by Brett McBean
As the pain rips through little Amanda, she keeps a firm hold of her photo and tries to block everything out. Everything except the good memories. Like the day she took the photo. The one she managed to grab before the bad man had taken her. The one that he hasn’t found yet, because she keeps it hidden, keeps it folded and hidden so the bad man won’t find it and tear it up. She clutches the photo hard and tries to remember the day, the very first time Daddy let her use his camera and Daddy and Mommy and Craig all stood outside their house while she waited for them to stop kidding around so she could take the picture. Even Sammy managed to stay still long enough for her to take the picture. “Cheese,” she had said, then pressed the little button. After they had gotten the photos back, Daddy had said that hers was the best one out of them all and he let her keep it in her room, beside the bed, which is where it stayed until the bad man came. But she still has it and keeping it close to her heart makes her feel that Mommy and Daddy are close and that everything is going to be okay. They are going to come and take her away, because the mattress stinks and she wants to go home, away from all the fairies and elves and magic wands…
Julia was awoken by a soft rocking and somebody speaking her name. When she opened her eyes, she at first saw only darkness. Then a light, shining down upon her.
“Jules, hey Jules.”
It was Claire, crouching down beside her.
The stench hit her next – a disgusting, but familiar odor of beer, piss and dust. But most of all it was the stench of death and decay.
She sat up and saw she was in the abandoned house, surrounded by fairies and elves and wands. She was on the mattress, her body covered with a jacket, but she was naked underneath.
“What happened? Why did you come here?”
Julia was startled by the unfamiliar voice. “Who’s there?”
Two people stepped into the beam of the flashlight. Two very familiar people.
“Jules, this is Amanda Waters’s parents – Heather and Sebastian.”
Julia gazed up at the two people. They looked different than the picture – older, not as attractive.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you on the phone. The photo you found, it was of Amanda’s family. After I got home from our lunch, I dug through some old articles and came across the one I recognised them from. I knew I had seen them somewhere before. They live nearby, so I contacted them and told them about what you had found. They wanted to meet you, see the photo, but when we came by your house and you weren’t there, well, I figured you had come back here. Hoped, really. You had me scared hon.”
“Do you have the photo?” Heather said, tears in her eyes.
Julia looked down to her right hand. She nodded. She unfolded the photo and handed it to Heather. Wiping tears from her eyes, she grabbed the picture and held it up to the light.
“What’s this?” Sebastian said, his voice more baffled than angry.
“What do you mean?” Julia said.
“Is this the picture you found here?”
Julia nodded.
“I thought you said it was the one Amanda took of us a few weeks before she…” Heather bowed her head and cried.
Claire and Julia frowned at each other. “I don’t understand,” Julia said.
Sebastian handed her the photo.
Instead of a family smiling in front of a weatherboard house there was a man. A hairy man with evil, lustful eyes.
“It’s Geoff Campbell.”
Julia gazed into the wrecked face of Sebastian Waters. “Who?”
“Geoff Campbell. He’s the janitor at Amanda’s elementary school. Why do you have a picture of him?”
Julia opened the jacket and looked down at her chest. The growth was gone. Completely and utterly gone – not a hint of the photo remained. Her body was blemish free again.
Julia handed the photo back to Sebastian. “It’s a gift to you. From Amanda.”
NOTES:
Believe it or not, this story came about because of the movie 8 Mile. I was watching the movie one night, and there was a scene set at an abandoned house (or maybe it was a house after it had been gutted by a fire – it’s been a while since I’ve seen it).
As so often happens with stories, they just pop into your head seemingly out of nowhere. Sometimes it happens while you’re driving, or taking a shower…or watching a movie. Just seeing that one scene sparked something inside my head, and the idea of the ghost of a murdered girl came to me in that moment.
