The memory wasn’t exceedingly encouraging!
I’d just braced myself to punch and kick with all my might as my hands curled into balls and my abdominal muscles tensed. But before I could do anything he was onto me in a flash. I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, and then before I knew I was pulled into the tightest of the embraces. Tighter than Frank’s.
“Thank God, you’re still alive, Mr. Alfred,” said a croaky voice, as it released me. “Please keep your voice down…I don’t want him to hear us.”
“Who are you?” I asked in shock, panting for breath.
“And please, Mr. Alfred, no lights!” It whispered sharply as it swung away from me without answering. The bed groaned in anguish as it sat down once again.
I heard the lighter flick on just long enough for me to discern a man of about fifty sitting before me, with a bushy moustache which curled down near the corner of his mouth; its ends giving the impression of a rat’s tail. His skin was sallow and I couldn’t help but notice that his eyebrows were exceptionally close, nearly kissing each other. The whiff of the burning cigarette eased me a little.
“Who are you?” I frowned at him, still standing near the door.
“Please sit down, Mr. Alfred. You’re standing by the door. He’ll hear us,” the voice hissed back, and I was glad that it was more of a panic-stricken hiss rather than an angry one.
I approached the bed cautiously and sat down, maintaining my safe distance from him.
“I’m detective Lombart. Philip Lombart. You can call me Philip--that’s what clients usually call me,” he whispered as he raised his hand and I shook it briefly. It was warm but very coarse. He continued, “You’ll be glad to know that Frank sent me your way-.”
“What? You know him?” I said loudly.
The man nearly jumped from the bed and held my arm firmly. He turned his head towards the door as if listening for footsteps.
A loud scream from the forest broke the silence.
“Look! If you want to walk out of here alive, would you care to keep your voice down?” he muttered furiously.
“Okay…okay …I’m sorry,” I mouthed quietly. “But please, tell me what’s going on? Who is after me? Why did Frank send you?”
Philip sighed deeply as he took a long puff.
“When Frank and your family couldn’t contact you…they hired me. I’m a private investigator. Look here’s my card. Turn your camera flash on…I need to show you few things.”
Silently I took my phone out and flashed its light on the card.
Philip Lombard
Discrete and Professional Services
More than 20 years of Experience
90% Success Rate
Missing Person, Child Abductions and Murders
Make the process less daunting for your loved ones
“Nice card! But who’s the one missing over here?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him but then I understood. “Please, I think Frank made a mistake. He was the one to send me here…I’m not being held against my will-”
“Exactly. And that’s precisely the problem, Mr. Alfred. Look-,” he shoved his hand inside a bag or a briefcase I couldn’t tell in the dark and took out some papers.
“Here, this is the first one.” He handed me a photo. The margins were faded as if it once belonged in a frame. An old man of around sixty wearing square-rimmed glasses peaked from it. He had his arm around the shoulder of a plump looking woman of about the same age. Their heavily wrinkled faces smiled back at me as they stood behind a familiar looking counter, the one I’d seen so frequently over the past three days.
“Who are these people?” I asked, holding up the photograph close to my nose. It smelled of rotten eggs.
“Mr. and Mrs. Barry!”
My stomach gave a horrible jolt as though I’d missed a step going downstairs.
“What?” I spluttered out as the picture rolled out of my hand.
“Yes, Mr. Alfred. I believe you heard me correct.”
“This is a mistake-” I began.
“Yes, there could’ve been a mistake. And I thought so too, the first time I saw it but I had to make sure I was on the right track. I went to town about two days ago and that was before the bridge collapsed. I talked to people over there and they confirmed my suspicion that the picture is indeed of the two rightful owners of this place, though not a recent one, Mr. Alfred.”
“I’m sorry… but I’m not getting it. Are you implying that they are the missing too? Then who’s the guy sitting outside attending to guests?” I wished that my stomach would stop growling and gripping.
