Dark Waters

by G. R. Halliday

  ‘Different world out here.’ Crawford’s voice was tight. He sounded genuinely disturbed by the eerie landscape. ‘You really think the Slates might live down here?’

  Monica scanned the wide horizon. He had a point. There were no signs of life, no house lights, no cars. In the distance she could make out the shape of a black wall blocking the valley, a string of lights running along the top of it. She realised it was a dam. Tonight the huge dark structure seemed to carry a mythical, nightmarish quality. And the story came back to her: the madman running amok in the tunnels, deep under the mountain.

  She shivered and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as they continued down the road. Crawford kept up a commentary on the status of his mobile phone reception: ‘Still one bar, but it keeps cutting out. Oh, two bars now.’ As if this fragile link to the civilised world buffered him against the deep unease the landscape seemed to evoke in him. She reached to hit Play on the stereo, thinking music might ease the tension, but the sound of ‘If I Had a Heart’ filled the car again. Not exactly relaxing. The road had become a long straight. Monica glanced down at the stereo. Glanced up again. The tarmac stretched like a black canal ahead of them. A single large tree off to the left-hand side.

  ‘Was that …’ Crawford’s voice died away.

  Monica eased off the throttle a little and hit the Mode button. Fever Ray was replaced by jazz music – cheesy, but more upbeat at least.

  ‘What is it?’ She lifted her head as they passed the tree.

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Do you want me to stop?’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  For another five minutes neither of them spoke. Each scanning the hills off to either side as they drew closer to the dam. The road had started to wind up the right side of the valley, climbing towards the top of the dam. They had been on the road for almost half an hour now and still seen no sign of life. What were the chances they would just stumble on some evidence that would lead them to Annabelle in a valley this size? The idea that the Slates even lived down here was fanciful in itself.

  The dam triggered an idea though. ‘Can you call Fisher? Ask him to find out who owns the dam.’

  ‘You think it could be a link to Sinclair?’ Crawford reached for his phone, but swore in frustration. ‘Reception’s cut out again.’

  Up ahead the road curved to the right then straightened and went left over the top of the dam. Monica stopped the car. There was a gate blocking the road. She got out and went to inspect it. It was six feet high and closed with a heavy-duty pin code lock. There was no chance of getting through it with a bolt cutter, Monica decided. Even if she was minded to cause hundreds more pounds’ worth of damage on what felt increasingly like a misguided hunch.

  She glanced up and down the dark valley, looking for some little spark of light, but there was nothing save the bright lights of the dam. No sign of human habitation.

  ‘Come on.’ She turned to Crawford, who was standing beside her hugging himself against the cold. ‘We’re wasting our time out here.’

  CHAPTER 77

  With her heart almost between her teeth, Annabelle dragged the crutches into the room and pushed the door closed behind her. It was pitch-black.

  The sound of the door at the top of the tunnel clanking shut carried down the corridor to her. Followed by the noise of the bolts being drawn shut. A moment later the Doctor’s footsteps echoed off the concrete, moving slowly down the tunnel towards Annabelle’s room. Where he’d find Marcus’s body …

  A sound broke Annabelle’s chain of thought. A noise from behind her, like an arm sweeping softly across the covers on a bed.

  She froze, shoulders hunched. The terrifying thought came to her: It’s Grandad Slate. He’s been waiting here for you. He knows what you did to Marcus. With a shaking hand Annabelle felt for the torch that she’d slung round her neck. Or was it …?

  ‘Scott?’

  The sound came again. This time followed by a faint moan. Somehow Annabelle forced herself to turn and, feeling like she was deep inside a nightmare, she clicked Marcus’s torch on.

  CHAPTER 78

  They drove silently back down the glen towards Little Arklow and Inverness, Monica’s brain rattling back over the facts of the case, still trying to find a clue in the mix. Something that would somehow help them find Annabelle. They only spoke once, when they hit a spot with good mobile reception and Crawford got Monica to pull over so he could call Fisher.

