After Darkness Falls 2 - 10 Tales of Terror - Volume Two

by Matt Drabble

  “Well?” she urged, after he hung up.

  “Holy shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “What?”

  “Someone pushed her down the stairs. She was out on the fire escape having a smoke and someone pushed her. She fell forwards about 10 feet or so onto jagged metal rusty steps. She’s on her way to the hospital. Apparently she didn’t see anyone but her legs are pretty messed up.”

  Becky shook her head and drove a little faster. She took the turnoff for Whitely Cove, which was the small coastal town where Jeanne’s summer place was. As she turned off the motorway, she noticed another car behind turn off with them. The car stayed a few lengths back but she was starting to wonder just how long it had been behind them. She took a couple of small road turns and saw that the car was still there. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  She was starting to wonder just how complicit Jeanne was in everything that was currently happening. The woman had taken her there in the first place and paid for the service, meaning that she was the only one that could cancel it - and then she had taken off.

  She checked the rear view mirror and saw the car still there. There was a sharp turn off coming up and she waited. She increased her speed, giving no indication that she was about to turn. At the last possible minute, she yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and the car lurched dangerously, threatening to tip over. The vehicle groaned in protest as the rusty suspension struggled to cope and the well-worn brake shoes squealed loudly. For a moment, she was sure that they were going to crash into a sturdy looking telegraph pole, ending a low day on an even lower note. But, just at the last minute, the car righted itself and the pole only gouged the paintwork out of the passenger door instead of coming through the windscreen.

  The car that had been following them shot past the turning and Becky immediately floored the damaged car which lurched forward. There was a small lane a little further down that was barely visible which led to Jeanne’s cottage. Becky knew that if she could get to the turning before their followers got down this road then they would miss the turnoff.

  She pushed the groaning car harder and ignored all of Pete’s questions and demands. She took the narrow lane at speed and ploughed forward, ignoring the bumpy lane, wanting to put distance between them and the following car before she was spotted.

  When she was sure that they were no longer in sight of the road, she pulled over and waited. Her luck held and nothing followed them down the lane. She drove the rest of the way slowly, not wanting to announce their presence to Jeanne.

  She pulled up a hundred yards or so from the cottage. It was in an isolated location and there were no neighbors nearby.

  “Let’s go,” she told Pete, dimly aware that she had effortlessly taken charge and he was following.

  They crept up to the cottage and her heart leapt a little when she saw a dim flickering light shining out into the rear garden. There was a thick tree line surrounding the property and Becky ducked into the cover, motioning for Pete to follow.

  She moved as quietly as she could manage through the undergrowth towards the house. She eased herself over a small decorative fence and into the garden. She could see that the flickering light looked now like a TV playing inside a room at the rear of the cottage.

  She crept up to the window as nimbly as she could and peered into the room beyond. She could make out Jeanne sitting on a sofa inside, staring blankly at the television and clutching a half-empty bottle of Gin.

  Becky couldn’t stand it any longer and banged hard on the window. She was rewarded when Jeanne almost fell off the sofa and turned to the window. Upon seeing Becky, her face drained of all color and Becky saw guilt written all over it.

  “Why don’t you explain yourself?” Becky snarled when they were all sitting in the lounge a few minutes later.

  “Look, I don’t know what you mean,” Jeanne started to bluster before the look in Becky’s eyes stopped her cold. “I’m sorry, okay? Really, I am.”

  Becky was glad that Pete had enough about him to stay silent; this really was between her and Jeanne. “Why did you take me there?”

  “I had to okay? I just had to. I was seeing this guy on the side, just a bit of fun really, just a bit of harmless fun.” Jeanne tried to sound light but the circumstances stole any levity. “Next thing I know, this old guy is about to put a bullet in me, only the weird thing was - at the last minute he clutches his chest and then just keels over. I ran for my life, not knowing what the hell was happening. The next thing was that my phone rings, I don’t know how they got my number but there’s some icy bitch on the other end of the line telling me that it’s my lucky day. Lucky day. Yeah right!”

  Becky didn’t interrupt as Jeanne was in a flow and she wanted the whole story. She had had a lifetime of listening to the woman as their relationship was so one-sided. As a result, she had become attuned to knowing when the woman was lying and when she wasn’t and right now she knew that she was telling the truth.

  “So this woman says if I help them get rid of the guy who dropped dead of a heart attack whilst trying to kill me that they’d give me a second chance.”

  “So you did,” Becky said rhetorically.

  “Damn right I did! Only that wasn’t all that they wanted; the other part of the deal was that I get them another client.”

  “Me.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just thought that Pete was never likely to do anything out of line so I figured that he might have to take a couple slaps or something if he ogled some skirt but that would be about it,” Jeanne said slumping back into the sofa.

  This time Becky knew instantly that Jeanne was lying. “Bullshit!” she snapped. “This only ends one way, doesn’t it? They keep on trying to find an excuse, any excuse, to put a bullet in the guy.”

  Jeanne looked like she was about to throw up. “I don’t know that for sure,” she mumbled.

  “The hell you don’t,” Becky retorted with a smile, one without a trace of humor.

