Fatal
Alice smiled warmly. ‘Of course, Sister Margaret.’
‘You know, if there is anything you want to tell me, you can. I don’t …’
Wanting to say more but hearing the front gate bell ring, Sister Margaret turned to walk down the tree-lined driveway. She raised her hand to the waiting car.
‘I’m coming … I’ll be back in a minute Al—’
As she spoke, Alice suddenly saw Sister Margaret’s cream robe turn crimson. Terror gripped her as she watched, not quite comprehending what was happening as the nun’s head began to loll back, her body sinking to the ground, blood oozing as her eyes held Alice’s stare.
Alice began to shake, her whole body trembling as her screams mixed with the warm winds. Hysterically, she ran towards Sister Margaret and threw herself on the ground. Desperately afraid and racked with terrified sobs, Alice cradled the nun’s head in her arms. ‘Don’t die! Don’t die! Sister Margaret … Please … please … please!’
Blood trickled out of the side of Sister Margaret’s mouth as she tried to speak. ‘Run, Alice. Run. Get help, and may God protect you …’
A sound at the gates made Alice look up. Cold sweat began to drip from her as she saw two cars driving through them. She knew she had to move or they’d see her, but it felt like her legs were made of stone, as if fear were holding her down.
Breathing out slowly, Alice closed her eyes, petrified to move and feeling her whole body go into spasms as Sister Margaret whispered up at her.
‘Alice, go! Go, child … Now!’
Too frightened to speak, Alice nodded as she backed away slowly before breaking into a run, terror stopping her from turning around as she sprinted as fast as she could back through the meadows, heading for the white stone field shelter. She raced through the open archway to the relative safety of the dark, empty building, feeling like there were someone right behind her, feeling like she could almost feel their breath on the back of her neck.
Terrified, trying to stop herself from crying, unable to stop shaking, Alice peeked through the dusty window, sneaking the smallest of glances …
Over by Sister Margaret, the cars stopped. The doors flung open and Bobby Russo – his face covered by a demonic clown mask – stepped out. Leaving the other men by the brand-new blacked-out Escalades, Bobby sauntered across to the nun, watching for signs of life.
Poking her with the nozzle of his semi-automatic, his voice was thick and nasal. ‘Where’s Alice Rose?’
Not getting a response, Bobby kicked Sister Margaret on the top of her thigh with the tip of his boot, causing her to moan out loud. He chuckled. ‘So you are alive … I need to know where Alice Rose is.’
Through blood-covered lips, Sister Margaret rasped, ‘God forgive you!’
From behind the mask, Bobby grinned, his voice mocking. ‘Hey, Sis, I don’t need your God to forgive me, I’ve already booked my place in hell. Front-row seats. So don’t you go troubling yourself about me, just tell me where Alice is.’
Riddled with pain, Sister Margaret spat her answer. ‘Never!’
‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? Going to be a ballsy broad? Fine, Sis, have it your own way.’
After taking off the safety catch, Bobby pointed the gun straight into the nun’s face, pushing it down hard onto her forehead. ‘Prepare to meet your Maker.’
‘Bobby! Leave it! Come on!’ Salvatore called, gesturing for his brother to join him.
Glancing down at the nun, Bobby shouted back, ‘What about her?’
‘Jesus, Bob, I said, come on!’
Shrugging and flicking the latch back on his gun, Bobby, whistling, walked across to Salvatore who, along with the other men, wore hideous, gruesome masks.
Giving out his orders, Salvatore, with cocaine and adrenalin rushing through his veins, spoke quickly. ‘Spread out. We know she’s here somewhere; the place isn’t that big. And have fun, make noise, we’re in the middle of nowhere, so no one’s going to hear them scream. If anyone does manage to call for help, it’ll be a hell of a long time before they get here.’
Bobby looked around the grounds of the convent through the small slits of his mask and glanced at his brother. ‘Problem is, Sal, we don’t know what the kid looks like.’
Salvatore sniffed, then said calmly, ‘Then there’s only one thing for us to do. We kill them all …’
‘Alice … Alice … Come out, come out, wherever you are!’
