by Amy Cross
I pause for a moment.
So I can what?
Until a few hours ago, I was planning to go on the run with the money. Now, however, I've begun to realize that I can't possibly do something so stupid and wrong. I have to find the money and take it home, and hand it back to its rightful owner. I'll have to pay for moment of weakness, I know that, but at least I'll know I'm doing the right thing. First, though, I need to actually get the suitcase and the money back. Going home with an apology but without the money would never be enough. I took that money from good people and they need to get it back.
Once I've checked the basement, I realize that the suitcase has to be somewhere else in the building. I could go back upstairs the way I came, past the breakfast room, but the last thing I want is to bump into Lloyd and the others again so instead I turn and start limping up the metal stairs, ignoring the pain in my ankle as I get closer to the door. I know I should go back through to the others, but my head is spinning and I'm starting to think that I'd rather just go out the back way, head around the building and in through the front door, and then find the suitcase before leaving forever without saying goodbye. I have a key to the front door in the pocket of my gown, and I'm relieved to find that the back door has been left unlocked.
Just as I start to turn the handle, however, I hear something clattering against the wall outside.
I freeze, trying not to panic and focusing instead of the chance that the noise was caused by a gust of wind. A moment later, however, I hear another bump, followed by a set of footsteps trampling through the snow. I immediately think back to my encounter out there earlier, when some kind of figure pinned me down, and then I realize the footsteps are on the other side of the door. Spotting a rust old key in the lock, I turn it quickly, locking the door just a fraction of a second before the handle is suddenly grabbed and turned from outside.
Whoever's out there, they try several times to force the door open, and then I hear a faint, annoyed grunt.
I hold my breath and wait.
Silence.
Suddenly something slams into the other side of the door. Gasping, I step back, almost falling down the stairs. A moment later the door is hit again, shuddering in its frame. Whatever's out there, it sounds very angry and very keen to get inside. Still holding my breath, I realize I can hear a faint but persistent sniffing sound, almost as if the creature has picked up my scent. I take another step back, just before the door is hit for a third time. The impact is even harder this time, and I hear a loud grunt from outside before everything falls still again.
Still not daring to move, I stare at the door.
It's gone.
Whatever was out there, it must have -
Suddenly there's an even larger impact, causing the door to shake. And then, just as I'm about to turn and run, I hear footsteps trudging away through the snow. Whatever that thing is, it must have given up. It seemed strong, though. Real strong, almost strong enough to knock down a door, and I can't help worrying that something appeared to be very keen to break into the B&B. In fact, as I take another step back from the door, I can't help thinking back to all that talk of the Snowman. I mean, maybe someone just wanted to get inside in a hurry for some perfectly innocent reason, but I don't think I want to take any chances.
I make my way back down the steps and then I start fumbling back across the darkened boiler room. I briefly try to find the coffee mug I left in here earlier, before giving up and heading toward the lines of light that show the edges of the exit.
“Don't panic,” I mutter under my breath, trying to remind myself that I have no proof it was the infamous Snowman trying to get inside. “It's probably nothing.”
I can hear voices nearby, so I guess there are more people in the breakfast room. Taking a deep breath, I brush some fragments of dirt from the front of my night-gown before pulling the door open. Still feeling a little freaked out by whoever was trying to get into the building, I make my way back to the breakfast room, only to stop as soon as I see that the other girl – the girl who looks like me – is up and about again, and she's talking to the others. As the boiler room's door swings shut behind me, I reach up and check that my bandages are still in place.
“The coffee machine is still on the fritz,” Lloyd tells me. “I tried turning it off and on again. Whatever you did, it hasn't made a spot of difference.”
I stare at him, convinced that he has to be joking, and then I look over at the coffee machine.
“You want to get that thing fixed,” he adds.
For a moment, all I want to do is take the goddamn coffee machine, rip it away from the wall, and throw it to the ground. I'm tempted to give direct action a try, but I guess I'd only end up seeming completely psychotic. Still, as Lloyd starts talking to the other girl, I look over at the machine and start wondering whether by some miracle I might be able to get it working again. Lost in thought, I quickly come back to the same conclusion as earlier, which is that the damn thing most likely needs a good kicking.
“Do you remember how many nights I've been here?” Lloyd asks suddenly.
Turning, I realize he was talking to me. I pause, before shaking my head. The rustling bandages are becoming seriously annoying.
“Sshh!” Matilda hisses, placing a finger against her lips.
I turn to her, and she glares at Lloyd for a moment before turning and staring straight at me. Something about her gaze seems rather uncanny, as if she's trying to see through my eyes and into my mind, and I can't help feeling as if she's in possession of a sea of shimmering rage that exists just beneath the surface, waiting to explode.
She's fiddling with a ketchup packet, too, as if she can find no other way to express her seething anger.
