Chasing Shade Part 14

l.u.s.t, sudden, unbidden and utterly startling, uncoiled in her. A reaction to the stress of this horrible place, no doubt.

'He kept them down there,' she said, squatting by a dusty and cracked bas.e.m.e.nt window. 'Beyond that pink door is a room. In that room are chains in the walls and a communal kind of eating...' She s.h.i.+vered. 'Trough? I don't know what you'd call it. There are no words for what he did. What he was.'

He took her hand. 'How far do you need to go with this, Betsey?'

When she flinched, he quickly took her hands in his. His big blue eyes were kind and open and accepting. She took a deep breath.

'We'll go as far as you need to,' he said. 'I just wanted to know. Don't think I'm judging you. I can't possibly know what you've been through, therefore I couldn't possibly judge a single thing. I just want to...' He shrugged. 'Know.'

'I don't know yet. Can we walk to the next one to see if we can see in?'

'Sure.'

They pushed through thick overgrown vines and ivy. Things that you'd think would die in the cold weather but instead seemed to be flouris.h.i.+ng. Maybe they were feeding off the f.u.c.king evil nature of the house, she thought. But then realised that was superst.i.tious thinking and pushed the thought away.

When they squatted down, the window was so dirty and smeared it was impossible to see through. 'Probably countless kids and gawkers trying to see in,' he said.

'Probably. One of those ghost-hunting groups did a special here,' she said. 'About a year and a half ago. It was the first time in a long time I truly struggled with my sobriety.' She stood, brushed dirt and dried leaves off her knees. 'Their theory was the house was possessed by an evil spirit and that's why Miller did what he did.'

'More likely that Miller was evil and a f.u.c.king monster,' Archie said.

'Exactly. But they got special approval from whoever is in charge of this monstrosity, maybe even his daughter, to film.' She shrugged. 'h.e.l.l, maybe it brought her some much-needed money. Who knows?'

'You're very broad-minded.' He laughed. 'Thinking that way on her behalf.'

Betsey chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. 'She didn't abduct me. Her father did. If she gets some dough out of the deal for her family, so be it. Now the question is, how broad-minded are you, Archie Rader?'

'Why?'

'Because,' she said, facing him almost defiantly. 'I want to go inside.'

He had to unlatch a window on the opposite side of the house in order to get them in. The bas.e.m.e.nt door itself had been outfitted with a myriad of locks, most likely due to gawkers trying to break in over the years.

Archie had spotted a huge cl.u.s.ter of severely overgrown bushes and on a whim had squatted down and peeked between their woody roots. 'Bingo.'

'Bingo what?'

'Bingo a window. An undisturbed window that I think I can get open.'

Then he'd proceeded to use a small pocket knife on his key ring to do just that.

'How did you do that?' Betsey asked, shoving herself through the horrible bushes, praying there was no poison ivy.

'I was a boy scout,' he said.

She chuckled. 'That's what they teach you in boy scouts? How to break into a building?'

'No.' He held her hands as she lowered herself down. The fact that her body was hanging in a building where she was almost held prisoner sent a chill marching up her spine. 'But they did teach me to always be prepared.' Then she dropped to the floor and the next thing she saw was his boots hanging down into the dirty, dark room with her.

Once he hit the floor he turned to her, wiping his hands on his jeans. 'Was I prepared?'

'Yep.'

'There you go. Boy Scouts was a success.'

They studied the room. It was extremely grimy and was home to more than a few spider webs. Just seeing them strung everywhere in the dusty half-light had Betsey swiping at her hair over and over again.

'You're fine,' he said. 'No spiders.'

She chuckled. 'Thanks. I am definitely not a fan of our eight-legged friends.'

The floor was littered with broken boards, trash, nails and screws. It looked as if in one corner something had been dismantled.

'I heard about a box,' she whispered. She nodded at the debris and then the faint marks against the brick wall where once upon a time something had been built against it.

'Maybe we should ' Archie's eyes were wide and he suddenly looked unsure of the situation.

'I'm fine,' she said. She toed a once white-painted piece of wood and kicked a pile of remnants. 'I know they ripped a lot of this stuff apart. To keep people out and to help the survivors have a little peace. If you ask me, the fact that all this s.h.i.+t is still here...they did a c.r.a.ppy job.'

'I have to agree,' Archie said.

Together they walked through a squat archway, also of original untreated brick. In the next room, a dusty shadow in the centre of the concrete floor showed them where that 'trough' she'd referred to had been.

'They were in here,' Betsey said softly. Then louder: 'Where I would have been too.'

'You can't think that way,' he said. Then seemed to think better of it. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

'I can't help but think that way,' she said. 'It was to be my fate and somehow I missed it.'

'Or it wasn't meant to be your fate and that's why it didn't happen.'

She squatted and looked at the pale, discoloured places on the brick walls where the anchors for the chains Miller kept them bound with had been. Someone had come and dismantled the stuff from the room ages ago. Most likely to prevent anything else horrible happening. There was litter everywhere, though. Debris, some drug paraphernalia and some graffiti on the walls. Most of it along the lines of 'burn in h.e.l.l you monster' and 'fear the creeper'. She a.s.sumed Miller was the creeper.

She sat in front of one of the pale spots and Archie flinched.

'I wonder sometimes if the ones he kept down here, the ones who actually put in time in this bas.e.m.e.nt, have the addiction issues I do,' she said. She tapped her boots against the floor as a way to maintain some kind of internal equilibrium. It was a nervous habit that was only aggravated by the heavy atmosphere of the house.

'Does it matter?'

'It does,' she said, feeling a stab of anger. 'I wonder why I'm so f.u.c.king fragile that I self-medicate self-medicated due to almost being abducted. If those who were actually abducted don't.'

