Simon stared at the discarded paper scattered across the conservatory floor. He couldn't see the final page, for which he was glad. He didn't want to look at that face again. He didn't want it to be looking at him.
Slowly, he stood and pulled the chair upright again. He couldn't turn away from the photos as if fearing, if he did, whatever it was in them might somehow climb out. Sitting down, he forced himself to look at the monitor. His hands were shaking as he moved the mouse and opened the search engine.
At first, he typed in 'Nathaniel'. This was the name Rebecca had first used. He realised, after the results filled the screen, it was pointless. Nathaniel was just a name. It was in fairly wide use and had originated in Biblical times or before. There was nothing relevant to this. Nothing which could offer some help. He grimaced, feeling stupid - embarrassed, even - having to type in 'Mr. Boogie', but he had little choice. The chances of anything at all coming up were minimal, of course. It was a wasted effort, but what else could he do? He knew he'd have to talk to his daughter in the morning, but he needed something to guide him.
A scream stopped him as he was about to press the Enter key. He looked up, momentarily unsure if he'd heard what he thought he had. The cry was followed by loud thuds and he lurched forward. Someone was falling down the stairs! The computer was forgotten as he raced through to the hallway.
At the bottom of the stairs, her head and right leg bent impossibly, with blood dripping from her nose, was Fey. Simon dropped to his knees, desperately wanting to grab her but knowing he could hurt her more if he did. He had his hands to his head, gripping his hair, panic causing his thoughts to whirlpool. He gasped her name, the words falling onto her head like the blood from her nose, thick and with the life oozing out of them. Gingerly, he reached ouch and laid his hand on her, needing to touch her, to make sure she was still alive. To make sure she wasn't...
"Da... Dad...?"
A cough. A sharp cry of intense pain.
"It's ok, sweetheart. I'm here. Don't move."
"Dad," Fey stuttered. "I..."
More coughing shook her as she tried to lift her head. Her eyes blinked to open but couldn't seem to quite manage the effort and remained shut. Simon stroked her forehead.
"Don't worry. The ambulance is on its way."
Damn! An ambulance! He hadn't rung for one yet! He grabbed his phone from his pocket. It slipped through his fingers and he was horrified to see blood on his hand. He wiped it on his jeans and picked up his phone, unlocked it and dialled the emergency services. It was answered almost immediately and he breathed in, holding the breath before letting it out and speaking.
"Ambulance, please," he said, calmer than he thought possible. There was a shake to his voice, but he held it tightly, not willing to let it go and alarm his daughter.
Giving his address and the details of Fey's fall - what he knew - he thanked the person and hung up.
"Not long now," he told her.
A knock on the door startled him. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had passed and he couldn't remember returning his phone to his pocket or any sign time had passed. He looked at Fey. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. The knock came again and he swore to himself.
"Come on, man!"
Simon opened the door and tried to invite the paramedics in, but his words failed him. He stood shaking and pointing. They took his cue and pushed passed him, descending on Fey.
He realised one was speaking to him.
"Erm... Pardon?"
"Can you tell us what happened, sir?"
"Erm... No, sorry."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"I said did you find her like this? You need to be with us, sir. We need you here."
The words were like a slap to his face or a splash of icy water. He felt as if he'd woken with a start from a nightmare, only to find it was actually real. He shook his head and focussed.
"Sorry. Sorry. I'm here. No. I don't know what happened. I heard her shout and then heard a crash. I rushed through and she was there... there... like that."
"It's ok, sir. Don't worry. We'll take care of her."
With that, the paramedics seemed to forget he was standing next to them and began to work on Fey. Within a few moments, she was strapped to a gurney he hadn't noticed they'd brought in and her neck was in a brace. He hadn't seen her move or heard her speak.
"Will she be ok?" he asked.
"Let's get her to hospital and they'll be able to tell you more."
"Will she be paralysed? Is she going to wake up?"
"Like I said, sir. The hospital will tell you more once they've checked her out."
Simon nodded.
"Ok."
"Can you drive?"
He nodded again.
"Follow us to the hospital, sir, and we'll get your daughter seen to."
