Hexad (4 page)

The Storm

Matt Hickman

She lay in the sturdy, oak framed bed in the main bedroom of the cabin. There were no windows in the room, nothing allowing any view of anything outside of the four walls. Illumination within the room was provided by the small lamp that resided on the bedside table. The light offered by the dim bulb was not enough to brighten the entire area, casting dark shadows over the rest of the room - cascading reflective light rays into the wooden joists above, shadows danced downwards onto the old wooden floor.

The room was entirely calm, she couldn’t hear a sound from within or from elsewhere within the entire cabin – total silence. She lay perfectly still with the bed clothes pulled up tightly around her waist, her back leaning against the headboard, hugging her knees as they were bent up towards her chest.

Suddenly, she heard a faint scratching sound that seemed to emanate from just outside the bedroom door, it made her freeze in terror.  Listening intently to the sound, it was eerie. Similar to the sound of a finger nail being slowly drawn backwards and forwards against a hard surface.

At first it was almost silent, barely audible.
Was it her imagination?

She stared at the metal handle on the bedroom door, expecting it to turn at any moment but it stayed put. The noise very slowly began to intensify in rate and volume, beginning to augment until the noise became more intense; it now sounded like a hundred fingers scraping themselves quickly down a blackboard. The escalation of noise was matched by the swelling of terror from within as it became distracting, almost unbearable - building, spreading, until suddenly…nothing.

She sat deadly still, encased with dread - unable to move even if she wanted to. Holding her breath, she listened.

Silence - no longer a sound.

Daring a glimpse around the room she saw nothing, nothing hidden away in the shadows, nothing ready to pounce.

There was definitely a sound.
Was she being paranoid?

She was in a strange room on her own. Maybe her imagination was getting carried away, it was a possibility.

She remained glued to the spot, a slight flicker of light from the bulb in the lamp made her heart thunder once more in her chest. She risked a glance to her side, two further flickers of light and the lamp continued to illuminate the room uninterrupted. Again, she questioned herself.
Is there something faulty with the electrics in the cabin?
It was the only light in the room.
Is it just a bulb on the blink?
She didn’t know.

For a full thirty seconds there wasn’t a sound. The thumping sensation of the heartbeat in her chest and neck slowly started to subside, when suddenly the scratching noise returned. Fiercer and faster than before, rising and rising to the point of a pain within her skull, she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep the noise from invading her mind.

As quickly as it had started, it stopped. She looked around the room frantically, her face covered with sweat, her breathing deep and erratic - she was paralysed with fear, she didn’t dare move.

In one of the rays of light cast from the lamp near the entrance to the room, she spotted the shadow of something small slowly crawling under the small gap between the bottom of the door and the wooden floor.

It crawled slowly at first, alone – then another, and another. Then there were dozens, their numbers increasing rapidly into hundreds. Surging into the room from the gap beneath the door, they marched in a line and quickly started to clamber up onto the wooden frame at the foot of the bed.

Debilitated with horror, she sat still and stared in apprehension as she saw the spiders quickly running beneath the sheets of her bed and up the front of her legs, scratching and biting on their way. They continued their ascent up the front of her nightgown, up her legs, stomach and breasts, their legs scratching and ripping into her skin like thousands of agonising pinpricks. Dozens of them had made their way to the top of the bed clothes and were scurrying towards her face.

Unable to move, she screamed at the top of her lungs but no sound escaped. Several of the spiders invaded her open mouth and clawed inside, clambering up her nose and down her throat.

*******

Lisa Harper awoke suddenly with a scream, desperately clawing and brushing the spiders from her body, gagging and spitting as she leapt up from her slumber. She stopped, suddenly disorientated and unaware of where she was. She quickly took in her surroundings - the conservatory of the log cabin.

The candles that she had lit earlier had long since burned out, not even a trace of their scent remained. The rest of the cabin still lay in complete darkness because of the power cut due to the raging storm outside.  The porch swing rocked backwards and forwards violently from where she had woken up and leapt from it in her blind panic.

Spotting her wine glass and bottle, both tipped over and empty, her fuzzy head and dry mouth suggested the obvious - she had drunken too much and fallen asleep. Grabbing her phone from beside the patio swing, she picked it up and checked the display; the time was 1:13 am. The signal display showed no bars, it had remained that way since the storm first started to move in earlier at about 21:30 pm.

She surveyed the scene outside, through the large conservatory doors. Situated at the far end of the building, it provided the only view to the outside from the entire cabin, overlooking the spectacular view of the lake. Despite the storm, it was still a warm summer night, clouds rolled in, and the sharp, fresh aroma of ozone invaded the air.

Forked lightning lit up the sky dramatically like a fireworks display over the lake - cascading in the distance like bolts of pure visual static and electricity. Thunder roared, echoing and rocking the landscape, shaking the cabin and its entire structure to its very foundations. Rain hammered down, bouncing from the surface of the lake, hammering down the grass and shrubs around the perimeter of the water. Rain flooded quickly down from the sloping roof of the cabin, flowing down the large glass panels in the doors, and off down the wooden incline of the approach path to the cabin.

Despite the warm buzz provided by the alcohol running through her veins, Lisa felt nervous. She was in an unknown place, alone. Her mind cast back to the incident in her apartment eighteen months ago. She couldn’t believe that her friend Cathy had talked her into meeting her here, at her holiday home in the southern tip of the Lake District, for a quiet weekend away together.

