JEAPers Creepers Page 8

  Annabelle gasped in excitement. “But now you can tell me! I can show them where you are! Is it far from here? Do you remember how to get there?”

  Marcy tried to put on a serious face. “Hmmm….let me think. Do I still remember how to get to the basement?”

  Annabelle’s face went from being excited to horrified in the blink of an eye. “You were killed here? In the basement of your own house?”

  Marcy giggled. “Yep, I was literally ‘under their noses’ the whole time!”

  Annabelle suddenly looked like she was going to throw up. “Ummm….and you said you saw this guy who murdered you hanging around the house today? Are you sure it was the same guy? He must have changed heaps; it was like thirty years ago!”

  Marcy grinned and nodded. “He has changed heaps, but I still recognized him. I sortof smashed him in the face with a hockey-stick before I died.” She chuckled. “The scar is a doozy.”

  Annabelle just stared at Marcy with her mouth open.

  Marcy shrugged. “So whadya wanna do first? Hear the story of how I died, or go find my body. I’m fine with either….your choice!”

  Annabelle’s eyes came back into focus, and she frowned. “Marcy, we need to ring the police! There’s a killer out roaming the streets!”

  Marcy sighed. “And tell them what?” She held her hand up to her ear in a parody of someone talking on a telephone. “‘Hello officer, my name’s Annabelle, and my dead Aunt’s ghost told me where I can find her dead body. Oh, and she also told me who killed her.’ You’d be in a mental hospital so fast it’d make your head spin!”

  At which point Marcy couldn’t help including a demonstration…she’d waited years to have an audience. Her head began to spin around on her shoulders, exactly like she’d seen happen in The Exorcist years ago.

  Annabelle laughed, then shook her head, looking deflated. “Damnit, you’re right….I’d have sent me to a mental hospital up until about an hour ago. So what are we gonna do?”

  Marcy grinned and clapped her hands. “I thought you’d never ask! I have a plan…”

  ***

  Annabelle

  Marcy folded her arms and stared at Annabelle. “But before I tell you about the plan, you have to either listen to the story of how I died, or come to the basement so I can show you where my body’s hidden!”

  Annabelle chuckled at the stubborn angle of Marcy’s pale chin. “Ok, let’s go with the story first then. I can’t wait to hear the bit about smacking him in the face with a hockey-stick!”

  Marcy sighed, and sat on the floor cross-legged. “Ok….so, it was a Monday. I’d left home at the usual time for school, but I had no intention of going that day. There was a horrible maths test set for third period, and I’d spent the weekend watching the television instead of studying. I knew mum and dad would make me go, so I decided to ditch school.”

  “I hid behind some trees just down the road from home, and waited for mum to leave the house with Sarah. She always dropped Sarah off at school before she went to work. After I saw them leave, I snuck back to the house and climbed in through my bedroom window, which I’d deliberately left open. I was so excited about having the house to myself for the whole day!”

  Marcy was quiet for a minute, as if she was reliving that feeling of excitement. “Anyway, I’d been home about an hour, and was lying on my bed with the headphones on, listening to music on my Walkman. I was hungry, and I suddenly remembered the leftovers of the apple pie mum had cooked on the week-end were in the fridge.” She shuddered, and a mixture of sadness and anger crossed her face. “I so wish I’d never remembered that pie! Or that I’d gone to school and failed the stupid maths test!”

  Marcy face-palmed her forehead and shrugged. “Sorry, I usually try not to let the ‘what ifs’ in, but this is the first time I’ve ever told the story out loud.”

  Annabelle knew that what Marcy needed was a hug. She knew, because it was what she’d want. But the little she’d ever read about ghosts told her that hugs were definitely not in the realms of possibility.

  “Oh Marcy, I’m so sorry this happened to you. If I could give you a hug, I would.” The light seemed to come back into Marcy’s eyes as she looked at Annabelle in awe.

