The Howards Gate Horror
By Damien Biggs
@RedStarDamien
Seldom did the rain cease to cascade upon the small New England city of
Chester that weekend. It was mid-January, always a quite month for the
city. Every January it seemed that the entire population of 80,000 had
exhausted themselves from prior parties over the preceding holiday
season. Everyone had the same expression that covered their face, their
actions and mood mirrored each other's: slowly and begrudgingly getting
back to the daily grind of life that oozed normality.
Few braved the biblical torrent that fell from the heavens that Saturday
night. It was amongst that treacherous storm, in that strange half way
period that's neither Saturday night nor Sunday morning, that a group of
six friends made their way home. They had spent the evening with their
two other friends, welcoming them into their new home. The eight of them
you see were each romantically paired off.
Dayton and Hollie were the two who had recently moved across town to
Viper Hill.
Zak and Shevaun were the newest addition to the group. Still in their
honeymoon phase, outrageously raunchy public displays of affection
haunted their behaviour like an uncontrollable phantom.
Darrell and Val where the opposite of what society expected their genders
to be. Val was very masculine, she would wrestle anyone who stood in her
way. Darrell was more timid and prone to excessive worrying.
Frank and Amelie where the stereotypical couple. Amelie was a princess,
both in her eyes and in Franks. Frank was her prince charming, her
protector.
Viper Hill sat atop the hillside to the east of downtown, it overlooked
the quite city in a silent watchful manner. Its neatly placed apartment
blocks had a full view of the city. It was in one of those modern
apartments that Dayton and Hollie had decided to call home. Prior to the
young couples move they, like the others, had lived to the west of
downtown. In one of the older, more cramped apartments that sat close by
to the old cemetery. The others still lived in that decaying ill-treated
suburb. That evening they had all talked about how much better it would
be if they were all living within the modern and more upmarket Viper
Hill. Maybe one day they all would, or maybe just some of them.
They hurriedly made their way across the deserted and excessively
drenched street. They had to pause for a moment to let a lone car slowly
splash its way across their path. They then continued across the road to
where the Subway sign illuminated the cold wet night. It almost seemed
like a beacon, welcoming them to a dry and safe haven. Rather than a
beacon, however, they should have seen the sign as a lighthouse, warning
them to stay away from treacherous rocks. Hindsight, life's cruellest
vision, it seems we spend our lives looking through the cold dark
spectacles of hindsight.
They joyfully walked into the yawning mouth like entrance of the subway
station. A large black iron frame archway loomed over top. In metal
letters the name Viper Hill Station clung to its 1920's styled frame like
a wet black cat clinging for its life above an undesired bath. Either
side of the iron archway were the illuminated Subway signs, again encased
in a 1920's black ironclad frame.
Their laughter echoed around them as they carefully placed one foot after
another upon the wet steps that led downwards into the depths of the
station. As they reached the bottom they could see the station platform
directly past the turnstiles, they then noticed that they were no longer
alone. They had quietened down as they swiped their tickets and made
their way onto the cold platform, a strong constant breeze was blowing
through the tunnel, enough to send shivers down the spine of Amelie. She
shuddered and Frank responded by silently placing his arms around her
from behind, slowly rubbing her forearms to help combat the sudden
coldness she had felt. The entire place reeked of damp festering mould
and stagnant water.
On the platform, to their right, sat a wet and dirty looking man who was
constantly looking at his feet. Sat casually beside him was a large
oversized rucksack, the kind that one would take on a hiking trip, hardly
the standard commuters' bag. The bag was just as dirty and wet as he was.
His long black matted hair clung to his scalp and face, it scraggily ran
down the back of his neck and stuck onto his green army styled coat. He
was clearly not a military man however, maybe a veteran, but maybe not,
he seemed only to be in his mid-twenties. His general untidiness also
failed to give the impression of someone who was once, or still was, in
the army. His presence within the station clearly un-nerved the three
girls, there was just something about him, something... odd.
Contrastingly, sat upon a bench to the groups left was a middle-aged man,
as wet as though he might have been, he still seemed to look neat. His
business suit still looking freshly pressed. His shoes still shinned,
from the rain that had soaked them but also from fresh boot polish. His
head stayed straight, looking forward whilst clutching a large closed
umbrella. He wouldn't have seemed so out of place had they'd been waiting
on the platform Monday morning. But what struck his whole presence there
as odd was that fact that it was half past twelve Sunday morning. Though
I suppose it's always in that weird stage of limbo between morning and
night that all manner of strange creatures venture out of the tunnels
whence they resided.
