Eleven New Ghost Stories (16 page)

The ground at least was fairly
firm here, but it was still hard to run on. I pushed through the
sharp young branches and managed to squeeze between the fence
panels.

When I was through I found
myself in the forecourt of an abandoned petrol station. Closed for
many years, the old looking pumps were rusted and smashed up; the
shop was boarded over with steel panels. I’d never been out here
before. Strange how you can so easily lose your bearings; I didn’t
know quite where I was.

I was on the edge of town
somewhere. After the petrol station there were no other buildings,
just open ground, field after field. Chloe was already on the other
side of the forecourt, supernaturally quickly ahead. She climbed
over a dry stone wall and disappeared into the adjoining field.

On solid ground I was able to
move quicker. By the time I reached the wall there was no sign of
her. But as I lifted my head, I could see her again, in the far
corner of the field, jumping, waving her arms from side to
side.

I wondered what on earth I was
doing, but I couldn’t give up the chase. I climbed the wall and I
trudged through the long grass to the far corner, slowly and with
difficulty. I didn’t like the look of the sky: it was dark grey,
the clouds thick, jagged and dangerously ominous.

I crossed from field to field,
uphill, one into the next, each one more overgrown and more of a
challenge. Eventually, the dry-stone walls faded; neglect had let
them crumble. I was in rough, untamed landscape. I found myself
struggling through thick heather, my trousers scratched and scraped
by thorns. My boots, long-since soaked through, kept getting caught
on branches and under roots. I was lucky not to rip my feet out of
them.

Chloe appeared and disappeared
like a phantom, unseen for short periods, but always making herself
known to keep me on track.

I was sweating; the weather was
cold, but I was sweating profusely. I was unfit and unprepared. I
looked back towards ______. She had led me quite a way; over
half-a-mile uphill, probably further – I’m not much of a judge of
these things.

Finally, she led me to a
footpath, although I had to pass through a muddy ditch to get
there. I tried to jump it, but missed and ended up tripping and
falling, my feet sinking into the mud and me striking down against
a sloping bank of stones and wet soil. I swore loudly – but she was
nowhere near to hear me. Whenever I shouted for her or cursed her
she wasn’t there.

The path was a mixed blessing.
It was easier to walk on but it ran mercilessly straight up the
hill, a tough ungradual ascent. It headed towards a patch of forest
between two high hill peaks. Breathing heavily, I struggled on, the
face of Chloe ever appearing at any moment when I was tempted to
turn back and give up.

At one point, I stopped for rest
on a tree stump. I was allowed less them a few moments of respite
before she shouted for me: “Hurry, she needs help!” I almost
screamed at her. I groaned out aloud. This was insane.

I followed the path finally to
the wooded valley inbetween the hills. I yelled, “How much
further?” to her as she led the way through the trees. As ever, she
refused to answer. As I continued deep into the woods, I heard the
sound of water, the rush of the river flowing from the peaks – had
I come so far? I continued on for several minutes, keeping just
ahead of sheer exhaustion and wondering when or where this might
end.

I arrived at the river, here
running wide across a slope of rocks. I wiped the sweat off my
forehead, and scanned, full of frustration, for Chloe. As my eyes
searched through the trees, I suddenly found her – Rose.

She was lying face-down flat on
the other side of the river, her dark red coat standing out against
the dull browns and greens. I shouted to her, but got not
reply.

The frustration and anger melted
away; I had to get across. Fortunately, the river was quite
shallow, I was more afraid of slipping than I was of getting wet –
every inch of my body seemed already to be soaked and soggy. I
tried to step my away across some of the large stones, and was
forced several times to simply go straight into the water – the
shock of the cold went straight to my head, and now that hurt
too.

Finally, I was across and
stumbled down the slope to Rose. I shouted her name again. I pulled
at her coat and shook her slightly, hoping for some sign of life.
Jesus, she must have been out here for days, just slumped against
the ground.

