by Anna Willett
Chapter Sixteen
Shadows crept across the floor in a pattern Hal had grown all too familiar with. Judging by the soft quality of the light from the small window and the elongation of the rectangle it cast on the scuffed boards, he guessed it must be nearly three o’clock. Not that time mattered much at Mable House. His days were an endless marathon of pain and fear. The only bright spot was Paige. In the moments they were together, he felt hope. And now that he’d made the decision to take action, his mind seemed clearer than it had since pulling into the carpark at the cheese factory.
But clear thinking wasn’t enough, he needed to come up with a way to put thoughts into action. He surveyed the room: four walls, a cupboard, his bed and locker, a chair and the trolley. Not much to work with. He shifted his weight from one cheek to the other, his backside numb from sitting in one position. But nothing compared to the pain in his legs.
He forced his mind away from all that and back to the matter at hand. It had been more than an hour since Paige left in search of the keys. He had no way of knowing if she’d found them or if Lizzy caught her searching. Hell, Paige might have the keys and be driving off the property right now. No, if she was gone, Lizzy would’ve come straight up to his room and by now, another part of his body would be on hospital floor.
As much as he wanted to believe his wife and baby were safe, he knew sitting in bed with his ass going numb meant Paige was still here.
“Fuck,” he swore aloud, just to hear himself speak.
Lying in bed, a helpless invalid, made him think of his father. A once strong, independent man, now frail and confused. At sixty-six, George Loche should have been enjoying his retirement. Playing golf, maybe even starting a romance with the woman that ran the local deli. Hal tried to remember her name - Lorna? Linda? Something with L. She had a thing for his old man, no doubt about it.
Hal recalled stopping at the shop with his dad, two or three years ago. The woman, Lisa. Yes, he was sure her name was Lisa, had red hair and a curvy figure. When his old man entered the shop, Lisa lit up. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure and there was a girlish quality to the way she said his dad’s name. George, she made the word sound warm and pleasing on her tongue.
“She’s got the hots for you,” he’d told his dad on their way home.
“Cut it out.” His father’s face coloured, but there was a twinkle of devilish laughter in his voice.
Now his father wasted away in a home. His eyes ringed with milky confusion, sometimes crying when Hal visited him; he couldn’t remember his son’s name. Hal wondered if anyone bothered to tell Lisa why his father stopped dropping in for his daily paper. Maybe she noticed the old man going downhill and put two and two together? Still, he should’ve made the time to let Lisa know what happened.
Hal blinked away tears. Fuck, I’m turning into a cry-baby. He looked at the trolley next to his bed. An array of tape, gauze, and bandages, but nothing useful unless he planned on wrapping tape around Lizzy’s mouth and nose to smother her. Watching her, the terror growing in her eyes as she struggled to breathe, would be satisfying but unpractical. His gaze drifted downwards and he frowned. Something slim and metallic stuck out from under the bed.
He craned his neck to the side and a pair of scissors with unusually long, pointed blades lay amongst the layers of dust covering the floor.
The clanging and gurgling of water echoed in the ancient plumbing system. Apart from a few doors closing, it was the first sign of movement downstairs in a long while. It could mean Lizzy was on the move. She might be getting ready to mutilate him once more. Just the thought gave him the jolt he needed to get moving. He gripped the left side of the bed, along the metal bar below the mattress, and gradually leaned his body over the right side, his arm outstretched.
The movement lifted his left hip off the bed and with it his thigh. His stump shifted to the left and barbs of pain swirled in his severed bone. He hissed through his teeth, froze like a tightrope walker trying to regain his balance. He allowed himself a couple of shaky breaths, then continued reaching under the bed.
His fingers brushed the floor. He could feel a fine film of dust moving under his touch. He turned his head to track his progress. The handle of the scissors was less than five centimetres away. He swallowed hard then leaned out farther. This time his stump protested, but with less force than he expected. His forefinger curled around the handle and he looped the scissors onto the crook of his finger.
