The Reunion

  The smell of used fireworks filled the air and there was a long pause of silence as Stuart looked down at his victim.

  He waited a few moments before pulling the trigger a fourth time. The gun clicked but nothing happened. He was out of bullets.

  Bleeding heavily from his chest and gurgling as he struggled to breathe, Patrick’s mind was, once again, back in the old bag's house. The image of her distorted face burned in his mind.

  #####

  Harvey James got to his feet and grabbed the two empty mugs from off the coffee table. He asked the reporter if he would care for another and invited the young man to follow him through to the kitchen. Jacob picked up his voice recorder and satchel and followed the old man down the hall.

  The kitchen was very spacious and was linked to a large conservatory. The room was split into two distinct areas. To one side, nearest to the conservatory, was a breakfast table; to the other was the main kitchen area with a wide worktop dividing them. It reminded Jacob of the American kitchens he’d see on TV.

  There was a row of swivel stools tucked beneath the worktop and Jacob slid one out to sit on, placing his satchel and voice recorder on the counter.

  The electric kettle was already half full and the old man flicked it on as he continued his story.

  #####

  "Back to Patrick being shot!" he said. "Stuart had just used his last bullet and Patty Boy was struggling to breathe."

  "Patrick looked up at Stuey and slowly stretched out his arm so that his old friend could help him to his feet. His eyes were filled with hate and fear.

  “How could we have been so cruel to her?” he said wincing, blood dribbling from his mouth.

  With a hefty pull he was standing up but was forced to lean onto Stuart as he steadied himself. His face brushed up against the charred flesh on his neck.

  “All kids can be cruel Patty boy!”

  By now, Patrick had to agree that the curse must be real and that he should be lying dead on the floor.

  The situation was surreal and completely overwhelming.

  He hated himself and he hated his friend but, above all, he hated the evil old hag for cursing them.

  He was still young. At twenty nine he had his whole life ahead of him.

  His hopes and dreams had been shattered; the plans with Julie lay in tatters.

  His anger and hatred for Stuart had initially masked some of the pain but, as he stood looking at Julie, the pain began to escalate.

  Tears fell from his sorry eyes.

  Only moments earlier he was setting up home with Julie and now his life was over.

  Julie was in shock of course and refused to speak for a long time.

  She just sat and listened to them talking and formulating their plan.

  It wasn’t long before Stuart had convinced Patrick that the only way out of the nightmare was to pay each of us a visit.

  Dave had married but was still living in the area, Stu knew where, and Patty Boy knew where to find Gaz.

  Their plan was simple. A gang reunion was called for."

  #####

  The kettle boiled and Harvey made the tea.

  Jacob spent a few moments to look back through his notes, mulling over the story that Mr James had told him so far.

  "When did the police get involved?" he enquired.

  He felt that, to make the story credible, it must link back to records of the events. He had to be able to join the pieces together to prove it to be true.

  "I suppose that would have been at the fire Stuart was in."

  "Was it a big fire?"

  "Yes."

  The old man shuffled to the fridge to replace the milk.

  "Did it make the papers?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened?"

  #####

  For a moment or two Harvey was quiet. He slid both steaming cups across the counter and made his way around it to join the reporter on one of the stools. The heavy scent of petunia oil wafted in the air as he passed him by.

  "It turned out that he owed money to a loan shark." he explained, sliding backwards up onto the seat.

  "Two collectors had cornered him in his bedsit demanding a payment.

  He declined so they poured petrol over him as a scare tactic.

  Normally, at that stage, the client would throw the money they owed at the collectors but Stuart had other plans.

  He pretended to fetch them the cash from a shoe box in the bedroom but instead was getting his father's old service revolver. He shot one of the men in the face as he returned to the room but the gun, being old, created a spark that ignited the petrol fumes he was doused in. He burst into flames and within a blink of an eye was a raging fireball.

  Through the heat that had instantly engulfed him he managed to shoot the second man twice, killing him. Within seconds the bedsit was an inferno and he floundered about the room trying desperately to escape and igniting everything he touched.

  He couldn't see the door but managed to spot the light from the window.

  By now his hair was gone, his clothes had fused to his body and his skin was bubbling. He crashed through the window falling two floors into a skip below. He woke up under a white sheet in a hospital morgue with a ‘John Doe’ label tied to one of his toes.

  He leapt off the table and ran straight to the skip to retrieve his gun before heading to Patrick’s house."

  #####

  Jacob scrunched up his face in disgust.

  "Nasty!" he winced.

  "Yes, very." agreed the old man.

  The bogus reporter looked back over his notes.

  "So, just to recap!" he said, changing the subject back to the story in hand. "The seven of you got cursed by an old woman when you were kids and the curse was that you couldn't die until each of you had received some kind of fatal blow. Is that right?"

  The old man thought for a few seconds and then nodded. "That about sums it up, yes!"

  "Die together or not at all?"

  Again, Harvey nodded.

  "So, did the police stop them before they got to you?" he enquired.

