by Ian Woodhead
“I don’t need this place anymore. I reckon it’ll take about twenty minutes for the place to succumb to the wildlife.” The letterbox dropped down.
“And if the greenery doesn’t kill you,” shouted the tramp, “Then the guilt will! It’s time for you to remember what you did six years ago.”
Arthur felt his eyelids closing.
How could his day turn to shit so quickly? Oh Christ, those things, whatever the hell they were had begun to stir. They were going to wake up at any moment. Arthur tore his gaze away and looked over at his friend. The man looked petrified. That wasn’t a good sign; big Dave wasn’t scared of anything.
The things stopped moving and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur noticed two knives lying beside the two creatures, one of them had its leg over a handle. Arthur couldn’t reach them anyway, his left hand and leg were manacled to the stone wall, they might as well have been a million miles away.
Even at this distance, he could see just how sharp those knives were, just the kind of instrument he would have used himself to joint a pig. It had been four years since he’d last dissected a full animal but he still hadn’t lost the eye. He suspected that he would have trouble getting through the skin on those animals though; it looked thicker than rhino hide.
He looked around the rest of the room. Ignoring Dave for the moment, his eyes came to rest upon a desiccated human body lying in a pile at the bottom of what looked like a mine shaft. At first he thought it might have been the creatures’ last meal but dismissed that idea as the thing looked decades old – covering the body was a large faded dress. Arthur wondered who she was...
“Where the bloody hell are we?” his friend whispered. “What the fuck happened?”
Arthur would love to know why Dave was asking him, like he had all the answers. He glided his hand over the patterns carved into the wall. They were so intricate; he had never seen anything like it.
“The last thing I remember is talking to you in the park - then this tramp came over and started to beg for money.”
Arthur nodded. He remembered that too.
“Then I wake up chained to this wall next to two sleeping crocodile things.”
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed.
“What are we going to do?”
Arthur shook his head. He didn’t have a clue, he tugged at the chain holding his arm to the wall, and one thing for certain was they weren’t going to be able to pull these free.
“We’re being sealed in!”
Arthur looked over at the alcove and saw pieces of dirt falling down.
“Who’s up there?” shouted Dave.
The man ignored all Arthur’s attempts to shut him up then something else fell down, a lot larger than a piece of dirt.
A heavy cloth sack landed on the dried up body. For one second, Arthur could have sworn that he saw a grubby finger sticking out from a tear in the cloth.
A man dropped down and landed beside the sack. It was the tramp who had accosted them for money earlier.
As soon as Dave saw who it was his whole demeanour altered. The old Dave slipped back into view. He went wild.
“Get me out of here!” he snarled. “Or so help me, I’ll rip your fucking spine out.”
The tramp ignored Dave’s insults and dropped the sack in between the two creatures. Arthur watched him work as he cut open the sack, hoping that the two creatures would wake up and rip the tramp to pieces.
The exposed sack revealed yet another one of those nightmarish creatures.
“What are you going to do with us?” Dave demanded.
The tramp pointed to his chest, his face a picture of innocence. “Me? I’m not going to do anything.” He walked over to the shaft of light.
“I’m leaving now.” He pointed to the three sleeping creatures. “These monsters are always ravenous. The first thing they’ll do is look for food. Look at the size of their teeth.”
He grinned, exposing his own rotten teeth. “I think you can guess that they don’t eat plants.”
“Let us go, you bastard.” Dave said while tugging at the chains.
The tramp stood in the alcove. “I’ve left you two knives. You had better use them while they are still sleeping. You two fuckers won’t stand a chance if they do wake up.” He looked over at Arthur,
“You are a butcher so carving them up shouldn’t be that hard.”
“I’m chained to the wall, you crazy bastard!”
The tramp smiled and nodded then started to float up the shaft. “I haven’t forgotten.”
He clicked his fingers and the chains disappeared. Arthur rushed over to the shaft and looked up, just in time to see the tramp’s feet climb over the lip at the top.
He tried to climb up but couldn’t get a grip on the mud walls. He wondered if he could use the knives to carve some deep holes to use as hand holds.
“Dave? I’ve got an idea…”
He turned around to see his friend staggering back, his chest drenched in blood.
“You heard what he said Arthur. It’s either them or us.”
One of the knives was buried in the neck of a monster. The stones glowed where the blood had splattered against them.
The other demon was on its feet and edging towards Arthur growling, frothy saliva dripping off its scimitar-like teeth. He stepped back until his back was pressed against the wall. Arthur looked down and found that he now had a knife in his hand; that couldn’t be right, he didn’t remember picking it up.
The monster roared, then leaped into the air and impaled itself onto the knife. The body fell against the stone floor. Arthur stared as the monster disappeared; leaving the fragile body of a child.
“Oh God,” moaned Dave. “What have I done? They were just kids.”
Arthur looked in horror at the child by his feet, the kid he had just killed. He dropped the knife and ran into a corner and threw up. Dave was still muttering, he got up and saw Dave staring at the shaft. There was now an old ladder bolted to the wall.
