The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

1

Saturday,
8.30 am.
Jim, Mary, Zoe and Vana were sitting around the table enjoying their breakfast
when James came in, playing his 3DS. “Seriously, son, you’ll go cross-eyed if
you play that thing 24/7. And besides those games have got to last you a week’s
holiday,” Jim said as he looked over the top of his morning newspaper. “I’m not
on a new game, it’s an old one,” replied James. He closed the lid and sat down
at the table.
“Morning, chest boy!
Your stunt is doing
really well on Facebook,” Vana remarked.
“Chest boy?
Facebook?” asked Mary.

“Oh,
it’s just some video I made of the house. James jumped out of a chest trying to
scare me,” explained Zoe.
“A chest?
Where?” asked Jim.
He placed his newspaper down, his curiosity aroused. “It’s in the attic, dad. I
heard someone running around up there, so, I went to check it out, only for
him...” she pointed at James, accusingly, with a piece of toast in her hand,
“to jump out of an old chest. The little shit scared the life out of me!”

James
burst out laughing. “James, you shouldn’t do things like that, you’ve only got
one sister! And besides, you shouldn’t be running in the house,” said Mary. She
carefully stacked the dishwasher. “I wasn’t running, just exploring,” replied
James, with a mouthful of cereal. Mary poured Jim a refill of coffee. “Thanks
dear. Now, the important question; how was everyone’s first
night,
and how did you all sleep?” asked Jim. James was the first to answer. “Mostly
on my left side, turning occasionally,” they all laughed. “Where did we get him
from? It was strange at first, dad, and the creaking noises didn’t help
matters,” Zoe stated. “It’s an old house, it’s bound to have some movement,”
Jim replied as Mary sat back down at the table. “So, what are you all doing
today?” asked Mary.

“Vana
and I are going into town. Why, what are you guys doing?”

“James
needs some holiday clothes, and your dad’s fixing up great Aunt Sally’s room.
Plus looking into the toilet issue.”
Jim screwed up his face
and sighed. “Looks like a full day for me then!” Zoe cleared the remainder of
the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “Will the paint be dry for
tomorrow?”

“I’m
quietly confident. I’m using the sponge roller so it shouldn’t take too long.”

2

10.30
am.
Jim,
dressed in white overalls, waved goodbye to
his family. “Right, let’s tackle that bedroom,” he said, closing the front
door. Jim was a very good painter and decorator; he had learned the trade
working in the firm that his dad had set up many years before. He always wanted
Jim to join him in it, but Jim had had other ideas and wanted his career to go
in a different direction. He had been educated at a very good public school and
did not see himself in the decorating business. His dad accepted that but,
because Jim was an only child, it meant that the family company would end with
his father.

Sadly,
Jim’s parents had died last year in a plane crash in South America. Their
deaths had hit him hard, and he hadn’t had the heart to sell the company. It
was difficult, but Jim had managed so far to keep it running.

3

Jim
got the room ready. He placed dust sheets on the floor, and put the paint in the
middle of the room – magnolia for the walls, and white for the ceiling,
skirting boards and door. Eventually the old light and plug fittings would be
changed to brass, but not just yet. He started to paint the ceiling, whistling
along to U2 from the playlist on his iPhone which was on a stool outside the
room, when electronic scratching coming from the phone interrupted him. Then,
the floorboards on the landing creaked.

“Hello!”
Jim shouted, “I’m in here. You guys are back early!” No response. “That’s strange.
Jim, lad, you’re absolutely losing it. Just hurry up and finish the ceiling.”
He had the weird feeling he wasn’t alone, but shrugged it off and carried on
painting.

Jim
had finished the ceiling and one wall by lunchtime so he went down to the kitchen
for something to eat. He enjoyed a ham and cheese sandwich that Mary had made
before she left for town. He made a mug of strong, Yorkshire Tea, had a quick
look at the sports news in the newspaper, and finished his lunch.

“Time to get back to it.”
He stretched, and started to
walk slowly up the stairs, mug in hand, his footsteps echoing as he walked. He
paused to look around the stairwell. The house was by far their biggest
property to-date and, with over £750k spent on its bricks and mortar, was certainly
the most expensive.

