The Dark Place (22 page)

It was fifteen – not ten – minutes later when Karl and Brendan entered the security passageway, known locally as The Tunnel.

Proceeding with caution, they could see bits of the old walling crumbling as they passed.

“This place is ready for collapsing,” said Karl, shining the torchlight on the walls.

“Now you know why they call it crumbling jail,” said Brendan, a wry smile on his face. “Don’t fart or sneeze, whatever you do.”

“So claustrophobic,” said Karl, feeling the leprous walls moving in on him. The stench of damp decay was everywhere.

“Broad and high enough for three screws and two prisoners,” said Brendan, by way of explanation.

“Has it always been this dark and clammy in here?” Katie’s terrified face flashed into his mind. He quickly erased it. Now was not the time. Somehow he had to remain detached.

“See all those heating pipes attached to the walls?” asked Brendan. “Try and imagine them at full throttle, the sweat running down your back. More like an oppressive jungle. The only good thing about it was that the screws got roasted as well. They hated the tunnel assignment. All that dust and insufferable heat.”

Even in the dim light, Karl could see Brendan grinning at the
memory of it all as he continued speaking.

“After a while, the screws did their utmost to avoid the passageway assignment, rarely ever bothering to count the prisoners on the way back to the prison.”

“I take it you were one of those prisoners they didn’t bother to count?”

“I worked this passageway for almost two years. Sometimes I would go disguised as another prisoner. Sometimes an extra wage package was needed to buy a screw into turning a blind eye. It got so embarrassing that sometimes I was the one taking the other prisoners across!”

“There’s something on this,” said Karl, studying the disease- riddled wall. “Long reddish streaks.”

“They look like blood smears,” replied Brendan, studying where the torchlight’s beam rested.

“I bet these flakes of paint and cement are the same as the ones trapped beneath Martina’s fingernails. This has to be the place.” A posse of dark, hairy spiders suddenly skittered across Karl’s hands, giving him the heebie-jeebies. “Shit!”

“What?”

“Spiders. The place is crawling with them – literally. I hate spiders.” A sudden flashback of a wee boy hiding in an ironing cupboard from a monster lit up in the darkness of Karl’s mind.

“This is their kingdom, Karl. Never forget that. We’re only guests. Besides, I used many webs to cover most of my digging in here during –”

“
Shhhh!
” hissed Karl, gripping Brendan’s shoulder. “Listen. Can you hear something?”

Tilting his head, Brendan cocked his ear. “Sounds like the wind. But that’s impossible. This place allows no natural sound.”

“Not the wind. Something …
alive
…” The sound was sinister, evil in an almost subconscious way, like claws on a chalkboard. Its rhythmic clicking sent a momentary shiver down Karl’s back, and not for the first time doubt began gnawing his thoughts.

Katie’s face reappeared. He blinked it quickly away.

“Don’t let it bother you, Karl. This old place can creep the strongest heart out. Anyway,
there’s
the metal door leading to the courthouse,”
stated Brendan, pointing down the tunnel. “Come on.”

The mystery sound was still troubling Karl as Brendan removed the rucksack from his shoulders.

“The gate is totally covered in rust. It’ll never open,” said Karl, shocked at the state of the Victorian metal gate. “How on earth is Willie going to pick the lock on that thing?”

Rummaging through the bag, Brendan suddenly produced a collection of items, some wrapped in greaseproof paper.

“Despite his expertise, Willie couldn’t pick this lock, Karl. This calls for something unconventional. Something a bit more … flexible.”

“What’s that stuff you’re bending?” asked Karl, staring at the
brick-orange
piece of rubbery substance being manipulated by Brendan’s hand.

“Semtex. A plastic explosive. Very malleable and twice as powerful as TNT.”

“
What?
” Karl’s stomach suddenly began tightening into knots. “Are you out of your mind? You’re not seriously going to use that stuff?”

“You have some other magical alternative, like abracadabra? This door hasn’t been opened in years. Do you really think that a key or pick will open it? That’s why the cops ignored it.”

“But … isn’t it dangerous, in such a confined space? If there’s a tunnel at the back of this door, surely it’ll …” Karl’s voice trailed off.

“Collapse on anyone in there? It’s not a tunnel behind those doors, but the annex area of the courthouse.” Brendan shook his head. “Besides, I only need a minuscule amount, just enough to take the door down. I came prepared for this eventuality, Karl. I’ve calculated the risks and the chances, over and over in my head. I warned you that things would get messy.”

