by P L Kane
‘Tell me,’ Jake had said when she’d called him, and so she did. Sam had worked it out, joined the dots when no one else had.
‘It’s not a code, a bank account or whatever. The numbers are coordinates,’ she’d explained. ‘It was just that no one had spotted it because they needed to be put together …’
‘Coordinates?’
‘You know, latitude, longitude. A map reference, Jake.’ Another pause as he took that information in. Again, she wasn’t sure whether he was still there so she broke the silence this time. ‘Easy enough to find online once you understand what they are. It’s a location: a place not that far away.’
‘What place?’ he asked her.
And that’s when she’d made the arrangements, once he’d confirmed he was up to it, to call and collect him.
Jake had been waiting for her outside the hotel when she pulled up in her Audi. There was no one there to bother him today, and probably wouldn’t be now until the trial. The funeral had been the big one after the initial reports on the murder, and media-wise things were calming down a lot now. She’d seen it before: the frenzy once news broke, like sharks after chum in the water (not that she could talk about professions and sharks), then pieces about the family, coverage of events as they took a turn or two – like they had done when Jake had been arrested – and now … nothing. People had short attention spans, readers and viewers especially, and there was always another news item vying to catch their interest, particularly in this age of social media.
It meant they could go on their little mission without hindrance, that nobody need know about it. Jake climbed in and Sam thought to herself how similar he looked to Bobby, how tired and emotionally drained they both appeared. Jake wouldn’t have cared for the comparison, but it was there nonetheless.
‘You okay?’ she said to him as he climbed into the passenger seat.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Jake told her, not even turning – just gazing dead ahead.
‘Fair enough. Right then, let’s go, shall we?’
‘Go … where?’ Now he did turn, giving her a questioning look. ‘You still haven’t told me, Sam.’
She just smiled, put the car into gear, and set off. As they drove she tried a few times to engage Jake in conversation, even making a joke about lending him the car, but he wasn’t biting. Sam wondered what had happened since she’d last seen him, something at the wake perhaps? A falling out with someone? He’d been quite volatile; if Matt hadn’t stopped him Jake would have gone after Drummond. Matt … maybe a row with him? Or Julie? Or Greg … not that it would be difficult to row with him. Sam had done her best to wheedle the information out of him, it was her job after all and she was very good at it, but no dice. She was also worried about upsetting him, treading a fine line between looking out for him and appearing like she was sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
They’d been on the road a while, heading out of the town, when he asked her again where she was taking them. Before she could answer, they were already there and she was pulling up by the side of the road, next to what looked like a broken gate on a wire fence.
‘What is this?’ asked Jake, peering through the windscreen. ‘Where are we?’
‘It’s one of Redmarket’s old abandoned slaughterhouses,’ she told him finally. ‘It was picked up by a businessman back in the mid-2000s, when the writing was starting to be on the wall for the industry, but then he went bankrupt himself when the banks crashed.’
‘So now it’s not owned by anyone?’ said Jake.
She shook her head. ‘Not that I could find out, which explains why the security’s pretty lax, doesn’t it? Question is, what’s all this got to do with your daughter, Jake?’ Sam was hoping then he might open up about where the numbers had come from, but Jake remained tight-lipped about that.
‘I’m not sure,’ was all he would give her.
‘Okay then, what say we have a nose around and see if we can find out.’ She got out of the car, putting on her raincoat, and Jake followed as she led the way through the gate and locked the car remotely over her shoulder.
Hitching up her handbag over her shoulder, she wandered down the path that had overgrown grass on either side, trying to avoid her work trousers getting caught on thorns. ‘From what I understand, when this place was first abandoned it used to be a bit of a hangout for ravers – do people still call it that? I’m showing my age a bit there. Partygoers, anyway. Might still be, for all I know,’ said Sam. ‘Could that be the reason Jordan had those numbers? Maybe she came to a secret party here?’
Jake said nothing, so she assumed he didn’t have a clue. Sam made a mental note to ask Bobby when she saw him again, see if she’d ever come here with him at all? To be full of life, to dance the night away …
But God, when she saw the place Sam wondered why anyone ever would – especially when there were actual pubs and clubs in town that weren’t on the verge of collapsing. Drugs perhaps, her mind answered … away from the prying eyes of the town’s police force, not that they exactly kept a tight rein on any of that in Redmarket proper because it would put a crimp on the place’s nightlife.
The building was big and square, the main body of it a couple of storeys high, with a pair of ‘wings’ on either side. It was all grey and faded cream brickwork that looked like it had been attacked by some sort of rot or mould. Arched and square windows alike were boarded up or barred, though two or three of these were also hanging off on their hinges. There had been a handful of attempts at graffiti, but it hadn’t really taken; it was certainly nothing like what you’d find in Granfield’s notorious Graffitiland, that stretch of empty buildings the budding local artists and transients favoured. A lone bare tree stood sentry next to the building, just to add to the eerie feel of the place. And it not only looked like a place that was dying or had died, it smelt of death too – not surprising when you took into account what its main purpose had been up until a decade or more ago.
