The Well (39 page)

Not wanting to waste the light from the iPod, she flipped it off – and absolute black descended. It took all of her willpower to keep the iPod turned off.

She sat with her back against the rock and tried to relax, taking slow breaths.

“You are strong,” said a woman’s voice. Becca screamed, recognising the voice instantly. She splashed around in the water, backing away from the source of the voice. She flipped on the iPod and there she was – smiling, confident and beautiful in the half-light.

“So strong. So clever. So resourceful. But you not make it. You die down here.”

“No,” shouted Becca. “No I won’t!”

“You die.” The woman’s voice was flat; factual.

Something wasn’t right, but Becca couldn’t place it. “Just try and stop me,” retorted Becca with a fearlessness she didn’t feel.

“Little girl. Strong voice but inside you scared.”

Becca looked at her. The woman’s face was as resolute as ever, but an insecurity or doubt flickered in her eyes.

“I’m not the only one who’s scared, am I?” challenged Becca. The woman said nothing.

“You know I can do this,” said Becca. “And you can’t stop me, can you?”

The woman shrieked and leapt forwards, her hands on Becca’s throat. Becca dropped the iPod and the light was gone, except for a small glow beneath the water.

“Remember this?” said the woman, squeezing Becca’s neck.

“Go on then,” coughed Becca, not caring any more. “If you want to kill me, just fucking kill me.”

The woman released her grip.

“No need,” she said. “You will do that.”

Silence fell.

“I’m not going to die,” said Becca. “And you know it.” The words sounded brave but Becca knew that her defiance was empty.

There was no response. Becca reached for the glowing iPod and pulled it out of the water. She moved it around, shining the dim light on the stone. The woman was gone.

Maybe she’s right
, thought Becca.
I’ve no way of knowing how far I’ve gone or if I’ll get out at all
. She sat back again, crying softly.

After a minute, still sobbing, she held the iPod over her body. Her arms and legs were lacerated all over – no wonder she hurt so much. A few of the cuts were deep and seemed to be bleeding freely. Her swimming costume was torn in several places, exposing the battered skin beneath.
Dear God,
she thought, despondent.

All this way,
she thought,
all of this pain. For what?

She flipped off the iPod and let the darkness embrace her, finally, totally and utterly broken. She cried for several minutes, occasionally cursing.

15

Randle pushed the two girls into the overgrown, ruined room. Hannah stumbled and fell forwards onto the floor; Randle heaved her to her feet and pushed her into a sitting position against one of the walls. He grabbed Sammy and pushed her down beside Hannah.

“Don’t move,” Randle growled. He took off his coat and sat against the opposite wall, stretching and rubbing his leg. Then he carefully took out his contact lenses and replaced them with his glasses. Even with his glasses, the loss of his hair and beard made him difficult to recognise.

“That’s better,” he said, standing.
I want to be able to see properly.

As he stood, there was a flutter of wings from above. A huge black bird landed on the top of the ruined wall, cawing into the roofless house. Randle picked up a large stone and threw it clumsily at the bird, missing by a foot. The bird fluttered its wings angrily. “Piss off,” said Randle, throwing another stone. The bird took off, but the stone clipped its wing. The bird came down in the room, stunned, flapping around on the ground. Randle stepped forwards and stood on it, hard. He slowly pressed down and twisted his foot; the bird crunched and squawked under his heel. Flapping, the bird tried to escape but Randle brought his heel down again. Then the bird lay quiet, twitching. He kicked it out of the room, leaving a smear of blood and entrails on the stone floor.

Hannah and Sammy watched, terrified at his brutality.

After years of simmering, watching and waiting, the real Randle was unleashed. Today was the first day in his entire life when Randle felt he was behaving like himself. It was liberating.

He looked at the two girls.
Which one first?
he asked himself.
The young one,
he decided.
The other one’s tied up and can’t run as easily. And I want to save the best until last.

Randle moved forward, pulled Sammy to her feet and pointed the knife at her. “You,” he said, “undress.”

Sammy burst into tears and backed away. “No,” she pleaded, “please, no.”

“I said
undress
.” Randle’s voice was commanding and clear.

Sammy shook her head. Randle raised his hand to slap her, but Hannah had stood and placed herself between the girl and the man. She stood, shaking her head frantically, trying to say something through the parcel tape.

