The journey had been a short one, all I could hear was the soft, “Tick, tick,” of the cooling engine. My Jason removed the keys from the ignition, and turned to me.
“Right Sofie you stay in the van, while we sort out some business.”
I trusted my older brother and his mate, well sort of. Jason was a chancer; a natural survivor, he took risks that earned enough to put food on the table. As the lads got out of the white flatbed van, just before the doors closed, I called out, “Be quick, dad will be furious if we’re late.”
“Quick in and out, just looking the place over.” He grinned at me, so I stuck my tongue out.
My brother let down the tailgate and collected a canvas bag, containing the tools of his trade. The sort of tools that would get both charged with, “going equipped,” if caught.
Sighing, watching as they made their way over the broken bricks and other rubbish scattered across the yard, they were soon out of my sight.
This job had come about like most through a chance conversation over a pint, Kevin the old git that sat in the corner nursing a pint that could be made to last all afternoon, had a story. The cost of this bit of a golden opportunity was three pints and a whisky chaser, if it paid off.
“You see lads, I back in the day I worked in recreation.”
Jason smiled. “You were a bloody parky, you silly sod.”
“I know where they put them.” He paused long enough to take a sip of his benefactors pint.
The old council warehouse had seen better days, widows boarded up, doors barricaded. Its walls a riot of multi-colour art, generally down at heel. It took skill to climb up to the first floor and onto a flat roof, the door onto which although closed the ancient lock fitted to decaying wood stood no chance against the demolition bar’s strengthened bite of case-hardened steel.
“Bloody hell mate it stinks.” Jason’s nose wrinkled.
Both lads made their way down a corridor one of many openings that lay claim to offices that now only the ghosts of employees past haunted, stripped of any useful content.
“Nothing up here, I bet that old bugger lied to us.”
“Be fair they would not be up here far too heavy.” Jason started down the corridor through the remains of a door frame down the stone steps to the warehouse proper.
The door at the bottom held up against the assault of the bar, yet the last of the nails pulled out of boards like rotten teeth. Jason kicked the remains inward with his boot, the bang echoed across the dark empty space. He placed the bag on the floor next to the door frame, opened it, placed the bar back in and pulled out a torch.
“Smells even worse down here, how can you stand it?”
Sophie’s brother, laughed. “Breathe through your mouth."
Puddles splashed against boots; darkness mocked them as the fading light of evening fought against moss-stained neglected glass in the roof. From Jason’s hand a beam of light that danced Jedi Knight style ready to fight the evil empire of a government that did not care.
“Come on what’s that pile over in the far corner?”
As they both approached the ancient tarpaulin covering, Jason knelt to grab a rope handle.
“Come on give us a hand, it’s bloody heavy.”
The tarp gave up the struggle tearing, as if caught on a heavy object, Jason fell on his arse, cursing as the dropped torch rolled away.
“Effin hell!”
It rolled back completing its circle, the beam reflecting faded colours. Something moved, both lads screamed as the object fell over with a bang. Bits of metal flew across the floor. Jason yelled.
“Bastard! Tell me you saw it move?”
Sophie’s brother gave a look of distain.
“Jumpy sod aren’t you; they’re made of cast iron.”
He walked over to retrieve a lump of metal, part of a mouth with flat teeth once painted white stained a reddish black, blood red tongue lolling over them. Jason retrieved the torch.
“There must be at least fifty here, wonder why nobodies nicked them for scrap before this?”
“Come on Sofie will be panicking, if she phones my dad we’re stuffed.”
As they made their way back, a sound echoed behind them. Jason paused, the hairs on the back of his neck rose an ancient throwback as old as our species. The subconscious warning all is not well, he made the mistake of turning around. Within the large lump of darkness in the corner movement, in the edge of the beam of torch what looked like a leg. Frozen to the spot he was aware of more appearing as the tarp rippled and slid back, dark silhouettes spread out.
Still sat in the van I was fed up. Opening the door, and on climbing down; the cool evening air chilled my arms. “My little Unicorn,” tee shirt fine while the sun had been up. The scream startled me, inhuman like some animal caught in a trap. Minutes passed then a shape scrambling over the edge of bricks half falling to the ground, my brother.
“Where’s Jason?”
“Shit, he’s got the van keys. Don’t ask Sofie just run.”
I kept up with my brothers half limp, half jog. He sobbed, eyes wet, not my brother the one not scared of anything. Once on the road with cars passing us, only then did he slow down. Once home, he went straight to bed, not a word about Jason. I tried the light switch, nothing. We must have used all the emergency credit on the pre-payment meter. Our parents must have gone to the pub, no matter the fridge offered up some slices of left over pizza that did not smell off, washed down with council pop, water free from the tap. No point in me sitting in the dark, so I made my way up to bed.