‘Good Christ,’ she heard Jake whisper under his breath. It was then that she realised he had absolutely no idea either what the connection was between his daughter and this location, other than the coordinates had come from her apparently.
Though it was the last thing in the world she really wanted to do, Sam suggested that they head inside. Jake looked at her like she was mad, but nodded anyway. They both needed to see what was in there, to figure out what that connection was if they could.
Jake took the lead this time, skirting past her – and she almost got annoyed then, thinking he was doing it because he was ‘the man’ and should go first. She could bloody well look after herself, thanks! But then she saw he was pulling back the rotten wood on the door for her, making the way passable so she could, in fact, go on ahead of him; something she was simultaneously relieved (she couldn’t stand all that macho cobblers) and disappointed about (because she was suddenly questioning if she really did want to lead the way into that dark space, after all). But she went, didn’t want to look weak in front of Jake apart from anything else.
Sam stepped gingerly over the threshold, pulling out her phone and flicking on the torch app, flashing that around. She was in a corridor, the walls made of that same brick as the outside – but she couldn’t see beyond this, no matter how hard she squinted. She took one step, two steps, moving hesitantly towards the next opening, but paused when she got there. Jake’s hand on her shoulder made her start; for a moment she’d forgotten he was even behind her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …’ he began, then tailed off.
‘You didn’t,’ she told him, which was a lie and he knew it. She was nervous – who wouldn’t be, coming in here? She’d never been a big fan of horror movies, had only watched them because some of her friends in uni had been into the things, but this was starting to feel uncomfortably like the premise of one. Any minute now Leatherface would come bounding out of the blackness to cut them into pieces …
That didn’t happen in real life, she reminded he
rself. No, said another voice inside her, real life is much more frightening.
Sam swallowed dryly and moved on, into the larger space ahead of her. Here and there were flashes of light, whatever was making it through the windows that were hanging off the hinges. They afforded a glimpse of certain quarters of the room ahead, while others remained frustratingly dark. What Sam was able to see she wished that she couldn’t: rusted hooks and chains that did nothing to dispel the whole Texas Chain Saw Massacre chic. In fact, there was a large one just dangling down in the middle there that looked like the hook that woman had been placed on in the movie. Littering the floor were more bits of curved metal that had once been used to hang up meat she was sure, railings dotted about and lots of pipes. She traced one back to what looked like a large fire hose still attached to the wall, which must have been utilised at some point in the past to wash down the walls and floors. And, yes, there were troughs that the blood could run down into guttering, carrying away the unsavoury liquids that had been spilled during the working week.
Sam closed her eyes to shut it out, but all she could see was the butchery that had taken place here, her imagination filling in the blanks. All she could hear were the screams of the animals. Men in white with cleavers and such, hacking at the meat. Sam opened her eyes again and saw the results of that, a dark redness that the hose hadn’t been able to wash away; the effect of so many years of killing in this place. Old blood splatter coating the surfaces, having built up over time. And …
She stepped forward, drawn to a patch that was lighter than the rest. Fresher. ‘Jake,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘Jake, come and look at this …’
As he joined her, she was crouching to get a better look. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
She rose again and pointed, training her phone-light on the pattern below. ‘That blood, I-I think it was spilled fairly recently.’
He frowned, stared at the redness. Then looked up, across. ‘Over there, more of it.’
Sam followed his gaze and saw he was right. There was more of the blood there, standing out from its ancient brethren. He went over, passing a set of scales that would have been used to value the spoils of this place – leaving her on her own momentarily. Looking about her, she quickly joined him, agreeing that the spillage there also looked like it had happened in the last few months or so … maybe even in the last few weeks? ‘What the hell …?’ she said to Jake, as they exchanged glances.
‘Let’s check out the rest of the place,’ he suggested, nodding over to a stairway on their left which led to a walkway which ran around the building. Now she didn’t care that he was going first, heading off in the direction of those stairs. Indeed, Sam didn’t want to go at all. Quite apart from the fact there were lots of dark rooms there, the way up looked about as stable as the building itself. ‘Come on,’ shouted Jake, and she found she had no choice. Two sets of eyes were better than one, after all.
The stairs were actually more solid than they looked and soon they were on the next level. More railings skirted the walkway, which was just wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, but at certain points there were gaps in the barriers where they must have rusted away – or perhaps had never been there in the first place. On this level they found lots of smaller rooms, where meat had probably been prepared after being transferred from the ‘shop-floor’ below. They ran off into the wings of the building attached on either side. In a few of these they found more blood that looked like it had been spilled fairly recently, some on the floor, some on the walls.
They also came across what was left of an office, which Jake went inside and started to search – his own phone out now, the torch flashing around as he went through filing cabinets and drawers. At some point there must have been a flood here, though, probably rain getting in through the ceiling, because what papers he did discover were useless, the writing transformed into lots of miniature Rorschach tests.
It was while Jake was searching that she heard the first noise. Sam stepped out of the office for a moment and cocked an ear. ‘Do you hear …’ she said, but Jake was making too much of a racket himself to notice anything.