'You can't compare yourself to them,' he said.

'Why not?'

'Because they're not you, that's why. Maybe they went through that but then went home to supportive and protective families. Whereas you '

'Became a show pony and a meal ticket.' She laughed.

She pressed her back to the wall. Archie flinched again. She felt bad putting him through this, but was also supremely grateful to have someone with her. Someone willing to go here with her. Go through this with her.

She blinked back tears, not from the stress of the situation or the house but from the realisation that she trusted this man as much as she did. He took it for something else and quickly squatted down but kept his distance.

'Betsey, you OK?'

She nodded and then immediately shook her head. She laughed and he began to move towards her as if to comfort her but she quickly waved him off. 'I'm fine. Just wait a minute. Just let me...sit here.'

'I hate you sitting there,' he said. 'It makes me feel bleak inside.'

'This whole place makes me feel dark inside,' she said. 'Like I'm full of oil and dirty water and ash.'

He groaned. 'Betsey.'

'Shh,' she said. She reached forwards towards the ghost of the feeding trough shared by three women. 'I wonder how much chain they had. The books...the shows...said not very much. And they had chains around their necks.'

A sob came out on that one.

'They must have d.a.m.n near hanged themselves to eat and drink.'

Another sob.

Then he did rush towards her and tried to gather her up, pull her to him. She fought him instinctively. The anger in her so large she didn't want to be touched. Archie settled for dropping down next to her and just sitting there. His back pressed to the brick wall next to hers. His thigh on the dirty concrete floor next to hers. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. When he took her hand, she allowed it.

'Betsey...'

'What?'

He shook his head. 'I was going to tell you that you can't do this to yourself.'

'And now?' She wiped her eyes with her s.h.i.+rt sleeve. Most likely her face was smeared with tears and dirt. The bas.e.m.e.nt was filthy.

'Now, I realise that I can't tell you what you can or cannot do. You need to go through this.'

'Inside,' she said, softly, driving a finger through the thick layer of dust on the floor. 'Inside I feel desolate. This place, even empty of him, has sucked the light right out of me,' she said.

He moved cautiously closer and when he stilled again, scared to touch her, she leaned towards him and put her head on his shoulder. Betsey had never in her life been more grateful for someone's presence. Without Archie, she might not have found her courage. To come and to be here and to do this. And somehow this felt important.

'What would have happened if he'd got me?' she asked. It was an unfair question. One no one could answer.

'You'd have survived,' he said. He reached up and stroked her hair. It lulled her, that simple touch, and her eyes felt as if they wanted to drift shut. She was tired. Hadn't realised how much until he'd touched her.

'You don't know that.'

'Yes, I do,' Archie said. 'You are a survivor, Betsey. It's what you do. So I have no doubt on that count.'

She stood slowly and walked back further into the bas.e.m.e.nt. It seemed to create its own darkness. The shadows ate up the natural light from outside. And the light outside was dwindling as late afternoon approached dusk.

There was a tool bench near the back. She s.h.i.+vered to remember what he'd done with some of those tools. The bench was now utterly bare and covered in dust. This place, like the rest of the lair, had been stripped. Broken down where possible, or with any evidence of habitation wiped away.

She shut her eyes, feeling the despair of this place. Whether it was real or not, whether it was simply pulling the despair from deep inside her, she didn't know.

He put his hand on her shoulder first. When she relaxed against it, he stepped close and put his arms around her waist. His chest pressed her back, his chin resting on top of her head. 'You OK?'

'I'm weak.'

'You are so far from weak that statement is laughable,' he said, his voice serious.

'I fall apart because of what might have happened. I'm weak.'

He turned her slowly. She almost fought him but then realised she was too f.u.c.king tired. Archie looked at her, his blue eyes full of concern and sadness and worry. 'You are strong, Betsey. That's part of why it almost happened. You are strong and you had a bit of luck. But G.o.d, this...' He pushed her bangs back and traced the jagged, uneven scar that stood out on her forehead as a reminder for what felt like for ever. 'This is proof of how strong you are. Your life back at the trailer park. Your willingness to help me. All of it. If I asked everyone you knew if you were strong or weak, not a single one would say weak.'

'I don't know that many people,' she said, smiling. It hurt her face and her heart, that smile. 'On purpose.'

He grinned at her before pulling her into his arms and hugging her. 'It's all about quality, sweetheart. Not quant.i.ty.'

'Archie?'

'Yeah?'

'Do you think between the two of us we could scrounge together the money for a No-Tell Motel and a fast-food dinner?'

'If we eat off the value menu, we can.' He kissed her hair.

Betsey laughed and shut her eyes. After a moment she took his hand. 'Let's get the f.u.c.k out of here. Please.'

'Gladly. I'd follow you anywhere, Betsey.'

Her stomach felt like she was falling. She wondered if that was true.

Chapter 19.

He watched her gather the bags to her chest as if protecting a treasure. It made him smile. After all the horror she'd experienced in that awful bas.e.m.e.nt, she was smiling at him and laughing about stealing French fries from their food loot.

'Are you sure?' he asked, pulling into one of the angled parking spots outside the motel's office. He planned to pay with the little cash he had if he had enough. Which he should because the sign read 20 A NIGHT/85 PER WEEK. Archie couldn't help but wonder what kind of accommodations they'd have.

'About here?' she asked, sneaking another fry. She stared at the flickering neon sign, her face awash in starling blue and green.

'Yeah. I can drive you home. You can sleep if you want.'

He'd already called Mr Booth from his cell at the burger joint. To quote Charlie Booth, 'Boy, it's the weekend. As long as you're home by Monday we're good. And if I have an emergency and really need you '