  Crawford’s phone pinged. ‘From Fisher,’ he said as he opened the message to read it.

  Monica glanced over, hoping it would be good news: It’s Annabelle, she’s alive.

  ‘“Glen Turrit hydroelectric dam. Opened in 1956, earliest wholly private power station,”’ Crawford read. ‘Why does he have to include so much …’ he muttered as he read further down the message. ‘“Originally funded by a group of investors. In 1980 a fifty per cent stake in the company was purchased by Sinclair Enterprises.”’

  Monica glanced over to him again and their eyes met. ‘So what? Sebastian Sinclair came here to visit the dam?’

  ‘Watch!’

  The stag had wandered from the moorland onto the road. For a second it stared back at Monica as she stepped on the brake. Adrenaline flooded her system, and time seemed to slow down as she took in the beast’s brown eyes. The white tint to its brown fur. The car juddered to a stop, and the stag looked at them a moment longer then lumbered on its way.

  ‘Jesus.’ Monica let out a sigh and felt the moment of tension drop from her body. ‘Are you OK?’ She realised that she had placed her left hand on Crawford’s chest when she’d thought they were about to crash. As if that would have made any difference had a 250-pound stag come through the windscreen.

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘Crawford?’ She removed her hand from his chest and turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, as if transfixed.

  Without replying he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. In front of them a single oak tree was illuminated in the headlamps of the Volvo. It was standing in the middle of the valley, alone among acres of wild grass.

  ‘What is it?’

  But Crawford was already jogging over to it.

  ‘I saw it in the headlights,’ he shouted back.

  ‘What—’ The question stopped in her throat when she saw what he was pointing at.

  A section of the thick, folded oak bark had been stripped away. On the exposed brown wood behind was a smear of blue paint.

  ‘Looks fresh,’ Crawford called.

  Monica came to stand beside him. She remembered the BMW at the garage. The front concertinaed like a crushed can of Coke. She glanced around, took in the deep gouges cut through the grass, a smattering of glass fragments.

  ‘So someone found her here, took her?’

  ‘That, or they caused her to crash somehow,’ Monica replied. She heard the breath catch in Crawford’s throat. ‘What is it?’

  He was looking warily around at the shadowy spaces surrounding them.

  ‘I thought I saw something just here. On the way up,’ he whispered. ‘A light by the road. For a second I thought it was a torch.’ Together they glanced around the wide darkness. Anyone could have been there, watching from a fold in the terrain.

  ‘Do you have reception?’

  Crawford leaned over, jabbing at his phone. ‘It’s dropped out again.’

  Monica looked at her own screen: ‘No Signal’.

  ‘Should we drive back to Little Arklow?’ As Crawford was saying this, Monica caught sight of a light in the distance. The flash of a torch in among a copse of trees beneath the dam.

  ‘Did you see that?’ But before Crawford could turn to look it was gone. Monica stared into the darkness, willing the light to reappear. Could Annabelle really be here? Alone and praying someone would rescue her?

  CHAPTER 79

  The weak light from the torch showed a low metal-framed bed. There was a body lying on it. Annabelle cl
amped a hand over her mouth to stifle the screams that had risen from the pit of her stomach. Illuminated by the yellow light, she saw both of its legs had been taken all the way back close to the hip joint. The right arm was gone, and all that remained of the left was the part from the shoulder to the elbow. Annabelle couldn’t move. Her skin crawled with terror. Here was calamity. Annabelle stared, hand glued over her mouth. She could see pubic hair, a penis and testicles. The man gestured to her with what remained of his arm. He couldn’t speak. Had his tongue been removed? There were marks and rough black stitches all over his body. She caught the smell now too. Blood and fresh meat.

  He made a gurgling sound. Annabelle felt her stomach turn but forced herself to keep looking. After a moment she understood and made herself crawl closer. He was tied around the waist, a length of blue cord digging into his belly.

