Asylum - 13 Tales of Terror (25 page)

“Oh Jesus, oh Jesus,” Molly mumbled over and over again.

Sara dragged her as she ran, fighting to maintain her defenses against the rising tide of terror that threatened to leave her cowering in a corner. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” she panted.

They ran down the now brightly lit corridor. They turned left with the flow and reached a dead end. Sara felt Molly begin to sob gently, but refused to give in.

“There,” she pointed to a red door at the far end. “Fire exit,” she said panting through the panic. She dragged Molly a little further, using her anger towards the younger woman’s seemingly defeatist attitude. “Come on,” she snapped.

The fire door was slightly ajar and darkness crept through the gap.

“We can’t go in there,” Molly wailed.

“Think about it,” Sara said with as much patience as she could muster. “The professor must have gone this way, and we didn’t hear the alarm because the electricity was still off at that point.”

Sara tucked the kitchen knife carefully into her jeans waistband and reached out to push the door open. She soon found that there was something on the other side preventing the door from opening. “Help me,” she instructed.

Molly’s face was a mask of desperate unhappiness, but to her credit she moved forward and shoved. The red fire exit door gave a little but not enough for either of them to pass through.

“It feels like a dead weight on the other side,” Sara said, instantly regretting her choice of words.

Molly took a terrified step backwards, “Oh God, it’s the Professor or Barry,” she said through hands clasped to her face.

“Do you want to wait around and ask the killer when he catches up to us?” she snapped harshly. Molly’s crumpling face made her regret the words, but she had no time for sentiment. “Just shove it,” she snapped.

They both put their shoulders into the door and pushed as hard as they could possibly manage. The door gave an inch and then another. Slowly the opening grew until they could almost fit through.

“One more,” Sara grunted.

Suddenly the weight was gone from the other side accompanied by the sound of something heavy falling down stairs.

Sara winced at the noise; she pushed the door open further and then stepped into the stairway beyond. The stairway was narrow, barely enough for two people abreast. The stairs wound upwards, still burning with bright lights and downwards into darkness without working lighting. For a moment Sara didn’t know which way to head for the best; down would almost certainly lead to a way out of the college, but it was also pretty dark. At the first bend in the stairs there was a small level platform as the stairs swung around and she could just make out a large motionless object. She instinctively knew that Molly was right; that shape had to be either the Professor or Barry. Feeling that time was growing short she grabbed Molly and pulled her through the doorway and descended into the dark. She could feel Molly’s reluctance but pressed on regardless.

“There’s going to be a body at the bottom of the stairs Molly,” she said as patiently as she could manage. “We are going to have to step over it.”

“Nooo,” Molly moaned pulling backwards.

Sara didn’t bother trying to reason with the younger woman, but just pulled her harder in her wake. She reached the bend and could now make out Barry’s body lying in the shadows. She hadn’t meant to look at whoever it was, just to step around the unfortunate obstacle, but she felt her eyes being drawn to the slaughter.

Barry’s throat had been hacked open; there was no neat cut, just a rampant torrent of slicing and tearing - rage incarnate. His clothes were sodden with crimson flow as blood had gushed from his body, pumping out great waves of life as he died. Sara was eternally grateful for the poor lighting that obscured the worst of Barry’s damage. She took a step forward and winced as her shoe squelched in something wet and sticky on the ground.

“I can’t,” Molly whimpered, “I can’t Sara, I just can’t.”

“You wanna stay here?” Sara barked frustrated at the delay, “Have you forgotten that the maniac responsible for all of this is following behind us?”

“No,” Molly sulked in a soft voice.

“Then shift your bloody arse and let’s get gone.”

Sara stepped over the gory mess that had once been Barry and moved down the stairs quickly, pleased to hear Molly following suit. She took the knife from her waistband and held it out in front of her like a magic wand to ward off evil. She reached the bottom of the staircase and stretched out her spare hand for the door handle. The door opened and Sara looked out into an underground garage area.

“Wait there,” she said to Molly behind her.

Looking surreptitiously around, Sara stepped out quietly into the shadows and eased her back against the cold concrete wall.

