The Devil's Hand

by Amy Cross

  “I have to get away from here,” I whimper, and I swear I can feel the optic cord at the very back of my eye sockets burning now. “I have to stop this maniac!”

  Turning, I take a few stumbling steps forward, almost falling once again but just about managing to steady myself. I'm not even sure that I'm going in the right direction now and I fear that I might inadvertently head straight back toward the schoolhouse. My eyes hurt too much to even keep them open, so I have to reach up and force my eyelids apart in a desperate attempt to gain my bearings. I can hardly see anything at all, and it's clear that the damage is getting worse. I shall be completely blind soon, but I have to keep going and hope that somehow I am able to get help. Perhaps God, seeing that I am attempting to save the girls, will grant me a miracle for their sakes. I step forward across the rough ground, and then I make my way a little to he left, hoping to gain a sense of my direction.

  And all the while, the hand is still on my shoulder.

  “Dear Lord, help me!” I shout. “Guide me to -”

  Suddenly the ground seems to disappear beneath my feet. I stumble forward, reaching out to steady myself, but I find myself falling several feet before crashing down against the hard, frozen ground. I let out a cry of pain as I land, but I immediately get up and try to walk forward, only to stagger face-first into some kind of rough, earthy wall. Reaching my hands out, I wonder for a moment whether I've found a snowbank, but I don't recall there being any such thing out here. I make my way along its length, running my hands across the surface, before finding that it seems to turn in toward me when it reaches some kind of corner.

  A moment later, I feel some kind of grit or soil raining down upon me.

  Forcing my eyes open again, I try to look around and I see to my horror that I appear to be in a pit. It's only when I look up and see the blurred, gray sky above that I realize I have stumbled into the open grave I saw a short while earlier, the same one from which Abigail Cartwright's body disappeared some time ago. I reach up, just about able to get my hands to the top, but suddenly a great deal of soil comes crashing down on top of me, enough to send me falling backward until I land hard on the ground.

  I try to get up, but more and more soil is falling onto me now. Looking toward the top of the grave, I'm just about able to make out the blurry silhouette of a figure watching me.

  “What are you doing?” I shout, desperately trying to climb out but finding myself forced back down as more soil comes crashing down. Spitting out a mouthful of dirty, frozen mud, I turn and try to get to the other end of the grave, but the soil is up to my knees now and it's almost impossible to wade through the mess. “Who are you?” I call out. “I have to get to town! I have to call help!”

  More soil comes crashing down, thudding against my back this time. I drop forward, feeling a sharp pain in my legs, and then I struggle to pull my legs free before rolling onto my side.

  “You don't need to call anyone,” a female voice says suddenly.

  I freeze as soon as I realize that the voice is familiar.

  “It can't be,” I whisper, shivering as more soil comes raining down from above, as if some force is filling the grave. “Please...”

  “You don't get to save your soul by sacrificing yourself,” Abigail continues. “Did you really think you'd be given the chance to redeem yourself, Doctor Ratcliffe? I'm sorry, but it's out of your hands now.”

  “I'm going to save them!” I shout, putting my arms up to cover myself as more and more soil comes raining down. “I'm going to do the right thing!”

  “You should have done that a long time ago.”

  Suddenly I feel a brief kiss, as if a pair of frozen lips have touched mine, and then the rest of the grave collapses on top of me, burying me beneath its vast, dark weight. I try to scramble free, but no matter how hard I push I'm unable to find a way out. When I reach my hands up and drive them through the earth, I momentarily feel my fingers breaking through the very top layer of soil and reaching open air, before yet more comes crashing down, covering my fingertips and pressing me even further down into the grave.

  Opening my burned eyes, I see nothing but absolute darkness, and only a muffled cry emerges when I try to scream; instead, I feel frozen mud filling my mouth. Again and again I press my hands against the soil that's forcing me down, but the weight is simply too much for me to make any progress at all, even when I try to drag myself up. I try to twist my body around, but I can't move and no matter how hard I struggle I quickly realize that there's nothing I can do to get out of here. The weight of the filled-in grave is simply too great.

