Harvest (36 page)

“
It’s okay.” His fingers
passed gently down her cheek. “Your eye’s a bit blood shot, but you
don’t have any cuts. He gave you quite a whack.” He let her hair
fall back into place, maybe realising the lingering touch seemed
longer than it needed to be. “You might get a nice shiner as a
trophy though.”

“
Joy! Typical. I never
even got punched out on duty.” She held her face as her smile was
met with stiff resistance from her cheek muscles and a brief sharp
pain lanced into her eye and jaw. Her pride ached more, she was
feeling sorry for herself because once again she had been involved
in an incident outside work that needed police involvement, and she
had had to give a statement to an officer she knew. At least she
hadn’t done anything wrong and PC Sharon Ellis had been informal
enough with her, she didn’t even seem to write down much of the
details that she had given her, and closed the interview by asking
her if she was coming out with the girls Friday night.

Sharon had said it was a
services night out, she recognised the names of those going from
her station but had only recognised Zoe Sampson’s name from those
that worked in A&E, the nurse that had led her to Craig when he
had dislocated his arm. Kelly was surprised to have been asked
after declining so many similar invites before, and when she made
her excuses again there had been genuine disappointment on Sharon’s
face that almost made her consider taking the offer up in the
future, until her discomfort at the prospect had settled in and
convinced she had made the right decision.

“
You got a good hit in
there. I don’t think I will be challenging you to an arm wrestle
any time soon.” Craig hauled himself into the chair beside her and
his tone grew more serious. “I wasn’t much help in there.
Sorry.”

“
Hey, you did okay. You
gave me something soft to land on.” She dodged a playful jab. “No.
I saw you keeping Jason safe, you were doing your bit. I hope this
isn’t some macho reaction to having a ‘little woman’ to protect you
is it?”

“
No. Even if it was I
wouldn’t tell you, you might use that right-hook on me.”

“
I
wouldn’t need to bother with the right-hook, just a girly slap.”
She laughed as he flashed a sarcastic smile in retaliation.
“Seriously, it all happened so quickly I am surprised I managed to
do as much as I did. I have training for situations like that but I
had my defences down, I guess. I wasn’t prepared for a fight.” She
couldn’t talk around the outcome any longer. “And what happened in
there? Things went all
‘Carrie’
for a moment. I didn’t see it, but the bed. That flew across
the room didn’t it?” She asked hesitantly.

“
Yes, it did. I wouldn’t
believe it unless I hadn’t have seen it with my own eyes. It just
shot out from in front of Cat, slammed into Malik and drove him
into the wall. It’s not every day you see a bed used as a weapon,”
he joked nervously.

“
That noise.” Jason broke
his silence, his face ashen and his eyes glazed and lost. “The
singing-screaming sound. It was the same noise I heard when that
thing in the lift tried to snatch me.”

Rachel was right; there was a
connection with what was happening at The Heights, but what that
was remained a mystery.

Craig frowned. “If Malik was
somehow involved with what’s happening back at The Heights, then I
would have thought any paranormal or supernatural events, or
whatever you want to call them, would have worked for him against
us, not the other way around.”

Kelly had been quick to dismiss
Rachel’s recounting of the strange things that had occurred around
Cat, but now Kelly experienced an unease that wormed under her
skin.

The journey back to the flats
had been an awkward one. Before Rachel and Jason had been dropped
off at her flat, they had shared the cramped back seat with a spiky
Cat. Cat had looked considerably more relaxed after Rachel’s
departure but was quiet and clearly happier to not be spoken to.
Despite Cat being weak from the inactivity of her coma, back at the
hospital she had been determined to make her own arrangements to
get home. She had soon found she had no money with her for a taxi,
and had adamantly declined Rachel’s charity. Much to Kelly’s
chagrin Rachel had leapt on the offer of her car with only a
cursory check to ask if that was okay. Faced with hours of waiting
for hospital transport Cat had accepted without realising that
Rachel would be travelling with them. When she did she looked too
tired to rant and just quietly resigned herself to the idea.
Despite everything that had happened at the hospital Craig’s mood
had been strangely jubilant, and he had been enjoying the journey
as if it were a daytrip, when the physical tension between Cat and
Rachel had been just inches behind them his buoyancy seemed as
inappropriate as making jokes at a funeral.

