WITH LEGS TREMBLING, Sam just about managed to stumble across the stones to safety. He saw Lucy across the way, bent double, vomit splashing from her gaping mouth.
‘We’ve got to get them out of that place!’ she coughed – still retching, ‘we have to get them away from that – that – thing!’ She heaved another stomach load of her revulsion onto the ground.
Sam walked across and gently rubbed her back, Lucy could feel his hand shaking through her spine. ‘Oh Christ, Sam, what are we going to do?’
He fortified his tattered resolve. ‘Get them out of there,’ he said – more determined than ever, ‘then we’ll concrete over the pools, and burn the bastard place down.’
Lucy swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and stood upright. Her stomach felt tight from convulsing. She clawed her fingers across her gut. ‘We’re doing it tomorrow!’ she proclaimed. ‘I can’t go another night without sleep.’
Sam agreed. ‘We’ll get them out, don’t you worry. Tomorrow it is.’
They both left to find Hilly, to fill her in on everything that had happened…
Hilly sat on her bed in the core of the story, listening, her knees pulled tight to her chest, shielding herself from the horrendous details of their last visit… ‘Do you really think you can get them away from the monster?’ Hilly asked.
Lucy and Sam glanced at each other, trying not to exhibit their very real doubts. ‘Yes,’ said Sam, forcing razor-sharp determination, ‘we will.’
Lucy pondered Hilly’s slightly naive use of the word ‘monster’. She’d not herself thought of the wiry figure precisely in those terms, the seething hatred she’d felt emanating from its very core had somehow felt incredibly human in its spiralling levels of detestation and loathing, and because of that, neither she nor Sam had considered monster a word they would naturally chose to describe it. But there was no doubting how veraciously the word fitted.
‘So, will I get to meet them?’ asked Hilly.
Sam smirked, slightly confused by the question. ‘Well of course you will. What did you think, we’re going to hide them away and refuse ever to let them meet anyone else?’
Hilly thought about his mildly cynical response. ‘But isn’t that kind of what’s already happened to them?’
Sam was stumped by the poignancy of her words, however accidental that poignancy may have been, they doused the flames of his sarcasm. ‘I suppose you’re right. I guess in a way, it is kind of a prison for them. It’s easy to forget that I guess. I’m sorry.’
They all sat quietly in contemplation of the terrible lives the children had been forced to live. ‘What do you think they’re doing right now?’ asked Lucy.
Sam shrugged. ‘I dunno, eating I hope. The food should taste passable by now.’
‘You don’t think that creature could find them, do you?’ asked Hilly.
Sam shrugged again – failing to mask his doubts. ‘Well. Let’s hope not.’
Again, the three of them sat in quiet contemplation. ‘Could you describe it to me? The monster?’ requested Hilly.
Sam sagged, resenting being asked to relive the most terrifying event he’d ever had to face. But he was her brother, and he realised that if the shoe was on the other foot, he’d certainly be asking her to do the same. So he tried. ‘You’re much better with words than I am, but I’ll have a go.’
He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest, taking himself back to the base of the staircase in the other world… In his mind, he’s was looking up at the house, it’s dark, and he can see the creature in the doorway, crawling slowly towards him.
‘There’s something slightly human about it, but I’m sure it is not human!’ he explained. ‘Its face – it’s strange, it’s full of anger, but somehow, it looks lifeless at the same time. I guess that’s because I can see no emotion in its eyes.’ His brows furrowed. ‘But it hates me… I can feel that, its hatred fills the air whenever it looks at me. But I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve it.’
‘I think it hates everything,’ interjected Lucy, ‘haven’t you felt there’s some sort of resentment inside it?’
‘Yes! I have. That’s the right word, “resentment”.’
‘But what does it actually look like? You know, physically?’
‘A bit like a spider,’ said Lucy, ‘but as Sam said, in some ways, it’s also kind of human, but its arms and legs are thin and spindly, and it crawls around like an insect.’
‘But I’ve seen it run, too,’ Sam interjected, ‘like we would. But yeah, Lucy’s right, it is totally like an insect.’
Hilly screwed her face up and pulled the bed clothes tight around her neck. ‘It sounds horrid.’
Her brother smirked ironically. ‘Yeah, and then some.’
Lucy’s mind drifted… ‘I wonder if it’s another demon, like the one I saw in the library?’
‘Maybe,’ Sam responded. ‘At first I thought it might be that magician guy, Mallette, but, nah.’
