Authors: Ian Woodhead
“Oh yeah, that reminds me. Whilst you were snoring away, I got a text from Fern. She said they'd gone into the next town to do a bit of clothes shopping. Apparently, the stuff they sold here looked like the stuff they wore in the 80's.”
He nodded to himself. Michael now knew where all those clothes had come from. He shivered when he remembered that old weirdo wore a trilby, just like the one balancing on the bonce of Darleen's husband. God, the people in this town were all a bunch of parasites. He dared think just how many people must have entered that hotel of death and never left. How long had it been going on? Hell, why hadn't anybody noticed? It beggared belief. Yeah well, it would soon be time for that hotel to close its gates for good.
“Did she say anything else?”
“Yeah, your missus is going to take her to some fancy Italian restaurant.”
“That'll be the Franko Di Lupo then,” he said, smiling. “They do a beef cannelloni to die for. The food is incredible but it is a bit pricey. That's one of Jodie's finds. Looks like Fern is in for a treat tonight.”
That took a large weight off his shoulders. It would be way past midnight before those two were ready to come back. With any luck, they'd stay over there for the night too. In fact, he should give Jodie a ring and kinda mention that idea to her. Why not? After all, then the pair of them would be able to drink all the wine they wanted.
“How expensive is a bit pricey, Michael?”
“Oh, give over. Jodie won't let your Fern pay for anything.” He felt a bit uncomfortable saying your Fern. Christ, He'd just uncovered the largest case of mass murder in the history of this country, and he was still concerned over his friend's marriage.
“Who's worried,” he said, looking at his watch. “It's not like Fern has any of my money. “Look, man, all this talk of food is making me a bit hungry myself, and I'm guessing that the nearest Chinese is on the other side of the moon?”
If Jodie hadn't already done her marriage councillor routine of Fern already, He intended to sort the pair of them out once this nasty business was well and truly over. “Who wants sweet and sour when Uncle Michael has a fridge full of best steak?”
“You're kidding, right? I'm hungry now!”
“Unless you fancy climbing aboard your fucking rocket-ship, you'll have to wait. Look, it won't take me that long to set up the barbecue. Besides, it's still early.” The look on Trevor's face told him that the guy's stomach didn't care about the time. “Tell you what, you chill out in the rocker, and get another one of those beers down your neck. I'll go grab the gear. Deal?”
“Sure you don't want a hand?”
Just like Trevor, as soon as he'd gotten his own way, he'd trip up over his own feet to help out. “No. You can stay where you are and do as you're told. You'll be smelling the meaty aroma of sizzling steaks before you know it.”
The shine on Trevor's face told Michael that he'd just found his sweet spot. He needed to make sure that his mate was out for the count as well. That shouldn't be too difficult, Trevor had one more sweet spot, Michael's single malt.
6
This was such a momentous occasion. Greg James even believed he might even be content, an emotion that he hadn't experienced in over two decades. It was happening. Greg wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He shuffled around in the little wooden chair, then turned his head to watch the people pile back into the sports hall. The smell of tobacco followed them in. He sighed, wishing he still smoked. He'd have so loved to go out there once the real hotel owner had left the stage. God, was it too late to have a sneak smoke? One of them would lend him a cigarette, he was sure of it. Then again, maybe not. He was due back on stage pretty soon.
Greg did admit, he wasn't quite prepared for the real hotel owner to take on the appearance of a young boy. That was a bit of a shock. At first sight, Greg thought the lad was lost, that he was looking for his mum and just gone in the wrong door. That assumption soon altered when the boy calmly walked up to the front of the stage and sent his hard gaze across the waiting audience. Greg thought the new man living in the farmhouse was scary eyes but compared to how that boy at the meeting transfixed the audience, the stranger was just a teddy bear. Greg was so glad when the boy blinked and treated them all to a genial smile. Any longer and he would have voided his bowels.
The real hotel owner talked of loyalty, of rewards, of how grateful they were to the town for having the patience while they went through a transition at the hotel. He spoke of how humbling it was to see so many faces, of old and new and how together, they would enjoy more prosperity than they could even imagine. His words were vague, but the meanings were perfectly evident. They really were going to go back to how it used to be.
