Page 49 of The Spiral

Chapter 17

Jack

She moves quicker than I’d like, instantly bringing the daylight with her as she heaves at me and rolls away. Fucking daylight. I want my dark back. Selma’s there, and Madeline isn’t denying me or her anymore. She’s here now. Alive again.

“You should get back down here,” I mutter as I grab for her leg. She should. She should forget about any reality she knows and come live this fucked up one with me instead, enjoy it.

She sidesteps out of my hand, reaching for the fur coat and shrugging it around herself.

“Maybe, but that’s not getting me or Selma inside that room, is it? And I know now. I do, Jack. I know it all. I can feel her.”

Before I’ve processed what’s she’d said, she’s running, her feet nimbly negotiating the treehouse as if she’s been on it a thousand times.

“Selma,” I call, rolling myself onto my knees to grab at my jeans and shirt.

Fuck. Conniving little bitch. This is Selma’s doing, not Madeline’s. She’s inside her now, moulding the two of them together, both of them using each other to get their own damn way. She laughs somewhere ahead of me, causing me to shrug into my jeans quickly and discard the shirt in favour of catching up with her.

My bare feet sprint, not caring for the ground that undulates beneath them as I crash though the undergrowth to get to them before either of them see my dogs. I’m not ready for it, and neither is Madeline. And although Selma’s clearly already seen inside it, what the fuck she needs Madeline to see for I don’t know.

“Madeline,” I shout, finally seeing her coat trailing behind her as she scampers through the woods, feet covered with mud as she leaps a brook.

She doesn’t reply, just keeps going until she manages to find the main driveway and veers along it, her feet picking up speed again.

“You can’t stop this, Jack,” she screams back, more laughter following her words.

I career on, pushing every muscle I’ve got to get to the house before she does, and swerve off to the left to cut through the small wood that lies to the east of the house. Thickets and brambles hang heavy inside it, hindering my path, but the shortcut proves useful as I watch her come into view again. She’s to the right, her own feet still powering her along towards the main steps.

She looks across at me, knowing she’s not going to make it first. She scowls and suddenly swerves right away from the front of the house, confusing me. “More than one way in, Jack,” she calls. Bitch. I watch her negotiate the terrain, her feet nimbly crossing the stepping stones towards the cellar’s entrance. The same entrance that will lead her straight to the spiral. It’s as if she knows the damn house better than I do all of a sudden. “You’ll have left this open, too, won’t you?”

Selma.

“Don’t, Madeline,” I shout, barely containing my animosity for a wife who’s managing to outmanoeuvre me.

I turn sharply, trying to get to the main door before her, but I’m not going to make it along the hall in time. I know that. She’s beaten me because of Selma’s knowledge of the building, not hers. She knows nothing of this place, but my wife? She knew it better than me. All those damn days rebuilding the decrepit monster, turning it into our home, showed her parts of this place no one even knew existed.

A noise rumbles in the distance, causing me to swing my head behind me and look back up the drive. A car’s coming. I can see the dust over towards the headland. I whip back to look for Madeline, noticing as she grinds to a halt by the cellar door and swings around, too. She seems confused as she peers at the dust, and then her face drains of colour regardless of the sprinting she’s been doing. Her hands fly to her mouth, feet stumbling over themselves to back her towards the stonework. She looks scared, the laughter of moments ago disappearing with every breath she pulls in.

“Jack,” she says, her eyes widening as the car keeps coming and kicks up gravel in its wake. “You’ve got to go. Run.”

“Why?”

“That’s Lewis’ car.”

My eyes narrow at the vehicle, annoyed with its presence for multiple reasons and about ready to kill the man who dared mar the beauty of my wife’s face. It causes enough anger to rise that I’m walking in her direction and blocking her from him before I’ve thought any more of it.

She shakes her head at me, eyes wider than before as she shivers against the stonework and then glances back at the vehicle.

“Don’t be stupid, Jack. He’s come for me, not you. You have to go. Leave.” She walks from the wall, pushing at my chest and pointing towards the main steps. “Go, Jack. Hide.” I stare at her, unsure what the fuck she thinks a snivelling little abuser can do in front of a real man, then smile at the prospect of showing him what real men actually do to protect the women they love. “Oh God, Jack. I’m not going back. I’m not. Not again. I need the gun. Where’s the gun?” She turns and bolts into the cellar, the door opening after a shove so hard it crashes against the side of the building. “Go, Jack.”

I turn slowly to watch the car continuing towards me, little care for her analogy of him. He’s a fucking abuser is what he is. A weakling. I’ve been training my dogs for too long to care about something as insignificant as a wife beater and his threats. Perhaps he should join them in their cell, learn what real pain feels like from the hands of someone who gives a damn about delivering it correctly. I’ll wait here for him. Show him how real men behave.

The wind makes the dust drift as the black SUV closes in on me. It reminds me of Selma’s fog, amusing me as I wait for whatever this fucker thinks he’s got for me. It felt so good to hold her again, hear her voice coming at me as she moaned her love for me.

“JACK.”

I swing back to the door, my feet instantly picking up speed at her alarmed voice, and head into the cold confines of the cellar. She shouts again somewhere ahead, making me run up the stairs quicker to get to the door by the spiral. It’s open when I arrive, no sight of her.

“Madeline?” I call out, trying to gauge her position. She doesn’t answer, but I can feel the chill already coming from the black carpet of the spiral. “You here, baby?” I whisper, watching and waiting for the frost to ebb down to me. No answer from either of them again, but I hear the crackle of ice that comes with her, sense it pull me towards the both of them. “What are you up to, wife? You want me to hurt him like I do those dogs?”

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