The Demon of Devilgate Drive (Skeleton Cove Horror Book 1) Page 8

  'Where d'you think you're going, then?'

  I started at the voice and dropped back onto the chair. The man in the doorway was wearing a balaclava hat. It covered his whole face expect for his eyes. He leaned against the doorpost. I could tell from his tone that he was smiling.

  'I wouldn't bother, lad, when the Master gets here, it won't matter if you're tied up or not.'

  I glared at him. 'Oh yeah? And who's the Master when he's at home?'

  The man chuckled, then straightened up and his voice changed. 'Never mind who he is. All yous need to know is that he's coming and when he gets here you won't have to worry about nothing ever again.' He turned round and went out.

  I glanced at Suzi. Her mouth was clamped tight and I could see she was close to tears.

  'Right,' I said, and forcing myself back and upwards, I heaved against the ropes. Sitting back down, I did it again, then again, until with one final effort I was suddenly free from the back of the chair. It was an easy matter then to wriggle out of the ropes around my chest, though my hands and feet were still tied fast.

  Able to turn round now, I faced away from Suzi and held my wrists our towards her.

  'What am I supposed to do?' she hissed. 'Bite through them?'

  'How should I know,' I said. 'We've got to do something!'

  It took a lot of shoogling around to get my hands high enough so Suzi could get at my bonds with her teeth, but eventually I could feel her pulling at the knots. After a few minutes, the ropes became slack and I was able to wriggle out of them.

  It took a while longer to unfasten my feet, then I crossed to the pile of rubbish in the corner and rooted through it. There was nothing of any use, only a few bits of wood and a couple of broken brackets. I picked one of them up and examined it. It had snapped in two, leaving the broken end jagged. Crawling back to Suzi, I used my new gadget to saw through her bonds. It wasn't as effective as a hacksaw, but a lot better than nothing. As soon as she was free, I jumped up and hugged her. It was only then I noticed her mouth was bleeding.

  'Sorry,' I murmured. 'That must have hurt.'

  She nodded, dabbing at her lips. 'If there's any more rope-eating to be done, it'll be your turn.'

  I pushed the bracket into my pocket and looked at the door. 'What now? Make a run for it?'

  Suzi grabbed my hand. 'I've an awful feeling it'll be a waste of time, but we have to try.'

  Walking slowly across the floor, I peered around the open doorway. The passage beyond was empty. Halfway along was another door, also partly open. There was no talking now, but another sound came to my ears. I whispered to Suzi, 'They've got the telly on.'

  Moving forward, I kept tight hold of her hand, taking small steps over the bare floorboards. As we reached the door, I could see part of a sofa. It was facing away from us and though the room wasn't well lit, I could plainly see the backs of two heads. They appeared to be watching the shimmering light of the TV in the corner of the room.

  I was about to walk past the doorway when I heard my name:

  'Jeffrey?'

  I almost fell over in fright. The voice was deep and gravelly, as if the person speaking had a mouthful of damp pebbles. I stared at Suzi, but she could only stare back.

  'Why don't you. Come and. Join us, Jeffrey?' said the voice. 'And bring your. Friend.'

  I wanted to turn and run but my feet wouldn't move. Twisting round I saw the stairs ahead of us and in a flash knew why there were no windows - we'd been in the basement.

  'There's no escape, Jeffrey. The doors are locked. Why don't you come in? And introduce yourselves?' The voice sounded friendly, as if it wanted us to have fun, join in the party, etc.

  Suzi pulled at my hand. Her eyes were wide and her mouth seemed to be moving, but there was no sound coming out. She was as helpless as I was.

  Staring at my feet, I willed them to move. And then they did, but in the wrong direction - we were walking to the open door, towards the voice, and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

  I stared at the bare floorboards as we shuffled into the room, the glow from the TV set in the corner throwing reddish beams over us. Reaching the edge of the sofa, I could see two figures sitting on the sofa. Neither of them was moving. For a moment I thought they might be unconscious - overpowered by some weird alien force, the same force that was dragging us towards the eerie red light. But then my head turned towards the image in the corner.

