Harvest (28 page)

The large archway into the
lounge crisply framed the view of Roger lying supine on the table.
His arms and legs hanging limp from each side of the table. He
stared emptily at the ceiling, his jaw part-open as if in
speechless shock. The oblivious morning brilliance streamed into
the flat with tactless promise of a beautiful day, the brightness
burned the details into her mind with crisp clarity the second it
was processed. The blood streaked down the bright white tablecloth.
His chair overturned. Rogers’ chest wrenched open. The grapefruit
squashed on the floor, as if underfoot. The gaping hole travelling
from gullet to groin. The plate unbroken and upturned on the floor.
Shattered ribs pried open like double doors. Mary stumbled forward
and the light glittered on Rogers’ staring still eyes, and dazzled
on the pool of blood within the empty cavity. He lay spread-eagled
like a star hollowed out at its centre.

Mary Collapsed backwards
against the wall and slipped clumsily to the floor scattering
picture frames and clutter from the sideboard beside her, her mouth
open in a silent wail, her voice absent with shock. She seated
herself roughly and the wetness instantly soaked through her
pin-stripe skirt and lacy underwear onto her skin in a sickening
syrupy touch. Her voice broke free in a howl of revulsion and
horror as she scrambled to the kitchen to escape the blood filled
carpet, only to slip and slide in the trails of blood in the
kitchen that led to the first puddle she had found herself in.

The pain of her hands, the
discarded knife, the wash of blood and Roger’s butchered body
coalesced into a realisation that crashed down on Mary. She
thrashed and writhed on the floor, fighting against the very world
for the cruel reality that had fallen upon their perfect
relationship. The clock ticked apathetically: 9.16am.

It watched from above, circling
her, predatory, observing, not just understanding the body, but
also the mind. Satisfied.

Chapter
Twenty Two

Jason reached the top
floor. His legs ached from the long climb, yet he wanted to keep
moving, so he drifted aimlessly down the corridor. The bright sun
streaked through the window at the end of the hall, igniting the
white walls in the warm yellow glow of morning. The hazy light made
him think of lazy summer days that promised to stretch endlessly
before him, and he hoped today would be one of those days. He
wanted a long distance between him and nighttime.
‘It’
would come for him in the night
while he slept and was vulnerable. That was when monsters came out.
He was sure It would wait until then, but fear was still with him,
haunting him when he lingered in any one place.

His mum had left early that
morning after telling him that his granddad had been taken ill and
she would have to go and see him in hospital. Alone. Her insistence
on going alone told him his granddad’s condition had deteriorated
and this hospital admission was serious, but Jason had pushed this
from his mind, he couldn’t take in this new anxiety with fear
stalking his every moment.

He was grateful for her having
to leave him, if she had been home all day at the flat she would
not have allowed him to loiter and wander the corridors, and
without the twins he had little excuse to leave home. He would have
gone crazy being cooped up in the flat, waiting for the some-thing
to come for him.

After the events of the
last few days his paranoia had heightened. He couldn’t feel safe at
home. He had seen the lights, the lights he had recognised from
within Amy’s drawings. Pictures she had labelled eerily and simply
as ‘Mr Sparky’. That
‘thing’
had come to Emily and Amy and now they
had both gone. Jason had glimpsed enough of the mysterious lights
or auras around his home to convince him that whatever It
was, was now looking for him. Mr Sparky would come for
him.

Only fear provided
answers as to what It was, and why the thing would want him. All
the monsters that had ever haunted his imagination and nightmares
had been flesh and blood; not made of lights. And more importantly,
as frightening as they were, they had never been real. As the thing
was light, he toyed with the idea of a mirror being able to reflect
any attack, yet he doubted it would work as he knew solid things
like doors and walls were no barrier. Facing the
light
was not something he wanted to think about
either.