"Yes, of course. Will do."
The paramedics moved Fey to the ambulance and climbed in, one nodding to Simon. He blinked and managed a small, pained smile. Once the ambulance had pulled away, he unhooked his keys from the hook by the door and pulled on his jacket. He was about to walk out of the door when...
"Dad?" a sleepy voice said.
Rebecca!
"Hey sweetie," Simon said, running up the stairs. "We have to go to the hospital. Your sister has had a nasty fall."
Rebecca rubbed her eyes.
"Will she be alright?" she asked.
"Sure she will," he said. "Right as rain."
Simon had always wondered what was right about rain. It could replenish and revive, but it could also wash away whole towns, drowning the hope and the life - as he felt he was drowning now. But still. She was six. She didn't need to hear that.
"Let's go see her, Rebel."
He wrapped her coat about her and carried her to the car, strapping her in. She laid her head back and closed her eyes. He looked at her, thankful she was ok. He needed his girls to be ok. He couldn't lose another one, not after Leigh.
By the time he arrived at the hospital, Fey had already been admitted. A doctor was walking away from her bed, a nurse by his side. They spoke in hushed tones. The nurse scribbled something on the notes in her hand and hurried off.
"Doctor?"
"Are you the father?"
"Yes," Simon said. "This is her sister. How is she?"
The doctor told him Fey had been very lucky. She had a suspected concussion but had no broken bones. She had to stay in as she hadn't regained consciousness yet, but would be having a scan in the morning. The doctor said if she'd fallen even slightly differently, she could have been paralysed or worse.
"But... but..."
"Look, stay for a little while, if you wish" the doctor said. "There's really nothing you can do tonight. Come back in the morning and we'll know more."
Simon nodded and thanked him. The doctor smiled and squeezed Simon's arm.
"Don't worry."
'Well, that'll be easy,' Simon thought angrily. How could he be expected not to worry? Look at her! Just look at her!
Fey was laid on the bed, a tube feeding into her arm and an oxygen mask on her face. Her eyes were still closed. He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on her.
"Is she sleeping?" Rebecca asked.
"Yes, baby. She's sleeping. She'll wake up in the morning with a bit of a headache, that's all."
Rebecca smiled and snuggled into her father. He held her tightly and watched Fey. He felt Rebel's breathing slow and her body grow heavy as she fell asleep. The action made him begin to nod, his head drooping, and he sat up straight, yawning.
"Come on Rebel," he said. "Let's go home. We'll come back tomorrow."
Once home, Simon took her to bed. She barely woke as he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. He watched her sleep, thinking about the pictures still on the conservatory floor. Whatever it took, whatever he needed to do, he'd protect her.
The next morning, after a restless night's sleep filled with fire and screams, he helped Rebecca get ready for school. She'd forgotten about her late visit to the hospital.
"Is she OK?" she asked whilst stuffing a round of toast covered in chocolate spread in her mouth.
"Of course she is, Rebel. She's a fighter."
She nodded and went to walk out the door but Simon took her arm.
"Not so fast, little lady," he said, licking his finger and wiping away the remains of chocolate giving her a Joker smile.
"Sorry."
"That's fine, pumpkin." He let go of her and smiled. "Do you know what happened to your sister?"
She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders.
"Why would I know anything, Daddy?"
"I just wondered, that's all."
"Well, it was a game, that's all. Nathaniel wanted to play Hide and Seek with Fey and pushed her as a joke."
Simon gritted his teeth, trying to force back his initial reaction of shock and anger. Keep calm. Don't scare her.
"Nathaniel did it?"
"Yes, Daddy." She shrugged again and twisted her mouth to the side, frowning. "Well, not Nathaniel, of course, but, you know, Mr. Boogie."
"Mr. Boogie pushed her? How do you know?"
"He told me."
Simon was going to ask more, but the sound of a car horn told him Kieran's mum was here to take them to school. He cleared his throat and nodded.
"OK, Rebel. Have a good day at school."
"Love you, Daddy," she said turning and running out of the kitchen.
"Love you too," he said quietly.
