by Marcus Brown
“You look a right div in that helmet you know,” Sandra shouted, the wind in her hair. “I’m gonna call you Sergeant Dildo from now on.”
“And I’ll stick my foot up your arse, cheeky bitch.” She was trying to focus on the task at hand. “Stop talking anyway, you’re putting me off.”
Sandra roared laughing, momentarily distracted as they approached the lake.
“Stop laughing and focus, Sand, I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to get a picture of you in that helmet before we go home.”
“Sand,” she wailed, panicking at what was in front of her, trying to use her stopper.
“What now?” Sandra answered.
“My stopper’s just fallen off, what am I gonna do?” She sounded desperate. “Don’t let go of me for God’s sake.”
“Why do you need your stopper?”
“Look,” Hilary shrieked.
Sandra turned her head and spied an elderly lady in a motorised wheelchair going at a snail’s pace. They were oblivious to the old woman who hadn’t spotted them hurtling towards her.
“SHIT–MOVE!” Sandra screamed at the old lady, but there wasn’t enough time, so doing the only thing she could think of, she diverted them from impending disaster and overshot the path, dragging them both head first into the lake, sending a gaggle of angry geese fleeing for their lives.
Hilary laughed as she remembered the two of them sitting in the lake, laughing uncontrollably. Passers-by shook their heads in disgust.
“I nearly drowned,” she recalled.
“You were a right state when you both got back here. Duck weed stuck in your hair and screeching like a pair of naughty children, as usual.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.
“I’m not surprised. That lake is filthy, and those bloody geese attacked us.”
“Only the two of you are capable of causing carnage in an open space.” Tim said. “Sandra was certainly unique.”
“Was?” Hilary hadn’t missed the past tense reference.
“Is.” He corrected himself.
“I miss her so much.” She choked back tears as he put a comforting arm around her.
“I know you do, but one day soon she’ll turn up like nothing’s happened wondering what all this fuss has been about.”
“And I’ll throttle her for worrying me like this.”
“Then you’ll give her the biggest hug ever. I know what you two are like–thick as thieves. When she’s ready, I know she’ll find you.”
“I hope so.” She wiped her eyes.
“Come on, you’re not spending another night down here sobbing into that photo album. Bed. Now!” he ordered with a smile.
She kissed her fingertips and placed them on the picture of Sandra. Closing the photo album, she followed Tim out of the door.
A shadowy figure concealed by the trees watched Hilary’s exchange with her husband.
Once again, her plans for Hilary had been scuppered.
For her plan to work, she had to get Hilary alone and win her trust. It wouldn’t be easy, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“Soon,” she hissed, disappearing into the night.
Chapter Six
Island of the Dolls
Xochimico.
Mexico.
One Year Ago.
It was witching hour in Xochimico and there was an eerie silence as Juliet swept majestically past the multitude of decaying dolls hanging from the trees. Stopping suddenly in front of one that caught her eye, she smiled and brushed her finger across its plastic cheek, admiring its gruesome and grubby face, blue eyes and turquoise dress.
“My, my, you are pretty,” she whispered in its ear. “I must have you.”
“Thank you,” the doll whispered back to her in a voice only she could hear. “Take me with you,” it pleaded.
She knew the tour guide was scrutinizing her every move–obviously curious as to why she was talking to the dolls. He probably thought she was crazy, but she thought of the dolls on the island as her children.
Juliet could hear the island waking up and smiled, the spirits of the dolls springing to life. The intense whispering attacked her senses and almost overwhelmed her. “Enough,” she hissed, and the dolls fell silent once again. Their numbers had increased exponentially since her last visit.
“What you say, Señora?” The guide looked extremely nervous. His eyes darted from side to side.
“This one, Miguel.” She ignored his question and motioned the terrified tour guide towards the doll.
“Sí, Señora,” he replied, hesitant to touch the doll hanging by its neck from the tallest tree.
“Quickly.” She was irritable and not in the mood to deal with the superstitious locals. “It won’t bite you,” she sneered.
He untied the doll and passed it to her.
“Yes,” she cooed, transfixed by the doll. “You’ll do just nicely.”
She flashed Miguel a sinister smile as the whispering of the dolls intensified again, knowing what was to come.
“We leave now?” he asked in broken English, his eyes wild with fear. He seemed to jump at every strange noise.
“We’ll leave when I say, and not a moment before.” She didn’t care he was scared. She had paid him to do a job, and he would do it, or suffer the consequences.
“We no be here, Señora–the spirits no like,” he said, sounding more spooked by the minute.
She could see the terror in his eyes and reveled in it–he hadn’t wanted to bring her to the island after dark, but the money she offered would feed his family for an entire year and was too good an offer to refuse.
“I haven’t finished what I came to do.”
