Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller

by Mark White

  ‘Enough about that. We agreed to try and put it behind us, so let’s not dwell on it, okay? The good news is that I don’t need to worry about finding another job, at least for the time being, and I don’t think I’ll be seeing Tom anytime soon. I must admit that I can’t help feeling slightly flattered by Holdsworth choosing me over him. It certainly sugars the pill a little.’

  ‘You deserve it,’ Sarah said, brushing a strand of hair from his brow. ‘Although I’m not convinced you’ll be well enough to start back tomorrow. Maybe you should leave it until Monday.’

  ‘No way. How do you think it’ll look if I call in sick on my first day back?’

  ‘But what about your head?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Like I said, I just need an early night and a few painkillers. Trust me, Sarah; I’ll make it into work, even if it kills me. I can’t spend another day lying around feeling sorry for myself. I think one of the reasons for my fragile state of mind is the amount of time I have on my hands to dwell on stuff that isn’t doing me an ounce of good. I need to get back in the ring as soon as possible. If I don’t, then God only knows what else I might start dreaming about.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t believe in God,’ Sarah said, winking at him playfully.

  ‘I don’t,’ he replied, groaning as yet another wave of unfiltered agony pulsed through him. ‘Although the way I feel right now, I’d be willing to worship the fucking tooth fairy if she agreed to cure my blasted headache.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Come on,’ she said, putting her arm under him and pulling him upright. ‘Let’s get the injured soldier off to bed, eh? Tomorrow’s a big day. I’m so proud of you, Sam. I really am. We’ll get through this together, just you wait and see.’

  As she helped him out of the sitting room and towards the stairs, he remembered what Gracie had said to him yesterday about needing to face up to the ghosts of his past before something terrible happened. If she hadn’t seemed so self-assured, he would have had no hesitation in blaming his hallucinations on all the shit he’d endured over the past few days. Maybe she was crazy after all? Perhaps the proximity to her own death was making her confused and delusional, blurring the lines between this world and the next.

  Either way, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it. In less than twelve hours he would be walking through the front doors of Chapman’s Design Agency, and as hard as it was right now to imagine, he had to give himself every chance of starting his first day back with a clear head. This was his escape route, his way out. In spite of everything else that was troubling him, he couldn’t afford to screw this opportunity up. He had to make it work.

  CHAPTER THREE

  There were three coffee shops located on the opposite side of the street to Chapman’s Design Agency, and at eight o’clock that morning there was barely enough room to breathe in any of them. Most of the customers were in and out within minutes, grabbing their takeout orders and scurrying off to their respective offices and workplaces. With all the frantic coming and going, it was easy for anyone not seeking to draw attention to themselves to blend in with the crowd, which was precisely why Tom Jackson had chosen a window-stool inside one of the shops to await the arrival of Sam Railton.

  The previous afternoon, when Charles Holdsworth had fired him and unceremoniously ordered him out of the building, Tom had headed for the first bar he could find. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but that hadn’t stopped him from knocking back the Jack Daniels as if the world was about to end. He’d never felt so humiliated in all his life; seeing the shock and embarrassment on his colleagues’ faces, their eyes burning holes into his back as he shuffled out of the office with his belongings stuffed inside a cardboard box. Tom Jackson, the man who walked on water, disgraced and demeaned in front of everyone.

  How the mighty have fallen, he thought, nursing his hangover with a cappuccino and waiting for Sam to arrive.

  Getting fired had left him well and truly neck-deep in shit. It’s said that the average person is only two paycheques away from bankruptcy, but for Tom Jackson there was no such luxury. If he didn’t find another job within the month he would lose everything: his house, his car; all the debt-ridden trappings of success with which he had surrounded himself. He couldn’t bear the shame of having to tell his neighbours that the reason he was at home in the mornings was because he was between jobs. Even if he succeeded in pulling the wool over their beady eyes, it would only be a matter of time before his loose-tongued wife let the truth slip. That woman couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

  After leaving Chapman’s and spending the rest of the afternoon drowning his sorrows, instead of going home he’d checked himself into a nearby hotel. He couldn’t face breaking the news to Jane – he needed to fabricate a watertight story before he went anywhere near her – and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to him staying out at night. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d lied to her about needing to attend some out-of-town business conference or exhibition, when what he was actually doing was banging one of the interns from work...or Sarah Railton.

  And so it was, on a miserable, wet December morning, as he sat forlornly in a coffee shop with an aching head and a mouth like sandpaper, that he could perhaps be forgiven for feeling sorry for himself. The good times were over, and as far as Tom Jackson was concerned, it was entirely the fault of one man. And boy was he going to make him pay for it.

  As Sam rounded the corner and made his way to work, he had no idea that Tom was waiting for him. Not that he was able to think of much except his grinding headache; the pain had kept him up for most of the night, and no matter how many pills he swallowed he couldn’t seem to shake the damn thing off. If anything it was getting worse, but he couldn’t allow it to get in the way of his first day back. He knew he would have to smile and suffer the forced pleasantries and pats-on-the-back from his fellow workers, but that wouldn’t take long. All he wanted was to retreat to his cubicle and suffer his headache in silence, until eventually it would hopefully go away of its own accord.

