The Horror of the Crowford Empire Page 17

  “It's because I have something that I need to do,” the woman explained, “and... Well, let's just say that in my current form, I'm unable to do it. I need to leave this cinema, for one thing, which is hard for me. I also need to be able to move in the world of the living, to strike quickly. At present, everything requires so much effort, but if I could just borrow a body I'd be able to achieve everything I want.” She paused. “Of course, it'll take time to build up to that. Many years, perhaps. Do you think, Susan, that you might be able to help me?”

  “I don't know,” Susan said again, furrowing her brow. “Can I go now? Mummy and Daddy will be waiting for me.”

  “I'm sure they can wait a moment longer,” the woman told her. “People these days are always in such a rush, don't you find? They're always talking about trivial things, and they forget the virtues of the past. I think we could all do with slowing down, Susan, and being a little more reserved. A little more proper. Don't you agree?”

  “I just want to go back to Mummy and Daddy,” she murmured.

  “And you shall,” the woman replied, “but I think it'll be much more fun if you take me with you.”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  “I'll show you,” the woman said, moving her fingers closer to Susan's mouth. Already, her fingertips were starting to crumble into a kind of black smoke that was twisting its way between Susan's lips, entering her mouth. “It's okay, this might hurt for a moment, but then I'll be with you forever. Doesn't that sound like a nice compromise?”

  “I don't know,” Susan replied, as she felt the smoke starting to fill her body. “Stop. Please, I don't know who you are, but I just want to go back to Mummy and Daddy.”

  “A capital idea,” the woman said with a grin, as her entire body turned to a thick, noxious smoke that was now rushing into Susan. “I'll come with you!”

  ***

  Ten years later...

  Shaking violently on the floor of the hospital room, Susan felt an immense pain bursting through her chest, but this time she could tell that something was moving all through her body. She'd blacked out for a moment as she'd fallen to the floor, but now her mouth was open wide and she could feel something reaching out.

  She tried to scream, but already she was able to see a dark shape slowly rising up from within her body, and after a moment the shape turned to reveal its face.

  “You have been nothing but a disappointment,” Winifred Thorpe snarled, as the lights in the room continued to flicker. “Every second I wasted on you was just another insult that I have been forced to endure.”

  “Please,” Susan tried to gasp, although she was barely able to get the words out, “stop...”

  “All these years of wasted effort might not have been entirely in vain,” Winifred continued as she stood tall, and as the last vestiges of her smoky form rose from Susan's mouth. “I've learned a great deal. In fact, I see now that my earlier caution was somewhat misguided. I now know how to move so much more quickly.” She looked back down at Susan and smiled. “For that, at least, I should thank you. And now, if you don't mind, time is still pressing and I fear that tonight is my last chance to prevent another tragedy. Before the sun rises again, I shall have my revenge.”

  Susan tried again to beg her to stop, but in that moment Winifred's body seemed to break apart, turning to smoke and then dissipating until she was entirely gone.

  Letting out a groan, Susan somehow managed to grab the edge of the sink and haul herself up. As soon as she was able to see her reflection in the mirror, she could tell that something was different; she felt lighter, and emptier somehow, as if previously she'd been filled with a presence that had seemed to be a part of her. Only now, with that presence gone, did Susan notice the empty areas of her mind where it had always lived. For the first time in ten years, she was herself again.

  As tears ran down her face, she stared at her own reflection and realized that she wasn't entirely sure who was staring back. The face certainly belonged to her, but at the same time she felt as if she could somehow see Winifred Thorpe's absence. Although she was wary of reading too much into the change, she was increasingly convinced that there was something different about the way she held herself, as if Winifred had influenced her body and mind in thousands of tiny ways.

  “And now,” she suddenly remembered Winifred saying, just a few minutes earlier, “if you don't mind, time is still pressing and I fear that tonight is my last chance to prevent another tragedy. Before the sun rises again, I shall have my revenge.”

  “The cinema,” she whispered, as she tried to work out where Winifred might have gone, and what she was planning to do now that she was on her own. “I have to...”

  She hesitated for a moment, before turning and hurrying out of the room. Still wearing nothing but a hospital gown, and with a sharp pain in her belly from the fresh stitches, she was unable to run; instead, she shuffled along the corridor before reaching a turn and then looking around for a way out. Quickly spotting an exit, she hurried over and pushed the door open.

  “Susan?” Nurse Blain called out, having just emerged from one of the offices. “Susan Jones, is that you? Where are you going?”

  Looking back at her, Susan briefly considered trying to explain, but she knew that there was no point. As a cold night breeze ruffled her gown, she tried to think of something to say, and then she let the door swing shut as she hurried out barefoot across the hospital's car park.

  “Susan!” Nurse Blain shouted, hurrying after her. “Wait, you can't leave! Susan, it's not safe for you to go! Come back!”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  By the time she reached the seafront, Susan was shivering and clutching her side. The streets of Crowford were empty at three in the morning, and she hadn't seen a soul on her long walk into town. Now, stopping outside the Empire, she saw that the main door had been left ajar, and she immediately knew that something must be wrong.