Their wait within the semi-deserted subway catacomb was brief. Within a
few minutes of their uneasy wait on the platform a small roar echoed out
of the tunnel and repeatedly bounced off all the damp tilled walls of the
station. No sooner had that animal-esque roar bellowed out of the black
tunnel than a small piercing set of headlights creeped around the corner.
They illuminated the blackened brick tunnel around them before breaching
the entrance to the station. The snake like train slowly hissed its way
out of its burrow. It ran along the side of the platform before squealing
to a stop like a pig just before a slaughterous hand executes its final
command.
Amelie once again felt the cold breath of the tunnels rushing breeze upon
her neck. It ran down beneath her clothes and sent yet more shivers along
her spine.
Once the trains' movement had stopped and it no longer made any noises,
the doors of the three carriages sharply slid open.
The clean suited man to their left had already gotten up and was slowly
making his way toward the train, tapping his umbrella on the floor as he
went. Each time the steel point hit against the cold damp floor, small
droplets of water fell from the black canvas of the rolled up umbrella,
crashing down and adding to the floors ever increasing dampness. He then
proceeded to enter the train within its front carriage.
Zak and Shevaun, with hands entwined, joyfully and swiftly got onto the
middle carriage. They were whispering and giggling in their usual fashion
as they boarded. Frank gave Amelie one last squeeze from behind and then
removed his hands from her arms. They then proceeded to enter the train
and sat on the seats opposite to where Zak and Shevaun had sprawled out.
Zak was facing forward and Shevaun was twisted, her legs laid upon Zak's
thighs and his hands were slowly and seductively rubbing along her legs.
Darrell and Val were right behind Frank and Amelie, however just as Val
placed her right hand onto the cold metal rail and put one foot onto the
carriage, she noticed something. Just out the corner of her eye, she saw
the untidy man with the green jacket and rucksack about to board their
carriage on the far end, but she also noticed something else. A dark
shadowy figure, their hood was up but it was defiantly another person
boarding the train on the last carriage. She paused what she was doing
and turned her head to get a better view, but there was nothing to see.
Nothing but the scraggly guy who, it seemed, also saw this shadow. He too
had paused boarding the train and was looking in the direction of the
last carriage. His head then turned towards Val. He noticed her looking
that way also, a strange sinister look then proceeded to encompass his
face. The look un-nerved Val, it was a strange concoction of pleasure and
worriment. A half-eaten smile mixed with an anxious look in his eyes. Val
quickly turned and continued to get on the train.
"What's up?" Darrell asked, noticing her nervous glances towards the end
carriage.
"Nothing" she immediately replied, but then she paused whilst holding
onto the pole that stood in the centre of the carriage. She looked down
to the last carriage, all the three carriages were separate but had
interconnecting doors. The centre of the doors were dominated by a large
plain glass window. She stood there for a moment, looking downwards,
through the glass and into the last carriage, her eyes only saw and empty
carriage filled with empty seats, no shadowy figure, nothing. She then
sat next to Darrell, who had already placed himself next to Frank, just
as she did the dirty looking man with the rucksack got onto their
carriage.
He quickly made his way passed the group and sat down on the opposite end
of the carriage to which he had gotten on. A vile smell seemed to slowly
follow his movement. It was a horrendous blend of sweat, wet dog and
cigarettes.
Shevaun had the weakest gag reflex of the group. Once the repugnant
stench had violated just about every corner of her nostrils she could no
longer hide her disgust. Both hands rose up and cupped both her nose and
her mouth. Noticing what Shevaun was doing, the rest of the group
promptly forgot their own discomfort with the smell and began giggling at
her.
The doors slowly hissed shut and with it came the slow jolts that
signalled the trains' departure from the station. Within moments the
train was engulfed in cold darkness, the lights on board flickered and
returned to their previous illuminating state. They were now deep within
the labyrinth of subway tunnels that sprawled out beneath the city like
many electrified tentacles latching onto every crevasse that they could
reach.
A single voice then entered the carriage.
"This is a red line train to West Chester, the next stop will be,
Howard's Gate."
It was the generic electronic woman's voice that was heard throughout the
city's transport network. The voice seemed terribly unhuman, not an ounce
of emotion weighted down any of her words, they were spoken with cold
blooded conviction.
