The guard rail, buckled from years of weathering, was the first to go. It sprung backwards with the force of metal snapping, shattering the windshield. Glass flew forward, shards piercing the boy's staring eyes, followed by the metal pole itself which shredded his cheek, tearing at the flesh while all the time he smiled. The car plunged forward, tossing the boy to the side, the handbrake twisting and cutting into his stomach. With a hollow crack like a bullet, a branch punctured the passenger side door, sending the car spinning in the other direction, slamming the boy back against the door, pinning him into the vehicle. The bonnet hit a tree, crumpling in concertina fashion, the engine block crashing backwards. The radio began to splutter, flicking through stations unprovoked like a schizophrenic music hall. And as on the road, hidden by the blind right bend, a deer capered off into the woods, the boy in the car let out a sigh of relief as the destroyed vehicle came to a halt, his broken body finally at rest.
A piece of sharp metal was pressing into Kayleigh's hip. She shifted, the cold steel rubbing her flesh, threatening to break the skin. The old man looked at her moodily, sighing through his loose false teeth. Kayleigh focused on a liver spot on his gnarled hands and tried to move her chair to the right. One of the wheels was stuck; it had been since shift started. Unable to comfortably move, she resorted to totaling up the man's shopping. The till rang up, Kayleigh voiced the amount owed, the old man fumbled with his wallet and handed her a tenner. The cash tray opened, catching her right thigh. Kayleigh suppressed a curse. The man stood, waiting for his change. His skin looked pale and waxy. Kayleigh felt her stomach knotting.
The overhead lights were pulsing in time with the old man's breathing -in and out, in and out- and Kayleigh blinked once, twice. The man coughed, his fake molars rattling in his head. He rustled the thin ShopSaver carrier bag and cleared his throat. Kayleigh wasn't sure what he was waiting for. There was a pressure on both sides. She looked down. The till was open, the man's tenner lying atop a handful of grubby pounds. Change. She stuck her hand in, every movement causing the drawer to press against her, tight pinching pressure. The metal on the other side was digging in, leaving a groove. She imagined tiny pools of blood forming where the cash desk, sharp from years of hard graft, cut into her side.
Three pounds, a twenty pence, a five, the drawer closed and the man was gone. It was only as his raincoat disappeared into the crowd that she realized she'd given him too much.
"You alright babe?"
Kayleigh looked up to see Imogen enter the staff room and sit beside her. She'd been staring into her coffee, watching the tiny bubbles spiraling. The cup was burning into her palm, sending a pleasant heat down her forearm.
Kayleigh half-turned her head. Imogen was leaning forwards. Kayleigh shifted so their eyes met, then gave a half-smile.
"Just one of those days I think," she said. There was still a red crease in her side. If Imogen noticed, she didn't say anything. Self-consciously Kayleigh put her cup down and pulled on her top. Maybe it was time for a sweatshirt; the staff lounge was cold enough anyway.
"You were miles away out there," Imogen told her. "Didn't you see us waving?"
Kayleigh shook her head. Had she? She couldn't really recall anything beyond the bubble of her cash desk, her chair, her till... never really paid much attention anyway. Imogen was always getting reprimanded for talking on the job; to customers, to other staff, to herself maybe. Kayleigh loved her for it, but it wasn't the kind of thing she ever did herself.
"Stuff on your mind?"
"Stuff on my mind," Kayleigh confirmed, although she couldn't recall what. She felt Imogen's hand on her shoulder. For a moment Imogen's palm bled cold, ice water creeping from her fingertips and flowing through the thin material of Kayleigh's shirt, drilling into her shoulder. Then the feeling was gone and it was just Imogen, her touch warm and comforting. Kayleigh reached out and brushed Imogen's blonde hair from her eyes. Brian, the manager, was always on at her about her fringe. Imogen smiled and brushed it back.
"He'll have your ass," Kayleigh warned. Everything was starting to solidify again. The chair felt a bit softer, the room a bit warmer. She laughed, more at herself than anything else.
"I can handle Brian," Imogen giggled. Imogen was younger, just out of college, and thought she was invincible. Kayleigh hoped she was.
The clock on the wall ticked, counting down the seconds.
ShopSaver was part of a shopping complex just outside the city. Some, like Imogen, lived in Glasgow and commuted by bus. The city council had set up a park and ride scheme in the vain hope that people would leave their cars at home. Not many did, and as such the car park for the complex was usually full, even as Kayleigh finished her shift at 7. The staff had a small car park around the back, just space for a few vehicles.
Kayleigh stood in that car park now, eyeing the gouge down her Escort's passenger door. She'd almost forgotten. That morning she'd clipped the entrance gate, denting the metalwork. She shrugged and walked around to the driver's side. It wasn't as if the car was a showroom model. Even so, as she navigated the small automobile out the gate she took exceptional care to line herself up just right. There was plenty of space either side. The gate had never posed a problem before.
Kayleigh pulled out of the complex and onto the main road. In one direction lay Glasgow, the bustle and light of the city just beginning its renewed evening vigor In the other, the scrubland, country lanes and forests leading to villages. This was Kayleigh's direction, her route. She drove the first mile automatically, her hands working the wheel in silence, just the purr of the engine breaking the revere. Few cars went this way and soon Kayleigh noticed her speedometer creeping over 60. She slowed; the winding, overgrown roads were coming up as the sun fell in the sky. She looked around, a copse of trees sprouting up from the familiar fields, every trunk a steadfast soldier.. Kayleigh reduced her speed even further, glancing into the rear view mirror to ensure no irate motorists were tailgating. She was alone.
