The front door was locked, though light filtered from the cracks around the windows.
Raghav fumbled with the keys as he unlocked the door. Once inside, he bolted the door and wedged a sofa against it for good measure. He switched off most of the lights and went to each window making sure it was locked.
‘I think we are safe now,’ Raghav said. But despite his words, he looked tense and jumpy.
Even if they barricaded themselves in the living room, the enemy could sneak in through any one of the many doors and windows of the huge house.
The same thought must have occurred to Raghav.
‘Diya, I am going to check the rest of the house. You can lock this door.’ He pointed to the door that led to the dining room. ‘I will give you questions and answers. Do not let me in unless I give you the right answer. Do not even talk to me if I don’t ask the questions in the right sequence.’
Raghav scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed the scrap to Diya.
He took out two guns from the rack, loaded them, and handed one to her. He showed her how to lock and barricade the door and went out. Diya pushed the last chair against the door and waited.
The defence was flimsy and maybe even futile. A barricade of furniture would not deter the Chakwa. Whatever had kept the Chakwa at bay until now had to be reinforced. Raghav was sure to know; that must be the reason he had survived.
Diya had never even held a gun before, let alone fired one. The gun was cold and heavy and smelled acrid. If the need arose, would she be able to fire it?
She raised the gun to her eye and took sight, but it was useless. Her best bet, perhaps, was to just fire at point-blank range and hope the bullets were enough to slow down the Chakwa, so she could escape.
Although she was expecting it, the soft knock startled her.
‘Diya, it’s me Raghav.’
‘What did you call your tennis coach?’
‘Yo-Yo,’ the voice on the other side answered.
Diya breathed once again.
‘I will be back in five minutes.’
Diya stood in the middle of the large room, afraid to turn her back to either of the doors. In less than five minutes, Raghav was back and once again, they went through the charade of the secret question and answer.
After Raghav had gone away for the third time, Diya heard a soft noise, a gentle tapping on a window. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but the knocking repeated. The sound was soft but insistent as if someone was begging to come inside.
Diya hid behind a cupboard near the window from where the sound had come. Whoever was knocking moved away and rapped on a window on the other side of the room.
Diya crouched behind the cupboard, waiting for the sound to repeat on another window but it did not. Instead, a sharp knock sounded on the door. Diya was sure it was the Chakwa.
‘Diya, are you there?’
It was Raghav’s voice.
‘Who helped you climb up a tree for the first time?’ she asked.
‘Thomas, our estate manager.’
‘How else was Thomas related to you?’
‘He was my grandfather’s illegitimate son. Let me in. I think we are safe now.’
Diya pushed back the bolts and let Raghav in. He seemed less jumpy than the last time.
‘Where is your father?’
‘I don’t know. He is not in his room.’
‘What if he is ill?’
Diya was afraid to voice the other possibility, that the Chakwa might have harmed Gowrish in some way. Raghav’s face was flushed already and she could see a glint of tears in his eyes.
‘Are you sure we are safe?’ She changed the topic.
‘Yes, there is no way anyone can get inside the house. I have locked and barricaded all the doors.’
‘Did you tap on the windows?’
‘No, I was inside the house. What happened?’
Raghav turned pale as Diya described the incident.
‘I think we are safe for now. But I am not sure how long we can keep him at bay.’
‘What do we do?’
‘I would have felt safer if the dogs were loose in the grounds, but I am not sure we can survive a trip to the kennels. In any case, I think it is safer to call for reinforcements.’
‘I don’t want to put others in danger,’ Diya said remembering Zorro’s and Mrs Bhat’s mutilated bodies.
‘I agree, but it is either that or freeing the dogs.’
‘Let’s do both. I will call my uncle and Ronnie, and you call anyone else who can help. While they are on their way, we can go and open the kennels.’
‘OK, let’s do it,’ Raghav said. ‘But we must be prepared for every eventuality. Why don’t you freshen up and change your shoes? Then we will make the calls. Meanwhile, I will collect torches and guns.’ Raghav seemed a little flustered. ‘And water, I think, will come in handy.’
‘Are you all right?’ Diya asked. He was her partner in survival and she had to make sure he was prepared for the danger they were about to face.
‘I am fine,’ Raghav said. ‘I can’t help but wonder if all this Chakwa thing isn’t nonsense. In that case, I would look like a prize fool for the rest of my life.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ she asked.
‘Let’s set the dogs loose first; they will keep us safe. We can then decide if there really is a need to tell the world that we are being terrorized by a supernatural creature.’
‘Ok, let’s get ready, but I don’t want to be alone,’ Diya said.
‘Yes, yes we must stick together.’
The house was brightly lit. Raghav must have turned on every light. The shadows that crouched between pools of light seemed even deeper.
Their footsteps echoed down the empty length of the corridor to Diya’s room. Raghav checked that all the windows were closed and for good measure, stuck huge swaths of tape across the window panes in a zig-zag pattern.
‘You can use the bathroom. I will wait outside,’ he offered.
