Last Wrong Turn (6 page)

She lunges at me. Instinctively, I kick out, slamming my foot against her face and sending her slumping back against the door-frame.

“You're hurt,” I continue, “so you're not gonna get very far against me. Come on, be sensible. You know I'm telling the truth.”

She sits up and starts crawling toward me, but the impact against the wall has reopened one of the wounds on her side, and fresh blood is dribbling down her sagging, naked body.

“Your second choice,” I tell her, “and the one I think you should follow, is that you can leave. You can get up and walk away. I'll take good care of the baby, I'll raise him well, I'll raise him better than I was ever raised. He won't have Pa yelling at him, or Brother trying to mess with him when he's trying to sleep, and he won't have to fight for his fair share at dinner. You don't need to worry about him, you just need to forget he existed. I'm sure you can make more babies, so just make another one to replace this one. You don't really
need
him, do you? You can spare him and -”

“Give him to me!” she gasps, although her voice sounds weaker than before.

“I've told you the two choices and -”

“Give him to me!” she sneers, as if she's trying to sound angry in an attempt to compensate for the fact she's so badly hurt. She's like a wounded, sick animal now, and I know what happens to wounded and sick animals. “Give me my fucking son, you bitch!”

“It's not gonna happen that way,” I tell her, before looking down at the baby's screaming face. “Come on, Alistair, there's no need to be upset. You can just -”

“His name's Hugh!” the woman shouts. “It was always... We always planned to call him... Hugh, after Pete's father...”

“You did?” I pause, running a fingertip against the side of his face while I mull things over. “No, I think I like Alistair better. I think he -”

Before she can get too close, I kick her again, this time slamming the heel of my foot into her mouth. I feel her teeth briefly digging into my flesh before she slumps back, and I see blood all over her chin when she tries to sit up.

“I'll sing to him,” I explain, rocking the baby gently in my arms, “and I'll feed him good, and I'll teach him stuff as soon as he gets old enough. He'll learn to run the farm, and maybe one day we'll find him some new friends, some brothers and sisters of his own. If Pa's really gone, that leaves me free to make a few changes around the place. I always held back before, I suppose out of respect, but now I can clean the house up, and the yard too. I can finally knock in those fence-posts that Pa never got around to, and Alistair'll grow up to be a big, strong man.”

I watch Alistair's face for a moment, before turning to the woman and seeing that she's face-down on the floor now.

“Are you awake?” I ask.

Silence.

Stepping around her, I see that her eyes are closed. She's lost so much blood from her waist and from between her legs, just in the last few minutes alone, that I guess she simply passed out. Still, I know I need to be careful, so I kick her shoulder a couple more times before using my foot to roll her onto her back.

Her eyes flicker open.

“Tell me how to do it,” I continue, hoping she might be able to help. “How do I make one of these babies grow in my own belly? Please, before you go to sleep, I need to know.”

She stares at me for a moment, before slowly her eyes close again.

“How do I do it?” I ask, nudging her face with my foot.

This time, she doesn't wake up.

She looks to be in a pretty bad way, and it's clear that she's deep asleep, maybe even worse. I wait, just in case she shows any more signs of life, and then I use my bare right foot to nudge her face. When she doesn't respond, I press my big toe against the side of her neck and feel her heart still beating, and finally I step back, confident that she really
is
out.

Alistair is still screaming in my arms.

“It's okay,” I say, looking down at him with a smile, “I just had to shut her up. Did you hear the fuss she was making? She didn't understand. Then again, outsiders never
do
understand what it's like here. I don't know why it's so hard for them.”

Crouching down and leaning back against the wall, I watch for a few seconds as he bawls some more, and then I lean closer and kiss him on the side of the face.

“It's just you and me now,” I tell him, pulling him tight. “I know it's gonna be difficult, but you'll get used to it, and I promise you'll have a better time than me. I was a baby when I came her too, and Pa wasn't very good at looking after me. At least, I don't think he was. Then again, I was all cut up when I arrived, and Pa had to fix my face. I know he didn't...” I pause, feeling as if I might be about to cry, but finally I manage to stay strong. “Well, I know he didn't do a very good job, and I'm ugly as sin, but that's just another example of how you're gonna have things easy. 'Cause you're so beautiful.”