  With waves crashing against the beach nearby, Susan hesitated before stepping forward and pulling the door open, and then she leaned through and looked into the dark foyer.

  “Hello?” she said cautiously, hoping that Sam might appear at any moment and explain that everything was okay. “Sam, are you here?”

  She waited, but all she heard was a strange, deathly silence.

  After looking over her shoulder to make sure that there was still no sign of anyone outside, Susan stepped into the foyer. She gently shut the door, although she immediately found that she could now barely see a thing. There was only one window in the foyer, which allowed just enough moonlight for her to be able to fumble her way across the room, but she still wasn't entirely sure where she was going or exactly what she was supposed to be looking out for. All she knew was that Winifred Thorpe's ghost must be around somewhere.

  Suddenly she heard a metal clanging sound coming from deeper in the building. The sound was brief, but as she turned and looked across the foyer she already knew that it must have been caused by something in the auditorium.

  She listened for a moment longer, in case the sound returned, and then she began to make her way toward the corridor. As she passed the open door to the office, however, she glanced inside and to her shock she saw a figure slumped on the floor.

  “Sam!” she gasped, limping over and dropping to her knees. Despite the increasing pain in her belly, she rolled him over and saw a bloodied wound on one side of his forehead. “Sam, wake up!”

  She began to shake him gently, and after a few seconds she was hugely relieved as he let out a faint murmur.

  “Sam, you have to listen to me,” she continued. “I don't know what's happening, but you have to get out of here. I think someone's coming to -”

  Before she could finish, she heard the clanging sound again, this time followed by a series of loud thuds. Whatever was happening in the auditorium, she knew that history seemed to be repeating itself, and she couldn't help but think back to Winifred's claim that another tragedy was about to occur. She
glanced around, still convinced that Winifred must be nearby, but so far there was no sign of her anywhere.

  “Susan?” Sam said groggily, as she helped him sit up. “What are you doing here?”

  “Who attacked you?” she asked.

  “I was locking up for the night,” he replied, “and then I heard a noise, and someone hit me from behind. I didn't see a face. How long have I been out?”

  “We have to call the police,” she told him. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think maybe some people have been sent to destroy the cinema.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Those people who trashed the place last year were paid,” she explained. “Thirty years ago, the old music hall was deliberately burned down so that this cinema could be put in its place. That's the fire that killed Winifred Thorpe, remember? The thing is, I'm pretty sure that something similar's about to happen tonight. There are people at the golf club who think the cinema has to go!”

  “That's impossible,” he replied, as he touched the wound on his head and saw blood on his hands. “I know the cinema's not been doing too well lately, but that doesn't mean -”

  Suddenly they both heard more thuds, and they got to their feet as footsteps rang out in one of the nearby corridors.

  “What happened to you?” Sam asked, looking down at her belly.

  “I'm fine.”

  “You're bleeding!”

  “Powerful people want this place gone,” Susan whispered. “I know, because Winifred Thorpe told me.”

  Sam turned to her.

  “That'll take a little longer to explain,” she continued, “but right now we have to call the police.”

  She turned to grab the telephone on the desk, but Sam put a hand on her arm to hold her back as the footsteps moved closer.

  “They'll hear,” he told her, keeping his voice down. “We need to be smarter.”

  They listened as the footsteps reached the foyer, and then they both moved behind the door in an attempt to not be seen. Peering through the crack, Susan was able to see several figures making their way from the corridor, and to her horror she realized that she recognized one of them from the dinner at the golf club.

  “Charlie Evans,” she whispered, although after a moment she realized that she wasn't entirely shocked that he was involved in the scheme.

  “That film stock should go up like a bonfire,” one of the figures said, sounding a little breathless. “Everything's piled up and ready to go. Are we doing this, or what?

  “Are you sure none of you heard something out here?” Charlie asked, looking around before turning toward the office's open door. “Hey, where's that guy we knocked out?”

  The three guys hurried to the doorway and looked into the office, but so far they hadn't spotted Susan and Sam hiding behind the door.

  “I thought he was out for good!” Charlie snapped to the others. “Didn't I tell you to tie him up?”

  “There's no way he should have woken up so fast,” one of them replied. “Don't worry, he has to still be here somewhere, we'll find him.”

  “You'd better,” Charlie said, stepping into the office, “or -”

  Suddenly they all heard a bumping sound coming from somewhere else in the cinema. Charlie turned and made his way back out to the foyer, just a fraction of a second before he would have spotted Susan and Sam behind the door.

  “Where did that noise come from?” he snapped.

  “This place freaks me out,” one of the guys said. “I know you told us not to talk about it, but don't you feel like there's a kind of strange energy here? It's as if there's always something nearby, and I feel like eventually it's going to jump out at us.”

  “I think that sound was coming from back that way,” the other guy suggested.

  “Then find it!” Charlie said angrily, shoving them toward the corridor. “Do I have to tell you what to do every time? He's obviously somewhere in the auditorium, so find him and drag him out! And if I have to remind you one more time not to talk about ghosts and funny feelings and all that crap, I'll formally recommend to Roger that he should cut your fee for this job in half!”