Still hiding in the corner of the outhouse, Alice, hearing her name, whipped around, confusion mixing with fear.
Puzzled and scared, wet with sweat, she crept back across to the tiny window, taking another peep, freezing at the sight in front of her … There were nine, ten men, all standing in a row wearing clown masks, gruesome and deathly but worse still, they were looking her way. Heading towards her hideout.
She heard herself cry out, but she quickly slammed her hand over her mouth, not trusting herself not to make a sound as tears of terror ran down her face.
Taking a deep breath, Alice tried to calm herself and, not knowing what else to do, dropped to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut and clasping her hands together as she moved her lips in a silent prayer. But she felt no solace and the fear continued to flood over her, making her feel like she was drowning in a pool of horror.
Braving herself to peep with one eye, Alice could see the men were still there, and for the first time in her life she was scared her prayers weren’t going to save her. Right then and there, she decided her mother had been right: the sin of forgetting to give thanks meant God would forsake her in her hour of need, like she’d forsaken him. And although she realised she’d been bad, she wished he’d give her a second chance, forgive her, because she was really terrified and had no idea what to do or where to run. All she wanted was to see her dad.
Shivering, Alice’s thoughts began to rush. She couldn’t think straight, her chest beginning to tighten, making it hard for her to breathe, and her tears were choking her, blocking her airways. It felt like she was going to die.
‘Alice!’
She held her head in her hands, rocking backwards and forwards. Why were they calling her name? How did they know it? She just wanted them to go away.
‘Alice, where are you?’
Swallowing hard, Alice nervously crept forward, craning her head round the open archway, pinning herself against the wall in the shadows. As she watched, she banged her hand over her mouth again, this time to stop herself from screaming. Horrified, she saw one of her schoolfriends running, her face marked with terror as she charged towards the flower-filled woods. But it was too late, one of the men had spotted her, aiming and firing his gun in quick succession until a fountain of blood spurted out of the back of the girl’s head as it burst open, splitting into tiny pieces.
Waves of nausea overwhelmed Alice and she struggled not to faint. She vomited in the corner, trying desperately not to make any noise. She knew she had to get out and wiping her mouth, Alice headed for the back window of the outhouse, which faced towards the convent.
Glancing quickly behind her, panic-stricken, Alice clambered out, running frantically along the stone path, hoping to head towards the woods. At the corner of the outbuilding, hearing voices coming from the entrance of the school. Startled, Alice crouched down by the rose bushes, pushing herself as far back as possible.
As she waited, Alice looked down, suddenly feeling like she’d stepped into something warm. Wide-eyed, she stared as she watched her white canvas sneakers begin to turn red, soaking up the flow of blood oozing towards her.
Sick with fear, Alice’s gaze followed the trail. She gasped in panic. There, lying only yards away, were the bodies of Sister Abby and Sister Mary along with three of her classmates. Furiously, Alice scrabbled back, tears blinding her vision as she fought her urge to scream whilst the sound of more gunshots made her jump.
She put her fingers in her ears, desperate to block out the cries of her friends as she stumbled along the path again, tripping over more bodies of her classmates as she began to run towards the side door of the convent; the smell of death mixing in the air with the sweet aroma of purple cornflowers and poppy mallows.
Nearly at the main building, Alice froze in horror as she saw an evil clown with bright red hair, terrifying teeth and a bloodstained mouth standing guard by the entrance of the school, a sub-machine gun in hand. As fear clutched her stomach, she swallowed her vomit back down, petrified she was going to be caught.
Trembling and about to go back the way she came, Alice heard men’s voices behind her getting louder, getting nearer. Hiding again, but keeping her eyes on the clown by the door, Alice tried to work out what to do next … He hadn’t seen her yet, but he would if she stayed where she was – though the problem was there was no way she could get to the side door without him spotting her, and turning back wasn’t an option.
Then, suddenly, an idea came to mind and with a rush of renewed hope, Alice checked all around her, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she tiptoed along the wall, fixing her gaze firmly on the clown.
A few feet further, Alice came to a halt by the fire escape ladder fixed to the outer wall of the convent. If only she could manage to climb up to the roof, she could get in through the skylight and make her way through to the other side of the building, which would give her access to the woods. Then just maybe, maybe she stood a chance.
