The House on Everley Street (Death Herself Book 2) Page 16

  “Before who comes back?” Sarah asked, turning to the darkness all around. “What is this place?”

  “This place,” the girl replied, “is your husband's sick little invention, and she isn't going to hold back for much longer, so get me out of here!”

  “What do you -”

  Before she could finish, Sarah heard a scrabbling sound nearby. She turned and looked toward the far wall, but when she held the flashlight out, the girl pushed her hand away.

  “No light,” she hissed. “I don't know how she'd respond to light. It might make her angry.”

  “Who?” Sarah asked.

  “Who do you think? John's grandmother.”

  “John's grandmother died twenty years ago,” Sarah replied, trembling with fear as the scrabbling sound continued.

  “Says who?” the girl asked. “John? Anyone else? 'Cause John seems like a pretty unreliable witness right now. Can you please untie me? I don't know if I can fend her off with this corkscrew for much longer.”

  Sarah paused for a moment, staring in horror at the girl, before starting to loosen the ropes around her legs and arms. “I don't know who you are,” she stammered, “or what's happening down here, but my husband -”

  “Has some serious mental problems,” the girl replied. “Oh, and my name's Hannah, and you're welcome. You can thank me later.”

  “For what?”

  “For all the help I'm going to give you.” As soon as she was able to pull her hands free, Hannah put the corkscrew between her teeth and started slipping the ropes from around her ankles. She muttered something, but the fork meant it was impossible to make out any words.

  “There has to be an explanation for this,” Sarah replied, pulling the last of the ropes away. “It doesn't make any sense.”

  “There is a explanation,” Hanna replied. “Your husband is a very sick man with some serious -”

  She stopped suddenly, before turning and swinging the corkscrew wildly toward the darkness, just as a human shape appeared briefly and then receded back into the shadows.

  “What the hell was that?” Sarah asked, stepping back against the wall.

  “I told you,” Hannah continued, finally able to climb down off the table. Keeping the corkscrew held out, she stepped toward Sarah. “That was John's grandmother. The one who was supposed to have died twenty years ago.”

  “But she did die,” Sarah replied. “Everyone knows she died.”

  “Oh yeah?” Hannah said, as they both watched a figure shuffling toward them through the darkness. “Then tell me who that is, because I can promise you one thing.” She held out her wrist to show Sarah a fresh bite mark. “It's sure as hell not a ghost.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Today

  “Sound-proofed room,” Hannah explained a moment later, as she and Sarah reached the other part of the basement and hurried toward the stairs. “At least, that's what he tried to do, but it wouldn't have worked, not if the old woman had been cable of making more than a few scratches. Fortunately for John, she was too weak after the stroke. There's a full hidden section down here, though, with a surprisingly sophisticated door. I've got to admit, I'm slightly impressed by what your husband was able to put together all by himself when he was still, what, a teenager?”

  “That wasn't John's grandmother,” Sarah replied, stopping at the foot of the stairs and looking back toward the hidden door. She could still hear movement on the other side of the false wall. “It can't be.”

  “I wish we could work out how to get the door closed again,” Hannah said. “There must be a lever somewhere, but I don't fancy searching for it, not with the old dear still on the loose. I kept her at bay with the corkscrew, but she never gives up. I guess she's hungry for something other than rat meat.”

  Sarah turned to her. “That is not my husband's grandmother in there! My husband's grandmother is dead!”

  “Maybe he thought she was dead at first,” Hannah explained, “when he first found her on the floor of her room twenty years ago, but in case you never noticed, John Myers is a slightly weird kind of guy. For starters, there's no record of his grandmother's death, and do you know why? Because he never called anyone after he found her. No police, no ambulance, no funeral home, no nothing. Instead, he brought her down here to the basement.”

  Sarah shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  “I don't think he even remembers that he did it,” Hannah continued. “He brought her down here, and he partitioned off a section of the basement, he even tried to sound-proof it. Pretty impressive for a kid working alone, but then I guess he's always been a smart guy. Some people just have a knack for this. He probably thought it was his own way of burying her, but whatever was wrong with her, she began to recover. I'd love to have seen his face when he realized she wasn't dead fter all.”

  “But where has she been for the past twenty years?”

  “In there,” Hannah replied.

  “That's impossible. Other people have lived here since.”

  “And they almost went nuts,” Hannah continued. “John's grandmother Elizabeth suffered a massive stroke twenty years ago, and probably several more strokes after that, which left her almost completely immobile. She couldn't talk, couldn't call for help, couldn't even bang on the walls, so the most anyone heard was a faint bumping sound, just enough to make them think the place was haunted. It took me a while to figure out how the old dear managed to stay alive, but there was just enough air getting through, and food was coming down through gaps in the wall.”

  Sarah turned to her.

  “It was a one-in-a-million chance,” Hannah explained, “but the guy next door has a compost heap that leaks through the soil, and that compost heap happens to encourage rats, and rats get pretty big and meaty. They found herself down here, and voila! Night of the living grandmother!”

  “That's impossible,” Sarah replied, trying to stay calm. “An old woman can't live in darkness for twenty years, with no-one noticing, living on rats and drinking, what, rainwater that leaks through? The idea's insane.”