“He’s attending to you only, Mr. Alfred,” he said pointedly, as he raised a finger in my face. “The motel’s empty. You’re the only guest staying at this moment.”
“Oh --hang on, so you’re telling me that the person who has been serving me all this while is not the caretaker as he seemingly appears?” I asked slowly.
“That’s precisely what I’ve told you.”
“Who is he, then?” I demanded. “Look, if this is a joke you’re-”
“Do I look like the type of guy who turns up in the middle of the night to crack jokes?” the man said in a cranky tone. “Here, see this-- you’ll understand everything.” He added as he thrust a crisp piece of newspaper cutting over in my eager hand.
Holding the paper up to my phone light, I read slowly:
Killer Couple Still at Large
Two criminally insane individuals and former prisoners at Skiddaw Mental Asylum are still eluding capture, the officer in-charge, Skiddaw police, James Harold confirmed on Wednesday Morning.
“We’re doing all we can to keep the Skiddaw community safe and sound,” James Harold told CNN’s Elizabeth Schwartz, ”I’m making a major appeal for calm and restraint and would urge people to stay indoors especially at night. Keep your eyes and ears open, and please assist the police by helping us track them down. The couple is very dangerous and might be armed, so, please do not confront. I repeat- DO NOT CONFRONT. Any sighting should be reported immediately on our special hotline number which has been set up, and you’ll be seeing it on your screens in a minute.”
The Hendricks were arrested twenty years ago on charges of murder and mutilation in a “brutal black magic ritual” that went terribly wrong; resulting in deaths of three of their neighbors. The couple was declared mentally unfit to stand trial by a committee of twelve psychiatrists at the time, and both were admitted to the mental facility in Skiddaw.
The hospital has failed to provide any word with regard to the break out of one of the most heavily guarded mental facilities in the whole of Britain.
Dr. Gerald, Professor of Psychiatry at the Asylum, refused to give comments on the break out, but rumor has it that he has been suspended on suspicious grounds until further notice, for only recently under his supervision, the couple was granted permission to meet and interact which might’ve resulted in their escape. An independent committee to probe the embarrassing affair has been setup.
Massive man hunt is still underway involving over a hundred prison guards and the locals, but we are yet to hear about its progress.
Feeling sick, I turned the clip and my mouth went dry. A black and white photograph of another couple flashed their eyes at me. A burly looking man in beard, bearing uncanny resemblance with the caretaker with whom I just had my dinner with was standing next to a much taller woman, who peeked at me through the round, steel-rimmed spectacles.
The woman who had brought me breakfast!
Fear jabbed at my temples like needles as the sickening wave of dread washed over me like a giant tsunami wave.
“Are you all right, Mr. Alfred?” said Lombard, sounding worried as he glanced at my pale, sickened face.
“I don’t think so!” I mumbled, as I pressed my beating temples with my fists. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve been listening to lies all along, while Barry or whoever the person was busy making plans to subdue me, or perhaps a more sinister plan was at work.
So Mr. Hendrick hadn’t been entirely truthful. His deranged mind had filled in gaps with whatever or whomever he deemed necessary. Or was it on purpose? Where was his wife, now? And if Dr. Gerald is real and Mrs. Hendrick served me breakfast so that means Martha exists too? But, who is she? One of the patients at Skiddaw Asylum who might’ve escaped along with the other two?
Now, I knew that I wasn’t dreaming, after all. It was all real!
Had Philip not arrived I would have been a well-fed goat ready for sacrifice. That’s for sure!
I looked at Philip, who was eyeing me out of the corner of his eyes. An anxious look still floating across his face.
“You told me that I was the only one staying here, but how the hell did you get in here?” I asked, still looking at the photograph of the eccentric couple.
“I broke in about four days ago. Climbed through one of the pipes outside the motel. You see that!” he pointed at the wardrobe.
I gaped at a dark hole; an opening where the wardrobe once stood.
“You came from that?” I asked, suddenly taken aback. “Oh --hang on! So you’re telling that you came searching for me even before I arrived at this motel?”