Randle slapped Hannah hard across the face; she fell backwards into Sammy and both collapsed on the floor. “Get out of the way, girl. Your turn will come soon enough.”

Still on her bottom, Hannah scrabbled around with her feet in the mud, keeping herself between Sammy and Randle, murmuring loudly through the tape, desperately trying to make herself heard. Randle leaned forwards and pulled the tape away sharply.

Hannah shrieked in pain and then said, “Me – not her, me.”

Randle laughed. “There’s no choice,” he said. “I’m doing you both. And she’s first.”

Hannah shook her head. “No, just me.”

“Why would I do that when I can have you both anyway?”

Hannah tried to hold back her tears. “Because – she’s just a little kid. You can’t.”

“I can and I will. Now move, or I’ll kick you out of the way.” He waved the knife in her face. “Or worse.”

“If you leave her alone,” said Hannah, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’ll do that anyway. Now move.”

“Not willingly. Neither of us will. But if you leave her, I’ll do whatever you want. Willingly. No fighting or screaming.”

Randle paused, his imagination racing.

“And just why would you do that?”

“She’s just a kid,” said Hannah. “If you leave her alone and let us go free – I’ll do what you want.
Anything
.” She’d wanted the words to sound brave, defiant, but she’d sobbed them out as a desperate plea.

“Anything?”

Hannah nodded. “Anything. All day if you want. But you let us go. And you don’t touch Sammy. You have to promise.”

Randle considered it. While part of him wanted the mixture of sex and violence, the thought that the girl would surrender herself to him, as she would to a boyfriend, was intoxicating. It was something that had been beyond his hopes. He trembled as he pictured it in his mind.

“OK,” he said. As he uttered his agreement, he knew it to be a lie. He could – and would – take the older girl all day long. When he’d had enough, he would beat her – and screw the other girl anyway. He could have it all; her compliance and her terror. Randle cut the tape from Hannah’s wrists, freeing her.

“Get undressed,” he said, waving the knife, indicating that Hannah should move away from Sammy. Sammy backed into the corner, a wide-eyed unwilling observer. “And you,” he snapped at Sammy, “if you run, I’ll kill her – understand?”

Sammy nodded.

Hannah undressed slowly, trembling as she did. She stood in her underwear, facing Randle, goosebumps forming on her skin. Randle didn’t think he’d seen anything as beautiful in his life. It was as if the world around him had ceased to exist: he was totally captivated by her slim, pale young body.

“The rest,” said Randle, his voice quivering.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Sammy, quietly. “Please mister.”

Randle turned and snarled at her, infuriated that his mood had been broken. “Quiet, you.”
You’ll pay later, bitch
, he thought.

Hannah took off her bra and knickers and dropped them on the wet ground beside her other clothes. She stood there naked, shaking with fear, trying desperately to hold back her tears. She felt incredibly vulnerable.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

She lay down on her back with her arms folded in front of her, covering her breasts. The ground was cold and slimy against her back. Randle put the knife into his trouser pocket and knelt beside her. He winced and wobbled slightly as his bad knee made contact with the rough stone floor. His hand reached out and his fingertips stroked the perfect, flat, smooth skin of her stomach. It twitched beneath his touch. He was so aroused that he felt almost dizzy.

Hannah looked up at him. He was a huge man, old, nasty.
It’s not supposed to be like this
, she thought, loathing him, trying desperately to stop herself from shaking with disgust. When his fingers ran over her skin she felt as though she were already violated. She shuddered and wondered what she had committed herself to. Randle pulled her arms to her sides, exposing her fully. He leaned forwards.

Randle’s face filled Hannah’s field of vision, smiling, the light reflecting off his glasses. She supposed he was trying to be nice, but to her it was the face of a beast as it pounced.
Oh God, no
, she thought.

Suddenly, there was a sickly crunch. Randle jolted and fell forwards, on top of Hannah, his face frozen in shock. His sudden weight pushed the breath from Hannah’s lungs. Over his massive shoulder, Hannah could see Sammy, standing, holding a large, bloodied stone.

“I said you didn’t have to do this,” she repeated, softly, to Randle.

