Psycho Thrill--Girl in the Well (3 page)

Robert lit up a spot at the front of the bed. The wooden panels were splintered as if someone had smashed through them with a ton of force and torn them apart. The metal shackles on the bed were bent.

“Someone tried to break free. With great force,” Robert whispered.

“What could have such force, Robert?” she asked.

“Mom? Dad? Who were the chains for?” She heard Lukas ask from the door.

She and Robert looked at each other and shook their heads at the same time.

“A large animal was likely trapped here. Probably a dog,” Robert said.

“The poor dog,” Lukas said. He loved animals. Maybe the made-up story hadn’t actually been a good idea. But now it was too late.

“Maybe he had rabies,” Sabine joined in with the lie. Now they were allies. She looked at Robert and simultaneously felt as if the house were looking at them.

The house — or something else.

The next day, they tore down the little prison while Lukas and Ben played in the yard. They didn’t say another word about it in front of the children.

Mrs. Falkner pauses, considers her words. Then she flinches and looks at Johanna and Henning.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?” Henning asks. Johanna leans forward and listens. Mrs. Falkner turns to the door.

“That,” she whispers. “Someone came up the stairs.”

Johanna and Henning exchange glances, as neither of them has heard anything. Is this a sign of mental illness?

Mrs. Falkner turns back round, quickly gulps down more water.

“We have to hurry,” she says conspiratorially and puts her hands inside her purse.

“Did Marie appear to your son again?” Henning asks.

“Excuse me? No. No, not after that, not anymore. And Robert and I took it as a good sign. The sounds also stopped, the flies disappeared. It was as if someone sensed that we were worried about our children and were thinking about giving up the house. And whoever it was wanted to avoid exactly that. Since actually, he was still not even … there. Do you understand what I mean? He or it was still not there, but had just made itself known. It was only in the time before Christmas that it was really there. Lukas, Ben, and Robert must have somehow awoken it.” She winces and looks behind her at the door again.

“Sorry,” she whispers and composes herself.

A cold draft also passes over Johanna and Henning. Johanna makes a note of the phenomenon.

“It’s nothing,” Henning says comfortingly. “With what you have to tell, it’s no wonder you’re hearing things.” He nods at her, encouraging her to continue.

She had just returned from a shopping trip. Christmas gifts. With her packages, Sabine tiptoed from the car into the house, and it was only after she had hidden everything in the room under the stairs that she noticed the quiet.

My boys are probably outside
, she thought, and began to wrap gifts.

It was only when it started getting dark and she could see the moon rising, from the kitchen window, that she began to worry, cleared everything away, and went looking for them.

At that very moment, she heard a noise coming from the yard. She immediately ran. She had a good view out from the living room window.

Suddenly, the initial noise turned into screams. Ben’s and Robert’s screams! She saw her husband carrying Lukas out of the forest. It looked as if Lukas were … dead. His arms dangled down, his head hung limp in Robert’s arms. Ben stumbled out of the forest beside them. Screaming and crying.

Sabine threw open the door and rushed barefoot through the snow. Somehow, it was as if time had stopped. Robert collapsed, still holding Lukas in his arms. There was pain in Robert’s face, but also something else that she still couldn’t make out.

Ben was completely frantic with worry for his big brother.

“What’s happened to him? Tell me! Say something right now!” she screamed at Robert. She tore Lukas from his arms and pulled him close.

“Lukas,” she whispered again. “Lukas!”

Suddenly, he coughed. Lukas was alive! She could feel the tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

“Give him to me. He’s too heavy for you,” Robert said.

But she didn’t give him Lukas. She held him tight, as if she never wanted to let go.

They had been playing in the woods. At a well. Somehow, the cover slid out of place and broke to pieces. Lukas fell into the well and nearly drowned.

At the last moment, Robert got him out by climbing down a rope into the well.

Robert had saved Lukas.

The last sentence seems to have a secret message in it. Mrs. Falkner leans forward and whispers: “But you know what? I think that Lukas didn’t just fall into the well.” Her body is tense, her gaze flitting around. Johanna and Henning unconsciously also lean in closer.

