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A deep, guttural sound emerged from the man’s throat, as if he were mocking his friend. He continued to laugh as he held up the jagged piece of sharp glass before him and inspected the small pieces of dried gore and flesh. The blood was also running from a gash in his hand where the shard had cut into his palm. Without warning, he jammed the shard into his mouth and started sawing away, screaming inwardly as he began cutting away at his own tongue. Blood squirted from his mouth, splattering his chin and hands.

  Adam took a step forward towards Mart with the glass held out front, his partially dissected tongue hanging from his mouth like a wet lump of meat. Mart knew he was in trouble. Edging backwards, he tried to reason with his friend.

  “Adam, wait!” He cried

  His friend paid no attention to his plea and continued forwards. Mart stepped backwards onto the landing, stumbling over his own feet. He continued to try to speak to his friend who seemed possessed. He kept coming, his pace quickening, the bloody makeshift weapon held out in front. Mart took another step back, but the world disappeared from beneath his feet.

  He stood in mid-air for a split second in perfect balance before his centre of gravity dropped and he tumbled backwards down the flight of stairs. He put his hand out to try and cushion the drop but he fell awkwardly and his arm snapped upon impact like a twig. The sharp bone ripped through the skin and flesh of his elbow and gave off a horrible popping sound. He screamed in agony as he continued to tumble down the flight of stairs.

  His body weight and momentum carried him down the stairs, he continued to plummet and roll over, dislocating his shoulder and snapping his head around at an unnatural angle. His neck broke as he hit the landing below, his cold, dead eyes staring upwards as he lay still. On the landing above, Adam dropped to his knees, the sudden thump of his weight on the hard floor dislodged more blood and gore from the vast wounds in his stomach. Dropping the glass, he fell to his side and lay perfectly still, his body bleeding out on the concrete floor.

  Six

  Karl waited by the entrance to the hospital, the cold air from outside spilling in through the open door. It seemed that, despite their earlier agreement, he was the only one that had actually remembered their rendezvous point. He cursed himself for panicking when he had seen the figure upstairs. Out of everyone in the group, he was the one who actually wanted to have a supernatural experience.

  But the guy was running at you with a meat cleaver!

  He'd heard the shouting and screams from up above on the other levels and began to sweat at the thought that something may have happened to his friends. It was your stag party, it was you who insisted on visiting the haunted hospital.

  A few minutes had passed since the last lot of screams and banging noises. For now, everything was silent. He checked his watch, the time read 12:43 am. The witching hour.

  From down the corridor, a sound caught his attention – someone speaking, no, someone singing. His heart began to race again and his mind thought back to the reports that he'd read about the sightings of the young girl. He tested his torch and walked down the hallway, towards the source of the voice.

  The voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. It got louder as he closed in. Passing down the hallway, he reached a junction where he had a choice of straight on or left. Standing still for a moment, he listened and then took the hallway to the left. Two doorways stood before him at the end of the corridor, one ahead and one on the right. He entered the room to the right as the voice continued to sing.

  He shone the flashlight around the room; at first he saw nothing, he heard nothing – the singing had stopped. The room looked to be an old wash room, it contained some old metal racks that were presumably used for storing linen and bedding.

  “Hello, is anyone there?”

  No response came.

  “I know you’re here,” he called out. “I heard you singing, don’t be afraid.”

  A small bang from the far end of the room made him jump, he quickly shone the beam over as a small girl stepped out from behind one of the linen racks. Her curly blonde hair hung down to her shoulders and complimented her bright blue eyes and pink lips. She wore a dirty blue dress and no shoes upon her feet. He guessed that she would have been about ten-years-old. She gazed at Karl with those innocent blue eyes and he suddenly felt extremely at ease.

  “Hello. What’s your name?”

  She stood silent for a moment before responding. “Ruby.”

  “What are you doing tucked away in here, Ruby?”

  “Hiding.”

