Apart from the smartly dressed man, they’d not seen nor heard a living soul.
Heard nothing apart from that low breathing.
Julie looked into the dark corridor with trepidation.
How much longer was this going to go on? She feared that the end would be signalled by
Donna moved into the darkened corridor, stepping cautiously, as if she were walking on squeaking floorboards, not carpet-covered concrete.
The wall lights didn’t seem to be powered by anything more substantial than forty-watt bulbs. The glow they cast was a sickly yellow light that barely illuminated the narrow walkway from one door to the other.
The two women moved cautiously along, Donna keeping her eyes ahead, Julie occasionally glancing at the door behind.
Donna put out one hand as if to steady herself against the wall.
Something moved beneath her fingertips.
‘Jesus,’ she hissed, moving away from the wall and looking down.
‘What is it?’ Julie wanted to know, her eyes wide with fear.
Donna didn’t answer. Instead she carefully replaced her hand on the wall where it had been seconds earlier.
She felt it again. Once more the sensation caused her to pull her hand away, as if she’d received an electric shock.
She touched the wall again, but left her hand there until she was sure beyond any doubt.
The stonework, the very plaster, was throbbing gently, as if the bricks and mortar contained some kind of pulse.
Donna could see no movement but she could feel the slow, even thudding against her hand.
Dashwood’s words came flooding back to her:
Donna raised the barrel of the .357. Using the blade foresight as a tool, she drew the sharp fin across the wall.
‘Oh God,’ whispered Julie.
Blood oozed from the mark on the wall.
It welled thickly in the narrow mark Donna had made, then dribbled down the paintwork.
She repeated the action on the other wall.
The same thing happened.
She closed her eyes for long seconds, praying that when she opened them the blood would be gone.
It wasn’t. The thick crimson fluid ran down the wall in rivulets.
Donna swallowed hard and moved forward, towards the door at the end of the dimly lit corridor.
One of the lights flickered.
They froze momentarily as the bulbs went into a kind of stroboscopic dance before flaring full on for a few more seconds.
Then they went out completely.
The two women were plunged into total darkness.
Julie backed up and touched the wall, feeling the pulse in it, scarcely able to stifle her scream of terror. She bit her fist to muffle the sound.
Donna gripped the .357 tightly and moved towards the door at the far end of the corridor.
‘Let’s get out now,’ hissed Julie.
Donna’s answer was to shoot out a hand and grab her sister by the arm, pulling her along with her.
The end of the corridor couldn’t be more than about six or seven feet away, she reasoned.
The lights stayed off. Darkness wrapped itself round them like an impenetrable shroud.
They moved forward in the gloom, nearer and nearer to the door.
The light at the far end of the corridor flickered briefly and Donna saw they were a couple of feet away.
‘Come on,’ she whispered, trying to reassure herself as well as Julie. Her own breathing was heavy now.
She touched something cold and realized that it was the door handle. No light showed beneath. She could only guess at what lay beyond it.
The lights flickered again and went out. Flashed on.
They enjoyed a few seconds of light, then blackness returned. But at the far end of the corridor there was illumination.
The two women were relieved to see light, until they realized that the door through which they’d entered was slightly open.
Had someone slipped into the corridor behind them while the lights were out?
Donna pushed Julie aside and raised the pistol, sighting it at the far end.
She could see nothing. No dark shape moving furtively in the shadows.
It appeared that they were alone in the corridor.
She turned back to face the next door.
Gripping the gun tightly, Donna took the handle and twisted it, pushing the door open. She stepped through.
The flight of stone steps seemed to stretch away into the subterranean shadows. The bottom of the staircase was barely visible. Only the merest hint of sickly yellow light seeped upwards, barely penetrating the umbra.
Donna moved cautiously down the first few steps, glancing back to make sure Julie was following. She was, her face pale and drawn, ghost-like in the darkness.
She heard breathing, as she’d heard before.
This time it seemed louder, more pronounced, as if some invisible phantom were treading the steps with her. Donna swallowed hard, gripped the .357 more tightly and continued to descend.
The staircase was narrow. More than once she was forced to brush against the wall.
She shuddered with revulsion as she felt the cold stone pulsing. Like a gigantic brick heart it pumped against her. Even beneath her feet she felt a rhythmic movement.
She closed her eyes for a second, still not convinced it wasn’t her mind playing tricks.
Behind her Julie was looking down at her feet, being careful not to slip on the narrow steps. She too felt the thudding. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the chill in the basement.
They were halfway down the stairs now, within sight of the bottom. Donna saw that it was a hallway similar to the one upstairs. Instead of being lit by chandeliers, however, this one was illuminated by the dull glow of three candles. Halos of subdued light flared from the small flames that flickered and threatened to blow out.
The breathing continued, but Donna was aware her own laboured exhalations were now adding to the sound that filled her ears.
In the silent blackness it seemed deafening.
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Julie looked round to check that no one had slipped through the door behind them, but it was so dark on the steps it was difficult to see anything at all. She stared at the sea of shadow, trying to spot any deviation in a wall of gloom, as if part of that false night might at any second detach itself.
She saw nothing.
Donna stood motionless, surveying the basement area.