Diya took a change of clothes into the windowless bathroom.
She used the toilet and changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She exchanged her sandals for a pair of sneakers, zipped up her jacket and came out.
Raghav must have gone out of the room to give her privacy.
Diya slung her backpack on her shoulder and started walking towards the door when something on the bed caught her eye.
It was Raghav’s lone white sneaker lying in the middle of her neatly made bed.
An angry red streak of blood bisected the shoe. What horrified her more than the blood was the sight of raw, jagged flesh peeking from the mouth of the shoe. Raghav’s severed foot was still inside the sneaker; it was just like Mrs Bhat’s severed arms inside the gloves. It was a message for her, the calling card of carnage.
THE CHAKWA
D
iya followed her instinct and fled from the scene of yet another gruesome killing.
After the first mad rush down the corridor, she slowed down when she reached the main house. It was dark now. Someone had switched off all the lights. The shadows that had once crouched in corners loomed larger than life. She walked along the walls or crouched behind furniture, taking stock of her surroundings, afraid of death lurking at every step.
The locked windowless bathroom had probably saved her life.
She had no doubt that Raghav was dead. The Chakwa was toying with her, enjoying the chase, because it knew she could not escape.
Diya’s limbs shook in despair; maybe there was no hope. The Chakwa would triumph in the end.
Raghav’s severed foot inside the bloody sneaker on her bed was no accident. It was left there to warn her that she might run but it would find her in the end.
No, she must not give into such thoughts. There was no doubt the Chakwa was playing with her, but she must not give up hope.
Her options were limited. If she continued to play hide-and-seek with her tormentor, she would be dead even before she
realized it. Her chances of survival were probably no higher inside the house than in the open. But outside, there was at least a possibility of her running towards the cluster of houses down the hill.
She could also stick to the original plan and free the dogs. The thought of those feral beasts with their fiery eyes and slavering mouths made her shudder. Unless they turned on her, they were her best hope of survival.
Maybe she could reach Raghav’s car before the dogs realized the door was open. She had not thought about this. The dogs could pursue the Chakwa while she escaped in the car.
The plan was ridiculous; there was no way she would succeed, but she refused to cower in a corner like a coward, waiting for the Chakwa to butcher her at leisure. She would rather die trying.
She could go outside through the living room and the front door or venture into the half of the house that lay behind the door next to the bar. She had never gone there, but she had seen Raghav emerge from a door on that side.
The front door was the obvious choice and the Chakwa would surely be keeping it under watch. She had no option but to go through the other part of the house and find another exit.
Diya crawled on the floor taking shelter behind the scattered pieces of furniture and managed to reach the bar unchallenged. It was pitch black behind the high wooden counter, though shards of light glinted on the glasses and bottles behind her. She crouched under the counter; if the pattern of light and shadow on the glasses was disturbed, it would mean her enemy was close. Her eyes ached and watered. She thought the patterns did not change, but she was not sure. Time was running out; she had to escape.
Diya gripped an old walking stick she found under the counter. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and gripped the stick. Her mouth was dry with thirst and fear. She pushed the door. It opened easily. She paused with the door half open; the room beyond was dark. She had no way of knowing if the monster was lurking in the dark, but she had to take the chance.
Diya crawled through the small gap, jumped to her feet, and closed the door. The room was empty and undisturbed. She locked the door behind her and dragged a table against it. She rested her forehead against the locked door and let out her breath, relieved at the small break.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder.
The touch of cold, clammy fingers sent shivers through her body and held her heart in a deathly grip.
Was this the end?
Diya whirled around to face her nemesis, cursing herself for turning her back to the room.
Luminous brown eyes were looking at her from a distorted face. The bushy tangle of curly hair was pulled back from the face, as if to better showcase the horror it could inflict on its victims.
In her hurry to slip through the door, Diya had forgotten the walking stick under the counter. She inched back towards the wall hoping to get hold of the golf clubs she had spied.
Diya kept retreating until she felt the cold hard golf clubs poking into her back.
She had expected the monster to attack and devour her at first sight, but it stayed where it was and just looked at her through those achingly familiar luminous eyes.
Her mother’s eyes.
It had to be a trick to make her lower her guard.
Diya gripped a golf club and started retrieving it without making a noise.
‘Diya.’
The monster spoke.
She had expected the voice to be menacing, rapacious. Instead, it was soft and well-modulated.
‘I am sorry I scared you.’
Was she hearing it right? The monster was apologizing for scaring her.
Surprised, Diya loosened her grip around the club before remembering that the Chakwa’s modus operandi was to trick its victims.
Maybe it got satisfaction from tricking its victims, and gloating over their panic eventually..
Diya tightened her grip around the club once again.
‘It’s just that we must hurry; there is no time to waste.’
That voice, no doubt, was her mother’s.
It is dangerous to listen to the Chakwa, Diya reminded herself. She had already loosened the club enough to pull it out; she put her other hand behind her back and without making noise, started pulling the club out.
‘Diya, please hurry, we must get out of the house.’
