Caitlin Roesbuck and The Foil Men

Chapter Four

The first thing they noticed was the cold.

Caitlin paused at the brink of the stairwell and shivered. It as if someone had turned on a vacuum cleaner and sucked all of the warmth away. Her breath misted in front of her, a cotton-wool cloud, and her knuckles felt chill on the haft of the Spear.

She looked over at Uncle Cathaoir. His beard was already beginning to frost at the tips, giving him the appearance of a man who could dispense flavoured ice cones at any moment. One look in his eyes, however, told her that he was more likely to dispense a violent death than a Mr Frosty. They had been cold from the second he had heard the scream, but now they were like a pair of monochrome wells, shining like snow, yet swallowing up all the light.

Caitlin opened her mouth and drew in a breath.

“Don’t!” Cathaoir hissed, raising a finger to his lips. “Even if your mother is near, there’s a good chance she won’t be able to answer. If they hear you call, we’ll have thrown away our sole advantage.”

Caitlin bit down on her lip, hard. She didn’t know whether she’d drawn blood, but her eyes were certainly watering.

Then again, the abduction of her parents was weighing heavily on her mind.

As was the gently undulating sound from the upstairs landing, like a metallic fabric blowing gently against the banisters.

“They’re on the move,” her Uncle said, his voice barely audible. “We’ll have to check if the back stairs are still in existence, if we want to reach the upper floors.”

“What? Still in – ”

“Look around you, Caitlin.”

Caitlin did as she was told. At first glance, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, then, as if someone had snapped their fingers, everything changed. There seemed to be something wrong with the hotel, as if parts of it were beginning to forget what they were supposed to be. The door to the dining area was so hazy as to be almost transparent, and the dado rail that ran along the upper half of the hall appeared to be slowly changing into a giant anaconda. Seeing the carpet shift at the edges, Caitlin shuddered to think where the carpet tacks were crawling to – but that thought swam backwards in her mind when she saw what the stained-glass windows were doing to each other.

“Ewww…”

“The foil men bring their environment with them,” her Uncle muttered, “along with their corruption and evil nature. Watch your step. The hotel has become your enemy as well.”

“Is it… real?”

“As real as you can imagine it to be. It can hurt you, and it can kill you… but it isn’t real. At least not as we understand reality. It’s the wonderful power of the human brain, Caitlin – fantasies often have more power over us than the real thing. Just remember, that the fantastic is as malleable as a piece of wet clay – and that you can sculpt it, too.

“But we’ll have to move quickly, if we are to rescue your parents. Follow me, and, if you get into trouble… well, you know what to do with the Spear.”

Caitlin nodded. The funny thing was, she did know what to do with the pole of wood with a pointy end that she swung with confidence by her side. She knew how to throw it, and how to thrust it, how to sharpen it when it got blunt, and how to whisk it through the air so that it hummed like a single scissor blade.

She even knew that the Spear had tasted the foil men before. There was an eagerness in the way it let her hold it that suggested it wanted to feed again.

Cathaoir pointed towards the kitchen, and unsheathed a nasty-looking weapon of his own, a ruby-red longsword with a golden pommel. If it wasn’t for all the things shifting around in the hallway, Caitlin would have sworn that there was liquid at the heart of the blade. She hoped that it wasn’t blood.

They tiptoed softly towards the back of the house, and, strangely, the warping of reality became less pronounced.

It was almost as if the weirdness was following the foil men upstairs.

At least, that’s what Caitlin thought.

When she swung open the door to the back stairwell, poking at the handle with the butt of the Spear, she saw that the weirdness and twistiness had just been lying in wait for her.

The carpet, which had once held a faded pattern of red-gold flowers and grey-green vines, now writhed with uncomfortable life. Tiny mouths, riddled with teeth, shifted about under the surface, pushing towards the top as if they were suffocating under a blanket.

“What do we do?” Caitlin asked, barely suppressing a squeak. “How do we get to my mum and dad?”

Cathaoir closed his eyes, his pupils ricocheting to and fro beneath the lids.

“The true stairs are still there,” he said. “Underneath. The change hasn’t been on them long enough to percolate down. The mouths must need a trigger to attack – something on the original stairs to set them off… but what?”

Behind them came the sound of a monstrous creaking and tearing of wood, and Caitlin’s attention whipped back to the kitchen. She and her Uncle turned to face this new threat, weapon-arms outstretched.

They were not prepared, however, for the four breakfast chairs to stride into the room, shaking off sawdust and rocking like inebriated cows.

When the chairs showed no signs of wanting to harm them, they stood aside to let them pass, and watched in amazement as they danced jerkily around to the stairs, moving with all the grace of a poorly-animated stop-motion macquette.

The lead chair placed a tentative leg on the lowest step of the staircase. Finding the new terrain to its liking, it began to silently haul itself upwards.

That was, until one of its legs touched a loose floorboard.

There was a soft creak, and then a flurry of activity as the mouths converged on the spot, swiftly devouring the flailing chair in a burst of sawdust.

