The House That Jack Built: The House That Jack Built

the characters in this strange programme — she always complained that Julia was such a common name, you heard it everywhere. He'd gone online to look up the name's origin; it was the feminine form of 'Julius' which meant 'man with downy beard'. He'd pulled her leg about that for weeks.

'OK!' the American on the radio shouted. 'Thanks to Alexander, we have a way out and all of you need to take it, now.

''Oh, shut up, you big bully.' Rob muttered, turning off the radio.

The silence was still uncomfortable, so he made his way out of the kitchen and across their little lounge to the television. There had to be something cheerful and breezy on, something to take the edge off his stupid nerves. At first he could find nothing but static, ghost images, half-shapes and jagged lines. Then, flipping through the channels, he found a picture: people all sat in a roadside cafe, an old woman talking to a soldier — at least Rob assumed he was a soldier, he was wearing an old uniform, certainly, though clearly he wasn't on duty as his collar was open. At the table next to them, a woman was dripping water all over the table and floor. Ridiculous. Perhaps it was supposed to be a comedy?

The camera moved to a close-up of the old woman, and Rob banged the side of the television, trying to improve the reception. The poor signal made it look like there were things crawling under her skin.

'That's it, Rob,' the old woman said, making him dart back from the screen. 'Hit me.'

Rob stabbed at the remote control with his index finger, desperate to flush the woman from the screen.

'No,' she whispered. 'Not like that… like this!'

She swung her arm, and Rob felt the sting on his cheek as if he had been struck.'

How did you-?'

She hit him again, his cheek glowing hot with it.

The radio suddenly crackled back to life.'

He's completely out of it,' said the voice of the woman he had heard before in the advert about tape.'

I'm not…' he said. 'At least, I don't think I am…''

You could have fooled us,' said the old woman on his television. 'Dead from the neck up… Isn't that what you are?'

He felt his cheeks turn cold and a pressure building in his sinuses.'

What are you…?' He ran to the bathroom, wanting to see his face in the mirror. It had lost its colour, turned the pale blue-grey of necrotic tissue. He rubbed it with his hands, and it felt thick and damp, like a verruca.'

Is that better?' the old woman asked from the next room. 'Is that what you like?'

Rob wanted to cry but knew that his dead tear ducts had no liquid to shed. He scratched at his cheek — wanting to feel something — and his nails filled with dead skin. He could just feel the touch of his fingers; perhaps his real face was still there, hidden underneath this useless hide? He began to peel, cautiously at first but then — as he realised it didn't hurt — in the biggest chunks he could get hold of. The sink filled with it, like cool, undercooked chicken meat, and soon there was nothing left for him to look at in the mirror but bone. There was no point in continuing to dig. There was nothing left of him.

He was lost.'

Rob?' Julia's voice, coming from the bedroom. 'Where are you, Rob?'

He made his way through to the poky room that was just wide enough to hold the double bed they had made their own. Julia lay on the rumpled duvet in her wedding dress. The gown had certainly known a happier day; now it was falling apart, shedding flakes of taffeta and lace like the peelings of sunburned skin.'

Is that you?' she asked, staring straight up at the ceiling.'

Yes… it's me,' Rob replied, touching the wet bone of his jaw and realising he must be beyond recognition. 'My face… something happened to it.''

Something always does, doesn't it, Rob?' she chuckled. 'There's always one problem or another, one mistake you'll never make again… Until you do, of course, over and over and over… I don't know why I bother with you.''

Please…' Rob was confused. Why was she being like this? 'Don't say that. I try so hard… I really want to make everything great… And I will, you wait and see, we'll make a real go of it in the new house…'

And suddenly he was uncertain again, did they even have a new house or was that the one he'd dreamed up? He hated to show his confusion but hated not knowing more.'

We do have a new house, don't we?' he asked her.

She made a scoffing noise in her throat. 'Not any more, you saw to that. So weak…''

I am not!' Rob scared himself with the ferocity of his shout; he hadn't known it was coming. He had to be careful of his anger, that was something he did remember. It was too strong sometimes.'

You see,' said the voice of the old woman from the television next door, 'that's your problem, always reining in your strength. That's why you lost the house, because you gave in.'

No. Rob began to shiver. He wasn't to let his anger loose. Anger wasn't strength, anger was…'

Turning yourself in circles,' Julia laughed, 'tying yourself in knots, so pathetic… How I hate you…''

Don't…' Rob felt the anger building.

' … hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you…'

'Please…' Rob's fingers were clenching, his jaw locking, muscles popping as they strained to be flexed.

'… hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you…'

'Pathetic man,' added the woman from the television. 'What are you for?'

'Shut up!' Rob shouted.

And woke up…

TWENTY-TWO

'I barely touched him,' said Gwen, as Ianto rolled Rob over and they both stared into his vacant eyes.

'You don't know your own strength,' Ianto replied. 'What should we do with him?'

'Tie him up with that,' said Jack, handing him a roll of gaffer tape.

'Tightly,' Gwen added.

Ianto tore a length off the roll and started wrapping it around Rob's wrists. Gwen moved over to the sofa. 'Julia's out of it. Someone will have to carry her.'

'Great,' Ianto sighed. 'Half of us need carrying out of here.'

'Or dragging,' Gwen muttered, eyeing Rob.

'You'll manage.' Jack smiled and stepped out into the hallway.

'OK!' he barked so everyone could hear him. 'Thanks to Alexander, we have a way out and all of you need to take it, now.'

'And what do you propose to do then, oh loud, shouty one?' asked Alexander, who was sitting on the stairs to give Joe's shoulders a rest.

'This house is the locus for something forcing its way into our universe,' Jack replied. 'Unless we do something about that, there's no point running anywhere — everything will cease to exist in the next few minutes anyway.'

'You have a plan, of course?' asked Ianto from the lounge doorway.

'Naturally,' Jack grinned. 'If the house is the door, then the easiest thing to do to stop anyone getting in is… get rid of the house!' Ianto stared at him for a moment and then nodded. 'Good. Fine. Great plan. Good luck with that, then.'

'I know what I'm doing, but I don't have time to discuss it. Trust me,' Jack replied, cupping Ianto's face and kissing him on the cheek.

'Wahey!' shouted Joe.

'Do excuse the boy,' said Alexander. 'He's enthusiastic to the point of agony.'

'I know the type,' Ianto replied, stepping back into the lounge. He stared down at Rob. 'I know you can walk,' he said. 'Nobody slips into a coma because they have their balls punched.'

'I have powers,' said Gwen.