Up ahead, the forest on the left descended into a deep, tree-filled drop. The road curved to the right. Soon the trees would be ending. Until last month, Kayleigh had never even spared a thought for this road. It was just what it was, that blind right turn leading home.
Now, nobody could take that turn without stopping to think.
Subconsciously, Kayleigh reached down and flicked on the radio. Static, of course. There was never any reception under these trees. They'd silenced many a tune sung aloud in the car.
Up ahead, against the freshly-repaired barrier, the wreath. Ryan spelled in flowers, colorful like him. He'd been Kayleigh's longest-running colleague at work other than Brian. He'd been her friend, too. And Imogen's. Ryan had been everyone's friend.
Nobody would know, Kayleigh had accepted, what happened that night. How Ryan lost control on the route he took every damn day. What went through his mind as the car plowed through metal, off the verge, into space, wood, fire. For days after, Desmond had cried on her shoulder, asking over and over again for reassurance that Ryan hadn't taken his own life. Kayleigh had no truths for Desmond, so she'd lied and told him no, she knew he wouldn't have. Lies, perhaps, but only because you never know. There'd been an uncle years ago, seemingly happy, he'd done it, but Desmond didn't need to hear this, Desmond needed to know that he'd been enough to keep Ryan alive, that Ryan loved life.
As she drove past the wreath, the regularity of the journey keeping her eyes dry, Kayleigh tried to convince herself. As the radio's static turned to music, she was believing once again.
Back home, parked up, squeezing past the neighbor's car to the alley. Jade Court was a neo-urban monstrosity, a granite boil sprung from fields and countryside. A four-block tenement, cleverly built in the middle of nowhere. 'Cheap housing, expensive view' had been the selling point. In reality the estate felt isolated, a blight to the nearby country dwellers and a prison to anyone unfortunate enough to end up there once the council acquired the flats as part of their housing plan.
The place had always
felt wrong to Kayleigh. The buildings were at the wrong angles. They jutted, they protruded, encroaching on one another like four Neds spoiling for a fight.
Ryan had lived in building 2, which Kayleigh now walked past to get to her own. The fact you could only reach 3 and 4 by edging down an alley of thirty foot walls was something the architect had neglected to consider. With shopping, or for some a pushchair, the alley was a gauntlet to be run only when necessary. Just another means of trapping the court's residents. Kayleigh tried not to look at the plain, bare wall of building 2 as she walked past, even as her shoulder brushed against the gritty brick, as her satchel rapped against the wall with a harsh knock. Foul-smelling water -or something worse- had pooled on the ground, the lack of sunlight ensuring that nothing dried like it should.
The alleyway ended like a sigh of relief and Kayleigh entered her own building. There was a front desk, but as far as Kayleigh knew no employee had ever been hired. The tenants looked after themselves.
Closed the front door. Walked up three flights of stairs to home. Fished around in her pocket for the keys. Nothing. With a sigh, Kayleigh put her bag down and headed back to the car.
Kayleigh wasn't accustomed to being home late. Incidents of sneaking in the door at one, two am as a teenager were in the past; she couldn't be so irresponsible now, and even if she could, she wouldn't. Kayleigh's mother wasn't accustomed to her being home late either, as was evident by the feeble yelling coming from behind her mottled white door.
"Kayleigh? Where are you? Is that you?" Mother called. Her voice was trembling. Kayleigh checked her watch. She was only ten minutes late. Nothing could have happened, surely? The nurse had been here until forty minutes ago... hadn't she? Kayleigh glanced at the mirror, looking for the carer's usual post-it note. There it was, today's date, everything okay.
"Kay!"
"You alright, Mum?" Kayleigh called, dropping her bag and hurrying to the bedroom door. Her elbow caught on a picture frame as she walked, almost sending the photograph toppling to the floor. She caught it just in time, stopped it from unhooking. Her own smiling face looked back, framed by Mum and Don, his arm around her shoulder. Kayleigh looked away.
Mother's room was dark as usual, the curtains pulled shut. After a day at work, the smell of stale sweat and illness always got to Kayleigh. Even now, in late October, the room was a hothouse. Mum wouldn't ever have the windows open, she was always freezing, even in summer. Right now she was sitting up in bed, shivering, her white nightgown vibrating against her pale skin. Kayleigh tried not to look at her red-rimmed eyes.
"Is it dinner time?" Mother asked. Kayleigh smiled at her and shook her head.
"You've had dinner, Mum," she said softly.
"But I'm hungry!" Mother snapped, one frail fist pounding the bedclothes.
"Would you like to read the paper?"
"I'd like some fucking dinner," came the terse reply. Kayleigh fancied that her mum's voice didn't even sound like her these days. She tried not to think about it.
After Don had died -dropped dead of an unexpected heart attack- Mother had changed. Grief, the doctor had said at first, but soon it was clear that something had broken irreparably. Dementia, Alzheimer's, they refused to pin a label on it, but something dwelt in Mother's head. First the mind went, and then the body, and by now Kayleigh's mother was riddled with more cancer than treatment could help. Kayleigh no longer mourned it. She'd made peace with who her mother used to be, and all she could do was help this woman, this dying lady in Mother's body, to be as comfortable as possible.
Kayleigh walked towards the dresser to retrieve the newspaper, catching her foot on the end of the bed as she did so. She swore under her breath, which caused her mother to tut angrily. "Stupid girl, no manners," she muttered, her thin finger gripping the bedclothes angrily. "It'll be the kitchens with you."
Kayleigh ignored her, sat down, and began to read the paper aloud.
Later, in her room, watching the old portable telly. The picture was grainy, the old aerial barely held together. Mother had gone off to sleep with a cocktail of painkillers and a shot of whiskey that if the doctor didn't know about, wouldn't hurt him. Kayleigh sat on her mattress, the bed feeling too small, too lumpy, just staring blankly at the TV, not really seeing anything, not really watching.
