cocooned at the base of a tree. They would find mushrooms to eat and maybe catch rabbits and fish from the river. She had never caught a fish but how hard could it be?
DarkMan: Ghosts and Haunted Houses (The Spirit Guide Book 3) Page 12