The Scream

by Amy Cross

  And then suddenly he realizes that the scream is actually coming from the old warehouse on the other side of the street.

  He freezes for a moment, convinced that it has to be a mistake, that the scream has merely settled for a moment and will soon twist and shift once more. The more he listens, however, the more he feels as if the sound has suddenly crystallized and become focused on the warehouse. He feels certain that the building must have been checked before, a hundred times over, but at the same time he can't deny that whereas the sound had filled the whole town just a moment ago, now it's coming from the metal door just a few meters away, directly opposite. It all seems so simple, suddenly so explicable. So easy.

  He looks around, but there's no-one else in sight.

  Making his way over to the door, he looks through into the dark building. Now the scream seems even louder, and he can hear the cries echoing in the open space. Even though he figures it's impossible that he could have suddenly stumbled upon the source by accident, he swallows hard and feels a shiver pass through his chest as he realizes that there's no other explanation.

  He's found it.

  He reaches into his pocket for his phone, only to realize that he loaned it to Judy earlier and that she took it with her when she left.

  “Damn it,” he mutters, his voice trembling with fear.

  Turning, he looks along the street, hoping against hope that he might see someone who can help. Realizing that there's no-one, he figures he needs to go to the town square and raise the alarm, but just as he's about to hurry away, he realizes he can hear footsteps inside the warehouse. A couple of seconds later, there's a loud metal banging sound, like a door being slammed shut and echoing through the space. After a moment, the footsteps start to get further away, as if someone is leaving. He looks into the darkness of the building and sees that although there's no-one in the entrance area, he can definitely hear someone in one of the other rooms.

  He can feel it, too. A presence, snaking its way through the air. He wants to turn and run, but at the same time he feels certain that this presence doesn't care about him at all, that he's far too insignificant. The presence seems to be coming from a more important place.

  And then the footsteps are gone, disappearing far into the distance.

  Taking a step forward, he makes his way through the shadows and into the building, determined to see whether or not he's right. At the back of his mind, he's still convinced that the sound will turn out to be just another echo, and that everyone will laugh at him, so he heads to the nearest door and peers through. Besides, he also figures that if the footsteps were genuine, Jessica's tormentor might have left for a moment, which means he can save her. He can't help imagining himself carrying the injured girl across the town square, with everyone rushing to him and telling him he's a hero.

  No, more than a hero. A legend.

  For a moment, he sees himself being carried through the town on the shoulders of men like Don Ridley and Matt Kielty, with confetti and balloons everywhere. He imagines what it would be like to save Jessica Barton.

  So he keeps going.

  The next room is shrouded in darkness, but there's a window high on the wall that allows just a sliver of moonlight to shine through. The place is a mess, having been left to rot several years ago, and there are pieces of rubble strewn all over the floor. Old machines have been left in one corner, gathering dust, and faded posters on the walls offer warnings about safety in a working environment.

  And then she sees her.

  As his eyes adjust to the gloom, Jason realizes he can just about make out a figure at the far end, sitting on a chair with its back to him, and the scream is definitely coming from the figure as it – she? – struggles to get free. Shivering and trembling, she's pulling on the ropes that bind her to the chair.

  Jason glances around, but there's clearly no-one else in the room so he takes a step forward, and now he can tell that the figure is definitely a girl, and that her whole body is shuddering as she continues to scream. All around her on the floor there are knives and saws, and patches of dark liquid have run down the sides of the chair and collected in pools. Nearby, several other torture devices have been left arranged on a bench, ready to be used. Some of them already have blood and pieces of matted hair on the sides, while others look to have been freshly cleaned. The handle of a hacksaw is poking out from a bucket of dirty water.

  “Oh God,” Jason whispers, freezing for a moment. “Oh God, oh...”

  He swallows hard, reminding himself that he has to be quick. At the same time, he's scared to call out in case he's overheard by whoever has been torturing the girl, so instead he edges forward, wincing as he sees that fresh blood is still oozing from Jessica's many wounds and dribbling down her bare flesh until it drips onto the concrete floor. Once he's closer, he realizes there are thick ropes around her wrists and waist, tying her to the chair as she sobs and cries out, still trying to break loose, and that her injuries are truly horrific.

  Strips of torn flesh are hanging loose, revealing glistening meat beneath.

  One of her wrists has been twisted and broken in at least three places, with the hand bent back at an impossible angle.

  The handle of a chisel is poking out from her waist, next to the spine.

  Her right foot looks to have been completely stripped of skin, with just a few scraps of meat left on the bone.

  Now that he's closer, he can hear faint sobs mixed in with the scream. In fact, the scream isn't really one sound at all, it's a knot of cries and moans and breathless gulps. There's anger in there, too, and sheer hopeless terror.

  “Hey!” he hisses, hoping she might hear him over her own cries. “Hey Jessica, is that you?”

  The scream falters for a moment, before finally stopping for a fraction of a second.

  He takes a step forward.

  The scream starts again, louder and shriller than ever. At the same time, a fine spray of blood bursts from the girl's mouth, landing on her bare knees.

