by Amy Cross
Before he can reach me and stop me, I let myself fall.
The voices in my mind scream out for me to stop.
One voice - my voice - my real voice - tells me I've made the right choice.
I'm falling.
The voices are screaming.
As I hit the concrete floor, I scream, but everything goes black before the scream has left my mouth.
Sophie
Today
St Winifred's Nursing Home is on the other side of town, so I quickly make my excuses at the funeral and set off. I don't tell Adam where I'm going, or what Henry told me. I don't know why, but I feel this is something I need to sort out for myself. I need to be able to ask about Patrick, and I can't do that properly if Adam's with me. Sure, Henry says Rose has been pretty much comatose since she was admitted to the home shortly after Jess was killed, but I can't help thinking that there's a chance I can get through to her. After all, I bet no-one has talked to her about Patrick for a long, long time. It's got to be worth a try.
"I'm here to see Rose Tisser," I say when I get to the reception desk at the care home.
The nurse looks at a list. "I don't think we have anyone by that name," she says.
"Sorry," I say, "I mean Janet Smith."
"Well that's different," says the nurse. "She's in room 301, in the red wing. Are you a relative?"
"Kind of," I say. "Is it okay if I go straight through?"
"Sure," says the nurse. She grabs a pile of magazines from a little table. "Take these. She's not exactly a chatterbox."
I take the magazines, with no intention of reading them. As I head toward the corridor marked 'Red Wing', the nurse calls out to me. "If you need better light in there," she says, "don't be afraid to open the curtain!"
I knock on the door, but of course there's no answer. I reach down and turn the handle, pushing the door open into a dark room that smells pretty foul. In the gloom, I can barely make out the shape of a bed against the far wall. Shutting the door behind me, I walk toward her. The only sound is the huffing and puffing of a mechanical respirator that's keeping her alive.
"Hi Rose," I say. There's no reply. "My name's Sophie, do you mind if I sit with you?" I can barely see her face in the darkness. "Do you mind if I open the curtains?"
I take her lack of response to be an agreement, so I pull the curtains open. Strangely, although it's bright outside, little light seems to enter the room. It's as if the room itself is intentionally staying dark. I look down at Rose; she's such an old woman, it's hard to believe she's still alive. Rigged up to the machine, she's apparently been in a coma for more than half a century. Her only company during all this time was her brother John, who Henry says would visit her twice a week, every week. But now I'm here. A stranger.
"I came to see you because I want to ask you about Patrick," I say. I half expect his name alone to bring her out of the coma, but there's no response. She seems so peaceful. "The thing is," I continue, "I know him too. Except it's different now, he's older and... I came because I want to find out what happened to you and Jessica at the lighthouse. I need to know if Patrick killed your friend."
No reply from Rose, just the continuing sound of the respirator. Sighing, I realize this is crazy. I'm so desperate to get some answers about Patrick, I've resorted to bugging a comatose old woman.
"Patrick," I say, standing next to her bed. "The vampire." I guess I'm hoping that the words will be enough to get a response.
No reply.
"I went to the lighthouse the other day," I say. "Your nephew took me. Adam. I guess you don't know him. I was at John's funeral with him today." I suddenly wonder if I should have said that. "Did you know he died?" I ask. "Do you know anything about anything?" I look at her calm, passive face. Is there anyone in there?
I walk over to a chest in the corner and pull out the first drawer. Okay, I shouldn't be doing this, but these are strange times and I doubt Rose is going to mind too much. The drawer is almost empty, with just a hairbrush and some boxes of matches. I push it shut and open the next drawer, which is filled to the top with old newspapers. It's a load of copies of the Dedston Gazette. I take a look at some of the covers, half-remembering old local stories. I notice the by-line on one of them: Dexter Logan. Was he here once, chasing up the story of vampires in Dedston?
