So, he did the next best thing. He protected him, he guarded him, he nursed him. He laid Terry down on the bed, rolling him onto his side and climbed into bed next to him.
There was no words either of them could say that could take the pain way from today, but they could hold each other. Actions spoke louder than words.
Matt squeezed Terry tight and finally, knowing both of them were finally safe, he let himself cry. He now knew his daughter’s real fate and there was no way back from that darkness…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
There it was. It might as well have been a snake. To someone else the pie would be inconspicuous, would just be a meaty delight wrapped in pastry. Only that wasn’t what it was. Wasn’t what it was at all. Terry’s appetite for ice cream had evaporated, he felt sick instead. He slowly forced himself to cross back towards the freezer and pluck the broken pie from the floor. It had fell apart, the crust was in several pieces in the plastic bag. The insides were undisturbed, the sickening meat and potato innards unaffected by the fall.
What to do with it? It was a good question and the answer didn’t come.
He decided that he would just place it on the sink, deal with it in the morning.
It had been a late night, pre-bedtime, ice cream desire. That ship hadn’t only sailed, it’d been sunk and then swallowed by a Kraken.
He shut the freezer door.
It was the third day, the third day of the rest of their lives. Third day of Anatoly’s nightmarish activities rattling around in people’s minds.
The news had been sensational, at it naturally would be.
Porky’s, the butcher shop that been unknowingly selling pies made with children flesh, had folded overnight. The family had been taken into police protection, an unfortunate affect from the knee-jerk reaction by the general public. It wasn’t their fault, they hadn’t known. They were convinced they’d been selling organic pies, the fancy artisan types all the hipsters loved. Terry could only imagine how they felt knowing the truth. They’d been profiting from selling pies stuffed with dead children, it was one hell of a revelation.
The entirety of the country had been shocked, shocked to the very core.
But that was nothing compared to the families of the victims connected to this monstrous atrocity. There was eight sets of parents who had to suddenly accept the fact not only was their child dead but that their child had then been eaten by other people. This was a truth far stranger than fiction.
Terry understood their pain like so few others could. No amount of wailing on social media, or specialists empathising on the TV, even came close to it.
Your child was dead.
The police investigation was still ongoing but significant progress had been made.
The wife of Anatoly had been found and was currently in custody. She had the audacity to pretend she didn’t speak English, and even when she did speak Russian she chose to avoid discussing Anatoly.
Not that it mattered, the police had dug up plenty about Anatoly. He was an ex-soldier, discharged dishonourably nearly a decade ago. Why he left Russia and came to England remained a mystery. The events that led to his discharge were strictly confidential, so nobody knew exactly what propelled him to leave. Nor were the Russians willing to help either, they were taking great efforts to distances themselves from this nightmare. Who could blame them, they had a precarious relationship with the world.
Anatoly had made England his new home, successfully running the slaughterhouse for many years. Terry had revealed what he had learned but nothing was ever officially recorded. They couldn’t, it was information they’d received from a dead man. He was dead.
He’d died before he reached the hospital. It was the biggest clusterfuck of the century. His death had resulted in Matt being suspended, while an investigation discovered whether Anatoly died from the wounds Matt inflicted upon him or another cause. It was bureaucratic bullshit, unnecessary political red tapes and everybody knew it. Even the Captain knew it, but he was bound by the law.
It was the shittiest part of the law when the law could paint Matt as a murderer for killing a child-killer, all because the child-killer was unarmed at the time. It was an epic clusterfuck, the biggest shit show of it all. It had exactly the type of affect on Matt as Terry predicted, he hid himself away in the garage and worked out. The man had lost many things he cared about; his daughter and his career. The things he did have left, his husband and his surviving daughter, reminded him of the very things he’d lost. A vicious circle.
Terry was just proud the man was standing at all.
He was also proud he’d had the strength to hold Terry up when he needed it too.
He left Matt to his grief, knowing in time he would slowly emerge from the castle he’d built around himself. All he needed was time. In the meanwhile Terry would be there, waiting for him.
Terry himself was barely holding it together. It was a case of a day to day existence. Live through the day and worry about the next one when it arrived. Having Bridget home helped greatly, it gave Terry something to focus on.
He needed that. He felt lost, felt directionless. He felt oversaturated with his emotions to the point of complete emotional inability. Terry imagined his emotional wellbeing as a whirlpool and some very large ships slowly been sucked into it. One of the biggest ships in his emotional whirlpool was the jarring horror that Christine was dead. Now that life had slowed enough it illustrated the gaping hole in everybody’s lives. There wasn’t going to be any happy ending.
It was a difficult trauma to comprehend.
And then, he had the knowledge hanging over him, of fifty scared little children still rattling away in that basement. He might be able to help some of them onto the “better place” but he was worried about the language barrier. How was he ever going to explain to little children that they were dead and they needed to move on?
He feared he was going to have to do the unthinkable.
Exorcise them.
It felt almost like murder. Forcefully wrenching them from this plane and sending them to the higher plane. It didn’t feel right at all… but what could he do? He couldn’t let them continue to haunt that basement, too scared to leave.
