A House in London Page 8
“It can't be,” she whispered, trying again to look at the figure. “You're not real.”
Turning, she tried not to panic as she hurried across the street and around the next corner, desperate to get away from the advancing figure. There was no sign of anyone in the next street, so she hurried to the next junction, at which point she tried to work out exactly where she'd reached. She usually knew the streets of Central London so well, but right now her thoughts were spiraling out of control and she could barely concentrate. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a well-lit building at the far end of the street and realized it was the Bank of England, so she turned and hurried south, hoping to find the river so she could cross to the other side and catch a train home from Waterloo. People were screaming in the distance, crying out in drunken rages, but the pain in her belly was getting stronger and all Jennifer could think about was that she had to get home as quickly as possible.
When she got to the next corner, however, she once again saw the silhouetted man in the distance, calmly walking toward her. She tried to look at his face, but a sense of nausea filled her stomach and her eyes darted away, focusing instead on the boarded-up window of an old betting shop. Turning, she made her way along a different street. Spotting another figure standing in the light of a shop window, she told herself to just keep walking and to try not to panic. As she got closer, however, she couldn't help glancing toward the figure; at first she could only see the back of its head as it stared at the blank monitors in the window, but finally she realized she could make out the reflection of a skeletal face staring back at her. She stumbled away, just as the figure turned and lunged at her, grabbing her by shoulder and almost keeping hold before she hurried past.
Bumping against a parked car, she almost tripped and fell but managed to keep running along the pavement. Glancing back, she saw that the skull-faced man was trying to catch up, so she raced around the next corner and then the next as well. Constantly looking over her shoulder in case the man reappeared, she made her way along the deserted street. In the distance, sirens were still racing through the city, and angry voices could be heard shouting. Once she was confident that she'd lost the skull-faced man, she began once again to get her bearings, finally turning to go along another street that she hoped would lead to the river. A foul stench was filling the air now, as if something nearby was rotten, but she hurried onward until she spotted a figure rolling on the ground in pain. Flinching, she made her way around another parked car before spotting the figure's face and seeing that it was normal. The man let out a groan as he tried to sit up, and it quickly became clear that he was simply drunk.
“You should get out of here,” she told him, stopping for a moment and watching as he stumbled to his feet and – clearly unable to balance - immediately dropped down again. She glanced back along the street, terrified that she'd spot her pursuer, before turning to watch as the drunk man tried to crawl along the pavement. “It's not safe,” she continued, worried for his safety, Hurrying back around the car, she realized now she was closer that the man was muttering to himself. “This isn't a good night to be out,” she said firmly. “I don't know what's happening, but the streets are full of -”
Before she could finish, the man turned and lunged at her with an angry cry, slamming her against the side of a car and pulling hard on her hair. He muttered something about her being a bitch and then he pushed her across the pavement. As she hit the wall, she felt the man's hands fumbling under her jacket, squeezing her belly and breasts, and it took a moment before she was able to push him away.
“What's wrong?” he groaned, barely able to focus as he stumbled toward her again. “Frigid?”
She stepped aside as he fell forward, but this time he slammed head-first into the wall and then slumped down, having apparently knocked himself out. Jennifer stepped closer to check that he at least had a pulse, before spotting movement in the distance. Looking along the road, back the way she'd come, she saw the same silhouetted figure as before, walking calmly toward her through the night, and once again she was unable to look directly at his face. She told herself that he wasn't real, that he had to be some kind of hallucination, but her sense of panic was growing and she didn't dare wait to find out the truth.
Abandoning the drunk guy on the floor, she turned and ran, desperate to get away from the figure that seemed determined to pursue her across the city. The stench in the air was getting worse, and as she ran down first one dark street and then another she realized she was completely lost. Bins had been kicked over and shop windows had been smashed, while the occasional drunk soul staggered along, but this time she didn't dare stop to help anyone. At the next intersection she hesitated for a moment, looking around as she tried to work out the quickest route to the river. She began to make her way along one street, only to spot the silhouetted figure at the far end. Turning, she ran a different way, although she couldn't shake the feeling that the figure was everywhere. Sure enough, at the next junction she saw him again, and also at the next, even though she knew it was impossible for him to move so quickly. Finally she realized that every time she had a choice to make, the figure seemed to block off all but one route, as if he was shepherding her in a certain direction.
Fumbling through her pocket, she tried again to find her phone, only to realize that somehow she must have lost it along the way. Filled with panic, she turned and saw that the silhouetted figure was getting closer and closer. For a moment she considered facing him and asking him what he wanted, but pure fear was pulsing through her chest and she couldn't help herself. She tried one more time to look at his darkened face, but once again her gaze was torn away, as if the figure simply refused to let himself be seen properly.