Lucy clutched a hand to her stomach, not sure if the aching she was feeling was hunger, or the after effects of vomiting her fears so violently. She concluded it was probably an amalgamation of both. ‘I need to get back and make an appearance,’ she said, ‘else Mum’ll start getting suspicious, and start watching me wherever I go. And until we’ve got Jill and Jack out from there, I can do without that.’
‘Alright,’ Sam agreed…
*
The light, once again, descended into night, revealing a crisp sky blanketed with stars. Lucy sat in the kitchen alone, rushing to finish her dinner.
She rose from the table, still chewing the last mouthful of food, and slotted her plate in amongst the rest of the dirty dishes crowding the sink.
Immersed in thought, she threaded herself into her favourite red cardigan… ‘I’m just popping out to see Sam and Hilly,’ she shouted to her mother, who was standing ironing while watching telly in the living room, ‘I’ll clean the dishes as soon as I get back, okay? I won’t be too long.’
She shut the front door and galloped down the steps before her mother had a chance to instigate any unwanted interrogation. She made her way down the bank towards the Fletcher’s house…
Lucy exited the trees and strode energetically towards the cottage. She heard Sam in his father’s workshop, she recognised the particular way he tended to mumble to himself when he did anything that required concentration.
The door was hanging slightly ajar, so she peered in, then slid through the gap into the light. ‘Whatcha doing!’ she shouted.
He lurched into full Moro reflex, tossing a screwdriver up into the rafters. He spun around to the fanfare of the tool clattering back to earth. ‘Shit, Lucy! What are you trying to bloody do to me.’
She giggled like a naughty child. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Well, try!’ he replied.
‘I’ve been so worried about tomorrow, I thought I’d cheer myself up by making you jump. Anyway, what’s wrong with you?’ she asked. ‘I thought you’d find it funny.’
‘Yeah, well I didn’t, you great plonk!’ He shook his head and laughed. ‘Bloody pillock.’
She laughed along with him. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Oh, not a lot. Just checking there isn’t anything else we might need for tomorrow’s rescue attempt.’
Lucy stepped up next to him and began picking through the objects scattered across the worktop. ‘I just keep wanting to wake up and find this has all been nothing but a bad dream.’
‘Yeah, I know, same here,’ he said, ‘but unfortunately, it isn’t.’ He nudged her with a matey shoulder. ‘So, we’ll just have to do what we can to fix it, aye.’
‘Can we fix it?’ she asked, toying with a box of screws.
The corners of Sam’s mouth twisted with indecision, and he shrugged. ‘I don’t know? But this Mallette didn’t exist until he was born, so I guess it’s not unreasonable to imagine he can be made to go away again.’
Lucy put the screws down. ‘Let’s hope so.’
Sam drew a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Lucy. ‘This is the plan for tomorrow, it’s not overly complicated or anything, but read it a few times later on, so we’re both singing from the same song sheet.’ It was a term his father used a lot, but it was the first time he’d ever had a chance to use it himself.
‘Thanks,’ she said, slipping the piece of paper into her pocket.
She turned to face him, and wrapped her arms around him. The close proximity took him aback.
He put down a roll of wire and reciprocated the gesture, engulfing her in the gentlest embrace he had ever given anyone.
She could feel the warmth of his cheek against her ear. ‘I love you,’ he whispered – barely audibly.
Lucy allowed the words to float through her mind for a time, before pulling back from the hold, and looking him square in the eye. ‘What did you just say?’
Sam stuttered out of the moment, ‘I-I just – you know. You’re my friend and all that, and – and I wanted to tell you that, that I love you.’ He winced an embarrassed smile.
Lucy was surprised to find herself feeling disappointed by his response. But she was sure the words were delivered with true intent, and she discovered herself hoping that they were. ‘Look, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, ‘if we get this done, we can start trying to forget about that place.’
Sam nodded. ‘Okay, poop,’ he said, wishing he had the nerve to tell her the trueness of his feelings.
She hovered expectantly before him, waiting to see if he had anything else to say… but he offered nothing. She sagged… ‘Well, goodnight then,’ she said, turning to leave.
Sam extended a hand towards her, aching to call her back. But he swallowed his emotions, and watched her weave through the gap into the warm, night air…
*
Helen stood at the kitchen sink washing the breakfast pans, stooping to look out of the window at the sky… It was the first morning of recent times where she’s been presented with a blanket of cloud. But they seemed thin to her, and she was sure the sun would eventually burn them away.
Lucy pushed her breakfast around her plate like a croupier, her stomach squirming at the uncertainty of what the outcome of the day would be.
She attempted to force herself to eat something, alive to the need to keep her strength up for the sake of Jill and Jack. She managed to dry swallow a few mouthfuls, but she’d only managed a few hours’ sleep during a night of doubts: duvet pulled up tight to her neck, both side lights blazing, but at least the night passed free of the nightmares that had plagued the one previous.