He had noticed something
strange seemed to happen to lights and electrical equipment before
the appearance of the dancing light, maybe as it reached invisibly
into his home looking for him its energy affected electrical
things? He had to be aware of these signs, a lamp switching itself
on, the picture on the TV going snowy or his X-box controller
rumbling when a game wasn’t being played. Maybe this was a sign
that it may take time for it to build up enough energy to
physically attack. If he kept moving then perhaps he could outrun
it. Yet night was inevitable, and he would have to return home
unable to explain his fears, and eventually he would have to sleep,
and that would make him easy prey.

Jason used the lift button, and
the car rumbled up the shaft at his calling. Brilliant light glared
painfully in one of his eyes, he turned sharply, shielding his eyes
from the blaze that came from the other end of the corridor. The
light lost some of its intensity and Jason saw that it was
reflected sunlight in the square of glass within the out-of-bounds
fire escape door. The door opened further and the reflection
reduced. He was relieved that the light had a natural cause, but
there was a dark ragged shape beyond the door, motionless and
poised for some unknown purpose half-in view between the door and
the doorjamb. Watching.

Wind howled from the staircase
Jason had scaled, and rattled at the window that capped the
corridor behind him. The hairs on his body bristled and icy dread
anticipation settled upon him. He fingered the lift button again as
calmly as he could manage. The fire door moved in the shape’s
grip.

The lift arrived with a sharp
squeal and Jason darted between the two doors and randomly stabbed
a floor button, he didn’t risk waiting for the doors to close
automatically but pressed the door close button. He pressed himself
flat against the rear wall as far out of reach as possible, he had
seen enough scary TV programmes and movies to know that something
could still get at him while the doors wobbled shut. They closed,
but the films had also shown him that he still might not be
safe.

At least in the lift he could
rest in one place and use the lift car to keep moving.

Jason didn’t see or hear the
roof panel lift open above his head.

He attempted to regulate his
breathing to calm himself, only to have his breath knocked out of
him by a great weight slamming into his shoulders and back sending
him crashing to the floor. The car shuddered under the impact. He
instantly realised his prone position and struck out as viciously
as he could against his attacker. His flailing fist swung out to
full extent but failed to hit a target. Mikey Kent sat in a
crumpled heap at his feet. Although Mikey was one of the kids from
school that picked on him Jason was relieved it wasn’t the ‘thing'.
A strange smell accompanied Mikey like engine grease and burnt dust
at the back of the TV set.

“Sorry about that,” Mikey said,
although it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t.

Mikey was in his year, although
he was twelve, a year older than Jason. He had the same slim build
as Jason but muscles flexed in his arms as he pushed himself into a
sitting position against the wall of metal and plastic panelling.
Muscles Jason didn’t have. Mikey ran nimble fingers through his
messy brown hair and wiped a veil of sweat from his forehead. He
eyed Jason with a look of wariness and surprise. “That was a good
swing.” He suddenly smiled with a menace that Jason recognised from
the playground at school. “Lucky you didn’t catch me with that
punch or I might have had to plant one or two back on you.”

Jason was glad he had failed to
make contact. He had been at the end of Mikey's shoves and general
buffeting. The thought of an actual aimed punch was a painful
thought. Although some of the fear that Mikey had represented
seemed lost. It failed to come as it should in such an enclosed
space with no witness or person to call to. He and David Renshaw
were partners in bullying and had both made the playground, the
corridors, dining hall and assembly room at school a place of jibes
threats and embarrassment, and because they lived in his building
he normally dreaded bumping into them, but fear was reserved for
monsters now – not playground bullies. There was another expression
on Mikey’s face that was hard to read.
An edge of respect for
his instinctive defence of himself?

The lift came to a halt and the
doors opened. Mikey raised himself to his full height. He was tall
for his age, an intimidating four inches taller than Jason. The
second lift car rolled noisily past and came to an abrupt stop a
few floors above their heads. Mikey strolled the small distance to
the lift control and closed the doors before punching a button that
took the car back up two levels to the eighth floor.

