Rottenhouse
Authors: Ian Dyer
Tags: #'thriller, #horror, #adult, #british, #dark, #humour, #king, #modern, #strange, #nightmare'
Rottenhouse
Ian
Dyer
This book is the
copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced,
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©
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, incidents and events are all from the
authors mind. Any resemblance to persons either living or dead is
purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Ian
Dyer.
All rights
reserved.
Smashwords
Edition
For Cheryl and Isabella,
who I could not be without.
And also for Martin, he
who understands the struggles.
Table of
Contents
1
Lucy had been silent all the way up
here, distracted by something she wouldn’t tell Simon, and he
didn’t like that because they shared everything together; meals,
drinks, a bed, a house, their thoughts, even their dreams, and as
the miles floated by so his patience thinned to the point of
breaking. But now she was alert and talking so fast Simon could
hardly keep up with what she was saying. Lucy pointed or voiced her
directions: over that roundabout, left here, right at that tree,
passed the crooked bridge and take the next left as you go past the
Slaughtered Lamb and make sure you stay left as the road narrows,
then over the cattle grid, under the bridge, around the weird house
that overhangs the road and past the field of yellow I played in as
a child and then past the pig pens and cattle fields. Keep on
going, Simon, straight ahead, passed the tree that looks like the
entrance to hell itself, where mum took me to scare me and look
there, in that field, can you see it? That hole? That’s where the
ground fell away one year and it left that giant hole, black as
night and deep, really deep; a doorway to the world that goes on
underground…
‘
Stop the car!’ Lucy
shouted as they turned a tight right hander.
Simon slammed on the brakes, the little
red light flashing to show that the car was completing some sort of
witch craft to keep itself in control. He threw the car right to
avoid an animal, or walker perhaps, that he was sure was stood
there in the middle of the road. Not really knowing either way, he
eased the car to the left side of the road, making sure not to roll
down the verge, and stopped the car beneath an old twisted
tree.
‘
What the hell, Lucy!
What did I hit?’
Calmly, Lucy said, ‘Nothing. It’s just
before we get there I have something to tell you, something to tell
you about me.’
Simon was sure he was about to pass
out. He was breathing hard, the shock of it was still coursing
through his veins and for a moment he didn’t really take in what
Lucy was talking about. His hands were stuck to the steering wheel;
pushing it away from him, trying to keep whatever it was or could
have been in the road out of his path and away from his windscreen.
As the adrenaline wore off he looked in his rear view mirror; there
was nothing there. No destroyed rabbit or blown apart deer, no
walker cut in two by his car or clinging onto a broken leg
screaming for help.
‘
Thank Christ. I
thought we’d hit something. Jesus, I’m having a heart attack
here.’
I have something to tell you. Something
about me
Simon turned to face
his girlfriend. She was still looking forward, as if nothing had
happened, and Simon supposed that that was perfectly reasonable –
nothing
had
happened. ‘Are you okay?
‘
Lucy?’
She slowly turned to face him, her eyes
red; brimming with tears, and her complexion, which not five
minutes ago was practically glowing was now dull, a pale reflection
replaced it and it was a look Simon hadn’t seen in her for
years.
‘
That’s not my name.’
she said.
‘
What? What are you
talking about?’ He wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to take
a swig of water from his plastic bottle but his shaking hands made
it hard and he tightened his grip on the bottle until he was sure
he wouldn’t spill it down himself.
‘
Lucy. It’s not my
name. It’s Barbara.’ It was like she was telling him that the sky
was blue or the sea was wet.
‘
What? Piss off. Come
on; is this a trick or something? Some weird type of initiation or
something? I mean, what, so you are telling me that the girl I have
been seeing for years, the girl I want to marry isn’t called Lucy?
It’s Barbara?
Barbara
? Like Last of the Summer Wine or something?’ Simon laughed,
but it was an uncomfortable laugh like knew the truth and was in
denial. ‘Barbara, really, are you for real? Come on Lucy,
please.’
‘
No, Simon. I’m not
Lucy, well… I am her, but not
her
. It’s not a joke. It’s not
anything like that. I’m not Lucy, not in this place. Here I was
someone else, before I ran away and
became
; Lucy. Before I found
you.’
Simon reached over and grabbed her
hand. It was shaking; her palm moist and it matched his. He held it
tight, admiring her wicked witch green nail polish (a colour he had
chosen and she lovingly decided to wear because she knew how much
he liked it) and then looked into her blood shot eyes.
‘
I don’t understand,
Lucy, I…’
‘
Barbara,’ she
insisted, ‘Barbara Lucy Rowling. Daughter of quarry worker Bob
Rowling, who lives at The Tall Stack, 24 Hot Lane, Rottenhouse,
North Yorkshire.’
