by Stephen Laws
And then the window behind Trevor cracked and fell out, down into the supermarket below, great shards disintegrating as they fell. Juliet cried out, staggered back and lost her footing on a floor that now seemed to have lost its solidity as the sounds of an express train exploded into the office.
But Trevor remained where he was, not reacting to any of the sounds of destruction, as if it had nothing to do with him. Hands flat on the vibrating desk, his eyes remained fixed on the little man as he rolled into a ball on the floor and then gave a loud yelping sound as the filing cabinet in the corner toppled over, missing him by inches, scattering its drawers on the floor.
Juliet heard tearing from above, like ripping cloth. When she looked up, to her amazement she could see that the ceiling was being pulled apart. A widening crack had appeared from one end of the room to the other, letting in daylight and emitting a spray of plaster dust and insulation material like yellow cotton wool. Juliet cried out, heading backwards on elbows and heels until she bumped against a far wall. A slab of the roof fell inwards, the four square feet of material slamming down hard on to the desk, demolishing it and sweeping Trevor from sight in an impacting dust cloud.
The sounds of crashing and broken glass were suddenly stilled. The rumbling beneath Juliet subsided to a low groan, and then all was quiet in the office. There was no sound from the supermarket beyond. No wailing or crying, no pleas for help. Juliet screwed her eyes shut, hoping when she opened them again that she’d see that none of this had happened. She was wrong. Her shoulder hurt and her black jeans were covered in white dust finer than flour. She pushed herself to her knees, choking, wondering whether the ground was solid again.
Trevor appeared from the far side of the desk, now edging dazedly around the chunk of roof that had fallen on it. His hair had also been whitened by the fine dust. Flinging himself away from the falling debris, he had almost brained himself on the wall behind. Without once looking at Juliet, as if she weren’t even kneeling on the floor right in his sightline, he came around to the front of the desk, just as the little man—his black suit suddenly turned white—grabbed at the fallen filing cabinet and struggled to rise.
“All right…” said the man, strands of hair once so carefully parted over his head now white and awry. “Is everyone all right…?” He looked up groggily as Trevor came to meet him. “Miss?” continued the man, rubbing the dust out of his eyes and looking for her. “Are you…?”
“All right,” coughed Juliet. “I’m all right. What happened?”
And then she saw Trevor stoop down to the floor and pick up a ragged chunk of concrete from the littered carpet. She wondered what he was going to do. Wondered why he was raising it to head height so methodically. And she would have screamed at what happened next, but she was still too shocked to let the sound out—as Trevor took two quick steps forward and slammed the concrete slab full into the little man’s face. There was a wet crunch as the man’s spectacles were impacted into his face, his nose instantly flattened and crushed. He dropped soundlessly to his knees. At first there was no blood. Just a creased and flattened and terribly skewed expression on his face. Then the redness began to spurt around his eyes, his crushed nose and from his mouth until his face was a crimson mask. His hands rose, juddering, towards the mutilated face.
Expression still blank, Trevor brought the concrete down hard on the man’s head. It sounded like a side of meat dropped from a ten-storey building. The man went down instantly, and soundlessly. With that blow, Trevor had let go of the concrete. It thumped to a rest on the man’s neck, pinning his head to the floor. A dark pool began to spread on the dust-covered surface around him.
Juliet thought she could scream now, but still nothing would come. Horror overwhelmed her. Trevor was looking down at what he’d done, nodding his head again and again in satisfaction. Wiping the back of a trembling hand across his mouth, he seemed to notice her at last.
“You see?” he said. “You see, Juliet? Fate again. Looking after me.”
“What…?” Juliet had found her voice, but she choked on her own vomit; moaned and hugged herself; trying to make sense of what she had seen—if she had really seen it at all.