“Yes!” The cry of triumph came out as a croak. Then, “Oh shit.” As his left hand slipped. He almost lost his grip on the bed.
Dropping the scissors, he watched in dumb silence as they skittered under the trolley. He stared at them as he leaned over the edge of the bed, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He had them. The handle had looped around his finger. All he needed to do was straighten up and he’d managed to fuck it up. How are you going to kill that crazy woman if you can’t even hang on to a pair of scissors?
“I’m not done yet,” he said to himself and grabbed the leg of the trolley.
If he rolled it back towards the bed, he might be able to push the scissors closer. It was worth a try. All he had to risk was falling out of bed, landing on his broken leg, and squirming on the floor in agony. He gave a humourless chuckle and pulled the trolley towards him.
The back wheel snagged the circular handle of the scissors and pushed it in the direction of the bed. Hal resisted the urge to cheer, and kept the trolley steady on its course. Sweat ran down his nose and landed in small plops on the floor.
Hal let go of the trolley and gripped the long blades of the scissors. This time, he carefully clenched his hand around them before trying to lift himself back into bed. The boards on the landing outside his room groaned. He had less than two seconds to hoist himself into a sitting position and get the scissors out of sight.
His left arm quivered but held. He worked every ounce of strength he had in his bicep and pulled himself into a sitting position. In one fluid motion, he swept the scissors under his pillow. As his hand disappeared behind him, the door rattled and opened.
“Paige.” It came out as a deep exhale.
Hal sagged onto the bed and blew out another breath. A jagged pain pierced his chest and he wondered if thirty-two was too young to have a heart attack.
“Hal,” she said, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you in pain? You’re covered in sweat.”
She held a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and closed the door behind her with the other.
“No. I’m fine. I’ve just been leaning over to pick something up,” he said and pulled the scissors out for her to see. The light glinted off the blades giving them an evil gleam.
Paige grimaced and put the sandwiches on the locker. She looked different; sure, she’d changed her clothes, but different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She leaned over him and pressed her lips against his. They felt soft and cool, but the kiss was tight. He circled her in his arms and traced his hands over her back. Her shoulders felt small and frail, the bones more pronounced then he remembered.
“I found the keys,” she whispered.
When she pulled away, he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes and the thin line now etched between then. She looked exhausted and fragile. All his struggles and worries seemed petty and selfish. She’d witnessed a murder, been hit to the ground, and then searched the house while a mad woman hovered nearby. She’d done all this only months from giving birth.
“Paige, I want you to stay here with me. When Lizzy comes in, I’m going to kill her. That’s why I’ve got the scissors.”
She shook her head and sat in the chair facing him. “I can’t stay. Too many things could go wrong.” Her mouth was set in a thin line and her blue eyes flittered around the room. She looked skittish, as if having trouble staying seated.
“I can’t keep letting you go out there and risk yourself and the baby,” he said gently.
“You’re the one who told me to go and not come
back,” Paige snapped.
The edge in her voice surprised him. It must’ve shown on his face because the next time she spoke her tone was more controlled. “Just hear me out. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think it’ll work.”
“I can’t protect you out there,” he gestured at the door. The more he thought about it, the more he was determined she stay.
“You can’t protect me in here,” she said in a flat emotionless voice he barely recognised.
The impact of her words made Hal flinch inwardly. She’s saddled with a cripple, Lizzy’s voice echoed in his mind. He’d tried to believe he was still the same man, but even his own wife didn’t trust him to protect her. Not when it came down to life or death. He was a liability to her and the baby.
“I’m sorry if that sounded harsh,” she said softly. “But I won’t hide in here and wait for her to come and get me.”
Hal nodded and glanced at the scissors in his hand. They looked small. He didn’t blame Paige for not trusting his ability to keep her safe; when push came to shove, he couldn’t even stand.