“I wonder if he's found his latest victim yet,” Lloyd says, his voice filled with wonder as he looks up toward the ceiling. “Even if there's no news, he might have struck, and the body is simply awaiting discovery. Or perhaps he's merely tracking her through the snow, waiting for his chance. Or I suppose it's possible that he's still on the lookout, still waiting for some timid little mouse to scurry out from one of the city's doors. Matilda, for example. If I were him, I'd start near the cathedral. Good hunting ground and -”
“For God's sake!” Matilda yells suddenly, getting to her feet. “Can't you just shut up?!?”
Startled, I step back and almost knock the entire trolley over. As I steady myself, I can't help thinking that I should have been ready for that, that I should have remembered from last time that Matilda was going to blow her lid after Lloyd wittered on for a while. I still don't quite know what's going on here, but it's quite clear that I'm stuck in some kind of reenactment of the night so far, albeit seeing things from another perspective. The whole thing has to be a trick, I know that, and I'm certainly not given to flights of fancy. At the same time, I still don't know how to begin explaining all of this. I just need to find my suitcase and get out of here. Even as Lloyd and Matilda argue, I find myself lost in thought, desperately trying to come up with an answer.
Wait, maybe the suitcase is in the -
“Shut up!” Matilda yells suddenly.
Startled again, I step back against the wall. I definitely should have remembered that second little outburst. And now, as Matilda starts really laying into Lloyd, my mind starts racing as I try to remember what happens next. If this all goes according to plan, they'll argue for a little while longer and then Matilda will storm out. Then she'll leave the building and run off, and eventually she'll play her silly little stunt in the alley with the ketchup. I watch for a moment, following every word of their disagreement, waiting to see if anything changes at all.
Finally, however, Matilda storms out in the exact same fashion as before. She still has a ketchup sachet in her right hand.
“Two of hearts,” Major Denham announces proudly.
I should have remembered that, too. I need to pay attention. As the others continue to talk, I try to think of what might happen next. Turning
to look at the coffee machine, I remember that last time I was here, it suddenly burst into life. There's no reason for that to happen right now, of course, although after a moment I suddenly spot a wire that looks to be loose at the back. Reaching down, I take hold of the wire and shove it back into its slot, giving it a twist for good measure.
The machine immediately starts grumbling and shuddering. Taking a step back, I watch with a sense of shock as water starts running from the spout, filling a cup.
“See?” Lloyd says finally. “Told you it'd get going eventually. It just takes a little time, that's all.”
“Something tried to get into the building,” I mumble under the bandages, before realizing that this whole situation is too much for me. “I'm getting out of here!”
With that, I turn and hurry out of the room, and I quickly start scrambling up the stairs until I reach the hallway on the ground floor. Just as I get there, however, I see that Matilda is heading toward the front door, marching with a great deal of purpose. As soon as she pulls the door open, a blast of cold air rushes through, ruffling her hair.
“Where are you going?” I call after her.
She turns to me. “Where do you think?” she spits. “I'm going to prove to that asshole that there's no reason to be scared!”
“I wouldn't bother, if I were you,” I reply, stepping closer. “Why don't you just stay in tonight? It looks pretty crazy out there.”
“Are you like him?” she asks, with evident disdain. “Do you think we should all be hiding away, terrified of this Snowman monster?”
“Have you seen my suitcase?” I reply.
She scowls at me. “What?”
“Never mind,” I tell her, figuring that maybe I can avoid the whole mess in the alley with the ketchup. “Listen, there's no point tempting fate. Ignore Lloyd, he talks a lot but I'm pretty sure most of it's just hot air.”
“That's exactly the kind of thing I hate,” she sneers. “It's not enough for him to cower in fear. He wants everyone else to do the same, too. He wants us all to stay down in that breakfast room, like it's some kind of air-raid shelter, hiding away from the world. And why? All because of some imagined monster that he swears is gonna come and get us! There's nothing out there!”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” I tell her.
“Obviously he's tricked you too,” she replies. “It's pitiful, really. But you know what they say, right? The only thing to fear is fear itself. So I'm gonna prove to Lloyd and the others, including you, that there's nothing out there in the snow waiting to get any of us!”
“I'm not sure you should be -”
Before I can get another word out, she hurries down the steps and out into the snow.
“Wait!”
I run to the door, but she's already wading through the thick snow, making her way toward the far end of the street.
“Matilda!” I shout. “Come back!”
Sighing, I realize I'm too late. Clearly she's set on her course, and it's not as if there's anything I can do to stop her. Then again, in theory I know exactly what'll happen to her, which in turn means that I know she'll be fine. Even if the Snowman really is out there somewhere hunting his latest victim, I know he won't chance upon Matilda, because I already know that she makes it back to the B&B just fine. She's annoying, sure, but it's not like her life is in danger. At least, I don't think so. To be honest, I'm struggling to keep all the different causes and effects in the right order.
Standing in the doorway for a moment, I watch as she disappears into the distance.
“Idiot,” I mutter, thinking about her stupid trick with the ketchup. “Fine, just go and -”
Suddenly I spot a figure in the distance, hurrying through the snow. It's not Matilda, that's for sure, and I barely have time to register what I'm seeing before the figure disappears down another street. From this far, and with my bad eyesight, the figure looked like little more than a stick-limbed smudge, but I feel a flash of fear before reminding myself that I already know Matilda makes it back to the B&B without any trouble.