A momentary silence became upon the group, it was then broken by Frank's
low tone.
"Not too bad, only xxx stops to go after this one."
Again another silent pause. Since leaving the station, a strange eerie
air had filled the carriage and smothered its passengers. All were quite,
even Zak and Shevaun were abnormally subdued. Perhaps it was the presence
of the strange dirty man, or perhaps the presence of someone entirely
different. Whatever it was, Frank was determined to expel it's presence
from the group.
"Do you know why it's called Howard's Gate?" He asked to rest if the
group. Surprised by this sudden opening of a conversation topic the rest
of the groups minds seemed to awaken and become more alert.
"Something from the colonial times I once heard" replied Darrell.
"Yea, but something of a sinister legend apparently" Frank continued...
Chester 1700's
A large manner house stood silently one summers evening. It was buried
within the encompassing arms of a large black iron railing fence that
surrounded the grounds upon which it sat. The night was calm, a soft
breeze gently fluttered by like a summer butterfly. In the distance a
small grumbling of thunder was faintly heard. Carried by the breeze one
could just about make out its menacing voice, terrorising a lonesome
merchant ship making its way to the new worlds harbour.
The manners grounds were overgrown wild menacing gardens, the lone
groundsman had been overpowered by its sheer scale many years ago. His
back was a fraction of the strength it used to be in his younger years
and his hands were plagued with arthritis. He did what he could to fight
back against the overhanging trees and bushes, just enough to make it so
that the dirt paths around the grounds were still open enough to let a
horse drawn carriage pass through.
The house it's self was just as unkept and unappreciated as its grounds
that were slowly swallowing it whole. It was maintained by a single house
keeper. Like the groundsman her better days were a long distant memory,
hazy thoughts of being able to run a house efficiently were now nothing
more than a dream. She did what she could for the master of the house,
and it was enough for his standards, but any job she attempted always
took twice as long as it used to. They say home is where the heat is, one
shudders to think what kind of heart would dwell in such a home as this.
As for the master, he was the rich owner of a shipping company. Owning,
however, was all that he did. The company was managed by his only son as
he had unofficially retired after the sudden and questionable death of
his wife.
The master was one Howard Philips and he was looked after by his
manservant, Hester Talbot. Hester was around half the age of his master
however he was also around half the intelligence of his master. On the
night in question Hester found himself being awoken from his peaceful
slumber by a single large thumping noise that seemed to shake the very
foundations of hell. He arose with great haste, swung both legs from out
of his heavy cotton blankets and slipped his feet into a pair of cold
slippers. He made his way out of his bed chamber and across the landing.
Placing both hands upon the wooden banister that overlooked the main
entrance downstairs he paused, slowly surveying the area until his bleary
eyes spied upon the open door to the cellar. Light was coming out of the
opening and slicing the darkness, he was puzzled, for all the years he
had worked for Mr Philips not once did he ever recall that door ever
being unlocked. He stood there watching the opening for a few moments,
faint echoing rumbles of thunder were the only audible sound that reached
his ears.
He began to make his way down the red carpeted stair case, his eyes
firmly fixed onto the mysterious open door. As the staircase creaked and
moaned underneath the slender man's weight. A loud knocking sound pinned
him to the spot. He stood there, listening. Bang! Another knock shock the
front of the house. He removed his gaze from the cellar door and instead
fixated it upon the grand entrance door. Another bang make him jump so
much that he almost lost a footing on the stairs and would surly have
gone crashing down to a violent demise upon the wooden entrance floor. He
grabbed the banister and stabilised himself, he then noticed what daemon
was causing the sudden banging. The wind outside had picked up, gaining
pace from the impending storm moving inwards from the sea. It was this
sudden unholy gush of wind that had thrust a loose window shutter and
proceeded to knock it against the side of the timber house. With
knowledge that it was only the spirit of the elements that was causing
the noise his focus then shifted onto the real mystery of the night, what
was happening in the cellar. Once at ground level he cautiously walked to
the cellar door that stood beneath the wooden panelled staircase. He
eased the door open and peered downwards. The door lead onto a narrow set
of wooden stairs that ended at the bottom with a small wooden landing and
another door. This door too was slightly open and flickering rays of
candle light escaped from the opening along with the mumbling voice of
Master Philips. Curiosity was rampant throughout Talbots mind, he was the
cat it seemed, a cleaver man knows only too well what happens when
curiosity gets the better of the cat. However Talbot was not a cleaver
man and so he slowly and quietly made his way down the dark stair
passage. He reached the bottom and, without moving the door, spied into
the cellar room.
