Lifers 29

Thinking clearly about it, or as clear as she was able to, Jill was a little unsure as to how safe she actually was with Gregg. How long does she have before he gets thirsty? How long before he turns on her? How long before she’d have to aim and fire on him for real? The simple outcome was clearer than her thoughts, she had no coice, so far he’d been the only one to offer any kind of help since their run-in with Hal. He may be a vampire, or he may not, at least he was no Bela Lougosi, he had a nice face, a face you could trust.

She retrieved Gregg’s gun and dried it before giving it back to him. They both agreed to go into the courtroom to disguss what they were going to do next without Hal overhearing. Something Jill was a little reluctant to do, especially if it meant leaving Vicky alone with him, but again, she didn’t have much choice.

The courtroom was similar in size to that of the station room, with two windows on the left, and two more on the right, and all of them boarded over. Down the centre of the room was an aisle with six long wooden benches on either side, and in front of each row of the benches sat a table, both with two chairs tucked underneath.

These chairs faced a raised platform on the centre of the back wall, (the Judge’s seat). To the right of that was a small boxed area containing a single, unwelcoming wooden chair, (the witness box). Further right were four more wooden benches under the right hand windows, (seats for the jury). To the left of the Judge’s seat stood a door, the label on it read,

“Private”

They were both stood facing the Judge’s seat between the two tables. Jill was anxious to get back to where Vicky was and hoped this wasn’t going to take too long.

‘So, you dragged me in here,’ she said. ‘Now what?’

Gregg turned to look at her. ‘I think we both realise we need to get out of this place before the rain stops. Get to the authorities, and get them out here.’

‘We’re not going anywhere without Vicky.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of leaving her behind, believe me.’

‘So what do you suggest? We hold Hal at gunpoint to get Vicky out of there, then use his car to get away? Because we’ve already thought of that.’

‘No, he already knows we’re reluctant to fire on him. He wouldn’t co-operate. What we need to do is find a working telephone.’ He turned, walking over to the door marked Private. ‘Maybe there’s one in here we could use.’ He tried the handle, but the door was locked. He tried to force it a couple of times, but it wasn’t giving.

Jill watched him. He was good looking, and for his age, which she guessed to be between thirty-five and thirty-eight, he had a good body, the bit she’d seen that is. But he wasn’t too bright. ‘You know, if you moved some of that brawn north about two-feet, you might realise that maybe, just maybe, there’s a key on the desk that’ll fit that door.’

Gregg ceased in his efforts to gain access and walked toward the station room. ‘I’ll go look shall I?’

Jill shrugged. ‘That’s what I’d do,’ she said, her eyes following him.

Gregg returned with the keys and a slight frown on his face. ‘There’s something wrong with the cop.’

‘What do you mean? Is Vicky all right?’

‘Yeah, Vicky’s just like before, it’s Hal, he’s stood there staring into space. Didn’t even see me.’

‘The nightmare’s having a daydream?’

‘Well yeah, he’s just standing there, watching the rain come through the hatch, it’s like he’s in some kind of trance.’

‘Probably contemplating what that Ella woman’s going to do to him when she finds out. She sure as hell scares the shit outta me.’

‘Well with a bit of luck, we should be long gone from here before she or anyone else turns up.’ Gregg tried several of the keys that looked as though they might unlock the door, but none of them did. ‘Would you mind going out to the patrol car, see if you can find something to get this open with? A crow-bar or something. All cruisers carry them.’ he held out the keys.

‘You don’t seriously want me to go out in that rain?’

Gregg opened his mouth and was ready to protest his position with regard to the rain, when Jill raised her hands. ‘Okay, I’m going,’ she said, snatching the keys.

In the station room, Vicky still lay where she’d fell, her breathing, considering her condition, looked to be normal, indicating, at least for now, she was fine. Hal, as Gregg mentioned, was indeed standing at the bars in silence, hypnotised by something, he’d not even aknowledged her being there. She walked into the adjoining cell and stood on the opposite side of the puddle, making sure she was well out of reach. Looking closely at his pock-marked skin, she likened it to the surface of an old sponge, an old sponge you wouldn’t even use on your car. With deep red eyes, he stared unblinking at the puddle before her feet.