I push the drawer shut and pull open the third. It's almost empty, except for a ring that has been left rattling around in the bottom. I pick it up and take a look. It's old, large and chunky with a brown paste stone. Ugly, and probably exactly the kind of thing that was in fashion back in the 50s.
I drop the ring as a hand touches my shoulder. Expecting Patrick, I turn to find Rose Tisser standing directly behind me, her milky eyes looking straight into mine and her mouth hanging open.
"Hi," I say, trying not to let her see that I'm scared, but Rose just continues to stare at me. "My name's Sophie, I was a friend of your brother's." No response. Not even a flicker. She doesn't even blink. "I shouldn't really be here," I say finally, as if that isn't obvious. Still no reply. "Sorry," I say feebly, "did I wake you up?"
With no response, I carefully step to one side. Rose doesn't seem to notice. She's just staring at where I used to be, her hand still reaching out as it was when it was on my shoulder.
"Do you need help getting back to bed?" I ask.
Slowly - really, really slowly - she turns her head to look at me. I swear I can hear bones clicking and creaking in her neck.
"You've been in bed a long time," I say. "I guess it feels good to get up and have a stretch."
She turns the whole of her body to face me, and she puts her hand on my shoulder again.
I decide to see if I can get through to her. "Would you like a drink?" I ask. I go over to the sink in the corner of her room, and pour some water into a glass. When I turn back to her, I find that she's followed me over and she's staring at me again. I hold the glass out, but she ignores it. And that's when I notice something really strange: while the rest of the room is pretty dark still, the part where Rose is standing is noticeably darker, as if she's absorbing more of the light in her immediate vicinity. She reaches out and touches my shoulder again, as if she's desperately keen to touch me.
"How long have you been asleep?" I ask, starting to get a very odd feeling about all of this.
Slowly, Rose opens her mouth. Her lips are dry and chapped, with stringy bits of skin showing that it's been a long time since she spoke.
"Are you trying to say something?" I ask, still torn between two feelings: terror and concern.
"You..." she says, and then she pauses as if she's surprised by something. After a moment, she tries again. "You..." but she still can't get any further.
"My name's Sophie Hart," I say. "I'm a friend of your brother, John, and his grandson Adam. And your friend, Henry. And... and I know Patrick."
"You..." she says.
I wait. There seems to be no more.
"Okay," I say. I'm starting to think I should call it a day and get out of here, perhaps come back another day with reinforcements. "I just want to talk to you about Patrick."
"You... would..." she says. It seems like it's an immense effort for her to speak. "You... would... have..."
I wait for more. "I would have what?" I ask eventually.
"You... would... have... been... okay... if... only... you... had... left... before... I... got... out... of... bed."
Suddenly her cold stare, and her hand on my shoulder, seem a lot more menacing. I slip my shoulder away from her hand and step back.
"It's okay," I say. "I can see I've come at a bad time. I'll come back tomorrow, or next week, or some other time. The year 2500, maybe." I go to the door and turn the handle, but it seems to be stuck. I immediately turn and find that Rose has followed me over. She's pretty fast when I'm not looking, but now she's standing next to a lamp on a chest, and I can see that the light from the lamp seems to be dying when it gets near to Rose's body. I reach out and pick up the lamp. W
hen I pass it close to her, all the light from the bulb seems to just disappear, as if it's being drawn into her.
"Don't worry," I say, "I can go out the window."
I run across the room but, of course, the window's stuck shut. I turn to find that Rose has already followed me all the way over.
"You're fast," I say, really starting to feel like something's wrong here. "And I bet you're not as frail as you look, are you?"
"You... would... have... been..." Rose starts, then pauses.
"I know Patrick," I say, deciding my only option is to level with her. "Patrick. Do you remember that name? And I know what happened at the lighthouse. Sort of. I know Jess died, and I know you managed to escape and you've been here in a coma ever since. I know you knew Patrick."
"Poor... Rose..." she says.
"Poor Rose," I repeat. "What about poor Rose?"
