Panting and hissing, he leapt out of it and pulled me up from my collar like a weightless doll, pinning me against the wall. My heart thudded inside my chest and I saw him brandishing the metal end in my face as if he wanted to crack it open.
“WHERE IS HE?” He roared menacingly, his red face horribly close to mine.
“What-are-you –talking –about?” I choked out. His grip was too strong on my neck. I couldn’t breathe. I wished that the numbness and tingling in my feet would go away.
“THIEF!” He thundered, as spit flew out of his twitching mouth splashing my face.
“I –don’t –know-” I managed to squeal a few words under his harsh grasp as it cut into my trachea. My hands fought like cotton candies, trying to make a grab for his face.
But I couldn’t find anything to hold on to.
In midair, with my feet off the ground and my back against the wall, I flapped like a butchered chicken, gasping for oxygen and hoping against hope that his grip would loosen. I wanted to beg for mercy but no words came out. All I could see were his raving, blood shot eyes.
And just when the world around me had started to blacken, I hit the ground and rolled on to the carpet, drawing air into my cyanosed lungs. Shuddering and coughing frantically, and holding on to my blurry vision, I saw Mr. Henderson heading for the washroom door.
The door hurled open with a loud bang even before he’d reached it. He walked inside and turned around to face me. He stood there for a minute or two glaring at me and then, he burst out laughing.
I held my breath in shock as my anoxic chest growled in pain for oxygen. My arms which I’d been using to lift the torso off the ground suddenly felt like jelly. The room became awfully cold and frigid.
I gaped at him, wide eyed and open-mouthed.
He was standing with his hairy arms folded across his chest, laughing recklessly. His dreadful, cold laughter echoed inside my brain. And then in the next blink of my eye, he disappeared into thin air.
The bathroom stood as empty as it had been.
I dropped to the ground with my face lying against the cold, rugged carpet. I took several deep breaths and closed my eyes. My muscles cried in pain as if they’d been beaten by a thousand sticks. Disoriented and confused, it took me several minutes to get to my feet and once I had, pain seared across my neck and legs, and half of me wanted to fall back to the floor.
At least I was free of pain!
I turned my attention to the foot end of the cupboard and gasped. My clothes were tucked back inside the wardrobe, folded neatly one above the other. I ran a hand along my neck. It felt raw and bare. I noticed a dried streak of blood on my finger.
So, it hadn’t been another one of my bad dreams. The damage to my neck was real enough.
Feeling unsure, I applied all my strength on the wooden ledge. With a loud sliding noise, the cupboard drifted towards the left, revealing a large vacant spot, enough for one person to slide through.
Philip had been real too!
I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a lot relaxed. The throbbing pain in my chest and the stinging in my neck made me dizzy and confused. But there was no time to lie down and calm my body back to its physiological state.
I began to stroll across the room with quick and urgent steps.
I was going to make a run for it! Yes, that would be it. I can’t spend another night in this cursed motel waiting for Philip to arrive. He’s busy solving mysteries while I’m the one risking my neck over here. If I waited another night, I might not live to see Philip and worse… my family again.
My throat felt dry and itchy as tears welled up in my eyes.
Blinking them away furiously, I began to pack my clothes. With one hand, I swept the cupboard clean and threw the clothes back inside the luggage. Zipping it shut, I looked around. I was missing something.
What was it?
My cell phone and my laptop!
I turned towards the bed and swore loudly. The bed was vacant with no sign of the two things anywhere. I plucked the quilt off the bed in hope that I would find them underneath the covers, but my effort was in vain. The two items seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
They were with me when I was talking to Philip. Did he take them with him? No, I was sure his hands were empty. But wasn’t he carrying a briefcase with him? Maybe, he sneaked them inside it while I was worrying about the door.
I bit my lip, thinking savagely.
Let’s just forget about them, Alfred. You can always buy new laptops and phones. This is not the time to worry about your belongings. Get out of here, NOW!
