Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller

by Mark White

  Then again, it was fair to say that of late her house hadn’t been the happiest of places to live. The figure in the tattered grey suit and brown fedora who’d first appeared around a week or so ago was now following her around like a shadow. His face, which had initially been shaded and hidden from view, was now clear for her to see, and it was not a pretty sight. He had the kind of face that belonged in another era: worn, lined and sharp; like that of a mistreated and malnourished prisoner of war, or an escaped convict on the run from the law. He had the look of a man on whom the world had long since given up; desperate, raw, and wild.

  Gracie knew that the figure was Sam’s father. Before he’d revealed himself fully to her, she couldn’t have known for sure, but any doubts were cast aside following his visit to her the previous evening. She had been lying in bed, on the verge of falling asleep, when she’d felt the presence of someone at the foot of the bed. When she’d looked up, she’d seen him standing there with a cold smile on his face, his mouth wide - unnaturally so - grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. ‘What do you want,’ she’d asked him, trying desperately hard not to show how terrified she was. He’d dropped his smile, and it was then that she’d known for sure who he was. The eyes, the mouth; the likeness was unmistakeable. ‘You’re Sam’s father, aren’t you?’ she’d asked. ‘What do you want with him? Why are you here?’ He’d just looked at her and shook his head, before turning away and walking towards the bedroom door. ‘Stay away from him,’ he’d told her. Then, seconds before disappearing from view, he’d said something that had chilled her to the bone: ‘The boy’s mine, do you hear? He’s mine. Keep your meddling snout out of my business, old woman. Interfere again, and I swear I’ll come for you next.’ And then he’d vanished.

  She had no intention of keeping her meddling snout of his business, because she knew that his business involved hurting Sam. Not only Sam, but his family too. And as scared as she’d been, as threatened as she’d felt, she had decided to go against her better judgement and call Sam to warn him. Only he hadn’t answered, leaving her with no other option than to leave a jumbled message on the answer-machine that she regretted leaving from the very second she put down the phone. For someone who was used to playing the middleman, it was fair to say that it hadn’t been her finest performance.

  She checked the clock on the wall: 5pm. Five hours had elapsed since leaving the message, and neither Sam nor Sarah had called her back or knocked on her door to ask what the hell was going on. She only hoped it wasn’t too late, although she suspected that it was…at least for herself. Satisfied that her breathing had returned to normal, she stood up and walked to the small dressing table by the window, whereby she sat down and retrieved a small notebook and elegant fountain pen from a draw and began to write.

  When she’d finished, she clipped the lid onto the pen and tore the page from the pad, folding it in half and sliding it into an envelope. Rising to her feet, she moved back across to the bed and placed the envelope on top of her pillow, where it would be clearly visible to anybody entering the room. She straightened up and took a step backwards, staring intently at the envelope as if it contained the secret of everlasting life. I hope I don’t need you, she thought, unable to take her eyes off it.

  She felt his presence behind her almost immediately. It wasn’t just the temperature in the room, which suddenly plummeted to the point where she could see her own breath; it was the atmosphere, too; the shift in ambience that mediums and clairvoyants say occurs as a result of a new manifestation or spiritual intervention. Ordinarily this would have been of no concern to Gracie – dealing with the dead was her stock-in-trade, so to speak – except that this time she knew who was standing behind her, and more importantly, she knew why he was there.

  ‘Hello, Mr Railton,’ she said, deciding not to turn around.

  ‘Hello, old woman,’ came the reply. ‘I didn’t disturb you, did I?’

  ‘I’m used to it,’ she said, taking a deep breath and trying hard to maintain her composure. ‘As it happens, I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you around.’

  ‘How nice of you to say.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘However,’ he said, the joviality in his voice slipping slightly, ‘I’m afraid this is the last time we’ll be seeing one another. But you know that, don’t you?’

  Summoning every ounce of strength inside her frail body, she took another deep breath and turned to face him. ‘I want you to leave,’ she said, her eyes widening in horror as she saw his twisted, sinister face staring back at her. ‘I want you to leave and never come back,’ she continued, only this time her voice was shaky and uneven, ‘and I want you to leave your family alone. They’ve done nothing to hurt you.’

  ‘Nothing to hurt me! Nothing to hurt me! You have no idea, old woman. They have done everything to hurt me.’

  ‘You’re wrong. Sam told me about what happened when he was a boy. He told me about you. About the kind of man you were.’

  ‘Really? And what exactly did he tell you?’

  ‘He told me that you were a violent drunk and an abusive bully. He said that you were cruel to your wife and even worse to your children. He told me about Lucy, too.’

  Billy Railton’s eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter’s name. He clenched his fists and took a step closer to Gracie. ‘You know nothing about her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, Mr Railton. I know more about your daughter than you think. Sam told me that you chased the poor girl to her death; that you were entirely responsible for her falling down those stairs.’

