The Girl in the Woods: A Ghost's Story (Off-Kilter Tales Book 1)

by Michael Robertson

The same cold stare. The same sunken eyes. The same pale skin. The same monotone voice. “They told me if I ever escape to get help, that I’ll get in trouble too. I’m one of them. I eat people like they do. I’m evil like they are. Evil people get punished.”

  “They’re full of shit. None of this is your fault.” While pointing at the small window in the far wall of his cell, the dull glow from the moon shining in on them, Andy said, “The people out there will help you, and I’ll make sure you get to them.”

  Now Andy had promised he’d free the girl, he had to come up with a way to do it. For the past ten minutes or so, they hadn’t spoken while he looked at the same three walls and the same locked door. Even in the shadows of the basement, the large shiny padlock winked at him. It mocked his ideas before they had a chance to form. Not only did he need to work out how to get out of there, but he had plenty of questions for the girl too. But how could he ask them? What do people taste like? What do I taste like? Had they done anything else horrible to her? Who was her mum? The kind lady?

  “What happened to you?” the girl asked.

  For the past three years, a lump had sat in Andy’s throat. Some days it resided as no more than a minor irritation, although maybe not for those around him; Chesky used to snap at how often he coughed. Some days it swelled to the point where it damn near suffocated him. The lump engorged at that one simple question, breaking his voice. “What do you mean?”

  If she’d blinked at any point, Andy hadn’t witnessed it. She continued her monotone line of enquiry. Curious, not concerned. Did she have concern in her? “You’re not telling me something.”

  Andy winced and dragged another breath in through his clenched teeth. He rocked where he sat to try to ease the pain in his hips. Not that it needed easing. And truth be told, it would take a lot more than wriggling to escape his permanent discomfort. Everything he’d tried over the past three years had failed. “She was called Gwen.” It had taken the detached questioning from a girl he didn’t know to get the words out. If only he’d let Chesky help when she’d offered. He would never have left the house that night.

  Although surrounded by darkness, the girl’s pale skin, soiled shirt, and white strips beneath her sad eyes caught the moonlight. For the first time, her eyebrows lifted as if she felt something.

  “She was my daughter.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

  “What’s that?”

  A raging torrent slammed into him, damn near throwing him back to the cold floor. Andy took several breaths and focused on the red bandage swaddling his thigh. His eyes burned, his breathing obscured by the lump in his throat. “Cancer. Some even refer to it as curable cancer. Well, you know what?”

  “It wasn’t?”

  A deep sigh, and Andy dropped his head. He lost control of his buckling bottom lip. “No.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Like with her raised eyebrows, sorrow sat in her eyes. Like he’d done a thousand times already with colleagues and neighbours, Andy opened his mouth to tell her it was fine. To make her feel better about his grief. But he stopped himself. Why should he take her gesture away from her, and why should he try to make her feel okay about it? “Thank you. She was about your age when she died.”

  A rattle of keys called down to them. A second later, the lock on the door at the top of the stairs snapped open.

  Another press of another cold and dirty boot. The added pressure spoke of their impatience. His face sandwiched between hard leather and the gritty floor, Andy felt the stinging tear of his skin splitting beneath the twist of their sole. What would they do next time? Would there even be a next time? They had to run out of patience sooner or later.

  Andy grabbed the guard’s ankle, lifting their foot from his face as he jumped to life. He grabbed the ankle of their standing leg and yanked hard.

  The sudden movement sent electric tendrils streaking down his exposed right thigh and into his groin. But not even the burn of an opening wound could slow him down. As the guard landed on their back, he crawled on top of them and punched them on the nose.

  The moonlight revealed the face of a woman. What the fuck was he doing? He’d never hit a woman in his life. But she wanted to eat him. She’d kept a child imprisoned. He drove a hard punch into the centre of her face, turning her instantly limp. Goosebumps from head to toe, the adrenaline lighting him up, he punched her again, her head snapping from side to side with each blow.