  “Wow…I feel like you just did! Thanks Annabelle…you’re the best friend a ghost could ever have.”

  Marcy’s whole bearing had changed. She sat up taller and straighter, looking somehow braver as she prepared to finish her story.

  “Ok, so I just had to have some of that pie! I took off my headphones, and thought I heard a noise in the lounge room. I laughed at myself for being spooked by a noise just because I was home alone. But as soon as I opened my bedroom door, I knew someone else was in the house. And I knew if I could hear them, they’d probably just heard me open the bedroom door.”

  Marcy was now shaking, as if she were back there, reliving the whole thing over again. “I looked around for something I could use as a weapon if I needed one, and saw my hockey-stick just inside the door. I grabbed it, and tried to sneak away from my room in case they came looking. I’d just pulled the door to the basement open when he came up behind me.”

  “I screamed, and swung the hockey-stick straight at his face. He pushed me away from him, blood running down his face, and the next thing I knew, I was tumbling backwards down the basement stairs. And that’s my last memory, before I woke up as a ghost….”

  Annabelle was frowning, and chewing on her lip. “So how come the police didn’t find any evidence he’d been there?”

  Marcy shrugged. “He was clever. When I ‘woke-up’ as a ghost, I realised I was inside a cupboard, stuff piled on top of my body. My schoolbag, the hockey-stick, the gloves he’d been wearing, and the towels he’d used to wipe up any of the blood from his face. And when I went upstairs, the house was spotless, just like mum had left it that morning. There wasn’t a trace of him ever being there.”

  “So why would he come back here? I don’t get it!”

  Marcy’s eyes narrowed. “I think I have it worked out. What if he saw the removalist truck out the front when you guys moved in? And those workmen who came to fix the back pergola last week. Maybe he’s getting nervous the new owners might decide to renovate the basement or something. Anyway, what if we made sure he heard that really was going to happen? He’d have to try and get the evidence out of the basement, wouldn’t he? I mean, all that forensic DNA crap would have to still be all over the stuff he shoved in there with my body, wouldn’t it?”

  Annabelle felt relief rushing through her. “So you don’t think he’s after me then…?”

  Marcy sighed. “When I first saw him at the window, I thought that must be why he was here. But when I was telling you the story of what happened, I realised something I hadn’t thought about before. I don’t think he meant to kill me! I actually think it might have been an accident. But he still shouldn’t have got away with just leaving me there!”

  ***

  George

  George ran his fingers down the ugly scar that ran from his ear to the side of his mouth. He still remembered the girl’s face like it was yesterday. She hadn’t even screamed…just tumbled down the stairs like a ragdoll, until she landed on the floor of the basement, her body all twisted and broken.

  IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! Those four words screamed over and over in his head, as they had been doing for the last thirty years. But it didn’t matter whether it was an accident or not, she was still dead!

  He remembered running down the stairs to check her pulse, blood pouring from the split in his face. But it was too late…she was already dead. His mind and body had kicked into automatic, self-preservation mode, gathering the evidence that he’d ever been inside the house. And then he’d noticed she was in her school uniform. Guessing she’d ditched school for the day, he’d also removed any evidence she’d been in the house as well.

  By the time he had all the evidence in a pile in the basement, sweat was running down his face, the salt stinging the throbbing wou
nd from the girl’s hockey-stick. The towel he’d kept pressed against his face was soaked in blood, and he knew the wound needed stitching.

  He scanned the basement, looking for somewhere to hide the body and the evidence. He spied an old cupboard half hidden in the shadows, a pile of old, broken junk stacked randomly in front of it. It obviously hadn’t been used in a very long time.

  Perfect!

  He cleared a path through the rubble, and found the key to the cupboard sitting in the keyhole. Relief washed through him, he might just get away with this yet!

  It’s about time my ruddy luck changed! I come here to do a simple burglary, and end up

  having to hide a dead body…unbelievable!

