by Cross, Amy
“She needs help!” the man shouted. “I almost got the bastard who did this to her, he was wearing that crown but he managed to run. I think I wounded him, though. I'll go after him, you need to get this girl to hospital and make sure she's okay. After that, if you really think you have the stomach for more of this, come back and find me. I'll just keep heading down until I reach the bottom of this place.”
Katie tried to open her mouth, but instead her head tilted back as she felt herself being lifted and carried up the stairs. Finally, even as she tried to call out, she slipped away into darkness.
IV
“Okay!” Beth shouted, hurrying down the stairs but stopping as she reached the front door. Someone was hammering against the other side, desperately trying to get inside. “Bob,” she continued, “is that you? I really think -”
“It's me!” Jane called back. “Open the door, it's an emergency!”
Fumbling with the latch, Beth pulled the door open only for Jane to immediately hurry through with the bloodied body of a naked woman in her arms.
“Jane -”
“I can't explain right now,” Jane stammered, heading through to the kitchen and setting the woman down on the table. “She's lost too much blood and there isn't time to drive her to the hospital.” She turned, with blood smeared all over the front of her shirt. “You're a nurse. Beth, please, you have to at least stabilize her.”
“What happened?” Beth stammered, hurrying over to the table. “Where's the -”
“Shoulder,” Jane explained. “Stab wound, looks like it went all the way through. I don't see anything else, but there could be other injuries.”
“Who did this to her?” Beth asked, grabbing some towels from a nearby drawer and then starting to fill a bowl with warm water. “Why's she naked, for God's sake? Did someone attack her?”
“She was in the -”
Jane caught herself just in time.
“In the what?” Beth asked, hurrying over and starting to turn Katie over so she could get a better look at the shoulder wound. “Jane, what's going on?”
“I can't explain,” Jane replied, taking a step back. “I have to get back there. Just patch her up and then get her to a hospital. And if they ask what happened, tell them I'll be in touch in the next few hours, okay? Tell them they just have to focus on saving her life.”
“But -”
“I'm sorry,” Jane added, turning and hurrying through to the hallway. A moment later, the front door could be heard swinging shut.
Beth stood in shocked amazement for a moment, before looking down at Katie and checking her pulse. Realizing that she had to work fast, she began to examine the wound more closely, before hurrying over to the corner and grabbing her First Aid kit. She knew she was running out of time, so as she began to pack the wound, she looked around for her phone.
“Come on,” she muttered, trying to remember where she'd set the damn thing down when she was checking her email before bed, “you have to -”
Stopping suddenly, she realized she'd put the phone on the bench by the bread machine, and then she'd left Lucy alone in the room for a few minutes before taking her to bed.
“Back in ten seconds,” she told Katie, before turning and hurrying out into the hallway. Racing up the stairs, she reached Lucy's room and pushed the door open, only to see her daughter's blank face lit by the light of the phone's screen. “Hey,” she said with relief, hurrying over to the bed, “I'm sorry, sweetheart, I need this.”
She grabbed the phone, but before she could call for an ambulance, she saw that Lucy had opened the 'other' internet browser. The screen showed a photo of a man's mashed face, with various body parts strewn around what appeared to be the site of a motorbike crash. Swiping back to check what Lucy had seen before that image, she shuddered as she recognized one of the photos that had leaked from a police investigation into a cannibal in Europe. In this particular image, a dismembered torso was resting in an open freezer, while a set of bloodied tools could be seen on a nearby counter-top along with various severed fingers.
“Honey,” Beth whispered, turning to Lucy and seeing the girl's vacant stare, “what were you doing with my phone?”
Dropping down to her knees, she realized Lucy was trembling. A moment later, sensing a familiar smell, she pulled the duvet aside just enough to see that the sheets were wet.
And then, from the kitchen downstairs, an agonized scream rang out through the house.
***
“Come on, Alex,” Jane hissed as she strode along the corridor, heading back toward the office that led down to the Border, “why the hell aren't you picking up your phone?”
As soon as she heard the voicemail message start up, she slipped her phone into her pocket and hurried into the office, and then she headed toward the door in the corner.
“He knows,” a voice said suddenly.
Turning, Jane saw Caitlin standing by the desk, next to Simon's bloodied corpse. The dead girl had blood on her body, as well as a gaping hole where her heart had been ripped out, but the office's bright lights made all the blood and injuries look a little fake, as if they'd been applied for a bad student horror movie. Almost too pink, almost fluorescent.
“Who knows?” Jane asked. “What are you talking about? I thought I wasn't going to see you again?”
“You weren't, but...” Caitlin paused. “I'm scared.”
“Of what?”
“What comes next. Now that I don't have to be here anymore, I don't know where to go.”
“Who knows?” Jane asked again. “What did you mean?”
“Alex Gordon,” Caitlin continued. “The cop. He finally understood that he's been subconsciously ignoring the Border all these years. He put the pieces together, and it kind of... upset him.”
“Where is he now?” Jane asked. “Is he coming here?”
Caitlin shook her head.
“Then what's he doing?”