She scooped the rest of her breakfast into the bin, and agitated a sponge around the plate.
She checked the clock, and rushed upstairs to get herself ready, ready to meet Sam at Hobswyke…
*
A nervous Lucy eventually reached the hall, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. She’d purposely contrived to arrive late so she wouldn’t have to be alone with the house, but her efforts appeared fruitless.
She crunched across the gravelled clearing towards the sweeping staircase, scanning for signs that she wasn’t alone.
She deliberately tried avoiding looking directly at the house for fear of catching sight of something watching her from behind one of the grime-tinted windows, thankful at least that it was broad daylight, and not the dead of night.
‘Sam?’ she called, listening for a reply, but nothing.
She turned her attention to the house, and noticed the main doors to the Hall were hanging slightly open. She stumbled back, tripping over her feet, feeling certain that they were closed the last time they were there.
She looked around, wondering who, or what could have opened them.
An unquenchable curiosity pulled her reluctantly up the long staircase towards the entrance, her eyes locked on the opening, blinkering herself from catching sight of any of the windows watching her approach.
Her gaze drifted up to the lunette above the doors, the horned cherubs hiding behind their heavenly counterparts appeared to be studying her with interest, peeking mischievously through drawn bows and fans of tiny feathered wings, watching her slowly climb the steps towards them. ‘Stop it!’ she snapped – her imagination beginning to run wild.
She reached the doors, shuffling her feet nervously along the gritstone step toward the parting…
Her approach was halted by the reciprocating slap of rushing footsteps echoing from inside the room. She stumbled back from the sound, its volume becoming alarmingly loud.
Sam burst from the doors, shocked at seeing Lucy right in front of him. ‘Shit!’ he cried, rearing up sharply.
‘God almighty!’ Lucy complained. ‘What the hell are you trying to do to me!’
‘Sorry. Sorry,’ he apologised – his countenance sheepish.
‘What were you doing in there?’ she asked, leaning around him to peek inside the marbled room.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I-I was just looking around to check.’
‘Check what?’
‘I don’t know, I guess I was trying to familiarise myself with the layout of the Hall again, just in case we have to go back in there, when we go across.’
He turned and looked in through the open door. ‘You have to remember, I haven’t been in Hobswyke for years, and I’m not as familiar with the place as you are.’
Lucy sensed him not being entirely honest with her, but struggled to make out in what way.
‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘I think the sooner we get this done…’ He turned, and pulled the large doors closed, then joined Lucy to make their way down the staircase.
He could feel her suspicions scolding his ear. ‘Ahh good, you wore dark clothing,’ he said, trying to distract her from her burning curiosity, ‘so you did get my text then – excellent.’
Lucy couldn’t quite make him out, so decided to let it go, there being far more important matters looming on the horizon to deal with.
Sam tightened the straps on his rucksack in readiness. He wore camouflaged cargo trousers and the darkest green top he could find.
They stepped up to the break. Sam took his copy of the plan nervously from his pocket and spun to face Lucy like a soapbox orator.
‘So, we’re going to do this kind of the same way we did it yesterday, okay? I go first to check it’s safe to pass across, then you follow.’ Lucy nodded. ‘We check to see if the coast is clear, then we jump over the handrail and make our way to the gatehouse.’ Lucy nodded again, Sam slid his finger down the page to the next row of bullet points.
He continued, ‘We collect the children and make our way back to the bushes across from the front of the Hall. I leave you and the kids there to hide and wait for me, then I go round to the far side of the Hall and set up the diversion.’ He turned a look over his shoulder to his rucksack. ‘Then, hopefully, while that thing is distracted, I can quickly cut through the handrail and get us all out of there.’
‘Sounds good,’ Lucy confirmed.
Sam folded the paper and slipped it back into his pocket, drawing two miner’s style head torches out of the same pocket and slipping one around his head. He handed the other one to Lucy. ‘I know it’s not particularly fashionable, but put this on, just in case we need to use our hands.’
She examined it to see where you turn it on, then clipped it around her head, feeling for the switch to check it worked…
Sam took his place in the break. ‘Are you ready then?’
‘Yes. Believe it or not, I actually am!’ she chuckled, nervously.
‘Come on then…’
Lucy watched as Sam made his way steadily down the wall, hopefully for the last time.
He dipped his face through the ebony film, then waved her through.
Lucy rose from the pool into darkness again, but this time, it felt different, the air she drew into her lungs was icy cold and crystallised with frost.