  He opened the cupboard and couldn’t believe his luck. It was full of old plastic drop sheets from a long ago paint job!

  The next hour was a blur, probably due to the excruciating pain from his torn face. He wrapped the girl in the myriad of plastic, stuffed her and all the other evidence into the cupboard, locked the door, and slipped the key into his pocket. He’d dispose of that later.

  Exhausted, he dragged the junk back in front of the cupboard, trying to make sure the dust-covered items looked as undisturbed as possible.

  Then…he’d left.

  And he’d been waiting ever since for the police to knock on the door and tell him he was under arrest.

  The first few months were the worst. He couldn’t sleep…his nightmares filled with visions of the girl tumbling down the stairs, her dead eyes staring up at him, her mouth forming the word ‘murderer’. His life became a living hell.

  When the family up and moved a year later, it was like he’d been given a second chance. The nightmares became less frequent, and he’d finally started to put the broken pieces of his life back together, moving past the horrifying events of that day.

  Over the years he’d managed to forgive himself, knowing the girl’s death was just a tragic accident. The house had sat empty for almost thirty years, the evidence of his crime safely entombed in the deserted basement. After all that time, he could almost convince himself it hadn’t really happened…that it had all been just a horrible nightmare.

  And then, six months ago, a removalist truck had pulled up out the front of the house, and the nightmares had come flooding back. He’d watched the family moving in with terror in his heart. What if they decided to use the basement? What if there was DNA or something still on the evidence?

  So when the workmen had arrived two weeks ago to work on the house, his decision had been made. He’d wait until there was no one home, remove the contents of the cupboard, and bury them somewhere no one would ever find them!

  Now…where did I put that key?

  ***

  Marcy

  Annabelle seemed to cringe at the evil leer Marcy knew was spreading across her face. “So how do you feel about helping me with a bit of pay-back?”

  Marcy almost burst out laughing at the look of horror on Annabelle’s face. “Umm…what exactly d-do you m-mean by p-pay-back?”

  And then Marcy did burst out laughing. What did Annabelle think she was asking her to do? Help her kill the guy? She stopped laughing as she realised from the look on Annabelle’s face that was exactly what she thought!

  Marcy tried to look apologetic. “Oh Annabelle…I don’t wanna kill the guy. I just want him to get caught, and go to jail for what he did! And I’m pretty sure your mum would like to know what really happened as well. I think adults call it ‘closure’, or something like that.”

  Annabelle finally giggled, although Marcy noticed there was a tinge of hysteria in there as well. The poor girl was probably suffering from shock overload. “Oh, how silly of me! You mean you only want me to help you catch a killer, not kill him? Well, now I feel much better…”

  Marcy smiled. “I knew you would, all we have to do is….”

  ***

  Annabelle flopped down onto her bed and covered her face with her hands, a strangled scream seeping out through her fingers. She sat up and looked Marcy straight in the eye. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? So maybe this guy didn’t mean to kill you. And maybe he’s not here to kill me. But a person who’s already killed someone, and then suddenly feels a trap closing in around them, probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. Which is fine for you, cos he can’t exactly kill you again, but I happen to have a heartbeat I’m quite attached to!”

  Marcy was horrified she hadn’t thought of that herself. She couldn’t believe she’d expected Annabelle to put herself in that kind of danger. If ghosts could blush, her face would have been as red as a stoplight.

  “Ooppss…sorry Annabelle. Guess I hadn’t really thought the whole thing through very well. I’m not used to being able to talk about things with someone else. I would never let you put yourself in danger like that. Let’s just forget all about it and get to know each other. I have so much to ask you about what’s been going on in the world! And I think the trip to the basement should definitely wait for another day.

  ***

  Marcy tried really, really, really hard to stop thinking about making Scarface pay for what he’d done. Her and Annabelle had decided he needed a name, and Scarface seemed appropriate.