  Jason takes another step forward, before glancing over his shoulder to make sure that no-one is about to sneak up on him. He knows he doesn't have long.

  “Jessie,” he continues, edging closer still, “can you hear me?”

  Her shrill scream continues, so loud now that he feels as if his eardrums might be about to explode. He figures she might be screaming so loud, she doesn't know he's in the room.

  “Jessie, if you -”

  Hearing a faint bump nearby, he spins around, convinced that there's someone behind him. He sees no-one in the dark room, but as he takes a step back he feels more and more certain that there's a presence nearby, as if some force has entered the room and is now lurking unseen. He can feel a pair of dark eyes staring straight into his face.

  “Who's there?” he calls out, before hurrying to the counter and grabbing one of the knives, figuring he can defend himself if necessary. Holding the knife out, he backs against the wall while looking around for some hint of movement. “I heard you! I know you're here somewhere!”

  No reply.

  Just the scream, still coming from Jessica in the chair.

  “Oh God,” he continues, hurrying to the chair and using the knife to start cutting at the ropes. “It's okay, I'm gonna get you out of here, I swear you'll be -”

  Suddenly he hears a snarl in his right ear. He turns, dropping the knife in the process, but once again there's no-one to be seen.

  He waits, terrified.

  Just the scream again.

  Grabbing the knife, he holds it up, convinced that someone is hiding in the shadows. Once he's sure that there isn't anyone else in the room, he turns back to the ropes and starts cutting again, only for the snarl to fill his ear again.

  He turns, stepping back, convinced that someone is toying with him. Still seeing no-one, he looks back at Jessica and sees that she's desperately straining against the ropes as she continues to scream. There's a clicking sound coming from her broken wrist, as if the bones are r
ubbing together inside.

  Figuring that he has to hurry, he makes his way back to the chair and starts cutting again.

  “It's okay,” he stammers, trying not to panic, “just hold still.”

  This time, when he hears another snarl in his ear, he forces himself to keep working. The snarl returns moments later, louder this time, as if someone or something is angry at him for trying to get Jessica free, but he tells himself that it's some kind of trick in his mind, that it's his imagination in overdrive.

  Once the first rope has been broken, he starts on the next, cutting as fast as he can despite the continued snarls coming from just over his shoulder. After a moment, he glances back, just to make sure that there's nothing to see, and then he gets back to work on the next rope, determined to -

  Suddenly a force slams into him, snarling louder than ever and sending him crashing into the nearby wall. Letting go of the knife, he drops down and lands awkwardly, feeling a sharp pain in his damaged ankle. He lets out a cry, but his instincts quickly take over and he scrambles to grab the knife again, only for it to spin away just before he can reach the handle. Struggling to his feet, he hurries past the chair and tries to get another weapon from the bench, but a force pulls him back by the throat and then smashes him down against the floor with such force that the back of his head bounces against the concrete.

  As the scream continues, Jason breathlessly tries to get up, but this time he's able to make out a dark shape towering over him, shimmering in the low light, almost as if it's vibrating in time with the scream.

  “Please,” he stammers, “just -”

  Before he can finish, the shape grabs him by the collar and launches him across the room until he hits the wall and crumples down to the floor. Barely able to get his breath back, he tries to sit up before feeling a sharp pain in his chest, as if several ribs are damaged. Turning, he sees to his horror that a tall, dark shape is standing behind Jessica, leaning over her as she continues to scream. In the low light, the only visible part of the figure is the side of its face, with pale skin and a bald head and just the faintest hint of a grin. For a moment, Jason can only watch as the figure reaches down and grinds a razor blade against an exposed bone in Jessica's arm. Slowly, a thin layer is shaved off, curling slightly as the blade continues to scrape along the arm.

  There's the sound of laughter, too.

  The creature is laughing.

  “No!” Jason shouts, stumbling forward and trying to push the figure back, only to be tripped and sent slamming to the ground. He tries to get up, but a moment later something takes hold of his throat and lifts him, until he's face to face with the creature's face. For a fraction of a second, he's able to see two dark eyes staring back at him and a broad, leering grin framed by bulbous, protruding black veins, before there's a sudden flash of movement accompanied by a crunching sound, and everything goes black.

  The last thing he hears is the creature's satisfied grunt as it drops him, and the sound of Jessica's scream getting louder, and the crunching of human bones.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Why haven't you called the police?”

  “I'm the one who's asking questions here,” Don replies firmly. “We -”

  “Why haven't you called anyone from out of town?” Roake asks, interrupting him as they sit in a booth by the window. “Why are you trying to deal with this all by yourselves?”

  “You think someone else knows this town better than us?”

  “Let me guess, the phones aren't working?”

  Don glances at the other men, who are listening to the conversation from a nearby table. “We're having some trouble,” he admits finally, turning back to Roake.

  “And the internet's down as well?” Roake asks.

  “That's a coincidence.”

  “It's always a coincidence,” Roake says darkly. “It happens every time, though. It's part of the deal.”

  “What deal?” Don asks.

