Authors: Steve Gerlach

Love Lies Dying (57 page)

Her smile disappeared.

“I wish I could be,” he added.

The wind gusted and blew through them, sending its cold fingers through their bodies.

Metal scraped loudly in the distance; the noise echoing through the valley.

John snapped his head around, following the noise. He peered into the night and towards the other farmhouse.

Did it come from there?

The wind died and the sound disappeared with it.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered to Sherrie.

“Yeah,” she said in a small voice.

“What
was
it?”

“I don’t know,” she came closer to him and whispered in his ear. “Just some loose metal flapping in the wind?”

“I hope so.”

“Me too.”

He turned to face her.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

“I love you, John,” she said to him.

He smiled at her, “I love you too.”

They walked up the steps and onto the deck.

“Here goes everything!” he muttered.

As lightning and thunder clashed around them, he knocked on the door.

And the sound of metal scraping somewhere in the valley echoed loudly around them once more.

Sixty-one

Sherrie cupped her hands around her face and peered in the last window along the deck.

“Nothing,” she called to him. “The place looks empty.”

John straightened up from looking in his window. He could see very little through the glass anyway. He could make out the rooms inside, but not much more than that. There certainly wasn’t any furniture and no sign anyone had lived there for quite a while.

“I know,” he called to her from the other end of the deck. “It doesn’t even look like it’s been lived in for years.”

Thunder rolled above them and the house and verandah creaked with it.

They had knocked on the door three times.

But no one answered.

The house was as dead as it looked.

“Strange that the door was locked,” he continued. “If the place was abandoned, why lock the door?”

Sherrie chuckled, “Force of habit?”

John turned to her and smiled, “I don’t think so, somehow.”

“Well,” Sherrie said as she walked back towards him. “At least we’re out of the rain.”

“For now, yeah.”

John turned from her, placed his hands on the railing and looked across the field to the second farmhouse.

No luck here…

Does that surprise you?

No. I think he’s in the other one.

Do you
really
think he’s still there?

I don’t know. Either way, I have to find Helen if she’s still there. Or at least find out what happened to her.

Zoe told you already.

I know.

Don’t you believe her?

Yes, I do. I think so.

You don’t believe her?

I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. It never has. Not since Friday.

The wind gusted again and he could make out the same metallic noise creaking in the night. Echoing like a metal death call.

What the hell
is
that noise?

Sherrie was by his side then.

“Well, one building down. Two to go.”

He smiled and turned to face her.

She looked up at him and smiled back.

That smile, the face framed in her long curly locks, her bright shining eyes and gorgeous voice…he knew how special she was to him.

He had no doubt about that.

Never did.

He had felt that way from the first moment they met, almost two years ago.

And if it weren’t for Fate or good luck, he may never have met her.

But he was so glad he did.

He never made a habit of visiting Helen at the hospital. Most times she was too busy to talk or was off somewhere and couldn’t be contacted. But on this particular occasion, he wanted to call by and see how she was.

They’d had an argument the night before; he couldn’t remember about what now, as all their arguments blended into one whole dark pit of despair. He had found himself in the area as he came back from a meeting with some suppliers for a new project he was beginning at American Eagle Electronics.

He’d dropped by to see her.

Spur of the moment….

Without thinking.

As if drawn to the hospital.

He’d parked his car out front and walked past the gift shop to reception. He smiled nicely at the receptionist and asked for Helen. The receptionist paged her, but when she didn’t come within a couple of minutes, she placed a call through to her office.

Carol wasn’t sharing an office with Helen then.

Someone else was.

Sherrie.

Sherrie had told the receptionist that Helen was in a meeting and that John could come through if he liked and could wait for her.

John agreed.

He followed the directions the receptionist had given him and walked down a series of corridors to Helen’s office.

And that’s when he first set eyes on Sherrie.

He opened the door and she was standing there, waiting for him, a large smile on her face.

“It’s
so
good to finally meet you, John,” she said as she walked over and shook his hand. “Helen’s told me
all
about you.”

John smiled. He didn’t know what to say.

His voice wouldn’t work.

He just stood and looked at her. Brown curly hair flowed around her face, her smile was radiant and her sharp green eyes pierced through his soul.

