New Title 1 (11 page)

Chs
. Moon
shwd
up. 2ld me Id
th
chnc
2
lev
, so I
hv
.
Dnt
wnt
2
wke
u. B in
tuch
,
Jne
.

Jane’s text messages were usually such a cryptic nightmare you needed the Enigma machine to decode them. This just wasn’t right.

“Damn it. Jane, where are you?” A seed of fear sprouted in her gut, and her heart beat rapidly. She bit her thumbnail, thinking. After a moment she grabbed a green parka jacket from the hallway and left the house.

Clouds shrouded the moon, the darkness pressing down. As she walked along the lane, something rustled in the hedge and her heart skipped a beat. Occasional streetlights lit her way, and as she approached one, her shadow crept up behind her like a stalker.

The night felt oppressive, made her feel vulnerable and exposed. Her footsteps seemed unnaturally loud, echoing. She wondered why the night amplified sound, why the dark became a stage for the minds invention. She quickened her pace. The houses on the hill were in darkness; she could almost believe she was the only resident of
Paradise
. Perhaps Jane was not the only one to have left.

At the bottom of the lane, she headed toward the pub. The sign outside creaked as the breeze played it. The Slaughtered Dog. Slaughter Hill. The names seemed out of place in
Paradise
.

A single light burned in the porch, circled by moths like the dark droplets of a macabre chandelier. She heard the beat of their wings as they flitted around the bulb, a papery, dried leaf cadence. She nervously opened the door and walked inside.

The dimly lit interior made her squint; darkness crouched in the corners of the room. The optics behind the bar glinted with the reflections of the dim, nicotine stained lighting. Round wooden tables sprouted from the wooden floor like bizarre mushrooms in an
Alice
in Wonderland pastiche. Chase licked her lips and walked toward the bar. She sensed more than saw that people were sitting silently in the corners of the room, hidden in the shadows. She felt their eyes, watching her and she swallowed, trying to wet her dry throat. What am I afraid of? she wondered.

A man with a heavyset face and bushy eyebrows shading small, beady eyes sat behind the bar. His thin hair appeared lifeless and greasy, his checked shirt stained with something that resembled blood, but which was more likely tomato sauce. He stood up as she approached and she noticed him limp slightly as he ambled down the bar to where she stood.

“What can I get you?” he grunted.

“Hello, I’m looking for ...”

“Miss Black, how nice to see you again.”

Chase turned to see Moon standing behind her. He wore a cocksure smile like a mask. She hadn’t heard him enter so she assumed he had already been in the bar, hiding in the shadows, which would have been easy enough in the dark suit he wore.

“Mr Moon, just the person I’m looking for. It’s about my friend, Jane.”

“Ah yes, she seemed quite eager to return home when I called at your house earlier.”

“You came to the house?”

“Yes, you were fast asleep. I imagine it’s a result of all the excitement. Yes, your friend ...” his smile faltered slightly as he said the word ‘friend’, “We arranged for her to be flown home. I advised her not to wake you as you looked worn out.”

“She wouldn’t have left without telling me.” Her voice rose slightly.

“I’m sure you will see her again soon. Now, how are you settling in?”

“What time did she go?”

“Let me see, it would have been about five-thirty, or thereabouts.”

“And what time is it now?”

Moon looked at his watch. “Ten-fifteen.”

“I slept all this time.” It was not a question. “Jane wouldn’t have left without waking me, I know she wouldn’t.”

“What are you implying, that she left against her will?” Moon laughed without mirth. “She was eager to leave. You yourself know that. I can assure you she was only thinking of you. Now let me buy you a drink, and perhaps George here can rustle you up something to eat, you must be hungry.”

Although she hadn’t thought about it, as soon as Moon mentioned her being hungry, it acted like a catalyst and her stomach rumbled.

“I would hazard a guess you’re a white wine drinker?”

“Forget the wine. I need to speak to Jane.”

Ignoring her, Moon ordered two white wines and George shuffled down the bar to pour the drinks.

“And George,” Moon called after him, “Rustle up a nice salad and baked potato for our newest resident, let’s make her feel at home, there’s a good chap.”

Chase noticed George glance back; the dim lights glinted in his eyes making them look feral and she shivered.

“Come, let us sit down,” Moon said when George returned with the drinks. He walked to one of the mushroom tables where he seated himself.

Chase followed, the chilled wine cradled in her hands. She felt slightly light-headed even before taking a sip. She could sense people around her, like cats stalking prey as she seated herself; the scraping of a chair being moved sounded like fingernails drawn down a chalkboard. She winced. Somebody coughed, and quiet chatter bubbled out of the darkness. Looking down at the table, she noticed it had been slashed, gouged. Remembering the man in the hall with the knife, she tried to make words out of the gashes, but Moon put his drink down and leaned forward, casting a dark shadow that obscured the table.