Looking up to the top of the five-storey building, Alice, who was terrified of heights, closed her eyes briefly, kissed the cross on her necklace and prayed for strength as she tried to push away her terror, to stop herself from shaking. Then, a moment later, Alice Rose began to climb.
12
Sister Margaret opened her eyes. The pain was unbearable but she needed to move and get help. Turning her head slowly to check no one was about, she winced in agony and, unable to stand, began to pull herself along the ground. She could feel herself losing blood, but she needed to get to the office before it was too late.
Exhausted, she dragged herself along, saying a prayer for every dead body she passed as she ignored her own suffering, focusing on getting to the building and listening out for any approaching footsteps.
After what seemed like forever, Sister Margaret finally made it to the small green door situated at the side of the convent’s office block. Stretching up for the door handle, she struggled to reach high enough, as the excruciating pain from the bullet – which sat like a ticking time bomb in her chest – prevented her from doing so.
With her hands trembling and blood running down her arm, she tried again, fighting back frustrated tears. But it was no good, the pain acted like a barricade.
Panting, Sister Margaret leant against the door, closing her eyes in anguish. Then almost immediately she opened them, smiling to herself ruefully, admonishing herself for thinking her despair wouldn’t be answered and guided.
She pulled her rosary beads from her robe pocket and held them in her hand before flicking them up in the air, only for them to fall back down on her lap. Undeterred, Sister Margaret tried again. This time they hooked over the silver door handle, creating a loop to hold onto.
Grabbing the large wooden cross on the end of the rosary, Sister Margaret drew herself up. The weight of her body on the beads – as she intended – pulled and released the door, giving her the opportunity, before they broke, to throw herself forward and tumble inside the hallway.
Still unable to stand, she heaved herself along the corridor, a trail of blood behind her. Drained and weak, feeling like time was running out, she summoned up the last of her strength as she began to cough up blood.
Making it to her office, Sister Margaret held onto the sides of the dark wooden furniture to drag herself along. At her desk she rested for a moment, trying to get her breath as she pulled at the phone wire, bringing books and letters along with the phone crashing down onto the floor.
Trembling, she yanked a slim black notebook out of her other robe pocket, the white pages in it turning red with her blood. She could feel herself starting to black out, the words and numbers on the pages blurring in and out of vision.
Punching out a number whilst grimacing at each movement and every pain wave, Sister Margaret cradled the phone in her arms as it rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Mr Morton, it’s Sister Margaret.’
‘Hello?’
The nun’s voice was almost inaudible. ‘Mr Morton, you’ve got to come. They’re after Alice …’
‘Hello? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.’
Sister Margaret fell forward, the phone dropping out of her hands as her face slammed down onto the hard parquet tiles. Her body smashing against the wood.
‘Hello? Hello?’
In the corridor Alice, hearing a noise in Sister Margaret’s office, stopped, her heart racing not only at the sound coming from inside the room, but also at the trail of blood snaking up the hall. She began to shake again as she listened, panic and dread overwhelming her. But there was silence. Nothing but silence. Then, breathing out to quieten her fear, Alice slowly moved forward and peeked through the crack of the open door.
Gawking in horror, feeling like she were in a waking nightmare, Alice saw the lifeless body of Sister Margaret sprawled across the floor. She ran into the room but immediately slipped on a pool of blood, which threw her forward to trip and fall on top of the nun.
Letting out a small scream, Alice, hysterical, pulled herself into a ball as she began to cry uncontrollably.
‘Hello? Hello? Hello, are you there?’
Quivering and curled up tightly, Alice frowned, straining to hear. Then, almost too traumatised to move, she slowly turned her head towards the sound.
‘Hello? Hello?’
Suddenly realising there was somebody on the other end of the phone, Alice crawled forward, picking up the receiver as her hands shook furiously and her voice trembled. She spoke through dry lips. ‘Hello?’
‘Alice?’
Overcome with emotion, she nodded, breaking down into silent tears as she heard her father’s voice.
‘Alice?’
