Alice Isn't Well (Death Herself Book 1) (2 page)

“Tell them it's an emergency,” Aspen continued, watching as Alice dropped the cutters. “Tell them -”

Before he could finish, Alice gasped and tried to speak, but all that came from her mouth was a gush of fresh blood.

“It's okay,” Aspen told her, his voice trembling with shock as he watched her trying once again to get the wire free from her lips. “Alice, help's on its way, we're going to -”

“Help!” she managed to gurgle as soon as a couple of the stitches were open.

“Alice -”

“Help me!” she screamed. “Please, help me!”

Feeling someone's breath on the back of his neck, Dan turned. His eyes widened with horror as soon as he saw the face of the figure bearing down on him. He reached for his radio again, just as Alice screamed and fell back.

“Dan?” Marion called out as the radio dropped to the floor. “Dan, are you there? Dan, talk to me!”

Alice was still screaming, and she kept screaming until a dark figure stepped over the fallen policeman and began to sew her mouth shut again, threading the black wire back through her lips.

Chapter One

Today

“There's a gap on your CV,” Donald said with a frown, leaning back in his swivel chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. “Looks like between sixth form at school and about two months ago, you...” He paused, before looking over at her. “Well, frankly it looks like you didn't exist. Should never have a gap in your CV, didn't anyone ever tell you that?” He stared at her for a moment. “What did you do in that gap, then, eh?”

“I...” Pausing, Alice tried to remember what she'd been told to say when someone inevitably asked. “I was in hospital a lot.”

“Sick?”

She nodded.

“Do you mind...” He paused. “I mean, do you mind me asking what was wrong with you?”

She swallowed hard. “A bit of this, a bit of that. I just... I wasn't very well.”

“Huh.” He stared at her for a moment, and at the scar on her left cheek that was particularly noticeable now that they were in the porta-cabin with its electric green light. In fact, there seemed to be a lot of scars on her face, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she'd had some reconstructive work done, especially around the mouth and eyes. “And you're... better now?”

She paused, before nodding.

“Got a certificate to prove it, eh?” he asked with a grin.

“I... Yeah, I think so, somewhere.”

He frowned. “And as your supervisor here, is there anything I need to know about your... gap? Anything that might affect your duties?”

Another pause, and then she shook her head.

“Well...” He set the CV down and stared at it for a moment, as if he was trying to find another angle of attack. He was clearly itching to know all about her ten-year gap. “I know your social worker has spoken to my superior, and I know my superior's concerns have been fully addressed, so I suppose that means I have no right to pry. I'm not a nosy man, Alice. That's something you'll come to learn about me pretty quickly, I don't poke my nose into other people's business.” He stared at the CV for a moment, as if he was willing it to give up its secrets. Finally, leaning forward, he held a hand out toward her. “Welcome to the team at Galactic Ward Security, Ms. Warner. Still, glad to have you on-board.”

She stared at his hand for a moment, before reaching out to shake it. She had a slight tremor, and although she was able to hide it most of the time, it still showed when she was nervous.

She was nervous right now.

“What've you got there?” he asked, looking at her other hand.

“Oh.” She paused for a moment, before showing him the crumpled bus ticket. “Nothing, really.”

“Well, we've got a bin right here,” he replied, kicking a metal trashcan toward her from under the desk. “For all your nothings.”

She paused, staring at the ticket. “Actually, I think I'll keep it. To remind myself of my first shift.”

“A souvenir, eh?”

She smiled politely, before folding the ticket carefully and slipping it into her pocket. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I know it's dumb.”

“Right, then,” he continued with a faint smile, as if he found her amusing, “whatever floats your boat. No skin off my nose, is it? So shall we step outside this little office so I can show you our kingdom? Trust me, you're gonna be impressed. You're okay with lots of walking, aren't you? Your...” He paused again, eying her with a hint of concern. “You don't have a condition that affects you physically, do you?”

She shook her head.

“So it's more... mental?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but no word came out.

“Never mind,” he continued, “none of my business, eh? You can tell me when you're ready.”

***

“Barton's Cross shopping mall,” Donald said with a hint of pride as he led Alice into the dark, unlit atrium of the huge building. Shining his flashlight up and around, he picked out the dark facades of abandoned shops. “One of the biggest shopping malls in the whole of the United Kingdom. Once, anyway. A mecca for consumers from five counties, an orgy of spending and commerce. All your high street brands were here, as well as some more exclusive chains that don't open up in just any old location, if you catch my drift. Barton's Cross was really something to be proud of, you know?”

Alice looked around, stunned by the size of the place. Rising up seven storeys toward a huge glass ceiling, Barton's Cross had once been a gleaming cathedral of modern British shopping, but now it was just a boarded-up relic of a time gone by. Alice remembered girls at school talking excitedly about hanging out at the place, and some of them had even managed to get Saturday jobs in the stores. She'd never been, preferring the shops closer to home, but she'd still been shocked when she'd come out of hospital and learned that the place had closed down.

“Shame about the recession,” Donald continued with a sniff, stepping forward until he reached the center of the large circular atrium. His voice was echoing slightly in the huge space, and after a moment he turned to Alice with a broad grin. “Did you ever come here when it was open?”

“Um...” She paused. “No.”

“That's right, I guess you were in hospital most of the time, eh?”

She nodded.

“Based on your CV,” he added, “I guess you must have gone into hospital not long after this place opened, and you came out just after it was shut down.”

“I suppose,” she replied noncommittally, looking around and seeing an old birthday card store, and next to that an old phone shop.

“That's quite a chunk of time spent outside society,” Donald pointed out.

Turning back to him, she nodded again.