“No, Señora, we leave now, or you stay alone. The spirits no rest–they no like it.”
Bored of his interruptions and seething inside at being challenged, she acquiesced. “Very well. We shall return tomorrow and take what I need.”
“I find you a new guide,” he said.
“We had a deal and you will honour it,” she hissed. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”
She climbed into the boat, wanting to tear out his intestines and feast on them.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, my children,” she whispered.
Juliet took her seat as the little boat sailed away from the island, making its way down the familiar canals.
Enjoying the calming sounds of the water, she recalled the last time she’d visited the Island.
Even in 2001, superstition was rife among the locals and they were still afraid of the island. Despite this, the island had inadvertently procured its own guardian and she had to get him on side to finish what she’d started so long ago.
She watched the filthy little man enter the bar and followed slowly. He was seated when she entered, drinking a honey coloured liquid from the bottle.
All eyes turned when she entered the filthy, dilapidated bar. She watched as the drunken bums salivated–she could read their minds and knew what they’d like to do to her.
“Are you Don Julián Santana?”
He eyed her suspiciously.
She smiled, instantly disarming him.
“Sí, Señora.”
“I’ve been searching a long time for you.”
“Por qué?” She knew he understood what she’d said. Ignorant pig.
“English, please, if you don’t mind? My Spanish is rusty at best.”
“Why have you been looking for me?” he said in perfect English. “My friends say you have been asking many questions.”
“I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the Island of the Dolls.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to see it for myself – would you take me?”
“No, I won’t allow it. The island is my home. I’m the guardian of the spirits that rest there. They don’t like to be disturbed.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” She looked at the small
wrinkled man with the black moustache and filthy clothes and felt repulsed by him. She’d been on the island more times than she cared to remember, but now he was its self-appointed guardian, she needed him on side, for now.
“No,” he said.
Juliet had the measure of the man and placed her bag on the table in front of him. She opened it, allowing him to see the rolls of pesos and American dollars contained within it. She put her hand in the bag and retrieved a roll of pesos and handed it to him.
His eyes shined as he stared at the money, and without delay he took it from her and placed it on the table in front of him. “More, Señora,” he said, clicking his grubby fingers.
She handed him another roll of notes and glared menacingly at him. “No more until I see the island.” She wanted to tear a hole in his throat with her bare teeth.
“Tomorrow after dark. You come alone and bring American dollars.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Deal–Señora…”
“Oswell,” she said. “Deal.” She quickly grabbed his hand then pulled away. Disgusting little maggot. You’ll never have time to spend it.
The following evening, she arrived after dark as instructed, but the old man wouldn’t let her step foot on the island unless she made an offering to the spirits he told her inhabited the dolls.
Bored of the foul little man already, she removed the gold ring from her index finger and threw it onto the soil, seeking his approval. She knew what game he was playing – he’d pick it up as soon as she departed the island and sell it to the highest bidder.
He nodded his head in appreciation and held out his hand to assist her as she stepped off the brightly coloured Trajinera.
“Welcome to Isla de las Muñecas, Señora Oswell,” he said in greeting.
“Thank you,” she replied politely, retrieving a bottle of tequila laced with poison from her bag and handing it to him before pushing past him.
Juliet heard him open the bottle and turned to watch him guzzle the foul-tasting liquid. Turning away, she felt the blood coursing through her veins – excited to be back there after so many years. She couldn’t wait to explore the island again and hurried around, exhilarated, stroking the dolls gently as she passed them.
Tingles travelled down her spine as they whispered to her.
“Take me,” one whispered to her.
“Not today, my beautiful one,” she whispered back. “Now isn’t the time, but very soon, I promise.”
The dolls whispered in unison as she walked amongst them, but only she could hear them and knew that one day in the near future, she would return to the island once again and take what she wanted.
She sat amongst the dolls hanging from the trees and closed her eyes, feeling contented listening to their tiny voices.
“Señora, time is up,” Don Julián said as he approached. “You must let the spirits rest. I tire also and wish to sleep.”
Juliet glared angrily at him and, with a small nod, the old man was lifted from his feet.
He looked down, seemingly unable to believe what was happening.
She waved her hand, sending him flying backwards into one of the tall old trees. “I don’t take orders from any man,” she spat.
He crumpled to the floor, out cold.
She approached and looked down disgustedly as slobber clung to his chin. She dragged him towards the canal and rolled him into the water. He would be found, floating, bloated. Nobody would miss him. Juliet stood and watched his body sink beneath the calm waters. She wiped her hands on her long sapphire blue dress. The dolls whispered their approval. “Enjoy your swim.” Juliet waved him as he took his final journey. “Toodle-oo.”
Don Julián was found floating in the canal by his nephew the following morning, but by then, Juliet was long gone.
Intending to return one final time.
