Planning

The back door opens, and I’m flooded by light and warmth. Mum is sitting at the table, a mug of tea and a magazine in front of her. She looks up and sees me standing there, dripping wet like a drowned rat.

“Son, you’re soaking.” She runs for a towel.

“I’m fine, Mum, really.” I protest as she drags me over to the gas fire and starts drying me off, rubbing my hair furiously.

“Where have you been anyway?”

“Just in town with a few mates.”

Mum has been worried about me since the night Jamie was taken. I’ve never told her the truth. And why would I? She would never believe me anyway. She’d probably think I was mad. She might even take me to a psychiatrist. I’ve been putting on a face for her. I didn’t need to hide my shock at the beginning. Everybody was shocked. But I’ve toned it down since. I’ve hidden lots from her. I just don’t want her to be concerned.

“Get yourself upstairs and change out of those clothes,” she says when she finishes.

My room is where I feel safest. Which is strange, as the creature that I’ve been searching for, he knows exactly where I am. He’s been here. I still remember his eyes staring through my skylight window. Burning eyes, watching me from the other side of the glass. He hypnotized Jamie into opening the window, and then he snatched him out.  He knows exactly where to find me. He could come for me any time he wants. But that would be a mistake. I’ve made a lot of changes since then. I’ve made it safe. It might not look it, but it’s a fortress. There are crucifixes everywhere. I hidden them, but they’re there. And that’s not the half of it. The window ledge, for example, is lined with a paste I made out of garlic and holy water. I’m protected here, like I am nowhere else.

I unroll a large map across my bed. I stare at it for a while. Then I trace my finger along the town’s disused railway track, following it upriver until it joins the main railway line. On it goes, heading for the urban sprawl that is the city.

I’m not going to be able to do any serious searching during the week. I have school to go to. As much as I’d like to bunk off, I can’t. I have to keep up the pretence of having a normal life, and besides I can’t cause any more waves than I already have. I need everyone to think I’m back to normal. There’s no time after school either. There just aren’t enough hours of daylight left. And there’s nowhere left nearby for me to search.

Next weekend. The frustration is going to kill me. I keep thinking of Jamie. Every day, every hour he spends with that creature he’ll be resisting, but his resistance can’t last forever. He’s suffering, I know it. And slowly but surely he’ll be losing, as his humanity is sliced away piece by piece. I only hope I can have more luck next week.

The least I can do then is make sure I’m totally prepared. I open my notebook and jot down a list of things I can do. I need to get on the internet and check google. I need to find out what disused railway lines the city has and how I can get access to them. I need to visit the library, do some research, scan newspapers and the internet for any strange disappearances or unexplained deaths, even reports of big cats.

When I finish I put my cheery face back on and go downstairs. Mum and I eat dinner silently. I’m not in the mood for conversation, but then I have a thought.

“Mum, where does Auntie Susan live again?”

Auntie Susan was Mum’s sister, and I knew fine well where she lived: the city. “It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Do you think it would be okay if I went and visited her for a few days?”

Taking Chances

The sky is getting darker. One by one the streetlamps are coming on, their amber light reflecting in the sheen of rain on the tarmac. I’m standing on a real railway platform this time, waiting on my train home.

But the train is late. I’m getting anxious. I should’ve been home by now. I should've been safe in my own room, the one place that I know is secure against them. I’ve turned it a fortress. Daytime is my time to hunt. And night time is theirs.

Finally it pulls into the station. I wait for everyone else to get on first. Then I take a final look around my shoulder. One thing I've learnt through bitter experience is to always check my back. You never know who - or more importantly what - is trailing you. Then, just as the doors are about to swish shut, I step inside and find a seat.

I keep my head down, my hood up, and my headphones in for the whole journey. I avoid eye contact with everyone. At one stop, a group of people from my year at school get on. Sarah Taylor is one of them. Sarah lives just round the corner from me. We sometimes say hello to each other in passing. She’s a slender, pretty girl with long red hair. The group she is with are all smiling, laughing. They’re on their way home from the bowling alley. I think about how carefree and how innocent my life used to be, before it got snatched away. I really want to be with them, to be one of them, living a normal life. But that could never happen, not now, not after all I’ve been through. 

I get off the train a stop early. A wave of blustery rain has moved in off the firth. Other people are running for cover, but not me. I just keep walking. Rain is good. It washes away your scent, makes your trail harder to follow. Crowds too, as your trail gets diluted by all the others. It’s almost fully dark now, I have to be extra cautious, so I take the long route home, through the main mall, even cutting in and out of various department stores. I reckon this is enough to throw any pursuer off my tail. 