“Know what that bastard was going to do?” continued Trevor. “He was from Central Office. Been sent down to check out discrepancies in the accounts. Found out that I’d been creaming off some of the readies over the last year and a half. Thought it was five thousand. The stupid bastard. More like ten. That’s how much he knew. Now the little fucker is dead. Killed when the roof fell in. I told him to get out of the way, didn’t I? You heard me, didn’t you, Juliet? But no, he was frozen there like a rabbit when the accident happened. Killed him outright.” Trevor began to laugh then. It made Juliet’s nausea worse. “So now we’re okay, honey. Just me and you. We can take what I’ve put away and just go. Somewhere abroad, eh? That sound good to you?”
Juliet clawed her way to her feet and fled.
But Trevor lunged across the room and caught her arm just as she yanked open the office door. On the landing outside was the staircase leading down to the supermarket, and one other door facing her. She had wanted to head down the stairs, but Trevor was hanging on to her arm, now stumbling to block her path. He yelled when she raked her nails across his face, pulling back to punch her hard. The blow flung Juliet back against the other door, which flew open as she tumbled into the storeroom. Trevor lunged for her again, missed his footing and fell on the landing. Quickly, she slammed the door shut and dragged the desk in front of it. Now, it seemed, she was trapped; and no matter how much she yelled, no one came to her assistance.
The screeching of the desk being pushed inwards jerked Juliet away from the window and her view of the chasm below. Fear overwhelmed her bewilderment as she lurched back across the storeroom. The door had opened a crack as Trevor continued to shoulder it. Now his arm was through, fingers groping at the wall as he tried to squeeze in. Juliet hit the desk hard, trapping his arm. Trevor yelled in rage and pain.
“You mad bitch!”
“Mad?” Juliet’s voice rose to a scream. “Me, mad?”
Lunging forward again, Juliet brought the crowbar down hard on his arm. Trevor screamed, but the sound of his voice was cut off when the second blow broke two of his fingers. Dragging his arm out, he fell back to the littered floor, hugging his hand, as Juliet rammed the door shut again.
Trevor sat with his back to the door, breathing hard. There were two parallel scratches across his cheek where Juliet had gouged her nails. His fingers felt as if they were on fire. How long did he have before the police got here? He looked down the stairs into the supermarket. Cartons and cans littered the floor, but his view was restricted. He shook his head and tried to clear vision that had somehow become blurred. Now he could see clearly again, and think clearly. He’d had another of his “turns”, just when he thought he was getting better. Normally, when the mists came, it was his wife and child who received the punishment. But when the little bastard in the black suit had arrived and it was apparent that he’d been rumbled about the money, the mists had come quickly flooding again. Trevor had found a way of shutting him up, but it couldn’t possibly end there. He’d have to draw the money he’d put into his secret account, and just clear out. Maybe leave the country altogether.
How long had it been since the “accident” had happened? He looked at his watch, but the dial was shattered, only one bent hand remaining. It couldn’t have been that long. He had no idea what had hit the supermarket, but surely it was some kind of sign that fate was on his side. If someone came now, to help, what would he do? What would he say? He was thinking logically now. He had to do something about Juliet, and straight away. She had seen him kill the little bastard.
But first, he had to check what had happened in the supermarket; find out where everyone had gone. Trying not to make any noise, he slipped away from the door and descended, step after careful step on the littered stairway.
The supermarket was a mess. T
ins, cartons and shelving all over the place. And the ceiling was a gigantic mass of cracks. But he could see no one. Something bad had happened—and everyone had fled. Casting glances back to the staircase and the door above, Trevor edged around an aisle to get a look right down to the main entrance. All the glass had shattered there, and sheets of jagged shards lay heaped on the tiled floor and around the revolving door. Could he see a pair of legs sticking out from under that overturned sales display? He took a tentative step forward, but his change in position made him catch sight of something that brought him up short. He stood, staring.
He knew that the bread section was on the other side of the aisle unit before him, but after that there should be a further seven aisles: fresh meat, poultry and other cold meats.