He could see Master Philips pacing around in a circle. He seemed to be in
deep conversation with someone, however his voice was too low to fully
distinguish any recognisable words of English. At first glance Talbot
believed the room to be vacant of any other people. As he crept forward
to get a better look he then saw a second figure. It had the shape of a
large slender hooded man, his heavy grey robes dragged on the stone
floor. This second unknown man just simply stood there with his back to
the door, listening intently to every one of Master Philips incoherent
instructions. Talbots heart was drumming faster, it felt as if it was
about to break free from his caging chest. His breathing had also
quickened. For reasons unknown to him he placed his left hand upon a
small golden crucifix that dangled precariously around his neck. He moved
closer again towards the gap in the door. His right foot slowly placing
itself onto the wooden unlevelled floorboards. His left foot then quietly
raised and began to follow. As it came down his toes softly pushed
downwards on the corner of one board. A large shrieking creek echoed
almost all around the entire house it seemed. Amplified by the deathly
stillness of the night, it was a noise that was enough to stop any man's
heart from beating. Talbot was frozen to the spot, his heart had stopped,
his breathing was that of a dying mans. Still clutching the crucifix, now
tighter than ever, he noticed Master Philips looking directly at him.
Fire burned within his masters eyes, the stare was that of the devils.
Within moments the hooded man's head slowly began to turn. With each slow
turn loud cracking noises begun to ring out loud. It was as if with each
twist of the neck a small pocket of air burst between every joint along
his spine. Talbot felt as if his stomach was about to violently
regurgitate every single piece of carrot, pea and potato from his
vegetable soup supper. The man's neck and head was turning, but his body
still stayed with his, its, back to the door. Like an owl his face was
looking directly at Talbot, his chest still facing Master Philips. Talbot
gasped as he saw the face of the hooded creature, for upon its face there
was no skin. All that was visible were its underlying muscles. Its teeth
protruded outwards and were covered in some form of salvia mixed with the
blood from some of its ruptured veins. Within his eye sockets there sat
no eyes, nothing but deep eternal darkness so horrifying that no spark of
light dared to enter within. Unyet with these dark empty sockets he felt
such heat, such penetrating vision, his mind body and very soul were
being watched, scanned and analysed. He felt so helpless, as if he was a
condemned man being watched by both the judge and the executioner. He
felt shackled and pinned to the spot. He couldn't even move when the
terrifying hooded creature screamed in such a high pitched tone and ran
full speed towards the spot where his trembling feet stood.
All the villagers herd where piercing screams followed by a grand roar of
fire as the manner burst into flames.
Once the fire was out only one body was discovered, alive. It was the
body of Talbot, badly burned and disfigured but alive non the less. After
that night the words that he spoke were only the things of nightmares.
'Wild delusions of skinless demons and portals to hell' was what the
sanatorium doctors called them. However these wild delusions soon found
their way back to the folk of Chester. These wild delusions soon turned
into ghost stories and frightening local legends. Old master Philips was
a devil worshipped they'd say, old master Howard Philips opened a gate to
hell. Thus the name of the area around the demolished manner house was
named, Howards Gate.
By the time Frank had told the group his ghost story the train was
stopping at the next station and the doors silently eased open onto the
deserted platform. A rush of new air escaped from the station and filled
the carriage. Deathly silence surrounded them, the only audible noise
came from the soft humming from the train. The silence was so captivating
that it bred more silence. Everyone seemed too afraid to cough or even
breathe too loudly for fear of breaking the harmonising noise of
nothingness.
The doors lingered open for a while longer, the silence continued for a
while longer, the group's overall uneasiness grew for a while longer.
Just before the silence became too deafening, a loud and violent bang
erupted from the window facing the platform. The entire group jumped and
shuddered, the odd gasp and shriek escaped from some of their mouths. It
was after the initial scare that Amelie first saw the devilish culprit
that gave birth to the menacing sound. Dangling from a piece of cord
outside their carriage were two strange dolls.
The dolls were similar to that of a traditional Amish doll in that their
faces were vacant of any facial features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, not
a single identifiable mark graced those pale skinned blank heads of
theirs.
