H is for Hell (A-Z of Horror Book 8)

  BOOK SUMMARY

  Barbara’s day is Hell. One of those days that starts badly and only gets worse. It almost seems like the universe is out to get her.

  What starts with a broken heel ends with something much worse. And it’s all because of a chance meeting with a homeless man.

  “The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”

  – John Milton

  “I’ll swallow your soul! I’ll swallow your soul! I’ll swallow your soul!”

  –Henrietta, The Evil Dead 2 (1987), Renaissance Pictures

  -1 -

  The last thing Barbara needed was a broken heel. She hadn’t even made it out of the building yet.

  The reception area was dark. She was the last to leave as usual – nothing wrong with that, it was her recruitment business after all – but it had been a shit day and she could do without anything else going wrong. A broken heel was like God himself was giving her the finger.

  She pulled off her damaged shoe followed by the other one and threw them both in the bin. The navy blue Jimmy Choos were the only ones that matched the dress she was currently wearing, so that, too, was a write-off until she went shopping and replaced the heels. Luckily she kept a pair of flats in her oversized Radley bag and put them on now before leaving the office.

  The morning had started off okay. The car park for Barbara’s building was being repaved, which meant she and her employees had needed to park on the other side of the canal since Monday, but the sun had been out at 8AM so the short, brisk walk had been a lovely way to start the day. Things had seemed bright.

  It was about midday when things had all gone to hell.

  First, Barbara’s best salesperson, Fiona, had handed in her notice, lured away by a competitor. Nothing Barbara had said would change the girl’s mind so eventually her frustration got the better of her and she told Fiona to leave right away and not come back. It was petty and immature, a symptom of her temper.

  Sometimes I just wish I could take a breath and think before I act. Fiona might not have liked her new job and come back to me eventually. No hope of that now.

  So her best salesperson had walked out the door right before lunch and then, less than an hour later, three of the company’s top clients withdrew their business – almost a quarter of monthly revenue gone bye-bye in the blink of an eye. It was obvious that Fiona had taken the clients to her new firm, but how to prove it? It would only get messy to make an issue of it and it would probably do even more damage in the long run.

  It had been the day from hell, capped by a broken designer heel. Still, Barbara wasn’t ruined. Her successful recruitment company was just a little less successful right now, but that could be remedied with some hard work and perseverance. She had come from nothing and was damned if a bitch like Fiona was going to be her downfall. If anything, it taught a valuable lesson about Barbara needing to stay personally in touch with her clients. It was bad business to trust her staff and she would not make that same mistake again.

  She set the alarm and stepped out of the building, locking the door behind her. It was still light outside, but only for about another hour. The sun had taken on the dark-orange of early evening and the busy town had gone eerily still. The offices and shops were closed, but in another hour or so the pubs and bars would open for the evening trade. It was the transition between night and day. Work and play.

  She needed some cigarettes before heading to her car, so instead of taking the stone steps down to the canal, Barbara turned the other way and headed into town. There was a small newsagent on the high street.

  “Hey, lady, can you spare some change?”

  Barbara glanced to her left to see a scruffy gentleman sitting in the doorway of the accountant’s office she was passing. The man had a dirty red beard and overly large teeth. She could smell his odour from six feet away,

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not carrying any money.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I said I can’t help you.”

  “God bless you anyway.”

  Barbara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

  She picked up her pace to move away from the unwashed man, who thankfully remained seated. It wasn’t like she worked in the inner cities of Liverpool. This was a small town in Bedfordshire.

  Goddamn homeless pests.

  No one in the United Kingdom was homeless unless they chose to be. With all the handouts the government gave, it was a deliberate decision if a person hung around the streets and begged. Anything to avoid an honest day’s work. Deadbeats and layabouts, the lot of them.

  Barbara headed into the newsagents and got her cigarettes – 6 pence more than the last time she’d come in. She thought again about the homeless man and about how the tax kept going up on her cigarettes because of lazy benefit seekers like him. Why were hardworking people like her always the ones to suffer?

  Her father had always blamed things on the foreigners, right up until a heart attack took him at 59. Her mother was certain that it had been stress that killed him, stress of having no money and no chance of retirement, getting poorer by the year.

  Barbara’s father had been a production line worker at MG Rover’s Longbridge plant most of his life, until the company went bust in the early 2000s. Thirty years of job loyalty down the pan in an instant. What followed was a string of low paid, dead end jobs leading up to his sudden death in the summer of 2009. By then, her father had been only a shadow of the loving, happy man who’d raised her. It was almost a kindness that he went so young, so quickly. Barbara had promised herself the day he died that she would never work for anybody but herself. Never would she devote herself to a company like her father had, only to be tossed aside without the slightest regard.