He went and sat on the sofa, perching on the edge. He was tired, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. If Terry could have any wish it would be to disappear. To cease to exist.
He was so numb, so emotionally drunk and so tired that the sweet escape appealed.
Then he thought of Bridget and felt guilt wash over him. He couldn’t do it to her. He saw how bravely she was dealing with her emotions, how she practiced understanding every time Matt locked himself in the garage. He admired her for trying to remain upbeat and positive despite the fact that her sister was dead was slamming her in the face in every corner of the house. She had grown up so suddenly and so remarkably. It wasn’t fair. This tragedy had cost her innocence. Her childhood. Anatoly had stolen both their children, only one was left alive to carry the burden.
There was no way back from this moment.
Terry closed his eyes, burying his heads in his palms. The silence of the house didn’t help. There was nowhere to hide in the dead of the night.
He was sick of thinking about it, but there was nothing else to think about. His thoughts were a congealed mess.
Where do they go from here? Both Matt and Bridget were visibly haunted by the house, was it time to move? Or would that be forgetting Christine?
Terry didn’t know how that felt because he literally saw her around the house. The other two were oblivious to the five-year old in their midst. Terry wished he was too. It was heartbreaking.
“You know, I always wondered what my unfinished business was…”
“I didn’t think you had any…” Terry slid back on the sofa. He lifted his hands away and found Jim was sat beside him. The ghost looked tired and weary.
“Yeah, of course I do…”
“I thought you’d been to the ‘better place’…?”<
br />
“No… I couldn’t ever get there…” the ghost came clean.
“So where have you been going?”
“I have a wife and another child… You’re not the only home I’ve enjoyed haunting…”
“Fair point,” Terry nodded. “There was me thinking you went to the ‘better place’…”
“Like I said… Unfinished business,”
“So have you figured it out?”
“Yeah. It’s Christine…”
It made sense. Terry couldn’t deny there was a clever plan for everything in the world. A dead man had been kept in limbo for years just for when his granddaughter was killed. God had some serious flair for twisting plots.
“…And what about her unfinished business? Is she ready to leave?” Terry had to admit he’d left Christine predominantly in Jim’s care. He’d concentrated on the living knowing Jim would take care of the dead. He’d briefly considered enlisting Jim’s help with the fifty children, but ultimately he’d be no better help than Terry.
“She needs to say good-bye Terry…”
“Where is she?”
“She’s upstairs. She understands what needs to be done…”
“You mean she understands what she is…?”
“Yeah. I’ve explained it to her. She says she’s ready to go the ‘better place’. She just wants to say good-bye to Matt first…”
Terry wasn’t sure he was ready for this. The finality of a good-bye hit him like a fire-truck.
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d have a way?” Jim shrugged.
Was there a way for someone without the gift of speaking to the dead to talk with the spirits? Anything that wasn’t a Ouija board? Terry was conscious if he didn’t find a way poor Christine would spend the next few years in limbo waiting for the opportunity. As painful as it was, Christine needed to move on. Limbo was no place for a five year old child. Was there a way? He concentrated hard. Yes, yes there was!
“What about Bridget?”
“Christine says she needs to say goodbye to Matt. She’s pretty focussed on that. I don’t know about Bridget…”
“Go ask her, I’ll get ready…”
“How we going to do this?”
“Don’t worry about that, just be ready…”
And Jim was suddenly gone. Terry sighed, he wasn’t sure he was ready to do this.
But do it he must. He rubbed his face and then forced himself up the stairs.
Every step creaked underfoot and every step led him closer to the ‘good bye’.
“She says she’s already said good bye,” Jim appeared outside Bridget’s room.
Terry didn’t know what that meant. Despite his privileged insight into the world of spirits and the world beyond there was still plenty he didn’t know.
“Terry?” It was Christine. She’d suddenly manifested next to Jim.
She looked so small next to Jim. She looked like a fragile little doll in the older man’s keep.
“Yes sweetheart…?”
“I love you,” she extended a hand. It brought tears to his eyes, just when he thought he couldn’t possibly have any left.
“I love you too kiddo,”
“You’re gonna look after my Daddy and Bridget aren’t you…?”
“Of course I am sweetheart,”
Christine smiled, a little smile that broke Terry’s heart just that little fraction more.
“Go wait downstairs for me, I’ll bring Daddy down in a minute…”
“Ok,” she went as if to hug Terry but hesitated. It was evident she was pained by the fact she couldn’t embrace him. She understood now that she would simply phase through him.
Terry took a minute to steel himself as Jim and Christine began to walk down the stairs.
“Terry…”
“Yeah?”
“Bye bye,”
“Good bye darling,”
His vision was blurred with tears in his eyes but he made it to his room. He found Matt sleeping in bed. He carefully treaded around the room, careful not to disturb him.
He climbed onto the bed, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark room as he did so. Matt was nothing but a enigmatic black shape before him, but that soft snore was unmistakeable.