The two were bound together by a piece of brown cord, similar to the type
that would be used to entwine a parcel with. They were connected to the
waist by another cord, going from their waist rose upwards towards the
roof of the train.
It was as if someone had thrown the dolls from atop of the carriage,
allowed them to swing around and then hammer against the window with
tremendous force.
A sudden infectious feeling of fear warped it's icy hands around her
heart, constricting it so much that every heart beat was a painful
struggle. For the terrifying detail that she had noticed upon the doll
was enough to stop even the healthiest hearts from operating in a normal
fashion.
As they swung in a hypnotic motion from side to side, Amelie noticed that
one of the dolls had the same purple crop top and dark blue jeans as she
had on beneath her thick black coat.
Amelie grabbed franks hand and squeezed it tightly, for a second
painfully terrifying realisation sliced through her body. The second doll
that was tied to hers was wearing the same clothes as he was. There
dangling in front of them upon the outside of the train were two faceless
dolls dressed as they were that very moment. Frank immediately began to
move toward the door, Amelie's hand still clasped his and stretched
outward in a half hearted attempt to keep him beside her. He continued to
move, she could no longer speak, nor could she delve within herself and
grasp any last lingering strength that she might have had to pull against
him and keep him within the safety of the carriage. She followed him,
still hand in hand, off of the train and onto the silent, empty platform.
They turned and looked upwards to see if anyone, or anything, was still
standing on the top of the train, an empty roof only greeted their eyes.
They followed the twine downwards until their eyes once again cast upon
the two dolls, their swinging motion was almost at an end. Just before
the last swing had swung a loud noise echoed around the platform and
caused Amelie to break her silence and gasp the word "wait!"
To the dismay of both, the doors to the train squealed shut, the sudden
noise of the train pulling away from the platform rang into their ears.
The shocked look on the faces of the rest of the group burned into their
eyes, they were now all alone, in Howard's Gate.
Within seconds of the train leaving the platform and plunging it's self
into the echoing tunnel the carriage jolted forward violently, then
continued like normal. To the group it felt as if the emergency breaks
had been applied with haste followed only by their immediate release and
instant acceleration. No sooner had the confusion and worriment begun to
fall away than a bright flash blinded the carriage. It's bright blue
heavenly aura almost seemed calming. The encapsulating light was followed
by a contrasting loud and violent jolt, as if the train had slammed into
something hard, stationary and hellish. The movement was joined with a
loud bang, just as violent and just as hellish. Darrell and Val were
thrown to the floor whilst the others grabbed onto the armrests of their
chairs to keep them within the seat. The train juddered forward one more
time, a lot less violent than the first, then came to a complete and
silent stop. The lights within the carriage flicked but remained on,
illuminating their freighted faces within the stationary carriage, they
were all frozen to the spot.
The ensuing minutes after the trains demise within the tunnel was filled
with uncomfortable silences and awkward pleasantries. Moments after the
sudden stop the clean suited man had entered their carriage and polity
asked if everyone was alright, no such question was asked by the scruffy
man. To which everyone responded with a simple "yes, thank you".
Once small talk was over and it was certain that everyone on board the
train was in good health, Zak casually walked over the the small red
emergency telephone. He wrapped his fingers around the handset and placed
it to his ear.
He paused momentarily, the rest of the group listened intently to see if
they could hear anything.
"Hello" Zak semi-shouted down the phone. A few minutes went by with the
silence broken by Zak's occasional calls for help but no response came.
Zak finally placed the phone back in its original holding place then he
too sat in his original spot next to Schevaun.
As Zak sat down a worried question was asked by Darrell, "Well what
next?"
"We just have to wait" responded the man in the suit. "The whole
transport system is organised by computers, so somewhere in some control
room a light is going off telling an engineer that this train is not
working."
"I guess" was the response from most of the passengers, it seemed his
rational reason for waiting subdued most of them.
A few more minutes went by when suddenly Zak and Shevaun had decided
enough was enough. Their deep burning passion had been re lit. For some
unknown reason whatever feelings that had previously subdued their
honeymoon love were now gone. They were back to their usual wild and
uncontrollable passionate selves.
"Right, well we're just going to go into the next carriage for some" she
paused and looked at Zak, who was giving off a smouldering naughty
schoolboy smile. "Alone time" she continued "while we wait for the
emergency services, or engineer, or whoever".