Turning, Jennifer began to run along the only clear street, racing through the darkness as fast as she could manage until finally, miraculously, she suddenly emerged near the river. The air was filled with the stench of something rotten now, but she simply hurried across the street, making for the wall that ran alongside the river, and then she turned and began to stumble toward the nearest bridge, hoping that finally she'd be able to reach the south of the city and from there things would become normal again. Having spent so long running along the maze of streets, she felt relieved to be out in the open now.
Tripping on a loose paving stone, she almost fell but – at the last moment – she managed to support herself against the wall. Glancing down at the river, she was about to keep running when suddenly she realized that something wasn't right. She hesitated for a moment, staring down at the darkness below and then looking both ways, trying to persuade herself that what she was seeing couldn't possibly be real. For a moment, she felt as if all the madness of the night so far had finally coalesced to present one vast horror that she couldn't even begin to comprehend.
The Thames was dry.
All the river's water was gone, leaving nothing but a long, wide trench carved through the heart of the city. The riverbed, now exposed to moonlight, was the source of the stink that hung in the air, with thousands of objects of all sizes nestling in glistening mud that had previously been deep beneath the dirty water. There was no indication of where the water had gone, but only a few isolated puddles remained as a stench of rotten secrets rose up from the uncovered depths.
Stunned, Jennifer made her way slowly toward the bridge, unable to stop staring down at all the objects that had fallen into the river over the years and sunk deep below, only to now be returned to the world. It was as if the secrets of the city had been tossed into the river and forgotten, but now the water had drained away and all those secrets had risen. The heart of the city had been torn and pulled open, revealing the horrors that for centuries had been dropped into the river, supposedly to be lost forever.
She saw the dark wrecks of several sunken boats, as well as a few old carriages. She saw chunks of twisted metal, remnants of machines or maybe vehicles that had fallen into the depths. She saw a pram, upturned with its wheels in the air, and a
little further along there was what appeared to be part of an old birdcage. There were bones, too; hundreds, thousands of bones glistening in the moonlight, some bright and some dark, some old and some new. There were human bones, some crushed until they seemed more like the bones of animals; there were also animal bones, some crushed until they seemed more like the bones of humans. More ominously, she saw several coffins that had apparently been dumped in the river, along with long cloth bags that no doubt contained more bodies. Near the supports of the bridge, a rotten corpse was chained to a large concrete block. It wasn't only humans down there, either; there were dead horses and other animals she didn't even recognize. There was money too, including an old chest that had spilled its contents of coins out into the mud. For hundreds and hundreds of years, the growing city of London had been slipping its darkest secrets into the river, and now those secrets were back for all to see.
As she reached the start of Waterloo Bridge, Jennifer stopped for a moment and stared down at the mud. She knew the river couldn't have emptied, that the idea was insane, so she figured the only possibility was that she was losing her mind. Glancing around at the darkened buildings, and then up at the pitch-black sky, she began to wonder what was real and what was an illusion produced by her fevered mind. She looked around, hoping to spot someone who might be able to help, but while she could hear sirens in the distance she couldn't actually see much sign of life. There were lights moving on the other bridges, but Waterloo Bridge itself was strangely empty.
“Help me,” she whispered, staggering to the middle of the road and turning to look across the bridge. “Where is everyone?” She staggered forward, almost tripping on the uneven pavement. “Help me!” she screamed finally, as the madness became too much. “Somebody help! Somebody -”
Suddenly she saw him. The dark, silhouetted figure was making his way toward her along the embankment, and still she couldn't look directly at his face. She turned, but immediately she saw him coming from the other direction too, leaving the bridge as her only possible escape route. Backing against the wall for a moment, she tried to convince herself that the approaching figure wasn't real, that like everything else that night he was part of some paranoid illusion. Fear, however, was grinding through her belly and finally she turned and began to run across the bridge. Her footsteps echoed through the night as she ran faster and faster, desperate to get to the other side so that she could find help. She was convinced that at any moment the figure would catch her and pull her back, that for some reason he wouldn't let her get to the south of the city, but finally she reached the bridge's far side and stopped for a moment to get her bearings.
Except she wasn't on the south side of the bridge at all.
She was still on the north.
Despite having run straight across the bridge in one direction, she'd somehow ended up back where she'd started.
Filled with panic, she turned to try again, but this time she saw that the silhouetted figure was on the bridge, steadily advancing through the darkness. Looking along the embankment, she saw him again, this time walking through the park, and then again stepping out from under the train bridge, and finally she realized there was only one street that seemed clear. Hurrying away from the river, she began to make her way along the next street, only for a shock of pain to slice through her belly like a razor-blade, pulling her up short and forcing her to stop and lean against the wall. She took a series of slow, deep breaths, but a moment later she realized that somehow, above the din of the city, she could hear the silhouette's calm footsteps getting closer. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was closer than ever, so she quickly turned and staggered along the street. She felt as if she was being shepherded through the city, and sure enough the pain in her belly flared up when she reached the next junction, only starting to subside when she chose one particular street.