“Something from the well had pulled him in,” she whispers and nods.

“He was pulled in?” Henning asks.

“Ben saw it, but we didn’t want to believe him. We were happy that the thing with Marie was all over and now he was starting again. He had seen the fly man grab Lukas. Ben said he had also seen how he gave Lukas a kiss down in the well. We scolded Ben. He was to stop telling those made-up stories. We talked to him for so long and so insistently, until all he did was cry. But later, Robert and I went …”

Without warning, the window swings open, and then the door does too. A gust of wind outside pulls at the treetops, sweeps through the witch archive, and slams the window and door shut again with a bang. The coldness remains.

Mrs. Falkner jumps up, her hands gripping a childless figure of the Virgin Mary that she has pulled out of her bag and is now holding protectively to her chest.

“Go!” she gasps into the room, abruptly turning. “I have to leave you now. Immediately!” She grabs her bag and rushes out of the door.

“Mrs. Falkner! Stay!” Henning jumps up and runs after her. Johanna follows, but they can already hear Mrs. Falkner running down the stairs and closing the heavy door to the institute on the first floor.

“What was that?” Henning pants. He is not out of breath merely from running.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure I felt something. Something …” Johanna is at a loss for words to describe it.

“I know what you mean.” Henning nods. They go back. Johanna turns off the recorder. There is a dead fly on her desk.

Two Days Later

Mrs. Falkner couldn’t be reached. But the Kreuziger Farm actually exists in Naherfurth, they’ve found out that much.

Johanna and Henning are at a “bad taste” college party at the main auditorium on campus, watching the partygoers. They’re not really part of that crowd anymore — or at least that’s how they feel. The music pounds away, Henning puts down his beer.

“Do you want to stay long? Otherwise, I’m ready to go home,” he calls to Johanna. A cloud of pot smoke hits them as Vincent walks past their table. The only person from their department who remembers them, because he’s still studying.

“No!”

Henning notices the smell more than he notices his former classmate.

“Maybe we can stop by the jungle again,” he suggests. Johanna pulls him to the door, where it’s more pleasant to converse.

“I’m through with partying today. And I’m definitely not into smoking pot.”

“Got it,” he replies. Both of them fall quiet. The music doesn’t get any better.

“You know, it’s still really eating away at me,” Johanna admits.

“Jo, we’ve got time off. Two weeks of vacation. You shouldn’t burden yourself with that.”

“And what about you? How do you explain the whole thing?”

“I don’t try. I’m a follower of Böckelmann. If I can’t explain something scientifically, I store it in the attic and throw away the key.” He lights a cigarette, and adds, “But you know what? I’ve actually wanted to smoke pot lately.”

“That’s too easy, Henning. And you know it,” Johanna counters. “You know what I’m going to do now?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m going to go to the institute and start the transcription.” She looks at him.

“You’re nuts.”

Johanna shakes her head as the two approach their parked bicycles. “You coming?”

“Seriously, you’re crazy, Jo!” He watches as she unlocks her bike but reluctantly follows her.

Before the computer is fully booted up, Johanna hears the hiss of the coffee machine from the kitchen. She pushes the chairs together, prepares everything. Just listening to the interview once through — that will be enough for her. She can put off the transcription until after her vacation.

Henning puts the coffee on the table, opens the windows, and lights a cigarette. Johanna needs to press PLAY, but she hesitates.

“Are you nervous?” she asks Henning. He makes a dismissive gesture, blowing smoke into the humid night, and shrugs. A delayed confession.

“Well, yeah. A little.”

“Me too,” Johanna presses the button.

They listen attentively to the interview. Henning smokes another cigarette at the window. This case has nothing in common with any of their previous callers or visitors. The case seems threatening. Johanna presses STOP at the point when Mrs. Falkner describes the discovery of Marie’s partitioned space in the attic.

“Do you think it could be a fake?” Henning inhales deeply.

“I wish it were.”

Johanna rubs her temples and leans back.

