The Maybrick Estate

Outlawed

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The station wagon parked on the verge at the front of the house was indeed the same station wagon that sped through town, the same wagon that nearly struck me down. If I was to think any more deeply into its symbolism I could see it as either a second chance or a sign that perhaps death himself was hot on my heels.
The car was empty however the tell tale ticking of the engine cooling suggested that the driver had not shut it down that long ago. A quick look inside the passenger window revealed nothing out of the ordinary, the wagon was littered with fast food wrappers and what looked like a black knitted skull cap but was otherwise empty.
I carefully crept my way up to the front door of the Estate, making sure as possible to try and not disturb the gravel underfoot. The front door was wide open - not that it closed properly anyway, but it was without a doubt a pretty good sign that the driver of the wagon had entered the house. '

I had a feeling deep within in my gut that the driver probably wouldn't have stopped had I been run over a few hours earlier. To me, my gut told me that perhaps whatever the driver was running from and was now hiding from was worth taking a life should it get in the way.
I entered the house and was once again reminded of the sickly sweet smell of urine and filth that had greeted me the the first time I'd entered the house. I closed the front door behind me as best as I could, and as I did so there was a distinctive change in the atmosphere, for a few brief seconds I felt like a tonne of lead, as though I was being vacuum sealed within the house despite the front door not closing fully flush against its frame.
I took security in a charred piece of 2 x 4 that I found discarded amongst the debris in the foyer, someone must have tried to light a fire inside at some stage. To be honest I don't blame them for trying, the constant chill in the air was a bitch. I've never been much of a fighter but I've certainly got a swing that would knock any sucker for a home run should they try anything funny.

I searched through the foyer looking for anything out of the ordinary, to which it became apparent that there was a vast number of doors hidden away in the shadows cast by the staircase and mezzanine of the second floor that I hadn't noticed earlier. They were doors to rooms in which I was yet to explore. With that thought on my mind I began to wonder how big the house actually was and how much work it would take to restore it to reasonable living standards.
The search was interrupted by by an unexpected blood curdling scream that made my heart skip a beat, a commotion that was accompanied by a continuous thumping that came from behind an yet another hidden door that would otherwise have gone unnoticed underneath the stairs. I quickly ( but cautiously ) made my way to the door. Friend or foe - either way the person on the other side was in a considerable amount of distress. With one hand white at the knuckles, clasping hold of the 2 x 4 and ready to strike, the other hand fumbled with the iron lock-bolt that vibrated with the repetitive thumping from the other side.
My persistance paid off as the door swung open as the person on the other side forced it open, unwilling to wait another second on their side of the door. It was a Woman, she moved quickly in order to ram a shoulder into the door, slamming it shut as she shoved the iron bolt back into its place. She sobbed with her head against the door. The Woman was covered in the aftermath of her ordeal. What would have been a white singlet was tarnished with sweat and dirty black smudges and the odd spot of blood. Her skin and hair were no different either, like she'd run a marathon or taken part in an army assault course. Her sandy blonde ringlets were dark with sweat which stuck to the glistening sweat on her forehead and shoulders. She was petite and nonthreatening, I had a sudden change of heart simply by judging the look of her. Could she be the driver of the wagon that could have killed me? just by looking at her I got the feeling like she couldn't have been capable of such a thing.
"Are you ok?" I asked. She remained with her head against the door, still sobbing and seemingly oblivious to me being there. She didn't move let alone respond. "Yo!" I yelled, "What's going on? are you alright?". Still nothing.
The room buzzed and as if on some sort of cue, the foyer came alive with a low hum. The lights hanging from the ceiling began to flicker, working their way into a permanent glow. "the electricity" I whispered to myself. I was amazed as well as puzzled to the fact that the wiring was still in working order.