Kayleigh thought Mother was going blind. She'd thought so ever since the recognition had slipped from her eyes. Now when Kayleigh entered the room, she was met by a blank stare. The doctor said it was to be expected. Kayleigh was sure it was eyesight-related. Her mother used to be able to read the paper, to read her books, even do the occasional crossword. Now she just sat, staring at nothing much, just the cracked and peeling wallpaper.
Kayleigh finished telling Imogen all this, who responded by taking a long swig of water. She didn't speak for a while. Kayleigh didn't expect her to. Imogen wasn't the best with serious things -talk about music, clubs or gossip and she'd never shut up though- so it took her a while to enunciate an appropriately sympathetic reply. They were sitting in the staff room, Kayleigh's break nearly over and Imogen's shift about to begin.
"Do you think reading glasses would help?" Imogen asked. Kayleigh shook her head. Her hair felt annoyingly rough, chafing against her cheek.
"Can't get her to try them on," she explained.
Imogen, clearly at a loss about how to continue, suddenly hugged Kayleigh.
"You know I'm always here babe," she reassured. Despite being a few years younger, Imogen always made Kayleigh feel temporarily normal.
That day, Desmond came into the shop. He paid at Kayleigh's till. A queue was forming behind him as Kayleigh asked how he was doing. She rang up his purchases with her staff discount card, knowing it's what Ryan would have done. Desmond claimed he was doing alright. His shopping made Kayleigh sad. Buying for one, microwave dinners and cheap booze when before he'd come in to stock up on fresh ingredients. Ryan had been a great cook. Kayleigh said nothing about this. She could tell the other customers were getting edgy. Nobody liked to be kept waiting. A woman in the line was breathing heavily, whether from annoyance or exertion Kayleigh wasn't sure. She tried to look as Desmond was saying something, something about television or the weather or Glasgow, something noncommittal. The woman wasn't even paying attention, her eyes turned towards the magazine rack where the predictable, surreal soap of Peter and Katie was being played out. Kayleigh too found her eyes drifting to those glossy faces, fake tans and highlighted hair, waxwork smiles on unhappy faces. The metal edge was pressing into her side again and Kayleigh put off opening the till, knowing that once again it would trap her as it had with every purchase that day. Someone at the back of the line moved across to Imogen's checkout. Imogen was laughing with a young mum who struggled to keep her toddler under control. Nobody behind them was getting irate. The till had once been Ryan's; Imogen had moved so 'a stranger didn't take his place'. Kayleigh appreciated this. She wasn't sure if she could stand seeing anyone else there. She thought of this as the till opened, pinning her in.
Desmond was saying goodbye. He'd packed up his shopping and was going.
"Sorry for the wait," Kayleigh said to the next-in-line.
The dent in the passenger door looked like an ugly scar. It bothered Kayleigh more than she'd expected. The paint had been skimmed off, leaving a metallic gouge in the red. She tried not to look at it as she tossed her bag into the seat, smoothed her shirt and shut the door. The driver's side was pristine, unchipped and undamaged. Kayleigh got in and waited for the car in front to pull out before carefully navigating out the gate. As she left the complex, she flicked on the radio. A show of songs she'd once liked, last summer's number ones, caused Kayleigh to sing along. She lost herself as the complex vanished on the horizon and the trees began to sprout.
Her singing was interrupted with a crackle. White noise, the setting sunlight filtering through the trees. The blind corner up ahead bearing Ryan's name. Kayleigh drove forward and turned carefully, her hands working in tandem, leav
ing Ryan behind.
The tenements stood tall, fronting, telling Kayleigh something was wrong. Mother had taken a turn. Had a fit the nurse said. She was okay though. Just shaken. The nurse, a girl Kayleigh was sure she'd been to school with but who denied this, had waited with Mother until Kayleigh got home. The doctor was just leaving.
"She'll be fine," he told Kayleigh, his bald head shining in the fluorescent light in the corridor. Overhead, a moth buzzed, trapped in the light fitting.
"Thank you," Kayleigh said.
The nurse, who Kayleigh was beginning to think maybe she didn't recognize after all, sat with her for a while. Mother was asleep. Although she didn't say as much, Kayleigh disagreed with the diagnosis that Mother was okay. Her eyes looked that bit more glazed, her mouth a little more drooping. "It's to be expected," the nurse had said, "it doesn't mean anything" but Kayleigh wasn't sure. She'd given up mentioning her mother's eyesight to the nurse.
"Are you holding up okay?" the nurse, whose name was Trudy, asked. "It can't be easy with your dad gone too."
Don wasn't Kayleigh's dad, but the nurse didn't need to be burdened with that. "I'm alright," Kayleigh reassured her. Trudy kind of reminded her of Imogen, now that she thought about it. Maybe that was it. They were sitting on Mother's worn out armchairs in the living room. A framed portrait, from the same holiday as the one in the hall, hung over the fireplace. Something in one of the cushions was cutting into the small of Kayleigh's back, and no matter how she shifted she couldn't get comfortable. She hoped Trudy wasn't taking this as a sign of restlessness.
"You know you're eligible for more support?"
Kayleigh nodded. They were coping just fine, she thought. What would a night-nurse do other than make Kayleigh redundant? "The flat's quite small," she said.
"I was thinking perhaps residential care," Trudy replied. "A hospice. There are good ones. My gran spent her last year in one. The staff were lovely."
Of course they were, and of course she'd say that. Kayleigh had seen programs, read papers, she knew what went on. She didn't blame the people. Jobs were stressful, people had limits, but her mum didn't need that kind of care.