There was mud all over her
clothes, and she was damp all over. She didn’t speak, her eyes were
closed. I was about to conclude the worst, when suddenly her mouth
opened and let out a slight moan. She was alive, but maybe not for
long.

“Is she alright?” Chloe was
suddenly stood over us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “We need
to get help.” I felt my pockets. Damn it, I still didn’t have a
phone! I didn’t know what to do. I had to find someone else. I
couldn’t lift her down the hillside myself. She might have broken
bones; I could be making things worse.

“I’ve got to get help.”

“Don’t leave her,” Chloe
shrieked at me.

“You stay with her. I need to
find someone who can get her down the hill.”

I went back into the woods. If I
followed the river down, I was bound to bump into somebody, arrive
at one of the roads at least. I found myself gradually moving out
of the woods, still keeping the river in sight. I couldn’t really
see anything from amongst the trees; I needed to be able to get a
look at the landscape, see where I might be able to find help.

Finally, I came to the edge of
the woods and found myself looking back across fields and hills.
There was a footpath, I could see it. It led down towards an
abandoned ruin of a barn and a farmhouse. And, yes! There were
people there: two hikers. They were a long way from me though. I
had to try, so I screamed. Screamed so hard my throat burned.

They didn’t hear me at first.
But there was a faint echo, and after some time I saw them look my
way. I waved to them, jumped up and down, throwing my arms from
side to side. They waved back at first – I had to convince them
this was more than just an over-enthusiastic greeting. I threw my
arms over towards the woods. Hoping they would respond to the
summons.

They looked at each other,
confused. Desperate, I screamed “Help me” with every bit of
strength I could. That seemed to do it; they started moving in my
direction and I started off in theirs. I careened down the hillside
towards them, ecstatic with relief. At one point, I tripped and
fell dramatically, both arms up in the air and down flat onto my
chest. Fortunately, it was wet, soggy ground, but it still knocked
the wind out of me. They ran quicker to help me, and eventually we
met.

I explained that I’d found a
woman, barely conscious and probably dying. They came with me up
the hillside. I lied to them and told them that I’d been out
walking. They didn’t say anything, but they could tell something
was wrong; I clearly wasn’t dressed for it.

I tracked our way back to the
spot quite well. Of the couple, he was a vet, which was sort of
helpful. He examined her, said he didn’t think she’d broken
anything, but she was frighteningly cold. She’d been up here for
quite some time.

They were proper hikers. They
had an ordinance survey map with them; to get help out here they’d
need a helicopter and they could tell them the right grid reference
– I was so relieved.

Typically, however, there was no
signal for a mobile phone. The vet’s wife went off out of the woods
to get a signal. He wrapped Rose in his jacket and took out his own
mobile – on a different network – and started to spread out trying
to get a signal himself.

When he’d moved away a little,
Chloe re-appeared, walking out from behind a tree like she’d been
hiding.

“Is she alright?” she said.

“She’s very sick.” I
answered.

“But she’s going to be ok?”

I suddenly felt myself getting
very angry. “Why don’t you leave her alone?” I cried. “This is your
fault. Can’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

Her face hardened suddenly, just
like her mother’s.

“She’s my mum!” she hissed,
through gritted teeth.

“And you’re destroying her! Just
leave her alone. You’re dead, you don’t even exist!”

“She’s my mum!” she screeched,
stamping her feet. “You can’t tell me what to do, you can’t!” She
jumped up and down in a fury and started to scream. The sound went
right through my body; it made me shiver and tremble. The pitch
could’ve shattered glass.

“You can’t take my mum!” She
reached down to pick up a stone and threw it at me. If flew towards
my face with uncanny force and accuracy – I barely had time to
dodge it. It flew over my shoulder and smacked into a tree, making
a deep dent in the bark.

I looked back at her; she was
gone again. She’d been so benign before, but now I was frightened.
I looked suddenly at Rose and a horrible thought occurred to me:
what if she’d done that to her? If she’d have hit me with that
rock, she’d have knocked me out cold; little girls just couldn’t
throw like that…

There was a sound behind me.
Taken off-guard, I turned and screamed.