With a determined tug at the luggage, I began to drag it towards the door.
I took a deep sigh and turned the doorknob, pulling it towards me. But for some reason the door simply wouldn’t budge. I tried again with all my might but the door stood rock solid.
I was a prisoner of the evil at Barry’s lodge that did not want me to leave!
Feeling flustered, I kicked the luggage hard and swore loudly as a sharp pain seared across my left toe.
Fear and anger flared inside my chest as I marched across the room and slumped onto the bed heavily.
The window!
I got up swiftly, forgetting the burning pain that ran across my neck. I began to scrutinize the window. There must be a weak spot. Something to hold on to. I ran my hand across the sill. It was tightly sealed as if the glass was cemented on both sides with no grip in place.
Cupping my eyes, I pressed my nose against the window, as a raindrop trickled down its surface. It was a tempestuous night, yet strangely beautiful and odd, unlike the nights I’d spend at this cursed lodge. Rolling cover of black clouds hung thickly across the sky gliding slowly due to wind, which had now picked up speed. There was no sign of the moon or the twinkling stars, yet a silver seemed to be illuminating from the clouds. The trees in the forest swept back forth under the spell of the wind, appearing like a dance of the supernatural.
How very strange!
An owl hooted loudly above the window, bringing me back to my senses.
I pushed the window upwards, to the right and left but it stayed adamantly in its place.
It’s made of glass, after all.
I grabbed the rocking chair, held it steady with both hands. Drawing a deep breath, I yanked it with all my strength at the window. There was a heart-stopping crash, and I stared in disbelief as the chair fell back on the bed. Two of its legs had broken. The window stared back, intact and glistening as ever, mocking at my hopelessness.
With a loud groan, I’d just lifted the chair to try my luck once more but dropped it quickly as a gasp escaped my lungs. There on the window were words written in what looked like blood:
“Let’s see you try harder this time!”
I dropped on my knees feeling weak and tired, and closed my eyes.
This isn’t real! Philip was right. These bastards wanted me to play according to the rules of their own sadistic game.
I opened my eyes just a fraction and the words had disappeared just as they’d come.
May be I’d better wait… Somebody will come searching for me…But what if I’m stuck here forever?
Getting to my feet silently and supporting my neck, I kicked my shoes off one by one and got into the bed. I left the lights on, planning to spend the night awake. I rolled over and pulled the quilt over me, listening to the howls of the storm outside.
Where was Philip? Had he found the key to room number forty? I hoped he hadn’t had an encounter with Mr. Henderson. Or was Philip another one of the hauntings of Barry’s Lodge? It seemed days since I last sat near the counter, listening to the lunatic’s account of Martha. Was she really an urban legend that haunts the forests of Skiddaw or merely a psycho on the run from the law like the killer couple? Why wasn’t she on news like the other two, if she really was an escaped convict? Or hadn’t Barry warned me, the Barry I knew, that I would be responsible for everything that happened after he’d told me the secret of Mad
Martha?
Questions exploded inside me like fireworks, as I rolled over and hugged the pillow tightly to my chest. I kept watching the hollow black pit beside the wardrobe from where my savior would emerge, until I could no longer bear the burden of my eyelids which closed shut, concluding the day’s tiring ordeal.
Chapter 14: The Half- Naked Man
“Wake up, Mr. Alfred. WAKE UP!”
The heavy curtains over my eyes slowly drifted upwards, and my eyes accommodated on a pair of closely knit eyebrows.
“Philip?” I swore loudly, leaping out of the bed.
It sure was Philip! Dressed in the same eccentric looking hat that reminded me of the Cosa Nostra and the long overcoat that hung over his broad shoulders.
He looked pale and tired.
“Yes…yes. It’s me. Calm down. What’s got into you, Mr. Alfred?”
“This,” I said in a low hysterical voice as I pulled my jumper away from the neck.