  'All the way, come on, come on...'

  Able to look up now, I saw the face on the screen. It was the same image I'd seen in my bedroom, and the one at my window, only now it was all too lifelike. Hearing Suzi gasp, I gripped her hand tighter. I wanted to shout out, 'Who are you?' but my mouth refused to work and all I could do was obey the voice.

  The figure looking out at us from the TV had a skull for a face, its body shrouded in what looked like a monk's robe, the hood hanging down but not quite covering the creature's eyes.

  My feet were still moving as if by remote control, transporting me, crablike, to stand in front of the sofa. My head was fixed on the screen but I found I was able to glance sideways at Suzi. Her eyes were staring at me, her mouth open.

  'And now...' said the voice, prompting both of us to turn our attention back to the screen, 'you must...' There was a hissing noise and the picture flickered. The skull continued to speak but now the words were nothing but a mass of crackling and static, the image becoming fuzzy and distorted. A moment later, it went off altogether.

  'Oh!' Suzi jumped, jerking away from me and I sensed a kind of electric shock as the force holding me dropped away, leaving me free to move.

  Stumbling backwards, I stood on the toes of one of our captors. For the first time since we had entered the room, I turned to look at them. The one nearest me with his wide shoulders and bulky frame, was easily recognizable as the man who had chased us, but I was shocked to see that the other one was a young man, his blond hair cropped close to his head. He didn't look much older than me.

  More importantly though, both had the same wide-eyed expression we'd seen on Harry McSpawn's face a few days earlier. And both, quite obviously, were dead.

  Twelve

  I looked back at the TV but the picture was blank and the sound had dropped to a low hum as the valves buzzed in the back of the set. For a moment, the only thought in my head was the mystery of how Skull-Man had been able to appear on the telly, but Suzi had other ideas.

  'Come on,' she shrieked, grabbing at my jacket. 'Let's go.'

  As I turned to follow her, I saw the dull, dead faces of our former captors. Beside the older man was a small black box with an aerial sticking out the top - a two-way radio. Thinking it might come in handy, I was about to pick it up, but Suzi gave me a sharp tug and dragged me out the door.

  Back in the passage, we took to the stairs, flicking at the light switches as we went. One of them came on and gave us enough light to see our way to the ground floor. At the top were two more doors, one of them clearly leading to the room directly above the one we'd just vacated.

  'That way,' I muttered, heading for the other door.

  Pushing through, I was glad to find we'd made the right decision. The door opened into a kitchen, directly opposite the back door. Grasping the brass knob, I twisted it both ways, but it was locked.

  'Use the key,' Suzi hissed, pushing me aside. Twisting the offending item, she yanked the door open and pushed me through it.

  A wave of cold air rushed over me, but I didn't wait to enjoy the fresh aroma of freedom. Outside, an untended garden and rickety fence suggested the place was unoccupied, though it occurred to me that they must've had the electricity supply switched on, otherwise the TV wouldn't have worked.

  At the garden gate, we headed left along a grassy path. The sky was still dark but there was a glow on the horizon, granting us enough light to see where we were going. Ahead lay a farm track that ran past the front of the house. I looked both ways, but there was nothing familiar. We had to find out w
here we were.

  'Hey,' said Suzi, pulling my arm. 'Listen.'

  I stood still. The sound we'd heard in the cellar was louder now and seemed to be coming from directly in front of us. 'The sea,' I said. 'There.'

  We hurried across the track and climbed over a fence, leading us into a field. Luckily, the brown earth was hard, and we hurried to the other side where a shabby-looking hedge obscured whatever lay beyond.

  Forcing our way through the spiky growth, we emerged on the other side.

  'I know where we are,' said Suzi.

  I nodded. 'Me too.'

  Hurrying towards the cliff, I urged Suzi to slow down, lest the pair of us went sailing over the edge in our haste. Standing at the top, we looked down at the ancient community below - a dozen stone cottages, a few still showing signs of the whitewash that had once adorned them all, were built into the hillside. A century before, these ancient dwellings had provided shelter for what had been a thriving fishing industry. Now most were deserted, their roof beams having long since collapsed, leaving only ruins.

