Hello and welcome friends old and new to On Sundays, We Read Horror. This month, I present the novella Jane Doe Number Six, where a woman tells her story of a blind date gone terribly wrong. An evening out in the city turns into a battle to survive starvation, nature, and the Lakeside Killer.
All art is courtesy of Byron Rempel.
She looked down at the coffee in front of her on the desk. Regular, the dairy creamer clumps floated lazily on the top, making a slow circle in the paper cup. She did prefer it black but decided not to say anything. Instead, she focused her attention to the man across from her. There were papers in front of him, photos of crime scenes. She looked away from those. The woman instead looked at the photos above the man’s head: degrees in criminal justice, citations, pictures from police academy graduation. The younger version of the man in front of her looked hopeful. It was an old photo. There were a few pictures of a woman on the desk, but none of any children that she noticed.
The file cabinet next to her looked tired, too. Sort-of putty colored, she could see the dent in the middle drawer where the officer would bump into it as he passed. She pulled her sweater tighter to her, but she still felt cold. The officer didn’t seem to feel the chill in the small room, sitting in his shirtsleeves, and even mopping a faint line of sweat off his forehead.
Normally, she never would have tolerated being ignored like this. Nothing that had gone on was normal, however.
“Detective Jones,” she began, “my name is Monica Rachel Brown. I want to tell you what happened to me.” His right eyebrow raised slightly. Picking up a pen, he grabbed one of the papers off the desk.
“Yes. What happened here…” He never took his eyes off the page, and as he clicked the pen, she took a deep breath and began.
I don’t go on blind dates, but my friend, well, it had been a little while since the divorce. He was a guy from my friend's job. He seemed… okay. Nice enough. His divorce was just final. He’d gotten joint custody of his kids. Seemed like a good guy.
She looked down at her hands, clutching at a crumpled tissue. She waited until they stopped shaking, then continued.
We’d gotten coffee. No real sparks, but it was just… you know. It just felt good to go out. Talk to a man for something other than work. Not bad looking. Good sense of humor. It felt good. We decided to go out to dinner and a movie. Real original, but he had to get a sitter for his kids, so we agreed on the next Saturday for Pho and a comedy. It went fine enough. We ate and started off to the theater. It was only a few blocks away and walking was easier than trying to park. He was telling me a story. I remember we were laughing at something.
He heard it first. It was a noise in the alley. We weren’t sure what it was, exactly. It sounded like an animal or something moaning soft and low. We couldn't tell. It was dark. I told him not to go, that we could call someone.
He didn’t listen, though. It was all so fast. So fast.
I’m sorry. It’s still hard. I need a minute.
She reached out for the cup of cold coffee. Thinking better of it, she patted her hair and brushed at her sweater. She took a few deep breaths. The detective waited quietly.
The alley, it was so dark and there wasn’t anyone around who noticed us.
Richard, that was his name, went in first. He told me to stay put, but I went in after him. Something… I just didn’t want to be left there alone. I tried to call you, the police I mean, but I went for my phone. It was, it was dead. I thought I charged the battery before I left the house. Could have sworn I did. I was fumbling for my little charger when I saw them, I mean, him. Tall thin guy. Kind of twitchy. He was standing over something.
Richard went up to him, I called him back, but he wasn’t listening. It was all so odd after that. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, not even, but it was like everything slowed down. I thought I saw something: a blur out of the corner of my eye. It hit me in the head, and everything went black.
I came to, I don’t know how long after. It was dark. My shoes and bag were gone. Richard, I could hear him moaning next to me, like he was having a bad dream. I touched my head. I couldn’t see, but I knew it had to be blood. I called out. I tried to stand up. I could hear the water lapping up near where we were. It smelled like mold and old fish. I knew it was bad.
I crawled around. There was dirt and sand. I found the walls and tried to find a way out. It was dark, so dark. I found a door, but it was locked from the other side. I heard that moaning sound again. Softer this time. And a laugh. It wasn’t kind, and the hair raised up on my neck. It came from near Richard. “What do you want?” My voice sounded cracked and thin. The sound of it made me scared.
The laugh came again, closer to me this time. Then it was gone. I crawled back towards Richard. I had to get him up. We had to find a way out. He was breathing, but just a little. I tried. I had to stay calm. I knew it was the only way. It was so dark. My phone was gone, but I tried to feel around on the dirt. Old nails, bits of wood. I found an old lighter. It worked for a minute. We were in an old shed. Could have been a boathouse with the dock end closed off. I was trying to see if there was a flashlight or something when I heard a noise at the door. I put the lighter in my pocket and threw myself on the ground next to Richard. The door swung open and the daylight poured in. I couldn’t see. I tried to hold my hands up against the glare. The light hurt my head. The laugh got louder. A shadow blocked out the doorway, and I could only see a little of the light.
“What have we here…” A man’s voice. Soft.
“Let us out, mister. We won’t…” Something crashed. Loud.
“You’ll do what I tell you.” The man’s voice got louder, sharper in my ear. I think he was going to say something else, but it was like someone was talking to him that I couldn’t hear. The outline in the door. I could see his head tilt, but no one else was there. My head throbbed, but I could slowly start to see in the boathouse. It was the tall man from the alley.
