Cuckoo

  When he first saw the building they were driving toward, Richard was a little surprised. Unsure of where they were, he could only really place the area as the same style of suburbia as Fontside Avenue. Perhaps it was Richmond, for that was shouting distance from Wimbledon and within easy reach of the city itself.

  The building that loomed before them was no semi-detached home. Surging from the left-hand side of the road was a gothic Victorian schoolhouse. It was derelict on the outside, a lonely victim of some education cut or other. A large clock tower on the near wing poked a crude finger at the sky, overshadowing the two-storey schoolhouse sheltering beneath it. Much of the window glass was long gone, and the arch of the double doors at the front was firmly chained shut. It was the chain that told Richard this was the last place on earth he would see. It was bright new steel. Not rusted, not aged, but gleaming. A fresh plaster on the scar of the building.

  His guess was immediately proven correct, as the car swung into the playground through iron gates that hung open on twisted hinges. Coming to rest before the square thrust of the porch, the creature allowed the hum of the engine to die before turning to face him.

  “Out.” It said nothing more, exiting itself. Alex hesitated for a moment, unnerved by the situation. With a tiny, bemused shake of his head, he opened his own door and climbed into the night. Richard went last, curious and eager. The creature was standing by the doors, slipping a key into the heavy padlock that bound the chain. With a twist, the metal links were free.

  “George, what the hell are we doing here?” Alex was wary, the paranoia that had festered in him since becoming Summers finally being put to good use. She turned to him, her face open.

  “Trust me Greggie, I know about this place. I’ve got friends here who you have to meet.”

  “Why don’t we go straight to the police?”

  “We will, but he’s just a little piece of the puzzle isn’t he? We’ll find the rest here.”

  Still Alex hesitated, his pinched face childlike in the light of the streetlamps. “George, how do you know this?” Richard was surprised that the thing had remained patient this long, for it still showed no sign of irritation.

  “Babe, please. We haven’t got much time. I promise it will become clear, okay?” That much, Richard believed, was true.

  Alex finally consented. Stepping forwards, he grabbed the door on the left and heaved hard. Scraping across the ground with a screech, it revealed a dark nothing within. Georgina smiled and gestured.

  “After you, boys.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  DARKNESS

  For a few moments after Richard stepped into the darkness he was aware only of the damp musk of the air and the shelter from the wind which the large porch offered. After a moment or two, his eyes began to adjust to what little light spilled in from the outside. Of his surroundings he could discern little, although he was certain that the space was empty. The walls stood out as straight lines of more solid dark, and he thought he could make out the hollow of a doorway at the far end of the room.

  “Forward.” He shivered at the proximity of her voice, just a foot or two behind his ear, and began a broken stumble through the gloom. Pain had become a familiar thing, the certain knowledge of his impending death making him more willing to accept it. Though his crippled feet spiked him as he progressed, he was able to walk without whimpering.

  A shuffling sound to his left made him jump, but the looming shape was only Alex. Ignoring him, arms outstretched, he continued until the tips of his ruined fingers brushed the slick damp of the wall.

  Stopping there for a few moments, unwilling to go further into the building for fear of losing himself to the sheet dark, he waited to see what was to come. A muffled thump told him that Alex had also found the wall, then there was silence. Looking back over his shoulder, he was surprised by how little distance he had covered.

  Georgina remained in the entrance, her features in shadow, and for a moment Richard thought she would leave them there. The door would be sealed again, the rats would feast. Of course that was hardly the likely course of events. There were dozens of possible escape routes for them to take, including the many shattered windows he had noticed as they drove up. Though he would prefer not to wander the dark passageways in search of them, it would be the least of his recent trials.

  She turned, grasping the interior of the door with one hand and pulling. This time it came easily, screeching inwards as though recently oiled, crashing closed and sending echoes through the building. An almost comical gasp sounded from his left, and he imagined Alex comparing the weight of the door he had heaved open with the size of the girl he thought to be his mistress. Good for you, Richard thought, what does two and two make?