  “Hiding? Hiding from who?”

  “The soldiers. They attacked the hospital with mustard gas and started killing people. My Ma told me to run and hide.”

  “And where is your Ma now?”

  A look of sadness contorted the little girls face as she remembered. “When they came, she locked herself away but she heard them trying to break into the room. She would rather have killed herself than be taken prisoner, she slit her own wrists.”

  Karl looked at the girl, such sadness and grief for someone so young.

  Ruby looked up at Karl. “You should leave. It’s not safe here, he will find you.”

  “Who will find me, what do you mean?”

  She didn’t answer, she stopped and stared towards the door for a second, her face screwed up – a look of sheer terror fell over her face and panic appeared in her eyes.

  She looked at Karl. “You must go. You must go - now! He’s here, He knows you’re here.”

  She turned and ran from Karl, disappearing down the side of one of the linen racks. “Wait, who’s here?” He asked. “I don’t unders...”

  A similar sound from outside sent a shiver down his spine. It was a sound that he had heard before - the sound of steel being dragged along brick.

  He darted from the room. A door at the end of the corridor blocked his escape. Spinning around the light caught the figure ten feet away. The bulb from the torch caused a reflection in the gas mask and light refracting back at him made him squint. It continued its approach, the meat cleaver in its hand scraping along the brick wall.

  He stood still, not wanting to repeat his action from his previous encounter with the figure. “Hello?” Karl shouted.

  The figure in the mask did not answer.

  “I mean you no harm,” he continued.

  The figure stopped, and Karl wondered if he had made a connection with the thing. It held its hand up in front of its face, fingers outstretched, almost obscuring the gas mask from view. Karl continued to watch, confused as it slapped its open palm against the surface of the wall. Realisation dawned on Karl as the thing swung the meat cleaver down in an arc and thumped the blade into the back of its palm. All four fingers were immediately amputated as the digits dropped to the floor with a series of soft thuds.

  Karl stared on in horror as the thing raised its hand again in front of its face. The blood was squirting from the openings where it had removed his fingers with the blade. Letting the blood drip and squirt down the glass front of the gas mask, it wiped the mess away with the back of the boiler suit sleeve. A sound began to fill the corridor from behind the gas mask – the sound of evil laughter.

  Karl stood still for a moment. Fuck this. Turning, he sprinted for the door at the end of the corridor, unsure of where it led. He didn’t care.

  Please be open, please be open.

  Half running, half leaping, he shouldered the door, it fell open.

  He hit the cold gravelled floor as he fell. As he rolled, he grazed his elbow and back, wincing in pain. Jumping to his feet he looked around, he seemed to be in some kind of external courtyard area. It was about fifteen feet square and contained nothing but a small steel bench. Desperately searching around, he panicked when he realised that there was a tall cast iron spiked fence that surrounded the courtyard. It had been erected upon a two feet high brick wall – he was trapped.

  Running over, he grabbed the bars and shook them, they were solid. From behind, he heard a bang of wooden door against f
rame, he span around - the maniac in the gas mask stood before him, his damaged hand dribbled blood over the gravel while the other held the meat cleaver aloft.

  “What do you want from me?”

  The man in the mask said nothing. He simply laughed, the sound echoing off the inside of his gas mask.

  “Fuck you!” Karl shouted.

  Dropping the flashlight, he turned and jumped up onto the low wall. His hands held as high as he could, he leapt up and started to pull himself up and over the top of the fence. As he dragged himself upwards he felt the tip of the spikes scratch against his chest. Breathing in, he threw his foot over, ramming it against the fence as he attempted to lever himself over without impaling himself. Struggling to pull his body weight up and over the fence, he had one more crucial move, literally throwing his body clear of the fence before landing on the ground below. The collision with the ground would hurt but at least he would be free. And alive. Looking back to the figure in the gas mask, it hadn’t moved, it looked on patiently.

