“Hello Mrs Boyle. My name is Doctor Lewis. I work at Seaford District Hospital. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Mrs Boyle. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, why?”
“There’s no easy way of putting this. Your husband’s been in an accident. He was hit by a car.”
“Oh my God. Is it serious?”
“He wants to see you Mrs Boyle. It might be your last chance.”
The rest of the conversation was a blur. She hardly took in anything the doctor told her, his sentences loaded with medical jargon. Her mind was focussed solely on one thing, the fact that Andrew might be dying.
“We’re doing everything we can but can I tell him you’re coming?”
She was out of the house in under a minute, racing along in the car, surprised by the strength of feeling that coursed through her. She wondered if she still loved him. Was life ever that simple? She felt so angry with him that it was hard to see past that. Did she want him to die? She didn’t know but she wondered if it had something to do with Seaford. He’d promised her she’d never have to go back there and yet here she was, tearing up the miles to get there quicker.
Had he gone back because of some midlife crisis? Did he want to relive his youth there? Sit in the Black Swan and tell everyone what a bitch she’d become? What if the guy who’d raped her was still there too? What if he was waiting for her to come back?
She thought about her childhood. That time she was four years old with an ice cream in her hand at the beach and that old man had tripped her up, watch her skid to her knees and burst into tears, growling down at her. “Don’t run. You might hurt yourself.”
Sitting there crying with her knee skinned and the ice cream melting on the concrete she waited for her mother to comfort her. Instead she’d said, “You’re not getting another one if you’re going to waste it.”
It wasn’t just her. It was something about the whole damn town. That boy who’d been cut up by the combine harvester next to the caravan park. He’d just fallen asleep in the wheat and been sliced into pieces before the farmer even knew what was happening. Nobody seemed to care. The girl who’d hanged herself in the school gym. She’d broken in and looped the climbing rope round her neck and they’d found her the next morning when they went into the gym for their P.E lesson. Everyone looked away, not wanting to see the skin peeling from her face. Or when that drunk guy had pushed her up against the shelf in the supermarket, running his hands over her whilst everyone just carried on with their shopping as if nothing unusual was happening.
The disappearances were what made her decide to leave. Kids vanishing on their way home from school or falling off the pier, walking out but never walking back in. Anywhere else it would be news but in Seaford nobody seemed to bat an eyelid. By the time she was attacked on her fourteenth she’d decided that was the way to look at things. Just ignore them.
The rain grew stronger as she drove, making it hard to see even with the wipers at full speed. By the time she reached the end of the motorway she was exhausted from having to concentrate so much. She almost didn’t stop when she reached an enormous pool of water that blocked the road just outside Seaford. At the last moment she noticed the flashing lights of a police car and hit the brakes, skidding to a halt, the rear wheels fishtailing as she came to a halt inches from the water.
She wound down her window as the police officer walked over to her. “I need to get to Seaford,” she said. “My husband’s been hurt. Is there another way through?”
“Not until the rain stops,” he said, water dripping from the brim of his cap.
“But I’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“Hold on a second,” he said, turning away and walking over to the police car. He leaned inside and spoke into the radio before returning to her. “I’ll drive you through in your car as long as you don’t tell anyone. I know where the shallowest parts are.”
“Oh thank you so much.”
Caroline moved over to the passenger seat as he climbed in. She gripped her seatbelt in her hands as he edged out into the water.
“It’s really coming down out there,” the officer said. “You might not be able to leave for a while.”
The police officer turned to her and smiled, his eyes turning red. “Nearly there Caroline.”
13
Andrew and Marie stood in the bunker, hardly able to believe what they were seeing. Candles had been wedged in cracks in the wall, the flickering glow illuminating countless skeletons. Bones were piled up against the walls, some picked clean, others still covered in remnants of clothing. Marie froze on the spot, an uncontrollable shiver taking over her entire body as if she’d been dipped in ice.
“Holy fuck,” Andrew said, putting his arm over his nose. “What is this?”
“Shush!” Marie said as she heard muttering coming from the far side of the bunker. They walked as quietly as they could through the water that grew deeper the further they moved.
“Who was that in the church?” Andrew whispered.
“You mean the demon in vicar’s clothes or Keith?”
“Keith?”
“He was that mental kid at school. The one who got kicked out for bringing a dead cat into English in his bag.”
“Jesus,” Andrew said, the memory coming back to him. “Him?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s him. Fucking hell,” she snapped, almost losing control. “He had a severed head!”
“I know but let’s deal with that later?”
“Later?”
“If we get out of here alive,” he hissed, peering round a pillar. Marie looked past him and there was Keith, stroking a skull softly, cradling it in his arms, lit only by the flickering glow of the candles.
Andrew leaned too far and his leg hit a pile of bones. They splashed into the water and Keith looked up, his face insane with rage.
“You will not take my collection!” he screamed, running towards them through the water.
“Move!” Andrew said, running to one side. Marie ran the other way and Keith angled towards her. She screamed, looking over her shoulder to see Keith loom over her. He threw the skull at her and she ducked. It whooshed over her head and then Keith was on her, aiming a punch for her face.