Trudy must have picked up on the lack of enthusiasm because she changed the subject. "You should get out, when was the last time you had a night out? I'm sure we could get cover for one night."
Nights out had lost their appeal since Ryan. Not that Kayleigh had been out in over a year, but the prospect had appealed through until Ryan was gone. No more did she hear about weekend jaunts, crazy days in the city and nights out on the circuit. Nothing now. No point.
"I should do, yeah," Kayleigh told her. Trudy seemed placated by this and smiled.
"I'll leave you to it, then."
The old man was back in ShopSaver and this time he'd brought coupons. Every time he removed a folded bit of paper from his wallet, he had to hold it up almost against his nose to scrutinize it. Kayleigh offered to help, but the man just snorted. His skin looked translucent, mucky white like a candle, his mottled hair the dirty yellow flame. It should have been white too. He handed over his prizes; free washing powder, one pound off frozen burgers, buy one get one free toilet rolls. Kayleigh grimaced inwardly as she scanned his can of sardines. Don had eaten sardines, straight from the tin. They'd reminded her of wading the river as a kid, the slimy minnows that darted and nibbled at your toes. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Imogen had harangued Brian in the staff room, demanding he sort out Kayleigh's till space. He'd duct-taped the sharp edge, which had already worn away, but the chair seemed fine when all but Kayleigh sat on it. In the end Imogen had offered to swap chairs, but Kayleigh had refrained. No point.
Over on the other till, Imogen was dealing with a spillage. Someone had dropped their McDonald's cup, contraband in the store anyway, onto the conveyor belt. She was frantically trying to clear up whilst addressing the other customers, grabbing at her shirt to stop the dark cola dripping onto her uniform. Kayleigh looked at her own queue. No chance of going to help. The old man was putting the last of his shopping into the bag. Kayleigh took his money, opened the till, breathed in, took out his change and handed it to him wrapped in the receipt. He unfolded it and stood there reading it, no doubt checking his discounts.
"Get it on," a lad muttered somewhere from the back. Kayleigh hoped he knew it wasn't her fault. The old man clucked, his dentures rapping. Obviously everything was kosher because finally he thrust the receipt into his bag with a sigh and shuffled off. The queue moved once more.
Imogen was on her break as Kayleigh left. She'd come out into the car park and was admiring the scratch in the car door. "Looks pretty nasty," she said. "Hey, my cousin does bodywork. I'm sure I could get him to knock a few quid off."
"You're a love," Kayleigh replied, squeezing her shoulder. Just past the wall of the car park, the sun was dropping in the sky, sending sharp darts of orange light into Kayleigh's eyes. "It does look bad, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. How did you do it?"
Kayleigh pointed at the gate. Imogen raised her eyebrow. "Not exactly a tight spot, is it?" she teased. Kayleigh tried to smile but shivered instead. She was freezing.
"I gotta get back inside," Imogen told her.
The radio was playing one of Kayleigh's favorite songs as she drove. Her fingertips were drumming on the steering wheel and she sang. It was getting dark earlier now, outside looking like a grainy picture on the portable. A plume of smoke was rising from a farmhouse in the distance. Kayleigh had seen the house a thousand times. The smoke was a sign that winter was setting in.
She barely noticed as she reached the trees and the radio crackled. Her song cut out mid-line and Kayleigh braced herself, waiting for the moment she'd emerge from the trees and resume her listening.
Faint sound poured from the speakers. A Scottish, music-hall voice crackling with white noise. A cheerful singer, rolling his Rs. Kayleigh frowned. The radio was picking up another station. "A roamin', in the gloamin', wi' my lassie by my side...". Kayleigh reached down for the volume, silence was better than this. The music didn't stop. The radio had frozen, the display stopped, showing the previous frequency. Even the clock had stopped. She glanced at her speedometer by the steering wheel. The car was most definitely moving, but not according to the display. She could still hear the engine though, purring along over the music-hall man who was now talking about tea and kettles. Kayleigh realized her eyes were off the road and quickly straightened. The patch of color, Ryan's wreath, should be just up ahead. She saw nothing. Had someone removed it? Vandals? Ryan's mother? Kayleigh drove forward, her chest suddenly tightening, then hit the brakes.
The road curved to the left, a smooth gradient instead of the sharp incline. The right turn was entirely gone, the road smooth and worn, no sign of the regular path. In fact, where once had been road stood trees, the tallest in the copse. They looked hundreds of years old.
Had the council done this? Changed the entire road overnight? Given in after one too many accidents on the blind bend?
Something about this didn't look right to Kayleigh. The road looked too normal. There was no sign of recently tarred ground, the trees did not look freshly planted. A cold terror crept into her heart. And something in the trees, a deer or something brown, was darting past the car, heading in the direction of the new road and its strange left turn. That road, that route that she'd taken hundreds of times, but no more.
What was there to do but turn left?
The trees thinned out, as they always used to, but instead of the tenements rearing up on the skyline she saw bare fields and scrubland. Nothing seemed right. The car's display was still frozen and now the radio was playing up even more, the old music hall voice skipping and cracking like a scratched record. The sun had set now and in the twilight Kayleigh could barely see. The headlights weren't working. Up ahead, the road opened slightly into a grassy verge. Maybe it was time to stop. Just the place. Kayleigh navigated the car to the left and rolled up onto the grass. It was only as she
turned off that she noticed the road's width; barely enough space for one car, let alone two. On the other side was a drainage ditch, or some kind of drop.