Greg turned to the woman beside him. Not all that shocked to see her drying her eyes with a tissue. The real hotel owner had effected everyone here. They all felt the old connections forming again. He knew his sense of contentment had stemmed from that bonding. He now had purpose. Greg turned in his seat, surveying the people behind him. He knew every single one of them. A couple of seats back, Greg spotted Alistair Graves, their museum owner as well as what passed for a law keeper in their town. He resisted the urge to give him a wave.
One seat behind him sat the town's bad boys. For once they weren't acting up. Greg wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He then felt that contentment drain right out of him.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled.
Right at the back of the hall, hiding behind a group of workers from the old mine were a couple of Overtons. Judging from the grey hair, that had to be Mark and his sister, Jane. He tightening his fingers around the edges of the chair. They shouldn't be in here. Everyone knows that the family was excluded from all meetings.
“You okay, Greg?” whispered Joyce Belmont.
He slowly shook his head. “I don't think I am. You won't believe who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to gate-crash our meeting.”
“Oh, that'll be Mark and Jane Overton then?”
“You've seen them?”
“I don't have to see them, Greg. I can smell the dirty fuckers,” she growled.
“Yeah well, it isn't right. We should do something about it.”
Joyce rested her hand on his wrist. “You'll do nothing of the kind, Greg James. I'm the one who invited them.”
He felt as though the woman had just punched him in the guts.
Joyce dug her long nails into his thin skin. “You listen to me,” she hissed. “You don't know what's it's like beyond the boundary of our town. Most of them in here don't. Believe me, Greg. The world has moved on. They have things like Social Media, Satellite Imaging Technology, and Mobile Phones. I don't think the real hotel owners are aware of the new dangers.”
Greg stared intently at the woman, wondering just how close she was to committing blasphemy. He wasn't a fucking primitive. He'd seen the rare town visitor trying to talk into their phones. He wasn't that sure about the other things she said, but it didn't really matter. The real hotel owners could protect them from anything.
“Whether we like to admit it or not, the Overtons are now part of this town. Meaning they need involving in any huge change that's about to happen. If the world beyond is as dangerous as I suspect, then our armour has to have no chinks, no weak links. It's as simple as that, Greg.”
Yeah well, Greg wasn't willing to accept that. The Overtons were a menace, vermin that should be wiped off the face of the earth. Oh, he too shared the vision that their town would indeed become prosperous again, unlike the poor deluded Joyce, Greg knew that it just meant that the Overtons would only become more greedy and difficult, especially now they were to be involved in the running of his precious town.
He forced himself to relax. Greg even managed a smile for the woman. Greg would just have to deal with the Overtons' himself. He looked past Joyce, who's now fixed her attention on the stage. Did her soft husband agree with this insane idea?
Somehow, he doubted that very much. The man probably only went ahead to stop the woman's constant badgering. Hell, if Joyce wanted the full town here, then why not invite the scary-eyed man as well? God, what a fuck up, and to think that when he arrived he was in a good mood.
He wouldn't put it past one of those Overtons to have already mentally claimed the scary-eyed man's nice car either.
The lights in the hall dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the assembled audience. Greg put his hand around the rim of his trilby in his lap and allowed a slight smile to play over his lips and, with the rest of them, waited for the return of the real hotel owner.
Once this meeting had concluded, Greg fully intended to have a quiet word with that little boy. They so needed to know that this town housed a nest of traitorous weasels. If that Katie Overton was quite happy to mouth off to strangers regarding the hotel, what's to stop the others from following her lead?
The door at the back of the stage swung inward and the boy walked onto the stage. He stopped at the edge. Smiled to himself then sat down. “Okay, my friends. If you have any questions. If you wish to share any grievances, then please stand up.”
This shouldn't take too long, Greg could only remember a couple of people had been brave enough to risk the wrath of the real hotel owners. That was decades ago. He closed his eyes and wondered how long it would be before the possessions began to flood into the town.
“Sir? Yes, erm, over here. I have a question, if that's okay?”
Greg's eyes shot open. He knew that voice. He spun around his seat. Bloody hell! That was the cafe owner, Jack Williams. What was he playing at?
“Why have you allowed total strangers to buy the old farmhouse?”
Another man got to his feet. “They've stolen energy from the cleansing house,” shouted the museum owner and the town's part time police officer. “That's not supposed to happen. The museum's properties aren't supposed to work on outsiders.”