She was slim and attractive in her business suit, which consisted of a brown jacket and cream blouse, and a short brown skirt that showed off her sexy, smooth legs.

“Have a seat,” she said as she turned away from him. “I’m Sherrie, by the way.”

Her cute small arse was cupped nicely by her skirt.

John fumbled for the seat. He needed it.

“Nice to meet you,” he replied finally.

“Anything I can do for you?” she asked.

John’s mind wouldn’t work. He smiled.

He knew what he wanted, but that’s not what she meant.

“No thanks,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m just waiting.”

“She won’t be long,” Sherrie replied. As she sat behind her desk, her legs disappeared from view.

“Huh?”

“Helen? She won’t be long.”

“Oh, okay, fine,” John looked towards the window, trying hard to think of other things.

They were silent for quite a while.

“Helen’s told me all about you,” Sherrie broke the silence.

John looked at her in surprise, “Really?”

Sherrie smiled, “Well, actually, no. She doesn’t talk much about her home life.”

John nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. She never talks about work at home either.”

“Doesn’t she?” Sherrie leaned forward, her green eyes so inviting.

“Nah, she likes to leave work behind when she comes home.”

“So she’s never mentioned
me?
” she asked.

John shook his head, “No, she hasn’t.”

Sherrie’s smile fell, “Oh…”

“But I wish she had,” John continued.

Sherrie smiled as she jotted something down on her desk pad. “Thanks,” she said.

“No, I mean it,” John replied. “Maybe I
should
take a more active interest in my wife’s work.”

Sherrie looked back at him and placed the pen to her mouth. “Maybe you should.”

They had both smiled then.

Their conversation was interrupted just a few minutes later when Helen returned from her meeting. She seemed agitated and angry.

For a while John couldn’t work out why.

To begin with he thought it was because he had arrived unannounced, but then he soon realised it was probably because he and Sherrie had been alone together.

They were both smiling when Helen entered the office.

That was bad.

And when John couldn’t give her a good reason for why he called in, he could see that she was already thinking the worst.

Helen had been like that ever since losing the baby. Almost as if she were afraid someone would steal him away from her and pull them further apart. She never seemed to realise she was doing all that herself.

John dropped in a few times after that, always around the same time, always hoping Helen was in a meeting.

But she never was.

And that just fanned her suspicions even more.

But who could blame her?

I didn’t fire her. I didn’t kick her out of a job two weeks later!

No, but Helen did.

She fired Sherrie for no good reason.

Except spite.

And it wasn’t until John risked another visit the following week that he found out the news.

“Sherrie at lunch?” he’d asked Helen in the middle of a conversion.

Bad move.

Real. Bad. Move.

“No, she doesn’t work here anymore,” Helen replied, her look sending daggers through him.

“Oh, she moved on?”

“No, I fired her.”

“
Fired
her? What for?”

“She wasn’t very good at her job,” Helen replied, and quickly changed the subject.

But he knew.

They
both
knew
.

Things had never really been the same after that.

And it was almost as if Fate interrupted their lives again when he saw Sherrie walking down the street near his office a couple of weeks later.

He invited her for coffee. She agreed.

They had lunch. He apologised for his wife. She said it wasn’t his fault.

He offered her a job as his personal assistant right there and then. And she accepted.

The timing was perfect as his boss had mentioned the idea of getting him a personal assistant only a few days earlier.

The money wasn’t as good as she was used to, but John helped out when he could.

And he
never
told Helen.

“As long as I’m with you,” Sherrie whispered to him over his desk on her first day. “I don’t care about anything else.”

And everything fell into place perfectly.

Until last Friday.

Until Zoe.

Things could never be the same again.

John turned to Sherrie and ran his hand up her back, trying to warm her from the cold.

She smiled at him.

“We better get going,” she whispered.

He nodded.

They walked from the decking, back into the rain, and down the driveway to the other farmhouse.

Sixty-two

John’s unease grew with each step they took towards the second farmhouse.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

I HAVE to!

He thought about running for cover, hiding until the storm dispersed and morning came, but he knew he couldn’t wait.

If anyone’s watching us, they’ll have seen us by now, anyway.

They continued walking up the driveway.