Kayleigh alighted from the car, her feet pressing into the soft grass. It felt spongy, more so than it should. Too organic and vaguely alive. Kayleigh shuddered and realized she was freezing. Her coat was at home, only her thin work shirt protected her from the bitter night air. Surely from here, she should be able to see the tenements? Weren't the country folk always complaining about a blot on the skyline?
The moon was out, almost full, and cast enough light for Kayleigh to be sure no such building could be seen. A lump was building in her throat, threatening to turn into a sob or a scream. This wasn't the route, this wasn't reality. Something brushed her ankle. She looked down. An insect ran past, pink and quivering. Kayleigh kicked out, grabbing for the car door handle, a cry bursting from her lips. She dove into the car, slammed the door, snatched up her bag. No cell phone of course.
There was no other choice; she had to turn the car around, to go back the way she'd come, head back to the shop and find out what was going on with the road. But even with the grass verge, and her small car, there was no way to navigate a turn without plummeting into the drainage ditch. Not with the headlights out anyway. Maybe if she carried on...
Something tapped on the window. Kayleigh screamed slightly then turned. A moth, almost the size of a sparrow, was beating at the glass. Kayleigh closed her eyes, started the engine and drove.
It was impossible to know how long she'd been driving. The display was still frozen, the road still too thin to turn. No more grass verges had presented themselves, no possible turning points. Kayleigh tried not to think about her mother. She'd be okay, wouldn't she? She'd been given stronger pills, they knocked her out, she'd be alright, she'd cope...
Houses. There were houses up ahead. Lights. Was it a village? As Kayleigh pulled into the tiny circle, it was clear that this gathering of dwellings was too small for such a title. A hamlet, then. Kayleigh remembered that from school.
Past the houses, the road disappeared to god knows where, but the circle of houses provided the perfect place to turn. The houses were all roughly identical, quaint suburban constructs at odds with the rough countryside. Lights were on in some of them. Maybe one of the inhabitants had a phone. She could call the nurse, Trudy. She'd given Kayleigh her number. Ask her to check on Mum, perhaps. Yes, Kayleigh decided. She'd stop.
It was warmer here, as if the houses themselves pulsed with heat. In the center of the circle stood a large sundial, now cloaked in shadow. An animal stood by, grazing. Was it a deer? Kayleigh strained her eyes. It looked like one, brown with white speckles, not bothered by Kayleigh's presence. Its face was down, chewing on the grass. Kayleigh walked away quietly, unable to suppress a smile.
She headed for the nearest house. Halfway up the path, Kayleigh felt a chill up her spine. Someone was watching her. It was only when she reached the porch steps that she saw the girl, sitting on a swinging seat, looking at her. Dark brown hair hung over one half of her face, the other pale but smiling. Kayleigh brushed past the ivy trailing up the porch and rounded on the girl.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hi," the girl replied. Her voice was warm, quiet.
"Are your mummy or daddy home?" Kayleigh asked. "I'm lost."
The girl giggled. "I got lost once," she offered up. "Out in the moorlands. Mummy was worried about me."
Kayleigh crouched down to face the girl. "You know what it's like then," she said kindly. "Are your parents about? I need to call my mum so she doesn't worry."
The girl laughed again. Something about her made Kayleigh feel uneasy. Her visible eye stared just past Kayleigh, into the darkness. Then Kayleigh realized; the girl was blind. "Mummy's inside," the girl told her. "She won't be happy if we go in though. I've been sent out here because I was bad."
What a cruel punishment, Kayleigh thought. Sent outside in the freezing cold, no coat, and blind to boot.
"What did you do?" Kayleigh asked conspiratorially. Something drove her to befriend the girl; if she could find an ally, this place would feel a bit less lonely.
"I let the cat out," the girl replied. "I was brushing my hair and wasn't thinking." She sounded sad.
"Oh that doesn't sound much of a crime to me," Kayleigh said. "Is the cat still out here?" The girl nodded, the hair over the left side of her face rustling. She brushed it away. Kayleigh reeled backwards, almost falling as she saw the girl's jaw and cheek. Necrosis had set in, the muscle and tissue of the girl's face eaten away by some degenerative condition. Leprosy maybe, or just an infection? The girl's teeth were visible through her cheek, and her other eye was white and huge, the socket rotten and raw with scar tissue.
The girl sniffed, obviously aware at Kayleigh's reaction. Then she smiled. Her cheek flexed, revealing the inside of her mouth. "My face got frozed," she said. "On the moorlands. Mummy says I can't go to big school now."
Kayleigh had to stifle a sob. The poor child. Her mother had no idea how to treat her. Locked outside, taunted? She would help the girl.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sure you can," she told her softly. First things first though. "Is the cat still out here?"
The girl surprised Kayleigh by hawking and spitting on the porch. "That cat," she said. "Don't wanna find it. Forget it. I'll wait here for Mummy."
"What's your name?"
"Donna."
"Well, Donna," Kayleigh said softly. She could tell this was a situation not to get involved in. Maybe once she found the road, got home, checked on her mum, she could ask Imogen for advice. Maybe. "Well, any idea who might have a phone?"
"Try Mrs. Grant." Donna stood up and pointed. Kayleigh tried to follow the direction, but the girl's blindness meant she was pointing down the road.
"What number is it, sweetie?" Kayleigh asked. "It's dark."
"Erm... it's a two, or four... or seven. But one of them is Mr. Block. Don't go to his. Mr. Block is a nasty man. He shouts at kitty." Donna sat back down and began singing to herself. Kayleigh got the impression she'd been dismissed.
"Thanks sweetheart," she said, but Donna was away, staring into space.