A noise woke me, something tapping at the front door. Good mum and dad were back, yet no sounds of a night out. No arguments, no singing, odd. Maybe dad could not find his keys? I got out of bed, the floorboards cold underfoot. Once in my fluffy unicorn slippers opened my bedroom door, hand automatically reached for the landing light switch. Only then I remembered we were out of credit, bum. The tapping sound had stopped, as if awaiting some response. Halfway down the stairs when my brothers door opened, glancing back up a shadowy figure of him in his underpants. Cheers for that, not something a younger sister wants to see, why was he shaking?
“Sofie, don’t open it!”
“Does this have something to do with why Jason was not with you?” I whispered back.
“Shit!” We both jumped as a louder bang knocked on the door.
“Don’t open it.”
“You don’t say.” I scooted back up the stairs. “I’m going to phone dad.”
“Sophie, please don’t.”
I had never seen anyone in such an extreme panic as my brother at that point.
“What is it, who’s after you? Tell me. Is it drugs?”
Another, bang. The whole door fame rattled.
“You don’t understand.” He whispered, ending with a half sob.
“Right, I’ve had enough.” I marched back to my room straight to the window, one which overlooked the front door. Reaching up I unlatched it, and slowly opened it to peek out. A malevolent mist swirled by the door, something looked up. The nearby street lamp exploded, making me jump, plunging the street and the door into darkness. I closed the window quick, handle locking it closed.
“What did see, is it still out there?”
The assault on the door renewed, we both looked at each other. I grabbed my mobile, pressed the power button the screen lit up. Yet as I unlocked it and pressed the icon to bring the phone contacts up, the screen flickered and died.
“No.”
“Sophie, hide. I’m sorry, I stuffed up. I love you.”
With that he ran back to his own bedroom, the sound of the bolt on his door being closed. I rushed across to close my door, I dived into bed, under the cover of my unicorn duvet. A wrenching sound as the door finally gave way, then silence.
Only the sound of my heart as loud as any drum, steps on the stairs. More a dull thud, I shuddered. “Someone just walked over your grave,” mum would have said. Under the covers I slowly slid down the gap between the bed frame and the wall, safety. Moving my head slightly I could see through the gap under the bed, the sound of my door opening. Was this someone coming to collect a debt, I knew about those who could not pay the loan sharks back. Enforcers, making certain everyone was reminded the consequences of not paying on time. Holding my breath, the thump of my heart, ice cold fear. A dark shadow of a leg, movement as the shape left my room.
The scream that followed, shook me to the core. Hands over my ears, block out the pleading of my brothers voice. Tears flooded down my face, another wail of, “No!” Please make it stop. The silent wish ignored, sounds of something being dragged down the stairs. Then silence.
Time passed, as I shook with fright. Only to be jolted by another scream, then a shout, “Sofie.”
“Mum, I’m up here.”
The sound of feet on the stairs, I recognised mum’s shoes.
“Sofie, where are you, what the hell happened?”
I emerged like a small creature from its burrow, safe in the knowledge no predator were around. Scrabling free of the duvet, straight into mum’s open arms. The smell of gin somehow comforting, grounding me against the nightmare.
“What happened love, you can tell me.”
I opened my mouth to answer, yet all that came out was hysterical sobs. I tried again, nothing. It was if that the terror that had taken my brother had also ripped out my capacity to speak of what happened, I don’t remember fainting. Coming to on the downstairs sofa, wrapped up in my duvet.
Blue lights strobed through the front room window; the ambulance woman was nice. The doctor could not get a word out of me, I understood his questions, but hysteria shook my small frame.
P.T.S.D. whatever that is? If it’s a loop running over and over of the screams and pleading, then I guess I have it. Once on the ward, dressed in my pink unicorn pyjamas. Near panic as the ward lights were dimmed, until the nurse turned on the overhead light on my bed and pulled the screens around. A Doctor appeared, a sharp scratch of a needle and the sensation of falling.
The hospital bed a warm comfort, yet in dark medicated dreams I ran. Whatever had taken my brother was always just ahead, I could never catch up.
A specialist had explained to mum that severe mental trauma could do that, they would keep me in for tests and observation.
The shear novelty of being asked to choose what I wanted to eat from a menu, the little acts of kindness by the nurses. One such was the TV room, watching cartoons and not scorning them as being childish, even laughing at some of them. I must have fallen asleep in the chair, waking up as the Local News came on. My scream long and loud, it caused the nurse on duty to come running into the TV room. I stood there, hand pointing at the screen.
“More on the main stories in our region. Reports have come in about a failed burglary at an ex-council owned warehouse, police today sealed off the premises as an abandoned van had been found. The mutilated bodies of two males in their late teens were recovered from the site. A spokesman for the council stated, “Although the estates department sold off this asset many years ago, it appears a large stock of cast iron playground horses were left in storage and forgotten about. These heavy metal rides were removed due to not meeting Health and Safety guidelines. It appears that the two males had broken in and one was crushed trying to remove one of them, several others were found scattered across the warehouse along with the bloodied body of a second male.”
Post script:
There is an urban legend that somewhere in Sheffield the many metal bodies of equine playground rides hide in the dark. Resenting their abandonment, biding their time, waiting.