While I like to think that the story was in me and would’ve come out eventually, I still wonder – if I had never watched that movie at that time, would I have ever written the story? While you’re all dwelling on that little mind-bending idea, I’ll just thank Scott Silver, Curtis Hanson and Eminem for the inspiration behind the story.
STOLEN LIVES
“Who was on the phone?” Jerry said.
Ray, standing by the entrance to the lounge room didn’t speak. He merely gazed at his friend, who was watching the television, beer in one hand, scratching his crotch with the other.
After a notable silence, Jerry pried his eyes away from the football game and looked at Ray. “So? Who was it? Kim?”
Ray shook his head. “Not exactly.”
Kim, Ray’s wife and his sixteen-year-old daughter Rebecca, hadn’t been home when Ray and Jerry arrived almost an hour ago. Ray had been desperately waiting for his wife to call since then.
“What the hell’s the matter, man? You okay?” Jerry had a goofy smile on his face. “They’ve been kidnapped,” Ray said.
Jerry frowned and took a swig of his beer. “Who has?”
“Kim and Rebecca.”
Jerry shook his head, his long greasy hair swishing about his gaunt face. “You’re a fucking riot, Ray,” he sniggered. “Kidnapped.”
“I’m not kidding,” Ray said and started crying. It wasn’t often he cried. He hadn’t cried when his father died. Nor when his brother died. Nor when his first wife died. Not even when…
But he had to in this instance.
After a short but forceful bout of crying, Ray finally managed to gain some control. He wiped the tears and snot and looked over at Jerry.
Jerry looked shocked, probably from seeing his best mate weeping more than hearing the news of the kidnapping. He stood, placed his beer on the table and walked over to where Ray was standing. “Who was that on the phone?”
“The kidnapper,” Ray said.
“What did he say?”
“That he has my wife and daughter.”
“Well what does this fucker want? Money? Jesus, you’re not exactly rolling in cash. You’re only one step up from poverty. You live in a shit-hole of a place, just like the rest of us. What can he possibly want?”
Ray shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
Jerry ran a hand through his hair. “Oh man. This is fucked. I can’t believe this is happening. So that was really him on the phone? Just then?”
“For Christ’s sake yes!” Ray cried. Jerry was his best friend, had been for over twenty years, but he could be an incognizant idiot sometimes.
“Do ya think we should call the cops?”
“No way,” Ray said and made his way to the couch. He sat down and hung his head. “He’ll kill ‘em both if I call the cops.”
“How will he know if we’ve called them?”
“Because,” Ray said. “Hand me a beer, will ya?”
Jerry grabbed an unopened can of Melbourne Bitter and handed it to Ray. The can had lost its icy chill, but it was the last one. Ray had been just about to go to the bottle shop to pick up some more when the kidnapper called. He popped open the lukewarm can and took a long drink. It tasted horrible, but it hit the spot. “What’s the time?” he said to Jerry.
Ray’s watch was broken. Busted one night when he had fallen to the pavement, drunk. He was trying to save up to buy a new one.
“Nine-thirty-eight,” Jerry said.
“Okay, that gives me a little over twenty minutes
to decide,” Ray muttered, taking another drink.
“Twenty minutes to decide what?” Jerry said. He sat down in the single chair adjacent to Ray.
Ray gulped down the rest of the beer then threw the can across the room. It hit the wall with a dull ting! He looked at Jerry. “He’s going to kill either Kim or Rebecca. I have to choose which one.” He put his head in his hands and shed more tears.
He gathered his composure again, quicker this time.
“We have to call the police, Ray,” Jerry said softly.
“He’s going to call back at ten o’clock. If I don’t answer, he’ll kill ‘em both. There’s not enough time for the police to do anything. That wouldn’t even be enough time for them to set up a tap on my phone.”
“Well what are you gonna do? We can’t sit here and do nothing. Fuck! He’s got your wife and daughter. We have to do something.”
“What can we do?” Ray said. “I don’t know who he is or where he’s taken them.”
