The BIG Horror Pack 2 Read online

  Nick shook his head. “I’m fine, just tired. Really, really, really tired. I don’t know how much longer I can take working at that wretched place.”

  “Find something else, then. I don’t want you to be miserable all the time.”

  “I’m not miserable. Just…unfulfilled. Anyway, don’t worry about it for now. I’m just glad to be home early for a change. Shame we can’t go out, but never mind.”

  “James show you his battle wound?” Deana asked.

  “His finger? Yeah. What happened? Some kid bit him?”

  “Yeah, during break time. It wasn’t too bad, but it was still bleeding a little when he got home so I put a new plaster on it.”

  “And kissed it better?”

  “Of course,” she winked at him.

  Nick chuckled and checked his watch. It was almost half-five. “I need to get ready for the conference call,” he said. “I’ll try to get away quickly.”

  Deana smiled. “I’ll bring you a coffee up.”

  Nick hurried upstairs to his and Deana’s bedroom and lay himself down on the freshly made bed, dumping his keys and wallet onto the glass side-table first. The duvet cover was the blue Egyptian cotton one he liked. The soft thread immediately relaxed him.

  The conference call would commence at five-thirty sharp, but the managers of the other stores would usually get on early to check the lay of the land. How did your store do today? What was footfall like? Did you meet your insurance quota? What mood is the area manager in?

  Nick picked up the phone and dialled, then tapped in the login pin number. There was a brief silence while the automated service connected him.

  When he heard the static of the open line, Nick introduced himself. “Nick Adams, Solihull, Touchwood.”

  There were no replies. He must have been the first one there. Great, he thought to himself. Everyone else had had such a busy day that they were struggling to get away.

  Nick took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting it echo in the receiver. He rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes while he waited. He really hated conference calls.

  There was nothing he could do, though. He wouldn’t get paid as much anywhere else in retail. Most people hated their jobs just as much as he did. At least his family was secure, even if it meant he was miserable fifty hours a week.

  It was now 5:32. “Hello,” Nick said into the receiver. “Hello, is anyone else here?”

  A second later, the line crackled and another voice came on.

  “Hey,” Nick said tentatively. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Paul.”

  “Paul, what are you doing on the call?”

  “I figured you’d need backup after the day we had.”

  Nick smiled. It was good of Paul to go down in flames with him. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. It’s just me and you so far, though.”

  “Yeah, I think there’re a couple managers who are reluctant to get on here. I phoned around on the way home and found out that other stores were deserted as well. Evesham only did two contracts and Tewkesbury did none, so don’t worry too much.”

  Nick sighed relief. “That’s good to know. Least I won’t be the only one getting torn a new one.”

  Paul started coughing into the phone.

  “You okay, buddy?”

  “Just a cold coming on, I think. Probably from that doodi that bit me earlier.”

  “You best not be calling in sick tomorrow, dude.”

  “‘Course not. Can’t leave all the sales to Chelsea, can I?”

  There was a crackle on the line and another voice entered the conversation. It was the distinctive Australian twang of the area manager. It grated at Nick’s nerves every time he heard it.

  “Who’s on the call?” the area manager asked in his usual pissy tone.

  “Just me and Paul,” answered Nick.

  “Who might me and Paul be?”

  “Nick Adams and Paul Patel from Solihull. No one else is on the call yet.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve had a lot of managers call in sick today, so there will be no call tonight.”

  The line clicked and the area manager was gone.

  “Prick,” said Paul.

  Nick laughed. “I’d wet myself if he hadn’t actually gone yet.”

  Paul tutted. “Gandoo don’t scare me.”

  “You find it weird?” Nick asked. “I mean, what he said about all the managers calling in sick?”

  “Maybe they all went on a bender and planned a mass sickie. You know us family men are never in the loop about staff get-togethers. This is a young man’s game, fella.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I just find it weird how town was so quiet today. Everyone seems to be getting sick; that guy who came in at the end of the day was a total mess. There must be something really bad going around.”

  “Yeah, the bloody lergy, and I have it,” Paul said, clearing his throat of phlegm with a wet grunt. “I got to go now, governor. Think a night in the pub is in order if I’m going to be feeling rough all night.”

  “Just don’t come in with a hangover.”

  “Ha! I’m Sikh. We don’t get drunk. There’s no beer in the world strong enough.” With that Paul hung up.

  Nick laughed and went downstairs to spend the evening with his family, hoping that whatever was going around, he wouldn’t catch.

  Chapter Three

  The evening went by quickly. A dinner of fish fingers was followed by a few hours of innocuous reality television. Then it was time to go to bed. Nick had intended to put James down right after dinner, but he’d become so feverish and fitful that Nick decided to keep a close eye on him. Deana had started to feel grim, too. She’d spent the evening with the tissue box in her lap. Nick assumed it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the dreaded ‘lergy’ himself.

  Just after ten o’clock, Deana carried James upstairs – he remained asleep in her arms – and joined Nick in their bedroom a few minutes later. She took a handful of flu capsules from the bedside drawer and dry swallowed them, then dragged herself into her ‘no-sex’ frumpy pyjamas and was snoring loudly within minutes.

