Malc hurried through the hall, his eyes darting around as they sought any new threats. To his surprise, nothing came to him until he left the hall and found himself in another corridor, smaller this time.
It was like the door to the Almost Realm had been waiting for him. About six feet away, it was part of the corridor wall. An old wooden thing, with scratched fading blue paint. The thing clearly didn’t belong at Ravenmeols—a domestic setting, not this asylum. He eyed it warily. These things were dangerous. Seth had the ability to handle them but no matter what Malc did to them, it was ineffectual. The hair on the back of his neck twitched, and he fought the urge to run. It wouldn’t do to let the hospital taste his fear so he pushed it down somewhere deep inside.
If the door was here, then he could soon expect an appearance from one of the shadowmen—the hitchers—that would routinely come through. He had to be ready.
Never removing his eyes from the door, he approached, his hearing attuned to the slightest noise from the corridor up ahead. He would not be caught out a second time. As Malc entered its orbit, blazing light swamped the room, making it impossible to keep his eyes open, and even with his eyes closed, he could still see the burning brightness. It burnt through his eyelids and even turned when he turned away, his eyes still stung.
Got to get past. No time to waste.
A crying woman sounded from the other side of the door.
That was impossible. Malc knew what was on the other side of those doors and it wasn’t anything human. And more impossibly he recognised the crying, he’d heard it every night for this last week.
Georgia.
He put his arms down and turned to look at the doorway again. The burning light faded as he did so and he could look through the open door into the impossible room beyond. It was impossible because he knew it didn’t exist in the Almost Realm. Nor anywhere in this hospital. The room did exist somewhere though, and he’d been in it last week. A hospital examination room as Georgia lay on a bed, miscarrying.
Something heavy sunk in his stomach and threatened to drag him down through the hospital’s floorboards, down into the deep dark pits of his own personal hell. A weight pressed against his chest and continued to crush, making it so hard to breathe. But perhaps that was for the best. Who needed breathing when you had to deal with the loss of a son?
Malc lifted one foot and planted it closer to the threshold, the rest of the hospital melting away. Another step closer and he kept on moving that way, one concrete footstep at a time until he was standing on the threshold of madness.
The room was as he remembered it. But he remembered the smell, and the dour faces more than he remembered the decor. Georgia was laid down on a bed. The ultrasound technician beside her had her probe ready and was prepping his wife for the invasive examination. Georgia hadn’t stopped crying since they’d entered the room. She’d held it together all the way here in the car, after matter-of-factly telling Malc what she’d found in her underwear. But as soon as that examination room door had closed she’d known it was over, that whatever life had been clinging on, had left her alone.
By her side was the empty space where he should have been and wasn’t. If this was a memory, then it was wrong. He needed to be beside her, to tell her that together they’d get through this and with God willing, they would be blessed again.
No. He wouldn’t go down that path again. That comment had hurt her as much as the miscarriage itself. This time, he would just be there and they would grieve together.
He crossed the threshold and the warmth of the room surprised him. It hadn’t been this warm last time. The examination room had been freezing, someone had turned the air conditioning up to its fullest. And as he crossed to the bed and his bleeding wife, she looked up at him for the first time seeing he was there and he was trying to smile.
He wanted to say sorry for being such an idiot.
And she frowned.
And the features that he adored so very much distorted until they became something different.
Teeth like needles filled her open mouth. Her eyes elongated, then rounded, all with a sound like the bones beneath her skin were crunching against each other, grinding into new shapes.
The lights faded. The florescent tubes above that had almost burnt his eyes out before, were fading as if he were closing his eyes at the end of a long day. But the thing on the bed stayed lit as if a spotlight had got her trapped in a beam of light. Malc wanted to run, but his legs weren’t moving. He felt a pressure on his legs and saw the hands that had gripped him out on the marshland earlier had once again taken a tight hold of him.
He tugged his left leg free then used that to kick out at the hands gripping his right leg. They fell back but there were more reaching for him and these weren’t so easy to kick aside. It didn’t stop him trying though.
The door he’d entered creaked. Then it moved, like a draught had caught it. Panic flooded his senses. A sickening pressure against his temple and he lashed out again at the hands that were trapping him. The light had all but gone now, the only sources left were the illumination from the doorway, the green tinge still present around the edge, and the light illuminating the creature on the bed.
The trap had drawn him in and the exit was being closed. If he didn’t get out of here before the door closed he had no hope of making his way back home again.
Behind him, the bed springs squeaked as the creature with the mouthful of needle teeth clambered from the bed and dropped to the floor behind him. Malc twisted his upper body, his lower half now trapped in the grip of hands that seemed to reach up and over each other to hold a piece of him.
The nightmare waited, sizing him up. Unnatural growls came from the back of its throat like a dog menacing an intruder and Malc felt sure that the moment the door closed, the thing would launch its attack and his life would be over.
The door continued to close.