  ‘How dare you?’ he screamed, his face burning with fury. ‘How dare you accuse me, you fuckin’ bitch!’ He took another step towards her, unclenching his fists and holding his arms out as if he were intent on strangling her. ‘I’ll show you. I’ll teach you for interfering where you’re not wanted. I told you not to warn Sam about me, didn’t I? I told you what I’d do if you disobeyed me.’

  ‘Get away from me!’ Gracie shouted. She tried to back away, but her progress was impeded by the bed behind her. In all her years dealing with spirits, she had never encountered any kind of physical contact; nobody had touched her or even tried to. In her experience, most spirits preferred to keep their distance, relaying whatever messages they had from afar. She didn’t know if bodily contact was even possible, although from the way Billy Railton was coming for her, he evidently believed it was. Either way, she couldn’t hang around to find out. With an uncharacteristic turn of pace for an eighty year old woman, she stepped to her left and rushed out of the bedroom and into the hallway. She knew that the only chance she had of escaping him was to get out of the house. Perhaps by drawing attention to herself she would be able to shake him off.

  She could hear him cackling and rasping as he followed her. ‘There’s no point in running away,’ he said, his foul breath hot on her neck as he neared her. ‘You can’t escape the dead. You can only join them.’

  As she reached the top of the stairs, she felt an ice-cold hand clamp down on her shoulder. ‘Please!’ she cried, frantically trying to shrug him away. She turned to look at him, to beg him to leave her alone, but as she did so, her ankle twisted and bent under her, causing her to lose her balance and stumble into the wall by the top step. She groaned as her head struck the wall with a dull thud. Disorientated, she lashed out for the handrail for support, but with her blurred vision she was unable to locate it.

  As she tumbled down the stairs, she heard Billy Railton holler behind her the words: I warned you to stay away from my boy! See you i-’

  She was dead before he had time to finish the sentence.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me? You should have woken me up as soon as you listened to the message.’

  ‘You were snoring so loudly that I doubt that a herd of elephants stomping through the bedroom would have stirred you. Besides, I didn’t want to wake you; you were out like a l
ight.’

  ‘Even so…’

  ‘You shouldn’t be up. You’re too ill.’

  ‘I have to go and see her. Do we have any Paracetemol left? I checked the cupboard but-’

  ‘We’re all out. Don’t you think you should ease off on the painkillers? You’ve been swallowing them like sweets.’

  ‘So would you if your head felt like mine. It doesn’t matter,’ he said, pulling on his overcoat and fastening the buttons, ‘I’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way to Gracie’s.’

  ‘Why can’t I come with you? I don’t understand why you have to go alone.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he said, ignoring her question and putting on his hat, wincing at the incessant throbbing in his skull. ‘I just want to pop over there and make sure she’s alright.’

  As he walked to the front door, Sarah stepped in his way, blocking his escape route. ‘What’s going on, Sam? What the hell was that message about? Why are we in danger? What is she talking ab-’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me,’ she said, struggling to maintain her composure. ‘There’s something going on, isn’t there? Come on, Sam, tell me. I’m not stupid…I know Gracie a damn sight better than you, and I know she’s not the sort of person who’d ring up and leave a message like that for a joke. What’s going on between you two?’

  ‘Like I said, it’s nothing. Now are you going to let me go or not?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sam, but you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening.’

  Sam sighed heavily. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you the basics, but I should warn you that you’re not going to like what I have to say.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Gracie told me that there’s a man – a spirit – who keeps on visiting her. For some reason, she believes he has something to do with me. She thinks he could be my father.’

  ‘Your father? You’re joking, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I know – it sounds crazy. Except for one small, insignificant matter.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I think she might be telling the truth, because I think I’ve seen him too.’

  ‘You what? What do you mean?’

  ‘That’s the problem; I don’t really know what I mean. You have to remember that I’ve never been one of Gracie’s biggest fans, and in the past I’ve never bought into any of that Scooby-Doo bullshit that she believes in. But lately, for about a week or so, ever since I found out about you and Tom, I’ve been having this weird feeling that someone’s been watching me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Loads of times. It started the other day when I went home, then when that Gilchrist kid laid into me at the train station. In the park just before I passed out – that was particularly bad – and then yesterday, at Tom’s funeral.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘I can’t say for sure what I saw. All I know is that for the past week or so there’s barely been a moment where I haven’t been either physically ill or mentally screwed up.’

  ‘Considering what you’ve been through, it’s hardly surprising. The physical stuff I can understand - you just need to get plenty of rest and keep taking your medicine. It’s the mental side of things that scares me.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘Me too,’ he said, staring at her helplessly as he struggled to maintain his composure. ‘There’s something wrong with me, Sarah. I don’t know what it is, but the more I think about it, the more I think that everything that’s happened recently has somehow been my fault. It’s like I’m the cause of it all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Stephen Gilchrist killing himself, Tom shooting Charles Holdsworth and Gabrielle Williams…even you…’

  ‘Even me?’

  Sam was crying now, unable to hold back the tears any longer as he continued: ‘You and Tom…your affair. Maybe it was my fault…maybe if I hadn’t been such a lousy, unemotional husband…maybe you wouldn’t have been so open to his flattery…maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to be with anyone else.’

