by Amy Cross
"You can't keep me here," I say, tears rolling down my cheeks. "This isn't a prison."
"You're right," she says, "it's not. Nevertheless, the judge ordered you to be kept here under our supervision until such time as we deem you to be fit to return to society. So really... it's all up to us." She walks over to me and leans down to look me right in the eyes. "Well, it's up to me. As you know, Dr. Campbell is suddenly unavailable. So if you want to get out of here, you have to make me happy."
I stare back at her, determined not to show any more signs of weakness. But as I look into her eyes, I see - just for a moment - something that shouldn't be there. I see a flickering red flame, burning in the black of her pupil.
"Do we understand one another?" she says, turning and walking over to her desk. She rests a finger on the intercom button.
"Satan," I say.
"Excuse me?"
"Satan," I repeat. "I know your name. Don't think that I -"
"Oh dear Lord," she says with a sigh, pressing the button. "I was so hoping we could avoid this, Annie."
"God has sent me here to face you," I say, as I hear the door open and footsteps make their way briskly over toward me. "You're Satan," I say, "and you're -" Suddenly I'm hauled up out of the chair and grasped in the guard's thick arms.
"Special treatment," Kirsten says. "The poor girl's ranting again."
"She's the Devil!" I shout, as the guard drags me out of the room. I kick out, trying to stop him, but it's no use. "I saw it in her eyes!" I scream, as Kirsten watches me being pulled away. "I saw it in her eyes!"
The guard drags me out into the corridor and then along to an elevator. Sliding the door open, he drags me inside and then closes the door before hitting a button. The elevator starts to go down.
"Get off me!" I shout. "She's the Devil! Look into her eyes!"
"Yeah yeah," says the guard. "And God told you to shoot your little brother."
"It's true!" I scream as the elevator comes to a halt. We emerge into what seems to be a small storage area, and the guard drags me through a nearby door and into a treatment room, where he throws me into a chair. Before I can fight back, he straps my arms down.
"Special treatment?" asks a voice nearby. Another man walks into the room. He's young, almost my age, wearing an over-sized white lab coat. He has kind, friendly eyes, and he looks at me with an expression filled with pity. "What's her name?"
"Annie Radford," says the guard, stepping back and looking at me with contempt.
"The one who killed her brother?" the man asks.
The guard nods. "She's nuts."
"Kirsten Winter is the Devil!" I shout at the man. "I saw it in her eyes! Go and look for yourself!"
"Sad," says the man. "I knew she'd end up down here eventually, but I was hoping somehow she might not."
"She's the Devil!" I scream.
"Special treatment coming up," says the man, walking over to a computer on the other side of the room. "Hook her up, Eddie."
The guard comes over and grabs a headset from above, pulling it down until it sits on top of my head like some kind of electric crown.
"What are you going to do to me?" I shout, starting to panic.
"Just some mild shock treatment," says the man. "Studies have shown it can help clear up certain forms of psychosis."
The guard laughs. "Studies," he says, as if it's the funniest word in the world.
"No!" I scream. "You can't do this! I'm telling the truth! She's the Devil!"
The man walks over to a switch on the wall. "You gonna watch, Eddie?" he asks.
Eddie nods. "Fire her up, Jerry."
"You can't do this!" I scream again. "I'm right! She's the Devil! Look in her eyes! She's -"
He flicks the switch. I feel the most enormous jolt of pain strike straight down through my skull and through into my neck. The air is filled with a kind of blue static, and it's as if every inch of my body is tensed. I open my eyes as wide as I can, but everything goes black. The last thing I think is: Dear God, please deliver me from Satan.
The First Shift
(The Night Girl 1.1)
Prologue
"Isn't this where that woman died?" I ask, staring out through the rain-spattered window as my father parks the car. It's late at night, and Crestview Retirement Home looks suitably gloomy in the squall, with just a few lights flickering in the darkness. I've walked past this place so many times and barely even noticed it; now, somehow, it's become my destination, and I really don't want to be here.
"That was six months ago," my father says, sounding tired.
"But still," I say, turning to him, "it's not a good thing, is it? I mean, it makes you wonder what's really going on in there if some woman can just die like that. Do they think about the safety of their staff at all?"
He stares at me, clearly not impressed.
"What I mean is, there's obviously a question mark over the security of -"
"Nice try," he says, forcing a smile. "One-off incidents aside, there's nothing wrong with Crestview. Do you think I'd send my only child to work there for the summer if I thought there was any danger of an ax murderer stalking the corridors?"
"It was an ax murderer?" I say, clutching my backpack as I stare wide-eyed at him.
"No!" he replies, leaning over and opening the door next to me, "it was not an ax murderer, as you well know." He sighs as he glances at the dashboard clock; it's 9:51pm, just two minutes before my first shift is due to begin. "Juliet, I really think you should get going. You don't want to be late. You have to set a good first impression, so they can tell you're a reliable person. If they don't like you, they won't want to keep you on."
"I don't want them to keep me on," I say.
"Come on," he replies wearily, "time to get going."
"It's not gonna take me nine minutes to get to the door," I point out.