“Help me get them up that ladder, Dave.”
He shook his head.
“This never happened, right?” Dave licked his lips. “We’ve got to get out of here, block up the hole and forget we were ever down here.”
Arthur stared in disbelief at his friend.
“We need to go to the police, Dave!”
“Are you fucking crazy? Do you want to spend the rest of your life inside? Have you any idea what they do to child murderers in prison?”
The body in the sack started to moan. Oh God, Arthur had forgotten about him. He rushed over and pulled the sack off the kid’s face. He looked back to Dave.
“This is Margaret’s eldest. We’ve got to get him out of here.”
He was still out cold, but apart from a few cuts and bruises, he seemed to be ok.
Arthur picked the kid up and slung him over his shoulder then walked over to the alcove. Dave was already halfway up the ladder.
“You can’t bring him, Arthur.”
“But he’ll die down here!”
He descended and stood over him. “He’s a witness. He’s staying.”
“But the lad’s still alive, Dave! It’ll be murder!” Arthur felt he was looking into the eyes of a stranger. “Look, the lad’s out cold, he won’t remember what happened. You’re right Dave; we’re too old to go to prison.”
Arthur knew he was babbling.
“We’ll dump him away from the hole then come back and cover it up.”
Dave nodded. “Ok, but if he does wake up, I’ll throw him back down the shaft.” He climbed back up the ladder, leaving Arthur to deal with the unconscious child. He had no intention of keeping quiet. He’d almost got to the top when Dave reached over and took the kid off him; for one moment, he thought he was going to drop the kid back down.
He had to lie to Dave, he was a big fellow and if he was willing to let an innocent kid die down there then there was no telling what he would have done to him. He hauled himself over the lip, wond
ering if he could secretly drop something bright to mark the spot, when he heard the sound of slow clapping.
The tramp was standing next to Dave, his once best friend had his eyes closed and appeared to be asleep.
“Well, I must say, Dave surprised me. He doesn’t appear to have a moral bone in his body, not that it matters, the willing sacrifice has been made.”
“What are you talking about, you freak?” Oh God, he wished he still had that knife in his hands, he’d push it straight into his eye. Arthur clenched his fists, he’d settle for breaking his face instead. The tramp shook his head and vanished.
“It’s time for you to forget” said a voice by his ear.
Arthur jerked awake. He was lying on the floor of the charity shop, still against the door, it must have gotten dark outside as the only light came from a couple of candles that were still burning.
He looked down, seeing a big orange worm curled up in his lap, it appeared to be purring like a bloody cat…Oh, Jesus, and he felt his mind coming lose again.
He started to silently cry. Shedding tears for the life he’d taken all those years ago. He knew that the events in that room had been orchestrated, those two boys would have died down there even if he had seen through the tramp’s illusions. He reckoned Dave would have seen to that.
The door against his back was now as soft as a wet bath sponge and the vines had re-covered all the windows, it wouldn’t be long before the wildlife found him. He started to stroke the worm then barked out a laugh. What was he thinking? It already had.
After what Arthur had done, he should allow the wildlife to consume him; he deserved to die for his crimes. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the rotten wooden door, thinking that maybe somebody in the afterlife would forgive him.
A familiar sound broke through his lethargy, the tapping of nails upon glass. For one brief moment, he thought he was back in the hospital. He opened one eye and saw a pair of flame coloured eyes staring back at him through a glass door that led into the Staff Only area.
As the demon pushed open the door and stepped into the room, Arthur wasn’t sure that he wanted to die after all, certainly not in the jaws of a dirty, filthy black devil. It stood over him then tilted its huge, armoured head.
“I like your stick, granddad!” It sounded like its mouth was full of gravel but the words were unmistakeable. “Can I have it for my girlfriend?”
He remembered the worm turning to a pigeon and back again and looked at this towering monster in a new light. Could this thing really be what remained of that mouthy kid who squared up to him in the woods?
“I was ready to go,” he muttered. “Ready to lie back and be taken and fate goes and shits in my face yet again.”
He stroked the worm one final time before grabbing it with both hands and flinging it in the direction of the devil. The worm, furious at being disturbed, bit into the first thing it touched. Its teeth, designed for grinding up rock made short work of the chest plate.
It didn’t even have time to react before the worm had burrowed deep into its body. It crashed backwards into some white shelves before sliding to the floor. Arthur got to his feet and booted the thing before picking up his walking stick and padding over to the open door.
All thoughts of ending his life had left him; he was going to see this through to the end and the end was him putting the tramp’s severed head on the end of his stick.
He used his stick to nudge the door open, cautious for anything else that may have been tempted to leap out at him, but he needn’t have worried as the place was deserted. He scanned the room, ignoring the piles of dresses and jigsaw boxes and focused on the large hole punched through the far wall. A sick yellow glow emanated from beyond it.
Arthur’s stomach rolled as he remembered the room’s stones going like that when the kids’ blood fell on them. He looked back, watching the worm emerge from the top of the devils head, munching its way through the body like a caterpillar going through a leaf. He held his stick out in front of him and walked to the hole.