  “No,” Hannah replied, “it's highly, highly, highly unlikely, but then I only get sent to check out cases that are a little off the wall. I wouldn't even have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. Thousands of people die on this planet every day and almost all of them go according to plan. Very occasionally, however, one gets complicated and I'm sent to -”

  They both turned as they heard a bumping sound from the other side of the wall.

  “This might not be much of a surprise to you at this point,” Hannah continued, “but I don't think the old woman's in a very good mood. She can just about walk. Not fast, but she can do it.”

  “Mum?”

  Turning, Sarah saw to her horror that Scott was watching from the top of the stairs.

  “Get into the kitchen!” she shouted, hurrying toward him and manhandling him through the hatch. “I told you to wait up there for me!”

  “Is there really an old woman in the basement?” he asked, before staring in shock as Hannah followed them up. “Who's she?”

  “She's -” Sarah paused, before turning to Hannah. “I... I mean, she's -” Another pause. “Who are you?”

  “I'm here to help straighten this mess out,” Hannah told them as she closed the hatch. “This is the kind of thing I deal with, deaths that haven't quite gone according to plan. Of course, I couldn't just rock up and ask John what was happening, he wouldn't have been able to tell me. His mind is basically divided in two, just like the basement. The normal John Myers, the guy you two know, has no memory of entombing his grandmother down there. The other side of him remembers, though, and sometimes it takes over, but only when it's needed, when it has to do something to maintain the illusion. There are a couple of dead bodies in the basement, I'm pretty sure that back in the day, a couple of people found out what had happened and he killed them. Not that he remembers doing that, most likely, but it happened. And his grandmother apparently
ended up eating their meat, which is particularly pleasant.”

  “No,” Sarah said firmly. “None of this is possible.”

  “He's always been scared of his grandmother's ghost lingering in this place,” Hannah continued. “That was his subconscious mind reminding him that she wasn't really gone. It's also why, without really knowing the cause, he felt compelled to buy the house back. As for the other families who lived here, I'm sure they heard just enough faint bumps in the night to start worrying about the house being haunted, and the human imagination took over from there. Babies are the most open to traumatic emotions, so any child who lived in this house would have sensed the horror much more clearly and...” She paused. “Well, that wouldn't have ended well.”

  “Where's Dad?” Scott asked. “Where's Katie?”

  “I don't know,” Sarah replied, pulling him closer and holding him tight, “but when we find him, he'll straighten all of this out. He'll tell us what's really happening.”

  “I already told you what's really happening,” Hannah told her. “You just need to pay more attention.”

  “My husband is not a monster!” Sarah shouted, with tears in her eyes.

  “No,” Hannah replied, “he's not, but there's definitely another side to him. I saw that other side a few nights ago, when I talked my way into spending the night here. When he led me into the basement, something changed in him. I could see it in his eyes, the other John took over. That was when he briefly remembered what had happened. Fortunately, I already had my suspicions so I'd armed myself with a corkscrew. He overpowered me, but at least the corkscrew allowed me to fend the old dear off while I worked out how to escape. I was just starting to get a little worried, but fortunately you guys showed up.”

  “You've been down there for days?” Sarah asked.

  “She's cautious and scared,” Hannah explained. “A good swipe with the corkscrew usually made her stay away for a few hours at a time. I could hear her eating rats, though. Crunching on their bones, sucking as much blood as she could from their little corpses. Not pleasant.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “You don't believe me?” Hannah asked.

  “I don't believe any of this!” Sarah shouted. “My husband's grandmother is dead, she's not -”

  Before she could finish, there was a knocking sound from the other side of the hatch, and the door shuddered a little. Just as it was about to open, however, Hannah stamped her foot down, keeping it shut, and slid the bolt across.

  “You were saying?” she asked.

  “Mummy, I'm scared,” Scott whimpered, hiding behind Sarah. “What's down there?”

  “I don't know,” Sarah replied, staring in horror as the hatch continued to shudder. “I... This can't be happening...”

  “People do weird stuff all the time,” Hannah continued. “John's not the first odd teenager. In his case, however, he's also got a pretty wild imagination, perhaps he had some luck along the way, and the unusual circumstances meant he was able to get away with it.” She paused for a moment. “There's no grave for his grandmother. No record of a funeral. John's father owned the house back when they lived here, so it's not like anyone else came and disturbed things when the old woman disappeared. John was able to fob people off, to claim his grandmother had been buried somewhere else. Why would anyone question him? He was all alone, just trying to survive, and I'm pretty sure that his head had been messed with from an early age. Someone should have caught on and realized what was going on, but no-one did. He was lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you want to look at it.”

  “He always said his grandmother was an awful woman,” Sarah stammered, staring down at the hatch. “He said she was cruel and mean.”

  “I believe him,” Hannah replied. “A little nature, a little nurture, and John's mind literally divided in two.”

  “My husband isn't mad,” Sarah told her. “He isn't!”

  “Yeah, well -” The hatch trembled again, as the old woman continued to try forcing it open from the other side. “We can debate the precise treatment plan required to get John back to full health later. Right now, we have to -”

  “He has Katie,” Sarah said suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Our other daughter. We were all at the carnival, and then suddenly he and Katie disappeared.”