If it wasn’t for the loud clap of thunder crashing through the hatch and waking him, she’d have swore he was a dummy from the horror section of some macabre wax-work show. She jumped in response to his movement and stepped even further away. He looked a little desturbed, uneasy, like a child who’d done wrong and knew he was about to be punished.

Nevertheless, he smiled at her. ‘You ain’t leavin’ here alive,’ he said, pushing his face between the bars and stretching his skin so the tiny holes became ovaled ‘You do know that?’

Jill bit back. ‘Oh yes we are, and we’ll be coming back with anyone who’ll listen to what we have to say. So you can kiss your sorry ass good-bye.’

Before taking a last look at the puddle, Hal cracked another smile, then backed away from the bars. Jill, on the other hand, wasn’t going anywhere until he’d reached the bench and sat down. Once satisfied she was out of his reach, she left the cell and opened the station room door, only to have it snatched from her grip by the force of the wind. Thinking about it, this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Then again, it wasn’t one of her ideas, was it?

Even before crossing the threshold of the door, the wind began to snatch at her breath. There was a hurricane in town, and she was about to meet it head on. It wasn’t until she stepped outside that she felt the storm’s full force, and if it wasn’t for the bars over the window, her feet would have been swept from under her within seconds. Even so, with the bars being as wet as they were, she found it difficult to maintain any kind of decent grip.

Across the street, and illuminated by the intermittant bolts of lightning, she saw a row of three, unlit, single-storey structures, all of which looked to be stores. The first one, far left, was labled “Gruber’s Hardware”. Next to that, a grocers, unnamed. The store to the right had been boarded over, showing no signs of identification other than the words “Frozen Prod” the last part of the sign looked to be missing. Further left was a taller building, itself as wide as the three stores, but she saw no clue as to what it was. She guessed at some kind of large hall, or perhaps a cinema. Beyond that, and under a dull solitary street lamp, swung a tow-truck shaped sign, advertising “Dill’s Garage”.

Looking to her immediate right, the hood of the patrol car poked out about three feet past the corner of the building. And even though Jill clung to the last of the bars by only her fingernails, she was still twelve feet away from the car. She’d have to let go and hope the wind didn’t send her over it and into the trees beyond.

While she plucked up the courage to release the bar, she noticed that every few seconds there was a lull in the strength of the wind, not measurably huge, but a lull nonetheless, and it only lasted for a second or two when it came. When the next drop in intensity arrived, she’d go for it.

Eventually the wind eased and she let the wet bar slip from her fingers, now at the storms mercy, she twisted herself round to face the car, only to have her right thigh hit the left front fender with an audible thud. There’d be bruising there tomorrow, and no doubt.

Jill found she could now use the wind in her favour, as it held her pressed against the car she started to slide along its length. And once she was a few feet past the corner of the station room, the wind lessened considerably, enough in fact for her to rest from the onslaught. Her hands were wet, cold, and becoming numb, and the lack of light around that side of the building meant she had to fumble in almost sheer black with the keys.

When she eventually managed to get the trunk open, she felt around its dark interior until she found something. It felt like a small satchel, about the size of a paperback book, she took it. Feeling around some more, she located what felt to her to be a crow-bar. Now with her foraging trip successful, all she needed to do, was get back inside.

This time, once she’d reached the corner of the building, the wind was against her, blowing directly into her face. She didn’t find it difficult to breathe, she found it practically impossible. With her eyes shut tight and breath held, the rain hit her face so hard it felt like she was being hit with hail-stones.

She gripped the corner of the building with her left hand, and using the crow-bar in her right as an elongated hook, she latched it on one of the bars and pulled herself to the window. She did the same on the doorpost, pulling herself into the station room. Never again, she vowed. The next time she goes out in that street, will be when the state police come to get them out.