  “Help me!” I try to shout, but I only succeed in drawing more chunks of soil into my mouth and down the back of my throat. I try not to panic, but I'm starting to feel short of breath and I can't stop gasping for air, even though the effort merely pulls more mud into my mouth and nose.

  With the last of my strength, I make one final attempt to push against the vast weight of the grave, but finally I let out a muffled scream as I realize that I'm trapped down here, buried alive. My eyes are open despite the pain, and I can feel dirt pressing against my pupils.

  “I was going to save them!” I try to call out, but there's too much soil in my mouth. “I swear I was going to do the right thing!”

  Finally I fall still, and somehow the darkness all around seems to be getting even darker. As my thoughts start to dim and drain away, I realize that I can still feel a hand on my shoulder, and after a moment it seems to be dragging me down, deeper into the grave, maybe all the way to hell.

  The very last thought that crosses my dying mind is that Abigail is up there somewhere. I pray to God that Kane is stopped, and then I feel the moment when my consciousness falls apart, disintegrating in the depths of the grave. The war, the worst battlefields of Europe, could not have delivered a more agonizing death.

  Part Nine

  IVY JONES

  I

  As soon as I hear the dormitory's door creaking open, I start sniffing back tears. I'm sitting on my bed in the corner, with the cold light of day streaming through the nearby windows, and I just want to be left alone.

  Unfortunately, I see that Catherine has entered the room, although she seems to pause as soon as she spots me. After a moment she turns and makes her way to her bed, evidently fetching a book that she needs for class.

  “Are you coming?” she asks, affecting a casual, airy tone as if nothing is wrong. “Mrs. Kilmartin won't like it if you're late.”

  I want to tell her to go to hell, but I worry that if I speak she'll realize I've been crying.

  “There's no point missing class,” she continues, making her way over and stopping next to me. “You'll be the one who suffers if you don't get the proper schooling. The teachers here are only trying to help us.”

  She waits for me to say something, but I stay quiet. Just the sight of her makes me feel nauseous.

  “She's teaching us about wild flowers this morning,” she tells me, as if she thinks I can be persuaded to appreciate Beacon's Ash. “She says that when we're older, if we have husbands, we'll be able to impress him and his family with our knowledge of such things. I know it sounds silly, but -” She gasps and puts a hand on her belly for a moment. “Oh, it's kicking so much lately,” she continues. “Anyway, I really think you should come to class. You do want to be able to impress your future husband, don't you?”

  Still I don't reply, and finally she takes a step back.

  “Well, it's your life,” she mutters. “I hope you change your mind.” With that, she turns to walk away.

  “Can you see the bone?” I ask suddenly.

  She turns back to me. “I beg your pardon?”

  I pause, my whole body trembling, before turning my back to her and lowering my shirt. She's the last person I want to ask for help, but with Sissy gone I don't have much choice. I immediately hear her let out a gasp when she sees the damage Kane caused with his whip.

  “I know it's bad,” I continue, wincing at
the pain, “but I couldn't see it very well in the mirror. The skin is broken, obviously, but... Can you actually see through to the bones of my back?”

  I wait, and after a moment I hear her take a couple of steps closer.

  “No,” she says finally, her voice filled with disgust. “It's just... It just looks like rich, red meat, almost like -”

  “That's fine,” I reply, interrupting her and pulling my shirt back up even though it hurts to have fabric touching the wounds. “I was worried the bone was exposed, that's all. I went to ask Doctor Ratcliffe, but I couldn't find him anywhere.” I pause, waiting for her to leave. “It's okay,” I continue, “I'll be fine here by myself. I just want to get my thoughts together, and then I... I suppose I'll come to class. Tell Mrs. Kilmartin that I'm -”

  Suddenly I realize I can hear water dribbling onto the floor. Turning, I see an expression of shock on Catherine's face, and then I look down to see clear liquid running down the insides of her legs.