He's still screaming, but I figure he'll have to stop eventually. Pa says I screamed a lot when I first arrived too, and I turned out just fine. Well, fine enough, anyway. And Alistair's gonna turn out even better. One day, he's gonna take over the farm.

First, though, I've gotta figure out what to do with the woman.

Part Two

PENNY

Penny

“We decided we don't want to know,” Pete says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder while patting my belly with his other hand. “We want it to be a surprise.”

“It's blatantly going to be a boy, though,” I add, laughing. “I don't know how, I can just tell. Maybe it's just a mother's intuition.”

“Don't you have, like, two sisters and no brothers?” Caroline asks Pete.

“Which means it's about time for a Y chromosome to sneak through,” he replies. “If Penny says it's going to be a boy, that's good enough for me. And if it is, we're going to name it Hugh after my father. Get a little of that Welsh lineage front and center!”

As they continue to laugh and joke, I feel a kicking sensation in my belly. I usually smile whenever I feel the baby moving about in there, but this time something seems very different. When I try to reach down, I find that for some reason I can't move either of my arms, as if my wrists are somehow stuck to the sofa. I pull and I pull, but I can't get them to budge at all, and slowly a sense of panic starts to rise through my chest.

Something's wrong.

Something's really, really wrong.

“Pete?” I whisper, but he doesn't respond. He's still laughing with the others.

Suddenly I feel water splashing against my back, as if somehow it's reaching through the sofa. I try to wriggle free, but Pete's holding me tighter and tighter, and the light in our apartment is getting brighter, almost blinding me. At the same time, I look down at my belly as I realize that I feel strangely empty, almost as if in the blink of an eye my child is gone. I know that's impossible, of course, and I tell myself that I'm just being paranoid. At the same time, my body feels colder, too, and I'm shaken by a very sudden, very powerful sense of solitude. Despite the fact that there are three other people here with me in the room, it's as if something has been torn away from me.

“Pete?” I stammer. “I need... I think I need help.”

He and the others are still laughing, but their voices are echoing all around me now. When I turn and try to grab Pete's arm, all I see is a vast, blurry wall of movement.

“Okay,” a voice says in the distance, somewhere beyond the white haze that suddenly fills my vision, “we're going to start bringing her around now. Everyone be ready.”

“We're going to give this kid everything,” Pete continues, but now his voice sounds distorted, as if I'm underwater and he's speaking from somewhere on the shore. I feel like I'm bobbing violently up and down, being buffered from all sides. “No kid of mine is going to go without. He's going to -”

His voice suddenly flares louder and fills my ears, and for a moment my vision flickers away.

“Pete?” I whisper, trying to reach out and grab him. “Where are you? Pete?”

“Just make sure you get the right drugs during the birth,” Caroline adds, her voice echoing through my mind. “There's no point going through all that pain without a little help. Trust me, babe, I should know. Get yourself doped up to the friggin' eyeballs.”

Suddenly I realize I can hear a beeping sound, followed a moment later by a series of faint creaks. My vision is still fuzzy, and there's an aching pain behind my eyes, as if someone is twisting the nerves tighter. I still have a sense of a bright light, however, as if something is lowering itself down all around me, filling the air with a kind of static charge. A moment later, I'm overwhelmed by the realization that I seem to be flat on my back in some kind of bed.

I blink, and my vision starts to clear.

A figure leans over me and shines a smaller light into my eyes, and after blinking a couple more times I realize that the man is a doctor.

“Mrs. Latimer, can you hear me?” he asks. “Penny, my name is Doctor Malone, and you're at St. Stephen's Hospital in Ashford, in Kent. If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign.”

I blink again, and now I can see perfectly clearly. For a moment I feel as if I'm drifting slightly, as if my thoughts are a little hazy, but there's a kind of urgency pulsing through my body, as if some deeper part of my mind is trying to tell me that something's wrong.