“I didn’t realise explosives would have to be brought into it.”

“If we use the front of the jail to gain entry into the courthouse, the cops stationed on the Antrim Road will spot us. It would be impossible to go unnoticed. Unless, of course, you owned the place like Bob Hannah. No doubt he was able to come and go as he pleased without arousing suspicion.”

“I …”

“Tell you what,” said Brendan impatiently. “Say the word and the Semtex goes back in the bag. But I’m telling you now, there is no
other
way of that door being opened.”

Karl licked dried lips. His mouth felt like cotton. “No … no, let’s do it. Just be careful … please.”

“We’ll head back down the tunnel. I’ve set this timer for two minutes. It’ll give us plenty of time,” said Brendan, picking up his rucksack.

“Won’t they hear this, outside?”

“Don’t worry about that. This small amount of explosives will be well muffled by the thickness of the walls.”

Karl turned, quickly walking back down The Tunnel, torchlight in his hands, expecting the whole place to collapse all around him.

“How far is safe?” asked Karl, suddenly walking faster.

“How long is a piece of string?” responded Brendan. “Just keep walking until I tell you.”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing …”

“Hope has nothing to do with it.”

Hope is all I have
, thought Karl.

“Okay. This is far enough,” stated Brendan, halting ten seconds later. “Get tight against the wall and block your ears.”

Popping his fingers into his ears, Karl waited, dreading what the sensation would be like. Each passing second seemed like an hour.

Suddenly, a muffled sound rattled along the ground, shaking Karl, sending particles of the wall crumbling down upon his head. His spine seemed to move slightly out of kilter.

“It’s over,” said Brendan, dusting himself down. “Are you okay?”

Opening his eyes, Karl tried blinking away the dust. Everything was weirdly silent, like snow falling on a lake. Grey darkness was everywhere as dust began settling, exposing a curtain of dull light where the old door had once been.

“That … that was madness. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” said Karl, shaking his head with disbelief.

“I gauged the back-draft of the explosion. There was nothing to worry about,” assured Brendan.

“Nothing to worry about? Tell that to the torchlight,” said Karl,
holding up the cracked and now useless item.

“Shit! We needed that damn light. That’s the first time I ever saw that happen.”

“Just to be on the safe side, let me call Willie. See if he heard the explosion up on the street.”

“You’re wasting your time,” said Brendan, handing Karl a
walkie-talkie
. “Willie – or anyone else, for that matter – wouldn’t have heard the explosion. It was too muffled.”

“Willie? Can you hear me, Willie,” said Karl, speaking into the walkie-talkie. “Come in, Willie.”

Nothing; only radio static filling the air.

“Willie? Can you hear me?”

“Willie can no longer hear you, Karl,” replied the calm voice of Robert Hannah, crackling from the walkie-talkie. “He’s gone to meet his maker.”

“H
annah …?” said Karl, hesitantly.

No answer, only static laughter.

“Hannah!” hissed Karl. “What … what have you done … what have you done with Willie, you bastard?”

“Done? Done is the operative word, dear Karl. All your fault, I hasten to add. You brought Silly Willie here, and he cursed your name to high heaven while I slit his throat from ear to ear. Squealed like a pig while crying for his wife. Isabel, I think her name was. Hard to make out with all that lovely warm blood gurgling in his large mouth.”

“You fucking bastard!” Karl’s grip tightened on the walkie-talkie. “When I get my hands on –”

“You’ll have the opportunity soon. I’m so close to you, Karl, I can see the sweat on your brow, the terror in your face. Want me to reach out and touch you?”

A shiver ran immediately up Karl’s spine. He glanced quickly from left to right, but before he could say another word, Brendan snatched the walkie-talkie from his hand.

“Enough! We’ve got work to do.”

“Willie’s dead,” mumbled Karl, visibly shaken.

“I heard that much,” replied Brendan, nodding solemnly. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to keep moving. The anteroom is directly beneath us. Come on, but be careful where you walk. With no torchlight, it’s going to be treacherous.”

Karl followed, zombie-like, his head filling with accusations and guilt. He could see Isabel’s angry face as he relayed the news of Willie’s murder to her. She’d hate him for dragging her husband into this.

“Snap out of it!” snapped Brendan, suddenly shaking Karl by the shoulders. “You’re becoming a liability. Wallow later in self-pity. You haven’t earned the ticket for a guilt trip. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Less than five minutes later, the duo stood at the entrance of the impressive anteroom.

