Chapter 2 - Marie Comes Back

Marie is drawn back to her old town for reasons she can't explain. When her car breaks down, she's trapped in the dark with something watching her through the trees.

Marie Summers was the first to come back. She drove with the window open, the icy wind blasting into the car was the only thing keeping her sagging eyelids from closing completely. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her system when she left the city had long since drained away, leaving her bereft of energy. Her arms drooped down from the steering wheel, looking to the few passing motorists as if she was already asleep.

A sign flashed up, illuminated by the glare of her headlights. Services 20 miles. Glancing down at her empty coffee cup she weighed up the chances of falling asleep against stopping and risking someone recognising her. She told herself she was being paranoid. There was no chance of someone at a random services knowing her, not when she'd already put more than 300 miles between her and the mess she'd left behind.

The miles continued to slip by and her eyelids sagged further, finally closing, just for a second but long enough to send the car slewing at an angle towards the central barrier. A truck blared its horn as it tore past the inside of her and she jerked awake, heart pounding as she realised what had nearly happened. As she swerved back over to the inside lane, she leaned out the open window and gulped in deep breaths of the frozen air. Another sign whipped past. Services 5 miles.

She'd only ever driven this far once before and that was in the other direction. On the day she'd bought her first car she'd raced out of her home town, vowing never to return. Yet here she was, heading back again. When she'd left him there, blood draining out of him, she'd had no clear idea where to go. She only knew she wanted to get out. But as she'd driven out of the city, taking one turn after another without thinking where she was headed, somehow she'd ended up here, back in Yorkshire for the first time in fifteen years.

Even if he had survived, he'd never find her here. She'd been careful enough to never speak of her past, never to use her real name. At first she was worried if he knew, he'd call her parents and she’d be forced to move back in with them. But later, when she knew him better, she had a very different reason for keeping quiet about who she really was.

Was he still alive? She hoped not but there was a nagging feeling in her head that he might already be in his car, leg bound in a makeshift bandage, mind filled with all the things he would do to her when he caught up, how she'd end up just like Ollie.

She yawned loudly as the slip road came into view. She considered driving on but another huge yawn convinced her to turn the steering wheel to the side and then she was off up the hill into the brightly lit car park. Turning off the engine she climbed out into the freezing wind, walking quickly across the empty tarmac and up the ramp to the automatic door. The cold of the winter's night brought goose bumps out on her legs and she cursed herself for not having the foresight to bring a change of clothes with her. A skirt without tights was no fun in weather like this but she'd had her reasons for her choice of clothes. Besides after tonight she planned to burn them anyway.

Half the building seemed closed for the night when she walked in, the shop was roped off, the arcade machines too. Chairs were on top of the tables in most of the restaurant, just a few seats left occupied. She looked at her watch, 3.35 am. No wonder the shutters were down on the fast food joints. She found herself marvelling at the bearded man tucking into an enormous fried meal. What would a meal like that do to her after starving herself for so long to please him, needing to ensure no hint of a tummy appeared when he ran his hand over her tensed up flesh, knowing how angry he got if she showed any signs of weight gain. It meant a life of constant hunger but that had been a small price to pay to keep him happy and keep her injuries to a minimum.

A few people were sat at other tables, all nursing steaming drinks. The bored teenager behind the restaurant counter looked up momentarily as she passed before turning his attention back to his phone.

Pushing the door to the ladies, Marie went inside and looked at herself in the mirror. Could you tell? She did look tired but there were no obvious tell-tale signs of what she'd done. She'd been sure to wipe the blood splatters from her face before she'd left the city. She dug a hairbrush out of her handbag and ran it through her hair, teasing out the knots. The fear that had subsided as she'd driven away had returned with a vengeance now she was out of the car. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he was about to burst out from the stall behind her, arms outstretched, trousers already undone, fists clenched ready to punish her for what she'd done no matter how loud she screamed.

She had to fight the sudden urge to run back to the car. You've stopped now. At least get a coffee. What's the point of going through all that just to fall asleep and die at the wheel? You might as well have let him kill you after all.

Walking back out of the ladies she bumped into a man in a smart suit rushing for the gents, his head topped by a shock of white hair. Panic raced through her as she was suddenly convinced it was him. Just relax. It's not him. You left him tied to a chair bleeding to death. He'd have to be f*****g Houdini to get free and get here now. Just calm down.