When she was gone, he rang the hospital. He had told his little girl her sister would be fine, but that didn't mean she would be. He prepared himself for bad news. He'd seen how she had landed. That couldn't be good. Speaking to the nurse, he slumped against the wall. Fey had woken up. She had a bump on her head and was in a lot of pain from the fall, but there were no broken bones! The doctor needed to see her when he did his rounds, but she could potentially be home later that day!
He felt tears in his eyes and didn't try to stop them. Relief washed down his cheeks in watery scars.
Wiping his eyes, he went through to the conservatory and picked the photos up off the floor. He tried not to look directly at them, instead concentrating on his hands rather than the image. When he had them all, he tore them in half and pushed them down into the rubbish bin behind the kitchen door. Sitting back at the computer, Simon clicked the mouse to bring the screen back to life.
The search engine was still on screen, the words he'd typed waiting for him to enter. He pressed the key and waited for the results to appear, chewing his bottom lip. At first, he almost dismissed the contents of his screen. The first page seemed to be filled with references to Boogie Woogie music, something he knew very little about. He should have expected it. This was all nonsense, a silly children's game. He'd ignore the pictures and the growing sense of dread which seemed to pervade the house. It was nothing, and the lack of anything on the internet just backed that up.
Then he saw a link, third before the bottom. A blog. 'Mr. Boogie and the Children'. He clicked on it and began to read, his legs growing cold, his heart heavy and his breathing thin as he went, the relief of a moment before turning to dismay.
'Bughuul'. That was his name. It wasn't Nathanial or Mr. Boogie. It was Bughuul. A pagan deity? A demon? Either way, there were stories from around the world, collected together. A family in Ireland had been killed, cut to pieces in their lounge, their heads arranged to face a television that didn't work. In Ohio, a mother and father, along with the maternal grandmother, had been poisoned. In the father's hands was a laptop which was streaming an endlessly repeating video of cats and dogs chasing each other. A family hung from a tree. Another where everyone had been shot in the throat, drowning in their own blood. A fire, the charred remains of the parents and siblings tucked up in bed as if simply sleeping. An axe killing all, with the blood being used to paint sickening pictures on the walls. In each case, a child had been missing. One child had never been found.
It was the children. It was all about the children.
There were links to other websites, other stories and reports. In some cases, the accounts were derided as foolishness, an urban legend or the ramblings of idiots and madmen. In others, the authors gave warnings and supposed evidence. Photos showing horrifically engrossing murders and the mark. The mark he'd seen in the images on Rebecca's phone. Bughuul's face.
He clicked on a link labelled 'MAP' and an exploded view of the Earth opened up, animated to spin up from a globe to a flat rendering where one could see all the countries laid out. Arrows pointed a numerous locations across the world. Simon was shocked at just how many cases there were. Labels were attached to the tops of the arrows and he zoomed in to be able to read them. They were names -Katie, Ebony, Devon, David. He clicked on one. 'Phillipa'. A car 'accident' in which the vehicle had swerved off the road and driven into the side of a building. Both the brakes and the seat belt clips had been tampered with, causing the children in the back to be thrown forward into the parents in front, all being carried into the brickwork of the supermarket.
Phillipa had been the name of the missing child. She may have been thrown free of the car, but neither she nor her body had been found.
Simon selected another. 'Liam'. Again, the family were killed. Again a child was missing. That child was Liam.
Returning to the map, he saw one in the area of his home. He zoomed in closer, and felt a sudden chill wrap around him. An arrow pointed to his town. The label at the top read 'Nathaniel'. He clicked on it.
A fire. The one he'd read earlier with the bodies of the family laid in bed looking like they were asleep whilst the house burned around them. It gave the address. His address. The missing child was Nathaniel.
His phone, ringing and vibrating in his pocket, made him jump. With trembling hands, he answered it, his mouth dry. The hospital was releasing Fey. He could collect her.
"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be there soon."
He returned his phone to his pocket and reached for the one Rebecca had used. He'd left it attached to the computer but it was no linger there, the cable hanging loosely. He shook his head. He must have moved it when Fey fell. He'd forgotten.
