Twisted Little Things and Other Stories (31 page)

Hurrying up the stairs and onto the ferry's bridge, I make my way to the door. “I don't know, I just -”

“Sophie, he's here!”

Stopping, I turn and glance back at Mark, and I realize that he's staring at the chair by the wheel. I look across the dark space, but the chair looks empty to me.

“There's no-one there,” I point out.

“Go closer,” he replies. “You can only see him when you're close enough.”

“There's no-one there,” I say again, starting to feel a little exasperated as I shine the flashlight straight at the empty chair. Mark's always been a level-headed guy, so it's kind of weird to hear him talking like this. “Look! It's empty, there's -”

“Turn that off” he says, hurrying to me and grabbing the flashlight, before switching it off. “
Now
go and take a look.”

“Mark -”

“Just do it!”

Staring across the dark bridge, I realize I can just about make out the chair next to the wheel, but there's still no sign of anyone.

“Go closer,” Mark whispers. “I know this sounds crazy, but you'll understand once you see him.”

Pausing for a moment, I finally decide to humor him. I take a few steps toward the empty chair, but there's still no-one there.

“Mark -”

“Closer.”

“But Mark -”

“Closer!” he hisses.

Sighing, I take a few more steps toward the chair, until I'm just a few feet away. There's still no-one there, and I'm starting to think that Mark might have seriously cracked up, but at the same time I'm also starting to feel as if there's a presence nearby. I feel an overwhelming urge to pull back, but instead I take another step toward the chair. Although I still don't see anyone, I tilt my head slightly as I realize that the darkness ahead seems different somehow, as if a shape is slowly starting to emerge. Stepping closer, I hold my breath for a moment, and finally I realize I can see the faintest impression of a skull staring back at me from the gloom, just a few inches away.

I step back, but he's still there: a skeletal figure, sitting slightly hunched in the chair, as if he's exhausted. There are a few strips of rotten fabric still on his shoulders and some scraps of skin on his bones, but for the most part he looks to have wasted away entirely, as if someone left a corpse in charge of the boat.

“Sophie?” Mark whispers. “Do you see him now?”

“I -”

Before I can say another word, the skull twist slightly. I step aside and watch with a sense of shock as he reached out and puts a creaking, bony hand on the ferry's navigation wheel and turns it slightly. A moment later, I feel the entire ferry start to shudder.

“We're moving,” Mark says.

“This isn't real,” I whisper.

“Sophie -”

“This is a trick,” I continue, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. “I've lost my mind. It's... it's... It's not real.”

“I see it too, Sophie.”

“Then it's a hologram,” I reply, still staring at the skeletal figure. “It's some kind of... They're trying to scare us away.”

“Sophie, the boat's moving.”

Turning, I run to the door and look out, and I see that he's right. The ferry
has
started to turn, and when I race to the railing and look down to the jetty, I realize we're already several feet out. The dead little girl is still down there, still looking up at me, and I'm suddenly overcome by the feeling that I have to go down and talk to her. Taking hold of the railing, I start to climb over, ready to jump into the water and swim to shore.

“Stop!” Mark shouts, grabbing my arm.

“Let me go!”

“Like hell!” Pulling me back, he throws me down onto the deck. “Are you insane?”

“I have to see her!” I shout, struggling to my feet. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting down there, even if I have to jump.

“Why?” Mark asks. “So she can tell you it wasn't your fault?”

Hurrying back to the railing, I look down and see that this time the jetty is empty. I watch for a moment, as the ferry swings around, and finally I turn back to Mark.

“What do you expect?” he asks. “Answers? Let's just get to the lifeboat and make sure we're ready to go when we get back to normal seas.
If
we get back to normal seas. We can work out the rest later. Maybe we're mad, maybe we're
both
completely mad and we're imagining all of this, but we can worry about that once we're back on dry land. Please, Sophie, I feel like I'm losing my mind here. We need to stick together and get the hell out of this place. Are you with me?”

I pause, staring at him.

“Sophie,” he says firmly, “are you with me?”