He let go of Lucy’s hand and it slumped
into her lap. She sighed and sobbed like he had never seen her do
before. Simon expected her to cry but the tears didn’t come. He had
a lump in his throat but he didn’t know whether it was a lump that
came before you cried or a lump that came before you chucked up all
over the God damned place.
Above the car, roosting in the old
tree, some unknown breed of bird released a deathly cry as the wind
picked up. A light rain began to fall from low grey clouds which
were spread about the sky like they were put there by some mad
painters brush.
‘
I don’t understand.’
Simon said softly as he looked out through the smeared windscreen,
and watched the rain fall; pitter-pattering on the glass. He wanted
to laugh, as odd as that sounded; he couldn’t get over the way in
which she had told him, he couldn’t believe that for all this time
she had been hiding such a secret. Wasn’t this trip supposed to be
mending old bridges not smashing down current ones? It wasn’t
right.
‘
Why didn’t you tell
me before?’
‘
I wanted to. It was
looming over me like a storm. The longer I left it the bigger it
seemed to get and then it seemed too big, too much of an issue for
me to bring up. I meant to tell you, just after we moved in
together. Just after our first big fight when we were telling each
other everything. Remember that? Remember that night?’
‘
Yeah, I
remember.’
‘
It was on the tip of
my tongue, honestly, I was going to tell you. I needed to tell you.
I could feel it boiling up inside me over the weeks leading up to
that day. But when it came to it, when the shit got real, Simon, I
couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. And then the next thing I knew we
were ripping each other’s clothes off and… well you know the
rest.’
‘
Yeah I know the
rest.’
The engine ticked over quietly and the
rain continued to fall. The wipers came on automatically and wiped
away the rain only for it to be replaced, wiped away and then
replaced, wiped away and then replaced. Simon wished that he could
put one of those wipers to work on the last few minutes of his
life.
Simon sighed through an open mouth and
he scratched his forehead. He was unsure of what to say, what to
think, what to do. This was, by far and away (and that included the
day his best mate had tried to seduce him) the weirdest thing ever
to have happened to him. He put his hands on the steering wheel and
tapped out some odd beat that meant nothing, he did it just to
remove the silence.
Barbara?
Barbara?
He didn’t understand, but knew
there must be a reason. Just then the red light signalling that the
fuel was almost out blinked into life.
‘
What are you
thinking, Sausage?’
Simon looked at the warning light
blinking madly. ‘That if we don’t get moving then we won’t be
moving anywhere. Is there a petrol station near here?’
‘
Yep. At the end of
this road, I think.’
‘
Cool.’
Simon put the car into gear and then
headed off into the rain.
‘
So?’
‘
So?’ Simon
replied.
‘
Well I was expecting
some sort of rant, Simon. I mean, I have just told you that the
girl you love, the girl that you want to be your wife, isn’t who
you thought she was. Don’t you want to know why?’
‘
Of course I do, Luc…
Barbara.’ Simon shook his head trying to get out the million bees
that had made their home in there. ‘Look, whatever your name is I
just wished you hadn’t waited till we were ten seconds from your
dads house and I was about to go in and ask him for your hand in
marriage. I mean come on. We are up here to mend bridges or
whatever and you have just put super-hot TNT under one of ours for
Christ’s sake! What the hell am I supposed to do now? Keep calling
you Lucy, or switch to Barbara? Barbara for fucks sake!’
‘
Alright, alright. I
don’t know. Maybe just try not to call me anything until you get
used to him calling me it.’
What the hell is going on? Is this
woman for real?
The car leaned left then right as Simon
careened around the country lane. Up ahead he could make out a
junction and to its left, under the glow of the orange street
lights that had flicked on, was the petrol station.
‘
Christ, I mean I know
you must’ve had your reasons, reasons I really want to know, but,
but, Christ… I don’t know.
I don’t
know
. This is mental.’
2
Simon eased the car to a stop and
pulled back on the handbrake as he turned the engine off and
removed the keys. The pitter patter of rain had stopped thanks to
the high metal roof that covered the petrol station but the wind
still whipped around the wheels of the car and rocked it from side
to side with every gust. He looked to his fiancé, went to say
something, maybe kiss her, he didn’t really know so just didn’t do
any of them and his mouth flapped open and then closed. It was
starting to get hot in the car and the windows were steaming up.
From the corner of his eye he could see that Lucy was about to say
something and so before Lucy could even open her mouth Simon had
already opened the car door and slammed it shut.
Outside it was dank and grey and the
wind was strong and the clouds hung low, almost touching the tops
of the trees. The petrol station was small and old. Opening the
small flap and then undoing the cap he gathered his coat around him
and did his best to block out the harsh cold wind.
Its summer, for crying out loud, not
the bleak mid-winter
And then he pictured the sign back on
the M1.
