Damned

by Lynda O'Rourke

  Thinking he was talking about his past, I said, “I can get why you couldn’t show me the rest… I wouldn’t want to keep seeing someone I loved shut away into a coffin… knowing that they were gonna die… like that…”

  “I wasn’t talking about my past,” snapped Quint. “I was talking about yours!” He laughed.

  Taken aback, I said, “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” laughed Quint.

  “Tell me! I want to know,” I urged, searching my memories for something, but the furthest I could go was the day the coffins had been opened and everything before and after that was all mixed up.

  “Forget I even said it,” spat Quint.

  “I’ve forgotten too much already!” I snapped. “What painful memories do I have?”

  “Nothing for you to feel bad about, Ben,” answered Quint, his voice a little softer. “You ever felt jealous?”

  Feeling frustrated, I shook my head and replied, “How the fuck would I know… I can’t remember shit, can I?”

  Quint burst out laughing and said, “Of course you can’t. Well, I get jealous. My life was ruined, and…” he broke off for a few moments and then continued. “And sometimes I get these bad feelings… these awful, fucking envious feelings that just seem to turn me insane with rage. Happy, smiling faces that curdle my mind with spiteful thoughts.”

  Quint started to pace me back and forth again along the border of fog. It seemed that replaying his death and the death of the blonde lady had stirred up something inside of him.

  “Tell me, Ben,” demanded Quint. “Why should you have the loving family and the girl? Why you? What does Doctor Fletcher have that I don’t? I haven’t had my happy ending… so I’m not sure if I can stomach seeing you get yours! I don’t think you understand… the hate… the bitterness that eats me up every fucking day! I feel disgusted – insulted – every time I feel just a tiny glimmer of happiness in you. I wanted you to suffer – I didn’t just need your body – I needed you to feel my pain – my hatred – my loss. That’s why you can’t remember your parents… or the life you led before me… I killed your parents using your hands. And when I was done… when I’d calmed down… I blocked that memory from you. You suffered for a while… I didn’t let you get away without feeling some of the pain but then… I felt something. Although I had vented some of my anger, and at the time it felt good, afterwards, I realised that it made me feel a whole lot worse… more pain piled on top of the grief I felt at losing the person I loved – still love.”

  I stood silent for a few moments. I was lost for words and strangely felt numb. I had wanted so long to remember my past but now my feelings felt empty. Why didn’t I feel anything? Surely I should feel distraught… devastated? I had killed my parents. Well, Quint had. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I want to remember… I want to see my parents… I…”

  “No!” shouted Quint. “Like I said, some things are better hidden – you don’t feel any loss or any emotions because you can’t even remember what they looked like… whether they were good parents… how much you loved them. Stay ignorant of all that and you’ll be a better, stronger person for it. What you don’t remember can’t hurt you.”

  I was confused at the way I felt. Speaking up, I asked, “I’ve spent so long hating you – loathing you. I’ve wished myself dead so many times because of you, Quint. So why aren’t I angry at you for killing my parents?”

  “Simple,” answered Quint. “Because I feel nothing. My emotions are cold and I feel no remorse for killing Mummy and Daddy.” He laughed.

  I didn’t buy it. He did feel. He had spoken of love, envy, bitterness. They were all feelings. And that laugh – that wasn’t him. We had been stuck together for so long that I knew his ways – I knew he was lying. But what worried me was that his love for the blonde-haired lady seemed to fuel him on with hatred and jealousy and if he could kill my parents because he was envious, did that mean he would do the same with Kassidy? Would he kill her out of spite if she were to show me any kind of affection – interest? The whole idea of it had me on edge and I turned away from the thick bank of fog and stared into the dark pit of the valley.

  I had lost sight of Inspector Cropper. Some way off in the dark night I could hear his voice still shouting orders into his police radio. I wondered how much longer it would be before his colleagues would show up. But more importantly, how much longer would I have to wait on this side of the fog and the fence before I could get in and see Kassidy?

  Quint’s voice spoke in response to my thoughts.

