Read Online The Taken by Sarah Pinborough - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Pinborough
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medication. Just what was going on? She looked up at Simon, and felt tears suddenly threatening to
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spill. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they mean anything to me or not. They just seem familiar.” The confines of the church were making her feel claustrophobic.
“Let’s go and check outside. See if there’s been any more damage. Maybe the kids that are staying at the caravan park or wherever broke in and vandalized the place.”
Once outside, Simon led the way around the side of the church, Alex using his back to shield her from the wind. She was glad they weren’t walking side by side, because it gave her a few minutes to try and pull herself together. Maybe there was something odd going on, but at least there was now physical evidence rather than just her overactive imagination. Maybe there even was a little boy.
Maybe he had hidden in the house last night and really had been in her bedroom.
She hadn’t checked under her bed after turning the light on, so maybe he’d hidden under there and snuck back out when she’d gone to sleep.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. It was thin and flimsy, but in daylight it certainly seemed plausible. Although she didn’t know why anyone would want to hide in her room to scare her. And his finger was cold and wet, the small voice of reason in her head whispered quietly. Not like someone that had been hiding in the warm all afternoon, but I guess you don’t want to think about that right now, do you?
They turned the corner and ahead of them the old graveyard opened up. Toward the other side of it was the border with Mary’s garden, through which she’d seen or heard whatever it was that made her so upset the previous day, and between them and that were rows of deteriorating gravestones and tombs. About halfway back, amongst a neater line of modern stones,
66
was her mother’s; in the not too distant future, Alex would fill the space beside her. Her stomach tightened slightly. Each day, a day closer.
“Oh God.”
Simon’s voice was loud and deep, and he stopped so suddenly that Alex almost walked into the back of him, having to swerve to his side, stumbling over her feet. Steadying herself, she stared down at what had stopped him and for a moment, for a long, blissful moment, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.
The body that lay twisted on the hard stone paving slabs was nearly unrecognizable; it was the vicar. He wore ordinary gray trousers and a V-neck pullover, out of his church uniform he was no longer a representative of a higher power, but just a person, vulnerable and so pathetically human. Hearing Simon letting out a long shaky breath beside her, Alex absorbed the details, her eyes and brain working together against her need not to know, not to see.
Reverend Barker’s hands had gone slightly blue, no, more like bluish-purple, where they had been exposed to the elements, the liquid that filled his veins congealing in the extremities of his fingertips, bloating them with pressure from within, maybe from the smashed bones that must be the cause of the sickening shape of his legs and arms. Beneath the thinning hair on his scalp, blood as red as communion wine gathered and then dispersed outward, filling the cracks between the slabs of stone and running through them, using them as canals for escape, disappearing into the dirt.
Although Alex’s rational mind told her this was Reverend Barker ruined on the ground, she couldn’t come to terms with the reality of it. His dignity and quiet 67
serenity had been stripped away, leaving only a humiliated husk of a human being. Looking upward, Alex could see the bell tower directly above where he lay.
She’s hurting him. She’s making him cry. She’s going to make him jump.
“Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus…”
It took a moment to realize that the disjointed voice she could hear was her own, and when Simon touched her arm she yelped, pulling away.
“It’s me, Alex. It’s just
65
spill. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they mean anything to me or not. They just seem familiar.” The confines of the church were making her feel claustrophobic.
“Let’s go and check outside. See if there’s been any more damage. Maybe the kids that are staying at the caravan park or wherever broke in and vandalized the place.”
Once outside, Simon led the way around the side of the church, Alex using his back to shield her from the wind. She was glad they weren’t walking side by side, because it gave her a few minutes to try and pull herself together. Maybe there was something odd going on, but at least there was now physical evidence rather than just her overactive imagination. Maybe there even was a little boy.
Maybe he had hidden in the house last night and really had been in her bedroom.
She hadn’t checked under her bed after turning the light on, so maybe he’d hidden under there and snuck back out when she’d gone to sleep.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. It was thin and flimsy, but in daylight it certainly seemed plausible. Although she didn’t know why anyone would want to hide in her room to scare her. And his finger was cold and wet, the small voice of reason in her head whispered quietly. Not like someone that had been hiding in the warm all afternoon, but I guess you don’t want to think about that right now, do you?
They turned the corner and ahead of them the old graveyard opened up. Toward the other side of it was the border with Mary’s garden, through which she’d seen or heard whatever it was that made her so upset the previous day, and between them and that were rows of deteriorating gravestones and tombs. About halfway back, amongst a neater line of modern stones,
66
was her mother’s; in the not too distant future, Alex would fill the space beside her. Her stomach tightened slightly. Each day, a day closer.
“Oh God.”
Simon’s voice was loud and deep, and he stopped so suddenly that Alex almost walked into the back of him, having to swerve to his side, stumbling over her feet. Steadying herself, she stared down at what had stopped him and for a moment, for a long, blissful moment, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.
The body that lay twisted on the hard stone paving slabs was nearly unrecognizable; it was the vicar. He wore ordinary gray trousers and a V-neck pullover, out of his church uniform he was no longer a representative of a higher power, but just a person, vulnerable and so pathetically human. Hearing Simon letting out a long shaky breath beside her, Alex absorbed the details, her eyes and brain working together against her need not to know, not to see.
Reverend Barker’s hands had gone slightly blue, no, more like bluish-purple, where they had been exposed to the elements, the liquid that filled his veins congealing in the extremities of his fingertips, bloating them with pressure from within, maybe from the smashed bones that must be the cause of the sickening shape of his legs and arms. Beneath the thinning hair on his scalp, blood as red as communion wine gathered and then dispersed outward, filling the cracks between the slabs of stone and running through them, using them as canals for escape, disappearing into the dirt.
Although Alex’s rational mind told her this was Reverend Barker ruined on the ground, she couldn’t come to terms with the reality of it. His dignity and quiet 67
serenity had been stripped away, leaving only a humiliated husk of a human being. Looking upward, Alex could see the bell tower directly above where he lay.
She’s hurting him. She’s making him cry. She’s going to make him jump.
“Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus…”
It took a moment to realize that the disjointed voice she could hear was her own, and when Simon touched her arm she yelped, pulling away.
“It’s me, Alex. It’s just
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