Once inside, wet, breathless, and feeling bruised and battered, she shut the door, flatened down her hair, and pulled her T-shirt straight. She can certainly remember having better mornings than this. After checking once more on Vicky’s condition, she was satisfied that cheerful Hal, who was still sitting on the bench and looked to be sulking, was no threat to her.

She tossed the bunch of keys back to the desk and stood quite close to the bars, then shook her head like a wet dog would. Some of the water spinning from her hair managed to hit Hal’s face and quietly hissed, he raised a late arm as a shield, but showed no sign of pain. They eyed one another for a few seconds, neither of them speaking. Braking the deadlock, Jill went back into the courtroom where she found Gregg still trying to force open the door.

‘Here try this,’ she said, holding out the crow-bar.

Gregg smiled when he saw her. ‘You look wet,’ he said, his smile growing even wider.

She thought it strange that Gregg would smile at her for no particular reason, but it wasn’t just his smile, it was the way he was smiling, the funny look on his face told her something was afoot, and she was obviously missing the joke. ‘Why are you smiling like that?’

Gregg nodded, lowering his gaze.

Jill followed his eyes to see a wet, totally see-through T-shirt, hers. She immediately felt burning as the blood rushed to her face. She suddenly realised that Vicky was right at the pool the other day, she did have nipples like fighter-pilot’s thumbs.

Mortified, Jill turned, dropping the crow-bar and satchel to the floor, then folded her arms. Great, you finally find a good-looking guy, and guess what ... you’re practically naked before he takes you out to dinner. Nice going Jill.

Although Gregg was still grinning, he removed his jacket and handed it to her.

Jill put it on and turned back to him. ‘So,’ she said, as nonchalantly as a one syllable word could be said. ‘Lets get this door open, shall we?’

Gregg bent to pick up the crow-bar but dropped it when the wet steel scorched his fingers. Now it was Jill’s turn to smile. Hah, that’s what you get, pal. She picked it up herself and pushed its end between the door and the frame, and after a bit of wrenching to and fro, the door cracked and gave way.

Beyond where they were now standing, ran a short, narrow passageway. Gregg flicked a grimy light switch on to find another door at the bottom to the right. When they reached the end of the passage, the sign on this door read,

“Chambers”

Gregg froze.

Jill stood behind him moving wet hair from her eyes when he turned to face her. She saw another funny look on his face. Straight away she looked down to see the jacket still zipped. At least it wasn’t her chest this time.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked him.

‘Celia Brontrose.’

‘Celia who?’

‘Remember, I told you I was following a lead? Well she was pretty vague about it, but Celia Brontrose said I would probably find what I’m looking for in chambers. I thought she meant caves, or some kind of underground caverns or something.’

‘So how would she know all this?’

‘She’s a psychic.’

Jill smiled trying to hold in a laugh. ‘A wh- a what?’

‘A psychic. What, you don’t believe me?’

‘I just don’t believe there is such a thing, that’s all.’

‘So, you believe in vampires, Chuba-wacca-whatevers, but you don’t believe in psychics?’

‘I didn’t believe in either, not before meeting you, and this sorry lot of fogotten misfits.’

‘Well trust me on this,’ he said, insistant, ‘she Is, a psychic.’

Jill shrugged. ‘If you say so. Are you going to open the door then? So we can find out for certain.’

On the wall beside the door sat another grubby looking light switch. Gregg flicked it before pulling on the door itself. As the door opened, a thick, almost solid wall of warm air immediately escaped the room, and a strange sound eminated from within. But then another wall of air hit them, only this wall of air was thicker, and riding high on its crest, was the strong stench of death.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Gregg said, closing the door.

Jill smelt it too, but as Gregg blocked her view of the room’s interior, she hadn’t seen why the stench was there. She had to cover her mouth in order to stop herself from vomiting.

‘Oh-my-God,’ she muffled into her hand, before running down the passageway and back to the courtroom. Once there, she retched a couple of times but just managed to hold it together.