Horror Stories Part 3

Colin looked left, then right, realizing it didn't matter what direction he went. He began walking, b.u.t.ts nipping at his heels.

"I got old buds in Heysham. They'll put us up. Plus I got a contact there. He could set us up with some smack, right off. Wouldn't even need quid; we can barter with the pretties we nick."

"No."

b.u.t.ts put his dirty hand on Colin's shoulder, squeezed. His fingernails resembled a coal miner's.

"Come on, mate. We could be hooked up in three hours. Maybe less. You got something better to do? Find a hole somewhere, curl up until the puking stops? You recall how long it takes to stop, Colin?"

Colin paused. He hadn't eaten in a few days, so there was nothing to throw up but his own stomach lining. He'd done that, once. Hurt something terrible, all b.l.o.o.d.y and foul.

But Heysham? Colin didn't believe there was anything valuable in that armpit of a town. Let alone some treasure-filled house b.u.t.ts'd seen thirty years back.

Colin rubbed his temple. It throbbed, in a familiar way. As the night dragged on, the throbbing would get worse.

He could take his quid, buy a tin of aspirin and some seltzer, and hope the withdrawal wouldn't be too bad this time.

But he knew the truth.

As far as bad decisions went, Colin was king. One more wouldn't make a dif.

"Fine, b.u.t.ts. We'll go to Heysham. But if there's nothing there, you owe me. Big."

b.u.t.ts smiled. The three teeth he had left were as brown as his shoes.

"You got it, mate! And you'll see! Old b.u.t.ts has got a feeling about this one. We're going to score, and score big. You'll see."

By the time the rail spit them out at Heysham Port, Colin was well into the vomiting.

He'd spent most of the ride in the loo, retching his guts out. With each purge, he forced himself to drink water, so as not to do any permanent damage to his gullet.

It didn't help. When the water came back up, it was tinged pink.

"Hang in there, Colin. It isn't far."

b.o.l.l.o.c.ks it wasn't far. They walked for over three hours. The night air was a meat locker, and the ground was all slope and hill. Wooded country, overgrown with trees and high gra.s.s, dotted with freezing bogs. Colin noticed the full moon, through a sliver in the canopy, then the forest swallowed it up.

They walked by torchlight; b.u.t.ts had swaddled an old unders.h.i.+rt around a stick. Colin stopped vomiting, but the s.h.i.+vering got so bad he fell several times. It didn't help that b.u.t.ts kept getting his reference points mixed up and changed directions constantly.

"Don't got much left, b.u.t.ts."

"Stay strong, mate. Almost there. See? We're on the road."

Colin looked down, saw only weeds and rocks.

"Road?"

"Cobblestone. You can still see bits of curbing."

Colin's hopes fell. If the road was in such disrepair, the house was probably worse off.

Stinking Heysham. Stinking b.u.t.ts.

"There it is, mate! What did I tell you?"

Colin stared ahead and viewed nothing but trees. Slowly, gradually, he saw the house shape. The place was entirely obscured, the land so overgrown it appeared to be swallowing the frame.

"Seems like the house is part of the trees," Colin said.

"Was like that years ago, too. Worse now, of course. And lookit that. Windows still intact. No one's been inside here in fifty years, I bet."

Colin straightened up. b.u.t.ts was right. As rundown as it was, the house looked untouched by humans since the turn of the century.

"We don't have to take everything at once. Just find something small and pricey to nick now, and then we can come back and -"

The scream paralyzed Colin. It was a force, high pitched thunder, ripping through him like needles. Unmistakably human, yet unlike any human voice Colin had ever heard.

And it was coming from the house.

b.u.t.ts gripped him with both hands, the color fleeing his ruddy face.

"Jesus Christ! Did you hear that? Just like when I was a kid! What do we do, Colin?"

A spasm shook Colin's guts, and he dry-heaved onto some scrub brush. He wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve.

"We go in."

"Go in? I just p.i.s.sed myself."

"What are you afraid of, b.u.t.ts? Dying? Look at yourself. Death would be a blessing."

"My life isn't a good one, Colin, but it's the only one I've got."

Colin pushed past. The scream was chilling, yes. But there was nothing in that house worse than what Colin had seen on the street. Plus, he needed to get fixed up, bad. He'd crawl inside the devil's a.r.s.e to get some cash.

"Hold up for me!"

b.u.t.ts attached himself to Colin's arm. They crept towards the front door.

