A Call from the Dark
I think I may have gasped. Then I felt fear, a hard, fearful wave of terror wash through me.
‘What?’ I said, my voice cracking.
‘I can see you’re afraid. That’s good. Be afraid…be very afraid.’
Oh, my God. I’m alone at ten o’clock at night and a prank caller says he can see
I’m afraid? I felt like being sick. Before I had to hear that prickly, nasty voice again I pressed down the receiver. I immediately rang my dad, praying he wouldn’t have left yet. ‘C’mon, c’mon,’ I pleaded as the phone rang an eighth and ninth time. He didn’t have a mobile and I didn’t have Dave’s number, so he was no good to me. I gave up and, with a shaking hand, rang Topps.
This time I connected to the answer phone. I remembered Topps telling me they were going out to a family dinner at his uncle’s. What was his mobile number again? My heart did a backflip when I remembered the battery on my phone was dead. I could remember Skye’s number, but I knew she was off at the cinema tonight and I thought I was being too hysterical phoning her parents.
I was alone.
Oh man, I had a sudden flash back to a junky thriller I’d once watched with Skye at my house late one Friday night: When a Stranger Calls. We’d only watched half of it, but that was enough for me to remember one particularly scary scene. The main character, a babysitter, was alone with two kids, who’d gone to bed in an upstairs bedroom. Then later that night she started to get prank calls. She’d panicked and called the police who said they’d trace the calls. They rang back soon after. “We’ve traced the call,’ the police operator had said, ‘and it’s coming from inside the house!’ Shadows edged down the stairs as she made a mad run for the front door…the psycho was phoning her from inside the house!
I tried to stop thinking about it. I looked at my watch. 10.10 pm. Surely Dad wouldn’t be much longer? Though after our argument he seemed to be being even less responsible than usual, like he was trying to punish me or something. Should I call the police or was it just a prank? Perhaps I was overacting. I felt totally vulnerable standing at the counter though. The store stretched before me, dark and swathed in shadows. I could see traffic along Main Street beyond the large glass windows at the front of the store. It was a quiet town and fairly dead by ten o’clock. I knew, though, that La Porchetta’s down the road would still be open. I’d feel a whole lot safer with other people around. I’d be able to see Dad park in front of the Video Saloon from there. One thing for sure, I was getting out of here now.
I ran out to the backroom and grabbed my Billabong bag. I had left it unzipped and a couple of books fell out when I picked it up. Stupidly I wasted a few moment sticking the books back into the bag. Then I high-tailed it to the front door. It only took about a minute but if felt like ages. I reached for the keys to unlock the door.
They were gone.
I swore and grabbed the handle and pulled. It was locked. Had I left the keys behind at the counter? I was sure I hadn’t.
Now I was really scared. My throat was impossibly dry and my head was spinning. I kept thinking how stupid I was to let Crass leave early.
I ran back down to the counter to search for the keys, frantically pushing aside the video covers, paper and pens left on the counter. The keys weren’t there. I checked my jeans pockets, my bag and searched beneath the counter. I couldn’t find them.
Spare keys; I knew Vince kept a key to the front door in the register. I opened it up, lifted up the black metal money box and, to my relief, found a silver key tied to an elastic band. I looked down the store to the front door. It was still in darkness. I should have lit the whole place up when I had the chance, but the light switches were at the front door. Now I’d have to run through the darkness to get to the front door again. Suddenly that front door looked a long way away.
Then I heard it. An evil little giggle. It came from the horror aisle. In the deathly silence of the store it sounded awful and loud. There was someone in the store with me! This was When a Stranger Calls for real. I was trapped inside the Video Saloon. Now there was no way I was going to reach that front door. I’d have to make it past the horror aisle first.
‘I’m calling the police!’ I yelled, picking up the store telephone. It was dead. Somehow the intruder had killed the phone when I was grabbing my bag. My mobile phone was out of credit, and right at that moment I couldn’t remember if I could call the police without any credit or not. I ad to try.
‘Leave me alone!’ I screamed into the darkness as I fumbled for my phone in the backpack, ‘Go away!’ I felt the hot prick of tears on my cheeks.
A voice, high and monotone, said, ‘Yes. We all go a little mad sometimes.’
It sounded like the intruder had come closer to the counter but I still couldn’t see anyone. I forgot about the phone and took a pair of scissors from the counter and held them in front of me. ‘Don’t come any closer or you’ll get it!’ I shouted. My voice was pained, scared, cracking.
From the darkness I thought I heard the floor creak near the comedy section. The intruder was getting closer and closer to the front counter. A shadow, reflected by the one light at the counter, jerked near the aisle. He was moving close.