Greg saw his prize of that car get further and further away from him. It worked on the scary-eyed man because the town must have already accepted him as one of them. Oh fuck, could this get any worse? He watched the town's bad boys stand up, they were complaining that the stranger had tried to get all aggressive with them. Judging from the bruises on Terry Bakersfield's face, he'd done more than get aggressive.
He turned back, eager to hear what the boy was going to do about it. The real hotel owner had gotten to his feet. He leaned on the mic and glared at the cafe owner. Greg didn't need to turn around to know that Jack was now in agony. “You listen to me, you stupid little fuckstain!”
His acid gaze ran over the entire crowd. Greg howled when those eyes found him. It felt for a second that the blood in every vein was boiling. He moaned softly when he felt his bladder giving out. Warm urine soaked into his trouser and the base of his precious hat.
“That farmhouse is empty and it shall remain so until we say otherwise. Listen to this. If any of you diseased peasants even contemplate putting one foot over that threshold, you'll all end up in the hotel's death room. Your suffering will last for a fucking millennia.”
The lights came on and Greg found, to his relief, the boy had gone. He stayed sitting while the room erupted into an explosion of shouting and panic. So much for thinking that it couldn't get any worse. Greg so needed a cigarette.
Chapter Seven
Family Values
1
It only took the pair of them a couple of minutes to drag the boy's struggling body up the stone steps. The boy didn't really start screaming until his severed tendons bounced off the edge of the first cellar step. Kevin Morris (he'd come to accept his adopted name.) guessed that his former prize to his new wife was too far gone with hunger and dehydration to feel the rough floor scraping away his skin, when he and the girl took an arm each and dragged him towards the light.
Three of the boy's filthy fingers hooked around Kevin's wrist. He glared into the boy's pleading eyes, silently willing him to let go. When that didn't happen, he smashed them into the corner of the door frame. At this rate, there wasn't going to be much left to torture.
He straightened his back and took a deep breath. The girl copied his actions. She would need a lot of training before he could pass her off as his wife. Thick blood dripped down her chin.
“Wipe yourself,” he muttered. “I don't want you staining my carpets.”
She rewarded him with a bloodied grin before she pressed the back of her filthy hand across her mouth. A small section of the old person, the one who hadn't undergone the agony ritual, popped up his tiny head and raised all sorts of questions before he stamped that silly voice back down. Kevin knew why the tiny head had made another appearance. Watching the girl growl at the boy when his damaged feet hit the first step had sent a little nostalgic shiver up Kevin's spine. That shiver turned into a full blown fucking shake when she grabbed the bottom of his jaw and yanked it down. At first Kevin thought she was going to kiss him, you know, just for old time's sake. That whimsical thought soon evaporated when blood burst out from between their mouth embrace, and she rose up. Her hands kept the boy's jaws wide open as her teeth bit through his tongue.
Tiny head could fuck right off. This was post agony ritual Kevin. Nothing could upset his metal balance. She only wanted to please Kevin. That did come as a bit of a shock, that did tilt the metal balance just a bit. Not that it should have surprised him. The ghost-bastard cunt-thing had set out to make Kevin strong enough to oversee the next bout of traumatic changes. He turned Kevin into a gross facsimile of the last pretend owner of Richmond Point.
The girl obviously needed a strong father figure in her pathetic life. She probably regretted helping Kevin to murder the last one. “I can finish this off now.” He slapped her hand when she reached to take the moaning boy's wrist. “I said, leave him.” Kevin took her hand, pushing her away when she tried to snake her other hand down the front of his trousers. When she did it again, he took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a savage twist. “Are you going to fucking behave or do you want to spend the rest of your life in that cellar?”
While the girl folded her arms over her breasts and sulked, he picked up the body and dropped it into his wheelbarrow. He'd lost half his bodyweight already. Kevin laid him on his side, just hoping he wouldn't choke on his own blood before Kevin could get him down into the room. “Now, I want you to stay in here, where it's nice and safe. I won't be gone for more than a couple of minutes. If I see that you've tried to climb out, I'll be very upset with you.” He picked up a small teaspoon and held the object in front of his left eye. I'll use this to scoop out that eyeball, young man.”