  ***

  “What is it?” Maud shouts excitedly as she and the other girls crowd around the door to Doctor Ratcliffe's surgery. A baby can be heard crying inside. “Is it a boy?”

  “Is it a girl?” Wendy asks. “Oh please say it's a lovely little girl!”

  “Calm down, ladies,” Mrs. Kilmartin says as she slips out and pulls the door shut behind her. “Ladies, please, show some decorum!”

  “Please, Mrs. Kilmartin,” Mary replies as the others pipe down, “we just want to know if Catherine's given birth to a little boy or a little girl.”

  “Catherine has had...” She pauses for a moment, as if she's enjoying the moment of anticipation. “A girl!”

  The other girls all start cheering, their voices filled with delight. As I stand alone a little further along the corridor, I can't help thinking that the whole situation is completely perverse. Why are they so happy about Catherine giving birth, when they know that the child is just going to be taken away to whatever kind of orphanage Mr. Kane deems appropriate? The idea of a baby being born in a place like this is enough to make me feel sick, but I can't deny that everyone else is overjoyed with happiness. Maybe I'm wrong, then. Maybe I'm the one who doesn't really understand. After all, it doesn't seem possible that everyone else is crazy and I'm the only one here who sees the truth, so maybe I'm just being an idiot.

  “Can we see her?” Maud asks.

  “Yes,” Prudence adds, “please, M'am, can we?”

  “Not right now,” Mrs. Kilmartin tells them with a smile. “Catherine is resting and the baby is being examined by Mr. Kane to ensure that it's healthy.”

  “Sounds like she's got a right pair of lungs on her!” Wendy says with a laugh.

  “Now quieten down,” Mrs. Kilmartin continues, “and go back to the playground. I shan't be able to take the next class with you, for obvious reasons, so you must simply amuse yourselves until after lunch. Is that clear?”

  As the other girls file away, excitedly talking about the new baby on their way to the playground, I stay in place and watch Mrs. Kilmartin. She turns to go back into the room, but she pauses when she realizes that I'm still here.

  “Run along, Ivy,” she says, forcing a smile. “Go with the others.”

  “Where's Doctor Ratcliffe?” I ask.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He always deals with the births,” I continue. “Obviously he does, he's the doctor, so I was just wondering why he's not doing it this time.”

  “He's busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Other things.”

  I pause for a moment. She's lying, I can tell. “Can I see him, then?” I ask, making my way toward the door as the baby continues to cry. “I feel ill and I want to see Doctor Ratcliffe, please.”

  “What's wrong with you?”

  “I'd rather tell him about it in private, if you don't mind.”

  “Doctor Ratcliffe is away for a few days,” she replies. “He's tending to some personal matters.”

  “A moment ago, you said he was busy.”

  “He is busy,” she says with a hint of irritation in her voice. “He's just not busy here. He has taken a small trip away from the school for Christmas.”

  “So he'll be back?”

  “I very much hope so. If he decides to stay with his family, however, we shall simply find a new doctor. Until a decision is made, we must get along as best we can. Now go out to the playground.”

  Once she's gone back into the room and pushed the door shut, I turn and wander slowly along the corridor. I keep telling myself that I'm overreacting, but Doctor Ratcliffe's sudden departure feels wrong somehow and I can tell that Mrs. Kilmartin isn't being honest. I was hoping to ask the doctor some questions about the injuries on my back, but now I suppose I shall just have to keep them clean myself. Better that than accepting help from Kane. Still, there's no way Doctor Ratcliffe can have just disappeared without a trace, even at Christmas, and when I get to the door I can't help glancing back along the corridor as Catherine's baby continues to cry.

  The worst part is that no-one else seems to care. The other girls are so scared, they'd rather coo over a newborn baby instead of caring about Doctor Ratcliffe's disappearance or about any of the other wrongs at this school. It's as if Kane has finally crushed their spirits for good.

  ***

  Later that day, I watch through the dormitory window as Mrs. Kilmartin carries the newborn baby out into the driveway, where a black truck is waiting.

