by Amy Cross
"I do my best," she replies with a faint smile.
"You're a very admirable young woman," I tell her.
"Thank you kindly," she says with a brief curtsy.
"So I'm letting you go," I tell her. "I'm not going to apologize for the way I've handled your case, but I'm a generous man and I'm willing to say that if we had our time over again, I'd do things differently." I pause for a moment. "I hope you understand that you're the first person who has ever been released from Tor Cliff. Others have departed under different circumstances, but you're the first who'll be allowed to simply walk away. I don't plan to make a habit of such things, but you'll at least go down in history as my greatest success."
She giggles with delight.
"I knew you'd be pleased," I continue.
"And the forest -"
"You'll be fine," I reply. "Dronigan will be busy dealing with a few other matters. You'll have no difficulties."
She narrows her eyes.
"Would I lie to you?" I ask.
"Blatantly."
"Not on this occasion."
"I hope not."
"So where will you go?" I continue. "Do you have any plans? There's a whole world waiting for you out there, Madeleine. I imagine you'd like to go traveling, perhaps even to one of the other worlds?"
"I should probably go and check on my brother," she says, with a hint of weary resignation in her voice. "God knows what Edgar's been up to since the last time I saw him. He dropped a goddamn castle on my head, you know. Ripped the girders right out of the side of the mountain and, whoosh, let the whole thing just topple onto me. It was our family home, too. All that stone and wood and crap, raining down. It took me months to dig my way out, and then I got carted off to this dump. I mean, what kind of brother does that to his sister?"
"One who has himself been wronged?" I suggest. "Have you ever -"
"Fine, fine," she says, "I get it, maybe I pranked him too a few times." She pauses, and suddenly it's as if all her snark and sarcasm has been washed away. "I've gotta hand it to you, Doc... I never thought you'd have the guts to admit you'd fucked up, but I respect you for letting me go. I'm still kinda suspicious and I won't relax entirely until I'm well past the perimeter and out of the forest, but still, it's a pretty good thing that you're doing, and..." She pauses again. "Call me crazy, but I think maybe I've learned one or two things from you."
"Just one or two?" I ask with a smile.
"One or two," she replies. "I think I'll be a lot better at managing my anger from now on. I used to bottle it up, but now I'll just go straight for the jugular. And shame. I won't feel nearly so ashamed." She pauses, as if she's on the verge of saying something else. "So" she adds eventually, "I guess I'll be heading off -"
"Tonight," I say firmly.
"I can't just walk out right now?"
I shake my head.
"It has to be at night?" she replies with a frown. "Okay, I knew it. There's a catch. Let's hear it."
"It's not a catch," I reply, "more of a... condition."
She sighs.
"I want you to take someone with you," I add after a moment. "Not all the way, just out into the forest. Once you get that far, you can be on your own way. There'll be screams, but I imagine you'll be able to keep going without looking back. You strike me as someone who can ignore the suffering of others without too many problems."
She stares at me. "I was already pleased you were letting me go," she says eventually, as a smile spreads across her face. "You didn't have to make it so much fun."
Abby Hart
By the time nightfall comes, I'm more than ready to put my plan into action. I sit patiently in my dark cell, listening to the sounds of people screaming for help elsewhere in the building. Some of them sound particularly tortured, as if their souls have become twisted and warped after centuries incarcerated in this place. I wish I could help them all, but right now I need to focus on getting myself out of here. I'm not some kind of charity. I look after myself, and other people can solve their own problems.
"Lights out!" a voice calls, and the electric lights in the stone corridor flicker a couple of times before dying completely.
"It's too early!" the old woman shouts.
"You arguing with me?" the voice replies, filled with the threat of anger and violence.
"Just saying it's too early," the old woman mutters. "That's all."
"Get some sleep," the voice continues. "I don't wanna hear a peep out of any of you, is that understood? Any kind of trouble and it'll be reported to Dr. Cole first thing in the morning."
There's the sound of footsteps heading away, and finally silence falls across the ward. I can hear some shuffling in the other cells, as if my fellow inmates are settling down for the night.
"Great," I mutter, realizing that I should probably wait a few more minutes before starting with my plan. After all, I have no idea how many guards there might be on duty in this place, and it would be annoying to get out of my cell and all the way to the perimeter, only to have to run from a bunch of goons. I mean, I know I'd still be able to get away, but I'd rather do things nice and slowly, with as little fuss as possible. I'd rather not break too much of a sweat.
Eventually, after several minutes have passed, I decide that it's time to get working. I make my way to the corner of the cell and crouch down, feeling around for the loose stone I was able to locate earlier. It's not much, but I'm convinced it's going to help me in my attempt to get out of here, so I start gently trying to ease the stone out of its space. I'd been hoping that it might be a fairly quick job, but the stone is evidently much larger and deeper than I'd expected, so I end up spending almost an hour trying to nudge it loose before, finally, I feel something break a little further down. With the tips of my fingers, I get hold of the side of the block and lift it up, finally managing to pull it to one side.