  Realising that he only had one more move before he was free of the fence, and would soon be plummeting towards the floor, Karl took a deep breath. Throwing his body weight sideways, he attempted to pull his leg clear. His jacket snagged the spike of the fence during the movement and jerked his momentum backwards, halting him in mid-air. His full body weight dragged his second leg down onto the tip of the fence. The metal rod pierced through his thigh with ease and punctured his femoral artery.

  He screamed out in agony as he continued to slide and twist down the metal spike. Any attempt that he made to pull himself upwards or across opened the wound even further. Within just a few seconds, he had lost an unbelievable amount of blood. Feeling light headed as the life drained from his body, he released his grip on the fence, he fell backwards and the back of his head smashed into the brick wall below, knocking him out cold. Impaled, he hung upside down from the fence, his arms hanging above his head as he bled out onto the floor below.

  Seven

  Jonny woke up suddenly with a start, his eyes flicked frantically around the room. A dim light bulb hung above. He had no idea where he was or why he was there. His initial inspection of the room made him think that he'd been placed in an ancient operating theatre. Unable to move, he realised that he had been stripped to the waist and that he was strapped to an ancient operating table. He struggled against the restraints on his wrists and ankles, but they were strapped down tight.

  Another glance around the room, and he spotted Stevie. Similarly, Stevie was strapped to another operating table, but that was where the similarity ended.

  Beside Stevie’s bed stood a metal table, it contained a series of medical instruments, filthy and splattered with dried blood and gore. A bone saw stood next to a jar containing several fingers, another few lay on the surface of the table next to the jar. Looking down to Stevie’s hands, he saw nothing but bloodied stumps that had been wrapped in filthy bandages.

  A large jagged incision had been made along the side of his abdomen and ran in a diagonal line to the top of his chest. The ugly looking incision had been carelessly sewn back up with black string, making him look like a gruesome, macabre scarecrow.

  His entrails and internal organs had been removed and were sitting in a stainless steel bowl on the table beside his bed. The whole area was covered with fresh blood. Someone had made an attempt to soak some of it up with dirty bandages and gauze but it had spilled all over the surface of the operating table and had dripped all over the floor.

  Hanging limp from Stevie’s mouth was a small piece of wood, indented with bite marks. His head hung to the side and his face was a picture of sheer terror, the way he died must have been in severe pain and fright. His face shone white - drained with blood. His lifeless eyes stared at Jonny.

  His mind racing, Jonny desperately tried to piece together the sequence of events. Then, it all came back to him – Karl’s stag party – the abandoned hospital – the drugs.

  Laughing loudly, he took in the hallucinations that were being thrown back to him by his LSD addled brain. It was all a figment of his imagination, pulling at the bonds once more that held his wrists and ankles, he panicked as he remembered. His friends had wanted a real experience in a haunted house and the acid tabs that he had slipped into their drinks before entering the hospital would give them a night that they would never forget.

  As he looked over at the dead body of his best friend, he realised that therein lay the problem. He and Stevie had spiked their friend's drinks but not their own. They were going to play along and film the whole thing to play back to the group as a joke.

  He squirmed and pulled at the restraints as the plump, elderly nurse in the filthy uniform entered the room.

  She spoke. “Ah, I see you are awake, my dear. It was a terrible shame about your friend. We did what we could for him but in the end the damage from the land mine was too severe.”

  He tried to speak. “No, wait, you don’t understand, please don’t.”

  She reached over and placed a filthy wet cloth on his brow. “There there, dear. Don’t worry. We will do everything that we can to help you, but I’m afraid that gangrene has set in.”

  He began to hyper-ventilate as she started to wrap a leather strap around his forearm. She yanked it tight and he felt the pins and needles immediately prick his fingertips.

  “Please, no. You don’t understand," he pleaded.

  She placed a small piece of wood in his mouth.