Terry laid opposite him, facing him. He pressed a hand to Matt’s temple and closed his eyes. He began counting backwards, “Twenty,” he whispered, “Nineteen, Eighteen, Seventeen, Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen, Thirteen…”
---------------------------------------
Matt was stood in an abattoir. He was stood naked, surrounded on all sides by decapitated and mutilated children’s corpses. He was spinning around and around in a dizzying circle. No matter where he looked there was dead children. There was no way out.
“Matt!” Terry appeared from between the corpses suspended on metal hooks. He carved a neat path straight towards him, taking his arm like he was a knight in shining armour.
“Terry? Help me…”
“I am baby, don’t worry…” he led the way back through the abattoir.
As dreams lacked the logical technicalities of the real world, Terry led Matt through the door and they ended up in a café. Not just any café, this was the café where Matt had taken him on his first date. It was impossible to forget the gaudy décor of the American style diner. The ambush date, where Terry had thought Matt’s intentions were entirely platonic. The very same date that ended with a kiss that outshone every single one either of them had ever experienced. The particular date that felt like magic. The café they founded themselves in was filled with inconsequential strangers, just faces in the background. Extras in Matt’s private movie.
Terry slowly turned around and faced Matt. He was dressed now. Appearing in the distinctive red jacket Matt had religiously worn for years. He was younger, appearing like when Terry had first met him.
“Hey baby,” he grinned warmly. The horrors of the abattoir were now long lost, having been segued to this moment.
He cupped Terry’s face and went in for the kiss.
“Matt, we need to wake up…”
“I don’t want to wake up. I want to be here… with you…”
Terry felt Matt’s lips touch his own. It was a bizarre concept, sharing a kiss in a shared dream. Suddenly lust got the better of Matt and his hands slipped down to Terry’s butt.
“Matt, now’s not the time…”
Matt smiled, raising a suggestive eyebrow. He kissed Terry’s cheek.
“Wake up,” Terry whispered into his ear.
He took hold of Matt’s hand and he pulled sharply.
Before their eyes the world snapped away and they awoke on the bed. Together.
Sunlight was pouring into the room, dazzling brilliant sunlight.
“Come downstairs…” Terry whispered taking hold of Matt’s hand.
He felt a little flush of pride that his plan was working but he quickly refocused. He didn’t want to lose grip on the dream, he was successfully controlling it and he couldn’t risk losing it.
Matt came with him, “What’s up?”
Terry didn’t answer him, he led him through the dream’s replication of the Logan house. At the bottom of the stairs they turned into the front room.
“Christine?!” Matt recoiled, “Dad?”
Waiting on the sofa was his daughter and his father.
It was too much. He recoiled. He backed up and the walls of the dream house rippled. He was beginning to freak out.
“Hey baby,” Terry tried to soothe him. He squeezed his hand, trying to ground him in the dream once more.
“It’s okay, it’s okay…”
“But they’re dead… they’re dead…”
“They’ve come to see you,”
“See me?”
“Yes,” Terry squeezed his hand.
“You’re in my head aren’t you… This is a dream,”
Matt’s consciousness had kicked in and now he was hovering som
ewhere between lucid and asleep.
“Yes babe I am. But I need you to stay with me, this is important…” Terry stressed gently.
“Why am I here?”
“To say goodbye son,”
“Dad. I can’t… Not now,”
“Hey, Hey. Stay with me. You need to say good-bye…”
“No, I can’t. I can’t…” Matt was freaking out and tears were starting to flow.
“Son. You need to say goodbye. If you don’t-”
“-Daddy, I’m ready.”
Christine’s interjection silenced everyone.
“Oh my baby…” Matt cried.
Terry cupped his chin. “Please, she needs you to do this…”
“Why?”
“Remember how I talked about ghosts and their unfinished business?”
Matt nodded. He didn’t need Terry to elaborate.
“But she’s my baby… I don’t want to…”
“You need to Matt. You need to let her go…”
“Fuck…”
“Daddy…?” Christine appeared before Matt. She looked up at him, a small sweet smile on her pretty little face. “I want to go to the ‘better place’… I don’t want to stay here… I’m lonely… But Grandpa says I can only go the better place if I say goodbye…” She sounded so grown up, far more grown up than she should’ve been…
Matt couldn’t bear to look at her. Like Terry was a conduit for his pain, Terry became aware of the bursting pain in Matt’s heart.
“But I love you…” He finally looked at her.
“I love you too Daddy!”
“I don’t want to lose you! I‘m gonna miss you… You‘re my little girl…”
“I’ll be around Daddy, Grandpa says I can come visit sometimes…”
Matt looked from his little girl to his father. Jim nodded solemnly.
“No I can‘t. You’re my baby…“ Matt buried his face into a palm. It was a long moment but eventually he brought his palm down. The tears poured free. “You make sure you come and visit your Daddy…”
“I promise Daddy…”
Christine stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his legs. Both of them were surprised they were capable of feeling this embrace. The rules of the dream world was not the same as the real world.
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