  She was finally taking Annabelle down to the basement today. They’d been putting it off all week, but today was the perfect opportunity. It was Saturday, and Annabelle’s family had gone to a birthday party and wouldn’t be home until late. Annabelle had faked a headache and begged to stay home. Her mum had been dubious at first, then finally relented and let her off the hook.

  “Marcy…where are you?” Annabelle’s voice was coming from the kitchen, where she sat eating pancakes for breakfast.

  Marcy popped up beside Annabelle and groaned in her ear. “Pancakes…they used to be my absolute favourite food. Well, except for mum’s home-made apple pie, which I kinda got over for some reason.”

  Annabelle laughed. “Gee…I can’t imagine what could possibly have turned you off that!”

  Marcy giggled, and let out a spooky wailing sound, waving her arms in front of her. “Does that give you a hint?”

  Annabelle’s face turned serious. “So, are we ready to do ‘you-know-what’ today?”

  Marcy nodded sadly. “Only if you’re positive it won’t freak you out!”

  Annabelle sighed. “I promise I’ll try not to freak out! I’ve never seen a real skeleton before, so I can’t guarantee it.”

  Marcy puffed her chest out importantly, and assumed a fighting stance. “Don’t worry…I’ll be there to protect you! I won’t let my long dead skeleton attack you!”

  They laughed, as Annabelle carried her plate to the sink and threw down a glass of juice.

  Annabelle took a deep breath, and opened the drawer she knew held the key to the basement. Her mum had forbidden anyone to go down there until she’d had it checked out. Holding the key in her slightly shaking her, she looked at Marcy floating beside her. “Ok, let’s go!”

  Annabelle

  Annabelle flicked on the light switch at the top of the stairs, and peered down the long staircase to the murky depths below. She took a deep breath and began the steep descent, thoughts of what it must have been like for Marcy tumbling to the bottom making her regret her choice of pancakes for breakfast.

  The stairs creaked loudly, and she shone her torch on each step before moving to the next, terrified the rotting timber would collapse under her weight and she’d end up sharing Marcy’s fate.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, as a new thought entered her already panicked brain. What if that’s what Marcy had intended all along? What if she wanted a dead friend…one that could join her in her ghostly world?

  Annabelle knew Marcy was able to move things around, she’d seen her do it enough times over the past week. It wouldn’t take much to send something flying at her or move something to trip her.

  She froze…unable to move as terror flooded through her body. Was Marcy capable of doing
such a thing? She was already dead, so she could do anything she wanted without fear of repercussions. She suddenly realised she didn’t even know where Marcy was right now!

  “M-m-marcy? W-w-where are you?” she called out softly.

  “I’m right here at the bottom of the stairs waiting for you. And don’t worry, I found a smelly

  old mattress and moved it here, just in case you tripped or something.”

  Annabelle let the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding out with a whoosh.

  What an idiot! As if Marcy would hurt me…she’s my friend!

  Annabelle collapsed onto the mattress at the bottom of the stairs in relief. She’d made it! But Marcy hadn’t been joking about how bad the mattress smelled. She jumped back off in disgust.

  “You ok?” Marcy asked, concern showing on her ghostly, pale face.

  Annabelle managed a shaky smile. “Yep…absolutely. So where….?

  Marcy pointed towards a heavily shadowed area in the far back corner of the basement. Annabelle pointed the beam of her torch in the direction she’d pointed, and all she could see was a pile of broken furniture and random junk.

  Annabelle frowned. “Are you telling me the cupboard is behind all that?”

  Marcy shrugged. “Afraid so. I told you he’d been careful. Come on; let’s get all this stuff out of the way.”

  Annabelle was half way to the cupboard, when a large hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed her arm. She screamed and tried to wrench her arm free, kicking out at the shadows where the hand had come from.

  “Hey…settle down wildcat!”

  The man stepped out of the shadows and Annabelle’s knees turned to jelly. A scar ran from his left ear all the way to the corner of his mouth. It was him! Scarface!