She winced but it didn’t connect. Looking up, she saw Andrew had grabbed Keith’s arm and was dragging him backwards by his broken wrist. Keith yelled in pain, turning to slam his other fist into the side of Andrew’s head. Andrew staggered back and Keith laughed, pushing him backwards until he lost balance.
The two of them fell into the water, their faces disappearing beneath the surface. Keith was up first, gasping for breath, trying to hold Andrew under. Andrew’s arm came up coated in slime, groping along the wall, searching for anything he could use as a weapon.
Marie looked round her, spying a thigh bone floating on the surface. She ran up behind Keith and brought the bone down onto the top of his skull. Keith slumped sideways, letting go of Andrew who flew upwards, wheezing and coughing, green gunk dripping down his face.
“Again!” Andrew coughed, seeing Keith attempting to rise. Marie brought the bone down on his skull again and then a third time. Keith fell still in the water. She dropped the bone with a yelp as if it had shocked her, falling back against the wall. “Oh my God,” she muttered as Andrew got slowly to his feet. “Is he dead?”
“I think so. Come on. Let’s find a way out of here.”
“Up there,” Marie said, spotting the ladder to the surface. They climbed it slowly, Andrew still gasping for air as he shoved the manhole cover aside and clambered out onto the grass. Marie took his offered hand and climbed out, collapsing onto the grass next to him. The two of them sat in the pouring rain, both exhausted.
“Fuck,” Marie said quietly, looking back down the shaft to the bunker. “We could have died in there.”
Andrew nodded, climbing slowly to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“Far from here. You coming?”
They walked slowly at first, still catching their breath. By the time they reached the car park behind the library the wind had reached a new intensity, a tile crashing to the pavement by their feet as they fought to keep their balance. More tiles followed.
“Think the town’s trying to get rid of us?” Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows. The rain had washed most of the scum from his face and Marie looked at him, realising he was staring at something in the car park.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
“That! That’s Caroline’s car. That fucker. I’ll kill him.”
“What?”
“He’s got Caroline. I don’t know how he did it but he’s got her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! And I know where. The church.”
He went to run but Marie grabbed his hand. “Andrew, don’t do this. Come with me, let’s get the hell out of Seaford.”
“No!” he snapped, pulling his hand free. She looked hurt. “Listen, if you really want to leave then take my car keys but I’m not going anywhere, not without Caroline.”
Marie took the keys. Andrew turned and ran up the street, leaving her alone. Setting her shoulders against the raging wind she began to walk, wondering if she’d ever see him again.
14
Andrew ran along the promenade, blind to anything but the thought of Caroline, focussed on getting to the church, on getting her back. Waves crashed over the railings, soaking him as he ran, clawing at his feet, trying to drag him out to sea. He had to slow when he reached the grass at the end of the prom, forcing himself on, thinking of her face.
He paused by the gate for a second, taking deep gulps of air. When he was ready he approached the door slowly, hoping to sneak up on the vicar. Edging inside he almost collapsed with relief when he saw Caroline sitting on the front pew, looking out at the storm through the missing wall. He walked slowly towards her, glancing around him, expecting an attack to come at any moment. When he reached her he gasped. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, unable to speak, her mouth sewn shut. Her hands were bound and she stared wildly at Andrew. A shadow fell over them both and Andrew spun round to find the vicar standing there.
“Did I think you could just waltz in here and take her?” the vicar said, grabbing his jacket and hurling him backwards. Andrew flew through the air, crashing into the wall behind him, a crack zigzagging across the plaster from the impact. “This is my town!” the vicar snarled, grabbing him and lifting him into the air. “I earned it. I own it. It’s mine!”
Andrew glanced across at Caroline, seeing her fight to free her hands. He had to keep the vicar distracted. “Why?” he gasped as the vicar pressed him against the wall.
“Why what? Why her? She is nice isn’t she?”
Andrew began to laugh, a hysterical giggle that made the vicar frown in confusion.
“What? Have I said something amusing? Well how’s this for funny? I’m going to kill you and I’m going to keep her as my wife. What’s the matter? Not laughing anymore?”
Andrew glanced past him, she nearly had her hands free. All she had to do was squeeze her wrist through the rope.
“You evil fuck,” Andrew said.
“Evil? Me? I didn’t give her those bruises on her neck did I Andrew? You tried to choke your own wife to death so don’t talk to me about evil. Want to know how it feels to have someone’s hands round your throat? Here, let me show you.”
His hands moved up to Andrew’s neck as an enormous cracking sound echoed above their heads. They both looked up to see the ceiling sag towards them. A huge wave splashed into the church, running along the floor.
Andrew looked back at the vicar only to find his face had changed. His mouth had opened too wide and something was moving at the back of his throat, a darkness that grew and slid over his tongue, enveloping his teeth, probing forwards.
“How does that feel?” the vicar yelled as he began to choke Andrew, his voice thick and treacly as he spoke through the thing coating the inside of his mouth.
Andrew blinked back at him, his vision fading. He blinked as he saw a shadow behind the vicar. It was Caroline, holding the jagged end of a roof tile. She plunged it sideways into the vicar’s neck, sending a spray of black blood spurting over her arm.