Stage one complete.
Feeling a sharp pain, I hold my hands up and realize that my fingertips are bloodied. This is going to be a long and agonizing process, but I have to get out of here. There'll be time to heal up later, and then I must just come back with a wrecking ball and knock this whole goddamn place to pieces.
Reaching down, I find that the hole has a lot of sand and dust at the bottom, as well as another stone base. This is clearly going to take a while, so I put my feet into the gap and start kicking. At first, the next stone refuses to budge, but after a while I manage to work it loose. This seems like an old building, and while it was built to last, some of the masonry is getting old. I continue to work on the next stone, and finally I'm able to lift it up, only to reveal yet another a little further down. It's clear that the walls and floors at Tor Cliff were built thick and deep, to make sure that no-one could find a way out. Still, I'm going to -
Hearing a noise somewhere in the corridor outside my room, I climb back up and hurry to the door, looking out and seeing no-one nearby. I wait, convinced that I heard someone in the area, but after a moment I start to relax. I guess it was just a night-warden taking a look around, but these cells are so dark, there's no way they'd be able to see what I'm doing in here. The only light is a hint of moonlight streaming through a small, letterbox-sized window at the top of one of back wall.
Heading back to the spot where I've been working, I start trying to pull another stone loose. The job is difficult and long, but eventually I manage to rip the damn thing out of its slot. I was hoping that this might be the last one, but I'm quickly faced with yet another stone surface. Sighing, I realize that this job might take a hell of a lot longer than I'd anticipated, but I'm determined to make sure I'm out of here by sunrise. The thought of spending another day in this place is too much to handle. After all, I'm pretty sure this Dr. Cole guy is gonna start paying a lot more attention to me, and I don't feel much like -
"What are you doing in there?" a voice asks.
Freezing, I stay perfectly still, hoping against hope that the person, whoever they are, wasn't talking to me.
I stare at the silhouette and realize that she's swinging what appears to be a set of keys in one hand.
"Jesus," she mutters, "I admire your ambition, but there are far easier ways to break out of this place, you know. Besides, everyone in this place, and I mean everyone, knows that the most important rule at Tor Cliff is that wherever you are, you never, ever, ever, go down. Always go up." She steps closer, and I finally realize that it's the black-haired girl from earlier. "My name's Madeleine," she continues with a faint smile. "I'm getting out of here tonight. Right now, in fact. Do you wanna come?"
Epilogue
As soon as she hears the sound of stone grinding against stone, she knows she's in trouble. Having wasted away for days, weeks, maybe even months, she had begun to think that perhaps she had been forgotten. In a way, she'd accepted that this might be her fate: dropped down a concrete shaft into a small spherical space, barely a couple of meters across, and left to rot forever.
She'd accepted that this would be her life. Sometimes she allowed herself to think of her father, back in his emporium in New York. It felt good to imagine his voice and his smile, but inevitably these nostalgic thoughts would turn to hope that one day she might get home again, and it was at this point that she always began to sob. She dared not believe that rescue would ever come. Hope was the cruelest blow of all.
Now, though, she could hear something grinding and moving, and the whole sphere seemed to be shaking. Placing her hands on the dusty curved walls, unable to see a thing in the all-encompassing darkness, she tried to brace herself for whatever horror might arrive next. All she could think was that perhaps the rumors were true; after all, the sound was coming from somewhere below, and she was already many miles beneath the asylum itself. There should be nothing down there at all, but something was stirring and moving, getting closer, preparing to -
Suddenly a round hole in the bottom of the sphere began to slide open, blasting her with a flash of hot air and flickering light. She carefully set her feet on either side of the hole, determined not to let herself fall, but she knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before she'd be claimed. She'd heard tales of the beast, and she knew that he'd get her eventually. Scrabbling against the sides of the sphere, she blinked furiously as she tried to get used to the light. Finally, she reached up and tried to open the door above her, hoping that she might be able to start climbing back up the way she'd come down all those years ago.
"Katia," a voice boomed from below. "Come down."
The mention of her name merely spurred her to try harder and harder to get up through the top, but she was already starting to rub her fingertips raw as she scraped at the concrete. The sphere was getting hotter and hotter, and she was starting to realize that there wasn't much time left. She had no idea why the beast had chosen to claim her now, of all times; she'd been down in the sphere for so long, shivering in the dark and the cold, that she'd assumed she'd never be released. Now, however, the fiery pit was waiting for her, and she knew she couldn't hold on for much longer.
"Katia," the voice continued, "there's no reason to be afraid. Let go and come down."
"Help!" she screamed, banging on the sphere's concrete ceiling even though she knew that there was no chance of anyone coming to save her. "Someone help me!"
"No-one can help you," the voice said calmly. "No-one can even hear you, apart from me. You're only delaying the inevitable, so why don't you simply let go and complete your journey? There are others who must come after you, and a place has been prepared for you down here, where you belong."