Before any objections could be voiced they both hastily made their way to
the sliding door that connected the middle and end carriages. Hands
entwined they proceeded to slide it open, walked through and slide it
firmly shut.
The lights flickered again, as they came back on Val noticed something
beneath the seats where Zak and Shevaun had been sitting. It was a small
black cardboard shoe box, no markings graced its top or sides, just
blackness.
"Was that there when we got on?" she asked Darrell, pointing over to the
box.
"I cant remember" he replied, his face didn't hide his confused and frantic search within his brain. "I don't think it was" he ended.
Val then got up and cautiously made her way to the box, she noticed both
the suited man and the dirty one studying her movement.
She knelt down, her knees felt the damp wet floor slowly soaking its way
into her jeans. She leaned underneath the seat and pulled the box out
from its hiding spot.
All Darrell could see was her back hunched over as she opened the lid of
the box. Her body blocked his vision from seeing inside but his ears soon
heard her horrified words. "Darrell, quick look at this!" she shouted.
He quickly moved over to where she was still kneeling and saw her holding
two faceless dolls, these dolls were dressed in the same clothes as Zak
and Shevaun. The real terrifying aspect of these dolls however was that
their faceless heads where so severely severed from their bodies that
only a small amount of material was keeping their heads attached. Their
heads flapped back and forth like a small scab flapping off of its hosts body.
She dropped the dolls and ran over to the door of the last carriage, her
attempts to open it where in vain, it was either stuck, or locked.
"Come help me get this open!" she called over, all three of the men
jogged over to the door, all three of them tried to slide the door open
and all three of them failed. Once they had stopped trying to open the
door Val noticed a hooded figure standing at the end of the carriage. The
hooded figure stood there, watching Zak and Shevaun passionately kissing
in the middle seats of the carriage, he held a large ceremonial styled
knife.
Fists then frantically banged against the glass, lungs burst with loud
terrified screams. The entire carriage was alive with extreme noise and
movement. Unyet in the other carriage, calm romantic gestures, it was
almost as if they were encased in a soundproofed bubble. A bubble that
was theirs and theirs alone, their love was motionarray unyet all else
around them was frozen.
The bubble, however, was about to burst, pieced by the hooded figure who
was now almost on top of the young couple. His knife raised with a firm
clasp, his other hand then proceeded to swiftly grab Shevaun's ponytail,
with a scream her head was thrusted backwards so that her eyes locked
onto his, she saw the face of her attacker, the group was sure of this as
she let out another horrified scream. Zak was frozen to the spot, fear,
it seemed, had placed its hands upon his shoulders and refused to let him
move. He was forced to watch as the girl, who he adored with all his
heart and soul, had her throat slowly slit. As the cold metal blade
carved its way around her neck, her screams slowly turned into an
inaudible mix of gargling and chocking noises. Blood began pumping out
from the open incision, a small amount of blood was pulsated so
vigorously that it shot straight passed the wound and entered the back of
her mouth, drawled down the sides of her cheeks and escaped onto the
floor beneath her.
Once she had gargled her last cry for help and twitched her leg one last
time the hooded figure calmly threw her body to the ground. Discarding
the young girl as a simple piece of cast off meat, freshly slaughtered
and allowing her body to drain fully of all of life's precious fluids.
He then placed his thumb into the middle of Zak's forehead, right in
between his gaping and weeping eyes. His index finger was placed at the
top, right where Zak's thick dark hairline began. Slowly and with an
almost hypnotists touch he pushed Zak's head backwards and placed the
blade to his now exposed throat. Shevaun's blood still clung to the blade
like a child desperately clinging to its parent, he then carried out
Zak's execution in the same manner as Shevaun's. Slowly and calmly
carving its way around, however this time no sounds were made, not even
the repulsive gargling noise was heard. It seemed as though that as
Shevaun's blood was emptied so to was any last lingering amount of life
Zak had within him.
As Zak's neck was finally fully slit the lights in the carriage
flickered, and then blackness surrounded them all. A few scuffling noises
came from the grizzly end carriage, a few of the group backed slightly
away from the door. The lights then suddenly flashed on momentarily and a
strange monstrous face was seen in the doors window. None called make out
any facial features but all shrieked in terror and jumped backwards as
the carriage was plunged again into darkness. Within seconds the lights
came back on, no face was seen in the window, only two bodies occupied
the end carriage, the helpless and lifeless bodies of Zak and Shevaun.
