by Amy Cross
“I have to be at work early tomorrow,” I reply, not even quite remembering how I ended up out here so late in the first place.
“So do I,” she says. “So what? We'll get it done. Deadlines are for losers, anyway. Tom can do it all. Come on, let's break out the girl power and hit this cool little bar I know that's about half a mile away. Believe me, after the night I've had, I could really use a chance to just chill. And by chill, I mean drink.”
“I'm not sure that I -”
“Please, Maddie!” She grabs my other arm, too, holding me straight. “I'm begging you. I've had the worst night, okay? I was supposed to meet this guy, but apparently he blew me off. He's in the middle of leaving his wife, but sometimes he has these nights where he feels so bad and he ends up staying at home with the bitch. I get it, he's worried about their kids, but he needs to grow a backbone. So I'm feeling really awful right now, Maddie, and really alone, and I would just love to hang out with you for a while. One drink, that's all. I'll pay! Just one drink, please.”
I open my mouth to say that I can't, to tell her that I don't even like alcohol, but suddenly I feel something scratching really hard against the back of my throat. I cough briefly, stepping back in the process, and then I feel a globule of something hot and slimy in my mouth.
And peaches.
Why am I tasting peaches again?
“I'm sorry,” I mumble, turning away and spitting the globule into a tissue. No sooner have I done that, however, than I cough up another.
“Are you okay?” Abbie asks. “Please, tell me that the thought of coming out with me didn't make you feel physically sick.”
I shake my head, but the scratching sensation is really getting much stronger now at the back of my throat, as if something is forcing its way up. I've got this strange sense of deja vu, even though I'm certain nothing like this has ever happened before.
“I'm a good listener,” Abbie continues, stepping closer and placing a hand on my back. “I reckon it's time for us to become friends, Maddie. Hell, we've been working together for a while now, and I didn't even know you'd been in a car crash. It must have been a bad one, judging by those scars on your chest. Sorry, maybe I shouldn't mention them, I just... I'd like to get to know you a little better, that's all.”
Something's coming up through the back of my mouth. I can barely breathe as my throat starts expanding.
“Come on, Maddie,” Abbie says. “You tell me your life story over a cocktail, and I'll tell you mine. I'll even tell you about asshole Jimmy and his dumb wife who -”
Suddenly I scream and swing at her, punching her hard in the face and knocking her down instantly. Shocked, I look down at my clenched fist. I don't know where that sudden burst of anger came from, but it's almost as if something else took control of my body for a moment. At the same time, saliva is washing down my chin and I can feel something sharp wriggling in the back of my throat. As cold pinpricks of sweat spread across my face, I take a step back before dropping to my knees, landing in a puddle of cold water.
I try to breathe, but something's blocking my throat. I can feel several distinct things wriggling up from the back of my mouth, and after a moment I realize that they feel like fingers. Suddenly I start retching, bringing more and more saliva rushing from my mouth. I lean down on my hands and knees, shuddering violently.
In the moonlight, as I choke, I can just about make out several gray, slimy, wriggling fingers reaching out from my mouth and twitching in the cold night air.
Chapter Six
Maddie
Letting out a gurgled cry, I slump down against the rain-soaked gravel path as a bare foot slides out of my mouth. Rolling onto my back, I find I can finally breathe again, so I take several desperate gulps of air as I stare up at the starless sky. For a few seconds that's all I can do.
And then, slowly, a silhouette steps over me.
“Please,” I whisper, feeling a crushing sensation deep within my chest, “what are you?”
There are tears in my eyes, but I'm still far too short of breath to even move. I can hear a slow, rumbling growl from nearby, and finally I force myself to turn my head. I blink several times, trying to clear the tears, and finally I see that the silhouette is now getting down onto its hands and knees. Thanks to the light of a distant street lamp, I'm just about able to see that the silhouette is a naked woman, although she looks painfully thin and she has strands of knotted hair hanging down from her head. And then, as she leans forward, I see her mouth opening to reveal a row of sharp, broken teeth.
“This can't be real,” I gasp, trying but failing to get up. “Somebody help me.”
I'm hallucinating.
I have to be.
Either that, or I'm dreaming.
Spotting something on the ground, I have to narrow my eyes a little to see properly. Even so, it takes a moment before I realize that Abbie is slumped just a few meters away. I remember punching her – or rather, I remember my fist swinging at her – and it looks like I knocked her out cold. The silhouetted old woman, meanwhile, is leaning down closer and closer toward her, and slowly she reaches out and rolls Abbie over onto her back.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying again to get up and still not managing to find the strength. “Leave her alone.”
Ignoring me, the old woman leans down even further, as if she's taking a moment to admire Abbie's body. I can hear rasping breaths coming from the woman's mouth, and those breaths seem to be getting faster and faster, almost as if -
Suddenly she leans down against the side of Abbie's face. I open my mouth to ask what she's doing, but then I hear a slow crunching sound, as if something's being torn open.