I'm empty.

“Mrs. Latimer,” the doctor continues, shining the light into my other eye, “do you remember how you got here?”

Reaching down, I finally manage to place my hands on my belly, only to find that the pregnant bulge is gone. Filled with a sudden sense of panic, I pull my hospital gown up until I'm able to see the saggy, stretched flesh. Finally, even as more voices as if I'm okay, I start to scream.

Penny

“Do you understand? Penny, I need you to tell me that you understand everything I just said to you. It's important.”

I blink, and for a fraction of a second I see the face again. Scarred, torn down the middle, with two dark eyes staring back at me.

“Penny, can you look at me? I understand this must be a shock right now, but it's very important that you look at me.”

I blink again, and this time I see the cold, muddy yard outside the farmhouse. There's a sharp pain in my left hand, too, and when I look down I see a thick bandage running all the way up to my elbow.

“Where's my son?” I whisper, before turning to the man who's sitting next to my hospital bed. “Where are my husband and my son?”

He glances down at his notebook for a moment, before turning back to me.

“Mrs. Latimer -”

“Where are they?” I shout, suddenly filled with a wave of panic as I sit up in the bed. “What did you do to them? Where are they?”

Penny

“What the hell do you mean?” I ask, snatching the map from his hands and taking a look. “I've told you this a million times already, it's right
there
! It's somewhere in that area, it has to be! We'd taken a couple of wrong turns near Wexham, but we can't have driven far, so it has to be in this area!”

“Mrs. Latimer...”

“You have to find that farmhouse,” I continue, turning to him. “My son is there! He's been kidnapped, he might -”

Before I can finish, I feel a sudden sharp, throbbing pain in my back. Letting out a faint gasp, I let the map fall onto the table, and it takes a few seconds before I can breathe again. These little bursts keep coming, as if my body is worried that my mind might forget all my injuries. The truth, though, is that I'm in danger of forgetting anything. I just don't have time to worry about my body right now. All that matters is finding Pete and Hugh.

“Paging Doctor Cano,” a voice announces over the hospital's speaker system. “Doctor Cano to post eight, please.”

I've been in this goddamn hospital for five days now, and I feel as if the search for my husband and my son is just spinning its wheels. I need to get out of here and join the others, and make them do whatever it takes. God knows how they keep missing the farmhouse, but the goddamn place is out there and if they haven't found it yet, they clearly aren't very good at this.

I can find the place again. I know I can.

St. Stephen's Hospital, on the outskirts of Marpington, England.

“We have every available unit working on this case,” Detective Palmer tells me calmly, although I can tell from the look in his eyes that there's a 'but' coming, “but these things take time. We have a helicopter scouring the area, it's been flying almost non-stop for the past week, checking the land and -”

“So why haven't you found it?” I ask. “It's a farmhouse, with a yard, and there's this creepy little girl there! There's stuff in the yard, too, like... a truck, and old machinery. It can't be that hard to spot, even from a helicopter!”

“We're doing everything we can,” he continues, “but I need you to dig deep and try to work out if there's anything else you remember, anything that might help us tighten the search area. To be honest, this isn't the first time we've had to look for this particular farmhouse, and...” His voice trails off, as if he's not sure how to explain the situation.

“And what?” I ask. “What's so difficult about finding a goddamn farm? There are only so many that can be out there! Use infra-red cameras, or whatever the hell you need! They're out there!”

I wait for him to reply, but I can tell now that there's something he isn't telling me.

“What?” I stammer. “What's wrong?”

“I need you to stay calm,” he says cautiously, “but... There was an incident about a year ago, where a young woman was found injured in the same car-park where you were found the other day. Her story, once she recovered, was remarkably similar to everything you've been telling us, but when we searched the area...” He pauses, before finally sighing. “When we searched, we were never able to find any sign of the farmhouse she described. To be honest, a lot of us doubted that what she told us could be true, until...”

His voice trails off again.

“Until what?”

“Well, until you woke up at St. Stephen's and started telling us what had happened to you.”

Reaching into his folder, he takes out a piece of paper.

