Footsteps sounded beside them and a figure in black appeared between the two cages. The hooded man stood with his back to Ella, speaking Bible verses to the woman on the other side. Ella heard the word amen, then the figure vanished as quickly as he arrived.
“It’s my time to go now,” the woman said, wiping away tears. “If you get out, tell my boy I’ll miss him. Tell him I’m sorry I made a mistake.”
Two guards arrived, both faceless. One unlocked the woman’s cell, took her hand and brought her to her feet. “Time to go, ma’am,” he said. Ella reached out to grab the woman and hold her back, maybe giving her precious more seconds to live. But even though her hand connected with the shabby cloth, she found she had no strength or grip in this strange world.
They disappeared into the blackness of the corridor, floor creaking with every step. When silenced resumed, it was broken by the sound of laughter. She couldn’t see another soul, but she could hear one. Keys jangled, then a prison jailer manifested from the darkness. He tapped his keys against the bars, dangling them in front of Ella like food to a starving animal. This time, she recognized the face.
“Mark,” she said. “It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me. Who did you think it was?”
“What’s going on? What am I doing here?” Ella cried.
“Look out the window.”
Ella turned to the back wall, only now noticing a small rectangular pane of glass behind the bars. She pushed her face as close as she could to it. Outside, on a long stretch of grass, stood the gallows. Two guards pushed Ella’s new friend towards it, all while she tried to escape their clutches. She couldn’t, and once she was on the platform, she seemed to accept her fate.
Ella turned back to the jailer. “When’s my turn?” she said. “I’m next in line.”
Mark threw his head back and laughed again. “Good one. Sorry, Agent Dark, but the noose is too good for you. I’m afraid you’re staying in here forever,” he said as he vanished back into the darkness. In her immobile dream state, Ella couldn’t respond, only accept the punishment. She turned back to the window to see the woman, now with a bag over her head, wait inertly for her fate to come.
And amazingly, Ella envied the woman.
BANG.
She heard the drop worlds away in her own reality. Her body jerked, and she suddenly woke up in a motel bed somewhere in Delaware. The relief came in a heavy wave. She wasn’t in a nineteenth-century prison cell. She was free. No one had been hanged.
“Christ,” she said aloud, catching her breath. Why did it feel so real? It was only a nightmare.
She heard the bang again, the same one as when the gallows trapdoor opened. She wondered for a second if she wasn’t still in a dream world, but confirmed she wasn’t when she saw her earthly belongings. Her bag, her pistol, those red and yellow drapes. Something here was making a noise, and this time, it wasn’t the window.
Ella stepped out of bed, finding her room freezing cold. She hurried into the bathroom and checked for any leaks, or maybe an adventurous mouse. She switched the light on and saw nothing living. Just a toilet, bath, sink and empty trash can.
Back in the main room, she switched on the lamp and moved to the door. She had sudden déjà vu from her last case. She peered through the peephole out into the dim corridor, waiting for her vision to adjust to the darkness.
When it did, she felt her body go numb. Someone stared back at her. A figure was standing right outside her door.
Midnight adrenaline started up, and Ella ran back and grabbed her pistol off the nightstand. Her hand was on the doorknob a second later, and she pulled it open and stepped out in one swift movement. She aimed her pistol in one direction, then jerked the other way.
Just empty space.
She didn’t dream this. She couldn’t have. Two eyeballs stared at her when she looked through that peephole. She would bet her life on it.
Then why didn’t she hear them run? Where were they now?
In the long corridor, Ella felt as exposed as she could possibly be. There were places for people to hide along here. She’d be safer in her room.
She retreated back but stopped when she saw something that wasn’t there before.
A piece of paper had been stuck on the door. An envelope. Ella gripped her pistol and did one last scan of the area. When she was confident no one was around, she tore the envelope off the door and went back inside her room.
The envelope was blank but unsealed. She pulled open the tab, reached in and unfolded a piece of writing paper.
When she saw the words, she suddenly envied the hanging woman again.
You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did you?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
This one was going to be a little harder than the others, he realized. There were no easy entry points, no isolated areas to take cover in. It was one am, so the rabble were asleep, but that just meant his activities were the only sounds to potentially wake up curious neighbors. The house was detached so he could sneak around the sides but doing so still came with great risk.
It had been a long time since he’d been here. He could hardly believe the old man still lived in this place. He must really love this town.
But what a fool, the old man. That just meant finding him was much easier than he thought.
He checked the houses for any lights and saw only one at the far end of the row. He slipped down the side of the old man’s house and found the only thing blocking his exit to the garden was an iron gate. He gently shook it to ensure it wasn’t loose, then used the handle as a foothold to launch himself over it. He cleared it in one movement, hitting the lawn feet-first on the other side. Barely a sound was made in the process.
He hid under the cover of the brick wall, peering around to see a glass door leading into the lounge. A new addition, the man thought. It didn’t look like this years ago.
The TV was on, some old film by the looks of it, flashing the room shades of gray. Opposite the TV, the old man lay on the couch beneath a blanket. Given his age, probably long asleep by now.
The door handle rejected his intrusion. Locked. But seeing this garden now, although it was much different than he remembered, brought back an abundance of familiarities. He’d stand around in here while the men did business inside, wandering around, kicking dirt and climbing on the old man’s statues. He never thought he’d see this part of the town again, or even wanted to, but under these circumstances, it was more than acceptable.
Then he remembered that little place the old man called his den.
With his head down and hood up, he hurried past the window to the other side of the garden. Muscle memory brought it all back in seconds. Leading down below the kitchen was a very thin set of stairs, down to the zone where this once-young man feared to tread. It was a tight squeeze, and there was a metal trash container at the bottom; he skirted around it without breaking the silence of the night.
The looming red door was his obstacle, but luck was in his favor when he saw the brass key lodged in it. He turned it, causing a heavy clink, then waited to see if his clatter had disturbed anyone inside.
Thirty seconds passed. A minute.
He decided it was safe. He gently pulled on the door handle but found it was jammed, probably from years of going unopened. He removed his knife from his jacket, wedged it between the cracked and jimmied the door free from its restraints. It popped open, and the air from the basement instantly engulfed his senses.