"She... is... still in here... somewhere... we... keep her around... for amusement..."
I stare at her for a moment. Her voice seems to be getting a little stronger every time she speaks. "Who are we?" I ask.
"We... keep her... around... in here because... it amuses us to... hear her... screaming..."
I swallow hard. "Well it sounds like that's..." Pausing, I realize she must have lost her mind during all those comatose years. "Who am I speaking to?" I ask eventually.
"We... are taking... turns... Some of us are stronger than the others."
"Other what?"
Rose, or Rose's body at least, starts turning her head a little, with more cracking sounds coming from her bones. "This body is old... It can barely speak... It is... making us sound weaker than we are... We will... have to take... yours."
I back right away. "My body?" I ask. "I think we should discuss all this first." I reach out to try the door handle again, but it seems completely stuck. Rose is shuffling towards me, and I'm starting to think it'd be a really good idea to get out of here. After all, over the past few days I've discovered that vampires are real, which means there could still be a few surprises waiting for me.
"Please..." Rose says. "It would be... inconvenient... to have to... struggle with you."
"Sorry," I say, and then I launch myself at her, with the intention of pushing her over. However, she just grabs me and holds me tight. So tight, I can't get free.
At that moment, there's the sound of breaking glass. Rose and I both look over just in time to see Patrick stepping through the broken window.
"You're... early," says Rose.
Rose Tisser
Today
He's come back to me. After all these years, and he doesn't look a day older. I just wish I could push all the other voices back and speak to him one last time. More than that, I wish he'd let me die. All these years, alone in that bed with just the voices for company. It's agony. I want it to stop. Please, God, let me die.
Sophie
Today
Rose loosens her grip on me, enough for me to slip away. With her attention apparently focused on Patrick, I back into the corner of the room.
"We have been in this vessel for many years," Rose says, shuffling slowly toward Patrick. "You were... wise to trap us here, but... unwise not to kill us."
Patrick stares at her. He hasn't even acknowledged my presence in the room.
"There will... always be a place for Sentinels in this... world," Rose says as she nears Patrick. "We will... have to take her body... for now... We will return it... when we can, although you will be aware that... certain damage is unavoidable."
She reaches out a hand to touch Patrick's shoulder, but he grabs the hand and with one quick, hard move he snaps her wrist.
Rose looks at what he's done, but she doesn't seem to be in any pain. "You see... why we need... another... body." She turns to me. "It has already begun," she says. "We... just need... to finish."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, looking at Patrick, hoping for some kind of explanation.
"We just need to... touch you... a little more," says Rose. She's almost reached me again, but Patrick has done nothing. Whose side is he on here?
"Patrick," I say. "Are you going to do anything about this?"
"Quiet," says Rose as she reaches me. "The Sentinels are ready to return now. We have hidden in here for so long." She fixes me with her dead eyes. "Ten thousand of us in... one body... the perfect hiding place... but so... crowded."
I try to slip past her, but she's much stronger now and she grabs me, forcing me against the wall. I feel heat in the grip she has on me.
"Patrick!" I shout, but he just stands there. For the first time, he has a look of helplessness on his face, as if he wants to do something but can't. "Patrick!" I shout. "Do something!"
"Relax," says Rose. "We will... give you this body back when we are finished with it... after we have... found others... thousands of others." She cracks a smile. Literally. The skin on her face, unused to moving for half a century, splits at each corner of her mouth.
It's at that moment that Patrick comes over. Standing behind Rose, he puts one hand on her shoulder, one hand under her chin, and with a single sharp movement he pulls her head completely off her body. As blood sprays from the gaping hole at the top of her neck, her severed head falls to the ground with a heavy thump, and her body topples down onto the carpet. I stare down in horror as blood leaks out, and then I look at Patrick.
He stares at me for a moment. It feels as if his eyes are looking straight into my soul; suddenly, with no warning at all, everything goes black.
