by Luke Walker
‘Geri.’
Karen howled her friend’s name and fire burned through her throat. She crashed into Mick, saw the barrel of the gun swinging around to stare at her. She shouted Geri’s name again.
Will and Stu smacked into her and Mick and for a solitary beat, her skin touched Mick’s, life touching death.
Night swallowed daylight and the horror went with it.
Seventy One
‘How long have you two been married?’ Phil asked.
The question came from nowhere. Neither of them had spoken since driving from Oakfield Walk and now here they were seemingly driving in circles and he was asking about her personal life.
‘Seven years. Where are we going?’
‘Just keep going down here. Were you together long before that?’
Kirsty focused on the road—Northfield Avenue—searching desperately for anyone in sight she could maybe signal or other cars who’d pass her and see the man in the back.
‘Were you?’ he said again and she spoke quickly.
‘What’s it matter to you? And when the hell are you going to tell me where we’re going because all we’re doing is going in a circle.’
He laughed. His breath was hot on her neck and ear. She grimaced and hoped he hadn’t noticed.
‘Go left at the end of the road.’
‘Then straight on until we get to Midland Avenue, then up there to Sovereign Street, then over the bridge to Thorpe Road. We’ve done this six times. What the fuck are we doing?’
He gave her the same small laugh as if amused by her close tears. ‘Were you?’ he said.
‘Was I what?’
‘Were you together long before you got married?’
‘Two years,’ she said, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt.
‘And your daughter is your only child?’
‘Yes.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Fuck you.’
He roared laughter. Kirsty jerked forward, grimacing again. The feel of his breath on her skin, the bellow of his laughter in hear ear and his horrible questions were all too much. She couldn’t take much more.
Yes, you can. You have to. For Lucy. For Stu.
She glanced at him in the mirror. His laughter cut off and he pressed cold metal against the back of her neck.
‘Don’t get the idea you’re in charge, Kirsty,’ he whispered.
‘I’m not.’
‘I have to disagree.’
He leaned close to her. His breath tickled her neck and her imagination provided a gloriously savage picture of her index finger driving into his eye, her nail stabbing through the ball and sinking deep into his head. How he would scream if she could do that. She’d relish those screams.
‘I know you’re thinking about getting away from me. Why wouldn’t you? Your friends will have reported you missing hours ago; your husband is God knows where and you’re stuck with some mad guy with a knife. That’s the truth of it. You’re not in charge of anything.’
He whispered against her ear.
‘We’re driving around like this to give my sister a chance.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘She’s got her chance to do something now. She won’t, though. She never took chances.’
A queer silence fell over him. Kirsty waited, her chest and throat tight.
‘She was never brave. Never in charge.’ Phil’s voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘I was in charge of her. Always. She knew that. That’s why it went on for so long. Because I was in charge.’ He made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a sigh. ‘And because she wanted it to. Can’t forget that.’
Say nothing. Don’t even breathe.
Kirsty listened to the interior voice and kept her eyes aimed directly ahead to the empty road.
‘She’s got her chance right now. She can save you. She can stop me. She won’t. I know she won’t.’
She could barely hear him.
‘This is my time right now. This is my town. Dalry. Good old Dalry. I’ll miss this place.’
Her fear shifted focus as she realised this seemingly pointless drive was for Phil to look at the buildings and roads of his hometown and to say goodbye to them.
They reached Midland Avenue and drove in silence. As they neared the end of the road and Kirsty signalled, Phil leaned close again.
‘No. We’re going the other way this time.’
Kirsty indicated right. There were no other drivers on the road. The night seemed darker than usual. A few of the streetlights were out and her headlights didn’t illuminate enough as they drove.
‘Your daughter,’ Phil said and there was something horrible in his voice. She couldn’t look at him, not while he was talking about Lucy.
Metal dug into the skin of her neck and she hissed.
‘Eight months,’ she whispered.
‘Really?’
Jesus Christ, why does he sound disappointed?
‘Yes,’ she said and pictured driving her car into another vehicle. Just smashing straight into one and who gave a shit if she was killed? At least it would stop his fucking awful questions.
‘Eight months,’ he said and there was no mistaking the fact that he was musing on the figure.
Kirsty swallowed until the taste of vomit faded from her throat. They passed houses that appeared empty. The occasional street light was lit. Even so, the city seemed to be empty apart from her and Phil.
‘I lied, you know,’ he said abruptly.
Kirsty’s exhausted mind did its best to cross reference the sudden statement with anything that made sense.
‘About the first time. It wasn’t in my school although that did happen. Just a couple of days ago.’
Phil fell silent and Kirsty realised what he was talking about: his first vision of Geri’s ghost. In his school, he’d said. She’d come towards him and vanished at the last second. He’d told her that this morning and that was roughly a million years ago.
‘The first time she came, it was in my bedroom.’
Phil paused; she saw his eyes in the rear-view mirror and understood. He’d made a joke. She didn’t get it, didn’t want to get it, but it was still a joke to him.
He bellowed laughter and she flinched away from him. He giggled and cleared his throat as if forcing himself to remain in control.