Shards of wood bounced down the steps, sending the remaining furniture fleeing in fear. When Caitlin felt that it was safe to look up, it was to see three chairs huddled in the corner of the room, twisted and immobile.

“It’s the creaks,” she said. “The pattern of creaks. If we don’t make a sound, then the mouths won’t notice us.”

“But… how?”

“I do this every day,” Caitlin said, with only a hint of restrained smugness. “I could do it blindfold, if I wanted to.”

“Yes, well, there’s no need for that. Shall I just step where you step?”

“Yes.”

Holding the Spear horizontally, like a tight-rope walker retaining her balance, Caitlin began the ascent. For all her bluster, she wasn’t as confident as she sounded – especially with the carpet moving and moaning beneath her feet. She tried to focus…

Middle of the first step. Fine for three more up. Now, to the left – gently, this wood is old. Straight over to the right – a stretch, but safe. Up for two more. Left. Middle. Middle. Right – no, hang on – skip this whole stair…

“How are you doing, Uncle Cathaoir?”

“Don’t worry about me, worry about where you’re putting your feet!”

So Caitlin did.

She worried that the mouths were getting restless, climbing over one another in their eagerness to test the barriers, as if they were just listening for vibrations – just waiting for her to make a mistake. She worried about her parents, too, and about what she might find at the top of the stairs.

But most of all, she worried about disappointing Uncle Cathaoir.

Three steps to the left on this one – keep as close to the wall as you can; good, now take the middle path again, and then onto the diagonals. Almost there – the end in sight! Left. Right. Right. Middle – no, wait! Left or middle? Middle or left?

“Uncle, I can’t remember this stair at all! It’s either to the left, or straight on… but I can’t remember!”

“Just stay calm, Caitlin. Can’t we just skip this stair?”

“But… I can’t remember the next one, either – and if we get out of step…”

“Then you have to make a decision.”

Caitlin tried. She thought as quickly, and as deeply, as she could. But that didn’t help.

So she guessed.

“The middle,” she said, going with her first assumption. “We’ll stick to the middle, and then go to the left.”

“Okay,” said her Uncle. “That sounds like a plan.”

As soon as Caitlin put her foot down, she realised that she’d made a big mistake.

The floorboard under her foot…

Creaked.

All at once, the mouths started to swarm towards her, breaking through the surface of the carpet like a phalanx of frenzied sharks, gnashing and chewing and biting, scattering bits of fabric and saliva into the air.

“Run, Caitlin! Run and don’t look back!”

She felt her foot snag on something, and kicked out, freeing herself. Then she ran for the top of the stairs, pounding up the steps as the floor threatened to throw her off her feet and devour her whole.

Her foot snagged again, and Caitlin turned to jab at her assailant with the Spear, only to find her trainer, and the foot inside it, overwhelmed by miniature teeth and drooling jaws.

“Don’t stop!” Cathaoir yelled, plucking Caitlin out of her shoe and throwing them both onto the landing.

The mouths chattered, uselessly and angrily, at the top of the staircase.

“I think my foot is bleeding,” Caitlin said quietly, looking at the damp red stain spreading out through her sock, “but it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Is that a bad sign?”

A look of concern brightened Cathaoir’s eyes for just a moment. He tore a wide strip of fabric from his shirt and began to bind Caitlin’s foot with it, putting pressure on the wound.

“It isn’t deep… just a scratch. They didn’t have time to do much damage. Be thankful that it wasn’t any worse.”

Caitlin murmured some soft thanks. Then she followed his gaze to see what was left of her shoe being wrenched beneath the carpet.

It was a testament to what she had seen since she had woken up that morning that she didn’t feel sick at all. The Caitlin Roesbuck who had bumped down the stairs in the morning, in order to watch cartoons, now seemed like a completely different person to the one who had scrambled back up them.

That morning seemed so far away – and the morning to come looked like a distinctly uncertain prospect.

“Can you walk?”

Getting up, and testing her foot, Caitlin nodded. “Like I said, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought.”

“Well then, let’s keep moving.”

Sparing one last glance for the cursed stairwell, Caitlin followed her Uncle deeper into the hotel.

* * * * *

The upstairs landing was in an even worse state than Caitlin remembered. Here and there, scratch marks scored the walls, like a prisoner’s tally of infinity visible even in the dim light. The carpet beneath her feet felt scuffed, even worn through. In places, it had been neatly quartered and replaced in uneven furrows.

They turned right, into the longest corridor, keeping tight against the walls in case anything leapt out at them.

Nothing moved, except for the shadows on the walls, which scuttled and chittered in every direction, but which seemed to wish them no harm. Caitlin still eyed them warily as she walked past, and her shadow eyed her back.

All of the doors on the floor seemed to have been propped several centimetres ajar, as if all their occupants wanted to show that they were at home.

Caitlin prayed that all the rooms were empty.

Some of the doors opened and shut as they passed.