As I near my house, the rain is lashing now and my head is down against it. The streets are quiet and empty. I can feel myself coiling up. My mouth is dry, my heart beating fast. I imagine him, that boy with the piercing red eyes, waiting for me in a dark corner, readying himself to pounce. And if he did, I would have no chance. No one would hear, no one would see. There’d be no one to help.

I run the rest of the way. I know I’ve made a mistake tonight. I dallied too long, I took a risk with the train and put myself in danger.  I’m going to have to be more careful in future.

Life or Death

            He’s fast. With a swipe of his hand my stake and mallet are gone, catapulted against the wall and smashed like matchsticks. Then his fist connects with my chest. The blow is like a cannonball. It knocks the wind out of me, catapulting me backwards through the air.

            I land with a crack. Then I’m tumbling. Over and over. I only come to a halt when I hit the back wall. Everything is going in slow motion. I’m stunned, senseless. My temples are throbbing and my eyes feel like they are bulging out of my head. There’s a salty taste on my lips too. Is it blood? I have no time to check. He’s already on me.

I look up at him, illuminating his white hellish face in my headlight. There is triumph in his eyes. He thinks he’s won.

            The creature rears up slightly. I’ve seen this many times. He’s coiling, like a snake about to strike. But I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot. I’m too prepared, and I’ve been through it too many times before. In the split second I have left before he pounces I reach into my leg pocket and pull out a water pistol. It’s a small, plastic yellow toy, something I got free with a magazine when I was 10. Harmless to humans. But when it’s filled with Holy Water it is anything but to these creatures. It’s a lethal weapon.

            He’s descending on me now. His sharp canine teeth are exposed. He’s reaching, his hands white and bony, his fingers, long, slender and claw-like. I have just enough time to angle the pistol at his face and pull the trigger.

            A streak of water jets out and hits him square in the face. He jerks back, throws his hands to his face, screams. It’s a shrill, piercing scream and I have to cover up my ears to protect my eardrums.

            He collapses on the ground, writhes in agony, kicking up the long-undisturbed dust. His face is sizzling. It’s giving off smoke. The holy water is like acid to them. And it’s the least they deserve. I have no sympathy.

            But there’s no time to waste spectating. I open my bag and pick out another stake. This one will have to be hammered in with a shoe if need be. I jump onto his chest, rip open his shirt. He’s in too much pain to resist. I grasp the stake in both hands and drive if into his chest. I’m surprised how easy it goes in. The shoe wasn’t even required.

            I can feel the stake pierce the creature’s heart. You can tell, it’s always softer than the rest of the flesh, and it gives easier. He roars and throws me off. I tumble against the back wall, cracking my head against stone. He struggles, his fingers clawing at the dirt. But the damage has been done. It’s already too late for him. By the time I get to my feet his face is dissolving, his body gurgling. Within the space of a minute all that will be left is a puddle of disgusting gunk, the nature of which I’ve never had the stomach to investigate. 

            And that’s it. I don’t give the creature another glance. I rub the bump on my head, wipe the blood off my lips. Then I leave, slamming the door behind me.

“Easy.”

Boiler Room

It’s a large room with brick walls, empty save for some rusting machinery and 4 long, narrow boiler piles at the other end. And resting on one of those piles is a figure. Lying on its back, I can tell straight away that it is one of them. He’s bald-headed, his skin is white, tinged with blue, his eyes are sunken and his face is like a pale porcelain mask.

            I shine my torch around the place, but there are no other creatures in here. He’s alone. I creep closer. My heart feels like it’s about to burst now. I’m in a cold sweat, and fear is clawing up my back. I’m fighting it, knowing that the creature isn’t likely to wake up. Not now, not in the height of day time. Even if he did, he would be at its weakest and I would have a good chance against him.

 Now I’m close enough to see his face. I don’t recognise him. This isn’t one I’ve come up against before.

            So Jamie’s not here. Now that I know this, I feel empty and crushed, but the disappointment is tinged with relief. There’s no time to dwell on it though, and my trip isn’t wasted. I pull off my backpack and take out one of my wooden stakes and a mallet. I place my fingers on the creature’s hand. It’s ice cold. I gently lift it off his chest. Then the other hand. There’s no flicker of wakening in his face.

            He is wearing a dark overcoat, which is buttoned up to the top. I can scarcely breathe as I finger the top few buttons through their holes. One by one, I move down, constantly checking his eyes. Finally I unbutton the shirt underneath, exposing his bare chest.

 I grip the stake hard. I tuck the tip right between the ribs, just above the heart. Only now, as I’m raising my mallet to strike, does the face move.

The eyes open. Eyes that are searing, venomous, spewing with fire like the gates of hell itself.