I nod, unable to get any words out.

“We need to make sure the lifeboat's ready to go,” he continues. “Just ignore everything else and focus on practical steps.”

He heads to the lifeboat, but I hurry back to the bridge and look inside. Sure enough, the skeletal figure is still in place, with one hand still turning the wheel as a patch of moonlight catches his profile.

“Who are you?” I ask.

No answer. He doesn't even turn to look at me, instead keeping his hollow eyes fixed on the view ahead.

“What was that place?” I continue, taking a step toward him. “I saw someone there, someone I met once before. Was she... Why was she looking up at me?”

The boat shudders slightly, but the captain doesn't respond at all.

“I need to know,” I tell him, as I edge closer.

Still ignoring me, he adjusts the wheel again. His bones seem to creak, and a moment later the ferry's hull does the same. Now that I can see him more clearly, I'm able to make out patches of dried flesh that cling to his skull, and there are even a few old, gray strands of hair dangling down at the sides.

“Please,” I whisper, staring into his dark, empty eyes, “I just -”

“Sophie!” Mark shouts from out on the main deck. “Hurry!”

I turn and look over at the window, and I'm shocked to see that somehow the light of dawn has already arrived, and that Mark is working to get the lifeboat down from the ropes and over the edge.

“Please,” I continue, turning back to the captain, “can't you -”

He's gone.

I look around, but there's no sign of him as early morning light continues to spread rapidly across the sky. A moment later, feeling a faint shudder beneath my feet, I see the wheel turning slightly, as if some unseen force is adding a fresh adjustment. Even though I can't see the ship's skeletal captain, I think he's still there, still controlling the wheel.

“Sophie!” Mark shouts, louder than before. “There's no time!”

Stepping back, I still can't help looking around, convinced that I'll see the captain again. As the wheel turns the other way, however, I realize that there's nothing else I can do, so I head out onto the deck and immediately feel the ferry shifting a little beneath my feet as the sea becomes rougher. Above, a slowly lightening gray sky seems to indicate that we're back in more familiar territory, and sure enough there's no sign of the strange land when I look over the railing.

“Hurry!” Mark shouts.

Racing over to join him, I find that he's already managed to maneuver the lifeboat over the side, and now he's trying to work the ropes.

“Someone has to stay up here and hold them in place,” I tell him. “You go down and control the descent from inside the boat, I'll wait up here and then I'll come down as soon as I can.”

“I'm not leaving you,” he replies.

“You won't be
leaving
me!” I point out. “I'll be right behind you! You need to be the one controlling the guide-ropes from inside the boat, you're better at that than me!”

He pauses for a moment, as if he's going to argue with me, before turning and clambering over the railing, finally jumping into the lifeboat.

“It might be a bumpy ride,” I tell him, as I untie one of the ropes. As if to prove my point, the lifeboat swings down several feet and bangs into the side of the ferry. “Hold her tight!” I shout, pulling on another of the ropes in an attempt to make sure that he doesn't simply drop like a stone.

For the next few seconds, all I can do is try to hold onto the ropes. My arms are ringing with pain, but I force myself to keep a tight grip and finally I hear Mark shouting from below. Turning, I look over the railing and see that he's just a few feet above the surface. I immediately let go of the ropes and watch as he splashes down, and then I climb over, ready to make my way down the final rope that's holding him close to the ferry. Just as I'm about to go down, however, I glance over my shoulder and see that the captain is standing in the bridge, just by the door, staring straight at me.

“Sophie!” Mark shouts. “There's no time!”

“What is this thing?” I whisper, imagining all the questions I could ask the captain if I just went over to him. After all, he seems to have finally noticed me. “Where did we go tonight?”

“Sophie!” Mark shouts again. “Hurry!”

I blink, and the captain vanishes from sight.

“Sophie!”

Looking down, I see Mark waving at me frantically, just as a large wave crashes into the back of the lifeboat and sends it several feet away from the ferry, followed by another wave and then another. The final rope comes loose, and I don't reach out in time; as the rope falls down, I watch as the lifeboat bobs further away.