The car had barely been parked
when Cat had said her thanks and goodbyes in one curt sentence as
she climbed out of the passenger seat. As Craig and Kelly made
their long climb of the stairs to their respective flats they could
hear Cat treading away the stairs ahead of them to the top floor,
an act that must have been a real trial after her coma. Cat had
listened to Rachel’s recital of what had been happening, aided by
the occasional contribution of the others at Rachel’s prompting,
but had been non-committal or dismissive, yet she had clearly
listened to Jason’s warning not to use the lifts.

Craig’s mood had seemed to sour
as soon as The Heights came into view, and she could guess at what
he was feeling through her own reluctance to return there. Half-way
to his floor, it was not only his spirit that had waned, but
apparently his energy too. His pace had slowed and he looked pale
and tired.

She had attempted to engage him
in conversation since they left Cat but Craig’s answers were short
and limiting. “If you have changed your mind about inviting me in
for a cuppa I understand.”

“
Hmm? Oh, I’m tired,
that’s all. Sorry.” He flashed her a smile and he seemed to force
some energy into his eyes. “I will try and be more entertaining for
you. I guess I’m not quite sure what happens now. Despite
everything that just happened, Cat is a dead end.”

“
I know. Even if she does
have some kind of understanding her hatred for Rachel is so strong
I doubt she would tell her anything any way. Rachel said she would
call her later, but I doubt Cat will even take her
call.”

“
Do you think she might
talk to one of us.”

If he thought Kelly was going
to volunteer he could think again. “After you.”

“
Yeah, maybe
not.”

“
I think she is likely to
treat us the way she treated Rachel. I imagine we are guilty by
association.”

They arrived at the landing for
Craig’s floor and they both nodded a greeting to Alec the caretaker
who was busy painting out an area of the wall that was mottled
grey. He gave a distracted nod in return as he fingered a small
hole in the masonry before attempting to paint it over.

Craig hesitated in the doorway
to his corridor and glanced back at Alec working at the wall.

“
What?”

He shook his head. “Déjà vu
that’s all.” He rubbed his face vigorously and carried on down the
corridor.

“
You’re not okay are you?
What is it?”

“
It’s just I kind of know
how Jason feels, I don’t wanna be here anymore either. Is that
stupid?”

“
You know it isn’t.” She
took a deep breath. “How about we have a cuppa at yours as planned,
then you get some things together and come to mine, you can mooch
around for the afternoon and do your own thing, then we could have
some dinner, watch a bit of TV and you can crash on the sofa. No
point us being alone with all this.” Being alone far-outweighed the
discomfort of making such a suggestion.

Craig nodded enthusiastically.
“That would be great. Yeah, I’m up for that.” Kelly and Craig were
approaching the lift when the doors opened and Harry stepped out.
Panic chased across his face at seeing Kelly and Craig and a black
refuse sack slipped from his grip, slid down his body, fell heavily
to the floor and slumped to one side. Kelly’s hands instinctively
reached down to help and beat Harry’s fumbled scramble to retake
possession of his load. She lifted it to him but her gesture
faltered with the bag’s unexpected weight and bulk. “What you got
here.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Not been bringing stuff up from
the garbage bins have you?”

“
It’s my business if I
have,” Harry’s voice snapped uneasily from his thick greasy mask of
a beard.

Something flopped heavily to
one side within the bag and she pulled the untied refuse sack open
to peek in. The wide cold black eyes of a Labrador stared at her
from its bloodied face, its thick dry tongue hung from its mouth,
bent unnaturally backwards, almost into its ear. Kelly dropped the
bag and wiped her hands down her jeans in disgust.

Suddenly the full weight of
Harry pushed into her, sending her staggering back into Craig, who
once again cried out through catching her with his bad arm.