  “Time to head into the fog, Ben,” he said. “I won’t cloud your head but I will do all the moving. Don’t try and fight against me. That wouldn’t be good – not in the fog. Just remember… I want us to get through this – past the Cleaners in one piece.”

  I looked back into the fog, and although I’d had dealings with the Cleaners many times, it still didn’t make me feel any easier about entering their domain. It was quite clear that their loyalty was with Doctor Middleton, for now at least, and although Quint had some control over them and they couldn’t harm him, it was me who was at risk – my body and what was left of me on the inside.

  As I felt myself step into the fog, I realised I was at the mercy of Quint, and for once would have to fully trust his decisions and each movement he made for me. I felt quite hopeless having the use of my limbs taken away from me – the loss of control in a dangerous situation. But if I wanted to get to Kassidy, then I would have to put up with it.

  It was still inside the fog. Gone was the rain and wind. All outside sounds were muffled away by the enveloping walls of mist that now surrounded me. Quint moved slowly. The fog moved slowly. Its thick waves churned and swirled about as if in slow motion. It seemed as if Quint and I were the only ones here but I knew that wasn’t the case. I could feel eyes on me. I knew I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I wanted to turn around – I wanted to watch my back. But Quint was on a mission. His determination to reach the gate was the only direction he was interested in going. I carried on walking like a dog on a lead, just how Quint had described my existence to him. Only this time I was willing.

  The slow, controlled footsteps Quint had me take seemed to go on forever, and keeping my voice to nothing more than a whisper, I asked, “Are you sure we’re heading in the right direction?” I peered through the fog but all I could see was a thick blanket of mist in all directions.

  “Be quiet,” ordered Quint, his voice rang through my head. “Keep silent and then maybe the Cleaners will leave you alone. Their interests lie with the volunteers – let’s keep it that way. As far as they’re aware, we’re here to take back the volunteers to Middleton – not to keep them for ourselves.”

  With no free will over what movements or direction my legs made, Quint continued through the fog. But the further we went, the thicker and darker it became. The silence I had first experienced when entering the fog was changing. It was like our very presence was causing a disturbance within the confines of the Cleaners’ domain. The slow, floating wisps became more erratic as we ventured further inside. They whipped about like angry tails slashing left to right, up and down. And then the screams came. Haunted, tormented cries filled my ears and I shuddered as cold breath seemed to breathe right down my neck. I could feel myself stiffen. I wanted to stop. I wanted to get out of this prison that the Cleaners dragged everywhere they went. The dead were crying – shrieking. They were trapped – unable to move on. Their voices filtered through and penetrated the fog like the very air I breathed was stained with their deaths. My eyes darted to the left. Something had brushed past me. I had felt it touch the lower half of my leg. But all I could see was the endless veil of fog breathing in and out. I felt myself jump as a cold hand reached out from nowhere, gripped my wrist, and then fell away as if the fog had swallowed it back up.

  “Help me…!” cried a figure, reaching out for me from the right. It seemed to stretch its wiry body out from the grip of the
fog snatching at the air, scrambling its limbs as if sinking in quicksand. Its face was female, yet it was so distorted and transparent, it didn’t look real. But it was. More smoky-looking figures appeared. Some sprang out from nowhere – others crawled their misshapen bodies along the floor – some without legs lay on their backs – arms outstretched and stared up at me with their tortured gazes. Ghostly fingers prodded and pulled at me, and although it unnerved me – had my heart racing – I knew they couldn’t hurt me. I stared ahead, avoiding these poor victims and concentrated on where Quint was taking me. After all, I knew there was worse inside the fog and as I continued forward I hoped – no, prayed, that I wouldn’t come across the Cleaners.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Kassidy

  As the others left the kitchen and headed for the door, I crouched down beside Sylvia, snatching her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me.

  “You might have fooled the others,” I whispered, looking over at the door to make sure I was out of earshot, “but you haven’t pulled the wool over my eyes. Where’s the knife, Sylvia?”

