Sam: A Novel Of Suspense (16 page)

And
God knows what they actually eat.  They must get a lot of take out, I guess.

Angela
gave up on the rancid fridge and instead rooted inside the cupboards. 
Eventually, she found a large box of mini cookies and some still-in-date crisps. 
It wasn’t a feast, by any means, but it would do for now.  She laid her finds
out on one of the stainless steel work counters and pulled up a stool beside
it.

The
slightly-stale cookies tasted heavenly. Her stomach gurgled as it was being
filled.  She would have to be careful not to eat them all; Tim would be by
soon.

The
smell of the rotten chicken wafted over to her from the bin.  The odour of
spoiled flesh triggered unwelcome memories in her.  Memories of that day at the
church.  Images of Charles Crippley hacking into innocent people with his
bloody butcher knife. The scene played back in her mind like a grainy VHS
videotape.

When
Charles Crippley had walked down the aisle that Sunday morning, Angela knew
right away that the man’ fractured mind had finally been reduced to kindled
splinters.  Her attempts to help him over the previous few weeks had resulted
only in the worsening of his condition.

The
look on Charles’s face as he stalked down the centre of the church was bestial.
He was more animal than he was human.  He proved it when he began tearing apart
those in his path like a lion ripping apart gazelles.  Before long, the church
was a carpet of pink flesh and leaking fluids.  Eventually Angela was the only
one that was left.  A lone woman facing down a beast.

Out
of instinct, Angela had begun performing the rites she’d learned from the
Rituale
Romanum. 
She renounced the Devil and implored Jesus Christ to protect her
from evil.  Charles had snarled and growled at her, but seemed unable to
approach.  He strangely kept his distance as if held back by some invisible
force.

I’ll
burn your flesh in hell, you pussy-licking cunt!
He
had screamed at her. 
I will tear your soul apart.

Angela
had continued with The Rites, shutting out the vile curses of the madman before
her and the sight of her mutilated flock.  She closed her eyes to the bodies of
her former friends and parishioners and instead concentrated on the love of
Christ and the power of the Lord.  Even when Charles managed to finally take a
step forward, plunging his knife into her chest, she had continued undeterred. 
There was no pain to inhibit her, for she was protected.

She
had felt the presence of the Lord in every part of her being.

Eventually
her words brought Charles Crippley to his knees.  The bloody knife fell from
his hands and cluttered against the flagstones as he frantically clutched at
his chest. It was the obvious signs of a heart attack.  The strength of Angela’s
beliefs had stopped the man’s heart dead.  It was then that she knew, with
absolute certainty, that God existed.  What she could not understand, however,
was why He’d allowed over a dozen people to die on the floor of His church.

Charles
stared up at her from his knees, eyes bulging from his skull as the pressure
inside of him rose.  Despite his approaching death, the man still managed to speak
to her, although it was not with his usual voice.  It was somebody else’s.  “YOU
HAVE WON NOTHING, PRIEST.  YOUR TIME OF AGONY WILL COME.  YOUR DEATH WILL LAST
AN ETERNITY.  YOU WILL DIE A LONELY MATRYR IN A WAR ALREADY LOST, ANGELA MURS.

Then
Charles Crippley had died right at her feet.

“Yuck! 
It stinks like my ass in here.”

Angela
was yanked from her memories by Tim entering the kitchen.  She was glad of his
presence and almost felt like he had rescued her.  The memories had been about
to send her insane.

“Oh,
great,” Tim said.  “Are those chocolate chip?”

Angela
pushed the box of cookies across the table towards him.  “Did you manage to
call help for Jessica?”

“Afraid
not.  The phones are totally dead, just like Graham said.  I can’t work it
out.  Frank is heading out now to get help.”

Angela
frowned.  “Didn’t he want to send Graham or Mike?”

Tim
shrugged.  “I think he wanted to make sure it got done as quickly as possible. 
The guy is one totally freaked-out mamajama.”

“I
know.  I get the impression there’s more to his relationship with Jessica than
meets the eye.”

“Yeah,
I’m getting that, too.  You know what sucks about this whole thing?”

Angela
popped a crisp into her mouth and began munching.  “What?” she asked between
chews.

Tim
picked out a cookie and examined it before he ate it.  Once he was done, he
said, “While Frank is gone, he left Graham in charge.”

“Oh,
no,” said Angela.  “The Devil really is at work in this house.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The
rain beat against the windows like the march of an approaching army. Thunder
rumbled constantly.  Mike hadn’t slept for more than a few hours, but he could
survive on less.  The hiding sun, barely peeking out from behind the nearby
forest told him that it was early evening.

A
few moments ago, Graham had woken Mike up with a sudden clap of his hands, then
given him five minutes to get ready and join him in Jessica’s room.  Graham hadn’t
explained what was going on, but Mike assumed from his colleague’s rattled
manner that some crisis had occurred in the house.

He
left the bedroom and then headed back up to the penthouse.  The door to
Jessica’s room had been left ajar and Graham was inside.

“Hey,”
said Mike.  “So what’s been going on?”

“I
need you to watch Ms Raymeady until Frank gets back.  He’s left me in charge
and I need to keep an eye on the house guests.”

“Okay,”
said Mike, not quite understanding.  He noticed the putrid stains on Jessica’s
bedsheets and motioned towards her with a thrust of his chin.  “She okay?”

Graham
shrugged.  “Fucked if I know.  She’s gone blind.”

Mike
spluttered.  “Blind?”

“As
a bat.  I’d clean her up a bit, but she’ll probably just puke again as soon as
she wakes up.  Frank’s already left for the hospital to get help.  The phones
aren’t working, so we couldn’t call.” 

“Really? 
That’s weird.  Okay, well, you do what you need to do.  I’ll keep an eye on
everything here.”