The woman responded to the light that filled the room. She sighed in relief and kissed a silver cross which she'd had hanging around her neck. She turned to me, looking straight at me for the first time. She screamed as our eyes met and she backed up against the door raising a revolver that she'd been holding in her right hand that was initially hidden from view at first when she had her head against the door. It wasn't easy staring down the barrel of a Colt 45. The Woman cocked back the hammer and pulled the trigger with the same speed and precision of a sharp shooter. Once again I realised how close I had come to death, not many people could say nor boast about having that opportunity twice in one day. A hollow click echoed through the foyer. The chamber was empty, the revolver had fired nothing but stale air.
Cheating death was a relief, but my heart (which was now in my throat) pounded to the point of making me vomit in my own mouth. I dropped the 2 x 4 which tumbled to its resting place on the floor. The Woman looked as though she was in as much shock as I was, white as a ghost and eyes as wide as a full moon. She didn't try pulling the trigger again, in fact she lowered the gun to her side and began to sob once more, as if admitting defeat.
My heart rate slowed knowing that I no longer had a gun pointed directly at me, It gave me enough courage to ask the questions that deserved answering.
"Who are you? and what are you doing here" I asked, a little over confident In my stance considering she still held a weapon. She shaded her eyes with her hand, shaking her head and yet still failing to respond.
My attention was ripped away from her by the sound of a door closing behind me. A large built man who appeared to be of native decent entered the room holding a sawn-off shotgun at his side. "She can't hear you" he spoke in a low voice that rumbled like thunder. "She's deaf?" I asked, although more of a statement to myself than a question to the native man. "Yes, she's deaf" He confirmed.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he asked, "This wasn't part of the deal, the place was supposed to be empty".
"I own the place" I responded, "I live here".
His eyes panned the room, "you don't like cleaning much do you?" he accused.
"Good help is hard to come by these days" I answered, unsure of the tone that I should be taking considering that I was talking to someone who could be considering murder.
"Have you seen anyone hanging around here, any vans turn up?" He asked, as he walked over to the woman whom was still standing, sobbing in the same spot where I'd left her.
"I haven't seen anyone here, although I've been away - out of the house for most of the day". I didn't feel that it was important to mention that I thought I'd seen someone or some-thing in my room the night before after all I was still in limbo over whether or not it was a dream or not.

The man placed his hands on the woman's shoulders, "Maria, look at me - look at my lips". He shook her gently and her eyes met his. She was genuinely nervous about something but you could tell she had trust in her eyes. "Don't worry, we will be fine. Once the others arrive we can go, cross the boarder and then we can be free. We can begin to live again". From the looks of things his words had done very little to calm her down, she gestured to the door under the stairs and mouthed the word "Monster" in the best way that she could. The man took her in his arms holding her tight. "He can't hurt us anymore Maria, he's gone. Gone forever". I was unsure if she heard him or not, if reading lips was her thing then she certainly didn't see what he was saying. I could be wrong but I did get the feeling that while He was referring to the past, she may have been referring to the present.
The man broke his embrace and turned to face me "I take it that you do don't mind if we stay here a while until the rest of the group arrive" he said as he tapped away at the top of the shotgun bulling his way into control over the situation.

"After all, I did get your electricity sorted"

To be continued.....
Next issue.....The cover of darkness
5 comments:

Hey masn whats up.

This is pretty good. It could use a bit of revising but not much. It;s the best story blog i've read so far.

good job.

Chris - http://deadmeatblog.blogspot.com/


Hi Chris,

Thanks for your comments. Yeah I must admit I did rush this chapter. Bit of a catch 22 for me as I really wanted to get something posted to hold the readers interest but possibly sacrificed a bit of the quality. Its been a mad month personally so it must be showing :)
There is a point to the chapter though so the plan is that its only going to get better, and more violent.


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you really pulled me in, great job - i want to know what happens next :)


Thanks for your comments Jayden. I'm in the middle of the latest chapter at the moment, I'm hoping to make it a little longer than previous posts and cram a bit of action, tension and perhaps a bit of gore into the story.


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