“Today is eleventh, Mr. Alfred,” he said, closing his eyes as if controlling his temper.
I turned to my phone that read ninth.
“You see this right here?” I asked forcefully, flashing my phone in his face.
“You’re mistaken, Mr. Alfred. My phone tells me that it’s going to be twelve after midnight. Here, take a look at my phone. I think yours has malfunctioned.”
I stared bewildered at Philip’s phone screen. He was right!
But how can I spend three days and not have the faintest memory of what I did? Have I been kept under some sort of sedation or fed pills in food that is making me forget things?
“So, you got here through that?” I asked, my mouth had turned dry.
“Precisely, Mr. Alfred. This place is crawling with secret passages. Perhaps, the real Barrys’ built them- who knows. Only they can tell. Yes… if they’re still alive to tell the tale. I discovered them soon after my arrival that all the rooms in this motel are interconnected just like a web except that it’s a quite a big network. This one here is connected with room number twenty three and that was my room a few hours ago. I found out about them on my very first day! It was nearly midnight and I was lighting up the room, but I must’ve dropped a candlestick or something for that lunatic was outside the door in a flash. I began to frantically search the room for a hiding place, and it was then, I found out about the trap door under the bed. I didn’t think of anything other than to climb down it with all my belongings and guess what? I ended up in the crawl space behind the sink in room number fifteen. I realized that my best bet to find you would be through these passages. I’ve been searching for you and the Barrys’ since two days. I thought that you’d be dead by now, but that was before I saw you near the reception today. I’m really sorry to have frightened you. Yes, that was me you saw on the stairs. But the main thing is, I’ve found you but not them, and Mrs. Hendrick seems to be missing too-”
“I’ve seen her,” I said at once but immediately regretted. “I don’t know if I saw her for real or not. But yes--it was this woman.” I added quickly and related the bizarre experience of my encounter with both Mrs. Hendrick and Martha, waiting for him to explode with laughter but instead, he began to twirl his moustache looking more restless than he’d been moments ago.
“This is bad, Mr. Alfred. I don’t think that any other prisoner escaped from the asylum otherwise it should’ve been in the news, unless they’re keeping it a secret! I’m not sure of it, myself. It could be that the couple are doing some kind of black magic on you. But I’ve checked nearly every room in this motel. There’s no sign of Mrs. Hendrick or the Barrys’ and I’m positive I haven’t seen any creepy woman you’re telling me about. It’s just the three of us. I had to check the two remaining rooms today. This one and the room number forty. I tried to get inside that room earlier today, but it’s locked. Luckily, I’ve found you in this one, otherwise I would’ve been back to square one.”
Something hit my memory!
What if all the racket I’d been hearing was-?
“I knew it!” I said excitedly, punching the air.
“What Mr. Alfred?” said Philip, looking thoroughly bewildered, “What is it?”
“Philip did you notice any noises like…err…as if something was being dragged?
“Yes. I did hear them. Why?”
“I think he’s keeping them locked inside that room. I’ve heard the noises in the evening as well, and whoever is locked in, I think they’re trying to get out. I don’t think that there’s a secret passage connecting that room otherwise you would have found it.”
“Oh, yes. Well done, Mr. Alfred. That should explain their absence. I never thought about it. You are on the right track but that also means that we don’t have much time,” whispered Philip fearfully, his mouth twitching. “They’ve been locked in for four days now. I hope that the water’s running in the washroom. Some of the rooms don’t have that facility.”
“But who exactly are we looking for inside room 40?” I asked after a while, not trying to imagine what it’d be like living without food and water, trapped in an icy cold room.
“It could be either of them. It can be just his wife. But why would he lock her inside?” he retorted and I saw him shift uneasily on bed.
There was silence in the room for about a minute.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Well, Mr. Alfred…I think you’ll have to tolerate him for a day. I promise it’s going to be a day-”
“What? Are youmad?” I said indignantly, rising up from the bed.