  He made the sound again, and despite her own fear Annabelle moved closer still. She took what was left of the man in her arms and held him to her chest. ‘It’s OK, Scott,’ she whispered in his ear. She could hear the terror in her own voice. ‘I’ll get help. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be OK.’

  CHAPTER 80

  After pulling on a protective vest and insisting Crawford did the same Monica carefully turned the car on the single-track road, aware that if she went too far off the side they would end up stuck in the ditch.

  ‘It’s searching again …’ Crawford was staring at his phone.

  She dipped the headlights and began to drive slowly back towards the dam. Towards the copse of trees where she had glimpsed the light. Staring into those dark shadows, images of Gall’s and Sinclair’s mutilated bodies came drifting into her mind. She imagined them hovering there among the trees somehow, the light coming from candles in their open dead mouths. She blinked the image away, but the memory of those bodies made her question what she was doing. Was she walking into a trap? She glanced at Crawford by her side as he tried again to put a call through to headquarters, then towards the black mass of the dam.

  If there was a chance Annabelle was here they had to at least check it out. She knew Crawford would feel the same without even having to ask him.

  ‘Stop! I’ve got reception.’ They were on a slight rise in the road. Monica squeezed the brakes.

  In the close confines of the car she could hear the sound of a phone ringing from Crawford’s earpiece. ‘Fisher?’ The call must have dropped out because Crawford swore then brought the phone down to stare at the screen. ‘I’ll text instead.’

  Monica dug for her own phone and opened an app that gave a precise map coordinate regardless of mobile coverage. The app took a moment to load before the numbers appeared onscreen. She read them out to Crawford, who nodded as he was typing. She watched as he hit Send. The green bar sliding along above the message as it uploaded.

  Monica glanced again towards the dam. The forest in front of it was black and foreboding. A light flickered among the trees. She watched, almost expecting it to disappear, but it remained as a glow, muted by the trees. She killed the Volvo’s headlights completely.

  ‘Could it really be her?’ Crawford had spotted it too and was leaning forward in his seat, face close to the windscreen. ‘All the way out here …’

  Monica lifted the clutch and allowed the car to roll down the other side of the rise. Eyes fixed on the light.

  ‘It’s someone. We have to find out who.’

  CHAPTER 81

  Annabelle held Scott in her arms. In the tunnel outside she could still hear the Doctor’s footsteps coming closer as he approached her cell. Finally he stopped and she pictured those vacant eyes as he looked at the closed door. Perhaps wondering why the door wasn’t propped open like it usually was when Marcus was inside.

  ‘You have to trust me,’ Annabelle whispered into Scott’s ear. ‘I’ll come back for you.’

  She let go of him and crawled back to the door. After an excruciating moment a squeaking sound echoed down to her. He’s opening the door. He’ll see Marcus now. Hardly daring to breathe, she reached up and pulled the door to Scott’s room open. Willing it to stay silent as she scrabbled with her other hand for the crutches.

  Agonisingly slowly she stood up on her one leg, the pain beginning to pulse harder in her stump, pushed her arms through the cuffs on the crutches and gripped the handles. Finally she bit her lip and stepped out into the tunnel. He’s standing there above you, waiting for you to come out.

  She forced herself to look up the slope. The tunnel was empty. Annabelle stared up at the top door. Beyond was the outside world. The road south to her flat, to Miss Albright and Mr Pepper. She could get help for Scott. For a moment she even thought about trying to sneak past the Doctor.

  You have to go deeper. A strange new voice inside her head interrupted her thoughts. You have to go down into those tunnels. The dread was alive in her veins, but for some reason she knew immediately that she had to listen. As quickly as she could, Annabelle turned and hobbled down the tunnel. Into the belly of the mountain.

  CHAPTER 82

  As Monica and Crawford drew slowly closer, the light danced among the trees like a will-o’-the-wisp. A supernatural flicker from the fairy world in that strange landscape. Caledonian pines were mixed in with the dense birch, usually their shapes made Monica think of Japan somehow. In this place a horror seemed to lurk among their body-like trunks and arm-like branches.