  She rocked back and forth, knees tightly held up to her chest. Her wild stare pinned straight at me. The handcuffs clanked as her wrists slipped up and down against the pipe.

  “Listen to me!” I snapped, looking back toward the door, hoping one of the others wouldn’t come back in. I knew I probably only had a few moments before Raven or Max would realise I wasn’t with them and come back to the kitchen looking for me. “I want that knife! Stop with all this crazy shit! I don’t think you’re as mad as you make out. Where have you put it?” I snatched at her wrists and pulled down hard on the handcuffs, thinking they would come loose. They didn’t. I yanked again. I let my hands drop away. The cuffs were locked tight.

  Sylvia started to laugh. She opened her crusty lips and snarled, “You can’t have it… I won’t let you… you can’t kill him…”

  Feeling a little taken aback, not just because of what she had said but because it was probably the first normal sentence she had strung together, I crouched down closer to her and whispered, “Can’t kill who? Who are you talking about?”

  Sylvia shook her head and started mumbling under her breath.

  “Tell me!” I ordered. “Who can’t I kill?”

  The kitchen was suddenly filled with the noise of Sylvia’s handcuffs banging on the metal pipe. She slammed her wrists back and forth making as much noise as she could. Fearful it would alert the others and make then come running in to see what was happening, I stood up and stepped away. My eyes darted from the door, to Sylvia, and then back to the door again. I couldn’t hear anyone coming. They must be outside. Taking one last opportunity, I said, “If you tell me who I can’t kill, then I promise I won’t kill them.” It was a different tactic but it might just work. It might just fool Sylvia into giving me a straight answer.

  She stopped the clanging and looked up at me. I could see her marbled-bloodied eyes checking me out, piercing through my head and trying to decide if she could trust me. Sylvia looked confused. Then tears filled up her eyes and they trickled slowly down her face. Gasping between each sob, she muttered, “Don’t kill Jude… he’s my friend… he helped me.”

  I felt my eyes stretch wide. My heart seemed to skip a beat. I scratched my head and asked, “Why do you think he’s a friend… how long has Jude been your friend?” I suddenly had so much to ask, but before I could say anything else and before Sylvia had a chance to answer me, Max strolled into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” asked Max. “I thought you were behind us. Aren’t you coming?” His eyes fell on Sylvia and as they did, she started rocking back and forth. She sprang up onto her feet. The handcuffs shot up the pipe. With her hair stuck out in all directions, she started to hiss and then wail.

  Max reached out and took hold of my hand, pulling me away from Sylvia. “Come on, Kassidy, I think we should go.”

  As I started to walk away, I looked back over my shoulder at Sylvia and wondered if I would get another chance to talk to her alone. I believed all the crazy stuff was just an act – it had to be. She’d started talking to me and then Max came in and the mad act started all over again. I needed to find out more about Jude. Was he really a friend of hers or did she just regard him as that because it was Jude who had taken her out from the police station and sat in the back of the van with her? Was she insane and just reading the whole Jude-friendship completely wrong? But what if she wasn’t? What did it mean if Jude truly was her friend? Why would he have kept such a thing secret from us? And how did he know Sylvia? It seemed to be too much of a coincidence that she and Jude had both been volunteers for Cruor Pharma at different times.

  As I started to follow Max outside to where Jude and Raven waited, I stopped and said, “Wait. We should take Sylvia with us.”

  Max spun around, eyes wide and asked, “Why? We’re safer with her locked up.”

  I shook my head and walked back into the kitchen. “Ask Jude for the key,” I called over my shoulder.

  With my hands on my hips, I stopped just in front of Sylvia, we stared at each other in silence. Her eyes seemed focused – alert. Not dreary or spaced out. I leaned in closer and whispered, “We have a lot to talk about, Sylvia. When I get a chance, you and me are gonna have a chat and I don’t want any more of your bullshit crazy act. Do you hear me? People are gonna die if you don’t start talking…” I stepped away. The sound of a door slamming shut quietened me. I didn’t want anyone from our group to know about my plan to get information out of Sylvia. After all, I no longer knew who could be trusted.