I looked around wildly for another sort of weapon for protection. Then I saw the emergency alarm underneath the register. It was the small red button connected, I hoped, to the police station. Vince had said it worked. I pressed it three or four times. I’m not sure what I expected to happen; a shrieking alarm or wildly flashing blue lights would have been nice. I didn’t know if it had worked or not. It was a good opportunity to warn the intruder the police were on the way. ‘I’ve called the police!’ I said. ‘I’ve used the emergency button and they’ll be here any minute!
There was no answer to my threat, just the eerie ‘whoosh’ of a car driving down Main Street outside.
‘You’re gutless!’ I said with as much anger as I could muster. ‘You can only pick on girls! You stupid, idiotic prick! I hope the police kick your friggin butt!’
‘That’s gonna be difficult,’ hissed the intruder. ‘After all, you can't kill the Boogeyman.’
Then the intruder stood up from behind a shelf. He was tall, wearing a black coat and a black ski mask, like a bank robber. I was so terrified I dropped the scissors and half ran, half fell into the backroom.
The intruder started to come towards me.
Then, in a panic and with nowhere else to go, I did what every moronic teenager does in those stupid slasher horror movies. I broke the first rule of avoiding axe-wielding maniacs.
RULE ONE. To avoid axe-wielding maniacs NEVER go down the basement alone.
I ran down the stairs to the basement. Alone.
I took the stairs three at a time, just like the hop-skip-and-jump at school sports day. It was pitch black and I found myself stumbling over posters and boxes as I ran to the corner of the basement. Right where I found the pirated DVDs. Only now the table was empty.
I ducked behind a broken shelf just as the stairs began to creak.
The intruder came down the stairs a few moments later. I could hear each step creak as if in pain. He seemed to be taking each one with deliberate sluggishness.
‘I know you’re there,’ he called out. ‘Because I can smell your brains.’
Okay, this guy was a certified wacko. Everything he said was in a sarcastic, mocking tone, as if he thought the entire incident was just hilarious. Except he was putting it on. It wasn’t his real voice. It was totally random. I thought I recognised it.
The intruder stopped. I couldn’t see him from behind the shelf but I heard him trying to find the light switch. It clicked on and lit up part of the basement. Now I was in trouble. I knew what I had to do though. I’d wait for him to walk around beneath the stairs, then I’d make a run for it. I only hoped the police would be there waiting for me.
I heard him kicking posters with his boots. He snarled, ‘I’ve gotta warn ya – you’re doomed if ya stay here!’
At least I knew where we stood. No prisoners.
Then I heard the cardboard cut-outs being moved around beneath the stairs. It was a mess and he must have thought I was cowering in the corner. I took my chance and ran for it. I shot out from behind the shelf, jumped over a pile of old video covers and sprinted towards the stairs.
That was when rule number two of horror movies came into effect.
RULE 2. Never run up stairs. The axe-wielding maniac will always grab your ankle from beneath the stairs, making you trip and fall just as you think you’ve made it to safety.
His hand tried to grip my runners from underneath the stairs and I felt myself stumble and then fall heavily onto the top stair. My knee hit the edge of a step. I gasped in pain.
The intruder came up the stairs as I tried to get to my feet. He was quick. I had only managed to crawl and get to my knees when he reached the top of the stairs. I was crying now, gulping down the pain and shock with blotchy tears.
"Oh, no tears please... it's a waste of good suffering!" he said, his lip curling underneath the cut out of the mask.
He came towards me and I kicked out at him desperately. I got him right in the balls. He took two steps back and tripped over a cardboard cut-out that was poking up from below the stairs. He swung his arms wildly trying to keep his balance before twisting in the air and toppling down the stairs, face down.
He fell onto his back and slid all the way down, his head making a reassuring bokbok-bok, like a hammer hitting a nail, on every step. He crumpled to the basement floor and didn’t get up.
I looked down at the cardboard cut-out and saw a smirking face poking up from the stairs. It was Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt had saved my life!
Despite my throbbing knee, I made it to the front door in record time. I took the spare key from my pocket, rammed it into the lock, opened the door and almost fell out of the store. I then half-limped, half-ran towards La Porchetta’s.
I stopped a second when I reached the road to rub my knee and wipe away the tears from my white, cold cheeks. I bent down and rubbed my knee hard, sniffing and breathing and feeling totally spaced out.
From the darkness I felt a stiff hand grip my shoulder.
I screamed, turned around and found myself in the arms of my father.
‘Sorry Stacey, the car broke down again and I had to walk. It’s not far, I tried to ring but there was no connection…’
Before he could finish I burst into tears.