Sam was already crouching behind the handrail, taking a look around… She rose up the wall and joined his side.
‘Jeeesus it’s cold,’ she complained, rubbing her hands over her arms. Her eyes were transfixed on the breath drifting in slow motion from their mouths, hanging almost motionless in the frosty air, before gradually melting away into the darkness like salt crystals in water.
Sam’s frozen breath had built up around his face. He swiped his hand through the air to clear his line of vision. Lucy copied him.
‘Come on,’ he whispered.
They both silently clambered over the handrail and crouched on the other side. ‘Wait there,’ he said, quickly stepping across to lift the tool bag clear of the undergrowth. He was relieved to find it still there, and placed it carefully down adjacent to the planned escape route.
They both scanned the lightless windows for anything resembling a face pressed up against the glass. But they saw nothing, and finally set off for the gatehouse…
The frost-encrusted grass crunched beneath their tentative footsteps, it sounded loud in the static air. ‘I hope they’re okay,’ said Lucy.
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine,’ he replied, ‘try not to worry.’
Lucy’s eyes scanned the landscape as they made their way across the grounds. How different everything looked coated in ice-white crystals, giving the place a magical look, it helped counter the natural air of foreboding that normally sullied the atmosphere. She shivered.
Sam heard Lucy’s jaw chattering, and dropped back to be level with her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. ‘Is it the cold? Or are you afraid?’ he asked in whispered tones.
She stammered a laugh. ‘Both!’ Sam chuckled.
They eventually reached the gatehouse and began climbing the steps, then they stopped; the door was hanging wide open.
They looked at each other with hardened eyes. ‘Maybe they’d been out and forgot to close it again?’ said Sam.
Lucy twisted a look of doubt back at him. ‘That doesn’t sound like them, they always seem so careful.’
They stepped tentatively through the door, looking and listening for signs of movement.
They made a cursory scan of the kitchen, then the living room. Nothing seemed out of place.
They started slowly up the staircase, their cheeks wincing at every creak that stabbed through the silence. Sam shrouded the end of his torch again, half expecting to see two tiny faces appear on the landing – but the faces never came.
‘Where are they?’ Lucy muttered.
‘I don’t know. I told them to stay here?’
They stepped quietly onto the landing and tiptoed towards Lucy’s room. No light was spilling from the open door.
Sam rounded the frame and shone his hand torch into the gloom of the bedroom, painting the walls with the disk of light, their eyes transfixed as it meandered through the space. It drifted along the wall and across an old piece of furniture topped with dust-laden ornaments. Past a painting hanging crooked from the peeling wallpaper. They saw a cluster of unlit candles, and balls of discarded clingfilm.
Sam swung the torchlight to the centre of the room. Crumpled sheets hung off the side of the unmade bed, and cushions lay scattered, but there was no sign of the children?
‘I told them to wait here,’ Sam whispered, stepping in and looking around.
‘Something’s not right,’ Lucy hissed, shaking her head, ‘something’s happened.’
A loud crack emitted from the corner of the room. Sam spun his light towards it. It fell on a large, bow-fronted wardrobe.
The beam began to shake. Lucy extended her arm and placed a reinforcing hand on his shoulder.
They both shuffled slowly towards the corner. Sam frantically painting the light around all of the darkest crevices.
The wardrobe suddenly shifted towards them. They shied away – startled.
Lucy started to pant with panic. The wardrobe shifted again, the floorboards creaking beneath the weight.
Sam snapped his head around to spot the door, readying himself to run.
‘Lucy?’ came a muffled voice drifting from deep within the shadows.
Lucy baulked at the sound of her own name… ‘J-Jill? I-Is that you?’ she asked.
They both shuffled guardedly towards the corner of the room, holding each other’s hand. They tentatively peeked behind the wardrobe… Jill and Jack’s anxious faces peered up at them, squeezed in tight between the furniture and the wall.
Sam handed the torch to Lucy, and heaved the wardrobe aside, the children crawled out into the room.
‘What are you doing behind there?’ asked Lucy.
Jill was looking suspiciously about the room. ‘Was that you, before?’ she asked.
‘Before? What do you mean “before”?’ Lucy replied.
Jill looked towards the door. ‘Did you only just come in, or were you here before?’
‘Well, no. We’ve only just arrived, just now…’
Jill shot petrified eyes back at Jack. He dropped to the ground and ducked behind Jill’s legs. ‘I-I think, Him was here!’ she whispered. ‘I think he was looking for us.’
Jill began to shake visibly. Lucy dropped to her knees and pulled the fear-drenched children hard into her.