Rose Tisser
Today
They're dying. All of them. Thousands and thousands of voices, crying out in pain. They have nowhere to go, and finally they're dead and I'm left all alone. I want to speak, to reach out and touch Patrick one final time, but the world has already become dark and silent. As I die, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I got my body back at the end, albeit for just a moment. And Patrick saved me. It took him so many years, but he finally came back and saved me from this horror. As my life slips away, at least I experience one final moment of peace.
Sophie
Today
I open my eyes and I immediately realize that time has passed. I'm not in Rose's room anymore. I look around and see that I'm in a room at Patrick and Vincent's underground house. Patrick must have carried me here after he... oh yeah, after he punched me. It's starting to come back now. I sit up and - No, wait - I don't sit up, because I'm tied to the sofa.
"Don't struggle," says Vincent, who I realize is standing close by. "It'll do no good, and it won't help your cause."
"My cause?" I ask, trying to get free. "What's going on?"
I look over to the other side of the room and see Patrick watching me.
"Let me go," I say, trying to stay calm.
"We can't," says Vincent. "We don't know what she did to you." He leans over me and seems to be peering at my eyes. "You're a fool, by the way. What were you thinking, going near that woman?"
"I wanted answers," I say, struggling with the ties that hold me down. "Get me out of here."
"All in due course," he says, but I see the look he gives Patrick, and it's not a happy or optimistic one. "First we need to run a few tests. After all, I'm sure you'll understand that we can't risk another Rose Tisser."
I try to get my hands free. "What happened to her?" I ask, to distract them while I work.
"We made a mistake," Vincent says. He glares at Patrick for a moment. "Well, one of us did. Still, it would have been okay if you hadn't woken her up. She only had a few more years left, and then she would have just died. That's what was supposed to happen."
One of my hands is almost free. This is working, but I need to keep Vincent talking. "What was inside her?" I ask. "The voice said 'we', as if something was inside."
Vincent nods. "Sentinels. Created by the vampires to act as independent observers of the great war. But they didn't stay independent for long. They were supposed to be completely incorruptible, but of cou
rse that only helped to turn them into monsters. They became evil and cruel, and like the worst monsters they were utterly convinced that they were right. The only solution was to trap them, all of them. And then wait for the vessel in which they were trapped to die."
"That's what Rose was?" I ask. "A vessel?"
"It was unfortunate. If we'd killed her at the start, none of this would have happened. Sadly..." He looks up at Patrick again. "Sadly, emotions ruled the day. Patrick couldn't bring himself to do it. He showed too much compassion, and in doing so he accidentally let that poor woman suffer for another half century while she waited to die."
At that moment, I get both my hands free and I push Vincent away. Before I can get anywhere, however, Patrick has reached me and is holding me back down again. His face is pushed right up close to mine, a look of pure violence in his eyes. He hisses, bearing his teeth at me.
"No!" Vincent shouts, trying to push Patrick away. "She's not infected! I'm sure of it!"
"Infected?" I ask. "By what?"
"By the last Sentinels," Vincent says. "When the vampires turned on them, they had to hide. Where do you hide ten thousand frightened souls? You pour them into one single body and you hope that the body can hold them until it's safe to come out. And if that body can't hold them, you hop from body to body."
I'm finding this hard to get my head around. "Rose Tisser's body contained ten thousands of these Sentinel things?"
Vincent nods. "Can you imagine? Ten thousands other souls in your own mind. We thought it would be safe to leave her there in bed, just waiting for her body to die out. It seemed easier than taking responsibility and actually killing her ourselves." He looks at Patrick again, almost as if he's angry. "We took the easy way out and waited for nature to take its course." He looks back at me. "I need you to concentrate, Sophie. I need you to listen very carefully."
"I'm listening," I say.
"No. Listen to yourself. Ignore all other sounds. Listen to your own mind and tell me what you hear."