  “What do you want me to say? You want to hear that she’s a cold hearted bitch who enjoys torturing men before killing them? Fine; that’s what she is. She won’t stop until he’s dead. Maybe some guy screwed her over, maybe she watched her father abuse her mother, or maybe she’s just fucking nuts, I don’t know and I don’t care. I just wanted to get out of her sights and if that meant that lover boy here ended up in them, then so be it,” Jeanne pouted, trying to sound hard.

  “Now you’re going to come with us and tell the police everything,” Pete interjected, speaking for the first time.

  “The hell I am,” Jeanne snorted.

  “The hell you are,” Becky responded firmly.

  Jeanne stood up quickly, too quickly as it turned out as she staggered sideways and Becky grabbed for her. Jeanne pushed the hands away and bolted for the patio doors, her panic lending her extra strength as she shoved the rising Pete hard and he fell backwards and off the side of the sofa.

  A lifetime of being put upon and put down by her so-called friend fuelled Becky’s anger. Anger and resentment boiled through her veins and she screamed as she grabbed Jeanne by her expensive shirt collar. Jeanne tried to claw her eyes but it only infuriated Becky further and they twirled a clumsy waltz around the room. Their momentum swung their entwined bodies until Becky pushed out with every ounce of bitter bile that she felt. Jeanne staggered backwards, her arms cartwheeling through the air, desperately looking for balance but finding none. Becky could see the outcome a split second before it happened but was powerless to stop it. Jeanne hit the patio doors hard and they shattered under her weight as she passed through them. Becky couldn’t turn away as a jagged shard of glass embedded itself in Jeanne’s throat and she fell into the garden spouting a red geyser from her torn flesh.

  Becky ran to her as Jeanne clawed helplessly trying to stop the flow, gagging and choking on her own blood.

  “Oh shit,” Pete exclaimed gingerly as he joined her standing over the body. “What t
he hell do we do now?”

  Becky tried to use her newfound confidence to think clearly while Pete was busy panicking. “Look, I’ve known that woman for almost 20 years. I’ll bet that she’s got some kind of information or file or something on all of this. If there was one thing that she was always good at, it was looking after herself.”

  They searched the cottage for the better part of an hour. Eventually, Becky found a small memory flash drive secreted in a small secret pouch in Jeanne’s handbag. A further search of the cottage didn’t turn up anything to read the drive on but she would bet her life, and she probably was, that the small plastic stick could save them.

  “What about her?” Pete asked, pointing but not looking towards Jeanne lying in a large pool of crusting blood.

  “She got what she deserved,” Becky said coldly.

  “Maybe, but it’s still a dead body and we’re about to leave a crime scene,” Pete countered.

  They spent a further 20 minutes wiping down any surface that they remembered touching or might have touched. She had a further flash of inspiration and took Jeanne’s coat from the hallway closet and a natty looking hat from a hook next to it.

  “Just in case anyone sees us leave,” she explained to Pete’s puzzled expression. “In the dark they’ll think it’s Jeanne. It’ll buy us some time at least.”

  Pete nodded in agreement and she found that she wasn’t all that bothered about his opinion after all. When push had come to shove, quite literally in fact, he hadn’t actually been of much use. It dawned on her that she had spent so much time being grateful that he was with her that she hadn’t stopped to wonder if he actually deserved her at all. She thought that, when all this was over, she might look to upgrade him after all.

  She left the house first and quickly crossed the front lawn. Pete walked briskly beside her, trying to keep up. She kept the coat collar up and the hat pushed down to obscure her features. She had just reached the lane at the end of the garden when she felt two small punches in her chest. She lifted a hand to touch the impact zone and found that it came away red. She tried to breathe but couldn’t find any air and sank to the ground. She heard two more quiet pops and then Pete collapsed to the floor next to her.

  “You always cheat, don’t you?” a familiar voice rang out of the darkness.

  Becky tried to lift her head as the woman emerged from the darkness and she recognised the enviable shapely figure of Celestine strut across the lane.

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you? And with poor little Becky’s best friend as well!” Celestine laughed. “How predictable, how utterly predictable.”

  Becky tried to speak but there was no air in her lungs. She tried to tell Celestine that it was her under Jeanne’s coat and hat and that Pete hadn’t cheated with her friend. But Celestine apparently listed being an expert shot amongst her other talents and the world faded slowly away as she died on the cold wet ground.

  TALE 9.

  “OVERDUE”

  Ruby Ackley looked up to the heavens as the phone rang and Molly woke from her all too brief sleep and started to cry. She picked her baby up and placed the child in the crook of her arm, gently swaying back and forth to try and comfort her daughter.

  “Yes?” she hissed as she answered the phone.

  “Mrs. Ackley?” came a woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jemima Kingsmore from Foxworth Library, Mrs. Ackley. I’m calling about a book that you have out on loan from us.”

  “Do you know what time it is?” Ruby whispered as angrily as she dared, as Molly started to settle.

  “It’s a little after 5:57pm, Mrs. Ackley,” the woman replied officiously. “But I’m afraid that this matter is of some importance.”

  “It’s a library book, for Christ’s sake! How important exactly can it be?”