Ever since they had set foot on the landing, the Spear had begun to feel clammy and warm in her palm. At first, Caitlin had dismissed it as the result of her own exertions while fighting the stair-mouths. Now, although it did not burn her, it felt as if she was cupping a glowing ember in her hand, or as if she had held onto the radiator too long when warming her fingers.

“Uncle… the Spear is getting really hot! I think something’s on its way… ”

Cathaoir took up a battle stance immediately, legs splayed, sword arm poised and ready.

“I think so, too.”

Something moved at the far end of the corridor, and the shadows began to swirl in fear.

“Get behind me. I won’t let him take you.” His voice rose. “No more, do you hear me? No more!” The anguished cry bounced down the hall, hollow and pained.

Something answered him, but whether the voice came from the end of the corridor, or from all around them, Caitlin couldn’t tell. Punctuation like sussurruss drifted in its wake.

“Roesssssssbuck… Your wife issss waiting… Don’t you want to join her, Roesssbuck? Join her in the dark placessss?”

“Caitlin. Go back, and down the other corridor. You can still get away. Move quickly – but quietly!”

“Uncle – ”

“I’ll follow if I can. Just remember – call my name, and I’ll be there. Now go!”

Caitlin went.

She looked back, once, before she turned the corner, to see her Uncle standing perfectly still as an impossibly long metallic claw scythed into the light.

Then she ran, her eyes spilling warmth onto her cheeks.

When she thought she was far enough away, she slowed down, to get her bearings again in the twisted hotel. As she looked about her, trying to determine which route to take, she heard a terrible cry of anger, frustration and pain.

It was immediately cut short.

“Uncle!” She said, choking on the word. “Cathaoir! Cathaoir Roesbuck!”

No-one came.

In the distance, something metallic snickered against the walls and then slithered away.

Caitlin sank against the wall and cried.

* * * * *

Slowly, over her sobs, she became aware of another sound.

It sounded a little bit like wheezing breaths, punctuated by coughing.

Caitlin opened her eyes and looked out at the world through the mist her tears had left behind.

“Mr Blofume?” She whispered, and then, forgetting everything her Uncle had told her, “Mr Blofume! Over here! Mr Blofume!”

The coughing and the wheezing stopped, and then reversed direction, shuffling back towards her.

Caitlin felt like crying again, but this time with happiness. Mr Blofume would know what to do! He was a grown-up, and grown-ups always knew how to get out of difficult situations. And besides, Mr Blofume had lots of opinions, which were sure to be of great use in driving the foil men away, and changing everything back to the way it used to be.

Mr Blofume would know what to do.

But the thing that crawled around the corner was not Mr Blofume. Neither was it Cathaoir Roesbuck. It was not even Ms. Britten.

It was the single most terrifying thing that Caitlin had ever seen.

The corridor had made it bend almost double, but its horned head still brushed the ceiling. Its skin was metallic, but a metal that seemed to reflect darkness instead of light. Every one of the creature’s many ends tapered to a sharp point, and there was sharpness in its middles, as well.

Weirdly, from some angles, the foil man looked like a deadly, three-dimensional monster, but then it would turn slightly, and be just as deadly, only as flat as a sheet of plyboard.

But the most horrifying thing for Caitlin, as the monster bore down on her, was the enormous, eyeless head, in which she could see her own, frightened reflection magnified and repeated over and over in a thousand deadly facets.

She struggled to her feet, retrieving the Spear from where it had fallen. If the heat hadn’t been magical, at that moment it would have crisped her flesh and charred her bones.

She tried to exude confidence.

That didn’t work.

She tried just to stop shaking, and that worked a little better.

The greatest, oldest, and most dangerous of all the foil men stopped in front of her, still flitting between flatness and dimensionality.

“Mr Blofume will not be joining you, Roesssssbuck… You will be joining him…”

Caitlin couldn’t tell where the words were coming from, as the creature’s head remained still and expressionless. All she wanted was to shut them up.

She lunged towards the head with her Spear, expecting the blow to shiver up her arm.

The beast dodged away.

“I’ve been doing thissss for millionsss of yearssss, Roesssssbuck. You’ve barely been at thisssss a milli-sssssecond. How do you expect to sssstop ussss?”

It slashed down with one of its arm-knives, nearly decapitating her. She flung herself aside and landed, bruised and sore, against a wall. Miraculously, the Spear was still in her grip.

Caitlin climbed painfully to her feet, and ran at the creature again, dodging nimbly as the sword-arms attacked her and plunging the Spear deep into the belly of the beast. She half-expected the spear-point to shatter on the metallic skin, but it threaded straight through, like a needle through mercury. She let the ripples shake for a second, before pulling the Spear free.

She stepped back in triumph.

The hole closed up again, as if it had never been.

“Foolissssh, foolissssh, foolissssh, Roessssbuck…” The foil man said, chidingly, as Caitlin stared up into its shivering jaws. “You never learn…”

And then it bent down, in one fluid motion, and swallowed her, Spear and all.

To Be Continued…