‘Came in the middle of the night. I tell you what, that’s enough to shit anyone up.’
He fell silent and Kirsty wished for him to stay that way.
‘It’s because of the girl.’
Kirsty gripped the wheel tighter. This was a nightmare. She was stuck inside it, stuck with Phil and his horrible words and there was no way out.
‘The girl. At school. I’m a teacher. I didn’t tell you that, did I? No. I didn’t.’
Although his eyes were on her, he wasn’t speaking to her, not directly in any case. Nor was he speaking to himself. This was something else.
‘Best part of six years I’ve been doing this. It’s not too bad. Fun, actually. But, this girl. Christ. First time I saw her, I thought I was seeing a ghost. Which is quite ironic, I suppose.’
He let out a soft laugh and his breath tickled her.
‘Absolute spitting image of my sister. I couldn’t believe it. Same face, same hair, same everything. And I can’t just stand by and do nothing when this happens, can I?’
With a ghastly speed, he leaned much closer to her and bellowed into her ear.
‘Can I?’
Kirsty shrieked and tried to pull away. ‘Please. I don’t know. I don’t know.’
She loathed the voice of a terrified child coming out of her mouth and loathed Phil for causing it. He appraised her for a moment, then relaxed a little.
‘I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I knew what I had to do. Not done it yet, though.’ He smiled and it may have been the first genuine one she’d seen on his face. ‘I’ll get to it when I’m ready, know what I mean?’
‘I don’t have any fucki
ng idea what you mean.’
He laughed again, but didn’t reply.
Kirsty swallowed her fear as best as she could and concentrated on driving into Dalry’s suburbs.
Seventy Two
Silence lived and breathed around them. The brief warmth of that day in an early summer had been replaced by the chill of the last several hours. Moonlight had returned with the biting air.
Stu caught Karen as she collapsed. Will took hold of her gently. Mick watched them.
‘Mick. What’s happening here? Talk to us, dude,’ Stu whispered.
Mick’s face remained motionless and savage frustration filled Stu. He wanted to punch Mick, to punish him for dying, for coming back and for being part of whatever this fucking world was.
‘Mick, we need to know what to do.’ He sobbed as he spoke and reached for Mick’s big arms, not caring in the slightest about his tears. He twisted his friend’s jacket between his fingers and wept. Mick gave no reaction. A hand brushed Stu’s shoulder. It was Karen. He let go of Mick and faced the sixth form block. All the windows were shut but what did that matter? Geri was here or at least in another version of this place; she was here with her gun and her rage.
‘We need to stop Geri,’ Karen said.
‘Stop her from what? Shooting people?’ Stu shouted and Karen nodded.
‘But we know that didn’t happen,’ Will said and looked at Mick. ‘Right? That was the last day of school. Jesus, that was pushing twenty years ago and it didn’t happen. She didn’t kill anyone.’
‘I don’t think that matters,’ Stu said dully. ‘Something’s changed. If she wants it to happen then, then it will. We have to stop her.’
‘How the fuck do we do that?’ Will screamed. ‘She’s fucking dead and we’re stuck in this fucking …’
Come.
Mick’s word was as solid as a crypt door. It silenced Will; he covered his mouth and shook just as he had earlier.
‘Where are we going?’ Karen whispered.
Mick’s response was simply to turn away and walk back to the school car park. They followed, not talking, Will walking with his head down. They returned to Bradwell Road and followed a few side roads for several minutes, crossing over patchy grass, passing stunted trees. The breezed played between the leaves and when they stepped from the grass to a cycleway, Stu realised where Mick was taking them.
To the river.
Will lifted his head and frowned, slow realisation coming to his pale face.
The cycleway ran between trees for the next quarter of a mile before opening to a wide stretch of grass and a creek. The river was just ahead of the grass.
Monk’s Cave was between them and the river.
Seventy Three
‘What are we doing here?’ Karen whispered. The idea of speaking at any louder volume was terrifying. It was far too easy to think of her voice carrying into the spaces between the trees and bushes just as it was easy to wonder if following a ghost far from the safety of Geri’s house was a good idea.
‘It’s all right. Mick’s here,’ Stu replied and she wanted to ask him if he really believed that. She didn’t dare.
Mick took them along the cycleway, the wind blowing over leaves and the moonlight a white beam tracking them. Karen gripped Stu’s hand in her left and Will in her right. The thought came that they could be three friends walking home after the pub and it almost made her laugh.
‘He’s taking us to Monk’s Cave,’ Will said.
‘Why would he do that?’ Stu replied.
‘No clue. I just know it’s a bad idea.’
‘It kept you safe from those kids who burned your house down,’ Stu whispered.
‘I don’t care. This is still a bad idea.’
They passed below the overhanging trees. The moonlight vanished and left them almost completely blind. Karen forced one foot forward, then the next. A primal terror of the unknown had come; her imagination told her anything could be in the woods on either side, coming with them, matching them step by step and making its move any second: a rustle of leaves, a snap of twigs and that was all they’d get before whatever was hunting them came, screeching as it fell on them with its claws and teeth.