“Is it locked?” asked Karl, watching Brendan running his hands over the door’s metal skin.

“Sealed tight. I can blow it off its hinges, but it’ll be so dark in there, it’ll be almost impossible to see anything. I’m going to have to use one of the two flares. I wanted to keep them both, in case of an emergency.”

“What’s that black shadow sticking out from the wall, over there?”

“Huh?” muttered Brendan, turning to see what Karl was pointing at.

“Over beside that wall with the water pipes.”

“I hope it’s what I think it is,” replied Brendan.

“What is it?”

Bending beside the outpost, Brendan quickly removed a cigarette lighter from his pocket before firing it up, the flame long as a welding torch. “An emergency generator,” he replied, pulling at the door.

The generator’s door opened without protest.

“Is it working?”

“It’s been greased lately,” replied Brendan, pushing his finger against a green button made of glass. “Someone’s been making use of it. More than likely Hannah.”

The generator began sporadically humming for a few seconds before shuddering to a deadly silence.

“Can you fix it?” asked Karl, concern in his voice.

“I’m trying,” said Brendan, pushing the button once again.
“C’mon!
Work!”

The sporadic humming recommenced, slowly building into a continuation before shuddering violently.

Karl held his breath.

Suddenly, a deafening clicking sound began emitting from the generator, and the thinnest of lights magically appeared from beneath the anteroom.

“It’s working! The lights are on in the anteroom. Get over in that corner – hurry,” instructed Brendan, producing a tiny piece of Semtex from the rucksack, before attaching it to a timer.

Seconds later, he was running to join Karl.

“Heads down!”

The explosion was duller than the first one, but Karl’s ears popped horribly.

“I could never get used to this sort of shit,” mumbled Karl, nerves frayed.

“No one ever gets use to it,” stated Brendan.

Both men waited, watching the dust do a tornado dance. Two minutes later, it downgraded to a harmless swirling before revealing a gaping hole where the door had once stood guard.

“Stay here,” commanded Brendan. “We don’t know what’s in –”

“Just try and stop me,” hissed Karl, pushing past Brendan. “Just try …”

Seconds later, both men stepped inside, with Karl immediately taking in the entire scene.

The shock flared his eyes.

The floor had been torn up with tiny mounds of dirt coning the surface. Empty take-away cartons were strewn everywhere; discarded milk bottles filling a far corner, their contents thick with curdled
cobalt-coloured
sourness. The milky sourness was being suffocated by a mustier undercurrent of excrement and eye-stinging piss. Shabby clothes carpeted the ground in a tapestry of eerie colours.

Discovering a small stick, Brendan bent down and began fishing the collage of debris, as if looking for clues. Hooking an item, he stood and scrutinised it, spreading it out like the wings of a dead bird. It was a bra,
simple in design and filthy with grime.

Karl wanted to look more carefully at the clothing, but he dreaded what it would tell him.

Brendan seemed on the verge of asking something, but said nothing after glancing at Karl’s concerned face.

Continuing his search, Brendan picked up a plastic milk carton, sniffing the contents before finally scrutinising the plastic skin. “Good,” he said, breaking Karl’s thoughts.

“Good? What the hell do you mean, good?”

“All this stuff. Someone’s been here … could still
be
here. The
sell-by
date of this milk is still fine.”

Karl felt his heart move up a notch. Everything Brendan said had the ring of possibility about it.

“We need to separate, save time,” continued Brendan, pointing directly at one of two rooms stationed at the back of the anteroom. “You search the far room over there. I’ll take the other one. If you find anything – no matter how insignificant it seems – holler. Understand?”

Karl nodded before entering the designated room, trying desperately to remain positive in such a negative milieu of horror. The room’s ground had been torn up also, exposing sediment layers. The stench of excrement was becoming stronger, burglarising his senses.

A shovel resting against the wall like a drunken guard sent a shudder up his spine. A question immediately entered his head, but he quickly erased it, not wanting its answer.

Taking the shovel, he gently skimmed the top layer of dirt before pushing under, hitting concrete and old bricks.

“Bastard,” he mumbled, trance-like, each time he struck the hardened surface, his digging becoming more desperate. Tiny sparks were dancing from the impact. He imagined the ground was Hannah’s smirking face.

“Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!”

“Karl!” shouted Brendan, breaking the trance. “
Karl!
”

“Y … yes?”

“In here … hurry!”