Sam turned and crept cautiously towards the door. He rolled his face out into the corridor… He peered into the liquorice blackness cloaking the passage, listening intently for any sounds: the passing of a breath, the scraping of a nail, the creek of planted footsteps – but he could hear nothing.
‘Okay, we’re going!’ he insisted. ‘Now!’
He flicked on his torch, and guided them along the passageway. They made their way quietly down the staircase to the main door. Sam held up a hand like a SWAT team operative, ordering them to wait.
He wiped a window clear with his sleeve, and peered through it, looking for movement outside.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered, ‘come on.’
They all made their way down the steps into the freezing air, dropping onto the path. They began making their way back across the grounds towards the Hall…
The sound of eight feet fracturing ice-glazed blades of grass seemed deafening within their attempts to move undetected. They all tried different ways to land a tread, but nothing seemed to silence their passage.
Sam turned to address the children as they walked.
‘So, listen. I have to cut the railings so you can pass through. That’s what was stopping me from getting Jack out the last time,’ he explained to Jill. ‘They seem to create some kind of force field that holds you both here.’
Jill took hold of Jack’s hand, and gave his fingers a squeeze. She smiled into his worried eyes, somehow knowing that this unexpected detour to the path of their lives was for the best.
The amber-eyed children were starting to enjoy not only the company, but the attention they’d been receiving of late, a variety of attention neither of them could ever remember having received before. It felt nice to not be alone for once, and on the receiving end of these new things called ‘kindness’, and ‘compassion’.
Sam turned again, and began explaining how the stepping stones worked. They nodded their understanding.
They all finally reached the row of bushes that faced the Hall from the far side of the clearing. ‘Okay, you’ve got to stay here with Lucy, I have something I need to do first before we can get you out of this place.’ The children indicated their understanding.
Sam peered out through the branches to check the house was free of watching faces… He felt certain their presence there remained undetected.
‘Wait here,’ he said, flinching a comforting smile towards their expectant faces. He turned to face Lucy, and pressed a heartfelt kiss against the soft pillow of her lips, just in case things went wrong, and he never got the chance again.
She smiled back at him, and flashed her eyes. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she asserted. ‘There’ll be another one of those waiting for you.’
He smiled, and nodded, then set off around the back of the hedgerow towards the far side of the Hall, weaving through as much undergrowth as he could to help travers unseen…
He came to a break in the bushes. There was about a thirty foot clearing to cross, right in front of the long windows of what on the other side would be the east wing.
He suddenly felt very detached from the others, a desperate sense of his own isolation.
A throb of his quickening heartbeat pounded in his ears as he crouched among the frost-encrusted branches.
‘Come on!’ He gritted his teeth hard. ‘Pull your shit together!’
A feeling like he was drowning beneath the pressure of the tasks he’d set himself engulfed his faltering confidence. Tasks with no viable option to back out of.
After a time, breathing deeply, he managed to gather himself back together, reigning in his considerable anguish.
His head was now shrouded in a thick cloud of frozen breath. He swiped it away from his face, then directed laser-focused eyes across the clearing to the next explosion of undergrowth.
He sucked in air through his clenched teeth, steeled himself, then darted across the clearing…
Thirty feet felt like a mile in light of his exposure, but he eventually reached the far side and ducked in among leaves.
He took to a knee, and allowed himself a few moments to pacify his shaking ardour… ‘Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on,’ he muttered, breathing hard to clear the cluster of knots in his gut.
He scouted the grounds again. All still seemed to be clear. He set off again with revitalised resolve…
He spied an area of open ground in the distance that seemed perfect for his needs, a wide open space visible from the back of the Hall.
A crescent of trees surrounded the clearing – a wall of twisted wooden pillars to aid hiding his movements.
He skulked around behind the gnarled trunks and ducked behind the one in the centre.
He scooped the rucksack of his back and swung it to the front, opening it, and emptying the contents onto the ground.
He peeked around the trunk to make sure he was properly masked by the tree, then turned on his head torch.
Sam took a folded tarpaulin from the pile, and stuffed it back in his bag, then carefully unfolded a heavy, foil roasting dish, and placed it on the ground.
Covering his torch with his hand, he peered around the tree again to check the house… It still looked clear.
He dropped his hand from the light and tore open two boxes of firelighters, and emptied them into the foil dish.
Carefully, he took up a cluster of rockets that he had left over from the last bonfire night. He’d shortened the sticks and extended all of the fuses.
He took up the tray, and ran out into the clearing, placing it down on the grass, and began pushing the sticks of each rocket into the ground around the perimeter of the dish, draping each extended fuse over the edge of the foil.
