Story 4 – The Underpass

Vicky kept her hands in her pockets and tucked her chin down into her thick coat to keep as much of her heat in as should could. The wind was sharp and cold, finding ways to suck warmth out from every inch of exposed skin. It was a cloudless night, every meagre degree of heat the sun had managed to push down during the day had escaped, leaving nothing but the cold.

Her path home led out of the centre of town, away from the crowded buildings that had provided some buffer.

The traffic thinned out as she walked, at this time of night most people had already gone home. The occasional car lit the path in front of her for moments, before driving on and leaving her with the paltry light from the widely spaced lampposts. She only lifted her eyes to glance up occasionally, to make sure the path in front of her was clear.

The few houses in this part of town dwindled away, leaving playing fields on her side, the river and wetlands the other side of the road. It would take her about fifteen minutes to reach the estate she lived in. She was already imagining the warmth inside, her housemates would no doubt have the heating on. She could almost taste the hot cup of tea she was going to make as soon as she got her coat off. Hot and sweet, four sugars tonight, she decided.

Then she realised that the last two lampposts had been out. The path was nearly pitch black and she cursed, fumbling her phone out of her pocket with fingers that were starting to numb. She didn’t like to walk out, alone in the dark, with her phone visible, but she was going to need the torch to light the path.

She looked up properly as she turned the torch on and saw she was nearly to the underpass. The major road out of town ran above the little road she was taking to get home. Three lampposts the other side of it were out as well, meaning the path underneath was in pitch blackness.

Vicky stopped walking and pointed her light towards the underpass. She was too far to illuminate anything. She didn’t like the fact that six lights were out and only the ones either side of it. That felt off, it would be easy for someone to hide in the darkness there, waiting for the unsuspecting or unprepared traveller. There had been an increasing number of mugging in and around town, if social media was to be believed, and she was going to have her phone in hand as she walked through there. It didn’t seem like a good idea.

However, the only other route back home took her all the way back into town and and around a loop that was going to take her at least another hour to do, maybe forty five minutes if she walked faster than usual. That would be safer, but it was very cold and she was craving some warmth.

She could feel her lips starting to go numb, her whole face in fact. The fingers holding her phone were already starting to burn in the cold.

She decided to risk it.

Walking at a carefully measured pace, holding her phone to her chest with the light pointing forward, she could at least maybe blind anyone coming towards them if she didn’t like the look of them.

Step by step, she approached the darkness that was the mouth of the underpass. The darkness outside felt grey compared to the clutching, pitch black of that underneath the road.

She could feel her breath coming faster, her heart rate increasing. Something in the back of her mind was starting to say this was a bad idea. Fighting with the thoughts of warmth and tea, it was slowly winning the argument.

She felt certain something was under there, waiting for her. Something? No, she meant someone. A person with ill intent. A mugger, a bored gang of kids looking to give someone a kicking. Going under there was a bad idea.

But warmth, tea, not having to walk for another hour. These were the other considerations. Was she really going to spend that much longer cold because she had the willies? 

She took another step forward and the light illuminated the shape of a man, standing in the path.

Before Vicky had fully realised what she had seen she was already running away from the underpass, slowing to a jog as she reached the first of the houses, but not stopping and definitely not looking back.

As the houses started to become shops and traffic began to pick up again, Vicky slowed to a walk.

What had she actually seen there? She couldn’t really picture it. Her lizard brain had made her turn and run before her rational mind had even started to process the image. Walking deeper into the bright lights of the town, now closed except for the numerous pubs and clubs which occasionally spilt patrons out into the street, she tried to bring the image to mind.

There had been darkness, deep, cold darkness. The light had barely lit up the edge of the sloping wall which held the road above up. Tiles had reflected the light, up just enough to see…

What was it? Why couldn’t she recall it?

There had been something there, because she wouldn’t have run from nothing. She trusted her instincts enough to know that she might take a little fright easily, she didn’t get that scared without good cause.

What had she seen?

She had seen, had seen…

A leg, and a foot. A shoe? She wasn’t sure. More the shape of a leg and foot, the barest glimpse.