  As he neared the glass double doors that marked the entrance to Chapman’s, someone called out from behind him. Sam froze. He knew immediately who it was.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Tom said, taking a step closer to him. ‘Off to suck the boss’s cock again, are you? You back-stabbing cunt!’

  Sam refrained from turning around, doing his best to ignore the butterflies beating their wings against the lining of his stomach. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see Tom Jackson’s face ever again.

  ‘I think we both know who the back-stabber is,’ he replied, taking a step closer to the door. ‘You brought this upon yourself, Tom. Call it karma or whatever you want. The fact is you had it coming. Now piss off and let me get to work.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere!’ Tom shouted, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and yanking him backwards. ‘You’re going to pay for this, you miserable bastard.’

  Sam fell to the ground under Tom’s strength. Before he had a chance to get back on his feet, Tom was upon him, straddling him so that he was unable to move. Tom cried out, excited by his superior power. ‘Look at me,’ he said, taking Sam by the shoulders and turning him over onto his back. ‘I want to see your ugly face before I beat it to a pulp. I’m going to enjoy th…what the fu-?’

  Sam was looking directly back at him, only it wasn’t Sam but someone much older. Someone who looked as if he should have died a long time ago. This…this man…was sneering at Tom, revealing two uneven rows of discoloured, rotten teeth. Tom retched violently as he smelt the man’s foul breath, but in spite of all the booze he’d consumed the night before, nothing came out. It was as if the man’s breath was rushing out of him and into Tom’s own mouth, pouring down his throat and into his gut and settling like a dense, poisonous gas. Tom gagged as he desperately tried but failed to draw breath. He was slowly being suffocated, and no matter how hard he struggled, he was unable to prise himself free.

  As Tom
fought desperately for air, Sam’s eyes began to glow, becoming whiter and brighter until eventually Tom was no longer able to see a face or anything at all except a blinding light that burned into him like a welder’s torch. Whoever this person was – for as far as Tom was concerned it certainly wasn’t Sam – suddenly let out a huge sigh and groaned. The all-consuming light emanating from his eyes vanished, and when Tom’s own eyes eventually adjusted to natural daylight, he was met by the face of Sam Railton gazing up at him with a bewildered, startled expression; as if he had absolutely no idea where he was or what was happening to him.

  The next thing either of them knew, they were flung apart by two heavyset men in high-visibility jackets who’d broken through the small crowd of onlookers. One of the men knelt by Tom as he lay crumpled on the pavement and shouted for somebody to call an ambulance. The other man went to assist Sam, but he held up a hand and resisted.

  ‘I’m alright,’ he said, climbing to his feet and brushing himself down. He nervously eyed the crowd of onlookers, who stared back at him with fear in their eyes. ‘I’m alright,’ he repeated, hobbling towards the entrance to Chapman’s. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to the crowd, unsure as to why he was apologising, but somehow feeling that it was the right thing to do. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go to work.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The ground floor reception area of Chapman’s was eerily quiet, which was just as well for Sam given the state he was in as he stumbled through the doors. Gina Cartwell – Chapman’s long-serving receptionist and eagle-eyed gatekeeper – was surprisingly not at her desk, so Sam took the opportunity to disappear into the men’s washroom without being seen. Once inside, he went directly to the row of sinks and stared into one of the mirrors, removing his jacket to assess the extent of the damage. Could be worse, he thought, relieved at the absence of any fresh cuts or bruises. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his shirt collar, turning on the tap and squeezing some liquid soap from a dispenser; his plan being to freshen up before heading upstairs. He winced as the soap bit into a cut on his left hand caused by Tom dragging him onto the pavement. At first glance, there didn’t appear to be any other external damage. Taking some deep breaths to calm himself down, he put on his jacket and walked over to the hand-drier.

  Despite remaining shaken by the assault, he was amazed at how well he felt. His headache had completely disappeared, as had the agonising stomach cramps that had kept him up half the night. An indescribable sense of relief surged through him, almost causing him to cry out with joy. He couldn’t explain why he suddenly felt so much better. He could only assume that it had something to do with the trauma of being set upon when he least expected it, something akin to giving someone a fright to rid them of the hiccups.

  Shock therapy, he thought, collecting his satchel from the floor and brushing off the dirt. Apart from being dragged to the ground, he could remember very little about the assault. It had all happened so quickly. He remembered Tom saying something to him and then jumping on him from behind, and he remembered the two workmen dragging them away from each other, but apart from that? Nothing. Nothing at all.

  It’s not important, he thought, checking his appearance in the mirror one final time before making his way towards the door. All that matters is that I’m here and Tom’s not.

  As he left the washroom and entered the reception area, he was met by the alarming sight of Gina bounding towards him like a startled rhinoceros.

  ‘Sam!’ she shouted, slowing down as he held out his hands and backed away. ‘I’ve just heard what happened outside. Are you alright? Do you need me to call upstairs for a first-aider?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he replied, annoyed but not surprised that she knew. Gina Cartwell never missed a trick. ‘Honestly, it wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘That’s not what I heard. A little bird told me that Tom really laid into you.’