  With the door shut, the slight light it had afforded them was extinguished. A new darkness settled over the room. There were no lines to define walls, no shapes to be other people. Richard held his breath, afraid of the discordant whine of his own gasps. As an experiment he raised his hand in front of his face. Nothing. Bringing it closer and closer, he winced as he tapped it to his sticky, broken nose. An explosive hiss of pain escaped his lips, but he still could not see his fingers.

  Sounds were very important in this land of the blind, and the first to catch his attention were footsteps. It was Georgina, striding through the nothingness to meet them, yet the noise was gargantuan against the hush that so belonged in that place. Thoughts ran through his treacherous mind as she approached. She was about to take them, committing her brutal dual sacrifice and then walking away. Her London tasks would be complete, she would move on to plough of pastures fresh. Another seven results waited from the Summers Program.

  Despite his imagination’s best efforts, he knew it was not yet the moment of his death. All the hoops he had been pushed through, the efforts that had been devoted to his suffering, could not possibly be for something so small.

  As if to validate his point, the footsteps passed him on his right – somewhere between himself and the last place he had known Alex to be – and he knew she had gone through the door. As her footsteps receded into what may have been a corridor or large room, her voice called back. “Wait.” That was all.

  With no warning or time to prepare, he had an opportunity. Not knowing whether he had seconds or hours, he turned his head in the direction he hoped Alex might still be.

  “Run.” No response, just the black abyss staring back at him. “Alex? For fuck’s sake, run!” Hating the silence for making his whispers shouts, he waited for a reply. Again, nothing. Wondering if his friend was still there, whether perhaps he had followed the creature through the invisible doorway, he tried again. “Alex?”

  “Don’t call me that! My name is Gregory Summers! Gregory fucking Summers!” Even that hushed, violent whisper sent an echo around the room, or perhaps it just echoed round his mind, singing the death march of each Greg Summers who had gone before them.

  “Fine, Greg then. But listen to me, you have to get out before it comes back for us. Before our time runs out. It’ll kill us Greg, destroy us, enjoy our suffering…”

  “Shut up!”

  “Enjoy our suffering. You have a chance. For God’s sake, go!”

  A pause, a brief silence for the darkness to fill. Then Alex’s voice again. “You’re lying.”

  “No. I’m sorry, but I’m not.” Why was he being so obstinate? “I’m telling you it means to kill us.”

  “Who…”

  “Hell, think man! Who do you think I’m talking about? Georgina! Why has she brought us here? Why has she left you alone in the dark with the man you think has destroyed your life? Why does she have the key to that padlock? Just think it through. You’ve seen what she’s done to me. I could tell you more, but Greg, you don’t have time! She’s finished with us. We’re together in the same place. It’s the endgame!”

  “I…I don’t…”

  There was no warning of her return, no echoing footsteps to rise above his harsh whispers. One mome
nt he was listening in frustration as Alex pieced together a frightened reply, the next he was doubled over as his groin shattered in steel-solid agony. Fingers wrapped around his testicles, nails biting in with eerie superhuman strength. Yet the pain was nothing compared to what he knew he would experience if that grip tightened further. She could crush him. A strangled whimper fled his lips, and he wished the rest of him could follow it.

  “George?” Alex said. “Is that…”

  Both men gasped as a sudden light passed through their eyes to the pain centres of their brains with razor-edged intensity. She had brought a torch back with her, though it felt like she held a ferocious infant sun in her grasp. For a confused second Richard didn’t know what hurt more, his enveloped scrotum or his blinded retinas. The latter passed as his vision cleared, and he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that she would just let him go.

  “Be quiet Alex. Your turn will come.”