But there had been something wrong with that image, that flash of vision. She just could not put her finger on it. She had seen enough to react instinctively, but not enough to process it.

The whole journey home she worried at the problem, what had she seen? Why had she been so scared? At no point did she doubt herself that there had been something to be scared of, that was not in question for her. Not knowing what it was, that was troubling. How could she recognise it if she saw it again?

Despite the walk taking nearly an hour, it didn’t feel that long in her mind, which was too occupied with the problem to note the ache in her feet or the chill settling in to her. It was only when she opened her front door and was hit with a wave of heat that made her face and fingers tingle she realised just how cold she had gotten. Vicky didn’t even take off her coat until she had made and consumed two hot cups of tea, the second being made by Rachel, the only one of her housemates still downstairs.

Rachel was worried about why she had taken such a long route home, but Vicky couldn’t make herself explain just how terrifying the underpass had been. Now that she was home and warm, it didn’t feel real. The memory of the experience was being clouded by the rational part of her mind that said she’d got spooked over nothing.

She ended up making a joke of it, about how she felt like she needed the exercise.

She could tell that Rachel didn’t really believe her.

The next day she left home at eleven in the morning, heading into work for the afternoon shift. She went her normal route, which took her back to the underpass again. In daylight it was completely unthreatening, but she took extra time to look at what was under there properly, to see if she could see what could have caused her so much fear last night.

There was nothing, just the usual lazy graffiti, tags and scrawls. It wasn’t a place where the better artists actually painted images. Maybe she had seen the edge of one of the tags in just the right light to make it look like something else? That was the most likely explanation, the only other was that she had seen a figure waiting underneath. But if they had meant to attack her, the street had been deserted enough that once she turned they could have easily chased her and caught up before she would have found help.

She rationalised the fear away as the cold and her tiredness playing tricks on her. Tonight she would come home this way and get back into the warm much faster than she had last night.

It was gone ten by the time she left, despite her shift ending at nine. Gary had been having some treble with the computer in the office and she had been drafted in to help. Which had turned into a chat about how the pub was going. She only realised how late it was when she got a text from Rachel asking if she was taking the long way home again.

She finished up the conversation with Gary and told him she’d see him tomorrow before leaving.

From the heat inside the pub to the cold of the winter night was a sharp and unpleasant shock. She tucked every bit of her she could manage into her coat and seriously considered getting a taxi home. But money was a little tight and although she could afford it, she might want that cash for something more fun than a ride home. Plus, there was a dress in H&M that she’d had her eye on and she would much rather spend the money on that than a taxi. Fully decided in her choice, Vicky picked up her pace, trying to use the exertion to warm her up. It helped a little. 

As she approached the underpass, she realised that another lamppost either side of it had now stopped working, casting even deeper shadows underneath. She would have to ring the council tomorrow, much more of this and the whole road would be dark, it was an accident waiting to happen.

Pulling out her phone for the light again, she walked briskly towards the underpass, determined to not let her mind trick her into a longer walk tonight. It wasn’t as cold as it had been the night before, a little bit of cloud cover helped there, but it was still unpleasant.

Her scalp prickled and she felt goosebumps forming on her arms and legs. The underpass felt like it had an electric charge that wired deep into her unconscious mind. Every step made her whole body feel uneasy. She tried to shake it off, there was nothing there. No homeless person’s camp, no gang of muggers. It was in her mind, just in her mind.

Her hand began to shake, the light from the phone waving wildly across the path and into the darkness. She tried to focus her mind but wasn’t sure if it was the cold causing it or the fear that was creeping up from the deepest recesses of her mind.

She called herself a chicken, reminded herself of just how cold she had been on returning home last night, trying to bully herself into just walking through the twenty metres or so of darkness under the road and then she would be nearly home. But despite herself, she was slowing down. Her feet unwilling to step faster.

She stopped away from the entrance, willing herself to go on, knowing that she wouldn’t. She could feel the tears of frustration staring to form in her eyes. This was stupid. She had developed a phobia about walking somewhere she had waked hundreds of times before in darkness and in daylight.

But not this dark, her mind whispered to her.

