The Warlow Experiment by Alix Nathan

Author:Alix Nathan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Profile
Published: 2019-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

HE WAKES TO THE THROB of blood in his ears. And another noise. In the other room. Different. Not rats. Not the creaking. He sits up, pulls a blanket about him, hunched. Holds the ends together just under his nose; ears free to hear.

The door into his place. Outside it. Against it. A tool against it. Wood screaking. Someone’s prising off the planks.

He doesn’t move. Noise stops. He breathes again. But he’s too far in to hear everything outside. Strain hard. Listen. Listen!

Key in the lock. Turning. Squawk of thick-rusted iron.

He is rigid. Someone is there. Someone has come in. Someone! His hearing, refined by years of silence, begins to pinpoint the sounds. Each movement.

Someone is there. Crunching on debris. He hears a gasp.

Steps stop. Scuff through it. Stop.

He imagines it looking round. Is there one? Or two? Lookin for him. He mustn’t move. They don’t know where he is.

No sound. Then: ‘Are you there?’ A woman’s voice. Woman! Them wouldn’t send a woman. Why a woman?

‘John? Mr Warlow?’ Doesn’t recognise the voice. Dreamin. Not dreamin. It’s comin closer, comin to get him. Comin. The devil comes in the shape of a woman. He knows this.

‘You can come out now,’ it says. It is a trap. Mustn’t reply. Not speak. He hears it scuff about the room. Hears it move away to where the bathtub is, the grating.

Hide! He’ll hide before it comes into this room. Hauls himself, prickling with sweat, off the bed, down onto his knees. Bed is high off the ground, there’s room for him. Bends, but he’s stiff. So many pains. His head hits the sharp edge of the bed frame. He ducks in. Twists. His limbs like great roots bursting out of a bank of earth.

He’s scared off the rats under the bed. Wants to laugh. Devil won’t see him here. Can’t. Can’t take him away. With its devil claws. Tail! Tail like an eel, great eel whippin. Whippin him down to hell.

‘Where are you, John?’ A trap. A trap! A blanket hangs off the bed. He pulls it down further to conceal himself completely. Just in time. Steps are coming closer. He presses up against the wall, holds his breath.

‘Are you in bed?’ It’s lookin round the door, not come in yet. Quiet. It’s lookin, is it? Lookin. Seein nothin. He takes tiny sips of breath.

‘John?’ it whispers.

His leg’s stuck. He moves it and cramp shoots up the calf. He kicks out his foot; can’t stop himself.

There’s a shriek and it rushes out. Out and away. He kicks again to break the pain and hits his shoulder. He hears the steps, the scuffing, crunching, smaller shrieks. Gone.

But has it gone? Wait, wait. Don’t come out now. It’ll pounce.

Cold under the bed. He grabs at the blanket which falls. Pulls it in but there’s no room for him and it. His ankle throbs, wedged beneath him. He rubs at the cramp. Cold seeps into his thigh and hip, yet it’s stifling. Can hardly breathe. He sneezes.

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