Val stepped back with a feeling of great sickness within her, her mind
struggled to come to terms with what she had just been a witness to. As
her foot moved backwards her stiletto heel brushed over something, she
had to grab hold of the hanging metal rail to keep herself from falling.
She glanced down to see what had latched onto her shoe. To her horror,
there upon the floor, upon the soaked and dirty carriage floor at her
very feet was another black shoe box.
Darrell, noticing Vals near fall, had also seen the box, he bent down and in with almost superhero bravery flipped back the lid, and then
gasped. The charred remains of another faceless doll was all that sat
within the box. Around its neck hung a golden St Christopher neckless.
Darrell placed his hand upon his chest and gasped. Val turned to look at
him, his worried expression infectiously spread to her face. She now knew
where she had seen the same neckless, it was around Darrells neck. Frantically scrambling and clawing at his polo-shirts neckline he could
no longer feel any chain, it was gone. He ran over to the emergency
telephone once more, pulled the handset from the receiver and placed it
to his ear. Just as he began to yell into the phone about a possible fire
in the hope that someone would hear, the others noticed his body suddenly
tense. Every one of his muscles clamped shut along with his jaw, his
teeth burring themselves deep into his tongue. Thousands of volts where
pouring out of the phone and pulsating into his body, electrically
burning him from the inside out.
Val started to run over to him but the suited man grabbed her and held
her back. "You can't do anything without being electrocuted yourself" he
said in a heavy hearted way. "I'm sorry but we just have to wait for it
to short out".
She collapsed to the floor, knowing that the words he had spoken where
the unfortunate truth. Tears poured from her eyes as she laid in a ball
by his feet. A loud bang brought her head back up, it must have been the
sound of the phone dropping to the floor she thought. But she was unable
to know that for sure as once again the lights flickered off and darkness
encased them all.
When the lights eventually came back on the phone was lying on the ground
but Darrells surely charred body was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he?!" Sobbed Val "where is he you bastard!" Her head collapsed
once again into her hands as she could no longer control her emotions.
Her mind was dominated by fear, abandonment and sorrow.
The suited man attempted to comfort her but was distracted by the
noticing of another black show box, it sat on the seat to his right. He
glanced over to the long hairs man who also had his head buried into his
hands. Not wanting to cause any more worriment he silently reached over.
With one hand still rubbing Vals back his other hand flicked the lid of the box. Cautiously he pulled the box towards him and chanced in.
Once he had seen what was within the box he removed his hand from Vals back, his other hand left the box and slowly edged backwards. For within
the box his eyes had seen nothing, just an empty box. No doll was inside,
the only thing that was in there was a small loan umbrella. His mind
raced, what did this mean? No doll, just his umbrella, could this mean
that he was not going to share the same fate as the others. "To hell with
this" he sternly said out loud. "You two can stay and face your end but
I'm leaving".
He turned and made his way towards the carriages middle doors, Val and
the dirty man seemed too lost within their own terrified and exhausted
minds to notice or care what he was doing.
His fingers forced their way into the narrow gap between both sliding
doors, he managed to open it just enough to curl his fingers around the
rubber edges and push the doors aside. A gap was made just wide enough
for him to squeeze through, his right leg pushed through then the rest of
his body followed.
A few sobbing minutes passed until Val looked up and saw the dirty man
still standing in front of her. Upon his face there was not a single spit
of emotion, not one ounce of human compassion was felt as she looked into
his dark lifeless eyes. A blind rage engulfed and swirled within her
mind, all she could feel was hatred towards the scruffy, dirty man who
stood in front of her. She leapt forward screaming "you have something to
do with this, I know you do!" She lunged and grabbed his rucksack, pulled
the zip across with so much force that the zip almost ripped off of the
end. Her frantic search ended within seconds, she froze. Her eyes slowly
moved upwards, then so too did her head. She looked deep into his eyes
and pulled from the bag a faceless doll. The doll was wrapped in a
plastic bag, only its head was visibly poking out of the top. Pierced
through both the bag and the doll was a small toy knife, identical to the
one the hooded figure had demonically used upon Zak and Schevaun.
"I've got no idea why or how that's in there". The dirty man confessed,
raising both his hands in a gesture of total innocence. Val didn't
respond, instead she just lowered the doll, still penetrating his eyes
with hers, and raised her other hand, holding the sacrificial knife.
