The Best Horror of the Year. Volume 4

Franz must have fled then, though he had no memory later of going through the wooden door and closing it behind him. He found himself in the partitioned rooms trying frantically to find his way out.

He fumbled and tumbled about in the near darkness for some time then, before he managed to relocate Murdock’s kitchen where he stopped for a moment to listen for any sounds of anything following him. There were no indications of that at all. All around him was perfect silence.

He sat at Murdock’s table just long enough to recover his breath and steady his head, then left the bungalow, slamming the door behind him.

He found the father of the boy who had gone off with Murdock’s dog waiting for him near the front step. The man, still holding his umbrella, looked at him and said. “You’ve cut your hand. It’s bleeding all down your jacket.”

Franz couldn’t think of anything to say to this but he realised it was true. He held the key out to the man who took it and said, “I’ll give it to the boy.”

Franz nodded.

“He’s not in there dead or anything then, Mr. McFee?”

Franz shook his head this time.

“Don’t worry about the dog. My boy will look after him in the meantime.”

This time Franz forced himself to speak.

“Does he go into the house to collect it?”

“My boy? No, never. Mr. McFee wouldn’t want him to.”

“Hum. Does he often go away, Murdock? I mean Mr. McFee.”

“Oh, from time to time, yes. That’s when he tells my boy to look after the dog. Usually he gives him something to buy food for it. We don’t have much money.”

Franz reached into his pocket for his wallet. He had no intention of going back into the kitchen where the tins of dog food were stashed. He held out a note and said, “Is that enough?”

“I should think it will be, yes. Have you no idea when your friend is coming back then?”

Franz shook his head again and went off to his car.

He drove home slowly, cautiously, not really concentrating on what he was doing. His mind was on other things. At one point he drove off the road down a side street and stopped while he sorted through his thoughts. What had he seen back in the bungalow? A hallucination or some kind of tableau devised by Murdock to scare away burglars? It would certainly have that effect but surely it would be better placed in the front of the building instead of hiding away behind a maze of wooden partitions where he, Franz, had only come across it as an afterthought, after searching the whole bungalow.

It then seemed to him that perhaps it had been that his brain had simply misinterpreted the information it was receiving and things were not as they seemed. He had never experienced any kind of hallucination before but that seemed a more reasonable solution to what he now began to think of as his “vision”. He thought that might be the explanation for all such visions, religious and otherwise. If he, a determinedly unbelieving person, could think he saw such sights, then surely it could happen to anyone?

He drew comfort from that thought. He even began to wish he had stayed a little longer in Murdock’s back room and even considered returning to take another look, but decided not to.

And he wouldn’t mention anything about his visit to Barbara, apart from telling her that he had not been able to contact Murdock at all. No point in upsetting her even more.

He went back to the main road and drove home.

The phone rang twice that evening but Franz did not answer it. He felt guilty and slightly irritated about not doing so but his mind was not sufficiently calm to deal with his sister and her worries. He was certain it was her who was calling as hardly anyone else ever did.

Next day, Monday, he worked on his computer at home then, in the afternoon, returned to the library to continue his research on his project. When the library closed he went to a supermarket to buy supplies. He was loaded down with bags of food as he approached his front door behind which he could clearly hear his phone ringing. Flustered by the urgent sound he tried his best to get to it in time but fumbled with his key and almost dropped some of his bags. Meanwhile the phone stopped ringing.

He knew he ought to call his sister but was still unready to do so. No doubt she would call back.

She did, almost an hour later. This time he picked up the receiver.

“Hello, you’re there at last then,” Barbara said, then seemed to whisper something that he didn’t catch.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“No Franz, it doesn’t matter.”

“I went round to Murdock’s place yesterday. He wasn’t there. No sign of him. Did you know he has a dog though? That was a surprise. He’s never seemed to me to be a pet loving sort of person.”

“No, he’s never mentioned a dog to me. What kind of dog?”

Franz realised he had no idea. The boy had run away with the creature so quickly he’d not been able to get a look at it. He explained as much to his sister who did not sound particularly interested.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’ll be able to ask him about it. He’s back now.”

“What!”