But all of that had gone. Beyond the aisle marked “Bread”, there was only daylight—of a sort. From the entrance area on his left, right across the supermarket to the rear of the building, everything seemed to have disappeared. Above, the ceiling now ended in a crumbling ridge of cracked brickwork, ragged plaster and twisted iron supports. It was as if something had come along and shorn the building in two. Trevor edged around the aisle, back to the shelving, to get a better look. Now there was what seemed to be a blank, grey emptiness around the corner of the aisle. Trevor shook his head. Were the mists coming behind his eyes again? He kept moving. And then he saw something that gave perspective to the great empty space. There was something out there, after all. Perhaps five or six hundred feet away. A cliff-edge. Moving carefully forward, Trevor could see that the cliff-face dropped away to an impossible depth, vanishing into darkness. Recoiling, he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing, of what had happened. Now he could see a gap between the shelving units before him, and the ragged cliff-edge on which the remains of the supermarket itself were precariously balanced.
At last, he understood.
There had been an earthquake. Impossible in this country, it seemed. But there was no arguing with the facts. And the earth tremor had resulted in this gigantic pit opening up. A pit over which the supermarket had been standing. Half of the entire building had crumbled away and fallen into the abyss. The remaining half stood right on the edge of the chasm. Realising how close he was to the edge, Trevor eased himself back around the shelving unit and then hurried to the foot of the stairs again. How long could it be before rescue came, and how much time did he have to deal with Juliet?
Then Trevor saw the barbecue section, and knew what he should do.
There was barbecue fuel there.
“Burn her out,” he said aloud. “That’s what I’ll do.”
He headed forward.
Too easy, a voice seemed to say behind him.
Trevor whirled, staring back towards the edge of the chasm. There was no movement. No sign of anyone.
“What?”
Too easy, said the voice in his head. And now it seemed that the mists were coming back behind his eyes again. But that couldn’t be. They only ever came when he was angry; maybe when that stupid bitch Theresa was getting on his nerves, or one of his many girlfriends started to get stroppy, like Juliet. Trevor rubbed his eyes. He’d never heard voices before.
That’s because you haven’t been listening properly, came the voice again, from beyond the cliff-edge.
“Where are you? Who are you?”
I’m the real you, Trevor. The one you’ve been struggling to hear for so long. Now, something important’s happened. Something that will set you free.
“I’m going mad, aren’t I? I’m hearing voices, and I’m going mad.”
There was a sound in his head now. Something that sounded like laughter, but was like no human laughter he had ever heard. It was the sound of a mocking wind; the sound of a crowd whispering. But somewhere in that sound he could also hear something that was very like his own voice. The sound was swept away like leaves on an autumn wind.
Mad? What’s mad, Trevor? Mad is just a way of dealing with problems. Perhaps you’re the only sane one left. Ever thought of that?
“Who are you?”
I’m you. You’re me.
“Show yourself.”
I…we…can’t. Not yet. Not until the darkness comes. But we can speak to you, Trevor. Because you’re special. What you’ve done today proves how special you are. And I…we…want to help you.
“Help me…?”
Yes, Trevor. Everything’s changed now. Nothing you’ve ever known, or experienced, will be the same again. You’ve nothing to fear.
The mists were swirling behind his eyes again, but this time they were not impeding his vision. He did not have to shake his head to clear it. Suddenly, it seemed as if he were seeing everything through different eyes with a different focus. Everything in his life had been skewed before, with bursts of occasional clarity when he went after what he desired. But now it appeared that he would see everything with that clarity, for ever. The truth in the words of his invisible friend…or friends…was undeniable.
“I’ve got to do something about Juliet…”
Yes, she must be dealt with first. She’s an ungrateful bitch, Trevor. Just like the others. And she deserves to be punished.
“I’ll burn her out…”
No! You must listen to what we say. She deserves worse than that. You must make her torment last longer. She’s betrayed you, Trevor. Let you down, like the others. Her pain should reflect that betrayal.