  “Alex? What…” Without releasing her hold on Richard, she swung her free arm backwards, connecting with Alex’s midriff and knocking him with stunning force against the crumbling plaster of the wall. Emptying of air with a violent rush, his chest rose spasmodically outwards in an attempt to refill the sudden vacuum. He was not certain, but Richard thought he had heard the sharp crack of ribs popping loose. There was a whimper, and a rasping crackle as Alex fought to breathe.

  Then all he knew was sweet relief as Georgina relinquished her hold of him. Light-headed with the sudden lack of pain, he dropped to his knees with a convulsive sigh. Alex no longer mattered to him, he wished only to kneel and relish freedom.

  Her voice shackled him again.

  “Up. Or I will hurt you more.” I can’t, he wanted to tell her, I can’t even feel my legs. Knowing that his pathetic moans made him a crying child, he pushed the comforting floor away from him with rubber arms. A guttural grunt blew from his mouth as he forced himself to kneel, putting unwanted pressure on his groin. As he paused to gather himself for the effort it would take to stand, she bent and hauled him to his feet. Reaching out on instinct, he grabbed her shoulder to prevent himself collapsing again. Recoiling from the touch he had instigated, he took step backwards. Her predatory smile disgusted him, as did the realisation that she knew of this repulsion and was using it to unsettle him. Resolving himself to show no more weakness, he stood his ground and met her stare.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and was just in time to catch Alex’s arm as it began to launch towards her. It would have been an ineffectual blow. Richard stopped it with ease despite his wounds, grabbing Alex’s wrist before he could connect. He had no intention of allowing her to be angered further. “Stop. She’ll only hurt you more.”

  Alex met Richard’s steady gaze. Seeing the fresh resolve there, he nodded, taking a less aggressive stance. Whether he thought that Richard had a plan, or whether he simply accepted the futility of action, was uncertain. It was irrelevant to Richard, who now wished only to hear his answers.

  Turning back to her, he raised his eyebrows. In answer, she directed the beam of the torch through the doorway, into the room beyond. Leading Alex by the wrist, surprised that the taller man was prepared to allow the imposition, he stepped through.

  It looked to be the main hall of the building. Even with the limited light available from the torch he could see how derelict it had become. At some point there had been squatters there, and blankets still lay spread along the floor of the stage at the far end of the room. Shuddering, he cast a glance at the creature following them. It was easy to imagine what could have happened to those derelicts. Feeling sick at the thought, he remembered the vagrant in the photographs on the study wall.

  There was no light from outside, for the high windows were boarded up. Even during daylight hours the darkness would be complete. Along the walls of the large room were numerous doors. It was too dark to be sure, but Richard assumed that some would lead to corridors while others were the entrances to long abandoned classrooms. Unsure where to go next, he stopped in the middle of the room and looked back. Though he could not see the creature for the dazzle of the torch, it could see him. The beam flicked to a door on the right.

  “There. Then the last on the left.” Hesitating for only a second, he trailed through the thick dust on the floor. In the torchlight he could make out the remnants of other tracks, some fresh, others older and less distinct. Following those footsteps, he felt himself joining a huge and inevitable pattern.

  Through the frosted glass panels in the top half of the door, he could see a corridor stretch away from him. He pulled the reticent Alex after him. Every muscle he had just wanted to stop, to collapse and end. All that kept him moving was the knowledge that he was approaching the closure he sought.

  Down the corridor he went, noting that it was less than two men wide. Doors passed on either side, broken glass from their small panels crunching underfoot. When they reached the end of the corridor, he saw the clean patch on the floor beneath the door on his left, where opening it had swept the dust aside. Tracks vanished beneath it, but when he turned the handle he found it locked. Again he turned to the glare of the torch. Shooting Alex a brief glance, worrying at the glazed look in his eyes, he addressed the creature.

  “Locked.”

  “Most of the derelicts stay in the hallway. Some like to wander.” There was a metallic flash as the torchlight gleamed off a small object, and Richard caught the key that flew towards him. Shrugging, he slid it into the lock and opened the door.