Two, four or seven then. Kayleigh surveyed the house numbers. Six houses, from left to right, 115, 93, 209, 33, 889, 351. This wasn't normal. Again, that sickness was building in Kayleigh's throat. If it wasn't for the clarity of vision, the bite in the air, the gravel of the road crunching underfoot, Kayleigh would have thought she was dreaming.
The first house she tried was 209. Something about 93 put her off. A dark sense of foreboding. Was this Block's residence?
209 was empty, despite the lights shining from the living room window. A sign on the door proclaimed as much. "Vacant, waiting for my owner" and a smiling face. Cute, like a child's writing. It made Kayleigh's head hurt. She glanced back at her car, at her bag. Was it safe there? The deer was gone, no longer grazing by the sundial. No wonder. Her conversation with Donna must have scared it off.
At number 33, footsteps sounded when Kayleigh knocked. The door was flung open by an elderly woman wearing a knitted sweatshirt. She was a foot shorter than Kayleigh and gazed up at her in something like awe.
"Mrs. Grant?" Kayleigh asked. The woman shook her head than began to sob, loud wet cries. She reached out and touched Kayleigh's face, collapsing forward. Kayleigh caught her in her arms.
"I thought you'd come for me," the woman gasped between sobs.
"I'm... sorry," Kayleigh muttered, taken aback. Was the woman upset with her? "I'm looking for Mrs. Grant. Donna told me she has a phone I can use."
The old woman suddenly yanked herself out of Kayleigh's embrace. She stamped her foot once and shrieked, her mouth opening wide. As Kayleigh stumbled backwards down the porch steps, she saw the woman had no teeth, her mouth a dark red gash. The woman shrieked again, shorter this time, then threw herself backwards, slamming the door. Kayleigh heard a bone-crunching thud from inside the house, followed
by a dozen or so thuds and knocks, then the sound of feet running up stairs.
Kayleigh's heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing heavy. It had all happened so quickly, too quickly for the creeping terror to set in, but now the door was closed Kayleigh's head was spinning. Behind her, the car seemed awfully tempting; she could get back in, drive home... then she remembered the turn. The road. How would she even get there? If indeed it led back to the shop in the first place. What about mother? No, Mrs. Grant must be about.
With new-found resolve, Kayleigh headed to the next house.
The door to number 889 was black and looked to be seeping. The paint had run imperfect, drying in teardrops that shone in the glow of the wall-mounted porch light. Kayleigh hesitated before knocking; there was no knocker and she'd have to rap the door. She almost expected her hand to come away slick, but the surface was surprisingly warm and dry. The knock reverberated loudly through the house, causing a bird to take off from the roof, squawking angrily. Kayleigh looked up, tracing the bird's flight path with her eyes. The creature looked more like a bat, bare sinewy wings beating the air, but it had a beak, clearly. It disappeared out of the light just as the door was opened. A familiar old gentleman stood before Kayleigh. The wax-skinned man from the store.
"Oh, hello," Kayleigh said, taken aback. A familiar face, even his, was welcome here.
"Good evening young lady," the man replied. "How can I help you?" His voice sounded different, totally different. English rather than the gruff Scottish she'd heard before, and his ill-fitting dentures were no longer obvious; there was no slur, no wet sound to his tone. Even his skin looked more alive, his hair white rather than yellow. But it was him, no mistaking it.
"I'm looking for Mr. Block," Kayleigh said suddenly. She hadn't realized it until she said so.
"Well you've come to the right place," the old man told her. He showed no sign of recognizing Kayleigh. His eyes were twinkling with curiosity, a far cry from the dull, rheumy wash of the man in the supermarket. "Mr. Block's the name. And who might you be?" He reached out his hand to shake Kayleigh's as she introduced herself. He had that same liver spot by his thumb. His grip was firm. Comforting. Kayleigh explained why she was there. "I have a phone," Block told her. "Do come in my dear."
Kayleigh followed the man into the hallway, closing the door behind her. From somewhere within the house, music was playing. It sounded like a gramophone. For a moment, Kayleigh expected it to be the song from the radio. It was hard to tell what it was. Something old.
The house smelled musty, like an old man. More like the old man from the supermarket, Kayleigh thought. This version of Mr. Block looked too clean, at odds with the smell. Kayleigh tried not to think about why the man had changed, or how. Nothing made much sense, and she couldn't shake the sense of gnawing dread in her stomach. Somebody was waiting for her, maybe... mother? Yes, Mum. She needed to use the phone, to call the nurse.
"In here, this way," Mr. Block said, opening a door. Kayleigh stepped through. The living room was warm, decked out in browns and oranges. It reminded her of childhood, of her grandma and grampa. There was a fire burning in the grate. All over the walls, black and white photographs were mounted in thin, ornate frames.
"Sit down, sit down, would you like a drink?" Block asked. Kayleigh's thoughts went to the phone. She looked around the room. Nothing, not even an old dial-phone. Maybe a drink would help. The heat from the fire was making her drowsy. She didn't want to sit down. Instead she walked over to one wall and began to examine the photographs.
"A glass of water would be lovely," she said. Block made his exit and Kayleigh was alone.
The photos were of a family, no doubt Block's based on the resemblance. They charted the life of the family, a young couple, the same couple with a baby, a toddler, a young girl blossoming into teenage-hood. Kayleigh noted that Block himself wasn't in any of the photos. Maybe he was an amateur photographer.
Eventually the couple vanished from the photos and the girl was the sole focus. Kayleigh suddenly realized her mistake; it was unlikely Block had taken the pictures. They were clearly from years back, pre-war maybe. The girl's fashion, the setting... Maybe it was his mother?