“Oh--my--someone tried to strangle you?” He let out a gasp of surprise.
“It was Barry…um…I mean, Mr. Henderson… God …I dunno –are we leaving yet?” I asked in desperation.
“Yes, Mr. Alfred. We’re leaving in a short while. I see you’re nearly done with the packing,” said Philip looking around.
“I got it over with last night. Still can’t find my cell phone and laptop, though. Did you take them with you?”
Philip’s eyes widened in surprise as he pointed at the foot end of the bed.
“No. I didn’t touch them. They were here…I distinctly remember…umm…okay-- let’s just forget about them, Mr. Alfred. We’ve more pressing matters to deal with. So I’ve got my radio with me… and I’ve got the key to that room--” He tucked his hand inside the coat, pulling out a gun and a few torn pieces of paper. He cocked the metal energetically, and placed it back in its holster.
“What--” I took a cautious step backwards, bumping into my luggage.
“Of course. I’m sorry, Mr. Alfred. I should’ve told you. Well, it’s licensed and we might not feel the necessity to use it, but like I said before--we still don’t know what we’re dealing with… err …weapons always come in handy, if you ask me. Oh, I forgot-- here are your postcards that you told him to deliver in the morning. I found them in a bin in his room.” He passed the torn pieces of paper in my hands.
My heart leapt when I saw the hasty scrawl. Now, I understood why Philip was taking all these precautions.
We were indeed dealing with extremely sick and twisted minds!
“You ready!” asked Philip, absentmindedly, still checking his pockets for something.
“Yes, I am,” I mumbled as I scrambled in to my shoes and clutched the end of my luggage. “Oh—wait! The room’s locked,” I added, as the memory of the previous night hit me like a bullet and a nervous rumble escaped my stomach.
Philip trudged past me, peeked outside through the keyhole and twisted the door knob. The door opened with a low creak. He looked back over his shoulder at me, looking taken aback.
“I swear-” I began.
“Time to go, Mr. Alfred. We can always discuss this later,” mouthed Philip, gesturing frantically to follow him, as he eyed the corridor like a vigilant vulture, looking out for its prey.
I looked around the room. The peace that had filled me at the sight of Philip was draining away fast and an intense feeling of foreboding as if someone close has passed away, lapped against the corners of my mind. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where exactly the feeling of emptiness was coming from, but something wasn’t right.
“Mr. Alfred?”
Shaking my head angrily, I dragged my luggage to where Philip stood.
“Can’t you lift it, Mr. Alfred? We will make less noise that way,” He sighed, looking terribly disappointed.
“I’ll try,” I said as I bent down and tried to pick it up, but my neck ached horribly and the luggage fell back with a dull thud on the carpet.
“Here, I’ll do it. You grab this,” he shoved a cold metal into my hands.
It was his gun, unlocked and fully loaded.
With one mighty tug at the luggage, it sat on the left shoulder of Philip.
“You’ve used it before, right?” He panted.
I nodded nervously. But the truth was I’d never used a gun before. I should’ve listened to Frank, who asked me every year to accompany him on a hunting trip, but I’d always declined the offer politely, thinking of it as a layman’s hobby.
How very wrong I was!
“Okay, come on, then”
His voice quivered slightly and I followed him out of the room.
The corridor was awfully cold and dark, full of smell of rotten timber and rust. We walked past the empty rooms, with me pointing gun at the roving shadows on the walls.
“Any sign of him—and--you just shoot him, Mr. Alfred.”
A horrible, nervous voice escaped my throat. Sense of impending doom and the blood rushing to my brain was staggering my senses. I jumped at the tiniest of the movements in the shadows, only to find that it was the flash light of Philip’s phone that made the shadows hide behind their thicker counterparts.
We approached the lobby without much problem except that I felt weak from excitement and fear. To my delight and surprise, it was deserted with no sign of Mr. Henderson or his eccentric wife. Carefully but swiftly, we moved behind the counter towards the staircase. I glimpsed inside Barry’s room, and a shriek escaped my lungs. I scrambled backwards on Philip’s foot. Wailing in protest, he lost his grip on the bag and it fell on the wooden floor with a heavy thud.