“Mr. Alfred…please listen. That’s the only way we’re going to get out of here alive. We can always argue later, all right? Problem is that the bridge collapsed yesterday night during the storm, and they’re opening up alternate routes but it will take time. Just a couple of hours. Even if we leave right now, we’ll have to spend a day or two in the forest which I don’t think is a great idea especially after knowing that another storm is coming up.” He pointed to his waist and I shined my camera flash to see a radio clinging to his belt. He continued. “But my primary concern is your safety and you’ve read it yourself that the police has warned the public against any sort of confrontation with them. Verbal or Physical. They’re unstable. We may never know how they would react. Have you got it now, Mr. Alfred?”
I didn’t know what to say. The idea of spending a full day with a bunch whackos who’d broken out of the most heavily restrained facility while keeping a lookout for a wicked hag in every bleak corner of Barry’s Lodge was far from relaxing but yet, I nodded.
I knew that I didn’t have a choice. Philip was right. We had to take things one step at a time before finally making a run for it.
Thunder clapped above our heads as lightening paved its way through the window illuminating our room, and then with a few more flashes of light, tapping on my room’s window and drumming on the roof announced the arrival of the earnest rain.
“I know it’s going to be difficult for you, Mr. Alfred, but I assure you that we’ll have a good laugh at the end of it. I’m going to sneak inside his room around midnight… need to find those keys …and tomorrow night around this time we’re out of here. Yeah?” He said politely, patting me on the forearm.
“Y-yeah, I guess,” I faltered somberly.
A horrible thought struck me.
“But wait--Philip…something’s irking me…if he has locked Mr. and Mrs. Barry inside the room above me that means he knows that there are no secret passages leading to- .”
“-or from Room 40-,” said Philip anxiously.
But the rest of his words were drowned by the sudden outbreak of keys jingling from behind the door.
Someone was outside trying to burst in!
“Quick!” breathed Philip as he got u
p at lightning speed and with long strides started towards the wardrobe. “You need to push it back. Tomorrow around seven. Be ready!”
I nodded as he crept inside the dark hole and glanced uneasily at the door, but before I could say anything he was gone.
I tried to push the wardrobe back in its place but it wouldn’t budge. Something was holding it back.
I heard the key thrust in its abode rather roughly.
Any moment now!
“Come on!” I panted through gritted teeth as I pushed the wardrobe with my back, my shoes planted firmly against the opposite wall. There seemed to be very little air in my lungs.
The door flung open with a deafening crash. For a moment, there was silence. Just awful silence and silence so thick that it throbbed inside my brain and then-
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD ARE YOU DOING?” a voice thundered inside the room.
Chapter 13: LOCKED IN
“What?” I blurted out, trying very hard to keep my hands and voice steady. I had managed to slide the wardrobe just in time to bury my head deep inside my hanging clothes, seemingly searching for something.
The lights popped on.
And there was my visitant!
Standing framed in the doorway, his legs planted wide and lips curled, rocking back and forth like a raging bull, waiting for the right moment to quash me to the ground.
“B-Barry, everything all-” I began nervously.
But he let out an angry yelp and started towards me, his arms wide open in an embrace. I kneeled down, covering my face with the bare hands but to my surprise, Mr. Henderson went straight for the cupboard, jerked open the half-closed doors and began chucking my clothes out of it.
Within minutes, all my jumpers and trousers lay in an untidy heap on the carpet. He tucked himself inside the cupboard. I lay on the ground, watching in horror as he pulled out a small hammer and began pounding it on the wooden rear.
I flinched every time the hammer struck but soon it became evident that he was doing very little damage to the wood, which seemed as if it was carved out of ivory.
The Haunting At Barry's Lodge (Gripping Paranormal Private Investigator Suspense Novel): Unexplained Eerie Story of the Supernatural and A Dark Disturbing Psychological Thriller with a Killer Twist Page 11