Trying to talk quietly as she furiously began to hyperventilate, Alice only just managed to get the words out. ‘Dad, Dad, you’ve got to help me!’
‘Alice, Jesus Christ, what’s happening?’
‘Everyone’s dead, they’re dead.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Alice began to rock, sobbing into the phone. ‘Please, help me. Help me.’
‘Alice, you’re not making sense.’
‘Sister Margaret, she’s dead too. I think they all are.’
Cabhan’s voice was urgent and full of fear. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got to get out of there. You hear me?’
Alice shook her head, snot and tears running down her face. ‘I can’t, the clowns are everywhere …’
‘Alice, you’re frightening me. Look, we can be there in about an hour, maybe less. We’re already in the area, but you need to …’
Cabhan’s words were cut off as Alice, looking up, dropped the phone, suddenly beginning to scream as a gruesome masked figure at the window stood staring in at her. The man aimed his gun, but as the bullet shattered the glass, Alice Rose turned and ran.
13
‘You saw her, but you thought it was okay to let her go?’ Salvatore stared at Stefano Greco – an old schoolfriend who’d worked for his family for the past ten years – with unadulterated hatred.
‘I didn’t, Sal, I fired and then she ran off before I managed …’
Standing by the door of the tiny whitewashed chapel of the convent, Salvatore raised his voice, pacing agitatedly. ‘She’s a kid and you had a fucking semi-automatic in your hands. Do the math, Stefano … What did she look like?’
‘Blonde … no, maybe brown hair … I dunno, Jesus. I didn’t see her properly, Sal, but look around you, everyone’s dead, she might be dead already, we don’t even know if that girl was her.’
Salvatore smashed an iron bar into Stefano’s face and listened to his piercing scream as one of his cheekbones splintered in two.
Panting, Salvatore crouched down level with the writhing figure on the floor. Fear knotted Stefano’s insides, suddenly aware that he could easily lose control of his bodily functions, such was the terror he felt.
Salvatore snarled, ‘But we don’t know it wasn’t either, do we? And now it might be too late. If it was her, we need to go and find her. My orders, Stef, were to kill everyone on sight.’
Stefano trembled in pain. ‘Sal, Mi dispiace.’
‘You’re sorry?’
With fear dancing in his green eyes, Stefano nodded. ‘Sì! Sì!’
Licking his chapped lips, Salvatore picked up a taper and lit one of the candles in the rack outside the chapel. He made a sign of the cross before watching it burn along with the dozens of other tea lights flickering in the warm breeze. He smiled.
‘Do you know what these are for, Stefano?’
Nervously, Stefano mumbled, ‘Sì, they are the candles for the dead.’
Salvatore drew his eyes away to look at Stefano. ‘That’s right, and I lit that one for you.’ Then, without missing a beat, Salvatore whipped out the gun he had tucked away in his trouser waist and placed the nozzle onto Stefano’s nicotine-stained teeth before casually pulling the trigger.
Wiping away the blood and pieces of flesh from the front of his clothes, still wearing his clown mask, Salvatore addressed his brother. ‘Bobby, put his body in the car and clean up his mess, we don’t want to leave the cops a calling card. Then take some men and search down by the river. I’ll take the others and go up into the woods. If you see anything, even a fucking racoon, you shoot it dead. You hear me?’
He stopped to point his gun at the congregated men, adding, ‘You understand me, guys? Whoever she was, you bring that girl’s head back to me, unless of course you want to end up like our good friend Stefano. Now let’s go!’
Racing through the trees and across the meadows, Alice tried to shut out the bloody images in her head. She tried to think of something good, like her mother, like her friend Isaiah, but it was impossible because she could still hear the screams, still smell the blood. The scent of death seeped out of her pores and she was scared, terrified and couldn’t think straight.
Running as fast as she could, drenched with sweat and not knowing where she was going, she just knew she had to keep moving. Alice focused on getting away, but the problem was, even though she knew the area so well – had explored every corner of it – suddenly every tree, every bush, every pathway looked the same. She couldn’t remember anything.