"Help!" she screamed, before realizing that she could hear a distant scrabbling sound getting closer and closer. Looking down, she saw to her horror that a dark figure was climbing quickly up the concrete tube, passing through the flames and approaching the base of the sphere. "No!" Katia shouted. "Stay away from me!"
"I only want to help you," the voice continued. "I'm sure you've heard about me. Perhaps you've been told a few lies about my intentions, but if you come down to me, I'll show you the truth. You mustn't listen to those who say cruel, hideous things about me. They say I'm a beast, but that's only because they want to denigrate my good name. Most of all, they're scared of me, because they know what I can really do if I ever become truly angry. I could break out of here any time I like, you know. Just let my assistant guide you, and he'll bring you straight to me."
As the figure reached the hole at the bottom of the sphere, Katia began to kick out violently, slamming the heel of her foot into the figure's face. For a moment, it seemed as if she might be able to fight it off; the creature seemed unable to push past, but finally a dark arm reached up and grabbed Katia's wrist, quickly pulling her round and starting to drag her back down the concrete tunnel. The creature's strength was impressive, and she could already tell from its grip that escape would be impossible.
"No!" she screamed, trying to hold onto the sides. "Help me! Someone help me!"
"It's okay," the voice said calmly, almost blankly. "I've been waiting a long time for you to reach me. Dr. Cole promised me that you're a particularly fine companion. I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about before we reach the more delicate matters! You'll be quite safe with me. I wish you'd stop struggling. Just let go, and within a few minutes you'll understand why I'm so keen to have you join me."
"Help!" Katia screamed, but it was already too late. The dark figure was dragging her deeper and deeper down, and as she looked back up, she saw a slab of stone sliding back across the base of the sphere, separating her forever from the world above. Although she continued to struggle, she was starting to lose the will to live, and by the time the heat became too powerful, she was starting to lose consciousness.
"It's all going to be okay," the voice said as Katia passed out. "I'll look after you. You're mine now. All mine, forever. You belong to me, just like everyone else in Tor Cliff."
Part Three
The Cobweb Man
Prologue
Many years ago
"Please!" he screams as three nurses force him through the door to his cell. "Stop! You can't leave me in here!"
"Dr. Cole has given express instructions that you're to sleep," one of the nurses says, forcing him down onto the bed before sliding a three-inch needle deep into his neck. "No-one's allowed to go against Dr. Cole's orders, Jonathan," she continues, before injecting him with the serum and then stepping back. "What's wrong? Do you think that somehow you're special? Are you laboring under the mistaken impression that the rules of this place don't apply to you?"
"I don't want to dream," he shouts, trying to get up but slipping down off the bed and landing hard against the stone floor. He reaches out to the nurses, but they're already filing out of the cell, and seconds later the door slams shut. "Please," Jonathan whispers, trying but failing to crawl toward the door. "Don't make me dream. Keep me awake."
"He's weak," one of the nurses says out in the corridor. "Do you think he'll last until morning?"
"No idea," another nurse replies. "Have a body-bag ready, just in case. And make sure the furnace is ready to go in the morning. We don't want him stinking the place out."
Rolling onto his back, Jonathan listens to their voices as they get further and further away. Finally, the only sound he can hear is the general background hum of the asylum: the creaking beds of other inmates; the collective sighs and coughs; the occasional vibration from deep, deep beneath the building as the beast continues his work. Taken altogether, it's the rhythm of a madhouse, and yet it has become as familiar to Jonathan as his own heartbeat. He can barely even remember a time when he wasn't within these walls, and he's not even sure that his remaining s
craps of memory are real.
"Please," he whispers as he feels the serum dragging him down into sleep. "No more nightmares."
It's too late. Soon he's completely still, his mind already drifting through the first moments of darkness. Even though his thoughts are confused and rushed, he still has a vague sense of apprehension; he knows what happens, night after night, and even though he tries to fight back, all he can really do is brace himself for the inevitable. There's already a presence nearby; it's the same presence he feels night after night, brushing against him and getting stronger, and slowly teasing his mind apart.
Slowly, everything becomes quiet.
And then the presence comes closer.
"You again," a voice whispers. "I thought last night would be the end of you."
"Please," Jonathan whispers, "just leave me alone."
"How can I leave you alone," the voice replies, "when you're the one who has come to me? Night after night, your thoughts drift out of your cell while you're sleeping. I couldn't ignore you, even if I wanted to. You simply can't enter my home, tug at my sleeve, and then ask me not to look at you."
"I don't want to be here. I'd rather go below, with the beast."
"You'd die."
"I'm dying anyway."
"Everyone dies."
"Not you."
"I'm different. As long as there are dreams, I'll persist."
"Help me!" Jonathan screams, the words echoing through his mind even though his lips only tremble slightly. "Let me out of here!"
"You're no longer in your cell," the voice continues. "You're out here with me. Doesn't that make you feel better? Your body is trapped behind bars, but your mind and your dreams have reached out into the forest. Would you not rather just stay out here forever with me? Allow your mind to be carried through the air."