  They sit in silence for a moment, as the scream continues outside. Finally, Mary brings over a glass of water and sets it down in front of Roake, followed by a whiskey for Don. Once she's done, she lingers at the table for a moment, as if there's something she wants to say.

  “That's all,” Don says finally, glancing up at her. “I can handle this for -”

  “Has this happened before?” she asks, keeping her eyes fixed on Roake. She waits, but there's no immediate response; instead, she can see the hint of guilt and fear in Roake's expression. “You're a priest, right?” she continues. “So do you know something about what's going on?”

  Roake pauses for a moment, before shaking his head. “No. I don't know anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nods.

  “Mary, please,” Don interrupts, “can you let us have a moment. I'm trying to ask this guy some questions.”

  “Don -”

  “Mary! Get out of here!”

  As she walks away, Don keeps his eyes fixed firmly on Roake's face. “You've gotta excuse her. All of them, really. People are panicking. This scream has been going on since the sun came up, it's been more than eight hours now and... Well, no-one really knows what to do. Now, it's okay, 'cause I'm here and I'm pushing things forward, but the truth is, we've searched the town ten times over and we can't find any trace of Jessica. It's like she's not here, but at the same time, that scream...”

  “It must be very difficult for you,” Roake replies, checking his watch.

  “What's your business in Pine Ridge?” Don asks.

  “I... I was just passing through.”

  “Pine Ridge isn't on the way to anywhere.”

  “I got lost.”

  “Where were you trying to get to?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Seattle?” Don smiles, before turning to the others. “Hear that? This guy reckons he was on his way to Seattle, and he got lost and ended up here?”

  “You're very lost,” one of the men points out.

  “Yeah, you're very lost,” Don continues, turning back to him. “Almost so lost, it's hard to really credit that it's true. Not that I'm calling you a liar, I'm just trying to get things straight in my head.” He pauses for a moment. “So you just happened to roll up in Pine Ridge on the same morning that this scream started?”

  “Bad timing, huh?” Roake replies.

  “Do you know anyone from here?”

  Roake shakes his head.

  “Do you know Jessica Barton?”

  “No.”

  “Someone took a photo down at the school,” Don continues. “We don't know who or when, but Bob Lazenby noticed it a few hours ago. Someone looks to have taken a photo and torn out the part with Jessie Barton on it. Do you know anything about that?”

  Roake shakes his head again.

  “You sure?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “So you've just spent your day wandering around town, doing nothing?”

  “Pretty much,” Roake tells him. “I figured while I was here, I'd stay a night or two and see the place. Not that it's too easy to concentrate, though, what with...”

  “The scream,” Don replies after a moment.

  “I went to the church,” Roake continues. “Is there no priest here?”

  “Father Michaels has been sick lately,” Don tells him. “He recently traveled to Austin to receive treatment. We're expecting him back next week.”

  “Another coincidence,” Roake replies.

  “They're sure mounting up.”

  Roake checks his watch again.

  “You seem a little agitated by the time,” Don continues. “Late for something? Waiting for something?”

  “It'll be dark soon,” Roake points out.

  “We all know that. Why do you keep looking at your watch?”

  “Am I being detained?” Roake asks. He waits for a reply, before getting to his feet. “I thought not. You're wasting your time talking to me. Like I said, I'm just a guy who happens to be passing through your town, and
I'm very sorry that my visit has coincided with this... thing. But if you don't mind, I think I'd like to get going now. I appreciate your hospitality, but I'm taking up your valuable town. You should be out there, looking for this girl.”

  “I don't need you to tell me what I should be doing,” Don says darkly, finishing his whiskey.

  “But I'm free to go, aren't I?” Roake asks. He glances at the other men, before turning back to Don. “Well? Aren't I?”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Jason. Hey Jason, dude, are you okay?”

  Sitting up suddenly, Jason panics and turns, lashing out at the two guys from school who've stopped to help him. Filled with a sense of impending danger, he turns and looks around, only to find that he's on a street corner near the town square. Night has begun to fall, and the scream is still ringing out all around.

  “Jason?” one of the guys says. “Seriously, man... What's up? You're looking kinda pale.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Wait! Hold up!”

  Stopping on the sidewalk and looking over his shoulder, Roake sighs as he sees one of the other men from the bar hurrying toward him.

  “Listen -”

  “Doctor Matthew Kielty,” the man continues, holding out a hand. “I'm sorry I didn't say anything back there, I just... It's best to let Don Ridley feel like he's got his own way, instead of interrupting him.”

  Roake shakes his hand cautiously.

  “I might be wrong,” Matt continues, “but... I get the feeling that maybe you know a little more than you were letting on back there. I'm not accusing you of anything, but if you can help in any way, I hope Don Ridley's bluster hasn't scared you off.” He pauses for a moment. “Please,” he adds, “we're getting desperate. If this scream continues for much longer, I swear... I think we'll all lose our minds.”

  “I can't help,” Roake tells him. “Not...” He checks his watch. “It'll be dark soon.”

  “That won't make things any better.”