  I catch sight of the baby's face for a moment as she's passed into the arms of the man who has come to take her away. I've seen the truck a couple of times before, but all I know is that it's from the mysterious, nameless orphanage. Mrs. Kilmartin and the man exchange a few words, and I see him hand her an envelope, and then he climbs into the truck with the baby.

  There's no sign of Catherine. She didn't even come to say goodbye to her baby. In fact, I doubt she was allowed to see the child at all. As the truck drives away, I can't help wondering what kind of life awaits that poor little girl.

  II

  “It's going to be so good to go home for Christmas!” Catherine explains excitedly as she continues to pack her case. “I'd given up hope, I thought maybe I'd get to leave for New Year if I was really lucky, but now I can see all my friends again!”

  “What have they been told?” Wendy asks.

  “That I'm in Scotland with relatives.”

  “Same here,” Maud tells her. “I suppose there are only so many excuses they could use.”

  “I do feel bad for leaving you lot behind, though,” Catherine continues. “Still, I expect Christmas at Beacon's Ash won't be so awful. Mrs. Kilmartin says you'll have a proper Christmas dinner and everything, and I should imagine your parents will send gifts.” She glances at me for a moment, and a faint smile crosses her lips. “I shall miss all of you. Even the ones who were pains in the bum from time to time.”

  “What about your baby?” Susan asks. “Did you get to see her before she left?”

  “Um... No,” Catherine mutters, frowning for a moment before she remembers to smile. “Still, I'm sure she's in a much better place now. Mrs. Kilmartin told me the orphanage takes super duper care of the babies it receives, and it's even possible a foster family might be found in time for Christmas. I mean, honestly, the whole situation has worked out beautifully.”

  “Did you see her?” Maud asks.

  “The baby? No, I'm afraid not. I asked if I might be allowed, but Mrs. Kilmartin said it was probably for the best if I... Well, I suppose she was right.”

  “Did you choose her name?” Beryl asks.

  “No.” Again, a flicker of sadness crosses Catherine's face, but only for a fraction of a second. “Best not to get too attached, I suppose. I bet her new parents will choose a lovely name for her.”

  “Didn't you always want to call her Rose?” I ask.

  She turns and glares at me. “I was just thinking out loud when I said that,” she says after a moment, lookin
g around at the other girls. “You know how it is. Besides, we all understood the rules when we came here, and I think they've been put in place for a jolly good reason. None of us could ever hope to raise a child out of wedlock, especially not when we're so young. We have to think of the babies and their needs, rather than being selfish.” She glances at me again. “There's simply no point being sad. It doesn't help.”

  “What about the orphanage?” I ask.

  She swallows hard. “What about it?”

  “Do you know its name? Do you know what kind of people run it?”

  “Decent people.”

  “According to Kane.”

  Her smile seems even more forced now. “Ivy, I'm sure it's a good orphanage that really looks after the children.”

  “As good as this place, huh?” I reply sourly.

  She opens her mouth to reply, but I can see that she has no answer. Instead, she turns and heads back over to her bed, where she takes a moment to finish packing.

  “We must all keep in touch,” Vanessa says as Catherine closes her case and then starts carrying it to the door. “I'd hate to lose touch with anyone here. I've made so many good friends since I arrived!”

  “I shall leave my address with Mrs. Kilmartin,” Catherine replies. “All of you must get it from her and write. I do so want to hear that everything turns out fine for the rest of you.”

  As we all follow her out into the corridor and along toward the stairs, I can't help feeling that Catherine has become extremely insincere over the past few days. I still feel as if Kane has broken the spirits of all the other girls since Sissy died, and I'm starting to worry that I'm seen as more of an outsider than ever. Catherine is the only one who has even asked me how I am after I was in Kane's office last night, and I'm sure they all heard me screaming while I was being whipped. I can't shake the feeling that maybe they think I deserved my punishment for speaking out against Mr. Kane.