Kevin pulled her through the kitchen, pausing to retrieve the maroon dressing gown that he'd folded up and placed on a chair earlier. “Here, put this on.” she was resistant at first. She probably thought that waking around naked would tempt him into sex. She soon changed her mind when Kevin's fingers headed towards her other nipple. She hurriedly wrapped herself up and sniffed. “That's better,” he said, stroking her dirty hair. “I don't think any of the guests will be around at this time, but it's better to be safe, you know?”
Was he being perhaps a little too cautious here? Considering that within a few short hours, these guests of his, sleeping their little dreams behind the doors he'd soon be passing, would soon find those dreams turned into living nightmares. Oh what joy it was going to be! He couldn't wait to start the cutting, he already had a few ideas on how to proceed. Of course, he'd have to try them out on the tongueless wonder first. After all, he needed to be professional about this.
No, of course he wasn't being too cautious. Not every part of tiny head had been sliced, burnt and scraped out of the new Kevin, only the weak sections, the bit he no longer needed. His caution was fused into his very being. That was going nowhere.
Kevin led the woman through the ground floor. He had to admit that it did bring joy to watch her facial expressions go through a kaleidoscope of emotions as she saw the exterior of her dark world for the first time in many years.
He suspected that the owners before them (He'd take their name but never called them his parents) must have undergone the same initiation as he did. What Kevin didn't understand was why the torture was left so late. From the evidence presented, the pair of them were perfectly capable of handing over truckloads of damaged soul for the spirits to munch down on.
Kevin stopped dead, he flailed out his arm, his fingers hooking around the edge of the reception desk. He saw cakes. His head was filled with pictures of thousands of little pink cakes, each one in the shape of a heart. He shook his head violently, managing to give the girl a grateful smile when she copied his earlier motion and ran her fingers through his hair.
He counted to five, took a couple of deep breaths and stayed still, and waited for the grotesque images to dissipate. What the fuck was that? Kevin took another deep breath, seriously hoping that this wasn't the start of a mental breakdown. He focussed on the girl's concerned face.
“I'm okay,” he said. “Just went a bit dizzy.” Kevin led her over to the foot of the stairs. “I'm going to make sure that you're sparkly clean, and then we're going to find you some pretty clothes to wear. Do you remember dressing up?”
She nodded and smiled.
“I thought you would. Come on.” Kevin took her up the stairs, still concerned over that picture invasion. It was an invasion, there's no fucking way that image had sprang from his mind. Was this how it started with the ones before them? From what he remembered, putting those two through the torture had done more harm than good.
Both him and the girl were already on their way to becoming the next hotel curators. The woman used to take the girl out of the cellar and dress her in pretty little dresses while the man began Kevin's training.
He stopped again and stared at the walls and ceilings, paying particular attention to the dark corners and the cracks in the walls. Those spirits must be out there somewhere, it made sense that they were watching the pair of them, there could even be a chance that the ghost-bastard fuckstains could even be reading the doubt and confusion in his mind.
The fact that Alistair blamed all of this on him when in fact it was all their fault for subjecting the other two to that ordeal. The fuckers.
“Are you alright?”
Kevin almost lost his grip and tumbled down the stairs! “Wait, you mean you.” He licked his lips. “You can really talk?”
She nodded happily. “Kevin, I want you to bathe me.” She shivered. “I would really like that. To touch me, to rub my body clean with hot, soapy water. Then I need you to make delicious love to me.” She pulled him tight against her body. “Then you can find me a pretty dress to wear.”
He felt as though his head had just burst open. Kevin managed to wrestle his body out of her vice-like hold, then raced up the rest of the stairs before leaning against the landing. It took effort not to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't yet another one of their fucking dream games. How the fuck could the girl talk? The other man had cut out her tongue, he'd seen it!
“Come here,” he growled. The girl kept her head lowered as she climbed the stairs. Her pace reminded him of a naughty dog afraid to approach their master. It pleased him to hear her quiet sobs.
“I assume you didn't magically grow your own fucking tongue back.” God, he was absolutely furious. This felt like he'd been the victim of the biggest and nastiest practical joke ever. If he didn't think that the cunt-bucket, fuckbastard spirits would put him back in those manacles, he'd push the bitch down those stairs and go back to his original plan of snaring that other woman.
“I was told to do it, Kevin.” She looked down at her filthy feet. “I'm so sorry.”
“By the other two? The ones who're now dead?”