Before I have time to react, Abbie wakes up and lets out a pained cry, but the old woman presses a hand against her chest to keep her down. At the same time, some kind of liquid starts spraying against the wall, and Abbie's body trembles violently as if she's in pain. I try yet again to get up and help her, but I feel far too weak and all I can do is watch as the trembling subsides and as Abbie falls still. The liquid stops spraying and I hear a faint gasp.
A moment later the old woman sits up again, and I can see some kind of liquid dribbling from her mouth. Silhouetted against a distant light, she sits completely still for a moment, and then slowly she turns her head until I'm certain she must be staring straight at me. At the same time, chunks of bloodied flesh dribble from her chin and splatter into the puddles.
“Who are you?” I whisper. “Please, tell me what you want. I'll give you anything, but please, you have to leave us alone.”
I wait, but she doesn't reply. I barely even remember how I ended up here, and I don't understand how we can be in an alley in London without anybody else coming along this way to find us. None of this makes sense, and all I can hope is that somehow it's all happening in my head.
Before I have a chance to speak again, however, the old woman looks down at Abbie's chest and a moment later I see her start tearing Abbie's blouse open. I hear the sound of buttons popping, and then the old woman presses her fingers against Abbie's bare belly, accompanied after a moment by a slow splitting sound.
“What are you doing to her?” I gasp, trying desperately to sit up. “Stop, please...”
I watch in horror as the old woman slips her hands inside Abbie's belly. Blood bubbles up and runs down the sides, but now the woman's hands are wrist-deep inside Abbie and I can hear a squelching sound as she slips her fingers around some of the organs. I start retching, horrified by the sound, and then I see Abbie's dead eyes staring almost directly at me. There's blood all around her mouth and her lifeless body is jerking each time the old woman digs deeper and deeper into her guts.
“Please,” I sob, “leave her alone. If you have to hurt someone, hurt me. Don't do this to her, please...”
I'm too late.
I know that now.
“Don't hurt anyone else,” I whimper. “Please...”
All I can do is watch as the old woman slowly
lifts her hands out of Abbie's belly. She's holding a dark object, something that's attached to Abbie's body by a thick tube. A moment later the old woman leans down and bites the tube, spraying more blood as she finishes ripping away what I think must be a kidney. Then she holds the kidney up, examining it for a moment, before slipping it into her mouth and biting down. I hear a crunching sound and moments later blood starts dribbling freely down the woman's chin as she slowly chews the kidney.
“You have to stop,” I groan between violent retches. “Please, don't do this, you can't be -”
Suddenly she lets out a loud, rumbling gasp, spraying dark flecks from her mouth. Some of the flecks hit Abbie's face, even her eye. A moment later the old woman reaches down and slips her hands back into Abbie's belly, and this time she seems to be struggling as she tries to tear out something even larger than a kidney. I try desperately to reach out and stop this madness, but then I hear another ripping sound as the old woman tears out Abbie's entire liver, holding it up as blood dribbles freely from both ends. All I can do is watch in horror as she holds the liver up to her mouth and takes a bite, sinking her rotten teeth deep until more blood bursts from the sides. She chews slowly, tearing chunks away with something approaching delicacy.
It's almost as if she's savoring the taste.
Sobbing frantically, I try to turn and start crawling away, but somehow my body feels far too weak. Digging my fingertips into the rough concrete, I try over and over again to find some kind of grip, but nothing works. I can barely move at all, although I at least manage to look back along the alley. Trying to ignore the continued crunching sound that's coming from over my shoulder, I open my mouth and try to cry out. If I can scream, maybe somebody will be able to come and save us. There might even be a chance for Abbie if I can get help from somewhere. I can save her, I know I can, I just have to find help and then everything will be alright.
So I scream.
Or at least, I try to scream.
All that emerges from my mouth, however, is a deep-throated gurgle that's drowned out by the sound of a distant train. I try again, but this time I dissolve into a set of trembling sobs. My body isn't letting me do this, and after a moment I notice that my hands look withered and dry, as if the skin is clinging tight to my bones. I stare at the horrific sight for a moment, trying to work out what's happening to my body, and then I realize that I only have one choice.
I can do this.
I have to get out of here.
Still trying to ignore the sound of meat tearing and bones breaking behind me, I start dragging myself along the dark path. I can't really see where I'm going, but there's a light far away and I guess that's my only shot. Saliva is still flooding into my mouth and running down my chin, bringing with it the taste of peaches. I start coughing, spraying yet more blood against the ground, but I force myself to keep going as I drag myself inch by inch along the alley, desperately trying to find help and -
Suddenly something grabs the back of my shirt, holding me tight, and I hear a loud, angry hiss.
Turning, I see that the old woman has caught up to me. There's just enough moonlight now for me to be able to see her pale, emaciated face, and I'm horrified by the sight of bare bone patches poking out through areas where her skin has worn away. Her eyes are almost completely black and rotten, and there's blood smeared all around the lower half of her face. I've seen her before, I know I have, but it still takes a moment before my mind clears and I remember the sight of her in the basement at Cathmore Road.
Wait, did I remember that before? Do I even remember it now?
What happened that night?
Staring at her face, I realize that although I know I've seen her before, I can't remember where. I think I remembered a moment ago, but now the memory has slipped away again.