“Well you can’t play along with his game. That’s for sure.”
“I have to,” Ray said.
Jerry stared at him, his thin face contorted so he looked like some evil little gnome. “Why? He’ll probably kill ‘em both anyway.” He winced. “Sorry, Ray. But it’s the truth.”
“I can’t take that chance,” Ray said. “He said if I don’t decide then he’ll decide for me.”
“So? It’s better than you having a death on your conscience.”
Ray shook his head. “It’s not that simple.” He breathed deeply. “If I don’t choose, or if I don’t answer the phone or if he feels in anyway that I’ve called the cops he’ll kill Kim and Rebecca in the most painful way imaginable. Torture of every kind, the kidnapper said.”
“And if you do choose?”
“He’ll kill whoever I decide quick. With a single shot to the head. And let the other one go.”
Jerry nodded slowly. It seemed the situation was becoming clear to him. “That’s fucked,” he said.
“So I have to decide which one dies, and soon.”
“How about I drive around? See if I can find them. Or at least find some clues.”
“It’ll be a waste of time,” Ray said. “You won’t find anything. Including Kim and Rebecca.”
“Well I can try,” Jerry said, and started to get up.
“I said don’t worry.”
“Hell. Why not?”
“If he hears you coming, he’ll kill ‘em both. That’s if you find them, which you won’t. So don’t waste the petrol.” Ray stood. He was too emotional to be sitting down. He needed to move.
“Okay, if you say so,” Jerry sighed and sat back down. “So what the hell does this guy want? He must want something? What’s the point of kidnapping your family?”
“He doesn’t want anything,” Ray said. “No money, no nothing. Just…” As he paced back and forth, what the kidnapper had said rolled around in his head.
“Just what?” Jerry asked, craning his neck so he could look at Ray.
“I did ask him what he wanted. I told him I would do anything. Give him anything. He just laughed and said all he wanted was to have fun.”
“Jesus,” Jerry said, turning back and shaking his head.
Ray kicked his old card table that sat to one side of the room, dirty from years of cigarette ashes and beer stains. He sent it crashing into the wall. One of its legs snapped off. “Fuck!” he roared. “How could this happen? How could some stranger just come into my house and take my wife and child?”
“God I wish we knew where he was,” Jerry said. “I’ve got my shotgun in the van.”
Ray continued wearing out the carpet between the TV and the entrance to the kitchen. “Okay, let me think this through,” Ray said.
“Think what through?”
“What do you reckon? Who I’m going to choose.”
Jerry made a face. “You’re not really going to decide are you? Shit. You can’t, Ray.”
“I have to. I have to pick one to save the other.”
“But…come on.”
“What do you suggest, huh?” Ray barked, stopping and gazing at Jerry. “My wife and kid are out there somewhere, trapped by this psycho mother-fucker, and if I don’t pick one of them to die, then he’ll torture them both. And do you know what he told me? That he has a boot full of tools – pliers, hacksaw, hammer, nails... Fuck man. I don’t wanna even think about what he has in mind.” Ray took a much-needed breath. He felt faint. He could really do with a beer. “We haven’t a clue where they are, and I’ve only got…” He looked down to Jerry’s watch.
“Fourteen minutes,” Jerry said.
“Fourteen damn minutes before he rings back and wants an answer.” Ray continued pacing. “Okay. Let’s make a list.”
“A list?”
“You know, one of them pro and con lists.”
“You’re not doing your fucking shopping, Ray. This is your wife and kid’s lives we’re talking about.”
“I know that,” Ray said. “but this is the easiest way I can think of to decide. You got any better suggestions? What if it was Carol and Brad who were kidnapped and you had to decide which one to kill? How would you decide?”
“That’s easy. Brad’s a loser. A drugged up fucker. I’d choose him.”
Ray let out a quick, demented laugh. “Bad example.”
“Anyway, it’s different with you. You’ve got a great daughter and a great wife.”
