Jane then walked in and saw her husband just standing there in the centre of the room.
“What are you doing there?” the unsuspecting woman asked, but Eddie didn’t reply.
Before Jane could say or do anything else, the strain on Eddie’s body became too much and his sliced-up corpse started to spread and collapse to the floor. Each slice of his body slid either to the left or to the right, like a sliced banana or slices of ham being cut by a butcher, making a disgusting squelching sound as they slid apart. Jane screamed as her husband collapsed into a mound of inch-thin parts and his scarlet blood ran all over the floor, forming a massive puddle. She fainted, but just before she lost consciousness she thought she caught a glimpse of an evil child, now standing in the room. Eddie’s body settled, stacked on the floor, looking like a giant pack of bloodied playing cards.
With an evil grin all over her face, the ghastly urchin walked over to the blood-soaked mound that was once Eddie and placed the King of Clubs card on top of her sliced-up victim.
Bartholomew Smith, the Entertainer, then appeared behind his demonic offspring, patted her on the shoulder and spoke.
“Nice job, well done.”
They then faded away, leaving the carnage behind.
Night Shift
The next day, Josh, Maggie and Steve were in the incident room of the police station. Josh had told Steve and Maggie about his adventure back in time to Midway, and Maggie told Steve about her vision. Steve told them both about Dawn’s death and his early-morning visit to Eddie’s house and the carnage left behind, and things were slowly beginning to fit into place and make more sense. Steve stood up and walked over to the incident board, which had more photos and details pinned to it than before.
“OK, let me get this right,” a shocked Steve began. “We have the ghost of a man called Bartholomew Smith, known as the Entertainer, who has evil children killing who would have been their parents.”
Josh and Maggie looked at each other as they realised just how stupid it all sounded.
“I know,” a bewildered Josh sighed, “It does sound like something from a horror story, but it all seems to fit.”
Maggie jumped to her feet and banged on the table. “I know it’s true!” she shouted, fearing Steve was having doubts. “Please believe us; I have had dreams and visions and Josh has actually been in Midway.”
She sat back down and Steve joined them at the table. He fumbled with some papers and announced what he thought.
“OK, don’t worry.” Steve shook his head. “Strange as it may seem, I do believe we’ve got some supernatural events happening here, and now we’ve got to deal with them. The connections are too great to ignore – the King of Clubs, the ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, the ghostly children, Midway and the Entertainer – but what to do?”
The three were all sitting and thinking about what their next course of action could be.
“We’ve got to get a step in front of the Entertainer, but how?” Maggie mused. “How do we know where he’s going to strike next?”
Josh stood up, walked over to the window and looked out. He didn’t turn around when he spoke. “We’ve got to wait for the next death.”
A puzzled Maggie replied, “What do you mean?”
Steve fidgeted in his seat, waiting for Josh’s answer as he himself wasn’t sure how this was going to pan out.
Josh turned and faced them. “It’s obvious,” he continued. “After the next death, we have to find the victim’s past lovers and protect them from the Entertainer’s children. That’s how we get a step in front.”
Steve nodded. “It’s a big ask, but I’ve got some good men on the case and we’ll do our best.”
Josh sat back down and voiced more concern. “Bartholomew Smith said there would be thirteen deaths in revenge for him and his family, but that’s an odd number. Surely if these devil children are killing whoever would have been their parents, there should be an even number of deaths: one for each mother and father. Anyway, we’ve had ten deaths so far, so if the worst comes to the worst there are only three more and then it should be over.”
“You’re right,” Steve butted in, “but we’ve still got to try to prevent the last killings. OK, we can’t do much now so we’ve no choice but to wait for the next death.”
They all sat there with a look of impending defeat on their faces as they knew there wasn’t much they could do and it was building up to a gruesome ending. Little did they know that they didn’t have to wait much longer for the next gruesome death as the Entertainer had already set his sights on the next poor victim of his plan.
***
Later on that same night in a superstore, Paul was doing a night shift. He was arranging various boxes in the racking of the warehouse and the noise of the forklift trucks could be heard coming from the yard outside. The air was pierced by the beeping of a reversing lorry getting ready to be unloaded, and Paul sighed as he knew it meant even more racking away for him.
The warehouse was a bit dusty and had the usual type of racking in it. There were pallets on the floor under the shelving and in between the bars of the racks.
A child’s giggle was heard, which made Paul quickly stand up, and as he had been bent over placing a box on a pallet under the racking, he banged his head on the shelf above.
“Damn it!” he yelped, clutching the top of his head.
He looked around for the child he had heard, but saw nothing.
“Hello, who’s there?” he shouted, but the only reply came from a work colleague outside.
“You say something, Paul?” his manager yelled from the seat of his forklift.
“No, it’s all right!” Paul shouted back, and he carried on taking boxes from a pallet in the aisle and putting them onto another pallet under the racking.