Hannah squirmed, trying to get from underneath Randle, but his weight pinned her firmly down. As she tried to move, Randle groaned and tried to get up, his hands seeking the ground around him.

Sammy swung the stone and hit him once more, hard, on the side of the head. He went limp, his twisted glasses falling from his face onto Hannah. Sammy dropped the stone; it landed on the ground with a thud. Then she squatted down next to Hannah. “I’m sorry,” she said, tearfully. “I – I didn’t know he’d be here.”

“Help me get him off,” groaned Hannah.

Sammy pulled Randle’s body as hard as she could – while Hannah pushed against his dead weight. Even with the two of them heaving, Randle was hard to shift. When they finally rolled him off and onto his back, Randle groaned again.

Sammy helped Hannah to her feet. Hannah stood shakily, winded, holding her arm to her chest. “I thought you could read minds,” she said, reaching down for her underwear.

“I said not always,” protested Sammy. “And not everyone. You can get dressed in a minute – you have to help me first. We have to be quick.”

“What?” said Hannah, putting on her knickers.

“Help me,” insisted Sammy. “Before he wakes up. We have to drag him to the well. I can’t do it on my own. You can dress in a minute.”

Randle groaned again.

Hannah quickly put on her bra. “Why don’t we just hit the bastard with that rock again?” she asked, the words spat out with hatred. “You know what he was going to do.”

Sammy shook her head. “Please. He has to be alive. When he goes in.”

“What? Why can’t we just leave him here?” demanded Hannah.

“I can’t explain,” implored Sammy. “Trust me. Becca’s almost out. She might make it – we need to get there before she does. We have to go. We can’t leave
him
. We have to be very quick.
Trust me
.”

“Come on then,” said Hannah.

Together, they dragged Randle’s massive carcass-like body out of the house. As they crossed the threshold into the light, Sammy felt relief wash over her to be out of
that bad place
. Hannah felt exposed, the breeze blowing against her semi-naked body. She pulled Randle as hard as she could, desperate to be done and get dressed. “Come on,” she huffed.

It was very tough going; not only was Randle a dead weight, but he was also extremely awkward to grip. Every so often, as they dragged him, bumping his body along the uneven ground, Randle would moan softly. It took them almost five minutes of hard work to get him to the well.

“Here,” said Sammy, “where the wall is lowest.”

They propped him against the wall.

“Thank God he didn’t see that,” said Hannah, pointing to the rope on the ground. “If he’d have tied you up…”

“I can do this now,” said Sammy, coughing. “Go and get dressed.”

“No,” replied Hannah. “I’ll help.”

Sammy looked at her and shook her head. “This – isn’t something you want to do.”

“Of course it isn’t. But I’ll still help.”

“Just onto the stones. Then you go.” The two girls looked at each other for a long moment. “Please,” said Sammy.

“OK,” replied Hannah. Together they pushed him until he was half-rested on the lowest part of the well wall.
Just one push and he’ll be in
, thought Sammy.

Randle groaned again and started to move. His lips moved. In his mind, he said
little bitch
, but it came out as “rikkle witch”.

“Go,” said Sammy.

Hannah shook her head. “No way. Let’s do this.”

“This isn’t your business,” snapped Sammy. “Now go. Fast.” Hannah was taken aback; her face looked hurt as if Sammy had slapped her. “Please,” said Sammy, softly, her normal little-girl voice returning.

Hannah nodded. “OK. I’ll be back in a sec. Be careful.” She ran back to the ruined cottage.

Sammy turned to the well and spoke into it, clearly.

“Here he is,” she said. “I promised. A swap.”

From the well there came a rush of wind, swirling like a tornado up from the inside and out into the open air. The sky above darkened.

From deep inside the well came a voice; a woman’s voice. “You. The deal was you.”

“No, it wasn’t. A life for a life. That was the deal. I’m holding you to it.”

The air in the well spun and growled. “Him no good. Old and bad. Give me the other girl.”

Sammy shook her head. “A deal’s a deal.”

“The girl. And I lift the curse. Your children will be free.”

Sammy hesitated. She’d thought a lot about the story her mother had told her, but she had no way of appreciating a woman’s agony of delivering a child who was also cursed to deliver cursed children. At eight, babies were something other people had, or something you had when you were old. Sammy didn’t even think she wanted babies.
But still
–