Craig rubbed at his shoulder.
“I do it every time…”

Kelly didn’t waste any time on
sympathy, and from her position of being propped up against Craig
she made a snatch at Harry’s raincoat. The grime in the material
slicked her fingers and caused her grip to flinch which Harry took
advantage of and shrugged her off and ran. She gave chase, but in
the few seconds it took her to regain her balance and realise she
hadn’t caught Harry he had gained enough lead to key open his
door.

She called after him as she
bounded to his closing door and leapt at it, thrusting her foot
between the door and the jamb, but in her haste she overstepped and
the door bit and chewed at her ankle instead of the protection of
her trainers. She cried out with the pain that shot up her leg and
tugged her leg out, tumbling back onto her rear with a jarring
shock. Harry yanked the door open, snarled angrily at her and
slammed it closed. The sound rolled over her, pained her ears and
fanned a blast of pungent air at her. In the brief moment his door
had been opened, she had glimpsed walls, ceiling and light-shade
flecked and streaked with dark browns and reds. She gagged and
coughed on the smothering smell of decay that helped her
understand, with dread and revulsion, what she had seen of the
inside of Harry’s flat.

Chapter
Twenty Eight

Yshor Malik dragged himself
from the boggy depths of a dark swamping sleep. Every fibre of his
muscle ached. His mouth was dry and his tongue was glass paper
against his lips as he tried to moisten them. He lifted his head
and the hospital room blurred and faded while nausea rose in him
and lingered. He propped himself up on the firm mattress with his
elbows, and would have yelped at the sight of his legs could he
find a sound in his throat. His legs were a swollen mass of yellow
and purple bruising, with deep dark glistening splits in the flesh
that ran great lengths down his limbs. Each leg was contained
within silver cages that had pins puncturing the fronts of his legs
holding his bones together. His legs looked pulped.

He lowered himself back
to the bed, trying to block out thoughts of his legs in case it
brought on the wild pain he was sure his legs would be filled with.
His voice lulled in the back of his throat for anyone that might
hear but it was nonsensical even to him as it crossed between his
native Polish and his adopted English. He couldn’t understand how
he had got where he was. Perhaps he had been hit by a car, it
explained his injuries.
Would he walk
again?
Hot tears gathered in his eyes.
Where was Ruth?
He could see her in
his mind, his beloved wife with her long grey hair with its natural
kink framing her delicate face and the blue eyes that had faded
over the years. Eyes he had loved to lose himself in when he had
met her in his youth. It seemed like weeks since he had seen her,
which was an alien feeling to him as they had been brought up in
the same neighbourhood together, were schooled together, worked
together and retired together, they had barely been apart since
they had wed all those years ago. It must have been whatever drugs
the hospital had given him. He tried to think of the last time he
had seen her, but all he could see was darkness.

That’s when Yshor
remembered.

The darkness had been the last
time he had seen Ruth. He had told her he had something to show her
in the basement. He couldn’t think what it was at the time as he
had never been down there before, but he had woken up that morning
knowing that there was something she needed to see down there. He
had asked her in a state of detachment and delirium, as if somehow
he still dreamt. She had called him a daft old fool in their native
tongue as she jauntily headed down the stairs ahead of him to the
basement and into the blackness.

There had been a hole in a
wall, and beyond that a hole in the floor, both appearing to be
freshly excavated. She walked ahead of him, her voice uneasy as the
visibility grew weaker until the only light was the soft green
throbbing of a gelatinous sack of skin resting in the hole.

Then she had been scared.

Yshor’s lungs inflated in a
deep inhalation dragging air that scraped like a flurry of dried
leaves through his dehydrated larynx as the moment played through
his mind and he screamed. The air around Ruth erupted in a blaze of
light and hands that plucked her out of the gloom, after which the
sack was suddenly swollen and distended by a writhing mass within.
Yet somehow Ruth’s voice had stayed with him, she had laughed at
his folly of dragging her to the basement for nothing, and carried
on in her usual chatter about their neighbours and her friends at
the over sixties club. She talked him into voluntary work at the
hospital, standing vigil for a lost soul.