Yes, the lights were out and that wasn’t helping. Was probably causing most of this. But she didn’t want to walk all the way round to get home again. She wanted tea and heat and Love Island.

Lifting her right foot was like lifting a dead weight, but she managed a step forward, then her left felt even heavier. She forced herself on, but it did not get easier as she approached the entrance, instead each step took more effort. She could feel her whole body shaking, the light from her phone washing wildly, in unpredictable patterns over the pavement and road. She tried to tell herself it was just the cold making her shiver, but she didn’t believe it.

Frustrated, she stopped at the very entrance, listening to the sound of the traffic passing overhead, a deep rumble echoed through the underpass. That was a normal sound. Above her were normal people doing normal things and being entirely normal. She should be doing the normal thing too. She should step forward and go through. She could run through if she had to, there was no law that said she had to walk. People jogged along here all of the time. It wouldn’t be weird, it would be normal, all she had to do was start.

She couldn’t lift her foot.

Crying with anger and frustration at her mind and body’s betrayal, she turned around to start the long walk back.

Something brushed the back of her head, softly, a caress.

Vicky exploded from the spot, sprinting harder than she ever had before. Away from the underpass, through the darkness of the faulty lights and back into the illuminated part of the path. She kept going, she didn’t stop as the houses started to build up. She didn’t slow as she raced past shops. It was only when she reached the centre of town, surrounded by the sound and smells of humanity that she came to a halt.

Bent over double, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs burned from the cold air she had sucked into them. Her legs ached deeply. Her feet were sore, her shoes weren’t what she would have chosen to run in, they lacked padding.

No-one too much notice of her. A few people gave her glances and looked to where she had come from. But when they saw no danger behind her, they just moved on.

Vicky wanted to laugh, to cry, to explode with an emotion she couldn’t yet explain.

Instead she settled herself down, not wanting the attention she was drawing to herself. She stood upright and sucked in some deep breaths with her hand over her mouth to take some of the chill out of the air.

When she felt settled, she sent Rachel a quick text to let her know she was taking the long way home again, but didn’t offer any explanation as to why. That done, she stuck her freezing hands deep into her pockets, tucked her face down into her coat as far as it could go and started the long walk home.

The next day was her day off, so she spent most of it in bed, wrapped up in her thick duvet and catching up on the soaps and shows she had missed while at work.

Vicky did take the time to ring the council to report the lampposts being out. The woman who answered wasn’t very helpful, she tried to dismiss Vicky’s report by saying that no-one else had said anything. Vicky wasn’t sure how to respond to that other than to repeat that four of the lights either side of the underpass were not working, could they at least get someone to check.

The woman agreed to, but she sounded sceptical, telling Vicky that if so many lights had gone out, someone would normally have reported it by now.

Vicky ended the call feeling frustrated and a little worried. What if the woman was right and there was no problem with the lights? That would make it a problem with her. Given how she had reacted to the sight of the dark there, Vicky wasn’t altogether sure that she wasn’t the problem. There wasn’t a history of mental illness in her family, but there didn’t have to be, did there? It could strike from nowhere, she thought. For a while she gave serious consideration to googling about it, before deciding that it would most likely not be helpful right now. It had only happened twice, in the dark and she couldn’t be sure there wasn’t a valid reason for her to feel like that yet. Let the council look into the lights. If she found out there was nothing wrong with them, she would make a doctor’s appointment. There was no point in jumping the gun.

Buried under her warm duvet and watching fictional people get into outlandish situations, she stopped thinking about the underpass altogether.

After a day of resting and staying warm followed by a good night’s sleep, Vicky felt ready for the world. Today was going to be a late one, it was Saturday and she would be working until the the pub closed at midnight. With clearing up and her other duties, she’d be lucky to leave at half twelve.

She headed into town earlier than she needed to determined to buy herself that dress as a reward for not being afraid any more. She told herself that she definitely wasn’t afraid and so she could have the dress now. The logic felt sound to her.