  So she had started up a recruitment business and devoted ten years of her life to securing her future. She owned a home twice as big as the one she grew up in and drove a BMW that her father would have loved. It was her father’s memory that drove her – not the man’s successes, but his failures.

  On her way towards the steps that led down to the canal, Barbara’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and glanced at the screen. Smiled a great big smile when she saw that it was Tom calling her.

  “Hi, sexy,” she purred.

  “Hey, dirty girl. How was your day?”

  “Not as good as my night is going to be. You still on for later?”

  “Yep. I’ll be at yours in an hour. I’ll pick up pizza and wine on the way.”

  “Can you get Chinese instead?”

  “What? The Chinese is three miles out of… yeah, sure, whatever you want, honey. The usual?”

  “You’re a darling. Yeah, the usual. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

  “You’d better, dirty girl. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Can’t wait. Bye.”

  Barbara slipped the phone back in her handbag. She was about to cross the road and head back towards her office and the canal, when a familiar voice called out to her.

  “Hey, lady, you said you had no money.”

  Barbara turned around to see the homeless man again and groaned. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Then how you get those cigs?”

  “I used my ca– Hey, wait just one minute, I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you.”

  The man took several steps towards her. His wild red eyebrows slanted into a scowl. “The likes of me? The hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Barbara stopped walking and faced the scruffy man head on. “You know exactly what it means. Why don’t you get a job instead of begging people in the street? I’ve had a b
ad day and I don’t need this.”

  The homeless man laughed nastily. “You’ve had a bad day? Ha! Why don’t you try having an illness where you forget what planet you’re on one day and are completely lucid the next. You think you got it bad, lady? My only options are to sit around a loony bin where people treat me like dirt, or hang around the street where people treat me like dirt. If I could get a job I would, but people don’t hire loonies.”

  Barbara snorted. “What a load of nonsense. You seem perfectly fine to me.”

  “Today I am, but who knows about tomorrow. You run that recruitment agency next to the canal, don’t you?”

  “I own it.”

  “Wow, how nice for you. I’ve been to your place; explained my situation. Your girl, Fiona, pretty much shooed me out the building.”

  Barbara sighed and actually felt briefly sorry for the man. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Fiona no longer works for me. She was a bitch.”

  “Takes one to know one, lady.”

  Barbara stomped her foot. “How dare you! You expect me to help you now?”

  The man shrugged at her. “You wouldn’t help me before.”

  “Well, you can forget it now.”

  The man looked regretful. He reached out a hand to her imploringly. “Look, I apologise, lady. If you could give me enough change for a sausage roll, I would really appreciate it. I’m sorry I lost my temper. Life is just tough, you know? Please, I really need to eat tonight.”

  Barbara grunted, then relented and sighed. “Fine, why not? People have been taking me for a mug all day so why stop now? Why not take my keys and sell my car for parts? Let me clear out my savings for you.” She opened up her bag and began rooting around for her purse. As she did so, the homeless man came closer.

  “My name is Jim, by the way.”

  “I don’t care,” said Barbara.

  He came closer still. “Sorry you had a bad day.”

  Barbara lifted her purse out of her bag and the homeless man, Jim, continued moving towards her.

  “Don’t mention it. Not your fault – hey! Get back!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Barbara stepped away from the man, snarling and pointing her finger. “You were going to try to snatch my purse, weren’t you?”

  “What? No, I just wanted some change. I was just trying to talk to you.”

  He took another step towards her, making her take another step back.

  “You lowlife,” she shouted. “Just get the hell away from me. Get aw-”

  Her foot went over the curb. Her arms went up in the air and her ankle twisted. She was falling.

  Jim leapt forward and grabbed her. His hand went around her wrist, pulling her away from the curb and towards him, into his arms. The smell was revolting.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  She shoved him as hard as she could, trying not to gag on his stench. “Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting freak.”

  This time it was Jim’s foot that went over the curb, but with no one to grab him, as he had her, his leg twisted and he stumbled backwards into the road. His eyes went wide with surprise.

  Barbara saw what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it, powerless to do anything than play the part of horrified spectator.

  Speeding down the road was a large white van.

  It hit Jim with a sickening thud, hammering him to the ground and feeding him to the crushing wheels. His body disappeared as the tyres rolled over him.

  The sound of bones cracking made Barbara cover her ears. The tyres screeched terribly.

  A smear of blood on the tarmac.

  The van turned sideways and slid to a stop, its front tyres hitting the curb and raising it up slightly. The driver blared the horn, but it could only have been from shock because it was far too late to warn anybody.

  Barbara stood there, eyes open wide and staring.

  Jim’s arms and legs all pointed in the wrong directions. His skull was caved in, making his face look like a Halloween mask. One of his eyes hung down his cheek.

  Barbara tried not to vomit.

  Behind the steering wheel, the van driver stared into space, his hands visibly shaking on the wheel.