Another scream rattled the night, even louder than the first. It vibrated through Colin's body, making every nerve jangle.

"I just p.i.s.sed myself again!"

"Quiet, b.u.t.ts! Did you catch that?"

"Catch what?"

"It wasn't just a scream. I think it was a word."

Colin held his breath, waiting for the horrible sound to come again. The woods stayed silent around them, the wind and animals still.

The scream cut him to the marrow.

"There! Sounded like h.e.l.l."

b.u.t.ts's eyes widened, the yellows showing.

"Let's leave, Colin. My trousers can't hold anymore."

Colin shook off b.u.t.ts and continued creeping towards the house.

Though naive about architecture, Colin had grown up viewing enough castles and manors to recognize this building was very old. The masonry was concealed by climbing vines, but the wrought iron adorning the windows was magnificent. Even decades of rust couldn't obscure the intricate, flowing curves and swirls.

As they neared, the house seemed to become larger, jutting dormers threatening to drop down on their heads, heavy walls stretching off and blending into the trees. Colin stopped at the door, nearly nine feet high, hinges big as a man's arm.

"b.u.t.ts! The torch!"

b.u.t.ts slunk over, waving the flame at the door.

The k.n.o.b was antique, solid bra.s.s, and glinted in the torchlight. At chest level hung a grimy knocker. Colin licked his thumb and rubbed away the patina.

"Silver."

"Silver? That's great, Colin! Let's yank it and get out of here."

But Colin wouldn't budge. If just the door knocker was worth this much, what treasures lay inside?

He put his hand on the cold k.n.o.b. Turned.

It opened.

As a youth, Colin often spent time with his grandparents, who owned a dairy farm in s.h.i.+ncliffe. That's how the inside of this house smelled; like the musk and manure of wild beats. A feral smell, his grandmum had often called it.

Taking the torch from b.u.t.ts, he stepped into the foyer, eyes scanning for booty. Decades of dust had settled on the furnis.h.i.+ngs, motes swirling into a thick fog wherever the duo stepped. Beneath the grime, Colin could recognize the quality of the furniture, the value of the wall hangings.

They'd hit it big.

It was way beyond a simple, quick score. If they did this right, went through the proper channels, he and b.u.t.ts could get rich off of this.

Another scream shook the house.

b.u.t.ts jumped back, his sudden movement sending clouds of dust into the air. Colin coughed, trying to wave the filth out of his face.

"It came from down there!" b.u.t.ts pointed at the floor, his quivering hand casting erratic shadows in the torchlight. "It's a ghost, I tell you! Come to take us to h.e.l.l!"

Colin's heart was a hummingbird in his chest, trying to find a way out. He was scared, but even more than that, he was concerned.

"Not h.e.l.l, b.u.t.ts. It sounded more like help."

Colin stepped back, out of the dust cloud. He thrust the torch at the floor, looking for a way down.

"Ello! Anyone down there?"

He tapped at the wood slats with the torch, listening for a hollow sound.

"Ello!"

The voice exploded up through the floorboards, cracking like thunder.

"PRAISE G.o.d, HELP ME!"

b.u.t.ts grabbed Colin's shoulders, his foul breath a.s.saulting his ear.

"Christ, Colin! There's a wraith down there!"

"Don't be stupid, b.u.t.ts. It's a man. Would a ghost be praising G.o.d?"

Colin bent down, peered at the floor.

"What's a man doing under the house, Colin?"

"b.u.g.g.e.r if I know. But we have to find him."

b.u.t.ts nodded, eager.

"Right! If we rescue the poor sap, maybe we'll get a reward, eh?"

Colin grabbed b.u.t.ts by the collar, pulled him close.

"This place is a gold mine. We can't let anyone else know it exists."

b.u.t.ts gazed at him stupidly.

"We have to snuff him," Colin said.

"Snuff him? Colin, I don't think -"

Colin clamped his hand over b.u.t.ts's mouth.

"I'll do it, when the time comes. Just shut up and follow my lead, got it?"

b.u.t.ts nodded. Colin released him and went back to searching the floor. "Ello! How'd you get down there!"

"There is a trap door, in the kitchen!"

Colin located the kitchen off to the right. An ancient, wood burning stove stood vigil in one corner, and there was an icebox by the window. On the kitchen table, slathered with dust, lay a table setting for one. Colin wondered, fleetingly, what price the antique china and crystal would fetch, and then turned his attention to the floor.

"Where!"