  “How long ago?”

  “A few hours now, but he'd never do anything to hurt her. He loves her, he loves us all.”

  “Has he seemed different lately?” Hannah asked. “Short-tempered, maybe? Angrier?”

  “A little, but I assumed that was just because he was back here.”

  “And coming back here has reopened the scar tissue between the two sides of his mind,” Hannah continued. “I'm sure you're right, I'm sure he'd never intentionally hurt your daughter, but we still need to find them before he unintentionally hurts her. Your husband is very unstable right now.” She looked around for a moment. “I had a bag with me the other night. Have you seen a small, red satchel anywhere?”

  “I -”

  “Never mind,” she continued, “he probably put it in the trash so he wouldn't have to see it. Come here for a moment.”

  “Mummy, I don't want to be in this house,” Scott sobbed, pulling on Sarah's sleeve.

  “I know, sweetheart,” she replied, “we're going to -”

  “Come here!” Hannah hissed, grabbing Sarah's arm and pulling her onto the hatch, before stepping back. “Just keep pushing down so the old woman can't come up. I'm going to look for my bag, it's got some things in it that I need. I'll be back in a couple of minutes and then we can figure out how to find John and your daughter.”

  “But -”

  “Just keep a cool head,” Hannah said firmly, hurrying to the door. “And keep that hatch shut! Whatever John's grandmother might have been like before, she's just spent twenty years alone in the dark. Her mind must be gone by now.”

  “Wait!” Sarah called out to her, but it was already too late and Hannah had disappeared through to another part of the house. A moment later, the hatch shuddered again, and Sarah had to push down harder to make sure that it stayed shut since the bolt was already coming loose.

  “Who's in the basement?” Scott asked, squeezing his mother's hand tight.

  “I...” Looking down at the hatch, Sarah paused for a moment. “It's no-one, sweetie. It's nothing. Just stay calm, everything's going to be okay.”

  “And who's the other woman? Who's the one who came up with you?”

  “I... I have no idea.” Feeling a rising sense of panic, Sarah quickly reminded herself that she had to stay calm for her family's sake. There'd be time to sob and break down later, but right now she had to take charge and somehow find a way through the insanity. “It's all going to be fine,” she continued, forcing a smile. “Trust me.”

  “She's talking,” Scott replied, looking at the hatch.

  “What?”

  “The person down there,” he continued, his eyes wide with horror. “I can hear her whispering something.”

  “No,” Sarah said, “that's not -” Before she could finish, however, she realized he was right. Staying quiet for a moment, she listened to a faint, muttered whisper that was coming from the other side of the hatch, accompanied by a scratching sound.

  “What's she saying?” Scott asked, stepping back against the wall.

  “I don't know,” Sarah replied, before leaning down slightly.

  “Help me,” the old woman's voice could just about be heard saying, although her voice was dry and rough. “Please, let me out of here. I've been in the dark for so long.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

  “Is she evil?” Scott whispered.

  “I...” Sarah paused. “She's just an old...”

  “Please,” the voice continued, slurred and damaged, “help me...”

  “Don't,” Scott said firmly, his voice trembling with fear. “She's a monster.”

  “She's your -” Sa
rah began to say, before realizing that she couldn't even begin to explain properly. Looking over at the door, she listened out for some hint that Hannah was on her way back, but there was nothing.

  “Please,” the voice stammered from the other side of the hatch, “you have to help me. He... He...”

  “He doesn't want to hurt you,” Sarah replied. “Just wait and...” Her voice trailed off as she realized that she had no idea what she should tell the old woman. If it was all true, if John's grandmother had really somehow survived for two decades in a tiny, dark room beneath the house, she couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for her. “I can't let you out yet,” she explained finally. “I'm sorry, I just can't.” She turned to the door. “Hannah!” she called out. “Where are you?”

  She waited.

  No reply.

  “Has she gone?” Scott asked.

  “No, she wouldn't just leave us.” Looking back down at the hatch, Sarah tried to work out what to do. She knew Hannah had said to keep the door shut, but at the same time she felt as if she couldn't leave an old woman to suffer in pain. “Just wait a little longer,” she said, leaning toward the hatch. “Everything's going to be okay. We're going to get you out of there, it'll just take a few more minutes.”

  She waited for a reply, but after a moment she realized she could hear sobbing.

  “Is she crying?” Scott asked.

  “What's he done to her?” Sarah whispered. “I don't care how cruel she was to him, how could he leave her like this?” She turned to the door. “Hannah! Are you coming?”

  Silence.

  “She's so old,” Sarah continued. “She must be ninety by now.”

  She paused, before stepping off the hatch and reaching down to the bolt.

  “Mum, no!” Scott hissed.

  “She's a sobbing old woman,” Sarah replied, “and besides, she might know where John's taken Katie.” She slid the bolt across. Taking hold of the handle, she slowly began to pull the hatch open, and finally she gasped as soon as she saw the frail, withered old woman at the top of the steps.

  “Mum...” Scott said, taking a step back.