She shook her head. “No, by the lights.”
“The what?”
“I was allowed to speak, just never to you. When I was alone down there, I had Mr Bone, Mr Brick and the spider families. I also talked to the lights I saw when I slept.”
She gently stroked the back of his hand. “The lights are the ones who said to fill my mouth with tomato sauce. To pretend they'd cut out my tongue. They said if I didn't then they'd kill you. I used to be such a bad girl.”
“The lights,” he repeated.
“That all changed today. They told me what would be happening, that I'd be out of that dark place forever, that I'll be your wife and that we're going to look after the two children. I'm so excited.”
Things were happening way too fast. He ground his teeth together, so trying to keep his shit together. Kevin took her wrist and pulled the girl past the guest-room doors, even in his flustered state, his caution still reigned supreme.”
“You're hurting me.”
“Shut your hole,” he hissed.
Fuck, what else did he really expect? Of course the spirits were going to involve her. To leave everything to him alone was obviously dumb, considering just how much respect the fuckers had for him. He forced himself to try to relax. Despite how he currently felt, Kevin still had a job to do.
Kevin felt some of that stress leave his body once they were clear of the guest room doors. He even relaxed his grip on her wrist. He stopped in front of the door that led into the forbidden area, the rooms previously occupied by the two before them. Kevin fished into his pockets to retrieve the key. Strange how he felt absolutely no trepidation into going in here now. Thinking about it, perhaps it was never there in the first place? At least not from him. Like the cake image, he suspected that not everything that he saw or experienced was a product coming from him alone.
“I only did as they told me,”
“Oh, stop your blabbering. Really, it doesn't matter.” He pushed the key into the lock and turned it. “Come on, let's get you comfortable.” Kevin pushed open the door and pulled the girl into rooms that for the past few years, he'd so tried his utmost to block from his mind.
The torrent of old images, smells and thoughts rammed into his head. He fell to his knees, finding his voice desert him as he tried to scream. Through tear-blurred vision, Kevin saw the girl skip and dance through the dust-filled room, whilst singing an unfamiliar nursery rhyme.
Judging from her behaviour, either the girl hadn't noticed that he was in utter mental torment or she just didn't care. This time, Kevin really did feel that his head was about to detonate. He tried to cry out one more time, silently sobbing at the sight of the girl vanishing into the bedroom. The memories continued to pour into his head. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't halt the deluge of previously suppressed thoughts.
He stared at the room where the ones before him used to fuck, watching a figure emerge. Only it wasn't the girl, he saw the large woman. She walked up to his shivering frame then stopped. The woman bent down, grabbed the hem of her flowery dress and pulled it up over her shoulders before she slowly lowered herself onto his face.
Kevin found his voice and he shrieked at the sight of that moist hole coming closer. Before contact, black oblivion thankfully claimed him.
2
The teen now known as Kevin Morris clamped his jaw tight, feeling his built up scream whistling through the gaps in his teeth. Thankfully, the roar of the ice water biting into his shoulder blades drowned out the noise.
He was getting better at not allowing that bastard to witness his pain. Kevin assumed that was the plan, to toughen him up, to turn him into a real man, to turn him into his dad. The hosing down was a new one. This was only his second bout. The last time, Kevin had screamed, and for that, the bastard had aimed that hose at Kevin's balls.
Kevin kept the palms flat against the slimy brick wall, so trying not to flinch as the man systematically directed the jet across his naked body. The man had already done his front. He'd cleaned his neck, his shoulder blades, and now moved down his back. It would be all over in a few more minutes. Kevin knew that he'd be able to stay still and quiet. Just another couple more minutes and his dad would allow him to dress, this time, in his own clothes and not one of his mother's old dresses.
“Okay, shitbag. You're clean. Now stop shivering and cover your skinny frame. You still have work to do.”
Kevin caught the overall thrown in his direction, stifling a moan. This was something new. Kevin expected to be taken back into the cellar, and into the waiting arms of Angela. She'd been very clinging of late. Kevin didn't have a clue what was wrong with her, not that he would complain about getting a hug from her, not at this minute.
He clambered into the grey overall, noting that it stunk of cow shit. He just hoped his dad wasn't thinking of hosing him down after whatever punishment, this fat bastard had in store for him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with two hosings in one day.