Chase sat back, feeling threatened. “I’ll need to go home myself, to pick things up.” She needed to see Jane. Even if only to ask her why she left without a word. Moon was lying. He had to be. But why? She couldn’t believe her best friend had just gone. It didn’t feel right. She couldn’t have left. She just couldn’t. It made her think of Mat. He had left her too. Why did everybody leave her?

“You are home,” Moon said, fingering his wine glass.

“No, I mean my former home. My
real
home. This is still all too new to me. It’s too much.”

“This is your real home. You can’t leave,” Moon said, leaning back in his chair.

“What do you mean, I can’t leave?”

“There are no more flights scheduled for a while.”

“Well goddamn schedule one then. There are things I need to do.” She could feel rage bubbling below the surface.

“I can assure you when a transport is available, I’ll let you know.”

“Well that’s not good enough, I need——”

“Miss Black. Chase, how nice to see you again.”

Chase looked up to see the doctor, Adam White standing beside her dressed casually in a blue, short-sleeved shirt and grey trousers.

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Doctor White, be my guest,” Moon said, his hands
steepled
together on the table.

“How are you settling in?” Adam asked, sitting next to Chase.

“I was fine until Jane disappeared. Now I’ve been told that I can’t leave the village.” She felt like a virtual prisoner, trapped by circumstance beyond her control.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me.” Moon stood up.

“Hold on a minute.” Chase started to stand, but the room began to spin, the walls turning, twisting. She felt a cold sweat steal over her and she swayed slightly, feeling as though she was standing on a ship in stormy seas.

“Chase, are you all right?” Adam asked.

“I ... I feel a bit giddy.”

“Here, sit down and take a few deep breaths.” Adam held her arm as she sat back down.

“Well, I’ll leave you in the doctor’s capable hands. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Chase opened her mouth to protest but the room began to spin again and she closed her eyes and cupped her face in her hands, lowering her head. She felt slightly nauseous and when she looked back up, Moon had disappeared like a ghost. She silently cursed him. She needed to get home.

You are home.

“How are you feeling now?”

“A little better,” she said as the room slowly stopped revolving.

“Well, I’d like you to come and see me on Monday. I’ll give you a check up.”

“I won’t be here Monday. I need to go home and see Jane.”

Adam placed his hand on Chase’s. “I’m sure your friend is fine. I know it seems strange, but transport in and out of the village costs time and money, which is why you can’t just leave. I’m sure you understand.”

Chase pulled her hand from beneath Adam’s and shook her head. “I need to find Moon. I need to get out.”

“Calm down, Chase. I’ll make sure you’re informed as soon as there’s a flight out.”

Before Chase could argue further, George arrived. “Your meal,” he said, dropping a plate of food and a knife and fork on the table.

Chase had forgotten about the meal; she didn’t feel hungry now. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mind me,” Adam said. “You go on and eat, I like watching people eat.”

“It takes all sorts,” Chase replied as she picked up her knife and fork. Her appetite returned with each bite until she unexpectedly found herself faced with a chewy and slightly gristly mouthful. She would have spit it out, but with Adam watching her she thought it would be too rude so she swallowed it and looked down at her plate. It was hard to see in the dimly lit room, but it looked as though the potato was riddled with black bits. She poked one of them with her fork, separating it from the potato. Having most probably been cooked in the microwave, the black object retained much of its shape and she realised with horror and revulsion that it was a slug – and she had just eaten one. The sick feeling returned and the colour drained from her face; she quickly took a gulp of wine to wash her mouth out.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I’m just not hungry.” She didn’t know why she lied. Looking across at the bar, she saw George watching her with a humourless grin. Did he know? Had he done it on purpose? No, she was just imagining it. He wouldn’t do that, not on purpose. It must have been a mistake.
Just like moving here
, a little voice teased.

She noticed Adam staring at her.

“I suddenly don’t feel very well. Would you mind walking me home?”

Adam looked at Chase, then down at the plate, then back at Chase. “Of course not. It would be my pleasure.”

Chase stood up and Adam swept past her and opened the door before she reached it.

“After you,” he said, bowing.

Outside, Chase noticed the clouds had dispersed, the moon casting its baleful glare across the fog that shimmered on the periphery. “How long has the fog been here?” she asked as they walked.

“Almost two years.”

“
How long
?” she spluttered. Had she heard him right?

“Almost two years.”

“Isn’t that a little strange?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and although not cold, she shivered.

“More than a little I’d say. The scientists and weathermen said it was something to do with adverse atmospheric conditions and global warming. High pressure, low pressure, it was all double Dutch to me, I’m afraid. It’s something to do with living in a damp valley.”