“Yeah, me too. But I feel like something is really wrong here. The cold, the gust of wind. And even the flies.”

“Mrs. Falkner could have left them behind without us noticing it in all the excitement,” Henning points out.

“Yeah, I already thought about that. But we were both cold. You weren’t just saying it, right? That you were cold?”

Henning shook his head. “No. No, I was cold and I also can’t explain all this shit. I guess we finally have one of those cases that we’ve always wished for, Jo. Where all the phenomena go beyond the scientific paradigm. But you know what? I don’t want that anymore!” He flicks the cigarette out of the window and sits back at the table.

“Keep going?” Johanna asks. Henning nods.

…
… Did you hear that?
Johanna stops the interview.

“Hang on!” She rewinds the recording a bit, turns the volume up, and presses START. Both listen attentively. STOP. They look at each other.

“Steps on the stairs,” Henning whispers, lighting another cigarette with trembling hands. Johanna swallows dryly.

“I didn’t hear them during the interview.”

“Me neither.”

“Keep going?”

Henning hesitates and then nods. START. They listen to the recording up to the point when the gust of wind sweeps through the office. And a voice that they didn’t hear earlier. Male. A voice that they don’t understand.

Go!
— Mrs. Falkner.

Then an answer.

I will descend upon your flesh, cunt!

Mrs. Falkner flees from the office. STOP.

Johanna and Henning stare at eachother in silence. Johanna considers listening to the recording again, but decides against it.

“Okay,” Henning says slowly. “So we have our groundbreaking case. But the question is … what do we do with it, Jo?”

She thinks it over. “Do you know what language that was?”

Henning shakes his head.

“Me neither,” she says.”It’s not Latin or Greek. It has to be something else, or older. We should ask the theologians, and when I have a translation, then I’ll transcribe everything.”

“Yeah, man, I know we have to keep going. But I mean, what do we do then? If we assume that we are dealing with a … force here, something beyond our scientific comprehension, then what do we do?” His voice almost cracks and he tries to light another cigarette on the smoldering stub of the last one. Johanna briefly considers his question.

“Then we’ll try to find out what this force wants. That’s our job.”

Another Two Days Later

Response to an email request from the Theological Institute, Hamburg, Sender: Volker Strathmann, Subject: Translation Request

Dear Johanna,

Nice hearing from you again!

Unfortunately, it took some time to open the attached midi-files, as we’re a bit behind the times here ;)

Now, to your question. The voice is speaking ancient Hebrew and saying: “Thou shalt not seethe a young goat in its mother’s milk, whore! Get out (of) here!”

The text appears in the following books of the Hebrew Bible: Exodus 23,19; Exodus 34,26; and Deuteronomy 14,21.

These days, it’s the Jewish dietary regulation that requires milk and meat to be kept separate in the preparation of food. And like many other Bible texts, there’s something occultist about this one
.

I hope I was of some service to you and that you would permit me a question: What the hell is this about?

I would be happy to see you again!

Volker

Response from Johanna Ebeling, about an hour later.

Dear Volker,

Thank you for your help.

Of course we can meet up — just name the place, and I can tell you what the hell this is all about.

Talk to you soon,
Johanna

Late August

The first thing they notice are the crickets. It hasn’t rained in the past few days. It’s muggy, though, and the chirps ring out from the dried grass of the meadow, which extends as far as the eye can see. Occasionally, the wind rustles the leaves of the trees that line the edge of the road, but otherwise it is silent. Even the traffic from the main road is muted.

The Kreuziger Farm sits alone on a small country road, where Henning has parked the car.

They have come unannounced. They made numerous efforts to call Mrs. Falkner, but no one ever picked up.

They approach the farm as if sneaking up on a wild animal. The stalking movements were unconscious at first, and, even after they notice it, they can’t shake their cautious behavior. They know too much. The old farmhouse seems threatening. The old, dark shards of glass in the windows. The thatched roof. The green painted wooden gate that looks like the mouth of a predatory deep-sea fish hiding in the shadows. The overgrown lawn, through which a natural stone path winds up to the house door.