  Stairs led down to darkness, but at the very bottom there was a thin slash of light. Richard reasoned it to be leaking under a door. A door to a well-lit room. God, he was so close now. Taking the stone steps with care, he began to descend, terrified of losing his footing. How idiotic to come this far and miss the answers because of an accident.

  Safe at the bottom, he turned to the door he had known would be there. The creature whispered from behind him. “The same key.” Richard searched for the keyhole with his fingers. His anxiety rose, the hushed tones of the creature replaying in his head. With a shock, he knew that he had heard awe in that voice. Awe, respect and...and fear? Feeling cold sweat trace the contours of his spine, Richard wavered. Did he really need to know the reasons for his suffering? He had thought the creature to be the worst of what he might face. Now he was less sure. Some of his composure leaked from him, panic reclaiming a foothold in his gut.

  “Why the delay?” Panic, it seemed, did not prey on him alone. There had been an edge to the voice more terrified than authoritative. With his horror mounting, Richard realised that his fingers had found the keyhole. The thing was right, he had no reason to pause. He considered running, just turning and rushing past the creature and Alex, fleeing until the strength was gone from him. The notion lasted for less than a second before his common sense intervened. He was injured, exhausted, probably incapable of running back up the stairs even if he tried.

  It came down to a simple choice. He could stall until the creature lost patience and dragged him kicking and bawling into the room, or he could hold his pride. Despite everything that had been taken from him, all of the pain and violation he had endured, he could better the thing that had inflicted it.

  Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and walked through.

  Blinking while he adjusted to the light, he barely registered the huge, old-fashioned boilers set against one wall. These were not what arrested his attention because, incongruous as it seemed, the world’s biggest fish tank sat squarely in the centre of the room. The thing was almost as tall as the ceiling, a good twenty feet high, modern and impressive. Rubber pipes ran to it from an equally large machine sitting flush with the left side of the glass cube. This looked to be a container of sorts, similar to the huge steel crates that carried cargoes across oceans, with a small control panel set in the front. From the bottom of the glass tank, more tubes ran into a small steel cylinder standing a few feet in front of him. Next to this was a metal trolley bearing a l
aptop. There was an ominous set of what looked like intravenous drips attached to the cylinder.

  Was that it? Were they to be bled dry, his and Alex’s blood mixing in the tank to be used in some ungodly sacrifice? He shook his head. It felt too…well…too medical to be arcane apparatus. Where were the altars and mystic circles? Maybe he was being naive, but it felt wrong. Taking a few steps into the surprisingly clean room, he continued his awed inspection.

  A startled gasp made him whirl round. Alex had lost his hopeless, disorientated demeanour. Richard turned to see what he was looking at. Behind them, against the wall in which the door was set, there was a small camp bed. Jennifer was lying on it.

  She looked terrible. Pasty white, her skin was clammy, waxy and thin. Since he had last seen her just a couple of days ago she had lost an enormous amount of weight. Her cheekbones stood out in an alarming attempt to break through her paper face. Her neck looked incapable of holding her head up, the muscles having atrophied to the point of uselessness. Blankets concealed the rest of her from sight, but Richard guessed that ribs were thrusting painfully through dying flesh, arms and legs were stick-thin, hips jutted up like shark fins.

  Despite knowing that she was not who he had believed, the Summers part of him still wanted to rush to her aid. What had the creature done to make its slave so pitiable? Was it a punishment? Perhaps an entertainment? Disgusted by what he felt and saw, he turned his head away.

  It was because he did so that he noticed the creature, still in the guise of Georgina, enter the room. To his shock he watched it cringe back against the wall. Knowing that Alex was paying no attention, he heard the thing mutter under its foetid breath. “They’re here. I’m sorry I was longer than planned. Please…” It trailed off, head lowered as though accepting a scolding from a stern headmaster. Stunned at this show of weakness, Richard turned back to Jennifer. Had it been talking to her? She seemed asleep, but...