Malc reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved one of the vials of holy water he kept on him at all times in case of emergency. He smashed the bottle on a clear spot of floor and watched with satisfaction as the glass shattered and liquid blossomed up and out in a terrific splash pattern.
The effect was immediate.
Where the water landed on the hands they shrivelled like slugs on salt. Malc didn’t wait. He’d allowed himself to get distracted for too long and it had almost cost him his life and maybe his soul. The run across the room to the door was treacherous, the holy water’s effects were already fading, and the hands alerted to Malc’s movements were once again reaching.
A growl came from behind and the nightmare creature from the bed bent low on its arms, its monstrous chin almost kissing the floor, the eyes with laser focus trained on Malc.
Malc concentrated on making it to the doorway—less than a foot left. If he couldn’t fit through that gap he would have to face the monster behind. The nightmare creature took off. He heard its growl change and the scrambling of hands and claws on the floor as it got closer. He had seconds.
His body slammed into the closing door, the impact made no difference to the door closing.
The monster was close. Seconds left.
And Malc slid through the narrow gap.
He had just a fraction of a second to turn to look at how far ahead he’d got from the monster in time to see the monster leap and reach to grab him. Its arm was through the gap at the moment the door slammed the last couple of inches closed. The door cut through the limb and it fell to the floor and exploded into a small cloud of black dust.
Malc fell forward, coughing and wheezing at the sudden exertion. His heart was crashing against his ribcage and he was grateful as it meant he was still alive.
Behind him, the door faded from existence like it had never been there at all.
28
Calling this a nightmare sanitised the experience. If Judy had ever dreamt of a room like this, she wouldn’t go to sleep with the lights off ever again.
The space had no windo
ws, nor any other signs of entrance or exit. The door behind her was the only way in or out. She was standing on the threshold of a wooden boarded room, somewhere at the end of the hospital building as the ceiling sloped in at the end matching the angle of the roofline. The walls were a vivid crimson, although it was so gloomy in here she assumed they were brown at first, but the burning candles spaced around the perimeter lit up enough to reveal the hue.
The bodies were that of the ghost party and they were alive. All had been stripped to their underwear and their wrists were set in leather restraints, attached to chains secured to the floor at regular anchor sites. The party were facing each other in a loose circle about five feet apart. She scurried to Arjun, and ripped the gag from his mouth, before she felt around the restraints, searching for a way to remove them. The group were in a similar state but at least they were all there, the oldest of the group, Peter and Glenda, were drained. Their eyes stared at Judy with fractured hope.
“What’s happened?” she asked Arjun.
“Get me free!” He tugged at his bindings in despair.
“I need a knife.”
Then she noticed the markings on the floor and hastily stepped aside.
A giant pentagram had been marked out. The ghost party were spread at key points.
“Behind you!” Glenda shrieked.
She was somewhere else.
The vision consumed her and the jolt of sense and of self struck her hard.
The room cleared. The ghost party had gone. The candles had gone. Beneath her feet, the pentagram remained, the lines in sharp focus by the torch lamp lying on the floor.
Judy was reliving a memory. She tried to look around, but she had no control, only seeing whatever the memory allowed. The incense was less extreme but still there in the background, soaked into the surrounding wood.
Her foot kicked something. A simple plastic chair. She stepped up and took hold of the end of the rope. The rope had been flung over a roof beam, and her hands reached up for the loop at the end. Her stomach sank as she recognised the unmistakable shape of a noose.
A young man appeared in the open doorway. His hair tousled and his eyes wide at the sight that greeted him. She’d met him before.
“You’re too late.” The voice came from her but it wasn’t her voice. She recognised it instantly from her earlier vision. It was Dr Lowman. Or was it Cowl talking through Lowman? Did it matter?
“You’re a fool. This won’t stop him. He’ll find a way back.” The man at the doorway was also familiar. It took her longer to put a name to the face. Then she realised she did know him.
“I have little time,” Lowman said. “I’ve taken Thorazine. It makes it difficult for him to maintain hold.” The noose was rough and inflexible. Lowman ducked his head through the opening. “I’m sorry, Roy. I’m sorry for letting him in.”
Roy stepped closer, but he made no attempt to grab Lowman, or interfere.
“It won’t end. You know he always has plans. He’ll be back.”
“But he won’t be riding me.”
“The Unravelling is unavoidable. You’ve seen the signs.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
The rope was tight against her throat. Judy fought to withdraw from the vision. She didn’t want to live through this. She couldn’t.
And Lowman took a step off the chair and kicked it aside with his other foot. The jolt surprised her. The pain short-lived.
Judy met the floor in an undignified crumple. She wanted to lie there and get her breath back. The visions were nightmarish. Echoes. And experiencing them as a participant was horrifying.
“Hurry, get up.” The voice urging her was Arjun’s. Other muffled cries had joined in. The rest of the group were distressed.
She pushed herself to her feet, glanced across at the doorway and saw the shape of a man detach from the shadows and into the flickering light of the candles.
Roy Oswald had caught up with her.