She turned back to motion Molly out into safety. Molly’s ghostly white face peeked nervously around the door peering out. Suddenly Molly was yanked from behind back into the stairway and the door slammed shut. The last thing that Sara saw of her was her eyes bulging in terror as she was swallowed by the darkness.

“MOLLY!” Sara screamed uselessly, her voice shrilly echoing off of the cold concrete pillars.

She ran to the door and pounded futilely as it was now locked and refused to open. She pulled desperately on the handle but to no avail. She took a step back as a red puddle seeped under the door and threatened to drown her shoes. She began to weep as she found herself lost and all alone. She felt herself grow weak at the knees and somehow found a last dreg of strength to draw upon.

She ran quickly through the underground garage, heading up the gentle slope towards freedom and salvation. The garage seemed deserted and all of the marked out spaces were reserved strictly for “staff only”, according to the signs. Suddenly she spotted one car at the top of the slope and ran towards it.

The large blue sedan was nestled under a reserved sign painted on the wall in front; the words read “Professor Rourke”. She didn’t know whether to be encouraged by the Professor’s car still being here or not. Did it mean that he was still here, or did it mean that he was already dead?

She looked in through the window and her heart soared when she saw the silver glint of keys hanging from the ignition. She reached out and tried the driver’s door; gleefully it was unlocked and she pulled it open. As the door swung out she suddenly saw the reflection in the car window as the security guard charged her from behind. She spun around in terror, the kitchen knife stretched out in front of her. The vicious blade plunged into the guard’s chest as he ran onto it like he was made of butter. His eyes were glazed and uncomprehending as he sank to his knees. He stared up at her and then down at his chest as it hitched and wheezed and he coughed violently, spitting a crimson mist into the cold night air. His dark blue uniform jumper was beginning to stain in the centre as deep dark blood seeped out of the fatal chest wound.

Sara stared down at her bloody hands. The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered on the floor. The guard fell backwards, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as life drained from his body.

“Bravo, bravo,” a voice boomed out of the shadows, accompanied by riotous clapping that echoed around the parking structure.

Sara turned to the voice and saw Professor Rourke emerge.

“I honestly didn’t know you had it in you,” he cheered joyfully, as he walked towards the security guard’s body and stared down at the cooling corpse.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sara demanded, annoyed by his lax attitude. “Did you know that everyone else is dead?”

“Oh yes,” he said with a glint in his eye.

Sara suddenly grew uneasy. She moved back towards the car, wanting to get away from the approaching Professor. She reached backwards for the door handle, not taking her eyes off of Professor Rourke as he smiled unnervingly. She gripped the handle and opened the car door; she turned in surprise as the driver’s door had been open when she’d left it moments earlier.

She saw that she was now holding the back door instead of the front and that something was lying across the backseat covered with a tartan rug. She looked down fearing the worst.

She reached out and pulled the rug away in one swift single motion. A man’s body was lying across the seat; his severed head was stacked neatly on his chest. His face was deathly white and bloodless and his lifeless eyes stared openly upwards. In a night of horrors, the one thing that caught her attention was that the torso was wearing a name badge. It was a small plastic ID card complete with the college logo; it read “Professor Michael Rourke”.

“You know, I couldn’t have planned it better myself, oh wait, I did,” the man formerly called Michael Rourke chuckled.

“Who the hell are you?” Sara stammered.

“Oh, what’s in a name?” he smiled pleasantly.

Sara suddenly realised her own fatal actions that night. She turned to the body of the security guard. “Who is he?” She asked in a wobbly voice.

“Well at a rough guess, I’d say that he was the security guard,” the man grinned.

“But I thought the college didn’t have one?”

“Why? Because I said so?” He laughed raucously, “You know I’m not exactly the most reliable of sources.”

“But he was chasing us?”

“Actually no he wasn’t. I was watching on the CCTV cameras. He only started running after you when he found my leftovers in the kitchen. I guess he was probably trying to help you.”

“But what happened to the lights, you were with us when they went out?” Sara whimpered.