In one of the photos, the girl stood by a horse, one hand on her hip, the other on the horse's neck. She was staring at the camera, a smile on her face. She looked just like Imogen. Identical, in fact. Overhead, pipes began to grumble and moan as Block turned on a tap somewhere in the house. Then a bang and a yell, Block screaming at something.
"Are you okay?" Kayleigh called out, almost hoping Block wouldn't hear. She heard his voice somewhere in the back, calling out.
"Jus' that damn cat!" he shouted. "Always crawling around on my lawn."
Kayleigh swallowed and turned back to the photos. The girl definitely looked like Imogen. But it was only as Kayleigh leaned in that she took in the horse itself. The creature was emaciated, to the point where it should be unable to stand. One eye was closed, a deep gash across its brow, and in places the horse's hide was peeling off like old wallpaper. Kayleigh stepped backwards, gagging, and another photo caught her eye. A series, the bottom row. The girl again, only this time she was naked, her mouth swollen in a painful-looking welt. Her arms were behind her back, revealed in some of the photos to be bound. Thin gray streaks marked her body, either cuts or scars. Kayleigh stared. What was this? The girl's resemblance to Imogen only served to make the pictures seem all the more obscene. She wasn't underage, too posed for it to have been non-consensual, but something about the photos, the wounds (fake or real? Kayleigh wasn't sure), their prominence in a living room, it was wrong. Kayleigh went to turn away, the light from the fire reflecting on the glass of the pictures, just as the girl moved. She was sure. A step forward, a shift, the girl taking awkward, stunted steps.
Kayleigh turned away in horror, that sick feeling rising again. Block was standing directly behind her. She screamed, biting her tongue as soon as the sound escaped. Block was holding a glass in one hand, but quickly set it down on a coffee table and reached out to Kayleigh.
"My dear, you look terrible," he said. "Have a seat!" He guided Kayleigh to one of the armchairs and gently but firmly made her sit down. Kayleigh sank into the chair with a sigh. From here, she couldn't see the line of photographs, just the pleasant family portraits. Block smiled and sat down opposite her. "Water's there."
Kayleigh stared at Block vacantly. She'd come in here to do something, but could not quite recall what. Speak to someone, call someone? The phone. Block was smiling at her.
"Have a drink dear," he said. The glass was already in her hand. She didn't remember picking it up. She raised it to her lips and took a sip. It tasted strange, metallic. Kayleigh examined the liquid in the glass. The water was muddy, bits of grit and hair floating in it. There was a piece of pond weed caught on the side of the glass. Kayleigh reeled back, bile rising in her throat, smothering another cry with her hand. She slammed the glass back on the table, a tiny bit of water slopping out and dripping onto her fingers, which she snatched away.
"Problem?" Block asked. Kayleigh saw the phone on a table. How had she missed that before? It was a modern phone, a digital one. The display was glowing, the time reading 00:00. Block sighed.
"The water," Kayleigh said, regaining her manners. "It's dirty, look. I'm sorry, I can't drink this."
Block looked down at the glass, then picked it up and examined it closely. "I'm afraid I don't see anything wrong," he said, shaking his head in disagreement. "Drink up girl, you'll feel better."
The idea repulsed Kayleigh. She wanted to leave, wanted to go home, get into bed and have her mum read to her. She didn't want to be here. Block was thrusting the drink at her.
"I really can't, sir. I'm sorry."
In one swift movement, Block hurled the glass sideways. It spiraled through the air and shattered against the wall of photographs, splashing dirty water all up the wall. His eyes widened, his face taking on a feral appearance. Kayleigh shrank back i
n her chair as he turned on her, then smiled.
"Not to worry dear," he said, his voice threatening to break. Kayleigh's heart thudded in her chest. She had to get out of here. Forget the phone call, just go. She began to rise from the seat.
"Oh, my manners, here's the phone!" Block called out, also standing up and clutching the handset.
"Don't worry," Kayleigh muttered. She wanted to cry. Block rounded on her, thrusting the black phone forward, waving it under her nose.
"Take it!" he said. Kayleigh obeyed, afraid of another outburst. The phone shifted in her hand. Something was crawling out of the ear speaker. Those tiny pink insects again, quivering like pieces of flesh, spilling forth onto Kayleigh's fingers. She screamed, not holding back now, and threw the phone to the ground, beating her hand against her shirt to shake off the last of the bugs. Block stared at her, then shrieked with mirth, jumping up and down on the spot, grabbing and slapping at his own face. Kayleigh tried to back away but Block grabbed out, snapping his hand around her wrist. A thin film of drool had formed on his lower lip, which he licked away. He snapped his teeth at Kayleigh, most definitely his. Kayleigh thought back to the photographs, the bruise on Imogen's face, the welts on her body. She reached up and slapped Block in the face, more to shock him than hurt him. But rather than meeting flesh, her hand sunk into warm wax, Block's cheek folding over her fingers like a church candle. She pulled her hand away in alarm. Block's entire lower jaw, lumpy and dripping, came with it. One of Block's eyes slid from the socket, sliding lazily down his face into the handprint that Kayleigh had left behind. Kayleigh pulled away as Block stood there, laughter still pouring from his lips. She burst out of the living room stumbling down the hall to the front door and pulled it open. Fresh air flooded in like a slap. Kayleigh almost fell down the steps onto the path, then turned to look back at the house. Block was standing there, his face intact, although now older and more mottled, the man from the supermarket after all. He frowned at Kayleigh, reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of coupons which he tossed into the path. Spinning on his heel, he slammed the door.
Kayleigh gulped in breaths, her lungs burning. She had to go, back down that road no matter where it might lead back to. Back home, back to work, anywhere normal where she could think, get her head straight.