  She shook her head at the idea and peered into the gloom. Slowly she made out shapes in the moonlight, saw that as the road turned to the right there was a lay-by off to the left, the same direction as the light. Impulsively she pulled the steering wheel, feeling her too-small vest ride up uncomfortably under her chin as the car bumped blindly onto the uneven ground. She bit her lip and rolled the car forward carefully, waiting for a wheel to crunch into a pothole at any moment.

  The tension rose up her back as the light ahead of them continued to flicker, much closer now. The lay-by actually led to a rough track. Running parallel with the dam towards the mountain slopes on the left of the valley. Stone chips skipped under the car tyres as she drove uphill towards the light flitting among the trees directly ahead of them.

  ‘It’s still there,’ Crawford whispered beside her. Obviously wanting a moment of human connection in this lonely place. ‘Should we stop here? Investigate on foot?’ Before they could even discuss it, the light clicked off. The forest returned to darkness and the chalk light of the moon.

  Monica swore under her breath, glancing at the trees on either side of the car. Could they really be heading into a trap? She swore again and drove further up the track, her body tensed as if for a sudden impact.

  The shape was black. It was in the middle of the track, directly ahead of them. Monica pressed the brake. Screwing up her eyes in an attempt to make out what she was looking at. If it was even there?

  ‘Are you seeing that, Crawford?’

  She sensed rather than saw him nodding beside her. Her hand hovered over the headlight switch. She blinked, tilted her head to better make out the edges of the shape in the fractured moonlight.

  ‘Is that …’ She shifted the gearstick to neutral and pulled on the handbrake then slowly opened her door. Feeling the chill of the night as she got out. The shape was about twenty feet in front of the car. Was it human?

  ‘Annabelle?’ Monica pushed the car door gently closed behind her, then took a step towards the figure.

  CHAPTER 83

  Annabelle made her way down the tunnel, praying the Doctor would stay in the cell with Marcus for just a few minutes longer. Her movements cast long dark shadows on the opposite wall. The horror of what they’d done to Scott had almost fractured her mind: her every fear about the world had been confirmed. It really was hell, and its demons were called humans.

  She didn’t even notice the pain as the cuffs and handles of the crutches pounded at her arms and hands. Descending the slope quickly was awkward though. In her haste Annabelle never noticed the patch of damp tarmac. Her
foot slipped. Reflexively she went to steady herself on a leg that wasn’t there, fell and landed hard on her shoulder, knocking the air from her lungs. She swore, already reaching for the crutches because she had to keep moving.

  When she raised her head Annabelle realised she had rolled over during the fall. She was facing back up the slope to where the Doctor was now standing, watching her. He was in the middle of the tunnel with his long arms hanging loosely by his sides. His legs spread wide in a spidery stance. Almost crouched as if ready to sprint at her. He wasn’t more than two hundred feet away. She knew immediately there was no escape. The Doctor began to move towards her using a strange shuffling motion. It was fast and unlike anything she’d seen before. In what seemed like seconds he was passing the door to St Magnus’s Chamber, then Scott’s room. This time his feet made no sound. As if he’d only been playing when he made those clunky steps on the tarmac. Now he was halfway to her. Annabelle realised he was carrying a stubby saw in his right hand. The floor seemed to shift. She screwed her eyes tight shut and began to pray.

  CHAPTER 84

  ‘Annabelle? Is that you?’ Monica glanced into the shadowy woods on either side of the track as she moved closer. Feeling the velvet night all around. The stones shifted under the soles of her boots. ‘We’re here to help.’

  She stepped closer again and squinted. The person’s hair was long, longer than Annabelle’s had looked in the Instagram picture. It looked lighter too. She took another step and realised that the figure was small – a child surely? She moved even closer. The child had long blonde hair. It was a little girl. Despite the cold she was dressed in just a sweatshirt. For a second she imagined it was Lucy, alone and frightened out here. Forgetting any caution, Monica stooped to take the child in her arms.