She felt eyes on her and looked up to see the teenager in the restaurant grinning inanely at her, raising his eyebrows as he stared at her bare legs.

Christ, don't try to come on to me. She walked over to him feeling strangely uncoordinated as if her feet had been replaced by lead weights that threatened to drag her to the floor at any moment. You're exhausted. Not far now, then you can rest.

"Can I get a coffee to go?"

"Are you all right? You look a bit-"

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Just get me a coffee.”

He blinked, but didn't argue, well used to tired and angry drivers taking out their road rage on him. "What type?"

Calm down. You don't want him to remember you. Just act normal. "Black, no sugar."

Whilst he was rummaging under the counter for a takeaway cup Marie looked round the restaurant. What was going on in all these people's lives to bring them here at �" she glanced at her watch �" nearly four in the morning?

The guy sat by the rack full of wilting leaflets, what was his story? Tall, black hair hint of stubble. He looked like someone she used to know, leaning on his elbows like that, staring at his mug. The entire time she looked at him, he didn't move, not to take a sip or to look round, nothing. Was he running away from something too?

The miserable couple on the next table. She was reapplying lipstick whilst he read a magazine, was that what marriage meant? Twilight years spent not even bothering to talk to each other?

The bearded guy had finished his fry up and had his feet up on the chair opposite, picking his teeth with the end of his fork whilst his other hand dug into his earlobe as trying to scratch an itch somewhere on his brain stem.

"That'll be 2.95."

Marie paid and picked up her coffee. "Thanks." As she passed leaflet guy he moved so suddenly it drew her attention, scraping back his chair with a jolt and standing up, his eyes falling on Marie as she looked his way, locking gazes. She felt incredibly sorry for him, he looked so unhappy. Part of her, the part that she'd had to keep hidden for years, wanted to run over and give him a hug. The bigger part, the part that had kept her alive this long wanted only to leave. She managed a smile and he responded, nodding at her as she waited for the automatic door to slide open.

The blast of wind that hit as she stepped outside took her attention away from the stranger. She hunched her shoulders against the cold, half jogged back to her car, feeling more and more certain she knew him from somewhere. But where?

She climbed into the car and started the engine, taking a sip of the worst coffee she'd ever tasted, clicking her seatbelt in place and yawning loudly. She felt a pressure headache building behind her eyes as she drove slowly back out onto the motorway. Perfect.

She'd finished her coffee by the time she pulled off onto smaller roads, awful as it was at least it had kept her awake. She was back in the area she knew well even after all this time. She thought about her first tentative driving lessons round here, Gerald with his succession of hideous knitted jumpers sliding his hand "accidentally" onto her knee as he showed her how to change gear, positioning his mirror so he could stare indirectly at her chest. He was the only instructor she could afford though and without him she might never have got her licence, left the stifling air of home for the city, cesspit of humanity that it turned out to be anyway.

She thought about the life she'd expected to lead in London, high flying executive, prove her teachers wrong. Then she thought about what had actually happened. Living on the streets for the first six months before discovering how much money she could make with her body. There was that chance encounter with him that had led to the life of the kept woman. Everything had been paid for, rent, bills, food, clothes. But boy did she pay handsomely for what he did for her, scars on her body and deeper wounds across her soul, raw cuts that would never heal, not after what she'd seen.

Without warning she began to cry, stinging tears that blurred her vision as her chest hitched and she sobbed without control, barely able to see the passing sign. Seaford 10 miles.

Maybe if she'd failed her driving test, she'd still be living there. Maybe if she'd told Gerald to keep his wandering fingers to himself she’d have been around to say bye to mum and dad before they died. Maybe they'd still be here too instead of dying of carbon monoxide poisoning from their ancient lounge heater. Or maybe she'd have slept into death beside them, slumped in front of the TV. She hadn't even been able to afford the petrol to get to the funeral.

She wondered if the house had been sold, who was living there now. Maybe it was just locked up and she'd move back in like she'd never been away.

She hit the brakes, easing into the next bend, her old knowledge of these roads coming back to her as if she'd been down here only yesterday. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand she spotted the sign on her left. Cowforth 2 miles.