  By the time Andy stopped, his hands throbbed almost as much as his thigh. The woman’s face a pulped mess, her eyes swollen shut, her mouth and maw coated in her own blood.

  The same cold assessment of his actions stared at Andy from the cell opposite. He spoke to her through heavy breaths. “I’m going to get us out of here. You need to do as I say, okay?”

  The girl nodded.

  Andy searched the unconscious guard’s pockets. She only had two keys on her. He took them both. Half her body lay out in the corridor from where she’d fallen through the doorway, so he grabbed her ankles and dragged her in, limping because of his wound.

  Once he’d pulled the guard fully into the cell, he leaned close to her swollen and bloody face. The slight rattle of laboured respiration drove the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Wincing while he straightened again, he pushed the sole of his left shoe into her cheek. He ground the grit into her skin with a hard twist.

  By the time Andy pulled his foot away, blood from the freshly opened wound ran into her already coated maw. If they’d have pushed that hard on him, he would have flinched. She must be unconscious. He left her in the cell.

  Half an eye on the open door at the top of the stairs and the deep shadows beyond, Andy’s hands shook as he slowly closed his cell door and clicked the padlock shut. A dry mouth and rapid pulse. If they found him, he’d be screwed.

  The sounds of movement called down the stairs at Andy from somewhere within the building, but nothing emerged from the shadows, and the silence resumed.

  A small window like the one in Andy’s cell sat in the wall on his left. About five feet from the floor, it too had a bloated and crumbling wooden frame. Despite being covered in dirt, the moonlight made it mildly transparent. He’d assumed they were in a basement. The grass on the other side of the window confirmed it.

  The girl’s attention on him the entire time, Andy said, “We’re going to get out of here, okay?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Whatever’s waiting for us up there, I’ll make sure we get through it. You just need to listen to me. Are you ready for this?”

  The girl nodded again.

  The window in the corridor let in a bar of moonlight. When Andy held the two keys in it, his stomach sank. The padlocks on his cell and the girl’s were similar. The two keys were wildly different. The key that had opened Andy’s cell fitted the girl’s padlock but wouldn’t unlock it. He couldn’t get the other key in the hole. All the while, the girl’s detached stare remained on him. Now he’d moved closer, he had to ruffle his nose against her dirty stench.

  A shrug of her shoulders, and the girl said, “Thanks for trying anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, once you’re up there and have a chance at freedom, you won’t come back for me. Why would you?”

  Although Andy opened his mouth, she cut him off. “I don’t blame you. They want to eat you. I want to eat you. You should get out of here as soon as you can.”

  Such a clear understanding from someone so young and seemingly detached. “Who’s most likely to have your keys?”

  “They call her Nell.” A twist of something ran across her face. Revulsion? Fear? Hard to tell.

  “What does she look like?”

  The girl damn near spat every word. “She’s skinny and tall. She has red hair and a mean face. A mean, mean face.”

  “I’m going to get you out of here. Even if it kills me.”

  The girl reverted to monotone. “It migh
t.”

  It had been a long time since Andy considered himself fit, but even he would have expected to make it farther up the flight of stairs than four steps. Hot and cold waves emanated from the wound in his thigh. He gritted his teeth and tried to ride it out. After wiping his sweat-dampened brow, he waited for the knot in his stomach to loosen before he pushed on. How the hell did he expect to find the key and liberate the girl in this state?

  But the hows didn’t matter. Whatever happened, the kid needed a life, and someone needed to give it to her. He’d watched one taken away from his little girl. Nothing would bring Gwen back, but he had more motivation than most to make sure the tiny prisoner got the freedom she deserved.

  Andy pushed on up the worn stairs, his exposed right leg turning numb with the cold. The sharper pieces of grit bit into the bare sole of his right foot.

  Every inhale dragged the damp and wretched atmosphere into Andy’s lungs, the heavy air adding to his struggles as he puffed like an old chain-smoker.