He
walked towards the bedroom, and was just about to place his mug down next to
the iPhone when he heard footsteps running along the landing. “What the blazes
was that?
Definitely heard something that time.”
He
put the unfinished tea down and walked purposefully up the stairs to the second
floor. Jim knew he was alone but was determined to get to the bottom of it.
James was a bit of a practical joker, and it wasn’t far from Jim’s mind that
his son was playing a prank. He walked up the final few stairs, half expecting
to find some kind of remote toy moving about.
Nothing.
Jim looked into the bedrooms and bathroom – all empty. He stood, scratching his
head.

“What
have you been up to this time, James?” he said, scanning the landing. Suddenly,
two loud bangs could be heard coming from the attic. Jim quickly ran towards
the stairs leading up to the attic, found the light switch,
flicked
it – nothing. He started to climb the dark stairs. There were no further sounds
– and the only thing Jim could hear was his increased heartbeat.

As
he approached the attic door a ghostly light was trying to poke itself under
the gap at the bottom. He slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door. If
James had jumped out at him at that moment, he would probably have shit his
pants! The attic was empty apart from the wooden chest at the far end, opposite
the door. He looked around carefully as he walked towards the chest. Without
warning, one of the windows smashed hard against the frame. Jim almost jumped out
of his skin.
“Bloody hell!
That’s probably what I
heard.” He took a second to compose himself, shook his head, and then walked
over and closed the window.

He
examined the chest. It was empty but, as he closed the lid, his eyes were drawn
to what seemed to be freshly made, deep, scratch marks on the floor in front of
it. “The kids must have moved it.” He shut the attic door and started down the
stairs, just as the phone in his pocket
started
to ring, startling him and causing him to stumble. “Get a grip, man!” he
cursed, before he sat down abruptly and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Jim,
it’s Carl; how’s it going?” Mary’s older brother, Carl, was sitting outside a
popular pub in central London. “Not bad, thanks, mate. I’m just finishing off
painting the guest bedroom, ready for Aunt Sally. What can I do for you?”

“Just
calling to see if there’s any feedback regarding the BL4 beta?” Jim moved his
fingers thoughtfully and slowly over some gouge marks on the stairwell’s wall.
“Not had chance to play it yet, but we’ll give it a good run out tonight, and
no doubt Zoe will carry on with it whilst we are away next week. She enjoys
being a games tester.”

“That’s
great. No worries. Just hope it’s what she’s been expecting, that’s all. The
game’s getting good previews from the journalists who have been invited to try
it out, so hopefully..., fingers crossed.”

“Right
then, mate. I’ve got to go. I’ll text you later, and speak to you sometime
tonight.” He ended the call. “OK.
Back to the painting.
I suppose my brew’s gone cold.” Jim walked back into the bedroom. All went
quiet again.

1

A
little while later the room was finally finished. Jim stood in the doorway and
admired his handiwork. “Bathroom’s next,” he sighed, walking into the room
opposite. All the bathrooms in the house were decorated the same, with a yellow
bathroom suite, a wooden airing cupboard, and a black and white squared vinyl
floor. As he entered the room the washbasin taps started running. “Looks like
the seals have gone in the taps. That’s the first problem noted,” said Jim,
turning them off tightly.

He
then bent down to look at the toilet, and lifted the lid of the cistern. “No
wonder it wouldn’t flush, it’s bloody empty. Wonder if there are any leaks?” he
said, kneeling down to inspect the toilet base and underneath the cistern.
Suddenly, a cold shiver
tingled
his spine. “Someone’s
dancing the Conga over my grave,” he muttered. The temperature on the landing
fell sharply and, unseen by Jim, a black shadow glided past the bathroom door.

Jim
got up, walked down the stairs and out into a good-sized, badly-overgrown
garden, where he saw two dripping overflow pipes. “I should’ve had this checked
and repaired last week while the builders were in.”

2

It
was now mid-afternoon and Jim was washing out the brushes and roller in the
kitchen sink. He heard the front door opening. “Hello?” shouted Mary, “it’s
only us.”

“I’m
in the kitchen,” replied Jim, “I’ll put the kettle on.” Mary and James came in,
laden with carrier bags which they emptied onto the centre island. “How was
your day? Did you manage to finish the painting?”

“Good,
thanks. Painting’s done and the furniture can go in tomorrow once it’s properly
dried.”

“What
would I do without you?” smiled Mary, kissing him on the cheek. “Any luck with
the bathroom?”

“I’ve
had a quick look and there was no water in the cistern so that must mean the
water inlet valve needs replacing. I can stop the leak ‘til we get the plumber
in, hopefully next week. Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve done.”