The lake house was on the top of the hill, she knew that, but which track to take she couldn’t remember. She was lost and if she wasn’t careful she’d end up back at the convent where the demonic clowns were. Where the blood was. The thought of it made her suddenly gasp and she could hardly catch her breath, but a noise from behind sent her scrabbling forward. Seeing a clump of bushes, Alice threw herself underneath it, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears rolled down her face again.
‘Alice! Alice! It’s no good hiding, honey. We just want to talk to you.’
The scrub was vast, allowing Alice to scramble backwards on her stomach, her skin snagging on sharp thorns and bushes, but she didn’t make a noise. Ignoring the pain and blood trickling down her face, Alice saw six … seven … eight clowns all walking in her direction.
‘Alice!’
Shaking, Alice glanced behind her. She looked across to one of the meadows, a thought coming to mind.
Creeping backwards, Alice kept low to the ground, watching out for any branches that might snap and make a sound. Nearing the fenced meadow, Alice nervously glanced about. Breathing deeply, she tried to steady her nerves and racing heart.
She burst out of the shrub, ran along the edge of the field and made her way to the small copse, whispering a name, quietly and softly so as not to spook him. ‘Mac! Mac!’ A few seconds later, the convent’s retired pony ambled into sight.
‘You’re going to get us out of here, aren’t you, boy?’
Opening the gate as silently as she could, Alice walked into Mac’s paddock and grabbed his head collar from a wooden post.
Wiping the sweat from her hands, she gently approached Mac and slid the noseband over his white muzzle, all the time talking softly as she guided it over his ears.
‘There you go, boy, there you go.’
After making sure it was secure, Alice looped the rope over his head, tying it gently to both sides of the head collar. Not seeing anything she could climb on, she placed her left hand on Mac’s withers, holding onto his mane, before jumping and swinging her leg energetically over his back.
With her voice trembling, Alice continued to speak to Mac, reassuring herself as much as him. ‘Sshhh, boy, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.’
Holding the rope, Alice ducked down, avoiding the low-hanging trees as she moved Mac slowly forward. She stared at the horizon. Over by the far field she could see two of the clowns pointing towards the trees where she was hidden. Her heart began to race faster again and Mac, sensitive to fear, began to get edgy, backing up and circling around.
She needed to move, to get to the far corner, which she suddenly remembered would take her over the bridge and along the path to the road. She also needed to make sure she stayed on the far side of the meadow, but this could be her chance … perhaps her only chance.
Eagerly and with the tiniest glimmer of hope, Alice squeezed her legs to get Mac to move forward again. It’d been a long time since she’d ridden and it was certainly a long time since anybody had got on him. But if they could do it, if they could ride away, then she’d be able to get to the road and to help. The thought made her feel braver.
Taking a deep breath, Alice leant forward and whispered into Mac’s ears as they hid in the shadows of the trees. Then, with one almighty kick, deciding it was now or never, she set off across the fields with Mac, who was so startled he immediately cantered before transitioning into a gallop, head down and looking like a horse ten years younger.
Alice was going at such speed tears were streaming down her cheeks, caused by the wind blowing hard in her face as well as her fear. She didn’t dare to look back as she galloped towards the end of the meadow, through the long grass covered in daisies and towards the stream in the far corner.
A sound of guns firing had Alice clinging onto Mac’s mane as she lost her balance for a moment, sliding to the side, but she could feel Mac giving it his best effort, sensing her terror.
‘Come on, boy, come on! We’re nearly there.’
Then, after jumping over the small stream and into the woods, Alice slowed Mac, giving him a chance to get his breath back before steeling herself to turn around.
In the distance she could see the clowns, but they were too far back to catch up. If she kept going up towards the road, which was a few miles along, she could hopefully flag someone over.
With tears of relief, full of determination, Alice ducked her head under the trees as Mac set off into a trot, heading up the hill to safety.
It felt to Alice like she’d been riding for hours, with the bushes and branches snatching and scratching on her skin, but finally she could see the road up ahead.
Exhausted, she guided Mac onto the lane, but a sense of dread engulfed her. Out of the trees she felt exposed and vulnerable on the wide tarmacked road, which wound and weaved through the hills. But there was no other route; the track she’d been on fell away, so the only means to get help was to continue along the lane.