He was leaning towards the back of the pallet when he saw the pale face of a boy, about eight years old, staring at him through the racks from the aisle behind.
“Oi, you can’t be in here!” Paul yelled at the kid, fearing for his safety in a dangerous warehouse. “Go back onto the shop floor!”
The child giggled and ran off, and Paul jogged around to the other aisle to find him, but when he got there the boy was nowhere to be seen and all was still.
Paul shook his head. “I blame the parents,” he muttered to himself, not knowing the irony that he himself would have been this boy’s father and responsible for his behaviour.
As he turned to go back to his racking away, he saw the malevolent brat standing at the end of the aisle. The boy waved at him and ran further into the warehouse.
“Bloody idiot,” Paul whispered, then he shouted, “Stop messing around; it’s not safe for you in here!”
Paul ran to the top end of the aisle where the urchin had been standing and looked around. He then heard the boy’s giggle coming from the area where he had previously been racking away, so he ran to where the laugh had come from, but as he went he saw the boy dart across the end of the aisle, heading deeper into the warehouse.
Again Paul yelled, “Come here, you brat!” But the child was lost in the racking.
The forklift drivers were unaware of Paul’s situation and they carried on unloading the lorry outside and bringing the delivery into the warehouse before dropping the pallets in the delivery area, which was a large square between the racking and the yard outside, kept clear for any incoming deliveries.
Paul continued to run up and down in between the racking, hoping to catch the menace, but each time he did, the boy was always just out of reach at the end of the aisle before running away again.
Paul suddenly stopped and stood still, listening for any noise, and sensed that there was an eerie and evil feeling around the warehouse as the atmosphere seemed to be closing in all around him.
At first all he could hear was the rumble of the forklift trucks, but then a shuffling n
oise came from halfway down an aisle. This time Paul didn’t run; he quietly walked down the aisle, hoping to catch the infant.
He slowly paced through the racking, and as he walked past a pallet he didn’t see the boy sitting cross-legged on it with an evil grin on his face. As Paul passed, the boy stood up and walked behind him and then patted Paul on his shoulder. This made Paul jump and he let out a quiet yelp of surprise, and as he turned around he saw the child running back down the aisle, laughing.
“Now I’ve got you,” Paul uttered to himself as he ran after him.
He saw the boy run through the racking and out into the delivery area, and with a smile said, “Ha – nowhere to run now.”
Paul ran as fast as he could through the last of the racking and out into the delivery area, but as he sprinted forward a forklift truck was coming the other way, heading straight for him. The driver pressed down hard on the horn, letting out a loud shrill that shot through the air, but Paul was running too fast and he couldn’t stop in time.
The driver shouted, “Paul!” but the sickening impact could not be stopped and Paul ran straight into the head-height forks. The truck screeched to a halt, but it was too late; Paul’s head rammed into one of the forks and he was instantly decapitated. With a horrible cracking sound, his face was partially crushed by the force of the impact. His nose and eyes were pushed deep into his skull and his head was sent spinning through the air, back into the racking of the warehouse.
Paul’s body remained upright, and a fountain of blood was gushing from the hole in his neck. The body, its nerves still active, quivered and trembled from the violent trauma it had just experienced, and the crimson liquid shot all around the delivery area, covering the boxes, pallets and labourers.
The workers stood there with their hands on their faces, not believing what had just happened. Then Paul’s body collapsed, chest down on the ground with blood still gushing from the neck. It shot out towards the men, forming a slippery red path which made them slide to the floor.
As they all writhed and splashed about, screaming in the scarlet puddle of filth which covered their clothes and faces, they didn’t see the laughing, diabolical boy walk back into the racking. He followed a thin red trail on the floor and found Paul’s severed head with its still-open eyes staring out from the cavity in the skull which used to be Paul’s face, sitting on a box in the aisle. His blood was dripping down and splashing onto the pallet and floor below. The horrid child then took out a King of Clubs card from his pocket and placed it over the eyes of his tragic victim, and it seemed to fit perfectly in the hole in the skull left behind by the crushing impact of the forklift truck. This was yet another victory for the Entertainer and his loathsome offspring.
The Museum
With the news of Paul’s horrid death, Steve had got his men together to try and find the deceased’s past girlfriends over the last twenty years in the hope of beating the Entertainer to his next victim.
He was at the police station, frantically organising his men. He pointed at an officer. “You go and find that Sharon Humber woman; we’ve got her address and she dated Paul about fifteen years ago.”
The officer seemed unconcerned. “Really it’s a long time ago; is it really necessary sir?
Steve glared at him. “Yes, it is. If we can save at least one of his past lovers, then we will. We’ve no idea how far back this all goes or which lover it is. We know it’ll be one of his exes as the King of Clubs was found at the scene, so until we’ve got something more to go on, we’ll do whatever we can.”
Steve then walked up close to the officer and firmly said, “Sharon Humber.”