  Harvey James gave a wry smile.

  "Not exactly!" he replied.

  He gazed out into the garden for a few moments before saying. "You see, Julie and I had been lovers for years!"

  Harvey glanced at Jacob to check his response at the revelation.

  Back then, an affair was something to gasp at, nowadays it was almost expected.

  The reporter raised one eyebrow, showing mild surprise.

  "The woman in the photographs?" he enquired.

  "Yes."

  "That's how you knew what had happened at Patrick’s house?"

  “Correct.”

  "She called me as soon as they'd left the house." he explained. "giving me time to get my head around it. I was the only one who had moved out of town and it made sense that I would be last on their list. I had to come up with a plan. I had no intention of cutting my life short for anybody!"

  The old man sipped his tea and looked out into the garden thoughtfully. He was quiet for a long period and Jacob began to feel uncomfortable.

  "What did you do?" he asked eventually, getting tired of waiting.

  "What would you have done?" enquired Harvey. "Given the fact that your old friends were coming to kill you, what would you have done?"

  The young reporter shrugged his shoulders. "Run?" he offered.

  Mr James smiled and shook his head. "And leave everything you'd worked so hard for behind, the house, the job? No!" he said, his smile dropping.

  "My plan was better than that!"

  Mr James swivelled the stool around so that he was facing Jacob directly, a fresh wave of petunia oil wafted towards him.

  "Having a large house with a concrete basement came in handy!"

  The old man grinned at the young reporter.

  Jacob frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, not quite catching on to what the old man was getting at.

  "I mean! Having a large
basement with no way out made my plan an easy one!"

  Jacob's eyes widened as it dawned on him what the old man was saying. "You mean this house?" he asked, solemnly.

  Harvey smiled and nodded.

  "You're saying that they're locked up in the basement of this house?"

  Harvey continued to smile and nod his head.

  Suddenly, behind the fake tan and false teeth, the old man did not look so friendly.

  An icy chill ran up Jacob's back. The thought of the men being in the house had instantly spooked him.

  "Are they still alive?" he enquired.

  "The last time I checked, yes!"

  Another juddering shiver ran through Jacob's body inducing the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

  "And when was that?"

  "A few days ago"

  "But, I thought this story was old.....you know......The distant past!"

  "Past and present!" the old man answered. "I did tell you that at the beginning"

  Jacob quickly tried to work out how long they had been down there but the mild shock had made simple mental arithmetic seem very difficult.

  "Mr James had said that Patrick was twenty nine. He knew that the old man was now eighty six so that meant that the gang had been locked down the cellar for fifty six, fifty seven years!"

  Jacob began to feel a little nauseous as he glared back at the old man.

  "I don't believe you!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. "I think this story is a load of crap!"

  Harvey James hastily put down his mug and slid off the swivel stool.

  He grabbed the reporter's sleeve to prevent him from leaving.

  The young man was obviously upset but the last thing Harvey wanted was for him to leave before he had finished his story.

  He tried to reassure Jacob that there was nothing to fear and promised that, once he had finished his story, the young man could call the police.

  "Please!" he pleaded. "Let me finish before doing anything rash!"

  Jacob stood motionless and looked at Mr James. He felt uncomfortable and was now strangely afraid of him. It was not difficult to imagine this mild mannered man suddenly turning into a frenzied, knife wielding, maniac.

  "You really have them in the basement?" he asked again, hoping for a different answer.

  Harvey nodded but this time without smiling.

  He suggested that they both be seated again so that he could continue to explain his sinister tale.

  "Now you can see why I haven't gone to the police" said Harvey, struggling back onto the swivel stool. "They would never have let me explain."

  "I have to be honest with you Mr James!" said Jacob, his heart still pounding heavily. "I don't think I believe you anymore!"

  The old man gave a little chuckle. "I'm not surprised!" he said, getting comfortable and swivelling around to face the counter. "I hardly believe it myself."

  He took a few sips of tea and then looked back at Jacob.

  #####

  "I knew that to preserve my life I would have to trap them, keep them together somewhere out of harm’s way.” he explained.

  “Having a basement made my plan an easy one.

  It was surely an awful thing I was planning to do but it was the only way out for me, it was do or die and I had to try something.

  I threw a couple of old blankets and pillows on to the basement floor and stood there in total darkness thinking of a way to lure them down into what would become their cell, their tomb.

  The room was awful, cold and damp and I nearly changed my mind. I couldn’t believe I was capable of such cruelty, such evil.

  It wasn’t long before they found out where I was and I watched them struggling up the driveway towards the house. They looked a sorry state. Stuart led the way. The guys were supporting each other in one way or another. Patrick was helping to steady Carl who had obviously had his throat slit. His light blue shirt was plastered in bright fresh blood. Fat Rich, who didn't look that fat any more, was helping Dave hobble up the path. Dave had been stabbed several times in his chest and he too was smothered in blood but his was darker and more congealed.

  It wasn't until they had neared the house that I could see dark bruising around Rich’s throat from being strangled to death.