Three sets of shoes were hanging in mid-air!
“What in the name of God has happened here!” whispered Philip anxiously, as he flashed his light upwards, dreading what they might have to look at.
Three bodies hung from the ceiling. One looked horribly like Mr. Henderson and the remaining were of the couple, Philip had shown me earlier.
Mr. and Mrs. Barry!
Suddenly the floor beneath us shook and the bodies began to sway.
“This is a diversion,” I moaned, as my heart exploded in fear. “She did that! Martha did that! This can’t be real.”
Philip was now chalk-white and shining the light on the walls. Words written in blood glared back at us from everywhere:
“LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!”
“Come on! Let’s keep moving,” I tugged at Philip’s shoulder, trying very hard not to think about what would happen next if we didn’t move out of the room.
Nodding, Philip cleared away the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and silently closed the door behind him.
“D-do you really think that t-the creepy woman did this?” sputtered Philip, his eyes wide and head shaking. “And where’s Mrs. Henderson?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Philip, but we must move on. I’ve a got a terrible feeling that this is going to get worse…much worse,” I said urgently, waving my hand towards the staircase.
“All right. But wait-” he said tensely and strode towards the kitchen door.
“No one here!” He said finally and bent down to pick my luggage once again. “Mr. Alfred, you need to point that away from me,” he added through gritted teeth, wavering as he struggled to keep his balance.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. I was pointing the gun straight at his chest with my finger on the trigger. “All right, let’s move upstairs.”
“Careful now!” he whispered harshly behind my back. This time I was leading the way. Slowly, we stepped on the stairs that creaked so loudly I thought they would crumble under our weight. Holding our breath, we climbed further up. It seemed that the stairs would never end.
Soon the carpeted, wooden steps led to a dark landing.
I waited for Philip, who was lagging behind. Panting and supporting his back, he joined me in a minute.
“We’ll- leave- it- over- here,” he breathed out and nearly flipped the luggage off his shoulder on the landing. “F
irst… we’ve to make sure that others are safe.”
He tucked his hand inside his front pocket and withdrew a small crooked key.
“Here, you keep it,” he said, wiping his sweaty hair away from his bushy eyebrows as he readjusted his hat.
“Where?”
“Someone tried to flush it down a toilet,” He finished, placed the key in my open hand.
Feeling disgusted, I pocketed it and turned towards the two dark corridors.
“Philip where do we turn now?”
A creak answered me.
I swirled around.
“Philip?”
The staircase was empty.
“P-Philip?” I blinked furiously as fear doused over me. Confused, I turned around once again to the dark passages in hope that Philip might’ve started before me, but they stood deserted.
“Damn it!” I hissed angrily, when something touched my foot. It was Philip’s phone. I picked it up and saw a large crack running across the screen.
Luckily, it was still alive.
“PHILIP?” I shouted hoarsely at the top of my voice, gazing at the shadows that clustered around the lobby below, but it was empty with no sign of him anywhere.
Cursing frantically under my breath, I swiped the camera flash on and pointed towards the dark passages ahead.
Gloom and impending doom flashed before my eyes.
If my room is on the left corridor, then so must be room number forty, I repeated it silently to myself.
Gulping down large amount of sour bile, I began to move forwards with the phone clutched firmly in my left hand and the gun in the other. My head moved swiftly from left to right. The floor board groaned loudly like a piano with each step, but it felt less noisy compared to my booming heart.
Rooms passed by:
33 …36….37…..38…..39-
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart stopped abruptly, before resuming again. This time louder and more frenziedly than ever as if it would explode out of my chest.
A large glistening pool of blood seemed to have found its way through the crevice beneath the door bearing the number thirty nine and had soaked the carpet.
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 12