She put her hand over his. “Just hear me out. I think there’s a way to get us both out of here without the need for any more bloodshed.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he could protect her. But he knew the man he’d been four days ago was gone. Lizzy’s words rang in his ears, shaking him in their grip. The best thing he could do for his wife was to let her go. He nodded for her to continue.
“When I was searching for the keys, I found the shotgun. When she’s asleep, I’ll bring it in here and leave it with you. That way, if she comes up here and tries anything, you can protect yourself and …”
“Wait.” Hal held up his hand. “If you have the shotgun, just give it to me now and we’ll wait for her. Or call her in here.” He paused. “I know I’m not … Not what I used to be, but I can still fire a gun.”
“Hal,” she said. “You haven’t changed.” But as she spoke, her eyes shifted to the window and her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. “It’s not about how weak or strong you are; it’s about getting us out of here in one piece. If you miss, she might have other guns.” She circled her arm in the air. “Or, she might leave us here to starve. She’s capable of anything. I won’t take the chance.” She looked back at him and held his gaze. “I won’t let you take the chance. I can’t lose you.” The last four words came out clipped and wavering.
He wanted to argue, but knew she was right. If his aim was off, Lizzy could get away and come back shooting. They couldn’t risk a gun battle, not with the baby to think about.
“Okay,” he said. “Tell me the plan.”
He listened to her talk with a growing mixture of excitement and unease. She started slowly and then her words tumbled out in an urgent whisper. He’d never seen his wife like this. A stranger, who looked like Paige, had taken her place. He’d always known she was strong, stronger than she gave herself credit for, but this woman was fearless and determined. The detached quality to her stare seemed alien on a woman who couldn’t watch sad movies because they upset her for days.
When she’d finished, she said, “Well? What do you think?”
But Hal knew what she was really asking. “Yes, I’m up to it,” he said, and hoped to God he was.
Chapter Seventeen
Paige left Hal’s room and placed the empty plate on the floor. She walked past the stairs trying to make as little sound as possible, but the third floor landing was a mine field of squeaky boards. The first room she tried was empty except for a stack of stained mattresses. The next, a small windowless room that smelt like disinfectant. Paige snapped on the light next to the door and a single bulb buzzed to life. The room looked like some sort of operating theatre with a set of deep metal sinks and trays of instruments on trolleys. The floor was covered in dark green vinyl with patches of brown in a few areas. Paige grimaced, turned off the lights, and shut the door.
The third door along the landing opened into another dormitory-style room. Two rectangular windows along the far wall were covered with rotting boards; thin streaks of grey light dropped through the gaps between the wood. The room looked similar to the one Paige slept in except here, the beds lay in pieces on the bare wooden floor, at the far end chairs and various hospital equipment were stacked in a haphazard pile. Paige tip-toed out of the room to the banister and looked down. The vacant lift, like a giant mechanical cave, took up much of the landing. By standing to the left, she could see all the way to the tiled entrance hall.
The ground floor was devoid of movement. From above, the swirling pattern made by the black and white tiles on the foyer floor looked like a large black snake. Satisfied that Lizzy wasn’t around, Paige slipped back into the dormitory room and selected the piece of equipment she’d need for later that night. She left her find near the door and backed out of the room.
There wasn’t much more she could do now but wait until nightfall. She picked up the plate she’d left near Hal’s door and walked down the stairs.
In the kitchen, the lights filled the room with a stark yellow glow. Lizzy and Soona were seated at the table, their heads bent over deep bowls. When Paige entered, Lizzy looked up, a line of pearly soup dripped from the corner of her mouth. Paige thought of the bait the marron feasted on and resisted the urge to gag.
“Sit down will you?” Lizzy dabbed at her mouth with a cotton napkin.
“I’ll just wash this,” Paige gestured to the plate in her hands and headed for the sink.