An image came into her mind. Daniel Tierney. He'd lived at Bowbridge Farm just outside Cowforth. Maybe he was still there. The two of them in the layby just up that road on the right. Him fumbling his way up her jumper, throwing her out of his dad's car when she refused to let him go any further, left to walk the four miles to the nearest phone box to call her parents and ask to be picked up again. Their lecture had been harder to deal with than Daniel's advances. "You're 14 Marie, what were you doing in a car with a 25 year old?" Her responses only made them angrier. It was never the guy's fault, always hers for leading them on, dressing too provocatively, drinking too much. All she ever wanted was a hug from them, to be told it would be okay, that they still loved her. It never happened.

The road curved to the right and as she swung round the bend a shrill beep came from the dashboard. She looked down, something had lit up bright red. A weird symbol. That can't be good. Red is never good. Just hang on, we're nearly there.

There was a thump from the engine, a thwack, thwack noise and then it died, the car rolling slowly to a halt as Marie gripped the wheel tightly, the power steering gone. It bumped up onto the verge, back end sticking out into the road as she punched the dashboard.

That's just great. Fantastic. She turned the key in the ignition but nothing happened. The headlights flickered, dimmed then came back to life.

Climbing out of the car, Marie gasped as the wind whipped past. Her hands shook with cold as she lifted the bonnet and looked underneath. In the darkness it was hard enough just to see the engine let alone what might be wrong with it. You turn the key, the car goes, what more does anyone need to know? Why couldn't you have lasted a few more miles you piece of s**t?

She reached for her phone then remembered. No simcard. Well done, you really thought this through, snapping it in half and throwing the pieces out the window as you left the city. She'd read somewhere that you could ring 999 even if your phone had no sim but that last thing she wanted was a policeman turning up and asking questions. He'd often mentioned his links to the force as if it was something out of Star Wars. At first she'd been impressed, especially when he made her first speeding ticket disappear but now the thought of a police car worried her enough to ratchet her headache up a few more notches.

Slamming the bonnet shut she climbed back in and flicked on her hazard lights, slumping back in the seat and trying to think through the thick fog of headache induced nausea and tiredness. She'd gone past the Cornforth sign so there was probably no more than six miles to go. Walk it? See if Metcalfe's garage is still in business, get it towed in the morning. But six miles is a long way in the dark with no footpath and no guarantee the only garage there'd been in Seaford was still in business. The phone box in Cowforth? Walk back to that? Same problem, a long way in the freezing cold with no coat and who was she going to ring anyway?

She heard the sound of a car approaching. A pair of headlights appeared from round the bend behind her, reflecting in her wing mirror as she wound down the window but by the time she'd begun to wave for them to stop they were gone, swerving round her car and disappearing into the night.

Shivering, she wound the window back up and pulled a blanket through from the back seat, wrapping it round her legs and tucking it underneath her. She glanced to her left and caught a glimpse of something through the hedgerow. It was hard to tell what it was in the darkness but something was out there.

The rational part of her brain said it was nothing, maybe a deer. But the child in her remembered what growing up in Seaford had been like and it told her to be careful, that it might be something else, something she didn't want anything to do with.

Flicking the door lock she tried to think, huddled in her blanket with her feet on the seat and her knees under her chin, squinting out past the flashing orange glow of the hazard lights. There it was again. The blackness had taken on an even darker shade as something darted from left to right, right to left, getting closer but keeping to the shadows.

Just a deer, just a deer. Yeah right. You know who it is and you know why he's here. Run, run like f**k while you can. Get out of the car and run now!

But where? How many horror films start with the big boobed woman in a miniskirt jiggling her way through the darkness only to be picked off by the psycho with the pickaxe?

She was frozen in her seat, unable to shake the feeling that any second now the door would be wrenched open and she'd be dragged out.

There was a clunk from behind her and she swung her head round, breath coming hard and ragged as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. That was him punching the boot. I know it was. No, it was just a branch falling in the wind. There's no one out there. He'd be about 80 now if he's even still alive which he isn't. Of course he's alive. He's alive and he's here. The shadow moved round the back of the car as the headlights flickered and died, leaving just the hazards flashing on and off, on and off. The seconds passing as she clenched her fists, not noticing the pain as her nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood.

"No, no, no. Please come back on." The orange lights flashed. For a moment the outline of a person was visible by the nearside rear passenger door. She held her breath as the handle was lifted and rattled. You should have run. The whole car shook as the handle was rattled again. The light died and the shadow moved. Now it was by her window. Another flash of orange and then she saw him. And that was when she began to scream.