  His body drenched in sweat, he looked on in terror as she collected the bone saw from the medical table. Grasping his wrist tightly in her hand, she lined up the saw on the middle of his forearm. Jonny screamed out in agony and bit down hard on the wood between his teeth as she began to cut.

  A Preview

  Bound

  Andrew Lennon and Matt Hickman

  March 2013

  Vicky Stuart

  Friday night.

  The nightclub was heaving. Dry ice from the dance floor was being forced into surrounding areas as people were bouncing away to the sound of the loud music. Cheers arose from the appreciative crowd as the DJ mixed the tune into another popular number. Lights and lasers spun, twisting and turning, throwing shapes and illuminations across the walls and floors. The thunderous bass continued to kick from the clubs state of the art sound system.

  She was amongst the crowd, her arms held above her head, fingers outstretched reaching for the lasers. Her body was in a complete state of euphoria, she felt amazing. It had been a little over an hour since she had swallowed the small white tablet. She had managed to buy it from one of the unregulated dealers inside. At twenty-six years old, it was the first time she'd ever taken drugs. It was the first time she had ever felt this alive. The serotonin released from her brain, increased by the MDMA she had taken, gave her the feeling of relaxation, confidence and an overwhelming sensation of empathy. She was happily speaking to strangers and exchanging hugs.

  She had no objection to drug use; she had always taken a liberal stance on most things, but tonight was about making a fresh start. She had made her decision, regardless of anyone else - it was time for her to start looking after number one.

  She continued to dance, all that mattered right here and now was the sound of the music, alive and energetic as it thundered around in her mind, she had never felt this good in her entire life.

  All around the club she could sense the same feeling, a feeling of unity, bonding and albeit chemically induced – love.

  Vicky was a pretty girl, her straight brown hair fell to the middle of her face, and she had stunning natural features – a girl that rarely had to wear makeup.

  Thirty minutes passed in what seemed to be a few seconds, she realised that she needed a drink. The nightclub was hot, the lack of air conditioning combined with the number of people crammed into such a small space made it sweaty. Not that she minded.

  Walking from the dance floor she headed in the direction of the bar, a little unsteady on her
feet. Standing in the queue, she took a look around. Looking around the club it was spectacular, she felt that she had never seen so many people in a small amount of space. Everywhere around, people were dancing, sat at tables drinking and attempting to speak over the loud volume of the music. A particularly excitable couple next to her at the bar were engaged in a heavy tonguing session – she looked away with a shy smile.

  Turning as the barman had given the last punter their change, she shouted over, ordering a bottle of water. Returning, the barman handed over the bottle as she paid. Unscrewing the lid she took a deep swig, the cold contents hitting her stomach making her need to use the bathroom.

  The female toilets were disgusting, each of the sinks were filled to the brim with water and were overflowing onto the floor. Standing at the mirrors, women were re-applying make-up and brushing their hair. Small groups were stood around discussing the events of the evening and commenting on the amount of talent in the club.

  Passing by a small group of women, one of them pleasantly smiled in acknowledgment and she headed towards the cubicle at the end of the row. Whilst sitting, she heard a mumbled conversation between two women in the next cubicle about cutting up lines of cocaine. Figuring that this was normal clubbing culture and something that she would have to get used to, she ignored the discussion.

  She sat staring at the back of the cubicle door, the pleasant feel of the chemicals flowing through her body felt amazing. Her vision kept blurring slightly and then dropping back into focus. It felt strange but nice.

  After washing up she walked past the group of women again and through the door back into the club. The kick from the bass reverberated in her chest, she was no longer hearing the music, she was feeling the music.

  She slithered past a few people who were dancing outside the toilets and walked in the direction of the dance floor. Whilst walking down the stairs, her shoulder caught the arm of another person dancing. Before she could apologise they had turned round, the immediate attraction was intense – the most captivating pair of green eyes that she had ever seen stared right back at her. Without saying a word, she put her arms around the stranger and they kissed.