Barely able to keep track of where she was now, Jennifer stumbled along one dark, empty street after another, each time following whatever path lessened the pain in her gut. A cold sweat had reached her face and she could barely keep her eyes open. There were no cars around, and no passersby as she made her way through the darkness. The rest of the city seemed to have breathed in, so that the streets were empty of people. Her vision was becoming increasingly blurred and her mind was racing, and the pain returned at irregular intervals, guiding her steps until eventually she stumbled and fell, landing hard against a set of stone steps.
When she tried to get to her feet, she found that she was too weak, and finally she passed out at the bottom of the steps that led up to a particularly grand old building. If her vision hadn't become so blurred before she collapsed, she would most certainly have recognized the house.
After a moment, at the top of the steps, the front door began to creak open.
Part Three
A House in London
VII
14 years ago
“When I grow up,” Sally said, as she struggled to make her doll sit up straight on the grass, “I want to be a doctor, and I want to be married to the handsomest man on the planet.”
“I want to be a vet,” Louise added, reaching across the lawn and grabbing a toy pony. “I want to travel the world, healing sick animals. Not just dogs and cats, but big animals like elephants and tigers! And I want to marry a prince!”
She smiled as she set the pony down on the grass, and then she turned to see that Jennifer was picking dirt from under her fingernails.
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Jenny?” she asked.
Jennifer paused for a moment, working a particularly tough piece of dirt out, before turning to her. “I want to be in charge of a great big library,” she said after a moment, “with the oldest and rarest books in the world. I want to read them all day and study history.” She paused again, briefly lost in thought. “And I want a really nice, really big house in London.”
***
Today
Tilting her head back on the bed, she screamed as she felt an immense pain rippling through her belly. Someone was holding her down, placing hands firmly against her shoulders, but when she tried to fight back she found that he wrists were tied to the top of the bed-frame.
“Try not to struggle so much, dear,” Mr. Diebold said calmly. “You're only going to make things more difficult for yourself.”
Letting out another scream, Jennifer felt as if her pelvis was about to crack open. She could feel someone holding her legs apart, and occasionally a flash of cold metal brushed against her inner thighs, but the pain in her belly seemed to be twisting and moving down, as if it was slipping through her body. With sweat pouring down her face, she tried to look up at the restraints around her wrists, but her vision was too blurred and all she could see was a hazy wall of flickering darkness. She pulled on the restraints again, desperately trying to get free, and after a moment she began to scream again as the agony in her belly became even stronger.
“It's stuck,” Vivian muttered. “I might have to cut it out.”
“Will she survive?”
“There'll be so much blood.”
“Remember what we -”
“I can't help that!” Vivian hissed, sounding irritated. “I'll do the best I can!”
Jennifer let out a long, slow groan of pain as she felt something twisting in her gut. Nearby there was the sound of metal on metal, as if someone was frantically sorting through a box of knives. She turned and tried to look, but still her eyesight was too blurred. All she could make out were vague shadowy shapes, although when one of them limped past she realized it had to be Mr. Diebold. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tried to focus on clearing her vision, and after a moment the world around her began to resolve, becoming less blurred until a fresh wave of pain broke her concentration and she cried out. A fraction of a second later, she felt a sharp slicing sensation between her legs, followed by an eruption of hot blood bursting against her thighs.
“Careful,” Mr. Diebold said firmly. “Remember the
plan for this one. Do you have to -”
“Oh, be quiet!” Vivian replied, interrupting him. “Stop fussing, Arthur!”
Too weak now to cry out, Jennifer slumped back against the bed with her arms still held up high, attached to the top of the bed's metal frame. Something sharp was still twisting in her gut, as if a nest of razor-blades was slowly being turned around, but a moment later she felt the mass moving further down. There were hands, too, reaching inside her body. Staring up at the ceiling, she blinked furiously in an attempt to clear her vision. The pain between her legs was intense, but she felt certain it was going to get worse at any moment. For now, rivers of sweat trickled down her body.
“Nearly,” Vivian said suddenly, her voice filled with anticipation. “Look! Nearly there now.”
“I see a face,” Mr. Diebold said breathlessly.
“He's so beautiful,” Vivian continued. “Come on, almost...”
Holding her breath, Jennifer tensed as the pain reached a new peak. She was too weak to scream, but at the same time she couldn't help herself. Finally she let out a low, guttural moan that shook her entire body, just as she felt something slipping out between her legs. The pain in her belly was still intense, but she could hear a faint, constant clicking sound from nearby now, followed a moment later by a series of soft gurgles and a slapping sound, and then, finally, absolute silence. She turned to look, exhausted but desperate, and after blinking several times she was just about able to see the Diebold's silhouettes against the wall. Behind them, the lights of London flashed across the window.