by Amy Cross
Suddenly I sense movement nearby, and I turn just in time to see the door swinging shut. The rock I placed in the way is gone, and the door thuds hard into the frame, plunging the interior of the mausoleum into absolute darkness.
“Hey!” I call out, hurrying back between the shelves and pushing against the door, only to find that it won't budge. “Let me out!”
I wait, convinced that someone's playing a prank on me, but I don't hear anyone outside and no matter how hard I push on the door, I can't get it to move at all.
“Hey!” I yell, banging my fists. “This isn't funny! I want to get out!”
I wait, feeling a slow sense of panic rising through my chest, but I refuse to turn into a screaming mess. In fact, convinced that my stupid brother is out there giggling quietly, I realize that I need to play a smarter game.
“Fine,” I mutter, taking a step back, “do what you want. If you think I'm scared, then obviously you don't know me very well.”
I wait.
“I'm not scared, you know,” I continue.
Silence.
“There's nothing in here, just...”
I pause for a moment.
“Just bodies,” I add, my voice wavering a little. “But they're not scary!”
I wait, but all I hear is silence now. Even the rustling leaves seem to have fallen still. Finally I lean closer to the door, convinced that I'll hear Nathan chuckling away to himself. Instead, it's almost as if the entire world beyond the mausoleum has vanished.
Swallowing, I realize my throat feels very dry. In fact, I'm starting to wonder just how much air there might be inside this thing, and whether I'm inhaling particles of the dead bodies. I tell myself that I'm overreacting, that there's bound to be enough air for now, but in the back of my mind I'm starting to worry that Nathan's so-called 'joke' might actually backfire and leave me suffocating. After all, why would they bother to have air holes in a mausoleum. The people in here are all dead.
“This isn't funny, dip-shit!” I call out finally, banging on the door again. I swear, I'm actually starting to feel as if the air is thinner, and it's getting harder and harder to keep from panicking. “Can you just let me out of here? If you don't open the door right now, Nathan, I'll tell Mum and Dad what you've done, and you'll get into so much trouble!”
I wait.
Silence.
“Nathan, I -”
Suddenly I hear something over my shoulder. I turn, telling myself that I imagined the faint scratching sound, but instead I realize it's continuing, and it seems to be coming from the mausoleum's far end. Now that the door is shut, I can't see anything at all, but the scratching is going on and on, almost as if -
I flinch as I hear a faint bump, almost like something hitting a piece of wood.
My own breath sounds even closer now, and thinner too.
Backing against the cold metal door, I force myself to stay calm. Clearly I'm just letting my imagination run riot, but it's hard not to feel scared as I hear the scratching sound continuing. A moment later, there's another faint bump, and I immediately imagine a hand fumbling against the inside of one of the coffins.
“There's no such thing as ghosts,” I whisper, even though I've always believed before. Suddenly it feels very, very important to not believe in them. “They're not real. They can't exist and they -”
Another bump.
I flinch.
“Mice,” I continue, despite the rising tide of panic that's threatening to flood my body. “It's just mice, or birds. There's no -”
Another bump.
Louder this time, almost as if something is pushing against a coffin lid.
“Open this door right now!” I shout, banging my fist against the metal while still watching the darkness that spreads all around me. “Nathan, I'm not joking! You're going to get in so much trouble if I tell Mum and Dad about this! We're not even allowed to play near this thing!”
If anything, the scratching sound seems to be getting louder and more persistent.
“It's not a ghost,” I whisper, even though in my mind's eye I'm already seeing a rotten, skeletal hand digging against the inside of a coffin, trying to force its way out. “Leave me alone!” I yell, convinced that one of the bodies is starting to stir, and that at any moment I might spot the faint outline of a figure shuffling toward me through the darkness.
I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to stay calm.
“There's nothing here,” I say firmly, my voice starting to sound whiny and filled with tears. “It's just an empty room.”
I don't care if Nathan can hear me now, or if he's laughing his ass off. I just care about getting out of this horrible place.
“There's nothing here,” I say again. “There's nothing here, there's nothing here, there's -”
Suddenly I hear a brief, loud creaking sound from somewhere in the darkness.
“Help!” I scream, turning and banging my fists against the metal door. “Let me out of here!”
Stepping back, I throw myself against the door, desperately trying to force it open. When that doesn't work, I step back further and take a moment to gather my strength before trying again. The door still remains shut, although this time I accidentally bang my head against the metal and let out a brief, pained gasp.
Ignoring the bump, I step back even further in the darkness before throwing myself at the door yet again. This time I let out a grunt and feel a sharp jolt in my shoulder, but the door still won't open.
“Open this door!” I shout breathlessly, stepping back again.
The pain in my shoulder is getting worse, and I can barely even move my right arm. Still, the scratching sound is even louder now, and I take a couple more steps back, ready to throw myself against the door yet again. After a moment, however, I trip and drop to my knees, and I let out a cry of pain as I jolt my injured arm.
As I get to my feet, I realize I can feel something cold and wet trickling down my face.
Blood.
