The Dark Corners Box Set

by Robert Scott-Norton

  No signal.

  He faltered.

  “Check your phones. If you’ve got a signal, let me know.” Then he continued running back down the stairs. It was either the spirits in the building or the walls of this place. Ravenmeols had been built as tough as a prison.

  Seth found himself on the ground floor corridor and raced for the main entrance. He was sure he’d seen a fire axe down there. The harried footsteps of his companions kept up with him and as he broke into the open space of the main entrance he aimed for the main doors.

  Locked.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a key?” he asked Johnny who’d appeared at his shoulder.

  The man’s voice came back hurried. “No. Only the way we came in.”

  “Of course,” Seth said then shifted to the reception office. He squinted through the window but couldn’t see the shape he’d thought he’d seen previously.

  “What is it?” Judy asked.

  “Could have sworn there was an axe in there,” he complained, half to himself, then to Johnny, “Have you seen an axe anywhere else?”

  Johnny shook his head. “No.”

  “Then are there any tools? Perhaps the builders have left some?”

  “It’s possible.” He put a hand to his head where an ominous shadow had appeared. He was going to have a painful mark there. How hard had he hit his head?

  “Do you remember where?” Seth urged.

  Johnny shook his head again and sat back on the steps.

  “We can’t sit around,” Judy said. “There are people trapped up there. We need to get them out.” And she made as if to leave and return to the Correction Floor. Seth reached for her and stopped her.

  “You’re not thinking of going back up there alone?”

  “If you won't help.”

  “I am helping. But whatever has trapped them upstairs is stronger than either of us. We won't be any good if we get caught.”

  From her expression it was clear she was torn. Seth had no doubt she wanted to help these people but in the short time he’d known her, he’d got her to trust him. His words mattered.

  “So, what do you suggest?” she asked.

  “I’ve a friend who can help. We need to get in touch with him but I’ve no signal.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Johnny?” Seth asked.

  “What?”

  “Phone signal?”

  He pulled his phone out and checked the display. “No.”

  “We need to get outside then,” Seth said. He went to try the main doors in the lobby but they were sealed shut. “I don’t suppose you’ve a key for these.”

  “No. Only the way we came in.”

  Seth stood before the dazed man. “OK then, give me the keys. I’ll go.”

  Johnny blinked.

  “The keys,” Seth said, raising his voice. “Now!”

  Something twigged, and Johnny stood and dug into his pocket, pulling out a small set of keys. He handed them over then slumped back down on the step.

  “I won’t be long,” Seth said to Judy. “Keep an eye on him.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she responded.

  “He needs someone to watch over him.”

  “He’s not going anywhere.”

  OK. Not worth the hassle and they didn’t have the time. There were still people trapped upstairs.

  “Come on,” he said and ran to the back of the hospital and the door they’d first entered through.

  15

  The traffic was almost non-existent. The dash clock said it was 11:35, and the roads were clear of most cars. Malc had carried Joe back to his bed, checked in on Georgia then left a note for her on the fridge in case she woke up. He didn’t think it a good idea to tell her the whole truth so settled on a message that one of his parishioners was having a crisis and needed to see him. He’d be back in time before she even saw the post-it note.

  Ravenmeols was half an hour away on the other side of Southport but if he put his foot down he reckoned he could be there in twenty minutes. He’d just have to slow down at the usual police hotspots. Usually, the dog collar was enough to get out of a ticket but he’d got changed into a hoodie and jeans and left the dog collar at home.

  The more he reflected on what Joe had said about things unravelling, the more Malc thought he’d made a mistake leaving the house so late. The unravelling wasn’t even a real thing, just a narrative shared over a pint when the old gang had gotten together. None of them believed such a thing was possible. But Joe had a habit of being right about things, mainly without him even realising. He’d always been a quiet boy, often staying on the sidelines whilst his friends would play games. It’s not that they weren’t willing to include him, and sometimes he did play with them, but Malc got the sense that he was doing it to please the other boys more than for the fun of it himself. Over dinner one evening last year, Georgia had broached the subject of whether Joe might be on the autistic spectrum. In most regards, he was a capable happy child but the prospect of visiting doctors and possibly setting off a sense within Joe that something was different with him, seemed pointless.

  Georgia didn’t notice the other stuff though.

  The times when he’d peer out of the window minutes before the doorbell rang. Or when they played Junior Scrabble and he always picked out just the right letters. He’d only ever done one sleepover at one of his friend’s houses but had stayed awake all night, sitting at the end of a campbed waiting for morning. His friend’s parents had later discovered signs that a burglar had tried to break in through the patio doors but the CCTV showed he’d been scared off by Joe wandering downstairs at just the right moment to switch on the light to get a drink.

  And then there was the door back at the vicarage. Joe had been the first to point out the faint lines on the wall in the lounge and asked why they were growing.

  Malc had learnt to trust Joe’s instincts better than his own. Seth was in trouble and Malc would help him.