  As footsteps hurried away, Susan turned to Sam and waited for him to say something. After a moment, glancing over at the telephone on the desk, she realized once again that their best bet was simply to call the police and hope that they'd arrive in time. She knew that there was a risk of being heard by the intruders, but she figured that was something she couldn't avoid, so she slipped past Sam and began to make her way across the office.

  “Where are you going?” he whispered.

  “We have to call the police,” she replied, turning to him, “and -”

  Suddenly a shape slammed against her, and Susan cried out as she fell and landed against the side of the desk. She felt her stitches starting to tear open, and then she turned just as Charlie slammed a knee against her face. As she dropped to the floor, she heard a scuffle breaking out nearby, and a few seconds later Sam slumped down next to her.

  “I thought I'd heard something in here,” Charlie said breathlessly, standing over them both. “Looks like I've caught a couple of little mice sneaking about the place. The problem is, I can't afford to have little mice going and squeaking about what they've seen.”

  “You can't do this!” Susan told him. “We're onto you, and we're not the only ones. Winifred -”

  “I don't like the sound of your voice,” Charlie snapped, grabbing her head and sending her crashing into the side of the desk again. “You're that crazy bitch from the dinner tonight, aren't you? You're the one who ran out of Roger's office and then got taken away in an ambulance. I don't know what the hell's your problem, but you're about to deeply regret getting involved in this mess. Both of you.”

  Sam tried to get up, but Charlie kicked him hard in the face, sending him crashing back down.

  “Last time this place burned,” Charlie continued, “there was a tragic death. Unfortunately, it looks like history's about to repeat itself.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Stop!” Susan shouted, struggling against the ropes even as one of Charlie's friends finished tying a knot at the back. “You can't do this!”

  Having been dragged through into the auditorium, Susan and Sam had been shoved down onto the floor next to a pile of old film reels, and a distinct stench of petrol had already begun to fill the air. The auditorium's main lights were off, although the light in the projection room had been left on, which at least allowed Susan to look around and see that the reels had been laid out all the way past the end of the first row of seats.

  “This place is going to go up in a flash,” Charlie muttered, standing back and watching as Susan and Sam both tried to get free. “It's such a shame that old Harry Gough didn't keep the building properly maintained. All those old wires were bound to cause a fire eventually. Of course, his nephew might have rectified the old man's failings, but that doesn't seem to have happened. Tragically, those mistakes look set to cost two people their lives, including young Mr. Gough himself.”

  He feigned wiping away a tear.

  “I'm sure people will remember your loss,” he added with a faint smile. “For a year or two, at least. Then, like most things, you'll probably just fade from their memories.”

  “Winifred Thorpe's coming for you!” Susan sneered.

  “I'm sorry?” He cupped a hand against his right ear. “Come again? Who?”

  “She knows what you're planning and she's going to stop you!”

  “Winifred Thorpe?” He chuckled. “Oh, you mean Winifred Thorpe, the woman who died decades ago? That Winifred Thorpe, the one whose bones are rotting in a cemetery even as we speak? I have to say, if she's the one you're relying on to get you out of here, you might be in for something of a shock.”

  “Let us go!” Sam shouted.

  Before Charlie had a chance to reply, one of his friends hurried through from the foyer.

  “I've tried Roger a few times now,”
he explained, “but he's not picking up. Didn't you say that he'd be waiting at the golf course for us to let him know that we're ready?”

  “The old fool's probably nodded off after too many whiskeys,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. “I doubt he'll be around much longer. He's losing his grip, and the next generation of players in Crowford is coming through. In fact, I think old Roger might even find himself getting muscled out of the deal for the new bingo hall.”

  “Help us!” Susan shouted, looking around for some sign of Winifred's ghost. “Please!”

  “I don't know whether this is pathetic or endearing,” Charlie muttered. “Maybe both. Anyway, it's time to get on with things.” He took a lighter from his pocket and stepped toward the pile of film reels. “These things are pretty quick to burn, even before you douse them in petrol. If it's any consolation, the smoke'll get you long before the flames. Which reminds me, I really must go home and practice pretending to be shocked and sad.”

  Before he could strike a flame, however, he heard the door opening at the far end of the auditorium. Everyone turned to see a figure standing in the doorway, and after a moment Charlie began to smile.

  “Wow,” he said with a sigh, turning to Susan, “do you know what? For just a millionth of a second there, I actually wondered whether the ghostly figure of old Winifred was about to show up. You really had me going.”

  As the figure made its way down past the seats, Susan realized that she recognized the silhouette, and finally she was shocked to see Angie stepping into view. Wearing a dark, old-fashioned dress, Angie somehow didn't look quite like her usual self.

  “Angie!” she shouted. “Run! Get help!”

  She waited, but Angie merely stared at her.

  “Angie! Get out of here! Call the police!”

  “Babe, what are you doing in this dump?” Charlie asked, turning to her. “Angie, seriously, you don't need to get messed up in any of this. I was thinking of calling you some time, I swear, I just didn't have a spare second.” He stepped over and put a hand on her waist, and then he leaned in for a kiss. “Why don't you wait for me at my flat?” he continued. “I'll be there in about half an hour, and we can get reacquainted. It's been far too long since we had a little fun together.”