  Jude appeared at the kitchen doorway, his hair ruffled up by the wind. Running his fingers through it to smooth it out, he asked, “What’s going on, why do we need to take Sylvia with us? She’s fine here. She’s locked up… see!” Jude held up the key for the handcuffs and swung it about. “You don’t need to stress about her, Kassidy. She can’t get out.”

  Not wanting to drag up last night’s adventures again with him, I shrugged and said, “It’s not because of that… it’s because I think we should all stay together. And anyway, Sylvia is a part of all this shit, shouldn’t she be with us? Doesn’t she deserve to be present when we decide what we are going to do? After all, whatever decisions we make affects her too.”

  Jude sighed. “Fair enough… but I don’t think Sylvia has the slightest clue as to what’s going on. I mean… look at her. Deranged is an understatement!” He pointed at Sylvia and shook his head slowly.

  I followed his gaze to find Sylvia now hunched forward, dribble running down her chin. The mad act was back on, yet why she had to pretend in front of Jude if he was her friend, I didn’t know. And Jude certainly wasn’t giving anything away either… no hint whatsoever that he had some secret friendship with Sylvia. I watched as he released one handcuff so Sylvia was no longer attached to the pipe. Jude replaced it back onto her wrist and started to lead her out of the kitchen. She shuffled behind him like a corpse just been brought back to life, groaning under her breath.

  Quickly checking the area where she had sat, there was no sign of the knife. Where had she put it? I didn’t have time to hunt around on my hands and knees looking for the knife, so I headed for the door. Doctor Langstone was my next hurdle and I could already feel my stomach churning from the thought of having to see him again. I felt sick from hunger and sick with fear of not knowing what was going to happen next. What was Langstone’s plan? I stepped out into the wind, unsure of where my life was going and where it would all end.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Kassidy

  The wind was relentless as we walked across the grounds toward the ruin. It slammed into me from the right, nearly having me over more than once. Our feet crunched over the wet gravel and the dogs started to howl and bark.

  As I tried to hold my hair down, my eyes took in what the daylight now revealed. Not that it was much. The sky was overflowing with large, grey clouds, threatening more rain. It gave the appearance
of early evening instead of daytime. The surrounding grounds of the ruin spoke of isolation. A loneliness that scared me – segregated from the rest of society. I stared at the burnt trees, the forlorn state of the ruin, and felt a heavy depression push down on me. The very atmosphere here was tainted – polluted with misery and death. Anyone who entered these grounds would be trapped – confined to an existence of malicious hatred. I shuddered. I felt it all. Felt the pain and hell that had gone on here.

  I stopped and looked back at the uneven lane that disappeared into the scorched trees and led back to the iron gates we had entered through the night before. I stood and stared. The wind battered me. I wanted to go. I wanted to run. This place sucked the life out of everything and I could feel it happening to me. It dragged upon my limbs – my mind – invisible hands pulling and yanking me down into a slump. But I couldn’t leave. Those masked hands wouldn’t let me.

  As if able to read my mind, Max, who now stood behind me, said, “You can’t leave, Kassidy. This place is surrounded – you saw the Cleaners last night. They’re waiting for us. Probably hoping that Langstone will weaken enough so they can get in. We’re better off this side of the wall then out there.”

  I gazed at Max for a moment. His long hair whipped across his face. His ripped T-shirt flapped about him in the wind. My eyes fell upon the black veins running up his arm. I wondered if he’d heard voices in his head or whether he had struggled with violent thoughts like I had. I hadn’t seen any such behaviour from him but maybe he had kept it quiet. Not wanting the rest of us to be concerned for our safety like they had pointed out about me.

  I took a step closer to him. “Max, do you feel VA20 moving in you? Has anything strange happened?”

  He looked taken aback by my question. “I’ve felt it… but that’s all.” He looked over his shoulder at Jude, Sylvia, and Raven and said, “Don’t get too close to any of them… I think Raven is turning weird… I mean, I know she is weird but she’s even weirder now.”