I couldn’t see his face, but his hands and arms, they wouldn’t stay still. “Ants in his pants” my mom would call it.
“Please mister, he needs a doctor.” I didn’t know what else to do. I moved a little forward, when I felt a piece of board under my hand. “Please…” His head twitched, and I went at him. I managed to knock him back, but he jumped up and grabbed me by the throat. He started to shake me like a rag doll with his hands on my neck. I thought it would be the end, but as quick as he started, he stopped. Dropped me to the ground.
“Yes. Of course.” He muttered soft to himself, but I know it was only the three of us in there. He stood straight and still. He turned around and left, locking Richard and me in the boathouse.
Richard tried to be useful, but he kept fading in and out. I knew I had to get us out of there.
There wasn’t much left of the lighter. I tried to put together some of the scrap wood to make a fire. The damp wasn’t helping, and we needed the light. I kept the fire small. I found some little pieces and kept a broken rowboat between the fire and the door. I was able to get Richard back by boat. It helped, but he was in bad shape.
With a little bit of light, I could look around. It was big for a boathouse. It reminded me of weekends at this fancy hotel in the mountains. It was pretty much empty, with the part going out to the water boarded up. There was broken bits of wood and wire around, the oar I hit the man with. I kept looking. We had to get out of there. I didn’t know how long we’d been gone or when crazy man was coming back.
I figured they’d come looking for us, especially with Richard’s kids at his house and all, but how would they find us so far away? I was hoping for something metal to break the lock with, but then… I’m sorry… I...I moved some things by the far wall, and I found…
Richard heard me. He asked what I saw, but I couldn’t tell him. It was someone else. He… it had been there for a while. There wasn’t even a smell left. There were parts in a pile. I had to get us out.
I covered the pile and tried to pray. Nothing came to mind. I tried. For all of us. I found a piece of propeller and tried to dig our way out. Richard and I took turns digging and tending to the fire. I kept us away from far wall, it was better that way.
We needed water, too. There was no day or night, but we were getting thirsty. A whole lake full of water, and we couldn’t reach any of it. We tried to dig towards the lake side. We could hear the water. It was getting bad. I was getting headaches and trying to keep my feet, but we were getting close. Cement. We hit a cement floor. We checked all around. This wasn’t a regular boathouse with boards and a dirt floor. Under the dirt was concrete, and behind the wood was metal walls. It was all made up to look like an old hut, but why?
“Three days,” Richard told me. Three days without water, and we’d be dead. We kept looking. We weren’t going out without a fight. Finally, I showed Richard the body under the wood. I couldn’t hide it from him. He had to know what we were up against. “Some first date story,” he said.
We tried to laugh. We managed to find some metal bits. We weren’t going out without a fight. We moved slow and quiet. We wanted to hear crazy man coming, and we had to save our energy. We found some more bones. We’d bow our heads and threw the dirt over them. I had to stay calm. Anything else would get us killed. Richard’s wallet and phone were gone, too, but he had a picture of his kids in his pocket. Pretty girls. I still think about them.
Jones stayed quiet throughout. He took notes and referred to case files. More pictures.
“You look tired, Detective,” said Monica. “I’m sorry, but there’s more…”
We heard the lock go at the door. We covered the light and waited. It was dark out, but we could see crazy man come in with a camp lantern. He was tall and still. He held the lamp up, and we could see his face. It was all sharpness and dark, like a bird. Crazy man almost looked sad for a minute. He shook his head. Sighed.
“Please,” Richard said, “I have kids.” Crazy man hardened up at this.
“Well, doesn’t that just suck.” He came at us, and I grabbed for my oar. He stopped. He put his hand to his mouth. I remember that he had long, skinny fingers. He put his hand up to his mouth and giggled like a little girl would. He tilted his head all bird-like. “Kids? Of course you do. Rachel and Emily. They look like their mother…”
Richard tried to go after him. I grabbed the back of his shirt and held on tight.
“Don’t worry, Richie. I’ll be sure to go and collect them when I’m done with you.” He turned to look at me. “Pity there’s no one waiting on you, Monica. Must have tough losing your mom like that…”
He giggled some more. Then he turned and walked back to the door. He took his time, daring us to try something. Richard, he took another lunge at crazy man. I couldn’t hold him. Richard, he just got up by the door, right by crazy man’s feet. It was like crazy man snapped. He just started stomping Richard. He grabbed crazy man’s trousers, and soon the were rolling on the ground. I had the oar, but they were all knotted up. I looked up. The door, it was opened a little bit.
I ran for it. I got to the door. I put my hand on the knob. I heard a “crack” and it felt like my leg was stabbed. I looked down and saw blood. Crazy man dropped the lamp and had Richard with one hand and a gun pointed at me with another.
To be continued
******************************************************
So, if you’re not already, please consider becoming a subscriber (paid is awesome for reasons, but free is amazing, too).
You can find subscription links for Substack, Patreon, and now Spotify here.
Each morning, The Sample sends you one article from a random blog or newsletter that matches up with your interests. When you get one you like, you can subscribe to the writer with one click. Sign up here.
Share this post