Caitlin paused. “He suffered a severe stroke. Actually, I think it was more like three of four strokes in a row. He's at the hospital now, but I'm not sure he's going to make it. I guess his mind couldn't cope with the realization that something like the Border could have slipped along unnoticed for all these years.”
“I...” Jane paused, before turning and opening the door. Immediately, she heard the sound of a gunshot from down below. “I have to get back to Ben.”
“For how long?”
“Until it's done.”
“It's never going to be done,” Caitlin replied. “The Border just goes on and on, deeper and deeper until...”
Jane took a deep breath, staring down into the darkness. “Until what?”
“Well that's just the point,” Caitlin continued. “I don't think anyone really knows. It's so old now, even the people in charge aren't quite sure.”
“We can't stop,” Jane replied. “We have to keep going until we get to the bottom.”
“What about your sons?”
“What about them?”
“They need you.”
Jane turned to her. “They need a safe world.”
“Ben can see to that,” Caitlin pointed out. “Let him take the burden. He doesn't have anyone left in his life, not really. No kids, no wife. Let him be the one who goes deeper and deeper. You can trust him with that responsibility, you know.”
She shook her head.
“Your sons need you,” Caitlin said again, more firmly this time.
“But I have to -” Jane paused as she realized that Caitlin's words made sense, but she still knew deep down that she couldn't abandon Ben. “The stag-headed man is down there,” she continued after a moment. “He's the man who killed my husband. He's the same man who killed you.”
“No,” Caitlin replied, “he killed your husband, but he didn't kill me. That was someone else, long ago, wearing the same mask. It was someone else who wanted to gain admission to the Border's deeper levels. I'm sure my heart's down there in one of the jars, just where he left it.”
“We'
ll find him,” Jane told her. “Whoever did that to you, we'll -”
“You can't find him,” Caitlin continued, interrupting her. “You can't catch him. Anyone who goes below the Border's seventh level... Well, let's just say that even though they're allowed to come back up, they never do. They just go deeper and deeper, where things get darker and darker, until maybe they don't even remember what it was like up here. If you and Ben keep going deep enough, eventually you'll run into some of them, but... Well, I wouldn't recommend that at all. I heard them screaming once. They sounded so lost.”
“So what are we supposed to do instead?” Jane asked. “Shut the door, board the place up and forget about it?”
“That's one possibility. At least you wouldn't have to see the horrors that are down there.” She smiled. “You're a widowed mother, Jane, and a police officer. After what's happening to Alex tonight, you'll probably get the top job. You can be far more use up here than you can down there, running around in the dark with Ben, shooting at shadows that are so deep underground, so far gone, that they'll never return to the light of day.”
“I can't abandon him.”
“You can, and you will. You just need to come up with the right excuse to tell yourself.”
Instead of replying, Jane began to make her way down the steps, while holding her rifle up in case Ben happened to have chased anyone toward the surface.
“Oh,” Caitlin whispered, alone in the office now, “and Jack says hi.”
***
“I clipped his goddamn arm,” Ben continued a few minutes later, as he led Jane across the seventh layer toward the door in the corner that led further down. “He was bleeding, but he ran. I think he went down to level eight.”
“Did you see his face under the mask?” she asked.
“Just a pair of eyes staring at me through the holes in the front,” he explained, pulling the door open and staring down yet another set of stairs. “Mac Crutchlow tried to make a stand. He started giving me this spiel about how the Border isn't such a bad place, and about how I should be more understanding of the way other people like to live their lives. Then he tried to rush me and I tripped him, and he caught his head on the side of a table and... Well, at least that saves anyone from having to haul him off to jail, right?”
“Crutchlow's dead?” Jane asked, shocked by the latest news.
“Come on,” he continued, heading down the stairs, “we have to find the stag-headed man. He killed Jack.”
Following Ben down, Jane soon found herself in another dark room with just a few red lights set into the ceiling. She stepped forward with her rifle raised, but the only thing she could see was the back of Ben's head as he looked around.
“I'm going to look in this corridor,” he said finally, turning to her. “I don't like the idea of splitting up, but he might double-back and try to get to the surface, so one of us needs to stay here. I'll just be a couple of minutes.”
“Sure,” she replied, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as Ben hurried toward the far end of the room. Taking a few steps forward, she kept a finger poised on the rifle's trigger, ready in case the stag-headed man appeared at any moment. There was no music on the eighth level, at least not anymore, and any customers that had been there earlier must have fled. She took a few more steps toward the far end of the room, and after a moment she realized she could see another door in the corner, which meant that there was at least a ninth level. She was starting to feel as if the Border never ended at all.
Spotting movement nearby, she turned and raised her gun, just in time to see a shriveled, hunched creature rushing back into the shadows.
“Come out with your hands up!” she shouted, trying to keep the fear from her voice. “I saw you! There's nowhere for you to run!”
She waited, but the creature seemed to be cowering now, almost as if it was scared of the lights.