It was the vet. I felt faint
suddenly; this was all taking its toll. He could see I’d been
through it; he took hold of me and propped me up against a tree. He
gave me some water from a travel bottle. I told him I was fine even
though I clearly wasn’t.

It was almost an hour before a
helicopter came; we made awkward conversation until it arrived. By
that time his wife had returned and the three of us watched as they
hoisted Rose inside. I pretended not to know her; I just couldn’t
explain all this, all that had had happened. Because I didn’t know
her, I didn’t go in the helicopter with her. I wish I had, but I
just wanted to get home, somewhere safe as soon as possible.

They took her away and the vet
and his wife helped me down the hillside. They took me to their
Land Rover and kindly took me back home. It was almost dark by the
time we started back on the roads.

I broke down and cried. It was
just as we passed over the bridge to town; I don’t know why then.
They looked into the backseat as I was pouring with tears. They
tried to comfort me, tried to offer me their help. They knew
something about all this wasn’t right.

I just wanted to get home. They
took me back, I composed myself enough to say thank you. They were
such nice people, but I don’t even remember their names.

I cried for hours on the sofa,
and passed out at some point, I’m not sure when. I awoke, my body
aching and tired, in the early morning. I was starving, I’d not
eaten since the day before.

After some toast and coffee, I
noticed there was a new message on the answerphone. It was the
lawyers; it had to be didn’t it? I called them back straight away,
just for someone to talk to.

I received a polite telling-off
and a stern warning about putting things off this long. I tried to
tell them it was hard, and to their credit they were very
understanding; they could tell I was almost crying. I could sense
the discomfort on the end of the phone. The woman seemed to want to
offer advice beyond her legal remit to me; I could sense her
concern, but she probably knew better than to get too involved.

I promised I would get the
papers back to her tomorrow. There could be no more hiding. I
looked at the phone after I put it down. What about Rose? I needed
to find out what had happened to her. But I dreaded what I might
find out. She might be dead. Just because she’d been rescued didn’t
mean she’d survive.

I thought long and hard about it
but decided to put it off. I didn’t think I could take it if she’d
died. To go through all that and not make it through. I washed and
dressed myself in clean clothes. I took a long walk, something to
get some fresh air in my lungs and some of the depressive weight
off my shoulders. It was a bad idea; my body ached and groaned from
the ordeal the day before. I went to a café not far away for some
breakfast, bought some nice pastries – and then went back to face
my past.

I sat over the papers with a
glass of wine for company. Things didn’t look good, but then again,
it was the case against. Lots of gossip, lots of hearsay, lots of
mud-raking... they’d dug up an old case of sexual harassment; an
oily doctor who didn’t want to take no for an answer. All the
bitter old hags who worked there had always held that against me;
thought I’d asked for it, done it all for attention.

Unexpectedly it strengthened me.
The anger, the outrage. The wrongness of it all. It awakened some
fighting spirit. Weak spirit all the same, still fragile. But it
was a revelation to me nonetheless. I wasn’t ready to give in to
despair.

But the depth of the situation I
was in was still a heavy burden. I put the papers quickly to one
side as soon as I was done. Things could still get so much
worse.

I looked over to the phone. I
thought of Rose and of her body slumped down on the hillside.
Suddenly, in some strange way, that became the crux of the
argument. If she could survive, pull through in spite of it all.
Then maybe I could too. But then again, if she hadn’t…

I got the hospital number from
the Yellow Pages. I phoned up and spent a long time on hold before
being passed from one receptionist to another.

I breathed slowly and carefully
as I waited for the news. It didn’t help that I didn’t remember her
last name. But not so many people get brought in by helicopter, so
that narrowed it down.

She was alive. In a critical
condition, but alive. She had pneumonia and a broken leg, but she
was alive. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders; such relief, I
can barely describe it.