“Jump!” Mark shouts. “For God's sake, get off that thing!”

I hesitate for a moment, as the ferry makes its way further from the lifeboat. I know I should follow Mark, but there's a part of me that wants to stay on-board and try to talk to the captain, and maybe even find out where he's going next. I can get through to him, I know I can, and I even feel as if maybe he
wants
me to stay. I turn and look back toward the bridge, and for a few seconds I swear I can see the captain's skeletal face again, watching me through the glass, maybe even waiting for me. Before I can make a decision, however, the ferry hits another large wave, and the force is enough to dislodge me from the railing. Turning, I fall back until, finally, I crash into the rough sea and plunge into the depths.

Frantically trying to tread water, I look up and see the vast bulk of the ferry passing almost directly overhead. A moment later, I spot the lifeboat as well, and finally I realize that I have to go to Mark. Swimming back up through the turbulent water, I break the surface and reach up to the side of the lifeboat, only for Mark to reach down and pull me on-board

“Where is it?” I splutter, getting to my feet and looking around, only to realize that there's no sign of the ferry. “Where did it go?”

Mark turns, and clearly he has no idea. “It was there just a moment ago.”

Turning again, I realize I can see a hint of land on the horizon. We've arrived just a few miles from where we left.

Chapter Nine

“Where is everyone?”

As soon as I drop the oars and jump out of the lifeboat, I can tell that something's wrong. The trailers are still in place a little way from the shore, but there's no sign of anyone at all and a kind of hush seems to have fallen over the land. There should be a team here from London by now, the whole area should be buzzing with activity, and yet as I make my way toward the nearest trailer I realize the entire scene is eerily quiet. Even the seagulls are gone.

“Be careful,” Mark says as he hurries to catch up.

“There!” I shout, pointing at a figure slumped on the grass near one of the trailers. Racing over, I crouch next to him and see that it's one of the rescue workers, but he's unconscious and even before I put a hand on his forehead, I can tell that he's got a fever. Glancing over toward another of the trailers, I see that Mark has already found another ill man. It's as if people just fell and dropped.

We spend the next few minutes searching for someone who can still talk, but everyone is sick. We find Louis Cole slumped at one of his laptops, and when I get to the main trailer I see a man at the desk, unconscious in his chair. Hurrying over to him, I tilt his head back and gently tap the side of his face, hoping to find out what's happening.

“Can you hear me?” I ask, forcing one of his eyes open. When he doesn't reply, I check his pulse and find that although his heart-rate is erratic, he's still alive.

“Carter's dead,” Mark says as he comes to join me. “Everyone else is in various stages of sickness.” He pauses. “Jesus Christ, that's Stratton. Is he sick too?”

“When the living and the dead mix,” I whisper, thinking back to the things Eileen Shaw told me the other day, “a terrible plague will erupt.”

“What was that?” Mark asks.

“She was right,” I continue, feeling a wave of cold panic in my chest. “I should have listened to her right from the start!”

Hurrying past him, I head to the medical trailer, but sure enough there's no sign of the survivor who was pulled from the sea shortly after the ferry sank. Stepping back out onto the grass, I look around for a moment before spotting Eileen's house in the distance. A few seconds later, light briefly catches something in one of the windows, and I realize she's watching us through her binoculars.

***

“I warned you,” she says as she lets us into the house. “I told you, these worlds shouldn't mix and you didn't listen!”

“Where is he?” I ask, hurrying past her until I reach the front room and see the survivor laid out on one of the sofas. He looks sicker than before, but unlike the people down at the base camp, at least he's still conscious. “How did he get here?”

“I brought him,” she replies. “I was watching it all unfold from up here. I saw people getting sick one by one, and then I saw this man stumbling out of a trailer. I went down there and fetched him in my wheelbarrow. You might think I'm just a delicate old thing, but I can get a move-on when things are tight. I've always been good in a crisis.”

“Everyone at the site is sick,” I tell her as I head over to the sofa and look down at the survivor. His eyes are closed, but after a moment they open slightly and he looks up at me. “I think they're dying. How do we fix this?”