That figure was probably just some other fool who saw fit to go out into the snow. Or he was one of the night-watch people I've heard about. Maybe his lantern was just broken.
Forcing myself to stay calm, I turn and head back toward the office. Just as I'm about to go inside, however, I hear footsteps coming up from the basement. I freeze, trying not to panic, and then I scuttle over to the stairs and make my way up to the turn. Glancing back, I see the girl, the one who looks like me, heading cautiously toward the front door. I remain in place, too scared to move, and I watch as she leans out into the snowy night.
“Hello?” she shouts.
“It's not me,” I whisper. “It can't -”
Suddenly the phone starts ringing. The girl turns, but I duck around the corner just in time, and a moment later I hear more footsteps coming up from the basement. It'll be Lloyd, I'm sure of it.
“I think somebody went outside,” the girl says. Her voice sounds as whiny, nasal and irritating as ever.
“Is nobody else here to answer that?” Lloyd asks.
I hear more footsteps, followed by the sound of the phone's receiver being lifted from the cradle.
“Hello,” Lloyd says after a moment. “You've reached the -”
He stops. I stay where I am, as my heart continues to pound in my chest. I don't even know why I'm so scared, but the last thing I want is to go down and interact with those two again. I'm worried that they might somehow draw me deeper into this mess, when all I want is to wait until the coast is clear, find my suitcase, and get the hell out of here.
“Who is it?” I hear the girl asking. A moment later, she asks again.
I hear the sound of a tinny voice coming from the phone. From up here, I can't make out any of the words, but I'm sure I remember that it's Matilda.
“Is she serious?” the girl continues. “Did she really go out there in this weather?”
As they continue to talk, I turn and crawl up the rest of the stairs, heading toward the landing. I still want to get out of this B&B, but I know for a fact that Lloyd and the girl are going to be loitering near the door for a while. Once I reach the top of the stairs, I stop and lean back against the wall. I can still hear muffled voices from downstairs, but I figure I have to wait a little longer before I can go back into the office and retrieve my things. Besides, I still have to locate my suitcase. I hadn't noticed until now, but I'm exhausted, probably because I haven't managed to sleep a wink since I arrived in this crazy place. I know I can't afford to sleep right now, but it's so tempting to lean my head back and close my eyes for a moment.
Which is when I hear the sobbing again.
I freeze, convinced that the sound has to be all in my head, but finally I open my eyes and realize that there really is someone weeping nearby. I look around at the various closed doors, trying to work out which room the sound is coming from, but it's not so easy to figure out the direction. After a moment, however, my eyes are drawn to the door in the far corner.
Room one.
Staring at the door, I realize that the crying definitely seems to be coming from that room. I'm also starting to feel more and more certain that a child is responsible, maybe a little boy. I heard something similar earlier, while I was talking to Jude, but only for a few seconds. This time, the crying just keeps going on and on, until finally I get to my feet and take a couple of faltering steps toward the door.
By the time I get close enough to reach out for the handle, I'm sure that I've found the source of the crying sound.
I open my mouth to ask if everything is okay, but my throat feels impossibly dry.
“Hello?” I manage to gasp finally, although I doubt anyone heard me.
I wait.
Whoever's on the other side of this door, they sound grief-stricken.
“Hello?” I say again, knocking gently. “Are you... Are you okay?”
The sobbing continues.
I know that
room one is occupied, because the key was missing from the hooks in the office, but I have no idea who's supposed to be staying in here.
“Hey,” I continue, knocking again. “Do you want me to come in?”
I wait, but the sobbing continues.
“I'm coming in,” I add, even though I'm not certain this is the best approach. I need to check all the rooms in case my suitcase has been hidden away, and besides, I can't just walk away when there's a child in trouble. “Okay? Just... I'm coming in to check on you.”
I take a deep breath and then I turn the handle, only to find that the door is locked. I try again, still without any luck.
“Can you open up?” I ask, starting to worry that somehow in all this madness a little boy has become locked in one of the rooms. “Can you turn the latch? Are you alone in there?”
The sobbing continues, but this time I think I can just about hear the child trying to speak, as if he's mumbling something through his tears. I hold my breath, listening carefully, and I think maybe the boy is saying something about his father.
“Daddy,” he whimpers, before his voice dissolves into more violent, retching sobs.
“Can you open the door for me?” I ask again, tapping gently. “I want to help you. Can you turn the latch on the inside?”
I wait.
“Can you hear me?” I continue. “Can -”
Suddenly, before I can get another word out, I hear an ear-piercing scream coming from outside the building. Stumbling back from the door, I pause for a moment before realizing I've heard that scream before. It takes another couple of seconds, though, before my racing mind is able to put everything together.
Matilda.
It was Matilda's scream, which means...
Hurrying over to the window, I look down at the yard just in time to see a figure stumbling out into the darkness. I recognize her immediately, of course. It's me, or the girl who looks like me at least, heading out into the snow.