“Must've been something pretty serious for you to be in hospital for so long.”

“I suppose.”

He paused, eying her with a hint of suspicion.

“Well,” he added finally, “like I said, I'm not a nosy man.” He turned and shone his flashlight around again. “Barton's Cross was like all the brightest stars. It didn't last as long as other, duller venues. Nine years, in fact, from the grand opening to the day the doors were shut for the last time. Tragedy, really, if you think about it.” He paused for a moment, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Shame, really. I used to come here a lot, they had everything you could possibly want, all under one roof. And if there was something you wanted and they
didn't
have it, well, you soon forgot you wanted it and you just started wanting something else instead. That's how it works, yeah?” He paused again, as if he was lost in memories of the place. “Plus you could people-watch from one of the cafes. Used to like that, I did. Little did I ever dream that one day I'd have the keys to the place, eh?”

As if to prove his point, he jangled the keys that hung from his belt.

Making her way over to join him, Alice looked up at the domed glass ceiling high above. For a moment, she felt a little dizzy, but a second later she was distracted by a faint scrabbling sound in the distance. She turned and looked up at a balcony on the second floor.

“Now
that's
something you've got to get used to if you're doing security here,” Donald continued, shining his flashlight up toward the balcony. “Let me tell you now, Ms. Warner, you
will
hear things. Little bumps, scratches, noises you can't really explain. In a building this size, it's inevitable.”

“What causes it?” she asked, with her eyes still fixed on the balcony.

“Any one of a hundred possible things,” he replied, “but the thing is, if you start trying to figure it all out in your head, do you know what'll happen?”

She turned to him. “What?”

“You'll go mad.”

She paused. “Oh.”

“Could be the wind,” he continued, looking back up at the balcony. “There's enough broken windows on the higher floors. We fix the ones lower down, so rough-sleepers can't get in, but higher up there's no point. Of course, then birds get in and other wildlife, but we don't really worry about that too much either. Watch out for badgers, though. Nasty little buggers and bloody aggressive.” He turned to her. “Have you ever been in a combat situation with a badger?”

She thought about the question for a moment. “Um... No.”

“Take my advice. Keep it that way.”

“What about people?” she asked. “Do they ever get inside?”

“About once or twice a year someone manages to slip through,” he replied with a sigh. “Just some bum looking for a place to doss down for the night, that kind of thing. They usually run if they're disturbed, but that's where the job actually becomes a little tricky, 'cause you do get the odd one or two who turn violent and try to stand their ground, either 'cause they're not right in the head or 'cause they're high on drugs. Fortunately, that's why we carry these babies.” He pulled a small plastic gun-like object from his waist. “We're not allowed proper guns, but we can tase the buggers as long as we want.”

Staring at the taser, Alice seemed a little startled.

“Give it a go,” he continued, flicking a switch on the side before handing it to her. “Don't worry, the safety catch is on, you can't fire it right now. I've got one for you back in the office, although you're not allowed to take it off the site. You keep it in your locker and use it when you have a shift, but remember... These things aren't toys.”

Alice looked down at the weapon in her hand for a moment, before raising it and pointing it across the dark, deserted atrium.

“Ever held anything like that before?” Donald asked.

She paused, before flicking the switch on the side.

“You probably won't even have to use it,” he continued, clearing his throat. “Like I said, you don't get many people breaking into the place. For the most part, our job here at Barton's Cross is pretty bloody boring, if you'll pardon my French. We sit in the porta-cabin and watch the monitors, and we do a quick patrol every two hours, and we hand off to the day-shift at six, just as the sun's coming up. To be honest, it doesn't really take two people to man the place overnight, but apparently there's some insurance rule that says they need two security guards on duty at all times.” He paused, waiting for her to reply. “So you're up for all this, yeah?”

Staring at the weapon in her hand, Alice seemed lost in thought for a moment, before slowly turning to him.

“It's probably a little overwhelming at first,” Donald continued. “I've been here for a while now, but don't worry, you get used to it eventually. There are definitely worse jobs in London, and I can tell you, I've done a fair few of 'em. Do you play cards? If you like, I can -”

Before he could finish, Alice fired the taser, which sent a pair of charged electrodes shooting across the atrium until they landed on the dirty floor, flickering and sparking in the moonlight.

“Careful with that,” Donald said, taking the weapon from her. “How'd you get the safety catch off?”

“Sorry,” she replied calmly. “It was a mistake.”

Switching the device off, he began to retract the electrodes. “I can see I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you, aren't I?” he said with a smile. “You're obviously a lively one. I tell you what, since this is your orientation shift, why don't we head back to the office and I'll fill you in on the history of this place, eh? I know that might sound boring for a young woman such as yourself, but you'll be surprised.” Setting the taser back on his buckle, he turned to her. “Barton's Cross might not be a very old building, but it's built on a sight of great historical interest.”

“It is?” she asked.

“I'll tell you the potted version,” he continued, turning and heading back to the main door. “Won't take long. Prepare to have your mind blown, though. How old are you, again?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Bet you're not much interested in local history, are you?”

“I don't mind.”

“I've got some books on the subject,” Donald continued. “I can lend you a few, if you like. I'll bring them in for you tomorrow night.”

Stopping for a moment, Alice stared up again at the domed glass ceiling. She was hoping to see the stars above, but instead all she saw was a reflection of the atrium itself. It took a moment, but she was finally able to spot her own reflection up there, staring back down. A moment later, she heard another scratching sound nearby and turned to look up at one of the balconies. For a few seconds, she was filled with the overwhelming sense that she was being watched from the shadows. She waited for something, anything, to step into view, but finally the sensation passed. Whatever had been up there, it was gone now.