The words quickly moved into rhythmic, screaming roars and Rachel closed her eyes and filtered all sounds out except Holly’s sweet singing. And she sang too, lips in the dirt.
Ninety years without slumbering, (tick, tock, tick, tock).
Perhaps if she simply kept her eyes shut, and kept singing, she would die too. Maybe she’d sink into the floor and drift into the deep darkness that lives at the heart of the world. And maybe she’d find Holly there. She hoped so. More than anything in the world she hoped for that. Then they could hold hands and talk and laugh and sing. And walk on cold stone floors for ever. And all would be well.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
A woman was screaming. Muffled and quiet but unmistakable.
Matt hammered the chair harder and harder, wincing with the pain in his arm. And on the second blow the cheap metal padlock finally snapped open. He shoved his shoulder against the door and it opened halfway. Then it stopped with a soft thud. He squeezed through the gap, and found Joyce Hodges shivering in the corner. Her hair was a wild fright wig and her fingernails were snapped from clawing at the door.
‘Joyce?’
She stared through him.
‘Are you hurt?’
She shook her head. ‘There’s a body down there.’
He flashed the phone light down and he felt his heart plummet. He saw a heap at the far end of the corridor.
‘Who is it?’
‘A man …’ she said, in a voice that was little more than a long drone. ‘A dead man.’
He tugged her away from the wall and helped her to her feet. ‘Joyce, the door’s open. Bob’s through there and he needs you, okay?’
She stared again, nodding slowly. He had to physically turn her to guide her through the door.
Then he let go of her arm and skidded his feet along the dusty floor of the corridor. This one was wider than the first, with bits of rubbish strewn about. There were loose bricks too. But these things were shimmering in the corner of his vision because he was bounding toward a doorway and the lump, with one of the bricks in his hand.
It looked like a bundle of clothes. A bundle of clothes with a person inside them.
A young man, about Jo Finch’s age.
He lay in the dirt, with cable ties tight around his wrists and his ankles, with doll’s eyes staring wide and dead into the gloom. His stomach had been hollowed out into a ragged hole, filled with things that were not connected any more. The sharp teeth of his ribcage jutted through the gristle.
Jo’s boyfriend, Lee.
Matt gagged into his hand and he knew the rabbit hadn’t done this. This was the dog’s work. Any guilt about snapping it in two vanished at once.
He couldn’t look at it.
So he pushed on the door instead. He was dreading it being locked while simultaneously hoping like hell that it would be locked. That this steady stream of trauma was done. But when he pushed it softly, it swung completely open and he was flooded in red, glowing light.
What he saw stopped him dead.
Directly in front of him someone was tied to a chair, with a plastic bag over her head. He knew it was Kassy by the mass of blonde hair that was trapped and splayed under there. She was jerking and twitching. The toes of her bare feet were curling. And at the other side of the room, a tall figure in a mask was dragging bricks and breeze blocks toward Rachel who was tied to pegs on the floor.
Tiny pieces of paper were scattered around them both. Some stuck to their heads and arms. Lily crosses and pelicans. Symbols of salvation and restoration that said God could make even the worst of sinners righteous again.
Matt silently stepped up behind Kassy and grabbed each side of the bag. He tore a ragged, gaping hole across her mouth.
Her terrible, wheezing gasp filled the room.
The figure snapped its head around and stood up tall.
He ripped the plastic away from Kassy’s head but his eyes were locked on the six foot rabbit dressed in black. Before Matt could even compute what he was seeing, the thing was pulling something from a strap on his back.
A Stanley knife.
Oh, shit.
The rabbit man started looking around. He jerked his latex face down at the hefty blade in his hand, then to Rachel on the floor. Then he sprang off, walking slowly towards Matt.
‘Jerry?’
The rabbit froze.
‘It’s me, Matt. Remember? From the coffee shop? You spilt a drink on me?’
The rabbit tilted its head.
‘Jerry, listen … this isn’t the way.’
Jerry stood motionless for a few seconds, other than the subtle blade swinging from his hanging left hand. His eyes drifted to Kassy, and the plastic bag that now hung around her neck like a ragged scarf.
‘Don’t,’ Jerry said. ‘Don’t remove that. Please.’
‘This isn’t right.’ Matt gripped the brick.
Then Jerry took a step forward. ‘You can’t mess with this.’
Next to Rachel was a pile of bricks and rocks. Jerry had been stacking them on her, trying to crush her chest and asphyxiate her. A classic method of execution for witches. But so far he’d only put a few of them in place meaning she wasn’t in massive danger. So Matt wasn’t going to risk the Stanley knife by rushing over, like he wanted.
‘He’s a child molester,’ Kassy said suddenly, through wincing coughs. She wheezed with the pain of breath and speech but was desperate to get her point across. ‘He thinks we’re witches who make him touch kids but he’s mental. I came down into this hole to get Rachel then he pounced on me and dragged me down here.’
‘Take off your mask, Jerry.’ Matt said it gently. ‘Would you do