It had been a horrible period of her life. She thought back with anger and disgust at the assault she'd suffered in her own apartment, by a stranger nonetheless, then the subsequent physical and psychological treatment. The scars and stitches on her body had long since healed, her mental scars had not. The persistent night terrors were an everlasting reminder of the episode.

The attack had led to her selling her luxury apartment within the sought after Watch Tower apartment complex for a little more than half of its market value. She had left her job and moved back in with her parents, the sanctity provided within their care almost made her a recluse. 

It had only been the last few months that she'd been back in touch with her old friend, and met up a few times before reluctantly agreeing to come on the weekend away.

It’s absolutely beautiful up there, I‘ve been hundreds of times. I've never even seen anyone else there once, it will be great, just me and you, some old films and a few bottles of wine. It will do you the world of good to get away.

Clicking on the menu button and selecting the call on her mobile, she checked when she had last spoken to her friend - shortly after 9 pm. They had spoken briefly and although the signal was poor, Cathy reported that she was well on her way and that she would be arriving at the cabin at around eleven that evening. Apologising, she explained that she would have made it earlier, but she had been held up at the office in a late meeting and it was a good two hour drive from work.

Where was she?

Beginning to worry, then panic, the thoughts of the storm outside entered into her mind.
Had her friend had been in a car accident? Was she stranded somewhere, hurt, or perhaps worse?
She checked her mobile phone again – still no reception.

Nervously, she lit a dozen of the candles in the conservatory, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Collecting two of the lit ones, she moved from the windows and headed through the kitchen space, into the main living area. Feeling a little off balance and none too steady on her feet due to the wine, she placed the first candle down and began to light and spread more of them around the room. The light and shadows that the candles cast gave the room a creepy, subdued feel.

Searching frantically around the living room, she located the land line. Rushing over, she picked up the handset and placed it to her ear – no dial tone. She pressed down on the receiver a few times in a futile attempt to kick start the phone into life – still nothing.
Shit!

Searching the room for something that may help, she found nothing of any use, with no power, no phones, and no internet, she was screwed. The noise of the rain and wind outside continued to batter against the sides of the cabin; it seemed to be getting worse, the thunder echoed even more loudly and the lightning continued to illuminate the night sky. The reflection from the candles flickered in the living area, giving off a surreal, macabre illusion of dancing black and gold shadows.

Unsure of what she could do, she became increasingly uneasy. She couldn’t head out in the storm and look for her friend, she had no idea which direction she would be coming from. The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, probably three miles at least to the nearest village, and the weather outside could only lead her into trouble. Her only option was to sit it out and wait for the storm to pass. Hopefully the phone lines would return to working order soon enough and she would be able to get some help.

Heading into the kitchen area, she lit a few more candles on the way and filled herself a glass of tap water. She drank it in one, the cool crisp water refreshing her dry mouth and throat. She filled another and placed the glass on the kitchen side.

Heading back over to the conservatory window, she looked back out over the lake. Despite its normal beauty, the electricity of the storm lit it up in spectacular fashion. The trees were being battered sideways by the wind and rain, unable to offer any resistance to the forces of nature as the branches and leaves hung down limp, swaying backwards and forwards in the distance over the water.

Tracking her gaze along the over-filling banks of the lake, she spotted something just on the edge of the row of trees and bushes a few hundred yards away – movement. It seemed to be a large figure, most likely the outline of a man due to the size, dressed in dark clothing. His face was obscured by a mask or dark hat, as quickly as he had materialised, he disappeared into the thick of the trees.

Lisa panicked. Quickly grabbing both handles on the conservatory doors, she double checked that they were locked before snatching the keys from the main lock in the door, dropping them into the breast pocket of her nightgown.

Hysterically, her eyes searched the area where she had seen the figure disappear into the trees.
Was it her imagination?
  No, she was almost certain that despite the wild conditions outside with the storm, that she had seen someone.

Concentrating her stare, searching desperately in the area, her eyes explored every detail, willing, almost wishing the figure return into sight to confirm her suspicion. Nothing revealed itself, no dark figures, no animals, not a thing. With her senses heightened and her paranoia off the chart, she considered once more whether her mind was playing tricks on her. She was alone in an unknown cabin by a lake, in a storm.

Man,
what a cliché
.

Checking her mobile once more, the display confirmed that there was no phone service available. Double checking, she tried dialling out to her friend’s mobile number, the phone presented nothing but a dull, constant beeping.
Shit!

Her hands shaking, still clutching her mobile, she gazed once more out toward the distance at the edge of the lake.
Come on, where are you, you bastard?
Slowly tracking to her right, her eyes probed the outline of the mass of trees. Something a little further to the left just inside her peripheral vision suddenly caught her attention – a quick flash of light. Nothing too bright, less than a second and then it was gone.

Lisa’s entire body was immediately consumed with terror; she had definitely seen the flash of light, confirming her suspicions that there was someone beside the lake in the storm. Turning quickly, she blew out all of the candles that were burning in the conservatory, it fell into a blanket of darkness, providing her with the security of tenebrosity. The only light at all was provided by the moonlight and the forks of lightning from outside. Great,
now what do I do?

The only other access point to the cabin was the main door that opened into the living quarters and kitchen. She quickly turned on her heels and ran towards the entrance.  With her heart pounding in her chest, she made her dash, expecting the door to be kicked inwards at any moment.

Grabbing at the handle, she confirmed that it was locked before snatching the key from the lock and dropping it in her pocket with the conservatory keys. Slamming both of the bolts shut, top and bottom, she cursed herself for not already doing so.