Chapter Seven
It was midnight and a dark figure crept through the gardens.
Thunder boomed overhead, and strong winds howled around the property.
Her footprints left their mark as she walked over the wet soil, crushing flowers under foot.
I’m sorry, Hils. I don’t have any other choice.
Hilary had been trying to sleep on the sofa, but the constant hammering of the rain against the glass and the noise of the incessant thunderstorm above irritated her, stopping her from drifting off.
Lying in the darkness, willing herself to sleep, her mind whirled, her thoughts on Sandra once again.
“Where are you?” she said.
Suddenly, the sound of faint tapping on the window startled her, causing the hairs on her arms to rise.
Sitting bolt upright, she was positive she’d seen a shadow quickly move past the windows.
She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart pounding. She slowly moved off the sofa and crept towards the glass.
Approaching the glass, she muttered. “Silly cow – there’s nobody there.” She knew she’d heard a noise but tried to convince herself it was a tree branch that had banged against the glass.
Turning away from the window, she heard the tapping again, only this time louder. Her pulse quickened, and she swallowed the bile threatening to erupt from her mouth. Terrified, she was rooted to the spot.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Hilary stood motionless, her eyes tightly closed. She was too scared to turn around as thunder and lightning crashed above the house. With every crash of thunder, her nerves prickled.
“Come on, Hils, stop being stupid.” She was trying to convince herself not to allow her mind to play tricks on her. She opened her eyes a touch.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Shit.
There was no mistaking the sound.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Taking deep breaths, she willed herself to stay calm.
There’s somebody out there.
Turning slowly, she closed her eyes, terrified.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Open your eyes and stop being a baby.
Battling with herself for what seemed an eternity, she forced herself to open her eyes and look, but there wasn’t anything to see.
It’s just a branch tapping the glass.
She felt her nerves settle, her breathing returning to normal.Hilary turned the table lamp on and stood close to the windows. Quickly scanning the garden, she sighed with relief. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Her heartbeat now returning to its normal rhythm.
Come on. Enough is enough.
Her life had been turned upside down since Sandra vanished. She’d been forced to take leave as Brown Owl. That hit her harder than she thought it would. It was a big part of her life, of who she was inside, but nothing matched the pain of losing her best friend.
People had often told her losing a person they loved caused physical pain. It was something she’d scoffed at, but now, she knew how it felt and wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.
She put her hands on the glass and closed her eyes, trying to take her mind back to happier times.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Hilary held her breath as panic took a tight hold.
Her body shook uncontrollably.
There’s somebody on the other side of that glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Open your eyes and look.
But she was too scared. Something banged against the glass.
Hilary’s eyes darted open.
She slammed her hand across her mouth and let out a strangulated moan.
Looking back at her from the other side of the glass was Sandra, a creepy grin across her face.
She was drenched, and her clothes were filthy–her once shiny hair now dirty and stuck to her face.
“Hilary. Let me in,” Sandra said. She placed her hand flat on the glass door, tapping it with her index finger. Hilary moved further away from the glass. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sand,” she croaked, as her voice faltered. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, it’s me, quickly, let me in.” S
he tapped the glass again.
Hilary strained to hear her. “Okay.” She stepped closer.
“Hurry,” Sandra said, a sense of urgency in her voice.
Hilary reached for the lock as Sandra tilted her head to the side. She noticed Sandra quickly sniff at the air and paused. Something isn’t right. She pulled her hand away from the lock and took a step backwards.
“Please, Hilary. Let me in,” Sandra begged. She tapped at the glass. The intensity increasing. “It’s cold out here–I’m freezing.”
Hilary stepped forward once more as Sandra smiled, then once again, she sniffed the air.
The hairs on Hilary’s arms stood on end. “Sand. Is that really you?” she asked, unsure if she was dreaming.
“I’ve missed you,” Sandra replied. “Why won’t you let me in?”
She sounds different.
“I’m scared, Sand. You’ve been gone a long time. Where’ve you been?”
“I’m the girl who lives down the lane.” Sandra smirked and giggled. “Why didn’t you come and see me?”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I went to the lane, but you weren’t there.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time.” Sandra sing-songed her words.
“What’s happened to you?” She wasn’t the same person Hilary remembered. Something’s wrong.
“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
Once again, Hilary reached for the lock.
Sandra smiled again and began to hum a familiar tune. Hilary couldn’t place it, but she was reminded of a nursery rhyme.
An icy chill ran through her entire body.
Her instincts were screaming at her from within.
She was scared but didn’t know why.
“Hilary, please,” Sandra begged then let out a stream of giggles. “I don’t have much time left.”
“I’m scared.”
“Let me in and I’ll tell you everything.” Sandra tapped the glass frantically with her index finger. “You have to help me stop her, before it’s too late.”