Underworld

            I’ve been walking for a while now. Exactly how long I’m not sure. It’s easy to forget. You’re treading from sleeper to sleeper, and you’re concentrating on moving the torch from side to side to scan the tunnel. You’re doing this over and over again. It gets you into a rhythm. But I must have come at least a mile inside. I keep thinking it can’t be far now.

            Eventually, it opens out and I reach the place I’ve been looking for. It’s a station, one that was abandoned decades ago.   

I pull myself up onto the platform. My gloves are covered in thick dust. I wipe it off, watching it swirl in the torch light, gathering and swooping like a cloud of underground insects. I creep my way along the platform. The only sounds to hear are the soft padding of my trainers on the ground, and my tense, shallow breathing.

            I stop there for a second. I’m imagining standing there 70 or 80 years ago, before the line was closed down and the station shut forever. I imagine the place thronging with people waiting for the next train. And the stern, tidy figure of a conductor in a peaked cap standing watch at the head of the platform. All ghosts of people long dead.

            There’s an exit half way along. I edge inside. There’s a corridor. To the right, there’s a set of stairs heading up to the surface, but they’ve been bricked off at the first landing. There’s also a set of stairs going down. The stairs have mostly collapsed. There’s a heap of rubble and mangled iron on the next level, fifteen feet below.

This is the kind of dark hole that I’m searching for. I know how those creatures think, and this is a perfect place for them.

It’s a good thing I’m prepared. I reach into my backpack. I uncoil my rope. The iron railings at the top of the staircase are flaky and crusted over. They’re like rusting stalagmites. But they are still solid enough to support me. I tie the rope around the strongest of them, then pull on my headtorch. After testing my weight, I lower myself slowly down.

            As I’m descending, I flash back to the night Jamie was taken. Jamie, my best pal. My brother. Only the two of us knew the secret. We’d fought those creatures together. Then, just when we thought we had won and we were safe, one of them came in the night, appeared at my window when Jamie was staying over. I’ll never forget his face, pale and hateful and with staring red eyes. He hypnotised us both, then he stole Jamie away. The final words the he uttered before his face disappeared into the night still shivered me to the bone.

“He’s mine.”

             I tried telling the police the truth, but of course no one would believe me. It was the computer games, they said. They’d made me imagine things. And they took one look at Jamie’s broken family life and came to the conclusion he’d just run away. So they stuck him on the missing persons register and then forgot about him. No one is looking for him now. It’s just me. And I’ve sworn I’ll never give up.

             I halt for a moment, my heart surging with adrenalin, as my headlight picks up two red pinprick eyes in the dark. Then it turns and scurries into the darkness. Just a rat.

            There are three doors down here. Each of them made of solid wood. The paint is flaking and they are covered in a thick layer of dust.

            I try the first door, but it’s jammed solid. I shine my torch around the edges. Dirt is ingrained into the groove between the door and the frame. This door hasn’t been opened in some time.

            The second doorway is less solid. I charge it with my shoulder. A crack of wood, and it splinters open. I scan my light around the walls. It’s a gents toilet, except all the fittings have been removed. There’s nothing in here.  

            The final door is different. I can tell that it’s been used recently. Even just by the finger prints on the door frame. I grasp the handle firmly and push it open. Blood is pumping in my temples now. All the time I’m thinking of Jamie, What if he really is here? But what if he has already turned into one of those things? What if he doesn’t remember me? What if it’s too late to rescue him, and I have to kill him instead? I put such thoughts aside as the door creaks open.

Would you like to see my world?

Every town and city has them: dark, quiet, forgotten places. Places for those that don’t want to be found. Places where they can hide.    

             I can show you. I can show you everything. But there are some things you should know first. You’ll need to be ready, because you’re going to change. Everything about you is going to change. You’re going to change your life, drop out, lose your friends. You’re going to have to hide things from the people who love you, even become a stranger to them. You’re going to have to become someone you don’t like. A loner.

A killer.

Yes, a killer. It’s hard, but it’s for the best.

You’re about to leave everything you know behind. Everything that’s safe and familiar. Your warm and cosy existence, the noise and the traffic, the bustling shops, the brightly lit streets, the warmth of knowing other people are never far away. You’re going to turn your back on it all, because where you’re going society has no reach.

             So follow me now, as I cut under the feet of the shoppers and the office workers. Don’t linger as we pass through the rubbish-strewn back alleys, the dimly lit underpasses. These aren’t the places I’m talking about. We need to go deeper. Down into the depths. Underneath the streets, under the cellars, even the sewers .

            You’ll soon find yourself in another world. A world of darkness, dampness and rats. A world of despair. A world of death.  

So now you’re here. The underworld. And you’re about to step into my shoes. Are you sure you want to see? Come then. Just one foot in front of the other, the easiest thing in the World.....