Chapter Twenty
He couldn’t stand the oppressive silence any longer. Damien rose from his mother’s chair and stormed into the kitchen. Nobody commented on his abrupt disappearance, they probably didn’t even notice he’d moved. Pete sat by the living room window, lost in his own thoughts and Jennifer hadn’t stopped glaring at Alan ever since the incident with Dave.
He picked up the discarded biscuit packet and put it in the bin, remembering how often his mum used to bollock him for leaving stuff lying around. He had already asked Alan if he knew where mum was, expecting the worst news, but his brother wouldn’t say, in fact he had evaded the question all together.
The creatures beyond the garden had increased in number; he felt their eyes on him as he moved across the kitchen. Was his mother out there? Was she one of those things, wanting to shred him and his friends? He shook his head. Alan wouldn’t have allowed that. If she had started to change, he would have stopped it just like he did with Jennifer.
He wanted to go back into that room, drag his brother in to the kitchen and shake him and demand some answers - what the fuck was going on and where was his mother, but he knew he wouldn’t. The image of those things bursting out of Dave’s stomach was still fresh in his mind. He was scared of his big brother…no, he was absolutely terrified of him.
He looked back out of the window and shivered, wondering if Alan really could kill the next person who pissed him off. He had no doubts that his brother had the strength to persuade them to walk up that garden path and throw themselves into that multitude of arms and claws and still be smiling while the creatures pulled them apart. He shook his head and wondered back into the room.
Alan was pacing across the carpet, holding a necklace close to his chest, his eyes shut tight. Damien looked over at Jennifer who shrugged back. His brother fell against the chair; Damien rushed over and helped him up. Alan opened his eyes.
“I’m okay.” He threw the necklace into the bin and sat down. “Vile, vile thing”.
In the moments that he had been out of the room, Alan had changed; he seemed more animated, more human.
“Do you remember Claude Barraclough?”
Damien was unlikely to forget that name although he never thought he would hear it uttered again in this house. Claude was one of the boys that had disappeared. He was one of Alan’s mates.
“Bits of him were discovered in Holburn woods yesterday morning.”
Damien had been waiting for this to happen for six years. He had never believed the story that Alan told everyone else about his two friends running away.
“Who found him?”
“Arthur Wright,” said Alan. “The same man who stuck a knife into his stomach all those years ago”.
“That’s bullshit!” shouted Pete. “Arthur wouldn’t hurt a bloody fly.”
Alan waved him over and Damien felt an invisible force pushing him back. This was the moment, thought Damien. This was when Pete gets thrown to the creatures.
“He didn’t mean to do it, Pete. Arthur’s mind had been clouded. As far as he was concerned, a red eyed monster leaped on him, he was only protecting himself like anybody would.”
“You’re not making any sense,” said Pete.
Alan stood up. “It doesn’t have to make sense, you just need to listen to what I say and do it.”
His and Pete’s eyes were locked, it was like watching a snake charmer hypnotise a snake.
“Do you understand what you have to do?”
Pete nodded. He turned and walked up to the front door.
Damien was stricken. “Pete! What the hell are you doing?”
Damien couldn’t move. Pete opened the door.
“Oh God, Pete, don’t do it! Jen! Stop him!”
Pete walked out and shut the door. He seemed to be smiling.
“Oh Christ man, what are you doing this for? Why kill him? The fellow saved our lives!”
Alan shook his head, loo
king genuinely confused at his brother’s outburst. “He isn’t going to die. Now that I made the other one lose control, it’s time for Pete to bring the last lost soul in.”
Damien found that his limbs were no longer frozen, and he rushed over to the room window, watched Pete move through the plants and animals alike; they all parted as he walked through them unharmed.
As Pete vanished from sight, he turned around, meaning to ask his brother where he was going when he noticed that Jen was no longer in the room. He looked at Alan.
“Where’s she gone?”
His serene face dropped and he leaped out of the chair and into the kitchen with Damien right behind him. She wasn’t in there either and the door was still locked. Alan walked up to the cellar door. His face was a riot of emotions.
“I’ve fucked up Damien, oh shit, I’m sorry.”
Damien pushed past him and wrenched the door open.
A sick yellow light illuminated Jennifer who was stood at the bottom of the stairs. A huge demon had her in a headlock with its paw covering her mouth.
“Get off her you fucker!” Damien shouted.
The demon looked up and laughed back; its face was a mess of dried blood and scabs. It was shredded-face.
Jen bit down on one of its claws and it growled and slapped the top of her head. When she choked back a sob, Damien launched himself down the stairs only to be stopped by Alan who pulled him back. The demon fled down a glowing tunnel. Jennifer’s screaming faded.
“What did you stop me for?”
“Don’t talk stupid. How long do you think you’d last against it? It’s me they want, not you.”
“It’s going to kill her.”
He shook his head.
“No it isn’t. If it wanted her dead then it would have gutted her while you were watching. I’m supposed to follow it.”