  Nick was left staring at the ceiling alone. He was dreading another workday like the one he’d just had. The minutes had seemed like hours and the stress of not meeting target had been constant. He was nothing but a glorified salesman, really, but his area manager made his job far more stressful than it needed to be. Targets, working weekends, opening evenings, Nick was expected to live, eat, and breathe the phone industry. The truth was, though, that he didn’t give two shits about selling phones or the company he worked for. It was a paycheque, nothing more, and he hated every minute he spent there.

  He’d always told himself that one day he’d do something different, one day he’d start a career he enjoyed, but before he knew it he was thirty years old with a wife and child. Now, there was never going to be a ‘one day.’

  Nick sighed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the beastly snores of his slumbering wife. God, he loved her, but sometimes she sounded like an asthmatic camel – especially when she was ill. Thankfully, before long, slumber finally befell him too.

  ***

  When Nick opened his eyes again, the bedside clock read 5:03AM. It was almost dawn.

  And there were noises downstairs.

  Nick glanced at Deana, checking to see if she was awake also, but she was silent and still, no longer even snoring.

  The noises downstairs were consistent and regular, like they were following a rhythm. It sounded like someone was shuffling around in the kitchen. Nick was sure he heard the breakfast bar stools dragging across the granite floor tiles.

  Goddamn it. Nick had to be up in a couple hours and some git was trying to rob him.

  He slid out from beneath the bed covers and headed for the door in his boxer shorts. The noises continued. If it was a burglar, it was the most negligent criminal ever. Either that, or crazy enough not to care if they’re discovered.

  Nick crept barefoo
t across the landing, wishing he had a baseball bat stashed upstairs. He’d never worried about being burgled before, but now he felt stupid for it. He started down the staircase, trying to see through the shadows. With each step he took downwards, his stomach churned a little harder. When he finally reached the bottom and padded into the hallway, he felt positively sick. From there it became clear that the stranger was definitely inside the kitchen. Not only could Nick hear them shuffling around, but he could see light coming from beneath the door.

  Nick started to plan. Was he just going to burst in, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, hoping to frighten the intruder away? What if the intruder was armed? He decided he’d rather prevent a confrontation than create one, so he decided to give the burglar a chance to flee. He rapped his knuckles against the kitchen door and said, “Hey, whoever you are, get the hell out of my house. Right now!”

  Silence.

  “I’ve already called the police, so just get out of here while you still can.”

  Silence.

  Nick didn’t know what to do. Walking into the kitchen was probably the stupid thing, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Despite his fear, he was pissed off and angry.

  He pushed open the door, ready for action.

  The kitchen was dark. The light Nick had seen creeping beneath the door was coming from the open fridge-freezer. The person standing in front of the appliance was a featureless silhouette.

  “Hey, what the hell are you playing at? Get the fuck out of my house.”

  The person didn’t answer or react.

  As his eyesight continued to adjust, Nick could see that the figure wasn’t facing him. However, slowly…gradually…the stranger was turning around.

  Nick’s breath caught in his chest. “James? What are you doing down here?” He trailed off as he saw what James was doing. Hanging from his son’s mouth was a large hunk of fillet steak, still raw and dripping. Nick didn’t understand what he was looking at. Why was James down here in the middle of the night, tearing into raw meat like a feral dog?

  He raised a hand toward his son. “James, put the meat down, honey. It’ll make your tummy bad. Put it down and come here.”

  James lowered his head, unblinking eyes trained on his father. His thin lips trembled into a snarl. Then he lunged at Nick, his delicate hands outstretched like claws. His sallow, naked chest was soaked with the steak blood and as he collided with Nick, the hunk of meat fell from his chomping mouth.

  Nick wrapped his arms around his son and wrestled with him. “James! James, what’s gotten into you? It’s daddy. Calm down, daddy’s got you. Just stop fighting me.”

  But it was no good. James continued to claw and bite, thrashing to get free. His bloodstained teeth snapped wildly at the air. Nick assumed his son was hallucinating from the fever, and if he could just turn the lights on, maybe he would be less confused.

  Nick squeezed James tightly and sidestepped towards the light switch with the boy in his arms. James’ relentless squirming made every step a battle of determination.

  Nick’s bare foot came down on something slippery. As his leg went out from under him, he realised it was the raw fillet steak, dropped from his son’s jaws. He fell sideways with the full weight of his son still in his arms. Nick’s head hit the tiles with a crack, and then there was another sound, meaty and wet.

  Nick couldn’t sit up as his vision spun and a roiling wave of sickness crashed against his stomach. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. After a while, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around.

  James was lying nearby, his small body unmoving.

  “Oh, Jesus. Oh Jesus, no!” Nick scurried across the floor on his hands and knees, until he could place a hand beneath James’ head and lift it up. He withdrew his fingers when they touched something hot and tacky. Even in the dim light from the fridge, Nick could see the dark blood on his hands.

  “No, no, no, no.” On Nick’s left, a matted clump of hair covered the corner of the breakfast bar. James’s head had struck it on the way down

  “James. No. No. Help me! Somebody help. Somebody fucking help me. God help me, what have I done?“

  Nick leapt up from the floor and almost fell down again when his legs failed to work. His entire body was trembling, his vision spinning. He had to do something. Had to do something right now.