The vicar let Andrew fall, his hands going to his throat, tearing the section of tile free. “You!” he gurgled. “But I loved you.” He reached for her but Andrew stuck his foot out, tripping him and sending him sprawling.
Leaping over his prone form, Andrew grabbed Caroline’s hand and ran for the door. There was another cracking sound and more plaster fell, roof tiles crashing to the floor around them.
They’d reached the door when Caroline stopped. Andrew looked at her and then down to see the vicar had hold of her ankle, a thick line of black liquid rippling on the floor behind him in an evil trail. “Don’t leave me,” the vicar said. “Please.”
Andrew kicked at his hand but he clung on, using her to pull himself upright.
“I own this town,” the vicar gurgled, his hands outstretched, clawing towards her. Caroline lashed out with her foot and connected with his groin. He fell back just far enough to catch his foot on the edge of the hole in the floor. His arms pin-wheeled as he fought to maintain his balance.
“You can’t do this,” he said. “I own this town.”
“Not anymore,” Andrew replied, pushing his chest and waving at him.
The vicar fell backwards with a yell, disappearing from sight, landing in the crypt as an ear splitting sound filled the air. Andrew and Caroline leapt out through the door as the church tower collapsed into the church. They heard the vicar scream as rubble and masonry plummeted into the crypt. The noise died a second later as if a switch had been flipped. Dust filled the air, pluming out from the doorway like a thick fog as the remaining walls began to collapse inwards.
Andrew held Caroline’s hand as they walked away from the church, making their way slowly past the graves to the track beyond. As they walked out of the gate they heard an enormous crash and turned to see the remains of the church sliding off the side of the cliff.
By the time they reached the promenade the rain was already slowing, the wind calmer. Caroline frowned as she noticed something on the concrete. It was a penknife. Andrew picked it up and turned to her. “This might hurt,” he said and she nodded back at him.
He pushed the blade between her lips and began to saw through the thread that held her mouth shut. He pulled out the sliced sections as gently as he could as Caroline winced. When he was finished, they looked at each other for a moment before Caroline threw her arms round him. They remained like that for a long time.
“Ow,” Caroline said at last. “That hurt.”
“Ow? You had your mouth sewn shut and all you can say is ow?”
Caroline managed a smile and punched his shoulder. “Ow you twat. Why did you even come back to this shithole?”
“That’s more like it. Shall we go?”
She slipped her hand into his as they walked along the promenade, heading back to her car as the tide began to slowly recede from the shore.
15
In the darkness of the bunker, Keith’s body rotted in the depths, soon indistinguishable from the other bodies in his collection. Above ground the town began to slowly recover from the storm. Diggers scraped the sand back onto the beach, the library roof was replaced and the remaining wall of the churchyard was demolished to prevent it from collapsing.
Almost exactly a year after Andrew and Caroline left Seaford for the last time an urban explorer walked into the park with a torch in one hand and a 1950s guide to the county’s Second World War bunkers in the other. It took some searching but eventually he found the open manhole cover hidden under a thick collection of weeds. He looked up when a police officer appeared next to him.
“Are you all right there sir?” the officer asked.
“No, I’m fine thanks,” he replied.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?”
“Well I’m an urban explorer and-“
“A what sir?”
“An urban explorer. I like looking round old places, derelict hospitals, air raid shelters, that kind of thing. I found a book at a car boot sale and it said there was a bunker here and I think I’ve found it. Did you know it was here?”
“I’m afraid not but then I’ve not been doing this job long.”
“Oh I see. Are you not from round here then?”
“Oh yes sir. I’ve lived in Seaford all my life. You should be honoured to meet me in fact.”
“Oh yes and why’s that?”
The police officer smiled before answering. “Because I own this town.”
The Game of Life
Chapter 1
“Teddy, you’re going to be late dear.”
He heard his wife calling him again but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t move. It was too exciting. Frozen on the doorstep with the post in his hand, he stared down at the invitation. It was almost too incredible to believe. He read through it again, looking for the catch.
‘Mr Edward Kennedy, you have been selected at random from an enormous pool of candidates to take part in a new kind of game show. You’ll have the chance to win fabulous prizes beyond your wildest dreams and all it will take is skill, luck and intelligence. We’re holding a place open for you here at Skyrise Productions and if you’d like to advantage of this fantastic opportunity all you need to do is fill in the enclosed multiple choice questionnaire and send it back to us. We hope to hear from you soon and good luck!’
He’d been on TV quiz shows a few times, winning a clock radio once, a thousand in cash and best of all a holiday in the south of France. Every now and then the production companies would send out letters inviting him to audition for another show but this was the first time he’d ever been accepted without even needing to try. He’d never heard of Skyrise Productions or The Game of Life but that didn’t matter, what mattered what the three hundred thousand pound figure missing from their savings account that the horses had swallowed up. Maybe this was his chance to get back on the level. How apt it would be, he thought, for the Game of Life to get his life on track. He stuffed the questionnaire into his briefcase, yelled a goodbye and headed out of the door.
Night Terrors: 16 Horror Stories Page 17