3

Jim
and Mary headed up the stairs to the second floor.
“Oh my!
It’s cold up here,” said Mary, hugging her arms. “I’ve had the windows open all
afternoon, to let the smell of paint out.”

“It
looks great, Jim. What a difference a coat of paint makes. Your dad would be
proud,” said Mary, affectionately. The couple were walking down the stairs when
Zoe came in with her shopping bags. “Hi love,” said Mary, “Vana not with you?”

“Hi
guys,” replied Zoe, closing the door. “She can’t stay tonight but she’ll
probably be back on Monday.”

“Well,
make sure she does,” answered Mary, putting an arm around her daughter as they
all walked into the kitchen. “I don’t like the idea of you being on your own in
this big house. What have you been buying?”

“Hoodies, new jeans and a
PlayStation game.”
Jim’s ears pricked up.
“Which one?”

“
Ditchfront
.
Vana and some other friends
have had it for a while. They’ve been bugging me to get it for a few weeks. Any
luck on the toilet front, dad?”

“Not
really, I’ll have to get a plumber in to look at it sometime next week.”

“Great!
Morning trips to the second floor – reminds me of Halls – the benefit of living
back at home!” Zoe smiled.

4

After
the family had enjoyed one of Mary’s specialities for dinner, spicy chilli
beef, and a few gaming hours together, it was time for bed. Mary was busy in
the kitchen.
“Hot chocolate for you, Zoe?
What about
you, James?”

“Keep
the chocolate, thanks, mum,” replied James, using a phrase he’d adopted from
one of Jim’s American colleagues. Mary brought in the hot drinks as requested;
chocolate for Zoe, hot milk for James, and Horlicks for her and Jim. “It sure
has been a long day,” said Jim, “think I’ll turn in now. Goodnight all.”

5

Mary
was lying in bed, reading her latest novel, and Jim was checking messages on
his iPhone. “I’d a funny day,” he said to Mary.
“In which way
funny?
Didn’t you like putting the overalls back on?”

“No,
not the painting, I enjoyed that – it took me back to working with the old man.
No, there were a few strange things going on.”

“Strange
things?” said Mary, putting down her book. “What do you mean by
strange
things?
”

“Well,
first of all my iPhone started making funny noises, then the floorboards were
creaking. That would’ve been OK but then I thought I heard footsteps on the
second floor and in the attic. But when I got to the attic it was just an open
window banging on its frame.” Mary started to read again. “There you go! It’s
just because you were on your own in an old house – you’ve got an over-active
imagination, that’s all.”

“Maybe, but there’s definitely
something spooky up there.
Besides, I found some new scratches on the wall leading upstairs, and on the
floor in front of the old chest.” Mary put her book down again; she realised
she wasn’t going to get any more reading done. “What is it with this chest that
you’re all talking about? It’s only an old travel trunk, surely, that was
forgotten when the last owners moved out. And, as for the noises, you said
yourself that the house is well over a hundred years old – there’s bound to be
some unexplained creaking.”

She
put her reading glasses and book on the bedside table. “You’re making me feel a
bit worried now, though, about leaving Zoe here
on her own
.
Do you think she’ll be OK?”

“I
knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“No.
I’m glad you did. I just don’t want her to have a relapse, that’s all.”

“Mary,”
said Jim, kindly, “that’s over four years ago now; we need to move on. The past
is the past.” Mary picked up her drink. “I know you’re trying to keep her
occupied with the games testing, but I’m her mother – I worry about her.”

“That’s
only natural, but she’ll be fine. She’s an adult now.”

6

Zoe
was the only one still awake. After a mad half hour of text-chatting with Vana,
checking Facebook, and altering her status, she posted –
my second night and
the bedbugs are biting!
The only thing keeping her awake was the noise of
creaking floorboards above – that, and the urgent need for the toilet. In the
end, in desperation, Zoe braved it, climbed up the stairs and walked into the
bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Ten
minutes later and she was ready for bed again. She closed the bathroom door
quietly so as not to wake everyone, and crept slowly back down the stairs. She
felt a blast of cold air across her neck and turned cautiously, staring into
the darkness. She felt as if there was someone there.

Once
safely back into her bedroom, she snuggled down under the duvet – but she was
not alone; a dark silhouette was watching her from the shadows.