“Ah, a little subterfuge on my part I’m afraid,” the man chuckled. “I approached the security guard to turn off the power at an appointed time. I had concocted a long rambling story about my teaching methods and a class experiment, but that all turned out to be a waste of time. The guard merely held out his hand for a few quid and didn’t care as to why. I guess that if you do really pay peanuts, then you actually get monkeys.”

“So I guess that you’re going to kill me too,” she whimpered as she slid with her back against the car onto the ground. Her resolve was shaken to the core, her bravery was drained and she was running on fumes. The adrenaline had finally worn off and all she could feel now was tired.

“Well that would be fun,” the man said as he walked forward, his hands placed neatly behind his back, “That would be such fun indeed.”

He knelt down and stroked Sara’s trembling cheek lovingly, “But here’s the thing Sara, there’s only one murder here with any evidence on it, and that one belongs to you,” he nodded towards the security guard. “I’ve taken care of the CCTV tapes and wiped down every surface I’ve touched. I’m guessing that the authorities are going to believe that in for a penny, in for a pound when it comes to the body count as far as you’re concerned.”

Sara heard the distant wail of sirens approaching.

“Ah, the cavalry cometh,” the man said smiling, “High time I was going. So many heads, so little time,” he giggled.

Sara watched the man straighten up and walk calmly up and out of the underground car park. She looked down at her own bloody hands; the security guard’s blood was still drying on her pink flesh and his body was motionless next to her. She thought about the carnage inside the college,
surely they wouldn’t believe that she had been responsible, would they? Would they?

27.

BLACKWATER HEIGHTS

“I’m guessing that they didn’t believe her,” Martin said outside of the room.

“You’d guess right,” Jimmy chuckled. “Poor old Sara was hung, drawn and quartered, so to speak. There was undeniable physical evidence to suggest that she had killed the security guard and of course she didn’t deny the murder. It didn’t help when the police looked into her history and they found that there was some suspicion over the apparent suicide of her husband.” He held up a hand to Martin’s surprised expression. “Oh I’m sure that it was nothing more than jealous relatives contesting the will, but she did leave the country rather quickly after the funeral.”

“But surely there must have been enough doubt as to her motives? The overwhelming evidence on one murder but the lack of evidence on all of the others. Surely that must have raised some kind of flag to the investigators?”

“Oh, I’m certain that it would have, but you see, Sara’s case never went to court. She was never officially charged. Imagine the sort of mental trauma that she went through that night. To witness all of that slaughter and to have been responsible for a death herself, no matter whether or not she thought it was in self-defense. That is a lot for anyone to come to terms with, and of course her grief is so fresh and her mind is so fertile.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Martin asked, unsure that he had actually heard Jimmy’s last statement correctly.

“This place has to draw its power from somewhere Martin, and I don’t think the national grid is quite going to get it done,” Jimmy chuckled.

“I think I’ve had just about all I can take for one night,” Martin snapped.

“But I thought you wanted to hear it all Martin, or did I peg you wrong?”

“What else is there to say Jimmy? I’ve heard all of the tales.”

“There’s still old Horace and what he really got up to in his lonely winter nights.”

“And just what did the nutty old bastard get up to when he wasn’t knocking seven bells out of his wife and kid?” Martin goaded.

“Horace wanted to live forever Martin,” Jimmy replied in a strange hushed tone as he looked off into the distance. “Horace wanted to be forever, but everything comes at a cost and I told you before, there’s always more than one way to settle a bill.”

Martin stared at Jimmy, who for once, instead of seeming to grow older before his eyes actually looked younger and more vibrant. It was as though Jimmy was glowing and sparkling with animation as his eyes twinkled in delight.

“What are you saying Jimmy?” Martin asked anxiously.

Jimmy turned and his glare blazed ferociously. “Horace found that there is a commodity far more valuable than money or jewels Martin. There is such value to be extracted from the recesses of the human mind. The horror and fears of man are such a precious delicacy to those who delight in such rarities. But Horace soon discovered that this was to be an ongoing arrangement, rather than a one off payment,” Jimmy smiled unpleasantly. “And what minds are more fertile and delicious than those of residents such as ours. Such juicy morsels, such a rich diet to be gorged upon and provide sustenance through the ages.”