The officer nodded and left the room to start his investigations, and as he walked through the door, Josh came in.
“Any news yet, Steve?” he asked in the hope that things were moving on.
Steve pointed to the desk and they both sat down. He shuffled with some papers and then gave Josh an update.
“We know that Paul has been married for the last twelve years, so we’re going back over the eight prior to that. His wife has given us some names and we’ve already got three previous girlfriends in protective custody. One of the others died about five years ago, leaving only two still to find.”
Josh breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Well, at least we may have saved someone this time. What about the outstanding ones?”
Steve picked out some pictures from the papers on the desk. “Here they are.” He examined the information on the sheets. “They are Sharon Humber and Tiffany Taylor. Someone is already on his way to Sharon and she has been contacted and told to stay indoors, and then there’s Tiffany, thirty-four years old and last known to be living in Lincoln. We’ve already got people on their way to her, so hopefully we’ll be in time.”
Just then a policewoman came darting into the room and walked straight up to Steve.
“We’ve got a problem, sir: Tiffany wasn’t at home. She’s visiting relatives in either London or Edinburgh, and the neighbours can’t confirm which it is.”
“Damn!” Steve shouted as his fist came down hard onto the desk. “It’s never easy, is it?” Steve seemed to be defeated.
The room became silent and tense. None of the officers knew what to do or say; they were waiting for some inspiration from their boss. Josh looked at Steve and gave him some much-needed advice.
“Steve, find out where in London or Edinburgh she’s gone and contact the police in those areas and tell them to find Tiffany. Tell them it’s connected with the murders you’re investigating and they’ll do their best; it’s all we can do”
Everyone in the room was watching Steve and waiting to see what would happen next. It was clear that he was feeling guilty and personally responsible for the deaths, and that he was under great strain and not really thinking clearly.
He let out a large breath and composed himself. “Yes Josh, you’re right.”
Turning to the sergeant, Steve ordered, “Contact the police in the areas where Tiffany might be and get her found but knowing our luck though she’ll be the next victim before we can get to her.”
The sergeant left the room and Josh glanced at Steve. “Let’s hope we get to her in time.”
***
While all of this was going on, Tiffany was walking around a very large museum in London and was oblivious to the threat facing her. She was enjoying the exhibits, and her favourite was the Egyptian section. She was looking closely at a Tutankhamen-style death mask which sat in a glass case on a decorated plinth.
She was reading the inscription about the mask’s owner when she caught a glimpse of a young boy peering at her from the other side of the glass box. Tiffany smiled at him, but the boy just glared at her, which sent an icy chill down her spine. She looked away and slowly walked towards the wall to examine another exhibit. Again it was in a glass case on a plinth, and this time the exhibit was a mummified cat.
Tiffany’s face contorted. “That’s horrible,” she whispered to herself, and she was just about to leave the display when she saw the same boy’s face looking at her from the other side of the glass, just like before.
She shook her head at the boy and said to him with a smile, “You can’t scare me.”
She thought that the brat was trying to make her jump or something, but suddenly the smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a look of fright. She realised that the display case was actually sitting up against the wall and there was no room for anyone to get behind it. How could the boy be looking at her from the other side of the display?
Tiffany then sighed with relief and thought that the youngster must be standing behind her and she was actually looking at his reflection. She turned around to confront the urchin.
“You won’t…” Her words suddenly stopped; there was no young boy standing behind her.
Tiffany quickly turned around and looked back into the display ca
se, and her body became rigid with terror. The boy’s face was still looking at her from the other side of the glass. She spun back around and looked all around the room; she was totally alone.
Suddenly, from behind an exhibit on the other side of the room, the troublesome brat ran out and laughed at Tiffany. This made her jump, but she was glad that she had actually seen the boy and wasn’t going insane. She noticed that he was a bit scruffy, dishevelled and painfully thin. She felt a bit sorry for the lad, but this didn’t last long as the boy suddenly jumped on top of a long glass display case and started to jump up and down on it.
With shock in her voice, Tiffany shouted, “Stop that, you idiot – you’ll fall through the glass!” But the sinister nestling carried on leaping about.
Fearing for the boy as she didn’t really want to get him into trouble, Tiffany walked towards him, and not wanting to draw attention from any of the museum’s workers, she quietly said, “You’ll set the alarms off; go on, get down from there.”
This seemed to work as the boy jumped back down to the floor and stared at Tiffany. He then ran past her and went to the display containing the mummified cat. The brat grabbed the glass case and started to shake it.
Tiffany’s face had a look of shock on it as she exclaimed, “Oh no you don’t”
She looked around the room, and apart from the wicked minor she was still alone. She firmly paced towards him.
“Stop it now – if someone comes in they will think you’re with me.”
But the mischievous boy just shook the glass case harder, which made the cat mummy fall about inside.
Forgotten Souls Page 8