No, it can't be blood.
“Let me out of here!” I yell, as loud as I can manage, loud enough to make the back of my throat hurt.
The scratching sound is getting faster and faster, as I take a moment to gather every last scrap of remaining strength. I can't even see the door up ahead, but I know I can break it down if I just throw myself at it hard enough.
“Please work,” I whisper, “please, please...”
I take a deep breath.
“Please.”
With that I race forward and throw myself against the door harder than ever. So hard, in fact, that my head bangs against the metal and I let out a cry as I fall back into the darkness.
Chapter Fifty
Opening my eyes but seeing only darkness, it takes a moment before I realize that I'm still in the mausoleum. I think I must have blacked out for a moment, and as I sit up I feel a throbbing pain on my forehead. When I touch the sore patch of skin, I feel a faint bump and a dribble of something wet.
Blood.
Getting to my feet, I reach out into the darkness and steady myself against one of the shelves. I can't see anything, not even my hands right in front of me, but I can feel the cold, dry air in my lungs and I take a moment to clear my throat. Reaching up, I wipe dust from my lips.
Someone's watching me.
I don't know how, but I can feel a set of eyes staring straight at me and -
I wait.
No, that's how to go mad.
If I think like that, I'll lose it completely.
Fumbling against the shelf, I make my way cautiously back through the darkness, determined to get to the door and find some other way out. Every second, I have to consciously keep from crying out and panicking. My shoulder aches after trying to smash the door down, so I figure I'll have to come up with a better plan. I was definitely unconscious for a while, but I'm sure it was only a few seconds, although I feel a little dizzy and nauseous as I reach the end of the shelf and reach out to feel for the door.
; Instead, my fingers brush against a brick wall. I feel around a little more, before realizing with a slow sense of dread that I must have become disorientated in the dark, and I've ended up walking all the way along to the wrong end.
“Okay,” I mutter, starting to turn, “I can do this, I just -”
Stopping suddenly, I realize I can hear a scratching sound nearby. My whole body tenses as I start worrying that something's moving inside the coffins, although after a moment I notice that the sound seems to be coming from down on the ground, next to my feet. All I want is to get out of here as quickly as possible, but I tell myself that there can't be anything too nasty on the ground, so I slowly crouch down and reach out until my hands brush against the cold brick wall.
If I find what's causing the sound, it won't scare me.
I'm sure the scratching is coming from just a few inches away, so I move my hands down the wall until I feel the spot where it meets the dusty floor. There are a couple of thick cracks in the concrete, and a moment later my fingertips dip into an even larger crack that seems to run slightly under the wall. I pull some small chunks of concrete away, while still listening to the scratching sound, and then finally I lean down and put my ear right up next to the crack.
The sound is definitely coming from down there, from a little way beneath the floor of the mausoleum.
“Mice,” I mutter out loud, “it has to be mice or -”
Suddenly there's a loud bump over my shoulder. I spin around and back against the wall, but all I see ahead is darkness. A moment later, however, I hear the bump again.
“Stay calm,” I whisper, even though my whole body is starting to shake. “Just hold it together.”
Another bump.
“Who's there?” I stammer, imagining all those coffins lining the walls. I can't see them in the dark, but I know they're still on the shelves. “Whoever you are,” I continue, “please don't -”
I let out a sudden, startled shriek as I hear the bump again, and this time I swear I also hear something brushing against the floor. In my mind's eye, I immediately imagine a pair of rotten feet shuffling this way. I'm convinced that one of the bodies has climbed out of its coffin, and it can probably see in the dark as it makes its way toward me. In a fraction of a second, I imagine tattered skin hanging from old bones, and dead eye sockets staring straight at me through the dark. Sure enough, a moment later I hear another faint shuffling sound, and the scratching from earlier seems even more furious.
“Please don't hurt me,” I whimper, with tears trickling down my face as I curl up into the tightest ball I can manage. “Please just let me go. Whoever you are, I didn't mean to come in here, it was an accident. Please just open the door and -”
I let out another gasp as I hear a creaking sound, and now it's clear that something is getting closer. I know I should be brave, but I just want to get out of here. In my head, I can see rotten fingers uncurling slowly, reaching out toward me, just inches from my face.
“Help!” I shout, hoping that someone outside the mausoleum will be able to hear me. “Mum! Dad! Somebody -”
I stop suddenly, as I realize I can hear a faint rustling sound nearby, almost as if someone leaning closer.
In my head, I see a rotten mouth starting to open.
“Leave me alone!” I scream as I stumble to my feet, rushing forward through the darkness and ducking down in case something tries to grab me. Almost tripping, I manage to stay upright long enough to reach the metal door at the far end, but no matter how hard I push, I still can't get it to open.
Over my shoulder, the scratching sound is continuing and the shuffling sound seems to be getting closer.
“Help!” I scream, pounding my fists against the door. “Somebody help me! I'm trapped in here! Please, somebody get me out!”
Tears are streaming down my face now, but I don't hear any hint of movement from the other side of the door.