Show Fox you’re not scared of him. March right in there and meet him face to face.

The driveway was long and muddy, and when the lightning flashed above them, John checked the ground for signs of the Jeep’s tyre tracks. And Helen…

Or anything…

Just something to confirm in his mind he was doing the right thing.

But the rain was too heavy and had been falling too long. The driveway was awash with thin streams of water, rushing downward towards the dirt road, and taking the lose dirt and gravel of the driveway with it.

Sherrie stepped closer and hugged his arm as thunder rolled down the valley.

We shouldn’t be here.

You’re risking everything now.

Everything that’s left of your life.

John didn’t even know if he was angry anymore. He didn’t feel as angry as he thought he would. The events of the last few days had exhausted him, and with no food since Saturday, he felt like he was walking on auto-pilot.

He
had
to find Fox and beat him.

Kill him.

Win the game.

Had to…

But he had no plan, and no energy to see it through.

This is wrong.

And now he was dragging Sherrie into it all.

Sherrie...

They walked closer to the farmhouse through the sleeting rain.

John’s legs felt heavy and numb from the cold and his wet shirt rubbed against the claw marks on his chest.

He turned to look at Sherrie.

Her hair was clumped into long wet cords down her head, shoulders and back. She looked miserably cold and forlorn.

He wished he could say something to her.

She’s with me through this. She’s by my side supporting me.

Helen never did that.

Don’t think that way.

But it’s true. She’s here for me, no matter what. She’ll stand by me through anything.

That’s what true love is.

And that’s what I have with her.

That’s why I love her more than anything or anyone else.

John turned away and surveyed the fields that were surrounding them. When lightning broke, he peered off into the darkness. There were no signs of Fox’s guards anywhere in the fields.

No sign of anyone.

Maybe that’s the idea,
he thought.
Maybe Fox has them hidden, waiting just for the right moment for the crossfire…

Just like they did with Helen…

Don’t think like that.

It’s true…

They walked on.

The rain continued to fall.

John couldn’t believe they had walked so far and for so long out in the open without being stopped or seen by someone. Was Fox really
that
sure of himself?

He won’t be soon.

A few feet closer.

Lightning lit up the sky, a double fork that spread its glow for seconds.

As John looked to the farmhouse, his heart sank and so did his hopes.

The lightning told the story.

The farmhouse was a ruin.

John saw enough of it in those split-seconds to know for sure that Fox wasn’t here.

And that realization cut right through him, sending his mind reeling in the stormy night.

No! It can’t be true!

Thunder clashed and another flash of lightning confirmed what he had seen.

The old wooden farmhouse was almost falling down. Part of the wooden-slated roof was missing, leaving a large hole over half the house. The planks of wood making up the walls were old and dirty. The paint was peeling and some of the wood had come away from the frames, falling to the ground or with one end just hanging in the air. There was no glass in the three windows facing them. There were two doors along the front of the house; the first one was wide open and swinging in the wind and the second was resting on the ground, having fallen from its rusted hinges.

The verandah, or what was left of it, was being propped up with two old weather-beaten pine trunks that must have been cut from the forest for that exact purpose. The iron sheeting on the verandah was loose and flapping in the wind, held on only by a few remaining nails. The gutters that ran across the verandah were twisted and rusted and, in some parts, missing completely. The rain poured right through them, bending them under the force. Weeds and grass had grown up the front steps and through the decking, almost covering it completely and hiding it from view. The brick chimney on the side of the house had fallen over backwards, spilling its bricks into the grass beyond, leaving a huge hole in the farmhouse wall.

No one could live here…

But could they kill here?

Probably.

“Not very inviting,” Sherrie said as they stopped in front of the house.

“I know,” John agreed.

“I don’t think anyone’s home. Do you?”

John shook his head.

“Should we?” Sherrie asked. “You know, should we go
in
?”

“With the rain like it is, I think it’s our best option.”

She nodded and held out her hand.

He took it and smiled.

She’s by my side. Even now. And she’ll never leave it.

And I’ll never leave her…

Together they climbed the rickety steps to the decking. Each sodden weed-covered wooden board under their feet seemed to creak and moan, and sag under their weight.