“Thanks,
Mike.”  Graham put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.  “I’ll be
happy when those two are out of the house and we can get back to doing an
honest day’s work, rather than hanging around and babysitting people.  This
stuff is no good for my heart, you know?”

Mike
smiled at his colleague and patted the hand that was on his shoulder.  “Don’t
worry, buddy.  Things will be over soon enough.”

“I
hope so.  As much as this all narks me, I think this family has suffered
enough.  I’ll see you in a bit.”

Mike
watched Graham walk away, then took a seat beside Jessica’s bed and examined
her.  He couldn’t see her eyes, since she was sleeping, but all colour had
drained from her skin, making her flesh look like porcelain.  She was a
sleeping doll--her beauty a stark contrast to the ghastliness of her
vomit-stained sheets.  Mike wondered why nobody had bothered to change them.

People
can be so thoughtless.

He
got up and wandered out into the corridor, then opened up one of the linen
closets that housed spare bedding.  After selecting a thick bed sheet from the
neatly-ordered pile, he headed back inside Jessica’s room and stripped away her
dirty linen. 

She
stirred slightly as he covered her with the fresh blanket.  “Frank?”

“No,
Jessica.  It’s Michael.  How are you feeling?”

“I…I
can’t see.  No, wait…I-I can.  I can see.”  She sat bolt upright in the bed,
like a spring had triggered in her spine.  Mike tried to ease her back down,
but she pushed him away.  “I’m fine.  I need to get up.  I…”

She
tried to get herself out of bed but her strength failed her.  She fell back
down onto her elbows, out of breath.

“You
need to rest.”

“W-what
is wrong with me?  I…I want Frank.  I need to see Sammie.”

“Sammie
is fine.  Frank has gone to get you a doctor.”

“What? 
Why?  I’m fine.”  She tried to get up again. Once again she failed.

“You’re
not
fine, Jessica.  You need checking over.  Maybe you’ve just caught a
nasty bug or something, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.  I’m sure Frank
won’t be long.”

Jessica
was confused; the lack of understanding was carved into her face. 
The poor
woman really must not remember a thing. 

“I
don’t understand,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“You
tried to kill yourself,” Mike explained, hoping she’d remember.

Jessica
shook her head.  “That’s impossible.  You’re lying.  Where’s Frank?”

Mike
felt his patience thinning.  “I told you.  He’ll be back soon.”

“This
is all because of this wicked house.  It’s fucking cursed.  It took Joseph and
now it’s trying to take me.  I can’t stand it anymore.”

Jessica
pushed herself up in the bed and this time managed to swing her legs round onto
the floor.  Mike reached out to grab her but she was up on her feet too quickly
and he missed. She was unsteady on her feet and almost stumbled to the floor.
She managed to correct herself after a few unbalanced steps.

Mike
got out his chair and followed after her. 

She
headed over to the room’s wardrobes.  “I need to get dressed,” she said. 
“Please leave.”

“I
can’t do that,” Mike explained.  “I’m here to keep you safe.  You need to
remain here in the house.”

“I’m
going downstairs, Michael.  I need to see my son.  I’m taking him out of here
right now before anything else happens.”  She began to sort through the clothes
racks, looking for something she wanted to wear.

Mike
stepped up behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck.  He squeezed hard,
imagining he was trying to pop her head right off her shoulders.

Jessica
began to fade quickly, already weak from sickness.  The pressure on her carotid
artery was sapping her brain of oxygen and unconsciousness was bearing down on
her fast.

Mike
felt her go limp in his arms.  He dragged her back over to the bed and laid her
down gently.  With her current state of mind, she’d most likely remember
nothing at all of this, but even if she did, he would just deny it, make her
think she was going crazy.  It would be easy considering recent events.

Jessica
and Sammie were going to stay in this house whether they liked it or not.  It
was his job to keep them there and that’s what he was going to do. 
No
matter what.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tim
sat outside Sammie’s room and calibrated his equipment.  He was past the point
where he felt any of it would do any good, but it was still important to
maintain it.  This wasn’t going to be his last job, after all.

Although
it’s starting to feel like it.

The
urge to flee, to just get the hell out of there, was rising in him again. An
atmosphere drenched the house.  It was…
foreboding
…for want of a better
cliché.  It felt as if danger was lurking around every corner.

And
the epicentre – the reason for it all – is a ten-year old boy in the next room.

Tim’s
primary intention, whenever he was on a job, was to disprove any claims of
ghosts and monsters.  He was past that motivation now.  There was little doubt
that an unnatural presence resided in the house.  The others might not admit
it, but he knew better.

Tim
had met true evil once before.  At a hotel in Basingstoke: The Grey Gardens
Hotel.  Tim and his brother had been called to the hotel to investigate any
environmental factors there may have been for a spate of recent deaths at the
building.  So many accidents had occurred that the hotel was now closed to the
public.

At
that point in his life, Tim had possessed zero belief in the paranormal.  He
and his brother were simple conmen – dazzling people with expensive gadgets and
pointless tests.  The money was good and the work was easy. 

But
things changed the evening they slept in that hotel.

Tim
lost his brother, for one thing.

A
beeping sound brought him back.

Tim
looked at his equipment and tried to locate the source.  It seemed to be coming
from his electronic barometer.  The air pressure had dropped.  There was a
chance that it was due to the stormy weather, but even if it was…Tim was
confused because he hadn’t switched the machine on.  In fact, he could see that
it was unplugged.

Here
we go again
, Tim said to himself.  There was no
longer anything inside the house that could surprise him, but he wasn’t about
to throw himself into the fire.  He was going to sit right where he was.  That
way nothing could happen to him.  Other people could take the risks, he was
happy just taking the results.