“But I’ve got to do it quickly, before someone comes. The police, or the fire service. I’ve got to finish her off before they come…”
Listen, Trevor. Listen to me…to us…carefully. No one will come. Listen, and know the truth of these words. There will be no one to interfere. You have as much time as you need. All the time in the world.
It seemed that the last statement by the voice had caused it great amusement. Again there was the sound of laughter which was so unlike anything Trevor had ever heard, but which seemed to touch something inside him deep down. Somehow, the truth of the voice’s words was again undeniable.
“So what shall I do? How can I make her pay?”
Burning is too fast. Too easy. She needs to be taught a lesson.
“Then how?”
Keep her locked in there. Starve her. Torment her.
“And no one will come?”
No one. I…we…promise. It’s what she deserves, Trevor. Make her suffer. You’ve got plenty food here for yourself.
“Yes, she should suffer. It’s her own fault.”
Good…good…
Juliet seemed to hear a mumbling voice somewhere beyond the door. Could it be that help was on the way at last? Hope rising, she yelled at the top of her voice:
“In here! I’m in here!”
There was a sound then; of someone hurrying up the stairs, feet crunching on the debris that littered the stairway. Juliet began to rise. Thank God. Trevor must have decided to run for it after she’d hit him with the crowbar. He wasn’t crouched on the other side of the door waiting, as she’d thought.
“In here!”
Something banged against the door, making her flinch. She was just rising, to push the desk away, when Trevor’s voice came through the door to chill her blood.
“I know you’re in there, darling.”
“Trevor, you fucking bastard!”
“You shouldn’t talk to me like that, Juliet. I’m going to make you pay for that. Going to make you pay for everything you’ve done.”
Juliet sank hopelessly to her knees again, keeping her eye on the shattered window at the top of the door. There was another sound now, like tins clattering.
“What are you doing?”
“Making myself comfortable,” replied Trevor. “Why don’t you come out and join me?”
“You can’t stay there for ever, Trevor. Someone will come soon. They have to. If I were you, I’d put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can.”
“Well, now…” Trevor sighed. Back against the door, he slithered
down to his haunches. He’d dumped a pile of cans beside him. Casually, he reached for one. Juliet heard the can being opened, and wondered with trepidation just what Trevor had planned. “Let’s examine what you’ve just said. First of all, you’re not me. Secondly, no one’s coming—and I’ve got that on good authority. And as to staying here for ever…well, I’ve got all the time in the world. More time than you, my darling.”
“You’re mad, Trevor. Stark, staring mad.”
“Sticks and stones, Juliet. Sticks and stones. Why don’t you come out?”
“I can stay here for a damn long time.”
Trevor laughed, his mouth full of cold meat. “Think so?”
“What the hell are you doing back there?”
“Are you hungry yet, Juliet?”
Juliet yelled in anger, slamming the crowbar against the door.
“We’ll see,” laughed Trevor. “We’ll see…”
He laughed again, and stuffed another spoonful of food into his mouth.
Chapter Two
The Journal of Jay O’Connor:
Music of the Night
We’d seen things out there in the night that just couldn’t be.
And after they’d gone, scared away by the fire, we couldn’t speak. None of us. I wanted to, but I had to sort out in my mind what I’d seen. Stafford, standing there, when I knew that he was lying dead in the school rubble. I’d seen his body cut in half. But last night, there he’d been. Part of me wanted to believe what Alex had said about some kind of nerve gas, making us see things. But there was a part of me, deep down, which knew that this wasn’t the answer.
Strangely, it was Gordon—the one who couldn’t speak—who broke the silence.
“My aunt,” he said. The sound of his voice in the silence made everyone start. We all turned to look at him. “Her,” he said, pointing out into the darkness. “But not her.” He wanted to explain more, but he’d dried up. He began stabbing a finger out at the two bodies which lay on the fringe of the light and the shadow, beyond the bonfire.