“This drawing,” he explains, “is based on the previous victim's description of the young girl. It was -”

“Let me see,” I snap, snatching the paper from his hand. I flinch as soon as I see a drawing of the girl with the deep scar running down her face.

“That's her,” I tell him. “That's the freak.”

“Are you sure? Take your -”

“Of course I'm fucking sure!” I hiss, shoving the paper back into his hands. “She's kind of distinctive, don't you think?”

He hesitate for a moment. “I'm trying to help you, Mrs. Latimer,” he says finally. “We're on the same side here.”

I open my mouth to tell him he's not doing a very good job, before finally sitting back and sighing. I know I'm starting to come across as some kind of crazy bitch, but all I can think about is Pete and Hugh out there somewhere, still trapped at the farmhouse.

“I'm sorry,” I mutter, taking a sip of water. My heart is pounding. “I know you're doing your best, it's just...” I take a deep breath. “It's hard just sitting here like this, waiting for news. Half the time, I feel as if people don't even believe me.”

“I believe you,” he replies.

I glance at him. “Are you sure?”

He nods.

“It's all true,” I add. “I know it sounds nuts, but I swear, every word of what I've told you is true.”

“Which leaves us with the question,” he continues, “of how we've managed to miss the farmhouse despite searching the area so extensively. To be blunt, Mrs. Latimer, I'm starting to think that even if that helicopter keeps flying for another month, it might not have any luck.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask. Already, the anger is rippling through my chest again.

“It means we need to try another tactic.”

“You just need to tell your search teams to do a better job,” I continue. “That farmhouse can't have just vanished into thin air!”

Feeling completely impotent, I get to my feet. “I'm coming with you,” I tell him.

“Mrs. Latimer -”

“Obviously you need my help,” I add, “or you'd have found the place by now.” I wait for him to answer, but he seems lost for words. “Unless you're suggesting the farmhouse can somehow magically hide itself away,” I continue, “in which case I think maybe you're not the right man to handle this case.”

“I'll go to the media,” I continue. “Is that what it's going to take to force you to do your job? I'll go to the newspapers and tell them that my family is out there somewhere and that no-one's managing to find them. It's not like they can have vanished without a trace, I've
told
you where they are, so you just have to go and get them!”

“Mrs. Latimer -”

“Think about how the media will crucify you,” I add, with tears in my eyes, “if you screw this up. If you let my son stay even one day longer with that freak... God knows what she's done to him already. You have to find them!” I pause, feeling another ripple of pain in my side, and a moment later I feel a tear running down my cheek. “So I'm coming with you,” I continue. “I can find that farmhouse, I know I can, but I need to be with you in the field.”

“Your priority right now is your health,” he replies. “The doctors -”

“My priority is finding my husband and my son,” I say firmly, interrupting him. “And if you're too incompetent to get the job done, then it looks like I'll just have to get more involved.” Turning away from him, I start limping toward the door that leads back out to the corridor. “I'll tell them I'm leaving. They can't make me stay if -”

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my ankle, causing me to stumble and drop to my knees. Grabbing the door-frame so that I don't fall flat on my face, I try to hold myself steady as a nurse hurries over to help me.

“I'm checking out,” I stammer, even though I suddenly feel much weaker than before. “I have to go and show them where...”

My voice trails off, and for a moment the whole room seems to be spinning around me.

“I think we need to get you to your room,” the nurse tells me. “Then we can take another look at you.”

“No,” I whisper, trying to push her away as I get to my feet. “I'm fine, I just need to get out of here.”

I take a couple more stumbling steps forward, before losing my balance and falling forward. Crashing into the side of a trolley, I try in vain to hold myself steady. Suddenly slumping down, I slam hard against the floor and then roll onto my back, and when I look up at the nurse I realize my vision has suddenly become blurred again. I'm slipping away, but I have to stay strong, I have to get up so I can go and find my family.

“I have to go to them,” I whisper, even though I can feel myself losing consciousness. “I have to help. They can't do it without me. I have to... I have to go and...”

And then everything goes dark.