Standing, Simon stared at the screen. It was everywhere. So many killings and so many children missing. And this house, his family home, their sanctuary after the death of his wife. It had happened here. Was the house possessed? Was Rebecca herself?
He ran upstairs and pulled a case from under his bed, along with a holdall. Quickly, he filled the case with clothes for his daughters. He grabbed a t-shirt and underwear for himself and laid them on top, closing it. Holding the bag, he took the stuffed rabbit Rebel had slept with since being a baby and Fey's phone - the two things he knew they'd feel lost without. He hesitated with the phone, wary of what it may contain, surprised he hadn't thought of it earlier, but then dropped it in anyway. Fey had been the victim. He needed to protect, not suspect her. In the bathroom, he took medication from the cupboard - painkillers, anti-histamines, the sleeping pills he'd been taking to try and combat the nightmarish sleepless nights he'd been having, filled with dreams of fires and...
Fires. A boy.
Nathaniel.
Abruptly, he bent double over the basin, vomiting noisily. His stomach cramped, evacuating its contents into the sink. When it subsided, he splashed water on his face and drank from his cupped hand, leaving the tap for a moment to rinse away the puke. He shook his hand, wiped it on the towel hanging from the radiator and left the room, picking up the holdall and case as he went.
He drove to the school first, running in, trying to feign calm as he told the receptionist his daughter had a dentist appointment and he needed to take her. The woman frowned and admonished him.
"Appointments are meant to be made after school, Mr. Fuller." she said, her voice a high, nasal whine. "We can't just have her missing important lessons. It's not good for her education!"
Simon bit his tongue and apologised, slipping on a layer of humility to mask the irritation which fought to be exposed.
The receptionist brought Rebecca through and he took her hand, rushing out to the car.
"Why do I need to go to the dentist, Daddy?" she asked once they were in the car. "I only went a little while ago."
"Don't worry," Simon said, stroking her cheek. "We're going on a little adventure. We just need to get your sister first."
At the hospital, Fey was a stark contrast to the last time Simon had seen her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, chatting to the girl next to her. He could hear their laughter as he approached. She jumped off the bed as Rebecca ran forwards, throwing their arms around each other. Fey grimaced and cried out in pain.
"Careful, Rebel," Simon warned. "She'll be a little tender."
"Sorry Fey!" Rebecca said, not releasing her hold. Fey pulled away.
"I'm OK, Dad," she said. "I ache a bit, though."
"I saw your face," he said. "It's more than a bit."
"Well, maybe," she admitted.
The hospital gave Simon a prescription for pain medication and took Fey down to the car in a wheelchair.
"Can I have a go?" asked Rebecca.
"Best not, sis," said Fey. "It's not very comfortable, anyway."
Simon helped his daughter into her seat and strapped her in. Rebecca practically bounced into the back, a smile making her face shine.
"How you doing, really?" he asked after turning the ignition.
"I'm fine, Dad. My back and legs hurt and I had a headache until about half eleven this morning, but otherwise well, I'm in one piece."
"That's my girl," he said, patting her leg.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'm good, hunny."
"If you say so, Dad."
He smiled at her.
"Really, I'm fine."
"You look tired."
"I've just not been sleeping, that's all. Anyway, don't worry about me. You're the one who's been through the wars."
He drove, with no real destination in mind. So many thoughts pummelled into each other, fragments spinning off in all directions, he found it difficult to decide what course of action to take. As such, he simply drove.
"Where are we going?" asked Fey.
Simon took a deep breath, reigning in the chaos in his head.
"I thought we'd stay at a hotel for a few nights. Give us all a break."
Rebecca squealed behind them.
"Cool!"
Fey smiled, but the furrow of her brow showed her concern. Simon ignored the look and turned the car towards the motorway. They didn't have to go far, just enough distance to make it seem like a little holiday, that was all. The next town would do. He'd lived there a decade before, so knew of one or two hotels they could stay at. He'd just pick the nearest.
At the hotel, he helped Fey up to the room, the holdall over his shoulder with Rebecca pulling the case. He left them there while he returned downstairs to order some food from the restaurant. When he re-entered the room, the girls had already claimed their beds. Rebecca was sprawled out on hers, legs and arms slung wide. Fey was half sitting, half laying, her head propped up by pillows.