  If it hadn't been so close to Halloween I think that the police would've been called by someone freaking out at the sight of them. But as it happened no one took a blind bit of notice. Luckily for me.

  My heart was racing and I was sure they'd be able to hear my nervous breathing from behind the kitchen door when they got into the house.

  I stood as silent as I could and listened.

  I had left the front door unlocked for them to push open and could hear them whispering to each other as they entered the hallway.

  The heavy trap door, which had been closed and bolted for years beneath the large rug in the Dining room, was wide open and waiting for them as they entered the room. I'd left a small radio playing softly on the mantelpiece so that it would draw their attention and as they made their way in I began my delusive ploy.

  I had hidden the receiver to a baby monitor I had bought especially for the occasion in the basement so that when I spoke from inside the kitchen my voice would be heard coming from the basement.

  I simply said 'Who's there?'

  I had hoped that, if I was lucky, at least two of them would go down to get me. I knew that not all of them would and had prepared myself for a confrontation, that part of my plan was inevitable. My trusty eight-iron was on standby

  Once they had all disappeared into the dining room I crept from the kitchen and into the hall. I peered into the room and watched as they congregated around the hatch.

  Eventually, Rich began to make his way down the basement followed closely by Dave. They called after me and I had to return to the kitchen briefly to give my reply before scurrying back to watch.

  Carl was leaning over the hatch talking to Rich and Dave, asking if they could see me. I heard Fat Rich call to me.

  “Where are you!?” he asked.

  It was pitch black in the basement which I knew would buy me time. They would be forced to creep around feeling their way as they went.

  “Over here.” I said, briefly ducking back into the kitchen to answer.

  When I looked again Carl had gone down to join them leaving just two of my old friends to tackle. Stuart was standing as stiff as a board as he looked down into the blackness, listening. He was holding onto Patrick’s shoulder for support and they both had their backs to me. I knew that I had to do something right at the moment. The basement is not that big and they would soon realise I wasn't down there. I took a deep breath and bolted towards them. I pushed Patrick in the back and he crumpled forward, flopping awkwardly across the hole before falling, head first, into the blackness. Stuart was knocked sideways from the force and he crashed awkwardly into the fire surround before falling to knees. I heard his burned skin split as he fell to the ground and he let out a god awful cry as his joints popped like French loaves. Thinking quickly I dropped the golf club and grabbed him by his hospital gown and dragged him towards the gaping hole in the middle of the room. I heard a heavy thud and the sound of more skin ripping as he hit the flagstones below. I managed to close the heavy door just as Dave's face came into view. The bolt was slid into position and I’d got them, my plan had worked!"

  #####

  The old man was smiling again making Jacob uncomfortable.

  "Shortly after that Julie moved in with me and we lived unhappily ever after." he continued, looking down at his mug of tea.

  "Did Julie know they were down the cellar?" asked Jacob, frowning.

  Harvey nodded. "Yes!"

  "That her ex boyfriend was trapped beneath her feet?"

  The old man nodded again. "Of course!"

  "For fifty seven years?"

  "I know it's hard for you to understand but, they were after my blood. They were dangerous and would have killed her to given half the chance, Pat
rick would have made sure of that because of her affair with me!"

  "I see!"

  "We couldn't sell the house and move away and we couldn't have friends round because they might have been heard. Believe me, it hasn’t been easy living here with them rotting in that basement for all this time."

  "Rotting?"

  Again, Mr James paused thoughtfully before answering

  "It’s weird but, being dead you'd think that their bodies would eventually decay and fall to pieces” he said, eventually, “but the curse prevents that from happening. Instead they go through several weeks of decomposing and, once they reach a certain stage, it stops and the rotting process reverses. They revert back to the state that they were in when they died but, after each episode, they do appear slightly worse than before but, that could have something to do with them not washing!"

  "Is that why the place reeks of petunia oil?"

  Harvey nodded. "The smell of death has soaked into the whole house, even upstairs in the bedrooms, and I use the oil to mask it."

  Jacob was silent for a few moments. He slid his hand into his satchel and grabbed his camera. He had bought it with him to take a snap shot of the old man to go with the article but now he had other ideas. He still found it hard to believe the old man's tale but knew that if he had proof, photographic evidence for instance, then no one would be able to question its authenticity.

  "Could I see them?" he asked.

  The old man cringed his face in disgust. "I don't think you'd have the stomach my young friend!" he said. "They're nearing the end of an episode and the sight would shock even the most hardened of pathologists."

  "But photographs would prove that the story was true and not just fantasy!" Jacob answered, excitedly. "I need proof if people are to believe me!"

  A few moments elapsed before the old man turned to face Jacob.

  "Very well!" he said, sliding off the stool "But I will go down and take the photographs not you!"

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. It didn't matter who took the pictures as long as he had the proof he needed for his story.

  "Fair enough!" He said.

  Jacob followed Mr James back out into the hallway where they stood outside the door to the room opposite the one they had been in earlier.