“Show your face!” Jane said firmly, stepping closer. “Let me -”
Before she could finish, she saw the creature's eyes and realized she recognized him. He was an old man she remembered from her time at the club, but now he seemed to have degenerated, to become some kind of pale, painfully thin wretch.
“What the hell is going on down here?” she whispered, taking another step forward. “Are you -”
Suddenly she was pulled back and a hand covered her mouth, and she felt the tip of a blade pressing into her back. Twisting her head, she just about caught a glimpse of the stag-headed man behind her before he forced her head back down and slammed her hard into the wall, causing the rifle to drop from her hands.
“You're going to get me out of here,” a pained voice whispered in her ear, as he kicked the rifle away. “Now!”
“Tom?” she stammered, recognizing his accent immediately. “Tom Lanegan? What -”
Hearing a high-pitched screeching sound, she turned and saw the creature running from the shadows, skittering toward the far corner and then racing down to the next level.
“What was that thing?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear.
“One of my predecessors,” Tom sneered. “They were all quite happy down here until you came along and turned on the lights.”
“He didn't look human,” she gasped.
“He'd seen things,” Tom continued. “They all have, this far down. I guess it changed him. He must have been weak, but I'm stronger. I'm going deeper and deeper.”
“You can't be -”
“There's not going to be any debate over this!” he hissed, pushing her face against the wall. “I refuse to be the last -”
Before he could finish, she slammed her elbow into his gut and spun around, kicking him away before he had a chance to swing the knife at her. As he stumbled, she reached down and grabbed the rifle before raising it and aiming straight at his head.
“You can't do that,” Tom replied from behind the mask. “You're a cop, not an assassin.”
She pressed her finger against the trigger, desperate to fire but still holding back. She knew he was right.
“Let's talk about this,” Tom continued, taking a step forward. “Jane -”
She pulled the trigger.
All she heard was an empty click.
“Well,” Tom said with a smile. “It seems fate is on my side.”
With that, he lunged at her, grabbing the rifle and then twisting it around, quickly slamming it against her head. She tried to push back, but he hit her twice more in quick succession, battering her down to the ground. Gasping, she felt as if her skull was already fractured, but she managed to roll out of the way just as the rifle came crashing down. Struggling to her feet, she staggered away until she bumped against the wall, and then she turned to see Tom tossing the rifle away as he stepped toward her.
“Did you really think you could do anything about the Border?” Tom sneered, reaching out and grabbing her shoulders. “Did no-one ever tell you that you shouldn't mess with tradition?”
He slammed her against the wall, causing the back of her head to bang against the bricks. Letting out a gasp, she felt him starting to push her down to the ground.
“If it's any consolation,” Tom continued, “you've put up more of a fight than your husband managed.”
She tried to push back, but the pain in her head was throbbing now and Tom was squeezing her shoulders so tight, she felt they might shatter at any moment. Looking up at the horrific sight above her, she realized Jack's final moments must have been much the same, and she could only gasp as she saw Tom taking a knife from his belt.
“I won't take your heart,” he sneered. “You're not worthy of the jar.”
She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
“Not yet, you don't,” she heard Jack's voice whispering. “Don't you dare give up.”
With the last of her strength, she lunged forward, screaming as she slammed into Tom's chest. She managed to push him back, and she heard the clatter of the knife hitting the floor as she grabbed Tom's waist and twisted him arou
nd. He tried to grab her face, but she slipped away and turned, quickly wrapped an arm around his neck. As he struggled to get free, Jane saw the crown of broken horns standing proud on top of the mask, and she realized she only had one chance. The knife was too far away, so she managed to twist Tom around and then slam him head first against the wall.
She gasped as she saw the broken horns crunching down, as the impact with the wall pushed them deep through the top of the mask and into Tom's skull.
Letting go, she staggered back just as Tom stood up straight and turned to her. The horns were just small stumps now, and several of them had been driven so far down into his head that they'd burst out through his cheek and chin. One had even emerged straight through his right eye, while his left eye showed a hint of disbelief. He reached up, slowly feeling for the horns, as blood began to dribble from his mouth. Grabbing the edges of the mask, he tried to pull it away, but he instantly let out a cry of agony as the broken horns dug deeper into his brain.
Taking a step back, Jane grabbed the rifle and held it up, ready to strike him if he came closer.
Instead, Tom let out a mournful wail. He took a single, frail step forward before dropping to his knees. More and more blood was flowing from his mouth now, with one of the horns having crunched through his brain and down into the back of his throat. Still moaning, he stared at Jane for a moment before tilting his head forward, bringing a torrent of blood cascading from his mouth for a few seconds before the flow slowed. A few more drips fell toe the floor, before finally Jane swung the rifle and knocked Tom's dead body to the ground.
Breathlessly, she stood over him, holding the rifle up again, ready to strike if he showed even the slightest twitch of life.
“Jane?” Ben shouted, hurrying through but stopping as soon as he saw what had happened. “Was it him?” he asked. “Did you get him?”
“I got him,” she whispered, too shocked to keep from staring at the corpse. “I got him.”
“Who was it?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but her whole body was starting to tremble. After a moment, she looked around. “I heard Jack's voice.”