"I've run you a bath, Dad. You look like you need it."
Simon smiled. He suddenly felt as if a bath was exactly what he needed. Something to ease the aches he felt through every part of him. Something to wash away his worries.
"Thank you," he said, the life faded from his voice. He was tired. He needed to stay strong for his girls, but it was a strain. He passed them their sandwiches and placed his on the long table which housed the television and hotel information.
"There's a coffee there for you too."
"You're a diamond, Fey."
Rebecca tucked into her meal with vigour, finishing it quickly. She then gulped a glass of juice made, Simon supposed, by her older sister.
"You should be resting," he said. "Not running around after us."
"Don't worry," said Fey. "Go get your bath, and don't forget your coffee."
Simon shrugged his shoulders.
"You're the boss!"
He picked up the mug and took it into the bathroom, where the water was almost at the top of the bath. He turned off the tap, added some cold water and settled in, sipping his coffee, wishing Fey would remember to add sugar, but drinking it nevertheless. She'd put effort in when she should have been the one being looked after. The least he could do is show appreciation. He laid back and closed his eyes, ignoring the images of death which played on his eyelids and, instead, forcing himself to think of his daughters. Times when they'd played together. Times when they'd laughed and made snow angels in the garden or sand angels at the beach. He began to feel drowsy, the stress of the past few days beginning to take its toll. He downed the last of his drink, enjoying the heat as it filled his chest, and closed his eyes.
In the room, Fey pulled back her pillow. She collected together the sleeping pills and anti-histamines she'd hidden there and returned them to the holdall, inserting the almost empty strips back into the boxes. She stood, swaying a little as she got used to the aches, then went over to Rebecca's bed. Her sister was almost asleep and Fey shook her gently. Rebecca opened her eyes.
"Hey Rebel," said Fey. "Want to play a game?"
Rebecca mumbled 'yes' and nodded. Fey lifted the pillow she'd taken from her own bed and held it over the young girl's face.
"How about Hide and Seek?" she said, pressing down.
Rebecca's struggles were weak and lasted only a moment. Fey held the pillow in place whilst counting to ten under her breath, then put it to one side. She stroked the hair from the small face and pulled the blanket up, then stood and moved to the bathroom door. She listened for a moment and entered quietly.
Her father was laying low in the water, with only his face above the surface, surrounded by bubbles, not stirring as she walked in. She rolled up her sleeves to above the elbow, leaned oved, and pushed down on his head. His eyes snapped open and his mouth was wide, taking in a large gulp of water. The soapy liquid burned his throat and he tried to push himself back up. The effects of the drugs she'd mixed with his coffee were sapping his energy and he couldn't quite make his hands grip her wrists to pull her off. She seemed to be stronger than a fourteen year old should be, particularly one who had just been in hospital. He managed to get an elbow underneath him and force himself up and Fey's hands began to slip. Simon knocked one of her hands of his head and she slipped forward.
"What are you doing?" he managed to shout.
Fey regained purchase on his hair and shoved.
"Just... washing... your...hair..."
Pain rammed through her legs as the injury from her fall flared at the effort. She cried out, not letting go. There was a flash from the camera of a phone resting on the vanity unit. Rebecca's phone.
A second pair of hands, blackened and smoking, joined hers, driving Simon's face under the water. His legs were kicking, the water overflowing from the bath and flooding the floor. His hands scrabbled at those holding him under and at the sides of the bath. They couldn't take hold and, eventually, slipped back down. His body twitched a few times and then he lay still.
Again, Fey counted to ten before releasing her hold. She stood, her hands pushing into her back to try and relieve the pain needling into her joints.
"Thank you, Nathaniel," she said to the boy standing beside her. She smiled to the other children filling the bathroom, then looked into the mirror over the sink and smiled to the other children looking out. She turned as they seemed to flee back to nothing.
In the corner of the bathroom, Bughuul held out a blood soaked hand. Fey took it.
The camera flashed again and they were gone.