The pub was busy all evening and night, she was constantly pouring drinks, collecting glasses, chatting the the regulars and finding time and space to wipe down tables and the bar. There was only one issue all night, a younger guy, didn’t look to be in his twenties yet, had kept pawing at her and trying to pinch her bum every time she walked past. After the third time she told Gary, and the guy was forcibly ejected, along with a lot of swearing on his part. By the time the last customer left, stumbling out of the door with his mates on their way to one of the clubs, Vicky was exhausted. She was now regretting buying the dress, she felt like she had earned a taxi home, but there were still bills to pay and food to buy. She dithered over whether to call one or not, before deciding to save the money. She wasn’t going to be afraid tonight anyway, so the journey home would be as fast as it should be. She definitely wasn’t going to be scared of the dark any more. She was a grown woman, there was nothing in the dark to scare her.

She kept repeating that to herself.

The lights were working either side of the underpass. Vicky let out a little sob of relief, despite all of her brave words and determined thoughts, the fear of the dark was still there. The underpass itself was still shrouded in shadows, as the road above blocked the light from fully penetrating, but that was how it should be.

Passing under the lampposts, Vicky tried to whistle a jaunty tune through her cold lips. The wind was staring to pick up again and it bit into her exposed skin.

The underpass was coming up, nothing to be afraid of. A few moments of brisk walking and she would be through. She could stop worrying about nothing.

The five lampposts on the far side of the underpass went out.

Vicky stopped.

The far side of the underpass and the path that led away from it weren’t visible any more.

This couldn’t be happening, lights don’t fail like that. Was it all in her head?

Had something moved under there? She thought she caught the barest glimpse of a figure, but it was too hard to distinguish in the dark.

She wasn’t doing this again, she wasn’t going to be cold and late home again. She was going to walk through the underpass and out the other side the same way she had this afternoon. The same way she had done hundreds of times. She was not going to let the dark scare her.

The lamppost nearest the underpass on her side went out.

Vicky shrieked, barely more than a gasp. Her voice wouldn’t come out.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned around. Another person, she could follow them though, not have to do it alone. It was the young guy from the pub, the one she’d had thrown out. He was walking directly at her, eyes fixed on her. Had he followed her?

Vicky took a step back, towards the underpass, the guy smiled. It was not a smile of humour, it was cruel and promised nothing good. He had his hand in his right jacket pocket, did he have a knife? He started to speed up now that she had seen him.

This was bad, the railings would stop her getting across the road and she didn’t dare try to run past him, not if he might have a knife. The cold didn’t bother her any more, instead she felt the heat of fear blossoming within her. The only choice she had left was to go through the underpass, to run into the darkness that scared her. Which was more of a threat? The real guy with what looked to be nasty thoughts on his mind or the thing in the underpass that was so terrifying her.

All of this flashed through her mind before he had taken two steps.

Vicky screamed and ran into the darkness of the underpass, not even taking the time to pull out her phone for the light.

Over her rapid breathing she could hear his heavy steps speed up, he was running after her!

The guy was yelling for her to stop and take her punishment. That she was a bitch and deserved it. His voice echoing around her.

The darkness swallowed her but she didn’t dare slow down, using her left hand to guide herself along the railing to keep going in a straight line.

He was faster than her and gaining.

How much further did she have to go to get out of here? With the street lights out, she couldn’t tell where the open end was.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” A voice roared in the darkness.

She heard a screech of fear and pain from behind her.

She should keep running, just go.

She definitely shouldn’t look. She didn’t need to see what was happening.

Vicky stopped, pulling out her phone for its torch and turned around to see what had happened to the guy.

He was on the floor while a figure of pure darkness smashed his head into the ground, over and over.

Now he knew what had been wrong that first night, what she had seen.

The black figure was flat, a picture come to life on a page and escaped into the real world without gaining a third dimension.

“You leave her alone.” The voice was emotionless, as flat as the figure it came from. The figure turned to look at her, its face featureless except for two white circles for eyes.

“She’s not for you. She’s mine.”

Dropping the bloody, dead body of the young guy, the figure flowed towards her. Terror stole all of her strength and will. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The fear was all encompassing.

Expanding like a blanket, the figure wrapped itself around her, muffling the scream she finally managed to force out.

“Mine. Forever.”

© Robert Spalding 2020