  One cottage, however, appeared to be intact and the whitewash had recently been repainted. Unusually, the house also had smoke curling up from the chimney.

  The route down to the beach took us further along the cliff edge and it was several minutes later when we reached the house. There was no garden as such, only an array of crates, fishing nets and other odds and ends that I guessed had washed up on the shore.

  I glanced at Suzi for reassurance. She nodded eagerly and I banged on the door.

  At first there was no reply, then a voice told us to 'Come on in, won't ye?'

  I turned the wooden handle and went inside. The door opened into a square room, its bare walls covered with the same white paint as the outside. The front of the cottage faced the sea and its one small window let in a miniscule amount of light. Still, there was a pleasant glow about the place.

  'Born in a barn, were ye?' said the old man crouching beside the fire.

  'Sorry,' I muttered, and closed the door firmly. We stood for a moment, waiting for the owner to say something else. When he didn't, I stepped forward. 'Can you help us, please?'

  The man kneeling in front of the fire eased another log into the flames and threw on a handful of coal. Then, shrugging the blanket off his shoulders, got to his feet. As he turned to face us, I had the curious sensation of watching a series of repeated movements in slow motion, as if every time his face almost came into view, it flicked back to the beginning, replaying those few seconds over and over.

  When I heard Suzi's voice, it seemed to come from far away, instead of right next to me. Swivelling my head towards her, I had the same feeling of repeating my movements continually until finally I was able to look at her. Her mouth was definitely moving but the sounds barely registered. I watched, dazed, as her lips continued to operate in perfect silence.

  Another sound came to my ears and I felt my head moving back to the old man. With the blanket now on the floor, I could see he was wearing some sort of tunic, but it wasn't until his hands moved upwards and grasped the hood, that I realised I'd seen the same outfit only minutes earlier. He was dressed like the creature on the TV.

  Blinking rapidly, I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. Then I heard Suzi's voice again, as clear as a ship's bell.

  '...in this kind of cellar and they kept us there for ages and...'

  Sliding my eyes sideways, I watched my friend as she told the story, her words registering in my head, but only in a crude way, as if I hadn't learned how to interpret what she was saying.

  Then suddenly, the fogginess dropped away and I saw the old man, heard his voice, felt the heat from the fire.

  'But look at me,' he said, 'leavin the pair of yous standin there like a couple of waifs. Won't the two of yous take a seat?' He waved a hand at two chairs on the other side of the fireplace. I waited for Suzi to sit down before pulling up the other one next to her. Her face looked normal, with no sign of confusion. Maybe it was just me? Perhaps I'd experienced some sort of delayed shock and it'd messed with my thinking processes? Whatever it was, everything seemed fine now.

  The man was talking to me. I forced myself to concentrate and nodded as if I'd been listening the whole time.

  'And this skull thing...you saw it too, eh?'

  I nodded again. 'Yes, and it was...' About to say something relating to the man's mode of dress, I decided against it. 'Strange, that's all,' I said.

  'Yeah, he was wearing this weird outfit, like monks wear,' blurted out Suzi. She waved a hand at the old man's clothing. 'A bit like yours, actually. She glanced at me then, but the coincidence seemed to have passed her by.

  'Oh aye, this thing,' said the man, pulling at his robe. 'Washed up on the beach, like most of the stuff in here.' He looked around the room, apparently reminding himself of all the objects he'd collected.

  Feeling that it was the polite thing to do, I looked around, nodding appreciatively at the array of ornaments and other brick-a-brac that decorated the shelves. In one corner was a bookcase made out of a beer barrel. In another, stood an old fashioned willow lobster pot with a spider plant growing out of it. As I moved my gaze back towards our host, I caught sight of the pile of books behind the old man, and the gray and black plastic box that was half-hidden behind them. A rubber cable came out of the back of it, leading to a pair of metal clamps where it was attached to a car battery on the floor.

  'You've got a telly,' I said.