“Leave it.” There was no mistaking the order in Lizzy’s voice so Paige set the plate down in the sink and took her place at the table. The thick, sweet smell of cooked crayfish hung in the air. She swallowed her disgust and sat next to Soona, who held a spoon in one hand and a chunk of bread in the other. She continued to slurp soup as Lizzy spoke.
“That dress is much more suitable.”
Paige pulled on the stiff collar and nodded. She glanced at the clock on the shelf over the stove, only six-fifteen. It would be at least two hours before Lizzy and Soona went to bed.
“How are you feeling?”
The question took Paige by surprise. Her confusion must have been obvious because Lizzy repeated the question.
“How are you feeling?”
“I … I’m alright,” Paige managed, unsure what to say. I’m sick to my stomach with fear and revulsion. I’ve been terrorized and hit and my husband’s been mutilated, so just fine.
“The baby moving much?” Lizzy asked over a spoonful of chunky grey liquid.
So now we get to it, Paige thought. The reason we’re here. The real reason. “Yes.” She tried to give little away. Even talking to the woman about the baby made Paige jumpy.
“When I had Soona, I could tell something was wrong. I’d been around enough pregnant girls to know the baby’s supposed to move.” She shrugged. “Soona only gave the odd ripple, I was very young, but I knew it wasn’t right.” She stopped eating and looked over at Soona. "My father told me everything was fine, but I knew.” Her mouth quivered, it was a tiny movement and then she let out a long, tired breath. “A mother knows; don’t you think?”
“I think I’d know if something was wrong,” Paige said, folding her arms around her bump. “But this is my first baby so …” her voice trailed off.
Lizzy nodded and took a spoonful of soup. She lifted it to her mouth then paused. “Do you know the sex?”
They’d made the decision not to find out the baby’s gender. Paige remembered Hal said something about enjoying the surprise. He’d been so excited about being a father that she’d thought he’d insist on knowing if he was going to have a son or a daughter, but he was adamant that it was better to wait. She pictured Hal’s green eyes twinkling over the top of his sunglasses as he pressed his hand to her belly, and her eyes blurred with tears.
“No, we don’t know.” She looked down at her arms lying protectively over her belly.
Lizzy nodded and shovelled the spoon in
to her mouth. “Lots of babies have been born here. I had Soona here. Right upstairs.” She used her spoon to point up at the ceiling and drops of soup ran down her wrist. “After she was born, my father sent me away to study nursing in Albany.”
“That must have been hard for you,” Paige said, trying to sound sympathetic.
Lizzy picked up a slice of bread and tore off a chunk. She dipped it in her soup and pushed it into her mouth without answering. Her teeth and lips worked like a mulching machine. For a few minutes the only sounds were the ticking of the clock and the clatter of Lizzy and Soona’s spoons.
“He said it would be better for me not to get too attached. He was going to have Soona adopted, but once it became obvious she was retarded, no one wanted her.” Lizzy gave a shrug and popped another chunk of bread in her mouth.
“What about your mother? What did she say?” Paige asked, genuinely interested. Something had happened in this isolated house that ultimately led to her and Hal’s current predicament. Whatever secrets were hidden in Lizzy’s past brought her to a place where the death of her father and the closing of Mable House pushed her over the edge. Those two events triggered whatever insane scenario Lizzy was intent on playing out. Suddenly it seemed important to know more.
Lizzy gave a snort, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. It reminded Paige of a pig. “She was dead by then. Not that she’d have been any help anyway.” Lizzy pointed her spoon at Paige. She was like you; one of those pretty fragile types. Life out here got too much for her.” Their eyes locked and Lizzy seemed to be studying her. “Although, I think there might be a bit more steel behind those baby blues than you let on.” Lizzy licked her mouth, her tongue startlingly red against her pale lips.
All sorts of questions flooded Paige’s mind. She wanted to ask about Soona’s father, but she had a sick feeling in her stomach that Lizzy’s relationship with her own father was pivotal to the situation.