  ‘Well, luckily for me you heard wrong. As a matter of fact, I feel on top of the world.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, seemingly disappointed. ‘That’s a relief then, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Gina.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, offering him a half-hearted smile before returning to her desk. ‘It’s nice to have you back. Are you sure you’re alright?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘Good. In that case, your presence is needed on the third floor.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Mr Holdsworth wants to speak with you before you see anyone else.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask him yourself. Excuse me, Sam’ she said, slipping on a headset and answering an incoming call. ‘Good morning. Chapman’s Design Agency. How may I help you?’

  Sam shrugged and headed towards the stairs. What did Holdsworth want with him? He couldn’t answer that, but what he did know was that it felt good to be back.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘Mr Holdsworth?’

  ‘Good morning, Sam. Take a seat. Coffee?’

  ‘Coffee would be great, thanks.’

  Holdsworth nodded. ‘Clare,’ he said, his finger on the intercom. ‘Would you be so kind as to bring Sam and I some coffee? Good, many thanks. So,’ he said, returning his attention to Sam. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Why do people keep asking me that?

  ‘I’m great,’ Sam replied, surprised to see Holdsworth’s secretary already entering the room with their coffees. ‘Wow, that was quick!’

  ‘Hello Sam,’ she said, smiling at him as she set the tray down on the table. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Sam rolled his eyes. Just go with it, he thought. Give it a day or two and nobody will notice you anymore. ‘Very well, thanks.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. Will that be all, Mr Holdsworth?’

  ‘For now. Thank you, Clare.’ Holdsworth’s gaze followed her as she walked away. Judging by the way his eyes lingered on her curvy behind, there was clearly far more to her job description than everyday secretarial duties.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ Sam asked, enjoying the bitter taste of fresh coffee on his tongue.

  ‘Huh? Oh, yes, so I did. Nothing important. I just wanted to welcome you back and to tell you that I’ve kept my side of the bargain. You won’t be seeing Tom Jackson around here again.’

  ‘Oh. So it’s not about what happened this morning?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’

  Holdsworth looked at him blankly. ‘Heard what?’

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Mr Holdsworth. Something I’d rather you hear directly from me. Tom and I...we…erm…we had a slight altercation outside the building. About thirty minutes ago.’

  ‘Altercation? What sort of altercation?’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ Sam lied, desperate to play it down. ‘Tom confronted me outside, that’s all. It only lasted a few seconds before he was dragged away. I guess he’s a little upset at how things have turned out.’

  ‘I see. Good God…I didn’t think he had it in him. Are you sure you’re alright? I mean, if you want, I cou-’

  ‘Please, Mr Holdsworth,’ Sam said, a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘No offence, but I’m sick and tired of people asking me if I’m alright. I know you all mean well, but I just want things to go back to normal. I just want to get back to work and move on.’

  Holdsworth nodded. ‘I completely understand. I’m happy to leave it if you are, but naturally I’ll have to inform security. I don’t want Tom anywhere near my staff until he sorts himself out. By the way, there was something else I wanted to say to you. As a matter of fact, it concerns Tom.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘No doubt there’ll be plenty of folk quizzing you today. They’ll want to know all about you and Tom; why he’s been fired, that kind of thing. People love to gossip. I want you to play ignorant, okay? I’ll inform the staff about Tom in due course, when things have cooled down a little. Just go about your busines
s and keep yourself to yourself. They’ll soon tire of asking you if you don’t tell them anything. Do you think you could manage that?’

  ‘Not a problem. To be honest, I’d prefer it that way. The sooner I put all this behind me the better.’

  Holdsworth smiled and held out his hand. ‘In that case, Sam, welcome back.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘You’re still here then?’

  ‘Good to see you too.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Sam said, feigning a smile. ‘I see they’ve even given you your very own cubicle. You must be doing something right.’

  Gabrielle Williams returned the smile, only hers was genuine. ‘Don’t worry; I won’t be here much longer. They’ve extended my work placement for another week to help you settle back in.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, but you needn’t stay on my account.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. They’re paying me this time.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Great.’

  ‘Not that’s there much going on.’

  ‘Still quiet?’

  ‘As a church mouse. A couple of brochure refreshers, a few social media updates, that’s about it.’

  ‘Well, it’s that time of year. The run up to Christmas is always quiet. Everybody’s out partying and having fun. God only knows why. I’ve always found Christmas to be rather depressing.’

  ‘I never had you down as a Scrooge.’

  ‘Bah humbug! Anyway, I’m glad we’re quiet. It’ll give me time to settle back in properly before the New Year stampede.’

  ‘Stampede? Isn’t that wishful thinking?’

  ‘No, not really. Once the festivities are finished and the hangovers have died down, companies tend to want to start the New Year off with a bang. Steal a march on the competition.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll be needing some assistance when the mad rush starts?’

  ‘You’re certainly not backward in coming forward, are you?’