“Help me!” I sob breathlessly, as I drop to my knees and keep hammering against the metal. They should be able to hear me by now, even if they're all in the house, but I don't think I have much more time left. The air seems so thin, I can barely get any into my lungs at all, and I feel as if I'm suffocating.
And still that shuffling sound comes closer.
I take a moment to focus, to stay strong. But my imagination is running wild, and in my head I can see the rotting figure limping closer. Its mouth is open, and there are still a few flakes of dead skin dried to its bones. There's even hair hanging down from its head, at least in a few places, like the old Egyptian mummies I saw once on TV, or the zombies in a movie I glimpsed when I crept downstairs one night. The worst part is the ribs, because while some of them have bits of meat dried in the gaps, others let me see right through the creature's body.
I squeeze my eyes tight shut, but now I just see the monster even more clearly.
I open my eyes again, and now I realize there are more of them.
Even though I can't see anything in the darkness, I feel certain that all the coffins are open, and that all the old occupants of Auercliff are up and about, shuffling toward me. I can hear the scratching sound still, and it's as if rotten, bony feet are making their way across the mausoleum's stone floor. They're coming for me, and they're going to pull my head back so they can dig their fingers into my belly and rip out my guts, and then they're going to bite into my intestines and tear me apart.
When my remains are eventually found, there'll be nothing left except a few old bones and a dark red stain on the concrete floor.
“Help!” I gasp, although the sobs are making my entire body tremble now as I place the side of my face against the doors cold metal. “Please, let me out... I don't want to die in here... Please...”
I wait.
Nothing.
I take a deep breath, and then another, and slowly the panic starts to fade. I know I have to do something, I can't just sit here whimpering, and I've already let my imagination go wild. There are no monsters sneaking up on me, and no-one's going to eat my guts. Taking more deep breaths, I finally feel as if I've managed to calm my fears.
“You can do this,” I say out loud, although my voice sounds frail and weak.
I pause, trying to feel stronger.
“You can do this,” I say again, and this time I sound much better.
I start running my fingers across the cold metal door, searching for the lock. I'm sure I can get it open, if I just think calmly and logically.
And then suddenly a hand touches my shoulder from behind, and I scream louder than I've ever screamed before in my life.
Chapter Fifty-One
Someone picks me up, carrying me through the forest and back toward the house. There's blood all over my dress and I can't stop screaming.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Why the fuck was that thing left open?” Mum shouts in the next room. “Are you insane? Are you actually so fucking out of your mind that you can't even look after a fucking key, you dozy fucking bitch?”
Opening my eyes, I realize that I'm back in the house. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, before trying to sit up. Immediately, a jolt of pain runs through my right arm and I let out a gasp as I lean back against the bed.
“The key's where it's always been,” Aunt Emily sobs. “I swear, Barbara, I didn't know she could find it! She was just playing with her! They're all just children!”
“You're not safe!” Mum yells, her voice filled with anger and panic. “There's something seriously wrong with you, Em! You're losing control!”
I try again to sit up, but the pain is too strong.
“It's okay,” Dad says suddenly, leaning over me. “Don't try to force yourself up, honey. Just tell me where it hurts.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
He hesitates for a moment, and his eyes seem drawn to a spot on my forehead.
“What happened?” I ask again, trying not to panic. “Tell me!”
“Don't you remember?” he asks cautiously.
“I was...”
Pausing, I think back to the darkness of the mausoleum. I was trapped, I was panicking, and I started throwing myself against the door, trying to force it open. But after that, the next thing I remember is looking up at the trees as I was carried through the forest, and then suddenly I was here in the house.
No, wait.
The hand.
Something touched me.
“We heard you screaming,” Dad explains, wiping the side of my face with a wet cloth, “but it took a few minutes to work out where you were.”
“I was locked in the mausoleum,” I stammer.
He nods. “Well, not locked in. The door was just stuck. Do you remember how you got inside in the first place? Did you have a key?”
In the next room, Mum and Aunt Emily are still arguing. Mum's saying some really horrible things to my aunt, and she's swearing and cursing like nothing I've ever heard before. When I grow up, I'm never going to use those types of words. I don't want to sound like Mum sounds right now.
“The door was open,” I whisper. “It was just... It was open when I got there. Someone had opened it already.”
“You didn't take the key?”
I shake my head.
“Okay,” Dad replies, forcing a smile, “I believe you. You shouldn't have gone inside, though. You should have just come and told someone.”
“I know,” I reply, with tears in my eyes, “but I thought I could just take a quick look.” I pause, and then suddenly I remember the sensation of a hand touching my shoulder. “There was someone in there with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there was someone else,” I continue. “I'm certain of it.”
He sighs. “Becky -”
“I'm not imagining it!” I hiss. “I could hear them, and then I felt them, and then... And then I must have passed out, but I know there was someone in there with me!” I feel a shudder pass through my body as I remember the hand touching my shoulder. I just wish I could remember what happened next. “It really touched me, Dad,” I continue, with tears in my eyes. “Please, you have to believe me!”