The figure was dressed in a nightgown, and looked like a woman. There was something sad and pathetic about the dress, as if it was some discarded rag picked up from a garbage heap.
It must know that she would be desperate to escape from the dark house and was trying to trick her. Yet those familiar eyes, set in the mutilated face, were oddly reassuring.
She hesitated.
‘Show me your feet.’ Diya brandished the golf club. She had not raised her voice, but her demand exploded like a bullet in the silent house.
‘What?’
‘Lift up your gown, so I can see your feet.’
The woman lifted her gown and Diya saw the woman’s bare feet. They were pointing the right way.
Diya could hear her heart beating loudly.
She gripped the club tighter. ‘Why do you want to go outside?’ she whispered.
‘It’s not safe here; please come with me before it is too late. We must get help.’
‘But you are barefoot.’
The woman looked down at her feet in surprise.
‘Wear these.’ Diya shoved a pair of tennis shoes lying next to the door towards the woman.
The woman sat on the edge of a chair and fumbled with the shoe laces. Her hands trembled so much that finally Diya undid the shoelaces and helped her wear the shoes. The woman’s skin was firm and warm to the touch.
Could the woman be her mother? Safe and alive all these months or back from the dead? If an evil undead creature like the Chakwa could exist, maybe there was some truth in guardian angels too.
Diya shook her head; there was no time to speculate and let her guard down by chasing foolish hopes. There was no room for any thought except survival.
Diya scanned the room, looking for weapons other than the golf club. There was a sword and a pair of spears that looked ornamental. She found a large torch on a table, cupped it in her palm and switched it on. Her palm glowed blood red; the torch worked. She stuffed the torch in her bag and grabbed a couple of golf clubs. All the while, Diya kept a watch on the woman who was patiently sitting on the edge of the chair.
‘Let’s go!’ the woman said.
Diya followed the woman up a flight of stairs and down another through a series of dark and musty rooms.
They finally arrived in a room filled with old furniture. Once again, Diya’s heart raced with fear. Was the graveyard of furniture also the graveyard of the Chakwa’s victims? The woman vanished behind the cupboard but Diya did not follow.
‘Come, we must hurry,’ the woman said.
‘What is behind the cupboard?’
‘It’s a door that leads through an ancient passageway.’
‘What if someone follows us?’
‘He doesn’t know this way.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I use it all the time,’ the woman smiled.
Diya swallowed her dense jelly-like spit; she was once again sweating.
‘Diya, we must hurry,’ the woman whispered. ‘It’s safe.’
Diya looked back at the dark house; even if she tried to run, she would not get far. And that voice that sounded like her mother’s was irresistible. Diya wished she had taken the ornamental-looking swords, but it was too late now. She gripped her only weapon — the golf club — and followed the woman into the dark passage. The woman lit a candle and closed the door behind them. The passage became smaller and Diya had to hunch over as she followed, but it looked clean as if someone regularly maintained it. The passage ended in a small room in a cluttered building amidst a thick patch of trees. On the other side was the narrow platform — at least six feet high — that skirted the house.
The air smelled fresh and cris
p like a slice of lime on a jaded tongue. The sky glittered with the cold light of distant stars. Diya’s feet sank into soft grass as they walked back towards the house. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the woman was sure-footed.
They were almost near the house when the woman held up her hand.
‘Get down!’ she whispered and crouched under the platform.
A beam of light sliced through the thick darkness of night and shone on the house. Diya and the woman crouched closer to the wall.
The light was switched off. And once again, the night was dark, illuminated only by the phosphorescent glow of the starry night.
Someone started humming. The tantalizingly familiar humming grew louder as footsteps approached the house.
A figure skipped up the front steps. It was only a shadow a bit darker than the night, but there was no mistaking the jaunty walk.
The man looked like Raghav, but how was that possible? Diya could still see Raghav’s severed foot and the bloody sneaker on her bed. The man, who was coming towards the house, was not even limping.
Maybe she was mistaken and the foot in the sneaker did not belong to Raghav. Perhaps, it was just another of the Chakwa’s tricks.
Maybe Raghav heard something and left in a hurry to set the dogs free. Now he was coming back to get her.
Diya wasn’t sure what to believe. Was the man Raghav or the Chakwa in his guise? She felt torn between staying hidden and letting Raghav know that she was safe; but instinct warned her of danger and held her back.
As if reading her mind, the woman gripped Diya’s arm and shook her head.
The man climbed up the steps and rapped on a window pane, a sharp knock that echoed through the silent night.
It was the same rapping sound Diya had heard on the living room window. The trickster moved to another window and repeated the knock.
The woman pulled Diya back through a thicket and behind a dense growth of trees.
The man turned left and started walking on the narrow platform towards their side of the house.
‘Diya, are you there?’ The man rapped on each window pane as he walked. ‘I know you are afraid, but trust me.’
The man came to the edge of the platform where Diya and the woman had been hiding just a few minutes ago. There were no other windows on this side of the house.
The Trickster Page 23