Sam breathed deep, and struck a match, touching the slow-dancing flame to one of the firelighter blocks…
The flame eventually caught, and started slowly crawling over the rest of the cubes.
Sam could smell the benzine fumes rising from the dish as the orange glow began to flair in slow motion and expand across the tray.
Quickly gathering his things, he ran back to the tree. He shoved everything back into the bag, closing it up, and threading it over his shoulders…
He picked up a couple of rocks, and walked defiantly back into the clearing. He took aim, and tossed them hard towards one of the larger windows.
They left his hand and slowed, spinning gradually through the air towards the waiting pane of glass.
He turned, and sprinted for the hedges, snaking his way back through the undergrowth towards where he’d left the others…
Sam arrived back and ducked down beside them. They all jumped at his sudden appearance.
‘Shit, Sam!’ Lucy fizzed. She took a calming breath. ‘Everything okay?’
He pressed a finger to his lips to silence her, and pointed towards the sky, instructing them to listen with a tap to his ear… They all hung motionless, staring at the ground – waiting.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a crashing sound from the far side of the Hall. ‘Let’s go!’ Sam instructed, rising through the leaves and sprinting towards the stone staircase. They all followed suit.
The main doors suddenly smashed open. They all froze, and dropped to the ground, lying utterly motionless in the chilled darkness.
Elongated limbs extended out of the shadows of the entrance, unfurling into the freezing air. The creature emitted a shrill scream into the night, and exploded from the door towards the far side of the hall.
It cascaded past them, just meters away, and scuttled off into the distance.
They all lay motionless until it was out of sight, then jumped up and sprinted for the steps.
Sam skidded to a halt and whipped the top of the tool bag open, grabbing the grinder.
He strode urgently and with conviction towards the railings, and turned it on, but nothing happened? He cycled the switch again, but the tool remained motionless.
Bewildered – he turned to Lucy. ‘There’s something wrong with it?’ he hissed. ‘It was working just fine in the workshop?!’ Then he paused, and looked down at the grinder…
He felt a low-frequency vibration through his fingers, then the cutting disk began slowly rotating, gradually gathering speed. ‘Oh shit!’ he cried. ‘Of course, it won’t work here!’
He stuffed the grinder back in the bag, and took out the hacksaw.
A loud fizz rose slowly into the sky behind them. The children turned to look, as Sam began frantically sawing at the bars.
They watched as a rocket hissed skyward towards the blanket of oppression capping their world, then the sky lit up to the tune of a slow motion expansion of sparks and fizzing particles. A few moments later, a thumping wave of sound passed through them all, startling the children.
The light illuminated the plumes of iron particles floating gently away from every frantic stroke of the hacksaw blade.
Sam finally made it through one of the heavy handrails, and dropped the blade down to a thin, twisting pillar beneath it, and began thrashing the saw again, his shoulders flooding with lactic acid.
Another slow-motion fizz reached for the sky, followed by an explosion of colour to mask the sound of the cutting.
Sam pumped the blade with everything he had, and with a clatter, the blade dropped through yet another railing.
He flexed the bars apart to free the saw, then shuffled across a few feet and began to cut down the other side.
There was another eruption of light above the Hall, another sonic wave expanding past them, echoing around the surrounding trees like a Gregorian chant.
Crackling particles spread and floated towards the ground, illuminating a long, seething figure watching them from the far corner of the house.
Jill screamed and threw herself in front of Jack. He began sobbing and scurried behind her legs.
Sam turned to look what the commotion was, and froze. He pressed his back up against the railings, and cursed.
The entity dropped to the ground and began striding towards them with conviction, then stopped, rotating its hateful gaze slowly towards the Hall.
Sam turned to see what was distracting it, and gasped! ‘Noooooo!’ he screamed as he watched Lucy running for the house.
‘Keep cutting!’ she wailed. ‘Don’t you dare try to follow me, just fucking do it!’
She sprinted and leapt over the splintered fragments of what remained of the doors hanging off their twisted hinges, then turned, locking her eyes on the panel beneath the side table on the far end of the room, racing towards it with all the speed her legs could generate.
There was a thunderous crash right behind her, followed by a piercing scream that filled the entire room.
Her lip curled hard against her nose as she fought an impulse to cry.
She reached the table and dropped to her knees, sliding underneath its derelict opulence and slapping into the wall.
She could hear the thump of the thing barrelling towards her, wailing its anger at her audacity in invading its world.
Lucy fumbled desperately around the edge of the panel, not daring to look behind her. ‘Come on!’ she screamed. The reciprocating slap of approaching footsteps growing deafening.