I reach a trembling hand toward her, hoping to somehow hold her back if she lunges at me.
“Please,” I stammer, “don't -”
And then I see him.
There's someone else behind her. A man. He's barely visible at all, nothing more than a dark silhouette against the starless sky, a shadow in another shadow, but somehow I can tell that he's a man. He's wearing a suit, complete with a top hat, and he's leaning on a cane.
“Help me!” I gasp, hoping against hope that somehow I'm going to be rescued. “Please, help me...”
He doesn't reply.
He doesn't respond in any way.
He simply stands there watching me, and a moment later the old woman leans closer until she's almost entirely obscured my view of the man.
“Help me,” I stammer again, as the old woman places her hands on the sides of my face, “please, don't do this, you have to help me, you have to help me.”
For a moment I think that the man is Matt, but then he takes a step closer and I see a pair of dark, angry eyes. Whoever this man is, he's definitely not Matt.
“Please,” I whisper, “you have to -”
Before I can finish, the old woman slides her fingers into my mouth. I try to pull away but she's holding me too firmly, and I can already taste blood as she pushes her hands deep down toward the back of my throat.
That must be Abbie's blood.
“Help me!” I try to scream, but it's no use.
Nobody can hear me.
All I can do is gurgle again, desperately trying to cry out, as the old woman reaches her hands further and further into my mouth. And behind her, the top-hatted man is watching calmly, almost as if he likes what he's seeing. Almost as if he wants to watch me suffer.
Chapter Seven
Maddie
“Did you hear about Abbie?”
Stopping at the door to my office, I turn and see Diane from reception hurrying after me.
“What about her?” I ask, as I check my watch. I really don't have time for gossip, not if I've got any hope of fixing this ad campaign by the end of the day. There are a million things running through my mind right now and I just need to stay completely focused. The last thing I need right now is any kind of distraction.
“There's a meeting,” she explains, her voice filled with anticipation. “In twenty minutes, in the conference room on the third floor. You know Abbie didn't show up for work this morning, don't you?”
“She didn't?”
Furrowing my brow, I realize that maybe that's why she hasn't responded to any of my texts or emails. Still, it's barely 9am so I assumed she was simply running a little late. She tends to not be the best time-keeper, and it wouldn't be the first time she shows up looking disheveled and muttering darkly about gin.
“And then the police showed up,” Diane continues.
“The police?”
“They talked to Richard, and after they left he said we're going to have a meeting in his office. I asked him if it was about Abbie, whether something's wrong, and he wouldn't say. I could see it in his eyes, though. It's definitely about her. And apparently a police officer is going to be at the meeting!”
“Do you think something's wrong?” I ask, feeling a flash of concern. I mean, I'm sure Abbie's fine, but this does sound serious.
“All I can tell you,” Diane continues, “is that Richard looked white as a sheet just now. I've never seen him act like that before, but he was clearly struggling to think straight. And did you see the news this morning?”
“I was running late,” I tell her.
“Another body was found. Another woman, this time somewhere in Richmond.”
“What do you mean, another woman?” I ask, feeling a flicker of concern.
“You must have heard about the murders,” she continues. “You know, the two women who were found with their guts sliced open? Well apparently a third one was found this morning in Richmond. I know it's an awful thing to think, but you don't suppose...”
“Suppose what?” I ask cautiously.
“Well, that the woman they found could be...”
Her voice trails off, and there are tears in her eyes.
“No,”
she adds finally, “absolutely not. It's impossible. Let's not think about such awful possibilities. Something like that could never happen to Abbie, not in a million years.” She shakes her head as she straightens the front of her blouse. “I'm sure it's nothing. I'm sure I'm just worrying about something that doesn't matter. I do that sometimes, you know. I get all in a tizzy, I overthink things and then I end up with all these crazy ideas.” She pauses, and it's clear that she's still worried. “It makes you think, though, doesn't it?” she continues. “Something like that could happen to anyone. Did you really not hear about the first two murders? They've been all over the news. The papers are calling them the Jack the Ripper killings.”
I turn to her.
“No,” I say after a moment, as I feel a faint tremor in the right side of my head, “I didn't hear anything about them at all.”
“Well,” she says, “you must have been living under a rock! It's all anyone's been able to talk about!”
“It is?” I ask, trying not to acknowledge the fact that I'm starting to feel increasingly unnerved. “That's weird. I didn't notice at all.”
***
“It's still far too early in the investigation for us to determine anything,” the lead detective says as he addresses us a short while later in the conference room, “but we want to hear from anyone who noticed anything odd about Abbie Lewes yesterday. Even if you think it was probably nothing, please let us be the judge of that. No detail is too small.”
“Don't you have cameras?” Diane asks.
Turning, I see that she's wiping her nose on a piece of scrunched-up toilet paper. Her eyes are red from crying, and she looks as if she might be about to break down at any moment.
“You must have cameras,” she continues. “There are cameras everywhere. I mean, there must be more cameras than people in London. Can't you just look and see who else was in the area when she was killed last night?”