"Better to be early than late," he says, unbuckling my seat-belt and giving my arm a gentle push. "We've talked about this, Juliet. There's no way I'm going to let you sit around all summer, twiddling your thumbs and spending all your time chatting to people online. That's not how things work in the Collier household, okay? You're an adult now and you're going to work and earn money, and you're going to save most of that money for when college starts in a few months. Laziness is not an option."
"I can find another job," I point out, as the clock rolls over to 9:54pm. "One where I don't have to become completely nocturnal."
"I gave you two weeks to find your own job," he replies, "and you got nowhere."
"I got that job at the mall," I remind him.
"And how long did that last?"
I take a deep breath. "Twenty-seven minutes," I say, "but it wasn't my fault. They didn't give me any training, and they -"
"Whatever," my father says, interrupting me. "It's time to do some real work. Trust me, it'll be good for you. Most kids have started working way before their eighteenth birthday. It's my fault for cutting you too much slack. You've got no idea how privileged you've been so far, but a dose of work in the real world is going to set you straight. Now get moving. You don't want to be late on your first day. In the meantime, if you need me, you know where to find me."
"Fine," I say, getting out of the car and slinging my back-pack over my shoulder. With rain pouring all around, I turn back to face him. "Good night," I say sourly. "Sleep well in your big, comfortable bed while your daughter toils away in a retirement home for minimum wage."
"I'll pick you up at 8am," he says, pulling the door shut. I step back and watch as the car pulls away, and then I turn and hurry along the driveway that leads to Crestview's main entrance. I'd never realized how big this place is, but I can see now that there are darkened sections leading off in both directions. Reaching the door, I find that it's locked, so I ring the bell and wait, sheltering under a small awning. Glancing over at a nearby window, I stare at the darkness and suddenly realize there's a person in there, watching me. A shiver runs down my spine, but momen
ts later I hear a key being turned in the lock and I turn to see a middle-aged bald man opening the door.
"Juliet Collier?" he says, not looking particularly enthusiastic as he checks his watch. "Right on time. Come on in."
Chapter One
Today
"You'll have to excuse me for just a minute," the man says as he re-locks the door behind us, "but here's your first lesson." He slides the second lock across. "Always keep the external doors and windows fastened. Some of the residents can be a little flighty, and if one of them wanders off, we could have a huge problem on our hands, especially when the weather's so bad." He secures the third and final lock, before turning to me. "Do you know what our main job is here at Crestview?"
"Caring for people?" I ask tentatively.
"Avoiding lawsuits," he says flatly. "Lawsuits from litigious families. If one of the residents got outside in a storm like this, we could be sued for millions." He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in before holding out a hand. "My name's Charles Taylor, by the way. We spoke on the phone. I'm the manager of Crestview."
"Hi," I say, forcing myself to smile as I shake his cold, clammy hand. "Juliet Collier."
"Nice to meet you, Juliet," he continues. "Take a seat and I'll be with you in just a minute. I have a couple of pieces of paperwork to finish." With that, he turns and heads into a nearby office, leaving me to wander through to what turns out to be a high-ceilinged reception area with a bunch of sofas arranged around a small coffee table. The first thing I notice about the place is how warm it is, but I guess that's because old people get cold easily; the second thing I notice is that there are three dark corridors running off in various directions, which I assume must be three of the four wards. I suppose the lights are low since it's late and the old people are in bed, but as I sit down on one of the sofas, I can't help feeling a little overcome by the hushed silence of the place.
After a few minutes of glancing around the room, I pick up a magazine from the coffee table and start flicking through the pages. It's all about plants, which I guess is what people like to read about in a place like this. Spotting a plant next to the sofa, I reach over and feel the leaves, finding that it's made of plastic. The old people probably don't even notice; I suppose they're not the most observant types. Putting the magazine down, I glance along one of the dark corridors and suddenly realize that there's someone at the far end, standing in the darkness and staring in my direction. I can't make out his or her features, and I guess it's just one of the residents up and about. Still, it feels a little creepy.
"Hi," I say, waving meekly.
"Okay, Juliet," says Charles as he emerges from his office. "Let's go and find your colleague for the night and so she can give you a quick run-down of your duties." He leads me away from the reception area and along one of the corridors. "I have to leave in five minutes," he explains, clearly in a hurry, "but Lizzie's a great worker, she'll show you the ropes." We reach a junction in the corridor and Charles looks left and right before sighing and taking a phone from his pocket. "Just a minute," he mutters as he pulls up a number and dials. After a moment, he puts the phone away. "I guess she's busy with a patient," he says. "Come on, let me show you the rec room."
He leads me into a small, warm room with a number of chairs spread around, all of them facing a TV in the corner. So far, this place is kind of disorientating. All the long, darkly lit corridors seem to be the same, and I already feel as if I'm lost in some kind of warm, plastic labyrinth.
"This is the recreation room for the green ward," Charles explains. "Each of the wards has a room like this, so the residents can gather and socialize. It's important that they don't just sit in their bedrooms and wither away, you know? We need to keep their minds active, or they can end up sinking into lethargy and from there it's a short trip to the grave. Anyway, I think Lizzie might be on the red ward, so let's go and find her."