  Moments passed, seeming to stretch on forever.

  Then Barbara ran.

  ***

  She clutched her Radley bag against her chest and ran faster than she knew she could. What had just happened? One minute she was buying cigarettes, the next…

  The next, she had thrown a man into an incoming van. Jim, his name was Jim.

  She glanced behind her, checking to see if she was being followed. She wasn’t. A hundred metres back, she saw the traumatised van driver hopping out of his vehicle and stumbling like a zombie towards the bloody mess behind his rear tyres. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed her running away, which was good. The driver was in so much shock he wouldn’t be able to remember Barbara’s face – or, hopefully, even remember that she was there.

  Had he seen her push Jim into the road?

  Barbara hadn’t meant to hurt the homeless man, only to get him away from her. He might not have been going for her purse, she would never know that for sure, but he had no right touching her, grabbing her.

  He was just trying to keep me from falling.

  Barbara shook her head and concentrated on getting out of there. What great loss was it that a homeless man was dead? Who would miss him? What use had he been to anyone? And that pack of lies he had tried to palm off as an excuse…. Mental illness. Pathetic!

  She looked back one more time and was perturbed to find the van driver staring in her direction and waving a hand. He could have just been trying to summon help, but there was also the chance he knew she was fleeing the scene of an accident and trying to call her back.

  She kept on running.

  No way was she going back to that mess. She had pushed Jim into the road and the police would do their best to put it all on her. She wasn’t going to have her life turned upside down because of some stinking homeless man.

  She made it back to her office building and thought about going inside, hiding out for a while, but it would do no good. The police would be everywhere soon and she needed to get home. Tom would be waiting for her with the Chinese food. She wondered how she was ever going to eat anything with her stomach feeling the way it did. She could throw up at any moment.

  All that blood.

  She turned away from her darkly lit office and headed towards the stone steps leading down to the canal. A short run and she would be across the bridge and at the car park. She would be home within the hour.

  The steps were right up ahead. As soon as she made it down them she would be out of sight, the town above and behind her. The car park would be empty by now and all she had to do was walk casually to her car and drive home. Thomas would be her alibi for the evening.

  What am I doing? This is insane. I need to go back. If the police find me I will be in even worse trouble.

  But it was too late now. She knew that by running she had made herself look guilty. The only way was forward. She had to get out of there and deny all knowledge.

  Her mind made up, she hurried towards the steps. She went down them in a sprint, more eager than ever to be at home with Tom. She took the old stone steps two at a time, ignoring the painful shocks running through her heels. As she did so, she fumbled inside her handbag, looking for the cigarettes that she had needed to buy.

  If only she had gone straight to her car instead.

  As she neared the bottom of the steps she began to smile with maddening relief. She was free, the whole devastating incident almost behind her. She was-

  The bottom of her right flat suddenly slid on some loose gravel. Her leg bent sideways and her knee wrenched, making her cry out. She tried to grab out for support, but there was no railing – only a flat brick wall.

  Her feet found nothing but air.

  She fell.

  Hit the steps hard.

  K
nees, elbows, and head crashed against stone. She tried to shield herself but only increased the momentum of her tumble.

  The sky appeared above her for a second.

  Then disappeared.

  Every second was agony as she slid and tumbled, crashing against each unyielding step.

  Then the pain stopped.

  Barbara tumbled off the last step and rolled across the pavement. Towards the canal and down the bank.

  She cried out weakly as the floor disappeared from beneath her and water took its place.

  The canal took her.

  Cold water encased Barbara and made her gasp. Her open mouth filled with dirty water. She panicked. Every part of her ached and she was sinking. Too weak to swim.

  Sinking.

  ***

  Barbara found a spark inside herself and managed to shake off the numbness in her limbs. She kicked her legs, clawed with her arms.

  She began to rise.

  To climb towards the dull light above her.

  Her lungs burned.

  Eyes bulged.

  Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

  But she kicked with all she had, desperate for the air so close above her.

  Her vision grew dark.

  When Barbara broke the surface of the water she gasped in so much air that it caused her pain in the centre of her chest, but she kept on going, sucking in everything she could get.

  She dragged herself to the edge of the canal and hung onto the bank.

  A mixture of air and water escaped her mouth in a gigantic burp.

  Not knowing if she was in tears or not, for she was drenched with canal water, Barbara slowly dragged herself out of the water. She took a few more deep breaths, making sure that she was okay, before flopping onto her back and moaning in agony as her bruised elbows and knees capitulated to the extra pressure of being out of the water. She lay there for a while and sobbed. The day from Hell.

  -2-

  The drive home was painful. Her left knee was swollen and hurt each time she was forced to step on the clutch. Every time she checked her rear view mirror she was sure she would see the flashing lights of a police car, but she saw nothing.