  Two more wobbly steps and Andy made it to the top. He leaned against the wall to let his balance reset and his breathing level. Eight stairs and he’d come close to being defeated already. Whatever resolve he had in him, he’d best find it soon.

  Thankfully, the female guard had left the door open when she came down. He didn’t need the groaning hinges announcing his movements to the building’s ravenous residents.

  A narrow windowless corridor about three metres long separated Andy and the next room. A small wash of moonlight revealed rusted bed frames lining either side of what must have once been a large ward. The place had clearly been abandoned for decades.

  Andy moved on but halted after two steps. He leaned against the wall again, fighting the resistance in his tight chest. The darkness had hidden the twenty or so bodies when he’d been farther back. They lay on the floor and sang a chorus of deep breaths, one or two issuing low snores.

  When Andy stepped closer, a sharp piece of stone dug into his bare right foot. An involuntary reaction, he lifted it, the wound on his thigh running molten rods straight to his groin.

  Several seconds passed where Andy clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose. The sleepers in the room appeared to still be unconscious. At least he hadn’t stood on glass. Although, with the state of the place, surely it would just be a matter of time. The girl had told him they moved around a lot, so why would they bother cleaning anywhere if they didn’t plan on staying? Eat someone and move on. The longer he lingered in the corridor, the more chance someone would wake up, so he set off towards the doorway leading into the next room. He needed to find the woman with the keys to the girl’s cell.

  A groan halted Andy. While holding his breath, he ignored his buzzing thigh’s demand for attention and listened. It came from somewhere deep in the building. Did they have another victim? But as he listened to it, he shook his head. Not a victim. It was the sound of people fucking.

  Andy poked his head into the grotty ward. The collective stench of the filthy bodies lifted a gag into the bottom of his throat, but he swallowed it back. A carpet of sleeping cannibals between him and freedom. Had the girl been correct in her assessment of what he’d do? If he got past them, would it be the wisest thing to go back? Maybe it would be easier to call the police. But what if they noticed he’d gone and moved on before the police arrived? What then for the child? If he did nothing else in this life, he had to help her. And maybe with the guards either asleep or distracted, there wouldn’t be a better time.

  If he didn’t move now, he never would, so Andy kept his back to the damp wall and shuffled into the room.

  The stone floor continued from the corridor through the room with the sleeping bodies. As if having a numb foot didn’t serve as a potent enough reminder of his missing right shoe, Andy also had to contend with the sting of standing on small pieces of brick and stone. Limping because of his thigh, he skirted around the edge of the ward.

  Now he’d fully entered the room, the stench of dirt, sweat, and flatulence assaulted Andy from all sides. He screwed his face up and pushed on, moving down the walkway in the middle like a baby wildebeest through a gang of sleeping crocodiles. Should even one of them wake up … Meat tasted so much better when it screamed.

  The poor light made it harder to see, but Andy hadn’t yet passed the woman the girl described. Red hair, skinny, and tall … maybe she even had a mean face when sleeping. Men, women, and a couple of teenagers, but not the key holder. Not yet.

  Despite the snores and snorts around him, the slap of flesh and grunts of exertion continued to call to Andy from somewhere else in the building. It sounded like rutting pigs.

  About halfway across the ward, Andy took a break to slow his breaths. Not heavy yet, but if he wanted to maintain his stealth, he needed a short pause. If the sleepers woke up, he wouldn’t stand a chance. The muggy air added to the dryness in his throat, and when he gulped, it dragged an itch down to the permanent lump. The need to cough crawled like a live bug, the tiny legs irritating his oesophagus.

  When Andy reached the doorway out of the ward, he heaved a relieved sigh. Not that he’d achieved much. None of the sleepers were the woman he needed, and he’d have to walk back through there to help the girl later.

  Floorboards lined the hallway between Andy and the sounds of pleasure in the room opposite. The long corridor stretched both ways. The shadows on his left turned pitch black after no more than a few metres. Right led to a doorless exit to thick woodland. But he couldn’t leave the girl. One of the fuckers sounded female. Hopefully Nell. He had to check it out.