  “Well, I’m afraid that it is now eight days overdue and there are fines incurred as I’m sure that you well know.”

  “Fines? How much is that?”

  “Well, we do have to impose quite strict guidelines for the benefit of all of our members, Mrs. Ackley.”

  “What is it by now, then? A pound? Two?”

  “A little more I’m afraid.”

  “Look, whatever it is I don’t really care right now. I’m trying to get my daughter to sleep and the dinner on before my husband gets home. I’ll have a look for it tomorrow.” With that, Ruby resisted the urge to slam the handset back into the cradle with some difficulty.

  She carried Molly back to bed and laid her down gently again. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the pink Tigger nightlight. Molly was a gentle soul and rarely any trouble as long as her sleep patterns weren’t disturbed.

  She switched on the baby monitor and tiptoed out of the room as quietly as she could manage. She went to head downstairs but the first stair at the top creaked as it always did and she froze, holding her breath as she waited to see if Molly had heard it. She let out a sigh of relief as Molly didn’t wake and headed down to the kitchen.

  Ruby was 32 and recently married to Gordon. She was an attractive woman, still fighting hard to shed the last of the Molly weight but she was winning the war. He was a stable man and a far cry from the sort that she used to be attracted to but there had come a time when she realised that she was no longer 19. He was a tax accountant with a good job with the sort of salary and benefits that meant that they could afford their new home. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Excitement or Good Looks but he was a decent man who treated her well and she had grown fond of him, in a way. She could feel the old onset of itchy feet despite her good fortune and she had deliberately gotten pregnant. Her thoughts were that now she was trapped in the marriage for the time being in order to prevent herself from doing anything stupid. She hoped that having little Molly would settle her into domestic life and if push came to shove then she knew that Gordon would have to take financial care of her and the baby; it was a strategic move.

  The nearest town was Foxworth and that was some five miles away. Gordon was always banging on about the local history of the small town being fascinating, but she had never wanted to find out and always tuned out his stories.

  Their home was a converted old water mill out in the middle of nowhere and it was a castle compared to anywhere that she had ever lived, or could have ever managed to on her own. They had both fallen in love with its rustic charms and completely ignored its impracticalities.. Their home was beautiful but utterly deserted as far as neighbors were concerned and they were starting to worry about the possibility of flooding as the winter rain showed no signs of abating.

  Gordon professed a fondness for the long commute but she knew him well enough to know that he was loathe to ever admit that he had made a mistake and would suffer the long drive and longer train journey before he did so.

  Her life was different now from the drunken party nights that had once filled her with empty promises. Most of her friends had fallen away as she left them behind and they begrudged her new life, deeming that she now thought herself better than them. It was a harsh truth but a truth nevertheless. Whilst they were still squeezing themselves into Lycra dresses two sizes too small for them, she was playing house with a loving husband and baby. She shuddered when she saw them on rare occasions and crossed the street whenever she could. Her expensive outfits were now the equivalent of several months’ worth of their wages and she did not want to be dragged back down into the gutter again. She had hoped that her wild days were behind her but when she had attended one of Gordon’s work parties, she had been struck by some of the men. These guys were on a par with Gordon financially but head and shoulders above him in the looks department and she was starting to feel short changed every time that she looked at her husband. It would appear that nice successful men didn’t actually have to be pudgy and balding.

  She already had her eye on Stephen Ferris who was recently divorced and a rung higher on the ladder than Gordon. Stephen was an attractive man who
played rugby every weekend, maintaining an athletic broad-shouldered build. He was definitely a man worth considering for an upgrade. She had arranged a few fun afternoons with him so far to take him out for a test drive so to speak. Their rendezvous were turning increasingly romantic on his part and she knew that it was only a matter of time before they were discovered or he proposed. She was going to have to decide whether or not to dump Gordon for Stephen but secretly she was still wondering if Stephen was the best that she could do.

  She opened the fridge and took out an armful of ingredients. She had taken a night class at the local college, more as a way of doing something than out of any great interest but she had surprised herself with an aptitude for cooking. She now shunned the sort of processed garbage that she had once lived on and only shopped organically.

  The phone rang again and she snatched the handset quickly out of her pocket. “Hello?” she answered as she started to chop.

  “Mrs. Ackley, this is Jemima Kingsmore from Foxworth Library. I was wondering if you’d found the book yet?”

  Ruby’s forehead crinkled in anger. “Mrs. Kingsmore, I’ve already told you that I’d look for the book tomorrow and I’d thank you not to call again.” She punched the red button on the phone hard feeling that the color matched her mood. She couldn’t believe the nerve of the old woman and tried hard to think what book she might be talking about. The library in the small town was woefully under stocked and she couldn’t imagine taking a book out instead of downloading one.

  She was trying to remember when the phone rang again. “What?” she snapped angrily.

  “The book in question is The Shelduck: A Study in Behavioral Ecology, published in 1983,” Jemima Kingsmore said politely.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, lady? Are you deaf or something?” Ruby barked, hating the coarseness in her voice that came from a world away that she had worked so hard to leave behind.

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “And I told you that I’d look for it tomorrow,” Ruby retorted, slamming the chopping knife down hard on the table.