  His phone rang from the glove box, where he always stashed it before any journey, and he slowed in an attempt to reach it without crashing.

  Damn, he shouldn’t have tucked it away. It could be the reply to the message he’d left. Or it could be Seth.

  He stretched and thumbed the catch on the glove box, reaching in, his fingers brushed the edge of the phone and drove it further back out of reach. He glanced up and straightened the wheel; he had a few hundred yards to the next roundabout. Taking his eyes off the road, he stretched further and pulled the phone out triumphantly, and barely dodged a taxi speeding the opposite way.

  Where the hell had that come from?

  He slowed and pulled over, realising he should have done that in the first place. His heart was beating hard and his stomach coiled. That had been a little too close.

  The phone quit ringing. A quick swipe through the call history revealed nothing. There was nothing in there to suggest someone had tried to call him.

  Frowning, he left the phone on the passenger seat within easy reach should it ring again, and set off for Ravenmeols, the incident with the phone making him more determined to get there quickly. He sped through Southport, around the Marine Lake and onto the coastal road. Marshland sat on his right and to his left, the black of the Irish Sea. The tide was far back now and even if it wasn’t, it rarely came up as far as the road itself—the council had been investing in better tidal defences for years.

  He reckoned he’d be there within fifteen minutes if he had no more incidents.

  Sensing something out of the corner of his view, he checked his rear-view mirror certain that it couldn’t be another car.

  There was a man resting on the back seat.

  Or rather, a shadow of a man. Red eyes blazed from the ill-defined head.

  Malc misjudged the twist in the road and his nearside tyre clipped the curb. In a futile struggle to readjust the vehicle's course, his foot slipped on the accelerator and the car mounted the curb, bounced over the pavement, and soared into
the boggy marshland.

  The airbag failed and Malc’s skull smashed the centre of the steering wheel before he passed out.

  16

  “It won’t open,” Seth said. He turned the key again and whilst it seemed to move freely enough, and there was the distinct click of a lock, the door remained steadfast.

  “Let me try.” Judy stepped up and fiddled for a couple of minutes. Her exasperated sighs mirrored how Seth was feeling. “Is it broken?”

  Seth thought how the black cloud entity in the Delinquents' Corridor had been able to seal the door. “They don’t want us to leave,” he said finally, and held his torch low so it lit both their faces. She was petrified. Her face was motionless like a deer’s sensing its hunter was near.

  “When you say ‘they’, you mean the shadow people we met in the morgue?”

  “There’s more than one type of entity at work here. This place is stiff with energy. The blackness in the Delinquents' Corridor was just another kind. Something that's been left to smolder within the hospital.”

  “It's like the entities are all acting collectively. Like there’s a plan.”

  He shook his head. “It's not that simple.”

  “But, during the human pendulum, you challenged the spirits about Adherents, and that’s what the Ouija board said. That we were Children of the Adherents. The doors opened then.”

  She was good. The Correction Floor vigil had been sobering and the reaction to his question about the Adherents was the most pressing thing on his mind. The doors had indeed opened in response to that question. Was it a coincidence? Seth didn't believe in coincidences. As far as he was concerned, those opening doors only confirmed that the energies in this building were connected with the Adherents in some form. Everything was snarled up in a tangle of knots.

  Seth steeled himself. He didn't want to talk about this with Judy but he was running out of candidates to help him and it only felt right she was told what was going on here—why this place was so important. A thick silence filled the space between them as he considered how much of the history he should disclose to her.

  “There was a group calling themselves Adherents operating out of the hospital shortly before it was closed,” he said.

  “What kind of group?”

  “A religious group.”

  “Like a cult?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “You know more than most. You knew at least to ask.”

  “I was paid to come here,” Seth replied. “I needed to do my research. The cult was founded by a man called Adam Cowl. Total madman. He’d have been right at home here. The Adherents of the Fourth was his life. He kept the group going.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He pissed the wrong person off. He was found murdered in his house a century ago.” He brought his hand to his forehead. “Idiot. I’m a bloody idiot.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He died in 1918. Halloween 1918.” He let his words sink in.

  “But that would mean—”

  “Tonight is the one hundredth anniversary of his death.”

  His chest felt tight and he shivered, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

  “The board’s message said we were Children of the Adherents. What does that mean? Like we belong to them?”

  Seth had been speculating about this since the Ouija board had spelt out that fateful message. There was always the possibility that one of the guests had been interfering with the planchette, but when he’d had that happen in the past, usually there was one participant obviously more animated than the others. The over-eager ones, the ones that wanted to believe, were in his experience, those most likely to encourage the vigils along. No. This wasn't any of the ghost party seeking to undermine the event (or make it more memorable); the hospital was in charge of the night and he had no doubt that it had been driving the planchette's movement as well. Seth thought it likely that the hospital had been in charge from the moment they'd entered and given themselves to be sealed in. How stupid had they been—had he been—in coming here?

  Sealed in.

  Sealed in like bones in a coffin.