The man who’d invited her to come to the ghost hunt. He’d told her it was all just for entertainment. Nothing of any substance. Nothing to be scared of.
She was scared now.
“Let us go,” she said, gesturing at the circle of terrified people.
“What did you see?”
I saw Lowman. Your leader had possessed him. I know about the Adherents, and that you’re part of it. I also know you wanted out.”
“Lowman was an idiot. His body was close to falling apart as it was. Cowl couldn’t have stayed in there much longer, anyway. It’s just a shame we did not find a replacement.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t try to stop him.”
A second figure appeared in the doorway. Johnny. Over his shoulder, another man, Seth, unconscious. Johnny lowered Seth to the floor and his head lolled back.
Roy put an arm around his son and kissed him on the cheek. “I had other concerns. Things are different now. The time is right for a revival. A resurrection if you like. It’s almost time for the Unravelling. The Adherents will soon be more powerful than ever.”
29
The smell was the first thing to hit Seth. A sharp, heady burning fragrance. The source was close. He snapped his eyes open and regretted it. He was lain on the floor of a room he’d never seen before but he knew where he was. He’d been taken to the dark centre of the hospital, the heart of the Adherent’s activities. This was their place for rituals—their sanctum.
AKA, Seth was in a heap of shit.
There were voices around. He closed his eyes again. It would pay to gain intelligence before trying anything.
A nudge from his back and he resisted the urge to speak to Charlie. His hitcher was unsettled. You and me both, Seth thought.
Seth was lying on floorboards. The lights he’d glimpsed had come from numerous low light sources around the room’s circumference. Candles. Part of the ritual. Whatever Johnny had injected him with had left his mouth dry and his head spun as if waking from a hangover.
The voices were close. Johnny and Roy. How could it have been anyone else? Johnny had shown nothing but basic knowledge tonight and had only the most elemental knowledge of what the hospital represented. His dad on the other hand… The man’s office had certain trappings that suggested there was more to the man than had at first appeared.
“He’s awake,” Roy said.
Footsteps approached. “We’re ready for you now,” Johnny said.
Seth opened his eyes and beamed. “About time. I thought you’d forgotten me.” He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. A weight pressed on his chest and the more effort he used to push himself up, the heavier the load became. With a Herculean effort, he lifted his head and looked down at his chest.
A goat’s head was staring glassy eyed back at him.
“You won’t be able to move,” Johnny confirmed.
The head was keeping him anchored, immobilised.
“What do you want?” Seth turned his head from one side to the other. That much movement took less effort. He recognised the shapes around the room as that of the ghost party. All bound and gagged and all regarding him with wide-eyed terror. Judy was behind him, he could only glimpse her if he leant his head fully backwards and even then she was upside down. It was impossible to tell what sort of condition the captives were in. They were alive at least. Alive but with only their underwear to protect their modesty. Seth promised himself they would all get out of here alive. The hospital was not about to claim any more innocent victims.
“Right now, all I want is for you to keep still,” Johnny intoned, almost sounding bored.
“Come out of the shadows have you?” Seth directed at Roy.
Roy stepped closer. He wore a midnight coal robe that swept to the floor and covered all of him bar his hands and head.
“You lied,” Seth continued. “Tonight was a ruse to draw me here.”
“There are plenty who can do what you can do. Take your friend here.” Seth t
ried to track the man’s movements. He’d stopped behind his head, by Judy. “The chances of getting two mediums here tonight were remote, but it’s accelerated the proceedings. The doors open more easily with you both here.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Absolutely.” He drifted along to the next person in the circle—Alisha, and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her upright. She whimpered. “Better posture please. I won’t be telling you again.” Arjun tensed and jerked against his bonds, but there was no way he was getting to help her. Peter was in the next position, then Glenda, and finally Michael. Michael’s face was down, but Seth was sure it was bruised. He’d taken a beating.
“You’re Adherents of the Fourth,” Seth said.
Roy nodded.
“And this is what? Your comeback tour? You’ve been quiet for twenty years. What happened?”
“We may have been quiet but we’ve always been here. Events in the nineties caused us to delay our plans. But we are stronger in spirit than ever. You’re witnessing a new dawn.”
“A dawn of what?”
“All in good time.”
Johnny had crossed over to a high bench at the far end of the room, an altar, and was concentrating on something out of Seth’s view.
“What’s he doing?”
“This is a glorious night. Our founder Adam Cowl is returning.”
Seth frowned. “Adam died a hundred years ago. He’s not coming back.”
“You are the children of the Adherents. You are what will make tonight possible.” And as he spoke, he strolled amongst the other prisoners. When he passed Glenda, he put a hand on her head. He skipped Peter, then again with a hand on Michael’s head. In his stride now, he circumnavigated the room, placing his hand on Judy’s head, offering a fake benediction, before returning to where he started with Alisha. She was sitting more upright than before but her eyes were wide and flitted around the room. She’d noticed them.
The Ouija board had said the same thing but Seth still didn’t know what it meant. “You’ll need to explain that statement, you’re losing me.”
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