“Not the safest house…” Sherrie muttered as she squeezed his hand harder.

They walked up to the front door and pushed it aside.

John peered into the house.

A putrid wet smell overpowered him and he quickly began breathing through his mouth.

“Ick!” Sherrie said from beside him. “What
is
that stench?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But it’s pretty foul.”

John peered into the darkness, trying to make out anything that he could. Lightning lit up the night sky and the inside of the house.

The house was just as badly weathered inside as it was outside. The walls were stripped almost bare, the drywall soggy and crumbling to the ground. Large gaping holes remained in the wooden frames of the walls, allowing John to see almost all the way through the house.

Rain fell heavily into the rooms where there was no roof, and trickled into rooms that had some of the wooden slats still in place above them.

Thunder rolled, shaking the house as it did so.

John grabbed the doorframe until the vibrations subsided.

The wind blew directly through the house, entering from where the chimney and fireplace used to be. It blew through to the other end of the house where the only wall consisted of two large sheets of metal, nailed together and flapping in the wind. There was enough space at the side of the metal sheets for John to see out into the night and across to the barn.

The rain became heavier, pounding down on the roof in a deafening dance.

Lightning flashed again, filling the house.

And in the middle of the house he saw it.

An old green door.

It was shut.

There’s another room!

Another room behind the green door.

There has to be.

John took a step into the house.

“Be careful,” Sherrie whispered to him.

“I will,” he let go of her hand. “You stay here, okay? This could be dangerous.”

“Okay,” she said in a quiet, scared voice that was drowned out by the rain and thunder.

He looked at the floor to watch where he was stepping. Another flash of lightning showed him that some of the floorboards were missing. There were complete gaps in the floor where floorboards had rotted away, while other areas still had enough flooring to get him to the green door.

Careful, don’t do anything stupid when you’re this close…

Slowly, he zigzagged his way across the floor, stepping cautiously across the gaps and testing each board he stepped on. Some groaned and some sagged, but they all held firm.

He moved from what once was the entranceway through to what he guessed was the lounge room. Each step took him closer to the door. The rain hit him hard as it fell through the hole in the roof over the lounge room.

He braced himself as he stared at the door.

It could open at any time. He had to be ready for anything – or any
one
– to come out at him.

But the door remained shut as he walked closer. He could see the paint on the door was peeling, and the old yellow wallpaper that had once brightened the room now sagged and slowly disintegrated. In one section of wallpaper, just to the right of the door, John could see dozens of small pockmarks.

Bullet holes?

Thunder growled above him.

There’s so many!

After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to the door.

Carefully, he reached out to the old rusted doorknob and grasped it. It felt cold and rough to his touch.

“Here goes everything,” he whispered to himself.

He turned the knob and pulled.

The door resisted for a second or two, but then swung open with a loud creak of its hinges.

John only opened it a few inches before he peered inside.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the extra darkness.

The room behind the green door was dry and weatherproofed. The roof was intact and the walls looked solid. The overpowering smell, however, was stronger in this room compared to the others.

No ventilation to clear it away,
he thought.

Lightning flashed outside a few seconds later, illuminating the room through two windows on each side.

These
windows had glass in them.

He opened the door wider.

The wallpaper was yellow and old, but it was complete here, as was the flooring. There was no space for the rain or wind to get in, no leaking roof or bullet-ridden walls.

John took a step inside the room.

Thunder clapped outside, but it sounded muffled from where he was standing.

The room looked like a normal room in any house. It was a bit damp and the strange smell was nauseating, but it could’ve passed for any room in an old farmhouse.

Weird…

Lightning flashed through the windows again and the darkest corner was illuminated for only moments.

He saw the mattress for the first time.

And the clothes piled on it.

He turned, walked over to the corner and knelt down.

It was a small double mattress, covered with a moth-eaten blanket and the small pile of clothes.

He grabbed the clothes and held them in his hands.

It was too dark to make out exactly what he was looking at. So he knelt in the night, waiting for the next flash of lightning to strike.

Soon they came.

He was ready for the flash, and when it came he made good use of it.

He was holding in one hand a suit top and a blouse, and in the other, a skirt and bra.

Leaning forward, he smelled the bra.