  He shuddered. “It’s not uncommon to have entities pick up on what others have said and then use that to alarm them.”

  “No one discussed anything about Adherents until the Ouija board,” Judy observed. The lady was sharper than an ice pick. Judy continued, “Why did you ask about Adherents?”

  Seth weighed his response. “How much do you know about what happened before they closed this place?”

  “Only what Roy told me.”

  “Roy?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Roy Oswald. Johnny’s dad.” She frowned.

  Seth’s mind was galloping. “You’ve spoken to Roy Oswald?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, “he invited me.”

  “Invited you?”

  “You know, you’ve really got to stop repeating everything I say.” She fidgeted with her hair.

  “But, Roy got me to come tonight too. I assumed he was just after a medium to work with Johnny.”

  “I don’t know anything about that, but he got in touch and asked whether I’d like to try out his new ghost hunt experience.”

  “How did he know you, though?”

  “Through his Facebook ad. It came up in my feed and it sounded interesting so I signed up to the newsletter. A few days later, he rang me.”

  “How did he get your number?”

  “Jesus, what’s with all the questions?”

  Ideas rattled around Seth's head but it was like he was twelve years old again, stuck in a classroom, trying to understand the magic that had just happened on the blackboard with long division. He needed to sort this out or it would drive him crazy.

  Keeping his voice as neutral as he was able, Seth continued. “I thought you were all here because you’d seen an ad or something.”

  “I did,” she said carefully. “I’ve told you that.”

  “What did Peter say earlier in the day room?” Seth struggled to think. “No, it wasn’t Peter. You were talking to Glenda. She had an aunt?”

  “Her aunt was a patient here.”

  This wasn’t sitting well with Seth. He felt like he was part of someone else’s greater plan. They were being exploited, he was sure of it. “And do you know whether she saw a Facebook ad?”

  “I’ve no idea.” She sighed. “Shouldn’t we be doing something about getting the others out? This is wasting time.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “Because Roy asked me to. The money doesn’t hurt either.”

  “He’s paying you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, a note of doubt in her voice. “He said that he wanted people to try out his paranormal night before opening it to the public. A trial run.”

  “Were the others paid?”

  “I really don’t know. But, let’s get them out of here, then you can ask them.”

  Seth nodded then tried one more time to unlock the door. Nothing had changed. They were still locked in. “We should find another way outside. Johnny hit his head harder than he’s making out.” Seth lowered his torch and set off back to the main staircase where they’d left the hunt organiser, only when they got back there, Johnny was gone.

  “Johnny!” Judy called up the stairs.

  Seth checked the breakout room. “He’s not back here.”

  “Then where?” Judy hurried across to the reception office and shone her torch into the back room. “Not in here.”

  Seth tried the main doors but they were still locked.

  “You don’t think he came looking for us?” she asked.

  “I don’t see how he could have got lost. We were only down the corridor.”

  “But, if he’s confused, maybe he went a different way.”

  He went over to the table where Johnny had set out various bits of equipment.

  “What are you looking for?” Judy asked.

  “He had plans of the
building.” Seth spotted a few badly photocopied plans and squinted at them. “It should show us where the exits are.”

  “We’re looking for Johnny.”

  “We’re looking for an exit. I need to get out to call my friend. And if Johnny’s concussed, we need to get him to a hospital or get an ambulance here. Either way, we need to get outside to make a call.”

  Judy checked her phone again then cursed under her breath. “Still nothing.”

  He handed Judy a copy of the plan and studied his own. The plan was an old photocopy of when the hospital was open. Johnny had scrawled over them with suggestions for where to hold vigils. The first floor day room and the morgue both had marks over them that Seth took to mean Johnny considered these hotspots.

  Seth danced his fingers over the plans and marked a section next to the courtyard. “There’s a way out through the kitchens.”

  Before heading off, something on the table caught his eye. It was one of the infrared cameras Johnny had shown off when they’d first arrived. He took one and passed it to Judy.

  “Reckon you could learn how to use that?”

  “Why do we need it?” she asked, fiddling with the buttons.

  “To keep an eye out for Johnny.” He didn’t mention that it would help them spot if anyone else had got into the building. She was scared enough already.

  Together they headed to the door at the back of the entrance lobby that they’d ignored up till then. A faded sign above the door indicated the way led to the kitchens. Back here, it didn't look like the builders had made even a primitive attempt to tidy it up. Old boxes crammed with abandoned kitchen junk were heaped against the walls and the ceiling was again in a bad state of repair with broken ceiling tiles hanging. Everywhere they went to in this building, Seth was seeing more and more of the underbelly of the hospital. Damaged. Unhealed scar tissue being picked away by their presence.

  Windows lined this part of the corridor and Seth checked them all as they passed. All locked shut with bars on the outside. The hospital administrators weren’t taking any chances with the inmates. There was no place in the hospital that hadn’t been secured to prevent escapes. Seth wondered as to the nature of the patients when this place was open. It seemed more like a prison than a hospital.