“That’s why I’m making this list,” Ray said. He bolted into the kitchen and grabbed a pad and pencil. He brought them back to the lounge. He sat down on the couch and drew up a rough graph. Four columns – a pro and a con for Kim and the same for Rebecca. “Let’s start with Kim,” he said. “Okay. Pro – I love her.”
“You love both of ‘em.”
“Well it’s a start. Jesus. Okay, how about this. I’ve known her for longer, therefore I’ll miss her more.” He scribbled it down.
“Fair enough,” Jerry said. “But look at it this way. Since you’ve known her for longer, you’ve spent more time with her. That’s a con.”
Reluctantly, Ray wrote it down.
“Also, she’s had a longer life. She’s seen more things and done more.”
He wrote it in the con column. “Okay, another pro. She’s my soul mate. I can’t kill my soul mate.”
Jerry nodded.
Ray added it to the pro column.
“Sex, you’ll miss the sex.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ray said. “A big pro.”
“But you can always re-marry.”
“I can always have another daughter,” Ray said. “Forget that. Doesn’t go on the list.” He looked down at the scrap paper. “Okay, so far that’s four pro and two con. How much time do we have?”
“Seven minutes.”
“Okay, Rebecca. Pro – I love her. And she hasn’t been on this earth for as long. Only sixteen years. Hasn’t had a chance to really live.”
“Again, the other side of that is since she hasn’t had a long life yet, she won’t miss it as much.”
Ray frowned. “Pretty fucking stupid, but okay.” He wrote it down. “Con. She’ll be more affected seeing her mum die than Kim will be about seeing Rebecca die.”
“Ya think?”
“I think it’ll screw her up in the long run, yeah. Maybe I’ll be doing her a favour killing her. I mean, seeing her mum being blasted away will be like dying a hundred times.”
Jerry shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m putting it down,” Ray said.
“You really think this guy will let either of them go? I mean, they’ve seen his face. Heard his voice. He won’t take that chance.”
“Only a person with a really sick mind would be doing a thing like this. Who knows how his mind works? He really might be getting off on me having to choose. Maybe the killing is just an end to the more important act of making me live the rest of my life knowing I gave the order for one of my family to be killed.”
Jerry shrugged.
“Well I have to hope that’s the case, anyway. Besides, maybe they haven’t seen his face. He might have knocked them out and is keeping them blindfolded or something.”
“I suppose. So what does that make? Two each for Rebecca?”
Ray looked down at the sheet of paper. He nodded. And tried thinking of more reasons not to choose his daughter. “I can’t think of anything else for her,” he said after a bit.
“Neither can I,” Jerry said. “So what does that mean?”
In a voice that sounded more like a little kid’s, Ray said, “It means I’m gonna choose Rebecca”
“Are you sure? Christ man, she’s your daughter. Your daughter!”
“I know that,” Ray growled. “But what else can I do?”
Jerry didn’t reply.
“Exactly.”
They didn’t talk for the next few minutes. The silence was broken when the phone rang. It sounded very loud, louder than usual. Ray gazed at Jerry. “This is it.” He stood up and hurried into the kitchen. Jerry was close behind.
“He’s early,” Jerry told him.
On the fifth ring, Ray picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“That’s no way to greet your mother.”
“Mum?” Ray gasped.
He heard Jerry mutter, “Shit,” from behind.
“Yes. Is everything okay, Raymond? You don’t sound…”
“Listen Mum, I can’t talk. I’m waiting on a very important call. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Well I can’t believe you. Treating your own mother like this.”
“Sorry. But I have to go.” He turned to Jerry. He was holding up his arm and pointing to his watch.
Ray nodded quickly. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay? Bye Mum.” He hung up. “Fuck! What time is it?”
“Right on ten.”
Ray shook his head. “I hope the kidnapper didn’t try calling. He’ll probably think I was on the phone to the cops. Damn!”