Moving quickly, Karl found Brendan scrutinising something that he’d unearthed with the stick.

“What is it?” asked Karl, breathless.

“I … there’s a possibility …”

Just the top third of the face was visible, hid behind a mask of stones and dirt. Eyes, shrink-wrapped in darkness, were peering through clotted strands of filthy ropey hair, staring into space with bewilderment and terror. Withered arm bones stretched, as if reaching for something. The bony chest had been crushed into the fluted rib cage. The withered skin was red, flecked with dried blood. Most disturbing was her sex, swollen and split like an over-ripe fruit.

“No … oh God no …” Karl could feel the edges of his sanity on the move, spiralling out of control. Beyond all he had witnessed before in his life, this was the most terrifying. The claustrophobic walls were moving in. He couldn’t breathe. Vomit spewed from his mouth.

“Easy … easy, Karl. Take deep breaths … easy,” coaxed Brendan, gripping, preventing Karl from buckling.

“I … I don’t want to look. I’ve seen enough,” said Karl, fighting back tears while wiping the sourness from his mouth.

“You’ve got to. We need to know if it’s –”

“I said
no!
Not now … just … just give me time …”

“Okay, okay. No problem. Let’s edge back out –”

“What was that sound?” asked Karl, his damp eyes wide and crazed. “You heard it, didn’t you?”

“I’ll take that shovel from you, Karl,” said Brendan, staring into Karl’s eyes. “Just go outside and –”

“
Listen!
”

It sounded like a cat meowing in a cardboard box. A raspy mew. Hollow. Distant. Somehow intentionally creepy.

“It’s probably tunnel noises, Karl … nothing else.”

“It’s coming from back there, down at the end of the room,” insisted Karl, quickly pushing past Brendan, almost knocking him to the ground. “Hello? Who’s there? Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Nerves and adrenaline playing fucking mind games
.

He tried once more.

“Hello! Can you hear –?”

“Help …”

“Shit. You’re right, Karl. The old toilets! That’s where it’s coming from.”

Kicking in the door, almost taking it off its hinges, Karl hurriedly entered the toilet area.

“Where are …?” His voice trailed off. Tight against the far wall, a naked shape patched in muck and excrement was positioned in the foetus position. It looked like an old sack of coal, with only the whiteness of terrified eyes giving any indication of being human.

“Please … please don’t hurt me,” whispered a rusted voice.

“Katie …?
Katie!
” howled Karl, an anguished sound of disbelief and joy as he bent, scooping Katie in his arms.

“Dad …?”

“My Katie. My beautiful Princess,” he whispered tenderly, kissing her face, kissing away muck and shit, combing her hair back with his fingers.

“Oh, Dad! Is it … is it really you?” Tears were streaming down her mucky face. “Is it … really you, Dad?”

“You better believe it’s me, Princess!” Tears began stinging his eyes while he quickly removed his coat, placing it gently over Katie’s shoulders.

“You haven’t called me Princess since I was seven.”

“Five, but let’s not quibble over a couple of years,” said Karl, smiling, crying. “Can you stand? We’ve got to get out of here, sweetie.”

“I … feel weak. I’ve been vomiting a lot …”

“It’s okay, it’s okay … just stand still. I’m calling an ambulance and the police,” stated Karl, fumbling in his pocket for his mobile, before quickly hitting 999. “Hello?
Hello!
What the hell’s wrong with this damn thing?”

“You’ll not get a signal down here, Karl,” said Brendan, placing Katie’s left arm on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here as quickly as –”

Without warning, the lights went dead, and a heavy darkness immediately filled the room.

Katie began trembling.

“It’s him! He’s coming for me!” shouted Katie. “He always comes in
the dark. Don’t let him touch me again, Dad. Don’t let him –”

“Shhh. Easy, love. I promise he’ll never touch you again.”

“Promise?”

Karl’s knuckles tightened into bone-whiteness. “Promise.”

“Stay here, both of you,” instructed Brendan, producing a gun from his rucksack.

“What are you going to do?” asked Karl.

“I don’t know until I do it. Stay here until I give the all-clear.”

Karl could hear Brendan shuffling carefully out of the room. A few seconds later, the horrible silence returned.

“What will that man do if he finds the monster, Dad?”

“Brendan? I don’t know, love,” replied Karl, pulling Katie closer.

“I hope he kills the monster. Makes him suffer …” replied Katie, in a voice that sent shivers down Karl’s spine.