She listened to the wind and the rustling in the undergrowth and despite what Stu had said about being safe with Mick and Geri’s diary and photo, she knew they weren’t alone. Looking past Stu, she peered into the black beyond and imagined eyes low down and staring straight back at her. At once, the rustling stopped; she clenched her fingers on Stu and Will’s hands, heard them both hiss their pain and her words were stuck in her mouth.
In the bushes, it’s in the bushes.
The thing Stu had told them about, the thing watching him. It was here.
Karen stared into the trees and bushes. Something stared back at her. She knew it.
What the hell are you? What do you want?
Inside her head, something laughed without any joy or humour. Something wanted her scared, wanted her weakened by her fear.
Try harder. Try fucking harder, you understand?
It laughed again, amused by her rage and her fright.
‘You all right?’ Will said.
‘In the bushes,’ she whispered as they moved beyond the overhanging trees and the only noise around them was the wind blowing over leaves.
‘Nothing there,’ Will said and he didn’t sound convinced by his own words.
They left the path and walked over damp earth. Karen looked back but could see nothing in the bushes and trees. Even so, eyes stared at her, wanting her to leave Stu and Will and come into the dark spaces between the trees.
It wanted her in there, wanted to touch her down there.
‘That’s where I hid,’ Will said and pointed to a growth of rocks. Karen forced her eyes to move from the trees and path behind and followed the direction Will pointed. She could just make out the pool and entrance to the cave beyond.
‘They came from that pathway, went over the grass and a couple came towards me. Then they joined the others at the water. That’s when something took them.’
Will said this as flatly as he might have relayed a boring story. Even so, Karen heard the fear in his words. It was a little thing far below.
‘It’s okay,’ she said automatically.
‘Did you see anything?’ Stu said.
‘Nothing. I just heard something laugh in the water and across the other side.’
‘Christ.’
Karen inhaled as deeply as she could. Fierce cold filled her lungs and she searched for the good memories of Monk’s Cave. Warm days. Fresh grass and flowers. The sound of wind blowing through the trees. The trickles of sweat on her skin. The wild smells coming from the water that were full of nature, the smell of the water and the greenery all together, all around her.
She couldn’t get a firm hold on the mental pictures. All too long ago. All too cold and dark now.
Mick was a fading shape ahead of them; they’d stopped while talking and Karen called his name. The volume of her shout made her wince. It worked, though. Mick turned around and she could just make out his face.
‘We’re not safe here, Mick,’ she called and Stu waved at Mick, gesturing for him to return to them.
‘Come back,’ he said.
Mick didn’t react at all.
‘What do we do?’ Will whispered.
‘We trust him,’ Stu said immediately.
‘What?’
‘We trust him.’ Stu looked at Will, then Karen. In spite of however much time they’d spent in this horrible world and in spite of all that happened, Karen knew she was seeing Stu at his most terrified. She thought of Stu’s daughter Lucy, of the day she’d been born. Was that what Stu was thinking of now?
Of course it is.
And how much worse would the thought be for him than her? A billion times? A world beyond it? She couldn’t measure it and didn’t want to.
Stu spoke with forced calm. Despite his best efforts, his voice still shook.
His rapid speech made tiny puffs of vapour in the air. The temperature was dropping. Unbelievably, this place had found a way to be even more horrible.
‘There’s a third choice,’ Will said and grinned for the first time in what might have been days. Karen’s love for her husband was at once a simple and powerful song in her chest.
‘Yeah?’ Stu said.
‘We could shit ourselves.’
Stu was silent for a beat, then cackled a great volley of laughter into the sky. The joke wasn’t a big one, Karen knew, but its simple existence here in this terrible place was a miracle.
‘Come on, ladies,’ Stu said and took their hands.
They walked over the grass to Mick who’d remained motionless during their conversation. He watched them come and how it hurt Karen to see her friend dead but still with them.
I wish you were here, Mick. I really do.
His eyes moved to hers for a second, then somehow looked at all of them at the same time.
In the dark, they waited for Mick to tell them what to do.
Seventy Four
Them here. With me, them my. Friends.
Here. Dark here. I am here. They. With me I. I miss. Them.
Wish. I wish this wasn’t. Me but no way. Back now.
Outside. Outside them. Will get them. Home.
Send them back. Miss them. Love. You. Love you.
Who’s. There. Who’s that here.
You. You. Miss you. Miss you too. Always loved. You.
Take them. Home.
Send them. Water.
To the water. To. The. Home.
Love. Miss you. Love you. Love you all.
Seventy Five
‘Hear that?’ Will whispered.
He tilted his head, listening, then moved in a slow circle.
‘I heard something,’ Stu said.
‘Me, too,’ Karen whispered.
They stood in complete silence for a minute. Even the wind had ceased and the smell of the river had come in its place. Wickedly cold air brought goosebumps to Will’s exposed flesh.
‘Was it a voice?’ Will said and wished the brief burst of laughter he’d made from his little joke a minute before would return in place of this shitty, miserable fear.