  The glow of a small flame shone in the room. Both ways seemed clear, so Andy crossed the hallway, fighting against his instinct to run right.

  A single candle glowed in the far corner of the room, glistening off the naked sweating bodies of one woman and two men. Or nearly naked. The man attached to the back of the woman still wore his boots and socks. The woman on all fours between them had red hair, skinny hips, and sagging breasts. Even now, her face had a sharp twist of cruelty. Outnumbered, but in this trio she clearly called the shots despite her position of subservience. It had to be Nell.

  A pile of clothes lay between Andy and the three fuckers. The candlelight might have been weak, but the large bulge in the pocket of one of the pairs of trousers had to be the keys. As if aiding him, the flame on the candle swelled and caught the glint of a key ring.

  A snort from the room behind him sent a surge through Andy’s heart. He pulled back into the hallway and faced the ward. A woman shifted on the floor, snorted again, and then rolled over onto her side before she fell back into the rhythm of sleep. The slapping of flesh and deep groans continued in the candlelit room, oblivious to anything but sating carnal desire.

  Unless the man behind Nell turned around, he wouldn’t see Andy. The one who could seemed more concerned with the grip he had on the back of Nell’s head. Maybe a better chance would come up and maybe it wouldn’t, but Andy didn’t have the time to wait.

  In spite of the candle’s best efforts, shadows lay against the walls and in the corners of the room. Darkness oozed from the very fabric of the building, and one candle could only do so much. Andy slipped inside and leaned against the damp brick. He skirted around the edge of the room, his eyes stinging from where he refused to blink.

  The deeper Andy moved into the room, the thicker the dirty funk of sex. Not only did they fuck like pigs, but they smelled like them too. It had clearly been a long time since any of this lot had washed.

  Close to the trousers, Andy bit his bottom lip as he leaned down to grab them. He held his breath while dragging the keys from the woman’s pocket. They came free with little resistance, the dull light glinting off them.

  Andy closed his palm around the cold metal while holding his breath. It left him a moment later in a gasp when he looked up. The man at the front of the woman—the man having his dick sucked—now stared straight at him.

  The keys stung Andy’s tightening grip
as he stood pinned in the spotlight of the man’s gaze. A slight twist of pleasure teased the edges of the man’s mouth. Somewhere between orgasm and rage. Either way, he looked set to erupt.

  Andy’s heart damn near burst and his already dry throat turned arid. If it came to a footrace, they’d be on him before he reached the hallway. But could he really fight them? What other choice did he have? A breath to settle himself, he arranged several keys so they poked from his right fist. Better to fight than get chased down like a wounded fox.

  At the man’s mercy, Andy waited.

  But then the man dropped his attention to the back of Nell’s bobbing head before releasing a deep groan and running his fingers through her matted ginger hair.

  Andy shifted a step towards the hallway despite now being closer to a doorway leading deeper into the building. A new angle, only slightly different, but enough to show him the light reflecting off the milky layer covering the man’s eyes. He let go of the hard twist gripping his upper body. The man was blind.

  After another step, Andy froze again, a line of chilled gooseflesh streaking up his back.

  A woman’s voice this time, it rang through the abandoned institution. It came from the downstairs basement and had the nasal ring of someone who’d had their face smashed in. “The prisoner’s gone missing,” she shrieked. “He’s escaped!”

  The fuckers stopped fucking, Andy’s stomach flipping as the man behind Nell withdrew with a wet squelch.

  Nell might have been skinny, but when upright she stood over six feet tall, the long stretch of her pasty back covered in a sweaty sheen. Despite her narrow hips, her wide shoulders made her triangular. Her large hands would ball into deadly fists. Before she and the other man turned around, Andy darted for the door closest to him.

  Dark like every other part of the decrepit building, the abandoned room had the same damp smell, although this time it was tinged with rusted metal and rotten wood. Better than the festering soup stirred up by the threesome. He slipped the keys into his pocket. The little girl would have to wait.