Outside of Block's gate, a small boy was walking back and forth. He was dressed in pantaloons and braces, stark white against the silhouette of the sundial. He was pushing something back and forth that looked to be a child's trolley, the kind Kayleigh remembered having bricks in. The boy glanced around at her, his pudgy cheeks creasing into a smile. The boy's teeth were like black pegs, rotting in his mouth. He pointed down to his trolley. It was teeming with the pink insects. They pulsated and flowed over some object in the tray. Kayleigh didn't want to stick around to find out what. She pushed past the little boy, sending him thudding to the floor. He began to bawl softly and Kayleigh almost turned back until she heard sly, grunting chuckles emerging from beneath his squeals.
Her car stood where she'd left it, untouched. It was a relief, even the gouge in the passenger door looked familiar, comforting. Kayleigh threw her bag onto the seat, slammed the door and quickly walked around to the other side.
A low, rumbling growl sounded from over by the sundial. A shape was moving in the darkness, hidden in the shadow the statue cast. Kayleigh couldn't see it and didn't much want to. She ducked into her car, slid the key into the ignition and gunned the engine. The car's display burst into life, the clock flashing, the radio blaring white noise. Pillars of bright white light burst forth, illuminating the circle of houses. That growl again. Unable to stop herself, Kayleigh looked over at the sundial.
A huge black cat languished at the foot of the dais, licking its lips. Under one paw was pinned the body of the deer, its abdomen torn open, guts spilling onto the grass, now slick with blood. But it was the deer's face more than anything which caused Kayleigh to reel in shock. A humanoid face, the eyes dead and white in their sockets. One cheek was torn off, revealing sharp pointed teeth. It was impossible to tell the face's gender. Kayleigh didn't want to know, didn't want to see if she recognized it. She was sobbing, fumbling for the keys, trying to gun the car. Her eyes blurred with tears, she barely heard the rapping on the window. Only as it became more insistent did she turn. Donna stood there, her hair over her face again now. She was looking sad. Kayleigh wound down the window and tried to collect herself.
"Where are you going?" Donna said.
"I have to go home darling," Kayleigh said, a sob escaping. Over her shoulder, she saw the black cat standing up. It was walking towards Donna. "Quick, get in."
Donna looked around with her sightless eyes, then, sniffed the air once, twice, then turned back smiling. "You found kitty!" she exclaimed, then leaned forward and kissed the car door. "Thank you."
"I have to go home," Kayleigh repeated. Donna stood too close to the car.
"There's an empty house here," Donna told her. "You can live there, and play with me and kitty and Billy and Judd."
Kayleigh didn't want to know who Billy and Judd were. But there was something in Donna's face, something at odds with the place, not as terrifying, not as unnatural... Kayleigh leaned forward and kissed Donna on the forehead. Her hair was soft under her lips. Donna stepped back as Kayleigh started the car, carefully navigated around the sundial, and drove away.
Kayleigh opened her eyes as she pulled into the tenements. The car clock read 19:59. She couldn't even remember getting here, what had happened at the blind corner, how long the journey had taken. It should have been hours.
Mum. Mum!
Kayleigh ran from the car, leaving the door open. She knocked against the alley wall, grazing her shoulder on the brick, paying no heed to her own pain. Forward, into her block, up the stairs.
"Kayleigh?" her mother was calling as she burst into the house. "Kayleigh, someone's come in the front door I think!"
"It's me, Mum!" Kayleigh called out. "I'm home. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine dear," she said. "Eating my dinner. Dinner!"
Wasn't it a bit late? Had the nurse arrived late? Kayleigh ran down the hallway and pushed open her mother's door gingerly. The smell was more unbearable than usual. But this was not what caused Kayleigh to stumble backwards out the room, her back banging against the wall, finally knocking the picture of her mother, Don and herself from the wall.
"That nice nurse brought me dinner," Mother said, proudly pointing to the writing mass in her lap.
At first, they looked like pink spiders. Pink spiders around her mother's mouth, on her mother's bed. They glistened and pulsated, squirmed and crawled. But it only took Kayleigh a second to recognize the bugs; worms, wriggling and sliding as her mother took another bite. She reached into the pile, pulled out another five or six and crammed them between her lips. She smiled at Kayleigh, revealing teeth stained with brown blood, chunks of pink flesh caught around her gums. A thin trickle of yellow entrails slipped from her maw, landing on her nightdress. Her mother chewed down as Kayleigh wretched against the wall, trying to banish the squelching sound of death from her ears.
The shop was hardly busy. It suited Kayleigh. Nothing felt real, nothing felt important or relevant. She looked out for Imogen but she wasn't around. Nobody seemed to be. Just the occasional customer. Kayleigh looked out for the waxy old man, or maybe Block, but nobody like him came by. At one point a mother and daughter turned up, the girl clutching a toy cat, but it wasn't Donna. Kayleigh found herself wondering if Donna was okay. Maybe after work she'd go and see her. It'd be easy to find the way again, right? Just turn left instead. Take a short drive out into the country. It's not like there was any reason to hurry home any more.
Kayleigh only realized she was in the car when she no longer felt the metal edge of the desk pressing into her. The radio was playing, a collection of last summer's number ones. Kayleigh sang along, tapping her fingers against the wheel.
Kayleigh drove, singing, kno
wing where to head. The trees sprang up down that not-so-familiar road. She wondered if she could reach the hamlet before dark this time, maybe see Donna in some natural light. Maybe even Mr. Block, if she could face him. Up ahead was the turn. The radio dropped to static. To the right stood a deer, its face knowing and humanoid. Kayleigh, staring forward, smiled and turned left to the future.
The guard rail, buckled from years of weathering, was the first to go.
X - Kissing Games