“I don't know if you can,” Eileen continues. “It might be too late, but perhaps there's a chance if you get that poor soul to where he's supposed to be going. If you put things right and separate the two worlds again, the plague will end, or at least it won't spread.”

“And where do you want us to take him?” Mark asks. “Where is he supposed to be going?”

“We have to get him to the ferry,” I whisper, kneeling next to the sofa and looking into the survivor's eyes. After a moment, his lips move and he starts to whisper something, and even though I don't understand a word that he's saying, I can tell that he's in pain, maybe even scared. Turning to Mark, I finally realize what we have to do. “You saw what happened to all the others on the ferry, how they were delivered to that place. We need to take him back to them! That's where he belongs!”

“You want to go
back
on that thing?” he asks incredulously.

“We don't have a choice!”

“Did you see him?” Eileen asks.

I turn to her.

“Is he still there?” she continues, with tears in her eyes.

“Who?” I ask.

“My poor...” Pausing, she seems on the verge of breaking down. “My poor brother, all those years ago... According to the old texts, those who meddle with the ferry's work are doomed to take Charon's seat on the bridge as penance. Is he still there?”

“He...” I look over at Mark, and I can see the shock in his expression. When I turn back to Eileen, I can't help feeling that she seems heartbroken. “I saw the captain,” I tell her. “He's still there.”

Heading over to the table, she picks up a framed photo and holds it out to me. “Was it
him
?”

“I really don't -”

“Please!”

Taking the photo, I see that it's old, showing a young woman and a slightly younger man. It takes a moment before I realize that the woman must be Eileen herself, back in the 1950s, and the man must be her brother George, smiling at the camera with a broad, confident smile. Just as I'm about to hand the photo back to her, however, I realize that the man's jacket looks familiar: on the shoulder, there's the same pattern that I remember seeing on the scraps of thread that still clung to the captain's bones. I look at his face and try to imagine the skull beneath the flesh.

“You don't need to answer,” Eileen continues, as tears run down her face. “I knew he'd still be there. He got too close to that thing, too arrogant, so it took him. That's why I wanted you all to stay away from it! I didn't want you meeting the same fate as my poor brother!”

“We have to get this man back,” I reply, trying to stay calm as I look down at the survivor. “If we don't, the plague will spread, won't it?”

“You don't have much time,” she tells me. “It might already be too late.”

“But we have to try.” Hurrying back to the sofa, I reach down and put my hands under the survivor's body, before slowly lifting him up and heading to the door.

“Are you serious?” Mark asks. “Sophie, he might be infectious!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Wait,” Eileen calls after me as I carry the survivor out into the hallway.

I turn and look back at her.

“If you see my brother again,” she continues, wiping tears from her cheeks, “tell him... Tell him I've been watching all these years. Tell him I never forgot about him. Tell him I always watched, every time he came past the bay.”

***

Finally, after an hour of heading southwest away from the Cornish coast, I slow the dinghy and then switch the engine off, bringing us to a halt on the gently bobbing sea. I look around, but the scene feels so desolate, I simply can't imagine the ferry suddenly looming upon us and scooping us onto its deck, which means we really
might
be too late. I look toward the horizon, hoping to spot a faint dot heading this way, but there's nothing. Checking my watch, I realize that all we can do now is wait and hope.

“Now what?” Mark asks from the other end of the dinghy.

“We wait,” I tell him. “What else can we do? Maybe the captain will realize we're here and...”

My voice trails off as I realize how completely insane this sounds. At the same time, it's our only hope.

“Do you really believe everything that old woman told you?” he continues. “I mean, no offense, but how would she even know all that stuff about the ferry?”

“She studied it,” I point out. “I think people have been studying it for centuries. Most of them had the sense to keep away.”

“But the boat itself,
that
can't have been going for centuries. Do they just pick a new ferry every so often?”

“I have no idea.”