The lift lurched abruptly as
something slammed against the roof of the car. The cables slapped
together with a twang and a shivering echo as the sound of the
impact ricocheted through the shaft. Jason scrambled across the
floor that trembled beneath him. His stomach flipped, sickeningly
aware of being suspended eight floors up. As the vibrations
subsided he dragged himself cautiously to his feet as if he didn’t
trust the ground he was on and shot a wide-eyed stare at Mikey, who
braced himself against the wall but seemed unconcerned by the
impact.

The lift shuddered again as a
second body fell from the open lift hatch. David Renshaw landed
awkwardly on his feet in the corner. He wiped sweat from his
forehead leaving streaks of dark grease in its place on his tanned
skin. He also smelled of the warm dusty engine smell. David was
Jason’s age but Mikey’s height. He let out a whoop and shook his
head as if his unfashionable curtain cut hair was wet. “That was
fun.” he commented breathlessly. David’s voice trailed off and his
face tightened as he saw Jason. “What’s he doing here?”

“He was riding the lift when I
came in.”

“Not at home with mummy?” He
taunted. “She aint left you too has she?” David’s soft blonde hair
and innocent blue-eyes masked the cruelty of his mind and tongue.
While Mikey was the muscle, David could inflict verbal wounds with
ease.

Jason ignored the sting from
David’s lash of spite. Jason remembered the day he had cried in
class because he knew that his dad had left. His dad had thrown his
mum across the room in a blind-rage; the climax of weeks of
discrete rows and unhappiness when they thought Jason was asleep or
out of sight and ear-shot. The morning after his mum had an
unusually made-up face, but it didn’t cover the cracked lip or
puffy eye. His mum and dad had yet to get back together and Jason
doubted they would. David and Mikey had always aimed jibes at him,
he didn’t know why, maybe it was because he was quieter and more
studious than most. After the day he had cried in class David and
Mikey had focussed and stepped up their torment of him. As if they
had sensed his weakness that he was easy prey. He had been. It
didn’t take too many comments about his mum and dad to get him
close to tears or into a state of stupefied numbness.

“Aw, that’s right; you don’t
have your little girlfriends to play with.”

David was a master at torment,
only his second comment had found a weakness in Jason’s resolve.
Jason simmered with his fists clenched while twitching on his toes
as if he were loaded in a catapult straining to launch him at
David. David’s height dropped a few inches as his body sagged into
a springy defensive stance that would prepare him to counter any
move Jason might make. Jason knew he didn’t stand much chance in a
fight and he had hesitated too long, losing the element of surprise
that might have afforded him at least one blow.

Mikey moved between them.
“Leave it! That’s not called for. Don’t bring them girls into
it.”

David maintained his glower and
his boxing posture throughout Mikey’s intervention. He curled his
lips up into a cruel smile. “Brave aint ya.” David lowered his
defences but his muscles stayed firm and threatening compared with
Jason’s wiry frame. “Why you defending him anyway? You’re not going
queer on me are you?”

“Fuck you!” Mikey beamed,
joining in with David’s laughter and shoving him playfully. “We
need someone to push the buttons don’t we? Save waiting for someone
else to come in.”

David’s smile mirrored Mikey’s
conspiratorially before he addressed Jason. “You hear that? All you
gotta do is press the buttons, up and down,” he pointed to the
ceiling and then to the floor in emphasis of the directions. “You
think you can manage that fuckwit?”

The lift came to a stop, and
the doors rolled aside. Jason was a fast runner; he could make a
break for it. He could probably get back home too, but then he
would have to stay there and face being trapped in the flat where
that ‘thing’ knew to find him. If he stayed with Mikey and David
there was a sense of safety in not being alone. They would probably
be satisfied that they had bullied him into doing something he
didn’t want to do, and Jason got to continue his constant moving
around within the lift. Jason nodded that he would do it.

David’s face flushed with a
menacing darkness. “Homo-geek thought he had a fucking choice.”
David shoved Jason roughly to the controls and stepped up on the
handrail and sprung himself up, he caught the lip of the lift
hatch, grabbed at it with his other hand and hauled himself up into
the dusty blackness beyond. Mikey followed in a similar fashion and
Jason soon heard their footsteps scuffing heavily on the roof of
the car and echoing through the shaft.