  He could use the phone in the bed and wake up Deana at the same time. He needed Deana. He needed help. He couldn’t do this alone.

  Nick bolted out the kitchen, up the stairs, and burst into the bedroom, shouting at the top of his lungs for Deana to wake up.

  His wife’s body shifted beneath the sheets, but she didn’t respond. “Deana, please wake up. I need you.”

  Nothing. Just a tired moan.

  Nick cursed under his breath and grabbed the phone. There was no time to waste. He dialled 999.

  “Emergency Services are currently dealing with a very high number of calls. Please leave your name, address, and situation, and help will arrive shortly. Please remain calm while waiting for assistance. Leave your details after the beep.”

  Beep!

  999 was too busy to answer his call? That was bullshit.

  He turned to Deana and knelt on the bed, shoving her hard. “Deana, wake up, wake up. I need your help. Something terrible has happened.”

  She stirred with a low moan and rolled out of bed.

  “Thank God.” Nick switched on the bedside lamp and started redialling 999. “Deana, James is hurt. He was in the kitchen and I…I…”

  Deana’s eyes glared at him. Their lower lids hung slack while the bloodshot orbs rattled around inside their sockets. A slick trail of blood covered her chin.

  Before Nick had chance to think, Deana leapt at him.

  Nick dodged sideways and stumbled against the foot of the bed. He almost fell down but managed to remain standing. “Deana, what the hell are you doing?”

  Deana clambered over the bed towards him, leaving bloody handprints on the sheets and snarling at him like a rabid wolf. She glared at him balefully, her jaws grinding back and forth like saw blades.

  “Deana? Please, say something.”

  Deana opened her mouth wide, let out a high-pitched screech, then leapt from the bed.

  Nick managed to shove Deana aside as she took flight, sending her hurtling into the mahogany chest of drawers that her mother had bought them as a wedding gift. Instinctively, he went to help her, but Deana was right back on her feet.

  Nick rushed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Deana crashed against the other side, shaking the wood on its hinges. She let out another ear-piercing shriek. Nick didn’t know why she didn’t just use the door handle, but was thankful for her lack of common sense. He used the opportunity to flee.

  He needed to get help. His son and wife needed help now.

  Deana continued battering the bedroom door, and all Nick could do to get away from the torturous sound was go downstairs. He sprinted back into the kitchen where he was once again faced with his son’s body.

  I’m in Hell. This is the Abyss.

  Looking down at James, Nick knew his young son was dead. No ambulance or doctor could help him. James’ face was the colour of chalk, except for his closed eyelids, which were the black of charcoal.

  Nick stumbled to the kitchen sink and immediately vomited. He splashed cold water onto his face from the tap until his cheeks were freezing and numb. “I need to put some clothes on,” he muttered to himself. Hearing his own voice calmed him slightly.

  Deana still banged on the door upstairs, still letting out that terrible screeching. He couldn’t go back into the bedroom with his wife the way she was, so he rummaged through the laundry basket on the breakfast table to find some clothes, pulling out a crinkled grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. One of James’ Pokémon socks clung to one of the legs.

  He began to sob.

  Nick didn’t allow himself the luxury of crying for longer than a few
seconds, not while his son lay dead at his feet and his wife flung herself against the bedroom door like a mental patient. He had to get out of the house and find help.

  Nick got dressed quickly and exited the kitchen. As he did so, an almighty crash sounded from the bedroom.

  Nick stopped at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at the first-floor landing.

  Deana appeared, half-naked and snarling.

  “Deana, just stay right where you are, okay? I’m going to get help”

  She ran down the steps towards him.

  Nick leapt inside the front porch and slammed the door behind him just in time. Deana’s face smashed against the window panel, splitting the delicate flesh of her cheeks and smearing blood on the glass. Nick slid his feet into the first pair of trainers he could find and pulled on his long woollen overcoat. He had to get out of there. His wife was acting like she was possessed by a demon. He needed to drive to the nearest hospital or police station or…

  He realised his car keys were in the bedroom.

  He wouldn’t get anywhere without a car.

  Nick turned back to face the inner porch door. The glass panels were caked in bloody chunks of flesh, but Deana was nowhere to be seen. The hallway was dim and shadowy, but there was no sign of his wife anywhere.

  She was inside somewhere, though. She hadn’t just disappeared.

  Nick placed his hand on the door handle carefully and turned it. With every inch the door opened, he paused, anticipating an attack from Deana.

  He looked left, right. All was clear.

  Where the hell did you go, Deana?

  Nick pushed open the door and slid through the gap. He placed a foot on the first step on the staircase and listened. Then he took the second step, the third and the fourth. He reached the hallway upstairs and all was still clear. He felt his heart beating in his chest.

  Darkness seemed to close around him like a blanket. The bedroom was just up ahead, the door hanging wide open. Out of habit, Nick went for the light switch as soon as he entered the room, but he managed to stop himself. It would be better to remain hidden in the dark.