The cover finally popped from the wall, and she tossed it behind her. It slid imperceptibly along the ground as she crawled in through the hole, fumbling her fingers at the torch on her head to turn it on.
She heard the thing step on the panel just as she managed to struggle to her feet, and begin rushing through the passage.
The skeletal figure clattered through the opening into the tunnel, scrambled to its feet, and began unfolding itself towards her. She screamed a scream that shredded her vocal chords!
She ricocheted through the narrow passageways, attempting to blinker herself from the horror following close behind, attempting to traverse its claustrophobic proportions as efficiently as she could, trying to keep one step ahead of the creature’s advancing reach.
She sprinted through the narrow corridors, leaping and swinging through the pipework assault course.
Lucy turned to look behind her, the beam from her head torch stuttering across its face. It looked drawn and emaciated, with paper-thin skin sucked tight to its skull, sunken eyes burning her back with bristling loathing.
The horror of seeing its face kicked her legs into a higher gear, and she sprinted from the frantic cacophony of smashing limbs clamouring right behind her shoulders.
She spied a fork in the passage ahead, and wondered which way to turn? The right hand branch looked much tighter, so she dived for it, smashing her right shin hard against a wooden baton.
Struggling to her feet, she limped away from the wailing figure trying to scramble through the hole. As thin as it was, it was still too big to slip through easily.
Lucy hobbled along the tunnel, turned a corner, as was met by a dead end! ‘Oh shit, please! No!’ she begged the seclusion. She started to weep. ‘Nooo!’ she cried, feeling desperately around the walls for any avenue of escape. The wailing began to louden – the thing was through, and on its way!
‘Oh my God!’ she sobbed through a tear-glazed face, sinking helplessly to the floor in acceptance of her end.
Then she noticed another timber panel spanning a hole next to her left knee. She erupted from her resignation, and hurled her shoulder hard against it, knocking it into a room. She crawled through into the candle-lit library!
There was a deep, thrashing rumble from somewhere behind the panelling, the thing fast approaching. Her panicked eyes scanned the room for a place to hide…
She swung her arms wildly through the pillars of candle wax caging her beneath the shelving, and hobbled across the room to the altar. She crouched down behind it, just as the first wiry limb began extending into the room.
She clapped her hands across her mouth, attempting to stifle the sounds of her heavy breathing, leaning across to peer around the stone… She could see the creature crouched by the hole, studying the room, sniffing the wax-infused air. It started to crawl into the space.
Lucy pulled back behind the altar. Her shoulder caught something hanging down. She quickly snapped her fingers around it to stop it swinging, then gently released a slim, leather strap.
She looked at her fingers. There were thick films of coagulated blood coating her digits!
She lifted her eyes along the cord, they rose to meet the face of a dog looking back at her. It’s head hung limp off the edge of the ceremonial-stone, its throat cut.
She had to wrap both hands across her mouth to muffle her scream! Its blood-filled eyes stared lifelessly down at her, she turned away from the horror.
Lucy suddenly realised the creature was now just on the other side of the altar, creeping around its perimeter, looking for her. It lifted its face from the floor and sniffed at the fresh blood coating the stone.
Lucy shuffled around the base to keep on the opposite side from it, trying not to disturb the dozens of pet collars littering the ground.
She continued to circle the altar, keeping hidden from the beast, then noticed she was adjacent to the hole in the wall. She decided to make a run for it.
Stooping low, she dashed across the floor to the waiting tunnel, slinking through and taking a quick peek back inside the room… The thing didn’t appear to have seen her.
She started to make her way back along the passage, shin bone stinging, trying to avoid treading on anything that might make a sound.
She gradually sped up her escape as she got further in and away from the room, until she was as close to a sprint as she could manage with a messed up leg.
She checked behind her, but couldn’t see anything following, and turned back to the front, just in time to see the water pipe before it cracked her hard across the forehead. She landed on her back, barely conscious…
Her mind and vision swirled in a mist, eyes rolling in their sockets…
She could hear distant screams drifting through her scrambled thoughts, the core of which was the pain. The sharp, stinging pain.
The screams grew louder, and more piercing. Her eyes rolled down from beneath her fluttering lids, and she groaned back into reality…
The air was heavy with the livid howls of the advancing monstrosity. Lucy shook herself awake and staggered unsteadily to her feet.
She charged for the tight gap again and fought her way through. The thing lunged and wrapped its long bony fingers around the heal of her trainer, just as she managed to snap it out of reach.
She started climbing uneven rungs of pipework and timber that she recognised rose to Jill and Jack’s old haunt.
The creature finally managed to force itself through, and started following her up the wall.