As we hurry along another corridor, I see a set of double-doors off to one side, with a large padlock over the handles and some tape down the middle. I pause for a moment and take a look through the small window, seeing a brightly-lit but deserted corridor; it looks just like the rest of the corridors, except that the lights are on full and the padlock on the door suggests someone really doesn't want anyone going in there. I give the door a gentle tug, but it's firmly secured.
"That ward's not in use," Charles says, putting an arm around my shoulder and steering me away. "Come on, we have to find Lizzie, I should have left already."
Adjusting my backpack, I follow him to the red ward, which turns out to be just as dark and empty as the green ward.
"Huh," Charles says, trying to call Lizzie again but still having no luck. "This kind of thing happens sometimes, Juliet. The night shift tends to be fairly uneventful, but occasionally something happens that requires your attention. Lizzie's probably helping one of our residents. The important thing, though, is to make sure you answer your phone if it's at all possible. As the night progresses, you need to make an effort to stay in touch with your colleague." He sighs. "Okay, we're clearly not going to be able to find Lizzie before I leave, so let me find you something to do."
"Sure," I say under my breath, already feeling overwhelmed.
"Take a look around this rec room," he continues, checking his watch again. "If you find anything that needs cleaning, give it a wipe." He opens a small cupboard to reveal a set of cleaning supplies. "I don't really know what's in here, but I'm sure you'll find something. Just make sure you don't leave anything out that someone could trip over, okay? I promise you, Lizzie will be through very soon to go over your duties with you, but the basics are pretty simple. You're here to support the trained medical professional who's on duty, but the most important thing is that you remember that you yourself have no training and therefore can't provide direct medical care. You're just an assistant. A night girl. Once again, we're in danger of a major lawsuit if an untrained worker attempts to perform medical duties, so if you're ever in any doubt, always ask Lizzie, okay?"
"Totally," I say, starting to feel that this place is a kind of fly-by-night operation. I guess I'm just the dogsbody, hired to carry things and clean up after the residents.
"There are some forms you have to sign," he continues, "but Lizzie can get you to do that in the office before you leave. Okay, I have to head off, but just hang on in here for a few minutes and I'll make sure Lizzie comes through. Don't worry, she's one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. You'll be fine." Checking his watch again, he hurries to the door. "Just work hard and use your common sense, Juliet, and you'll have no problems. Welcome to the team!" With that, he runs off down the corridor, and I stand alone for a moment, just listening to his footsteps racing away. After a moment, I hear him speaking to someone on the phone; it sounds like he's telling someone he'll be late to meet them at a restaurant.
"Okay," I say quietly to myself, turning to look around the low-lit room. All around me, there's nothing but silence and emptiness. It's as if I've been dumped in the middle of a large building and just left to get on with whatever work I can find, which isn't exactly how I expected to start my first shift here at Crestview. Walking over to the cupboard, I pull out a duster and a container of spray-polish, and figure I might as well do a little light cleaning. If this Lizzie woman is going to show up eventually, I might as well look busy when she arrives. I set my backpack down on a nearby chair, turn the lights up so I can see what I'm doing, and start running the duster along the top of the TV. The place is thick with dust, so I guess no-one's been in here to clean for a while.
Reluctantly, I start giving the room a proper clean, occasionally glancing up to see if there's any sign of Lizzie. After an hour, I'm still cleaning and I'm still alone. Suddenly, however, I hear a shuffling noise in one of the nearby corridors; pausing for a moment, I hear it again, and I realize there's definitely someone nearby. When the shuffling noise continues, I realize it sounds as if one of the residents has got out of bed. Fi
guring I should go take a look, I quickly put the cleaning supplies away and hurry along the corridor. Sure enough, when I get to the next junction, I spot a hunched figure in the distance, disappearing around the next corner.
"Hey," I call out, taking a step forward. As if startled, the figure disappears quickly from view. "Hey!" I say again, running over. To my surprise, however, I find that there's no-one in the next corridor. I'd assumed that all the old people in this place would be slow and lumbering, but this one definitely seems to be a little more sprightly.
"You must be the new night girl," says a voice right behind me.
Spinning around, I find a tall blonde woman smiling at me. She's wearing a light blue nurse's uniform, and she looks to be in her thirties or forties.
"I'm Juliet," I say, my heart racing.
"I know," she replies, smiling. "Charles told me you'd be around here somewhere. Sorry I took so long getting to you, but I was over on the blue ward. One of the patients had fallen over, and it was hell to get him up. Have you been okay?"
"Yeah," I say, glancing back along the corridor. "I thought I saw someone through here, though. I was gonna go and see if they were lost, but they moved too fast."
"It was probably just a trick of the light," she says. "None of our residents can move at more than a snail's pace."
"Huh," I say, convinced I saw an actual person in the darkness. "I swear it was -"
"Come on," she replies, putting a hand on my arm and leading me back to the rec room. "Let me guess. Charles told you almost nothing about what you're supposed to be doing here, did he? He set you loose with virtually no instructions, and expected you to work out your responsibilities along the way"