2nd December 2019
Night
Chloe visited my dreams. She probably did most nights, but I remembered it this time, which was rare. She was in a cage, begging me to find the key. As I stepped away to search, her shape changed to that of the Drifter. The cage door unlocked, and a mist, like dry ice, flooded from inside, consuming my feet, creeping up my body, numbing it until it seeped into my mouth and down my throat, freezing my screams. Then I woke with a gasp, and for a moment I couldn’t focus on anything other than trying to catch my breath. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the air from my lungs turn to condensation, and sitting up quickly, the covers fell from my body, exposing me to the cold air inside the room. My head pounded, and my mouth was so dry that it hurt to swallow.
I searched for Michael; he was gone. His chair was empty, and beside it, the window was wide open, the curtains blowing in the cold wind. Outside, the night held strong, and I didn’t know if I’d been out for five minutes or five hours. Rolling out of the bed I grabbed my phone to see the time – ten something, I couldn’t make out the numbers without my glasses. I found them on the pillow, one of the arms bent. I put them on awkwardly, 10.47. I had been out for under an hour.
I walked to the window. I could see no movement, no light. The lane that led to this house was as deserted as when we arrived hours before. I quietly closed the window and locked it. I wanted to call out to Michael, but thought better of it. Moving to the bedroom door I looked out into the wide upstairs hallway. I wished a light was on, so I could see into the dark corners, but I didn’t dare to flick the switch. Moving towards the stairs, I began to descend, cursing when the third from top squeezed angrily underfoot. As I reached the bottom step, I slowly looked around the banister in the direction of the kitchen, hoping I would see the light spilling under the crack in the door. It was dark. It felt like the house was empty. I couldn’t help myself and called out quietly.
‘Michael? Michael – where are you?’
There was no response. But I knew there wouldn’t be one. Resting my hand on the closed kitchen door, I pushed my ear to the wood and listened. There was no sign of anyone on the other side, so I gently opened it. I could see a little better in the kitchen as a glow spilled from a small security light in the garden. As the door opened wider, I could see the back door. A shape blocked it: a long, dark coat.
I gasped and fell backwards, landing hard on the wooden floor. The shock didn’t last long and as I fell, I assessed the coat was too high up to be worn by a person, and so it must have been hanging on the door. Scrabbling to my feet, I switched on the kitchen light. The fluorescent lamp hummed as it flickered to life. And in the light, I could see the coat I thought for moment was the Drifter. Gingerly, I moved towards it, half expecting something to happen. Placing my hands on it I pulled it down from the coat hanger. It was heavy, thick, and covered in what I could only assume was coal dust. He had been here, in this house.
My thoughts went to Michael. Dropping the coat, I moved quickly into the hallway, switching on the lights as I did so. I wanted every light in the house on, I wanted it to feel like day. I checked downstairs, then back upstairs; the last room I entered was the one I started in. Sitting on the bed I put my hand down under the folded cover. I felt something cold, tacky, and when I pulled my hand out, there was blood on it. Flipping the cover back over, I found a top. Holly’s top.
‘Michael,’ I shouted. ‘Michael, where are you?’ I don’t know why I called out. He wasn’t there. The Drifter had come when I was asleep.
I had slept and Michael had been taken. And Holly’s top… Holly’s blood, it was on my hands. I could see something poking out from under the top. Carefully, I pulled it out and turned it over. The Drifter had left me a note.
If you ever want to see your friends again, you will come back to where this all began.