She screamed with panic at the sight of its contorted features rising from the dark, the sound of her fear fanning the flames of its boiling desire to tear her limb from limb.
Lucy’s hands flailed towards the hole into the loft space as she stumbled through it, lashing her feet towards the thing’s advancing grasp.
Staggering to her feet, she made for the other hole, ducking through just as the entity clattered into the loft space.
She rattled along the tight passage towards the other set of rungs, the monster bursting into the crawlspace behind her, and unfurling its tortured limbs in the direction of her escape.
She panicked, and her feet slipped off the damp pipework. She plummeted down the shaft, bouncing off the sides as she dropped away.
She landed awkwardly in a heap at the bottom of the chimney, her legs buckled beneath her. She was winded, her lips gulping at the air for breath like a hooked fish.
Lucy turned her dazed expression up to a blurred image of a drawn, skeletal face crawling down the shaft towards her…
A pair of hands suddenly extended through an opening behind her shoulders, and dragged her through the hole, she looked up, her vacant eyes seeing Sam’s out-of-focus features looking down at her.
He dragged her clear and quickly kicked the tray of burning firelighters in through the hole. Jill and Jack ran forwards, tossing armfuls of dry kindling on top.
It caught, and slowly erupted, shooting slow-dancing flames up the shaft towards the screeching monster.
They helped Lucy to her feet, and carried her out of the coal store into the frozen air. ‘Are you okay?’ asked Sam.
She nodded, weakly. He hooked her arm around the back of his neck, and led her away.
They made their way around to the front of the house. Sam leading them all through the smashed doors into the entrance hall.
‘Why are we going in here!?’ slurred Lucy – still feeling scrambled. ‘Why aren’t we going to the pool?’
‘I didn’t managed to cut through the bars in time, I had to come and help you. But don’t worry, I have another plan.’
He guided the three of them into the dining hall and slammed the doors behind him.
‘Drag some furniture in front of that!’ he ordered. Jill and Jack complied – pulling any pieces of furniture they could manage to move with their tiny frames across to the doors. Lucy shook her head clear, and stumbled across to help them.
Sam sprinted to the far end of the long room and strained to take down a large mirror from the wall, but he couldn’t quite lift it. ‘Lucy,’ he shouted, ‘I need you to help me.’
She shoved a side table against the doors, and limped to him on legs close to collapsing beneath her. But she summoned her remaining strength, and powered through.
‘You have to help me get this down,’ he cried, trying to heave the heavy mirror off its mountings.
She threw her shoulder beneath it, and lifted with everything she had left… The mirror popped from its hangers and they lowered it to the floor. Sam spun it around, and started dragging it towards the corner of the room. ‘What are you doing?’ Lucy asked. ‘Why aren’t we trying to get out of here?’
‘Shhhhh!’ Sam hissed, impatiently. ‘What do you think I’m trying to do, will you just try and bloody trust me for once.’ Lucy could see his anger begin to fray again, and decided not to antagonise him by asking anymore questions.
There was a loud bang from the doors. The children screamed, and winced back from the haphazard stack of furniture.
The creature was throwing itself wildly at the barricade, fingernails scratching manically at the wood.
Lucy watched Sam give the mirror a final shove into the corner of the room and look down into it. A look of amazement expanded across his face.
He swung his rucksack off his back, ripped the tarpaulin from it, and snapped it open.
Lucy limped across to the mirror and looked down into the reflection… But there was no reflection to be seen, at least not of her! Then she realised, she could see into Hobswyke Hall, just like looking through a window. She recognised the paintings, and the tapestries, hanging inverted on the walls beneath her amazed gaze. It was just the way her mother had described in her dream.
Lucy found it difficult to believe, but there it was, undeniable, lying at her feet in front of her.
Sam tossed the tarp across the mirror, completely covering the glass. ‘Jill, Jack!’ he shouted. ‘Come on, we’re leaving. Now!’
The entity had managed to force a small gap between the doors, and was halfway in, frantically clawing its gangly limbs through the narrow sliver of access to try to get to them.
The children ran to Sam. He pulled them in close and turned to grab Lucy.
He led them across the sheet into the centre of the mirror.
The entity finally managed to clamber over the stacked furniture, and slapped onto the ground, it rose and started to scuttle along the floor towards them.
Sam pulled them all in tight. ‘Shit, Lucy! I hope this works!’ he begged.
The creature broke into a full sprint straight towards them. Sam stamped a foot hard onto the glass, shattering it beneath them. They all began to drop through the floor, enveloped in the sheet. Everything went pitch black, and they all plummeted into total weightlessness…