House Beneath the Bridge (A horror novel) by Iain Rob Wright

Author:Iain Rob Wright [Wright, Iain Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-29T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Brandon had spent the last thirty minutes screwing around on the aluminium crutches in the light of Tom's torch. He took a while to get the rhythm right, but was now zipping about like a bug. Click clack click clack.

Sophie thought it was a sick trick, like the movie she had watched about a cursed monkey paw during one of her many evenings alone while Tom worked. In that movie, the monkey's paw had granted people's wishes, but always in some twisted misinterpretation that did nothing but increase the wisher's misery. The altar had helped Brandon, but only by giving him crutches. True, it was what the kid needed, but seriously...

Where was her goddamn teleporter?

Tom sat against the wall beneath the unreachable trapdoor. She had watched the hope leak out of him in the last half-hour. Since they'd woken up on the riverbed—what seemed like an eternity ago now—he had been forced to act strong, to fight, and to think of solutions. Now, he had nothing to do but ruminate. His busy mind had fallen idle, and the only thing to fill it was despair. Tom had always been prone to depression. Ever since first failing to get his wife pregnant.

God, she hated him so much.

And yet she loved him.

Hated how self-involved he could be. Loved how hard he tried.

Hated how blind he could be. Loved how he knew her better than she knew herself.

Hated that she loved him so much. Loved that she loved him so much.

She had to get out of this place. This couldn't be the end of her life. Not this. Not halfway between her old life and her new. As much as the thought of leaving Tom hurt her, it also filled her with excitement. Her life was no longer set in stone. There were new surprises in her future.

But not if this nightmare didn't end.

"Okay, Tom," she said. "We have to figure something out. You're sat here doing nothing, and that's not you."

He looked up at her through bleary eyes, nose swollen making him resemble a cat. She couldn't even bear looking at his ruined right hand. "I've been wracking my brain, Soph. I have nothing left."

She folded her arms. "What do we do when the figures don't add up, when we've been over them a million times, and they just won't behave?"

He frowned at her. "We... go back to the client and ask questions."

"Yes! We go back to the source."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Jonathan threw us down here, and he can get us out."

Tom tutted. "Why would he help us?"

"He wanted our help to kill the blind monk, and before he betrayed us, he acted like he was a good guy, a hero. But his sums didn't add up, and you questioned him. Let's question him some more. The only way we're getting out of here is if somebody upstairs helps us. It's the best shot we have. It's the only shot we have."

"What do you propose?"

Sophie looked up at the trapdoor.

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