“And what about -”

“I don't know,” I reply, trying to stay calm in the face of his constant stream of questions. I keep glancing around, watching the horizon for any sign of the ferry returning. “I don't know how any of this works, I just know what I've seen with my own two eyes. You saw it too, remember?” Looking down at the survivor, I pause for a moment. “Are they coming for you? Is that how it's supposed to happen? Will the captain try to pick you up, no matter what? Or does it not really matter that much? Will he just leave you behind?”

To my surprise, he whispers something.

“What was that?” I ask, leaning closer.

He whispers again, but I still don't understand. In fact, something tells me that there's no way I could
ever
understand. It's as if the dead have their own language, and there's an impenetrable barrier that keeps me from understanding him. Maybe he can't ever understand me, either.

“I'm trying to help,” I tell him, speaking slowly and clearly. “I thought...” Pausing, I look back out at the sea all around us, before sighing. “I thought they'd come for you. I thought the ferry would want to pick you up again.”

He replies, his voice sounding clipped and urgent. As he continues, I can't help feeling that I was right; there really
is
some kind of filter between us, something that's preventing us from understanding one another. And then, finally, he reaches up with a bony hand and touches my arm.

“What?” I ask, leaning closer. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“You shouldn't let him touch you,” Mark tells me. “Sophie, you'll catch the fever too!”

“He's trying to tell me something,” I whisper, staring down into the man's eyes.

“Sophie!” Mark shouts suddenly. “Get -”

Before he can finish, the dinghy bucks up on a series of rougher waves, almost as if -

Turning, I see the ferry bearing down on us at full speed. I reach out to start the motor, but it's too late: the ferry's prow smashes into us, capsizing the dinghy and sending us crashing into the water. Plunging beneath the surface, I instinctively start swimming down and away, desperately trying to ensure that I don't get hit by the ferry or by debris from the dinghy, but when I start swimming back up I realize that my arms are starting to feel more tired than ever. The vast bulk of the ferry is directly above me and there's a tumultuous swirl of debris all around, but I feel as if getting back to the surface is no longer so important. Falling still, I simply watch the light as it dances on the surface of the water, and I let myself drift. I feel as if I've spent my whole life fighting the current, but now all I can do is let it take me.

After a moment, I realize a cloud of blood is rising up from the side of my face, filling the water.

***

Something heavy creaks in the darkness, and when I open my eyes I find that I'm back on the bridge. Night has fallen once again, and the only light comes from the moon, which is filling the deck with an ethereal blue glow.

Again, the ferry creaks, and this time I instinctively reach out and put a hand on the wheel, before giving it a slight turn. Somehow, I feel as if I just put us back onto the right course.

For the next few minutes, I stay completely still, struggling to keep my thoughts alive. It's as if my mind wants to sink back down into the darkness, but finally I force myself to look around. A few old bones are glinting in the moonlight near my feet, and after a moment I realize that the bones of the ferry's captain must have collapsed, and now
I'm
in his seat. I try to think back, to work out how I got here, but the last thing I remember is being in the water, and then there was blood, and then...

I wait.

Nothing.

Suddenly I realize that my mind is slipping away again. It's so hard to stay conscious, and finally I stop fighting. I start to close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift into darkness.

“Sophie?”

I don't know how much time passes, but eventually someone starts calling my name. Despite everything else, I still know that it's
my
name, even though it's starting to sound unfamiliar.

“Sophie, are you here?”

Forcing my eyes open, I find that my head has nodded forward and my hand is on the wheel again. I try to sit up, but the effort required is huge and I can barely muster any strength at all. Finally, I see that there's a figure silhouetted in the doorway with the night sky behind him, looking in toward the bridge, and I realize I recognize the voice I heard a moment ago. It was...

I wait, but the name won't come to me.

“Sophie?”

He steps forward, looking around the bridge as if he can't see me.

“Here,” I whisper, my voice so low that I can barely hear it myself. I can't hear myself breathing, either, but that doesn't seem to matter, not anymore. The creak of the ferry is comforting, like a new kind of heartbeat. Somehow, I feel completely at rest, as if I know deep down that things have been put right. “I'm here,” I stammer. “Right here.”