  Sarah took him by the shoulders and gently shook him. ‘Look at me, Sam. Look at me! That’s ridiculous and you know it. It was my fault, not yours.’ Was it, though? she thought, her mind drifting back to when she’d first succumbed to Tom’s advances. Wasn’t at least part of the reason you went with Tom because he made you feel wanted and sexy and good about yourself, whereas Sam hardly ever complimented you or took the time to ask you about your day or how you felt? Sam certainly hadn’t been a bad husband, but his inability to express his emotions had often made her feel as if he didn’t truly trust her. And then along came Tom, overwhelming her with compliments and lavishing her with attention. She realised now of course that it had all been just lies and false praise spoken with the sole intention of getting her into bed, but at the time she’d been swept away with the thrill of it all. Could she have stopped herself? Yes, probably. Was it her fault? Of course it was, but perhaps not entirely. Affairs of the heart are seldom straightforward; rarely do people decide to break their marriage vows if everything is rosy at home.

  ‘Can we talk about this later,’ Sam said, wiping the tears from his eyes with his jacket sleeve. ‘I need to go and see Gracie.’

  ‘Why can’t I come with you?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to. I won’t be long, I promise. I just want to make sure she’s okay. I need to talk to her alone.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ she said, stepping aside to let him through. ‘Just be careful, okay? You have to remember you’re under a great deal of stress at the moment.’

  ‘No offence,’ he replied, taking Max’s set of keys to Gracie’s house from a hook by the front door, ‘but I’m fully aware of that fact.’

  ‘I’m just saying,’ she said, her voice softer this time. ‘Take care, okay? I love you very much. I don’t want anything else happening to you.’

  Sam opened the door before turning around to face her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, forcing a weak, unconvincing smile. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise. Besides, I think I’ve had enough bad luck to last a lifetime, don’t you?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ he said. Without waiting for a reply, he turned up his collar and walked outside, doing his utmost to suppress the pain raging inside his head. When he was half-way along the street, he glanced back to see if she was still watching him. When he was sure that she’d gone back inside the house, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Without pausing to stop, he dialled a number and held the phone to his ear. It didn’t take long for the person at the other end of the line to answer. Sam smiled, comforted by her voice.

  ‘Hello, mother,’ he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. ‘There’s something I need to ask you.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘Sam? Is that you?’ Janice Railton asked. ‘Where are you? I can hear cars. Are you alright?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Sam replied. The walk from his house to Gracie’s usually took around five minutes, seven if he called in to the pharmacy on the way, but he knew it would take him longer this time. His head pounded in unison with every step, forcing him to adopt a slower, gentler pace to dampen the pain. ‘I was just taking a walk when suddenly I thought how nice it would be to hear your voice.’

  ‘Come on, Sam. Out with it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You can’t fool me…you can’t lie to save your life,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Unable due to the pain to walk and talk at the same time, Sam stopped by a bench and sat down. ‘I need to ask you something,’ he said, closing his eyes and thinking how best to phrase what he was about to say. Whichever way he looked at it, she wasn’t going to like it. ‘I need to ask you something about dad.’

  His request was met by silence, the kind of prolonged hush that typically follows news that a close family member has been diagnosed with inoperable cancer or has been involved in a fatal accident.

  ‘Mother?’
/>   ‘Why now?’ she asked, matter-of-factly.

  ‘Why now what?’

  ‘We haven’t talked about your father since the day he died, so why are you bringing him up now?’

  ‘I know it sounds weird, but I wanted to ask you about him.’

  ‘No, Sam. We don’t talk about him. That was the agreement, remember?’

  ‘I know,’ Sam said, his voice hoarse and uneven. ‘I’m sorry, mother. I don’t mean to dredge up the past like this, but…but it’s important. You see, I’ve been dreaming about this man who keeps appearing in all these difference places. It’s like he’s following me, haunting me. I can’t seem to be able to get him out of my head, and I think – and believe me I know how crazy this sounds – but I think that it might be dad. They’re only dreams,’ he said, choosing at this point to diverge from the truth, ‘but you see I can’t actually make out his face, so I can’t say for sure whether or not it is him. All I know is that it feels like him.’

  ‘In what way?’ Janice asked.

  ‘I don’t remember that much about him,’ Sam said, thinking back to when he was a boy. ‘I vaguely remember what he looked like in his pitman’s uniform, when he would come home from the pub after work, stinking of booze and shouting the odds. But apart from that, I can’t remember him.’

  ‘I never kept any photos of him. I destroyed them all after what happened to Lucy.’

  ‘I know you did, but it’s not so easy to get rid of the photos that are stored in your head. I remember how scared and on-edge I used to feel whenever he was around. It was like walking on egg shells, always wondering if he was going to lose his temper and lash out. And it’s that same feeling of living in fear that I feel when this figure appears in my dreams. But because I can’t see his face, I can’t say for sure that’s it him. What I do know is that he’s tall and thin just like dad was, and I can also make out what he’s wearing, and that’s what I wanted to ask you about.’