There it was again, definitely movement. Down below? Or up here with them? It was hard to tell in this place of echoes, this place of shadows. Left, right? Up or down? Sam bit her lip, trying to trace it. ‘Jake …’
Then, sweeping her torch around, she saw it. Or the tail end of it … literally. She thought at first it was a cat, the kind they always use to scare the audience in those movies she hated; make them jump in their seats. But in actual fact it was a rat, its tail pink and long – as big in size as those that famous horror authors used to write books about, reality catching up with fiction. Although it was horrible, it had run off away from them rather than attacking – more scared of humans than they were of it – and Sam found herself letting out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
‘Sam … Sam, are you … Look out!’ Jake’s warning came too late, and she barely had time to turn and see whatever it was that rammed into her. She crashed back against the wall, winded and sliding down it, dropping her phone in the process. The torch stayed on, however, facing upwards and allowing her to see the silhouette of two figures: one clearly Jake, the other much bigger. The latter had hold of the former and was swinging him back into the office – smashing the door and one of the windows in the process. She heard Jake groan as he landed.
One thought raced through her mind as she shook her head, tried to gather her wits: that Leatherface was here after all! The only thing that was missing was the sound of that famous chain saw he wielded.
Sam crawled forward, reaching for the phone. Fingers inches away when the huge figure found her again and picked her up, flinging her down onto the walkway where she skidded to a halt a few metres away.
Stunned, she nevertheless knew she had to get up, get moving – or she was dead. This person, whoever it was, wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Until they both … Were they responsible for the fresh blood around this place? She wouldn’t be at all surprised. Wouldn’t be surprised, either, if she ended up dangling from one of those hooks downstairs.
Get up! she screamed at herself. Get up!
She looked back over her shoulder, saw the shadow of Jake now emerging from the office, trying to tackle her attacker and being shrugged off for his trouble. Being punched, flying backwards with the force of the blow.
Then the huge, lumbering figure was heading towards her once more.
Sam heard the crack even before she felt the kick that was delivered – so hard it lifted her off the floor, sent her sideways. A couple of ribs had definitely gone, she could feel that, the pain tremendous. Another kick and she was rolling almost to the edge of the walkway. Some part of her brain was wondering if this was a section that had railings – probably not, she hadn’t seen any – so she’d just go flying off the edge to fall into the space below.
But then she stopped dead, hitting railings that halted her progress; that had saved her, at least for now. Because the monster was still on the walkway with her – that was how she saw the figure now, as a monster that wanted to obliterate her. Could she get up and run? Could she get up and get away, at least get to the phone … and what about Jake? Was he all right? What had the monster done to him?
She had no more time to ponder that, because Sam heard the creaking of the railing holding her up. Felt the weakened metal beginning to give way, no longer able to support her weight as she pressed up against it.
Then it was failing, breaking at the base and allowing her to roll further – over the precipice! Her hand instinctively shot out, grabbed a rail and held on for dear life.
Her life!
But when it tilted once again, jolting her and leaving her hanging over the edge, she found she could no longer hold on. The pain in her side was excruciating, gravity not helping with that in any way, shape or form. And before she knew it, her fingers were uncurling, letting go of the rail. Letti
ng her fall.
Wasn’t her life supposed to flash before her eyes at this point? Time stretched out – the moments she spent falling turning into hours, days, years – but absolutely nothing was coming. No memories, no recollections. Just the notion that if she hadn’t come here for some peace and quiet, come to this small town, and had stayed where she was down south, she’d probably have been better off. Probably have been safer. Alive at any rate …
If she hadn’t taken this case, if she hadn’t met Jake Radcliffe, if he hadn’t given her those numbers, and she hadn’t called him this morning.
If, if … if.
And then there were no more ifs, because suddenly and violently, her body connected with the floor of the slaughterhouse below.
No more ifs, because there were no more thoughts at all.
Chapter 19
‘This is getting to be a bad habit.’
Channing stood in front of him, leaning down. A face that was just demanding to be slapped, but it would only have made things worse. ‘No, not habit … What’s the name of that film where things keep happening again and again?’
He looked back over at DC Mathew Newcomb, waiting for a reply, but when he didn’t get one turned back to the person he’d originally asked. ‘Oh come on, it had Bill Murray in it …’
‘Ghostbusters?’ replied Jake snidely.
‘You know fucking well that’s not it.’ Channing pulled back again, out of slapping distance. ‘But, anyway, this is like that. I swear we’ve been here before, haven’t we?’ He paused for a moment, clicked his fingers. ‘Something Day …’ he said suddenly.
‘I don’t remember being attacked in an abandoned slaughterhouse before,’ said Jake from his position on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the hospital waiting room. ‘Or waiting to see if my friend, who was also attacked, will be all right.’
That was where he was right now, waiting. What he’d been doing since he recovered from said attack, clambering to his feet to find that whoever had done it was gone. To find that Sam was sprawled out on the level below, having fallen from the walkway – been forced off it, to be more precise. Jake had rushed downstairs, checking the unconscious form for a pulse, and finding a faint one. Then he’d called the emergency services, attempting to tell them where he was but realising he had no real idea … suddenly remembering the numbers, the coordinates and giving them those instead. ‘You can’t miss it, there’s an expensive-looking red Audi parked at the gates.’