Again she said nothing, her eyes just fixated upon his. Again he raised
his hands and confessed pure blinding innocence. Again she ignored him.
In an almost dream like state she got to her feet, still clutching the
knife with a deadly grasp. Fire was within her, her heart could feel a
torrent of lava spilling out and gushing through every vain within her.
She made her way slowly to where he was standing. His eyes filled with
fear as he put both his hands in front of him and back away towards the
end of the carriage. He turned his head to see the connecting door behind
him, realised he was now cornered he decided to act quickly. He rushed
towards her hoping his overwhelming size would be enough to overpower
her. As he leapt forward Val threw her empty hand upwards and attempted
to claw at his dirty, scruffy face with her blood red nails. He raised
both his hands in an attempt to prevent her slender fingers from
penetrating his eyeballs. As he did this, they both stumbled and fell to
the floor, Vals hands still attempting to gouge and the mans hands still attempting to prevent her. The moment both bodies hit the carriage
floor Val then swung the knife around and plunged it into the mans side. The man screamed in pain as Val withdrew the knife and again plunged it
into him. She repeated this action multiple times, the sound of steal
tearing through soft flesh was all that engulfed her ears, the
splattering of blood upon her arms and face was all that she could feel.
The mans screams where never herd, all though the oxygen soon left his lungs and in a matter of minutes was no longer replaced. He was now dead
and Val finally realising this disengaged from her rage filled bloodlust
dream and re-entered reality. She dropped the knife and slowly slid
herself backwards, away from the mans body. A trail of blood smeared its way behind her as she moved. Tears had begun to form in her eyes and
exhaustion took over, she broke down in an uncontrollable fit of
emotions. Once a few minutes had passed she slowly gathered her thoughts,
opening her eyes she saw the plastic bag that contained the doll that she
found in the man's rucksack. She found herself compelled to open the bag,
she wasn't sure what was drawing her to it, it felt like a gravitational
pull, like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite. Still sitting on the
floor she slid across and grabbed the bag. Her blood soaked fingers dug
into the plastic and ripped it open. She froze, for what laid within the
bag was not a faceless doll wearing the clothes she had on. The faceless
doll that laid within the bag. The faceless doll, who's torso had been
penetrated by the little toy knife, that laid within the bag had upon its
body the very clothes of the dirty man. This was his doll, not hers.
She dropped the doll and looked upwards, almost as if seeking an angel or
asking for the heavens to proceed with some form of answer that could
somehow make sense of all these events. No answer came and no angel
descended, however she was no longer alone. Peering through the
connecting carriage door was the hooded figure from before. She didn't
notice him at first, but when she did all heat swiftly exited her body
and she was left a shivering carcass within an abattoir, being spied upon
buy the butcher. The door slowly eased open and then everything went
black. Not the lights this time however, Val had lost all consciousness.
The next time Val opened her eyes she was confronted with the face of a
paramedic, she could feel her body strapped to a stretcher and she was
being wheeled out from the subway station. Rain drops pummelled her face
and bounced off of her respirator mask. She struggled to speak, her
through felt as though a large heavy foot had been constantly standing
upon it for hours. Her mind was a wild mess of flashing lights and loud
noises. As she was being loaded onto the ambulance the paramedic
explained that she had been involved in an accident. The subway train she
was on suffered a power surge as it was turning a bend, this caused the
train to derail and had thrown her body across the train. Her ears heard
the words unyet her mind struggled to take them in, she struggled to
remember what had happened, but all she could remember was Howards Gate
and then a flash, nothing more.
Two weeks later Val, who had now learnt that she was the sole survivor of
that tragic accident, still struggled to remember much from that night.
She spent many a restless night in her hospital bed struggling to piece
everything together until one night she became so exhausted that she
entered the most deepest of sleeps in which a frightening figure was
placed before her. She was within a dark room, a strange hooded figure
sat cross legged in the middle. He looked up and saw Val standing in
front of him, calmly his hands rose upwards and pulled the hood down. His
head was skinless, his eye sockets were eyeless, his mouth was lipless.
Val took a slight step backwards, as she did one of his hands moved
across his mouth, almost singling a shush motion. His other hand then
pointed downwards to a little toy hospital bed, within it laid a small
faceless doll dressed in a hospital gown.