  'Oh aye.' He shook his head. 'No power down 'ere, of course. Decoration, that's all.' He reached up, took down a clay pipe from the mantle shelf, and set about stuffing it with tobacco. But I'd seen the look on his face as he turned away. And I knew we were in trouble.

  'Anyway, we should be off,' I said, getting to my feet.

  Suzi looked up at me. 'What?'

  'We need to go,' I said giving her what I thought was a meaningful look.

  'Oh, right.' She frowned, but stood up and smiled at the old man.

  He didn't smile back. Instead, he let out a long sigh - a sigh that seemed to emerge from somewhere deep within him.

  I pushed Suzi towards the door, but escape wasn't to be so easy.

  'Couldn't let it go, could you, Jeffrey?'

  I froze, my eyes fixed on the man's face.

  He put the clay pipe down and reached across to small object by his side. Lifting it to his face, he flicked a switch. 'They're here.'

  The confusion dropped on me once again, pinning me to the spot. Unable to move, I tried to look at Suzi but even my eyes were fixed in position. All I could see was the old man. As I stared at his face, my eyelids grew heavy and blackness descended.

  Thirteen

  I blinked and opened my eyes. Or at least tried to, but there was nothing to see. Something close to my face blocked my vision - a hood, maybe? No, wrapped around my head was some sort of fabric, like a bandage, pulled tight across my face. A strange musky smell hit my nose. I sniffed, striving to work out what it was.

  For a moment, I thought I must be in hospital, but no hospital ever smelled like this - the stench got worse, assaulting my nostrils as if I were lying on a bed of rotten vegetables. And it was cold, too, though I could tell from the vague sounds around me that this wasn't outside.

  I blinked again and for the first time realised I was standing up, or more precisely, leaning against a hard surface. I might have been perfectly comfortable, if it wasn't for the fact I was completely unable to move. And that's when I panicked.

  Trouble is, trying to panic when you can't move a muscle is pretty hard. I could feel my heart banging away in my chest and it was getting difficult to breathe. I'd heard about people having panic attacks and I definitely didn't like the sound of one of those. Keep calm, Jeff, I told myself - stay still, breathe slowly, take time to assess the situation.

  Yeah, right.

  Something moved next to me. A mumble.

  'Suzi?' I said. Or would have done if I'd been able to speak. Wh
at came out was, 'Suuuph...'

  A similarly retarded answer replied. It was Suzi alright, and she was very close to me, perhaps only a few inches away. If only I could see!

  She grunted and nudged my shoulder. I nudged her back. It was only then that I began to concentrate on what I could, and could not do.

  Thinking about it logically, I started with my head. It wouldn't move, not enough to be of any use, that is. So, focusing on my shoulders, I gave my right one a wiggle. It moved, though not much. I tried the left one - same thing. The thing to do in these situations (I told myself), was to visualise it as if I were looking at it from the outside. I remembered Mr Taylor telling us about meditation, how some individuals could somehow make themselves have an out-of-body-experience. I didn't think there was much chance of that, but it was worth a try.

  Focusing on my arms, I imagined I was looking at myself from a few feet away. Then I concentrated on moving one arm at a time. Both arms were tight against my body but it was only then I realised whatever it was I was tied up with, had been wrapped around my whole body.

  Oh, cripes. We'd been mummified!

  The panic started again but I got a handle on it and managed to slow my breathing down. It all made sense - we were swathed in bandages or cloth of some kind so we couldn't move. Whoever did this wanted us out the way. Let's face it, people don't get mummified when they're going out to a party. In fact, they don't get mummified when they're alive.

  I had to move my hands. If I could get a finger or a couple of fingers into my jeans pocket, there was a chance. My hands were already in position over the pockets, but they were too far down. I'd need to slide them upwards towards the opening. Wiggling the fingers of my right hand, I manoeuvred them around, shoogling my arm this way and that until I could feel the flap of the pocket. Sliding a finger in, I could feel the broken bracket. The bandages were still tight, but after a few minutes, I was able to slide the tool upwards. It was hard going, and I kept catching my fingers on the sharp edge. Eventually, with my hand turned outwards, the edge of the bracket was against the fabric.